The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Twenty-Six

Declan

Something tickles my subconscious. Something soft and pretty and fragile. I sigh, wishing Yuna were here, running her fingers through my hair again. It felt so good when she dried my hair. Her fingertips massaged my scalp, although I don’t think she meant to do that. But her hands are so strong that it turned out that way.

My super-efficient dryer works too well, though. It only took a second for her to be finished. I should get myself a cheap, no-name dryer the size of my palm from Target. Maybe grow my hair out, too.

The soft, pretty and fragile something continues to tickle my mind. It obviously isn’t me fantasizing about Yuna’s hands on me.

Finally, I open my eyes. It’s still dark in my bedroom, but I can hear a faint melody coming from downstairs.

Did I forget to shut down the connection between the piano and the iPad? I could’ve forgotten to turn off the setting… But still, why would the instrument start playing at night?

I turn over, the sheets tangling around my bare body. The music’s soft—the piece Yuna performed before she started Schubert. It’s slow and should be calming, but it’s not. I turn, dragging the sheets with me. My nerves seem too alive, just like every time I’m near Yuna. But she’s gone home. So it has to be the music, reminding me of her.

There’s no way I can go back to sleep. Sighing, I get up and walk down the stairs to turn the piano off…then stop.

What the fuck…?

Yuna is sitting at the piano, her eyes lowered, her hands moving. Only the full moon provides light in the living room, bathing her in silver. She’s in the same dress she wore earlier, but now the zipper’s half undone, down to her mid-back, and the fabric is falling off one slender shoulder. Her feet are bare, her shoes abandoned next to the pedals.

She’s a tantalizing gift, partially unwrapped. And instead of calling 911 like a rational, sane celebrity faced with a stalker employee, I want to strip that dress the rest of the way off.

Why the hell not? I’m nude, and I want her to see the rest of what she couldn’t see earlier today in the gym.

A searing heat begins to build within me…and that’s not the only thing rising. Each note from the piano sounds like a lover’s caress, and I want Yuna to run those long, talented fingers over my bare skin.

I breathe quietly as illicit sensations run through me, feeling like a voyeur. But I’m not satisfied with just watching. My fingers itch to feel her.

She looks up. Our eyes meet. I can’t read the nuance of her expression. Moonlight or not, it’s too dark. But she doesn’t seem surprised at getting caught. I can see her mouth curve in the shadows.

She stands up. It seems to happen in slow motion, her body creating curving feminine contours that shift and stretch all the way up. The piano continues to play. Wait…wasn’t she performing?

She comes closer, her bare feet silent on the marble floor. There’s a brightness in her eyes that enthralls me. I would stay rooted to the spot even if the house were on fire.

Her dress shifts, sliding further down until one rounded breast is almost revealed.

She stops only a couple of inches away, almost touching, close enough I can feel her body heat. I lick my suddenly dry lips. She reaches down and wraps her fingers around my erection. I bite back a curse. Her hand is soft, but also strong from years of playing the piano. She runs a finger across the tip, then slowly lifts it, glistening with my fluid, and slides it between her lips. Her cheeks hollow.

It’s hotter than anything I’ve ever seen, and my control cracks. I start to reach for her, but she takes a quick half-step back, making me stop.

She gives me a small smile and sinks slowly to her knees. I feel her breath over my dick, making my muscles jerk. Her hot mouth envelops me; her head moves.

My vision goes hazy with lust. I don’t want to come like this. I want to spread her legs and push inside her and come that way, the two of us joined. But her fingers hold me in place and her lips and tongue will not be denied.

“Fuck,” I say as an orgasm grips me.

She pulls off as I ejaculate. It hits her on the cheek and chin. The fluid drips as she stands.

I’ve never come on a woman’s face before, never really had the interest, but seeing my semen on her is oddly dirty and erotic. Like I’m marking her as mine.

She runs a finger along the messy side of her face, then licks it. “Mmm. You feed me the tastiest things. Guess you meet one of my requirements.”

My erection doesn’t subside. I stay rigid as iron, and her eyebrows quirk. Some primitive need I can’t deny clenches me. I grip my dick and jerk hard twice. And I’m spurting again, the white semen shooting out hard enough to hit her dress this time.

A loud, jarring sound comes from my left. Yuna swivels her head and steps away.

“Don’t—!” I say.

…but it’s too late.

She’s gone, leaving me holding my dick—literally—in the living room.

The jarring sound comes again. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them when the clamoring doesn’t stop.

The familiar ceiling of my bedroom. Slanting sunlight coming in through the windows. What the—?

Breathing hard, I look down. I’m still holding my dick in my hand. And I’ve made a mess on the sheets.

Fuck.What am I? Sixteen?

The phone keeps ringing. It’s five thirty. I answer it. Probably Benedict with some emergency. Then I remember he’s off. Is it Yuna, then?

“Declan,” I say, my voice rough.

“Dude, what’s going on? I thought we were going to run together this morning?” It’s Aiden, sounding very annoyed.

I start to put my free hand over my eyes, but stop when I realize it’s wet and sticky. Ugh. I wipe it on the sheet, which will have to be laundered in any case. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Did you? Because you sound like you’ve been running. Did you go out by yourself?”

“I was running to get the phone.” No way am I telling him I had a wet dream about Yuna. Aiden would never let me live it down. “And I was working late, reading a script for a meeting with a director on Friday,” I add, “which is why I overslept.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Aiden’s voice is a parody of understanding. “I figured maybe your new assistant jumped you and cracked your femur or something.”

I wish Yuna had jumped me. Actually, forget jumping. We could just have what we were doing earlier in my dream. With some modifications. Like going to my bed. And me stripping her and having my way with her. It’s a crime I didn’t get to see her come, even if it was just a dream.

“She’s a good and, uh, proper assistant,” I manage.

A good, proper assistant who I had a wet dream about. Jesus.

“I’m going to run later,” I say. “Anyway, we should get together. My treat for missing the run today.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know a time after I check my schedule.”

“That works,” I say, then hang up and toss the phone on the pillow next to me.

Yuna’s going to be here in about three hours. I should try to get my body under control.

And most definitely not think about her mouth and what it can do with my dick.