All That He Demands (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 3) Page 5

“Lily, oh my GOSH I am going to KILL you – you can’t just run off and have mysterious sex with some mysterious stranger and not – is he mysterious?”

  “Kind of, yeah. Actually, pretty mysterious, yeah.”

  I could almost hear her swoon on the other end.

  “Is he cute?”

  “You wouldn’t believe how cute.”

  She squealed. “You have to tell me EVERYTHING!”

  “When I get home, I will, I promise.”

  “Are you coming home soon?”

  “Um… I don’t know.”

  “Are you coming home TODAY?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Oh my GOSH, Lily, I am so freakin’ jealous!” she squealed, though I could tell she was happy for me. Then she turned somber. “You’re being safe, right?”

  “YES, Mom,” I said, though I felt a pang of guilt because, no, I wasn’t, not really – and by that I mean condoms, not bald thugs in sunglasses.

  “Fine. Just… come home safe, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “If for no other reason than I have to hear how the hell you, Lily Ross, did something as crazy as shacking up with a mysterious cute guy you met last night.”

  “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

  “Okay… thanks for calling.”

  “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  “Yeah, YOU’RE going to be the one buying the Haagen Dazs for a month after this crap.”

  “Deal,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay… have fun!”

  “I will,” I grinned, and meant it.

  15

  We had breakfast by the penthouse pool, just Connor and me. Johnny had gone to talk to the manager about surveillance tapes and see if he could identify Mr. Clean.

  The spread laid out on the white linen tablecloth and expensive china was magnificent: eggs, bacon, every type of fruit imaginable, croissants, pastries, a pot of fragrant coffee, carafes of freshly-squeeze orange juice and ice-cold milk…

  …and a piece of sourdough toast, a cup of strawberry yogurt, and a Bloody Mary.

  “I made sure they brought your favorites,” Connor said as he tucked into a massive helping of bacon and eggs.

  “Ha ha,” I said without laughing as I crunched into the toast.

  He gave me a mischievous smile. “Those must be your favorites, seeing as how you could have ordered anything on the menu and you still chose those.”

  “I didn’t want to freeload,” I said, taking a sip of the Bloody Mary. “By the way, thank you.”

  Mm. Nice.

  It was probably entirely psychological, but I could feel my hangover begin to recede.

  “You’re welcome. And it’s not freeloading, it’s letting me do something nice for you. I like doing nice things for people I care about.”

  I blushed slightly at the People I care about part, and my heart pitter-pattered a little.

  “You’ve done plenty of nice things for me,” I murmured.

  “I meant besides orgasms,” he grinned.

  The slight blush turned into bright crimson.

  He continued to stare seductively into my eyes. “And you’ve more than returned those nice things – ”

  “SOOOO, who was that guy?” I said loudly.

  He grinned at my discomfort – and then decided to let me off the hook. “Who knows. A disgruntled shareholder. A disgruntled former employee. A disgruntled something or other.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “I know this is hard to believe, seeing as you probably don’t have to deal with assholes making vague threats against you on a daily basis – ”

  “Other than Herr Klaus?” I said, and immediately regretted it.

  He laughed. “Herr Klaus? That’s what you call him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It fits. Yes, besides Herr Klaus, you probably don’t have too many assholes making threats against you, whereas mine are legion. That guy was a piker. He might as well have been threatening to de-friend me on Facebook. You should hear what people say about me in board meetings.”

  “You’re on Facebook?” For some reason that surprised me.

  “Somebody somewhere in one of my organizations runs it for me,” he said, waving a fork. “It’s for publicity more than anything else.”

  “You weren’t there, though. He was creepy.”

  Connor reached across and took my hand. “I’m sure he was, and I’m sorry you had to go through that… but his tactics were strictly Bad Guy 101. No, not even that – Remedial Bad Guy Basics. Bad Guy For Dummies.”

  I giggled a little in spite of myself, then made myself stop.

  “I want you to be careful,” I insisted.

  He used a finger to cross his heart in an ‘X.’ “Promise. I’m just sorry you didn’t get to enjoy the pool while you were down there.”

  “I like the company at this one better.”

  He smiled, and looked down at the robe still tightly clasped around me. “Are you going to open that up and get some sun, or what?”

  I hesitated… mostly because I was self-conscious of my body, and nervous about exposing myself to him out here in the unforgiving daylight… but then I untied the belt, shrugged my way out of the robe, and let it stay under me like a slipcover over the chair.

  His eyes moved up and down my body, pausing especially long on my breasts.

  I blushed a little. The bikini top felt even smaller than before, and I could almost feel him caressing me with his eyes.

  I liked it.

  I liked that he was looking at me, openly, lustfully.

  He certainly wasn’t interested in his breakfast anymore.

  I sat back, rested my hands on the arms of the chair, and let him look some more.

  His eyes moved up to mine and tried to hold there – but he kept darting a quick glance down at my breasts, my legs, then back up to my face.

