His Greed (Billionaire Blind Date Book 1) (4 page)

Grant’s eyebrows rose higher than I’d seen so far, and the tiny smile betrayed just a hint of uncertainty, probably about whether or not I could field such a question with his
never lie
mandate in the back of my mind.

“Well,” I said, and took a sip of wine to fortify myself. “Grant is . . . unique. Not many men have the kind of confidence he does.”

Hollis nodded thoughtfully, and Grant looked down at his plate, blinking slowly. I felt like I was losing a bet.

“I don’t know,” I blurted. Both men stared at me. “There’s something underneath the good looks and the expensive suit, something deep inside that most people don’t get to see. It’s in the eyes.”

Grant’s look shifted to me and intensified, and if I’d seen a stranger look at someone like that, I might have thought he was furious. But his hand on my thigh said differently, as it slid up, closer to my body. I swallowed hard.

“He stepped into my life . . . and everything changed. And even though he can be irritating and demanding, he’s . . . I feel like I’m in good hands. I feel . . . safe.”

I hadn’t had that much wine. What was I doing?

“That’s quite an endorsement, Grant.” Hollis held up his wine glass. “Let’s talk tomorrow at 3? See if we can start hammering out some of the details?”

Grant nodded, but kept looking at me. “Yes, let’s.” He tore his gaze away and toasted with Hollis.

My phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, but I remembered Grant asking me to turn it up if I didn’t think I’d be able to hear it in the restaurant. I held it beneath the level of the table, trying to be unobtrusive. The message was from a number I didn’t recognize.

Look concerned or mildly upset, excuse yourself and wait for Grant outside the bathrooms in the back.

He must have texted one of his employees to send me that message while Hollis was taking his call. I frowned at the phone, put my fingers to my lips.

“Excuse me for a moment. Ladies room.” But I acted as if my need to leave was a little more urgent than that.

Grant and Hollis stood as I left. When I reached the restrooms in the back, I stood there, smiling at people coming in and out, checking my phone. Had he wanted me away from the table so he could talk about me, or talk about something else without being overheard? I felt ridiculous standing there with no purpose.

Grant appeared around the corner. I started to ask what he was doing, but he held a finger up and stepped into the men’s room. A couple of men came out a few minutes apart, and then Grant emerged followed by a man who had to be the bathroom attendant—I’d never been anywhere fancy enough to actually have a bathroom attendant before, at least not that I knew of.

Grant took my hand and pulled me into the men’s room. The attendant stayed outside. Grant locked the door and took my handbag. A long counter of sinks covered one wall in front of a counter to ceiling mirror. He tossed my bag onto the counter, near the end.

“What are you doing? I can’t be in the men’s room,” I said, alarmed but trying not to be too loud.

“You already are. I paid him to keep the bathroom out-of-order until I’m done.”

A lump filled my throat. My heart somersaulted. “Done?”

“Fucking you. Take the dress off, Sophie. I want to see all of you.”

Every part of my body lit up at his deep, rich tone of voice, and his words. But this was a men’s bathroom at a high-class restaurant.

“I can’t. Not here.” Why couldn’t my voice sound as confident as his?

“You can. You will.”

I realized I was gaping at him. He expected me to take the dress off and stand there naked in high heels?

His eyes said that was exactly what he expected.

But I’d feel so exposed, so vulnerable under the bright lights of the restaurant’s
men’s room
.

“This is what you want, Sophie. Heat. Excitement. Something extraordinary. It’s why you got into my limo. You want what you never thought you could have, and I’m going to give it to you.” He stepped toward me and held out his hand. “The dress.”

I didn’t have to do this. I could walk out of the bathroom. He’d let me pass, I was sure of it. Mostly sure. If nothing else, I could scream. The bribed bathroom attendant would open the door.

The problem was, I didn’t want to do any of those things. I wanted to hand myself over and do exactly what he asked. The wet heat between my thighs put up no fight at all.

I wanted this. I just didn’t know if I
could
because I so strongly felt like I shouldn’t.

