by Harper James
“How long do we have till your mother gets here?” he asks.
“At least a half hour,” I say.
“Not nearly long enough,” he grumbles, but he carries me to the bedroom all the same. He sets me down on the bed, and I instantly begin to wiggle out of my panties for him. He watches— he never undresses while I undress, like he doesn’t want to be distracted from watching me take my clothes off for him. I toss my panties to the side, then lift the sundress I’m wearing up a little, so he can see my bare body underneath.
“Beautiful,” he says deep in his throat. I smile as he leans over me, kisses me deeply. He lets one hand drift down my body, then rests it lightly against my pussy. I can’t bear the anticipation, and lift up against him, eager to feel his fingertips on my clit. Heath tangles his tongue with mine and gives me what I want, running his fingers from my entrance to wet my clit. I moan into his lips, and he pushes a finger into my pussy, massaging the front wall in a way that makes me feel drunk with pleasure. He’s so good at this— he’s so good at me. Aware of all my likes, all my triggers, all the ways to make me shout his name.
Heath stands up just beside the bed and drops his pants to the floor, revealing that amazingly big cock. I scramble to the edge of the mattress and close my lips over the head, because I know all his triggers now, too. He moans loudly, unabashedly, and puts a hand to the back of my head, encouraging me to take more of him into my mouth. I tilt my head up and back, just like he taught me, so nearly the whole length of him can slide into my throat. He pulses against my tongue, and I grow even wetter at the sensation. Heath fists his hands into my hair as he grows harder, then looks down at me as he begins to lightly fuck my mouth, sliding in and out of my lips. I moan on his cock as he does so, pleased at how much of him I can take now. It was a long process, learning to take his cock like this, but it was worth every second.
“Maybe we cancel tonight,” he growls at me, and I’d answer, but I can’t very well form words with him filling my mouth like this. He smiles at this fact, then, with his hands entwined in my hair, pulls my face away from him. “What do you think?”
“We can’t,” I remind him, panting, and he exhales, shaking his head.
“You’ll pay for this later, Karli,” he says with a lifted eyebrow, and then urges me to my knees on the bed. “But for now…” Heath sweeps me up against him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and I hold on to his shoulders tightly. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing, but then I feel the tip of his cock at my pussy entrance. Still standing, holding me against him, Heath lowers me onto his cock, and I cry out at the sensation, at the new position, at the feeling of being so, so full of the man I love.
“Hold on, baby,” he says, and releases me, so that I’m clinging to him as he repositions his hands to cup my ass cheeks. He begins to lift me, sliding me up and down on his cock, just a few inches each time. I groan and bite his neck, and he sets me down a bit harder, gravity forcing him a bit farther into me. I’m still tight around him— or perhaps it’d just that he’s huge in me— but there’s no longer any pain at all when we’re together. It’s all pleasure, all ecstasy, and it’s no surprise that when the orgasm rippling through me finally breaks, he comes too, filling my pussy as I cling to him and whimper “I love you” into his ears, shaky and drunk with the sensation.
“I love you too,” he murmurs back to me, setting me on the bed and fighting his own exhaustion. He comes harder these days, I think because he’s no longer holding back when we’re together. It’s more than a little satisfying to see a man so strong be so wiped out after making love to me. He withdraws from me and rolls to the side, cuddling me up against him, both of us panting. “Don’t think we aren’t doing that again later, Karli. You know how I feel about rushing things with you.”
“Believe me, I’m on board,” I pant. There’s less exploring in our relationship, now, but that’s not a bad thing— we know exactly how to work one another, exactly what signals to read, exactly how to understand what the other wants. I’m not nervous, anymore, but I’m still every bit as willing to let Heath have me however he wants me. I’m all his, after all— and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We lie together for a few moments, catching our breath, and I drape a leg over him to steal his warmth. He kisses my head and plays with my hair, finally saying, “Alright— if we’re not canceling on your mom, we’ve got to get up. She may like me, but I don’t know if she likes me enough to be cool about finding us like this.”
“Fair,” I say, sighing.
“Up, up, get up,” Heath says, like he was reading my mind, and I laugh and search for my discarded panties— I never even took off my dress.
While I’m hunting, I hear Heath’s phone ring, and he walks out of the room to get it. I’m not sure who the caller is, but I hear Heath bring out his “professional” voice, so I assume it must be someone from the Navy. He took an honorable discharge from the SEALS, along with a Purple Heart and a Navy Cross, on account of his injuries. I know it’s been harder on him than he wants to admit, since so much of his identity was built on being a SEAL— and plus, he’s not so good at being bored. I run my fingers through my hair and walk into the main room.
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’m glad to hear back. Thank you,” he says in that deep professional voice before hanging up the phone.
“Who was that?” I ask, curious.
He smiles down at the phone, like it’s something more wondrous than it is. “I applied for a job. I didn’t tell you, just in case I didn’t get it. But…I did.”
