THE BILLIONAIRE'S LOVER

16 | IN WHICH SHE'S DEBAUCHED (M)

That order, coupled with the stern, yet gentle expression aimed at her, Malora felt warmth trickle out of her to stain her panties. She never expected to be turned on by someone ordering her around, yet here she was.

Malora found herself eyeing the expanse of carpet between them, filled with the oddest compulsion to crawl.

She imagined the rub of the fibers beneath her palms. The ache in her knees. The way he would watch her, the hunger flaring in his eyes. And when she got to him she would push his legs apart and—

Oh, fuck imagining.

Malora slid off her chair and dropped to the floor. Making sure to arch her back, raise her pert behind, bowing her body in supplication. Invitation. Her face went slack and peaceful, her lips slightly parted.

Titan's reaction was way better than any fantasy. The gasp he uttered sounded almost shocked. And, God, the look on his face. Desire and this terrifying gratitude. As if she'd given him something wonderful.

Maybe it should have been humiliating. Crawling to someone's feet. But, honestly, Malora felt sexy as hell. Very aware of herself: the roll of her shoulders, the curve of her spine, the shapes she could make, sensuous and brazen and all for him. Her nipples tightened behind her peach-coloured lace bra.

Titan was shaking when she got there. His head thrown back, lips damp and parted to admit his harsh, unsteady breaths. Malora rubbed her cheek against the inside of his knee, then up a little higher. The denim was rough but he was hot, hot, hot underneath. And he smelled amazing. Not a trace of cologne left. Just his skin and the promise of sex.

Before she could get much further, his hands closed around her upper arms and he yanked her into his lap. His mouth was frantic against hers. His passion unrestrained to the point of need. Making Malora squirm and whimper and surrender. Leaving her bruised and breathless and dizzy on pleasure.

He shoved a hand into her hair, pulling hard enough to melt Malora. 'Tell me again. What are you, Little hellcat?'

Malora almost said, 'yours', but it didn't feel right. She felt completely different. Drunk on lust. Maybe it was the plane, or maybe it was this new side of Titan. So, instead of the standard response, she said, 'I'm a. . . I'm a slut.'

'No, you're not.' He pulled harder. Pain this time, but so good, so sweet.

She moaned helplessly, confused and blissed out and sensation lost. Who knew having your hair pulled would be so erotic? 'I'm not?'

'You're my slut.'

Malora garbled something along the lines of yesyesyesyesplease.

'And what happens to my slut?'

Malora opened lust-heavy eyes. Stared deep into his. Found words. Important words. Put them in a sensible order. 'Anything you want.'

Her words had the desired effects because his eyes turned so dark, they almost seemed black.

He pushed her gently to her feet. Malora's legs had apparently gone all shaky.

'Strip,' he told her, his words cracking like a whip in the air.

She couldn't help glancing toward the front of the plane. When she'd offered anything he wanted, Malora hadn't quite realized he'd take it right now.

'We won't be disturbed.'

He sounded certain but she couldn't shake the mental image of a horrified air hostess—did you get those on private jets?—finding Malora all naked in the middle of her day job.