Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance Boxed Set (10 Book Bundle) (70 page)

Leaving a knowing hand on one tit, he slid the other down my torso until it made its way to the fiery triangle between my thighs. Bee-lining for my clit, he fingered it with single-minded fury. My own moisture mingled with the shower. My nub hardened beneath his touch as he continued to circle it fast and hard. My breathing grew ragged. He was driving me wild and I wanted, no needed, to come badly.

“Please make me come,” I cried out.

He abruptly withdrew his fingers—almost like a punishment for asking. “Not yet, Gloria. I want you do to something for
me
first.”

Anything.

He flipped me around and swung my arm up to the liquid soap canister. He squirted a clump onto my palm. “Get down on your knees and wash my cock. I want to see your eyes. So look up at me as you do it.”

Without the slightest hesitation, I dropped to my knees and wrapped the hand with soap around the crown of his huge erection. It shot straight out of him and was practically in my face. The heat of it singed my fingertips. My soapy hand skated down the rigid shaft to the base and then glided back up to the tip. How velvety smooth it was! And how big! Its extraordinary girth fit tightly into the curl of my fingers.

“Good, Gloria. Now squeeze harder and hold my balls with your other hand.”

My left hand cupped his heavy sacs as I slid my right hand back down his thick length, applying more pressure. Then back up. I repeated the movements, picking up my pace. My eyes never left his enraptured face. I watched with awe as he arched his head back and parted his luscious lips. A loud groan escaped between them. His balls felt heavier. Was he going to come?

He gazed back down at me with his hooded blue eyes. “Ahh, you’re doing it just right. Now, I want you to rinse me off with your mouth.”

So, he wanted me to give him a blow job—like I owed him one for last night. Okay. I could handle this. Confession: The thought of giving this beautiful man head excited me. I opened my mouth wide, but before I could take him, he yanked me up by my hair.

“Go down on me standing.” He placed his hand on top of my head and pushed it down toward his erection. I had to bend my knees for my mouth to make contact with it.

I flicked my tongue across the bulbous crown, glad to discover that the soap had washed off, and then wrapped my lips around  its impressive perimeter. As he let a moan, I went down on his slick, hard length until I could go no further. My mouth came back up, and I repeated the movements. Again and again. Up and down. Faster and faster. His magnificent cock became my mouth’s obsession.

Without breaking contact, I placed one hand on his muscular thigh and the other around the side handicapped railing to give me the support I needed in this semi-squatting position. My thighs were burning. I felt like I was doing one of those loathed  “chair positions” with my yoga instructor. 

“Oh, baby, you suck me so good. So hard.”

I gazed up at him. The expression on his face was one of pure tortured ecstasy. I was amazed how much pleasure I got from pleasuring him. Despite my discomfort, I wanted to please him.

I came up for a quick breath of air

“Don’t. Stop.”

Before I could tell him not to worry, he pressed down on the crown of my head, urging me to descend on him once again. This time, my tongue lapped the shaft as I headed back up toward the tip.

He groaned. “I’m going to come in your mouth.”

One spurt. Two. Three. He let out a deep guttural grunt and cursed under his breath as his release spilled into my mouth. The taste of it was sweet and salty and oh so good. I swallowed every drop.

“We’re not done. Suck me dry.”

My eyes gazed up at his impassioned face as I feverishly went back down on his cock, taking in only the upper one third into my mouth. Removing my hand from his thigh, I squeezed the base as my mouth bopped up and down. The silky, soaked hair along his groin brushed against the back of my hand.

“Oh, Gloria!” he roared as he coated my tongue one more time. His eyelids lifted. “This time, I want to watch you swallow.”

I eagerly gulped it down. Smiling with satisfaction, he withdrew his thick, slick dick. Smiling back, I straightened up, glad not to be in that painful crouching position. My legs felt like Jell-O.

The shower washed away the last traces of his cum. To my shock, his cock was still semi-erect.  

“Christ, that was fucking amazing. You never stop surprising me. Now, I’m going to finish what I started.”

Smacking a kiss on my lips, he stepped out of the shower. In a split second, he was back. The belt of his terry cloth robe was dangling around his neck.
What the…

Stopping me in my thoughts, he scooped me up in his arms and then set me down on the teak wood planks of the built-in handicapped shower bench. “Trust me, Ms. Long, you’re
going to be handicapped once I’m done with you.”

