Billion Dollar Love

by Sam Crescent

  He’d been a total gentleman, as well. Never pushing her for more than she was willing to offer. He’d kiss her gently on the lips on the stoop of her apartment complex, and it wasn’t long until she wondered if that was the one aspect of their relationship that Alex found lacking. After all, he was a handsome, wealthy man, in his prime. Every time they were out, women turned their heads. He could have his choice of women, and yet, he was with her. It made her wonder why.

  One night, about three weeks after their first date, Peter laid down an application on the dinette table and tapped it with his finger.

  “I found us a place,” he announced. “You have to fill out this portion of the application.”

  “Us?” she questioned.

  “Figured why not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have money saved, so it’s not like I’m in dire need right now, but I can’t keep living on your couch. This way, I can help with finances and have my own bedroom.”

  “Did you go see this apartment?”

  He nodded. “It’s not too far from your job, on Russell Street.”

  She picked up the application. “What happens when you get a job overseas?”

  “I’ll send you money for rent,” he replied, shrugging. “It’ll be a home base. Win-win as far as I can see. You’ll be paying less now.”

  Abigail took a deep breath. It wasn’t like she had any other choice. “I really appreciate you doing the ground work on this.”

  He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Abs. I’m glad you’re dating. About time.”

  “If you say I’m a spinster I’m going to wash all your whites with my red towels.”

  He held up his hand in surrender. “Never even thought the word.”

  “Tread lightly, mister,” she teased.

  “Okay, fill that out and hopefully we can start packing in a few days.”

  Abigail gave a mournful look around the place that had been her home for years. “It seems a little overwhelming.”

  “I know,” Peter said softly. “Let me deal with this.”

  She glanced over at him. “You sure?”

  “What else am I doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not like I have to get up and deal with work and a boyfriend.”

  Her face flushed. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she mumbled.

  “Then what is he? And when am I going to meet him? Seems to me like the big brother ought to vet him out.”

  “Soon,” she said. “I just don’t want to make him feel pressured.”

  Peter frowned. “He isn’t hurting you or anything, is he?”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “What? No! Nothing like that. It’s just I really like him, and I don’t want to throw the whole meet my family out there until I know he feels the same.”

  Peter sighed. “I get it. It’s hard enough dating, especially when you want to stay on the down-low.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Of course. Now where are you off to today?”

  “We’re going to some art gallery.”

  “How late will you be tonight?”

  “Let’s just say don’t wait up.”

  She winked at him, and he scrunched up his nose. “No brother should hear those words from his baby sister. Ew.”

  Chapter Six

  “I don’t think I like abstract art,” she said as she studied a piece hung on one wall of the gallery. “I assume this is to evoke emotion, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it’s supposed to represent.”

  Alex turned his head sideways. “I agree.”

  They looked at each other and smiled before moving on to the next piece.

  “If you don’t like this type of art, why did we come here?” she asked, frowning at the next display. “Looks like a hamburger to me.”

  “I happen to have a meeting with one of the investors tomorrow night at Top of the World, and was invited here to preview one of his clients’ works.” Alex chuckled and placed a hand in the lower part of her back, steering her away. “But again, I agree with you. And I brought you here to prove I’m cultured.”

  “I know you’re cultured,” she said as they approached a small sculpture. “I think I’m revealing my own unappreciative eye.”

  “So we both don’t like abstract,” he said, shaking his head at the statue. “What is this supposed to be? A wrench in a vase?”

  “I thought it was a lock of some type.”

  “Oh my God, let’s get out of here,” he said, grinning. He took hold of her hand, linking their fingers, and led her out of the room. “I’m hungry. That last painting made me crave a burger.”

  “If you’re leading me to In & Out, I love you,” she teased.

  He glanced at her sharply, the jovial smirk on his face disappearing for a moment. She opened her mouth to say something, but he clicked his car unlocked and before she realized it, the moment had slipped away.

  They went inside the burger joint to eat, because no matter how careful, they always dripped and made a mess. Through the meal Alex was back to his fun self, the momentary darkness she’d seen in his eyes nothing more than a memory. Once they were done and cleaned up, Alex once again held her hand as they walked back to his car.

  “What would you like to do now?” he asked her.

  She tugged him to stop walking, and he glanced at her with one eyebrow raised.

  “I want to go to your place,” she said.

  He turned toward her and cupped her face. “Are you sure?”

  She swallowed down the nervousness bouncing around in her belly. “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  Abigail tried not to think about how this elevated their relationship. For her, she’d only had lovers when she’d been in committed relationships, which weren’t all that many. Sex had always been nice, but she sensed with Alex it would be explosive. Just simple touches made her heart pound and her panties wet. Full blown intercourse might make her combust.

  ****

  Alex wrestled with his conscience, but he tried hard to ignore it. It had only taken three weeks to get Abigail in this position and damned if he’d blow all his plans. He didn’t have time for sentiments. He didn’t have patience to continue the ruse. And he certainly didn’t need regret beating him over the head.

