His tongue explores every nook of my mouth. I dig my hands into the soft fabric of his shirt until I can feel the hard contours of his muscles.
Desire overwhelms me. I've never wanted anyone this much. I never even knew you could want someone this much.
He tugs at my dress, but he's pulling it back on, back over my shoulder.
My head is spinning. He's not... but he... he can't stop now, not when I feel so damn exhilarated.
"It's late," he says.
I blink a few times, but he's still staring at me with that same impenetrable look on his face. "What else?" I ask. "Besides food, coffee, and clothing?"
"You'll come when you're with me, Kat. I'll make sure of it."
"But not tonight?"
"Not yet." He shifts off the couch. "I'll walk you out."
"I can walk myself."
I reach for my coat, but Blake is already holding it. He helps me into it.
His fingers brush against my neck, soft and light. Heat floods my body. It's everywhere. I can barely stand it. But not tonight, apparently. Not yet.
Patience is supposed to be a virtue. I've never hated virtue so damn much.
I squeeze my purse tightly. I'm about to sign my freedom away in exchange for my sister's future. For our future. A little sexual frustration is the least of my concerns.
Blake walks me to the elevator. He waves his key card in front of the door. "I'll have one made for you."
"Sure."
"Jordan will take you home. If you need anything, call."
"I'll be fine."
His stare is intense. "Anything."
That same flutter collects inside me. He can't mean sex. He just sent me out of his office with my dress falling off my shoulders.
I clear my throat. Blake is a mystery I'm not going to solve. My best hope is enjoying the ride.
I step into the elevator. "Goodnight."
He nods.
The doors slide closed, and I finally exhale. Almost home. It's a quick ride to the ground floor. As promised, the limo is waiting out front.
Inside, I check the mini bar for something that will ease the tension. But this isn't the kind of problem a drink solves.
The door closes. Jordan speaks into his earpiece. "Understood, sir." The partition rolls up with a quiet whir.
I'm as good as alone.
My phone rings in my purse. Blake. What the hell?
I answer. "Hello."
"I said anything, Kat."
"I was there."
"You want something."
My heart races. Of course I want something. He's not an idiot. "Yes."
"So ask for it."
Heat rushes through me, collecting between my legs. "I..."
"Take off your underwear. I want to hear you come."
Chapter Three
My cheeks flush, but this time the alcohol isn't the blame. The limo is private enough, but I can't touch myself here. Not with Blake on the other line.
"Kat?" It's a command more than a question.
"I can't."
"You want to come?"
I inhale and exhale slowly. "Yes."
"Put the phone on speaker."
I do.
"Open your legs."
I squeeze my knees together reflexively. My body is so keyed up. It wants nothing more than to go along with this. To release some of the tension Blake built inside me.
"Kat." Another command.
"Okay." I spread my legs a few inches.
"What would you want me to do if I was there?"
Deep breath. All sorts of delicious images flash through my mind. Blake ripping off his shirt and tie. Blake throwing me on that couch and pushing my dress to my waist. His hands on my chest and my ass and between my legs.
"Everything," I say.
"Take off your panties."
"How do you know I haven't?"
He doesn't waver. "Now."
I drag my fingertips up my hips as if it was Blake touching me. That same heat rushes through my body. If only he were here. If only he were really touching me.
Ass up, I shimmy out of my panties. Once they're at my knees, I kick them to the floor.
The only sound is Blake's breath in the speaker. It's steady. Patient.
"Off," I say.
"Now the bra."
I push my dress straps off my shoulders and roll it down my chest. It would be easier to take the whole thing off, but that would make exiting quickly a whole lot more complicated.
"Now," he breathes.
I unhook my bra and slide it off my shoulders. The cool air hits my skin, and I let out a much too loud gasp. All of a sudden, I feel entirely naked. He's somewhere else, in all his clothes, with all his money and all his power. And I'm in his limo submitting to his requests.
"Good." His voice gets heavier. "Play with your nipples."