I eyed the belt. A shudder ran through me. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to make you fall apart and then attempt to put you back together again.”

I snickered. “You think I’m some kind of Humpty Dumpty?”

He smirked. “You’re much more fragile. At least on the inside.”

My breath hitched. He knew me. “What if someone has to use the shower?”

“They’ll knock.” He knitted his brows. “Are you on birth control?”

I nodded helplessly. My pills helped me with my cramp-ridden periods.

A smile danced in his eyes. “Good. Now, lie down.”

Wait!
What about him? He’d probably fucked a gazillion girls. Could I trust him?

“Don’t worry. I’m clean. I’ve been tested. Now, lie down.”

Hesitantly, I lowered myself to a reclining position. My torso spread across the length of the bench while my limbs hung over the edge.

“Now, Gloria, I want you to open your mind and open your legs. For. Me.”

In one swift move, he spread my dangling legs and threw my ankles over his broad shoulders. Looming above me, he gazed at my sex. His glorious cock, now almost fully erect again, pointed my way. The shower began to fog up. There was something otherworldly about seeing his god-like body in a cloud of steam.

“You’re such a pretty shade of pink. You may, however, be a shade of red when I’m through with you.”

I cringed. Was he going to pussy-whip me with the belt?

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
The mind reader.
“But I am going to tie you up. You’ll enjoy it. Now lift your arms high.”

Relieved, I did as requested. With whip-like speed, he wrapped the long belt around my wrists, binding them together, and then attached them to the handicapped railing directly above me. I writhed my arms to see if I could free myself. Forget it. He had me tied up too tightly.

“I need to get harder, and you need to get horny.” He kneeled on the edge of the bench and reached across me to fondle my mountainous breasts. Crawling on his knees closer to me, he planted his engorged member into the valley between them and then squeezed the mounds against the shaft. He moaned with pleasure while I, too, got off on the sensuous massage I was getting. Erotic pleasure rushed to my core. Oh God! I was ready! My body was crying out for him while my mind said no.
Gloria, let go. Open your mind!

“Your breasts are such sweet pillows of flesh,” he murmured as he continued to rub them against his cock. “Now let’s see, if I’ve aroused you.”

He shoved a finger into my opening. I moaned but wanted something more.

“Ah. You’re so hot and wet. But not quite ready.”

He pulled his finger out and began to play with my tender clit. Vigorously circling it like a finger-painting child. I groaned.

“How does that feel?”

My clit was a lit up firework ready to explode. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I desperately wiggled my bound arms attempting to free myself; it was futile.

“Answer me, Gloria.” His tone was demanding.

“Oh, yes!” I moaned.

“Good enough.”

Still fingering my clit, he used his other hand to rub the crown of his thick length up and down the folds of my cleft. He was teasing me when I was aching for him to be inside me.

He leaned into me, placing his hands on the bench for support. “I’m going to come inside you now and give you an orgasm that’s going to blow that uptight mind of yours to pieces.”

“Please,” I begged.

He grinned wickedly. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk. I’ll be carrying you back to your room.”

Oh, yes! Handicap me!

Balancing on one hand, he used the other to position his pulsing member. I felt his hot cock at my doorway to pleasure. A thrust away from penetrating me, there was a loud pounding on the fogged-up shower door.

“What’s going on in there?”

I recognized the voice immediately. It was the old man who had gone for a swim.

“Fuck!” muttered Jaime. “I’m not going to rush this.” He leaped up from the bench and stormed out the shower, leaving me tied up and throbbing. I assumed he was going to return right away with our robes.
Hurry!

The door re-opened. I gasped. The little old man, shuffled into the shower. His skin was prune-like from his long swim, and a towel was wrapped around his waist. It fell to the wet tiled floor upon seeing me, naked and bound to the handicapped railing. He was not a pretty sight.

“I want whatever he had,” he said brightly.

Oh, fuck! He wasn’t just an old man. He was a dirty old man! Oh God! Had Jaime abandoned me? Left me helplessly stranded with this horny geezer?

My panic button sounded. Just as my mind skipped to the worst possible scenario, Jaime burst through the shower door. He was wearing his beltless robe and had mine draped over his arm. His large balls and cock, now in a relaxed state, peeked out of the robe opening.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said calmly. “My girlfriend needs to take her meds.”

Girlfriend? Meds?

