My Billionaire Protector

by R. R. Banks

We walk to a bank of elevators and step inside. Using the passkey, I punch the button for the basement floor and the car starts to descend. I look over at Darby, doing her best to pretend that she’s absent-mindedly staring off into space. Something is definitely going on.

  “You sure everything's okay?” I ask.

  She nods, flashing me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I'm good. Nothing to worry about.”

  A soft bell chimes and the doors slide open. We step into a lobby with doors that lead to some offices and work rooms. The door I want is directly across from us. I offer Darby my arm, and we step forward. Using the key, I unlock the door and hold it open for her.

  The interior of the large basement warehouse has a unique smell to it. I've never really been able to identify it though. It's got a chemical odor, but isn’t entirely unpleasant. I just don't know what it is. About the most intelligent word I can come up with to describe it is – old. Which doesn’t say much about my ability as a wordsmith.

  Large racks holding carefully wrapped paintings and other items that either have been displayed, or will be, stretch from one side of the room to the other. Some of the pieces are on loan and need to be sent back to their museum or institution of residence.

  The section I'm looking for though, is on the other side of the warehouse, beyond the racks. They have something special back there, and I'm dying to show Darby.

  “Come on,” I say and take her hand.

  We walk through the towering racks, around assorted boxes, and rolling ladders, making our way to the far end of the warehouse. That's where Midge keeps the upcoming displays. She likes to lay them out beforehand to give the staff an idea of how she wants the pieces displayed.

  There are statues, old jewelry, and paintings galore. All in all, there are four separate displays, marking four different periods of time.

  “Looks like Midge has been busy,” Darby says.

  “She always is,” I say. “She's meticulous and incredibly gifted at her job.”

  Darby approaches the rope that keeps us from running amok through the displays. I can see the excitement in her face looking at these rare and precious pieces of art and it makes me smile. I love making her happy.

  And in that moment, it hits me that her happiness is more important to me than my own.

  “Come with me,” I say.

  I lead her to a room off to the side and open the door for her. I follow her in, allowing the door to swing shut behind us. Directly in front of us, on the far side of the room, a large window overlooks a sterile room. Darby walks toward it, and I stay behind a few steps, admiring the way her ass pops in her pencil skirt.

  She looks over her shoulder and catches me watching, giving me a smile, although it's less flirty than usual. Yeah, something is definitely up with her. I don't want to push, but I have the strangest feeling – one I don't particularly care for.

  “You’re hopeless,” she chides.

  I shrug. “Not all works of art are on display in a museum.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. I join her at the window and look at several paintings in the process of being restored. The Bog does a terrific job preserving these old treasures.

  “I've never seen the restoration process,” she says, as she surveys the pieces inside the clean room.

  “I got to see one from beginning to end once,” I say. “It's tedious and a little boring at times, but overall, it's pretty fascinating. I thought you might be interested in seeing this.”

  She nods. “I'd love to see the actual work being done.”

  I turn to her and take her in my arms, pulling her close. “Then, we'll have to set something up with Midge.”

  As we stand there, I'm overcome by a powerful wave of need and desire. It's not like she's done anything out of the ordinary to stoke those fires within me, but that primal lust for her, burns bright inside of me all the same. I want Darby. Right here, and right now.

  I lean down and kiss her, slipping my tongue between her lips as I run my hands through her hair. She seems a little stiff at first, but she warms up quickly. I break our kiss, planting a line of kisses from her chin down to her chest, drawing a soft moan from her.

  “I don't know if we should do this in here,” she says softly.

  “Better than out on the museum floor,” I reply.

  “I have a feeling Midge wouldn't be too appreciative of that.”

  “Probably not.”

  I press my mouth to hers again. Feeling her come alive in my arms sets me on fire. I grab her hand and guide it to my hard cock. She grips me nice and hard, stroking me through my slacks. I massage her breasts through her shirt, circling my thumbs around her hard nipples.

  “We should probably be quick,” she says.

  “Probably so.”

  Kissing her again, I walk backwards until we bump into one of the work benches. I slide her skirt up her waist and slide her panties off, slipping them into my coat pocket. She runs her tongue from my ear to my neck, continuing to stroke me through my pants.

  “I need to be inside of you,” I say.

  “Then take me.”

  Lifting her up, I set her down on the bench and she spreads her legs for me as she reaches for my belt. I help her undo it and slide my pants down as I step forward. Reaching into my interior coat pocket, I take out a condom, quickly rolling it down my erection. Darby bites her bottom lip, her eyes filled with lust as she grips my cock and pulls me forward, guiding me to her sweet, wet opening.

  “Fuck me, Carter,” she says, her voice low and dripping with desire.

  Without a word, I thrust into her, hard and deep. Darby gasps as I fill her completely. She leans her forehead against mine as she wraps her arms around the back of my neck, whimpering softly.

  “Fuck,” she whispers.

  She digs her fingernails into the back of my neck, making me draw a sharp breath as I start to drive myself into her in a hard, steady rhythm.

  Gripping her thighs tight, I grit my teeth as Darby bites the side of her hand to stop herself from crying out too loudly. I'm turned on by her muffled screams and groans, and fuck her with a renewed vigor.

