Billionaire Romance Series: Dreams Fulfilled (1-3)

by Scarlett King

  This time when he kisses me he lifts me as well—no small feat, since I’m no small woman. Startled, I throw my arms around his neck and let out a sharp whimper against his mouth.

  He carries me to the bed and I flash back to this morning, when I was too distracted by cold to notice that he did the same then. Before he used his body to warm me without making a single move outside of a sleepy kiss.

  It’s very promising. After all, too much impatience is the death of good sex.

  As soon as he settles me on the bed I start tearing off my clothes impatiently. He stares for a moment as I struggle out of way too many layers—then he eagerly starts stripping down as well.

  David called me an Amazon once, and I’d never forgotten that comment—but as he stares down at me hungrily the last of my self-consciousness starts to dissolve. He likes my tall body with its bountiful curves, its firm, heavy breasts and powerful thighs. He’s seen it before; the touch of his gaze doesn’t make me uncomfortable.

  Anything but. His worshipful look as he takes me in from head to toe before pulling off his long johns makes me feel like a goddess.

  He really has filled out nicely under those woolens—his body still lean but well-muscled, his treasure trail a little thicker but his belly just as flat. I run my hands over him, brushing my hand briefly over his thick, well-groomed cock, which is as silky smooth as I remember.

  The wind screams outside the windows and the lights flicker as he joins me in bed. Again, I feel like I’m forgetting something. But this is more important. I push it to the back of my head and wrap my arms around him.

  For just a moment I tense up, because when I embrace him, I wonder if he’ll pull the same uncomfortable trick he used to and push his way inside me before I’m quite ready. But he holds back instead, his hands running over me almost too slowly as he explores my body in a new way.

  He has a strangely serious look on his face as he caresses me, his hands warm and firm on my skin. I can feel his cock brushing against my thigh. My eyes close, and I let myself relax under his hands while he keeps up his caresses, taking his time.

  Every time he finds a spot that makes me gasp, he strokes me there again and again until I’m shaking. My nape, my collarbones, the spot just under my breasts, my hips, and the tops of my thighs all get as much attention as my tits and bountiful ass, which he’s always been obsessed with. “Like that?” he purrs in my ear as he runs two fingers around my nipple and then rolls it gently between them.

  I arch slightly and nod, making a small sound of pleasure. He grins and slides down my body, starting to kiss my neck as his hands knead and stroke my breasts.

  I stretch under him, enjoying his weight over me again now that he’s not trying to rush the encounter. In fact, his teasing is starting to get me very, very turned on.

  He’s found the spots that make me moan and goes after them feverishly, his hands firm and sure. Crouched over my thighs on his powerful knees, he kneads my ass roughly with his hands as his mouth takes over their work. I tremble and moan as he covers me with slow kisses…and then I thrash suddenly, overloaded by unfamiliar pleasure.

  He pauses with his lips inches from my breast and looks up at me. My heart is beating too hard and my body is too tense; the intensity of sensation almost hurts. Propping himself up, he purrs, “Roll over.”

  Moments later, he has me on my side with him snugged up behind me, cock sliding over the small of my back as he kisses and nips at my neck and shoulders. His hands knead my breasts, stroking their thumbs back and forth over my nipples while I squirm and gasp.

  I can feel him shuddering with need behind me, his cock throbbing hard against my skin. But still, he takes his time. His hands and mouth slowly move down my body, leaving a trail of stinging love-bites down my spine while his fingers move to dig gently into the hollows of my hipbones.

  I rub my ass back against him, and he growls and squeezes the twin globes roughly. My cunt aches for him in a way I can’t remember feeling since I was sixteen and didn’t even know what sex was like. Now, unexpectedly, I’m learning what it can be like.

  “Can you roll back over for me, sweetheart?” he breathes in my ear after a while, and I know what he’s after. I want it, too—his mouth on my breasts, his body on mine. But then…I hesitate.

  My mind fills with images from the amazingly sexy dreams I’ve been having, and I smile, suddenly inspired. “I have a better idea.”

  “Holy shit,” David groans as he settles back against a pile of pillows I’ve heaped on the bedstead. His cock is so hard that it gleams. He looks up at me in amazement as I kneel over him, positioning myself.

  “Don’t you dare bust yet,” I warn him, and he grins and nods, a little wide-eyed. I take hold of his cock, and he grunts as his head rolls back, fingers digging into the bedding. I fit him between my now-slick folds and start to lower myself.

