Biker Billionaire #3: Riding the Heir

by Jasinda Wilder

  When Virginia had swept into my room with these stylists in tow as I finished a shower, I'd protested and clutched my towel around me. There was a charity event tonight, and we were attending. It was a black-tie party, with a shocking number of A-list attendees. My knees were shaking, and I wasn't even at the party yet.

  I'd insisted to Virginia that I could get myself ready, but she just arched an eyebrow and gestured, rather imperiously, at the waiting vanity chair.

  "Darling, this is how we do things," Virginia said, gently but firmly sitting me down in the chair. "Yes, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of applying your makeup yourself, and doing your hair yourself. You're an adult after all, and a very lovely woman. But, you are about to attend a charity gala with some of the most famous people in the world, my dear. And for that, you must be looking your best. Javier is the best makeup artist in New York, and the others are equally as qualified. Once you have an artist do your makeup for you, trust me, you'll never want to do it yourself again."

  I shrugged and settled back for what I expected to be a torturous experience. It wasn't. It was fun being pampered, and I knew Virginia was right.

  A dozen gowns of varying styles were paraded in front of me, and Virginia vetoed them all. Each one was lovelier than the last, and each one probably cost a small fortune. Or not so small. I was sure I'd seen similar dresses on celebrities on the red carpet at various events.

  Then it occurred to me that very shortly I would be the one on the red carpet, being photographed. Of course, my photograph wouldn't appear in OK or People, but still. Not that I wanted to be in magazines. Right?

  Eventually Virginia and the stylist decided on a knee-length dress that scooped down to the small of my back and cut in around the sides, revealing a lot of waistline, navel, and ribcage. This was one of the dresses I'd seen in more than one "who wore it better?" feature. I was pretty sure they'd all worn it better, but then, they were famous for a reason.

  I felt naked wearing it, but at the same time, it was exhilarating and sexy. I felt like a seductress, with the fabric wrapped across my hips and stretched over my breasts. While the hair and makeup people fiddled with me, Virginia scurried away, saying she had to get something. She came back after a few minutes with a string of age-polished pearls.

  "These are a family heirloom," Virginia said, draping them around my neck. "They were my great-, great-, great-grandmother's. I wore them to my first black-tie gala with Henry. We like to think they bring us good luck. Plus, antique pearls are always in fashion."

  They were beautiful, complimenting the jade-green dress perfectly. "They're amazing, thank you so much," I said, running my fingers over the pearls.

  The stylists finished with me, and I strapped on a pair of four-inch heels and left the room to find Shane. I found him in front of a mirror in another bedroom, tying a necktie. I felt Shane's eyes on me in the mirror, devouring my barely-concealed curves.

  He slid the tie up against his collar and then turned to pull me against him in a fierce, possessive hold. "I'm not sure I want anyone else to see you looking so sexy," he growled. "I don't want to have to fight anyone off. You might leave me for some famous actor."

  I rolled my eyes at him. "Not likely, Mr. Sorrenson."

  "You don't know how those guys are, Miss Larkin. They can be very persistent."

  I ran my hands up his Armani-clad chest. "Then you'll have to make sure you don't leave me alone for too long."

  He rumbled again, and slid his palms along the exposed flesh of my sides, and then kissed me. "Don't even joke," he said. "You're mine."

  I widened my eyes at the blatant possessiveness. "Yours?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

  Part of me wanted to protest, and the other part felt desire moisten the folds of my sex. The fire in his eyes, the barely-controlled lust fanned the flames of desire within me, and the need to protest being claimed evaporated.

  "Yes," he said, crushing me against his chest. "Mine."

  "Well then," I said, batting my eyelashes at him, "If I'm yours, what are you going to do with me?"

  "With the way you're looking in that dress...we'll never get to the party."

  Virginia spoke up behind us. "We don't have time for nonsense, children. Gerald is waiting with the Bentley."

  She shooed us out of the room and bustled away to find Henry.

  Shane threaded his fingers through mine, bent and whispered in my ear, "Later, my sexy little lion. Just you wait."

