His Gift (A Dark Billionaire Romance Part 1)

by Dark, Aubrey

  Then I heard his voice come from behind the canvas. It was a voice so booming and low that it made goosebumps run along my arms.

  “Who are you?”

  ***

  I couldn’t see any of him but his shoes and an ankle’s worth of pant leg. His shoes were black, polished. Shiny. A fleck of gold icing had flown off of the cake I’d just dropped and landed on his left shoe. I swallowed.

  Oh Lord. Steph is going to kill me. And if she doesn’t kill me, this rich guy will definitely kill me when he sees I got cake frosting on him.

  “Who are you?” he asked again. He made no movement to walk around the canvas to see me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, staring straight ahead at the canvas. The best defense was a good offense, after all, and I had no idea what else to say.

  “Did you come here for the birthday party?” he asked.

  “Um. Yes?”

  “That’s for me. It’s my birthday.”

  I was over being shocked. Now I was well into shame. I could feel the heat rising off of my cheeks. I blew out a breath.

  “Oh. Uh, Happy Birthday,” I said. “I’m sorry. About all this. I—”

  “Why are you standing there?”

  “Here?” I looked around. I was in the middle of the canvases. In front of me, I could see the detailing on the word KAGE. The curling end of the letter K split off into a forest of branches that tangled into the letter A.

  “In my art gallery,” the man said. His voice was a growl. “In front of this piece.”

  “I wanted to see the Kage painting,” I said. My mouth was dry and shame burned my skin. At least he wasn’t yelling at me about the birthday cake. Yet.

  “The Kage painting? Why?”

  “I… I haven’t seen his stuff in a while. He quit tagging a couple years ago, didn’t he?”

  There was a pause. I looked down at the man’s shoes again. He hadn’t moved at all, and I wondered what he looked like behind the canvas. A silver-haired businessman, probably. But his voice was so deep—

  “Are you an art student?”

  “Me?” I snorted nervously. “Yeah, no, I wish I had the money to sit around all day doing that.”

  “So you’re a painter?”

  I opened my mouth and couldn’t find anything to say. If you asked my parents, my best friend, my brothers, they would all say that I was a painter. I loved to paint. I’d been tagging from the time I was two and got into my mom’s lipstick.

  But there was a seriousness in his voice that made me hesitate to call myself a painter. Was I, really? Some people would call me nothing more than a vandal. Even if I put my paint on canvases, it wouldn’t measure up.

  Looking in front of me, staring at the amazing Kage painting, I couldn’t say it.

  “I… try,” I said.

  “You try to paint, but no colors come out?”

  “Ha. Ha. I try to paint well. I’m not a painter like this guy, though,” I said, gesturing forward as though he could see.

  Jeez. It was weird to be having a conversation through the canvas of a painting. Let alone this painting.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m not talented like he is.”

  “You have no talent?”

  “Well, not none. But this kind of work…” I trailed off.

  “What do you like about it?” the man asked.

  Although his voice was low, he didn’t seem angry. Or upset. If someone spilled a two-thousand-dollar cake onto my probably-more-than-two-thousand-dollar carpet, I would definitely be upset. But there was no hint of it in his voice. It made me breathe a bit easier.

  I looked at the canvas in front of me. All of the qualities that had drawn me to the piece seemed silly to say aloud. I licked my lips.

  “Uh, it’s… it’s perfect.” A burst of nervous laughter came from my lips. “I mean, really. Every line. It’s all perfect, it all needs to be there. It feels like every part of it should be there. And the lines are all so precise, but they add up to something that looks so organic. I, uh…” I faltered, not getting any visual feedback at all. “I just really like it,” I finished lamely.

  “I see.”

  “Where’d you get it? Was it a commission, or—”

  “Who are you?”

  “Uh,” I said, fear creeping back into my heart at the sound of his voice. “I’m Lacey.”

  “Come around the canvas now, Lacey. I want to see you.”

  The way he spoke the words, it wasn’t an order. It was just the tone of a man who had never been disobeyed. I found myself moving before I meant to move. I reached the edge of the canvas and hesitated.

  “Come.”

  Chapter Five

  The man standing on the other side of the canvas looked up at me with something like surprise in his eyes.

  He must have been shocked to see me after the parade of supermodels, I suppose. And I was shocked, too.

  “You’re young!” I exclaimed.

  “Excuse me?” he said, his eyebrow arching.

  “I mean, you’re not old. I mean, I thought you were. Older. That is.”

  Not only was he not old, he was hot. His eyes shone like green emeralds from under his dark, perfectly coiffed hair. He was wearing a dark gray tailored suit that fit his lines, accentuating his height and his broad chest. When he looked down at me, I had the strangest feeling that he was taking a picture.

  “Sorry again,” I said.

  “Lucas said that he was sending me something,” the man said.

  “Oh, the—ah, the cake—”

  “But where’s your collar?”

  He tilted his head at me.

  “Yeah, about that,” I said. “I’m not really into accessories. And I was just here to—”

  “Where do you think you are?”

  My mouth opened and closed like a mentally challenged goldfish.

