How to Seduce a Billionaire

by Portia Da Costa

  With a groan he knew she’d hear, he unfastened his belt, then his trousers … and reached inside.

  Jess panted. She’d been holding her breath. What was he doing? Was he actually masturbating while he was in the back of his limousine?

  How sleazy was that?

  How incredibly, incredibly hot!

  He’s doing this for me? Because he desires me … so much? Jesus Christ …

  Slumping back against the pillows, Jess reached down and cupped her crotch through her jeans. Her aching clit leapt, and she squirmed. She wouldn’t tell Ellis about that. Well, not yet. She was jumping ahead of his instructions in the game.

  ‘What are you doing now? Is that filthy pervert with the beard thing still watching you?’

  Jess grinned to herself, hitching herself about on the bed. Two could play at this game.

  ‘I’m pinching my nipples. It hurts a bit, but I like it.’ All true. ‘The pervert’s got his cock out and he’s rubbing himself, the filthy sod.’ Also true, she suspected. She could see that marvellous shaft, clasped in his strong elegant hand, the ruddy crown taut and shiny, a little wet with his pre-come.

  ‘He sounds like a disgusting sex maniac to me.’

  ‘He is!’

  ‘You should report him to the police,’ said Ellis, and she could tell he was either fighting not to laugh … or fighting the wayward behaviour of one particular part of his anatomy.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. He’s rather cute, actually, and with that huge cock and all, he’s a real turn-on.’

  ‘Speaking of turn-ons, madam, how about taking the rest of your clothes off now? For me and the pervert.’

  One and the same, Mr McKenna.

  ‘Okay, I’m stripping now.’ After a last squeeze of her pubic mound, Jess set about her jeans, fumbling with button and zip in her haste and excitement. She was alone in her room, and yet burning in the spotlight of Ellis’s avid gaze. He was as good as there with her as she wriggled out of her denim chrysalis like a butterfly of sex, her senses unfurling. She flung the garment away, then sent her panties flying after it.

  ‘I’m naked,’ she said, wondering if he’d heard her. She almost didn’t have enough breath for a volume sufficient that the phone’s microphone would pick it up.

  ‘Good. Now play with yourself, gorgeous one. Stroke your nipples and your clit. I want to hear some gasping and moaning. Put on a show.’

  Shedding all inhibition, it was easy to do. Whether she could have done the same if he was actually here was a moot point, but the touch of her own fingertips, the proxy of his, stirred her more intensely than she’d expected. Just one light press of her middle finger against her clit made her gasp out loud, shocked and pleasured.

  ‘That good, eh?’ he purred from the speaker. In her mind’s eye Jess saw the dark flare of lust in his eyes.

  ‘Yes, very good. It’s the pervert. Having him watch me is exciting. It gets me going.’ She squirmed against the mattress, circling her fingertip, rolling the silky bead of her clitoris in a complex, instinctive pattern. It was the way Ellis touched her, as if the fine muscles and tendons of her hand had learnt the action via the reaction it induced.

  ‘You’re killing me, woman,’ groaned Ellis, ‘you and your ruddy pervert. If I was there now there’d be no performing and watching … well, maybe later … but right now, I’d be in you, fucking you like fury, hammering you into the mattress, making you come until you can’t see straight and you pass out.’

  Jess tossed her head against the pillow, wanting, wanting, wanting that ferocious onslaught, Ellis powering away between her thighs, their bodies angled so that with each thrust his pelvic bone knocked her clitoris. With her hand jammed between her legs and her finger right at her centre, she rolled over, face down on the bed and rocked and rocked, using her own weight to massage herself too. Her nipples rubbed against the bedding as she rode her own fingers, making the sensations whip and whirl like a high, sweet wind.

  ‘Oh God, yes! Yes! Yes!’ she shouted like every cliché of an orgasming woman as the crisis battered through her and her vagina contracted and contracted, reaching for the divine cock of the man miles and miles away from her. Fifty, a hundred, who knew? She just wanted him to be with her and in her, or just with her and touching her, making her come with every part of him … maybe even just his voice.

