Filthy Rich: The Billionaire's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) (5 page)

He licked his lips, the same way he did in the alley, before taking my hips in his hand and pressing his tongue against my entrance.

Mhmmmhmm.

Louis kissed and licked my clit. His tongue twisted and twirled as he devoured me. Slow at first, but he soon got a taste, and I could tell from his eyes that he wanted more, more, more. His breath warms my inner thighs as I warm his face.

Mhmmmhmm.

My moans motivate him.

Faster and faster. He draws an eight with his long and powerful tongue.

Mhmmmhmm.

Ready to explode, I try to reach for his hair. I want him inside of me. I need him inside of me. The silver headboard bangs against the wall as the cotton of his tie reddens my skin.

I bite my lip hard and arch my back. Quick but heavy breaths follow.

Mhmmmhmm.

My core tightens as I near climax. The bed shakes as my body spasms.

Three years TJ and I were together, but I never climaxed when we shared a bed. It took Louis only five minutes, and the night is still young.

Eager for more, I try to speak—to beg—for Louis to give me his cock.

Mhmmmhmm.

But he understood my desire. My body said more than any words.

Louis inches forward until my ankles are resting on his powerful shoulders. The moan catches his face and, despite the heat, sends a shiver through me: he looks so primal, so animalistic. He wipes my wetness from his lips with the back of his hand before reaching down and wrapping his hand around the base of his cock.

I reach for his face, and the headboard bangs again.

Louis massages my eager clit with the swollen head of his cock. He leans forward, and my calves drag along his thick muscles until the back of my knees are resting on his traps.

His thick, pulsating cock stretches the walls of my pussy. He’s bigger than any man I’ve ever seen—in person or otherwise—but he faces no resistance.

“You’re so fucking wet,” He whispers as his lips near my face.

His warm breath smells of rum and peppermint and me, but mostly me. Linking my fingers, I pull at his tie so hard that it stings.

“Not so fast,” He said.

Louis reaches forward and grabs the headboard. My butt lifts and I take more of him; I take all that my body can manage. I gasp for air as he fills me—entirely.

His fingers roam along the undoubtedly expensive headboard until he reaches my hands. He strokes the red marks on my wrists as he begins to thrust his hips.

Soon his hand is resting on my cheek. He reaches for my scar and, for the first time since my face was marked, I don’t try to move away.

Louis strokes my face as he slowly thrusts his hips.

His eyes betray his body. Lust boils in those ocean-blues, but his slow pace tells me what’s on his mind.

I find my voice.

“It’s okay,” I mutter as I gently nibble on his bottom lip, “you know that I want this. I want you.”

His pace quickens.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Allie.”

He fills me with—among other things—confidence.

I don’t feel like
old Allie.

I feel different.

Better.

New.

“Come on, you can hurt me a little,” I whisper as I bite hard on his lip, “hurt me right.”

Moonlight catches his chest as he pulls his face away. Louis grips my ankles tight and shoots me a devilish grin that matches the want in his eyes.

I pull hard at his tie, and the sound of the banging headboard straightens his back.

“I’m all yours, Louis Kingsley,” I moan.

Louis grips my left ankle and tosses it aside. His hand free, he reaches forward and grips my neck; tight enough to feel but loose enough that I can still breathe.

“Fuck me,” I moan.

His fears and worries evaporated from the heat of our two naked bodies and only want remained.

He lowers his hips and his cock almost slips away, but he forces it back inside—as deep as my body will allow—quickly. He stretches me wide as he plunges his massive cock in and out of my wet, eager hole.

Louis tightens his grip around my neck and my core melts as I realize he’s near climax.

The bed shakes and the headboard smashes against the wall as each thrust of his hips grows more intense. He grunts and writhes as his taut face contorts; his guttural moan booms through the room.

“Fuck!”

Collapsing forward, Louis’s sweaty muscles press against my bare breasts. His breath warms my ear, and I can’t help but smile when I hear his excited laugh.

“That was amazing… you are amazing,” he whispered as he reached for the headboard.

Untied, I rolled over to the side of the bed and reached for the sheets on the floor. When I turned back, Louis was opening the bedside drawer.

“Ready to go again?” I said, half excited and half confused.

The bed creaked loudly, and the mattress lifted a couple of inches as Louis rolled off of the bed. Reaching into the drawer, Louis pulled out the paper he’d locked away and made a beeline for the door.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you coming back to bed?”

“I’ll be right back, I’ve got to make a call.”

“Now?”

“Don’t worry, Allie. We’ve got all weekend.”

Days melted together and became one: Saturday leaked into Sunday and Monday morning rolled around so fast we barely had time to change the sheets. By the time the sun rose on the suckiest day of the week, his top drawer was empty.

We spent most of the weekend in bed. Huddled together in the wet sheets—wet from sweat and sex and sex-sweat—for hours on end. Louis slinked away to his office when he thought I’d drifted off, and I used those spare few minutes to gossip with Molly through texts.

Louis is so understanding. No pressure or guilt. No baby-talk or puppy-dog eyes to get what he wants.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reach for my phone and sigh when I notice the time. He’ll be off to work soon, and my shift starts when his day ends.

