Once Upon a Billionaire: Blue Collar Billionaires, Book 1

by Jessica Lemmon

  Her forehead pinches as she reaches for her foot. She didn’t wear the shoes I bought her. I suspect that was intentional. She’s built her guard sky-high, and she wouldn’t want to flatter me too much. On the plus side, she anticipated seeing me tonight. Maybe even when picking out her dress. I like that I was on her mind.

  I sit next to her and take the opportunity to touch her. She has one leg crossed over the other and I slide my hand around her foot. When she doesn’t stop me, I dig my thumb into her arch. She moans.

  “Lie back,” I say. “You won’t be sorry.”

  Her narrowed eyes hint she’s going to challenge me, but her smile disagrees. Adjusting her skirt, and giving me another glimpse of her mouthwatering thighs, she props herself on a fat down pillow. I make myself comfortable too, and lift her feet to my lap. I start with her right one and begin to rub. Thumb to arch, then up to the wide part beneath her toes.

  Her eyelids shut and she sighs. She actually seems relaxed. A rare look on her. Have I ever seen her not on the move? At dinner, she sat, but she was ducking and dodging constantly. Not now.

  “As foreplay goes, this won’t get you far.” A smile plays at the corners of her lush mouth. She’s putting me through my paces.

  The kiss earlier was too brief. I’m already nostalgic for her flavor. Martini be damned, her taste was more like rich, velvety white chocolate. Or maybe I’m thinking of the heady vanilla scent of her perfume.

  “I’ll fall asleep on you and then where will you be?” she murmurs sleepily.

  “In that case, I’ll carry you upstairs,” I answer.

  Her dark eyes open. She studies me carefully. “To tuck me in?”

  Was that longing I heard in her voice? Does she crave connection as much as I do? Is she using me to feel less lonely? Do I mind being used?

  Hell, no.

  “Of course,” I answer.

  “You’d let me sleep in your bed all by my lonesome?” I can’t tell if she’s sincerely asking or flirting with me some more.

  “Sorry.” I dip my voice as I massage her foot. “Women don’t go to my bed without me.”

  “How noble.”

  Her mouth is good for more than kissing. She’s sass and class. Wrapped up in a reduced-price department-store dress and shoes that hurt her feet. I want to clothe her in the finest satin and lavish her with gifts. If you haven’t picked up on it, I’m a family guy who likes to take care of people. That said, I’m not usually this taken by a woman. This one already has me in knots.

  “You can’t bribe me, you know.”

  This again? “I haven’t.”

  “You bribed me with shoes.”

  “I gifted you with shoes. They weren’t a bribe.”

  She puts her feet on the rug and sits up. Her dark, almost black, hair ruffles around her shoulders, having lost some of its bounce. It doesn’t take away from how beautiful she is. She let her guard down for a moment, but now it’s up again. As if she’s back on the clock. As if she’s trained herself to look and behave a certain way. I don’t like her buttoned-up. I want her wild.

  “Shoes you should have worn instead of those,” I tell her as she flexes her toes in the deep-pile rug.

  “I didn’t want you to know how much I liked them.” She turns her head to regard me over her shoulder. I can’t resist her delicate expression or the unexpected honesty that arrived with it.

  “Admitting how much you like me seems equally difficult.”

  “What makes you think I like you?” she purrs. Her eyes grow darker as she tilts her head.

  “Hell, I don’t care if you do,” I lie. I like people to like me. It helps me sleep at night. “But I won’t deny wanting another taste of your lips.” I lift her hand and tug. She comes closer, and before I know it her lips land on mine.

  That wasn’t difficult to orchestrate.

  She allows me to take her other hand, but before I have a chance to pick my next move, she’s leaning against me, her breasts on my chest.

  Clothing has never been more inconvenient.

  “Sleeping with me won’t give you an inch at the bureau,” she informs me while unknotting my tie.

  “Ironically, sleeping with me will give you more inches than you can handle.” I grin when she laughs. She has a nice laugh.

