Selling Out to the Billionaire

by Penny Wylder

  Derek laughs, pressing his face close to mine. I can feel his breath on my skin, his lips brushing against my ear. His fingers trace the palms of my hands, and I'm so overwhelmed by the feeling of him everywhere. "I want to know," he says. "I need to know if you dreamed about me." He pulls back just far enough to see my eyes, and I know that he can read the answer there. His is voice is all grit. "I dreamed about you."

  His hands abandon mine, moving to my hips and sliding down my ass. He pulls me against him, and with his leg still in between mine I have to fight against another moan. "More than dream, I couldn't stop thinking about you. My cock can't get enough—last night, after I left you, again before I slept, this morning before I came to meet you." He presses his lips against my collar bone, scraping his teeth along my skin. "If we had taken separate cars today I would have had to make myself come between these showings."

  He glances behind him. "I think you like these windows," he says. "I think you'd like it if the neighbors could see me fucking you."

  The images form themselves in my mind, his hands pinning me down to that gorgeous bed as he takes me while everyone can see. A flush rises to my cheeks and I close my eyes, choosing not to think about the fact that I felt myself get wetter at the thought, the fact that I would do almost anything to make that image real.

  I feel his lips at my ear again. "I think you'd love it, having someone watch as I made you come." Derek's voice drops to a whisper, "And I will make you come harder than you ever have in your life."

  "Oh god. Derek—Mr. Conway. This is…" I can't say it. I don't know what this is. This is the least professional thing I could ever do, and yet in this moment there's nothing I want more than to strip him down and fuck him until I can't see straight. He's so infuriating, I shouldn't be giving him this after the hell he's put me through with the houses, but I can't remember the last time I felt like this. The last time I wanted someone this much.

  He digs his fingers into my ass. "Did you wear this skirt for me? Did you think about me pulling it up and taking you from behind?" He pulls up my skirt, exposing more of my legs. "When you showed me your ass, it's the only thing I could think about." Derek pulls on my skirt again, bunching it around my hips. He pushes my panties aside, his fingers sliding through the slick wetness gathered in my pussy, and he groans. His hand triggers a throb of pleasure that flashes behind my eyes and my groan matches his. He slips a finger inside me, and I'm so wet that he sinks in deep.

  "Do you want to find out, Penelope?"

  "Find out what?" My brain is so overloaded with sensation that I can barely form coherent words.

  He thrusts his finger in again and grins. "What it feels like to be fucked while anyone could be watching."

  My breath freezes. I do want that. I want it more than I've wanted anything. I can barely get the word past my lips, but I force it out. "Yes."

  Suddenly I'm not pressed against the wall anymore as Derek moves me. I'm pressed up against the window, the house and property laid out before me. It's late. The light is fading, and it's easy to see in the windows down below. I can see the lights in the windows of the neighbors. I know that Derek is right—anyone could look up and see me pressed against this glass, see the things he's going to do to me.

  His hands skim my hips, fingers hooking into my panties as he lowers himself behind me. With my skirt around my hips and panties around my ankles I feel exposed and vulnerable. I shudder, leaning against the glass of the window for support. He spreads me open with his hands, tilting my hips back towards him, and I gasp as his mouth covers my pussy. His tongue plunges inside me and I feel my knees wobble. I'm aroused and off balance—if it weren't for the glass I don't think I could stand.

  He presses a long, slow lick down the length of me from ass to clit, and sparks shine behind my eyes. I've never been taken like this, from behind, the angle of his mouth feeling strange and new on my pussy. "I thought about tasting you last night. I imagined licking you until you were screaming my name." He ducks down and covers me with his mouth, sucking hard on my clit and sending a rush of pleasure through my core. "Just thinking about that made me come. And now you're going to come for me."

  Derek licks across me again, circling my clit and taking the time to trace the entrance to my pussy. He inserts a finger into me as his tongue keeps moving, tracing all the way to my ass. I jump at the unexpected sensation, putting even more of my weight against the glass. Someone could step into their backyard, look up, and see me with Derek Conway's face buried in my ass and his fingers in my pussy.

