Bad Billionaire (Bad Billionaires #1)

by Julie Kriss

  He was already kissing me by then. He pulled out the few pins I’d managed to put in my hair and wound his hands through it, his mouth hot and familiar on mine. We stumbled upstairs, tearing at each other in the dark like two people starving. His tie was gone. My shoes were kicked off, somewhere behind us. I pushed his jacket from his hard shoulders and worked on his buttons as I bit his lip. In the bedroom, he threw me on my back on the bed and knelt between my knees, pushing up the hem of my little black dress and hooking his fingers into my panties. “Spread your legs,” he said, throwing the panties away.

  I did. He was in glorious disarray now, his shirt pulled out and half unbuttoned, his hair deliciously mussed. He looked down at me with such hot adoration I felt my pulse throb hard in my pussy. He ran his warm hands over the insides of my thighs, then raised his gaze and nodded toward my breasts. “Show me these, too.”

  Squirming, I unzipped the side zipper on my dress, unhooked my bra, and slid the straps of the dress down my shoulders, showing him everything.

  “Very nice,” he said, leaning down and taking a hard nipple in his mouth. I lost all sense of decorum, as I always did as soon as he touched me. I moaned out a breath and wound my hands in his hair.

  He finished with one nipple and worked the other. The fabric of his shirt brushed my bare skin. My dress was hiked both up and down, wrenched in the middle and probably halfway wrecked. I looked like a woman who shamelessly wanted to be fucked. I arched my back and knew that was exactly what I was.

  He let my nipple go and pressed his face into my neck, the fabric of his pants touching my inner thighs. “I’ve been going out of my fucking mind,” he growled into my skin. “I want to punish you. I want to lick your hot little pussy until you beg me to come. But I won’t let you. I’ll come down your throat instead. And then I’ll eat you out again.”

  I moaned and slid my hand down between us, cupping his cock. It was thick and hard through his pants. I worked at the button. “No,” I protested. “Fuck me.”

  “You want that?” he said, letting me work his pants open, letting me push them down along with his boxer briefs. “You want my cock?”

  He wanted to hear it. I wanted to say it. “I want your cock,” I breathed against his skin. “I want it so much. I’ll beg you for it. Devon, I’m going crazy.”

  He lifted his head and kissed me, his tongue slow and demanding, and he lowered a hand between my legs. “My girl shouldn’t be going crazy,” he said, his fingers parting me, rubbing me while my hips pulsed up into him. “My girl should know that if she wants to come, she needs to come to me. All she has to do is ask.”

  His fingers slid inside me, and I thrilled to it, to the words my girl. “I know,” I said.

  He was moving in and out of me, his fingers working me, his thumb brushing my clit, winding me tighter and tighter. “No more running,” he said. “This is where you belong. This is who touches you, your skin, your mouth, your sexy little cunt. Only me.”

  He was everything in that moment, everything I could see and smell and feel, and he was so focused on me it made me fly. I would burn down the world for you. “Yes,” I told him, squirming with how hard I wanted to come. “Only you.”

  He pulled his fingers out of me, his hand away from me, and I let out a little cry of frustration. “Good,” he said. He pushed his pants further down his hips, then pushed both of my hands over my head, pinning them with one hand while he braced himself on the other. “Now I’m going to ruin your fucking dress.”

  He shoved into me and I cried out. It felt so fucking good. I squirmed but his hand held my wrists over my head, so I lifted my knees to grip him instead, my feet digging into his legs. “Harder,” I said.

  He pulled out and slammed into me again, the ends of his belt hitting my thighs, his cock shoving hard into me. Then he did it again. He swallowed my moans of pleasure with his perfect mouth. “That’s it,” he said. “Take it hard.”

  “More,” I panted. “More.” It would never be enough. Not with Devon. He turned me wild, pulled me out of my skin. I wanted him so deep inside me I could feel nothing but him. “Make it hurt.”

  He moved to get a better position and pounded into me, his hand digging into my wrists, his hips banging the insides of my thighs. I could feel the fabric of both our clothes between us, and the feeling was exciting, that we wanted to fuck so bad we could barely undress. I felt myself twisting beneath him, heard myself saying some kind of nonsense. He let go of my wrists and lowered his hand between us instead, his fingers digging into my inner thigh, splaying me open as he fucked me. I arched up off the bed. I was so close.

  He sucked in a breath and ran his thumb over my clit and I exploded, the pleasure pulsing through me so hard I could only make a strangled sound as I pushed up over and over, taking him deeper. That’s it, that’s fucking good, I heard him say against my skin, and then I felt him come, the way it pulsed over his big body the way it had mine, the way it made his arms flex and his breath catch and his cock press deep, pulsing inside me. Every inch of him, every part of him, was mine in that moment. I had never felt so sexy and so deeply possessive in my life.

