How to Seduce a Billionaire

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘All right! I will!’ She was laughing again, half out of it, then moaning and gasping. Her body stiffened, and stiffened again, and she cursed a blue stream as she climaxed around him, clenching and gripping hard, while her hold on the bedrail rapidly destabilised.

  Ellis braced for them both, using his greater strength. The way her orgasming channel embraced him sent heat howling through his body, circling around him like an unstoppable wind, then barrelling back towards his balls and his cock. He wanted to hold on, to take her higher, and do it again, but his control was wavering, dissolving.

  ‘Your turn. You now,’ she hissed out, through her tightly clamped teeth, ‘come now, you devil!’

  Still so strong! So sure of what she wanted. Her body was barely beyond its virgin state, but she was a confident lover and seductress, bred in the bone.

  ‘Yes … Oh God …’ They were going to collapse in a heap though, when he lost control. So he summoned his last ounce of self-possession, and somehow, he knew not quite how, he took a quick tight grip on Jess, swung their bodies around together … and ended up sitting down on the ottoman, with her on his lap, and his cock deep inside her.

  ‘I feel as if I should give you marks for that move … Nine point five at least,’ said Jess, laughing, her flushed chest heaving.

  ‘Cheeky witch! Just touch yourself!’ he commanded, watching her in the mirror as she obeyed, while he grabbed her hips for purchase and thrust up, up, up inside her, deeper than before.

  The sight was orgiastic, dazzling, animal yet beautiful as she caressed herself to pleasure again around his jerking, spurting cock.

  Then all went white, and they both slumped back. Their blended voices laughed and sobbed in sweet release.

  19

  Sunday followed much the same hedonistic pattern as Saturday.

  Chilling out. Drawing. Fucking. In approximately equal proportions.

  Jess could not believe what a patient model Ellis could be, when she captured him again and again with her pencil. Somehow his beauty was infinitely mutable, and his body was always graceful, no matter how he stood or sat or lay. Of course, sometimes, Jess would be intent on a capturing a feature of his wonderful physique, correcting and reworking, correcting and reworking, again and again … and suddenly she’d look up and realise that a certain part of that physique was in a rather different state to the one it’d been in when she’d started the sketch. And with nobody but them in the house, it was the simplest thing in the world to move from life drawing into life fucking. Ellis had ensured that wherever they were in the house – and they were in the house, because the rain teemed down incessantly – there was handily somewhere to make love. The bed in the bedroom; the thick rug in the sitting room; another thick heap of rugs and pillows adjacent to where they sat and lounged in the pool room.

  Sometimes Jess rode him; sometimes he fucked her masterfully in the superior position, and she folded her knees, to tilt up her body, letting him in deep. And sometimes they gave each other pleasure with mouths and fingers, eschewing penetration for the moment. Kneeling, lying, even standing in the shower, they tried it.

  But they didn’t do anything too kinky or experimental, the sort of stuff Jess fell into giggles over when Ellis teased her about her reading of erotic novels, and the contrast between those and her growing practical knowledge of the subject material.

  ‘I think I’d prefer to perfect the basics for the moment,’ she’d told him firmly when they were making love. Basically. ‘It seems just like art. You have to get a solid grounding in the fundamentals before you start to get ambitious and move on to the more advanced stuff.’

  ‘Very wise,’ replied Ellis, his voice amused and conversational as he thrust smoothly into her. ‘There’s a lot to be said for good, no nonsense vanilla sex. Sometimes it’s all you need.’ Sliding a hand down her flank, he gripped her hip for purchase.

  ‘You mean like now?’

  ‘Yes. Like now. I couldn’t think of anything, or anybody, I’d rather be doing.’

  ‘Well, that’s good to know …’ Jess gasped as Ellis did a hip-swirl thing that felt quite advanced to her. ‘But I would … um … like to experiment sometime.’

