The Billionaire & the Princess

by Katherine E Hunt

  “Yes.”

  “It was me. We almost fucked.” His eyes widen. It’s done, I’ve done it. I hope to God it doesn’t change anything.

  “What?” He falls down beside me, excited confusion in his eyes. “What? When?”

  “The woman in the bathroom. That was me.”

  “You? What?” Any fear I’ve had about telling him has dissipated. He’s intrigued, but he doesn’t look angry. His finger traces my stomach, rises and circles my breast. “I’m sure I would remember this body, these beautiful breasts.” He flicks my nipple, sending a jolt through me.

  “Yeah, uh, that’s why I called you Cowboy the first, well second, time we met.”

  “And we … what did we do? Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve kept this secret for like a week. It must have been killing you.” Why didn’t I tell my billionaire boss about our drunken naked shenanigans? Gosh, I can’t think.

  “I have died inside many, many times. We did some stuff, a little kissing, a little under the clothes stuff.” I squirm with pleasure at the memory of his hand on my clit. It’s going to happen again. Oh my god. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Fuck. I didn’t … I wasn’t inappropriate with you, was I?” I shake my head. Not in any way that I didn’t want him to be. My heart flutters, like a chunk of ice falling off into the ocean. I peck him on the lips again, just to thank him for that being the first thought that entered his mind.

  “No, no, not at all, the perfect gentleman, well, you know, it wasn’t exactly gentlemanly behavior that I wanted, but don’t worry I was totally on board.”

  “Fuck. I am so sorry. I don’t remember at all. Was I any good?”

  I laugh, is that his only concern? “You were great, for someone with very little hand-eye coordination.” I have to stop and breathe for a second; I’m so hot for him right now. “But you were off your head and it didn’t seem right to take advantage.”

  “So we never actually …”

  “No. Like I said, it wouldn’t have been right.”

  “And now?” He rips open my robe fully, takes in my body beneath him.

  “We have unfinished business, Mr. Baresi.” I unbutton his trousers. “Tell me you at least bought some condoms in the last week.” His eyes widen. He’s thinking about it.

  Fuck, Hank. You have to be kidding me.

  “No. But I know where there’s a stash.” He slides off of the bed, lifts the mattress and removes a box of condoms.

  “I don’t even want to know why you know that they’re there.” I pull him back up over me.

  He sinks down onto me, his lips nipping and biting at my body, making me wait for him when I’ve already waited so long. His hands land on my shoulders, his fingers slip under my robe and push it off of me. They slide down my body to my pussy, already wet for him. I’ve been waiting to relive this moment, and it is everything I remembered.

  Once again, his hand sinks down between my legs. He slides his fingers under my lacy gusset, shivering with anticipation as he does it.

  The familiar touch of his fingers on my pussy. “Tell me what you like,” he murmurs in my ear as his fingers enter me, his thumb circling my clit. Sober Hank is a gentle lover.

  “This. Don’t stop.” I’m close, too close, I’ve been edging for a week now, I need to come. My body shakes as the waves of the orgasm rise up inside me. His mouth lands on mine, catching my gasp. He lets me finish, slowly sinking down and removing my panties, leaving me fully exposed for him.

  His mouth sinks down, his lips circling my clit. I jerk back, it’s too soon, too sensitive, but he is hungry for me.

  “Wait…”

  He looks up at me from between my thighs. “I should have started with my mouth, huh? I didn’t know how ready you were for me. I wanted to take my time.”

  I stick my hands into the curls on his head, tug on them hard enough to make him bite his lip. “You’ve been fluffing me for a week now, I’m ready.”

  He pulls away, sitting on his knees in front of me, and I get my first full view of his erect cock. Bloody Hell. It’s as impressive as every fantasy I’ve had since I’d seen it waved in front of my face.

  He catches my wide-eyed regard. “What?”

  “Your cock,” I reply, looking up at him. It’s such a cliché, but it is huge. I’ve felt it up, seen it whirling around in business class, but I’ve never seen it in action.

