Billionaire on the Loose (14 page)

“Oooh,” Taylor breathed. “I can't remember. But the idea of trying is making me incredibly turned on.”

Him, too. Head down, he nibbled at the tiny, hard little peak of her breast that strained against her clothing.

She moaned and squirmed against him, desperate, and he felt those exciting, dangerous nails of hers dig into his shirt. He loved it when she marked up his back. It was just a sign of how insatiable she was when aroused, and he loved driving her to the point of madness. It made him feel like a fucking king.

And he needed that after the week of self-doubt he'd had. He hated that he'd suddenly started questioning everything about himself. That he felt uncertain, and out of his element. Maybe everything could be as easily solved as the problem of Taylor's reticence. He just needed to trust himself more and ask questions—and more than anything, go after what he wanted.

Right now? He wanted the woman in his arms screaming his name.

“I'm taking this shirt off,” Loch murmured, and then licked her fabric-covered nipple.

She arched her back. “That sounds like the best fucking idea I've heard all day.”

His hands moved up her sides, rucking the shirt up until her breasts were exposed. Ah, damn. No wonder her breasts jiggled so enticingly—she wasn't wearing a bra. There was nothing but naked, sweet swells of flesh under the shirt. He made a sound of approval and nipped at the tip of one breast. “Hello, my lovelies. I've missed you so.”

She giggled, the sound sweet to his ears. “They've missed you, too.”

“Then allow me to lavish them with attention,” he murmured. He took one nipple in his mouth and began to tease it with tongue and teeth. Her skin was incredibly soft, her breasts full, and he took his sweet time playing with both of them, one hand coaxing one nipple while his mouth worked the other. Below him, Taylor moaned and writhed, her nails digging into his shirt as he made love to her breasts.

Each time he tongued her skin, she responded with increasing enthusiasm, until she was practically undulating under him, unable to keep still. The soft cries she was making were driving him wild, and his cock was aching fiercely in his pants, to the point that he was regretting their
pants stay on
deal. Time of the month or no, he wanted to push into her tight warmth and bury himself in her body.

But if he couldn't do that, he was determined to make her wild with need.

While he continued to kiss and tongue the sweet peak of one breast, his hand moved to the vee of her legs, covered by the baggy pajama pants she was wearing.

She stiffened and pushed his hand away. “Pants on!”

“I don't plan on removing them,” he murmured, then pressed his mouth to her nipple again. “But I can touch you through them, can't I?”

She moaned a response that didn't sound like a
no
to him, and so he pressed his hand there, cupping her mound. He could feel the vague shape of her folds through the layers of fabric, and so he positioned a finger against them and then rubbed hard.

Taylor gasped and clung to him. “Oh,
god
.”

That was more like it. He rubbed again, hard, taking care to try and press down against all the spots he thought might be a bit more sensitive. She pushed back against his hand, her body insistent, and he dragged his tongue over her breast even as his hand worked her pussy.

Her hips bucked against him over and over, and she started to pant his name. Loch rubbed against her harder, wanting to give her the friction she needed to get off. He worked her with his fingers over the fabric, making sure to rub against her clit. A moment later, she gave a sharp cry and stiffened under him, and he felt a surge of satisfaction as a dazed expression crossed her pretty face.

“Feel good?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her soft breast.

She moaned something that sounded like an answer.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He nuzzled the swells of her magnificent breasts, because even though she'd come, he was still randy himself, his cock aching against the increasingly tight fabric of his pants. Might be time for a cold shower—or a quick jerk-off session there, if nothing else.

Then she wriggled under him, squirming aside until she was sitting up on the couch next to him. He sat back, watching her as she tugged her shirt down and pushed tousled hair off her face. “I feel stupid,” she breathed.

“Why?”

“Because we could have been doing
that
all week instead of me pushing you away.”

He laughed. “Never get between a man and his hard-on. We're creative sorts.”

“Mmm, I'll say.” The look on her face grew decidedly sultry and she slid her body up against him where he was seated upright on the couch. Her hand went to his groin and she caressed his cock. “My turn to play now?”

“If you like.” He didn't want to push her into it, but the thought of her handling him like he'd done to her just moments ago? It made his dick ache even more.

“Oh, I like.” A teasing little smile curved her mouth. Her fingers danced along the clothed ridge of his cock. “There's so much of it
to
like.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning back on the couch. “Shall I let you do with me as you please, then?”

Her eyes brightened with excitement. “Can I?”

As if she had to ask. “Absolutely.”

She licked her lips and smiled at him, and then reached for the zipper of his pants. “We said pants on, but we didn't say they had to be buttoned, did we?”

