Purr Scent I: The Meeting (Purr Billionaire BDSM Trio, #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

opened in an O.
    “Think carefully before you answer or you may need to cancel your last appointment for the day.”
    Her eyes widened, and she shut her mouth.
    “I've watched you for two years now, studied you live in meetings and recorded press conferences. Video feedback—heard of that? I've frozen every frame—all thirty frames per second—of your appearances to gauge what you say and what your body shows me. If you were recording this all along, don't you think I'd know? In fact, wouldn't someone have barged in by now?”
    She gulped, her breathing heavy.
    “Even if you plan to play hard ball, sue me and it'll be your word against mine with no vaginal tears to prove force upon entry. If we go to trial, who would have more to lose with the recording—your reputation or mine? That's assuming the recording is not sealed but revealed to the jury. Even if it was sealed, your millions compared to my billions will have the jury questioning your motives for bringing me down.”
    “What do you want from me?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
    “Isn't it obvious?” he asked softly.
    “No.” Her eyelashes fluttered.
    “No?” He arched an eyebrow.
    She sighed. “No, we're not being recorded.”
    “Yes, I know that, and thank you for your belated and reluctant honesty. I still expect you to answer my question.”
    She trembled beneath him.
    “I want to touch you,” he said, feeling the limitation of pinning both of her hands down with his.
    “You already have my body at your mercy. What more do you want from me?”
    “Your trust,” he said. “I want you to trust me with your pleasure. All of your pleasure.”
    Her stony stare shot airs of defiance. He looked forward to breaking through all of her defenses.
    “I can't trust you yet if you don't trust me.” He smiled grimly, retrieved the handcuffs from his pocket, and cuffed her right hand.
    Her hands balled into fists. “You're asking for too much.”
    “Relax, Mariah, or this will hurt.” Her mouth set into a thin line, but she did not protest when he bent her right leg to her cuffed hand, leaned his chest in to reinforce the bend, and clinched the open cuff to the ankle.
    “Dammit, Clark! What is it with you and restraints?” Her icy glare made his lips curl. One day—maybe today—he would earn her willing submission.
    “As I said before, I can't trust you from ruining your pleasure when you don't trust me.” He loosened his tie and removed it. “And you can't trust me when you don't trust yourself.” He used his tie to restrain the other hand and ankle together. She lay sprawled with her arms and legs open, ready for bliss.
    He loved her desk—the wicked prop was just the right height for what he planned to do. His hands free at last, he touched the addictive glide of her skin now finely misted with orgasm and orgasm denial. Up and down he caressed her curves—her legs, her hips, her breasts. He could never tire of them. Softly he kissed her neck, willing her clenched jaw to give, and nipped his way to her weeping cunt. He kissed and bit her inner thigh. Noting her tender gasps, he indulged her inner thighs with light rubs from knee to pussy. Her scent thickened as her fiery eyes turned to half-lidded lust.
    Biting and sucking her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers and thumbs, he grew hard at her supplicating cries.
    “Stop, Clark! Stop!” she moaned.
    “This stops when you come.”
    “Goddammit, then make me come!” Good. Clearly she knew by now that he would get his way. Always.
    He smiled sweetly. “You know what to do, then.”
    “Argh!” she cried when he suckled a nipple—hard—and she pulled on the restraints. “Oh, god!”
    “And what do you do when you speak to God?” he coaxed, latching and drawing upon the other nipple.
    “P-p-pray—oh, god!”
    He dipped his fingers in her slippery cleft—so tight—and drew them to his mouth. “Delicious.”
    “God—you tease !”
    “Nope,