Girl Meets Billionaire

by Brenna Aubrey et al.

  Oh, fuck, yeah. I grip my cock harder and then ease back into her pretty leather chair, scooting my body down a little and stretching out my legs until our knees bump.

  And then I match my rhythm with hers. My fist goes up to the tip of my head as she strokes herself, then back down, slamming into the base of my shaft as one of her fingers slides in and out of her thoroughly wet pussy.

  “Push your fingers in deeper,” I say in a raspy voice. She does, and when they come back out they are gleaming and slick. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to stand up, step forward and ease myself inside her.

  I bet she wouldn’t say no. I bet she’d come all over my dick. I bet she’d probably try to scream with delight before I could cover her mouth with my hand.

  But I don’t do that.

  A deal is a deal. Five dates with nothing but foreplay.

  I can deal. I can handle it. In fact, I think this might be the most fun I ever had not having sex.

  She’s close, I can tell. The one arm supporting her weight falters, then buckles and she is lying back on the desk, her legs open wide. Her fingers are wet, her teeth clenching as she finds her climax.

  I pump my dick harder, faster, and then I lean over, lift her dress out of the way, and shoot my come all over her bare stomach as she watches.

  We both go still for a few moments. Nothing but our matched heavy breathing. And then I break the moment. “I can deal with no sex,” I say, walking over to my office.

  “Wait!”

  “Wait what? I’m gonna get you a towel to clean up with. Be right back.”

  “Mac—”

  I open my office door and walk over to the bathroom, grab a towel and then go back into Ellie’s office and wipe the semen off her stomach.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ELLIE

  “What’s tomorrow’s outfit?” Mac asks as he nonchalantly wipes off his still-hard cock with the towel and puts himself back together. He’s looking down while he does it and it takes me a few seconds to realize he’s staring between my legs.

  “Why?” I ask, jumping up off the desk and sidestepping around him. His whole body turns with mine, and I back away until I hit the wall behind me. I’m straightening out the black dress over my hips and trying to figure out what happened to my shoes when my eyes dart to movement behind Mac.

  Ming is standing in the doorway, hands on hips, mouth and eyes wide.

  “Um,” I say loudly. “Tomorrow’s outfit.” I look up at Mac and he’s still looking down at me, tucking his shirt back into his pants. I do a head-nod towards the door at Ming, telling her to, Get the fuck out before he sees you!

  “Yeah,” Mac says. “What’s tomorrow?”

  “Um,” I say again, then breathe normally when I hear a slight rise in noise level coming from Mac’s office and I know she’s gone. “Business casual, of course. It’s Friday.”

  “So you wear, what? Jeans and a t-shirt?”

  I laugh. “No.” I laugh again. “Tomorrow is wide-legged trousers and a tank top with a floaty silk over-shirt.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Mac says, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek. “I can’t wait.”

  And then he walks into his office, closing my door behind him.

  I have been perplexed by men before. Hell, I’m probably perplexed by most men. But this particular man has my jaw hanging open. How can he be so damn hot and so damn despicable at the same time?

  Oh, Miss Hatcher, I mentally sing. It’s time for your fuck now. And after we’re done I’ll peck you on the cheek and pat you on the ass and say, ‘Thanks for the fun, baby.’

  I didn’t even get a pat on the ass. Or a, ‘Thanks for the fun.’

  Bastard.

  A knock on my office door pulls me back to the present. It opens a crack, and then Ming is peeking through, glaring at me. “I cannot believe you,” she says over Adeline’s “Thank yous” and “Oh, you’re so sweets” to the people out in the Atrium. Then Ming grabs her by the arm and drags her inside my office, slamming the door behind them.

  “What the fuck did I just see?” Ming yells.

  “Shhhh,” I say, pointing to the door. “He’s on the other side of that fucking door!”

  “He’s gone,” Adeline says. “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Didn’t even stop for an autograph.”

  “Did you get the phone?” I ask Ming.