  We were out of breath. He slid off me a little so he wasn’t crushing me, but his body still curled around mine, pressing it gently. He was still wearing his shirt, halfway buttoned. My dress was still scrunched around my waist. Neither of us made a move to do anything about it.

  “Stay,” he said after a minute, tracing his fingertips over my bare collarbones. “Don’t leave.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “You know what I mean,” he said.

  I did. He wanted me here permanently. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. I rolled over and pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling his smell through his shirt. “I promise,” I said. “I love you.”

  He went very, very still. It took him a long time to answer. “No one has ever told me that before,” he said finally, his voice strangely quiet.

  “Well, someone is telling you now.” I rolled back and looked up at his face, which was criss-crossed with conflicting emotions. Uncertainty. A sort of banked male fear. It wasn’t easy for a man as walled off as Devon to change all at once.

  I decided to deliberately lighten the mood. “Anytime,” I prompted him. “I’m waiting over here.”

  “Fuck.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. This is new territory.”

  “Mm hmm.” I traced my finger along his lower lip. “You can shut down drug dealers, but you can’t say it?”

  “Pretty much.” He leaned down and kissed me, then pulled back. “Don’t forget I can also fuck you into oblivion.”

  “Believe me, I have not forgotten that.”

  He kissed me again, softly, and touched his forehead to mine. “You are the only one for me,” he said. “You always have been. I love you.”

  I had been joking a minute ago, but all of that fled. Those words from his mouth floored me. This suddenly seemed very, very big. Life-changing big.

  And I wasn’t afraid of it.

  I reached up and undid the last buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. “Thank you,” I said. “Now prove it.”

  Chapter 31

  Devon

  The air was getting cold, but Olivia didn’t seem to care. She was standing on the edge of the newly built back deck, her arms crossed over her chest, her back to me. She seemed to be looking out past the edge of Diablo to the mountains.

  I picked up a blanket from the sofa and stepped out onto the deck, the wood chilling my bare feet. I had jeans and a long-sleeved shirt on, but the damp still went straight to my skin. I watched the wind play with her hair as I approached.

  I put the blanket over her shoulders. She hugged it to herself, then leaned back into me, trying to get warm. I put my arms around her from behind and dropped a kiss to the side of her neck. My woman. “What are you looking at?” I asked her.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she said. “I don’t want to go inside yet.”

/>   It was Sunday, her day off, but she’d still been working all day. Not for her job, but making art. She had claimed one of the spare bedrooms as an art room and filled it with her works in progress. Working on her own art on the weekends made her happy. I could smell the tang of paint on her hands. “I just got a call from the investigator I hired,” I said. “About Cavan.”

  “Oh?” She twisted and glanced up at me. “What is it?”

  “He was living in Arizona two years ago.”

  “That’s all?” she asked. “What was he doing there?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Cavan has stayed off the radar somehow. It’s frustrating.”

  Olivia was quiet. “You’ll find him,” she said.

  “Yeah, I will.” I didn’t know what I would find when I did. He didn’t have a prison record, and we hadn’t found a death certificate—that was pretty much all I knew. “He might have left the country,” I said. “But he was alive two years ago. That’s more than I knew yesterday.”

  “You’ll find him,” she said again.

  She shivered, and I held her tighter. We created our own warmth between us. Behind us, the lights from the house were warm yellow against the darkening sky.

  “So,” I said to her. “What’s next?”

  She reached an arm from under the blanket and pressed her hand against the back of my neck while she watched the sun set behind the mountains. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I have the feeling that whatever it is, it’s going to be wonderful.”

  A Note from Julie

  Thank you for reading Bad Billionaire! I hope you enjoyed it. The next book in the series is DIRTY SWEET WILD, Max and Gwen’s story.

  Max

  You’d never know I’m a millionaire. I wear jeans and T-shirts. I work construction. I hate leaving my run-down apartment, and I never date. I’ve been battling my demons since Afghanistan left me with too many scars, inside and out.

  I sure as hell didn’t order the stripper who came to my door. All I know is that the hottest, sweetest woman I’ve ever seen is naked in my lap, because she got the wrong apartment.

  I was planning to tell her. But she kissed me first.

  Gwen

  I strip for money. No involvement. No attachment. It’s just a job, I swear.

  Mr. Wrong Apartment is big and dangerous. Grumpy and damaged. Biceps that make me want to cry. He’s not my type at all - he's strong and silent, but somehow I know he has layers you can’t see.

  One wrong house call, and suddenly I’m breaking my own rules.

  Things are spinning out of control. We’re both broken. Maybe we can’t be fixed. Together we’re fire and gasoline. But I might let everything burn if he’ll just touch me one more time…

  Order Dirty Sweet Wild here!

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  Or check out my other books:

  Bad Boyfriend: A Bad Boy Romance

  Bad Wedding: A Bad Boy Romance

  Break Me: A Stepbrother Romance

  Play Hard: A Stepbrother Romance