Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1)

by Deana Farrady

  Then, with surprising efficiency he cleared the table, transferring everything to a countertop. When it was bare, Janey jumped on the table, the surface cool and smooth under her thighs. To her amazement, Nyall remembered everything. Like he had some kind of photographic memory, he followed her instructions flawlessly. It was actually pretty impressive.

  So, reluctantly, she followed his instructions.

  The first part was easy. She sat on the table with her legs pressed tightly together, just watching him do stuff. Merely the eye candy aspect alone turned out to be super hot. Nyall moved smoothly, even sexily amidst the functional surfaces and appliances—what Janey thought of as her territory, even though it was his house. The khaki t-shirt clung to his chest with just the right amount of drape, begging to be lifted up to reveal all that yummy hard flesh of his abdomen. The jeans were equally casual and fit his butt perfectly and his straining crotch not so well. He was lip-licking tasty and she couldn't imagine being more tempted if he were to go around nude.

  The second part wasn't so easy—touching her own breasts. It was awkward at first putting her hands up to her breasts in front of him. He stopped what he was doing whenever he caught sight of her handling herself and grinned. Deciding to defend her feeling of vulnerability with sass, she stuck out her tongue at him.

  Soon, though, Janey forgot her self-consciousness and lost herself to the feelings. The strokes of her own fingers on the tips of her breasts sent sizzling arrows of heat again and again straight to her sex, which was already overexcited from what he'd done before. Adding nipple stimulation made it all worse.

  When she couldn't stand the intensity anymore, her fingers moved in circles around her nipples. Before long she couldn't stand that either and she started plucking the tips, pulling them out and flinging her head around because the ache between her legs was so bad.

  "You're doing fine, but don't forget to watch me, Janey."

  His words startled her. She sat upright and blushed hotly. He was carrying the springform pan and looked so delectable walking across the kitchen floor that the hurting between her legs got abruptly much worse.

  He chuckled and opened the oven door.

  With the sound of the timer's beeps, Janey's body went on red alert and her pulse rate revved up. She shifted eagerly as she watched him approach.

  "Four hundred fifty degrees," he intoned.

  "Are we done now?" Her hands went motionless.

  "What's that?" he said languidly and rested his hands on her shoulders.

  "With the game? Can I stop touching myself?" And have my orgasm now, was her unspoken question.

  "Mm, not yet. Let's wait for the timer to go off. Twenty minutes more, then I change the temperature and set the timer again. Then we'll say you've reached the second level."

  "It's the last level, right?" she said in a panic.

  "Yes. It'll be reward time. By the way, you're cute when you pet your own tits, Janey."

  "Oh."

  He took one of her hands off of its breast. "Feel what it does to me."

  Janey leaned forward and reached down to touch the front of his jeans. At the feel of his pole-rigid flesh behind the denim, Janey's loins pulled tight and she circled her palm enthusiastically. Nyall groaned, stepping quickly back.

  "Lie down, sweetheart."

  Shaking with anticipation, Janey eased herself back until she was lying supine on the hard table. He walked around and slid something soft under her head. A folded-up towel, she realized vaguely. "Rub your tits," he prompted.

  Her palms felt like fire scorching her breasts. "Please, Nyall."

  He went to the foot of the table and firmly eased her legs apart. Only then did she realize how much relief she'd been getting from pressing them together, because now she couldn't stop writhing.

  "You are so going to like your orgasm," he said. "In fifteen minutes."

  "I can't take this," she wailed.

  "Yes you can, because you're not saying avocado. Remember the elevator. Think about sitting on a bus and waiting for the driver to reach your bus stop." He sat down on a chair and shoved it to the foot of the table, then grasped her ankles and pulled her slowly closer to the edge.

  "Please touch me," she said.

  "Okay. But first pinch your nipples. Both of them at the same time. Hard."

  She obeyed without thinking, then bit her lip and whimpered at the effect it had on her.