We talked when we weren’t kissing or licking or fucking. He told me about his family: his loveable but not-fit-to-lead half-brother Jack, his gold-digger-marrying father, and his late mother; she was the artist in the family.

The best thing about Louis—besides the muscles and the clothes and those blue eyes—is that he really listens. Like, really fucking listens. TJ would um-hum and aha and play with his computer through most of our conversations. Louis looks at me—not towards me—and he takes in my words.

He smiled when I told him about my dad and how he thinks I sound ‘
all Brooklyn’
now (despite the fact that I’ve never been to Brooklyn). He laughed when I told him about Molly and the things she did to cheer me up after I moved in (we agree that she’s the third coolest person in New York).

But he went cold when I told him about my run-in with the creep from the bar.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ He said.

I believe him.

My eyes moved from my phone to the door when I heard it creak open. Louis stood there, wearing the same suit he wore the first night he showed up at the bar: a deep-navy cotton three-piece, a pearl-white shirt, and a bulky black tie.

“Hope you’re not going to be too late,” I said, as dropped my phone into my floral-print tote-bag.

“Not as late as you,” He said as he pulled at his collar.

“My shift doesn’t start for like eight hours.”

“You don’t work there anymore.”

“What? Did someone say something? Did Denton fire me?”

“No, but I’ve hired you.”

My head spun, and my eyes darted around the room. There was no talk of a new job all weekend. But I did share my ambitions with him. And he is a good listener.

“But I didn’t even apply or interview or anything.”

“Sure you did,” He said with a mischievous smirk, “So get dressed. The car’s outside. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”

I don’t need handouts, and I thought he was above childish games. Thoughts and suspicions fluttered around in my mind.

Was this weekend real? Did he only listen so that he could find a chink in my armor? Is he still just looking for an incubator?

“You can’t bribe me with…”

He held up a hand, and I stopped speaking.

“It’s not a bribe, it’s an opportunity. You’d already be working for a company like mine if it wasn’t for the asshole TJ. And, as much as I’d love to have you directly under me, we won’t even be working in the same department.”

Excitement boiled in my belly. I tossed the sheets away, reached for my tote-bag, and rushed towards the bathroom.

“Okay, I guess we can give it a try,” I could barely hide my excitement, “my shift doesn’t start for like another eight hours anyway.”

Louis nodded.

“Do we have time to swing by my place so I can get changed?” I asked, “I can’t wear one of your t-shirts, even if it does fit like a dress.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

***             

There was a lush soft-pink high-waist A-line dress lying on the bed when I emerged from the bathroom, and Louis smiled as he watched me get dressed.

The limo ride was almost silent and fraught with sexual tension. Hell, it got so hot the windows steamed. His large hand dragged along my freshly shaven legs—I’m making a habit of borrowing his razors—where my new favorite dress ended.

We arrived together but entered the building separately. It was my idea, and he agreed. Kingsley International, my new place of work, was a family tree built with concrete and steel. Cousins, aunts, uncles. Everyone he’s ever loved has worked there at some point; except for his mom, apparently.

The girls at work were sweet and welcoming—not Molly-sweet, but kind enough for me to wonder if they knew how I interviewed for the position.

We talked and smiled and shared a little gossip, and I only lied when they asked about my weekend. My cheeks flamed when the girls—my new colleagues—spoke of the Kingsley brothers but my jealousy evaporated when I realized they had no intimate knowledge of the two.

Time slows when you’re working the tables at a bar, but my first day went by so fast I almost missed it, and I only realized it was time to go home when I noticed Sheila—my office neighbor—was putting on her coat.

Panic hit: Where do I go? What do I do?

We entered the building together, and I insisted that we don’t interact; not on the first day. Once everyone was gone, I reached for my jacket and rushed for the elevator.

It was just me and some soft jazz. I was just about to press the button for the lobby when I thought of the two men that sent me back into Louis Kingsley’s arms.

“What if they’re outside? What if TJ followed me again?”

After all, he traveled across the country, and he was able to find my apartment. And that red-haired goon didn’t seem the give-up-easy type.

My knees weakened, and my finger trembled.

I need Louis.

***

The view from the top was spectacular, and it felt good to be in the sky, far from those two cockroaches at street level. My eyes were focused on the thick glass but the secretary (wo)manning the phones had my attention.

Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her makeup-less face was battle worn and wrinkled. She moved with time-to-go-home weariness and spoke with a tired voice.

He’s busy, can I take a message?

He’s busy, can I take a message?

She parroted the line whenever the phone rang. After what felt like an hour but was probably five minutes, she peeled from her seat and sauntered towards the bathroom.

When we were in bed, Louis told me that he didn’t
do
Monday’s. He spends the day with his face pressed against his desk; getting the sleep he missed out on during the weekend.

I knocked gently on his door, but there was no answer. Just as I was about to try again, I heard the faint sound of a flushing toilet.

Startled, I pushed open the door and jumped inside to find Louis and a stranger. He was tall and thin with salt and pepper hair and beard-scruffy cheeks. The man wore a dirt-brown suit and cheap-looking loafers that betrayed the expensive gold watch on his wrist.

“Ah, Ms. Quinn,” The stranger said as he motioned for me to close the door, “you’ve saved me making a second stop.”