  “No!” she says. “I looked everywhere. It wasn’t in there. He must keep it on him.”

  “You’re kidding me. So I just let him—”

  Ming wags her finger at me. “Don’t pretend with me, girlfriend. You didn’t just let him do anything to cover for me. When did this start? And what is the deal with this office? It looks brand new.”

  “Yeah,” Adeline says, dragging her finger over the soft fabric of the chairs in front of the desk before taking a seat and getting comfortable. “I’ve been in this office before. Disgusting place. Smelled like cigars the last time I was here.”

  “He just… he… just surprised me. Tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Ming says, taking a seat in the second chair in front of my desk. “With his dick in your pussy.”

  “We did not have sex!” I insist.

  “I heard you come,” Ming says.

  “Oh, my God, you did not.”

  “I absolutely did. I had my ear to the door the entire time.” She crosses her arms and her legs like this is final, and then nods her head. “Now start from the beginning and don’t stop until we get to this moment right here.”

  I sigh, then walk around my new desk and take a seat in the leather chair where Mac was just sitting. It’s still warm against my bare thighs and I find myself wishing he didn’t leave so fast.

  Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?

  “I’m so happy I came here today,” Adeline says with a smirk. “Don’t leave anything out.”

  So I rewind the past two days and begin with Mac standing over me at the bottom of the slide.

  “Well,” Adeline says when I finish. “The office is lovely.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ming says, chewing on her fingernail—a bad habit we’ve both picked up over the years. “What is he doing? One-upping his brother?”

  “Wait, you think he’s jealous that I was seeing Heath?”

  “You weren’t seeing Heath!” they both say together.

  “You were delusional, Ellie,” Adeline says. “Heath was stringing you along, I already told you this.”

  “Yeah,” Ming says. “I think so too. I mean, I never thought you and him would ever get together in a million years, but now that Adeline mentions it, I do think that’s why he was pretending like you two had a chance.”

  “Well, thank you, guys.” I roll my eyes. “What a way to make a girl feel inadequate.”

  “That’s not what we’re insinuating at all, Ellie,” Adeline says. “You’re way too good for Heath. He just likes slutty girls and you’re not his type.”

  “So why is Mac doing this?” I ask. “If not because of Heath?”

  “Mac?” Ming says with a sneer. “You’re really calling him Mac now?”

  “What? I told you, that’s his name!”

  “He likes you,” Adeline says. “That’s my bet. What kind of man does these things if the girl is just a casual one-nighter?”

  “And you’re already past that, anyway,” Ming says. “How many times was that? Three? Four?”

  “We only had sex once, Ming.”

  “Once is enough. What happened to, ‘I need ten dates before I sleep with a man?’”

  “Five,” I say. But I have said ten before. My standards just got a little lower over the years.

  “I guess my main question is,” Adeline says, “will you stay here in this job because of him? Or will you still leave when your two weeks are up?”

  “Oh, I’m leaving,” I say, putting a hand up to stop that line of questioning. “I’m definitely leaving in thirteen days. Practically twelve now.”

  Mi
ng sighs, but then smiles a little. “Well, as long as you’re still leaving, I guess there’s no harm in a casual office romance before you go. Just don’t let him talk you into staying. This job is a dead end for you, Ellie. You’re going to spend the rest of your life walking celebrities around this campus if you don’t get out now.” She looks over to Adeline and says, “No offense, Addie.”

  “None taken. I completely agree. Our Ellie has potential. Potential that will never manifest while working for this company.”

  “OK.” I sigh. “Can we be done talking about me now? And just go get drunk?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  MAC

  I wait the appropriate amount of time before calling. It’s Thursday night. They went out for a happy hour drink. And now it’s eleven PM. She should be home.

  But she’s not.

  At least, she’s not answering her phone.

  I should’ve asked her where they were going. It’s got to be some place semi-discreet. You can’t just show up at Chili’s for Happy Hour Sliders with Adeline. There’d be a mob. It would make the nightly news.

