Personal Delivery: A Billionaire Secrets Story

by Ainsley Booth

  I should have had more faith in Delivery Guy. His truck rumbles to a stop in front of my building in the middle of the afternoon. I meet him at the door after distracting the cats with treats, but from the set of his mouth to the way he quickly hands over the box—this one heavier than the last few—I’m not surprised when he says he can’t stay.

  But my heart does a little twirl at the idea that he thought I might expect him to linger, if only for a few minutes.

  “It’s been a crazy day,” he adds.

  No kidding. I try to make a joke. “I heard on the news. Plus, on top of the regular holiday packages, some people get way too many…” Cat toys. No, I can’t admit that out loud. “Regular things.”

  Wow, Jana. Way to really nail that punch line.

  One side of his mouth pulls up in a half-smile anyway. “Hey, we’re just grateful that you’re still an appreciative customer.”

  “Did you get yelled at a lot today?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Did my fair share of yelling, too.” My eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. “Not at customers.”

  “Is it madness behind the scenes right now?”

  Another half-smile. They light up his face, his eyes softening as he admits the truth, like he’s sharing a secret with me. “More than I can explain. But it’s a good kind of madness. We’ll get it sorted out.”

  “Too bad this job is just temporary,” I say.

  He hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’re very good at it,” I tease. But it’s true, he is. “Maybe they’ll hire you on full-time.”

  I’ve clearly way overstepped, because his face goes all tight. No more softness, no more light. “Jana…”

  I wave him off. “Ignore me. I’m sorry. None of my business.” I lift the box in the air. “And thanks for this.”

  “You’re welcome.” He frowns, but doesn’t say anything else.

  Flirting with your delivery guy really should come with a manual. I suck at this. I give my best attempt at a bright smile and step back, ready to close the door and pretend that entire awkward mess didn’t really happen.

  But Delivery Guy is smoother than I am. He flips a quick glance at his watch. “Probably twenty-three hours or so until we do this again.”

  “Barring any further technological meltdowns.”

  He laughs. “I think they have some of the best people working to make sure that doesn’t happen, but the countdown to see you again is definitely good motivation to make sure everything is fully back online by the morning.”

  I snicker. “Right. These conversations are—”

  “The best part of my day.” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and I try not to overreact to that, but oh my God. “I gotta go.”

  “Yeah. Bye.”

  A quick wave and he’s gone, and I make myself wait until I’m inside the apartment before I squeal and jump up and down.

  In the kitchen, I open the drawer where the scissors live, and all four cats come running. They know what’s in the box, and they’re not wrong.

  But underneath the now-expected package of cat toys is another box.

  A vibrator.

  Well, a “personal massager” according to the packaging, but come on. We all know what this is for, and oh my God, my friends are perverts.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to use it.

  Chapter Seven

  Jana

  Eight days after Thanksgiving

  “You again,” he says with a grin as I open the door. “Sorry it took longer than twenty-three hours. You had three packages, so I left them to the end of my run.” He hands over two boxes, then disappears momentarily. I tuck the first two away on my hall table and toss some catnip mice at the cats.

  When he comes back with the third one, I imagine I can hear the bells jingling inside. I really need to tell Nina she’s achieved her goal, and she can stop spoiling my pets now.

  “I’m really not ordering all of these packages,” I mutter, trying not to blush.

  “Was it your birthday?” He hands over the clipboard and I scrawl my name.

  “I have meddling friends.”

  “Meddling?”

  I can’t tell him I confessed my crush to my friends—maybe ex-friends now—and that’s why I’ve had a steady stream of deliveries over the last week. “It’s a long story.”

  “At least you get presents out of it.” He gives me another grin that makes everything inside tighten up. I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything, but pretty much everything he does now means something, at least to me.

  Which is as good a reminder as any that I need to keep it real. Light. I shake the box and sure enough, it rattles. “They’re all cat toys. I have weird friends.”

  He flips his clipboard around and leans against the doorframe. “This sounds like a story I need to hear.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  He reaches out and presses his finger to my lips. “You can, and you will.”

  He’s touching me. Everything inside me lights up, electric sparks zinging under my skin. And my heart is like, yes, sir. But my brain is smarter than that, so when I open my mouth, it overrides me telling him the story about my friends. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He grins and traces his finger over my bottom lip and down my cheek, until he catches a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “It’s Jake.”

  “Jake,” I repeat. “Not Dane.”

  He shakes his head. “Not Dane.” We stare at each other for a second, maybe two, and then he leans in. “Story time.”

  “You sure you don’t have other deliveries to do?”

  “You’re stalling. This must be a good one. And I’ve got all night.”

  I hesitate, but we both know this has been coming. “Do you want to come in?”

  Chapter Eight

  Jake

  As soon as Jana asks me the question, I know I’m done for. Do I want to come in?

  “More than anything,” I say, lightly touching her hand with my fingertips because I can’t fucking help myself.

  I really shouldn’t be touching her.

