Auctioned to the Billionaire: A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance

by Kira Bloom

  “Aren’t you tired?” she yawns. I hear her bed squeak as she moves around and then a faint light illuminates her small bed. The white tank top she has on is so flimsy her dusky pink nipples are visible. Realizing I’m ogling her tits, she tilts the phone to her face, and I grin as two red patches color her cheeks. “It’s after one in New York.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “I can.”

  “I was thinking about you. I see you received the phone.” When she presses her lips together demurely and thanks me, I lift my eyebrow. I know for a fact that wasn’t the only gift in that box because I had packed it myself. “Was the box tampered with?” I drawl. “Or is there something else you’re neglecting to mention?”

  Her cheeks turn redder, and she glances away from the screen for a moment to catch her breath. “I got the … toy,” she whispers coyly. “And the lube.”

  “And the letter?” I demand.

  “Yes. I received the letter.”

  The letter was short but explicit, detailing all the ways I wanted her to get off while I’m away, and all the ways I’m going to get her off when I come home. I told her we wouldn’t need a vibrating toy since my cock and tongue will take very good care of her.

  She closes her eyes, and I can tell she’s recalling every word because she pushes out a shaky breath.

  “And do you know why I sent you those things? The phone?” I ask, pushing my hand down in my boxers and jerking my cock until it’s rock hard. She opens her eyes, licks her lips and shrugs. “Because I want to see you come.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, sweet. I want to see that little pink cunt quiver and cream. Right. Now.”

  Her eyes dart around wildly then she hisses, “My roommate is in the other room with her boyfriend.”

  “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

  “He’s friends with my ex!” She shouldn’t have told me that because now I’ve even more reason to make her get off with my voice guiding her. I want her ex-boyfriend to know she’s seeing someone. That there’s another man eating her cunt and getting his dick sucked by her. I want him to know she’s mine and that there’s not a damn thing he can do to change that.

  “I’m waiting, Felicity,” I say sternly.

  Her shoulders slump. “I’ve never done anything like this on camera, Jackson. I’ve never—”

  “There’s a first time for everything. And tonight, you’ll get off on camera for me. I’m not going to disconnect this call until I’ve heard, and seen, you come.”

  Sucking in her cheeks, she sighs. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Never. Now, pull out the vibrator. Let me show you what I can give you.” She starts to protest but then she snaps her mouth shut. She doesn’t even have to leave the bed to follow through on what I’ve asked her to do. She narrows her eyes to slits as I point out that my sweet Little Flick likes to keep her pleasures close and ready.

  Resting her back against her pillows, she holds the tiny blue bullet up where I can see it. I’d picked that particular toy with a specific purpose in mind—I didn’t want anything inside her pussy but myself—but I also know how sensitive her clit is. How it seems to vibrate on its own if I touch it just the right way.

  She swipes her tongue over her lips and clears her throat. “You just want to watch my face while I use it?”

  “Something like that,” I drawl. “Turn it on.”

  She does, startling when it comes to life in her small fingers. Avoiding my gaze, she switches it to the lowest setting then breathlessly asks, “What now?”

  “Push your panties to the side, Flick.” I hear her mattress squeak, and when she looks at me expectantly, I say, “Rub it over your clit. Slow circles.”

  Her mouth parts in a silent O as she complies. The camera shakes, and I smirk because I know it won’t be long until she’s unable to hold the damn thing. “Like this?” she murmurs.

  “Just like that, my sweet girl.” I work my hand over my dick. “Now … let me see you.”

  “You are seeing me,” she half-pants, half-moans.

  “Not your face, sweet. Let me see your pussy.”

  My request catches her off guard, but once again, she doesn’t argue. She switches the camera view, giving me a clear view of her smooth thighs, her white panties shoved to the side, and her fingers working the little blue bulb around her clit.

  “Turn it up higher, Flick.” I stroke my cock faster. “I want you to come on full speed.”

  She clicks the end of the vibrator, and her hips come off her bed as the toy goes from a steady hum to a deafening buzz. She’s so beautiful and pink that I swear I can smell her intoxicating vanilla scent instead of the bleach on the hotel sheets.

