Page 132 of The Billionaire's Secret

Saint

Fuck, bloody, fuck.She is hiding something from me. It’s there in the curve of her cheek, the angle of her chin, in how she lowers her eyelids to stop me from reading the emotions that claw at her. In how she wraps her hand around my neck and leans in close enough for our eyelashes to tangle. In what she asks me to do, "Will you do this for me, Saint?"

"No." I reply.

She pales. Her chin wobbles. Then she firms her lips and retreats. I swoop out my hand, grab the back of her neck. "I am going to make love to you instead."

Her gaze widens. Her pupils dilate. She opens and closes her mouth, "I… I…don’t think you should do that."

"Why not?"

"It could…uh…lead to complications."

"This is already far from simple." Her neck is so fragile that my fingers meet around the front of her neck.

"It’s not what I want."

"You lying to me?"

She chews on the inside of her cheek. "I am not going to admit the truth to you."

"I’ll get it out of you yet." I haul her close. Graze the heel of my palm over her pussy.Gently, gently. Don’t want to hurt her more than I already have now. F-u-c-k. This entire emo mindset is going to take some getting used to.

She whines, and I can’t stop my lips from curving.

"You like that, hmm?"

She opens and shuts her mouth, "Saint."

My name from her lips sounds like a whispered prayer. I close the distance between us, "You wanna come for me, Gigi?"

She nods. I swipe my thumb between her lower lips and her body shudders. Her hand on my shoulder spasms, she digs her fingers into my skin, attempts to pull herself closer, to impale herself on my fingers.

"First, answer this riddle."

"What?" she blinks.

"Would you rather have a hamster or a cat?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Answer me, Gigi."

"A cat."

"What would you call him or her?"

"You’re asking me this…now?"

"No better time to get to know you than when I have my fingers inside of you, hmm?" I press my thumb into the bud of her clit. She stutters.

"What’s that?" I slide my finger in and out of her again; she groans.

"What’s the name you’d choose?"

"Cats," she gasps. "I’ve always wanted to own two cats. I’d call them Salt and Pepper."

I frown, "Like that crazy cat-obsessed fucker Lennon did?"