  “Oh, I can handle your inches.” She undoes my shirt buttons, her attention on her work. “I don’t see the point in resisting you.”

  “I know just what you mean.” The silken strands of her hair run over my fingers like water. When her lips hit my bare chest, I suck in a breath and shove my other hand into her hair. I’m holding her head while she licks a trail down my chest. The wet heat from her kisses sending me on an erotic roller coaster ride.

  Tempting as this is, no way is she blowing me before I have her naked.

  I unzip the back of her dress, and her face lifts to meet mine. This time when I kiss her, I pull the bodice of the dress down and cup her generous breasts. Her black lace bra costs more than her dress and shoes combined, I’d bet my bank account on it. I’ve purchased this brand for women before—it’s luxury. I know how to treat a woman and how to give a gift that will land me in her good graces…and between my bedsheets.

  I unclasp the bra and slip the straps off her shoulders, then slide them from her arms. When her breasts are released to my capable hands, I suck in a breath of pure need.

  They’re gorgeous. Heavy C-cups with nipples the color of the peach rosebud she was touching in the garden tonight. I touch them with the same reverence, watching her cheeks stain pink and her lips part. When I tug those tender buds and pinch lightly, her breathing takes on a hectic pattern.

  Her fingers busy themselves undoing my belt as I continue my leisurely play. When she puts her hand into my pants and cups my erection through my boxer briefs, I let out a hiss.

  “Well, well,” she says. “Big everywhere.”

  “I promised you inches.”

  “So you did.”

  She stands, robbing me of her touch and her breasts, and drops her dress on the floor. Her lace panties are part of a matching set. I cradle her ass and place my mouth over the cotton panel covering her pussy, inhale the intoxicating vanilla musk scent clinging to her skin. Massaging her butt cheeks, I bite the material before clutching it with both hands and yanking it down.

  She’s bared before me. A beautiful sight. I slide my tongue between her folds to taste the heart of her. Craning my head I look up to find her pink cheeks brightening, her peach-colored nipples tightening. Her hands are in my hair, pulling hard, so I do my job and I do it well.

  When I find her clit, I zero in on the spot. I hold her hips steady but bring her as close as I can to my seeking tongue. Boldly, she lifts one leg and rests her foot on the couch while riding my face. I was right. She needs this.

  I slow my ministrations to test her reaction. She tugs my hair harder.

  “Tell me,” I murmur, her dampness on my lips.

  “I’m close,” she pants. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Not a chance.” I squeeze her ass. “You want faster?”

  “Yes. And flatten your tongue.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She likes having control. So do I. But in her case I’ll make an exception. Her orgasm is a trophy, and I intend to take first place.

  I experiment with cupping her ass before moving my hand along her seam. I slip one finger inside, gentling her open. The sounds she makes are heavenly. A high-pitched gasp here. A fast exhalation there. Followed by a series of machine-gun-rapid yes-yes-yeses.

  Sliding my finger in and out, I watch for her O face. She’s not there yet, but she’s watching me with lust-blown pupils.

  “I want you to come,” I instruct. “I want to taste you.”

  She offers a jerky nod as sexy little pants of excitement escape her still-open mouth. I return to my work in earnest, lapping at her clit while she swivels her hips and pulls my hair.

  I feel her release before I taste her; a full body jolt that
weakens her knees. A shake works its way up her legs and along her torso. I drink her in as she tips her head back, letting out a gusty exhalation followed by a reverent, “Oh, God.”

  Call me egomaniacal, but there is no better praise for my hard work than an “oh, God.”

  She loosens her hold on my hair and right when I expect her to fall bonelessly onto my sofa, she surprises me again.

  “Take off your pants.” She doesn’t wait, but drops to her knees and tugs at my trousers. I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks while she yanks the material to my knees. Before I can take off my pants too, my cock is being sucked.

  She wraps me in her hot mouth, suckling the tip gently before running her tongue along the ridge. I grunt in shock, my mind blanking of anything but the sensation of her wet heat on me. Fingers in her hair, I don’t pull and tug the way she did. Instead, I sweep the length of it away from her striking face. I watch her mouth work me—a heady sight.

