The Billionaire's Contract 2: Considerations

by Alicia Roberts

  At last, he lifted his mouth and I felt his tongue gently flick against my throbbing, swollen lips.

  I moaned as he started licking up and down with more pressure, his tongue insistent and entering inside me, making me moan and clench and unclench as my juices seeped out.

  I felt his tongue move upwards to my engorged nub, and as he wrapped his lips tightly around it, I felt two fingers thrust inside me roughly. I groaned and whimpered as Brad sucked on my nub and licked me insistently, his fingers grabbing inside me roughly.

  I clenched down on his fingers as they slammed into me, while his mouth sucked me harder and harder. The dual sensation made it impossible to think straight as I felt myself blanking out. The pressure inside me grew stronger and stronger until I finally felt it roll over me, the waves of the climax bringing me sweet relief as the world faded around me.

  I had no recollection of the next few minutes, but when I opened my eyes, Brad was lying beside me, propped up on one arm, lazily licking the fingers on his other hand.

  "You taste as good as you look," he murmured, his eyes moving down from mine and travelling along my exposed, spent body.

  When I blushed and pulled the robe around me, Brad laughed softly, leaning over me and kissing me. I could taste myself in his mouth, a strange flavor like salted honey. I moaned, trying to remember what had happened, as Brad slowly got up and went downstairs.

  Chapter Three

  After I managed to get up, we ordered room service for lunch and wolfed down our food in the dining room. While Brad sipped a black coffee, I changed back into the clothes I wore on the flight, found some makeup in my handbag, and stroked on some eyeliner and mascara.

  Once I thought I looked presentable enough, we headed out.

  Our first stop was a discreet lingerie boutique. Brad waited in the sitting area while I got fitted - it turned out I'd been wearing the wrong size bra for years! The saleslady made me try on one in what she claimed was my size, and I was amazed as my breasts suddenly looked more perky and attractive.

  I got dressed again, and I saw Brad exchange a few words with the lady who'd fitted me. Together, they started picking out all kinds of items.

  I blushed, wondering what the lady would think, but she was probably used to this kind of thing and showed no signs of surprise or disapproval. Finally they were done, and the items paid for.

  We walked out the store holding three large shopping bags featuring the store's logo.

  As soon as we turned the corner, we came face to face with them. A short but attractive grey-haired man, and two tall, skinny women whose prominent cheekbones and emaciated figures suggested that they were models.

  "Hello, Brad," purred the blonde. Her straight hair came down almost to her waist, and I thought I'd seen her in an underwear ad at some point. "How are you?"

  I felt Brad stiffen slightly, but he was composed as he replied, "Not too bad, Anna. And you?"

  "How can you be anything but wonderful in Paris?" she laughed. "And who is this? Your new companion?"

  Her green eyes travelled from Brad to me, and then down to our bags as she smirked and tilted her head.

  I tried not to blush as I thought of how stocky and short I looked beside her. I was the odd one out in the group - my clothes were cheap and crumpled, my shoes were scuffed, my hair was a mess. A minute ago I'd thought my makeup was ok and I looked presentable, but before these gorgeous people I felt woefully inadequate and ugly.

  "This is Alexis," said Brad, "And we really must be going…"

  "Oh wait," said Anna. "This is Olga," she indicate the other woman, who had close-cropped orange hair, "And this is Sheikh Al-Ahmed."

  The Sheikh bowed slightly to Brad, and then lifted my hand to his lips.

  The gesture surprised me, and I drew in a sharp breath as his eyes met mine and his lips skimmed over my hand. There was barely contained curiosity in his face, as he murmured, "Enchante."

  "The pleasure is mine," I smiled, flattered, even though I knew he was interested in me only because I was with Brad, and under normal circumstances wouldn't even have spared me a passing glance.

  "Please, do join us for drinks," he said, addressing the both of us.

  Brad shook his head, "Thanks, but we really have a lot to do."

  I noticed the trio looking at our lingerie bags. Maybe they think I'm a hooker, I thought. No, hookers are better looking. And then suddenly I smiled, thinking that for once my average looks were an advantage.

