My Billionaire Protector

by R. R. Banks

  Sliding her shirt all the way off, I drop it onto the blanket next to us. I then unclasp her bra. I cup them, relishing the feel of her soft, cool skin. She murmurs something as I take her nipple into my mouth. When I give it a playful little nip, she draws in a sharp breath.

  Her green eyes catch mine and hold me fast. Her cheeks are flushed with the chill in the early evening air, her lips parted. Her pure, stunning beauty nearly steals the breath from my lungs as I gaze at her. My desire suddenly flares, but it's more than just a physical want. It's more than just lust that's fueling me. I want to consume everything about Darby.

  I feel my cock stiffening as I look into her face and see absolute desire etched upon it. I see an animalistic hunger, with a healthy dose of caution thrown in. I have a feeling she's a good girl. That she doesn't do things like this.

  But, what does it mean? It's not like we're together. We just stumbled into each other – literally – after eight years, and have been together for what now, a couple of hours? It's not like we've had time to build some deeply intense connection, and I suddenly start feeling like I might be taking advantage of her. I realize that she's still younger, and doesn't have the experience I do.

  “We don't have to –”

  She puts her finger to my lips, cutting me off, and shakes her head. “I want to,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I have no idea why – this isn't something I normally do, believe me. But, I want to. I want this, Carter.”

  I don't understand it either but I want her so bad, I'm just going to go along with it. There is something about Darby that makes me crave and desire her in ways I've never experienced before.

  Getting to my knees, I pull Darby up to hers as well. I press my mouth to hers as our kiss grows more urgent. Hotter. Filled with more passion. Her skin is as cold as the air outside. She doesn't complain, though. In fact, she gives no sign of caring about how chilly it's gotten anymore. All of her attention is focused on me. I unbutton her pants and slide my hand inside. She gasps, and her body spasms, when my fingertips brush against the warm center of her.

  “Oh, God,” she gasps when my fingers find her clit.

  I look around quickly, making sure we're not being observed. We're sitting in front of a large air conditioning unit, so I don't think anybody can see us.

  I know I should probably take her back to my place, but we're already in the middle of it, and I don't want to stop right now. My entire body is humming with a carnal electricity, and I want her – need her – right fucking now.

  I rub her as I kiss her neck, drawing soft murmurs of pleasure from her. Darby digs her nails into my shoulders as I plunge my fingers deep into her warm depths. She moans a bit louder as I start to push my fingers into her with more force and focus.

  “Yes, Carter,” she whispers.

  She kisses me, her tongue as frenzied as her heartbeat. I quickly slip my fingers out of her and then remove my hand from her pants, eliciting an unhappy pout from Darby.

  I have other plans for her.

  My eyes still locked onto hers, I quickly push her pants down. She quickly takes her shoes and pants off for me, then waits for my next move. Gently, pushing her down onto her back, I slip between her legs, and then lay down. The moment my warm breath and the tip of my tongue hit her, I feel Darby's body tense up before a long, loud moan bursts from her throat.

  I run my tongue around her wet, swollen lips and her body shudders in response. She moans and calls my name softly as I plunge my tongue into her, savoring the taste of her. I slip a finger inside of her as I take her clit into my mouth, sucking hard on it. Darby writhes beneath me, a choked gasp erupting from her. Her hands are in my hair, pulling on it, pushing my face deeper into her.

  “Jesus, Carter,” she moans softly. “That feels so good. Amazing.”

  I slip a second finger in, and her eyes grow wide. She lets out a strangled gasping moan, as I drive them into her, sucking on her at the same time. Darby's body tenses up. Her cries start to grow louder, and as I flick her with the tip of my tongue, she calls out my name so loud, I'm pretty sure half the damn neighborhood is going to hear her.

