Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL)

by Clare, Jessica

  Hunter accidentally sent his knife skidding, the silverware clanking.

  “That’s great news,” Cooper said enthusiastically. “I’ve really missed seeing you.”

  “I’ve missed seeing you, too.” She watched as Hunter picked up his knife and gripped it, his knuckles white. “It’s weird being away from everyone,” she added to defuse the statement and make it friendly instead of romantic.

  “When you come back, I . . . I think I’d like for us to have a nice talk.”

  Her mouth went dry and Gretchen panicked. “Oh, Coop. I just . . . I don’t know. Can’t we just let things go as they do?” Her gaze slid back to Hunter, who was still staring at the painting. “Can I call you back some other time? Now’s really not great.”

  “Oh, of course. I just . . . you know. Wanted to tell you that I missed you. That’s all.” His sad puppy voice grated on her nerves.

  “I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, and hung up. Picking up her napkin, she folded it in her lap again. “Sorry about that.”

  “Boyfriend?” he asked, and the word was almost a growl.

  Gretchen’s eyes widened. That was . . . interesting. It was almost a reaction. Should she push harder or lay off? She decided to push a little harder. “A male friend. He misses me.”

  “Then perhaps it’s a good thing that you’re finishing early,” he said abruptly. He stood, tossing his napkin to the table. “I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

  “Oh, but—”

  Hunter turned and stalked out.

  Gretchen sighed heavily. Good Lord, but the man was prickly. She sat at the table a moment longer, toying with the casserole on her plate. She didn’t want to leave things like that. Didn’t want Hunter spending the evening all annoyed and frustrated. She’d had her share of frustrated evenings herself lately.

  Tossing her napkin down on the table next to his, she stood up and pocketed her phone, determined to find Hunter and talk to him.

  She headed to his wing of the house first, but all the doors were shut, and no one responded to her knocking. He was either not there, or simply not answering. Before she’d give up, she’d try one more place.

  Hugging her sweater close, Gretchen headed down the long walk to the greenhouse. There was a light inside, and one of the doors was eased open just a crack. Curious and a bit nosy despite herself, she moved forward and peered through the crack.

  He was across the room, standing near one of the beams that kept the arched roof of the greenhouse aloft. Hunter’s back was to her, one hand clenched above his head and resting on the beam, the other against his side. His entire form seemed curiously tense, his head bent forward as if he were struggling with something.

  She bit her lip. Damn. Surely he wasn’t that upset over a phone call? Hell, that would be uncomfortable in the extreme. What did she do now? Gretchen stepped inside, just as he tilted his head back, and she caught sight of his face, which was full of tension. The hand at his side jerked a bit more.

  And she realized he was masturbating.

  Gretchen froze for a moment, shocked. He’d retreated out of anger—or jealousy—and she’d expected to see him seething as he pruned his roses. She’d expected to argue with him, cajole him to see her side, and maybe they’d walk away on better terms.

  She’d never imagined that she’d catch him pleasuring himself.

  It shocked her senses as much as it aroused her. She felt herself grow slick with excitement, and she barely resisted the urge to stroke herself between her own legs in response to his movements. She moved forward, her steps quiet as she carefully shut the greenhouse door behind her and approached him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. His shoulders seemed to be aching with tension and need, his entire form tense.

  She moved forward and lightly touched his shoulder, heat coursing through her.

  He jerked around, startled. Hunter’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with need, the scars on his face flaring white against the red of his cheeks. His hand was still curled around his cock, and he stood there for a moment, as if too shocked to move.

  And then he began to pull away from her.

  “No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  Her fingers curled in his jacket and she held him there. He seemed frozen in place, like a wild animal caught by the barest of tethers. One wrong move and he’d snap, retreating. She didn’t want that. She wanted to touch him.

  Her hand slid down to cover his, where he grasped his cock. “Is this for me?”

  His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

  “I think it is,” she said softly. “May I touch you?” She knelt before him, not caring that she was kneeling in the slightly damp, slightly muddy path in the center of the greenhouse. All she knew was that she wanted to touch him—to pleasure him. To give him something that would blow his mind.

  She really, really wanted to blow his mind.

  Once she was kneeling, she slid her other hand up his thigh, her gaze moving up to his face. He seemed paralyzed in a rictus of yearning and . . . fear? Of what? The scars were livid against the high color in his face, the slashes marring the beauty of his features.

  Very slowly, she uncurled his fingers from around his cock, releasing his grip. “I want to get a look at you,” she told him in a low voice. “It makes me wet just thinking about this. I remember seeing you, naked and gleaming from the shower, though you weren’t as big then as you are today.” She ran a finger down the length of him, from root to tip, idly exploring.

  Pre-cum slid down the head of his cock in response to her touch, and Gretchen sighed with pleasure.

  “You’re very big. I like that. I imagine when I take you in my throat, it’s going to be hard to take you deep, isn’t it? I’m going to have to work to fit all of you.” Her fingers brushed against his sac, then she clasped the base of his cock, measuring its girth. “You’ll have to be patient with me.”