  ‘Are you coming, Jess? Are you coming for me?’

  He might still be able to speak, but Jess was beyond it. She gasped for air. She sobbed. Damn, she even whimpered. The orgasm seemed to have turned her inside out, and now she just wanted to be held.

  And Ellis wasn’t there. She buried her face in the pillows for a moment, stifling the cries of her loneliness.

  ‘Jess? Jess? Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, rolling back over then sitting up, shaping up, pulling herself together. ‘Just a bit shagged out … remotely, that is.’ She tried to laugh, but it came out a bit weird.

  ‘Are you sure?’ demanded Ellis, on it in a flash. ‘I haven’t upset you, have I, love? I know you’re not used to all this, sex games and everything.’

  Still naked, Jess reached for the water carafe and glass she kept at her bedside and poured herself a drink. The fluid was a bit warm and flat-tasting, but still the act of sipping it settled her. She found herself smiling. What a ninny. Getting in a state of post-coital melancholy without actually having shagged anybody, fool. Setting aside her glass, she dragged her throw from the bottom of the bed and snuggled it around her. That was better.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ellis. I’m good. I liked it. My first ever phone sex.’

  ‘But not the last, I hope. It’s going to be a long week. I might need to call you up again before Friday for a top up.’ She could sense him smiling now. They’d had a weird moment there, but she felt herself lightening again, feeling more relaxed, feeling the benefit of the climax now. The familiar glow.

  Shuffling further up in the bed, she clutched the throw more closely about her, as if enfolding herself in the sensation. Ellis was far away, physically, but he’d been with her in spirit. He’d been the source of her excitement. A real man, not Dream Lover. A real man she could enjoy and share pleasure with, even if it was only for a finite amount of time. He was hers, now. She shared him with his memories, but any woman would have had to.

  The glow. Hang on to the glow. The enjoyment … and the naughtiness.

  And a naughty thought occurred to Jess now too. Had he? Had he really?

  ‘Ellis? Are you okay?’ She grinned, even though he couldn’t see her. Maybe they should Skype next time? ‘Did you … um … did you do anything?’

  ‘I did, you provocative, seductive minx!’ He laughed, and she loved the rich, happy sound of it. ‘I told myself I wasn’t going to … but I did. You drove me to it, you irresistible trollop, you. It’s a damn good job there’s a healthy supply of paper tissues in this jalopy, or things would have been incredibly messy.’

  An enormous sense of power made Jess giddy for a moment. She’d done that. She’d made this glamorous, sophisticated man into a helpless schoolboy who couldn’t contain his urges and had been compelled to pleasure himself in the back of his own limousine, whilst thinking of her, pleasuring herself.

  ‘You’re a very naughty man, Mr McKenna. Fancy, tossing yourself off while you’re being driven down the M1. What on earth would people think? All these minions of yours, who look up to you with respect as their boss. All your business associate type people, who think you’re like this … financial machine, all analytical and cool as ice and all that.’

  ‘I don’t care what they think, gorgeous. I’m only interested in you at the moment, and thinking about what you’re doing, back there in your bedroom. Where I wish I was right now. All I want is to leap into your bed right now and throw myself on top of you in the most delicious and primitive way. And I’m going to do that as soon as you arrive in London.’

  ‘I thought I was going to be allowed to visit s
ome galleries and do some sightseeing?’ she pointed out pertly.

  Ellis laughed again. ‘I think there’ll be time for both, sweetheart. And I want you to do what you want to do.’

  ‘Well, tempting as culture is, being ravished by a handsome man with a big cock certainly sounds like something I want just as much as seeing a bunch of pictures.’

  ‘Maybe I could buy a Manet and have it fixed to my bedroom ceiling? Kill two birds with one stone?’

  ‘You’re a very silly man as well as a very horny one.’

  ‘I know … I know …’

  A thought occurred. Something she almost always forgot, because Ellis was so easy to get on with, so … so normal in many ways.

  ‘You could buy a Manet, couldn’t you?’ Another thought … ‘I bet you’ve already got one, and you’re laughing at me.’