  I faked a breathy moan and nuzzled my face into his shoulder. "Promise?"

  He just rumbled in laughter, amused and threatening. My belly roiled in anticipation.

  Champagne was waiting in the limo, and it helped settle my nerves as we approached the drop-off line, but it didn't help the fluttering in my belly. Minutes passed in mostly-comfortable silence, interspersed with business talk between Shane and Henry. Then the door to the limo was being opened and cameras were flashing and a hand was lifting me from the car, questions were shouted at me, my name called from a dozen different directions. I kept a calm smile on my face and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights. Shane was last to get out of the car, and then he was clutching my hand and leading me up the red carpet to that odd black-and-white half-wall where we stood and posed for photographs, turning this way and that.

  All the while, Shane murmured encouragement to me without breaking his smile. "Turn and smile, good...now the other way...ignore the questions and smile...now we walk again..."

  The questions were endless, some absurdly personal. They wanted to know who I was, how long we'd been together, if we were getting married, if we had kids, how we'd met...Shane ignored them all, not even offering a "no comment," acting as if he didn't even hear them. I followed along, smiling, standing close against Shane's side and trying to convince myself that this was all actually happening, especially when a well-known actress a few years younger than me appeared at my side, flirting with Shane as she posed casually for her own pictures. She then turned her charm on me and had me laughing at a joke about paparazzi. I'd just watched a movie she was in a few weeks ago, and now here I was, laughing with her. I resisted the urge to pinch myself.

  Flutes of white wine appeared in our hands, and Shane dragged me through the crowd, smiling, nodding at people he knew, which seemed to be just about everyone. Everywhere I looked there was a familiar, famous face, impossibly real. I shook hands with producers and actors, composers and rock stars, and they all seemed to know Shane.

  At one point, when we found ourselves in a fairly secluded corner, I turned to Shane. "I thought you didn't like publicity?"

  He shrugged. "I don't, really. It's part of the job, at this point, though."

  "Then how do all these people know you?"

  He laughed. "They know me, doesn't mean I know them. I mean, yeah, I know who they are, in that they're household names, but I don't personally know many of them. Me taking over Dad's position is a big deal in the media world. I'll be funding a lot of the movies these people will be a part of, so it's their business to know who I am."

  That made sense. I glanced up at him, watching him scan the crowd. For a moment, despite the bright lights and the wine and the Armani suit he was wearing, I saw the ex-Marine, the man who'd shielded me from gunfire in a bombed-out Sudanese building. He eyed the crowd as if assessing potential threats, identifying exit routes, cover locations. Even his stance spoke of readiness, muscles loose and coiled like wound springs.

  An actor came over, looking older than I'd imagined him to be, a certain blond also named Leo. We chatted, and he flirted with me, eyeing me openly and glancing at Shane as if wondering how he could get me alone. Shane managed to glare while smiling and tightened his hold on my hand. I found myself realizing that this actor Leo was as breathtaking in person as he was on screen, and twice as charming, but somehow, despite his fame and beauty, he didn't make my stomach flutter like Shane did.

  When we were alone again, Shane looked down at me.
"So, what do you think?"

  "About what?"

  He gestured at the sea of icons. "All this. Them."

  I shrugged, as nonchalant as I could manage. I was suitably star-stuck, of course, but he didn't need to know that. "It's funny you ask. I was just thinking that none of these men make me feel how you do."

  "Really? How's that?"

  "Beautiful," I said. "Sexy. Desired."

  "I'm sure half the guys in this room—the straight half—would like nothing more than to get you alone for five minutes."

  "That may well be, but there's only one man here who will get me alone."

  Shane's eyes narrowed and his eyes flashed. "Keep talking like that and I'll drag you into a bathroom right now."

  I felt a familiar heat wash through me, followed by the recklessness that Shane seemed to inspire. "I dare you."

  Shane lifted an eyebrow. "Dare me to what?"

  "Drag me to a bathroom."

  Shane laughed, a little too loudly, then pitched his voice low so only I could hear. "You're daring me? Seriously?" He glanced around, looking for an exit. "Leo, the auction's going to start any minute."