  But I’m captivated by her wry laugh, her soft mouth, that sweet blush. This woman… This woman. Whose friends clearly love her enough to send her a ridiculous number of packages for some bizarre reason. She’s a woman of secret stories, and I think the parcel parade is just the tip of the iceberg.

  I want to know that story. I want to touch her lips again and a hell of a lot more. I want to hear her laugh because I’m kissing her neck, and then I want to hear her sigh.

  I’ve probably got a couple of hours before they’ll wonder where the hell my truck is. So when she grins and steps back, I follow her inside.

  “Do you want something to drink?” She’s twisting away from me, and I let her go.

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I’m good. I want a story, remember?”

  She stops and glances back at me, her hair falling across her forehead. She shoves the glossy waves out of the way. “But it’s mortifying.”

  That makes me laugh out loud. “I once locked myself out of a dorm room in nothing but a pair of yellow ducky slippers. That was mortifying. Your friends suddenly deluging you with cat toys surely doesn’t top that.”

  Her eyes go wide for a second, then she takes a step back as she shrugs her shoulders. “Sure, but that was in your past, when you were young and foolish. This is silliness that’s only a week old. You see the difference.”

  I prowl toward her. “Come on, that didn’t earn me anything?” I gesture down my body, and her gaze tracks right along. “Yellow. Ducky. Slippers.”

  “That is embarrassing,” she whispers.

  I stop two feet away from her and put my hands on my hips. Her eyes linger there, too, and when she finally drags her gaze back up to meet mine, her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright.

  “You were totally naked?” Her voice catches on the word naked, and need pulls hard in my gut. Lower. Need
to find out what other words she might trip on. Blush about. Get breathless over if I whisper them in her ear.

  “Completely naked.”

  A little flare of her eyes, and she bites her lip before asking, “What did you do?”

  “I went to the bathroom and stole someone’s towel, then went down to the front desk and explained the situation.”

  “What color was the towel?”

  I laugh. “I don’t remember. Blue, maybe.”

  She nods, an urgent little wobble that makes my dick throb. “I like this story a lot.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She hesitates, and the tip of her tongue darts out to swipe her lower lip. “My turn now?”

  “If you’d please.”

  “Wait. Did you return the towel?”

  “Jana.” The word is a warning and a plea rolled together in one.

  “Yes?” She tips her face up, and I realize I’ve moved closer. A lot closer.

  I’m looking down at her, and fuck it. She’s right in front of me, sweet and soft, and I can’t think straight. I brush an imaginary hair off her cheek and behind the curve of her ear.

  She shivers, and like a heavy bass line, need starts to thrum in my blood.

  “Yes, I returned the damn towel. And maybe your story can wait,” I say gruffly, and she nods.

  That’s all I need. One nod, another shiver, and I’ve got her backed up against the kitchen counter. One hand is cupping the nape of her neck and the other blindly finds the curve of her hip.

  I’ve been thinking about her mouth for two weeks.

  The reality is way better than any fantasy I’d gotten hard over. One featherlight brush of my mouth against hers, then her lips part on a little gasp and we slide together effortlessly.

  Her lower lip, full and soft and perfect, fits right against the seam of my mouth, and there’s no way I’m resisting that temptation. I pull on the plump flesh, tasting her sweetness with a demanding roughness I wish I could contain. The sigh I get in response is worth it, though.

  And then my tongue finds hers.

  I’ve had a lot of first kisses in my life. Some awkward, some hot, some pretty sweet. None have been this right. None have left me with a profound need for more. Not want. Need.

  I need this woman.

  I want her, too, like nothing else.

  She’s just as eager for this as I am. When I hoist her up and onto the counter, her legs go around my hips. I lean forward, she tips her head back. I scrape my teeth against her jaw, the curve of her neck, and she tightens her thighs.

  So there’s no missing my cock, hot and hard and heavy, and now pressed right against her.

  Her breath catches, then she rolls her hips, tracing the length of my dick. A groan rips out of me when she rocks against the crown, and I squeeze her closer.

  “Do that again,” I demand as I tug the neck of her shirt down. My other hand slides beneath the soft cotton at the same time, finding her waist so I can help her along.

  She grinds against me and I pump my hips. I don’t give a fuck if it’s shameless. We fit together.

  Her bra is nice, but it’s in the way. Using my teeth, I drag the thankfully flexible fabric over the swell of her breast, freeing her nipple, and then I give her my mouth there, sucking and licking and consuming her while I work my cock against her clit until she cries out my name.

  I’m generally not a stupid man, and I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied. But I really just meant to kiss her.

  The fact that she’s winding up toward an orgasm takes me by surprise and makes me feel like a teenager again—but a teenager who knows what to do with a gorgeous woman in his arms.

  I replace my mouth with my fingers, rolling and tugging at her nipple as I find the other one with my tongue. Her breasts are fantastic and soft against my face, and I can’t get enough of the subtle scent of her skin. I tell her as much when I kiss my way back up her neck.

  “You’re so gorgeous.” I kiss her mouth when she tries to twist her head to side. “Look at me.”

  She blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy over lust-glazed eyes, and I growl under my breath before kissing her again. Yes, that look. I want to see that as she comes for me.