  He hadn’t even broken her heart yet, but he regretted that he was about to.

  Once inside his home, he didn’t even bother turning on the light. He simply swept her up in his arms, pressing her against his own body. Kissing her. Tasting her. She was ambrosia he needed to devour. He closed the door on the dog, keeping the little mutt out of the bedroom.

  He needed to get closer to her. He needed to consume her. He broke off the kiss to stare down into her now shadowed eyes.

  “Abigail,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to lick you and eat you until you come on my tongue.”

  She moaned and thrust her hips upward in wordless agreement. Excitement surged through him, making his hands slightly shake.

  “God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he crooned.

  His hand left her ass and slid up her ribcage until he found the curve of her breast. He cupped the shape, molding her to his palm as he gently squeezed. Her nipple pebbled under the thin material, and he traced over the turgid peak with his fingertip. She arched and gasped, and that’s when he began to maneuver her toward the bedroom, walking her backwards as he kept lavishing her skin with soft kisses.

  Once inside the room, he kicked the door closed with his foot. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, leaving her standing in a demure white bra. She backed up, keeping her eyes on him, until the bed hit the back of her knees. He stalked after her, taking the edge of his t-shirt and stripping it over his head. Her gaze roamed over his tattoos, the various colorful designs he’d marked his upper shoulders and over the right side of his chest.

  “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, running her fingertips over his ink. “Do they have any
meaning?”

  “Tribal ink,” he replied. “I’ve worked with some different types of people.”

  “In business?”

  He shrugged, and didn’t answer further. Instead, he bent and captured her lips in another soul-melting kiss, sliding his tongue in to dance with her own. He didn’t want her to question anymore, because some of those tats were from the Bedouin when he’d been in Jordan. He pushed her back, and he helped her scoot up so he was on the bed with her.

  Alex straddled her body and unhooked the front closure of her bra, revealing her breasts. Small but perfect, the tips pointed in invitation. He closed his mouth over one, lavishing it with his tongue and teeth, tugging tenderly until she lay beneath him writhing. Panting. Begging. He noted how his own body burned for her, and it unnerved him a little. He wasn’t supposed to want her this much. His plan swam through his mind, and for the first time it left him cold. A small voice in his head urged him to cease, to throw the plan away because when had he ever felt this before? When he wasn’t with Abigail, he wanted to be. When he was with her, he never wanted to leave her. The thoughts drove him insane.

  Yet always, hovering just far enough away to never let him forget, was Catherine. She wanted vengeance. Her murderer deserved punishment.

  “Alex?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  Her questions brought him out of his revere, and he blinked, pushing aside all other thoughts except for the woman beneath him. His plan would wait because right now all he needed to feel was of a sexual nature. Her big, dark eyes regarded him with concern, so he bent his head and kissed her again, before helping her undress.

  When she lay naked, he took a moment to look at her, his mouth going dry. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her body wasn’t the stick-thin malnourished look that so many women favored, thinking men liked to fuck skin and bones. Soft and round in all the places a woman should be round with real breasts and an ass he could grab and hold on as he rode her.

  Alex kissed his way down her body, bypassing the apex of her thighs where he could smell her feminine scent beckoning him. God, he wanted nothing more than to sink his steel-hard cock into her wet cunt and pump her until they both splintered apart, but once more, his moral compass rose.

  Did he have the right to do this to avenge the death of his sister?

  Did he have the right to punish her for the sins of her brother?

  “Abigail,” he murmured against her thigh. “Do you want me?”

  She looked down at him, her eyes liquid pools of need shining in the dim light. “Yes, Alex.”

  In that moment, he saw what he was about to do played out. He would fuck her, walk away … and leave her for another man to pick up the pieces. It shook him to realize that he hated that unknown asshole. That man who would eventually get the right to hold her, love her. Lay claim to her, because she wasn’t his. There would be no ring on her finger from him, no declaration of love, no promise of tomorrow.

  So if this was going to be the only night he had with her, he would make damn sure she’d never forget him. From now on, it was all about her pleasure and the orgasms he was going to give her. He shifted his body until he was kneeling on the floor and he had pulled her body to the edge.

  “Open for me,” he ordered, trying not to sound harsh.

  Exerting a little pressure, she slowly relaxed and let her legs open. He got his first glimpse of her pretty pussy, all plump and swollen with her desire. She wasn’t shaven down there, like a lot of women, and he found the curls sexy. He ran a finger gently through them, barely brushing against her slit, and a moan erupted from her lips.

  “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured. Then he kissed her, right on the spot he’d just touched, and her hips jerked up.

  “Alex,” she breathed.

  “You taste so damn sweet, Abigail.”

  He pressed his tongue against her again, as far as it would stretch, dipping a little into the slit. She moaned again, and the little sound took him over the edge. He had to fully taste her now.

  “I want you to come on my face,” he said. “Let yourself go, as many times as you can.”