  ‘And that’s good to know,’ purred Ellis in her ear. ‘But don’t feel you have to do things, just to please me. You’re wonderful in bed, Jess, just as you are. Some people end up being poor lovers because they’re scared they’re not acting kinky all the time. They think they’re not sexy unless they’re doing something extreme.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Something other than perfectly delightful standard sex.’

  Not that anything’s standard about fucking you, thought Jess later, watching Ellis as he lay flaked out on his lounger, his body quiescent as he dozed and covered only partially by his unfastened robe and nothing else. Everything about you is so much better than wonderful, sex or otherwise.

  And that was the problem. The other side to their weekend. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting more of him. Just as she’d feared, Ellis McKenna was addictive, and it was far from just the sex. He was a kind and thoughtful man. Intelligent and funny. Cultured and yet with a keen sense of the absurd.

  She couldn’t imagine another man of his wealth and status being so domesticated either. If she wanted tea, Ellis made it. When she was hungry, he prepared a meal, either hot or cold, letting her help with simple tasks in kitchen companionability.

  It’s probably happened far too fast but I have fallen completely in love with you, Ellis McKenna. I shouldn’t have let it happen, but it has. I want it all with you, and I’ve a feeling you’re picking up on that, and it’s a problem for you. Because you don’t want it all with me, do you?

  He was lovely, but to coin a cliché, they were ships passing in the night, and they should be heading for separate ports by now, not footling about together in the bay of completely impossible.

  Watching him stir, and wrinkle his nose in his sleep, then shimmy slightly against the lounger mattress, Jess made a resolution. When the weekend was over she’d find a way to suggest, in the most tactful and hopefully not ungrateful-seeming way that they should call it a draw. She tried to formulate a script … she’d had a breathtaking time, blah, blah, blah, and that she’d always be fond of him and think of him as a friend etc., etc., but she accepted the major fact that he’d been at pains to point out. That he didn’t do relationships.

  Knowing that she didn’t like deception and evasion, she knew she’d have to tell him that she did want a relationship, and that was why a clean break was better.

  He’d appreciate that. He was a pragmatist. A realist who knew it was much better not to let things get out of hand.

  But first, now, she’d draw him again. Make the most of her perfect muse, something he always would be, she suspected.

  And when she’d drawn him, she’d suggest that they make love. If there was just this weekend, she’d better make the most of him.

  So why was it, that when the time came to part, all her sensible, realistic intentions counted for nought?

  As they sat in the Blue Whale, outside her house on Sunday evening, the words she had practised were impossible to utter. She’d replayed them again and again in her head, and they were balanced on the tip of her tongue, but she simply couldn’t get them as far as her lips!

  Instead of coming out with her ‘it’s better this way’ spiel, she leant over and kissed him. And it was a decidedly ‘can’t wait until we’re together again’ kiss. She just couldn’t help herself.

  Ellis’s fingers sank into her hair, holding her and taking control of the embrace, his tongue delicately toying with hers. It wasn’t a kiss of out and out voracious passion, but there was an edge to it. It certainly didn’t say ‘just friends’, and when he drew away from her, there was a slight frown on his forehead.

  Now. Say it now.

  ‘I had a wonderful weekend, Ellis. Just wonderful. Thank you for … for looking after me and everything.’

  His expression was still qu
izzical, as if he was wondering whether she had the guts to say the words. The words he was perhaps hoping for?

  ‘It was wonderful, wasn’t it? I had a great time, Jess. A really great time.’

  This time, he plunged forward for the kiss, holding her again.

  ‘I’ll be travelling all this week, and I don’t know what my movements will be next weekend, but I’ll call you. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s what, and we’ll fix something up.’ His face was an odd mix of emotions. Warmth, genuine and unfeigned, but also a hint of confusion, as if he too was having trouble with his script.

  ‘I’d like that,’ was all she could say, even though inside her wiser self was still screaming at her to say what had to be said.

  ‘And maybe we could try a bit of that experimentation?’ He quirked his beautiful eyebrows at her. ‘Only if you want to though. You know I’m perfectly happy with “fundamental principles”.’ The way he rolled his eyes and pretended to twirl a dastardly moustache made her laugh though. And made her want him again too, even after an entire weekend of satiation.