  "I can see your clit peeking out of your pussy. Your pussy's really divine, by the way. Very shiny and lickable." His breath was there at her sex and Janey's hands clenched on her breasts to try to relieve the ache. "Do you know anything about the clitoris, Janey?"

  "I—uh—I don't know."

  "Normally it's got a protective hood around it. Right now, the hood is retracted and the bud is poking out. You're incredibly aroused. Close to coming."

  "Oh," she moaned. "I didn't—know that. About the hood."

  "Do you want my fingers inside you now, Janey?"

  "Yes!"

  Two fingers slid inside her with agonizing slowness. A third one joined them, and Janey nearly went out of her mind.

  "Easy. Easy, sweetheart. The timer hasn't gone off yet. Try stroking your nipples very gently. That might help."

  Janey forced herself to do what he said, even knowing from his teasing tone that Nyall was trying to drive her crazy. She used her palms lightly over her nipples. Coupled with his fingers stretching her passage, it made her body instantly seize up. She arched, so close to climax she could taste it.

  She felt him blow on her sex. Felt him kiss the soft patch of fur above it.

  "Do you think I should suck on your clit now? I mean, it's seriously swollen."

  "You're doing this on purpose," she accused him.

  "Oh, yeah. Do you want it? My mouth right—on—that little—clit?"

  "Yes!"

  "Soon," he said. "Wait just a few more minutes. You're not quite done with the second level."

  Chapter 8

  For Janey, his teasing was the last straw. Her senses were bloated—her skin sensitized to the lightest whiff of air, her loins clenching around his penetrating fingers. Even his taunting words were a caress. And she smelled him, masculine and clean down at the foot of the table. It was all too much.

  She went wild, bucking and trying to come.

  "Janey, oh, fuck." His mouth came onto her hard, sucking her pussy strongly into his mouth. Catapulting her straight into orgasm.

  She cried out. Her body started convulsing on his fingers. The convulsions shot outward to secret parts inside that Janey didn't even know she had.

  As she came, his fingers repeatedly rammed in and out of her passage, pushing her up along the table till her head threatened to drop off the other end. He scrambled up onto the wooden surface with her and wedged his other arm beneath her, supporting her.

  "Do it," he urged. "Give it to me, Janey. I want everything."

  She knew she was saying something. It was only after her body stopped shuddering that she realized it was his name, over and over. She was almost crying.

  "I need to fuck you." His fingers rotated inside her. "I need inside you right fucking now."

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  At the insistent noise, Nyall made a pained half-laughing sound. His fingers slid away from her body. She felt them go mournfully, then watched him lift his hand to his mouth and suck her juices off his fingers. His eyes drifted shut for a moment and an expression of ecstasy crossed his face. It was one of the most erotic and moving things she'd ever seen.

  That was probably how he reacted with everyone. All the women he had sex with.

  The women who thought he was a sex god. They must think so because he obviously loved sex.

  Well, now she was joining their ranks, because given the kind of power he had over Janey, he sincerely was a sex god.

  Which made her a little sad.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  "The timer's going off," she babbled.

&n
bsp; "I know." His palm was cupping her pussy. He turned her head so he could kiss her mouth. "Janey. My God. You taste…"

  "The cheesecake will crack. You need to—"

  "I know, 275 degrees." She felt the stab of his cock against her side, the rough abrasion of his clothes against her skin. "D'you know what it does to me when you come like that? When you do everything I say so perfectly and then—"

  "You have to change the oven temperature," she interrupted.

  "Damn it." Though he obviously didn't want to, he gave in. It took him a few seconds, then he was back. "Now."

  "I guess you're used to making love on dining room tables," she said breathlessly.

  "This is the first time for me." He climbed up and brought her hands to the fly of his jeans. "Undo my fly, baby."

  She fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. "The button is tricky."

  "It's good practice for you." He pulled her hand to his flesh. Her open palm felt the warm, tensile hardness of his shaft through the fabric of his underwear.

  "Are you going to make l—have sex with me here?" she said, correcting herself quickly.

