BILLIONAIRE (Part 2)

Copyright © 2013 Juliette Jones

All rights reserved.  No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed or scanned in any electronic or printed form without permission. 

BILLIONAIRE is a work of fiction.  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Cover art photo used under license from Shutterstock.com

First Edition: March 2013

BILLIONAIRE (Part 2)

Lila

It was more powerful than reason, whatever it w
as that was happening to me.  I might have lost my mind completely.  I’d just had unprotected sex –
six times
– with a man I’d known for exactly …
one day
.

And he was still inside me.

We had not left his apartment all morning.  We’d slept in blissful post-coital dozes.  He’d fed me bites of chocolate and fruit.  We’d showered twice.  And we’d hardly disengaged.  Throughout, barely a moment had passed when his body was not somehow connected to some part of mine.  The stroke of his tantalizing tongue.  His clever, insistent mouth, tasting every inch of me.  The warm comfort of his big, hard body sliding over mine, thrusting into me,
so deep, so deliciously deep
…

What astounded me most was the
total
abandon
of it all.  The way I had thrown away ten million perfectly good years of evolution and reverted to a mess of primeval need the minute I’d laid eyes on Alexander Wolfe.  Forget the fifteen or so years of top-notch education, the Ivy League degree, the modernistic caution that comes from layer upon layer of twenty-first century knowledge.  For this man I had willingly stripped bare and thrown myself at him with all the subtlety of a female primate whose species was about to go extinct.  If I’d been in a more boisterous state of mind, I might have laughed at the sheer
political incorrectness
of my impromptu tryst.  I almost mentally apologized to Erica Jong and all the seventies feminists for throwing away four decades of hard work.  Here I was, happily impaled by my brand new boss who was now also, very definitely, my intensely obsessive new lover.  I half-expected the
Mad Men
production crew to be gathered in the corner, cameras rolling.

I was returning to myself, still floating in a haze of superstrength endorphins, after having just experienced the most mind-numbingly powerful orgasm of my life.  It was true I hadn’t had
that
many orgasms, before.  Before Alexander.  Not at all.  Since I’d walked into his office yesterday afternoon, however, my tally was escalating at an alarming rate.  Which was only going to increase by at least one, I had a feeling, before Alexander even thought about pulling out.  He was still fully, massively aroused.  My body was clasped tightly around the impossible thickness of him, moistly locked and still pulsing with the ebbing ripples of my release.  But he had held on, just barely.  And I had let him.

I knew by now that I could make him come if I wanted to.  If I worked him and dug my fingernails into him.  If I rocked my hips against him just so as I wrapped my legs around him, prohibiting any retreat.  I had a feminine power over him
that was satisfying beyond belief.  Alexander, for all his alpha bravado, was entirely at the mercy of my teasing lips, my naked breasts, my snug, squeezing pussy.

That he simply could not resist me was
as obvious as it was arousing.  This realization had unleashed my sexuality in full force.  My former self – the one who had walked into Alexander’s office only yesterday – had been like a meek, caged caterpillar confined to its chrysalis.  That very first sight of Alexander Wolfe had somehow broken me open.  That image of his outrageous, swarthy beauty, so intrigued by me, so receptive and
so
turned on
, had set the butterfly of my sensuality not only free but sky high and with a zealous desire to
feed
.  That look in his eyes as he’d seen me, licking his lips at the sight of my blooming, slippery sex, so ready for him, had unleashed a wild thing.  I was awakened, and I was hungry.

Not only that but
I was
greedy
.  I had learned that the second orgasm – and third – of any particular sequence were equally delicious to the first, and differently so: the ecstatic spasms were longer, less earth-shattering but silky and deep, exquisitely luxurious.

I wanted to come again.

I’d had no choice but to cling to him as my body rocked and writhed against him with the force of my first climax.  But aside from the insanely voluptuous clenching of my slick pussy around his big, rock-hard cock, I’d kept myself relatively calm and submissive.

But I had other plans now.

We were lying side by side, as close as that position would allow.  My leg was hitched over his hip and he held my thigh with one of his strong, warm hands.  My breasts were pressed lightly against the broad, hair-roughened plane of his chest.  Our heads rested on his ridiculously plush pillows and his face was close to mine.

His face.
  Stunningly gorgeous, candidly divine.  Not perfect but somehow perfectly assembled.  The black eyes, as I watched him stare back at me, were not black at all but instead a very dark shade of brown.  I could see from this close angle and in the stillness of the moment inflections of rich auburn in his irises, which glowed with a lusty vividness.  His nose had been broken at some point; there was a tiny imperfection to the line at the bridge and an almost-undetectable scar that added somehow to his piratical manliness.  His too-long hair was disheveled and curled around his ears, heightening the effect.