  I pull her hips harder against me as she begins to shake, and press my forehead against hers, claiming her gaze and her orgasm, too. “Are you going to come for me, Jana? Do you feel how hard you make me? How good it feels to have your legs around me? Come inside, she says. Now look at you, with your perfect tits spilling out of your top. So fucking sexy. Come on. Come for me. Rock against my cock. That’s all yours. You did that, now take it.”

  With a strangled cry, she seizes in my arms, and I fall into her, holding her against me as I kiss her, hard at first, deep and intensely, then softer as she tumbles down from that high.

  Together we fix her shirt, then she starts laughing, and I join her.

  I don’t let her go.

  “You still owe me a story,” I finally say.

  “I thought we were skipping that to make out.” She blushes. “Or whatever that was.”

  I groan. “That was you coming for me like an angel. Next time I want you naked.”

  She traces a finger up my chest and I nip at it when it nears my mouth. Undeterred, she taps it against my lips. “Isn’t it your turn next?”

  “Doesn’t need to be either/or. But first…tell me the rest of your story.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t need me to explain, do you?”

  Not really. There are only so many cat toys one can have delivered before the delivery obviously becomes the point. “Maybe I want you to.”

  She gives me a long look. A searching look, like she’s wondering how much to reveal, and I’m a bit of an asshole because this isn’t really a two-way street when it comes to vulnerability. I’ve got secrets that would blow her adorable socks off. But on this point, she can trust me. And she finally nods, giving in. “Okay, so I might have told my friends that I thought you were kind of hot, and they took it upon themselves to make sure that you appeared here…often.” Her lips plump up and pull to the side, like she’s thinking about what she just said.

  I’ll make that worse for her, sure. Any excuse to make her squirm. I mock-frown. “Kind of hot?”

  Her eyes sparkle. “Well I didn’t know you own duck slippers. That would’ve tipped you over the top, for sure.”

  “They were never mine,” I growl, and her right eyebrow curves in a high, curious arch.

  “Oh…” She giggles like she gets it, they were a girl’s, and they weren’t. It doesn’t matter, because it was a lifetime ago, but I want her to know that. But before I can tell her they were part of my roommate’s costume for a rez party, she’s rubbing against me. “Too bad you don’t still have them.”

  “I’m not recreating the event for you.” Except if she wanted me to, I would. I’d wear nothing but ducky slippers and a raging hard-on, and I’d find her in the bathroom and steal her towel.

  “What if…” She glances to the side, and I follow her gaze. Her bedroom. “What if they were cat slippers?”

  Chapter Nine

  Jana

  I’m having a random afternoon hook-up with my delivery driver, and instead of climbing him like a tree or rubbing against him like a cat in heat—okay, I might have done, but then I stopped—and I suggested he put on my cat slippers.

  Even crazier is the look on his face, like he might just be into this. Slipper sex. Or…slipper foreplay. Do slippers count as lingerie? Guy lingerie?

  Maybe for a girl with three cats and a foster kitten.

  Because oh yeah, I want to see him in them.

  Nothing else, just slippers. And that erection I shamelessly rubbed one out against on my kitchen counter.

  I want that erection freed for both our pleasures. But I want him wearing the slippers, too.

  “Lead the way,” he says, a lazy, dirty smile curling up his face, and that makes me so happy I squeal a tiny bit as I take his hand and
tug him toward my bedroom.

  We don’t get all the way there, because halfway down the hall he wraps his arms around my waist and presses his face into my neck. He shaved this morning, but there’s enough stubble on his jaw now to make me feel each kiss. I love that. I want to look at my skin in the mirror tomorrow and see where he imprinted on me.

  “Slippers can wait a minute,” he says roughly as he spins me around and presses me against the wall.

  “What—” I don’t get the rest of my question out before his mouth crashes into mine, hot and demanding. His hands find mine, inviting me to touch him. I trace the length of his erection through his uniform as he palms my butt, first through my clothes, then a rough slide of his palm into my pants.

  He’s groping me, flat-out. Can’t keep his hands off my butt, needs to touch me like whoa. Groping. Me.

  This definitely has to be a dream.

  “Your ass was just too inviting,” he whispers.

  “I’m not complaining,” I whisper back. “Grope all you want.”

  The way he mauls my boob next makes me blush, and then that possessive squeeze turns into something way slicker. Even when he’s overcome with lust, he’s got moves, this one. His thumb rolls my nipple in a way that tugs on my clit from the inside, and I thunk my head back against the wall.

  At this rate, we’re not getting to the slippers, and I’m entirely okay with that. Fuck me against the wall, Delivery Guy. Do it. Do it hard, do it fast, and do it like you’re an uncontrollable beast.

  “You want that?” He growls and nips at my neck. “Hard and fast, right here against the wall?”

  “I didn’t say that out loud.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I like it. You want me to be an uncontrollable beast?”

  “No. Yes. Yes, but maybe like a little bit controlled? No, that’s a lie. Lose all your control.”

  “Jana.”

  “Am I babbling?”