Page 179 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

True.I scowl, "You seem to bring out the worst in me, Buttercup."

"As do you." She chuckles, then glances around her before heading to the refrigerator. She pulls out a bottle of milk, then shuts the door. and walks toward me.

"Anything, huh?" She asks.

I glance at the white liquid in the bottle, then up to her face, "Anything."

She holds up the bottle, tilts it over my chest.

56

Amelie

What the hell am I doing?I should have left an hour ago. Yet, here I am—first seduced by his kitchen, and now, by the man himself, who stands in front of me, naked as the day he was born, cock thrust up and out at me. OMFG, his dick... I've seen it up close, I've had it down my throat, inside my pussy, my arsehole... And yet, I swear as the milk pours down his chest, pools in the nest of hair at his groin, and drips down from his balls... I've never seen something this... erotic. This hot. This...gorgeous...almost as orgasmic as the sight of a triple chocolate cake lathered in freshly whipped cream.

A moan wells up my throat and my breathing goes ragged. I empty the rest of the milk on him, place the bottle on the island, then lean in and trace a path between the demarcation of his pecs, down his concave stomach. I dip my tongue inside his belly button; his abs ripple. Holy fuck. This... This is too much fun. The way his body responds to my touch? Wow... That's power. All six-feet four-inches of alpha hunk, at my mercy. Mine to do with as I want. Mine to tease, mine to hold and squeeze. Mine to climb up and wrap myself around him, if I want.

I bring my palm up and weigh his balls; a groan rips out of him. Every muscle in his body solidifies. I drag my tongue along the hair that arrows down to his shaft. His dick jumps and his thigh muscles spasm. I circle around to the underside then trace the path to its logical end, the tip of his dick. I close my mouth around him and he swears, "Fucking fuck, you're killing me, Princess."

I haven't even started.

I straighten, then turn and march back to the refrigerator. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I know he's stalking me, watching my every move, waiting for me to push him to the edge, and I will...but first, I want to have some fun. He'd teased me and taunted me and I am going to return the favor.

I pull open the refrigerator. Oh, yeah! I straighten, pivot with the bowl of Jell-o—who'd made it? A housekeeper? Does he have a housekeeper? Of course he does. He’s rich, remember? Filthy rich. Well, fuck that. I'm rich too, when it comes to talent. I can bake like a goddess and I can tease like a slut.

I bump my hip against the refrigerator door to shut it, then run a finger around the rim of the bowl. His gaze narrows and his nostrils flare. He glances at the quivering gelatin, then up at my face. He tilts his head, a warning look in his eyes. A shiver runs down my spine. Oh, he's going to get back at me for this, I'm sure... But whatever... I’m not going to stop, not when I am having so much fun. I amble over to him, wriggle my hips when I stop in front of him. His chest rises and falls. I dip a couple of fingers into the gelatin, scoop some of it out, and hold it up to his mouth. "Open," I command.

"Lick or suck, Princess?" he growls.

"Whatever you please," I breathe. A bead of sweat runs down his temple. Moisture beads my upper lip. Hell, is the heating on in here, or what? He lowers his head, closes his mouth around my fingertips. I feel the tug all the way down to my cunt. A moan spills from my lips. His mouth curves, he licks his tongue about my fingertips, swallows, then nips on my fingers. Moisture oozes between my legs. Oh, shit. I’m as turned on as he is. This was supposed to be his punishment... Ha! How stupid of me. The only person who will come out at the losing end of this bargain is me. I turn, place the bowl of Jell-o on the island, then grab my panties and pull them on.

"What are you doing?"

I don't reply, shrug into my jeans, find my bra and pull it on.

"Princess?"

"Shut up," I mutter, "I know what you're doing."

"Oh?"

I nod. "You're trying to lure me into staying."

"Am I?" he growls.

I snatch up my blouse, shrug into it. "Yes, you are." Tears knock at the back of my eyes, and honestly... I don't why. I mean, why the hell should I feel like the entire world is ending? I could stay; he wants me to stay... But that would be empty, wouldn't it? I’d still be only a possession to him, something he had bought.

"Amelie, talk to me." He frowns. "What the hell is going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Nothing, asshole." I toss my hair over my shoulders. "You can take your...your penthouse and fancy kitchen and oven, and all your privileged-as-hell shit, and stuff it where the sun don’t shine."

"Princess..." he takes a step forward; I hold up my hand.

"Don't you dare," I snarl. "Don't you fucking say anything. Don't try to stop me. At least this once, would you stick to your word, and stay right there, until I am gone? This once, can you allow me to leave with a modicum of self-respect?"

He stares at me, his features wearing an expression of frustration. "Amelie, please."

I flip him my middle finger, then grab my phone, snatch up my chef's satchel and my hand bag from where I had placed them on the kitchen island and march out.