Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(36)

She should have felt awkward lying on a couch with her pants tangled below her knees, legs spread wide as she stroked herself to orgasm. But the gaze of the man sitting across from her on the couch had her riveted. She wanted to do this for him. To show him how much pleasure he’d given her.

“Touch yourself, Hunter. I’m so close.” She slid her other hand between her legs, spreading the lips of her p**sy to show him just how wet she was.

She watched with pleasure as he unzipped his pants, shoving them down and then quickly followed them with his underwear, releasing his cock. The head was flushed a deep red with need, slick with pr**um. He stroked it once, his motions jerky.

She paused in her self-pleasure, fascinated by his hand working his shaft. God, he was beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” Hunter commanded, his voice ragged. “Need . . . to see it.”

“I won’t,” she promised, and began to touch herself again. She watched him stroke and jerk at his c*ck even as she continued to play with her clit. “I wish it was your mouth on me,” she told him. “Your c*ck deep inside me.” And she dipped a finger into her sex.

He groaned again, his face contorting. Hot cum jetted out of him, spraying across her belly. The look on his face was so full of exquisite pleasure that she felt her own body pulse with pleasure. Working her fingers faster over her clit, she came a moment later, hard and messy, her eyes tightly shut.

When she opened them a short time later, the room was empty. Hunter had retreated again.

Well, that wasn’t so surprising. Gretchen smiled to herself and touched a finger to the cum he’d left on her skin. She had a feeling that Hunter wouldn’t be avoiding her much anymore.

Things were going rather well, she thought.

Chapter 7

Hunter lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his body stiff with need.

Over and over, he played that scene in the library through in his mind. Gretchen’s innocent question as she asked him to help her with a project. Her breast pressing against his arm, and the way his c*ck immediately responded. Her soft red hair moving over her shoulders as she tilted her head, watching him.

The amazement he’d felt when she’d began to read the lewd letters out loud, asking him to act them out.

He’d put his hand on her breast and nearly shattered, the pleasure had been so intense. She hadn’t been repulsed by his touch, either. Instead, she’d encouraged it, moving her h*ps in little motions under him until he’d dared enough to strip her pants down her thighs and taste her.

He’d been lost in that moment. He was totally and completely hers.

Except . . . he’d felt too much too soon. He knew his control wasn’t what it should be, and he’d tensed, suddenly afraid of showing his inexperience. She’d pouted a little, but had ended up surprising him all over again, touching herself and inviting him to touch himself in response.

When he’d set this project in motion, he’d hoped to merely spend time with her. Be around her and let his glimpses of her fuel his longings. He’d never hoped for as much as he’d gotten this afternoon.

She wasn’t repulsed by his scars. She hadn’t flinched away from his scarred hand and missing finger. He touched his cheek. She hadn’t backed away when he reached for her. If anything, she’d seemed . . . eager for his touch. As if it had been what she’d been waiting for all along.

And he’d been unable to give her what she wanted. She’d wanted to be f**ked but he’d pulled off her like a green schoolboy and jerked his c*ck instead. Shame mixed with hunger and he sat up in bed, frustrated.

His dick was already hard again. Just the merest thought of Gretchen and he went wild with need.

He wanted to see her again. That afternoon, he’d left her on the couch, sated. Was she hurt by his abandonment? Angry? As frustrated as he was? It was suddenly important to him that he talk to her and explain himself. The thought of telling her about his inexperience made his throat go dry, but she deserved to know. It wasn’t her who was the problem; it was him. And he didn’t want her to go another moment thinking that there was something wrong with her.

Hunter jumped out of bed and tossed on a robe, loosely tying it as he headed down the dark hallways of Buchanan Manor. She’d think he was crazy. Completely crazy. But he needed to talk to her.

A short time later, he stood in front of her room, hesitating. Her door was shut, no light shining underneath. She was asleep. Should he stay? Go? Gathering his courage, he knocked softly, and when there was no response, knocked louder.

Gretchen arrived at the door a moment later, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and panties. Her long, curvy legs were bare. “Mmm, Hunter? What’s going on?”

She was mouthwatering. Soft, sleepy, and gorgeous. The T-shirt slipped off one shoulder, baring her skin, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Hunter moved forward, grasped her by the shoulders, and kissed her.

Gretchen stiffened against him and that horrible, horrible fear crashed through him—fear that she wasn’t attracted to him, fear that she’d be repulsed by his touch, fear that she’d turn him away. But then she pushed into his arms with enthusiasm, sliding her hands around the back of his neck and kissing him.

It was his first kiss. He realized after she softened in his arms that he had no idea what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before. What if he f**ked this up? What if—