Reluctantly Alpha (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 8)

by Ruth Cardello

Angelina guessed. “Bradford.”

  “Don’t tell him I said anything.”

  Angelina ran the last few weeks over in her head. “I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that he ran into Linda at the market.”

  “We needed to make sure you and your son were okay. When she told us what had happened, we knew she couldn’t stay there either.”

  “So you hired her.” Angelina traced his lips with her fingertips. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” A thought occurred to her that spilled out. “What exactly is Linda’s job in your office?”

  Connor’s smile turned sheepish. “She’s Kimmie’s editor.” When Angelina arched an eyebrow, Connor’s wrinkled his nose. “Every office needs an assistant, but I didn’t actually have anything for one to do. When Kimmie interviewed and said she was looking for something temporary because her goal was to becoming a published romance author, I hired her on the spot. It was perfect. She needed a quiet place to write, and I needed someone who would look busy.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “She’s an amazing writer. And her plan to put three out, each a month apart, is a solid strategy to get them noticed. Linda is spicing up her sex scenes—”

  “Of course she is.” Angelina met and held Connor’s gaze. “So, you’re not only paying Kimmie to work for herself, but you’ve also hired an employee for her.” No one she knew would have done either.

  “It’s just money. I can make more of it. Kimmie’s goal is to earn enough to stay home and have a herd of children. When you meet her husband you’ll understand why they need to procreate. The world needs more of both of them. Whatever you do, though, don’t tell Javier you like spicy food. I made that mistake once and there are parts of my intestines that are still charred from the experience.”

  Angelina chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The helicopter tipped upward, causing Angelina to fall forward onto Connor’s chest. As she righted herself, her face hovered near his, and she forgot what they were talking about as soon as his mouth closed over hers.

  Unlike the kisses they’d shared in public, this was more forceful. His tongue parted her lips, claimed hers with tantalizing skill. His hands became rougher, his thighs more rigid between hers. This kiss was everything they’d shared, but so much more.

  She gripped his shoulders.

  He slid her skirt higher until it bunched around her waist.

  When his hand slid between them and beneath her front slip of lace, she moaned into his mouth in anticipation. His fingers were as oversized as the rest of him—and he knew how to use them. Connor understood a woman’s body. He started slowly, gently, experimenting until he got it just right.

  She writhed against his hand.

  Their kiss became wilder.

  She was wet and ready when he slid a finger deep inside her. So big. So long. Alone it was enough to satisfy a woman. He pumped it in and out of her, deeper each time. When he found the spot no man before had, she broke off the kiss and said, “Holy fuck, that’s good.”

  He kept pumping against it, kissing her neck and murmuring, “I’ve read about the female orgasm. Some say there are over ten types. It’ll be fun to see which ones you like best.”

  He was talking, but she was barely listening. She needed more of him. More of his kiss. More of his skin. As he pumped his thick finger in and out of her, she undid the front of her shirt and tossed it aside. Her bra quickly followed. His free hand palmed her breast as he unbuttoned the front of his plaid shirt.

  His mouth claimed hers again as his finger increased speed. She clung to him, rubbed her breasts against his bare chest, then shuddered as an orgasm rocked through her. He slid his finger out then lifted her to him and placed her beside him on the leather couch.

  Due to his height, he couldn’t stand straight up, but that didn’t impede him from quickly shedding his clothing. When his cock sprang free, Angelina’s mouth dropped open. It was huge and rock-hard rigid.

  Her hands encircled it, her sex imagined it pounding into her, and she nearly came again from that anticipation alone. He stepped closer and she didn’t need more encouragement than that to take him into her mouth.

  Giving oral sex had never been something Angelina considered that enjoyable and his size was intimidating. He didn’t rush her, though, or shove himself down her throat. Bent over in front of her, he braced himself with his legs slightly apart and allowed her to learn him as he’d learned her.

  His moans of pleasure vibrated through his cock and excited her in a way that was new to her. His pleasure was her pleasure. Her pleasure was his pleasure. “Stop,” he said in a guttural tone, withdrawing from her mouth. “I don’t want to rush through this.”

  Still partially dressed, she sat back on her heels on the couch. He held out a hand to her. “Stand up.”

  She took his hand and did. Together, they made quick work of the rest of her clothing. They stood there, taking each other in for a moment.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said.

  “So are you,” she answered in complete honesty. She leaned to one side, retrieved a condom from her purse, and tossed it to him.

  He caught it, then placed it on one of the captain chairs. “It’s a little cramped in here, but I have an idea.” He sat down on the rose petal-lined floor of the cabin and leaned back. She wasn’t sure what he wanted at first, but he guided her to stand over him, then move closer . . . closer . . . until she was poised above his face.

  She braced herself with her hands on the ceiling of the cabin while he parted her sex and demonstrated that his tongue was every bit as talented as his fingers. So wet. So hot. Deliciously demanding. She lost all respect for the women who’d left him. No wonder they changed their minds later and wanted to come back.

  She flung her head back and gave herself over to his tongue fucking. Whatever he’d read about the female orgasm should be mandatory reading for all men. Holy shit.