He quickly unbound me and helped me put on my robe. I was mortified every which way. Before I could say a word, he swept me up into his arms. The old man looked at us, baffled. “Sorry,” said Jaime, as he kick-opened the door and carried me out. “She swoons in showers.” Amusement flickered in his eyes.

Once outside the shower, I was simmering mad. “What the fuck! Where the hell did you go? Why did you leave me for so long?” Each question flew out faster than the one before.

A sheepish grin spread across his beautiful face. “Sorry. I had to take a leak. And jerk myself off.” He gently set me down on my feet.

I blew out air to release the rage that was consuming me.

“Don’t be mad at me. It wasn’t my fault. I’ll make it up for it at dinner.”

My lips snarled. “There’s not going to be any dinner.”

He fisted a clump of my loose tangled hair and tugged at it hard. “Hey, remember what you said. A deal is a deal.”

My words. Another life lesson from Madame Paulette. I scoffed at him. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“Raoul’s. It’s
very
expensive.”

I scrunched my face. “Fine. Meet me downstairs at the entrance of the hotel at eight.”

“Perfect.”

Damn it. I was stuck with dinner. And the possibility that this challenging man who knew how to make me fall apart was going to be in my life in more ways than one.

Chapter 9

I spent the rest of the day running around the city doing store checks. We had retail outlets in every borough—except Brooklyn.
Borofskyland.
It irritated Victor that I refused to open a Brooklyn store; it was a missed opportunity, especially since Brooklyn, now a chic place to live, catered to affluent Gen X’ers. The money-hungry opportunist didn’t understand it was one place I could never go back to. It held a terrible memory for me and it was too risky. Boris was still living there according to Intelius.com, and I was sure that he’d recognize me immediately.

Thank goodness, I had Nigel to get me around because the city traffic was impossible. As he expertly navigated it, transporting me from one store to the next, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jaime Zander. He was unraveling me, bringing me to sensual and emotional places I’d never been before. And I was letting him. I hardly knew this man. It had to stop, especially if we ended up working together. The last thing I needed in either my personal or professional life was a fucked up relationship. I made an executive decision. Over dinner, I was going to bring this all to an end. Just keep everything to business.

The store visits were a welcome distraction. For the most part, the city retail outlets were all in good order. I enjoyed spending time with the general managers as well as their sales assistants. It was also good to observe first-hand the shopping patterns of customers. I even chatted with some and got some valuable consumer insights. All were very excited about the possibility of Gloria’s Secret sex toys.

I caught up with Kevin and Vivien at the Fifth Avenue flagship store in the mid afternoon. We were having a special in-store event there—a fashion show. A scaled-down version of our big extravaganza. There was going to be coverage by one of the local cable channels as well as by numerous bloggers. Gift cards and coupons were being offered to shoppers in attendance. Kevin, as always, was handling everything beautifully. Vivien, however, wore a resentful expression. She had actually e-mailed me that she wanted to go shopping while she was in Manhattan. I had to remind her this was a business trip, not a vacation.

The show went off without a hitch and customers loved it. Sales went through the roof another day in a row. Shortly afterward, Kevin strolled up to me. “Glorious, want to go out for dinner tonight?”

I twitched a regretful smile. “Can’t. I’m having dinner with Jaime Zander.”

“Oh,” chimed in nearby Vivien. “Business or pleasure?” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

“Strictly business.” Though my tone was nonchalant, Vivien eyed me suspiciously.

“Did you know Jaime Zander is one of Manhattan’s most eligible billionaires?” she asked.

I digested this new piece of information. While I’d never seen his name on the Forbes 400 List, I guess if he owned the Walden Hotel and could afford to spend two million dollars on Rihanna’s leather undergarments, he must mega-rich. Though ZAP! was quite a successful ad agency, it didn’t seem enough to make Jaime so wealthy. I wondered—how did he make his fortune? Maybe at dinner, I’d find out.

I checked my watch; it was almost six. “I’m going to split. I need to get ready for my dinner.”

The thought of having dinner with Jaime Zander made my whole body quiver with anticipation and apprehension. I was anxious about seeing him. Would I be able to keep my emotions—and hormones—in check and keep things purely professional? What concerned me as much was that I was looking forward to seeing him.

The twinkle in Kevin’s hazel eyes clued me in that he knew there was something going on between Jaime and me. After all these years together through thick and thin, he could read me like a book. Vivien’s eyes, however, were shooting daggers my way.

