Page 25 of Her Billionaire Protector

“If you say so.” I take a seat on the floor, put my back up against the glass, and I pull Mia onto my face until I’m smothered with her, my tongue flicking her clit with all the fury I can channel. She grips my head with her thighs, and she lifts up with her legs to lighten my load.

No.

I want all of her, I want to drown in Mia. I wrap my arms around her and hold her in place so she can’t squirm away. Her whole body shakes, her pelvis bucking on its own. She rocks against me, her legs trembling in short bursts, her ragged panting becoming small cries and her slick running down my chin until she stifles a scream, her mouth pressed hard against the top of my head. I lift her off me and lay her down so I can slide myself inside her, hard for her once more.

She rips my shirt open, frenzied, her hips rolling, the orgasm working through her body. Her nails rake down my chest.

“Harder,” I rasp.

I want scars from this moment that I carry with me for the rest of my life.

I lift one of her legs onto my shoulders, then the other, and I wince when it hits my bandaged wound. But I won’t stop. I press inside with two fingers on either side of her clit and drive my cock into her until she screams out loud with the next orgasm.

I fall next to her on the carpet, panting.

And yet. It’s never enough. I’m still hard for her.

She takes me in hand. “Want me to do something about this?”

I always want more of her.

The bartender finally returns with our drinks: my whiskey, neat, and Mia’s martini, extra olives, extra vodka, extra dirty.

“Mia,” I say.

“Armin,” she says. I hand her the glass and we clink a sly little cheers.

Her eyes flick to the door. I turn to follow her gaze.

Vance.

He joins us at the bar, and I’m quick to insert myself between him and Mia. I wonder if he’s been down to his office.

“Can I buy you a drink, boss?” I raise one hand to call back the bartender.

“Not necessary.” Vance leans on the bar and eyes us: Mia gorgeous and sparkling on my arm, and with hair like she stuck her finger in an electric socket, buttons on my rumpled shirt missing, bullethole tear in the shoulder of my jacket, my grin from ear to ear. “What the hell happened to the code names?” At first I think he’s joking, but his tone is stern.

Mia comes to my rescue.

“I’d say I was sorry,” she offers, stirring her drink. “But Pyramus takes a long time to say when you’ve been tased and drugged and chained to a wall.”

“Why’d you pick these ridiculous names for us, anyway?”

“There’s something Babylonian about you two.” He shakes his head, and then he stands there for so long I wonder if I’m going to finish this whiskey before he leaves. “I want to see you in my office tomorrow morning.”

I nod. “Sure.”

I can’t tell if this is about last night, or Mia, or me, or the fact that we fucked long and hard in his office. But he doesn’t offer any details. And with that, he’s gone. That was the extent of Vance’s small talk. Surprise surprise, he’s not a daydrinker, either. We watch him disappear into the hallway and out of sight.

Not the kind of guy to fraternize with the help or the client, I suppose.

“Babylonian.” Mia sips on her martini and licks her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not sure.” I shrug. “Maybe we remind him of a lost civilization.”

I lace my fingers in Mia’s, and for once she doesn’t pull away. A warmth spreads through me.

“Maybe,” she says.