  And she leaned in and swiped the slick head of his cock with her tongue.

  A full body tremble moved through him, and she noticed the hand at his side clenched into a fist. Gretchen looked up at Hunter. “Do you want me to stop? Or can I keep exploring you?”

  “I . . . no. Keep . . . going.” His words sounded almost strangled, the tension on his face incredible.

  “Good,” she purred, giving his cock a stroke of her hand, squeezing in a mimic of his jerky earlier motions. She heard his sharp intake of breath and was pleased.

  And because she wanted to torment him a little more, she leaned in even more and put her mouth on the head of his cock again, sucking the large tip of it into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the crown, enjoying the salty, pleasing taste of him and the way his hand spasmed at his side in response.

  Gretchen flicked her tongue over the slit and worked her hand against the base again, gazing up at Hunter. “I love touching you. Tastes so good. Do you want to touch me?”

  “I . . .” His hand clenched again.

  “It’s okay,” she told him in a soft voice. “Maybe this time I’ll just touch you.” She took him into her mouth again, rubbing her tongue against the vein along the bottom of his cock and taking him deeper into her mouth, then pulling back.

  Suddenly, his hand was in her hair and he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair. Oh, yes. Gretchen felt wetness flood her panties in a fresh wave, and she moaned at his touch.

  He flinched and pulled away.

  She released him from her mouth and shook her head. “I like it when you touch me. Show me what you want. Please, Hunter.”

  And she let her lips rest against the head of his cock, looking up at him and waiting.

  The look in his eyes was a mixture of frenzied longing and . . . something else. Anxiety? She wanted to make that look go away, but it would take time. For some reason, sex made the man skittish. She’d have to be
patient.

  And she waited.

  Ever so slowly, his hand moved back to her hair, all the while his cock pulsed in her hand. His pulse was beating so strong she could feel it through his hot skin. Then he gave her head a subtle nudge forward.

  He wanted her to take him deep.

  She parted her lips, letting the head of his cock push into her mouth. He groaned again and pushed her head forward with more force.

  She took him deep into her mouth, but she hadn’t been stroking his ego; he was big and thick, and she couldn’t take him to the root, not at first. Slowly, she worked him deeper, relaxing her jaw and letting each stroke push a little more, until he was hitting the back of her throat and her lips were meeting her hand, which was still curled at the base of his cock.

  Hunter’s entire body began to tremble again and he bit out a curse. He tugged on her hair, trying to pull her backward. “I . . . no. Gretchen . . .”

  He was going to come; she knew as much based on the tension in his body and the way he struggled for control. And she wanted to let him know it was okay. So she moaned again and sank deeper onto him, relaxing her jaw to take him deeper.

  “Ah!” His hand tightened in her hair, and then she felt his hot come filling her throat. She ignored his efforts to pull away, digging her fingers into his slacks and holding him there until he’d finished.

  He panted above her and, with a shudder, the tension left his body.

  Gretchen released him, swallowing again, her own body wired with need. It wouldn’t happen tonight, she suspected. It would be too much for him to take in. Tonight was all about Hunter.

  His fingers slowly released her hair from their stranglehold and then he reached out and caressed her cheek.

  “I . . . ,” he began.

  She got to her feet, nearly swaying with how much she wanted him. Her core ached, her pulse throbbing with need. She forced herself to ignore it. “Don’t overthink it, Hunter. Just enjoy it.”

  “Gretchen.” The way he said her name was so husky that it made her wet all over again.

  She bit her lip and brushed her fingers over his mouth, careful to avoid the scar that tugged down the one side. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

  And she turned around and left.

  It was the most difficult walk she’d ever done. She wanted to run back to him, bend over the nearest table and present him with her slick, aching sex, demanding that he take her. But Hunter was skittish. He’d bolt if she overwhelmed him.

  There was something that filled him with anxiety and some sort of idea that he was hideous—his scars, probably. It was something that had affected him so much that he chased most people out of his life, lived in a big lonely house with no one but a grouchy butler, and avoided the world.

  She’d take her time with him. It was important to her to show him how delicious he was and how wonderful sex could be.

  And so she’d be patient. Or try to, anyhow.

  ***

  Goddamn.

  Hunter leaned against the pole in the greenhouse, his entire body feeling wrung out.

  Had he imagined it all? That had to be it. Surely reality didn’t hold a place where someone as beautiful and sexy as Gretchen approached him in his greenhouse while he’d jerked on his cock, desperate with need for her. Reality didn’t include scenes like that. Nor did it have her kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth and finishing for him.

  It did not have her moaning with her own pleasure as she took him into her throat.

  He groaned, his mind full of images of her.

  He’d never expected that in a million years. He was still shaken to his core by her.

  That phone call at dinner had aroused something in him that he was unfamiliar with—jealousy. She’d gotten a phone call from a man, and white-hot agony had pierced his mind. He wanted her. He didn’t want that stranger she was so friendly with to have her.

  Gretchen was his.

  And before tonight, he’d have cast aside that idea. She didn’t want a scarred, lonely man. She deserved someone as lively and full of life as she was.