  I could feel myself getting very turned on.

  Especially when he shifted, crossed his legs with one ankle on his thigh, and rummaged in his pocket, as though rearranging something.

  He’s getting turned on, too, I thought, and the idea that I was the one responsible made me feel more confident – and even more turned on.

  “I have to say,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and thick, “I’m glad you kept the robe on downstairs.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

  “Because I want this,” he said, gesturing to my body, “all for myself.”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice commanding.

  I stood up, leaving the safety of the robe behind completely, and walked over slowly to him.

  He uncrossed his legs and took my hands.

  I could see the bulge in his pants, and it made me even more excited.

  “Sit here,” he said, and pulled me down to his lap.

  I started to sit on his legs like I would on a bench –

  “No. Straddle me,” he ordered.

  I paused, then lifted one leg over him and sat on his lap facing him.

  I raised my arms up hesitantly and put them on his broad shoulders.

  He gazed deep into my eyes, and I felt his strong, powerful hands lightly touch my sides.

  I whimpered a little as his fingers brushed my bare skin, then worked their way lightly up my back. Every touch sent a little thrill of heat through me, and I shuddered.

  “Are you cold?” he whispered.

  “No. Not at all.” I swallowed. “Just… turned on.”

  He grinned, and traced one of his fingers around my side to the bikini top. Then he began to caress everywhere there was exposed skin – the top swells of my breast, at the sides, my cleavage.

  Did I mention the top was rather small?

  It left a lot of skin to caress.

  He pulled gently at the cloth and I about had a heart attack – is he taking off my top, up here, out in the open?!

&
nbsp; But he was only tugging up the top so that the underside of my boobs was slightly exposed. And he began to softly brush that with his fingers, too.

  He was killing me. I wanted so much for him to move on to other areas – but he kept away from them, teasing me, making them yearn even more for his touch.

  By now my nipples were diamond-hard under the cloth. Apparently he could see that, because he gave me one of his self-satisfied grins and softly – barely – touched one of the points through the red material.

  I moaned.

  He began to softly massage the little point through the cloth, circling it, stroking it, rubbing it gently, switching from one breast to the other, caressing the other nipple through the cloth.

  And with his other hand, he moved down between my legs.

  He brushed softly across the insides of my thighs, his touch like feathers or silk, then slowly advanced towards the bikini bottom. At first he stroked the edge, where the red cloth met my leg… tracing a line from my ass all the way around my thigh…

  Then his fingers wandered across the red cloth. He stroked between my legs, tracing my lips, advancing softly up them until he reached the apex – and another hard little point beneath the cloth that he began to circle with one fingertip.

  So soft, so slow… then gradually harder, but not much… the difference between a kiss so soft it felt like a breath, and one that merely tickled the skin.

  The bikini bottom was soaked with my desire, as wet as if I had submerged in the pool just enough to touch the cloth.

  I whimpered and shuddered over and over. I had to close my eyes for a second, I was so overcome with need. Then I opened them again and stared at him. I felt like I was drowning as I gazed into those icy blue depths.

  At that moment, he had me.

  He owned me.

  One set of fingers softly brushing my nipples, the other teasing and playing with my clit…

  …and then he slipped his thumb beneath the edge of my bikini bottom.

  I gasped as I felt his fingertip move down past my clit and caress my lips… then slowly inch back up. My wetness made his flesh linger on mine, made it glide sensually across my skin. He began to massage me in slow, soft, tiny circles, and I could feel heat and fire building faster and faster inside me.

  His other hand pulled the bikini top askew. Then he circled his hand around my back and forced my upper body closer to him.

  No matter how insanely turned on I was, fear shot through me.

  “No,” I protested, even as I had to close my eyes against the onslaught of pleasure from his caresses. “No, someone will see – ”

  “No one will see,” he growled, and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking wetly at it with his lips and tongue.

  I cried out and arched my back so he could take all of me in his mouth.

  He broke off just long enough to ask, “Do you still want me to stop?”

  He said it as he started pressing the tiniest bit harder on my clit, faster, stroking around in a circle, sending lightning bolts of ecstasy through my thighs.

  Damn him.

  At that point, I wouldn’t have cared if all the paparazzi in Los Angeles were up there snapping away with their cameras.

  Well, that’s probably not true.

  But seeing as we were on the highest building for miles around, and only birds, airplanes, and helicopters could see what was going on – and there weren’t any around that I was aware of – I had to keep going.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasped, and he went back to sucking greedily at my breast. Then, with his teeth, he savagely pulled away the other triangle of cloth and began licking my other nipple, too.

  All the while, his thumb was pressing so sweetly, so amazingly on my clit, sending me into insane contractions of pleasure and bliss –

  And then I came.

  I screamed and grabbed the collar of his shirt, holding on for dear life, as his thumb swirled around me, pressing harder yet still soft, massaging me up and down, around and around. Waves of liquid fire rolled through my belly and thighs, straight up to my breasts where he sucked and licked greedily, lusting for me, wanting me.

