“Damn, it was fucking awesome! Samantha, that was the hottest thing ever, making you come like that.” He kisses my head and then we both lay quietly and rest.
He’s quiet for so long, I think maybe he fell asleep.
But when I look at him, he looks back at me, with a devilish glint in his eye.
“I wonder if…would you be interested in helping me with a special project?”
“Maybe? I dunno about that look in your eye. What’s on your dirty mind?”
“I want to build another toy. A sex toy. One that reliably produces female ejaculation. I’m thinking of calling it the The E-Jack-U-Lator. Think you’d be interested in being a test subject?”
Like I need to be asked twice!
“Fuck, yeah! I think we should get on that right away! As soon as possible!” I grin. “But that name sounds like something you’d use on a guy. You should call it the E-Jill-U-Lator. Or, no…no…the Jill-Off. Or, wait, no…how about…the Jill Jacker!”
We’re cackling like fools.
“Oh baby,” he says, laughing. “This thing is gonna be a winner! It has to wait until my current project is done. But we can start sometime next year, early. Maybe right after New Year’s.”
“Darn, that long huh?”
He snorts. “It’s not that far away.”
“Feels like forever. In the meantime, though, I think we should keep practicing with your finger. Just to make sure we don’t get rusty.” I grin.
He guffaws. “You got a deal. Fuck, baby! Nothing could be sexier, nothing could be hotter than making you come like that…you looked so fucking hot…nuclear-hot…words-can’t-describe how hot you are when you’re coming all over me like that.”
I hug him close. “Maybe it’s for the best to build a machine for it. That way, your finger will get a rest. Because, sweetie…I want you to do that to me for the rest of my life. Don’t even think you can get rid of me now!”
It’s one o’clock in the morning, late, past Drew’s normal feeding time. But the monitor is still quiet. We check on him quickly. He’s still sleeping peacefully. After a quick shower together, we pull on clean night wear, change the sheets and fall into bed, exhausted but resigned to waking up at any moment for Drew’s feeding.
But when we hear his hungry cries and I rise to get his bottle, the clock shows an amazing sight.
It’s past seven in the morning!
For the first time, our beautiful baby boy slept through the night.
* * *
Christmas time. Six months old, Drew is a happy, alert, healthy and delightful baby boy. I’m living here full time.
I’m home.
I am completely and totally in love with this child and his father, both. They are my world, my life, my family, and I am theirs. No one doubts or questions it anymore and it’s just a matter of time before we get engaged and make it official.
We are completely intertwined now. My parents and brother are back and forth to our place as much as they like, as we are to their house, as well. They’ve babysat Andrew, taken him places and had him for weekend visits. They’re his grandparents through and through.
We’ve had my kid brother here overnight many times. Mason loves him, thinks he’s a hoot. Stevie is showing a promising interest in aviation robotics himself, which fact Mason takes delight in, teaching Stevie everything he can, at every opportunity.
I’m a different person than I was six months ago. Love and responsibility has matured me.
Most astonishing to me is how having a family has freed me, not chained me.
How is this possible? Simple. I am no longer stuck in a protracted childhood, a self-absorbed, perpetual teenager with nothing important to do.
Rather, I feel more free now, free to keep growing and developing and loving my future husband, our child and every other child of the family we plan to start making, as soon as we tie the knot.
I can’t wait until Drew calls me “mommy”.
And I can’t wait until Mason calls me his wife.
My whole family, including aunts, uncles and cousins, are here for a big Christmas dinner, bunking in the nanny’s suite, the spare rooms and the basement.
During the meal, Mason announces that part of his gift to me is a surprise trip.
“Pack up,” he says. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
Literally every one else around the table grins at me.
“Oh, everyone knows this but me?”
They all chorus in the affirmative, laughing.
“All I’m telling you now is that I got your parents to babysit Andrew for a few days, so we can have some much-needed time off, together.”
I look at my mom, who’s holding baby Drew in her lap, and then my dad. “Really? Thanks! That’s awesome!”
“It’s our pleasure! Andrew’s such a good bubba,” Mom croons, kissing his fuzzy head. “Weese doona hab funs, huh, bubba? Yeah! Weese doona hab lotsa funs!”
The baby smiles and babbles in agreement.
“Are we going somewhere special?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
* * *
The next morning.
We board Mason’s private jet for a flight to Italy.
It’s my first time to Europe, my first chance to visit that ancient homeland.
Now, it’s two days later. Mason and I are at his European base, which, to my amazement, turns out to be a castle.
Castello Grimmetti, the family estate in Tuscany. A medieval fortress built in 1532, it’s fully modernized and extremely luxurious.
At nearly two thousand acres, the property boasts a dozen estate homes housing venerable families from the region, several vineyards growing Chianti grapes, a lake and even a tiny village where some of the Grimmetti employees live and raise their children.
Needless to say, it’s beautiful.
