Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Seventeen

“Stop that.”

“No.”

“Please.” I huff in faux anger while Brandon holds his phone above his head, making me unable to reach the evil device that keeps producing moan sounds. “Please,” I try again, this time with a pout and puppy eyes.

He takes one long look at me, chuckles and pauses the recording. Leaving me alone on the bed, he retrieves a small box from his suitcase. I groan in protest as what he is about to do hits me, soon enough my moans reverberate through the speaker in his hand. Goosebumps cover my skin when he chuckles again and I scowl, so annoying.

“I hate you,” I say with my eyes downcast.

My response earns a laugh from Brandon and the corner of my lips twitch as I fight back my laughter. Hate is far from the word I will use to describe my feelings for him and he knows that. I have no idea if it is love either because I have never had a boyfriend but my attraction to him is stronger than when we first arrived here. It’s a strange feeling but I like it.

He is always on my mind. When I wake before him which has only happened twice, I spend those few minutes studying his face, trying to understand this man I am married to. I want him to be happy, he deserves it.

The bed dips with his weight, he palms my cheeks and I ask, “When did you record it?”

“Last night.”

My forehead crinkles in confusion, I could barely move by the time he was done ravishing my body. “Turn it off. Delete it.”

I fold my arms across my chest, drawing attention to my nakedness and his eyes linger on my breasts long enough for me to feel shy. Clearing of my throat brings him to order and I take that chance to cover up with the duvet. He tugs on the duvet, I try to swat his hand but his hold doesn’t relax, in the end, I give up and the mounds on my chest are back under his intense scrutiny.

His voice goes a few octaves lower and his breath fans my face. “Dance for me, El.”

“I can’t...” The look on his face stops the rest of my protest. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Come.” Brandon palms my buttocks as I straddle him and my fingers run through his scalp. “I want a lap dance from you.”

Looking down at his chest, I say, “I... I don’t know how to give a lap dance. I can’t dance.”

Brandon picks the box speaker and nods as if in agreement. “Fine. I won’t delete this.” When he sees the look of horror on my face he returns the speaker and says, “It’s easy, move your body the way you did last night.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at the reminder of my midnight freakishness and I cover my eyes in embarrassment. Sometime in the night, I had woken up to his hardness poking my naked backside. There was no talking, only our wandering hands, heavy breathing and moans as I gave him the ride of his life. I don’t know what came over me, where I got the stamina from but I didn’t stop riding him until he was crying out my name and his sperm mixed with my juices dripped down my thighs. It was magical.

I smile and look down at our bodies, those memories washing over me, he called my actions hot. Our foreheads touch, I bite the inside of my lips and my hands go around his neck, I don’t know how to lap dance. His hands on my buttock try to guide me in the direction I should move but the shyness takes over and I can barely rotate my hips.

“If you don’t do it, I’ll play this audio when your parents come around.” I glare at him but he remains unfazed, his eyes fix on mine, the side of his lip goes up till it’s a full-blown smile and he winks. “I am kidding.”