  He winks at me and grins. “It doesn’t just look good, it does stuff too.”

  Fucking Hank Baresi really will be every fantasy I’ve had come true. The man is a god. Carved by angels.

  “Uh-huh.” I grab it, toy with it, slide my thumb around it, savoring the beauty of the beast. Jesus, this thing is perfection.

  He slides my hand off, laughing. “Don’t, it’s been too long for me too.”

  I sit up, lean forward and swirl my tongue around the tip. “So I can’t do this?”

  “No.” He gasps and pulls away from me, grabbing a condom and rolling it on.

  He leans over me, pushes me onto my back, with a gentle nudge. “You need to behave.”

  “You going to make me?” He kisses me again, separating my legs with his, preparing me.

  His face takes on a more serious tone. “You sure you want to do this?” I nod, as my body tenses in anticipation. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. He teases, entering slowly, breaking me in, before filling me whole.

  “Fuck.” My mind detaches from my body, I close my eyes and try to concentrate on sensing every thrust.

  He gasps with every movement. Kissing me forcefully, the desire to feel my mouth on his. He is holding back, slowing his rhythm, doing his best to make it last. It must be killing him.

  I grab onto his back, we’re synchronized, writhing and twisting. He slows down, stops.

  He pulls out, his mouth sinking down to my pussy, his tongue flicking at my clit, building me again.

  I know he wants to make it last, but I want him inside of me. “Fuck me,” I whisper and he sits back, and just admires me before rolling me onto my stomach and lifting my hips to glide back into me. His moves are slow and calculated. His hand slides down, his fingers circle my clit.

  “Come for me again,” he says. I do his bidding because it is everything I want, and it is beyond my control. He has me, completely, body and soul. I am his.

  As the storm rains down outside, the lightning casting shadows of our naked bodies on the walls, he brings me to orgasm a second time and we come gloriously, loudly together.

  It is everything I had imagined. And so much more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hank

  “I’m starving,” I say as I hold Caitlyn to my chest.

  It isn’t a complaint as much as it is a statement of fact. The storm has abated, as have our ardors, we are both coming out of our post-sex haze and we are famished.

  We’ve finally done it. My subconscious has been trying to tell me something all week. Turns out she and I had, as she put it, unfinished business. That explains all the uncontrolled boners every time I was in her presence. I’ll finally be able to stand up in public again.

  “I’m pretty sure the electricity isn’t going to come back on tonight, would you like me to stay?” Code for, I can’t be assed to drive home now and I’m pretty comfortable naked, in this bed with you.

  “Of course,” she curls her finger around the tiny hairs on my chest, “on the condition that you finish those tacos.”

  “I should get dressed first it’s chilly in here.” Open-plan looks amazing, but it is so difficult to keep warm. I should have gone for radiant floor heating.

  Her hand sinks down and swirls around my balls. “Spoilsport.”

  I peck her on the lips. She’s so impressed by my cock; I don’t need her to see what happens when it gets cold.

  Pulling on my pants, I get back to work in the kitchen. Caitlyn is on her phone, scrolling through her social-media.

  I rack my brain, trying to find something,
some memory of that bathroom, but I’ve got nothing. That whole plane trip is a vague, foggy memory. That pill Leo gave me was not your momma’s Ambien.

  It isn’t that I don’t believe Caitlyn. She had been on that plane and there’s some serious chemistry going on between us. I know drunk me too well. An airplane bathroom hook-up with a stranger? Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been the first time.

  That’s some fully-fledged destiny shit right there, though. Getting it on with the one person who could save any hope I had of getting this magazine off of the ground, while getting my renovation business going too. It could have gone so horribly wrong.

  “Can I ask you something?” She nods. “Why did you tell me?”

  “About the plane? Because I didn’t want you to suddenly remember in six months’ time and think I was some weird stalker who lied to you.”

  “So you’re a truthful, weird stalker.”

