The Billionaire Bundle

by Michele De Winton

  “There’s always something good to eat when you’re around, that’s why.”

  “Well, tonight you’re going to help. We’ll get you cooking up a storm in no time.” He produced a mortar and pestle. “Peel the garlic, chuck in some of these salt crystals, and bash it all up until I tell you to stop.”

  A few minutes later Helen plunged down the stubby wooden pestle and a clove of garlic flew into to air. “Told you I was hopeless…”

  “Just a little too enthusiastic,” he said and moved to stand behind her. She felt his breath on her neck as he reached around and took her hands in his, guiding her until they had established a steady grinding rhythm. “There, you see. You just need to be a little more gentle, take your time…”

  Helen closed her eyes and savored the feel of his body, warm and hard against her back. “It smells amazing.”

  “And then we throw in some of this parsley that I’ve chopped for you…”

  “And keep grinding?”

  His voice had become low and husky. “Just stir now while I dribble in some of this virgin olive oil.” She could feel a distinct ridge pushing into the small of her back and a spark of lust made her blood flare. “Nice circular movements, that’s it, use your hips if it helps. And when it feels loose and slippery it’s ready.”

  “You bastard.” Helen dropped the pestle and spun round to pull his mouth down on hers. Their tongues meshed angrily as she crushed her breasts against his chest willing him to push harder against her. Squeezed between the edge of the heavy kitchen table and the hardness of his erection was exactly where she wanted to be, where she wanted him to have her again. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said but she could feel his lips form into a smile as he lifted the skirt of her bohemian sundress.

  Her breath was already coming in gasps as she fumbled with the zip of his black chinos. “You turned me on deliberately. Underhanded, not at all gentlemanly.”

  “Then we have gone far enough,” he said and pulled away from her embrace and carefully lowered her dress back down.

  “What?”

  “I don’t keep condoms in the kitchen, my darling, and I’m supposed to be teaching you how to cook.”

  “But—”

  “And I’m not just after one thing like all the others.” He kissed the top of her shoulder lightly. “I want to prove that to you.”

  “Don’t you want to, here on the kitchen table? It would be so incredibly erotic.”

  “Later,” he said and gave her a look of mock admonishment. “Build the excitement, layer by layer. It’s more fun that way. For both of us.”

  “You’re cruel,” she whispered, but rewarded him with a provocative smile.

  “But I’m always right.”

  .

  “My mum would love this,” Helen said an hour later as she dropped the last prawn shell onto her plate.

  “Well, now you know how, you can cook it for her often,” Ricardo said. “Quite simple really, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep, except I’m not sure we can source prawns quite like that at home or the sunset.”

  “It is beautiful, that’s why I’m always drawn back here. Among other things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Friends, nostalgia…it’s the place I consider my real home.”

  Helen giggled. “You do seem to have a lot of houses.”

  “Bricks and mortar, some of them, that’s all.”

  “And marble, alabaster, custom-made sheets of the finest Venetian glass…”

  Ricardo held up a hand as a gesture of defeat. “Fair enough, but there’s a certain feeling about home, isn’t there? You must have it with Primrose Farm.”

  “I will confess to missing a decent cup of tea outside England, that’s for sure!” She picked up her wine glass and stared out to sea, squinting as the fiery red sun melted into the deep blue of the sea. “But I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy sunnier climates. The air seems a lot purer, especially near the sea, and it’s much drier than at home. Less humidity. I love the feel of the sun on my skin in the morning. Being cold and wet for over half the year is vastly overrated.”

  “But an excuse for snuggling up in front of a blazing log fire.”

  “Ah, so romantic. I grew up with log fires. The wood was free and coal far too expensive. In fact, doing the ashes every morning was one of my chores as a child. But it was a necessity, not a luxury. You won’t have noticed because we didn’t stay the night and you only got as far as the kitchen, but Primrose Farm has no central heating. It gets bloody cold.”

  “You get used to it, I imagine.”

  “I never knew any differently until I went to other people’s houses that were too hot with stale air and thick carpets and electrical cables everywhere.” She shuddered. “God knows what their fuel bills must have been like.”

  “So your folks are pretty much self sufficient?”

  “They have to be, they own the place, but there’s never been much spare cash.” They own the place now I’ve cleared their debts. “It’s not a life I’d choose to lead.”

  “Really? You’d rather work for someone like my wicked step-mother?”

  Helen laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but farming isn’t as idyllic as people would have you believe. I love the farm, it’s the only home I’ve ever known, but I want to do other things in my life too. It means I’ve had to be a bit selfish if I’m honest, which isn’t a nice feeling.”

  “How so?”

  “Once dad can’t run the farm anymore there’s no one to take over. I’m an only child, no big strapping brothers, no wholesome, ruddy-cheeked son-in-law to pick up the slack.” She shrugged and looked away. “I can’t make that sort of sacrifice, and mum’s made it clear she doesn’t want me to follow in her footsteps either. I don’t want to be a farmer, and I certainly don’t want to be a farmer’s wife.”

  “But they seemed so happy together, your parents.”