I'd sound like an idiot if I asked him how, but how? It's not like I regularly play with nipples. I squeeze my eyes closed and imagine Blake here, Blake touching me the way he touched me in the office. I drag my thumbs over my nipples. It's nothing compared to him, but it's enough to send pangs of want to my sex.
I let out a soft groan as I draw circles over myself. Blake's breath gets heavier. He wants this, too.
"Bring a hand to your thigh," he says. "But don't touch your cunt. Not yet."
I do. I stroke the inside of my thigh. Closer and closer and closer. My breath speeds. Desire courses through me again. That release, I need it so badly. I'm desperate.
"Kat."
"Yes," I gasp.
"I said not yet."
I move my hand back to my knee, tracing circles around it. I can't wait any longer. I need his hands on me, but if his voice is all I get, my hands will have to do.
"Back to your thighs," he says.
Yes. I bring my hand back to my thighs and stroke softly. Closer and closer and closer.
"Now," Blake says. "Slowly."
I drag my fingertips over my clit. Slowly. A spark sets off inside me. It feels so good and release is so close. I need to go faster, to get there faster. I need to come into Blake's ear. Well, into the phone at his ear.
His voice gets hard. "Slowly."
Okay. Slowly. I keep my touch light, and I draw slow circles around my clit. Every movement is the most delicious agony. My body is humming with pleasure. The pressure inside me is so, so strong and every moment tightens it. A little more. A little harder. Almost too much to take.
Blake says nothing. His breath gets a little heavier as he listens. I imagine him here, watching me instead of just listening.
Slow. I stay slow. Another circle. Another stroke. Pleasure fills every inch of my body. The tension builds and builds and builds. Almost. One more stroke.
I moan, muttering something incomprehensible.
"Come for me, Kat."
I move a little faster. Another circle. Another stroke. Almost. That delicious agony mixes with pleasure until it overtakes me. All the pressure inside me releases, and an orgasm washes over me. It fills every inch of my body. I lose control of my breath, groaning and screaming all sorts of things that aren't technically words.
"Sweet dreams," Blake says.
The phone clicks and it's off. I reach for my underwear and bra and stuff it into my purse.
I pull my dress over my shoulders and slide into my coat. It's not enough. I still feel naked, exposed, and not at all in control.
***
Ten A.M. on the dot, there's a loud knock on the door. I nearly drop the graphic novel in my hands. The slick plastic cover—the same on every other library book I've ever borrowed—is damn slippery.
This must be Blake's assistant, and he's damn loud. I nod hello when I answer the door.
"Miss Wilder." He hands me a cup of coffee, a paper bag, and a sleek black file case.
"Thank you." I nod goodbye and dump the contents of the file case on the kitchen table.
There are two manilla envelopes inside. The contra
ct and a credit card in my name. It's my credit card but the bill is sent to Blake. I can buy any damn thing I want—clothes, coffee, every graphic novel on the shelf at the bookstore. No more schlepping it to the library. No more plastic covers. Hell, no more agonizing over the outrageous price of produce at the grocery store.
If I can get over the fact that it's Blake's money, I can have anything I want.
The coffee is good. The wake up I need to really study the contract. I'm not a lawyer, but I got pretty familiar with legal jargon dealing with Mom and Dad's affairs.
The terms are spelled out clearly. Six months to a year of living expenses at Blake's discretion and the full payment of the mortgage. Lizzy's scholarship isn't included. That's a done deal.
I am to act as his girlfriend in public. There's a standard non-disclosure agreement—no payment if I disclose this to anyone, even Lizzy.
There are no terms for me breaking the contract. A guy like Blake has the means to ruin lives. If I don't do what he wants, I'll be utterly at his mercy.
It's still a good deal. I sign on the dotted line.
***
Saturday morning, the limo arrives at nine on the dot. This time, Blake is inside. He's wearing grey slacks and a soft blue, collared shirt. His sleeves are rolled all the way up to his elbows. Hello, forearms, it's so nice to finally see more of you.
