The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (9 page)

Like the ring.

Like me, I guess, since I'm close enough to something he owns. A woman under contract. He doesn't strike me as the type who would think of his wife as his property, but you never really know. Rich people are awfully entitled. The men especially.

I press my back against the seat. The leather sends a chill down my spine. It's awfully cool in here, too.

"Kat."

My attention returns. I turn to Blake. Talk about cool. I've got no clue what the look on his face means, but I'm certain he's not at all rattled.

His plan went off perfectly. He has no reason to be rattled.

"Kat."

"What the hell was that?"

He studies my expression. "You seemed to understand."

"Okay, fine. I understand. You asked me to marry you and, for some reason, I said yes."

He remains unblinking.

"Why was it?" I tug at my gown. "We've only been fake dating for a week."

"That isn't the story I've told."

"Maybe you should explain it to me, ‘cause I'd like to keep things straight."

"Kat."

"Don't say my name like that. I'm not a child. I am perfectly capable of understanding things when they're explained to me."

Blake moves closer to me until our thighs are pressed together. He leans into me. His breath is warm against my skin. All the little hairs on my neck stand up. A shiver runs straight down my spine.

This a stretch limo, but it feels tiny. Like a single seat on the subway. There's nowhere to move except towards him.

His lips brush against my neck. My body reacts instantly. I'm hot everywhere. My back arches of its own accord. It's like my body is telling my brain to shove it.

"You're overwhelmed," he says.

Want rushes to my sex. My body is begging me to comply, but I can't do it under these circumstances. "Don't tell me how I feel. I know how I feel."

He pulls my hair aside so he has better access to my neck. He plants a hard kiss on my skin and sucks gently. I'm going to have a fucking hickey at work tomorrow, but I can't say that I want him to stop.

I really, really don't want him to stop.

"Am I wrong?" He runs his fingers over the back of my dress, stopping at the zipper and undoing it.

My skin flushes. Hard to believe this limo ever felt cold. I fight my raging hormones. Blake's hands are on my skin. He's about to unhook my bra and do away with my dress, no doubt.

And there it goes. He unhooks my bra with a single flick. Even I can barely manage that.

"It doesn't matter," I say. "They're still my feelings."

He runs his fingers over my chin, soft and gentle. "Then tell me. What are you feeling?"

"Confused."

"And?"

"Misled."

"And?" He pulls the dress to my stomach.

"Overwhelmed, okay? Are you happy that I admitted it? Being perceptive doesn't give you the right to whatever this is supposed to be."

"This?" he peels my bra off my skin and draws circles around my nipples.

Yes. That. I was making an objection. I had some point about his surprise marriage proposal and what a bunch of bullshit that is.

Hormones chase away the logical thoughts in my brain. Every touch of Blake's fingers sends desire straight to my sex. It's much softer than last time, but he's just as in control. And I'm just as at his mercy.

I arch my back, pushing my breasts into his hands. He nips at my ear. And his hands, oh his hands. Wow.

Point. I had a point. "You can't manipulate me by sending me into a frenzy of lust."

"No manipulation." He sucks on my neck. "Just a break from all your thoughts."

"How the hell do you—"

He pinches my nipple. Pain shoots through me, immediately calling all of my attention. I let out a heavy gasp. I need more and soon.

"Are you on birth control now?" he asks.

I nod. "The shot." As promised, he sent me his test results after our last conversation. Totally clean.

He tugs at my dress, lifting my ass so he can slide it to my feet. "You remember the safe word?"

"Yes."

How the hell did he manage to get that dress off so fast? I barely managed to get it over my head.

He tugs hard at my panties. They strain against my hips until the lace fabric snaps.

Blake kisses me. His tongue slides into my mouth. It's commanding and possessive and my body responds with gusto. I arch my back. I tug at the fabric of his suit jacket. I kiss him back as hard as I can.

His pulls me onto his lap. I can feel his erection through his slacks. My breath quickens. My heart races. Today, I might get my hands on him. I might get to touch him properly.

His lips go to my neck and chest. He nibbles and sucks at my skin. Every tiny hint of pain commands my attention, pulling me away from the events of the evening. They hardly seem to matter at this point.