  Using two fingers, he spread her until he found her clitoris, and then proceeded to lick her. As soon as his tongue rasped against her sensitive nub, her body arched like it had touched a livewire. Her hands buried in his hair, pulling it almost too aggressively. But he loved it. It gave everything an edge that pumped through his blood, lighting him on fire. He licked and sucked her in, sliding one finger into her heat. She bucked against his hand.

  “Alex!” she cried.

  “Fuck, you taste like honey,” he said. “So good. So fucking good.”

  He pushed another finger inside and took her little clit between his teeth, sucking hard.

  “Alex, please!” she begged. “I need…”

  “I know what you need. Let go, Abigail. Come for me.”

  He licked, up and down, driving his tongue in and over her nub. He worked her, until her little cries echoed around them. Her body tightened beneath him, and he could feel her quivering around his fingers. He blew against her again, and immediately she broke apart.

  He had never seen anything more sensual, more desirable, than Abigail in the throes of orgasmic bliss. When her body finally relaxed and she sagged back onto the blanket, he eased up his torment, but he didn’t withdraw from her body.

  Putting his hands under her knees, he pushed back her legs and scooted up until they hung over his arms. Then he dropped his head over her wet pussy and began his attack anew. He flicked her clit in quick, repetitive motions, making her scream in pleasure. Her cream ran, and he lapped it up. He sucked on the little bundle of nerves, and she splintered apart again. She tasted so damn good, and he loved having her come apart in his arms. Damned if he wanted to stop.

  When she collapsed, he finally pulled back and let go of her legs, wiping his face on the blanket. He was so fucking hard that it was actually painful to kneel in such a position. He winced as his pants refused to budge and adjusted his dick, giving himself enough room to push his jeans off. He stood naked in front of her, and she let her thighs open. Reaching into the nightstand, he grabbed a condom before joining her. He slid his hands down to cup her butt, then lifted her up as her legs wrapped around his waist. Holding himself, he plunged into her depths, sliding in deep.

  Something meaningful burned into his heart. He felt whole for the first time in his life, as if he’d found the other half of his soul and had been put back together. The sensation plowed into him like a train, knocking all the wind from his sails. The thought of vengeance drifted into some far, dark corner of his mind. He locked gazes with Abigail, moving to a rhythm only they could hear.

  Her breathy little cries of pleasure drove him wild, and he pounded into her harder, deeper. Her tight pussy held him firm, turning his brain to mush. He fast lost control, and he so wanted this moment to never end because as soon as it did, he knew this was over. She’d be gone. Pain hit his heart, causing him to stumble a bit in his rocking. He couldn’t think of that. Couldn’t think anything past the moment rapidly bringing both of them to the precipice.

  She was the first to fall. Her pussy spasmed around his cock and her incoherent cries of pleasure pushed him over the top, and he came with a loud shout. His cum shot into the latex barrier, protecting them both, and for a split second, he wished he had been bare. If she’d gotten pregnant that would’ve forced him to stay in her life.

  An excuse.

  She wrapped her arms around him, and he closed his eyes, letting himself savor the moment. One second more. Two.

  Reluctantly, he pulled back from her, and rose from the bed. He walked into the bathroom, pulled off the condom and threw it away. He washed his hands and stared at himself for a long moment in the mirror, hoping he’d be able to remember this moment and still be able to face himself. He didn’t want to do this, but the retribution that had hammered in his heart for all this time resuscitated. Catherine’s ghost lingered in the ba
ck of his mind. He took a deep breath and returned to the bedroom to gather Abigail’s clothing.

  ****

  Abigail watched as he picked up her clothes. He walked over to her, still in the bed, recovering from the best sex in her life, a bit stupefied when he placed them next to her. Pushing to sitting position, she clutched the sheet around her chest. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re leaving.”

  “What, now? I thought I could spend the night—”

  “No,” he said, giving her a cold stare. “I don’t want you here.”

  Gone was the easygoing, laughing Alex. The man before her now stood cold, emotionless. No, actually, the emotion on his face was one of disdain. Confusion swirled through her.

  “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I got what I wanted, and it’s over. I don’t want seconds from you.”

  Her brain tried play catch-up, to comprehend what he was saying while her heart pounded from the pain his words caused. “But … but…”

  He crossed his arms. “Did you think I would want to stay with you?”

  “I thought that you cared for me,” she whispered brokenly.

  “You thought I could care for the woman whose brother murdered my sister?”

  “W-what?” she asked in stupefied disbelief. His words made absolutely no sense.

  “Your brother,” he said slowly, anger building with each word. “He seduced my sister. Got her pregnant. Left her with a broken heart.”

  Abigail shook her head, denying what he said. Denying the pain he kept inflicting with every word he spoke.

  “Yes,” he continued, brutally and coldly. “And in response to her broken heart, to her perceived shame, she killed herself.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! And all the blame can be laid at the feet of Peter Jensen, the engineer who worked on my oil refinery in Saudi Arabia.”

  “What? Your … what?” Her brain couldn’t seem to catch up with what he was saying. “No, it couldn’t possibly be him. You don’t understand—”