There's coffee in one of the cup holders. I grab it as I sit next to him. Lots of cream. Lots of sugar. Perfect.
Blake watches me curiously. He nods hello. "Good morning."
"Early morning."
He nods to a paper bag on an armrest.
I unwrap it. Bagels and a cup of strawberries.
"What exactly are we doing?"
His eyes stay on mine. "Shopping."
That's all the details he's giving me. Okay. I chew and swallow a strawberry. It's perfect—sweet, tender, juicy. I bite into the flesh of another berry.
There's a tiny hint of delight in Blake's eyes.
"What? Did I make a mess?"
He runs his thumb over my lips then brings it to mouth, tasting it. He leans closer. His eyelids press together. His hands slide into my hair.
And he kisses me.
My body responds instantly. I'm hot everywhere. My heart is pounding against my chest.
Blake releases me. He picks up the bagel, cinnamon raisin, pulls the halves apart, and hands one to me. "It's going to be a long day."
My stomach flutters. Eating seems unlikely. With breathing this difficult, eating might be out of the question.
I only manage a quarter of the bagel before I give up to racing nerves. At least the coffee goes down smoothly.
***
Blake's assistant, Ashleigh, a pretty girl in a designer outfit, guides us through an exclusive department store. She piles her arms with all sorts of expensive things I would never wear and drags me into a fitting room.
Blake waits outside, ready to approve or deny the outfits.
It starts with underwear. She measures me for a bra and brings a dozen in my size. Mostly sexy, lacy things. Thankfully, she offers no commentary other than how well they fit.
Then it's cocktail dresses. The first is backless and black. The fabric is smooth and luscious against my skin. It even feels like it costs a fortune. Ashleigh takes a long look at me. She cocks her head to the side like she's just not sure.
She steps into the main area. "Blake. Your opinion."
Ashleigh parades me in front of Blake like I'm a show pony.
His eyes dart to my exposed back. The dress stops right above my ass. Impossible to wear a bra. Likely, any panties would show through too.
"Too much. Fiona would have a field day."
Ashleigh giggles. "Your sister will have a field day if I put her in a burlap sack."
Blake says nothing. He doesn't have to. He motions for us to go back to the dressing room, and Ashleigh complies.
She offers me an apologetic look. "Mr. Sterling is very specific."
I lower my voice to a whisper so he won't hear. "Has he done this before? With other women?"
Ashleigh offers that customer service smile. "Not many." She undresses me and puts me in a nude bra and thong, a matching set. "He liked the outfit."
"How can you tell?"
"I've known him a while."
I study her reaction. No signs she's harboring feelings for Blake. Not that it matters much to me.
She helps me into the next dress—powder pink chiffon, knee length, fitted, low cut but not obscenely so. She points to a pair of strappy silver sandals.
Blake takes in everything with that same inscrutable expression on his face. He nods his approval. That's it. A nod. I'm trotted out like a show pony, and all he does is nod.
What the hell?
Ashleigh smiles. "I told you I'd find something."
"That's one dress. We'll need at least five."
She shakes her head. "Anyone ever tell you to celebrate the small victories in life? Huh?"
His eyes narrow. Somehow, Ashleigh knows what this means. She trots me back to the dressing room for another outfit. New bra. Strapless this time. She pulls a heavy satin dress over my head. It's white with a sweetheart neckline. It looks more like a wedding dress than something I would wear out for dinner and drinks.
Still, she trots me out again. Blake takes one second and shakes his head. He raises his eyebrow as if to say are you fucking kidding me?
Ashleigh shrugs. "You're impossible, you know."
We repeat with another dozen cocktail dresses. Blake approves three. Then it's "casual wear." Supposedly for running around town, being seen walking around the park together. It's all designer jeans, trendy blouses, tight sweater dresses.
I'm exhausted and cranky. I should have eaten the entire bagel instead of three bites. And I absolutely should have demanded a second cup of coffee.
Deep breath. I only need to stay calm and composed through the gowns. Then I can go home and collapse.