  “Aaaah!” he gasps, body straining under me suddenly, eyes flying open. He pants hoarsely as he struggles to keep it together; I slide further and further down, feeling him stretch me open inside. Finally, I settle over him completely, my knees sinking into the pillows as he moans low in his throat.

  I hold still; we hold each other until his tremors relax, and he starts to caress me again.

  I don’t know why he’s so confident until he takes hold of the small of my back with one hand and bends me back a little, nuzzling my breasts. His other hand settles between us…and takes hold of my labia right over my clit. His thumb dips into the warm slit there…and starts to circle delicately, then more firmly.

  I moan softly and start to squirm, feeling the ache inside me bloom into growing pleasure. Every swipe of his thumb, every stroke of his fingers, leaves me trembling and clenching on him just a little bit harder.

  “Oh,” I whimper before I can stop myself, and I start squirming, rocking my hips slightly against him. He groans but lifts his hips gently, letting me set the pace. He’s cheating, though; his stroking hand drives me to move more and more vigorously.

  It feels so good that it almost hurts. My cunt tightens around him even more, and I feel my juices making him slick and easier to ride. My head falls back—and then I let out a sharp cry as his mouth closes on my nipple.

  He starts to lap at me in time with his strokes, making me ride him harder as my hips roll reflexively. He grunts against my skin and lashes his tongue harder, while his hand keeps moving against my wet, sensitive flesh until my breath burns in my lungs.

  I’m riding him rough now, grinding wildly, trembling harder and harder while he starts to shake as well. I can hear my voice rising in sharp cries as I hang onto him for dear life. Stunned, a little scared, but greedy for sensation, I press my cunt against his hand and then rock against him harder as he speeds his caresses.

  I don’t know what’s happening. It’s too much. It’s almost terrifying. I open my mouth to tell him to stop—but what comes out is, “Oh, God, yes—”

  My muscles seize up as my voice rises into a wail. I thrash over him, exploding with sudden energy as the pleasure ramps up into ecstasy.

  I sob with joy, my body going rigid with each contraction, and swooning and trembling in between. As everything comes apart, I hear him groan hoarsely against my skin, and I grind on him more, so that the groan becomes a long shout. Then his cock lets loose in several long shudders, and his hips almost lift me off the bed before he collapses.

  The pleasure shocked me, and now I’m shocked by my sudden exhaustion, even as I feel ready to float away on a cloud of bliss. I sway over him, chest heaving for air.

  Somehow, he manages to catch me before I can collapse, and I slide down limply as I lay down over him. My knees pop as I dismount from him; I’m speechless, tingling, barely noticing the brief pain.

  “Do you like that, sweetheart?” he purrs in my ear as I lie trembling on his chest.

  “Uh huh,” I manage to mumble, and he laughs.

  “Good.”

  It’s David’s laugh that wakes me h
ours later, well after dawn. I sit up, sleepy and confused, and see him standing half-dressed, long johns still unbuttoned and loose around him as he faces the window—a window that is covered in streaky ice.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snorts as I blink past him at the icy view. “A fucking ice storm on top of everything?”

  I grab my robe and pull it on, moving to his side. My legs are wobbly and a little sore, but I’m so relaxed that I barely care. I’ve never felt better about rethinking my stance on anything in my life.

  “Ice storm?” I fish my phone out of my jacket pocket and check the weather report. “Not much of one. It moved on hours ago. They should have the roads cleared and in good condition again before lunch.”

  “Well, that’s good, at least,” he sighs. “But there’s just one problem.”

  A shock goes through me. “The deer cams!”

  We manage to do the smart thing and bundle up before we go to check the six cameras that have put up around town. We walk out to check them arm in arm, as much to help me keep my balance on the icy sidewalk as anything. People are already wandering the streets on their morning errands, but the crowds are thinner.

  “Think the tourists are hiding inside until they salt the sidewalks?” I ask as we move toward the first camera site.

  “Probably a good bet.” We reach the first shop that let us install a camera under their eaves, and he grabs his penlight to check it. “Well, this one’s intact, but the light’s off. Cold may have drained the battery.”

  He takes it down—and we both gape in shock as he opens the battery casing to find it full of ice crystals. “Or killed the battery for good. Holy shit.”

  “Let’s check the others.” I’m really starting to worry now…though the fear has no real teeth to it any more. That might have something to do with the company, though.

  My worries are well-founded, as it turns out. The second shop had a leak in its awning that we didn’t notice, and we find the camera literally frozen inside a large icicle. Two more cameras broke loose in the high wind—we find them broken, lenses and casings shattered. The rest have battery problems like the first.