My eyes go wide. “You did? What job! Heath, that’s amazing!” I say, and run forward to hug him. He hugs me back tightly, and I can hear his heart beating fast.
“The Secret Service. I applied with the Secret Service, and I got it. They want me in Washington, Karli. They want me to protect the president and his family.”
I pull back, staring, shocked, thrilled, confused. “Washington? Like, D.C., you mean?”
He presses his lips together. “I should have told you— I’m sorry—“
“When do we leave?” I ask eagerly.
Heath smiles, and now he’s looking at me like I’m something more wondrous than I think I am. “When do we leave?”
“Yes! I mean, I assume we need to move there, right? It’s not like a deployment thing, is it?” I ask. “I know it’ll take some time to get Mom used to the idea and—“
“You’re going to come with me? Just like that?” Heath asks, stepping back from me, though he’s holding my hands in his.
I frown. “Of course I’m coming with you. You got an amazing job offer, and I can do my job anywhere. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I…” Heath takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I love you, Karli.”
“I know. I love you too,” I say, smiling wryly at him, and then I lift up to my toes to kiss him. He kisses me back gently, sweetly, and when I return to the ground he’s still staring at me with that dazzled expression. “What is it?”
“I was going to wait for your mom to get here, but I…I think it needs to be just us,” Heath says slowly, and for a moment I worry he’s going to trot out some goulash-tasting dessert he’s made. But instead?
Instead, he gets down on one knee, and reaches into his pocket.
“Oh my god,” I say.
He smiles, but he’s nervous— Heath is nervous. “Karli Ackerman, will you marry me?”
“Oh my god.” My whole body is vibrating, and I’m pretty sure my heart is going to implode at any second.
“That’s not really an answer,” Heath says, and opens the small box in his hands. There’s a ring in it, a diamond ring that’s beautiful and perfect and I can hardly tell more than that, since I can’t really look away from Heath’s eyes.
“I know, I just— oh my god—“
“Karli, you’re killing me here,” Heath says.
“Yes!” I say— I shout. “Yes, yes, of course, I just—“
Heath ex
hales in relief and takes my shaking hand, then slides the ring on my finger. He stands and kisses me again, pulling me against him, hugging me tightly.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers into my ear.
“So are you,” I answer, and we kiss again, and again, and again, like it’s the first time.
THE END
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And now continue reading for the bonus content, Dirty Filthy Billionaire by Paige North!
Bonus Content: Dirty Filthy Billionaire (Part One) by Paige North
Mia
This is my dream job.
My dream job, located in everyone’s dream city: New York.
People say that kind of thing all the time, but for me it’s actually true. The only problem?
I don’t have the job yet and I know for a fact that there are literally hundreds of other young women, just like me in nearly every way, who would do just about anything to work for Blush Magazine.
I’ve been reading it since I was thirteen, obsessed with everything about it from the fashion to the great profile stories. I’d be lucky if they let me deliver the issues to the newsstand, but seeing as I have a shiny new college degree in journalism, I’m hoping I can, by some miracle, end up writing or editing.
I dab my forehead with a napkin I find buried in my bag.
It is hot. Freaking sweltering. This may sound dumb but no one told me how muggy New York City is. It’s not even ten in the morning and already my shirt is sticking to my back, and there’s a thin line of sweat on my forehead. Not great when I’m on my way to make a stellar first impression.
I’ve only been in New York a month and I have to admit that it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m from a small town and went to college in a medium town, and New York is on a whole other level.
Looking at my reflection in the dirty office window, I touch up my face with a little powder, add some lipstick, smooth down my hair and hope for the best. I hobble the last block to the building, check in with security, and take a deep breath as the elevator sucks me up to the sixty-fifth floor.
As I walk toward the glass doors of the magazine from the elevators I can see people rushing past, seemingly frantic. The quick pace of publishing, I assume.
“I'm Mia Cassidy,” I tell the pretty receptionist.
“Put him in Mark’s old office,” she calls to someone who just rounded the corner out of sight. “And ask him if he wants water or coffee! I’m sorry, who are you?” she finally says, looking at me.
“Mia Cassidy,” I say, shifting on my sore, blistered feet. “I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
“Oh, the interview girl, right,” she says, typing on her computer. “There you are. You picked a hell of a day to show up.”
I don’t know what she means, but her comment makes me feel like I’ve already screwed up just by being here at this time and day. “Is everything—“
But she has no time for my questions, she’s already onto the next task. “Go have a seat over there and someone will be out to get you.”
“Thanks,” I say, still feeling frazzled from my hot walk over.
I sit on a white leather sofa and take a deep breath. I just need a little break, a tiny bit of kindness to help calm me down. I wonder if such a person exists in Manhattan?
I kind of hope the person who is interviewing me is behind schedule. I could use the extra minutes to cool down and literally let the sweat dry from my back. Not to mention I need to calm my mind. I don’t want to go into the interview reeking of desperation. I need the money and want the job more than anything. But I shouldn’t let them know that.