  She takes me deep before releasing me, her wet lips sliding along the shaft. A hiss of excitement streams through my teeth as my hips pivot on their own. I have the idea she’s trying to even the score—reclaim some of the control she lost.

  I’m not going to miss the opportunity to be inside her by finishing in her mouth. Cupping her chin, I ease her off my cock, memorizing the vision of the glistening length leaving her plump lips.

  “I have to be inside you,” I tell her, my voice a dry rasp.

  She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Hmm. What do you saaaay?”

  My nostrils flare in frustration. The fight for control continues.

  “Please,” I growl.

  She’s satisfied by that bit of groveling, but not as satisfied as she’s about to be. I roughly yank off my pants and fish a condom from my wallet—a condom I put there in case I happened upon one Vivian Vandemark tonight and successfully wooed her in my family’s rose garden.

  Score.

  She snatches the condom and tears the packet open with her teeth. I watch, rapt, as she rolls it on me, her fingers working quickly while my balls draw up in heady anticipation.

  When she moves her leg to climb over me, I don’t let her. Instead, I lay her back to the couch and I’m on top of her before she knows what hit her. She blinks up at me, the heat in her eyes prevalent. I put that heat there. Me.

  “What do you say?” I ask, nuzzling her nose with mine.

  Her breathing is erratic but she presses her lips together, refusing to give in. I tease her opening with the head of my dick as her breaths grow choppy. She wants me, but is too stubborn to beg. Pride, she’ll find, is a fool’s game.

  “Vivian.” I give her a gentle nuzzle and smile. “Give us what we need.”

  Her expression softens and she whispers, “Please.”

  Finally.

  I tilt my hips and slide past her slick folds. Deeper, deeper, as her neck arches. I’m seated to the hilt, her tight channel gripping me. Her breasts brush my chest, her fingernails dig into my shoulders.

  “Please, please,” she says now, compliant. Her eyelids squeeze shut as pain-pleasure pleats etch into her forehead.

  The oh, God was great, but the multiple pleases might be better. I’m high on the fact she surrendered her control while my own erodes. I was intent on bringing her to the pinnacle but even under me she’s taking me for a ride as well.

  Before I regain some much-needed control, she’s squeezing me from within, writhing beneath me while I rut her into the pillows. One falls and hits the floor, another squishes behind her head and into the corner. I slam into her when she demands, “Harder, harder.”

  Right when I’m about to pass out from oxygen deprivation, she shouts my name. One wheezy, weakened, breathy Nate. It’s fucking amazing.

  Her orgasm hits her a millisecond before my release splits me at the core, rattling my teeth and igniting my spine. I drop my head to her shoulder and catch my breath, my steamy exhalations on her neck.

  Her hands go to my hair again, but she doesn’t pull. She delivers a few loving, gentle strokes. Then she makes a request as unexpected as this entire encounter.

  “Give me your weight.” She kisses my ear. “I like it.”

  I obey without a moment’s hesitation, lowering my arms and smashing her into the couch. She hums, pleased, and continues to stroke my hair.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vivian

  Dire need. That was my state when I arrived here.

  Sated bliss. That’s my current state.

  I blame sleeping with him on my being alone for a good, long while. I’ve been as chaste and well-behaved as I could over the last several years, but this year in particular I stepped it up. I’ve been an angel. It just so happens even angels have their limits.

  Then again, no other man has been able to bring out my wild side. Nate is charming and attentive. So good-looking it’s criminal. So undeniably male, each and every cell of my body leans toward him when he’s near. I wanted what his kiss promised in the rose garden. And, damn, it was better than I imagined.

  The sex was so good I wanted to savor it—make it last the night. I could have ridden out a dozen of those orgasms if I was in fighting condition. My bout of celibacy didn’t do me any favors. I gave it all and left no room for more. As they say, all good things must come to an end.

  And he is very, very good.

