Nicholas: A Corbett Brothers BWWM Billionaire Romance: The Corbett Billionaire Brothers

by Imani King

  I love her body. No, I worship her body. I pour my adoration through my kisses down her neck, and pull her shirt a little to the side to expose the tops of her tender breasts, licking and sucking the skin.

  My hand encircles the swell of her breast and I run my thumb over the hardening nub. Her breathing is getting harder, more urgent, and I pinch the nipple from over her shirt, and she bucks a little in response. That's it, I need to see her naked. I pull the shirt over her head and her beauty is further revealed in a soft black lacy bra, which I admire for a moment before reaching around to undo the clasp.

  Her breasts bounce and settle as I take off the bra, and her womanly shape drives me wild. I want her so badly, but before I take her, I want to tease her -- to make her feel as much pleasure as I can give. I trail my lips along her silky skin, before taking the dark nipples in my mouth, one at a time, and sucking and licking them as her hands tangle in my hair. She makes sweet sounds as I kiss her -- gentle, high, and urgent. I reach down to undo her jeans and she reaches around to help me slide them off. Quickly forgotten they fall off off the sofa into a puddle on the floor, and my hand slips under her lacy thong to her tender folds. She feels hot, wet, and unbelievably welcoming. I kiss down the curve of her stomach before parting her legs, and stroking her soft warmth with a single finger. Then I enter her gently, as my lips and tongue press into her clit, continuing to suck and lick at the core of her. Her femininity makes my cock jump, and as I kiss and lick her, I get harder and harder at the thought of us coming together again.

  She's almost squealing now, but quietly, breathing ragged. I steadily enter her with two fingers, sliding in and out of her wetness, as I lap up her juices. She couldn’t be more enticing than she is at this moment -- sweaty, shaking, wrapping her legs around my head and letting them fall apart as I lick and suck her. Her taste is amazing, and she feels incredible. Her hands get wilder as her voice crescendos and she grasps my hair and thrusts into me. Then the telltale contractions make me wild and I try to make her peak last as long as I can.

  When she finally stops moving, I climb up to her and kiss her all over, her breathing subsiding. I can feel my cock, rock hard, press against her tenderness and before I know it she guides me inside her, and we both buck and glide, staring into each other’s eyes, in our own world. We move in sync until I can feel her peaking again, and her warmth wraps around me, the gentle pulses putting me over the edge. We cry out together and don’t stop moving until we are satisfied once more.

  “I love you,” I finally say, breaking the silence, the stillness. It’s a whisper, so quiet I imagine she won’t hear, but I have to tell her. The feeling is as clear as day, and I want to let her know, to make her see just how strongly I feel about her. How I want to hold her in my arms forever.

  “I love you too. Nicholas,” She breathes.

  “Oh Adisa.” I cover her face with small kisses, savoring the feel of her soft skin, the smell of her hair, her closeness. The sound of her voice alone drives me wild, but hearing those words from her fills my soul in a way that I never knew it could be.

  She pulls an afghan down from the back of the couch and covers us gently. We lay there for a long time, eyes closed, savoring the sweetness of just being together, being at peace. I listen to hear breathing, and mine unconsciously syncs with hers. I wonder if our heartbeats sync as well. I can feel her fingers trace my arm, back and forth, sending shivers down my spine.

  I can honestly say I have never felt this way before. And god is it good.

  "How was your dad doing today?" I ask softly, realizing we never talked about it.

  She looks up at me, such warmth in her eyes. "He's getting better. Getting stronger. Can I tell you something funny?"

  "Sure." I caress her waist, and wait for her to speak. “Funny strange, or funny haha?”

  "Well, as you would say, I don’t rightly know. I’m not sure how to say this, but he thinks he saw my mother during his operation. I guess he had one of those what do they call them… near-death experiences, and he's come out of it convinced that he spoke with her." Her brow wrinkles a bit. "But the truly amazing thing about it is, it seems to have brought back some of his strength. I think because he loved my mom so much, he wanted to... I dunno, join her." She looks at me like she is assessing whether I think she's crazy or not. “And she told him no, that she wants him to live.” She wipes her eye. “I guess she wants him to take care of their kids, me and the little ones. But I think knowing that he might have something to look forward at the end of his life, seeing her, has made him more ready to face the world again.

