Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (101 page)

He bent down and kissed my ear, his tongue teased lightly before his lips came together to nip the kiss closed. From there he brushed his lips slowly down my neck to my chest, kissing my breasts through my dress. As he moved lower still, I realized what he was going to do and thrust my fingers into his hair, waiting eagerly. My hips rocked toward his tongue.

He pinned them down with his forearm and held me there. When I opened my eyes and looked down at him, his eyes were locked on my face like they were trying to hold me still. I met his gaze for several seconds before he dove down and I closed my eyes.

My body erupted with pleasure as I felt his tongue work around my pussy. He was clearly an expert; the way he alternated between using light and heavy touches, the tip and flat of his tongue, established a rhythm while providing enough variety that I didn’t know what was coming next. I squirmed and shifted against him, building toward an orgasm I was anticipating greedily.

Suddenly he stopped. I felt him move back to my ear and suck on it slowly, his tongue mimicking the motion my pussy had been feeling seconds earlier.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

You
. I opened my eyes and reached for his crotch, wanting to pull him out and make him feel as desperate and needy as I did, wanting to exert the same control over his body that he seemed to have over mine.

“I want you to fuck me, Sir,” I breathed.

He moved himself out of my grasp and kissed my neck agonizingly slowly. “Tell me what you want me to fuck you with.”

I felt my wetness on the leather seat beneath me. The burning throb of needing to fuck him had moved from my core to encompass every inch of me, from my tongue in his mouth to my toes curling in my shoes. I reached for the bulge in his pants again, giving his cock a squeeze and felt it shudder through his pants. The heat of his arousal pushed me closer to the edge as he pulled his hips away from my hand yet again. I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down and instantly reached for his heavy cock and balls, feeling them in my hand before attempting to guide him into my aching pussy.

“Please Sir,” I gasped, “your cock. Put your cock in my pussy. I want it n―”
Before I could finish, he plunged into me, his cock hard with lust. I moaned into his neck, tasting the sweat over his shirt collar, wanting to bite it down to get to more of his skin. I almost came. I fought it down, nearly tearing up with the effort.

He moved in and out a few times slowly and deeply, his gaze moving up from my legs to my eyes. I ripped down the knot of his plum tie and worked the buttons of his shirt so I could run my hands across his bare chest. He had never had sex with me like this. A warm look slowly developed on his face as his eyes softened.

“You’re not going to come before I say so, are you Dove?”

It was difficult to stay on top of my impending orgasm, but I wanted to so badly that I managed. I felt my breath heavy as I tried to speak. “No, Sir,” I managed.

One of his hands traced its way from my collarbone to my nipple, lazily circling around before pinching it between thumb and finger. The slight bit of pain registered as he kept pumping slowly and brought memories of our evenings in his bedroom. I sank my nails into the muscles around his neck as his skin grew ever more slick and hot. When I brought my hand up to the side of his neck, I felt his heart pumping, bringing to mind the pulse I suddenly could not avoid feeling in my own chest.

“I’ve shown you that good things come to those that wait, haven’t I?”

“Yes, Sir,” I moaned.

I brought my hands down to his arms to feel the muscles there as he moved his hand away from my nipple down my torso, teasing me with the lightness of his touch. Every nerve I had was on end and begging for release. Every millimeter of my skin was waiting for the next sensation he would give me.

He pinned my arms over my head as his pace finally began to increase. One hand kept my arms in place while his other settled with fingers splayed and his thumb just over my clit. Each thrust was a new battle not to lose control. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. My breath became shallow and quick as I fought to keep down the orgasm that was begging to come to the surface.

“Are you ready, Dove?”

I hadn’t realized it was possible for him to fuck me more deeply than he had been before, but he began to do it now. I began to quiver around him, my skin burning. I nodded.

“I can’t hear you,” he said quietly as he began to thrust faster. He kissed my ear quickly then brought his face back up over mine, his breath inches from my lips.

I tried with three successive breaths to say “Yes,” but each time I sucked it in to fight down my orgasm. I was going to fail this time. Tears formed in my eyes.