  Suddenly, I pull her off the table and spin her around. Keeping her skirt up around her waist, I bend her over the workbench, taking a handful of her hair, and pull her head back as I thrust inside her again. Darby gasps and moans as I fuck her, pressing her ass into me, taking my cock even deeper into her.

  She looks at me over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is ragged. I feel her body tensing up beneath me as I plunge deep inside. My body begins to tighten, and I know I'm not going to last much longer.

  “Come for me, Carter,” she gasps. “Come for me.”

  Pushing myself as deep inside of her as I can go, Darby lets out a strangled gasp, crying out my name as her body begins to tremble. As her pussy clenches harder around my cock, squeezing me tight, my cock twitches, filling the condom inside of her.

  Together, we shudder and gasp, our bodies both filled with ecstasy. We stay like that, joined together for several long moments, drinking in the warmth and glow of the act. Slowly, our breathing returns to normal, and as I stand, my cock slips out of her. I slide the condom off and toss it into the nearby trash can, covering it with some pieces of crumpled up paper, so the employees or work crews don't find an unexpected surprise.

  I pull my pants up quickly and get myself sorted as Darby slides her skirt down and does the same. A moment later, our eyes meet, and we share a warm laugh.

  “You know we're acting just like a couple of horny teenagers,” she says.

  I pull her to me and kiss her full, soft lips. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  She looks me in the eyes and I see that shadow flash through them once more – the one that's been hovering over her all night long. I let it pass though, preferring to enjoy the moment. Still, I can't help but wonder what's going on with her tonight.

  “We should p
robably get back upstairs,” she says.

  “I suppose so.”

  Together, we walk out of the restoration workshop, hand-in-hand. We make our way back upstairs and she leans her head against my shoulder on the elevator ride back up.

  “Thanks for tonight,” she says.

  “My pleasure,” I say. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  She looks at me for a long moment, and I'm convinced she's going to say no. But then she smiles.

  “I'd love to.”

  We step back out onto the main floor and exit the museum, heading out into the night.

  * * *

  Darby is unusually quiet in the car. She just sits and looks out the window, watching the crowds on the street as we pass by, an inscrutable expression on her face. I hadn't pushed to that point, preferring to let her speak up in her own due time, but I can't take it anymore. I have to know what she's thinking.

  “What's on your mind, Darby?”

  She looks at me. “What makes you think anything's on my mind?”

  I give her a small smile. “Because I know you,” I say. “And I can tell something been bothering you all night.”

  Darby lets out a long sigh and I can see that she’s debating with herself.

  “Whatever it is, it's okay,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I know,” she replies. “I'm just trying to decide whether or not this is something even worth mentioning to you.”

  “Well, let's figure that out together,” I say. “What is it?”

  She leans back in the seat and sighs again.

  “It's – Mason,” she says.

  “Oh,” I reply. “Him again.”

  “Yeah. Him again.”

  “He came to see me, you know,” I say. “Shortly after that picture of us showed up in the tabloids.”

  “I'm not surprised.”

  “Made all the same old threats,” I tell her. “Pops is going to prison unless I stop seeing you, blah, blah, blah.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  I chuckle. “I'm here with you tonight, aren't I?”

  A wry grin touches her lips. “Yeah, I suppose you are.”

  “I told him to fuck off if he thinks he can pull that shit again,” I say. “I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I'm not a stupid kid who can be intimidated anymore.”

  “What about Pops?”

  “I had a long talk with him,” I tell her. “Asked him all about his past and asked him, point blank, if he ever killed anybody. He said no, and I believe him. Pops wouldn’t lie to me. I know he was telling me the truth. His reputation was built on smoke and mirrors – a lot like mine was back at St. Aggie's.”

  Darby lets out a soft, sad chuckle. “That's funny, because Mason not only told me that Pops murdered people when he was a mob boss, but also said there was a rumor going around that you may have killed somebody too. On Pops' behalf, of course.”

  Intense, righteous anger flares up inside of me for a moment, but it vanishes just as quickly. I almost feel bad for Mason. His grip on his sister, the iron collar of control he had on her, is slipping. And he knows it. The only way he can try to regain that control is by telling her all kinds of bullshit stories about me. Asshole.

  My biggest worry is that she almost believed him. That certainly explains why she’s been off all evening. Which sticks a small needle of pain through my heart. She should know me better than that.

  But then, I guess the same thing can be said about me and Pops – I really should have known better.

  “Do you believe him?” I ask. “Do you think I killed people?”

  “No, of course not,” she says. “I mean, I really doubted it.”

  A rueful laugh bubbles up and out of my throat. “There's a universe of difference between, of course not, and really doubting it.”

  “It's just – there are still parts of you I don't know. You have secrets,” I say. “And I know you have a temper. I've seen you commit acts of violence before, Carter, and it scares me.”

  I nod. “Yea,” I say. “I do have secrets. As do we all. And I have a wicked temper. Never denied that. But, I've been nothing but open and honest with you, Darby. I want you to believe that. Although there are some things I prefer not to talk about, I'll never intentionally hide anything from you. And if you ask me a direct question, I'll answer you the way I always have – honestly.”