  “Oh they are! They adore each other, absolutely devoted. You have to be leading a life like that. Do you know what Mum always says? ‘The dawn chorus is the most beautiful sound on God’s earth when you’re up at four every day, but the only time your father and I have been away from this farm overnight was on our honeymoon. Thirty years ago. See the world, Helen. Do everything. Do it for me.’” Helen blinked and pressed her lips resolutely together as he studied her. “She says it to me every time I go home so that I don’t forget.”

  “She’s right, Helen. It’s their choice to live that way. You must follow your heart and do what’s right for you.”

  “The guilt is overwhelming sometimes. Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “You’re very sweet. Not stupid.”

  Helen took a deep breath and stretched out her legs beneath the table. The night sky was beginning to twinkle with stars, splintered diamonds on blue velvet. The scent of night blossoms was becoming intense. “I’m now feeling decidedly not sweet.”

  Ricardo grinned and looked at her mischievously over the rim of his wine glass. “Should I be afraid?”

  “You promised me a shower this morning, remember?”

  “I did?”

  Helen stood up and sent him a long look that she hoped spelled it out in big bold lettering. “Yes, you know very well you did, and now I really, really want it.” Her heart began to pound as he followed her lead, rose from his seat, and was suddenly very close.

  “There were eight bathrooms in the place the last time I counted,” he said silkily and traced a warm fingertip across the top of her shoulder. One spaghetti strap slid off. “Where would you like to start?”

  She felt as if her skin was on fire and hoped her eyes were smoldering sufficiently for him to guess that she didn’t just want to get clean. “The nearest one will do very nicely.”

  “I see.” he slipped the other strap off and the silk slipped silently to her waist. “No bra?”

  Her heart rate kicked up as he stared down at her exposed b
reasts. “No bra.”

  She heard her own breath catch as he took both nipples between his fingers and began to tease them into hard sensitive peaks. “You’re very dirty, Helen. I think you’re right, an immediate shower is in order.”

  She reached between his legs to confirm an unmistakable erection. “You’re filthy too, Almanza.”

  “I certainly feel that way,” he whispered and lowered his mouth to the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

  Helen allowed a small moan to escape as he bit lightly into her flesh, sending tiny electrical darts of pleasure to the apex of her thighs. “Yes…”

  The next few moments were a blur, but somehow they found themselves naked and in the master bedroom with Ricardo holding open the door to an enormous wet room. He turned on the jets, pulled Helen inside, and shut the door firmly behind them. His mouth had covered hers before she could say a single word.

  Helen closed her eyes beneath the sharp hot darts of water and felt herself weaken as his hard body brushed up against her, the coarse hair of his thighs, large eager hands exploring her contours, his tongue exploring her mouth and a huge penis nudging up between her legs. “Let me wash you,” he murmured and trickled cold shower gel over her breasts.

  She tensed for a moment, thrilling at the contrasting sensation of hot and cold, enraptured by the exotic scent of expensive essential oils. And then she felt the roughness of his hands spread the slippery potion over her nipples, teasing and plucking as he went. “Yes…”

  “Hush,” he murmured, silencing her with his mouth and began to spread the lather down over her rib cage, around her back, over her buttocks and then massaged the bubbles into the triangle of hair between her thighs. She tried to touch him back, but he took hold of her hands and folded them behind her neck. “Not me this time,” he muttered. “Just you.”

  She slithered a little as he pushed her gently up against the tiled wall, water gushing in torrents over them both, sensitizing her entire body with sharp little pulses of sensation. She felt the small mosaic tiles pressing into the back of her hands behind her neck, then into the soft flesh of her shoulder blades until her buttocks were pressed up against the wall too by his powerful hips and hands. “Stay just like that,” he said. “No touching me.”

  “But I want to.” She opened her eyes to see the dark thunder in his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her breasts, slowly, first one then the other, sucking each one hard until she shuddered and gasped.

  “You may not touch me. Not this time.”

  He slid one large hand behind her bottom against the wall and his other slipped quickly between her legs. She heard herself whimper as he put two fingers against her entrance, stroked them languorously back and forth brushing her clitoris and coating every part of her sex with foam. “Ricardo,” she muttered helplessly and then gasped as his fingers entered her. “I want to—”

  “No,” his voice was harsh as he inserted a third finger, and his thumb began to rub her clitoris in delirious circles. “Not until I’ve watched you come.”

  Helen lost the power of speech and the ability to resist him almost immediately. The feel of him pushing in, out and around inside her was unbearably erotic. His thumb was sending bolts of untamed energy to her breasts, crushing the breath out of her lungs with desire. Her thighs became weak and soft as his strong hands pushed her sex up against and into the wall with the motion of his thrusts and she opened them wider for him than she thought possible. No pain, no discomfort just blinding lust. “I want you inside me, Ricardo, please.”

  “Not yet,” he said and began to use his entire body to urge her onwards. “Relax, let me do this for you, let go, come on me hard.”

  She felt his chest rasp against her nipples, pressing urgently against her full wet breasts, his erection hot and hard against the base of her stomach, pushing into her hip, his balls so close to her center she could feel their soft weight against her skin. She was ready. “Yes, more.”

  His voice was guttural. “That’s it, shout if you want to, it turns me on.”