He stopped, buried deep inside me, and touched his thumb down to my swollen clit.

“Come.”

Fireworks went off in the back of my head as I was overwhelmed with the flood of pleasure that erupted in my body. I felt an explosion of heat between my legs that traveled through the pit of my stomach and overpowered my senses. Each convulsion was a new wall broken through, a new angle of the same explosion. I screamed; I couldn’t help it and I didn’t care who heard. My legs thrashed around either side of Victor’s body, my hands gripping the leather seat beneath me, then grabbing at his shirt, his perfect ass, at nothing until I tossed myself back, shattered and confused.

As I regained awareness of my surroundings, I realized Victor had pulled out of me after he had come, the warm liquid easing down my thigh. He was kissing my neck lightly. I became aware of the sweat on both our bodies, and gripped the arm he had draped down and around my torso as best I could, moving up and down from his shoulder to his elbow.

The sweat in his hair smelled so beautifully masculine that I sighed, dancing my fingers through it down to the back of his neck. I held him there for a moment until he propped himself up. His blue eyes were gazing at my face and a smile was on his lips. He bent his head down to me and gave me a deep, passionate kiss, then picked me up and turned me around, leaning backward so that my back was nestled comfortably against his torso, my head resting on his chest.

He kissed me once more on my forehead and held me tight.

Chapter Sixteen

Lying against Victor’s chest felt warm and comforting. His hand played with my hair idly as he took several deep breaths. I reached back and felt his elbow, running my hand up his chiseled arm. Was he acting nervous?

“I think I’ve told you before that my mother abandoned me when I was six.”

“You mentioned it briefly,” I conceded. It was such a delicate topic; I didn’t want to press him on the matter, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear him finally open up. “What happened?”

He sighed and stared ahead, seeming to register nothing of what passed outside the window. “The men in my family are cursed, it seems,” he finally said.

Cursed?
What a strange choice in words. Was he setting me up for some sort of fairy tale story?

“We fall madly in love with a woman only to have her turn our entire world upside down and eventually break our hearts. It first started when my grandfather cheated on my grandmother and left her for someone younger. Nobody in the house ever forgot the scene she made as she left. She told him he would never be happy as long as he lived, nor would anyone close to him. A year later, his new wife suddenly got sick and passed away. Not long after that, he passed away in an accident.

“And then there was my father. He and my mother seemed like the happiest couple in the world. I think my father even believed it. One day I did very well on a test and I wanted to show my mother my grade. I searched all around the house for her, and even outside in the barn where she would sometimes be with the horses. She was nowhere to be found. Eventually I found my father in his office and asked him if he had seen her. It was the first time I’d seen him drunk. He had a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and told me I would probably never see my mother again.”

He took a deep breath. I couldn’t face him as he opened up to me, it was too intense. All I could do was run my hand up and down his leg.

After a moment he continued. “She told my father that she didn’t love us anymore. Still doesn’t make sense to me to this day.” He shook his head. “I try to only remember the good times I had with her, but it’s almost impossible. The abandonment always creeps in.”

“So you shut it up in a box and lock it?”

I felt Victor’s jaw harden against my head as he squeezed my arm. Should I have let that moment with Evelyn drop? It was too late now. Thoughts raced through my mind as I wondered whether I had touched a nerve too sensitive.

After another deep breath, he spoke. “You can’t quite do that though, can you? If it’s important to you, it will always creep up. You can’t run away from it forever.”

“Unless you have amnesia,” I said, trying to make a joke at my own expense to lighten the mood.

He chuckled. “I had never considered the amnesia angle until I met you.”

I was glad he wasn’t going to clam up again. “It’s not great,” I said. “So you weren’t exactly good at dealing with your feelings about your mother growing up then?”

He nodded. “Neither was my father. He remained cold and distant throughout my childhood and up until his death. I thought I had moved on. Hell, I was an adult; why would I still dwell on something that happened more than twenty years ago?”

