Page 25 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

“ J axon Thomas Kane,” I point at him like that’ll stop him.

He grins. “Oh, using my full government name. That gets me hard.”

I’m trapped between him and a chair. He rubs his hands together slowly, deliberately, the dessert squishing between his fingers.

“Jaxon?”

“Cassidy?”

And then slow, almost sensual, he smears the tiramisu down both sides of my face, slathering me in espresso cream. I squeeze my eyes shut at the chill, the squish as he trails it down my neck, over my collarbone, and wipes the rest across my chest.

His hands slide down past my hips, over my ass, and grip the backs of my thighs. It’s the only warning I get before he lifts me like I weigh nothing.

I yelp, scrambling to hook my arms around his neck, but he doesn’t take me far—just pivots and sits me on the table beside us, plates and cutlery rattling under the sudden shift.

Then his hand fists gently at the base of my hair, tilting my head to the side. His tongue is hot against my skin, dragging a slow, deliberate path up my neck, tasting the tiramisu he just smeared all over me.

“Now for the fun part,” he mutters against my skin.

The next kiss isn’t sweet at all—it’s greedy, messy, open-mouthed. He leans me back so he can grind into me, and I feel just how turned on he is. My pulse is hammering, my body already responding, arching into him.

He sits me up again but doesn’t break the kiss. His fingers skim the hem of my shirt, and I know exactly what he’s asking. I lift my arms without hesitation.

The shirt hits the floor a second later.

His thumbs brush over the thin cups of my bra, and my nipples pebble instantly under the touch.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to my cleavage, right where my breasts spill just enough from the cups.

A quick flick of his fingers behind me, and the clasp comes undone like it’s nothing to him. He slides the straps off my shoulders slowly, almost reverently, until the bra is gone and I’m bare in front of him.

Heat floods my cheeks under the intensity of his stare. He doesn’t look at my face—he’s entirely focused on my breasts like he’s committing them to memory.

“We’re going to be such good friends,” he says, leaning in to press kisses to the soft skin before fixing his mouth over one nipple, sucking it into his heat and making me arch with a gasp.

I’m not sure this is normal. To feel so aroused by his mouth on my nipples because I swear I could come from this alone.

“Were you just… talking to my breast?” I ask, breathless.

He moves to the other one without missing a beat. “Shhh. We’re getting very well acquainted.”

The second nipple is worse—so much worse—and I swear I feel the ache deep between my legs. My clit throbs, and before I even realize I’m doing it, I start moving my hips against him, desperate for friction.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.” The words snap out of me before I can think, sharp and needy.

I fist the front of his shirt and drag him closer until his mouth is on me again.

He smiles against my skin like he knows exactly how undone I am, his tongue circling my nipple while his fingers tease the other, pinching and rolling until I’m shivering.

Then his free hand drifts lower, to the button of my jean shorts. A deft flick, and it’s open. The slow rasp of the zipper follows, and my whole body goes tight.

“Can I taste you?” he whispers, his lips trailing kisses along the side of my breast, lower to the soft skin beneath, then down to my ribs.

I nod, my breath catching.

I lift my hips, and his hands—big, warm, sure—hook into the waistband of my shorts. He eases them down, slow and deliberate, until they’re off and forgotten on the floor. I’m perched on the table, legs parted on either side of him, wearing nothing but my panties.

Thin, damp panties.

He freezes for a moment, his eyes on me, and something primal darkens his expression. “Fuck, Cricket… look at you.”

The back of his finger drags over my center, and I feel the wetness cling to him even through the thin fabric. Then he pushes the edge aside and slides lower, slow and unhurried, until his knuckle grazes my clit.

A flush creeps up my neck. No one has ever seen me like this—no one has ever touched me like this—and I’m suddenly, stupidly aware of the fact that I’ve been in these all day. That I’m soaked for him.

I try to press my legs together, but his hands are there, firm on my thighs, holding me open. “I haven’t showered?—”

His grip tightens, thumbs stroking slow circles into my skin like he’s soothing me, but his voice is anything but soft.

“I don’t care if you’ve been rolling in the damn dirt, Cassidy. I want you exactly like this—hot, messy, and fucking dripping for me.”

He hooks his thumbs into my panties and works them down my legs with unhurried focus, like unwrapping a present he’s been dying to open. When they’re gone, he grabs a chair from the table and sits, pulling me closer until I’m right at the edge.

“You’re mine, baby.”

He takes my left foot, placing a tender kiss on my ankle and props my foot on the armrest. He does the same to the other, spreading me wide until I realize—I’ve just become the meal.

“I bought you.” He looks up at me, dark eyes locked on mine.

“I own you.”

He rubs his big hands up my calves, giving my knees a gentle push. “So open those legs and let me see what a billion dollars tastes like.”

The first brush of his breath over me makes my stomach clench. I’ve never… no one’s ever done this to me before. My mind is a storm of what if it’s weird, what if I don’t like it, what if ? —

Then his mouth is on me, and every thought is obliterated.

He starts with slow, deliberate licks up my center, parting me with his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of something forbidden. “Sweet,” he murmurs against me, the vibration sending a shiver up my spine. “Knew you’d taste like this.”

My hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white. I can’t stop my hips from rocking forward, from chasing more of that warmth, that pressure. He flattens his tongue and drags it up again, ending with a soft flick over a spot that makes me gasp and jerk.

His dark eyes look up at me. “There it is. That’s where you like it, isn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for my answer—just goes right back, teasing me with the tip of his tongue, circling, pressing, retreating.

It’s overwhelming. Too much and not enough. My thighs tremble, and he notices, his hands sliding up to grip them tight, holding me open, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

“Relax, Cricket. Let me take you there.” His voice is low, coaxing, but there’s a command in it too. He licks and kisses my pussy like he’s making out with it.

Then he closes his mouth over me and sucks—slow and deep—and my entire body bows off the table. My hand flies to his hair, fisting it, and he groans like I’ve just given him something he’s been starving for.

“That’s it. You like this?” he says, tongue flicking faster now, relentless, like he’s set on wringing every drop of pleasure out of me.

“Yes.”

The heat in my belly coils tighter, tighter. My breaths turn ragged, and I’m pushing back on the armrests but he holds me firm. Like it frustrates him I’m scooting away.

He fixes himself over my clit and sucks with a growl. I explode inside.

My orgasm rips through me hard and fast, my thighs clamping around his head as my hips buck.

It’s not graceful, not pretty—I cry out, raw and unguarded, every nerve alight.

And he doesn’t let up. He keeps working me through it, licking, sucking, swallowing every reaction I give him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

By the time he eases back, I’m boneless, shaking, my chest heaving. He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh and looks up at me with that smug, wicked grin.

“Worth every fucking penny.”