  “Do you want to see me?” I demand.

  The screen fills with the sight of her face—all flushed with her hair clinging to her cheeks—and she tentatively nods her head. “Yes … please.”

  I show her what I’m doing, squeezing and stroking my cock and wishing it were her cunt instead. She lets out short breaths, a low groan, then she repeats.

  “Oh god, Jackson, I think… I think…”

  “Come, Felicity. I want to hear you come. Don’t bury your face in your fucking pillows. I want to hear you scream my name.”

  “I will. I—” She chokes on a gasp and then she’s rasping my name. She’s saying, “More. I want more.”

  Me too, but I settle on the sound of her voice. It drives me over the edge, seizing my body as hot cum spurts over my fist. Two sleeps. In two sleeps, this will be her body. Her mouth and her cunt.

  If I could speed up time, I would without a second thought just to get back to her quicker.

  8

  Felicity

  “I received a very strange package from Jackson Cade this morning,” my father says, greeting me at the front door when I go in to work the next afternoon. My heart thunders against my ribcage, but I smooth the look of surprise from my features. It’s only been a day since I paid Jackson. Since I figure it will take at least a week to settle all the details for the deed, I’m wondering just what the hell he sent my father, especially after I lost all my inhibitions last night on the phone with him.

  “He did?” Dad’s right on my heels as I enter the back hallway to grab my apron from the rack. “And just what exactly did Mr. Cade send you?”

  He offers me an impatient frown. “It was the deed to the building, Felicity.” My muscles relax. Damn, Jackson’s lawyers work fast. “He also included a note. Thank your Little Flick for this. What’s going on?”

  “I got a personal loan,” I lie because telling my father the truth will only break his heart and lead to a meltdown in the middle of the restaurant. “I went to see Mr. Cade yesterday afternoon and paid off the balance of the loan.”

  Dad stops me before I can walk around him, planting his hands on either side of my shoulders. “You went out and got a personal loan to help me?” Emotion weighs his voice, and I choke down the bubble in my throat as I bob my head. “Is that why he was in here last week?”

  Oh, god, he knows about that? Struggling to maintain an even smile, I pull out of his grip and shrug one shoulder. “I had visited his office before—right after you told me what was going on. When I called him last week to let him know the bank approved me, he wanted to speak to me again in person.” Dad pinches his lips in worry, so I stand on my toes and peck his cheek. “We’ll pay the loan back, I promise.”

  Based on what Jackson had said before we disconnected our call last night—“Your ass is mine in a couple nights, Flick.”—I don’t think it will be long before I fulfill every part of my obligation.

  “I didn’t want you to go through all the stress,” Dad complains, and I kiss his other cheek and roll my eyes up toward the ceiling.

  “I’d stress more if we lost this place.”

  “Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to—”

  “It’s over now,” I say firmly. Because like Jackson told me that
first night in his penthouse, there are no refunds. Taking a step away from Dad, I focus on tying my apron strings and clear my throat. “And besides, this place was Mom’s baby. She would be happy we saved it.”

  Dad pulls me to him and wraps me up tightly, burying his mouth in my hair. “Thank you, Flick. Just … thank you.”

  “Anytime old man,” I murmur, moisture pricking at my eyes. “Now let me go before we start losing customers.”

  I go through my shift on autopilot, smiling brightly at my customers. Taking order after order back to the kitchen. Feeling my sex throb because every few hours, Jackson updates me with a countdown on the ridiculously expensive phone he sent me as a gift yesterday. Just before I leave for the evening, he sends the final text:

  6:01 PM: Twenty-three hours, Little Flick. I hope you get rest tonight.

  I’m a flurry of nervous anticipation all throughout the next day, and when he sends me a text telling me he’ll pick me up at eight, my breath shudders. I never thought the day would come where I’d be so anxious about giving up my V-card to a Cade, but god if my body doesn’t hum whenever I get a new text alert from him.