It was his mouth that killed me.
 
Full and sensuous, plumply pink-red like the skin of a ripening plum, promising all manner of wicked, wanton pleasure. The sight of those lips unfurled something in me: an aching, obsessive need.  Some kind of flood gate had opened in me.  I felt ravenous and wild, madly covetous.  My mouth wanted to eat him as my pussy consumed him.

Each move I made seemed not only fierce but skillful.  I was new at this, but
I felt like I’d found my calling.  When it came to having sex with Alexander Wolfe, I was a
natural
.  Already, I knew exactly how to drive him and appreciate him.  My body felt entirely attuned to his lust.  My hands and my mouth and my sex wanted to tease him and please him, to coax his pleasure to the highest heights, to make him come as hard as it was possible to do.

I pushed him onto his back
so I was sitting astride him.   I leaned over him, rubbing my breasts softly against his chest.  The light pelt of his chest hair gently abraded my tender nipples.  I kissed him, sucking on his lips, licking between them, drawing his tongue into my mouth.  My back was arched and my knees spread wide as I straddled his body.  His hands were on my ass, squeezing in lustful handfuls, spreading me and exploring indecently.

I began to
move myself along the length of his deeply-insinuated cock, which was slick with the honeyed juices of my previous climax.  The combination of his massive thickness and the slippery friction was somehow so beautiful I almost felt emotional about it.  This power and this intimacy were intensely sublime.  The curl of pleasure deep in my core was too good, too rich with promise.  I began to ride him while still kissing him by just arching my lower back, lifting and moving my hips in a slow up-down pump.  On the down movement I pushed strongly onto him, taking him as deep as I could while clenching my inner muscles around him in tight, compressing squeezes.  And each time I squeezed, I sucked gently on his tongue.

Alexander groaned. 
“
Oh, Lila
,” he was saying.  “
Oh, fuck.  Oh, God.  You feel too good.  I’m too close.”
  His words were slightly slurred with his passion, with his effort to hold on.

“
I love the way your big cock feels inside my tight, wet little pussy,” I whispered into his ear.

Alexander turned his head as though he wanted to watch my mouth as I spoke to him.  His eyes were glazed.  He looked at me like I was some apparition he couldn’t believe.
  Wanting to take him higher in every way I could, I said softly, “You make me crazy, I want you so bad.  I love how you feel inside me, so big and so deep.  I’m going to make you come
so hard
.”

Talking dirty, it seemed, was another new skill I’d acquired under Alexander’
s erotic influence.  I’d never even
thought
the words I was saying to him, let alone spoken them.  But this was the new me.  The new assistant-cum-lover of the powerful CEO of Wolfe Enterprises.  Riding Alexander felt like ruling the world, like I’d transformed into a sumptuous sex warrior, a golden goddess.

I
sat up, wanting more.  I raised myself up and slid down onto him in rhythmic, bouncing drives.  Each time I sat down onto him, he was so deep I could feel the blunt end of his cock press against my womb.  And each time, I squeezed the rim of my sex tightly around him, drawing him into me, wanting full, total possession.  The sensation swelled; my entire sheath felt like one blooming sweetspot.   The wet friction grew warmer as I worked him, increasing my pace, taking him into the tight, moist constriction of my body again and again.  My breasts bobbed lightly as I rode him, my movement a sensual balance of wild abandon and controlled stealth.

“
Fuck
,” he growled again, as I gained momentum.  “Lila.  God, you’re so gorgeous.  You feel so fucking good. 
So good, oh God, too good.”

Alexander’s thumb found my clit, skating in measured, pressing circles, exposing the tiny peak from the protective hood
and working it with bold precision.  His thumb stroked strongly against the underside of my clit with rhythmic expertise.  The cyclical pressure heightened the slick sweetness being delivered by my skewering joyride.  Pleasure cascaded from my clit in bright, tight waves.  I shattered, losing myself completely to the severe, untamed pleasure, riding him for all I was worth as my pussy clamped strongly around him, over and over.  Alexander groaned as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest.  His engorged shaft jerked riotously inside me, flooding me with his hot, liquid satisfaction.  The gushing surges jetted against a sensitive trigger inside me, renewing my orgasm before it had even begun to abate, prolonging it into deep, radiating waves of bliss that found me writhing and wriggling against his big, driving body.