Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) Page 5

  Whoo – eee. Laura swallowed hard, knowing that this was really it. He wanted to sleep with her, was inviting her back to his place for it, and she ran through her mental inventory. Clean lingerie? Yes. Shaved legs? Yes – she’d been optimistic. No car? Yes.

  Birth control?

  Oh, shit. She was on the pill, but had forgotten to take it a few days ago. Missing one day shouldn’t hurt, right?

  Hopefully he had a condom.

  His puzzled look told her she was taking too long to think. “I would love a drink.” And then he leaned in for another kiss, the move more certain now, his hands on her more demanding and visceral, claiming her and marking her arms, her neck, her lips and ass with his hands, his touch, his caress.

  She was his tonight, and that had to be enough for her. He was hers for whatever he gave, and as the kiss heated she felt her core warm, clit throbbing and eager for what his tongue was promising right now, exploring her as his hands roamed her back and neck.

  People were staring now; as she opened her eyes the onlookers tittered. She pulled back and wiped her mouth, embarrassed.

  Dylan just grinned, leaned in and said, “Let’s stop giving the jealous bastards a show.” Her laughter rang down the street to the parking lot where his Audi sat.

  When she climbed in it smelled like a campfire.

  Blasting the local 80s station on the radio, they rode back to his place in silence, his hand planted on her knee whenever he wasn’t shifting, the fingers playing a melody of lust and creeping higher up her thigh until they arrived at his apartment complex. It was a skyscraper made of glass and steel and screamed money.

  How in the hell did a firefighter afford this? As if he heard her thoughts, Dylan muttered, “I have a roommate.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment flooded her. Maybe he really did just want to have drinks? No guy ever, ever invited her to his place to share some vodka and Coke, though. Not even the true assholes who beer goggled their way to fucking a fat chick they despised in the morning.

  Relief took over her disappointment when he smiled a wicked grin and said, “But he’s gone for the night.”

  Getting out of the car, walking up two flights of stairs and wandering down Dylan’s hallway was a blur. Laura vaguely heard his keys rattling and then a fierce, hot mouth was on hers, Dylan’s thick forearms scraping her shoulders as his hands slid up her jawline, behind her ears, fingers nestling in her hair and pulling her blond curls loose.

  His tongue explored her mouth with such precision and his hips pressed into hers with intent. Gasping, she inhaled sharply as he pushed her up against his open door and took her mouth greedily.

  Without a word he maneuvered their entangled bodies, closed the front door, tossed his keys on the floor and had her in his bedroom in seconds. No complaints here, Laura thought, and that was the last rational idea she had as he went straight for her clit.

  No pretense, no artsy coyness.

  “What are you – ?” she gasped. And then, oh wow, he went right for the center of her heat, the briefest of touches so profound she nearly came all over his lips in an instant. Her thong slid down her legs as if an unseen force stripped it off and then –

  “Ahhhhhh,” she groaned, practiced arms reaching under her hips, establishing his power. Using his forearms, he guided himself to her clit, freeing one hand to touch her there, slipping a finger into her pussy and caressing so that it set off unexpected waves of pleasure.

  It was like a dream come true. She had resigned herself to guys who went down on her like their Novocaine was wearing off. Lips flapping and trying to do one thing but accomplishing nothing more than drooling. Who was this man? This? This was like being made love to by a silk mouth.

  Her body flushed red and hot, the fire focused on her hot nub as he teased it, slowly growing the release within, entering and pulling back with two perfect fingers. Her thighs twitched and shook, and she knew she would come like a freight train soon. She buried her hands in his hair, sinking her hands into him, pushing his face in tandem with her need to strum her to the next level –

  “Oh, Dylan!” she murmured, fucking his tongue, which licked her, hard, dead center on her nub. His tongue opened up, hot flesh on hers, as he gave her focused and expansive flesh play. Two different sensations tipped her completely over as every muscle tensed, her dripping hole clinging to his finger, riding his face like a stallion, his tongue working hard to keep her frenzy going.

