Brutal Heir (Billionaire Heirs #2)

Chapter 10

Sage

I’m stunned into silence. He’s going to show me? Show me how? I turn to face him, expecting to find out I misunderstood what he meant.

There’s something in his gaze, something intense and heated. Although it’s technically my day off, I’m still at work. I should be appalled; any woman would be justified in having that reaction. I should be calling him out for being unprofessional. I should be telling him what he’s insinuating is inappropriate.

I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I’m frozen, my mind racing. I hate him…right?

I’m still holding his gaze, and what I see there makes my heart skip a beat. He’s moved away from the driver’s side of the truck, sitting close to me, his tall frame making him seem bigger now. I can feel the heat of his body next to mine.

Just in the minutes we’ve been talking like normal people, I’ve seen a different side of him. If I’m being honest with myself, I have to admit I find him attractive. But I’m not sure what this means. I’m struggling to focus, my senses taken over by this sudden situation.

A part of me wants to let go, but it’s been a long time since I wanted a man. I’ve gone from nearly declining his call to contemplating letting him show me whatever he wants.

I nearly gasp out loud at the realization. I want this to happen. I want him. The sense of hesitation is mixed with excitement, making my face flush.

“I…” I swallow hard, my mouth dry. “I’m not sure what you—”

“Put your phone in the holder and find out.” He gestures to the small mount attached to the truck’s frame. He wants me to record us.

I hesitate for a moment, my mind racing with doubts and fears. His expression shows nothing. What if I’m wrong? Then again, what if I’m right and he’s expecting a lot more from me? Am I setting myself up to land in trouble?

But then, a small voice inside me speaks up. It’s my phone . This time, even the voice in my head is urging me to take a chance. I’ve been playing it safe for too long, and maybe it’s time to take a risk.

Put your phone on the holder and find out.

“Okay,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. My pulse is echoing in my throat. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. My hands are trembling, and I’m conscious of my own breathing. I’m trying my best to keep my mind from balking at what I’m about to do. I reach out and set my phone in the holder.

“Open the phone and turn on the camera,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Oh my . Something flutters in my chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It’s bad enough to feel self-conscious about getting naked with a man the first time, now he wants me to watch it happen.

I nod, my throat suddenly too tight to speak. I reach out, setting my index finger on the screen, and swipe up. Nothing happens. Dismayed, I do it again, fighting back nervous laughter.

The phone doesn’t unlock. Instead it switches to the number pad. My hands shake as I enter the code and bring up the camera. The image of the hanger fills the screen. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I touch the little arrows and flip the camera view.

We’re both on the screen. Taking that step seems huge. Now the critical side of my brain kicks in. I’m disheveled after everything that happened earlier.

That moment flashes through my mind again. Then he tugs me toward him, and I land against his side. The warmth of his body, the hard muscles, and the arm surrounding me all remind me of what it was like to be held. How he moved me out of the way and put himself in danger. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and afraid, or so protected.

“What do you see?” he asks, pulling me from my memory. I glance at the phone, and his eyes lock onto mine on the screen. “Tell me.”

I turn my attention away from his face, focusing on the image of us. I’m a mess. My hair’s all over the place. I lower my head, a look of dismay reflected back at me. “I’m—”

“No.” He shakes his head, cutting me off. “You are pulling yourself out of the scene.”

I bite my lip, trying to comply with his request. It’s hard when he’s right beside me. I’m so tempted to jump in and see what happens.

“Angle the phone down so you don’t see your expressions.” He reaches across me, and I sneak a look at him. His body seems much bigger when he’s this close. “There you go.”

I look back to see how he’s changed the angle and zoomed so I can only see myself from the shoulders down to just past my knees. Oh goodness. Here I thought I was being sneaky, but he must have watched as I was checking him out. “Okay.”

“Now you only see a woman on screen, not you. It’s just like what you saw on the monitor.”

I give a little laugh. “I don’t look anything like that,” I remind him.

“You let me be the judge of that,” he says. My breath hitches. I turn to him and find his eyes darker, his expression intense.

“What if—”

“Hit the record button, Sage.”

My heart races and my mind is in turmoil as I reach out and move to the video option. Taking a leap of faith, I press my finger against the red circle at the bottom. The circle turns to a red square, and the numbers at the top of the screen start moving.

I lean back, uncertain of what he wants me to do. Time is ticking away, and those numbers seem to be moving a lot faster than any clock would.

“Take the time to admire the woman’s body,” he says from nearby. “Look at the smooth, bare skin visible up to her collarbone.” I follow along as he says, completely out of my element. “Look at her chest. Follow the edge of her shirt down to her breasts.”

I’m openly studying the view as he might see it. Being honest, I think my breasts are bigger than the woman’s. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

“Admire the cleavage you can see on screen.” He pauses, letting me catch up. “Know it’s nothing like the view I get from where I am,” he says, sounding pleased.

Of course, with his height, he has to be looking almost straight down. That would give him a significantly better view than just the inch or so of cleavage I see on the screen.

