The Billionaire's Risk

by Ava Claire

  “What you are unaware of is the fact that I wasted my afternoon because she informed me that they had no need for a ‘legacy’ connection like W & C. Then she had the nerve to tell me they would offer quite the sum if we were on the market.”

  “On the market?” I shrilled, almost snapping to my feet. “Who does she think she is?”

  “She thinks she owns the game now. That our company is too embroiled in scandal because of the antics of its CEO.”

  I dropped my head in my hands with a groan. “And then your wife had to come in with a fresh slice of drama. Jesus Christ, she must think we’re some reality tv show train wreck.”

  He didn’t let me off the hook. “More or less. Still, her assumptions didn’t stop me from putting an end to her delusions of grandeur. Whittaker is a fad agency. They haven’t put in the work, they’re ignoring a sizable chunk of consumers by focusing all their efforts on social media, and we aren’t for sale.”

  I exhaled, settling into my seat as relief washed over me. “I hope you wiped the smug little grin off her face.”

  “Why don’t you trust me, Leila?”

  I coughed, his question catching me off guard. “What?”

  “When you told me about your ex popping back into your life, my first thought wasn’t ‘what is she keeping from me?’. Let that sink in.”

  I was already on the defensive, but I tried really hard to do what he asked.

  Sit with what he said.

  Swallow the knot in my throat when I realized that he had a point.

  “This is the second time that you’ve reacted like a jealous spouse when confronted with my actions. I’ve been spending too much time at the office? You snapped and all but asked me if I was having an affair. You walk in on me having coffee with another woman? You nearly attacked her.”

  “That’s not really fair-”

  “Fair?” he snorted. “Explaining to a competitor that my wife is under a lot of pressure and that’s why she was acting like we were on an episode of Cheaters? That wasn’t exactly fair.”

  I couldn’t take the disappointment that colored his eyes, so I looked down at my lap instead. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want your apologies, Lay.” His voice softened and he made his way to the couch. Sat beside me, but didn’t move too close. Worried that our magnetism would make us both take the easy route. Have crazy sex and carry on like there wasn’t a crack in our foundation. A crack that would bring the whole thing down if we didn’t take a hard look at it. Stop it before it burrowed any deeper.

  I still didn’t look at him, but I felt him reaching for me. Not physically. With the thing that was racing in my chest. The thing that was racing in his.

  He reached out with his heart.

  “There’s a reason you’re worried I’m cheating on you. I could tell you that my long hours are because I have responsibilities to you. To Hope. To my employees. To our clients. I could tell you that Jada Whittaker is nothing more than business—a means to an end that I want to control. To exploit. To bring to heel because I haven’t worked this hard to let my clients be swayed by a savvy flash in the pan.” He took a breath, the fire in his eyes telling me that I had no worries in the romance department as far as Jada Whittaker was concerned.

  But wasn’t that the point?

  I shouldn’t have any worries in the romance department at all.

  I finally dredged my eyes from analyzing every speck of lint on my yoga pants. Looked into the ocean blue eyes that still gazed at me like they always had. Like I was still the sexiest thing they’d ever seen.

  “I know you think I’m beautiful-”

  “You are beautiful,” he asserted, fondling my curly tresses.

  I nuzzled his hand. “You’re sweet.”

  He pulled his hand away, his face contorting like he was sucking on a lemon. “I’m sweet? Not exactly what I was going for.”

  “I know, I just-” I let out a groan of frustration, tugging at my hair as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to figure out just what I was trying to say.

  How could I explain to a guy who looked at me like I hung the stars and moon in the sky that I felt hopelessly average? That I was doing an awful job at juggling it all: wife, mother, pr consultant, submissive?

  “With you, I feel like I have it all,” I said, tears in my eyes. In my voice. “Hope. A husband that is literally the sexiest man alive. I mean, I’m lucky to have you in my life at all. And the things we do when the lights go off, things I never knew I needed and now, I can’t live without. I have a career I’ve always wanted...” I trailed off, losing the nerve to say what I needed to say.

