The Billionaire's Redemption (The Billionaire's Kiss, Book Five): (A Billionaire Alpha Romance) (9 page)

My eyes are closed and I let out an involuntary groan.

My hips are trembling.

I want more… I still want his tongue, but I want it harder than this. Faster than this.

And I want it
now.

But he’s torturously slow and soft, licking my clit like he’s tickling it with a rose petal.

“Please,” I breathe out, and wrap my legs around his back, trying to pull him in closer.

His tongue brushes against me about one tenth as hard as I want.

“Oh God, PLEASE,” I beg, and put my fingers in his hair and force him down.

He takes my clit into his mouth and gently sucks, then licks. He strokes me with his bottom lip, firmer and firmer. He alternates so many things – licking, sucking, stroking, caressing – and all of it is getting the tiniest bit firmer, the slightest bit more insistent.

My legs are vibrating, my muscles fluttering.

“Oh… oh… oh… oh…” I cry out in staccato bursts of pleasure.

I’m going to come –

I’m going to come –

Fuck – I’m getting so close – I’m right on the edge –

His finger, the tip of it wet and soft, begins to stroke my lips, playing with my pussy as his tongue pleasures my clit.

It sends me over the edge.

“OH GOD,” I cry out, and clutch his hair in my hands as I scream.

My muscles are fluttering. I can feel them pulsing around the tip of his finger as his tongue keeps swirling around my clit, so soft, so wet.

“OHHHH,” I scream as his finger slowly sinks deeper inside me and begins to stroke my g-spot – all while he licks my clit a little faster, a little harder.

I can’t stop coming.

I don’t
ever
want to stop coming.

Fireworks go off in my head – my first orgasm in Paris.

Welcome to the City of Lights.

But eventually I do come down. The contractions gently ebb and fade, and I’m left moaning as he pulls away and grins at me impishly.

“So… think you can take a break for awhile?” he asks.

“Nope,” I announce cheekily, and put my hands back on the keyboard. “Orgasm break’s over.”

“I don’t
think
so,” he growls, and pushes back the chair from the desk so he can stand.

“Hey!” I laugh. “I’m trying to work here – oh my GOD.”

The bulge in his crotch is so huge and so hard that it looks like it’s going to break through his pants. Not only that, but even though the material is dark, I can see the patch of wetness on the charcoal grey cloth.

He soaked through his pants with pre-cum, he’s so turned on.

He unzips and pulls that massive cock out of his fly. It juts up in the air, the head swollen and wet.

“I have to have you,” he says huskily, and uses his thumb to press it down and line it up with my pussy. Then he slowly slides that gorgeous pink head between my lips.

“Ohhh,” I gasp, and my eyes roll back in my head as he eases himself all the way inside me.

Holy fuck that feels amazing –           

He moves my legs so they’re pressed straight against his body, my calves up against his chest, and he begins to fuck me. It’s an awkward position because the chair is so low – he’s been half-crouching down this entire time in order to be inside me – but
DAMN
it feels good.

He’s grunting, I’m moaning. He clutches my ass with one hand and my breast with the other. His cock is hitting a sweet spot deep inside me,
so
deep inside, that all I can do is hang on for dear life.

Suddenly he pulls me up out of the chair. He’s so incredibly strong that it’s effortless for him. I adjust my legs so they wrap around his waist, and then he slams me up against the wall, UNH, and starts fucking me again, deep and hard.

Every thrust is like a hit on a crack pipe.

I’m addicted.

I never,
ever
want it to end.

Suddenly he moves me over to the couch, staying inside me the entire time. We fall onto the cushions and then he’s pounding and thrusting once more.

“Aah – aah – aah – ” I cry out as I start to climax again.

“Fuck – fuck – FUCK – ” he bellows, and suddenly he’s coming deep inside me.

That’s when the door opens.

I open my eyes and scream as I see JP standing there, a
You’ve got to be KIDDING me
look on his face.

“Ah,
putain d’merde –
not on the fucking
canapé!
” he complains.

Dominique looks horrified. All the blood drains out of her face – and then she runs out the door and into the hallway.