“Jen, do you have those printouts?” a woman about my age asks the receptionist. She practically crashes into the desk she seems like she’s in such a rush.
“Yes, right here,” Jen says. “They’ve been here for almost three minutes—he’s going to flip.”
“Just hand them over,” she says, and Jen thrusts a stack of papers to her. She turns to scramble back to wherever when she was headed, but stumbles and all the papers fly out of her hands like a comedy sketch. Except these girls aren’t laughing.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” the girl says as she crouches down to gather all the papers. “He’s going to kill me. Then fire me. I’m dead.”
I go to help her, picking up the papers that flew farthest from her.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says. “But thank you so much.”
“No problem,” I say. “Is it always this chaotic here?”
“Only when our jobs are at stake,” she says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering if this some Survivor-style office where you have to fight for your job every day.
“Are you here to interview or something?” she says, briefly looking me over as she stacks the papers in her hands.
“Yeah,” I say. “I just graduated with a degree in journalism and—”
“Do you read the news? Because shit is going down here. Last one hired, first one fired. I’m surprised they didn’t cancel your appointment.”
I sit back on my heels as my stomach drops. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”
She takes the papers from my hand and stands up. “Our parent company has been bought out effective immediately.”
“Someone bought out Prerogative Media?” I ask, feeling like my whole world is spinning now. Blush Magazine, as well as a whole host of other companies, fall under the umbrella of Prerogative Media, but if someone bought the parent company, then everyone at Blush is at risk.
The entire magazine could be shut down, in theory.
“Not just someone,” she replies darkly. “Weston Bridges. And if you don’t know who he is I suggested you stand up and walk out the door right now. And if you still have your interview,” she says, hardly even looking at me, “then good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“Rachel, hurry!” Jen snaps. “He’s waiting!”
Rachel, who now has all the pages she came out for, clicks quickly across the shiny floors and into the back. I slowly stand up and make my way back to the couch.
I wish I’d had a second to tell that Rachel girl that of course I know who Weston Bridges is. He’s a self-made billionaire who hasn’t even cracked the age of thirty yet.
He’s also a notorious playboy who happens to be super sexy too. I bet he’s a total asshole—and by the way everyone is racing around the office, I’m sure I’m right.
I just have to hope that I impress whatever HR person I’m interviewing with, and get in before there are any layoffs. People who buy companies love to lay off a quarter of the staff to help reboot the energy and start somewhat fresh. In a company this big, I’ll probably never even have to see him.
If I get the job, of course, which would be a miracle.
I feel like I’ve been sitting waiting to be called for hours. The sweat on my back has finally dried but my shirt is still sticky and I really hope I don’t smell. I wonder if I have time to go to the bathroom and maybe dab myself with a cool paper towel when a young man calls my name.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, standing up.
“He’s ready for you. You can follow me.”
I pick up my bag, stand on my sore feet, and put on my best, most confident face, despite the turmoil that is happening in my mind and body. I desperately need and want this job. I just hope that whoever this HR guy is, he’s forgiving for my lack of real-world journalism experience.
Weston
I have to admit that buying a company worth more than a billion dollars is a fucking aphrodisiac. I feel like I can do anything, take on anyone right now. The view from this corner office is outstanding—Freedom Tower, Hudson River, Statue of Liberty, New Jersey, and all the small little buildings beneath us. It feels good
to be on top.
First thing I did this morning was I let some poor sap named Mark Something have the day off—and every day in the foreseeable future—and then I promptly moved into his stellar office. I may be two years shy of thirty, but I know dead weight when I see it, and that guy Mark was sitting in this chair like a fat hog doing nothing but collecting his six-figure paycheck (with the six-figure annual bonus…for doing his freaking job) and leaving early every Thursday for his house in the Hamptons.
I look at my watch. It’s been two hours since I told him he didn’t work here anymore. I wonder if his place in Sag Harbor is on the market yet. Maybe I could buy it.
“Mr. Bridges?” I hear Cameron, my new frightened assistant, ask from the doorway.
“What is it?” I ask, slightly annoyed. The view out the window is great, but the one on the computer is even better—all the new things I own. The magazine, the television stations, the book publishing division…it’s all mine now. Jesus, it’s sexy.
“Your ten o’clock is here,” Cameron says. She consults her notes. “Mia Cassidy.”
“Well what is she here for?” I hope Cameron has cab fare because if she’s this terrible of an assistant she might be following ol’ Mark out the door.
“She came through HR with that pile of other applicants. You tossed them all but told Helen you wanted to interview this one yourself?”
“Oh, right,” I say. I don’t want to make a bunch of new hires but I kept this resume because the girl is so green I figure we could get her for cheap. Everyone else who came through HR had too much experience and would want too much money. This Mia girl just graduated from some Podunk college and is surely desperate for work, so I thought I’d bring her in, interview her myself. Not something I would normally do but hey, it’s my party and I want to have a little fun today.
“Send her in,” I tell Cameron.
