Page 11 of The Billionaires' Gamble

Almost.

But I’ve been on the receiving end of a Katherine Montgomery blowjob, and it’s no laughing matter. Wicked and wonderful, absolutely.

Releasing King’s leg, I sprawl out next to him. There are too many fancy-assed pillows on this sofa to really get comfortable, but who cares about comfort when Katherine is at your feet?

She reaches over with one hand, wrapping me in a tight grip. I groan.

“Not so cocky, now, are you?” King teases.

It takes her a half dozen tries, but eventually, she syncs up her movements. And somehow, while watching her hollow her cheeks, my brain starts to have some sort of weird synced reaction. King’s pleasure is my pleasure. This is what dreams are made of, erratic movements and all. A beautiful woman enjoying herself as she enjoys me. Er. Us.

My eyes drift closed, and I lose myself in the enjoyment, the connection, being touched and desired. And the sounds. The sounds! Heavy breathing and hums of pleasure, the soft rustling of fabric. A beat of silence. Her hand falls away.

Then she’s on the move again, slotting herself between my legs like she was born to be there. I hold my breath, anxious for her mouth and needing her to finish the job.

My head drops back when she teases my most sensitive spot. “Yesss...”

Her hands join the mix, and I’m back on the rocket, ready for liftoff. My moans mix with hers. I give a small pump of my hips, nudging the back of her throat. Her grip on me tightens, and she lifts her head.

“Want to give me a hand?” she murmurs to Kingston, eyes raking up his honed body. “We are a team, after all.”

5

KING

Do I want to give her a hand?

A fresh wave of lust crashes into me. There’s a beat of silence, and my gaze swerves to Gabe’s. The bedroom is quiet, still.

His lips part like he’s not sure what to say or what’s happening, which makes two of us. Because this feels like a perfect storm.

No. A fantasy.

My dream girl is telling me she’ll do whatever I want. She’s kneeling between me and my hot AF brainiac lover.

And she looks at me with expectation in her eyes.

Do I want to help her make Gabe come?

Hell, yes, I do.

But does he?

Is he ready for that step?

He lounges against the luxurious sofa like a well-fed lion, but now he’s hungry for something else. His gaze drops to my lips, and I immediately lean forward, closing the distance between us.

“Love to,” I say, sliding a hand up his chest, hooking around the side of his neck. “But it’s up to Gabe.”

His pulse thumps against my palm.

“Fuck yes.” He breathes the words.

I pull him forward, smashing my lips into his. We both groan.

And just like that, we’re right back to where we left off in the elevator. He shoves a hand in my hair, tugging hard enough to make me gasp and fuck if that doesn’t just make me harder. I mate my tongue with his, curling and teasing.

He gives a sharp gasp, and I pull back to find him staring down. Katherine’s succulent mouth wraps around his dick, cheeks hollowed. She does something incredible because he utters a hoarse “holy shit” as his head falls back.