  The realization sends a spark of passion through me, and I feel myself getting close to the edge as Derek pushes another finger into me, his tongue working around the bud of my ass. I gasp as he sucks on it, the alien sensation drawing a new wave of pleasure through me.

  His mouth moves back down, teasing me while he fucks me with his fingers, sometimes joining them. My breath is coming in gasps and it's fogging the glass in front of me. The rhythm of his fingers changes, suddenly relentless as he drives me towards orgasm. I realize I'm moaning, one long sound that fills up the space and I don't care.

  Derek reaches around, and with his other hand he reaches my clit. My orgasm tenses through me and I cry out. I feel myself flood over his hand and down my legs, and I'm barely upright. His fingers don't slow, and I'm shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. When he's sure I'm finished and every movement of his hand makes me jump, he pulls out of me and stands. He reaches around, pressing his fingers into my mouth, and I don't hesitate in cleaning them off.

  I can see his transparent silhouette in the window behind me. "Unbutton your shirt," he says.

  His hands are on my breasts as soon as I finish with the buttons, and I let myself fall against him. My neck rests on his shoulder and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of him playing with my nipples. He pulls my breasts out of my bra. "I want these pressed against the window when I fuck you, so that every neighbor can see your fantastic tits." He pinches each nipple as he says that, rolling them through his fingers until they're hard and aroused. He presses me into the glass, and it's cold against my skin.

  The sounds behind me tell me he's undoing his pants. He runs his hand along my pussy, and my whole body reacts, still sensitive from my orgasm. My moan makes him laugh.

  And then I feel him. His cock—it feels enormous, hard and thick—running through my folds, not entering me. "Penelope, are you ready for me? I’m going to fuck you," Derek says.

  "What?" I’m so turned on I can barely process what he’s said or respond, and then I hear the crinkle and tear of a condom wrapper.

  “Yes,” I moan.

  "Good," he says as he fits himself against me, pressing in. He lets out a groan, and I have to close my eyes, the friction enough to bring me to the edge again. He keeps going until he's all the way inside me, and pauses. I don't remember ever feeling this full, feeling someone this deep. Slowly, he pulls back only to press in again. Again. Again. And faster. His speed keeps increasing until he's slamming into me and I'm seeing stars with every thrust. My hands are braced on the glass, and I can't do anything but hold on as he fucks me.

  That bright core of pleasure is building in me again, and I beg him. I beg him to keep fucking me. I beg him not to stop, never stop. His hands grab my hips and he holds me in place as he drives into me, and I scream as I go over the edge. My pussy spasms on his cock and I feel him coming, his shaft twitching deep inside me.

  His hands are still digging into me as I fall back from the place that orgasm sent me. He didn't lie, that is easily the best orgasm I've ever had in my life.

  Derek pulls out of me, grunting as he does so because my pussy wants to hug him desperately. I feel the loss, my body immediately missing the fullness of his cock. I manage to stand as he discards the condom and puts himself away. What do I say to him now? What is there to say?

  Derek takes over for me. "I'll see you tomorrow. I have an opening in my schedule at four o'clock. I expect to see a much bette
r house than we saw today. Please text me the address you choose."

  In the window I see his reflection vanish. It's so abrupt, like he needs to get away from me... but why? Is it disgust, or is he afraid of doing something he'd regret even more?

  I'm still in a haze of pleasure, and I can barely register what just happened. I sit on the bed, fixing my bra and shirt, and seconds later stand up again. My panties are still around my ankles and moisture is running down my thighs. I can't ruin the damn bed!

  Get a grip on yourself, Penelope. But it isn't as easy to fix my emotions as it is to fix my panties and my skirt. Derek just railed me until I forgot my name—then he ran off like this was a one night stand.

  I know that wondering about what's going on in his head is useless. All I can do is go home, take a bath, and wonder if this even really happened. Or if it might happen again.

