Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“You keep at it, butterfly. I’m not stopping until you’re crying my name so hard that you’re heard in the café downstairs.”

“Fuck, Charles. You really upped your dirty talk game.”

This girl makes me smile in the most unlikely times. I’m back at eye level with her sex and look up to find her head rolled back against the headrest.

“I had to, since it makes you so fucking wet, my dear wife.” I suck her through her panties before tugging them down, and once again, the sight of her naked sex, soaking wet and ready for me, is like a needed shot of adrenaline.

Her grip tightens on my hair as I push her legs further apart, her knees touching the two armrests.

“Holy crap.” She groans, her eyes closed as I delve in.

My focus is her swollen clit as I lick and suck until Daisy is writhing and bucking in my chair. In my office. The place that has witnessed so many of our interactions. But this is the most memorable— her chanting my name, begging me to not stop.

Doesn’t she know I would rather die than stop?

My tongue buries inside her, my broad shoulders keeping her legs pushed open, and her back arches before she comes with a loud wail.

But I’m still not satisfied.

Will I ever be when it comes to her?

My tongue once again touches her clit, and Daisy lets go of my hair.

“No, Charles. No…I can’t anymore.” Her hands, about to come between me and her sex, halt when I slide a finger inside her. My mouth is back on her clit as I pull out before pushing back in.

In and out, until I find a pace that gets her hands back in my hair and my name back on her lips in that moaning tone.

Her wetness coats my hands and my jaw, and her cries fill the space between the walls of my office. My cock is throbbing painfully behind my zipper when I rise.

Daisy doesn’t make any moves, as if she’s too boneless to even lift a limb. She stares up at me, cheeks flushed with that rosy-pink color. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, causing some of her hair to stick to her skin.

In all, she looks breathtaking.

“That was the best kind of celebration,” she whispers in a breathy voice.

My lips curl up as I unbuckle my belt. “What made you think it was over, butterfly?”

28

DANGLING IN YOUR ARMS

CHARLES

It’s been a week since I got the call from Grandma. During this time, I’ve received emails from almost every board member expressing their confidence in me and my leadership, congratulating me even before the final voting is executed a month from now.

Despite it all, I sometimes struggle to believe that everything that seemed so out of reach just a few months ago is now right in front of me.

My train of thought breaks as I step into the kitchen and find Daisy standing behind the counter, beating what looks like pancake batter in a glass bowl. Dressed in one of my old college T-shirts, which hangs from one side of her neck, with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, she sways to the sound of the latest indie soft pop song.

All the Christmas decorations are still up in the house, as she clearly instructed Mrs. Kowalski that everything would stay as is until spring. And if that makes her happy, why the hell would I change anything?

She drops a big dollop of butter into the pan, and it sizzles.

“Good morning.” I walk closer and kiss her exposed neck. “Why are you in the kitchen and not Mrs. Kowalski?”

“Because Mrs. K also deserves a break, especially on weekends. I sometimes can’t believe the authorities aren’t knocking on your door for exploiting your staff.”

“I don’t exploit. I pay—”