  The Sheikh turned to me and said thoughtfully, "I'd love for you to visit my yacht. We’ll be sailing to Monte Carlo tomorrow."

  Anna and Olga looked impassive as he handed me his card; they must be used to this, I mused, as the trio walked away. Once they were out of sight, I dropped the card into one of the shopping bags and exhaled with relief.

  That had been awkward.

  I wondered if every encounter with people from Brad's world would leave me feeling so small and inferior. They might be strange, but those people were glamorous, charming and beautiful - not to mention rich. Everything that I wasn't.

  "Ex-girlfriend?" I asked.

  Brad nodded, and I remembered his words, "A model will probably want publicity as well as more money". I wondered how much the Sheikh was paying her to be on his yacht. She and Olga must lead a strange life - surely it wasn't easy sharing a man with others… and there must be many others.

  "So, when are you going over to his yacht?" Brad laughed and I joined in, trying my best to forget the encounter.

  Of course, forgetfulness was made easier by the fact that our next stop was a boutique where I picked out three gorgeous dresses - a sleek, black number; a green and blue printed wrap dress; and my favorite, a strapless, powder-pink dress that fell just above my knees.

  Our next visit was to a slightly more casual outlet where I picked up a pair of designer jeans and allowed the saleslady to select two silk blouses for me. Finally, we stopped at a shoe store, where I chose a shimmery Jimmy Choo stiletto and the softest tan leather ballet flats.

  As we walked down the winding streets, I marveled at how narrow they were, how old the buildings, and how romantic the vibe. I was finally in Paris!

  This wasn't exactly how I'd hoped my first trip to Paris would be, but at least I was here! The trip was going to be too short for my tastes, so I tried to imbibe as much of the atmosphere as I could. It was Saturday and there were a lot of people around - they had a relaxed, elegant style and added to the vibe of the city.

  As we walked down the banks of the Seine I marveled at the lights glittering on the water. The Musee d'Orsay was visible on the other side. We wouldn't have time to visit it this weekend, but I hoped I could come back some day to see it.

  I sighed and slipped my hand into Brad's. He seemed to be enjoying the walk as much as I was.

  "I wish I could live here," I said softly.

  Brad laughed. "You'd get tired after two weeks. I think you're more of a New York girl."

  "Really?" I turned to him in surprise. I'd never felt like I fit in anywhere - too rebellious to live in my small-town home, too naïve to be able to navigate the waters in NYC.

  "Well," he mused, "You're different, so it's hard to peg you down. Maybe you're too hungry for life and adventure to live in one single place."

  I liked that explanation. It made me feel better about not feeling at home anywhere, and I smiled. I knew Brad thought I was being childish, being openly mesmerized by what I saw, but I didn't care. I couldn't bother to act "cool", as if the sights of Paris didn't impress me.

  Brad hailed a taxi, and as we stepped in, he told the driver we were tourists, and would like to see the most beautiful places in the city.

  "Oui, oui," nodded the driver, "La belle Paris."

  As we drove along, he pointed out the sights. Darkness had descended, and the Arc d'Triumph and Eiffel tower were lit up spectacularly. I leaned back as Brad and I enjoyed our tourist experience, oohing and aahing appropriately as the driver proudl
y pointed out different landmarks. Paris was beautiful in the night, but the drive ended all too soon.

  Back in our suite, I quickly changed into nicer clothes. I found a light pink set in one of the lingerie bags - bustier, tiny panties and thigh high stockings that were held up by the bustier's straps. The lingerie was silky, and shiny without looking tacky. I breathed in, looking at my reflection.

  I'd never been too fond of the way I looked naked, or even in underwear, but this, I thought - this is how money makes you sexy. My waist was suddenly narrower than it had ever been, and any flabbiness was covered with silky fabric. I smiled, thinking that this was one of the rare times I looked good.

  I slipped on the pink dress we'd bought earlier, tousling my hair and redoing my lipstick. When I stepped out, I felt Brad's eyes on me, and I felt a shiver of triumph. I might never look like a super-model, but even as myself, I did have some good moments.

