Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Barron

T he sound of her slick folds parting around my fingers has my cock straining painfully against my zipper. She’s soaked, ready for me to plunge into her welcoming heat.

My gaze travels over the swell of her breasts, her taut nipples peaked against the sheer fabric of her lingerie, begging for attention.

Her hooded eyes are fixed on the knot of my tie. I want nothing more than to pick her up in my arms and feast on those ripe mounds until she’s writhing. But I’ll have to deny myself that pleasure for now. With her thighs spread over mine, I’ve stripped any control she might have had over this situation.

And I’ll make sure she’s at my mercy for as long as possible.

I continue to play her body, increasing the pace of my strokes until she’s desperate for the release I’m keeping just out of reach. Finally, I pinch and roll her aching bud, sending her crashing over the edge into a shuddering orgasm.

The sight of her coming undone at my hands is breathtaking. Her lips parted in a silent cry of ecstasy as she grips my jacket. She arches, pushing her breasts out in a delicious offering.

It’s a moment that will live in my memory forever.

I allow myself to imagine how it would feel to have her writhing against my chest. To lift her and bury my cock inside her again and again until she’s screaming my name, her walls fluttering around me.

The tension seeps from her lithe frame, leaving her limp, her eyes open but unfocused in the hazy aftermath.

The door opens, signaling Holly’s return, jolting us both back to reality.

“Oh hell,” Abigail mutters under her breath, stiffening as color floods her cheeks.

In the background, Holly gasps. “Don’t move, that’s perfect!” She rushes over to the tripod, hitting the button to snap some pictures, capturing the moment.

If she finds it odd Abigail is sitting in my lap, she keeps the thought to herself, at least for the moment.

I lean against the couch cushions, knowing a smug smile is stretching across my face. I bring my fingers to my lips, holding her gaze as I run my tongue along the tips to savor the musky taste of her essence. Her unique flavor sends an almost-painful jolt of arousal straight to my groin.

Meanwhile, Abigail’s cheeks are turning from one shade of red to another as she tightens the muscles of her thighs. I clamp down harder on her legs, digging my fingertips into her soft flesh to keep her pinned in place. She isn’t going anywhere until I’m good and ready to release her.

I wasn’t interested in being an active participant in a photo shoot, even at a much lesser scale, when Holly first mentioned it. Despite the fact she’s had some tremendously creative ideas, I don’t like getting pulled into these little side projects. But damn, I would have regretted missing this one.

Even with the sheen of tears and the scorching embarrassment on her face, she is exquisite. How was I so blind to her beauty before? I can’t equate the wanton creature I’m holding with the woman who walked into my suite yesterday. I won’t ever be able to see anything but this sensual, passionate side she’s revealed.

I glance behind her, noticing with relief that she’s alone. Good. Because I still have the urge to break something on that asshole if I have the chance. And, yet again, I was so distracted that I didn’t think to look over when Holly returned.

I run my fingers into the thick mass of Abigail’s hair, enjoying the feel of the silky strands. She’s so delicate. I have to be careful as I adjust the angle of her head, tilting her face up toward mine.

Abigail sits quietly in my lap, like a kitten being picked up by the scruff of its neck. Her lips part slightly, her warm breath fanning across my knuckles in a tantalizing caress.

“Is this what you want?” I ask huskily, my voice dropping an octave.

“Yes, that’s it,” Holly confirms, checking the screen, though she wasn’t the one I was asking.

I watch, utterly fascinated, at how Abigail lets me manhandle her. I could easily see myself lowering her down onto my rigid length. Those full, shapely lips parting to take me into her mouth. If this was anyone other than Holly who walked in on us, I would have thrown them out without a second thought.

Hell, I might still do it.

“Let’s have you stand up. Barron, you stand behind her. Abby, you against his chest. Both of you facing me. Then, Barron, you put your arm in front of her,” Holly instructs. She demonstrates how she wants me to bracket Abigail’s body.

I release my hold on her legs, leaving her to figure out how to extricate herself from her position on her own.

With no other choice, Abigail sets her hands on my shoulders, allowing only the base of her palm to make contact. It’s as if she doesn’t want to touch me any more than absolutely necessary.

I suppress a grin, remembering how she grasped at me moments ago.

Pushing off, she shimmies back quickly, stretching out to put one foot on the floor then the other. The position has her hair falling away from her chest. Gravity creates a tantalizing view that should really be caught on camera.

I’ll have to remember to tell Holly.

With Abigail standing there, I let my gaze sweep down her body to the triangle at the apex of her thighs. I exhale in a rush, knowing there’s nothing beyond that scrap but wetness.

Abigail retreats, turning to Holly, though it feels more like she’s pointedly avoiding me. “I-I think I ruined my makeup,” she murmurs, dabbing at the corner of her eyes.

“At the risk of sounding like a jerk, that may actually work better for the vibe I’m going for.” Despite Holly’s apologetic tone, Abigail freezes.

I rise from the couch, circling behind Abigail. She puts her arms down at her sides then folds them, as if she’s not sure what to do with herself.

It’s not on me if it feels like I’m stalking prey. That’s just how it turned out.

Holly resumes peering through the viewfinder, making adjustments, then shakes her head.

“Steven will probably have a shit fit, but I’m putting this thing on autofocus.” She checks the control panel then turns a dial with a cringe as it clicks into place. “Personally, I’d say this looks great.” She snaps a few pictures.

“Ready?” I ask Abigail.

With her eyes downcast, she nods as though resigned to this.

I step closer until she’s pressed against my chest. She sucks in a sharp breath as I settle my palm at her hip, ensuring there’s no space between us, no way she can ignore my arousal when my cock’s digging into her lower back.