The little minx. “No, we didn't.” He shifted in his seat, spreading his thighs apart slightly so he could give her more room to play. He loved that she took it upon herself to push the boundaries. That was part of what made her so exciting in bed.

She wiggled her fingers along his zipper, then slowly edged it down, revealing his boxers and the bulge underneath them. “Look at that. Someone's pleased to see me.”

“Always.” All of him was aching for her touch. “My day is always better with you around.”

Taylor's expression softened, and the smile she gave him was shy. “That's . . . very sweet. You do realize I'm going to blow you regardless? You don't have to butter me up?”

“It's the truth.”

The pleasure on her face made her glow. “You're totally getting the best blow job ever.”

“I certainly won't say no.” He forced himself not to move as she leaned in and pushed the fabric of his boxers down, releasing his aching cock. It stood up erect from his lap, and she made a small murmur of pleasure before she wrapped a hand around it and stroked.

He nearly came into her hand right then and there.

“Look at all this gorgeous cock,” she cooed. “You're making my mouth water.” Her fingers lightly stroked down his length and then she bent her head, taking the crown of him into her mouth.

Loch groaned.

The sweet, wet suction of her mouth was incredible. The breath hissed out of him and his head fell back, and he let her take over. Her hand remained tightly wrapped around his length, and she tongued the head of his cock over and over again, swirling and licking. His fingers itched to bury in her hair, but he didn't want to take over, not when she was clearly having so much fun being in control.

Enthusiastically, she began to suck, taking him deeper into her mouth, and as she did, his balls tightened and he felt his entire body tense, ready to let go. “Slow down,” he breathed. “I won't last—”

In response, she sucked harder. He felt her take him deeper, felt the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, felt her tighten convulsively around him. Ah, fuck.

He came a few brief moments later, flooding her sweet mouth with his release.

When she sat up, she delicately wiped the corners of her lips and gave him a self-satisfied look. “Definitely regretting this last week.”

“No regrets,” he told her, and pulled her against him because he liked the feel of her soft body against his. She went into his arms willingly, snuggling against his chest. “Let's just enjoy the moment.”

Taylor sighed, the sound one of contentment. “Sometimes I wish all moments were like this one.”

Sometimes he did, too.

The next day

Griffin V: I'm back in town, cousin. Shall we meet up for lunch? Catch up? I'd love for you to meet my fiancée.

Loch: Sounds great. We have a lot to talk about. Today? Tomorrow?

Griffin V: I think I have a few hours today if you're available and I can get Maylee to clear her schedule. Maybe dinner instead of lunch?

Loch: Sounds good. Name the time and place—my afternoon is open.

Loch strolled into the ritzy seafood restaurant a few hours later, alone. He'd wanted to bring Taylor with him, but she'd been busily catching up on tickets for her job and had a conference call with her boss later that afternoon. She'd seemed genuinely disappointed not to be able to go out, though, and so he'd promised to bring her back something delicious to eat and that they'd have a repeat of yesterday's make-out session tonight, cuddled on the couch together.

Sounded like a good evening to him, and her eyes had lit up at the suggestion.

He was looking forward to seeing his cousin Griffin again, though. Their schedules constantly seemed to be out of sync in the past few years. They'd caught up at Alex's wedding, but Griffin had been distracted and his schedule full of business obligations. At the time, Loch had thought his cousin staid and boring with his constant need to work, but now he envied Griffin. The man was never bored, and he was successful, far more than Loch, who didn't know what to do with himself most times.

He was starting to learn that keeping a steady diet of obligations was not such a bad thing after all. Better late than never, he supposed.

Loch scanned the small restaurant and its sea of tiny, white-cloth-covered tables. A hand raised in the air and Loch waved back. Sure enough, there was his cousin, looking like he hadn't changed a bit since the last time Loch had seen him. Elegant, a bit austere, his hair was carefully brushed into a short, no-nonsense haircut and he wore a pair of wire-framed glasses on his immaculately shaven face. He wore a gray suit and matching tie, and stood up as Loch approached. Next to him was a woman who Loch vaguely remembered seeing at Alex's wedding—short, a tumbleweed of white-blonde curly hair, and a big smile. She was also wearing the ugliest suit he'd ever seen.

“Cousin,” Griffin said, extending a hand to shake.

“Lord have mercy,” the woman who surely had to be Maylee declared in a drawl. “They sure do grow 'em big back in Bellissime, don't they? You look like you've been corn-fed all your life.”

“Thank you, I think?” Loch pulled the woman in for a hug, even as Griffin chuckled. “I'm going to assume that's a compliment.”

“You should!” Maylee beamed up at him, and he liked her, despite her eccentric-looking clothing and the frizzy, wild mop of her hair. She looked sweet and unassuming, the perfect sort of person for his too-starchy cousin.

