Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(75)

Now her sweater. There were no buttons that he could lovingly pull apart. Shame. He slid a hand under the soft fabric, caressing her belly.

She squirmed, ticklish. “Stop that.”

“Stop touching you?” His fingertip dipped into her belly button.

Bront? sucked in a breath, and when his tongue followed the finger, she moaned in response. “Never mind. Keep touching me. I’m obviously delusional.”

“Clearly,” he murmured, swirling his tongue around the edge of her belly button as he pushed her sweater upward. Ah, damn. She’d worn a matching bra. The cups were the same ice blue satin decorated with little black bits of lace around the edges and between her br**sts. He’d wanted to see her nak*d right away, but the sight of her curves cupped in that gorgeous lingerie made him rethink his idea. He’d leave her in it a bit longer, and then strip it off of her later.

But for now, her sweater had to go.

“Hands?” he asked her, sitting upright again.

Her forehead furrowed over the blindfold, and she lifted her hands in the air after a moment’s hesitation. “Like this?”

“Exactly.” He tugged her sweater over her head and arms in a deft move and tossed it aside, pleased at the sight of her beautiful body. “You’re gorgeous. I could look at you all day and never get tired of it.”

A soft smile touched her mouth, and she reached for him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I could look at you all day, too.”

“Ah, but this is about me pleasing you,” he said, clasping her hands in his. “And you’re not playing fair. No touching.”

She did a mock pout that made him want to lean down and kiss her mouth. Instead, he took her hands and directed them over her head, to the wrought iron headboard’s bars.

“Keep them here,” he instructed her. “I want to play with you a little longer.”

He was pleased to see the little shiver move over her body at the thought. She obeyed him, her breathing quickening with excitement.

Logan skimmed a hand down her leg, caressing the skin. The front of her thigh was smooth and soft, her calves dainty and her ankles elegant. He could indeed spend all day admiring her body. He ran a finger along her skin, tracing a light pattern over her from foot to thigh, noticing how she reacted when he touched her. She jumped when he moved over her thighs, and he repeated the motion, this time skimming the inside of her thigh, and was pleased to see her twitch even more.

“‘Afflicted by love’s madness, all are blind,’” she quoted suddenly.

“Oh?”

“I just . . . it felt appropriate at the moment.”

Logan chuckled. “Very appropriate, except I am enjoying looking at you far too much to claim to be blind.” His fingers played along the lace of her panties. “Plato?” he asked innocently.

Her lips quirked with amusement. “Sextus Propertius, I believe.”

“Intriguing name,” he commented. His fingers grasped her thighs, and he pulled them apart, eliciting a startled gasp from her. “Keep these open for me, Bront?. I want to get my fill of looking at you.”

A whimper escaped her throat, but she did as he’d commanded, her knees falling open, her legs spread wide on the bed. He pushed them apart until they were flat on the mattress , the ice blue panties totally exposed. She was so wet that he could see it seeping through the fabric of her panties, and he palmed his c*ck in response, groaning. “I see how wet you are, love. Should I taste you?”

A shudder rippled through her, and she moaned, clutching at the iron headboard. He watched with fascination as her thighs quivered, as if desperate to lock together again. He ran a curious finger down the inside of her thigh, starting at her knee and moving toward her sex.

She seemed to shudder with every inch caressed, until her h*ps were rolling on the bed. “Logan,” she breathed, her head turning back and forth despite the blindfold. “Touch me.”

“Where shall I do it?” He brushed a knuckle over her belly button again. “Here?”

“Lower.”

He went to her knee and caressed it. “Here?”

She moaned in frustration. “You’re a horrible tease.”

“Now, love,” he chided. “If I was a horrible tease, I’d move in and touch you like so.” And he stroked one finger up the damp satin between her legs.

Bront?’s sucked-in breath was audible.

He pushed his finger, nudging at the cl*t under the layers of clothing. “But I’m not finished playing, Bront?. And if I continue to touch you here, you’ll come. And I don’t want that just yet. I’m enjoying teasing you far too much.”

Her h*ps bucked against his hand, trying to create friction between his fingers and her flesh. Naughty woman. He spanked her sex lightly in reproach, enjoying her startled gasp. “Are you not having fun, love?”

“I’m not sure if this is fun or torture,” she panted. Her body shifted on the bed, about as close to squirming as she could get away with. Her h*ps wriggled under his hand, still resting atop her sex. He let it remain there a moment, a silent tease, before he removed it.

A small protest escaped her throat.

It died when his knuckles brushed over the tip of one of her br**sts. He could tell they were hard and tight through the fabric of the pretty bra. Tight and needing, and probably delectable. Logan’s mouth watered just thinking about how she’d taste in his mouth, and he tugged at the cups of her bra, freeing her br**sts. The underwire of the bra pushed her br**sts upward, plumping them as if offering them to his lips. And who was he to refuse such an offering? Logan bent forward and took one succulent tip in his mouth.