Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) (14 page)

She knew he had a gym on the premises, but not where it was. The house was too large for her to spend all day exploring. Frustrated, Gretchen spotted a phone on a table at the far end of the hall and headed for it. She picked up the receiver, and then paused.

She had no idea what Hunter’s phone number was. Actually, she didn’t know all that much about him other than the basics: He was lonely, he was scarred, and she loved to make him blush.

All right then, she’d learn more about him . . . right after she seduced him. Again. It wasn’t her fault, she told herself. The man was just completely seduce-able and utterly delicious. She couldn’t help herself. Even now, her fingers itched to curl into one of those starchy collars on his shirts and rip it open so she could slide a hand inside and touch his hot skin.

Her mouth watered just thinking about it. Gretchen stared at the receiver and sighed. She was going to have to do the inevitable, it seemed. With a sour frown, she hit zero to dial her least favorite person in the world.

Eldon answered on the third ring. Instead of hello, he said, “What are you doing in the north wing?”

“Hello to you, too. I’m looking for Hunter. He’s not in his room and not in the greenhouse. Any idea where he would be?”

“I’m not his keeper.”

She snorted to herself.
You think you are.
“I know you’re not. Can’t you just tell me where he is?”

“Why?”

“I’m going to go deflower him.” She smiled to herself at the butler’s outraged splutter. “Hey, you asked. Now, seriously, where is he?”

“You’re a vile young woman.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of a dick yourself.” When he spluttered again, she sighed. “Look, Eldon, I just want to spend some time with your boss. I don’t think he’d be keen on you keeping information from me. You may not like me, but he does. So spill the beans or I’m going to tell him you’re trying to keep us apart.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then he said, “Did you look in his office?”

It sounded like Eldon was spitting the words out of his mouth as if they tasted bad. “No, where’s his office at?”

“Second floor, west wing. Third door on right.” He hung up.

“Grumpy, grumpy,” she said to herself, hanging up the receiver. With a cheerful saunter, she headed for the west wing and went up the stairs. The door to his office was easy enough to find—there were not many doors in the West Wing, which meant that these were large rooms instead of the hall where she slept, a long corridor full of doors that were guest rooms.

She hesitated in front of the door and then knocked.

“Enter,” Hunter called from within.

Bingo.

Gretchen opened the door halfway and slid inside, shutting it behind her. There was a lock on the door and she turned it.
Good.
She didn’t want Eldon barging in on them.

Hunter’s office was surprising to her. While the rest of the house was decorated in a Victorian, almost Rococo ornate elegance, the office was spare and gray. The walls were painted a pale, wintry shade. Photos of buildings of every kind and shape covered the walls. An enormous TV on the far end of the room was turned to a financial channel, and the ticker moved quietly across the screen, the volume down. To the left of Hunter’s desk was an entire panel of windows that overlooked the gardens. There was a long, curving balcony there, and she imagined that he stepped outside in the summer to look over his beautiful, blooming plants.

The most surprising thing to her was that Hunter’s desk faced the far wall . . . and an enormous mirror. How very odd. She wouldn’t have thought Hunter, of all people, would work facing a mirror.

He looked up as she closed the door, glancing at her in the mirror, desk phone in hand. Confusion showed on his face. “Gretchen?”

“Hey. You busy?”

He set the phone down in the cradle and turned his chair to face her. “Just have a few meetings today I can’t reschedule. What are you doing here?”

She took a few steps forward, her hips swaying. Her hand went to the corner of his desk and she ran a finger along the edge of the wood. “I thought I’d come by and devirgin you.”

His brows furrowed together. “What?”

“Your virginity—I’ve come to take it.” She pulled the condom from her pocket and held it aloft like a trophy. “Unless you’re not interested, of course.”

“What happened to going slow?” His face was thunderstruck, his gaze darting to the condom she held tucked between two fingers.

That wasn’t a no. Gretchen moved forward, pressing her knee between his legs on the chair and sliding forward until her breasts were in his face. “I promise to go slow, if that makes you feel any better?”