  “And it’s not enough.”

  Jacob’s voice was deadpan. Like he was telling a joke, but the joke was really on him.

  And he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Staring into the sea, close enough to the one person that I’d given everything to, I knew that I had to say it. I couldn’t spend one more second making it about him and all the things he was doing wrong. Or didn’t do. Pawning it off because I didn’t want to admit that he was doing the work—going to therapy, speaking up when things bothered him—while I was over here like a martyr. Burying things. Keeping my own secrets.

  No more.

  “I’m not enough.”

  Three words.

  They nearly broke me in two, until I saw that his eyes were still holding me. Then it wasn’t just his gaze. His arms were around me and he said three words that reached into my chest, wrapped around my heart, and squeezed.

  “You are enough.”

  Simple.

  Undebatable, when he cradled my face in his hands and said it again, like he was tattooing the words on my heart.

  “You are enough.”

  The floodgates opened and I couldn’t stop shaking. Clutching him as I blubbered about how there would always be someone prettier. Sexier. That sometimes I threw the Peek A Boo game and let Hope win because I was too tired. That I let her watch too much TV while I was doing work and did that make me a bad mother? My mother never turned on the tv while she watched Hope, after all. How sometimes I wanted to strangle my clients and I was still waiting for Rich to do something that would burn his career to the ground. And-

  “-you are still enough.”

  He said it so simply. Like he was closing the book.

  He’d made up his mind.

  It was me and him vs. the world.

  I swallowed the last of my tears along with an un-sexy amount of snot as I laid my head on his shoulder, inhaling his smell. Hoping he was lost in the moment too, feeling magnanimous.

  “So, does that mean we’re starting off fresh? Bygones are bygones and all of that?”

  He gave me a squeeze, his hands drifting until they swept beneath my butt and he lifted me up. Up and over, so I was straddling him. He was either oblivious to my bleary eyes and snotty nose, or if the cock pressing against me was any indication, more concerned with other things.

  “I’m not letting you off that easily.” A sinister smile curled his lips. “We have another hour before your mother returns with Hope, and I intend to spend it reminding you of just how desirable I find you—and what happens when you forget.”

  I almost made a joke about how I should doubt myself more often, but he gripped my breast.

  My nipple.

  Squeezed it until my world was nothing but pain.

  I tried to focus on breathing.

  Trust that he wouldn’t give me more than I could bare.

  Grit my teeth as the pain became a white hot thing.

  Until I was so wet that I could swear he could feel my desire.

  He released my nipple, bringing my breast to his mouth. Licking the tender nipple. The barrier of cotton was irrelevant because every lick made me moan.

  He sat back, his heated gaze telling me that while everything was forgiven, he would get his pound of flesh.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Chapter Two

  I sc
rambled off his lap and tore off my clothes like there was a race to get naked and I would be damned if I wasn’t going home with the trophy.

  My clothes told an erotic story. My yoga pants were a black, spandex puddle beneath the coffee table. Since I had to peel them off like tights by the time I got to my ankles, I just left them where gravity put them—on the floor. My t-shirt marked the line where the hardwood met the fluffy rug that covered most of the living room. We put it down when Hope started crawling, wanting something plush beneath her.

  It turned out that it had other helpful uses as well. When I lowered myself to my knees, locking my hands behind my back, my attention was locked on Jacob. Biting my lip as he got comfortable, eyes licking me from head to toe. There wasn’t the bite of pain when my kneecaps met the hardwood floor. My undivided attention was given to my Dom. I saved my put-the-pain-on-the-back-burner-so-I-can-revel-in-the-pleasure for whatever naughty punishments he had in mind.

  He tilted his head, like he was determining whether I could handle it or not. I tried to steady my voice. “S-so, what now?”

  He righted himself, his mouth the biggest tease of all, especially when the sides curled ever so slightly. Making me want to break protocol and go back to where I’d been. Straddling him. Tasting his smile. Dueling with his tongue.