  "Not here, not the first time. I'm just going to torture myself for a few minutes." He rolled carefully onto his back and lifted her over him so she was kneeling with legs spread on either side of his hips. It was incredibly racy. Disturbingly exposing. And she could smell things.

  He looked her up and down through slitted eyes, one hand going behind his neck to support his head. "Touch me, Janey."

  Hesitantly, she began to caress him through his underwear. After a while, she glanced from his face to her hands where she was awkwardly petting his cock. "Am I doing this right?"

  "Not exactly," he said. "But I won't complain."

  "Oh."

  "It's all right, Janey. I like it." He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "There's so much to teach you."

  "I can't wait to learn," she said.

  "We need your virginity out of the way."

  "Yes," she agreed emphatically. "Maybe we should go into the bedroom now."

  "Not yet." He shook his head.

  "But I'm ready!"

  He grabbed her hand and eased it inside the opening in his underwear. She held him between her palms, her cheeks red with heat. She wondered if she'd ever get used to holding him—holding a man, she corrected herself—nakedly like this.

  "You're more than ready to fire, Janey. I'm the problem. Every time I get you hot, I go off like a stick of dynamite. I thought I'd spew it all at least three times while we were making that cheesecake."

  "But why?"

  "Who knows?" he said. "Feel the tip. It's called the glans."

  "It's soft," she said. "There's a slit and it's wet. Is that where—"

  Bzzz.

  They froze together.

  "Damn, damn." It was so quiet, Janey thought he might not even have been aware he'd uttered the curse aloud.

  "Do you have to get it?" she whispered. "Maybe they'll leave a message."

  His hand was already in his pocket. "Work always has priority."

  "Oh, right."

  " Just stay like that. This probably won't take long."

  "It's not how long it takes that's the issue," Janey muttered.

  He wasn't listening to her. His eyes were shut as he put the phone to his ear. "Anderson. Yeah." Pause, then his words sharpened. "Well, where is he then? Never mind. What do you need?"

  Janey was close enough to hear that the voice on the other end was female. His assistant, probably.

  She gazed down at her hands, which were still tucked away in his fly. Then peered up at his face. His eyes were still closed. He was focusing on his caller.

  She nibbled at her lip and compressed her fingers over his hard flesh ever so slightly. It was more just to remind herself of how smooth and silken he felt than anything, she thought. But once she did, she couldn't resist giving him a harder squeeze.

  A hand came down and tapped hers with a finger, an obvious signal for her to stop. Her gaze shot up to his face. Eyes still shut. "What's the word from Toronto? No kidding. Yeah, I know, I know. No need to be sarcastic."

  Janey squeezed him again. She couldn't say why she did it, just that it was irresistible. Nyall was lying there with a rock-solid hard-on, trying to have a business conversation. It was wrong to try to distract him. But maybe it wasn't a big deal. He wasn't that easily distracted. So maybe…

  Maybe this was fine. Maybe there was no harm in following her urge to slide her hands down his shaft and up again just once, maybe twice, okay, just one more time, to see if…

  Her wrist was gripped in an iron-hard fist. "No, if they're not open today they won't be tomorrow. So call China. That so? Then get Alfred to handle it."

  Janey leaned forward, lifted up Nyall's t-shirt just enough to access the bare skin of his abdomen and dropped a kiss on it. She found an astonishingly tender spot right at the bottom of his gorgeous six-pack that was very nice to kiss.

  That six-pack tensed noticeably under her lips. She liked that, so she kissed him again. And again.

  "Yeah, I heard you. So track him down. No, everything's fine. Hold on, will you, Mary. What are you doing?"

  It took a moment for Janey to realize he was talking to her. She lifted her head and saw he was covering the phone with his hand.

  "Is it okay?" she whispered. "I want to kiss you. Will it bother you?"