“Where are you going for dinner?” she asked, her tone snarky.

“Raoul’s.” I immediately regretted that I told her.

*
* * *

Back at the hotel, I showered and rewashed my hair. I remembered that Jaime had asked me to wear it long and loose. I debated whether to give in to him, but ultimately decided in his favor. It took me almost an hour to blow dry my waist-length locks. There was a reason why I wore it in an easy braid, but I had to admit it looked gorgeous loose, cascading down my back and over my shoulders like a whimsical cape. My mane of hair was my treasured asset. After my wicked, narcissist mother chopped it off with a meat scissors in a drugged-out fit of rage, I vowed never to cut it short again. My long hair, in some way, was my security blanket. And it covered my scar.

After the blow dry, I did my makeup, keeping it light and simple. I studied my heart-shaped face in the bathroom mirror and was pleased. I looked soft but sexy.

I put on some light jazz and went through my ritual of matching my outfit to my undergarments. The dress I chose was a flowy powder blue chiffon V-neck Valentino that accented my narrow waist and my full breasts without giving too much away.  Beneath it, I wore delicate lacy blue lingerie from our popular “Hot Nights” collection—an underwire bra, v-string panty, and matching garter that held up my sheer silk hose. While slithering the stockings up my legs, I’d once again thought about my beloved mentor, Madame Paulette. Sadness swept over me. I was relieved that I had told her my secret. The one that had haunted me my entire adult life. Yet, I still bore the weight of my misdoing on my heart. And the nightmares had never stopped.

Forcing negative thoughts to the back of my head, I stepped into a pair of strappy, silver stilettos that went well with the demure dress. Grabbing a soft blue pashmina shawl and a clutch, I headed toward the elevator. I was purposely fifteen minutes early. I wanted to be at the entrance to the hotel before Mr. Zander. And have the time to rehearse what I was going to say to him about mixing business with pleasure. Okay. Sex. The very thought of his cock sent a rush of wetness to my panties.
Stop it, Gloria. Get a grip! You can’t let this man do this to you!

As I stood anxiously at the hotel’s entrance, Vivien came flying in with a bunch of shopping bags in her hand. All of them were from high-end Madison Avenue designer boutiques. A little shocked to see me, she gave me the once-over.

“Enjoy your business dinner,” she smirked with an emphasis on the word “business.”

I tweaked my lips to smile. “I’ll see you down here at 8:30 tomorrow morning. We’ve got a full day of agency meetings.”

Without another word, she skirted past me. Vivien was just too damn impetuous for her own good. Lucky for her, Daddy was Gloria’s Secret largest shareholder and Chairman of the Board and protected her surgically enhanced ass. If I could, I would fire the entitled little bitch in a New York minute.

A warm, firm pair of hands on my bare shoulders stopped me in my thoughts. And then through parted hair, I felt soft warm lips nuzzle the nape of my neck. Tingles raced down my spine. I jerked and spun around. Jaime!

I swear my eyes were drooling. Tonight, he was Mr. Preppy—clad in a crisp blue and white striped collarless shirt that was unbuttoned enough to flaunt his taut chest. The shirttail hung loose over tight but not too tight perfectly pressed jeans. Navy suede loafers covered his sockless feet, and a rich cashmere sweater, almost the same blue as my shawl, wrapped around his broad shoulders. Bottom line…he looked fucking sexy. And smelled intoxicating.

I sucked in a breath. “Your car or mine.”

“Mine.” He studied me. “My sex goddess, you look like an angel. Blue is definitely your color, and you should always wear your hair that way.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to hold it together while he called his driver. Why did he have to say the word “sex”? Though I had mastered my “all good things must come to an end speech,” my hormones were already raging. I bit down on my lip.

His car pulled around outside, and as his driver held open the rear passenger door, he slid in after me. I moved away from him. A bemused smile flitted onto his face. “So, Gloria. Are you playing a game tonight? Hard to get?”

I wrinkled my nose. He chuckled. “That nose thing is one of the things I love about you.”

I cringed. Why did he say the L-word? He wasn’t making it easy for me to stay in control.

He told his driver Orson to take us to Raoul’s on Spring Street.

“Have you ever eaten there?” he asked. 

I’d heard of the restaurant, one of the city’s original French bistros, but had never eaten there. I shook my head.