  "That's kind of… well, really beautiful," I say, and kiss her gently. "He loves her so much. It was obvious in the photos even, the way he looked at her, and the way they were always touching each other."

  "Yeah," she says and snuggles up closer to me. “That’s the kind of relationship that I want to have,” she muses, and then quickly looks at me, perhaps afraid she’s said too much.

  “Me too, Adisa,” I whisper as I tighten my arm around her and kiss her soft skin again.

  We lay there a little longer and savor the time together.

  21

  Adisa

  I wake up, bleary eyed and groggy, not sure where I am at first. Then my eyes clear a little, and I recognize the afghan on the living room couch, and as I move, I feel arms circled around my waist.

  "Where you going, baby?" I hear. Nicholas' voice. Oh God, he's gotta get outta here! We must have fallen asleep after our love fest last night. The little ones don’t need to see this. I don’t need to be answering any questions at this point.

  "Nicholas, wake up!" I hiss. "You have to wake up, you have to get out of here, the kids are going to be up any second."

  I frantically pull my shirt on and grab his pants from the coffee table. He blinks a few times when I throw them to him, and they drop near his feet.

  "What's going on?" He says, rubbing his eyes.

  "Nothing! Just you have to go." I gesture to the door, frantic, but he doesn’t seem too responsive.

  "Ok," he says, but instead of getting moving, he leans back on the couch. "Just five more minutes," he mumbles.

  Despite my worry, I have to take a second to admire just how adorably gorgeous he is. The way you can see the lines of his muscles through his shirt, his forearms, veiny and a little tanned, his blue eyes crinkled behind dark eyelashes, the ruffled hair.

  "Seriously, Nicholas, unless you want to explain our thing to my brother and sister... and eventually my dad." I say, emphasizing the last part. Looking in the reflection of the television, I try to tamp my hair down a bit, but I'm sure it's a mess.

  "Is that what this is about?" He says, suddenly opening his eyes.

  "Well, yeah!" Doesn't he realize what that means?

  "In that case," he pulls the afghan back over him, "I can go back to sleep." But he grins as he says it, and his eyes gleam with love.

  "What do you mean?" I get up and sit next to him.

  He grabs my hand and squeezes it softly. "Adisa, I hope you understand I plan on being here with you for the long haul. If you'll have me."

  "Really?" Jamal never said anything like this. Never ever. "Do you mean that?"

  "I've meant everything I've ever said to you," he assures me, before pulling me toward him. "Baby, I love you," he whispers. So it wasn’t just pillow talk last night. It wasn’t sex feelings, but maybe it’s deeper than that.

  "Oh Nicholas," I say. "I love you too."

  "I love you guys too!" I hear in a squeaky voice from the doorway. "I knew you loved each other!"

  It's Chikae and she runs over and puts her arms around us, smelling like sweetness and sleep. "I knew it," she mumbles into my shirt. I make faces at Nicholas over her head. Why couldn’t we have just ended the night sooner? Now the kids are involved. I grimace for a second, but then his words replay in my mind: “I plan on being here for the long haul,” and I can’t help but smile wide.

  "What are you doing up,
sweetie?" I ask her. "It's really late."

  "Or really early, depending on how you look at it," says Nicholas. He pats her on the back as she hugs him tightly with the fervor only a child her age can muster.

  "Can we have pancakes for breakfast?" I hear.

  "Sure baby, no problem.” Might as well make a party out of it right?

  "If you want, I can make them," Nicholas offers. “It's one of the few things I can do very well in the kitchen.” He winks at me. “In fact, you might call it my specialty. Are we all hungry now?"

  "Actually, you know," I say, suddenly ravenous, "I am."