“Gretchen—”

“The way I figure it is that we’ve been going about this all wrong. I thought taking it nice and slow would make you feel more comfortable, but now I’m thinking we should treat this like ripping off a Band-Aid—make it rough and fast so you won’t overthink things.” She removed her knee and slid down until her elbows were resting on his knees. His cock was already getting hard in his slacks, tenting the front. “Parts of you are interested at least.”

“All of me is interested, Gretchen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I have a conference call in two minutes and I can’t reschedule it.”

“Mmm.” She trailed a finger over his groin. “I can stick around, you know. I promise to be quiet.”

“I won’t be able to concentrate—”

She put a finger to her lips, smiling, even as his phone rang.

With a muttered oath, he grabbed her and spun her around, dragging her ass down to his lap. He pulled his chair in, tucking their legs under the desk, and grabbed the phone. “Hunter Buchanan here.”

Gretchen wiggled slightly in his lap, keeping quiet. His cock was already hard underneath her ass, and getting harder by the minute. His thighs were thick and rather strong, and she liked that, she decided, tucking her legs over his knees to spread her ass cheeks a bit more. She leaned forward on his desk and gave a bit of a wiggle again, so her pussy would rub up against his cock.

Immediately, Hunter reached past her and hit the mute button on his phone. He groaned, his free hand going to her hip. “Don’t move like that. Please.”

“I’ll be good,” she promised in a voice that told him she’d be anything but.

He clicked off mute, giving her a warning look. “No, I’m here. Go on.”

Gretchen propped her chin up on her hands, glancing around at Hunter’s desk while he discussed a property acquisition with whoever else was on the line. His hand remained at her hip, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth as he talked. It was hard to be still, especially when she could feel the thick length of him nestled against her pussy, but the conversation seemed to be an important one—they were discussing how many millions of dollars to offer for a shopping mall—and so she tried not to disturb him.

His desk was rather austere. Most people had small trinkets or personal possessions on their desks to mark them as theirs. Gretchen’s desk at home was covered with knick-knacks, postcards of exotic places, and a stack of unpaid bills. Hunter’s desk was spotlessly clean, and the only photo he had on his desk was of yet another building that she didn’t recognize. He sure did like pictures of buildings. On one corner of the desk was a single rose—matching the one he’d given her that day—in a slim crystal vase. Since he wasn’t using his computer, she tapped his mouse to get rid of the screen saver and glanced at his desktop. Jeez, he hadn’t even changed it from the factory setting. Boring. She opened his Internet browser and looked for a desktop wallpaper that would suit him, and ended up picking something that was a gorgeous shot of roses sparkling with dew. There. At least that was something.

She glanced over at the mirror, studying it. It didn’t make sense that a man as concerned with his appearance would want a big full-length mirror directly in front of his desk. “Why the mirror?” she whispered.

He tilted the phone away from his mouth so only she could hear his response. “So I never forget who—and what—I am.”

“That’s depressing,” she told him, and then rolled her eyes when he shushed her. “You know who does that? Emo people.”

“Uh-huh,” Hunter said, but his response wasn’t for her. His fingers had moved slightly up her waistband and had moved to her skin. He now grazed her skin over and over as he alternately talked and listened. “How many inspectors did you send out?”

That small touch on her skin was driving her crazy. Gretchen leaned forward on his desk, glancing up in the mirror. Hunter’s gaze was on her, his focus intense. He had the phone to his ear, but it was clear his attention was riveted to her. She felt her pulse begin to thrum with excitement, and she gave her thighs a little squeeze to see his reaction.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head back against his chair, as if trying to keep control. “Mmmhmm.”

She could hear the strain in his voice even as he answered the person on the other end of the phone.

“Go on.”

She was pretty sure he hadn’t been talking to her, but she decided to feign ignorance. Gretchen glanced across the desk at the mirror on the far wall and decided to take the teasing in another direction. She pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it on the ground, and cupped her breasts through her bra.

He pushed forward, pinning her against the desk as he reached for the mute button again. “You’re not playing fair, Gretchen.”

“You told me to go on,” she said, tweaking her nipples.

“Goddamn it.” His gaze was riveted on her breasts. “I’m going to have to fight fire with fire, aren’t I?”