“Oh shit,” Grant mutters, but he stays inside me, hard as ever.

I’m about to DIE of embarrassment.

JP throws his arms up in the air and makes a very French, thoroughly disgusted sound.

“You mind giving us a minute?” Grant calls out, annoyed.

“‘Give you a minute’?
Give you a minute?
It is
my
fucking apartment, asshole!” JP yells.

“Okay,” Grant says nonchalantly, and starts to pull out.

“Aaaah! Aaaah!” JP shouts, and lifts up his hand to block the sight of Grant’s cock, as though he would be blinded if he saw it.

“Well?” Grant asks.

“Fine –
two minutes,
” JP yells, then walks back out and slams the door shut.

Grant looks down at me. He’s still halfway inside me.

“Well,
that
was awkward,” he says.

We both burst into laughter. Despite my extreme mortification
,
it’s just too absurd. On the run from a serial killer, and we get caught fucking on the sofa.

Grant raises an eyebrow. “He
did
say two minutes…”

“So?”

Without warning, he plunges inside me all the way again.    

OH MY GOD!

My eyes roll back in my head with the sudden jolt of pleasure, and I have to keep myself from crying out.

“We could use the time wisely,” he whispers in my ear as he continues to rock back and forth inside me.

He feels so good that I’m tempted –

For about a millisecond.

“Git,” I say, and slap his arm.

He pulls out of me, and we laugh as he has to unbuckle his pants and pull out his shirt to strap down and cloak his erection, at least until it subsides.

“To be continued,” he whispers as I pull my underwear back into place.

JP and Dominique come back a couple minutes later. He looks pissed; she looks pissed
and
dejected.

They’re each carrying a couple of parcels wrapped in brown butcher paper. JP has a three-foot long one that might have conceivably held a giant bouquet of flowers. I didn’t notice them before because, well, I was more concerned about being caught having sex.

They put the packages on the dining room table and rip off the paper. There are guns inside: two semi-automatic pistols, one assault rifle, plus six boxes of bullets.

“That’s
it?”
Grant rages. “That’s all we get for ten
grand?”

“No, apparently you get to fuck on my
canapé,
too,” JP says in a surly tone of voice.

Grant looks at him like he’s about to strangle him.

JP rolls his eyes. “
Calme-toi.
He will get more rifles, and some explosives, but it will take time. Besides, these? These are very rare in France. Very expensive.”

“If this is what five or six grand gets you, I don’t doubt it.”

Grant picks up a pistol, pops out the clip, slaps it back in, racks back the slide – all the things you normally see in action movies.

I’m pretty impressed. “I didn’t know you ‘did’ guns.”

“I normally don’t, but I realized a long time ago that I might piss off the wrong person one day, so I prepared.”

“Seems that day has come.”

“Seems that way,” he agrees, and holds out the gun to JP.

JP puts his hands up. “No, no. I do not like guns.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn.”

“I think not.”

Grant sighs, then offers the gun to Dominique.

She gives him a dirty look, then takes the gun. She pops the clip out and racks back the slide. A bullet goes flying into the air – which she catches, then thumbs into the stack of ammo in the clip before she
clacks
it back into the pistol handle. “There is no need to have a bullet in the chamber.”

“Well, look at you,” Grant says. “Somebody’s been practicing.”

“
Oui.
Someone left me, so I had a great deal of time,” she says coldly.

Ow.

Even though I don’t like her, and she’s been trying to steal my man all day long, I can tell she’s hiding a lot of pain.

It doesn’t make me like her any more, though.

Grant looks at me like
Well DAMN, somebody’s pissed,
as he takes the other pistol and tucks it into the back of his pants.

“Don’t I get a gun?” I ask, incensed.

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“…no…”

“Then you don’t get a gun.”

“Hey!” I pout.

“When our connection finally delivers the other
overpriced
items he promised – ” Grant says, looking accusingly at JP.

JP rolls his eyes again.
“Ah, bordel…”

“…you can have one. I’ll give you a lesson in the meantime.”

