Marriage Of Convenience: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story (13 page)

Gawd what made me
think she was a good girl again?

“
Perhaps
it's my baby face,” Leila said and Jonathon realized he'd said
that out loud. “Or the fact that I work for a non-profit? Maybe
you think lawyers are boring? Or maybe, it’s the fact that I’m
surprising myself as much as you. Who knew that crazy bitchery lay
beneath this innocent exterior? Certainly not me” Her hands
never left his dick as she conversed.

Jonathon wanted to
protest her actions, her words; she’s so cool, calm and
collected; like nothing about this fazed her - Jonathon’s brain
had short-circuited and left everything in the dark—and he
couldn't quite remember how to speak. He panted frantically for a few
moments, Leila’s scent heavy in his mouth, and then swore as
Leila dragged her thumb over the slit of his cock.

“
Look
at me,” Leila insisted.

Jonathon made a
concerted effort and somehow managed to get his eyes open again.
Leila looked fascinated as she looked him over, as if his arousal was
the most interesting thing she’d seen in a while. Her breathing
was as erratic as Jonathon’s, the rise and fall of her chest
not quite as even as it could be. Her mouth was slightly open and her
eyes were glazed.

Jonathon had never seen
anything so hot in his life. His tongue suddenly felt three sizes too
big: his mouth was desert dry. He licked his lips, arched into
Leila’s rough strokes, as Leila’s gaze sharpened.

“
Wow,
you really love this control shit huh?” she purred and then her
mouth crashed onto Jonathon’s. She cupped his cheek, pulling
his face into the kiss.

Jonathon made a tiny,
wrecked noise that was swallowed up by her mouth. He was so turned on
he hardly spared the time to be embarrassed. He grabbed Leila’s
braided hair trying to pull her even closer, deeper. Leila yielded to
him, and yet still bit and licked at Jonathon’s mouth until his
lips felt bruised and swollen. Her hand on Jonathon’s cock
keeps working, massaging and caressing with maddening intensity.

Leila pulls back to
regard him with quiet consideration.

“
You’re
a gorgeous man you know,” Leila said, her eyes traveling down
his frame. “Did I hit the jack pot or what?”

Leila’s
declaration rips through Jonathon with a physical shudder that’s
almost like an orgasm.

“
Careful
now. You don’t want to say stuff you might regret,” he
breathed.

Leila smiled, “My
hand is down your pants, caressing your cock. I think that ship has
sailed.”

“
You
know what I would like?” he said, really surprised he was able
to speak at all.

“
What?”
she whispered as she took hold of his ear with her teeth.

“
I
wanna fuck you right here. Right now. You’d let me, wouldn’t
you?” Jonathon’s hand curled around Leila’s right
thigh and gave it a suggestive tug. “You’d wrap your legs
around my waist and just take it, so goddamned pretty and tight and—”
Jonathon’s breath caught as he imagined it. All the rules of
this marriage were officially out the window.

“
I
might…I might just let you
.
But don’t you think we’d be more comfortable on the bed?
”
He could imagine the impish smile on her face even though he couldn’t
see it.

“
I’m
afraid if we move you’ll come to your senses,” Jonathon
breathed.

Leila laughed removing
her hand from his dick and stepping back.

“
You
think I’m high?” she asked.

Jonathon shrugged,
“There are various types of high.”

“
Which
one is this?” Leila laughed.

“
Adrenaline
high?” Jonathon suggested.

“
You
mean from all the kissing and touching,” Leila’s eyes
twinkled with delight.

“
Not
doing much of 
‘anything’
 right
now, are you?” Jonathon needled. The contract might not
specifically provide for this and all, but 
Leila
 jumped 
him
 for
fuck’s sake. Leila was … with the eyes and the …
the hands … and then she just 
stopped
.

Jonathon had heard
somewhere that a guy could die from blue balls.

But Leila just smiled
at him, slow and warm and dangerous, and then tugged his pants down
on his hips.

