No Ordinary Billionaire (Sinclair #1)

Chapter 9

Sarah had never seen anything hotter than Dante, feral and untamed, towering above her while she was completely helpless beneath him. Her body was on fire, and seeing the possessive, desirous look on his face had made her come unraveled.

Dear God, I want him so badly I can hardly breathe.

She opened to him willingly, letting him have his way with her mouth as she gripped the bars on the headboard. It was the first time any man had ever wanted her this way, and it was heady and intoxicating to have Dante’s ripped, muscular body holding her captive. He kissed her with a desperation she’d never experienced before, and she felt just as needy. Her tongue dueled with his, coming out on the bottom in their war for domination, which only made her body burn hotter.

She’d been right when she’d told Dante that she thought she’d like the whole bossy cop thing sexually. It definitely had . . . merit.

Sarah had been devastated when he’d told her downstairs to cover up, thinking he’d been repulsed by the scars left from the brutal attack in Chicago. But he hadn’t been spurning her; he’d been protecting her from himself. Fortunately, she liked him just fine the way he was—thank you very much! She might be a smart female, but she was, in fact, a female, and he treated her like a desirable woman. Apparently, her brain liked to do its own independent thinking, but her body wanted to be manhandled in the bedroom. And the carnal part of her mind liked his dirty talk and dominant tendencies. Obviously, she had a thing for cops, or at least this particular cop. The more he became a bossy tyrant, the wetter she got for him. No doubt she’d fight him over being a dictator outside the bedroom. But here, she relished it.

Panting as he lifted his mouth from hers, she begged, “Please don’t hurt yourself. You aren’t ready for this.” Her body wept from the comment, but her brain knew Dante wasn’t yet healed.

“I’m ready to taste every inch of you, and bury my mouth between your thighs, sweetheart.” He started to run his tongue over her old scars, starting with the one on her shoulder and moving down.

Her scars were everywhere, the majority of them on her belly and torso. Sarah shuddered as his mouth ran over her abdomen, his tongue leaving a trail of fire wherever it roamed. She whimpered as his hands came up to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling the hard points, making them even more sensitive. His mouth closed over one of the diamond-hard nipples, and her body arched beneath him as she lifted her hips against his muscular chest, needing . . . more.

She wanted to touch him, and the need swamped her as he nipped at her other breast, the pleasure-pain sensation almost unbearable. She clenched her fists harder around the iron bars above her head, gasping as his mouth slowly trailed down her stomach, his tongue still flicking over every single scar.

“Please,” she moaned, feeling almost incoherent. The only thing she could recognize anymore was the feel of Dante’s touch.

“I’m going to make you come with my tongue, Sarah. Is that what you want?” Dante forcefully commanded that she answer.

Is that what she wanted? She wanted—she actually desperately needed—something. “I haven’t ever—” Her trembling voice broke into a groan as he parted her thighs and she felt the first touch of his mouth on her pussy. “Oh, God.” The feel of his tongue delving between her saturated folds was exquisite. “Yes, yes.” That was what she wanted.

Her hips lifted, begging for more, needing him to make her climax. The feel of his mouth on her clit sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body, the tiny bundle of nerves reacting to every stroke of his tongue.

“Dante. Please,” she begged, not caring if she was pleading for mercy. He was in total control of her body, and it was evident that he knew exactly what he was doing: he was trying to drive her completely insane, and succeeding.