They sat down and exchanged small talk for a while, and it was good to just chitchat about casual, small things as a waitress brought them drinks and they ordered.

“So how are you liking New York?” Griffin asked, leaning back. His arm went to the back of Maylee's chair and he began to toy with one of the corkscrew curls, as if he couldn't resist touching his fiancée.

“I wasn't too keen on it at first, but it's growing on me,” Loch told him, and was surprised to realize it was true. He'd been so focused on going home that he hadn't allowed himself to relax and enjoy what the city had to offer. “It's been a definite change for me. I didn't bring any of my staff, you know.”

Griffin's eyebrows went up. “No one?”

“They wanted to stay home in Bellissime, and I'm here indefinitely, so . . .” He shrugged. “It's been a learning process.”

Maylee laughed. “I can't imagine Griffin without someone to tell him where his clothes are. He'd be as helpless as a baby.”

“He's not the only one,” Loch said, a rueful grin on his face. “Like I said, it's definitely been a learning process. I think it's good, though. I need to learn to be more independent. Being here alone made me realize how much I depend on others to do things for me.” He snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me. I need to call my accountant and see how much money I have.”

Griffin's brows drew together into a fierce frown. “Seriously, Loch? You don't know how much money you have?”

He shrugged. “I've always had someone handle it.”

“Yes, but you don't have the faintest?” Griffin shook his head. “What about all those investments I set up for you a few years ago? How are those doing?”

He shrugged again. “You see my problem? I've been living in a bit of a bubble and it's time for me to take charge.”

“Might want to start taking charge of your bank accounts,” Griffin muttered, and Maylee put a hand on his arm. “Sorry. I'm just sensitive about money and family. You do know that the crown was almost bankrupt ten years ago? I had to work hard to get the queen to invest and play the stock market. Even now, I still worry that I'm going to turn around and everyone in the family's going to be on the verge of bankruptcy again.”

“It's fine, sugar,” Maylee murmured, patting his arm. “They're adults. They can manage their own money.”

“Like this one?” He gestured at Loch and leaned in. “Care to guess how much is in your account?”

Loch rubbed his mouth. “Couple million?”

“Dear god, I hope not, considering you sold the delle Scogliere castle for two hundred million several years ago.”

Had he? He knew he'd gotten a decent price from some insanely rich Saudi prince, but he hadn't thought too much of it. “Then it must be more. I'm going to find out tonight. Promise. I'll call my accountant the moment we get out of here.”

Griffin raised a hand and gestured at Loch while looking at Maylee. “This is why I worry, love. Royalty has no concept of money.”

She gave them both a bright smile. “Then it's a good thing Griffin's looking out for all y'all. Let's not argue, all right?”

Griffin tilted his head, studying Loch. “At any rate, I'm glad you're here. It's good to see family on this side of the pond, given that most aren't inclined to leave Europe.”

Loch's smile was thin. “I wasn't given much of a choice.”

“No, you weren't, were you? Bad business, all that.” Griffin shook his head. “I'm glad I'm not even being considered for any of that nonsense. I'd rather have my Maylee than the throne any day of the week.” He glanced over at his fiancée again and his gaze got soft, even as Maylee's face turned a fiery red and she played with the napkin on her lap, smiling.

“Well, you'll be pleased to know I intend to pull myself out of the running in a very similar fashion,” Loch said. Seeing his cousin Griffin with Maylee was making him miss Taylor, oddly enough. It was clear that Griff loved Maylee. He couldn't take his eyes off her, even though she was wearing a ghastly plaid dress that was probably several years out of style. It was also very clear to Loch as to why Maylee was not considered an “appropriate” spouse to most of the Bellissime people. She embodied everything they disliked about Americans—her southern drawl, her loud clothing. And that really wasn't fair, because she was clearly sweetness personified.

Loch suspected the Bellissime people would dislike his Taylor just as much for her quirkiness and her nerdy hobbies . . . and he felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought. Good. Let them be snobs. They wouldn't know what they were missing out on.

“What do you mean?” Griffin asked, drawing Loch's thoughts back to the conversation.

“It's clear that the unhappy parties object to marriages to foreigners, notably Americans. Therefore, I'm going to marry an American woman myself,” Loch said proudly.

“You what?” Griffin's brows went up, and an equally startled look flashed across Maylee's expressive face.

Loch grinned. “I'm getting married.”

“To whom?”

“You don't know her. I met her when I came here, through Gretchen.”

Griffin sputtered. “You've only been here a few weeks. That's not enough time to know anyone long enough to marry.”