  “I—well, this is the top floor of the building—nice place, by the way—”

  “This is my birthday party,” he said, answering his own question.

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “What have you heard about me?” he asked.

  “You? What’s your name?”

  The man smiled, the slow curve moving across his lips in a casual ripple of amusement.

  “Jake Carville. Have you never heard of me before?”

  “Uh, no. Sorry,” I said again. I felt like I was apologizing for everything. I deserved it, after all. “About the cake—”

  “I’ll get someone to clean it up. Don’t worry.” The man waved his hand, as though he didn’t realize that it was a two thousand dollar cake. Then again, maybe he didn’t care. A flicker of hope bloomed in my chest.

  “Then you really don’t know who I am,” he was saying.

  “No.” I shook my head, trying to remember if I’d ever heard of a Jake Carville. I didn’t really follow the news, and I couldn’t afford cable TV. He could have been anything—an NBC executive, a Wall Street guru, a congressman—but I had no idea.

  “Lucas did go out of his way, didn’t he?” he murmured. He stepped closer to me, and all of the breath ran out of my body. His cologne smelled faintly of peppermint, and as he leaned down to me I tried my best to stand tall. Even though I was barefoot.

  “Lucas?” Steph hadn’t mentioned a Lucas.

  “You’re very innocent,” he said. He lifted his hand and traced the line of my chin with one finger. His touch shocked me with its possessiveness. If it had been any other man, I’d have clocked him in the face at the first touch. But he was so… so calm.

  “Not as innocent as you’d think,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

  “No?” His thumb pressed my lower lip, making my lips part.

  I felt a rush of heat down between my thighs. His fingers were strong, but his caress was gentle. I wanted to lean my head into his touch. I wanted to kiss his thumb and suck the salt off of his skin.

  His eyes burned a deep, rich green and I could smell his aftershave as he came
closer. I trembled as he put his hand on my shoulder and held me still as he stepped behind me.

  What was happening right now? I didn’t understand what the heck this guy was doing, or what he wanted. One hand kneaded my shoulder gently as he moved out of my sight. His other hand came around my waist and rested on my hip.

  His fingers trailed down from my shoulder, his fingertips grazing the back of my arm. I shivered. I wasn’t about to move, but my entire body was ready to jump as I felt his hands press on either side of my hips.

  “This dress doesn’t fit you,” he said.

  I gulped a breath.

  “I—I know. It’s my friend’s dress,” I said.

  He stepped closer to me. He didn’t touch me with anything but his hands, but I could tell that he was closer. His body heat radiated through the air between us, and his breath was warm on my neck.

  “Take it off.”

  ***

  “Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe that I had heard him correctly.

  “Take it off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused for your insolence,” Jake growled. “Now take off the damn dress.”

  Before I could figure out how to respond, he pulled me backwards. I fell off balance and landed against his chest. His arms wrapped around me. His muscles were hard and—

  Oh, Lord, his cock was hard, too. He was pressed up against me from behind and I could feel it, thick and throbbing against my lower back. My heart pounded in my ears and all the room seemed to spin.

  This wasn’t… I couldn’t. I really couldn’t.

  I was a virgin.

  He couldn’t have known it, of course. I had no idea what to do with a guy. I mean, I had an idea, but nothing specific or detailed. I’d never even gone past second base with anyone.

  And now he was acting like he wanted… well, I couldn’t imagine what he wanted. More than I was capable of, that’s for sure.

  “Lacey.”

  I took off the shawl. Already I felt bare. My cleavage was full to bursting out of the front.

  “Now the dress,” he said.

  I reached up as though in a dream and tugged on the zipper. I didn’t know how to stop him. Even the idea of asking him to stop seemed completely absurd, as though it was impossible not to follow his orders. That was how absolutely in control he was.

  Steph had told me once, one night when we were staying up late and drinking wine with our cupcakes, that I ought to find a mature man who, in her words, “knew what the hell to do with your body.”

  Well, heck, I’d thought. I didn’t even know what to do with my body. How could a man have any idea what to do with me? Now, though, with Jake standing behind me, I knew exactly what Steph meant. Because this man knew what he wanted. He would know what the hell to do with my body.

  Once he saw what was under the dress, he might not want me anymore, though. And hey, as long as I got out of here alive, that was fine by me. But as I peeled the dress down over my body, I found myself hoping that he wouldn’t kick me out. Even with my blue bra and black panties mismatching.

  I found myself hoping that he would want to keep me.

  Could I do this? Could I lose my virginity to some random man? Even if he was handsome as sin and richer than the world?

  The dress fell down to my bare feet. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned to face him. He looked down, taking my body in an inch at a time. It was so long before he looked up at me, his lips parting slowly. He looked hungry.

  “Take off your bra.”

  “I… I don’t…”

  “You don’t want to?”

  He had me there. I wanted to. The desire in his eyes scared me, but it also made me feel something that I hadn’t felt before.

  Lord, I felt so wanted.

  “Take it off.”

  I turned my back to him and unhooked my bra. Then I let it drop to the floor along with my dress. With my toes, I delicately kicked it away.

  Then I crossed my arms over my chest and turned back around.