“
Jesus!”
Jonathon yelped, reaching down to put a stop to 
that
,
at least, because he had limits and he was not sure how he felt about
being stripped in the corridor. Never mind that it was his idea to
have sex in the corridor.

“
What
Jonathon? Something the matter?” Leila asked. She had hold of
Jonathon’s pants with both hands, anchoring them low enough on
Jonathon’s hips that he might as well not be wearing them at
all.

“
No,”
Jonathon replied shakily. “Nothing.”

“
Hands
above your head,” Leila said implacably, and then, as an
afterthought: “Or on me.”

Jonathon hesitated, not
sure what the hell was on Leila’s mind and she just raised her
head and bit his neck. Hard.

“
Fuck,”
Jonathon said, hands flying to rest on the wall behind him for
support as his legs buckled. Leila smiled against his skin and then
soothed the sting of the bite with a slow stroke of her tongue.

“
Good
boy,” she purred, and Jesus Christ, was Leila trying
to 
kill
 him?
It wasn't fair: Leila’s pushing buttons Jonathon didn’t
even know he had, leaving him too turned on to do more than tighten
his grip on the wall, close his eyes and pray.

“
You
taste really good,” Leila murmured, pressing a slow, wet trail
of open-mouthed kisses down across Jonathon’s collarbone.
Jonathon could feel his pants being inched even lower and 
God
,
he was going to fly apart at the seams if he didn’t come soon.

“
Leila,”
he panted. “Leila, what the—what’re you—I
need—” Fuck, he didn't know 
what
 he
needed.

And
Leila 
stopped
 again.

Raising her head, she
leaned one hand against the wall. She didn’t look anywhere near
as wrecked as Jonathon felt, but her eyes were glazed as Jonathon
reached for her and pulled her so she was flush against him.

“
Hey,”
he said looking into her eyes.

“
Hey,”
she replied looking back.

She blinked at him,
eyes a warm chocolate brown and then smirked. “Take your shirt
off Jonathon,” she said, biting her lower lip as her eyes slid
down to his mouth.

“
Okay,”
Jonathon said all the while searching frantically around the room for
his manhood.

He caught hold of his
shirt anyhow and yanked it over his head hearing the appreciative
noises that Leila was making but trying to work through them anyway.
Jonathon realized he was harder than ever, his dick was hanging out
of his low-riding pants and leaking pre-come. He was raw and yearning
and completely fucked up.

“
You
like that, don’t you?” Leila murmured. “You like me
when I’m bossy.”

“
Not
really. I’m just in hypovolemic shock right now,” he
replied, surprised he was still coherent.

“
Ooh,
look at you with the five dollar words,” Leila teased.

Jonathon’s mouth
has gone dry again. He tried to swallow and couldn't quite remember
how.

“
Kinky,
Jonathon. Got a few control issues there?” Leila sounded so
goddamned smug that Jonathon’s response was automatic.

“
Fuck
you.”

Leila shook her head,
eyes filled with a heated amusement. “Haven’t you been
paying attention? That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Leila leaned forward
again, mouth brushing over Jonathon’s collarbone before coming
to rest slightly lower down. Her tongue was hot and wet against
Jonathon’s chest, tracing along his muscles. She sucked on
Jonathon’s skin and he put his arms around her head, pulling
her closer.

“
And
you … call me … kinky …” he panted as she
lapped at his muscles.

Leila forced herself
back at the sound of Jonathon’s voice and his hand lifted. She
blinked, startled by the abruptness of the movement, and suddenly the
fingers of his right hand were resting against her lower lip. Leila
might have been a little dazed with lust at the time, but she
recognized a command when she saw it.

She opened her mouth.

Jonathon’s eyes
were ravenous, fixed on his index finger as he slid it past Leila’s
teeth, but he wasn't nearly as out of control as Leila would
obviously like. He was willing to correct that, with her help;
wanting to be lost in this, wanting to be needy and too desperate to
do anything but take. He was quickly getting there as Leila worked
his finger like she was starving for it.