  “There! Right there,” she groaned, hands curling into fists of orgasm, body flailing as she murmured over and over, “Oh, God! Oh, God!” She was self-conscious; most guys didn’t just do this. They might flirt a bit with the clit, but they didn’t engage so fully. So, uh, deeply. He clearly enjoyed this. Reveled in it. And as he picked some perfect rhythm for making her come, she realized she was being played by a sex virtuoso.

  Give in to it, Laura. Give in, she told herself, hoping he didn’t care about her fleshy belly, her curvy ass. All worry faded as she orgasmed and realized she had never thought this was possible, had never been in the hands of a master like this. Keeping her pussy on his tongue, he maintained, tongue pushing and withdrawing, getting every last bit of her release as her muscles unclenched, her gasps subsiding, little sounds of exertion.

  He looked up and grinned, and slid his hands up her body, following her curves. One hot kiss full of her taste geared her up again, her clit and pussy clenching so hard she climaxed yet again simply from the kiss, her hips pushing into him, her juices in her mouth, his mouth, the scent so arousing that she was actually coming from a kiss.

  ***

  The taste of Laura was so much more detectable than anything they had just eaten at dinner. Instinct drove him to kiss her again and just as he was ready to make his next move she surprised him by taking the lead. She reached for him with a familiarity, the skin on his aching cock so soft and eager, rising up to meet her. Laura deftly massaged his thigh with her other hand, cupping his balls, pressing against the base with her thumb, a deep groan growing out of him unbidden. Oh, man, did this woman know how to touch him.

  She licked her lips with intent, boldly staring him in the eye, then looking down and drawing out the wait, making him hold his breath with the agony of anticipation.

  She held the base of his cock with one hand and began licking him slowly, flicking the tip until he groaned again, hoping he could hold out until they were ready to make love, his body so ready to dive into her flesh, to grab those curves and to luxuriate in her body.

  Taking him in inch by inch, she tongued him until he twitched. Licking the front of his cock below the head and then gulping him even deeper into her mouth, flicking her tongue against him, she made him tighten and release his breath, hips shifting as he moaned at the feel of her mouth around his cock.

  Her hand gently masturbated him while sliding her mouth up on his cock, making sure he felt the inside of her cheek, her tongue and her lips, not really sucking but milking him. Milking him. Oh, shit, at this rate he’d come in her mouth, and as seconds passed that idea became increasingly appealing…

  One of his hands touched her head, stroking her hair encouragingly even as he struggled inside, fighting the pleasure she was draining from him, torn between wanting immediate release and craving the feeling of being in her.

  Building up the speed almost excruciatingly slowly, she played him like a damned instrument, and as his fingers tightened in her hair, her silky locks felt like another layer of possibility, her hair casual and comforting and just right – like everything else this night. She gently touched his balls and he felt his juices begin to ooze out into her mouth, so that she gasped even with his pole in her mouth, the combination of moist heat and cold, rushing air too much.

  The sound of her voice vibrated his cock in her throat, her lips kissing her own thumb and forefinger, wrapped like a cock ring, as Dylan was completely enveloped by her. Nearly screaming, he sat up and grasped her head, grinding his hips in and out as she sucked hard, then
let go, in rhythm to get him off. She completely covered his root with her lips. He panted, overtaken by this gem, his hands roaming over her gorgeous breasts, her hair falling in waves over her face as she mouth fucked him, and the better part of him stopped her, wanting to give her more.

  But holy hell, she was a master at this.

  Second date, Dylan, he told himself. Second date.

  ***

  Am I really giving head on the first date? Laura wondered, her mouth working the magic she knew she possessed. She was good at this. Really good. A fleeting thought, pretty girls don’t need to do that, shot through her mind and she willed it away. Giving a blow job wasn’t about being pretty enough.

  It was about control.

  Until Dylan had stopped her, she had him completely in her spell. And liked it.

  His fingers sought out her arousal, discovering her wetness. “I want you, Laura. I need to be in you,” he murmured, her eyelids fluttering shut and her brain bending into a pretzel, twisted by a sudden lust, a lushness to his words, their presence, this now that made her want to immerse herself in Dylan forever.