He sighed. “And then Evelyn came along. She was in the same class as me in college. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. We fell in love and married four months later, traveled across the world, made love wherever we could, and even considered having children. But then major changes started to happen in my company after my father died, and I was away from home with work constantly. I came home one day after a two week conference in Alaska only to find her in tears. She had two suitcases in tow and told me that she was fed up with me, that she had met someone else and was leaving me. I hadn’t seen her until that night in Paris.”

It explained why he was so agitated when he saw Evelyn. But something still gnawed at me. “So am I just the latest in a succession of pretty young things since Evelyn? For you to take out frustration on when a memory of her creeps up?” Tears formed in my eyes as I said the words that had been stuck in my throat since that night in the elevator.

Victor said nothing for a moment. He brushed a lock of hair away from my face and kissed my head. “No. You’re more than that.” He paused to punch the intercom button. “Oscar,” he called, “take us home please.”

The moment was gone. “Certainly, sir,” Oscar said.

After a moment of silence, Victor spoke again. “I know you’re upset at the way I pulled you away from Pedro, and I feel like I should explain. The contract you signed stated that you would be under my protection. I cannot fail at that duty, and having you out of my sight with no way to contact you—or have you contact me—made me realize that was a possibility.” He reached into his inner coat pocket and took out a small phone not unlike his own. “I should’ve given this to you earlier. My phone number is already programmed in it. If I’m not around and you’re lost or need my help, I’m just a phone call away.” He placed the device in my hands.

I looked down at the small contraption
. Are you afraid of losing me, too?
The thought brought a smile to my lips. “So you weren’t jealous?” I asked, in what I hoped was a teasing voice.

He pulled my chin back so I was looking up at him and kissed me probingly on my mouth. “Me, jealous?” he said lightly. “Of course not.”

Yeah, right
. Still, there was no sense in continuing on that topic. “I’m happy where I am,” I told him, nestling under one of his arms. “I enjoy being with you.”

“I’m happy with you here too, Dove.” He held me close to his chest in silence until we got the mansion.

At dinner that evening Victor seemed more or less his old self. He sat at the end of the large, wooden dining room table as I sat next to him on the adjacent corner. We were eating a meal Betty had prepared that consisted of succulent grilled chicken topped with freshly picked strawberries from Victor’s garden topped with a sort of balsamic syrup. The presentation rivaled that of a fancy restaurant, and I admired the showmanship for a moment before taking my first bite.

“I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you,” Victor suddenly said.

I swallowed a piece of chicken. “A doctor’s appointment?”

He raised his hand. “Yes. I’ve been searching around for good doctors who might be able to help you with your memory loss. I found a specialist who comes highly recommended at a hospital in the city.”

I let the words sink in for a moment.  A doctor who can help me regain my memories? Did I even want to know what went on in my life before I found myself disoriented and without a home? I always considered that something horrific had happened, that perhaps
I
was the one who did something horrific, and that I had blocked it all out of my memory on purpose.

Did I really want to face whatever it was that lay dormant inside me?

Chapter Seventeen

The doctor’s visit ended up being anti-climactic. Dr. Mark was nice, and he asked me some basic questions about my memory loss, showing particular interest in my memory of art history just as Victor had. After an MRI and some blood work, he sent me on my way and told me he would call when the results had been analyzed. The whole thing took less than an hour and felt like a bit of a waste; the whole thing resolved nothing.

During the weeks that followed, I was busy in my art room creating paintings on the canvases Victor supplied for me. Some of my subjects were no more than the people living in the mansion. Oscar, Karen, and Betty all took turns sitting in a chair in front of my easel and patiently waited as I painted their portraits.

I was happy with all of my work, but my favorite piece was my painting of Victor. It used the largest canvas I had and took several sittings for me to get right: his stylishly messy hair, his stark blue eyes, and his stern, yet gentle mouth. Instead of portraying him in his usual fitted suit and tie, I had him dressed in slacks and a t-shirt to convey the less severe side of him that I was slowly coming to know. It took a few sleepless nights to complete the painting, but the end result was worth it.