  She has both hands in my hair, pulling it hard enough that it makes me wince, but infuses me with a profound rush of pleasure at the same time. Her thighs clamp tight around my head, and her body spasms as she comes for me. Slowly though, as her orgasm loosens its grip on her, Darby's body eases, and her breathing returns to normal. She looks down at me and I can see the desire burning in her eyes, clear and strong.

  “Come here,” she says.

  I slide up her body and kiss her. There's so much heat and passion in the kiss, it almost takes my breath away. Pulling back, I give her a smile.

  My body is aching with need, so I stand up, slipping my socks, shoes, and pants off. Fishing a rubber out of my wallet, I drop my pants on the blanket, and hand her the condom.

  “Put this on me,” I command, unable to wait any longer to feel her hands on me.

  Never taking her eyes off mine, Darby tears open the package and slips the condom out. Placing it over the tip of my cock, she lets her hand slide all the way down my length, unrolling the rubber as she goes.

  “I want to feel you inside of me, Carter. I need it now,” she says, a seductive gleam in her eye.

  I push her down onto her back and she parts her thighs for me as I settle down over her. I lean down and press my mouth to hers. Our kiss is full of fire and passion – filled with unexpected, but mutual, desire for each other. My whole body is alight with sensations, and my every nerve ending feels like it's on fire.

  Darby cries out, digging her nails into my shoulders as I thrust my hips, my stiff cock piercing her core. I drive into her, relishing how warm and tight she is. Her eyes are wide, and she lets out a small gasp.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She nods but doesn't say anything. Her cheeks are flushed and her breath is starting to come out in wispy plumes as the temperature drops, and she looks like she's in pain.

  “If you need to stop –”

  She shakes her head. “N - no,” she stammers. “Keep going. Please, keep going.”

  I roll my hips forward, slowly driving myself into her as Darby cries out, digging her nails so hard into my shoulders, it forces me to suck in a sharp breath. She looks at me, biting her bottom lip as the sudden rush of pain she'd inflicted on me blends with the pleasure of being inside of her. That humming in my body grows even stronger, and I feel like a live wire.

  Gradually, the pained look on her face melts away and is replaced by one of pure rapture. She squeezes me with her thighs, her body rising up to meet my thrusts as she encourages me.

  “Yes, Carter,” she moans.

  In all the time I've been coming up here to my little hideaway, I've never brought a girl with me. And I most certainly have never had sex up here. But, being up on that roof, in the fresh night air – as damn chilly as it is – deep inside of this amazing, beautiful creature, gives me a rush of pleasure unlike anything I've ever known before.

  I thrust my cock into her, her breathing is growing ragged, and she has an almost dazed look in her eye as her body tenses up.

  “You're going to make me come again, Carter,” she gasps.

  “Come for me, baby.”

  She stutters and gasps beneath me. Digging her nails into my back and tightening her thighs around my waist, Darby cries out, calling my name, her entire body seizing up as her orgasm crashes down over her.

  The muscles inside Darby tighten around my cock as I thrust forward one final time. The pressure boils over and my cock throbs and pulses as I fill the condom inside of her.

  “Fuck, Darby,” I gasp. “That feels fucking amazing.”

  I kiss her reveling in the warm afterglow. Eventually, I slip out of her. I lay on my back and look up at the stars, Darby resting her head on my chest, tracing small circles on my chest with her fingertip.

  Despite the briskness of the air, we lay there, looking u
p at the endless black of the sky above. Somewhere I hear holiday music playing, and then people shouting at them to turn that shit down – another day in the hood. Gotta love it. The stars above – the few we can see anyway – twinkle like small Christmas lights on the tree, and our breath is coming out in thick plumes of steam. I know we should get dressed so we don't catch frostbite or pneumonia, but just being there, so close to her, feeling her naked body pressed to mine – it's a level of intimacy I've never experienced before, and I want to enjoy it as long as I can.

  “So, were you just looking for something different like your friend?” I tease her. “Slummin' with one of the bad boys in the Kitchen?”

