Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(48)

“I can feel you coming, Gretchen. Ah, damn it. You’re so tight on my cock. God, I love that.” He slammed in again and rocked deep, as if wanting to sink into her forever. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Yes,” she moaned, still shuddering with the aftermath of her extended orgasm.

“Fuck,” he bit out one last time, and then his fingers dug into her hips, hard. She looked up in the mirror and his lips were parted, teeth bared, mouth drawn back in an exaggerated grimace made alarming by the scars on his face. If it was on anyone else, it would have been frightening to see.

But it was Hunter, and his eyes were closed with ecstasy, his shoulders heaving with his breaths, and she thought he was the most gorgeous man in the world.

He rocked into her one last time, slowly, sweetly, as if reluctant to have things end. “Ah, Gretchen,” he breathed, panting. “Ah, f**k me.”

“Again?” she teased with a shaky breath. “Give a girl a moment.”

He tugged her off the desk and collapsed back in his chair, dragging her back into his lap. His mouth began to kiss her neck. “God, that was incredible.”

“Mmmhmm, it sure was,” she said, very pleased.

His fingers slid between her legs and began to tease her clit. “I don’t want to stop touching you.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she stiffened, half wanting to drag his fingers away from her and half wanting him to never stop. “We only have the one condom, Hunter.”

“I’m still in you,” he reminded her. “And after my shower, I’m ordering Eldon to get a box of a hundred condoms.” His fingers continued to lightly play with her clit, spreading her thighs wide and continuing to slide back and forth, teasingly, slowly, over that sensitive bud of flesh.

“Oooh.” She bit her lip, trying not to bear down against his hand and failing miserably. Oh, God, he was such a quick learner. “A hundred condoms? You’re very optimistic about either my stamina or yours.”

“Both,” he said, and his teeth nibbled on her earlobe, sending shudders through her exhausted body. “I want you to come for me again. This time I want to watch.” He took her leg and dragged it over the arm of his chair, leaving her spread wide for the mirror.

She shuddered, moaning. She looked in the mirror at her flushed sex wet with arousal, his fingers teasing and circling that small bud, his c*ck still buried deep inside her. Her n**ples were hard and thrusting, her face contorted with pleasure.

He slid a finger down to the well of her p**sy, where her heat still gripped him tight within her. He ran a finger in the wetness there, then dragged it back to her clit, circling it, his eyes watching her reaction avidly in the mirror.

She came again, the orgasm exploding through her in waves that seemed to coincide with his fingers grazing over and over on her sensitized clit. Gretchen cried out, the sound ridiculous and garbled with the intensity of her orgasm.

“Beautiful,” he told her, and kissed her neck again.

And as they slid apart, Gretchen was wondering just exactly who had been seduced here. She’d come into the room expecting to throw him off, to seduce and tease her way into his virginal pants. Except that as soon as he’d gained a little confidence, he’d turned into a demon in the sack.

And holy hell, she was weak with desire . . . and she couldn’t wait to do that again.

Forget Lula and Benedict. They had nothing on Hunter Buchanan.

Chapter 8

After Gretchen had showered and taken a nap, she awoke with the realization that she’d completely forgotten to ask Hunter if he wanted to invite a few friends over.

She suspected it wouldn’t be an easy topic to broach with him. There had to be a reason why this big, gorgeous house was empty of everyone but the owner and sour Eldon. Still, a party would be a good thing. She could introduce him to her friends, and she could put Kat’s mind at ease about the situation.

And she could show him that the world wasn’t full of people who wanted nothing more than to leer at his face and stare at him.

She suspected Hunter didn’t leave the grounds much, just as she knew no one came to visit very often. Why he’d ever agreed to let her do the letters here, she had no idea, but she was grateful. It had brought them together, however briefly.

She’d have to approach the thought of a party with a lot of tact and subtlety.

***

Hunter wanted to do something for Gretchen, he decided as he ran off his tension on the treadmill.

She’d done so much for him—gave herself so freely and so sweetly—that he wanted to do something for her. But what? He was already giving her money through the book contract, and just handing a woman thousands of dollars after sleeping with her felt rather . . . crass. But money was the only thing he knew, other than property.

Property. Hunter debated it for a moment, then shook his head and kept running. Most of the properties acquired by the Buchanan family were extremely expensive investment properties. He doubted Gretchen would know what to do if he handed her a twenty-million-dollar flat in Manhattan or a shopping mall in Poughkeepsie. And she might panic at the amount of money. He didn’t give a shit, but he suspected something like that might be alarming to a regular sort of person.

More roses? He gave her roses every day, though. It was part of their little ritual. He needed something that only he could give her. Something that would show her that he knew how she thought and what she would appreciate.