I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (22 page)

The bastard was holding his breath.
He was probably trained at this, for all I knew.

I began sucking him hands-free, swirling my tongue around his head, between the tiny slit, under the crown. Deep-throating him, sucking him hard, then fast, I was reveling in every minute of it.

However, while Trevillo groaned and growled from time to time, he hadn’t tried to move or reach for me at all. So I figured it was time to include hands.

Wrapping my fingers around the base of him, I began stroking him at a slow, lingering pace while I licked around his head. I watched as his eyes drooped and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. The flare of his nostrils and the tightening of his lips tattled on the tenuousness of his hold.

So, picking up momentum, I began stroking him in fierce increments as I sucked his head hard into my mouth, until he tossed his head back, jolted his hips forward and he hissed, “No!”

“Don’t move, Trev,” I admonished around a mouthful of him.

Not so gently, I raked my teeth up his length and he cried out in pleasure as his hips jolted forward again. When I bit around the crown of his head again, he reached out for me and groaned, “Shit … yes, Krissy … ”

Removing my hands and mouth from him, I dodged cuffed hands that reached out to pull me back, and sat back on my heels.

“You moved,” I breathed, almost panting.

As if fishing for a plausible excuse, his eyes drifted to the ceiling, then they came back to me, and he shrugged pleadingly. “Another chance?”

Stifling a grin, I thought,
I’m so loving this game
.

Nodding in answer to his plea, I shifted back up on my knees, took him in my mouth again, and resumed the tease. Not long after, he started flexing his hips in synergy with my movements, so I stopped again.

Sitting back on my heels once more, I looked up and took in his strained expression, thinking this couldn’t possibly be easy for him. But it was
his
game, his rules, I was only playing along. So, I didn’t have the first inkling of a punishment to suit his breaking of the ‘no-moving’ rule. Should I bite him? Pinch him? Slap him?
What
?

Something came to mind, and I had no idea if it would be hard or facile for him, but I went with it anyway, because it was all I could come up with at that moment. “Grasp your cock, and pump until you come.”

Okay, so, in my head, that sounded hot. Out loud, it sounds pathetic.

Brow arched, Trevillo shook his hands to remind me he was cuffed.

I shrugged. “Do it. Or I’m gonna go find the keys and hide them. Then you’ll stay cuffed all night until you’re able to make yourself come.”

Jeez, I sucked at this. I didn’t sound convincing even to myself.

But, whatever.

Trevillo chuckled in a way that said, ‘you’re so adorable’. But then Mr. Sex was back. “So cruel, Miss Kingston. Though, being at your mercy for the rest of the night is something I’d most definitely be up for … ”

“Just do it,” I snapped, too riled up to wait any longer for him to get those cuffs off and start touching me.

“I love it when you’re bossy.”

Growing impatient, I started, “Trev — ”

But his complying movement cut me off as he awkwardly tried to grasp himself. Getting his cock into a fitting hold was a definite challenge, but once he had his fingers wrapped around his hard, blood-filled length, he steadily began stroking, pre-come instantly sprouting from the tip.

Dazed and hungry, I watched him work himself close to the edge — he was a sight to see. I dragged a hand down between my thighs and whimpered at the warm wetness I found there. Impatient and needy, I slid my hand inside my underwear and passed my fingers through my slickness.

Oh god, it felt so good.

Trevillo’s eyes lowered to my hand buried inside my underwear working myself to the edge along with him. At that, he began pumping himself faster.

Spurred on, I, too, began rubbing my fingers over my bud at a frantic pace, racing him to the peak.

“Christ,” he groaned, his breathing ragged. “You’re so fucking hot, Krissan.”

My hips undulated as I started grinding against my own fingers, my gaze stuck on Trevillo’s cuffed hands pumping away at his cock. I noticed his crest getting redder, engorged, the veins bulging at his stiffening rigidity, his abs tightening, and I knew he was on the brink of his orgasm.

Using my free hand, I yanked down the front of my bra and, panting, I ordered, “Right here, Trev. Empty yourself right
here
.”

On a growl, he took a step forward to close the tiny gap between us, leaning in as he continued to make sharp, rigid pumps, sweat beading on his forehead.

Skimming around my own orgasm, I tried to hold back and wait for his liquid heat to spray all over my cleavage before I let go. And such was a fragile hold.

“A beautiful pearl necklace, baby,” I moaned out. “Right here.
Give it to me
. Please.”

That did it for him.

A feral growl left him as his hot whiteness squirted out between my breasts, his hips flexing forward again and again.

Then I let go, my fingers pressing down as I stiffened under the seizing hold of my orgasm.

When he was drained, Trevillo got down to his knees in front of me, leaned over and licked his tongue up my cleavage, collecting a good amount of his own liquid, then came straight up and plunged that tongue, with his liquid, right into my mouth, kissing me thoroughly until we both swallowed a fair share of his semen.

Holy. Mother. Fuck.

Maybe I should’ve been grossed out. But instead, I was so aroused all over again, my inner walls began pulsing ceaselessly.

“You’re Trev’s,” his husky voice told me. Moving back, he lay supine on the floor and stretched his cuffed hands over his head. “Come,” he ordered. “Sit on my mouth so I can eat you, and eat you real fucking good. Then, you’re gonna fuck me until I disappear.”

Believe it or not, at those words, I came again. Not explosive. But a shuddering mini-orgasm.

Concupiscence hazing my vision, I gazed at the unbelievably sexy man who was stretched out before me, sporting a full-on erection even after just coming, and I anticipated, with an excited heart, how earth-shattering this night would be.