  “What now?” he repeated slowly. “Are you in a rush, Leila? Do you have more pressing engagements?”

  “No,” I frowned, nostrils flaring. I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but he wasn’t playing fair. He couldn’t fire the starting shot and get me all excited, then expect me to be an A+ submissive. His eyes swept my face, clearly waiting for me to apologize. I was in no rush to oblige, but I flexed my fingers and let it go. “Sorry.”

  “Interesting,” he mused. He brought his powerful arms to his chest, cradling his chin. Stroking it, like he was mulling over why his submissive loved to top from the bottom. Why he not only put up with it, but secretly loved it when I let Leila peek through. The sub who loved to give it all over to her Dom—and couldn’t help but give him a hard time while she was at it.

  “I’ll remind you of the obvious.”

  He counted it out on his fingers. Thick fingers. Fingers I wanted on me. Buried in me.

  “You run a great many things and do it very well. Hope has the best mom in the universe, hands down. Pretty sure I’m going prematurely gray-” He gestured at his temple, where of course there wasn’t a spot of gray, but this wasn’t about facts as much as making a point. “-but there is no woman in this life or the next that could measure up to my wife. Your clients are damn lucky to have you in their corner. And no one else orders Sullivan’s just like I like it,” he winked, but the playfulness had an edge. The sharpness entered his voice, outlined the angular perfection of his face.

  Lines.

  Shadows.

  Sex.

  “But in this space, I run things. I ask the questions, you give the answers. I tell you what to do...” He trailed off, his grin returning with a vengeance when the heat in my cheeks gave me away.

  We were only a couple of feet from each other. Me on my knees, Jacob on his metaphorical throne. Close enough that he could see the insolence flash in my eyes.

  “Are you testing me?” He moved even closer, to the edge of the couch. He leaned forward until he was eye level with me. Breath mingling with mine. Daring me to say yes.

  I scissored into my bottom lip as a different kind of heat took over. I wanted him to take me. He knew the answer and I knew what I was supposed to say. I could lie, and get punished...or I could be honest—and get punished anyway.

  Luckily, it was a win/win for us both.

  I raised my chin defiantly and licked my lips, like I could taste whatever delicious plans awaited me.

  “Yes, I am.” I put the final nail in my coffin. “Sir.”

  I held my breath.

  Glared into his eyes, the waves the color of a coming storm.

  Navy blue.

  Flashing.

  But he did nothing.

  I didn’t exhale, glancing at my breasts. I could almost make out every goose bump. Every pore waiting for his brutal touch.

  And still...nothing.

  I let go, exhaling as my shoulders slumped in kind.

  Jacob’s response?

  A wink.

  A wink!

  It should have been infuriating, but it just made the fluttering in my core literally take flight. Wings swarming to my throat. Lodged there, butterflies colliding with one another. Keeping me from saying the obvious.

  This was my punishment. Making me wait. Forcing me to count the seconds until he’d erase the heartbeat between us.

  He reached for me, his fingertips grazing my cheek. Ghosting across my skin as his eyes turned sexually lethal. “Any Dom worth their salt knows how to keep their submissive on their toes.” His touch danced across my collarbone, gaze zeroed in on me. Not missing a thing. “You thought you’d provoke me. Force my hand. We’d get caught up in the frenzy and before we know it, I’m inside you and we’re both lost, mad with lust. Right?”

  I was caught.

  He read my mind like he had a script in his hands.

  He stopped stroking my collarbone. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

  “Yes!” I said instantly, almost reaching for his hand and putting it back where it had been. We were still solidly in rated R territory, but I’d take it. I wanted him. I wanted him to know I needed this power play just as badly as he did.

  “That’s better.” He possessed me, not only grazing my skin this time, but rounding my left breast. Fondling the curves, slowing time down until he rewrote the rules altogether. There was no longer seconds and minutes and hours. I existed in a place of breaths, in and out. In flesh. My flesh, in his hands.