  He excuses himself to the bathroom. I lie here, too tired to turn and admire the staircase or his naked ass, which I imagine is flexing with each heavy step. I hear him walk upstairs, the sound of water running, and then he comes back down. When he returns, soft cotton pools on my naked, chilled skin. I reach for the garment and hold it up.

  A white T-shirt. His T-shirt.

  I pull it over my head, his ocean scent engulfing me. It’s hot outside but chilly in here, especially after our sweaty workout and the A/C kicking on.

  He’s wearing black boxer briefs and nothing else. It’s a good look for him. His chest is wide and fit. A dusting of light hair encircles flat male nipples and dances over the bumps of his ab muscles.

  Thick, muscular legs aren’t usually my preferred male attribute, but he wears those as well as the boxers. He sits next to me in a half lean, touching my body with his arm. His hand rests on my belly over the T-shirt, and he kisses my nipple, leaving an impression on the material.

  “I can’t stay.” He didn’t ask, but I figure he will.

  He flattens his hand on my stomach and kisses my shoulder next. “Okay.”

  That was easy. Not that I expected him to be clingy. What we have is visceral and physical and has nothing to do with staying the night or cuddling. What we have is about us taking what we need from a convenient source.

  I’ve learned to act on instinct and prioritize survival since I left my name behind. The rest of the fluff that comes along with “making love” is more suited for a rom-com movie than real life.

  “This isn’t the only time,” he says.

  I laugh at his arrogance. “Is that so?”

  “That’s so.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and I steal a kiss. I can’t help myself. He smells good and looks better.

  I figure he’s right. It’s futile to pretend I wouldn’t do this with him again. It was…what’s the word I’m looking for? Superb? Delectable?

  Dire.

  That word again. I needed him. He needed me. There’s no denying it.

  “You’ve only seen the living room,” he states.

  “You’re a shitty host.”

  He grins. He has the most oddly handsome face. Long lashes shadow blue, blue eyes. Wavy dark blond hair cut short but long enough to grab. His crooked nose and easy, contagious smile. I notice a scar on his eyebrow and run my finger over it. So imperfectly perfect.

  “Stitches?” I ask, giving in to my curiosity.

  “Twelve of them.”

  I wince.

  “I wrecked my bike.” He gives me a cocky grin before adding, “Into someone.”

  I finger the bl
ack beaded bracelet on his wrist and wonder about it. It’s out of place next to the luxury watch.

  “You’re not like any billionaire I’ve met.” It’s out of my mouth before I mean to say it. His eyes spark.

  “Met a lot of us, have you?”

  Shit. My guard is down and causing me to blurt out things I normally wouldn’t. Not good. Time to say good night.

  I move to stand but he presses me deeper into the sofa with his big body.

  “La Perla isn’t cheap,” he points out. He’s referring to my lingerie. Another special purchase I couldn’t bear parting with when I fled my old life.

  “It was a gift from an old boyfriend,” I lie.

  Nate hums.

  “I should go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me. I promised to deliver you safely to your car, after all.”

  “I could call a car to take me back to the art institute,” I inform him.

  “You could. But don’t.” His sincere request stops me cold.

  “Okay,” I agree. I should be reeling. Sleeping with him was careless. I gave in to my needs and took what I wanted. I haven’t allowed myself to do that in a long, long time. I’m out of practice. I can’t make myself regret it. Us having sex was as inevitable as the tide rolling out after it’s rolled in. And the possibility of seeing him was exactly why I wore my finest lingerie.

  God, that was great sex.

  Memories of what we did together run over me like silk. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, a longer while since I’ve been laid so thoroughly. His mouth on me, bringing me to orgasm with his tongue, was decadent.

  I could stand more of that in the near future.

  He tasted good too. I haven’t gone down on anyone since…wow, an even longer time than the sex. That typically doesn’t appeal, but I was compelled to bring him to his knees after he weakened mine.

  Don’t think I didn’t notice he wouldn’t let me be on top. I’ve never had more fun battling for control.

  “Let’s play a game.” He sits up.

  “Thought we just did.”

  “I want to know more about you. You don’t want to tell me. Why?”