  I open my phone browser and do a search for Adeline. Nope. No reports of her getting drunk with the locals in the Denver Tech Center.

  I open the message stream Ellie has been sending Heath instead. Goddamn. Why did I have to stumble onto this? She’s so fucking cute. The sheepdogs. I can’t even deal with how fucking cute that is.

  And then there’s the dream house pictures. She’s got pictures of furniture she wants. She’s even got pictures of what their future kids would look like.

  Heath and I don’t look very much alike, so I can’t even imagine that’s what our kids would look like too.

  What the hell? Where did that thought come from?

  I call Ellie again. Straight to voicemail.

  I text her. I bet if it was Heath calling you’d pick up.

  Heath’s phone rings. I tab the answer button. “How can I help you, Miss Hatcher?”

  “How can you help me?” She sounds groggy. “What do you want?”

  “You called me,” I say.

  She ends the call.

  I stare at the phone. Then call her back.

  “What?” she says, severely annoyed. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “What time did you get home?”

  “Hours ago, OK? I was asleep and now you’ve woken me up. I prefer to get my eight hours in before work, Stonewall. Stop calling me.”

  She ends the call again.

  Stonewall? What happened to Mac? And what the hell is her problem? We had a great time today at the office. I scroll up the message stream, find what I’m looking for, then download and add the picture of the sheepdogs, texting, You sent this to Heath’s phone at one AM two weeks ago. Eleven o’clock is early by your standards.

  My phone rings and I smile as I tab answer. “Yes, Miss Hatcher.”

  “I want that phone.”

  “Company property, Eloise. I already told you that.”

  “I want that phone so I can delete that message stream, and then I will give it straight back.”

  “Now why would I let you do that? These messages are golden. I haven’t been this interested in someone’s life in years.”

  “Mr. Stonewall—”

  “Mac,” I remind her.

  “Mac.” She sounds a little defeated now, her voice softer. Or maybe she’s just tired. “Please. Stop calling me tonight. Stop texting me tonight. And tomorrow, I need proof that those messages are deleted.”

  “Date number three. I think not.”

  “It’s two, Mac. Two. And I’m only playing along because you’re making me.”

  “Date number two then. We need five dates before I delete the messages.”

  She groans. “You do realize this is blackmail, right?”

  “Yeah. So?” I almost can’t stop the laugh.

  “It’s illegal!”

  “It’s fun, Ellie. Admit it. It’s fun.”

  “Just delete those messages, please.”

  “After the fifth date.”

  “After we have sex, you mean.”

  “After we have sex again,” I correct her. “This five-date minimum is silly, Ellie. We’ve already experienced each other’s bodies—”

  She ends the call again.

  I have to chuckle at this. I’ll drop it tonight. But only because of the many, many surprises I have planned for her tomorrow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ELLIE

  Did McAllister Stonewall really call me last night? Jesus, I should not be allowed to answer the phone when I’m asleep. I roll over in bed and grab my phone off the nightstand, then check my calls.

  Yup. Several times.

  Twelve days, Ellie. Twelve days and you are out of there.

  I don’t have to be in to work until nine on Fridays. We have guests every day, but most of them over the weekend come in via satellite feed on the various shows. I only work half a day. Go in at nine, leave at two. I love Fridays. And since it’s only seven right now, I set my alarm and go back to sleep until eight thirty.

  My phone rings just as I’m drifting back off.

  Dammit. I roll over again and look at the caller ID.

  Heath.

  Which is not Heath, obviously. It’s Mac. I tab answer and say, “What?”

  “Are you sleeping?” he asks.

  “Good guess, Einstein. It’s seven o’clock on Friday.”

  “Exactly. Why aren’t you here? Your personnel file says you work from seven to four.”

  “Well, my personnel file probably hasn’t been updated since I was twenty-two.”

  “You’re not twenty-two?”

  “Mac, what do you want?”

  “I want you here.”