  My body jerked and shuddered and I screamed again, then moaned, then whimpered as the bolts of lightning receded, and finally had to put my hand on his to stop his caresses… and then I collapsed on him, my head on his shoulder, and trembled.

  16

  He kissed my neck and stroked my hair, let his hands glide softly down my back, sending more shivers along my spine.

  When I was fully recovered, I leaned back and rearranged my top so everything was covered. Then I looked him in the face and smiled shyly.

  “See?” he grinned. “I told you I like doing nice things for you.”

  “That was… very nice.” I bit my lip, trying my best to be seductive. “Now I want to do something nice for you.”

  His gaze flitted back and forth from my eyes to my lips. “Um… okay…”

  I let my own fingers drift down to his jeans, and I began to trace my fingernails lightly along the giant bulge there. I could hear the soft scratching sound of my nails on denim, and imagined that there would be just the slightest pressure along his member.

  I guess I was right, because he groaned.

  I winced apologetically. “The only thing is… I’m still a little sore from last night…”

  He nodded, though I could tell his mind was elsewhere as I ran my fingers along the bulge in his jeans. “…that’s okay…”

  I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “But I could do other things.”

  Then I licked his earlobe lightly, just a tiny caress, and breathed out the tiniest of whispers.

  A groan escaped his lips.

  I moved off his lap, took my robe, and put it on the ground in front of his chair. Then I knelt so that I was right there in his crotch.

  I could feel the heat radiating off him, just inches away from my face.

  I started to get excited again, despite the shattering orgasm just a minute ago.

  “You poor baby,” I cooed as I stroked the outline beneath the denim, “I know you’re all pent up in here…”

  I pulled up his white linen shirt. The sight of his tan, sculpted abs made my excitement double.

  I popped the top button on his jeans and started to pull down the zipper –

  “Wait,” he said in a choked voice, and grabbed my wrist.

  “What?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

  “Not here. Not out here,” he said, shaking his head.

  I frowned and looked around for planes, helicopters, or birds. “Nobody can see us.”

  “I don’t want to take the chance. All I need is photos showing up in the tabloids.”

  I scowled. “You didn’t seem to mind so much when it was me just a minute ago.”

  He grinned. “If you’ll remember, I never took off your panties. And as far as your top, I merely… rearranged things.”

  I glared at him. He was right… sort of.

  “You know, I wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to see you motorboating me in the tabloids, either,” I said. “But you didn’t let that stop you.”

  He laughed. “True. But you’re not the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation.”

  “So you’re saying it’s okay if I get embarrassed, just not you.”

  “I’m saying I really want you to do whatever you were going to do to me… but let’s do it inside,” he said as he got up, took my hand, and pulled me inside the penthouse.

  17

  I was still a little annoyed as he led the way to the bedroom.

  On the other hand, the idea that somebody could have taken photographs of us, with my head buried in his lap, kind of threw a cold bucket of water on me.

  I had just been scared of somebody seeing us.

  I hadn’t even considered that they might be taking pictures.

  “You don’t think anybody – ” I started.

  “No. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Hang on a s
econd, will you?” he asked as he headed into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Ew, I thought, and tried not to picture what he was going to do.

  But I didn’t hear any… um… incriminating sounds. Instead, all I heard was the sink running for about a minute. Then it shut off.

  Then the door opened, though I couldn’t see him yet.

  “Shy bladder?” I teased. “Do you need a little running water to help out?”

  He stepped into the bedroom, and I caught my breath.

  He was completely naked except for the towel he held in front of his crotch.

  Connor was beautiful in jeans and linen shirts, suits and ties – in all of it, he was incredibly sexy.

  The night before, nude, his muscles etched by the shadows, he was gorgeous.

  But in the light of day, he was breathtaking.

  His perfect, golden skin was mouthwatering. His muscles were like a hero’s out of Greek mythology. The light scattering of hair across his powerful chest and washboard stomach were so incredibly masculine, it made me want to run my fingers across his body. His thighs were so massive, his calves so beautifully sculpted, he looked like he could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money.

  I stared at him, my knees getting weak. He smirked a little, knowing full well what effect he was having on me.

  “I, uh… I didn’t have a shower this morning,” he explained. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

  Awww…

  “So I figured I’d wash up a little downstairs…” he said, then added hesitantly, “…if that’s what you were planning.”

  The idea that he was still thinking of me, first and foremost, made me grin like an idiot. Then I looked back at the towel he was holding in front of the main show.

  “Thanks. I hope you didn’t… lose too much enthusiasm,” I said, not nearly as smoothly or seductively as I would have liked.

  He let go of the towel.

  It hung there, suspended midair. What was beneath it was not the least bit weighed down.

  And, as I've mentioned before, it was a plush, heavy towel.

  He grinned. “No, I think we’re fine on that account.”

  My mouth watered.

  I so wanted to take that towel off.