Authors: Lucy Lambert
Insatiable: A Billionaire Romance
Published by Pub Yourself Press, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
INSATIABLE: A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
First edition. June 17, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Lucy Lambert.
Written by Lucy Lambert.
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am NOT like those other women!
When Vaughn Ward sets his sights on a woman, she always ends up in his bed - crying out his name that night and cursing it the morning after. The billionaire playboy has an unquenchable thirst for sexual conquests.
Not me, though. I am a professional. But as the youngest member of C&M Advertising firm, it's my job to get to know our most important client. To get to know exactly what he wants from us... and how I can provide it.
I can resist his charms, his stares, and his flirts. I know his reputation. I won't be another notch on his bedpost.
But the longer I spend around him, the more he seems determined to take me. Use me. Consume me.
And the more I find out about him, the more I want him too...
on’t be. I’d like to ask you a question,” I said.
“You’re asking permission?” she asked, eyes flicking back at me for a moment.
“That surprises you?” I replied.
“It does. As near as I can tell, you say whatever is on your mind regardless of the content.”
“Sometimes,” I agreed. There was a firecracker under the surface of this one, I could tell. She needed someone to light her fire.
“So what is it?” she said, her curiosity overcoming her reservations.
I tugged her closer, our bodies almost touching. This close, I could see the hint of freckles on her cheeks. I bet they came out so nicely in the summer sun. I bet she hated them so much, hated how girlish they made her look. I wanted to kiss them.
She smelled nice, too. Nothing fancy. Maybe just the barest hint of perfume. It begged me to lean in closer, to graze her skin with my lips while I breathed deeply of her.
I could also feel her begin trembling. But what sort of tremble was it? Barely-suppressed attraction? Annoyance? Both? I still couldn’t tell.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now, junior executive Quinn Windsor from Callaghan & Montblanc?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened so that I could see the whites. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times. I considered leaning in and trying my luck then and there. I couldn’t get my mind off those freckles.
Her palm became hotter against mine. But she still didn’t make a move to pull it away.
Her face flushed again, bringing out those freckles even more. My heart palpitated. I knew I had her. I knew I had to have her...
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“Vaughn!” Stacey cried out, her bare, glistening breasts heaving.
I ran my lips down the soft skin of her throat, moving my mouth between those breasts. I watched her nipples crinkle and stiffen in delight, and I smiled against her skin.
I didn’t think there was anything sexier or more arousing than a beautiful woman crying out your name in the middle of passion.
Her naked body writhed beneath me on the big, king-sized hotel bed, her hands grabbing at the sheet, pulling it into her fist and tugging the corner out from under the mattress.
And I kept going lower. I couldn’t believe the heat coming off her.
In between groans, Stacey managed to say, “But... what... about... your meeting?”
I kissed the inside of her left thigh, then let my lips trail closer to their ultimate destination. She started trembling. I loved how she always started trembling right before. I stopped short.
“I don’t care about the meeting. The only thing I care about right now is you. And how loudly you’re going to scream my name...”
I let my hot breath run out over her quivering flesh.
“Vaughn!” she screamed again, her back arching up off the mattress again. I smiled.
I was an artist and Stacey’s perfect body was my canvass. My masterpiece. A slanted bar of light came in through the heavy curtains, leaving a slash of brightness across her stomach.
You couldn’t, and shouldn’t, interrupt an artist in the middle of his work. Especially not for some meeting.
It’s an important meeting
, the thought buzzed at the back of my head, lighting in my thoughts like an annoying fly that I could shoo away momentarily but would come back to distract me soon thereafter.
So I concentrated all the harder on my current task. On the warm, smooth feeling of Stacey’s skin. On the sharp intake of her breath through clenched teeth when I touched her with my lips or my tongue
It helped. Soon, I didn’t think of the meeting anymore. Only of the beautiful woman who shared the bed with me, begging me not to stop, pleading with me to take her over the edge.
I slid my hands up over her thighs and she grabbed them both, squeezing even while she screamed.
The more she enjoyed it, the more I wanted her, the hungrier I became. Soon, I couldn’t resist sliding my body up along hers. I paused only long enough to grab the foil wrapper off the nightstand.
She kissed me as I entered her. Soon, our bodies moved as one. Stacey kept looking into my eyes, switching from one to the other, searching, questing.
“Vaughn...” she groaned, and I knew that she was close. I moved faster, harder, my heartbeat picking up.
She tried speaking again, but I didn’t let her. And soon she couldn’t say anything at all, the pleasure overrode all conscious thought so that all she could do was go rigid beneath me, her snug grip on me tightening so much that I couldn’t help gasping.
She arched up again, exposing her long, slender neck. I kissed it, setting my teeth against her sensitive flesh. I was the predator and she my prey.
And then an incredible shock moved through my body, too.
“Stacey...” I groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear, verging on pain. Then it ended, all too soon.