“I wish you would,” she breathed, excited at the prospect.

His hand on her hip moved forward, between her legs, his gaze on her in the mirror.

She arched her back, letting him know that he was heading in the right direction, and spread her legs a little wider on his lap.

“I’m a very busy man,” he said in a husky voice, the phone still on mute. “I can’t afford these distractions.”

“Of course not,” she said innocently.

His hand slipped into her panties, his fingers seeking out her wet heat. He groaned when his fingers touched her pussy. “You’re soaked already.”

“Thinking about you gets me hot,” she said, teasing one bra strap down her shoulder. “Can’t help myself.”

Hunter’s fingers caressed her folds, exploring her. One fingertip grazed her clit, and she was unable to keep herself from crying out in response.

He jerked forward, cradling the phone against his ear, his other hand still trapped in her panties and pushing against her flesh. He released the mute button and growled into the phone, “I’m going to have to drop off the call. Someone send me the meeting minutes.”

And he hung up. The look on his face was hard and almost forbidding. “You’re derailing my plans, Gretchen.”

She kept the smile pinned to her face, though she couldn’t tell if he was furious at her or not. “You derailed mine. I kept thinking about you and couldn’t get any work done.”

And she gave one of her breasts a squeeze just to distract him.

“Clearly you need a taste of your own medicine.” His fingers moved across her clit again, and she jerked in his lap, that little touch sending skitters of pleasure through her body.

“Is this your idea of punishment?” Her laugh was breathless with need.

“Actually, I just want to touch you,” he whispered in her ear. His hand moved to cover hers over her breast, and his fingers danced against her clit.

She shifted her hips to push him to the exact spot that would send her wild with pleasure, since his seeking fingers kept coming close but weren’t quite there. “Then touch me all you want.”

And she rolled her hips against him, bearing down against his cock.

He groaned, his hand tightening against her breast. His fingers began to move rapidly against her clit, stroking back and forth in slick little motions that made her breath hitch in her throat. “Gretchen, I don’t know how long I’ll last with you on my lap like this.”

“Then maybe we should get that condom on you,” she agreed breathlessly. “And then I can get back on your lap after you put it on.”

He pushed his chair backward so they were no longer pinned to his desk.

Gretchen got off his lap and produced the condom again, kneeling between his legs in front of his chair. His cock seemed enormous, the tent in his pants straining, and she sighed blissfully at the sight. Her hands pulled at his belt, ready to put on the condom him.

He stopped her, his hand covering hers. “I can do this. I want you to get naked.”

So very authoritative. She shivered, standing up and tugging at the laced waistband of her yoga pants. Gretchen pulled the knot free, then shimmied the pants down her legs, letting them drop to the ground. She’d worn her cutest pair of panties today—hot pink silk with little black bows at the hips.

They, too, went to the ground.

His belt quickly followed, and then he was dragging his pants down his hips, along with his boxers. His cock jutted into the air, and she licked her lips with the sight of it. A moment later, he was smoothing the condom down the length of it, and then he turned his eyes aching with need on her.

“Sit down again,” he told her, the tightness in his throat her only indication of his nerves.

She unhooked her bra and tossed it to the ground, then slid in front of him. She turned to face the desk, her bare ass presented to him. And then, slowly, Gretchen sat back down on his lap, his cock a hot bar of iron pressing against her backside.

“Take me inside you, Gretchen.”

She lifted her hips and positioned him at her entrance. When she looked in the mirror, she saw his gaze was not on her, but on the spot where their two bodies would join. He wanted to watch his cock sink into her. The thought was a deliciously scandalous one, and she descended slowly, moving inch by inch to take him inside her.

He groaned, his fingers clutching her hips tightly as she began to work him into her. “Ah, fuck,” he gritted. “You feel amazing.”

She rolled her hips a little, taking him deeper, but moving slowly—he was thick and exquisite and she wanted to drag this out for both his pleasure and hers. Her gaze strayed to the mirror, fascinated by the fact that she got to watch his face. The scars on the side of his face stood out white against the flush of his skin, and his face seemed full of tension.