Free Dance with the Billionaire by Charlotte Eve Page B

headboard too, so that he’s bound on his back, arms above his head, fixed firmly in place.
    Finally I pull at the rope to test my knot. Hey, not bad! He’s not going anywhere tonight. Well, not unless I let him.
    He looks at me as if to say, Very good, what’s next?
    I give him another long lingering kiss, just to whet his appetite, and then I begin to loosen his tie, and undo a few of his buttons for good measure, brushing my lips against the flesh I uncover in soft, playful kisses. He tastes good, and my senses whirl with that delicious cologne he wears, his skin so soft yet taut beneath my lips, his body so hard and masculine it’s kind of ridiculous.
    I run my hands sensuously up and down his body, pulling open the rest of his shirt, tugging playfully on the cropped fuzz of hair that grows between his sculpted pecs, then finally resting my hand over the hot, hard bulge in his suit pants.
    Now I’ve got him exactly where I want him, I stare straight at my prey as I unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, enjoying the way his breath shivers past his full lips, the more of him I uncover. He lifts his hips off the bed to help me as I pull down his slacks, along with his cotton boxers, his hard cock springing free, thudding heavily against his toned abs, his balls tight and full beneath.
    “Look how fucking hard you’ve made me,” he murmurs, nodding down, urging me to look at his cock.
    It’s magnificent, but I force myself to pull my eyes away, directing my kisses once more to his chest, but working my way downwards now, until I’m inches away from that hot, twitching prize between his legs. But I don’t ever let my lips touch against it, instead positioning myself on my knees between his legs, so that he can watch everything I do as I take him between my hands and begin to stroke his shaft, the swollen head of his cock just inches from my parted lips, which I moisten suggestively with my tongue, as if I’m about to take him in my mouth at any moment ...
    Now don’t laugh, but I suppose I should let you know that I am an expert at hand jobs. I know, know: it’s hardly the most sophisticated sexual technique in the world. More like the sort of thing nervous high school dates gets up to while making out in parked cars. But it’s something I’ve gotten really good at over the years.
    From the way he starts writhing beneath me as I stroke him, I’ve quickly worked out exactly which parts of his cock are the most sensitive – the little patch of skin beneath his head, the underside of his shaft, and of course his balls, and I start to work him up into a frenzy, all the while keeping my mouth tantalizingly near to the head of his cock, the warmth radiating against my face, but never actually sucking him, even though he’s thrusting his hips now, desperate for me to enclose my parted lips around him. But the closest he gets to that is when I let a little saliva fall from my lips, to help me stroke him.
    “God, you’re such a tease ,” he gasps, straining at the ropes.
    Still stroking him with one hand, I pull down the front of my dress with the other, wanting to give him a little more excitement, uncovering my breasts, my nipples by now rock hard, standing out like bullets. And then, for good measure, I spread my legs, too, letting my trembling fingers slip into my panties, finding myself so fucking hot and wet, that I know instantly that it wouldn’t take more than a few strokes before I’m the one coming, let alone Dylan.
    A moan escapes my lips, but this one isn’t planned.
    I keep jacking his cock with my right hand, while working my throbbing aching clit with the other, both of us now becoming frenzied with lust and arousal. 
    My orgasm when it hits takes me by surprise, exploding through me so quickly and powerfully that I almost let go of his cock. Almost . I shudder and moan, my body bucking, but even during the intense pulses of pleasure, I keep my hand stroking up and down his swollen