  Brad must've thought that too, and I felt his eyes on me throughout the dinner. We were eating at the Guy Savoy, and the crowd was sophisticated and wealthy, but for the first time in this kind of environment, I felt like I could hold my own. The knowledge of how surprisingly good I looked in the expensive lingerie buoyed me up, and I smiled and glowed throughout dinner.

  I wasn't hungry, and only had a small appetizer and pea soup - with two glasses of champagne. Brad raised his eyebrows when I ordered a third glass, but he seemed amused at my lightheartedness. I'd felt awkward and out of place when I first stepped out with Brad in the afternoon, but by now the champagne was affecting me a little, and I was determined not to care what other people thought, and to have a good time.

  When we got back to the hotel I was in a great mood. I found a bottle of mini chocolate liqueur in the bar fridge, and poured myself a bit.

  "Please don't get a hangover," said Brad, "We're meant to spend tomorrow at the Louvre."

  I merely smiled, finished my drink and went over to Brad. He held my hands and pulled me towards him, kissing me softly.

  He began to stroke the length of my bare arm gently, up and down, sending shivers through my spine.

  "Are you having a good time?"

  I nodded, trying to avoid the thoughts that had been plaguing me since landing here. But I'd had a little too much to drink, and they blurted out, "It's fun, considering the fact that I'm just a glorified hooker."

  But Brad only laughed, and said, "So is everyone here. Do you think people ever get together for love in this world? It doesn't happen, there's too much money pulling everyone's strings. Your parents dictate what career you get into, and couples trade money for sex and good looks. Don't let it bother you, it's just how the world is."

  I nodded, trying to believe him. He was probably right - his world was complex, and people were far too practical to involve their emotions in decision-making.

  "Now," he said, "You're wearing the pink lingerie set, aren't you?"

  I nodded.

  "I knew you'd like it. Pink suits you." He stared into my eyes and commanded, "Take off the dress."

  I lowered my eyes and heard him say, "Look at me."

  I met his gaze again, and undid the zip slowly. The dress slipped down, past my hips and onto the floor. I stepped backwards out of it, watching as his eyes travelled over my body, drinking in the sight of the powder-pink fabric wrapped tightly around my skin. I knew what he was seeing and felt a slight thrill as his eyes met mine again. I leaned forwards to pick the dress off the floor, and my breasts swung forward as I bent down.

  When I stood up and tossed the dress away, I saw Brad's eyes were hooded, his lips slightly parted with lust.

  "I want to see you on your knees again," he growled, his voice deep with desire.

  I slipped out of the high stilettos and walked forward till I was inches away from him. Brad pressed down on my shoulders and I found myself kneeling before him, my own sex clenching in anticipation as Brad undid his zipper and slid his member out.

  I grabbed it in my hands greedily, wrapping my palms around it.

  I slid one hand down and over the tip, and let the other hand follow. He grunted and grew harder, so I repeated the motion a few more times, till he grabbed the back of my head, pushing me forward till I kissed the tip. I ran my tongue all over the head, holding his cock steady in one hand as I licked him round and round in circles, exploring the ridge around his shaft.

  I let my hand slide down to his balls and I squeezed gently as I began to lick the entire length of the shaft. When he grunted and jerked his hips I wrapped one hand tightly around the base, and began to slide the shaft into my mouth.

  He let out a groan and started thrusting his hips, forcing me to suck him faster and faster. My own heat began to increase, and I used my free hand to rub myself over my wet panties, pushing the fabric aside as I rubbed my swollen entrance and sucked him harder.

  With a low guttural groan, Brad grabbed my head with both hands and pulled himself free.

  "You can't wait, can you?" he growled, as he pulled me to my feet and pushed me against the wall, sliding my panties down. He pushed my legs apart, and his strong arms lifted me higher as I wrapped my legs around him, squashed between his hard body and the wall. I felt his tip probing my entrance, and I gasped with pleasure as he pushed into me.