  I can’t stop myself from cracking a smile because he says it kind of sweet. “I don’t start until nine. I’ll be in then.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  My sleepy eyes fly open. “What?” But it’s too late, I get hang-up beeps. I call back on Heath’s phone.

  “Ten seconds away.” And more hang-up beeps.

  I just stare at the phone and then someone is ringing my doorbell. “What the fuck?” I jump out of bed and grab my short summer robe, cinching the belt tightly around my waist as I rush down the hallway. The doorbell is ringing repeatedly when I unlock it and swing it open.

  Mac is leaning against the door, huge lopsided grin on his face. His eyes start in the right place but they drift down—all the way down—then slowly make their way back up to my face. “I like this look. It says fresh.”

  “It says, ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ You can’t just show up at my house. Or call me at night, for that matter.”

  “Why not? You quit, right? Who cares if we get caught?”

  “I’m not worried about getting caught.” Especially since Ming and Adeline already know and they are the only ones who count. They grilled me good last night. Which is why I came home so early. I couldn’t answer any more questions. Not that I didn’t want to. I literally know nothing about McAllister Stonewall and couldn’t answer a single thing about him when they started giving me the third degree. Then Ming was stalking him online and Adeline was calling “her people” to try to dig up dirt.

  But McAllister Stonewall is suspiciously missing from the online search pages and no one Adeline called knew anything more than he’s the older son of Alexander Stonewall.

  That just made them even more curious. Adeline even called her private investigator. Personally, I think the fact that she has a private investigator in her contacts is kind of creepy.

  And so is the fact that Mac is missing from searches. Who has that power? I know when I search my name online I come up all over the place. I’m in a ton of celebrity photos for one. And I’ve been to all the awards shows that Stonewall Entertainment has been nominated for over the years.

  Ming was immediately suspicious and even though I didn’t agree with them last night, I am too.


  Something about Mr. Perfect is not-so-perfect.

  “So what’s the problem?” Mac asks.

  “The problem is I was sleeping. Both times you’ve overstepped the boundaries between work and personal life. I enjoy my sleep, Mac. Stop ruining it for me.”

  “You want me to leave?” he asks, showering me with another sideways smirk. “I’m fine with leaving. But I need you at work, Ellie. Now. So get yourself together and be in my office in thirty minutes.”

  I open my mouth to tell him what I think about that, but he turns away and walks down the hall before I can think of a good comeback.

  I settle for slamming my door instead.

  Ninety minutes later—please, what kind of girl would I be if I could “pull myself together” in thirty minutes?—I make it up to the seventh floor of the Atrium. Stephanie’s desk is clean so obviously she has the whole day off. And no one else is here but Jennifer Sluts-around and her sidekick assistant, Ellen Interoffice-sexcapades.

  I open the door to my office and find Mac sitting in the bubble window seat, one foot up on the cushion, one foot on the floor, back leaning against the right wall, pensive expression on his face as he continues to look out at the view.

  Three seconds of ‘what the hell is going on?’ from me, and he finally turns in my direction. “What are you doing?” I ask, walking forward and slowly closing the door behind me.

  “I was thinking…” Mac looks back to the view. I walk over and look too. What’s so interesting about it? This side of the building is actually kind of boring. Just rolling pine-forested hills and cows. Although I might have to look closer, but I think there are baby cows out there too. “That I really hate the city.”

  “You do?” I ask, sitting down on the opposite side of the window seat. I rest my back against the glass and find it cool, even through my shirt.

  “I like the view from this window. I like looking down at the cows.”

  I find that strangely relatable. “It’s very country, right? And peaceful.”

  “That’s not why.”

  “Oh. Why then?” I ask.

  He sighs a little. “Have you ever heard people say they want a view of this or that? The river, the lake, the beach, the mountains, the city. And if you ask them why—why do you want a view of the river?—they say things like… ‘I want to see the boats.’ Or the rowers. I don’t mind people who want to see the boats, or the sunset, or the snow, or any of the other natural things one might like in a view. But the rowers always bothered me.”