Bossy Billionaire: A Steamy Older Man Romance

by Mia Madison

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. He smiles and I'm sure he knows what he's doing to me. That my knees are threatening to give way, my thighs are quivering. He finds it so damn amusing. He lifts one eyebrow, questioning. Waiting for my response if I can muster the wherewithal to give it.

  “I -” don't know what to say. So I turn away to look at the bound female we're standing beside, desperately searching for something to say that he won't find provocative and use to make me even more bewildered.

  As I grapple for words, his hand clasps my wrist and yanks me so I go tumbling into his chest wall. He takes three smooth steps holding me firm so we're behind the dividing half wall erected as back drop to the model and his mouth crashes down on mine.

  Chapter SIX

  Brand

  She fights me. Oh fuck, does she fight me, her body rigid and her little fists pounding against my chest. The one arm encircling her waist pulls in tighter to bend her back. With my other hand cupping the back of her head to hold her immovable, I fuck her mouth with my tongue harder probably than she's ever been pounded in her pussy.

  I want her body more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. After being bewitched by some kind of spell when I saw her through two car side windows, the beguiling only grew stronger when I came face to face with her stunning curves and equally tempting sassy mouth.

  I've never had to fight for anything. Every success I sought, every woman I desired, everything seems to fall at my feet like I'm blessed. They still call me golden boy, even though I'm well past the boy stage at the age of thirty seven. And now I intend to fight for Jolie, the girl from Starry.

  My mouth presses her body up, arching over my arm so her tits lift and are crushed into my pecs, which in turn sends my cock into a frenzy. Holding her immobile, I thrust my tongue into every corner of her mouth. I feel her body lose it's struggle with resistance and start to relax in my hold. Her pounding fists peter out as she's overwhelmed by the force of my desire for her.

  My hand smooths over the supple undulations of her front to land on her hip, at the side of her rounded ass cheek. Like a madman, my fingers gouge into her flesh, raking at the fabric of her skirt, edging it up her thighs.

  She goes from surrender into full on attack then. Her hands clawing at my shoulders, pulling me onto her as though she could drag me through the lining of her skin to fill every part of her. Jeezus, this woman is hotter than bushfire and just as out of control. She forces one arm free of my caged hold to dagger her fingers through my hair twisting and tugging to pull my mouth further into her.

  The heat pouring through her skin fills me with searing lust so nothing could hold me back from this now. Inevitable. The need slamming between us is a done deal. It wasn't what I planned but I'm going to fuck Jolie right here. Up against the gallery half wall backdrop, with the bound and gagged shibari model trussed up on the other side mere inches away.

  She must be all too aware of the grunts and moans of hunger coming through the fake wall, which is nothing more than a screen. In our ravaging of each other, Jolie's arm has knocked against the barrier enough to send it rocking.

  It would be outrageous if we knocked the wall down on top of the woman all tied up in bondage and unable to move. Shibari knots force her to control her own desires as she waits in her constrictive binding and experiences every aspect of her sensuality. Now the restrained girl is subjected to a pair close to getting off just inches away. At least if the wall comes tumbling down, the patrons filling the room will likely think it's part of the show.

  But I don’t give a fuck what anyone sees or what they think. I'm driven to the edge of insanity with the urgent need to be inside Jolie and taking her as all mine. She needs to belong to me. The craving for possession shoots through every part of me but nowhere more ferociously than my burning hard pole. The root throbs with the need to feel her lips cupping it. And it seems from the way she's dragging my head down ever deeper into her mouth while shoving her hips up to grind at the agonizing wood bulge, yeah, it would appear she wants this just as much as me.

  But not like this.

  I don't want Jolie's body exposed to her employer. That douchebag Cedric Bentley, hiding behind a phony British accent. Trying to act upper class when he's nothing but scum. I don't want her to jeopardize her position at the gallery and I can't be sure who's out there in the crowd. This huge city is nothing but a village when it comes to movers and shakers. I won't make us a laughing stock or give them anything to gossip about. Jolie deserves so much more from me than a furious but fantastic fuck up against an art gallery exhibit.

  I break the kiss and peel her body off my chest, feeling the cold vacancy without her delectable curves laying into mine like kid leather gloves. She looks momentarily stunned as she catches her breath, staring at me with surprise that quickly morphs into fury. As though she was somehow entranced against her will by the same magic spell that caught me, the instant I set eyes on her through two sets of car windows.

  “What – just – happened?” she stammers out.

  Before I can answer, a girl I immediately know is the other assistant, the one Cedric's balling none too secretly, appears around the edge of the screen.

  “What the fuck, Jolie? Oh good evening, Sir.”

  The girl instantly adjusts her demeanor when she checks me out. From submissive, she then lowers her voice conspiratorially.

  “You guys, everyone's looking over here. You nearly dropped the exhibit wall on top of the piece.”

  I smile at the horror in her tone. She's not outraged because Jolie and I were almost caught publicly fucking, but that we were disrespectful to a great master. I love Nero's work. I've seen his stuff at his studio in Japan, as well as in Paris and Rio. But no art work compares to Jolie. She's an unbelievable masterpiece of beauty and grace and I can't believe no one's snapped her up already.