  He stared at her. "Ah…"

  Janey was fascinated to see Nyall Anderson nonplussed. She moved the hand that was on his cock up and down swiftly. "Nyall, I want to do what you did with me before when you were talking on the phone. It was exciting. Touch you and fondle you and kiss you while you talk and try to get you to —"

  "Jesus Christ," he interrupted. She saw him swallow. Put the phone to his ear. "Mary? Find Easterfield. I don't care if you have to get him out of a colonoscopy. Just find him and tell him to call China or find someone else to do it. And send him the Steppecourt docs, everything since July, no, better make it May, and if he needs anything else he can send me an email. No, not text, not chat. Right. Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea."

  Nyall went silent.

  The phone went silent.

  Then…nothing.

  Janey stared down at him as he looked back up at her with an expression she couldn't read. He seemed to be processing things in his mind.

  She had a bad feeling she'd just made a serious mistake.

  "Nyall?" she whispered.

  A lot of things happened fast. Nyall was abruptly off the table and Janey was being carried like a Santa sack over his shoulder out of the kitchen, into the living room, and into the big bedroom. She was dropped on the bed, where she bounced once.

  Then he took off his clothes. It was swift, efficient, and nothing like a striptease. Even so, she was electrified.

  By the time he was naked and putting his knee on the bed, she was on her knees, shuffling up to him.

  "No, back down." He had her wrists in his hand and they were over her head behind her as she arched backward on the bed.

  He knelt over her. "Do you remember the rules?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "You just made it impossible for me to conduct business." His tone was hard as she'd never heard it before.

  "Oh." Her first instincts had been right—she'd screwed up. Janey felt tears welling in her eyes. She'd misunderstood. He'd taken off his clothes. She'd thought he was taking her here to make love to her. But it was only to reprimand her.

  "What was the rule you broke?" he quizzed.

  "Work—work is a priority," she said.

  "The priority. It's the priority, Janey."

  "Why?" she said, subdued. "Why is work so high a priority?"

  "Because a lot depends on it. Sex is fun, but sex can always wait. You have a catering business, so you should know this. Business involves the coordination of hundreds, sometimes thousands of points of synthesis. Do you see what that means?"

  "Not really." She
suddenly wanted to hug her arms around herself, but he was still pinning them over her head. She tugged her wrists, trying to free them.

  "It means that one moment gone wrong can screw everything up. Unlike sex, which can happen any time. It can destroy a negotiation. Destroy lives. Not just employees' lives, either. My companies are about medical technology, Janey, not fucking canapés. You may not care if this deal goes down, but I do."

  His voice sounded even, but Janey wasn't fooled. He was angry this time. Maybe really angry. She'd never imagined Nyall could get so angry. She tugged at her arms again and he seemed to notice what she was doing and suddenly they were free.

  She scrambled under the covers.

  "I understand."

  "Really?" His chest was rising and falling. He rocked back on his thighs and watched her cover herself up to her breasts. "Because it seemed like you conveniently forgot it even though it was in the fucking email I sent you with the four measly rules."

  She recoiled. "No, I do," she rushed to reassure him. "With sex, there's only two people who will be affected if things go wrong, or in this case, o-only one of us. With big business, there are millions of people. I mean, what if somebody invents a great new advance like—like—like an inhaler that makes people not allergic to nuts anymore, and because you're not there to fix some logistical problem, the deal goes off and it just dies away. All those people don't get cured."

  He stared at her.

  "Is that what this deal is about? Something like that?"

  He frowned. "Not exactly that revolutionary. But that's not the point."

  "I understand," she said hastily. "You can't make exceptions. That's the way you have to do things. That's what leaders do. You're kind of like one of those old-fashioned princes, with a moral obligation to the people. I guess I forgot all that when…I was so focused on the little stuff." She tried to smile. "Just thinking like a regular person. I'll remember from now on."

  Not that there would be a next time, she vowed. Her eyes darted toward the door.

  He blinked. "Janey, that's not what I meant." He ran a hand through his hair, then expelled a long breath. "Look, it was majorly bad timing. In the normal course of things, it wouldn't have been a big deal. We were having an amazing time, and then the call came in. I wanted to throw the phone across the room, not take it at all, if you want the truth. I was fucking furious and when you—"