  But after he’d brought her bags to the step for her, kissed her again, with an almost desperate intensity, and then sped away without looking back, Jess came tumbling back to earth and cold reality again.

  I’ll call you. It was the classic brush off line of all brush off lines, wasn’t it? Especially when the couple involved had barely got to know each other in the first place. It was what the man – or woman – always said, in melodramas and romantic comedies, and while she believed that Ellis had far more class than to just disappear from her life with never another word, it somehow still felt like the end. He would most likely call her, and in the cooler light of day, very quietly and kindly he’d say exactly what she’d been unable to. That it was probably best they part now, and that he’d always think of her as a friend …

  So much more sensible. So much for the better. For both of them.

  In which case, why were tears pouring down her cheeks and causing her to scrabble in her pockets for tissues before she went inside to face the third degree from Cathy?

  Ellis wasn’t much of a drinker, but arriving home he went straight to the whisky bottle. A small measure of single malt would warm his belly. Help him think.

  Why the hell hadn’t he done what he’d told himself he’d do? Spoken quietly and gently and matter-of-factly to Jess, suggesting that they should not see each other again? He couldn’t give enough of himself to her, and she deserved far more than just the torn and tattered scraps of his emotions.

  You mustn’t lead her on, you sod. You can’t give her what she needs. You can’t give any woman that, ever again. You lost Julie, through your own fault. You weren’t there when the woman you loved needed you. You weren’t there to save her. You can’t just go on your merry way as if nothing happened after that. You don’t deserve to. Ever.

  He knew his reasoning was illogical, not rational. It was purely a gut and heart thing. But he couldn’t forgive himself.

  That day, five years ago, he should have taken Julie and the girls to the beach, maybe out on their boat, but oh no, instead, he’d put business first. God damn it, he couldn’t even remember what the stupid emergency meeting had been about now. And his wife and daughters had gone for an indulgent day out at that new mall instead … and fallen into the random path of a crazed gunman. An unhinged weapons nut who’d shot up the pizza place where Julie and Annie and Lily had chosen to go for lunch.

  If they’d been out on the ocean, they wouldn’t have been there. Even if he’d gone to the mall with them, he might have been able to keep them safe, certainly put himself between them and the bullets.

  But oh no, some pathetic business hiccup had to come first. And the bitterest irony was, that had never usually been his style. Normally, Julie and the girls had always been his top priority …

  Ellis poured another whisky, barely having tasted the first as it had gone down, still feeling icy cold despite its warming peat-scented glow. He didn’t have to drive. A chauffeured car would be collecting him shortly.

  He’d allowed his family to die, and he could never forget that. Never allow himself to, or allow himself to find a replacement, or a substitute for them. Sex, he could have. The pleasures of the flesh. But not that greater, more sacred union that he’d once cherished.

  He had to keep the wound open by remaining alone. And he hadn’t wanted it any other way. Not until he’d picked up a feisty, cross-looking but breathtakingly beautiful woman in the middle of a sudden torrential downpour of rain … and set himself on the tortuous path to a new kind of guilt.

  20

  ‘Good grief woman … what a body! How do you ever keep your hands off him long enough to draw him?’

  Cathy had insisted on seeing the portfolio, and while Jess had managed to sneak a few of her drawings out of it and stash them away, there hadn’t been a way around showing her friend some of her work, despite the fact that the vast majority of the drawings were nude studies of Ellis.

  ‘It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. But he insisted on modelling for me. It was a case of “draw me like one of your French boys” and he just stripped off.’

  Her friend’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure he wasn’t stripped off already? He has the look of a well-satisfied man about him in this one.’ Cathy lifted one of the larger drawings Jess had done on the big pad. ‘And if this is what he’s like when he’d deflated, he must be pretty eye-watering when he’s got a stiffy.’

  ‘Cathy!’