“I didn’t tell you about it because, it’s…well, a lot to take in. Overwhelming. Besides, I thought it was better to show you.”
“I’m glad you only told my family about the trip, and not the…destination.”
“Only your father knows about the estate. You know he won’t say a word to anyone else, not even your mom. So, I’ll leave it to you when to tell her. As for your friends, and cousins, I’d say, give it time. They don’t need to know right now. If at all.” He pauses. “When people know you have money, they can get weird. Some things are better kept secret.”
He should know. Plus, I am overwhelmed. How do you cope with crazy wealth like this?
But Mason’s been coping for years, and he’s still just Mason. The down-to-earth, generous, sensitive, sexy family man that I love.
All I can do is keep being me, plain old Samantha, and let Mason worry about being a secret billionaire.
Right now, we’re in his master suite, a modernized apartment which occupies a set of stone chambers in one wing of the castle.
We’re cuddling in bed. To one side, there’s a roaring fire in a huge, ancient hearth.
On the other side, there’s a long, modern picture window, overlooking a frosty vineyard and the valley below.
Above, a full moon rides high in the velvety sky, casting its gorgeous silver rays over the sparkling vista.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, we raise a toast with a glass of estate Chianti di Mario, vintage 1982, the year of Mason’s birth.
Eyes shining, Mason produces a ring. “Ti amo,” he says, sliding it onto my finger, “vuoi passare il resto della tua vita con me?” He smiles. “I love you. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
But a ring needs no translation.
“Sì, sì, amore mio,” I reply in my halting Italian, tears brimming along with my smile.
The celebration begins...with a kiss.
The End
More books by Kate:
Her Bestie’s Older Brother
The Secret Virgin
Bossed
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Teaching the Billionaire
Harrison Redmond is breathtakingly gorgeous, one of the wealthiest men in New York, and he just happens to be my favorite student’s dad. I know he’s way out of my league, but I can’t help the butterflies that take flight in my stomach every time I see him.
But what could a self-made billionaire and a third grade teacher have in common, besides the explosive heat between us whenever he touches me? Nothing, besides the affection for one special little girl.
I know I should keep my distance. But one touch. One kiss. And I know the man will have me breaking all my rules.
Teaching the Billionaire
Carter Blake
Chapter One
Brynne
I’ve been dreading this parent interview since the day I read my student list and saw Penelope Redmond’s name.
In all fairness, the she’s a great kid.
Spoiled.
Yes.
Stubborn.
Hell yes.
But then I didn’t expect anything less considering who her father is.
Harrison Redmond III.
The man represents everything I hate. A trust-fund brat who never had to work for a damn thing his entire life. And now that his father is gone, he’s also heir to one of the largest sports goods companies in North America.
With his playboy status proudly displayed on the cover of every gossip magazine on the East coast, I didn’t have high hopes that he’d be anything more than an absentee father.
I was shocked when he responded to the note I sent home with Penny about her little escapade that ended with two boys in the nurse’s room and her shouting at the top of her lungs that they deserved what they got.
She was right. The boys had been bullying some of the smaller kids in the class for weeks. I’d tried to talk with them and their parents, but got nowhere, only a slap on the wrist myself from the principal. Apparently, the boy’s parents are major contributors to the school.
Another lesson that money will always cover up wrong doings.
It took an eight-year-old girl with a fiery disposition to finally put them in their place.
As much as a wanted to high-five her for her display of courage, school policy meant I would finally have to face the man I’d spent ten years trying to avoid.
Harrison was my brother’s best friend. The key word being was. After the shit that went down with my father and brother, no one would ever consider claiming that title. Not that I blame them. It’s the reason I changed my name, the reason I’ve spent the last eight years in hiding.
But the past always has a way of catching up with you.
And it was just my luck that this time it was Harrison Redmond who had finally caught up with me.
Not that I think he’ll recognize me. I was just a gangly kid the last time he saw me. And him - even at seventeen, Harrison had been gorgeous. He was tall, his body already muscled. But it was his eyes - a dark blue that held flecks of gold - that made me knees go weak, and butterflies dance in my stomach.
He was arrogant and cocky, but when he looked at me there was kindness in his expression, like I was special. At least that’s what I’d convinced myself at the time.
What a little fool I’d been.
I’d loved Harrison since I was six years old, since he’d saved me from a swarm of bees that had nested behind the pool house. I’d fallen even more in love with him when he’d punched my brother after he pulled all the heads off my Barbie dolls. But it wasn’t until I was fourteen that my body began to yearn for him. That fine line between love and lust had my hormones spinning out of control.
He’d stayed with us for two weeks that summer while his parents were in Switzerland. My brother had a girlfriend at the time, so Harrison was stuck with me most days and nights. We hung out at the pool. Played tennis. Watched movies.
Looking back, I know now that he never looked at me as more than just a kid – the little sister he never had. But at the time, I was convinced he felt the same way I felt for him.
