The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) (12 page)

“Look, I’ll even give you a lift home,” he says.

I think about my own car—a ‘98 Corolla I got from Craigslist, currently in a repair shop.

It’s not that my car isn’t ready yet—I just can’t afford to pick it up right now; that thousand-dollar deductible is no joke. Well, I guess now, thanks to this guy and his ridiculous tip, I can.

Still, no matter how generous he is, I don’t take rides from strangers.

I’ve been grabbing taxis for the past two weeks, or if I’m lucky, I’ll catch a ride with someone who lives nearby and is getting off at the same time—which has happened all of once.

I was planning to try Uber tonight—I have this coupon that gets me a free first ride.

“No thanks to the ride,” I say. “I’m covered.”

“Really? You were going to take a taxi or something, correct? Is the driver not a stranger?”

“That’s different, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain how.”

Wait, how did he know I didn’t have a car waiting for me in some parking garage or side street?

“Look, with my driver at the wheel, it’ll be like taking a taxi—except the taxi will be very long and spacious, and you won’t have to pay for the ride. Plus it happens to be stocked with snacks and liquor if you feel so inclined. You must be famished after that shift.”

I start to wonder how many people—well, women—must’ve passed through his ‘taxi.’

“Is this the line you throw at all the girls? ‘Let me drop you home in my limo?’”

He smiles. “I’m quite picky, in fact.”

“Well, I’m flattered, and this is all very nice of you, but no thanks. This is all too weird. I only came this far because I was so damned curious. And you know what they say…”

He smiles at me in a way that manages to be so lewd, the saying takes on a different meaning.

“Okay then,” he says. “I understand why you are hesitant to accept the ride, but do have dessert with me for a moment so that I may have your company a little longer. I’ll even leave the door open if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“Like you can’t just drive off with me either way.”

“You seem to think I want to kidnap you for some reason. Why is that?”

“I don’t know—for any of the many reasons people get kidnapped!”

“I assure you I wouldn’t go through all of this trouble if that’s what I wanted to do. I could hire folks to pluck you from your apartment, your walk to the grocery store, any night you’re headed home from work without anyone seeing my face. Nicely asking you to get in my car after tons of witnesses saw you serving me tonight only to drive off with you—that’s not my kind of headache. Too many loose ends, and I’m a rather tidy man.”

I mean I guess that made sense but still, I would feel so stupid if he was the worst kidnapper on earth after all, and after going about it the clunkiest way, drove off with me.

“My dear Cherise, I am simply feeling compelled to show some kindness these days. I suddenly have a lot more funds available to me due to the recent death of my granduncle, and I would like to share it in various ways. I am trying to do a gesture per day for at least a month, but I want to extend the generosity beyond the financial, and offering you a ride is a simple gesture.”

“Don’t forget ordering me dessert! That was my favorite part.”

He smiles and my heart is melting under it and his warm gaze.

“How did you know my name? In the beginning?” I ask him, still reeling over the way it sounds coming from his lips.

It takes him a weighed moment, but he says, “I asked around.”

Hm. So it probably happened similar to what I thought.

Why did you pick me?
I want to ask, but instead I say, “What’s your name?”

He looks a bit surprised by my question.

Then I guess he realizes there was no way for me to know—from reservation booking to payment he hid his identity from us.

“My name is Richard,” he says, and I can’t help but think how much it suits him.

Some people just look like their names—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve guessed someone’s name based on what they look like. Oh, the Sarahs, Jennifers, and Amys I’ve stunned with my accuracy.

I might not have guessed this guy’s name, but once he said it, it seemed obvious.

I’m not even talking about the fact that this guy is obviously loaded; the name fits every part of him: his voice is rich, his eyes are dark and rich with possibilities and layers—like his brain is constantly going—and even his hair is a deep rich brown.

Now that we have been properly introduced, I feel more inclined to join him for dessert.

What could really go wrong? Besides actually getting kidnapped?