  You would think she would be sated from what he had done with that skilled tongue, but a new wave renewed within. She wanted every inch of him, however he was willing to give it. Laura needed to impale herself on him, to ride that shaft, to feel his body on top, to have his hands on her, in her, over her – whatever her – and she wanted to exert control once again, to be controlled, to just –

  Have more.

  Shoving him on the bed, she put her legs on either side of his hips, the rasp of leg hair and flesh like music to her ears, his mere touch connecting her to a confidence she enjoyed. Aiming him carefully, she hovered over him, savoring the seconds, his eyes locked with hers, the skin around them warm and inviting, and she plunged herself directly over his gloriously-thick shaft. He was eager and pulsing, and she groaned when he went all the way in.

  What she wanted to say was something profound, the right words to match what her body was screaming. Instead, she sighed, “Oh, Dylan,” for the feeling was indescribable, a denouement, emotional and psychological, all at once. Like a real hole being filled, finding a being strong enough to fill it.

  As she stretched up to his tip, sliding up his pole was a sweet sensation, her body moving toward a screaming orgasm more amazing than any before. He licked one hand and stroked her nipple; he was spasming her pussy. Moving slightly, changing everything, Laura slid enough to make him beg, tightened her cunt, then plunged down again.

  “Holy shit! You have a magic pussy. You are so, so tight, so warm,” he convulsed. She sighed, the feeling too intense. She didn’t have a mind, just an ass he grabbed and nerve endings and her fullness.

  He took charge, both standing now, bending her over the bed, tummy down. One hand slid him in as he took her doggie style, his other hand in her hair. She reached for her clit as he dove into her, face buried in the bed.

  She thrust back against his cock, the pleasure so insane, the force of his tip against her cervix making her scream. She clenched the bedsheets, her fists tightening, her finger finding her clit a swollen, hot mess ready to explode.

  “Ah, GOD!” And she screamed and screamed and rutted, an animal of need as wetness hit her, knew she was spurting, felt him jerk and jizz filling her with his semen, her pussy one big fuck bucket, as he screamed, too.

  “Laura! Fuck me!” He couldn’t speak any longer, she stopped thinking and her body tried so much to come as hard as it could, her flesh determined to work with the magnitude of climax as his slickness and the power of his legs moving him in and out of her turned their coupling into a well-oiled machine.

  He pounded and pounded, she thrust back, he stroked her belly, and created a tiny pain, the pain all blending with the creaming and the cum to split her voice into something fierce and low, until all that was left was a drained feeling, all sex and candy and heaven.

  They came down, little aftershocks from the remainders of their sex, Dylan still in her, as he melted into her, trapping her, their wetness all she knew. She stopped thinking, her pussy done, her body relaxed, all sated.

  “Oh, man…” he mumbled into her back, hot breath ticklish and sweet.

  She turned around and pressed into him. “Oh, no. Oh, woman, ” she replied, a wicked grin plastered across her face as she kissed him.

  ***

  How long had they been asleep? Laura wondered as she peered into the grey darkness, Dylan’s arm covering her bare breasts, the sheets tangled between them.

  The post-coital haze lessened and reality sunk in. She realized that they were here in his apartment, and then it was – Oh, no!

  When she checked her smart phone it read 3:22 a.m. Well, what was the right thing to do? Should she stay? She looked down at this tender, precious, hot, naked man who had just devoured her in every way possible, and felt a giant rippling sense of guilt.

  He seemed to be into her in this whole one nightstand thing. She was frankly accustomed to bringing the guy back to her place and then having the guy leave right after everything was over. This was new territory for her and she wasn’t sure. Should she stay? Wake up early, make him breakfast? Lifting his arm off her, she slowly stood, stretching and examining the room.

  As she looked around his bedroom, she started to notice pictures. Pictures of Dylan with a woman on the beach holding surfboards, a woman in a stringed bikini, and then another picture of the same woman in a sport bikini playing beach volleyball. And then another of what looked like the same woman standing at the ski slope along with another man. Yet another picture of the same woman on the snowboard doing some sort of flip in mid air.