  And yet tonight, she’d touched him. She’d taken him into her mouth and pleasured him. And when he’d tried to pull away, she’d insisted on finishing him.

  His cock grew hard again, just thinking about her. Automatically, he took himself in his hand, stroking as he closed his eyes.

  He’d been blown away by the sight of her gorgeous breasts the other day when she’d flashed him. He allowed that visual to mix in with his erotic thoughts of her now. Her breasts were full, with small, rosy nipples. He pictured her naked as she knelt in front of him, the tips brushing against his skin as she took his cock in her mouth. Groaning, he fisted his cock harder.

  At the thought of her beautiful lips parting to take him, the tip of her tongue flicking over the head, he came with a shout, spraying his cum on the path before him. Drained, Hunter collapsed to his knees, staring at his greenhouse.

  He’d never picture it quite the same way ever again. Never be able to come here without seeing her kneeling in front of him.

  It was his first sexual experience with someone else. And it had been flat-out amazing. He didn’t know what had possessed Gretchen to give such a gift to him, but he’d treasure it always.

  ***

  Hunter dressed with care for dinner the next night. He’d spent the last day in turmoil, his world upended by his interlude with Gretchen.

  He’d worked out until his skin dripped with sweat, then headed to the showers. But the showers made him think of Gretchen and how she’d discovered him naked. So he’d jerked off and then jerked off again when he thought of her, easing her robe open.

  If she knew he was a virgin, she’d be appalled. Someone as open and forthright with her sexuality as Gretchen would laugh at him. So he needed to be relaxed at dinner. Act as if nothing had changed between them.

  And yet he picked her a rose with extra care. He’d liked seeing one of his flowers behind her ear the other night. Perhaps he’d get to put this one on her, run his fingers along the delicate shell of her ear, tuck it into her red hair . . .

  Throw her down on the table and fuck the hell out of her, make her give those wild, sexy little moans again.

  Hunter shook his head, willing the visual out of his mind and for his cock to go down. He took a few moments to compose himself, then entered the dining room they used for their meetings.

  It was empty.

  She’d called off dinner. She was embarrassed by what she’d done. Disappointment flashed through him, and Hunter moved to the table, picking up the note there.

  Dinner’s running late. I’m in the kitchens. G.

  Immediately, he headed for the kitchens, hope putting a spring in his step. She wasn’t avoiding him, then. He adjusted his collar, finding it rather warm in the house, and played with the cuffs of his shirt as he entered the kitchen, rose in hand.

  He didn’t see her at first. The delicious scent of baking bread filled the air, but he could see no one. His gaze scanned the kitchen and disappointment flared again.

  Then Hunter noticed her bent over, her lovely ass flexing as she pulled something out of the oven. He immediately went hard again, longing tearing through him.

  God, he wanted her.

  “Oh! Hey,” Gretchen said, turning and closing the door to the oven with her foot. “Sorry about this. I thought the roast would be ready in a half hour, but it’s still looking a little pinker than I’d like, so we need to give it a bit more time. That’s why I’m still in here.” She set the bread pan on the counter and smiled at him. “Hope you don’t mind filling up on bread and appetizers until it’s done.”

  He gave a brief, jerky nod, unable to take his eyes off her smiling face.

  “Is that for me?”

  “What?” He glanced down and noticed he was still clutching t
he pale yellow rose he’d picked for her. “Yes,” he said, internally wincing at the brusque tone of his voice.

  “The bud’s tight on this one,” she said, pulling off her oven mitts and taking the flower from him. She lifted it to her nose and closed her eyes, giving a slight groan of pleasure that made him tense with anticipation all over again. “Smells wonderful.”

  “Yes,” he said again. He didn’t know what else to say. He was mesmerized by her.

  As he watched, she lifted the rose and brushed the rosebud against her full lower lip. “Soft.”

  His cock jerked. The way she’d moved it against her lips made him think of yesterday. Oh, fuck.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Ready for dinner?”

  “I . . .” He couldn’t go anywhere. Not with this aching hard-on. Couldn’t sit with her and pretend that he wasn’t ready to spill in his pants. “No. I must go.”

  And before she could protest, he walked out of the kitchen.

  Like a fucking coward. A fucking coward who needed an ice-cold shower to get his cock back under control.

  ***

  Gretchen was getting frustrated.

  She sighed and flopped down on the couch in the library, glaring up at the blue mural on the ceiling.

  She’d thought their little interlude in the greenhouse would make him open up to her a bit more. Get him to bend a bit. She wanted more from him. Last night, she’d dreamed of kissing him for hours. Nothing else but just sitting in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s lips as if not a care in the world.

  She wanted that. She wanted to kiss Hunter, and so much more.

  But she hadn’t seen him for two days. She’d invited him to dinner and he’d declined. Was he done with her now that she’d gone down on him?

  It didn’t make sense. Every instinct she had about men—and she’d dated around quite a bit during her college days—told her that Audrey had nailed it and he was a virgin. It explained his reactions perfectly, his wariness any time she came on to him.

  And despite his virginity, he still wanted her. It was obvious in every look he sent her way.