  When I go outside, the night air is refreshing. It clears my head enough to remind me we shared a fucking car to get here. I'm on the verge of panicking, digging out my phone to call for a ride, when I see the escalade is still waiting in the lot.

  Blinking, I wander towards it. The window rolls down and I tense up, expecting to see Derek inside. Andre smiles at me. “Ready to go, Miss?”

  “I... but what about Derek?”

  “He told me he'd call for another car, and to take you home.”

  Baffled by this generosity, I scan the area once more. Derek must have walked off into the neighborhood, or even towards the city proper—it wasn't a terrible distance to reach it and catch another ride.

  “Miss?” Andre asks.

  Frowning, I hurry into the car. This night just keeps getting stranger. Pulling out my phone, I text the one person who can help me understand: Anna.

  Houston, we have a problem.

  7

  "Wow." Anna says, leaning against the bar.

  "Yeah I know."

  She shakes her head. "I mean damn."

  "I know." I take a long sip of my drink. I'd called an emergency best friend session at our favorite bar, Andre was happy to drop me off. We'd barely gotten our drinks before I managed to spill everything that had happened. In graphic detail.

  "So," Anna grins, "was it awesome? I mean I'm getting that picture, but I just have to know if Derek Conway is a beast in bed."

  For a second I'm once again pressed between Derek and the window, his cock deep inside me. My body shivers in a visceral response to the memory. "Yeah," I say. "It was awesome." Awesome is putting it mildly.

  "How do you feel?" Anna asks, flagging down the bartender for another drink.

  "I honestly don't know." I run my finger through the condensation collecting at the bottom of my glass. "This was probably the least professional thing I could ever do. Besides yelling at him. I mean, I really need to sell him a house. I need this job."

  Anna nods. "Well, he didn't fire you."

  "That doesn't mean he won't. And I don't know what this even was—what he wants now. How am I supposed to act tomorrow when I show him the house that I haven't even picked yet?"

  "You're right," Anna laughs. "I hate to say it, but I'm glad I'm not in your shoes right now."

  "Yeah."

  I take another sip of my drink, grimacing. I don't even know what it is that Anna ordered me, but I don't like it. I probably shouldn't drink myself silly anyway. On top of everything I'm already dealing with in regards to Derek, a hangover isn't going to help.

  "So are you going to fuck him again?" Anna asks casually.

  I nearly choke on the ice cube in my mouth. "What?"

  "If he's that good, I think you should go for it."

  A sigh works its way out of me. "He is that good, but I don't think I should risk my career for another chance at good sex."

  "Great sex," Anna clarifies.

  "Fine, great sex. But if the positions were reversed you would take that chance?"

  She grins. "You know I would."

  "Yeah, you would. You also hate your job though."

  Anna works at a huge celebrity PR firm, and not only are her bosses assholes but she spends her days working with the most vapid people imaginable. Not actual celebrities, but the people who think they are. I'm not surprised that she would welcome the chance to start over.

  Anna doesn't know how bad things are with me in terms of money because I haven't told her. If I had she'd offer to help me, and I don't want that. But if Derek fires me or Jeremy decides it's not working out…well, I might have no choice but to ask for help.

  "I should go," I say. "I have to prep for tomorrow and I can't be hung over."

  "But we just got here."

  "I know, I'm sorry." I wrap her in a hug. "This weekend after the deal is done we'll celebrate, okay?"

  "Okay." She toasts me with what's left of her drink while I drop some cash on the bar to pay for me. "You know everything is going to be fine, right?"

  I look at her, her characteristic smile absent. She looks worried and serious, and I wonder if I've let too much slip. "Of course," I say, grabbing my bag. "I'll text you."

  "If anything else happens I want all the dirty details!" She yells it after me as I'm making my way outside and I get more than one intrigued stare. Thanks, Anna.