  She playfully slaps me on the chest and laughs. It's a high-pitched sound, like crystal wind chimes – or Christmas bells, if I want to be seasonal– flowing in a gentle breeze. It's a beautiful sound, and one I could get used to hearing a lot more of.

  “No, it's not like that,” she says.

  “Then what's it like?”

  She shakes her head. “I honestly don't know,” she replies. “I mean, I'm not the kind of girl who just randomly hooks up with guys. I've never been that way, Carter. I don't want you getting the idea I am.”

  “I didn't think you were,” I say.

  “That was amazing, though.”

  “Oh, I know it,” I reply. “I'm pretty damn good in the sack.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “You're terrible,” she says. “And incredibly humble too.”

  “I completely agree with both of your assessments,” I say with a laugh.

  “Right,” she says. “You may be able to fool other people, but I've seen behind the curtain. I know what lies beneath.”

  “Yeah, well, in this neighborhood, you get by on your reputation most of the time,” I say. “This place will eat you alive if you show weakness.”

  “Sounds like it's still all smoke and mirrors with you,” she says, her voice dreamy. “Like you brought that kid from the orphanage out into the real world with you.”

  Her words strike a chord deep within me. As I replay those words in my head again, I suddenly realize – for the first time – that she's right, that I never really left the home. I'm the same kid I was back then – getting by on my reputation. That my existence around here is nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

  “Yeah, maybe I did,” I say and then look at my watch. “I should probably get you home.”

  Darby sits up with an earnest look on her face. “This was not what you think it was,” she says. “I love Jade, but I'm not like her. I didn't sleep with you just because –”

  I cut her off with a gentle kiss. Pulling back, I stare into those sparkling emerald eyes. We stand like that for a long moment, a silent communication passing between us, in that exchange of intimate energy. The edge that had been there a moment ago fades, and she seems to relax a bit.

  “I know,” I say. “I know you're not. I just don't know how we're going to co-exist in each other's worlds. They're just so – different.”

  “I don't know either, but I think it can be done,” she says. “I mean, I'd at least like to try.”

  I give her a soft smile and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. I won't deny that I'm intrigued about the possibility of spending more time with Darby.

  * * *

  For the last couple of weeks, Darby and I have spent as much time together as possible. Which, hasn't been much, given her schedule, and my need to keep studying for my certification tests and working for Pops.

  But, we're doing what we can. And the time we've been able to spend together has been – nice. More than nice. She's great to talk to and even better just be around. She's made a point of taking me to art galleries, teaching me about her passions, and has opened my eyes to things I never really noticed before.

  Darby and I are keeping our – whatever this is – on the downlow. For a lot of obvious reasons. For one thing, I doubt her aunt and uncle would approve of me – especially given our age difference. Darby is eighteen but, I'm twenty-two.

  And I am sure that her aunt and uncle would disapprove of me, I'm even more certain her brother would hate it even more. Everything she's told me about Mason just screams elitist snob. Somebody who looks down their noses at guys like me.

  Dude was handed everything in life, and thinks he got there on his own merit. Guys like Mason don't know what hard work and busting their ass is like. He's never had to decide between eating or paying the light bill. He doesn't know what it's like to struggle. It makes me sick, right down to my very core. They have no idea what it’s like to be a real man – though, they'll always play at being one.

  But, that's fine. I'm not gonna sweat it. Mason and his band of prep school thugs don't mean a thing to me. Darby's the only thing that matters.

  Leaning back in my chair, I rub my eyes. I feel a headache coming on from spending the evening reading for my certification tests. I love reading, but not these kinds of books. They won't give me a license to start trading without knowing this garbage.

  Trading – like setting lines and picking winners – is totally instinctive for me. I go over all the data, sure. Soak it all in like a sponge. But, when it comes down to it, I'm relying on my gut to make the right decisions. And, not to toot my own horn – okay, maybe a little bit – I'm right far more often than I'm wrong.