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch this time, merely rests against me as instructed.

“Barron, kind of peek around her shoulder, like…like you want to see her expression and know what she’s thinking.”

As it happens, I am intensely curious about what Abigail is thinking after what we’ve just shared.

“Abby, can you turn your face in the opposite direction?” Holly directs, snapping more photographs from different angles.

I get the image she’s trying to capture. “Angle your face down a little and press your eyes tightly shut,” I whisper to Abigail.

She complies, and we earn a thumbs-up from behind the camera.

Holly leans to one side to study us. “I’m going to ask you for something.” She pauses, likely for dramatic effect. “And if you say no, I understand,” she quickly adds.

What the hell is she up to?

“Can we do a couple of shots without the dress?”

Abigail tenses in my arms. “Excuse me?”

“Barron can cover you with his arm,” she explains.

Abigail is silent, holding herself rigid as she weighs her decision. What’s she thinking? Will she go through with it? Maybe if she had the fire I’d glimpsed burning in her veins, again.

“Come on, little thief,” I say low enough for her ears only.

The subtle change in her breathing announces her annoyance at my needling. She doesn’t move a muscle, frozen in indecision.

Adding pressure on her internal debate, I hook my thumb under the strap at her shoulder. She doesn’t utter a single protest or attempt to push me away. Instead, she stands there meekly, letting me continue undressing her as I see fit.

My cock twitches in response to her submission.

I drag the strap slowly across her flushed skin and down her arm. Goose bumps erupt along her bare shoulder, creating a delicious trail I’m tempted to chase with my tongue. I have the sudden urge to run my mouth over each raised bump until she’s shivering with need.

“It’ll just be one quick picture, then we’re done. I promise.” Holly keeps talking in a soothing tone, though I barely register what else she’s saying. Whatever it is meant to keep Abigail distracted and pliant, not deviating from what she’s already agreed to by not protesting.

Now that I’m this close, I can feel the tension coming off her in waves, smell the arousal clinging to her skin. I swap arms, bringing my other hand up to toy with the remaining strap before slipping it down as well.

Abigail remains perfectly still as I bare her body, though her pulse thunders wildly.

I take a deliberate step to one side, allowing the flimsy garment to fall. It slides gracefully down her back, over the curve of her ass, and puddles at her feet.

There’s no more than a minuscule triangle of silk covering her mound. The word “covering” is too generous to describe the scrap of fabric. Her slit has little more than a thin string and a few beads at her most intimate place.

Is that skimpy excuse for underwear what has her so deliciously wet?

“Barron.” The insistent edge to Holly’s voice snaps me out of my lustful daze. Damn it. How do I end up distracted whenever Abigail is involved? “Your right arm over her chest. The left at her waist,” Holly repeats.

“This okay?” I ask.

I didn’t think I’d be this enthusiastic over taking pictures. I nearly stayed outside, hesitating at the door, while Abigail was inside, wearing next to nothing…

“Abby, left cheek toward your shoulder,” Holly calls out as the camera shutter begins clicking rapidly. “Let’s try…can you bring your hands up to cup his biceps?” She sets up like she’s clutching a roller coaster safety brace, demonstrating the pose.

Abigail is slow to respond. Her hands inch up my arms, her fingertips trailing over my suit jacket until they curl around my flexed biceps. The movement causes her breasts to push out enticingly.

“Hmm, can you move your left hand up to his cheek…” Holly keeps giving directions.

Again, Abigail hesitates, then her palm is cradling the side of my face, her thumb brushing along my cheekbone.

That leaves my wrist resting at the outer curve of her breast, the tips of my fingers grazing the soft swell of silky skin at her side. I’m itching to do more but tentatively set my fingertips down lightly on her, savoring the warmth of her flesh.

She glances up at me through her lashes. Our gazes lock in an electrifying moment. Just long enough to see her lower lids still damp from earlier. Then her focus jumps from my eyes to my cheek, where she softly sets her fingers to rest.

How have I never noticed how delicate and feminine her hands are? It’s an irrational thought, but I find myself suddenly glad I took the time to shave this morning before venturing out of my suite.

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Holly announces, though she continues to click away, intent on capturing every last second.

Abigail’s hand falls from cradling my cheek as if burned. She brings her arm up under mine and pushes away from my chest, breaking the fragile connection we had for those few heated seconds.

I reach down for her dress just as she does, and we bump into each other, her hip brushing my cock.

“I’ve got it.” She holds out her left hand, fingers spread, keeping me at bay.

I watch, my jaw clenched, as this beautiful woman kneels naked at my feet to gather her clothing.

I’ve never wanted to scoop a woman up and carry her off before, but the urge has my blood pounding in my veins. All I can do is clench my fist as she brings that sorry excuse for a dress up to cover herself.

“These are fantastic,” Holly gushes, her attention focused on reviewing the images on the screen. “You two have ridiculous chemistry.”

Abigail runs her hands along her thighs, pulling at the bottom of her dress. Then she swipes her tousled hair over her shoulders and heads around the bed, clearly intent on making her escape.

“I’ll head back to my room,” she says as she rushes past Holly and out the door.

I’ve never been an impulsive man, always priding myself on being in control. But something about Abigail breaks down every ounce of restraint.

I want her. Only the thinnest thread of sanity is keeping me from chasing after the woman and making her mine completely.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Holly says, her pointed words drawing my attention from the closed door. “You’d better rein it in.” She pins me with a warning look. “She’s not the kind of girl who’s disposable.”

I haven’t been able to shake that fact since the moment she stepped aboard the ship.