  His hands caressed her legs, gripped her ass, and crushed her sex to his mouth each time he thrust his tongue inside her. Lapping. Sucking. Thrusting. It was all so good she buried her hands in his hair and clung to him as waves of heat burst through her.

  As she came down from that high, he kissed her inner thighs and said, “That’s two kinds. Want to keep going?”

  Was there a woman on earth who would have said no? “Sure,” she croaked.

  He sheathed himself in a condom then put a hand on either side of her hips. Hands on his shoulders, she lowered herself onto his cock . . . slowly. He was intimidatingly large, but he was also patient. She adjusted, shifted, slid him in at her own pace.

  With her feet on either side of him, she rose and lowered herself, taking him deeper each time. When he was fully in, she sighed with pleasure. So good.

  Then he started to move.

  His thrusts started gently. In and almost out. In and almost out.

  His grip on her hips became more forceful.

  His thrusts deeper.

  He shifted their position so he could get more leverage.

  She bounced above him, reveling in a rhythm he set but she joined. His mouth adored each part of her he could reach. She hungrily ran her hands over every inch of him she could.

  All tenderness fell away. They rolled together, sweaty and demanding. He pounded down into her. She stretched wider to accept him. Any discomfort from his size was far outweighed by the pleasure storming through her.

  When he came it was with a shudder that rocked his whole body.

  He kept moving within her, though, after his orgasm. Kept his pace until she joined him, crying out his name.

  He rolled off her, removed his condom then tucked her to his side and kissed her forehead. “So, that’s helicopter sex. What do you think?”

  She hid a smile. “I like it.”

  He frowned. “Like? That’s it?”

  She tossed a handful of rose petals onto his chest and chuckled. “I suppose I could get used to it.”

  “Me to
o.” He hugged her closer and gave her a kiss that had her melting against him. He checked his watch. “Luckily we have an hour left.”

  “And two more condoms,” she joked.

  “Is that a challenge?” He kissed the tip of her nose. He took a deep breath. “If so, I accept.” Not a man of empty words, his cock twitched and swelled back to full arousal before her eyes.

  Never had sex felt as lighthearted and freeing as it did with him. “Let’s ask Roger to take us to your place. Are you any good at up against the wall sex? I’ve always wanted to try that.”

  His chest puffed. “Good at it? I was made for it. For the third time I’m thinking slow, easy sex on my balcony. A nice, easy fuck from behind while we look out over the city.”

  Oh, yes. Angelina licked her bottom lip. “Connor?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re going to need more condoms.”

  A few hours later, naked and sated, Connor was pulled from a deep sleep by an alarm on Angelina’s phone. She didn’t stir. He tapped her phone, wrapped his arms around her and growled into her ear, “Angelina, your phone alarm went off.”

  She murmured something and snuggled her back closer to him.

  He could have stayed like that forever, but considering it was early afternoon, his guess was the alarm was her reminder to pick up her son. “Angelina, wake up.”

  She rolled over in his arms and her eyes opened. A smile curled her lips. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself.” He gave her a gentle kiss. “What time do you need to pick up Whitney?”

  “Whitney.” She sat straight up, her bare breasts jiggling free as she ran her hands through her hair. “Oh my God. What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  She let out a relieved breath and nodded. “That should give me enough time to get to my car and pick him up. He gets out of the technology club at five.” She looked across the room and froze when she saw her reflection in a large mirror across the room. “I can’t pick him up like this. I look—I look—”

  “Gorgeous.” He sat up and kissed her shoulder. She had that wild hair, smudged makeup, rosy, well-fucked look that no man minded.

  With her fingertips she tried to wipe away the makeup below her eyes. When it didn’t work, she blinked back tears. “I can’t be late picking him up.”

  “Hey, hey. I’ll make sure you get there in plenty of time.”

  She covered her face with her both hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” His post-sex euphoria drained away, replaced by gut-wrenching regret that he hadn’t kept to his original plan to take things slow with her.

  She lowered her hands and met his gaze. “Don’t be. This isn’t about you.”

  Another man might have taken her comment as an insult. Connor didn’t. “Is it about something I could help you with?” He held out a hand to her.

  She laced her fingers with his. “I don’t want to ruin the day by vomiting my personal problems all over it.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Yeah, because fucking and friendship should never go together.”

  She gave him a sidelong look and sniffed. “Is that what you want to be? Friends?”

  It amazed him that someone who was so competent on the outside could be so fragile and lost as soon as emotions were involved. “Isn’t that the best foundation for any relationship?”

  She shuddered. “It is.” She closed her eyes briefly then met his gaze again. “I’m worried about Whitney. He says everything is fine. On the surface it looks like it is. He does well in school. His teachers always like him. He’s struggling, though. When I picked him up yesterday—before he saw me—he looked sad. Did you like school?”

  He grimaced. “I wasn’t what you’d call a good student.”

  “I didn’t ask about your GPA. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Sure. I mean, as much as anyone does, I guess.”

  “What did you like about it?”

  It wasn’t something he’d put much thought into in a long time so he took a moment to think back. “My friends. Playing football. Playing football with my friends. Hanging out. Sex. All the normal stuff.”