  She looks at me with her direct, penetrating gaze for a long moment, as if searching my eyes for the truth in my words.

  “I believe that,” she finally says.

  My eyes bore into hers and I hold her gaze. “Then believe me when I tell you that I have never, ever, killed anyone,” I say. “Not for Pops, not for anybody. I won't deny that I've had my fair share of fights, but I've never killed anybody. Never even came close.”

  I can see her searching my eyes again, probing deeply, trying to sort out the truth. Darby is a hell of a lot more perceptive – and a hell of a lot less naïve – than Mason gives her credit for.

  “Pops got by on a rep he didn't earn. People around the neighborhood thought he killed people. Thought he was this big-time gangster. He wasn't, but he let them all believe it. Like the kids would say, it upped his street cred, and kept people off his back,” I explain to her. “I did basically the same thing at St. Aggie's. People respected me because I earned a reputation as a badass. That was all based on one fight, when I was out of my mind with rage. But hey, it kept people from fucking with me, so I went with it.”

  Roger stops in front of my building and lets us out. I give him a word of thanks and tell him I'll see him tomorrow before escorting Darby inside. We ride the elevator up and I can see her weighing my words against her intuition. When the bell chimes, letting us off on my floor, she turns to me and throws her arms around the back of my neck, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

  “I guess this means you believe me?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah. I do.”

  “Good,” I say. “Because your brother is on a war path. He's going to stop at nothing to keep us apart.”

  “I know.”

  Taking her hand in mind, I head down the hall toward my door. “Just for curiosity's sake, what else did your brother tell you?”

  She laughs softly. “That you're under investigation for fraud, insider trading – a bunch of things I can't recall offhand,” she says. “But, he said his office basically has you dead to rights.”

  “Interesting,” I say, slipping the key into the front door lock. “Because I've not been contacted by his office – or my own lawyer – that there is an open investigation into anything we're doing at Bishop. I know he finds it impossible to believe, but we are completely legit. No shortcuts. No shady shit. I run a clean shop. Always have, and always will.”

  I let her step into my place first and follow after her, closing the door and locking it behind us.

  “Uh, Carter?”

  The tone of concern in her voice makes me spin around quickly, my body tensed, my fists raised, thinking there’s an intruder. Instead of some masked gunman though, I cock my head and look around. On the table in the sunken living room is a bottle of champagne on ice, with a plate of what looks like oysters beside it. And all around the front room are lit candles. There must be a hundred of them.

  “What the hell?” I say, looking around.

  “Well, there you are, lover,” comes the purr of a woman's voice.

  I spin around again, now facing the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Standing there in heels, with matching black thigh highs, garter belt, and bra, is a woman with tawny skin, long, rich, deep brown hair, perky breasts, and a body to die for.

  And I have absolutely no fucking idea who she is.

  “I've been waiting for you, Carter, baby,” she purrs. “You didn't tell me you were bringing your playmate for us to have some fun with tonight. You naughty, naughty boy.”

  “I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?” I ask. “And how the fuck did you
get into my place?”

  The brunette laughs, a rich, sensual sound. Her eyes locked on Darby's, she runs her fingertips down her neck, across her breasts, and down to her belly. All I can see though, is the stricken look on Darby's face. Tears well and shimmer in her eyes, but I can see her fighting to keep them from falling.

  “Oh, he didn't tell you about me?” the brunette asks Darby. “Because he told me all about you. Said you were pretty good in bed, but he wants you to learn some things from me.”

  “Shut your lying mouth,” I snap, turning to Darby. “I don't know who this woman is. I swear to God, Darby. I've never seen her before in my life. This is total bullshit. I'm being set up.”

  “How does she have a key to your place, Carter?”

  It's a damn good question and one I don't have an answer to. I look from Darby to the brunette, feeling a tsunami of fear and rage rising within me.

  “How the fuck did you get in here?” I snap at the brunette.

  “Stop playing coy, lover,” she says. “You gave me a key six months ago. Oh wait, is this like roleplay? Is this that fuck a complete stranger game? Because honestly, that's a hot little scenario. I'm totally into it, baby. I can play along.”

  “Enough,” I roar and point a finger at the brunette. “You. Get the fuck out of my house right now.”

  She laughs again. Sensuality drips off her tongue and emanates from her every pore.

  “It's okay,” Darby says, her voice choked with emotion. “I'll go. You two – you just stay here.”

  “Darby, wait,” I say. “Don't go. This isn't –”

  I put a hand on her arm to stop her, but she shakes it off, and shoots me a withering glare, daring me to touch her again.

  “Don't,” she hisses. “Just fucking don’t, Carter.”

  Darby storms out of my place, slamming the door behind her with enough force to knock the small picture frame off the wall beside it. The picture hits the ground and shatters on impact, sending small shards of glass flying. I round on the brunette, taking a few menacing steps toward her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

  She shrugs. “Just a girl playing a role for a little extra cash,” she says. “We all have to earn a living, right? But hey, you're pretty hot. If you're looking to get laid, we can work something out.”