  Helen groaned loudly as he took a nipple deep into his mouth. “Harder,” she said and felt her hips buck involuntarily. “Yes, really hard.” Pleasure devoured her as her body was consumed by his touch. His hands, his mouth, even his breath against her skin was igniting her. And then the world turned black for a few seconds as she felt herself shatter into a spiraling orgasm. His voice became muffled as she cried out his name and an intense sensation spread throughout her body, rippling like waves of sin. Pure, decadent, selfish adult pleasure.

  He held her close against him as her climax subsided, letting the water slide down and between them, washing away the foam until her skin felt squeaky. His tongue tasted sweet as he continued to kiss her and then the water stopped. “You’re clean now. Let me dry you.”

  Helen silently allowed him to wrap her in a black cotton towel and carry her to the bed. He laid her down and she watched as he slowly dried himself in front of her, paying particular attention to the area below his taut, bronzed stomach. He was just inches from her face. “You’re massive,” she said and licked her lips.

  “That’s all your fault.” He quickly pulled open the towel that was covering her. “And you’re all wet now, so I’m going to have to dry you off as well.”

  He dabbed and stroked her breasts dry with the soft Egyptian cotton towel, ignoring her small cries of protest as he buffed her nipples gently into stiff peaks again. He kissed her and then went to work between her legs. The friction of the thick fabric was hugely erotic as he rhythmically stroked it backwards and forwards igniting the nerve endings of her sex until she couldn’t stand it much longer. “Let me touch you now,” she pleaded and reached towards him.

  “No,” he said softly. “It’s all about you this time. I want to make you feel amazing. Indulge your fantasies. Tell me exactly what you want me to do and I will.”

  Helen closed her eyes and shivered as his mouth brushed over her breast and the towel slid back and forth. “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  She heard his breath stall as he watched her fingers trail to her other breast and start to stroke. “I’d like to watch you.”

  “Watch me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean—”

  “You know what I mean,” she said huskily. “Like when you’re on your own.”

  “Naughty girl,” he said as she flipped onto her side and patted the bed.

  She couldn’t believe she was doing it, suggesting he do that, but she could push the limits as far as he could. Maybe further. “Come on,” she whispered. “If you want to…”

  He’d been hot, hard and ready ever since they’d got under the shower and her spine felt as if it was melting as he began. He closed his eyes, long lashes black against the smooth bronze of his skin and his lips parted slightly. She dared not blink as she watched his fingers, long and slender with square tips, and her breasts ached as they curled around and started to move.

  He was beautiful and the scene unfolding in front of her was taboo, but he was letting her watch it, letting her into his secret world. The silence intensified her arousal. No talking or touching allowed as his rhythm became steady. Long, slow strokes just like with the bath towel and the shower gel. His mouth opened wider and she willed him to make a noise, but he didn’t, just his breath growing harsher and more feverish. His chest and shoulders grew tense, his movements more jerky, and she could stand it no more.

  “Condom,” she muttered and put her hand over his to stall him. His eyelids opened with surprise, large black pupils circled with gold. “Now.”

  “Top drawer.” She leant over him, and as she grabbed the handle he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. He held her there for a few seconds and then bit down gently until she quivered. He let her breast drop free. “I should say no to you after what you just made me do.”

  “Say no and I will have to kill you,” she gasped as she
fumbled with the protection. “Christ, how do you ever get this thing open.”

  “It’s a skill.” He snatched it from her fingers. “Now kiss me.”

  She heard the condom rustle and then snap into place as her tongue tangled with his, and then felt the thick head of him pushing upwards against her entrance. She groaned against his lips as his hands came around her hips and pressed her buttocks up the length of his body and down until she was impaled with half his length. “Christ…”

  “Too much for you, mistress?” He flexed his hips and pulled her down further, his eyes now flashing dangerously. “Can’t take what you hand out?”

  “I can take it.” She moaned deeply as she braced her hands on his chest and took him all in. Stretched wide and deep, the sensation of him forced tight against the neck of her womb was intoxicating. Her breasts trembled as she tentatively began to ride him. “I can take everything you’ve got.”

  “Then do it quickly.” He closed his eyes, the muscles of his neck straining as she slid back and forth, teasing his mouth with her nipples as her breasts swung against his face.

  She closed her own eyes, reveling in the hedonism of their act, the feel of his balls tightening against her bottom and then his fingers dipping between them. “No,” she said as he flicked mercilessly beneath the soft hood of her clitoris. “Not yet.”

  “Yes,” he said in a harsh voice, and thrust his hips upwards and increased the friction, exciting every inch of her until she began to tip over the edge.

  She cried out as she arched her back, pressing into his hand and down hard on his huge penis. The image of him masturbating flashed into her mind as she felt him flex deliberately inside her, igniting the nerve endings at the front side of her vagina and making her gasp with the agony of it. She heard him cry out as his orgasm began, and the primal sound of him mating with her was too much for her to hold back any longer. Her body was strung tight with a thrilling pleasure she would never be able to forget or deny herself again, and she tumbled helplessly into a blazing ecstasy of mutual climax.

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you think of our day out so far?”