So, the night when I’d come downstairs to kind Jenny Anderson wrapped up in his arms, his mouth on hers, my heart shattered into a million pieces.
I may have only been fourteen. But seeing them together, their lips locked together, I knew I never again wanted to feel the pain I’d felt in that moment.
And I haven’t. I’ve never let another boy or man into my heart.
It’s safer that way. Especially since I can never tell anyone who I really am. At least not without having the media rain fire down upon me.
But I’m fine. I like my life. And I love my job. It’s what makes me happy. And I’ve worked my ass off to get it. I won’t let anything, or anyone mess it up. Especially not Harrison Redmond.
My palms sweat as I glance up at the clock then over at Penelope who’s sitting at her desk coloring.
He should have been here by now. Maybe he won’t show up. I say a silent prayer that’s the case. But when I hear the knock at the door, I know before I even look up that I’m not lucky.
Like a magnet, my gaze is drawn to him, and for a moment I stand there, speechless.
Holy hell, but the man is even better looking than I remember. I’ve seen the pictures of him in the magazines, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.
Six-foot-four inches of lean muscle is outlined in a perfectly tailored suit that has my mouth watering.
His lips twitch up slightly as if he knows what his presence is doing to me. And I can almost hear the small chuckle playing at the back of his throat as he raises an eyebrow while his gaze skims down and back up my body with an appreciation I can’t miss.
Right. There it is. The arrogance I hate.
I clear my throat and stand, trying my best not to let my voice shake when I say, “Mr. Redmond. Please come in.”
Penelope’s head jerks up from what she’s doing, then she bolts from her desk with her arms outstretched. “Daddy.”
Without hesitation, he crouches down and picks her up as she hugs him. “Hey snuggle bum.”
“Don’t call me that here,” she whispers loudly enough for me to hear, her smile turning into a pout.
“Sorry, smootchems, I forgot.”
“You’re so weird.” She rolls her eyes at him.
He chuckles and she lets out an exaggerated sigh, then wiggles free from his arms.
“Why don’t you go back to what you were doing while I talk to your teacher.”
She gives a small nod, but when she looks over at me I can see the hesitation in her eyes. For all her toughness with the other kids, I can see that she doesn’t want to disappoint her father.
I was the same way when I was her age. And I know what it’s like to be the child of someone as affluent as Harrison Redmond. Your entire life is lived in a glass house. The problem is, glass houses shatter, and when they do, it will either destroy or set you free.
I chose the latter. My brother and parents decided to let it destroy them. Sure, they still live the lifestyle that they can’t afford, every year sinking deeper and deeper in debt. Fighting to save their name and their dignity. But they’re still caught up in the game of money.
Me. I left the moment I could. Changed my name, and learned, albeit slowly, how to budget and live off an honest income.
“Ms. Sweet,” he says, studying me.
For a second, I fear that he recognizes me. But instead of recognition in his eyes, I only see curiosity and a hint of appreciation.
It’s a look I’m used to now, but not from him, never from him.
“Mr. Redmond. Why don’t you take a seat?”
He raises an eyebrow at the kid-size chair that I nod at and chuckles. “I think I’ll stand.”
“Fine.” I’m frazzled, and I’m pretty s
ure he knows it. I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks as his gaze lingers on my face. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Of course.”
“You already know what happened on the playground. I just wanted to remind you that the school has a no bullying policy and-”
“From what Penelope told me, she was sticking up to the bullies. If the school really acted on the no bullying policy, then those boys would have been disciplined weeks ago.”
“I agree.”
“Good,” he says with a finality that suggests he’s finished with the conversation.
“But we still have to deal with the fact that she hurt two boys. We have a no hands on policy.”
He grunts, clearly not convinced. “I’ll talk with her about it. But she won’t be disciplined, at least not from me, for sticking up for what’s right.”
Despite school policy, I can’t argue with his assessment. I realize now how very much like him Penelope is. He’d always been quick to defend me from my brother who bullied me mercilessly. And Penny was only doing the same for those who couldn’t stick up for themselves.
A small sliver of affection stirs in my chest. Not just for him, but for the little girl who is so much like him.
Harrison takes a step towards me, coming into my personal space, and I can feel the heat, the chemistry, the attraction that radiates off him.
Does he remember me?
No. He’d have said something. Wouldn’t he?
His chin tilts down, and his lips quirk up in a seductive smile. “Is that all, Ms. Sweet? It is Ms. Sweet?”
He definitely doesn’t remember.
“Yes.” I give a small nod.
“I didn’t catch your first name.”
My defenses go up. Not only because I don’t want him prying, but also because a small part of me hoped he’d know me. That I’d made some impression on him.
Again, I’ve always been a fool when it came to him.
“I didn’t give it.”
One eyebrow shoots up and his gaze lingers on my face. “You seem familiar. Have we met?”
Billionaires, Billionaires, Billionaires, and more Billionaires: Billionaire Bundle Page 15