  She tilts her head. “Not entirely. I’m actually a princess from a long-forgotten land and I’m richer than most of your friends.” She laughs and bites her lip.

  I throw my hands to my face in fake shock. “You got me good. Here I was thinking you were just like everybody else, but you secretly wear a tiara in the bath and have a butler hidden in the closet.” I put the spicy chicken in my tortillas, add my chopped vegetables and plate-up. “Are we eating in bed?”

  “Yeah, if you want.” She puts down her phone. “That smells delicious.”

  “Catching up with your family?” I hand her a plate.

  “Thank you. No, some friends. It’s a good friend’s birthday lunch; I was just commenting on their pictures.” She takes a bite. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

  “Right? Do you miss them, your friends?”

  “I haven’t really had time to think about it yet. I don’t have a big circle like you. A couple from uni, some from school.”

  Really? I find that difficult to believe. Everybody she’s met since she got here loves her. Even Nonna seems to like her and that woman is damned hard to please.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something? I could get a laptop from downstairs, share some data.”

  “Yeah, why not? It’s cozy here in the candlelight, under the covers.”

  “No RomComs though, right?”

  “I don’t mind watching them; I just think we have to be clear on the fact that they all have terrible motives.” She’s the first woman I’ve ever met who has something against romance. Like, she wants romance in her life, but she hates it at the same time. I slide my arm around her butt, bring her closer to me and kiss the top of her head. Nobody’s going to hurt her again.

  “So if we were in a romantic comedy it wouldn’t end well because we’re good people?”

  “The first time I met you, you were literally off of your head on drugs and within minutes you had your tongue down my throat and your hand in my pants. An event which, apparently, you don’t even remember. Plus, we’re probably going to lie to your entire family and hide whatever this is from everybody, even your friends.”

  “You give a good argument. So in RomCom theory, we get the Happy Ever After because we’re terrible people. We’re not lying to each other though, no more secrets.”

  “Right.” She purses her lips. Why am I not convinced? “It helps that I, your weird stalker princess, am deeply in love with you though.” It feels like she’s deflecting. For someone who talks constantly, there’s a lot she’s not saying.

  “I knew you loved me, it’s my tacos, isn’t it?” She’s kidding, though, right?

  She laughs. “I’m joking; you should’ve seen your face. You went from laughing to sheer terror in five seconds flat.” She licks her fingers and puts down her plate. “Really, you have nothing to worry about, I don’t love you. Yet.”

  Yet. She’s kidding around, sure, but there’s emphasis in that little three-letter word.

  “I do. I think the fact that you’ve accepted me, even though the glass slipper didn’t fit over my big toe and I’m still a frog is very kind.” I take her hand, kiss the back of it. “Princess, I love you.”

  “I thought as much. They should make a movie about us. With songs and dancing rabbits.”

  I look into her eyes, her hand still in mine. “I love your mouth and its ability to function without the use of your brain.” I kiss her as she harrumphs in reply. “And I love the way your breasts peek out of the top of your unbuttoned shirt when you’re sitting at your desk, nestled there, enticing me.” I put my plate down and grab her nipple, tweak it between my fingers as it hardens to my touch. “I love these soft, ripe titties and I love your little belly and the sweet taste of your pussy and the way you wrap your legs tightly around me when I’m fucking you.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Says the woman with the supposed heart of ice, oh, I get it, you’re that princess.” Caitlyn is far more sensitive than she gives herself credit for. She’s wary, but her walls are easily broken down when she wants them to be.

  “I told you I loved you, though.” She puts her hand to her chest in fake indignation.

  “You did. I guess you’re melting.”

  She goes to get up, but I pull her back on to me. “You don’t want to watch a movie?” she asks.

  My hands glide around her butt, sliding her over my hardened cock. “No, I want to fuck.”

  “I think we just established we’re making love now, not fucking.” I laugh. Funny and dirty and hot as hell. This is the Caitlyn that only I see.