I close my eyes and surrender to the things he's doing to my body. His hand slides between my legs. He strokes my sex, from my clit to just above my ass. He sucks on my nipples.

Pleasure whirls around me. It spreads through every inch of my body. Then I feel his teeth. The sharp burst of pain heightens every sensation. It's like this is happening in slow motion. I can feel every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers, every scrape of his teeth.

He slides a finger inside me. Wow. Wow. Wow. It's not quite like last time, when it was his cock inside me, but it's wonderful all the same. He finds the spot inside me, and rubs the pad of his finger against it. Pleasure shoots through me.

He bites hard against my nipple. I cry out, digging my nails into the skin of his neck. He grunts, but it doesn't stop him.

He presses his thumb against my clit, rubbing me inside and out. It's so much sensation. I can barely take it. But this time my hands are on his skin. This time I can touch him. I tug at his tie and the top button of his shirt. Finally, I can get my hands on his chest. It's strong, muscular, perfect.

I dig my nails into his skin. He bites harder. Strokes harder. Pain shoots through me, all the way to my toes. This is the only thing I can feel.

An orgasm rises up inside me. Every bite sends it higher. The pressure is too much to take. My nipple burns from the attack. I tug at Blake's hair, and he moves to my other breast. A wave of relief rushes through me, quickly replaced by another rush of pain. More, more, more.

I cry out. I scream. Everything inside me tenses. So damn close. He rubs me again and I go over the edge. I scream obscenities as an orgasm rocks through me.

Blake wraps his arms around me. Finally, we're eye to eye. None of that impenetrable stare. His look is easy to decipher. He wants me. I lower my body onto his. He's hard. He wants inside me.

"Turn around," he says. "Hands against the back of the seat."

I shift off him, planting my knees on the bench, my hands on the back of the seat. The leather is too slick. I can barely manage a grip.

He positions himself behind me. I hear the sound of his zipper. My tongue slides over my lips reflexively. I want so badly to touch him or taste him. Something. Anything.

But I'm still at his mercy.

He grabs my hips and pulls me back. His tip strains against me. No rubber this time. Just him.

He enters me. My eyes close. It's like I'm seeing stars. Wow. Wow. Wow. Only the second time I've had sex and it's in a damn limousine.

And it's damn amazing.

"You need to come for me again," he says. It's heavy. Desperate even.

He holds onto my hips as he thrusts into me. I press my palms flat against the seat to stay upright. Every movement fills me with sensation. Every part of me feels so damn good. I'm his. I'm at his mercy.

He sinks his teeth into my shoulder. Slides his hand between my legs to stroke my clit. Pleasure whirs around me. So close already. He bites me again. A burst of pain, but not quite what it was before. There's something so captivating about it. It commands all my attention.

My hands slip. I reposition myself, holding onto the top of the seats like they're a lifeline. He thrusts into me so hard and so deep it hurts. But that feels good, too. The pleasure mixes with my pain until I'm not sure what's what. All I know is that he feels amazing inside me.

I arch my back, shifting my hips to meet his thrust. His hands return to my hips, and his nails dig into my skin. A warning that he's in charge. I moan some kind of affirmation. He's in control. I love him in control.

He thrusts into me. Harder. Deeper. His hand returns to my clit and he strokes me again and again. That pleasure collects inside me. Wow. Wow. Wow. It builds up and up. So close. He strokes me again and again, and everything releases. I come in spasms. The ecstasy is so much I have to grab the leather seats to stay mostly upright.

Blake's grip tightens around my hips. He thrusts into me with steady groans. His nails dig into my skin and something in him changes. Like he's not in control anymore. Like something else took over. He moves faster and harder. I scream out. More hints of pain that quickly turn to pleasure.

I feel his orgasm. His cock pulses. His nails dig sharply into my skin. Everything in him releases as he groans.

When he's finished, he shifts to a seated position and zips his pants. "You can sit."

I collapse on the bench seat, still naked of course. He's fully dressed. It's not like I'm under any illusions about who holds the cards in this relationship.