  Unfortunately, that's not going to get me a license. I need to be familiar with the rules and laws and all that boring shit. It's tedious, but if I want to make a career out of it, I must learn it. Plus, if I slack off, Pops will kick my ass. He's put a lot of time and energy into helping get me where I am – which is no small feat for a man his age.

  I really need to show him my appreciation for everything he's done for me. And I've vowed, more than once, that as soon as I'm making good money, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to make sure that old man can retire in luxury and style and live out golden years days doing – well – whatever the hell he wants to do.

  I stand up and stretch my legs and back before I head to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. My apartment is tiny. Apartment is probably too generous a description for the space, really. It's a studio with a tiny little nook that serves as a kitchen that has a sink with shitty water pressure, and a stove that only works half the time. The rest is one room. My bed is pressed up against the wall under the windows, I've got room for a dresser on the wall next to my bed, and that's where I've got my TV, and a small, round table sits across from the windows that serves as my place to eat and study.

  The place is so small, I can almost fall out of bed and be blocking the front door. There's literally no room for a couch or any other amenities. I have a few pictures hanging on the walls – my sole effort to make the place feel a little more like home. The walls are cracked, the paint is dingy from years of wear, and the windows overlook an alley that treats me to the nightly stench of decaying food and the sounds of people fighting..

  Every night, I'm serenaded by the sound of police sirens, drunks arguing on the street, and bums digging through the trash, yelling at the dumpsters and walls around them. On more than a few occasions, I've seen these guys challenge the dumpster or wall to a fight.

  Yeah, good times.

  I stand at the windows, looking down at the alley as I sip my coffee. The stench coming from the dumpsters hits me, so I close the windows and light a candle. It's unfortunate, because even though the air is brisk, I like the fresh air – or rather, fresh-ish air. It's never truly all that fresh, with those dumpsters sitting down there.

  I turn away from the window, looking around at my small, cramped, dirty apartment. This is not the life I want. I want so much more than this. I want a place with a view. A place where the paint isn't peeling and cracked, and I can open the windows and breathe fresh air.

  Superficial shit, yeah. But, because of Pops' urging, and insane belief in me, I've started to want more out of my life. So much more. More than that, I've started to believe I can attain it. />
  It's such a stark difference in my attitude and thinking from my back at St. Aggie's. Back then, I was content just getting by and doing whatever I had to do to survive. I always figured that was the best I could expect out of life. Now, everything's changed. Everything's different. Not only do I want more, want better, I know I can achieve it. And I'm busting my ass to make it happen.

  I set my coffee mug down on the table and am about to sit down and get back to studying, when there's a loud, firm knock on the door. I glance at my watch and see that it's almost eleven – which means it's probably not Darby dropping by unexpectedly. Unless she managed to sneak out of her place for a little late-night fun. Which frankly, I'm kind of hoping for. It'd be a nice distraction from the books.

  With a spring in my step, I move to the door and open it – only to find a man standing there. He's about my age, has dark hair, a trim but strong frame, and is dressed in well-tailored slacks, loafers, and a blue button-up shirt with a dark patterned tie.

  It's his eyes though, that tell me who he is. They're the same color as Darby's, but his don't spark the way hers do. His are somehow duller, less vivid, and less full of life – and far angrier than hers.

  Just by looking at him – his stance, the set of his jaw, his narrowed eyes – I can tell he doesn’t view life the way she does. He's not a man who sees life – or people – as anything but commodities to be sold, traded, or bartered away. They only exist to serve his needs, and his purposes.

  “Mason White,” I say.

  “Carter Bishop,” he replies and nods, his voice cold and unemotional.

  Curious about what's made him darken my doorstep – though, already having an idea – I hold the door open and let him in. Mason steps through the doorway and looks around, an expression of distaste upon his face. He obviously doesn’t like having to sully his shoes with the dirt of Hell's Kitchen. That high society living seems to have agreed with him.

  He turns to me as I close the door, and lean against it, folding my arms over my chest.