  ‘I would never, ever do that, Jess.’ He sounded suddenly serious. ‘And no, I don’t have a Manet. As I said, the family does own some good art, but I don’t possess any old or modern masters.’ He paused, and she could feel him lightening up, across the miles. ‘Personally, I’m thinking of starting to collect Jessica Lockhart. I’ve seen some examples of her nudes and they’re spectacular.’

  ‘Get away with you.’

  ‘I’m serious. I hope you’re going to finish that self-portrait for me. And do that other one … that one from memory, from the mirror.’

  Oh God, that. She’d done a few rough outlines, just shapes and lines. Another thing she’d kept secure from Cathy’s eyes.

  ‘Yes, I’m going to try. The subject matter is a bit distracting, though, especially the mirror one. But I’m not one to shy away from a challenge … as you well know.’ And yet once she would have done. How knowing him had changed her and brought out her confidence! They barely knew each other, but he’d prompted so much in her.

  Pausing, she grinned to herself. ‘The members of my art class usually bring work they’ve done away from the classroom for group critique … Do you think I should take in those particular pieces?’

  Ellis’s bark of laughter rang from the speaker. ‘I dare you to!’

  Wicked foolhardiness swelled like a wave. But no, she wouldn’t do it. Those were moments and images for her and Ellis alone.

  ‘No, I’m not showing them. Not even for you, Mr Sex,’ she said firmly. ‘But I will work on them, and maybe bring the results to London to show you. Or failing that, take pics of them with my phone and email them to you.’

  ‘I want them to keep.’ He sounded quite masterful.

  ‘We’ll see.’ She hoped she sounded just as assertive.

  ‘I’m in your hands.’

  I wish you were … and not just in a sex way.

  ‘There’s no answer to that,’ she said lightly, and he laughed again.

  ‘If it wasn’t getting late, and I wasn’t almost at my destination, I’d suggest a replay of our festivities just now,’ he said softly, ‘but you’ve not exactly had the most restful of weekends, satisfying my enormous lust for you every two minutes, so I think that for your sake, we should hang up now, and take a rain check for more phone sex later in the week.’

  She suddenly didn’t want him to ‘go’. Talking to him was so right. So natural. Even the erotic games. Once again, she got that odd feeling that somehow she’d known him forever, perhaps in a former life, who knew.

  But he was right. It was late. And she was tired. She needed sleep, even if the solitary bed that had always been so accommodating and so appropriate to her now seemed half empty, without his lean and powerful form in it beside her.

  ‘Consider the check taken, Mr Sex.’

  ‘Good. Now at the risk of starting the “you hang up, no you hang up” dance, I’m going to ring off now, and let you get your sleep. I would say beauty sleep, but you don’t need that, as you’re beautiful already.’

  ‘Sweet talker.’

  ‘Truth talker,’ he said emphatically, ‘Get some rest. I will text you your travel arrangements later in the week, and we’ll speak again before Friday. Goodnight, Jess.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ellis.’

  But the line had already gone dead, and she doubted that he’d heard her.

  Ellis called again several times during the week, but the conversations were mostly of a strangely non-sexual nature, more the gossipy touching base of a friend rather than the provocative erotic challenges of a lover.

  Jess laughed aloud when his opening gambit was ‘How was your day?’ quickly followed by ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all … actually it’s really nice to know that somebody other than Cathy and my sister cares about my mundane life.’

  ‘Never mundane, Jess … but seriously, how was your day?’

  So they both chatted on, sharing funny stories from their vastly different working lives, confirming her travel plans, and swapping opinions – often wildly different – on news and current issues.

  Things became a little more risqué when the talk turned to art, later in the week, and Ellis enquired about her progress with the self-portrait and the image of them on the ottoman, fucking.

  ‘I wish I was back there now … back inside you …’ he said huskily, and one thing led to another, and she never did get to report on the status of the drawings.

  Ellis also sent Jess presents throughout the week, the naughty man, showering her with thoughtfulness. The hoard included a selection of gorgeous deluxe art books – some of them titles that he must have seen in her bedroom, on loan from the local library – and new supplies of her favourite pencils and drawing pads. She’d never even noticed him noticing these things when he was with her, but he clearly had, memorising the brands in order to gift her with them later.

