Read Online Billionaire on Board by Dasha G. Logan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dasha G. Logan
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
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I'll be saying it again, right now."
"What?"
His hands grabbed my hips. "Turn around."
I did as I was told.
His tongue travelled to my navel and onto my tummy. Then he went further down.
"Fuck, you taste good."
I wrought my fingers into his hair and closed my eyes, ready for him to drive me over the edge again.
Drive…
Something was nagging at the back of my mind.
"Drive!" I cried and sat bolt upright.
"What? Hold still."
"Ryan! The driver! He must still be waiting outside to take you back!"
"No."
"No?"
"I told him I didn't need him anymore." He went back to his task.
"When?!"
"I texted him while you were changing," he murmured against me. It caused a very interesting effect.
"Of all the premeditated—? Were you so sure I'd let you stay over?"
He hummed.
I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how to feel about this revelation.
His tongue hit an especially sensitive spot.
"Ooh!" I growled, lifted my hips and wisely decided not to think about it anymore.
Nine
Yet another hour later I sat on top of him, eating ice-cream from a little bowl. He had, among a million other things, also bought a bucket full of chocolate and strawberry fudge.
"Why have you decided to take a Ph.d.? Do you want to go into teaching?"
"I don't know why, to be honest." I licked my spoon suggestively. "It's something I always wanted to do."
"Yes, but what for?"
"I don't know. I guess to accomplish something."
"And when it's finished?" He kissed a chocolate chip away from the corner of my mouth.
"Maybe teaching, maybe writing. Maybe a combination of both."
"What do you intend to write?"
"Historical fiction. Knights and maidens, beggars and kings… Kick Ken Follett of his throne"
"But why do you bother with the thesis? Why don't you start writing directly. Is it so important to be Dr. Poppy Jude?"
"It is to me. I love the research too. I hope my thesis can contribute to science."
"What's it about?"
"Symbolism in 11 th century numismatics in Europe, Byzantium and the Orient. Worthy images of power. A comparative approach"
He pulled a face. "Good God."
"Yes, he figures eminently in it."
"All right and what's your big aim in all this? What's the greater scheme?"
"Well, if I really must tell you, the truth is, I want to write a bestseller one day. One that's really acclaimed, you know? Then I'd be able to buy a chalet in Zermatt and spend the entire winter skiing."
"I believe I own about twenty chalets in Zermatt. I give you one for free as long as you remain in this position for a little longer." He came up and took one of my nipples into his mouth.
"No, I wouldn't like it. It's not the same."
"The result's the same."
"No, it's not. It's like you and Myrtle. Aren't you proud of disembowelling her with your own bare hands? Of turning her into what she's now, without anybody's help?"
"Sure. Yes. I see your point."
"Fine."
"Another question. Ready for round two?"
I set the bowl down on my bedside table. "Yes."
"Great."
This time, he had me up against the wall.
Ten
Our third and last round was a very docile act with both participants three quarters asleep, or so I believed. Because when it was over and I was about to doze off, Ryan got up and fumbled in his jeans for his phone.
"What do you think you're doing?" I drawled.
"Sorry, Buttercup, I have to make a phone call."
"It's 2.30 am…"
"Yes, I know. You sleep. Tomorrow's the big day. Can I use your charger?"
"Sure," I yawned and pulled the cover over my head.
He unplugged the item, put on his boxers and his t-shirt and went into the living room.
My body felt heavy as led but curiosity got the better of me.
I climbed out of bed and carefully nudged the door open to listen.
"Hi, Shiro, sorry, I was busy all day negotiating with some shipowners… Hamburg, yes… what have you got… hm… hm… yes… no more than thirty million pounds, I gather… no… no… call
"What?"
His hands grabbed my hips. "Turn around."
I did as I was told.
His tongue travelled to my navel and onto my tummy. Then he went further down.
"Fuck, you taste good."
I wrought my fingers into his hair and closed my eyes, ready for him to drive me over the edge again.
Drive…
Something was nagging at the back of my mind.
"Drive!" I cried and sat bolt upright.
"What? Hold still."
"Ryan! The driver! He must still be waiting outside to take you back!"
"No."
"No?"
"I told him I didn't need him anymore." He went back to his task.
"When?!"
"I texted him while you were changing," he murmured against me. It caused a very interesting effect.
"Of all the premeditated—? Were you so sure I'd let you stay over?"
He hummed.
I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how to feel about this revelation.
His tongue hit an especially sensitive spot.
"Ooh!" I growled, lifted my hips and wisely decided not to think about it anymore.
Nine
Yet another hour later I sat on top of him, eating ice-cream from a little bowl. He had, among a million other things, also bought a bucket full of chocolate and strawberry fudge.
"Why have you decided to take a Ph.d.? Do you want to go into teaching?"
"I don't know why, to be honest." I licked my spoon suggestively. "It's something I always wanted to do."
"Yes, but what for?"
"I don't know. I guess to accomplish something."
"And when it's finished?" He kissed a chocolate chip away from the corner of my mouth.
"Maybe teaching, maybe writing. Maybe a combination of both."
"What do you intend to write?"
"Historical fiction. Knights and maidens, beggars and kings… Kick Ken Follett of his throne"
"But why do you bother with the thesis? Why don't you start writing directly. Is it so important to be Dr. Poppy Jude?"
"It is to me. I love the research too. I hope my thesis can contribute to science."
"What's it about?"
"Symbolism in 11 th century numismatics in Europe, Byzantium and the Orient. Worthy images of power. A comparative approach"
He pulled a face. "Good God."
"Yes, he figures eminently in it."
"All right and what's your big aim in all this? What's the greater scheme?"
"Well, if I really must tell you, the truth is, I want to write a bestseller one day. One that's really acclaimed, you know? Then I'd be able to buy a chalet in Zermatt and spend the entire winter skiing."
"I believe I own about twenty chalets in Zermatt. I give you one for free as long as you remain in this position for a little longer." He came up and took one of my nipples into his mouth.
"No, I wouldn't like it. It's not the same."
"The result's the same."
"No, it's not. It's like you and Myrtle. Aren't you proud of disembowelling her with your own bare hands? Of turning her into what she's now, without anybody's help?"
"Sure. Yes. I see your point."
"Fine."
"Another question. Ready for round two?"
I set the bowl down on my bedside table. "Yes."
"Great."
This time, he had me up against the wall.
Ten
Our third and last round was a very docile act with both participants three quarters asleep, or so I believed. Because when it was over and I was about to doze off, Ryan got up and fumbled in his jeans for his phone.
"What do you think you're doing?" I drawled.
"Sorry, Buttercup, I have to make a phone call."
"It's 2.30 am…"
"Yes, I know. You sleep. Tomorrow's the big day. Can I use your charger?"
"Sure," I yawned and pulled the cover over my head.
He unplugged the item, put on his boxers and his t-shirt and went into the living room.
My body felt heavy as led but curiosity got the better of me.
I climbed out of bed and carefully nudged the door open to listen.
"Hi, Shiro, sorry, I was busy all day negotiating with some shipowners… Hamburg, yes… what have you got… hm… hm… yes… no more than thirty million pounds, I gather… no… no… call
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