  Dressing in the red dress—my only frivolous splurge with the money that had cleared my account earlier this week—and my new strappy black sandals, I’m putting on lip gloss when the doorbell rings. Although Wendy’s out for the night, I almost break my neck trying to answer it. He stands in the hall, wearing a black suit that fits his perfectly sculpted body to perfection, and his customary smirk. It widens to a full grin as he takes me in.

  “Red,” he drawls, pulling me to him and trailing his hands over me. He inhales appreciatively through his teeth while I hold my breath. “How fitting. Are you ready?”

  As I’ll ever be. To him, I simply tilt my head back to stare into his turquoise eyes, nod and say, “Yes.”

  He takes me to dinner—a swanky rooftop lounge with a view of the city I love so much. This part of the restaurant is exclusive, only a handful dine up here, but I don’t think I would have noticed even if we were shoulder-to-shoulder with other people. When Jackson is around, it’s hard to focus on anyone else because his presence is so commanding. The energy pulses between us.

  “Thank you for taking care of the deed so quickly,” I say, chewing my grilled chicken salad. “I think it made my father’s decade.”

  The smile he offers me is the softest I’ve ever seen from him. “Your father wasn’t the reason I had it handled so fast, Flick.”

  He doesn’t say the words, but they hang in the air. I did it for you. My fingers shake nervously as I reach for my fruity cocktail and take a sip. “How was your trip?”

  “Exhausting. My father made a mess of the company, and it’s been hell fixing his mistakes.” The corners of his mouth drag into a frown. “Fortunately, I’ve turned it all around. Here’s to rectifying the sins of our fathers.”

  When he lifts his drink and downs it quickly, I work my lips together. He doesn’t talk about his father much, but whenever he does, there’s always an underlying anger. It’s not my place to ask questions—I shouldn’t ask questions—but my mouth fails my brain. “You don’t care for Alexander very much, do you?”

  He sets his empty glass on the table and he tightens his fists. “I don’t. I admire you for what you did for your father—goddamn, I think you might be the most selfless person I ever met—but I would have never done it for mine.”

  “Because of what he did to your company?”

  Jackson shakes his head and releases a dark laugh. “I wish. I wouldn’t have done it because his character is garbage. My mother died when I was twelve—breast cancer. I was away at boarding school in Connecticut, but Alexander refused to let me come home before she took a turn for the worse. Said it would make me weak.” My breath catches, and I hold it, waiting for him to continue. “She died about a month after I returned for summer break. She had a full staff of nurses and doctors on call then, but she kept this … brave face for all of them.”

  “You must have really loved her,” I say softly, and a distant smile touches his lips.

  “I did. And I can still remember hearing her cry once all those doctors and nurses were gone. Alexander had a mistress—mistresses—and once he realized there was no way my mother could take half of everything he owned, he gave up on discretion. My father has fucked me over my entire life, but that’s the only one that meant a damn.”

  “Oh god,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Jackson.” I cover his hand with mine, and he stares down at it for a moment before spreading his fingers apart and stroking the insides of mine.

  “It’s not your fault, sweet. But let’s not focus on Alexander, hmm?” He’s a true businessman because the agitation fades from his features as he slides his chair close to mine. His fingers touch my thigh. “I’d rather talk about you. And me.”

  Beneath the table, his talented fingers spread my legs apart, rubbing my clit and pussy until my panties and thighs are soaked. “That’s not talking,” I murmur.

  “Bodies can talk,” he points out with a wicked smirk. “Trust me, I’ll have yours speaking in five different languages before the sun comes up tomorrow. You’re not going to sleep tonight, Little Flick. I won’t let you.”

  “You’re always so very sure of yourself.”

  “And the fact you doubt everything I say makes me want to spank that little ass until you can’t sit down.” He rolls my clit between his fingers and laughs at me when I pinch my lips together in agony. What he’s doing to me feels so good it scares me. “Of course, I have other ways to keep you from sitting down as well.”

  Pretending that I’m not seconds from climaxing on the rooftop of Chicago’s fanciest restaurant, I spear my fork in my salad and bring it to my mouth, nearly missing. “I was right about not being on my knees for you in less than seven days.”