  In front of my mother she’s politeness incarnate, unassuming, with my friends she’s professional, reserved, but with me she’s a completely different person.

  I stick my head between those titties and run my finger down to her core. She’s my weird and wonderful stalker princess, who doesn’t love me … yet.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Caitlyn

  “I have no clothes. Nothing I have nothing to wear, I’m going to have to go to your parent’s house naked.” I hold up a pair of panties and some very short shorts.

  He snatches the panties out of my hand. “I like these you should wear these so I can rip them off at some point.”

  “Give them back, that’s my last clean pair.” He dangles them over me, just out of reach.

  “What’s it worth?”

  I scowl. “How about, when we’re at tea with your parents I don’t talk about what we did last night?”

  “Caitlyn Walsh, you are a worthy adversary.” He hands me the panties and snuggles up to my bare breasts. “Much as I would pay good money to see you strut your naked butt around my parents’ house, I’m afraid we’re going to have to come up with something slightly more decent for my mother’s annual Saturday tea. What about the dress you wore to the baby shower?”

  “Drycleaners.”

  “Would you let me buy you something?”

  “You already bought me the shoes I wore to the baby shower.” I try not to look too guilty. “Jen made me do it; she said it was company expenses.”

  “Not entirely foolish. I don’t pay expenses, my father does. He can probably afford another couple of outfits; this is a workday after all.”

  “I don’t need you to do that; I can buy my own clothes. I’m really uncomfortable with this sort of thing.” I shake my head in despair. Money isn’t the problem, keeping up appearances is. “It’s just a loan, until I get paid, agreed?” I’m digging a hole here. No more secrets, he’d said. I’ve never been part of Hank’s plan and he hasn’t been part of mine. Things have just gotten away with me.

  “Agreed. Listen, you haven’t met my father. Once you meet him, you won’t regret a single penny you spent in his name. His utter dislike for you and everything you stand for will be enough to make you want to spend all the rest of it.”

  “He can’t be that bad.” Hearing a son talking about his father in that way shocks me. It isn’t reassuring when even your boss’ kids hate his guts.

  “He is the head of one of the bi
ggest media corporations in the world. So many people hate him he has a security detail and an administrative department that deals entirely with death threats. And he is Nonna’s son.”

  “Good point. I still feel bad though.”

  “Don’t. You deserve all the beautiful things.” Alright, flattery will get you everywhere.

  “You’re thinking about ripping that dress off of me when we get home, aren’t you?” He smirks, earning him a slap on the butt. “Dirty boy. I have to pick up the flowers I ordered for your mom.”

  “You don’t have to keep doing that.” He looks uncomfortable. It’s bad enough that he is dating a pauper, but this pauper insists on buying bouquets for his mom. He doesn’t have to say it. I’ve met enough Hamptons residents this week to know how things are. I’m ‘them’ and he is ‘us’. It hangs over our relationship. And, just like my pile of dirty washing, the whole situation is going to have to be dealt with, eventually. Sooner rather than later.

  Mama Baresi is waiting for us at the door, just like last time. Her hair is down today. From a distance, she could be Jen’s twin sister.

  Once again, her arms are wide open and welcoming. “Enrico, Caitlyn.”

  “Mama, these are for you.” I’ve gone for a different choice this time, lavender. “You mentioned last time we were here that you were having trouble sleeping, so I brought you these. If you dry them and put them under your pillow they’ll help you sleep.”

  His mother, delighted with her gift, leaves us to show the bouquet to her husband. We enter the house and admire the chaos, hesitant to know where to start. There are people everywhere, noisily talking over each other, dripping with expensive clothing and even more expensive jewelry. I’m so glad I didn’t wear those short shorts.

  “Do you know what breaks the most glasses at these gatherings? Italian arms. We can’t tell a story without making it into an epic tale, The fish was this big, or She told me she loved me. It all has to be said with great gusto,” says Hank, watching the crowd.