There was a place between heaven and hell, and
that’s
where this erotic man and I would be visiting tonight.

I was
so
falling.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds and took precious delight in penetrating my eyelids with its warm glare, coercing me from sleep and effectively getting me to blink in a new day. Stretching, I rolled over in bed to find I was alone, no Trev. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand told me it was long past noon. Sleeping late wasn’t a practice of mine, yet the sun was high in the sky, and I was still under the covers.

Damn that man.

Trevillo had most likely left for work ages ago, but I slugged out of bed and wandered throughout the house anyway, hoping he might still be there. No such luck.

There was, however, a note on the kitchen counter, along with breakfast that was way past cold and uneatable.

You. Are. Perfect.

If you woke up to this note instead of me,

then it’s because you really did fuck me until I disappeared …

xox

Had to leave extra early for an eight o’clock meeting in L.A.

Will be back in SF by noon.

There are a
few
changes of outfits for you in my closet.

If you need to leave, take the white Aston (key with V12 on the back).

I had someone take your car to your house.

Will call you as soon as I get done with these irksome demands that come with being a billionaire (I swear I’m not arrogant … just world-weary).

xox

P. S. You drive me wild.

Smiling with contentment, I ambled to the kitchen in search of something to eat not requiring me to use the stove. Like cereal. That was easy enough.

As soon as I effortlessly poured milk and cereal into a bowl and started my non-complicated ‘lunch’, I heard my cellphone ping from somewhere in the living room. Another spoonful of cereal got shoveled into my mouth before I got up and went in search of my phone.

A text message from Carlos:

Hey, KK,

You never did show up yesterday …

NEED you 2day, tho.

Available for around 3?

I hadn’t planned on leaving the apartment at all, seeing as I didn’t have to go in at Skylark until the floors were done. But a day at Carlos’ would be better since Trevillo probably wouldn’t be back from his ‘irksome billionaire demands’ until sundown. Besides, I had a few lines I wanted to give life to. So I texted Carlos a confirmation, finished my cereal, and grabbed a shower.

When I walked into Trevillo’s closet after a hot shower, I was pleased to see there were just six outfits hanging on a clothes rack for me. He had no idea how much I appreciated this, that he hadn’t gone against my wishes by bombarding me with extraneous extravagance. The pieces were nothing short of what I would’ve chosen myself. The stylist who put them together, and I’m thinking she was said cousin mentioned last week, knew her stuff.

Making a selection, I chose an outfit that consisted of distressed, acid-wash jeans, a skin-tight, deep-red Cami tank, a black and gray patterned scarf and flat, black thigh-highs.

Having no hot tools there to style my hair, I just brushed it back from my face, leaving it damp and skipped on make-up. To me, make-up doesn’t make sense without a hair-do. One should either go au naturel or full glamour. Anything in between is fake and deceiving.

I grabbed my handbag, retrieved the key marked V12, hopped onto the elevator, and headed down to the garage.

One large section of the garage was lined with thick, red parking lines instead of yellow parking lines like other areas of the garage, and the red-lined section was where Trevillo normally parked. So, deducing that section was solely his, it’s where I went.

Next to the empty spot where his Audi usually rests was a black Aston Martin One-77 — it was Trevillo in car form: Sex … on wheels. Beside it was a pitch-black, tinted windows Range Rover, and next to that, what I held the keys to: a white Aston Martin V12 Vantage.

Pouting, I wondered why I wasn’t allowed to drive the One-77 instead of the V12. Maybe he was afraid I’d total it? I laughed at that thought, thinking I probably would, because I wasn’t even sure I could manage the V12.

I knew a lot about car types because Jahleel was automobile-passionate, and I had to listen to him go on about motorbikes and cars all the time, updating me on automobile information I didn’t care to hear about. So I had enough knowledge of cars to know the One-77 was more highly rated than the V12. Cherished, to say the least. And I was beginning to think Trevillo was ludicrous for letting me go behind the wheel of his precious V12 Vantage instead of the Range Rover.

Pressing the unlock button on the crystal-sapphire key, I opened the door and slid inside the red-interior beauty. Then I was stuck. I had no idea how to start this car.

I spun the rectangular key over in my hand, wondering how it worked. In scrutiny, I scanned around the steering wheel and across the dashboard searching for a Start Engine button or something, knowing some cars were like that — a simple push of a button. Then I spotted the platinum-rimmed circle marked Engine Start right above the stereo. It wasn’t a button I could push though, and it took me a minute to figure out I had to push the rectangular key inside, then it took me another minute to figure out I had to hold it in for a few seconds before the car purred to life.

Sheesh. Talk about complicated.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the stereo snapped on, blaring Michael Jackson’s
She Drives Me Wild
. Considering the fact Trevillo wrote I drove him wild in his note, I had no doubt this song was intentionally left on high-blast — to emphasize his compliment.

Smiling, I deeply inhaled the familiar scent of new leather and male. Was it him who absorbed the scent of his cars or his cars that soaked up the scent of him? Because his Audi held the exact scent. Either way, I was hooked on it.

Shifting the gear, I gingerly drove out of the garage and headed out to Carlos’.

T
wenty-minutes later, I pulled in to Carlos’ residence — his brother’s residence, actually. Carlos was a long-time high school friend of mine. We used to be in the same music class and even in a secret band — secret because of the religious parents I had.

There’d been five of us in the band, and we created music solely for fun, because of our love of music. Music gave us a sense of freedom.

After graduation, we all separated and went off to college in different states, except Carlos and me. While I enrolled in college to study architecture and interior design, Carlos decided he wanted music to be more than a hobby, so he studied the arts.