  What the fuck? Her heart started to pound. This was all wrong. He was definitely – this was just some one nightstand. Was that his wife? His girlfriend? Who? Every insecurity flooded her, everything fearful poured into her, and here she stood completely naked standing in the moonlight, staring over this guy who had just given her the best four hours she had had in years.

  It was all a lie. A big, fat lie.

  She scrambled to find her thong, her skirt, her sweater, her bra – where was it? Found it somewhere across the room hanging off of a doorknob of a closet.

  Had they really been that, uh, acrobatic? Apparently. As the feelings all merged into one big bundle of sheer fright, she found herself flooded with shame – shame and despair. And most of all a massive adrenaline rush that just kept screaming, get out, get out, get out, get out, get out now.

  She tiptoed, holding on to the straps of her heels, making sure she had her purse, her scrunchie pulling her hair together quickly so she didn’t look quite as ridiculous as she felt as she handled the walk of shame, clicking the door as quietly as possible.

  The hallway was empty as she tread gingerly down the stairs in her stocking feet and then finally found herself outside in the cool night air, the streetlamps illuminating the path back home. Fortunately, there were cabs floating around at 3:30 in the morning now and she grabbed one, completely ignoring every comment that the cabbie made, hoping like hell he could read the fact that she had leaned back against the backseat and closed her eyes, wanting to be left alone.

  Alone was safer.

  Laura used every spare molecule of energy and focus to still her heart, to calm it back down to where it belonged, in the normal, boring, slow pace she’d experienced before the whirlwind of Dylan. She should have known it was too good to be true. Every damn moment of it. He just wanted a piece of meat on the side. A big piece of meat. A little variety was the spice of life, right? Her body was so different from his girlfriend’s, a sleek, muscled, athletic sculpting she couldn’t imagine.

  Damn, damn, damn – here came the tears. They weren’t the great big heaving sobs that she felt after dating someone for months and then realizing that it just wasn’t working. This was more the scalding tears of reproach, of the fact that she should have known better, and of a bit of giddiness that she’d gotten something more than
she’d expected out of the evening.

  Dinner and mind-blowing sex was great, but apparently what she had just had with him was all she was going to have, because he was clearly involved with whoever that woman was and that woman had a bod that went on for miles. Damn, if she had 10 percent body fat, Laura would be amazed. And if that was his type, what was Laura? Just some cow he decided he’d grab onto for the hell of it, trolling some dating site. Whatever.

  The screech of the cab’s brakes told her it was time and then boom – she felt the car jerk to a stop. She handed the cabbie enough of a tip to make herself feel good and to make him grin, and to wish her a good night, a good morning, a good whatever. As she headed up to her apartment her shoes vibrated like a gong, click, click, click, her legs propelling her on on very weak heels, very tired calves, very tired everything. Mind, body and soul.

  She peeled off her outfit, poured herself into her big oversized flannel pajamas, and just crawled into bed to sleep the sleep of the conflicted.

  ***

  Dylan was accustomed to waking alone, Jill’s side of the bed a cold place, a sexual Siberia, but he had hoped to find Laura there this morning. Making her breakfast and having her be his breakfast had been on his mind as he’d faded off to sleep, cradling her in his arms.

  Hopefully, she’d left a note. Maybe she needed to rush off to work. He understood. It was hard to juggle shifts and bosses and –

  His eyes stopped as they landed on a picture of Jill. Hawaii. About seven years ago. Her skin glistened in her wet suit and she grinned a relaxed, happy smile as the sun kissed her nose, Mike standing next to her, turned toward her and showing the camera only his profile, face largely hidden. He was a good foot taller than petite Jill. Their hair had lightened so much on that vacation, though Dylan’s dark locks had stayed the same. By the end of the week Jill and Mike were hooked on surfing, while Dylan…

  His thoughts faded as the enormity of Jill’s death hit him. In some ways, her death was still striking blows. Good ones. $59 million blows a year.