  He also sent her subscriptions to a number of journals she could never have afforded for herself, and he made her a ‘Friend’ of just about every major art gallery and museum in London, including the National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, the Tate, and, most appealing of all to her, the Courtauld.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll be busy with meetings on Friday and part of Saturday, so hopefully, you can fill in the time exploring art to your heart’s content. I’m sorry I can’t explore with you, but if I can get away, I will do, and we’ll do some culture together.’ He paused, and she could easily picture the wicked twinkle in his eyes. ‘Well, a little bit. There are other things I’d much rather be exploring while you’re here, as you can well imagine.’

  Jess could well imagine, and she knew she’d happily forgo even the lure of the Courtauld, in order to explore the fabulous work of living art that was Ellis McKenna.

  One thing Jess didn’t discuss in too great a detail with Ellis was her life class. She felt irrationally guilty, even though there was nothing to be guilty about.

  The model this week had been a young woman with a very slight, almost emaciated physique. She’d seemed healthy and relaxed enough, but her body-shape was tough to draw without making her appear skeletal and, of course, there was no way Jess could draw Ellis instead this time. Something that Josh Redding, the guy who seemed interested in her had remarked upon, teasing her good-naturedly in the college canteen during the class break.

  ‘No fantasy man this week?’

  ‘No, he was just a passing fad,’ she’d lied, ‘He’s some rich supermodel guy I saw in a celebrity mag and fancied. I’m over him now.’ She grinned, but inside it was as if she’d betrayed Ellis in the most profound way.

  ‘Glad to hear that. These film star looking hunks make the rest of us ordinary guys feel inferior.’

  Oh dear. He likes me. I should like him. I would have … before …

  ‘You’re not an ordinary guy, Josh. You’re a very talented artist to say the least.’ At least that wasn’t a lie. He was good.

  ‘Thanks. I think.’ He grinned back at her, but didn’t press the matter.

  After that, they’d fallen into conversation about the difficulties with the latest model. Josh was fun to talk to, and he
knew his art. He wasn’t bad looking either, in a quiet, buttoned-up sort of way.

  If I hadn’t met Ellis, I think there really might have been just a bit of a flicker there. I might just have taken a chance, this time.

  But as they’d been about to go their separate ways at the end of the class – Jess lived within walking distance of the adult education centre, and Josh came by car from the other side of town – Josh had asked, tentatively, if she’d like to take in a film at the weekend, at the local art house cinema.

  ‘The Exhibition on Film of Munch 150. I was going to buy the DVD, but I think it’ll be much better on a big screen. How about it? We could go for pizza afterwards, if you like?’

  More guilt. It had been such a relief to have a ‘prior engagement’.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m away for the weekend. Staying with a friend … I’m sorry.’

  She was. She wasn’t. God, she didn’t know what she felt. Josh was nice, but Ellis was … Ellis.

  ‘No worries. I think it’s on for a few weeks. Maybe another time, eh?’

  ‘Yeah … sure. Rain check?’

  ‘Rain check.’

  They’d parted then, a little awkwardly, leaving Jess feeling very strange indeed.

  Thrown into deep shadow by the brilliance of Dream Lover made flesh, a perfectly nice man like Josh Redding seemed merely a sketch compared to a dazzling, accomplished masterpiece. But would she be able to see him with more clarity … afterwards?

  Because ‘afterwards’ would soon come, sooner than she wanted. Ellis had left her under absolutely no illusions about that, and much as she knew she loved him, she also knew that she just couldn’t crawl back into her burrow of celibacy and half-life when he was gone. She’d be letting herself down, and letting Ellis down, wasting the gifts of sensuality that he’d given her.

  She would miss him terribly, but she wouldn’t pine and close herself off again. Ellis had chosen to turn his back on the life of the emotions forever … but she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to forge a new way, after him, and perhaps giving Josh Redding a chance would be a way to try and achieve that.