“Don't worry. It's not going to be a real marriage. It's all part of my plan to disqualify myself from the throne. We'll get it annulled or some such after a few years.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Maylee gave him an appalled look. “And she's willing to go along with this? To have a fake marriage?”

He grimaced and set his drink down. “I should clarify. It'll be a real marriage with marriage benefits and such . . . it just won't be a lasting one.”

“And she's fine with this?” Maylee prompted again.

Loch shrugged. “I don't see why she wouldn't be. A lot of marriages don't last for very long.”

The couple exchanged worried looks.

“So . . . you're marrying someone who doesn't know that you're just marrying her to disqualify yourself?” Griffin asked.

They made it sound so very mercenary. “I happen to like her quite a bit, too,” he said defensively. “She's a great girl and fun to be around.”

“This sounds risky,” Griffin told him, frowning.

“I'll have my lawyers draw up a very firm prenuptial agreement. It'll be fair, but protect my assets. Will that make you happy, cousin?”

Griffin snorted. “I would be if you even knew what assets you were protecting.”

Loch grinned. “At any rate, I haven't even proposed yet. Haven't found the right time and place to escalate the relationship from its current level.”

“Ask her to move in,” Maylee prompted. “And then tell her you want to make an honest woman out of her.”

“She's actually been staying in my hotel room with me for the last week or so, so that wouldn't work.” He didn't mention the part where he'd thrown out the marriage thing and Taylor had completely ignored his flippant suggestion.

“Buy her something expensive,” Maylee began.

“Darling,” Griffin said. “Let's not encourage him into more bad ideas? I still think the entire thing is a ticking time bomb of poor choices.”

Maylee raised a blonde brow at her fiancé, then looked over at Loch. “Take her on a vacation. Change up the scenery.”

Now that idea had merit. Get Taylor away from her laptop and her endless barrage of text messages and emails that she had to answer at all hours from both guild-mates and work? Get her some time to unwind and relax, seduce her—that was his favorite part of the idea—and then mention making things permanent. Somewhere tropical would be nice. He raised his glass to Maylee. “I can see why my cousin's marrying you.”

“Back off, Casanova,” Griffin said. “She's mine. Find yourself another American girl to woo.”

Maylee just grinned and linked her fingers in Griffin's.

***

After the dinner with his cousin and Maylee, Loch headed down to a bakery a few blocks away from the hotel and got a few sweets for Taylor. She'd eaten all the marshmallows out of the cereal he'd gotten her and all of the candy out of the minibar. His American had a bit of a sweet tooth, so he picked up several different confections that were lavished in frosting and coated with candy bits, sure they would please her.

When he got back to his hotel room, though, Taylor was curled up on the couch in a ball, tears streaking down her face. He set down the baked goods and dashed across the room to her side. “What's wrong? Are you all right? Is it your ankle? Your head?” He touched a hand to her brow, where the stitches still peeked out from her hairline.

She sat up slowly, miserable tears streaking down her face. “I got fired.”

“You what?” Loch sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went, burying her face against his chest and starting to cry anew. He felt . . . fuck, he felt helpless in the face of her unhappiness. He was a good-time guy, and his friends were easygoing wealthy types. He didn't know how to comfort someone who'd just lost a job. He stroked her hair, letting her cry for a minute. “What happened?”

Taylor sniffed, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “My boss said they wanted to have a call to discuss some departmental changes with me. So I logged on to the conference call and it was him . . . and someone from Human Resources. He said my performance had been slipping and that I was late all the time, and I called in a lot. So they decided to let me go.” Her voice broke.

“Those bastards.” His grip tightened around her. “They're just being pricks.”

“The worst part about it is that they're not.” She sat up and swiped at her face with the back of a hand. “Everything they said? They're right. I have called in a lot. I am late all the time.”

“Recently it's been because of your head—”

“But that wasn't the only instance, and I've been late several times this week with no excuse.” She gave him a sad look. “Other than spending time with you. And I've missed lots of days from needing to be online for stupid guild stuff.” She looked miserable at the thought.

“So don't play that silly game so much,” he said gently. “You don't enjoy it anyhow.”

To his chagrin, her face crumpled and she started to cry even harder. “You don't understand. It's not that I want to, I just . . . It's complicated.”

Because of this Sigmund guy that harasses you?
he wanted to ask, but if she wasn't comfortable sharing, he wouldn't pry. He stroked her shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

“There's nothing you can do,” she wept. “I just have to try and find another job somehow. I should go back to my apartment and dig out my old résumé and—”

“Stay here,” he said swiftly. The thought of her going home and his hotel room returning to its empty loneliness bothered him. Even when she was working, it was nice to have her presence here. They chatted even as she typed, and he was probably part of the reason she'd been fired, because he liked to distract her. “I'll miss you if you leave.”