  "Me too!" Chikae runs into the kitchen as fast as her little legs can take her. I follow her and sweep her up unto my arms, brushing her hair out of her eyes, so that she can grab the butter and syrup from the tall cupboard, and we put it on the table.

  Nicholas gets up and rummages around the fridge quietly making preparations for the pancakes, and Chikae and I snuggle a bit on the bench seat after we finish setting out plates and napkins.

  "Are you going to marry Nicholas?" She whispers to me. Nicholas is singing to himself, so I hope he hasn’t heard this newest question.

  "I dunno baby, we're just really good friends at the moment. You can't always tell where things are going to go." I scratch my nose, stalling. Trying to think of something that will get her off this topic. I don't want Nicholas to hear her pestering me.

  "Well I can tell and I say you are." She looks at me with a triumphant expression on her face. "You're going to have a big wedding and six babies!"

  "Six babies!” I laugh. "I’m pretty sure that part is not going to happen, my love," I say. "Where did you get that idea?"

  "I can just tell.” Luckily for me, she seems to be moving on and is engrossed in playing with my hair. “Mommy, I mean, Addy, can I go wake up Darius?"

  "Too late for that," we hear. Darius' voice comes from the doorway. He stumbles in in his dinosaur onesie, his favorite outfit to sleep in, and flops down on the bench with us, leaning on my other side. I feel so cozy with these two snuggle bugs, with the smell and sizzle of pancakes coming from the stove, and hearing Nicholas humming in the kitchen as the light through the windows gets brighter. Maybe I should have six kids. Maybe Chikae is right.

  It might be fast, but I know this is different than anything I have experienced before, and I also know it really feels like what I want.

  Darius pulls on my sleeve. "What’s he still doing here?” He whispers. Then excitement fills his voice. “Is that pancakes I smell? Does Boss Man know how to cook?" We all go into the kitchen and sit at the table.

  "You're darn right," affirms a grinning Nicholas as he stacks some steaming pancakes onto a plate. "It'll be ready in a couple minutes. You kids want to wash your hands and then pour yourselves some juice?"

  "For pancakes, I'll do any-thang!" announces Darius, his eyes wide. "You know it!"

  "Me too. Any-thang!" parrots Chikae, while I shake my head, nearly snorting with laughter. My brother and sister. These kids, where do they get it?

  ... and I wonder what Nicholas' and my kids will be like?

  All six of them?

  * * *

  Somehow over the next few days, which turn into weeks, Nicholas ends up staying at our house, falling asleep on the couch with me, and finally we just move to my bed. He helps with the kids, we stay up late talking, dreaming together about what we want each of our lives to be like, what our lives might look like if we were together. His presence begins to seem natural, necessary. He helps with the kids, watches them and plays with them. Cooks for all of us, learning recipes with some help from me, or cooks with me, and when we’re tired he orders something or takes us all out to the restaurant.

  Speaking of the restaurant, they didn't seem too upset when I called them tonight to quit my job. I guess they've been getting along without me for awhile. Still, my voice was shaking as I called them:

  “I’m so sorry, but with my dad's illness, and taking on the responsibility of the house and the kids, I can't really see that I can continue working, at least for the time being.” The tremor in my voice must have revealed my anxiety about it, but it's true. If I need to, I'll take the emergency money hidden in the closet and get us through this rough patch before I leave the kids all the time with a sitter, even if it is Nicholas. He’s gotta get back to work though at some point, doesn’t he? For more than the few hours he’s putting in now? Maybe not. If I’m honest, he didn’t make it in all that often. Rain and I used to talk about that. I wonder how she’s doing, running the show outside his office without any help from me.

  "Ok, Adisa," said my restaurant boss. "I understand. The door is open if you want to come back though, and if there's any way, we will accommodate you if you want to return." There was a pause. "Are you going to be all right?"

  "Yes, for certain," I said, trying to sound optimistic. "Dad's on the rebound and as he gets better, I know that he'll take on his old responsibilities. But right now, this is what's most important for my family, and I have to respect that."

  "Of course," he said. But he sounded a bit tired, which made me feel a little guilty. "Well let us know if you need anything, and if there's some way we can help."