  “Do you trust me, Leila?”

  The me that was eager for him, craving the instant gratification of his body and my body, nearly blurted out the affirmative. But I had a better idea.

  I sat back and locked my hands behind me, tucking my chin to my chest. I took a deep breath. “Yes sir. I do.”

  And I did more than just say the words that would unlock our session.

  I let go.

  I stopped trying to orchestrate our romp and remembered why we did this in the first place. This was about us. About existing in this moment. Knowing that whether he teased me relentlessly for an hour or two, tied me to a St. Andrews cross and did his worst, or bent me over the back of the couch and fucked me, I didn’t get to be on the committee that decided which door he chose. This was about closing my eyes and stepping off the ledge. The adventure. The unknown and the pleasure that came with knowing whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, my Dom would give me exactly what I needed.

  I waited for him for what felt like an eternity and then some, erotic shockwaves trembling through me. I embraced it and just savored his eyes on me. The nearness of him. Then he did one better and lifted my chin.

  He didn’t bark an order. His voice was deep, reaching inside me. Calling to me.

  “I’m a lucky man.” The sweetness of the moment flitted across me and then he set my body on fire when he told me what he wanted. What I wanted. “Show me your body.” He left nothing to chance, giving me detailed instructions to follow. “I want you on your back. Knees bent. Spread open for me.”

  I barely heard the ‘yes sir’ that passed through my lips over the roar of excitement. Heart in my throat as I obeyed, falling back in the plush embrace of the rug. Parting my thighs. Inhaling and exhaling. Watching Jacob watch me.

  He didn’t say a word, he just lowered himself to the rug.

  To the valley between my thighs.

  The fingers that teased me were back in full effect. Tracing the tender skin. The fevered flesh between my thighs. His eyes caressed my body like I was treasure, something precious that he couldn’t believe he had within his grasp.

  “Baby,” he lowered himself, sending a gentle gust over my erotic flesh. Maki
ng me wonder if that tender term of endearment was my imagination. But he repeated it, with his mouth blazing a hot trail up my right thigh.

  Blowing my slit.

  Making me twitch.

  Making me beg, and he hadn’t even tasted me yet.

  “How can you not see that you’re everything to me?” If that wasn’t enough to melt me, he gripped my hips. “Tell me you need it. Tell me you need me.”

  The rawness in his voice wasn’t lost on me. His need. I thought I was waiting for him to set me free, but I never realized he was waiting too. Holding back. Using restraint of his own.

  “I need you,” I sighed, fingers locked in his dark tresses. “I need you, Jacob.”

  He let out a hungry growl that echoed over my body—and then he went to work.

  His tongue slipped inside my warmth. Flicked across my swollen knot of desire, but he didn’t linger there. He wanted to taste me. He found my core, his tongue burrowing deep, taking me, tasting me, fucking me with his mouth. He clutched and gripped me like his life depended on it.

  I couldn’t help it. I didn’t ask for permission. To be honest, I couldn’t have asked even if I wanted to. The need was overwhelming.

  I had to come.

  And if I got punished for it, well, I’d take it.

  The world exploded in technicolor bliss, every part of me crying out in unison.

  Yes.

  Oh my God.

  Don’t stop!

  “Jesus,” I trembled, still holding onto Jacob when I realized that the words weren’t in my head. They poured out of my mouth.

  I released Jacob, adding a few apologetic words to the mix. “I-I-um-sorry-”

  “No,” he interrupted, pressing a kiss on my thigh. He rose up, his mouth wet with me. Happiness dancing in his heated gaze. “You did exactly what I told you to.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but I realized that technically, he was right.

  “There’s plenty of time to punish you,” he explained, one side of his mouth curving deliciously. “I just wanted you to know something.” He stared so deeply into my eyes that it didn’t matter if I was fully clothed or butt naked. He saw me. “You’re not lucky that you have me, Lay. I’m the lucky one.”