Page 24 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

"Denying bratty women their orgasms."

"No, no, no!" I turn, and this time he doesn’t stop me.

"Yes." He nods, then turns to leave.

"Don’t you dare, Rockstar," I snarl. "You come right back here and finish what you started."

"Oh, that reminds me. I forgot... One more thing..." He glares at me over his shoulder. "You won’t come until I give you permission." Turning, he stalks off.

9

Damian

"What the fuck was I thinking?" I grab my dick and pump it once, then again. The cold water pours over me. I wince as goosebumps dot my skin. Not that any of it helps with the bloody hard-on that I’ve had since refusing to put her and myself out of this insane misery. Since I'd left the apartment last night, I had jerked off at least four times, but not even that had helped.

I pound my forehead into the wall of the shower.

Pain shoots through my head. Not that it helps with the problem between my legs. I swipe my cock from base to head again. The water beats against my shoulders, runs down my chest, drips from my balls. I’d all but come in my pants yesterday, and that had been from spanking her. The curve of her butt, the indentation between her arse cheeks, the way she’d thrust out her hips to fit into the palm of my hand.Fuck.The blood rushes to my groin and my shaft lengthens.

Her scent had filled my senses, her soft hair flowing about her face, reflecting the glow of the city that had poured in through the windows. Good thing I hadn’t brought her home. If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to turn and leave as I had. Her anger and frustration had been palpable in the hotel room, and her arousal—by god, that sweet, sugary scent of her had been overpowering in that space.

Enough to make me want to turn and march right back and take her against that window. To turn her back to face the pane, part her thighs, and sink into her moist softness. She’d have taken all of me in as I’d pumped into her, sheathed myself in her tight channel, even as I’d strummed her clit, eased a finger into her backhole, and worked my thumb into her mouth. I’d have taken her completely, utterly, thoroughly, have pleasured her and brought her to the edge. Then I’d have pulled out and come all over her clothes. Those tomboyish clothes that she wore—jeans and a shapeless shirt… The kind that made me want to tear them off of her to see what she was hiding. Her curves, her dips and hollows, the contour of her gorgeous waist, the sweet indentation between her thighs. I’d have torn off her garments, dropped on my knees and pleased her with my mouth. I’d have licked her slit from arsehole to the honey of her pussy, pinched her clit, woven my tongue in and out of her, bitten down on her melting flesh and commanded her to finally come.

My balls draw up, my cock thickens, and I climax. I shoot my load against the wall. The water pours over me, washing away the evidence. I stay there, shoulders clenched, thighs so fucking hard that the muscles threaten to go into spasm at any moment.

I turn off the shower, reach for my towel and step out. Wrapping it around my waist, I walk to the door, fling it open and step out. I pull on jeans and a T-shirt from the closet, before I head down to my studio.

I pass my guitar on the stand in the corner, hesitate, then stalk toward it. I lift the Stratocaster, then I notch the strap over my shoulder, fit the beauty under my arm. It’s almost as satisfying as strumming the lips of her cunt, playing the arch of her spine as I dip her under…Mine, all mine.

A touch, a look, her lust drips down my throat as I devour her soul.

Her body is my damnation.

Her breath my rhythm,

The curve of her belly my devastation,

The sweet flesh between her legs my salvation…

Starlight in a darkened sky,

A spark that destroys,

How far will I go to make her mine…? Only mine.

I pause, the echo of the notes dying away as I hear my daughter’s voice come through the baby-cam sitting on the side table.

Shit, I’d been busy jerking off, then composing, while my daughter needed my attention. What kind of a father does that make me, hmm? I place the guitar back on the stand. Then pivot and stalk out of the room.

I race down the hallway and up to the door on the far end, push it open, and walk into my daughter’s bedroom. She’s sitting up in bed, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her features pinched. "Daddy," she mumbles, her lower lip quivering.

"Hey, sweetheart." I sink down onto the bed. "What’s wrong, baby?"

"I… I had a nightmare."

"The same one as last time?" I frown.

She nods, "I … I dreamed that you left me."