I rolled off her, lying on my back beside her, staring up at the tiles in the ceiling. That slant of light coming in through the window was a diagonal bar running across my chest and then down across her hips.
I loved the sweet smell of her sweat, and the sound of her deep, gulping breaths as she tried to recover some of herself.
No, not love,
I thought. I hated that I’d used that word in relation to Stacey. It gave me a tight, unpleasant feeling across the front of my stomach that soured the pleasant post-sex afterglow.
It was just a slip
, I told myself. A slip using that word in relation to Stacey:
. But it was also too late, and I knew it. Already, I just wanted to get out of there. My suit, a dignified Armani lying in a not-so-dignified heap beside the bed, called to me, urged me to pull it on and run out the door.
Her hand quested across the mattress, seeking and finding mine. She squeezed my fingers, and I didn’t return the gesture.
“Hey,” Stacey said, rolling onto her side so that I could see the provocative swell of her hip and the hourglass shape of her toned body.
“Hi,” I said, ignoring those pleasant sights. I could hear the huskiness in her voice, and part of me knew what was coming. We’d been seeing each other for half a year now, and it had come up several times, but I’d always managed to avoid it.
Not now though, I knew.
“That was fun,” I said. I hoped to divert her.
“It was better than fun, Vaughn,” Stacey said, kissing my bare shoulder. Her lips were hot against my skin. She took her hand from mine and put it on my chest, then slid her fingers down, tracing them through the small dips between my abdominals.
It was nice. I wanted her to stop.
“Good. Nothing like a workout to work up an appetite. Room service?” I suggested. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, facing away from her.
“I love you, Vaughn,” Stacey said.
In the darkness, I hoped she didn’t see the way her words made my go rigid, made my shoulder hunch. My heart did a terrible dance in my chest.
No, no, no
, I kept thinking.
I liked Stacey so much. Why did she have to go and do that? Why did she have to say that?
“Vaughn?” she said. I still didn’t turn to face her. I heard her sit up, heard her begin gathering the large sheet around her body. I was going to miss that body. “Did you hear me? I love you.”
I felt her come up behind me. She put her hand on my shoulder and I knew she could feel the tension inside of me. “Don’t you have something to say?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “That’s... nice.”
Her fingernails dug into the meat of my shoulder and I winced. “
” she said, spitting the words back at me. I didn’t have to see her to know that anger and hurt contorted her beautiful face.
And here it comes
, I thought. I knew this was going to happen. It always did. I had just been hoping that maybe things would last a little longer between Stacey and me before the inevitable happened.
But if there was one lesson I learned after becoming wealthy, it was that no amount of money could buy you additional time.
I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs beneath the table. I’d grown bored of the view of historic downtown Boston offered by the large bay window on the other side of the conference room.
And the air conditioning was too cold. For the fifth time in as many minutes, I checked my watch. I tried doing it with some tact, holding my wrist down below the level of the table and pulling the cuff of my jacket back to steal a glance.
Apparently, it wasn’t hidden enough.
“The client is never late, Miss Windsor.”
My eyes immediately went to the speaker, who sat beside the head of the table. “Of course not, Mr. Callaghan,” I replied, my cheeks heating up.
Mr. Callaghan was a senior partner at the firm. He had a strong nose, black hair only now graying at the temples, and a suit that cost more than I made in half a year at Callaghan & Montblanc.
I’d only ever spoken to him once before, and that was at my promotion ceremony. I felt nervous around him. I hated feeling nervous. Nerves resulted in mistakes, and I couldn’t afford making any.
Aside from Mr. Callaghan and myself, three other people sat around the long, rectangular table. I didn’t know any of them; they were all Mr. Callaghan’s assistants.
Normally, he didn’t take on business personally anymore. He tended to leave that to people like me, junior executives. Except this wasn’t just any client or company. This was Vaughn Ward.
I glanced over at the projection screen. There were a bunch of mock-ups and concept art for our proposed ad campaign displaying the logo for Ward’s company, Phoenix Software.
Slides that we should have been through half an hour ago, when this meeting was supposed to start.
Mr. Callaghan stood up and started pacing up and down the room, walking past the decorative mantle and the antique clock that sat on it. It caught his eye on one pass.
“Miss Windsor, please go and see if perhaps Mr. Ward requires some assistance. You know the room number?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, standing up a little too quickly so that I almost lost my balance, catching myself on the table.
I hate being nervous!
I could feel Mr. Callaghan’s eyes on me. I wonder if they disapproved of my suit. It was a skirt suit, the only one I owned. I knew Mr. Callaghan liked the old ways best. Old ways like women in skirts instead of pants. “I’ll go check right away.”
I hurried from the room, both eager to get out from under his eyes and annoyed at having to go check on Ward.
I went down the lavish hallway leading from the conference room of the Langham Hotel, making my way to the elevators.