  I shrugged, a lazy roll of my shoulder. "Well...if you're not up for it, then I guess I can wait." I leaned up to whisper in his ear. "But Shane...I'm so horny. I don't want to wait."

  Shane's eyes darkened dangerously. "You know everyone in this room is watching us, right? And you want me to take you into a bathroom and...what? Pin you up against a wall?"

  I met his gaze steadily. "It doesn't have to be a bathroom."

  "Goddamn it, Leo," Shane growled. "You're going to get us in trouble."

  He tugged me into a walk, weaving our way through the crowd toward a red-lit exit sign, stopping to chat here and there, snagging wine for us along the way. I sipped my drink and followed meekly, pretending my thighs weren't trembling, pretending I wasn't feeling nerves and desire flame through me. The exit led to a hallway, and we drifted to a bank of elevators and took an elevator all the way to the top. We exited and he led me to a wide glass door, beyond which was a darkened office. Shane produced a key card from a pocket, then unlocked the door in front of us.

  He glanced down at me. "Dad owns this entire building." He pulled me down a shadowed hallway and past doorway after doorway, looking into each one. "I remember seeing a nice corner office with a couch somewhere around here...ah, here it is."

  The office was mammoth, overlooking Manhattan with its endless lights like topaz jewels and the lines of traffic coiling in red-and-white lines. It was dark, lit only by the open window. There was a desk with a monitor in one corner and a phone opposite, a pair of chairs in front of the desk, a potted plant dominating one corner of the room, and a deep, dark leather couch along one wall. Shane closed the door and locked it, then turned to me, pinning me with hungry eyes.

  I sauntered toward him, swaying my hips, reaching for him. Our lips met, the banked fire low in my belly blazed to life, and my hands developed a mind of their own as our tongues explored each other. His suit coat came off, draped across a chair, and then his pants were open and I had his hot, hard cock in my hands, greedily stroking him, pulling him toward me. I shoved him back against the couch so he sat down on it. He shimmied his pants lower and tugged me toward him, brushing the hem of my skirt up above my hips. I straddled him, and he pushed the string of my thong aside, then stopped.

  "What? What are you waiting for?" I asked.

  He didn't answer, but dug in the pocket of his pants, producing the foil packet of a condom. "Less clean up."

  I took it from him, ripped it open and rolled the latex onto his shaft. Kneeling on the couch, I lifted up, guided him to my entrance and sank down onto him. Shane exhaled a groan as he filled me, his hands around my waist and skimming up to caress my breasts, rocking his hips to plunge into me.

  "God, Leo, you're so tight. You feel so good." Shane whispered in my ear, hands grazing my body, pulling me down, lifting me up, caressing and holding and nipping with his teeth.

  I snaked my arms around his neck, buried my face where his shoulder met his throat and pulsed my hips above him, driving him deep, gasping his name. Tremors shuddered in my belly, set my thighs to quivering. Every thrust of his cock into me sent me higher, jellied my muscles and stole my breath until all I could do was hold onto him and let him rock into me.

  "Yes, Shane, harder. I'm so close, god..."

  I felt a shriek bubbling up in my throat as I neared climax, and I knew I couldn't let it free, but it was there in my mouth and escaping. I bit his shoulder and screamed, the sound muffled by his shirt and his flesh. I was on the edge, teetering, waiting, not falling over into climax yet, and I knew I wouldn't, couldn't, not until he came with me.

  "Come with me, Shane," I gasped. "I can't until you do. Give it to me..."

  "Yes, right now...right—oh god...right now..." Shane stuttered, thrusting into me, clutching me hard against him, his mouth in my cleavage and groaning as he came, came, came.

  I watched him as he climaxed, watched his eyes roll back and his features tighten in pleasure, and then, as he drove into me ever harder, finally then I toppled gloriously into orgasm with him, my breath coming in shrill whimpers against his cheek, our bodies moving in synchronization.