And especially when I’m so willing to go almost anywhere with him quite happily?

How many times have I trusted myself in a car or at the movies with some stranger?

Practically anything could turn into a kidnapping situation, right? Every Tinder swipe could turn into something potentially dangerous.

Man, I’m easy—offer me a salted caramel chocolate cake and I’m like a rat after cheese on a stick.

I know it’s not that simple though—this man just does it for me, and I long for him to do it
to
me. I’m being careless because I want him with every fiber of my being; I want to feel the beginning of seduction, the moments of anticipation before his lips reach mine, that moment I realize he is hard beneath his slacks. I want to meet his tongue, have his hands run across every curve of my body.

Quite frankly, I want him to take me in the back of that limo.

I follow him to the long, sleek vehicle, hoping none of my fellow servers catch me in all my risk-taking glory.

Come to think of it, at least half of them would probably high-five me tomorrow since so many of them were drooling over him tonight.

I suppress a flash of jealousy and possessiveness.

Will he come back for Maggie tomorrow? For our Barbie hostess?

Will he pick us off one by one, and then move on to another restaurant for his next set of horny victims?

I shove the thoughts away and decide to just indulge in the moment.

We enter the limo and I’m sure my mouth drops open at the sight of the interior.

Who else were you expecting?
I want to ask because this is way too much space for one or two people.

Maybe he had planned to bring back several girls and have an orgy, and with all my curves, he figured one of me was enough for tonight.

“This how you always roll?” I ask when I find my voice again.

“Not always. I rolled this one out tonight to impress you,” he says with a cheeky grin.

I smile at his silliness.

Obviously he was kidding, because how could he have known he would meet me tonight? Clearly he meant he rolled it out to impress whoever he ended up picking out for his pleasure, and it happened to be me.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

His mini-bar is the stuff of dreams, but accepting a drink from this stranger while in his car is where I draw the line.

“I’ll pass,” I say, and I am relieved he doesn’t push.

I lift the first dessert to him as an offer, but he shakes his head.

I get ready to dig in.

I’m really careful as I eat the dessert; I even try to be sexy with it.

He watches me in a way that inspires me—like he enjoys the show.

I can’t wait for this show to turn into the After Dark version.

When I’m halfway through, I offer him some dessert again, feeling guilty, but he shakes his head once more.

“I just wanted to watch you eat it,” he says.

Okay, weirdo—whatever floats your boat.

Once I’m done with the first dessert, he says, “Are you ready for me to drive you home?”

His voice is different, lower. Sexier.

I nod. What the hell—it’s a twenty-minute drive and I live alone.

Yeah, that’s right—I’m willing to do it right here during the drive or let this strange man into my apartment. However it happens, I’m good with it. I have made my peace with myself.

I need to feel this guy close to me, feel our bodies connect—hot skin against hot skin.

I tear through the second dessert.

As we pull up outside my apartment building he says, “I have a proposition for you.”

Oh boy, here it comes!

I can barely contain my excitement.

“I don’t know what you make at the restaurant, but I’m sure I can beat it by far. How would you like to work for me?”

My soaring emotions fall drastically—as if suddenly weighed with an anvil. My body stops vibrating and my smile wipes clean.

There’s no way he went through all of this just to offer me a job.

And what does he mean work for him—as his escort or lay-for-a-week or something?

I’m not sure I’m offended just yet.

“You need to tell me a little more than that, Richard.”

“In my home,” he says, “I need help with a few things around the house.”

Everything in me takes a final plunge.

Does he expect me to clean for him? Make his food? Did he have a childhood nanny who looked like me and now he wants another plump, dark-skinned caretaker?

“Do I look like some mammy to you?”

His brows raise and he looks utterly confused. “Excuse me?”

“Do I look like some sort of cook? A butler? Do I look like I’m here to serve you?”

“You’re a server,” he says, and I slap him hard.

I didn’t even think about it—my hand just raised up and found his cheek quite happily.