  “You’re a temptress,” Jake growled.

  There, again. That low thrum in his voice that turned my insides to thick cream.

  “I didn’t think a man like you could be tempted.”

  “By this? By you? Oh, Lacey. Lacey.”

  Before I could react, he was in front of me. Jake raced his hand down my arm, skimming my bare hip. It came to a rest cupping the outside curve of my ass. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to push back the feelings that tangled through my body and tore at my nerves.

  What was I doing? Why was I obeying him?

  Was it the soft animal whisper in his voice that said I want you? Was it that which tempted me?

  “Jake.”

  It was the first time I’d said his name. It seemed to stun him. His fingers froze their caress.

  “Why did you call me that?” he asked.

  “Your… it’s your name.”

  “Don’t use my name.”

  “What?” I furrowed my brows, confused. “Then what do I call y—”

  “Don’t call me anything.”

  “Don’t call you anything?” I repeated.

  “You can call me Sir. But only if you must. Otherwise, try not to use my name.”

  “I’ll try.”

  That, at least, was one thing I could do. I could try to do this for him, no matter how weird it seemed. Don’t call him Jake. Alright.

  “Let me see you, Lacey.”

  “Should I… I mean, are we in private? The door’s not locked.” I bit my lip, a nervous thrill of fear sending strong vibrations through my nervous system.

  “Does that matter to you?”

  “What? Wh—yes! Of course it matters.”

  “I’m a stranger to you,” he said. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And another stranger seeing you, wouldn’t that be the same?”

  NO!

  The voice in my head was louder than anything, even instinct. It sang through my skull.

  No, it wouldn’t be the same.

  No, you’re more than that.

  You are different.

  Different. Yes. There was a calm confidence to him that I still couldn’t place a finger on. He stood, his fingers stroking my skin in a slow contemplation. It seemed as though he was living entirely in this one moment, his senses soaking in all of the room. Soaking in me.

  “If I’d known I was going to be putting on a show tonight, I would have worn matching underwear,” I said, smiling weakly.

  “You’re doing fine,” he said. “More than fine.”

  His eyes ate me up; they gnawed my body.

  “I want to show you off,” he said.

  “What?” Show me off?

  “I want to peel you naked and lay you down in front of a hundred people and take you for myself. I want to lick your hot cunt.”

  “Sir.”

  The word was a shadow of a gasp. I had no breath in me. No, it wasn’t only one breath. It was the whole world. All of the air was gone and I was gasping at nothing.

  The walls spun. I blinked, then again, trying to focus.

  “Forgive me for being so blunt this early with you. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  “I have to go.”

  The words tore from my throat. Jake stared at me with a blank look on his face.

  “See, I have a new job,” I said, sputtering as I bent down to pick up the bra. I kept one arm covering my breasts. How effective it was, I didn’t know. I wasn’t about to look up before I had both arms crossed in front of me again. “I’m starting tonight, after I leave here.”

  “Who says you’re leaving?”

  His eyes turned dark.

  “What do you mean? I say I’m leaving. That’s how it works,” I said. I pulled on my bra and had my dress up around my shoulders in two seconds.

  “Lacey, you aren’t leaving.”

  He said it kindly, but there was a certainty to the statement that made m
y pulse thud harder.

  “You’re starting to scare me,” I warned. It wasn’t fear, though, that ran through me.

  “Good. I’ll like that. I think you’ll like it, too.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take very good care of you. If I scare you, you’ll enjoy it.”

  His tongue slipped over his bottom lip, wetting it. I couldn’t help but imagine what he would taste like. Mint and spice, rough like cinnamon bark.

  It felt insane. I stood there calmly, barefoot. This man, this stranger had just seen me as close to naked as anyone ever had. And now he was telling me that he wanted to scare me.

  Instead of fear, I felt stabs of curiosity when he spoke. He didn’t seem like he would hurt me. He seemed so calm, so assured. It was… it was thrilling.

  I zipped up my dress quickly and tugged the hem back down around my hips.

  “Really, though. I have to go.”

  “I’ll let you go on one condition.”

  “A condition?” I tilted my chin up toward his face. His cool emerald irises shimmered with silver specks. His eyes were cold, but his gaze burned my skin.

  “Only one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me make you come.”

  He smiled slowly, letting his words sink into me.

  “Then,” he said, “I’ll let you go.”

  Chapter Six

  “Make… make me…”

  “Make you come.”

  “I’m not getting naked again—”

  “I’m not asking you to. I told you I would take good care of you. First, I want you to come back into the gallery with me.”

  “The gallery?” I nodded. “Okay.”

  His finger stroked once down my neck, and he turned to me with an irritated look.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’d forgotten you didn’t have your collar.”

  “I don’t wear a collar.”

  “You will,” he said, waving his hand in the air as though it was a commonplace thing. “But now, I want to talk with you about this cake.”

  Oh, crud on a muffin. The cake.

  I’d almost forgotten about it in the minutes since Jake had looked at my body and told me to strip for him. Everything seemed like a daydream, but seeing the cake on its side pulled me back to reality with a sharp yank.