Page 16 of Seduced By the Billionaire
Her legs were shaking, his fixed gaze making her skin feel feverish. She released her breast and slipped her palm between her legs, edged a finger inside, the other hand still flicking her clit.
Ronan cocked his head—entranced—and this alone almost drove her over the edge. She slipped a second finger into her pussy, massaging her G-spot. Then she pressed her ring finger against her backdoor. She didn’t think he could see the latter—that was just for her. And she didn’t need to see his dick to know it was pulsing, throbbing, aching to be inside her and?—
The orgasm ripped through her suddenly, violently, waves crashing against each other in a frenzied attempt to meet the shore. There was no crest, no pulsing to ease her back down, just euphoric spasming that smashed the breath from her lungs.
She came to with her head thrown back, her gaze fixed on the stained ceiling, her fingers gripping the windowpane so hard her knuckles ached. The metallic tang of blood lingered on her tongue—she’d bitten her lip. Her entire body was trembling. Her legs felt like rubber.
Juliette lowered her gaze, forcing her focus back to the lot.
Detective Ronan Duffy hadn’t moved from his place against the front grill. He clearly had no intention to approach, to thrust himself inside her—to fuck her properly. But she would have let him—heaven help her, she would have.
He smiled, his entire face lighting up with satisfaction. But not for himself—thrilled with her pleasure. He looked downright elated that she’d gotten off, even if he hadn’t—as though her release was all he’d wanted.
Beautiful, he mouthed.
Her heart stopped.
Juliette righted herself, wiping the sweat from her brow. Then she mouthed back the only thing she could think of—Thank you—before drawing the curtains closed. She could still see his gorgeous mouth, could hear his voice in her head.
Beautiful. Beautiful, Beautiful.
Her eyes stung. It was stupid, and she knew it—but she believed him.
Chapter 9
Ronan
A jangling like that of clattering plates jolted Ronan out of a fitful sleep. His head cracked against something hard, teeth jamming together. Blinding light everywhere—everywhere.
Ronan kept his eyes screwed shut, hand on his throbbing head, cursing under his breath.
The sound came again, slicing through his brain like a knife.
He moaned and finally forced his eyes open, squinting.
The motel was even uglier in the dawn, the dirty pea-green doors looking more like piss than paint when the sun hit them. The single streetlamp that did little to protect against unsavory characters at night was a rusted mess, one strong gust of wind from keeling over. He’d stayed to make sure she was safe last night, that no killer was lying in wait… but he’d gotten far more than he’d bargained for.
Ronan snatched the cell from the console before it could ring again, fumbling it to his ear. “I’m on my way.”
“Where the hell are you? I’m outside your house, you dick.”
“What, are you stalking me now?”
“I’m not stalking you,” Paddy said, emphasis on the you.
But the question was clear: Who are you stalking, Ronan? Are you watching some unsuspecting woman right now?
But Jenny certainly hadn’t seemed to mind him watching. Quite the contrary.
His lip twitched into a grin at the thought—his dick twitched, too. That had been a lovely, sexy surprise, and it had felt so right to watch her touch herself, his cock so hard it felt like a strong breeze might make him come. And he’d never been a two-pump chump.
But in the light of day, her actions seemed more unsettling, if not suspicious. He’d been propositioned by other women after they’d committed crimes. Once, a man had grabbed his dick, offered him the blow job of his life if he’d just look the other way—pretend not the see the cocaine he had stashed in his backseat.
Ronan’s eyes locked on the window—on Jennifer’s room. No shifting curtains, no movement from inside. But what had he expected? Another deliciously dirty show, her nipples puckering at the touch of her fingers, head thrown back as she?—
“Ronan?” Paddy’s voice pulled him from his reverie.
He cleared his throat and pushed the thoughts aside, but his dick was still hard, aching against his zipper. “I’m just getting coffee. I’ll bring you one.”