His words have served his purpose. I am conscious of my body, or the body on the screen. Even more so of the fact he’s watching also.

“Do you remember how the fox girl was holding herself?” he asks, his gaze trained on my chest.

My nipples pucker against my bra. That image is probably going to be burned into my mind for all eternity. I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“I want her to cup her breast.”

He’s right. Looking at myself on screen, it’s much different than if I could actually see my face. I bring my right hand up, cupping the bottom of my breast.

“She needs to fill her hand.”

I slide my fingers up, covering the front of my breast. I change the angle, not sure how he’d prefer to see it done. Although it’s not visible on screen, my nipple’s a hard little ridge against the center of my palm. My breathing is shallow as I wait for the next thing he’ll have me do.

“Watch her,” he says, his attention on the screen. “See how she touches herself, how she takes the weight of her breast in hand. Tell me where you think she’s enjoying it most.”

The instruction allows me to change position, to readjust my hold as he watches. I settle for cupping the underside, but still high enough that the point where my index finger meets my palm is sitting right at my nipple.

“There,” I announce, in a voice I barely recognize. I glance over out of the corner of my eye. Seeing how much he’s enjoying this makes me want to do more. “Now, what’ll she do?” I ask, continuing on like we’re watching someone else.

“I’d like to see her pinch her nipple.”

I give myself a tiny squeeze, but the change in his breath tells me he noticed. It’s empowering, knowing I’m holding this man’s attention.

I stretch the moment out then slowly curl my finger, moving a half inch then another. He’s focused on the screen. I can’t decide what I want to watch, him or me.

I bring my thumb in, pressing both fingers against the hard peak. His lips part. What’s he imagining? I pinch, sending a shot of sensation through my head and down my body. A little shudder runs through me, leaving a wave of goosebumps. Again, he noticed. Men are visual creatures.

With that in mind, this time I don’t wait for him to tell me. He’ll want to have me play with my nipple. I roll it a bit, just enough to make the material of my blouse twirl. The change in his breathing fascinates me.

What started out as a hesitant caress, leaves me emboldened. I bend my finger and use my knuckle now. The caress is harsher, a deeper action. And big, bad Ezequiel Mata is barely blinking as he watches. I turn back to the screen.

“The contrast in size is a little surprising,” I say, as if it’s a casual observation. “I’m not sure if her hand is small, or her breasts are large.” I leave it there, waiting to see if he’ll pick up from where I left off. My heart is pounding as the silence is drawn out.

“I think it’s her hand,” he replies. “If it was a man’s hand, her breasts might just fit perfectly.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Now to lead him along the path to do what I want.

“You think so, huh?” I ask with a skeptical tone. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it…unless someone comes along to show us.”

“I suppose so.” He slips a hand behind my waist. “Hmm, looks like you knew what was going to happen.” He cups my right hip and slides me over with little to no effort. It’s as if I don’t weigh a thing, which we both know isn’t true. “Have you seen this movie already?”

“No,” I reply as he comes close enough for me to feel the heat of his chest against my back. “I’m not really into”—I catch myself before I say porn—“this kind of movie.”

“Hmm, you might change your mind before long.” His hand comes around my side. I raise my arm, giving him room to maneuver. He follows along my forearms until he’s cupping the underside of my breast, sending a shiver through my body.

With my hand in the way, he’s only able to fit two fingers along the underside. I have the absurd image of him holding a glass of wine. No, maybe it’s more like a brandy snifter, considering the size.

“I don’t know that that’s quite fair,” I add in a skeptical tone.

“How’s that?” His index finger moves along my pinky. I want to bite my lip as I wait for him to just move me out of the way so he can touch me properly.

“Well, they’re not on equal ground. His hand is bigger than hers, so you can’t really tell.” That should be enough to have him pick up on what I want.

“That’s because he’s still settling in.” This time his left hand comes up to slide along my side.

Trust Ezequiel to throw me for a loop. He practically has me tucked into his shoulder. He has me lean back as his thigh presses against my left hip.

His fingers come up over my left breast, widening as he settles over the fullest part. He zeros in on my nipple, pushing hard against the stiff peak. Then he bends his finger and uses the knuckle against his thumb to mirror what I’m doing.

A gasp escapes me. The sensation is powerful enough to bow my back. I barely have enough mental capacity to turn my head to one side. The blasted man takes it as an invitation. He moves in close enough to have his beard brush along my jawline.

Ezequiel wraps his fingers around mine, gripping me tight enough to shoot sparks throughout my body. A whimper escapes me.

“You see? A perfect fit, just like I expected,” he says in a gravelly voice.

“Mmmhmm.” I can’t quite think straight as he takes his time to learn the feel of my body. It’s one hell of a reaction, considering it’s all over-the-clothes action.

I must have said it out loud because he releases my hand. I snap my eyes open, watching his fingertips glide over the goosebumps, burning a trail along my shoulders as he pushes the straps down.