Before Her Billionaires by Julia Kent Read Free Book Online

encouraging her to widen them.
    Oh.
    Now she understood, the flush of heat and forbidden desire pushing all the blood in her body to her skin.
    He wanted... that .
    She did, too, as the climax that she’d held at bay took over her body from the mere thought of being entered from behind—of anal play—of risqué sensuality and the promise of openness without judgment took her over the edge. One, then two fingers slid inside her clenched, hot walls as the man behind her pulled back, stroking himself once, twice, the push of his movement against her ass confusing as she exploded into her own orgasm, realizing on the edge of sanity that he was lubricating what was about to come.  
    At the moment, what was coming was her. The mere thought, though, of being entered by him took her—
    Beep! Beep! Beep!
    “ ARGH!” she screamed, three cats sprinting off her bed in three different directions, her alarm clock wailing like a chaperone at a high school dance, forcing horny kids apart.  
    Laura’s body trembled, the sheets slightly damp where her thighs rested against them, and if her clit throbbed any harder she could be a beacon for a lighthouse, renting out the little nub of skin along the eastern shore.
    Worst—her phone’s alarm clock function was particularly hard to turn off (probably designed by perfectly reasonable engineers who did that so you wouldn’t zonk back out again, but right now she wanted to kill those guys), so she spent a frustrating ninety seconds screaming at an impassive glass screen while her cats hissed and sphfffted and made a racket at the indignity of being chased off their comfortable bed by a madwoman.
    A madwoman who had an 8:30 a.m. staff meeting. Who in the hell scheduled staff meetings for 8:30 a.m. on a Monday?
    Laura’s boss. That’s who.
    She was still holding her phone in her hand, staring stupidly at the 6:11 a.m. on the display, when her phone buzzed with a text notification.
    Coming off shift and want something hot and sweet. Thought of you.
    She rolled her eyes and typed back:
    A coffee booty call? Seriously?
    While Laura’s half-smile and eye roll made her mood lighten slightly, her heart still pounded in her chest from her dream.  
    This text wasn’t from a hot man, half of the duo she’d been sleeping with in her (wet) dreams. As Miss Daisy climbed back on the bed and gave Laura an aloof look, pawing her comforter to get it just right before settling into a curled lump of fur, Laura read the incoming text.
    I love you a latte, but not enough to sleep with you. Only if caffeine deprivation were critical.
    Ha ha. She smiled and typed back:
    Get over here and I’ll make a pot right now.
    One letter was the response:
    K
    Her best friend, Josie Mendham, was on her way, and that meant a morning of yappy-yap-yap talking, sarcasm so thick you needed a honey stirrer for it, and a series of complaints about Laura’s shyness when it came to dating. Josie worked weird nurse’s hours and often showed up as Laura was getting out of bed.
    Sometimes, weeks went by and this was the only time Laura saw her, so she was grateful for any time from Josie, e s pecially since Ryan.
    Laura didn’t want to talk about Ryan. Didn’t want to think about Ryan. Wished a small building would be struck by lightning, crack in half, and fall on top of Ryan.  
    Wow. She hadn’t really gotten over Ryan, now, had she?
    Throwing the covers off her, the shock of cold air made the slightly wet spot under her ass a lot more prominent. Those men. T he men in her dream—now that is who she wanted to think about. Not the last guy she dated, the one who lied to her and turned out to be married....
    Guys in dreams were never married. They weren’t assholes. They didn’t stick you with the check for dinner because “I only have an American Express card and they take Visa here,” or give you a pained expression when you ordered the wr o ng wine, or put you down in tiny ways to make themselves feel better,