  I feel bad for lying. I don't really need to prepare for tomorrow. I mean I do, but I'll do it at the office since I'm not meeting Derek until four. Just thinking about money makes me feel sad and worried, and it's not fair to Anna to turn into a moping mess. Especially when I haven't told her. Thinking about money also reminds me about the bills I got that I ignored. I shouldn't ignore them anymore.

  After changing into something more comfortable and getting some water, I grab the stack of mail that's been piling up. Mostly junk, partially bills. I've paid the rent through the end of the month, and I've long since dropped most of my subscriptions. The only things I have now are my cell phone and Wi-Fi, plus all my utilities.

  I guess there's really no point in avoiding them anymore. I try not to cringe at the amounts as I open the bills one by one. I log on to my accounts and pay them in the order I always do: phone, internet, power, water. I check my bank account after every bill, and the falling numbers form a pit in my stomach.

  The final tally? Barely a hundred dollars. That goes down to zero if I choose to eat and pay the minimums on my credit cards and student loans. If my decision wasn't made before, it is now. As amazing and un-fucking-believable as Derek was, I can't do this. If I don't sell a house, I'll be homeless by the time I get another job and get paid. The overwhelmingness of that thought exhausts me.

  As I go to bed I feel a sense of loss. There was a small part of me that was hoping for more with Derek, that we could do that again. I roll the memory of earlier today through my head, focusing on the details. If that's all I have, I'm going to remember it.

  The memory makes me wet, and soon I'm coming on my hand as I remember him fucking me. It was easily the best orgasm I've ever had.

  It will have to be the last one with him, too.

  8

  I finally get the office training I've been missing. Gretchen, one of the receptionists, walks me through all the computer systems that I don't already know and shows me where the mundane things like ink and copy paper are. I get my Sunset Realty ID, a new email address and Gretchen orders me a nameplate. Thankfully, everything doesn't take more than a few hours, and I have time to find something for Derek.

  So he doesn't want the windows now? Fine with me. That really opens up the search options. I try to include things he mentioned that he wanted—large kitchen, natural light, lots of square footage. It takes a while, but I finally find one I think will work on the border of Studio City and Sherman Oaks. It's not quite as modern as what we looked at yesterday, the architecture a graceful and updated French style.

  While the original kitchen isn't nearly big enough, the most recent owner was a very popular chef and had the place renovated to include practically state of the art cooking facilities. And Derek did say
he liked to cook.

  I schedule the showing, then go to text the address to Derek. I stop just before doing so. The idea of contacting him after what we did is... difficult. My hands are sweating when I hit send.

  Breathing out, I go and make myself some coffee before I leave. I'm leaving earlier than is strictly necessary, but this house is further away, and I want to have some time before Derek gets there. Gretchen wishes me luck as I head out the door.

  An hour later I pull up to the house; there's construction tape across the entrance to the driveway. What? A small sign indicates that the driveway is being repaved. I see someone standing near the front, so I guess it's okay to go inside. There was a showing scheduled in the three o'clock hour, but I'm hoping that the other realtor will be fine with me looking around and preparing.

  I circle my car around and park along the street in front of the property, behind the car of the people I assume are already inside. There's a queasy feeling in my stomach. There wasn't a note anywhere about construction. Knowing how skittish Derek has been about all the houses, he may use this as a reason to say no.

  As I walk up the driveway, I see that the person I saw is still standing at the front door. That's odd. And then, as I get closer, my stomach plummets.

  Derek is standing on the front step.

  I stop walking. I try to keep my mouth from falling open. What on earth is he doing here so early?

  He looks up and sees me, suddenly grinning. If it's possible, in the last day I've forgotten just how stunning he is in person, how much smaller my ribs seem to get when he smiles like that. A surge of anger and panic follows. I won't have a chance to do my walkthrough or all the mental prep I was planning on to keep him out of my head. Now he's here and very very in my head. But I guess now that he's seen me I can't turn around and walk away.

  He slides his hands into his pockets as I finish walking up the driveway, and I can't ignore the way his eyes take me in—from head to toe and back. I manage to clear my throat. "You're early."