Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(30)

She laughed, clapping her hands. “It looks delicious.”

“Indeed.” He set down a wineglass and began to pour with effortless grace. “The flavor is peerless. I think you’ll enjoy the bouquet.”

Bront? lifted her glass when he finished pouring and pretended to sniff it. “Very nice.” She gave him an appraising look. “You’re good at this, you know.”

“Waiting tables? Should I be insulted?”

She snorted, ignoring that jab at her job. “I meant with the wine thing.” She wiggled her fingers at it. “They teach you how to be classy at manager school?”

He gave her an odd look. “Something like that. Should I bring out the next course?”

She gestured grandly. “Please do.”

To her surprise, he pulled out a covered silver dish and placed it in the center of the table, then lifted the lid with a flourish.

A basket of fruit—fruit that looked reasonably fresh, too. She gasped, pleased. “Where did you get this? I thought we picked through everything!”

“I found it in the concierge room while looking for batteries for the flashlights. I thought it’d make a nice breakfast.”

It did. Bront? hadn’t realized how pleasurable plain, simple fruit could be. They ate their fill of apples, oranges, and bananas, and split a pineapple and a mango. They licked juice from their fingers, sipped water from crystal wineglasses, and had a great time. Bront? couldn’t help but grin at Logan from across the table. This entire setup was just . . . perfect. He was perfect.

And she suddenly wanted to reward him.

With a devilish grin on her face, Bront? set down her wineglass full of water and tossed her napkin on the table. One of Logan’s dark brows went up, as if he were questioning her.

“Interested in dessert?” she asked in a low, purring voice. “I know just the thing.”

“How can I resist when it’s proposed to me like that?”

“You can’t,” she said lightly, and then slid out of her chair and under the table.

He stilled. She watched his legs shift in his chair as she crawled under the table toward him. “Bront??”

When she got to him, she sat back on her heels and put her hands on his trousers. He was wearing them again today, which was a pity. He even had on his belt, though it was waterlogged and the leather ruined. She pulled at the buckle and began to tug it slowly free. “Just my way of saying thank you,” she said. “Thought I’d help myself to a little treat is all.”

He groaned, and she felt his knees shift, spreading a bit wider. His hand reached under the table, and he cupped her jaw then brushed his thumb across her cheek.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured from above her.

“I don’t have to do anything,” she pointed out. “However, I want to do this. Now sit back and relax.”

He did, his hands moving to the arms of his chair and clenching them. Good.

“Aristotle once said, ‘Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work.’” She leaned in and finished unbuttoning his pants, then lowered his zipper slowly. No boxers underneath, just flesh. That was nice. Bront? grasped his already-hard c*ck and tugged him free of the clothing, enjoying the feel of his hot flesh against her skin. She hadn’t had a chance to really play with him when they were in bed the night before, and this was her time to explore him at her leisure. “Mmm. I see perfection right now.”

He was thick and hard, and the crown of his c*ck was large, the tip already wet with fluid. He felt good in her hands, too. Firm and heavy, his skin hot against her own. She measured her fingers around his girth and found that they just barely met on the other side. Nice.

“I like this,” she said in a low voice, running a finger along the length of his cock. He jerked under her touch, and she couldn’t contain the chuckle in her throat. It was fun to affect him so much. She leaned in and lightly swept her tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty beads of wetness on his skin. So delicious. So hot.

Above her, he groaned, and she felt him grip the edges of the table. “Bront?.”

It sounded like he was gritting her name out between his teeth. She smiled and grasped his c*ck in her hand, circling the base with her fingers before leaning forward and taking him deeper into her mouth. Again, he groaned, and she began to work his thick length with her mouth, rubbing her tongue along the underside as she sucked him deep, pumping with her fist at the base to increase the sensation.

Sucking on his c*ck was getting her excited, too. She could feel the slickness between her legs, felt the heat of her pulse throbbing through her body, centered low in her hips. She wanted to rock them with every motion she made. More than anything, she wanted to please him, to make him lose control and come.

“Your mouth is amazing,” he ground out. She felt one hand slide under the table, felt it tangle into her hair, and then he began to work her head. He was f**king her face, she realized, a little scandalized by that—and a lot turned on. Moaning around his cock, she moved with the force of his thrusts, whimpering when he’d butt up against the back of her throat. He was in so deep, filling her mouth up. His motions were abandoned, as if he weren’t quite able to control himself, and she curled her fingers into his pants with excitement, feeling her own sex tingling with need.

“I’m going to come,” he warned her. “If you don’t—”