“Just as long as it is not on the
canapé,
” JP mutters.

“Will you cut it out with the damn
canapé?”
Grant says, irritated.

“Every time I sit on it now, I am going to think of you
fucking
on it. I want a new one.”

“Buy it with your ten million dollars,” Grant snaps, and that ends the discussion.

Things are a little bit tense in the apartment for the next couple of hours.

But if there’s an upside to being caught
in flagrante,
it’s that everybody shuts the hell up for a while and I can finally get some work done.

Not to mention that Dominique completely cuts out the flirting with Grant. In fact, she’s downright cold to him.

She won’t so much as look
me
in the eye, much less make a single rude comment.

AWESOME.

If she starts getting flirty with Grant again, I know exactly what to do.

While I’m working, JP starts spaghetti sauce for dinner. Despite the irony of a Frenchman preparing an Italian meal, it smells delicious. After sautéing the meat and garlic, he adds the tomatoes and simmers everything for two hours before it’s ready.

While all this is going on, one very interesting detail comes out of my uninterrupted hacking session.

I don’t have any leads to try to find Epicurus, so I decide to go back to the beginning – and the closest thing to a beginning we have is the raid on Grant’s penthouse in New York.

I hack the NYPD’s servers and find the police report, and start reading through it.

Something is a little off, though, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It starts bugging me about the time that they list all the stolen paintings in the safe room.

Then I look at the crime scene photographs, and it’s obvious: amongst all the other pieces of art, there are a couple of blank spaces on the walls. Whoever broke in must have taken two of the paintings.

“Grant, Grant,” I call excitedly. “Get over here.”

He looks over my shoulder. “What is it?”

I point at the photos. “They took two of the paintings!”

It takes a second for it to register. When it does, he lets out a string of curses.

“Mother
fucker,
” Grant seethes. “That goddamn son of a bitch – ”

“What is it?” JP asks, and saunters over from the kitchen.

Even Dominique, despite the arctic-like façade she’s cultivating at the moment, can’t tamp down her curiosity enough to resist.

“Epicurus must be an art lover,” Grant says wryly. “His men took ‘Scheveningen’ and ‘The Concert.’”

Both JP and Dominique gasp. Apparently they know all about the private collection – and exactly what was in it.

“Uh – which ones?” I ask.

“The two rarest of the bunch. A Van Gogh and a Vermeer.”

“How much were they worth?”

“Together? Over $500 million.”

“Holy SHIT.”

“Well, it’s not like the money is important, really,” Grant says philosophically. “I was going to give them back eventually, so – ”

“Ha,” JP snorts.

Dominique snaps at JP in French.

“
Thank
you,” Grant tells her.

I take it that she was defending him – but as soon as Grant speaks to her, she apparently remembers she’s not talking to him. She scowls and walks away.

JP grins. “Even your advocates think you are a bastard.”

“Fuck off, JP,” Grant says, annoyed.

“But not on the
canapé.
”

“I swear to God, if you don’t quit talking about the goddamn
canapé
– ”

“Now you know how it is to hear about Monte Carlo every time I fucking see you,” JP counters.

“If I
never
bring up the Monte Carlo heist again, will you shut up about the sofa?”

“Agreed,” JP says, then says facetiously, “So if we find this Epicurus, we will steal the paintings back, and what – you donate them to the Louvre?”

“Yes.”

“I will believe that when I see that.”

“Look – ”

“Guys, SHUT UP,” I snap.

JP and Grant both look at me in surprise.

“Do you think you were targeted specifically?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think he broke into the penthouse just to get the paintings?”

“No…
he broke into the penthouse to get
me,
because I broke into his rental house and ruined his serial killer fun. Remember?”

“But – ”

“Trust me, this was very much a crime of opportunity. His hired mercenaries found the paintings, probably showed him on a camera or whatever, and he couldn’t help himself. If he’s as cultured as he likes to think – he fucking calls himself after an ancient Greek philosopher, after all – then I’m sure he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to own two of the most famous paintings that nobody’s laid eyes on in 30 years. I’m surprised he didn’t take them all.”