  “Well, looks like the mistletoe will be down tomorrow with no magic involved at all,” David sighs as he looks around, fists on hips. The bag of broken cameras hangs from his side; he doesn’t seem bothered by this last setback. Good sex can do that, and so can a change in perspective.

  We’ve had both.

  “You’re right. Warm front’s moving in. It will rise above freezing tomorrow. They’ll all just fall off on their own.”

  “And this time no one will replace them.” He wraps his arms around me, sighing. “Look, we’re done here. Let’s go home? I have an unopened bottle of New Year’s champagne with our names on it.”

  I look around again, a sad, wistful feeling in my heart, like that of a kid at bedtime on Christmas night. “There’s always next year,” I say, half to myself. Then I look up at him and hug him back briefly. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 10

  David

  * * *

  As it turned out, the last interview didn’t record. Our enlightening dinner conversation with the Whitmans had been meant for our eyes—and ears—only. For all my usual careful attention to detail, I had somehow forgotten to charge the audio recorder’s built-in battery.

  Instead, we’ve got a lovely video of Andi and I talking about how we fell in love and how much we enjoy our work together, surreptitiously shot by that sneaky bastard Jack and left for me like a gift. I think I owe him some champagne.

  It took us only a month to put the book together. It’s being edited now with several breathtaking shots of the town and the mountains around it being worked in. The one thing we were able to do, besides talk to people and record a few interviews, was take a lot of pictures.

  But the video—the interview, the attempts to interview Jack, all that stuff either just leads to more questions and greater mysteries or exposes personal revelations about us—although I’ve edited it together nicely, I still don’t know whether we should release it on our website.

  It’s not just that parts of it are very personal. I have no problem shouting to the fucking hills that I got my second chance and that the two of us are going strong as lovers and work partners both. I naturally want to check with Andi first, but that’s not the only thing restraining me.

  It’s the rest of it. The baffled but amused residents, the retired movie star with his new lover and tiny child, the huffy priest’s daughter and her enormous biker boyfriend, laughing Jack saying he’s Jack Frost himself…it’s all personal and weird as hell. How much of it will appeal to the public at large?

  More importantly, how much of it is right to release?

  I sit back from my computer, rolling my stiff shoulders and standing up to walk out of my office. My penthouse is arranged around a central atrium with a hothouse inside; beyond its glass walls, I can see the bed where Andi is still curled up, sleeping.

  I exhausted her again. The thought still makes me proud. Amazing what a little effort, patience, and communication can do.

  I move over to one of my enormous, insulated-glass windows, this one overlooking the fenced deck with its covered outdoor pool and jacuzzi. Beyond it, the city sits frozen in the grip of winter, millions of lights gleaming in the icy dark. I tighten my smoking jacket closer around me and go to pour myself a brandy before returning to my desk.

  I play part of Jack’s interview again. “My name’s Jack Frost as I told you before. I’m ageless, I live at the North Pole with my father Saint Nicholas, and my job is bringing the fall colors and the winter frosts.”

  “Damn it, that sounds like satire,” I grumble under my breath, sitting back in my chair. No superhuman being would actually walk up to us and introduce himself like that. And even if he did, no one would ever believe it.

  Which means that we can’t use the interview. It will kill any credibility this investigation has.

  I rub my face in exasperation. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Jack?” I can’t really hate him anymore though, even if this shit frustrates me. He did help Andi and I get back together—even if he did it with a stolen kiss.

  A flash of movement on the balcony catches my attention. I could have sworn I saw a man-sized figure in a dark coat. But when I look again, there’s no one there.

  There’s something I didn’t notice before, hanging from the eaves. And a mark on the glass.

  I stare. Then I grab my camera—after checking the battery—and quickly take a few photos. I’m smiling like crazy. We probably can’t use these either—except for ourselves.

  She’s still going to love them.

  I look back once more as I quit my computer and get up to head back to bed. They’re still there: my evidence, real evidence, and something like an answer. Even if no one would ever believe us.

  A curlicue of frost shaped like a fern frond on the insulated window…and a frozen, dried bit of mistletoe fastened to our balcony overhang sixteen stories above the ground.

  The End.

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  When singer India Blue meets superstar actor Massimo Verdi, their sexual attraction is immediate and almost overwhelming. But India is plagued by a dark secret, and when her life is threatened, the two would-be-lovers find their love inundated with jeopardy and distance.