Page 53 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“Sure I can’t do anything?” I said. “Give you a helping—”

He put his hand lightly over my mouth. Which I entirely deserved. Giggling, I kissed his fingers, and then sucked on them.

“Oh. God. Arden.”

It was such an amazing groan that I couldn’t help myself…and I cheated. I peeped. The quickest glance from between my lashes. And, fuck, it was worth it. He was flushed and rumpled, his head thrown back, his neck all strong and straining, and his expression half frowning, half helpless. Completely beautiful.

And then I felt guilty as fuck because he’d trusted me and I’d epically failed to be worthy of it. What it came down to was, I was Orpheus, hanging around at the gates of Tartarus and being like “Sheesh, dude, it was only a glance” to Hades.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut so I wouldn’t be tempted again. Concentrated instead on doing the lewdest possible things to Caspian’s fingers. And he came a few seconds later, with a naked cry that—for once—he didn’t even try to stifle. I actually jerked when his come splashed over me, impossibly hot for the split-second of its landing.

“Can I look now?” I asked. Or, rather “Can ah ook ow?” on account of my tongue being somewhat occupied.

“If you must.”

I stared at him hungrily, but he was almost back together by now. I mean, he still looked like he’d just had sex, flushed and sweaty, his chest heaving and his hair curling at the tips, but I wanted to see him in the wildness of the moment, lost and vulnerable and free. It was kind of sad-making he didn’t want to share that with me. Even more sad-making that he didn’t feel able to share it with anyone. Orgasms weren’t supposed to be lonely.

It made me want to snuggle him without mercy. But I knew he wouldn’t be into it. So I grinned up at him instead and pulled his fingers from between my lips with the wettest plop I could manage.

He winced adorably.

I let him go. Dabbed up a splash of semen from my stomach and licked it off my thumb.

“Arden…” He sounded almost shocked.

“Five-second rule. And you’re delicious.”

“That’s ridiculous. And untrue.”

“How do you know? Have you tasted?”

“Well, not myself. But I’m familiar with the…with the…”

I somehow didn’t completely crack up at the sight of Caspian Hart trying to find whatever he deemed an appropriate word for come.

“…substance,” he finished.

“And you’re not a fan?”

Wait. Did this mean Nathaniel had funky spunk? Oh please, God, I hoped he did.

“I don’t have an aversion.” Caspian took off his jacket and tossed it over the end of the bed. “I just wouldn’t actively seek opportunities to imbibe it.”

“I didn’t say I’d eat it on chips. But it’s you…and I like you.”

He’d gone pinkish. “Why are we talking about this?”

“You started it.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

He stretched himself out over me, trapping me cozily beneath his body, and kissed my nose. “No, I didn’t.”

“Your clothes,” I protested. Though it was way, way too late.

“I would have had to change anyway.”