This is nothing compared to working a double shift on a crowded day. I should be able to handle trying on some clothes and twirling around like I'm on display.
Ashleigh trots me out again. Blake nods. She plays with my accessories—a different necklace, different shoes. She rearranges me, poses me, pinches my stomach and mutters something about Spanx.
When it's time to return to the fitting room, I snap. "I can take it off myself."
Ashleigh sends Blake a look. I know that look. Difficult customer.
He nods to her. "Take thirty minutes."
"We're on a strict time line, Mr. Sterling. The salon is expecting us-"
"Now."
Ashleigh pouts, but she does as she's asked. Blake seems to have that effect on people. He presses his hand against the small of my back and walks me into the fitting room.
The entire area is reserved. We're the only people here. Suddenly, the open space feels so small. Blake is close enough to touch me properly.
He turns me around, so I'm facing the dressing room's mirror. I watch the reflection as he unzips my gown. It slides it off my shoulders and falls to the floor. There I am, nearly naked, and he's fully dressed. So much like before.
I step out of the dress, plant my ass on the little seat in the corner, and watch as he hangs the dress on the door. No idea what his expression means. It could be he's irritated by my complaints or that he's excited and about to fuck me.
God, please let it be the latter.
I reach for something to adjust. Not many choices in my underwear. I fix my bra straps.
He's staring at me with that same unreadable expression.
"I'm not a doll, you know," I say.
"Appearances are important to some people."
"Like your sister? Is she the one you're trying to impress?"
"Everyone needs to believe we're madly in love."
"Why can't you fall madly in love with a girl who shops at H&M?"
He raises an eyebrow. H&M is not part of his vo
cabulary. A tiny smile creeps onto his lips. Very tiny, but still a smile.
He offers his hand to help me up. "You're tense."
"I've been your show pony for the last—it must have been three hours. Of course I'm tense."
"I can help you relax." His expression gets intense. His gaze flits to his watch.
"In what, twenty-eight minutes?" I take his hand.
He pulls me to my feet. His hands slide over my shoulders, all the way to my neck. "About that."
My body buzzes. I'm hot everywhere. Reasonably certain I'm going to implode in some kind of desire supernova. And Blake is standing there all aloof and commanding like nothing we're doing could possibly affect him.
I shift my body into his. "I could stand to relax."
He strokes my cheek. "Me too."
Chapter Four
Blake kneels down and runs his fingertips over my knees. His eyes find mine. He has that same intense look he did at his office.
My heartbeat picks up until it's pounding in my ears. The last time I was this aware of a heartbeat, I was in the hospital watching Lizzy's on a heart-rate monitor.
Blake strokes my cheek. I shake my head and return my gaze to his eyes. He's studying me again, staring at me like he can see through me. My face flushes. It's not every day I'm in my underwear in a dressing room with a near stranger, and certainly not with a near stranger as hot as Blake is.
"Is that what you want?" He asks. There's something charged about it, like he's demanding I answer honestly.
I nod. Yes. God yes, this is so much better than another parade of expensive outfits that don't suit me at all.
He takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. I reach for the top button of his shirt, but he moves my hands to my sides. His eyes find me. They're louder than any scream. Wait.
His gaze passes over my body, soaking in every exposed inch. "Take off your bra."
I unclasp it and slide it off my shoulders slowly. A low gasp escapes his lips. His pupils dilate. It's the strongest reaction I've seen from him, and it sends a shiver racing down my spine. I need to make him react. I need to make him want me as badly as I want him.
He slides his hands over my hips with a soft touch. Desire courses through me, a low hum I can feel everywhere. A tightness forms in my chest. Breathing, it's so hard like this, with him touching me.
He pulls me closer, pressing our bodies together. His fingertips drag over my sides. His palms flat against my back, he kisses me. It's soft and delicate. No signs of the coffee he was drinking all morning. He tastes good. Some touch of mint and Blake; that's the only way to describe it. The way he feels, the way he smells, the way he tastes.
The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 3