  Everything seems to be going as well as it possibly can, but I worry… I guess because that's who I am. But when I let my mind wander, I wonder what will happen if Nicholas decides he doesn't want to stay with us, if he gets tired of me and our life. Surely, what I can offer, what we have, is no match for the kind of lifestyle he’s used to. The man is a billionaire by now. He could have whatever he wants, whoever he wants. He could have the heiress to a fortune, a trophy wife, a blonde-highlighted-plastic-surgery-having-Versace-wearing goddess to sail around on his yacht. So why does he stay with me and my kooky brother and sister? But I am grateful for his eager help. And more than anything, I am ecstatic that this man that I have had a huge crush on for months is with me, loving me, caring for us. It’s making a stressful time a lot easier. And my dad should be coming home soon as well. At that point, Nicholas will want to return to his place in the country I guess. But by all measures, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. I guess what he said is true.

  And if I admit it to myself, I can tell that he is happy. Just very happy with the simplest things. As I am.

  When I go to visit my father, he offers to take care of my brother and sister, or come with me, whatever helps us the most.

  This man, my Nicholas Corbett, is special. He is my dream. I wish he never leaves.

  22

  Nicholas

  Every day her father seems to be improving. Which is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but also seeing him regain his strength makes me feel like Adisa will soon be set free. Not that she resents her father for this. She doesn't seem to, or perhaps she wouldn’t let on. But at this age she needs to be searching for something that will be her vocation in life, and it's a bit early to be taking on someone else's children, even if they are her brother and sister. Especially as it's been thrust upon her and not something that she chooses out of her own volition.

  But I'm starting to love them myself. If I'm honest, they are some of the most charming little kids, probably in many ways due to Adisa’s influence - and I can understand why she cares about them and their well being so much. These last few days have really made me feel at home with the whole family. We work well together, we get along nearly flawlessly, and we complement each other.

  For me, this is my dream life. Not the sterile existence that I was headed for with Stephanie, but a sometimes messy, fun, and most importantly, love-filled journey. That's the reason I was born: to live, and to love. To protect my woman, and serve a family.

  23

  Adisa

  I’m retching over the toilet bowl for the second day in a row. That’s what I love, dry heaves. And the day my dad is supposed to come home from the hospital, too. This is fantastic.

  “Nicholas,” I try to call out, but it comes out with a bit o
f a gurgle. He rushes in.

  “What’s the matter sweetie?” He asks, a solicitous look in his blue eyes.

  “Well, you can see for yourself, I’m sick again,” I say. “I must have a bug or the flu or something, because I do not feel well at all.” I turn back to the porcelain bowl. “You better go because I’m gonn-” But before I can finish that sentence, I hurl the contents of my stomach. Ugh. Such a lovely picture for my beautiful man.

  “Aw, I’m sorry you feel so rough.” He kneels down, and puts one hand on my back, which ironically makes me feel like I might throw up even more. Grabbing a handful of tissues I wipe my lips and throw it in the bowl and then sit back with a hand on my forehead. “Was it something I ate? Do you feel ok?”

  “I feel fine, babe,” he says. There’s a funny look in his eye though, which gives me pause. “You weren’t around anyone sick, were you? I don’t think I was.”

  “Nope, unless I picked up something at the hospital, which isn’t out of the realm of possibility,” I mutter. “Lots of time at the hospital means exposure to some germs, right? Lots of people get sick at the hos-” I turn quickly toward the toilet and this time I dry heave into the bowl. My stomach must be completely empty by this point, because despite the painful contraction, nothing more is coming up.

  “Right,” he says doubtfully. “Sure they do. Hey do you want me to go and pick up your dad, and you can stay here?” He jingles his keys in his pocket. “I don’t want to leave you all alone when you’re not well, but I’m sure you and he are both anxious to get him home.”

  “Unless I start feeling better right now, I think that’s the only way this can work.” The kids are at school, at least. So I don’t have to do anything but contemplate my existence on the hard cold tile of the bathroom floor.