Jonathon
groaned and she sucked harder, flicking her tongue along the salty
flesh in frenzied licks. Leila was so focused, all of that intellect
and emotion narrowed down to the finger in her mouth, what she was
doing to him, and Jonathon had never felt so wanted before in his
life. The whole thing was spiraling out of control faster than his
heart was racing, screwing up his relationship with Leila—with
his
fake wife
—to
hell and back, and Jonathon didn't know how to stop it.

He didn't want to stop
it.

Jonathon
removed his finger from her mouth suddenly, and before her tongue had
even stopped moving, Leila’s left hand was clutching his hip
and her right was shoving back into his pants. Jonathon shifted
automatically, widening his stance in an attempt to give her more
room to maneuver. He didn't know what Leila was going to do, but he
was pretty sure it’d feel awesome.

Leila’s breathing
was ragged as she pushed her hand back past Jonathon’s balls,
and the sensation of her wrist rubbing against him there made
Jonathon hiss. He thought for a moment that she was going to give the
boys a little attention, but that thought was immediately shot to
shit because Leila was still reaching, using her hand on Jonathon’s
hip for leverage as she wormed her way back to—

“
Whoa!”
Jonathon yelped. Pulse skipping nervously, he lifted up on his toes
in an attempt to avoid the press of her finger against his asshole.

“
No?”
Leila asks. “I hear it feels really good”.

“
Yes
but…no,” Jonathon protested. He felt enough like a girl
already without his wife treating him as though he had a set of tits
instead of a cock. It’s a stupid thing for him to be fixated on
and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to confront the
real issue here. He was thinking about it enough without actually
vocalizing: heart working overtime and stomach clenched in anxious
knots.

Jonathon has not made
good decisions in the past when it came to relationships. He’d
been ruled by his dick too many times. He didn't want to do that
anymore; this marriage was supposed to be strictly business but that
really seemed to have flown irrevocably out the window. So now what?
The future yawned in front of him like an abyss.

His fear didn’t
mean that he didn’t know what to do with himself, though.
Leila’s finger was withdrawing from his cleft as her eyes
intently marked out every twitch of discomfort across his face, and
for once there was nowhere for Jonathon to hide.

“
Just
relax,” Leila said, flexing her hand on Jonathon’s hip.

He couldn’t
believe it was her saying that. Wasn’t that supposed to be the
guy’s role? Was he stuck on gender roles?

“
You’re
stealing my lines,” he said.

Leila smiled, her
fingers flipping his balls between them like they were Chinese
medicine balls.

He opened his mouth to
tell Leila to cut it out already and then choked as Leila tweaked
something that caused an intense burst of arousal shooting through
his body like electricity. It was like a bolt tumbling into place,
hot frissons of pleasure shooting through him and loosening him up.
He thought it was time he got in on this action; might as well be
hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

“
You
like that?” Leila asks. She didn't sound like she was teasing:
as if she could do anything he wouldn’t like.

“
I’m
a guy,” he reminded her. “I’m easy.”

Leila
smirked in a way Jonathon
knew
she was thinking something childish.

“
Oh
shut up,” he said.

She widened her eyes
and opened her mouth to protest but then shut it with a click and
shrugged. It was at that moment, fleeting regret ran through him that
this wasn’t a real marriage.

Taken by surprise by
the unexpected response of his own emotions for his fake wife,
Jonathon couldn’t make his voice work. He didn’t want
Leila to get the wrong idea, though—didn't want her to stop—so
he tightened his grip on Leila’s arms and rocked down.

Leila grinned at
him—message received loud and clear—and lifted her hand
from Jonathon’s hip to stroke through his sweat-damp hair.
“Gonna feel even better,” she said. “Shall we take
this to the bedroom?”

Jonathon nodded
wordlessly. There was really nothing left to say.