He brings his hand to his cheek, looking stunned, and I get ready to leave his stupid luxury car.

“Kiss my ass,” I spit at him before turning toward the door, but before I can get it open, I hear the locks engage.

I try the door anyway, and yup, it’s locked.

Fear starts passing through me.

I try to think what I have on me that I could use as a weapon if needed.

Damn it— Maggie kept telling me to get mace since I started taking public transportation and taxis, and I kept forgetting!

“Your wish is my command,” he growls in a voice even deeper than before, and before I know it, he has climbed over me.

My mind blanks, and I get even wetter instantly.

I try to hold on to my anger, try to remember why I was so mad in the first place as he starts working on my pants.

“Stop it,” I say, slapping at his hands.

“Do you really want me to?” he says, looking at me directly, and with those rich, stormy eyes on me, I can refuse him nothing.

He continues working on my pants.

But he’s not serious, is he? He’s literally going to kiss my ass?

He pulls my pants down and then grabs my ass cheek with his teeth, biting it sort of firmly before nibbling at it. With every graze or press of his lips and teeth, a sharp tingle goes straight from that point of contact to my throbbing mound.

“I’ve wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he says after his next nibble, and then he kisses my agitated area and moves to pull my pants back up.

I whimper involuntarily.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he says knowingly, arresting me with his eyes again.

I don’t want to have to go through the indignity of verbally agreeing with him—he had recently insulted me, after all.

“Your wish is my command,” he says again, and then he pulls my pants the rest of the way down, pulling my panties down with it, and as self-conscious as I suddenly feel, my tingling core is louder than anything and wants whatever he’s about to give it.

He stares at me for a moment, and I swear he licks his lips.

The next thing I know, he has buried his face in my center.

I cry out immediately, the sudden contact of his soft lips and then his wet, slithering tongue is almost too much for me.

I know he won’t have to be down there long because it’s been far too long for me—over a year of celibacy—and he is working my pulsing folds with his mouth so well, I’m going to come all over his face soon.

He slides his tongue across and between all the parts of my needy middle, flickering his tongue over my entrance and even penetrating it a bit. He surprises me with glances of his wet tongue across my sensitive clit, making me jump while teasing me with light touches and caresses.

Then he starts eating me with more urgency, clamping down on my needy mound and licking in earnest, probing all my yearning parts.

I start rotating my hips a little, taking all the pleasure I can from his tongue and lips against my hot, wet pussy.

When he moans against my center like
he’s
the one getting all the pleasure, I almost come right then. But then he starts wagging his tongue over me with a finger dipping inside me, and I start thrusting toward him, fucking his face. I feel orgasm build and build with each lick and suck, and when he starts working the bud of my clit with his finger, I explode, coming hard against his face with one last thrust against it.

He moans against me again and it heightens my climax.

I am left breathless, and I stay there, pulsing and helpless, as rippling orgasmic sensations pass over me.

It takes me a while to come to my senses, and when I do, I quickly pull my pants up, and embarrassment begins a slow crawl over me.

He swipes at his mouth.

“You’re delicious,” he says, his lips tilting into a lewd smile.

My cheeks hot, I move toward the door again.

“Are you going to let me out now?” I say when I realize it’s still locked.

I feel sort of used, but I’m not sure I hate it because after eating those delicious desserts and the oral gift from him, wasn’t I the one using him? Plus, after that tip he gave, it’s like he paid me to give me pleasure, and I haven’t figured out how to be mad at that yet.

“Not before I explain myself,” he says.

I cross my arms, waiting. I sure as hell needed some kind of explanation for that job offer.

“When I asked you to work for me, you jumped to conclusions; I don’t want you to work for me in the capacity that you thought. I am in need of an assistant, and I would love for you to help me with various tasks, none of which includes fetching my coffee. I respect you and your capabilities, Cherise, and I know your résumé goes beyond this.” He pointedly looks at my uniform.