  My walls clenched around him and he pinned me against the wall as he withdrew and thrust into me again. His thrusts grew deeper and longer and I felt myself stretch as his cock slammed into me over and over again.

  The orgasm I'd tried to coax out with my fingers came bubbling up to the surface as he plunged into me and I wrapped my arms around him tightly as I found myself losing control.

  I felt Brad's thrusting grow erratic; he grunted as he stiffened and orgasmed inside me, even as I felt the waves of pleasure roll through my body. My delayed orgasm sent streams of euphoria coursing through my veins and I clenched my legs around his waist as I felt the pressure escaping me.

  We stood still for a few minutes, wrapped around each other, exhausted and thrilled. We disengaged finally, and I hobbled to upstairs on shaky legs, changing and sliding into bed, happy and spent.

  Chapter Three

  On Sunday morning I woke up feeling excited and giddy, like a kid who's been promised a trip to Disneyland. I got dressed in a rush, pulling on my new jeans and blouse, applying a bit of makeup and fluffing up my hair. I wanted to wake Brad, but I didn't know if he'd appreciate it or not. Thankfully, by the time I came out of the bathroom he was up and had a gorgeous, sleepy look.

  "You look wide awake," he said, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

  I laughed, "Go on, sleepyhead! I'm not wasting a minute in Paris." I pulled him off the bed and gave him a gentle shove towards the bathroom, before I grabbed my bag and went downstairs to wait for him. There were pastries laid out on the table, but I had other hopes for breakfast.

  As soon as Brad came downstairs, I dragged him outside with me.

  "It's too early for the Louvre to be open," he protested, but I merely patted my tummy and he got the hint.

  The streets were less busy at this hour, and we strolled along till we found the perfect café - it had tables lined up outside, two large blackboards displaying the breakfast specials, and was buzzing with patrons. Normally I don't like busy cafes, but this one looked so quaint and popular, I knew it was "the one".

  We weren't disappointed when we got our food. I'd ordered a chocolate croissant and Brad had a regular croissant; we both had café au lait. As we sipped and ate, I watched the people strolling by and caught snatches of French conversations.

  Once we'd finished our leisurely meal, we walked over to the banks of the Seine again.

  Holding hands and strolling by the river, I felt like we were one of those couples in love, sharing a romantic escapade in the gorgeous city. I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder. "It's so beautiful."

  I watched a white haired couple strolling by hand in hand and thought, if only we were as real as them. I felt Brad kiss t
he top of my head and heard him say, "I'm glad you're here. You're a great friend to share all this with."

  We were friends? I felt myself stiffen slightly at the thought. But yes, of course we were. We were in this together, we were sharing secrets and were partners in crime - surely that made us friends.

  I thought Brad was amazing - he was kind and thoughtful, and we shared such great physical chemistry. I knew I'd want to be with him if he hadn't been rich, but he was rich, and that meant he was completely out of my league.

  I should be grateful for the contract marriage, I thought - there was no way Brad would've considered being with me otherwise. After all, what did he think of me? I was naïve, excitable and enthusiastic - a far cry from the cool and sophisticated girls he must date all the time. Not to mention, I wasn't as beautiful as them.

  I gave myself a mental shake, I was thinking too much. I was in Paris, I was with a gorgeous guy and I was going to have fun.

  When we got to the Louvre, we bypassed the long lines since Brad had pre-purchased our tickets through the hotel concierge. Once we were in, we rented headphones for the audio tour of the museum, and set off, hand in hand.

  As we listened to the narrator explaining various works of art and wandered from one masterpiece to another, Brad and I didn't say a word to each other. Brad was paying attention to the narration, his eyes focused on the art, his fingers interlaced with mine. Occasionally when we stood and admired a picture, he put his arms around my shoulders and drew me close.

  I was distracted, and annoyed with myself for feeling that way. Here I was, face to face with the greatest works of art, and in between being awed by their beauty, I was feeling sad that if I signed Brad's contract, I was giving up the option for real love.

  It's just for a year, I told myself, and you could never have anything real with Brad anyway, so don't be silly.

  Still, I glanced at him as we walked, and smiled when he caught my eye.