“The food is delicious. And the atmosphere’s great. There’s even a fortuneteller who holds court in the loft. Maybe you can ask her about our future.”

I cringed. I knew the answer to that already. There was none.

*
* * *

The restaurant was located not far from Jaime’s office. The jam-packed front room resembled a classic Bohemian French bistro, with leather banquet tables and funky paintings, including nudes, hung all over the walls. The attractive brunette hostess, welcomed Jaime with a warm embrace; he was obviously a regular. Flirtatiously looking back at him from time to time, she led us through the crowded, noisy restaurant and then through the busy kitchen to a back room. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had fucked her and all the other beautiful women who stopped him along the way.

Unlike the frenetic front room, the back room was low-key and romantic, filled with candlelit tables draped with fine white linens. A glass ceiling added to the atmosphere. We were escorted to a table for two, closest to the blazing fireplace. I could feel the warmth of the fire against my back.

A heavy-set, jovial waiter came to our table. “Good evening, Mr. Zander. What will it be tonight?” As Jaime pondered the menu, the waiter looked me over and smiled. I wondered—was this where Jaime brought all his fucks? And how many had sat in this chair before me? I mentally kicked myself. Why should I care? This wasn’t even a date; it was a business dinner. And I was about to set the womanizer straight.

Jaime gazed up at me. The flickering candlelight and blaze in the hearth bathed his face in a soft glow, making him even more breathtakingly gorgeous than he already was. Despite myself, tingling desire was spiraling inside me. Damn it! 
Stay in control, Gloria
, I silently chided.

“Gloria, I hope you don’t mind if I order for the two of us. The steak tartare is divine and so is the artichoke. And we’ll share a bottle of Bordeaux. We’ll have the Latour 2009 Controllé right away,” he told the waiter. The waiter smiled and sauntered off with our order.

The wine came quickly. The waiter poured a little into Jaime’s glass. Jaime sampled it and then nodded with approval. The waiter continued to pour wine for both of us. After he parted, Jaime clinked his goblet against mine.

“To winning,” he said with a seductive smile.

I twitched a smile back at him, wondering if he was referring to our swimming competition, the Gloria’s Secret account, or me. Or all of the above.

After a few sips, Jaime eased into conversation. His voice was deep and sultry, and his long-lashed eyes held me captive.

“So, Gloria, tell me something about yourself that I haven’t already read on the Internet.” 

“What exactly do you know about me?” I countered.

“Not  much…Self-made business woman extraordinaire. Built Gloria’s Secret into a billion-dollar company from the ground up.”

This was true. After Kevin and I touched down in LA, we stayed at a rundown Hollywood motel until we found a charming two-bedroom apartment to share in Beachwood Canyon. We were able to secure it with a first and last month deposit from the money we had stolen from Boris. Kevin quickly found work as the manager of a hot Hollywood night club, frequented by celebrities, and I, once recovered from my gunshot wound, used the money to rent some studio space downtown and to purchase bolts of lace and silk as well as a dozen used sewing machines and necessary supplies. Once settled in, I hired a handful of talented, eager to work laborers to stitch up my lingerie designs. I shortly found a small, affordable storefront on Hollywood Boulevard to sell my wares. Gorgeous French-inspired lingerie at a reasonable price.

With the help of Kevin, who sent the “beautiful people” who frequented his club to my no-name boutique, my business boomed. Women and men alike fell in love with the innovative, sexy, and reasonably priced undergarments; it became the word-of-mouth, in-the-know place to shop for lingerie…leading me to call my boutique, Gloria’s Secret. With my success, I was able to secure a small business loan and six months later, I opened the flagship store, Gloria’s Secret, in the Beverly Center, a popular LA mall. The store was an overnight success; a catalogue followed along with a robust website. Kevin quit his job to become my partner and head of Public Relations and Marketing. One year later, enter billionaire businessman Victor Holden, who smelled a winner, invested millions, and took the company public. The rest is history. One store grew to thousands worldwide and a billionaire dollar a year business. 

I took another sip of my wine. Meeting Jaime’s gaze, I didn’t go into details.  “What you see is what you get.”

“So far, I like what I’ve seen.” He paused. “And I like what I’ve gotten.”

The double entendres weren’t lost on me. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs under the table to quell the twitching sensation between them.

“But what’s that scar on your chest?”