  At least I assume they haven’t. We haven’t had the chance to get around to the 'any serious relationships' thing. So far it's been an up and down roller-coaster of love hate passions. I can't wait for the next peak to arrive.

  “I'm so sorry, Sierra. I don't know what happened.”

  “I think I can guess what happened,” the other girl says, giving me a long stare that travels up and down the length of me, not missing out on a good gaze at the huge bulge in my jocks.

  “Ladies, shall we rejoin the party?” I say.

  Then extend both crooked elbows to the women while my eyes remain fixed on Jolie who's still glaring at me like I tried to force her into sexual servitude for life. Like I'm somehow to blame for the carnal witchcraft she's cast over me that's already drawn me into uncontrollable lust to possess her.

  Sierra takes my arm without a second thought, snuggling up into my pectoral. Jolie seeing that, has little option but to follow suit. She takes the other but stiffly, making sure to remain aloof and disconnected from my torso. As though touching my body with her flesh again might unleash a bestial ravaging.

  She's not wrong. We've both started down a dangerous path that has a high cliff on one side and a plunging precipice on the other. She has no idea what's coming for her next but I know for sure we're both about to get scorched.

  Chapter SEVEN

  Jolie

  What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?

  I would rather have gone down on a rattle snake than kiss that arrogant snug bastard. So how did I find myself clutching his incredibly solid chest, the bulging curves of his biceps and make every attempt to swallow him whole?

  The last thing I want is to take Brand's arm and walk around the other side of the wall like we're stepping out on a date. The color is already rising to my cheeks since since said everyone was looking in our direction, anticipating the crashing down of the wall. But she's already on his other side and I can hardly emerge alone with a sheepish stare and blazing cheeks.

  So I lock my arm through bastard billionaire Brand's and he clamps me in under his wing. Like he's afraid I might get away. I ignore that
smug grin and strut out on his arm like this is the most normal thing in the world.

  The crowd has filled out now. A throng of the city's most glamorous and beautiful people all wanting to be seen at this sophisticated and edgy event. Nero will be here soon to begin his live performance and the auction. I hope he's managed to catch a nap.

  “You've nabbed both my girls, you greedy bastard,” Cedric, my boss, appears with a viperish grin on his lips.

  He says it with a smile but I can tell he's annoyed, although why I can't imagine. But I take the chance to unhook myself from Brand.

  “I'll go mingle,” I mutter as I head off to merge with the crowd and market the artwork.

  I can't fail to miss the twinge of regret as I stride purposefully away from Brand and it has nothing to do with the loss of a potential sale. The fact is his kiss was the most amazing, the most voracious kiss I've ever experienced. I didn’t know you could be kissed that way. Like you were being devoured and eaten out via mouth to mouth. It was stunning and breathtaking and I realize I'm weaving across the room like a drunk.

  “Can I answer any questions you have about the work?” I ask a threesome standing beside the woman bound and on her knees, her forehead to the ground.

  Busting in on a conversation at a social gathering isn't the easiest thing in the world, especially when you're still reeling from some stranger slamming his tongue into you in the most demanding kiss ever. But I've escaped him now and I intend to avoid him the rest of the night by working every patron in the room and making sure I sell every last piece in the show. That way I get to keep my job and evade the cocksure smug asshole who thinks he can take whatever he wants just because he's loaded. And gorgeous. And hot enough to set off fireworks in my core.

  “I have one question?” the woman wearing a white sheath gown and fire red lipstick demands. “Who is that guy you were just with and is he married?”

  “Oh. That's Brand Everly. Owner of Brand,” I inform her, all business. “I really couldn't say whether he's married or otherwise attached.”

  I'm talking a mile a minute in my saleswoman voice but the charge that goes through me makes me want to slap her. He was just kissing me. It's me he wants so why does she think she can get in on the act and steal my thunder?

  Oh my god, this is insane. What thunder?

  I can't stand the guy. She's welcome to him. I don't even know why he's still lodged in my mind. And worse, why the tops of my thighs are damp and my underwear drenched from my pussy still twitching and clenching with hungry yearning for more of Brand Everly.

  “I'd like to be introduced,” the woman insists, giving me a snarky stare.

  “Sure, if you head over, my colleague Sierra, will be glad to get you both acquainted. If you'll excuse me.”

  I step away before the gnashing of my teeth wears them down to the gums. I'm being ridiculous. I have to blot him out of my head and out of my clit and stay focused on the goal.

  I steal myself with a quick shot of Grey Goose at the bar, then make the rounds of the party. Every time I look into the middle distance, there he is, across the room, gazing back at me. I feel his eyes tracking me around the gallery like one of those paintings in a haunted house. And every time my gaze connects to his, my heart makes a bizarre soar through my chest that turns breathing into an Olympic sport. Why is this happening?

  I do not like this guy. I. Really. Don't. Like him.

  Nero arrives on the dot of 10pm, right as the party's picking up steam with a full crowd of nicely tipsy beautiful people. The gossip columnists and bloggers I invited have all showed up and are making the evening worthwhile by draining the bar. But at least I can be sure they'll write a good story and I won't have to chase them down begging for column inches.