  “That,” he growls, lowering his mouth to my ear, “makes me want to spank you even harder.”

  “Would you like dessert this evening, Mr. Cade?” our waitress, a pretty blonde, asks breathlessly, drawing both our attention up to her. He gives my clit one more tug, then snaps my panties back in place as he greets the waitress with a charming smile. She flutters her fake eyelashes at him. That irritation I felt when Brooke showed interest in him comes back to rear its ugly head, but this time, I don’t squash it down. I glare at her over the rim of my cocktail as I down the last few sips.

  “Not tonight, Gretchen,” he says, pissing me off that he knows her name, then turning me on when he touches his finger to his lip. His next move is subtle, and I’m pretty sure only I can tell what he’s doing, but my body melts because he’s tasting me off his finger. “We’re having dessert elsewhere tonight.”

  “We’re going somewhere else?” I ask as he walks me to his car. He glides his hand down my spine until it rests right above my ass.

  “Chez Felicity,” he confirms. I blush all over, and he smirks, holding my door open for me. “And every time you get jealous, I swear my dick gets a little harder. Maybe we should—”

  A wave of courage hits me hard, and I bring him to me by his red tie, wrapping my hand around the thin fabric. “Please.”

  His turquoise eyes widen in a look of surprise that he manages lightning fast. “I told you I’d make you beg for it.”

  “Like I said before, you gave me a week. It’s been ten days.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches and then, so does his hand. Directly on my ass cheek. I gasp and he chuckles. “Go ahead, be as smug as you want. We’ll see who’s on top in a little while.”

  I don’t say a word on the ride to The Brighton, which I had learned over dinner is actually his temporary home while he has his condo remodeled. We stand several lengths apart in the elevator, our faces pointed straight ahead but our eyes locked, thanks to our reflections in the gleaming steel door. My knees nearly fail me as he swipes his room key. My body aches because I know what’s coming next when he pulls me in the penthouse.

  And my heart�
�oh god, my heart is a mess. It’s like a hard fist in my body, and no matter what I say or do, that feeling won’t go away tonight. I’m not even sure I want it to.

  Jerking me to him, he gathers me in his arms, his warm breath fanning my ear. “I really should turn you over my knee for what you said back at the restaurant.” He tugs my small hoop earring between his teeth. I spread my fingers on his chest and I’m shocked that his heart is just as erratic as mine. “There are so many things I should do because you’re so goddamn infuriating, but I just want to be inside of you.”

  “Yes,” I gasp as he drops my earring. He kisses me, tongues a hot trail down my neck to my breasts while his hands rip at my zipper. He lets the dress fall around my ankles, takes a step back and presses his fist to his mouth. The way he looks at me—like it’s the first time he’s ever seen me—raises a wall around me. I lift my arms to hug them around my bare breasts, but he shakes his head.

  “If you cover your perfect body, Flick, I really will spank that ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

  For some reason, I believe him. Although I only had one drink tonight, I walk as if I’m drunk as he leads me into the bedroom. The lamps are off, but the city lights streaming through the open floor-to-ceiling windows cast a breathtaking glow over his body. He reaches out to me again and I shiver when his hands span my narrow waist.

  “You are beautiful, Flick.” He kisses my throat, making my pulse leap against his mouth. “So perfect and soft. God, why did it take me so long to find you?”

  His words make my body sing and that feeling of being completely inebriated intensifies as he lifts me up, coaxing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I tug at his red tie. He responds by arching me back and drawing my nipple between his teeth. “That feels so good,” I murmur. “So fucking good.”

  “Say that one more time,” he orders, and I obey, dragging a noise from the back of his throat that makes me even more desperate to get his clothes off. It’s not fair—that I’m nearly naked again but he’s fully dressed. He chuckles when my fingers wrap around his tie. Licking my nipple one final time, he straightens my body, sets me on my feet and strokes my hand to his erection. “Your focus should be here, sweet. Let me worry about everything else.”