Page 29 of Seduced By the Billionaire
He shook his head. “I have a better idea.”
He pulled his hand from her cheek, she dropped his cock, and the absence of her irritated his flesh as if they were magnets being pulled together. But he forced himself from the driver’s seat, yanking off his shirt, kicking his pants to the dirt as he walked around to her side and threw open the door.
She blinked at him as she took his hand, letting him pull her from the car and into the setting sun.
The moment she was on her feet, he snatched her to him, crushing his body against hers. Their mouths found each other, teeth and tongues, heat and need, and a passion he’d never known. Of all the women he’d been with, none of them had needed him, not really. They’d wanted his money. They’d wanted his body. But they didn’t know him, had no desire to peel back his defenses and look at what was underneath.
Jenny did—he felt it in the way she returned his intensity, her fingers talons in his hair, her ankle hooked around his hip, cementing his body against hers in a desperate dance. She’d already taken her sneakers off—comfy-looking things with wide rubber soles. Her jeans were already unbuttoned, too, and he shifted back slightly to slide his hand down the front of her pants, shoving the zipper down with his knuckle until his middle finger found the slippery opening between her legs.
“Fuck,” she breathed out. “I’ve never been this wet.”
“I can make you wetter,” he whispered into her open mouth. “Just give me a chance, Deputy.”
She laughed, but he could feel the tension in her shoulders. He brushed his lips against her cheek, then looked into her hazel eyes, rings of amber made orange by the sunlight.
“Let me know if you want me to slow down,” he said, slipping his finger in and out of her slick cunt. “I’ll do absolutely anything it takes to make you feel good. And if you need me to stop?—”
“I don’t want you to stop.” As if to prove it, she pulsed her hips against his hand. “It’s just…” She gestured to her sweater, but he knew what she was really pointing to: the scars.
His chest clenched—sorrow for whatever she’d been through, rage that someone had hurt her. “Let’s take this off,” he said, stroking the soft cotton over her shoulder, the fingers of his other hand still working her hot, slippery center.
“Maybe we should leave it on,” she said, averting her gaze—looking down. “It’s one thing to see them across a dark parking lot, but I might… gross you out up close.”
Fucking hell. “Never,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand, and when she raised her eyes to his, he went on, “Not in a million years. I want to see your skin. Your tight muscles. That warm, wet pussy.” He slipped a second finger inside her, massaging her G-spot.
She gasped but made no move to take off her sweater.
Ronan pulled his hand from her pants. He dropped to his knees and slipped her jeans and underwear down her hips, baring her shaved cunt, her juices glistening in the sunlight. He lifted each ankle to remove the garment, then planted a chaste kiss on the mound between her thighs.
She watched him as he spread her lower lips with his thumbs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. Then he dipped his tongue into her opening and ran her wetness up over the hood of her clit.
She moaned out, “Just so you know… I have an IUD. And I haven’t had sex in seven years.”
He raised his face, staring into her eyes. “Oh, you poor thing. That’s far too long.” To emphasize the point, he drew his teeth to her clit, nipping gently, making her moan louder. She ran her fingers through his hair, but instead of relaxing into the pleasure, she tugged, pulling his gaze back to hers.
“What about you?” she asked.
Oh, right. “It’s been a year. And I get tested for STDs every six months working in law enforcement.”
And because it was a habit—his mother had taken them to get tested every year starting in high school. It had surely been a necessary habit in her youth, too.
Ronan lifted the lower hem of her sweater and trailed his lips from one hip to the other. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he repeated.
When her abdominal muscles relaxed, he drew the sweater and his mouth higher up over her belly button.
She did not resist when he rose to his feet, tugging the sweater up over her bra, pressing his lips to every inch of newly bared flesh. When he reached her nipples, she raised her arms, giving him permission.
Ronan whipped the shirt up and off like a bandage, and when she laid her hands against her chest to cover herself, he captured her mouth with his and reached behind her to unhook her bra. Tugging it off her shoulders. Gently, gently, gently, until she dropped her arms.
He stepped back. Jenny stood before him, sun shimmering against her naked skin, her lip trapped between her teeth, her eyes locked on his. Waiting for his reaction. Waiting to see the disgust in his face.
He raised his thumb to the place where her ribs met. She hissed an inhale as he dragged his fingers over the scar—bigger than he’d realized. A dark, shiny maroon that edged between her breasts, hitched a left at her clavicle, deepened over her heart, and branched like lightning to her shoulder.
Two wounds? No. He studied the lighter scar between her breasts. These weren’t done with one stroke of a blade. Three?
“He tied me up for a week after I rented a place for my mother out of state. This was after he managed to secure guardianship by gaslighting her into believing… Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I used a fake name, but he still found out.”