As he approached, I looked down at his feet, and took one step back each time he moved forward “I—I don’t—” My back pressed against the wall leaving me nowhere to retreat, but he kept coming. “Grant, I—”

“—
want
this,” he breathed as he slipped a hand between my back and the wall to unzip my dress. I stared at his shoes until he put both hands on my shoulders. “Say you want it, Sophie. You do. Just say it out loud.”

I licked my lips and tried, I really did, but all I managed in my nervousness was a sort of nod.

His hands gently pushed, sliding the material of my dress down my arms. Once my breasts were bared, he put his hands on my hips to push the dress to the floor. It pooled around my feet.

Grant took my hand and tugged so I would step out of the circle of cloth. His fingers nudged my chin until my eyes met his.

“Feel that coursing through you, Sophie? That thrill of giving in to what you really want?”

I blinked and nodded once. He half-smiled and let his hands light on my shoulders again. He stroked down to each breast, kneading them as his palms covered my nipples. I breathed in deeply, which seemed to please him, since his eyes closed briefly and he also took in a slow breath. Then he put a hand under my breast, lifting it, as he bent and took the nipple into his mouth to pull hard.

I moaned and felt my insides quiver.

His hand flattened on my breastbone as he straightened again. “A big, heavy pendant right here, no clothes, just those heels. That’d be a fucking work of art.”

Grant moved behind me and turned me with hands on my waist so that I faced the mirror. His hands slid around to cup my breasts as he pressed his hips against me from behind. I felt his hardness against my ass, and ached to touch him the way he was touching me.

“Look at yourself, Sophie. Really look,” he whispered in my ear before kissing my neck enthusiastically enough that I tilted my head to the side.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I gasped, drawing a groan from him. His hands on my breasts, mouth at my neck, my lips dark pink, my cheeks flushed, my eyes dark and shining . . . I’d never seen myself like that before. Never imagined I could look—or feel—that way.

He tugged on my nipples, and then one hand slid down my stomach, his middle finger sliding into my folds to tease me. I watched this, rapt, my self-consciousness fading away as he rubbed and flicked, his other hand still toying with my breast.

His hand slid further, two fingers curving and pressing into me, thumb continuing the little tattoo of beats against my clit. His other hand moved, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped himself, let his pants drop to the floor and pushed his shirt up. The skin of his stomach slid warm against my back, and I longed to see, to touch, the hard muscle I felt there.

“Spread your legs for me. Let me in,” he whispered, nibbling on my ear. His leg pressed against my inner thigh, pushing out, making room, as I obeyed. As he moved again, his cock pressing against me, I grabbed the arm that wrapped around my waist, the hand that fingered me. I had a flicker of panic at whether there’d be much pain.

He
shhhh
ed in my ear as he thrust up, sliding into me with the burn of stretched flesh that faded almost as quickly as it hit. Another push, and I’d taken him all. He groaned in my ear and rubbed circles around my clit with his middle finger. His other hand splayed against my stomach, holding me flush against him.

He slid almost completely out of me and plunged back in, driving air out of me with it. I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” he said. “I want you to see yourself.”

As my gaze shifted back to the mirror, he squeezed my breast and took me with a faster rhythm, my other breast bouncing lightly with each thrust. The skin across my chest was flushed now, the nipple he kept pulling and pinching darkening with the attention. And his other fingers glistened, covered with my juices, as he toyed with me. He thrust steadily, the heat and tension building in my center, as he growled in my ear.

“You hoped your first time would be in a bed, surrounded by rose petals, with a lover tasting of chocolate or champagne. You wanted romance, making love, not getting fucked standing up in a restaurant men’s room.”

My faced heated at that, despite the pleasure building in my core.

“But look at yourself, Sophie. Look at what I’m doing to you now. You can’t pretend your fantasy would have been better.”

No, I couldn’t. This was . . . indescribable. I felt dirty, exposed, vulnerable, but
so sexy
as I watched his fingers dipping into my wet folds, his hand stroking my breasts and belly,

“You want to come? Just say the words. Say
I want this
.”

