Page 11 of The Billionaire's Secret

"Also, the answer is 'my name,'” he drawls.

"What?" I frown. "What do you mean?"

"The answer to my earlier riddle, of course. And you're welcome."

"For what?"

"I've decided to spare you the blow job."

"What?"

He nods.

"Don't tell me you didn't think about it?"

"Of course, not." I lie.

"How about this? The more you cram into it, the wetter it grows. What is it?"

"Another riddle?" I bite the inside of my cheek.

"You started the game," he reminds me. "Think you can keep up with me?"

His lips curl in that smirk—that I am coming to hate.

"This your idea of fun?" I set my jaw.

"No, but this is."

He lowers his zipper and his cock springs free. Hard, massive, it points up at me, inviting me, mocking me. A vein pulses up the underside. The head is swollen, nearly purple— How is he this aroused? Why is it that every time I see him, he seems to be erect? Why do I care? So what if my mouth waters and a pulse flares to life between my legs? The man's seriously packing, and hell, if I don't want to wrap my fingers around that beautiful length.No, no, no, did you call his dick beautiful? Look away, look away.I raise my gaze to his face.

"No boxers?"

Did I say that? Why is it that there is no filter to my thoughts? I am not normally this way. I am reserved, aloof... That's what I’ve been told, anyway. Is it the role I’m playing that's allowing me to lower my barriers? To speak what's on my mind and damn the consequences? I mean, how much worse could it get, right?

"You prefer I wear boxers?" he asks.

"I don't prefer you at all."

"More lies." He clicks his tongue. "We'll have to work on that."

"I am not working on anything with you," I mutter.

"Oh, but you will." He grips his thick cock, swipes himself from root to head. A bead of precum appears at the top.

Saliva pools in my mouth. Why is the sight of him getting himself hot so hot? I've seen my share of porn online, researched more in preparation of this role—yeah, the nerd in me couldn't stop until I'd done a bloody thorough job of it—but this...? Saint's thick fingers wrapped around himself is...a study in eroticism.

"A hole." His voice is harsh.

I blink up at him, "Is that the answer to your last riddle?" I whisper.

"Did it turn you on when I said that?" he asks.

Heat flares low in my belly. My core pulses in agreement. My throat closes. My mouth is so dry I am sure I can't force out a word.

He jerks his chin as if he's already heard my answer, then releases me, only to scoop up the moisture from his dick. He holds out his thumb. "Open." His voice is low, hushed. The dark edge to his tone brooks no refusal.Obey him. Do it.

My mouth waters. Heat curls low in my belly. I lower my mouth, close it around his finger.