  We went still after an eternity of gasping, trembling ecstasy. Shane held himself at the root of his cock, keeping the condom in place as I slipped off of him, feeling the loss of his presence within me as an acute ache. I didn't want to leave him, I wanted to lie with him inside me until he hardened again.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Shane kissed me, and said, "Later, sweetheart. This was just a taste."

  He tied the condom in a knot, and we straightened our clothes, then left the office. Shane ducked into a bathroom to discard the evidence and fix his mussed hair, and I did the same, checking my hair and makeup in the mirror.

  The charity auction was in progress when we entered, and Virginia eyed us in irritation as we took our seats next to her and Henry. She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at us.

  Shane leaned over me to whisper to his mother. "Leo was feeling hot and overwhelmed. We snuck out for a breath of air."

  Virginia smirked and nodded, as if she knew better, but she didn't say anything.

  There were all kinds of things up for auction, costumes worn on-set by actors in attendance, signed instruments, jewelry, high-end cars, even an island home in the Carribbean. Millions of dollars were being spent as if nothing. My breath caught when Shane lifted his hand to bid on a sapphire necklace, worth an ungodly amount of money retail, being bid on at sums that left me dizzy. He ended up in a bidding war with an older man, who went as high as ten million dollars, and then bowed out when Shane upped the ante with an offer of fifteen.

  Even Virginia seemed surprised by Shane's extravagance.

  "What are you doing?" I whispered to him.

  "Buying you a necklace," he whispered back.

  "For fifteen million dollars?"

  "I'll make it back by the end of the year. Besides, it's all going to charity."

  I shook my head, unable to fathom the kind of money he'd just spent without blinking.

  The necklace was put in a locked briefcase held by Gerald for the rest of the night, which passed in a blur of too much wine and hors d'oeuvres. I met what seemed to be half of Hollywood, most of the rock and pop world, and dozens of other behind-the-scenes people, producers and directors and models and their dates, some famous in their own right, and other unknowns like me. I eventually grew accustomed to turning around and nearly bumping into someone I'd seen in a dozen movies.

  The party didn't disburse until the wee hours of the morning. Henry and Virginia were already in the limo waiting when Shane and I climbed in. Virginia fell asleep before we'd even made it out of the pick-up line. I wasn't far behind, but Shane's fingers were on my knee and wanting to drift higher, and I could feel his eyes raking over me.

  Later, he'd promised. I was suddenly not so tired.
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  The necklace was sitting on a table in Shane's room, shimmering against a pillow of black velvet. He crossed the room and lifted the necklace with careful fingers, turned to me, a smile tipping his lips.

  "Take your dress off," he said.

  I slid the dress off and draped it over a chair, and then turned back to Shane, clad in only a thong.

  "That too," he said. "And the pearls."

  I set the pearls on the velvet pillow where the sapphire necklace had been, and then stripped the panties off so I was completely bare. Shane circled around me, set the necklace on my chest and clasped it under my hair.

  Standing in front of me again, Shane simply gazed at me, then whispered, almost to himself rather than to me, "God, you're so beautiful."

  The way he was looking at me, the way he reached a hand out to trace down my cheek, to my shoulder, then to the heavy curve of my breast...it was different than the other times. He'd always touched me gently, hungrily, appreciatively, in a way that made me feel beautiful. This was reverent, almost hesitant, delicate. As if seeing me for the first time...or seeing me with eyes that had come to accept something important about me.

  I didn't pursue that line of thinking. I let him look, let him touch. He dragged his fingertips across every inch of my skin, from face to waist, shoulder blades to calves, kneeling in front of me, standing behind me, palms sliding, eyes devouring, lips kissing.

  He moved to kneel in front of me, and I knew what he had in mind, so I stopped him.

  "My turn," I said.

  I pushed his jacket off his broad, thick shoulders and set it aside, then unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, watching his eyes all the while. Sparks had always flown between us, our eyes had always met in a way that communicated as much as a thousand words, but for some unfathomable reason, this night was different. His eyes seemed to shimmer with a million unspoken thoughts, shadowed with potent emotions. I couldn't parse the tangle in his gaze, and didn't try. I knew by now that he'd tell me when he was ready.