His fingers played me perfectly. Not even experimenting on my own had I managed pleasure like that. And the hard length driving deep inside me had lit a fire where I’d never reached before, the slight pain of entry completely forgotten.

“Look at yourself, Sophie. Look at me. Say
I want this
.” His hand slid up my neck to cup my chin and lift my face higher so I couldn’t avoid catching both his and my eyes in the mirror. My breasts bounced with each thrust. The sight of his hand, fingers glistening when I could see them, working me and bringing me higher and higher . . . no part of me could pretend I wasn’t helpless to this.

“I want this!” The words burst out of me, and something gave way inside as I said them, some wall that had kept me from letting completely go crumbled against the force of his will.

He froze, buried deep inside me, and growled into my ear. “Then
come
.”

He jerked back and slammed into me, and I did. My knees went watery with the pleasure of it as the warm tickling in my center went from pleasant to overwhelming in a second, spraying out into my muscles and forcing my passage to tighten around him in spasms. Each one brought its own little explosion in my center that snaked out and seemed to light up my entire body.

I tried not to shout—we were in a public restroom with people potentially waiting outside, and I knew at least the attendant was there. But I cried out when it hit me, and the small, desperate sounds after that weren’t anything I recognized.

Grant didn’t care about the noise, that much was clear. And his eyes—they held mine the entire time. His mouth fell open, his tongue spread over his bottom lip, and then he smiled before he slammed forward hard enough that I’d have stumbled if he hadn’t held on. He let go that growl of his, the voice so deep it seemed like he struggled to get it out, but wordlessly. More a groan that he could hardly manage through a throat tightened in the throes of orgasm.

He stared into my eyes the whole time, still rubbing my clit, sending little shocks through me as my body tried to come down from the heights it had reached.

When he stopped, leaning heavily against me, panting in my ear, he smiled at me in the mirror. “And I thought you looked debauched in the limo,” he whispered into my ear. “
Good girl
.”

He rubbed his cheek against the side of my neck as I tilted my head to let him do whatever he wanted. And something flashed over his face in the mirror, just a moment of uncertainty, or maybe regret? I wasn’t sure how to take that and his remark about the limo, except he obviously liked to see me mussed. The strange expression disappeared as quickly as it came, and then his face and eyes sort of went blank, his look harder than I’d seen.

He slid out of me, his body and hands gone from me all at once, nearly leaving me reeling. I stepped forward and braced my palms on the counter. He turned and stepped into a stall, yanking toilet paper from the roll as if he might be angry at it, then scrubbing at himself. “Clean up and dress so we can go and say goodbye to Aten. I’ll go out first, just tap when you’re ready.”

Before I could say a single word, he was gone and I was left standing naked, looking just as debauched as he’d said, staring at myself in the men’s room mirror.

“Sophie,” I whispered, suddenly fighting tears as I finger-combed my hair and grabbed my dress. “What are you
doing
?”

I had never imagined such an exciting, all-encompassing sexual encounter. My knees had literally gone soft when I came, and I suspect that if he hadn’t been there inside me and holding me, I’d have ended up a puddle on the floor. I didn’t regret the pleasure, even though I’d been nervous and hesitant at first.

Afterwards, though, the suddenly cold demeanor of his, when he’d been so very warm before, left me a little empty.

I went into a stall and cleaned myself, went ahead and peed while I was there for good measure, and then slipped the dress on. As I washed my hands, I realized how insubstantial the dress really was, no bra or underwear now, and felt naked in it in a way I never had. I pulled my hair forward to cover some of my neckline and breasts, touched up my face with the powder and lipstick in my handbag, and headed for the door.

I would not regret this. Even if I’d just been used and would now be treated coldly, I made the choice to do this, too. And I’d enjoyed it. I was not going to let him make me feel bad about it now. At least, I would try not to.

I tapped on the door, and the bathroom attendant opened it. “Sir said he’d be waiting for you at the table, Madam.”

I gave him a tight smile—Grant was so done with me he couldn’t even wait?—and tried to hold my head high as I walked back into the dining area.