  “Whitney never talks about friends. Never invites anyone over. As far as I know, he hasn’t stayed in contact with anyone at Reemsly. I was hoping this school would be different, but I’m worried that it won’t be.”

  “He just started at the school. Give him time.”

  “I know. I’m trying not to worry, but he has this idea that he has to be strong for me.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “That’s a tough age, but he has you in his corner. He’ll be okay.”

  She smiled. “He asked to meet you tomorrow before our date—to make sure he approves of you.”

  Good man. “I like him already.”

  “And he warned me not to have sex with you on our first date. So try to look like—like we haven’t—” Her cheeks went delightfully pink.

  “Gotcha.” He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll play it cool.”

  “I’ve dated a few men since his father, but never anyone serious. And he didn’t meet them. There was never a reason for him to.” She looked embarrassed again. “Not that I’m saying there’s a reason for him to meet you—”

  He stopped her from saying more with a kiss. She was a self-professed worrier. He hadn’t been one before he’d met the Barringtons and was on a journey back to a calmer place in his head. If she was interested, there was room for two in that space. “I like you, Angelina. I’m excited to meet your son tomorrow. Now, get your ass in the shower. I’d join you, but the goal is for you to be on time to pick him up, right?”

  A smile returned to her face. “I’d say you could come with me to pick him up, but—”

  He kissed her briefly again, then joked, “If your ass is late, it’s on you. I’ve been trying to kick you out of my bed for about twenty minutes.”

  She ran a hand over one side of his face, gave him a long, hot look that nearly had him backpedaling and asking her to stay. “Thank you, Connor.”

  It was his turn to get a little flustered. The man he saw in her eyes was comfortable with himself, kind without being a joke, a much better version of himself than he’d ever been. And for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like he was acting. “Go on, get. I have shit to do. Really important things . . .”

  She chuckled and crawled out of bed. The view of her bare ass was thought-erasing. When she stood and asked him if flying back to the office would be faster than driving, he just stared at her. Flying?

  What office?

  When she asked him again, he realized his smitten grin was not an adequate response. “Yes.”

  “Yes, I should fly back? Or should I call a car? Are you heading back to your office?”

  Yes, to whatever she wanted.

  Uninhibited by her state of undress, she clapped her hands. “Are you listening to me?”

  No, I’m too busy falling in love. He shook his head and continued to smile shamelessly at her. “Not really. You’re even more beautiful naked than you are dressed. Not everyone can make that claim.”

  She laughed. “Call your pilot. I’ll be right back.” She gave him one last cheeky smile and darted into the bathroom.

  There goes my future wife.

  Sigh.

  Now, what was it she wanted me to do?

  A half hour before she needed to be there, Angelina was in her car in the parking lot of Whitney’s school waiting for him to be released from technology club. She didn’t mind waiting since it gave her time to process the sharp turn her relationship with Connor had taken.

  It didn’t feel like they’d only had sex . . . it felt as if they’d gone from dancing around each other to choosing to be together. Scary. Wonderful. Almost too much to take in.

  In the sex department, he’d certainly lived up to the hype. So did wall sex. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of how they’d barely made it into his apartment. She cl
osed her eyes and relived being lifted up, wrapped around him and pounded into. Connor was the perfect combination of strong and gentle—forceful but thoughtful.

  He was also particularly gifted with his tongue. It was a surprising talent for a man his size. Large men, especially attractive ones, didn’t have to try as hard with women. They knew they were in higher demand. Connor was confident but also attentive. Damn near perfect.

  And unexpectedly really funny. There was no way not to laugh when he told a story about situations he and his brother, Dylan, had gotten into together. At first she’d thought he was joking that they had kidnapped Ian Barrington and stuck him in a laundry cart, but the story was too detailed not to believe.

  And Connor had been too proud of himself about how easily they’d done it.

  His method of hugging the anger out of the Barringtons? Priceless. By the time he described the day Bradford had tried to scare Dylan and him into leaving Ian alone and how it had led to their friendship—she’d been able to picture everything so clearly that she’d laughed her stomach muscles sore.

  The story was one of freedom and impulsiveness, two things Angelina had denied herself since she’d learned she was pregnant with Whitney.

  That particular thought might have been the reason why hearing Connor describe his etiquette lessons with Claire made her a little sad. Yes, everyone had to grow up, but it sounded like the goal had been to systematically erase all the joy out of Connor.

  The Barringtons had taken a naturally optimistic, loving man and chipped away at his confidence until he’d started second-guessing every word that came out of his mouth. Not a badass at all—just a man trying to please everyone and losing himself along the way.

  She understood that journey far too well.

  Her heart had soared once again when he’d shared what his father had said, “There’s nothing wrong with the children I raised,” and how that had helped him cement his goal to find a common ground between the old him and the one his sister hoped he’d become.

  What a good father. No wonder Connor was kindhearted.

  Angelina’s thoughts were interrupted by a call. “Busy?” her friend Aly asked.

  “No, parked and waiting for Whitney. What’s up?”