  ‘I’m only stating the patently obvious,’ Cathy said. ‘You’re a very lucky girl. And to think you nearly gave him the elbow. You must have been mad to even think about letting him go.’

  Despite her blushes, Jess shivered, as if temperature in the kitchen had just dropped dramatically. She was going to have to let Ellis go; if he didn’t let her go first.

  ‘What’s up?’ Her friend was nothing if not perceptive.

  ‘It’s not a proper relationship, you know. It’s just a quick “thing”. We’ve slept together a bit, but that’s about the size of it, Cath. Nothing more. He doesn’t want anything more than that. He’s a loner, really.’ Reaching for the drawings, she swept them up and put them into her portfolio, putting ultimate temptation out of sight. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I’m dying for one.’

  ‘Well, you can change the subject now, buddy, but I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. I think you need to talk about this. He might be a loner, but I know you … and I don’t think you are a loner any more. Not now.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Make the tea, woman. And break out some more of those triple choc crumble crunch cookies he sent you. I think we’re going to need them.’

  Cathy was three biscuits in when she accused Jess. ‘You’re in love with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘No way! I hardly know him.’

  ‘Yes way, kiddo. You’ve fallen hard. It’s obvious in your face when you talk about him, and as for the drawings … well, I’ve never seen you do better. They’re drawn with love, Jess, which is what makes them so alive, so luminous.’

  Setting out to catch up with her friend’s cookie consumption, Jess chewed mutinously before answering, ‘It’s not love, Cath. I like him. I really do. He’s so gorgeous he’s like a fantasy made real, and, let’s face it, any woman’s bound to have a special feeling for the first man she slept with.’

  ‘I don’t. It was a quickie behind the changing rooms at the sports centre, and it was horrible. Luckily, I can barely remember what he looked like.’ Cathy dunked expertly.

  ‘Well, a woman who had a nice first time. And I did. To the best of my limited knowledge, he’s a pretty spectacular lover, and I’ll always remember him fondly for that.’ Jess dunked with less finesse and nearly lost her biscuit.

  ‘“Remember him fondly” … you’re talking like you’ll never see him again. The man you love.’

  ‘I don’t love him and I might ne
ver see him again. We’ve not made any specific plans. It was just an “I’ll call you …” and I’ve heard that line often enough, even if he’s the only one I’ve ever slept with.’ Jess took another cookie, but when she bit into it, it almost tasted like ashes.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, “I’ll call you” isn’t always the brush off, Jess. Sometimes it just means what it says. That he’ll call you. He hasn’t behaved like a git thus far. Why should he start now?’

  Cathy was so sensible, so down to earth. She made it sound as if there was hope, when there really shouldn’t be any. Jess started blinking as she stared fiercely at her teacup, furious with herself for feeling and behaving like a ninny. She just couldn’t let Ellis McKenna get to her. She couldn’t let her feelings for him take away her sense of her own agency and make her dependent on the very first man who’d crossed her bedpost. All these years, she’d managed alone, making her own way, not defining herself by any relationship with a man. Now was no time to change and become a whinging, whiney wimp, pining and wailing for someone she could never have.

  A box of tissues slid across the table towards her. Damn, she was snivelling!

  ‘He wouldn’t be behaving like a git. It’s just me behaving like an idiot, and getting all infatuated with the first man who ever fancied me.’

  ‘You’re not. And he isn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Cathy shoved the cookies her way now, and realising she’d eaten the other one on auto pilot, Jess took another. It tasted better this time. Fabulous in fact. Nothing but the best for Ellis.

  ‘One, you’re not behaving like an idiot. You’ve just fallen for an amazing, but probably emotionally difficult man. And two, plenty of men have fancied you.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Men we’ve met when we’ve been out. You always pull admiring looks. And the guys you’ve been out with, they must have fancied you, even if you didn’t let them get to first base.’ Cathy frowned. ‘And what about that nice bloke at art class you mentioned? Josh Somebody? Sounds like he fancies you.’