Chapter Eight

Somehow, I get back into my dress long enough to get from the garage to the elevator to Blake's apartment. He says nothing until we're in the bathroom and then it's only to ask if I'd like anything to eat or drink.

He draws a bath. Like I can't handle the task. I would complain, but soaking in hot water sounds heavenly.

I slip into the sudsy water. Muscles I didn't even know were stiff relax. Standing in heels for hours is torture. I have renewed respect for actresses who smile their way through red carpet events. It's not easy pretending it's fun being scrutinized.

Blake enters the bathroom, holding a tray of snacks. Grapes, berries, crackers, cheese, and dark chocolate. Expensive stuff. He's in jeans and a t-shirt. He looks positively normal. Well, if it's possible to look out of this world hot and positively normal at the same time.

I move to the edge of the tub facing him. "Can I ask you something?"

He nods.

"Why do you always wear a suit?"

"What should I wear?"

"That," I draw a circle around him like I'm highlighting his outfit. "Isn't that how programmers usually dress?"

"I'm not much of a programmer these days."

I pop a raspberry into my mouth. I never buy berries. Too expensive. It's better than I remember. Tart, sweet, perfect. "Do you miss it?"

"At times."

"Do you do anything for fun?" I sink my teeth into the chocolate. If only this conversation were as easy as biting into a perfect square of something this rich and sweet.

"Chess."

"
Chess?"

"
That too." He glances at the plate. "Do you want something more substantial?"

"Not in the bath." I push back to the wall—the tub really is that big. "What I'd like is an explanation."

He nods. Then nothing.

"That was your cue to start the explanation," I say.

He nods to a glass of water. I roll my eyes but I drink the entire glass.

"Don't do that," he says.

"Follow your instructions?"

"Roll your eyes."

"Or what? Will you punish me for being bad?"

"I'm going to do what I can to respect you, Kat. I expect the same from you." His gaze is intense. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir." I fight an eye roll.

He frowns. Hey, at least I'm making him feel something. It's annoyance, sure, but that's better than apathy. It's probably better than apathy. Maybe a little better.

"I don't appreciate the condescending attitude," he says.

I wiggle my left hand. The ring catches every beam of light in the room. "Apparently, you appreciate everything about me."

"You like it." It's a statement, not a question.

"Does it matter?" I stare at the ring. I do like it, though I'd like it a lot more if it was from someone who cared about me. If it symbolized love instead of a big, fat lie.

"Yes." He kneels next to the bath, bringing us eye to eye. "It suits you."

"What? I'm expensive and showy?"

"You're beautiful and understated." He offers his hand. "I want this to be easy for you."

"It's not going to be easy." I dip my head into the water. I feel cleaner instantly. Like the bath is washing away all the hair product and makeup. All the stuff that makes me Blake's pretty, fake fiancée and not Kat.

I run a hand through my hair. Still stiff. Still saturated with sprays and gels.

Blake stares at me. Studying me again. He must have made a very good student with this attitude.

I wipe the makeup from under my eyes. "Why did you ask me to marry you?"

"The same reason I asked you to play my girlfriend."

Very helpful. Thanks, Blake. Great student, horrible teacher. "And why was that?"

"To make someone happy."

"You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to keep playing your girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess." I squeeze shampoo into my hands and lather.

Blake motions
come here
. I do, and he combs the shampoo through my hair. What the hell?

"I can do that," I say.

"Let someone else help you for once."

"I don't need help."

He doesn't stop. He runs his hands through my hair. It's soft. Gentle. Not at all like our previous sexual encounters. Or like his Goddamn attitude for that matter.

"You remember my mother?" His voice drops.

"Meryl. Yeah. She was really sweet."

"And weak. She could barely stand." He lets out a sigh. "She's not supposed to drink with her medication, but at this point, I don't think it matters."

My chest tightens. I don't like the sound of that. "Why not?"

"She has liver disease. Same thing that killed my father. Asshole drank himself to death. Mom isn't quite as much of a lush, but it was enough." He shakes his head. "I should have convinced her to quit drinking. This wouldn't have happened."