  How many inches would Brand Everly's cock be?

  Ohmigod. The thoughts that keep blasting through my mind without my permission are going to drive me crazy. I will not think about his wood. Except to note that the thing was enormous. And rock hard against my hip. And if I care to admit it, that was all me shoving myself into his swelling bulge like a desperate little slut. It wasn't him that initiated the dry fucking. I was the needy one, responding to his surge of lust.

  I keep my eyes on the floor as I gather myself together. I know he's watching me. He can probably tell exactly what I'm thinking and I will not face that smug grin one more time.

  “You never answered my question.”

  His voice just behind me makes me lurch out of my skin.

  “Shit, can you stop doing that?”

  My hands fly to my chest, clutching at my heart to prevent it pounding right through. His eyes trail down my cleavage to where I’m wringing out my fingers between my breasts. Shit. My nipples are swollen like a pair of cocked pistols. And he seems to find that more entertaining than the exhibit he's here to view.

  “Didn't mean to spook you,” he says with an upturn of his sumptuous mouth. “I just wanted a response.”

  “To what? I assume it relates to the art.”

  “It does. I asked whether you enjoy this?”

  “You mean performance pieces?”

  “I mean shibari.”

  “I find the emotional response to it interesting,” I reply in a professional tone that belies the quivering in my thighs.

  “As it's intended to be.”

  “Right so it's doing the job of all art.”

  “At a much higher level.”

  “Almost spiritual.”

  “Or intensely sensual.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You ought to try it one time. I get the feeling you'd find it exhilarating.”

  I can't say all the things running through my frazzled brain right now. My heart is racing along as fast as the chicken's, cooped up while the wolf circles.

  “Really?” I snip. “Being trapped in immovable knots, blindfold, silenced? For your pleasure? I don't think so.”

  I tell him he's totally wrong but it feels like a total lie.

  Chapter EIGHT

  Brand

  The lights around the gallery are dimmed so we're standing in the gloom with only a soft illumination falling from a single spotlight onto the small dais where the shibari master is tying his way around a blindfold, naked woman on her knees. The crowd have edged forward to watch his intricate craft and the bidding at the back of the room has already become fierce.

  I'd probably be in there myself, for the once in a lifetime opportunity to own a live Nero, even if only for one night. But tonight my eyes, my lips, my entire being have been suctioned up by another live woman. Without even trying, Jolie has captured me in her own web of knots and for once, I have no desire to escape.

  “Who says I was offering to be your introduction to sensuality?” I ask her, teasing.

  Jolie falters for only a second before firing up her self-assurance again.

  “Oh right, because you always kiss women like that when you aren't interested in their sensuality.”

  “Being a partner in shibari is a way more profound experience than a straight up kiss.”

  She startles at that and can't find a comeback. I can see the light go on inside her, I felt how her body responded to mine. How intense and heated she became. That wasn’t just any kiss and now I’ve got her wondering how much more she's missing out on.

  “I'll take number seventeen,” I lean in to murmur against her hair. The soft aroma fills my frontal lobe more powerfully than Cedric's single malt.

  “The photograph?” She backs up a foot as she turns to face me, putting some distance between us, stepping out of the circle of heat. “You aren't going to bid on the live piece?”

  Nero certainly is creating something very inciting. The buzz in the room is building with sexual tension but it's nothing compared to the chemistry I see when Jolie stares at me with the fire in her amber eyes. I can tell the battle she's struggling with as she tries her damnedest to hate me.

  “I've got more than enough live action to en
tertain me tonight,” I tell her with a secret grin.

  “Very well. I'll just go write up a receipt for your purchase.”

  She shimmies her way through the crowd like she might ignite if she stands close to me much longer. I feel the same way watching her hips sway as she walks. Her disappearance, even just to the office at the back of the gallery leaves me straining for more. Until the searing need I have running through my veins is satiated, I can't let her get away for long.

  But I don't get the chance to talk to Jolie again through the remainder of the evening. She's busy with the bidding war that erupts for Nero's piece. I'm also waylaid by various business opportunities presented to me by men that know me and my reputation. However, I keep my eyes on her, drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet.

  Every time I look up I find her perfect curves filling my frame. A lick of her flame hair is like a beacon in the sea of heads. Some woman in a very clingy white dress appears at my side more frequently than is casual in a crowd this large. After strutting across the room and demanding an introduction from Jolie's colleague, she's been like gum on my shoe ever since. When the show and the bidding is over and I'm congratulating Nero like an old friend, she pops up again.

  “I don't suppose you're heading uptown?” she offers.

  And I mean offers. That white dress clinging enough to give me a full view of her huge erect nipples and the fact she has not a scrap of underwear on. She runs the tip of her tongue across her lip as her eyes delve into mine with blatant intent.

  “I am but I have the bike with me tonight.”

  It's a lie of course but I'm not in the mood to be brutally honest. Women hate to be told that another outshines the entire room.

  “I love riding. I can easily hike this old thing up,” she says with a massive attempt at tempting me.

  “Sorry babe but I already have a passenger for tonight.”