One Night With a Billionaire

by Jessica Clare

  “Hey,” Kylie said breathlessly as she slid in next to him.

  He reached past her, dragged the door shut, and then pulled her into his lap.

  Then they were kissing, her hands on his neck and in his hair and touching his face, and his lips were on hers, and she was making soft, hungry little sounds in her throat. And fuck, she was gorgeous. It was clear he wasn’t the only one who’d thought the last two weeks were incredibly long and lonely.

  “I missed you,” she breathed between kisses, her tongue flashing into his mouth for quick, teasing licks. “God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, Mrs. Archer,” he murmured, tugging at her bulky coat.

  She giggled at his words, and showed him her hand full of rings. The enormous wedding ring was still on her finger, turned inward so the outside looked like nothing but plain bands. “Our secret is still safe.”

  He held up his own hand, showing he still wore his ring, and she linked her fingers in his.

  “I was a little worried,” she said, biting her full, ruby red painted mouth. “That you’d have two weeks away from me and realize you didn’t want to be married anymore.”

  “Absolutely not the case,” Cade said, shifting her on his lap so she was straddling his cock through his slacks. She must have been wearing a skirt—underneath the coat, he could feel the clench of her naked thighs against his pants. “If anything, I missed you more.”

  The smile she gave him was part shy, part vixen. “I’m glad,” she told him, reaching for the ties on her coat. “Because I changed before you got here, hoping . . . you know. Just in case.”

  And she held open her coat.

  Holy Mother of God, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her big, bouncy breasts were naked and ready for his touch, and in the shadows, her pussy was waiting for him.

  Incredible.

  “Where to, Mr. Archer?” the limo driver called, reminding them of his presence.

  Kylie sucked in a breath and closed her coat, squirming on his lap.

  And he wasn’t going to last until they got back to the hotel. Seeing those naked breasts? Seeing Kylie sweet and naked on his lap? He needed her now. “Go ahead and drive around the city for the next hour,” Cade instructed him in a surprisingly calm voice. “My wife wants to see Dallas by night.”

  “Gotcha,” the driver said, and raised the tinted glass barrier separating the cab in front from the back.

  Good man, Cade thought. He’d give him an extra-large tip when they were done. He pulled Kylie in to kiss her again. “I want you,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “God, I want you, too,” she told him. “I’ve been horny all day, just thinking about you.”

  “Did you touch yourself?” he asked, tugging her coat apart again so he could see the swells of those incredible breasts. He palmed them and groaned, feeling the weight of them in his hands. So gorgeous.

  She shook her head. “Wanted to wait for you. Did you like my pictures?”

  “You can’t imagine how much,” he told her, pressing kisses to her neck and pulling her against him. “Your breasts fueled all kinds of fantasies for me.”

  “What kinds of fantasies?” she asked, breathless with curiosity.

  “Fucking them,” he told her bluntly. “I thought about fucking them a lot.”

  Her eyes lit up and she got a naughty smile on her face again. “Did you, now?” She reached over and picked up her big purse, digging through it.

  He watched her, content to just admire the gorgeous figure she made, nude except for her jacket, straddling him, her mouth a red bow, her white and red hair in wild curls on her shoulders. He’d thought about Kylie night and day, but the reality was a million times better than his daydreams. Idly, he reached out and teased one of her breasts with his fingers, coaxing the nipple into a point. It hardened immediately and she moaned; he loved that she was so responsive, so completely into his touch.

  Then, she held up something triumphantly—a small tube.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Lotion, of course,” she told him, and wiggled her eyebrows. As he watched, she uncapped it and squirted a dollop into her palm. Then, her gaze locked on him, she rubbed it into the valley between her breasts and on the slopes of her tits, making them gleam wetly.

  He bit back his groan at the sight of it. “What are you doing?”

  She simply gave him another wicked look and slid onto the floorboards of the limo, kneeling in front of him. Now those wet, slippery breasts were practically touching his knees. She pushed his legs apart and grabbed his belt, hauling him forward a few inches. Then, she began to unbuckle him. When she pulled his cock free of his underwear, Kylie looked up at him again, that gleam in her eyes.

  Then she leaned forward and wedged his cock between her magnificent breasts and began to rub him, back and forth.

  Gliding over that slippery, warm skin? The sensation was pure ecstasy. The visual was even better. He flexed his hips and watched the head of his cock push between her breasts, nearly touching her chin.

  She clutched her breasts and pushed them together, tightening the friction around him and then the sensations changed from good to mind-blowing. Cade’s head fell back, his lips parting. Dear God.

  “Does it feel good?” Kylie whispered.

  “Incredible,” he told her in a low voice. His hands moved over hers, clenching her big breasts together, and he kept driving his cock in the slick valley between them. The sight of the head thrusting forward to nearly hit her chin with each push was obscene . . . and utterly fascinating. It made him pump harder, his hips coming off of the seat with the force of his movements, and as he watched, Kylie’s tongue darted out and tried to lick his cock as it shuttled near her mouth over and over again.

  The sight of that made him lose control. With a muffled groan, he came, heat splashing across her chest, jets of milky white come arching over her neck, chin, and tits. And again, it was obscene and yet utterly beautiful.

  Kylie grinned at him, pleased. “Glad you liked that.”

  “More than you can imagine,” he panted, his cock throbbing from the force of his release. He glanced around, looking for something to towel her off with, and when she pulled out a packet of tissues, he chuckled. “I’m glad you’re so handy.”

  She laughed. “I’d almost take that as a pun, except I’m pretty sure I didn’t use my hands much.”

  He helped her mop up her front, and his cock, and by the time she was able to close her peacoat again, they had a stack of wadded tissue that Kylie stuffed in a plastic bag (found in the back of the limo) and down into her bottomless purse for disposal back at the hotel. Then, she sat next to him on the seat and he pulled her close, nestling her against him.

  It felt good to feel her weight against his, to smell her hair, to hear her soft breathing. And as the city skyline of Dallas zipped by, Cade reached for Kylie’s hand and twined her fingers in his.

  Being with Kylie felt so good, so very right. It was nothing like his constant stress and unhappiness when he’d thought he’d wanted Daphne. With Kylie? He understood real contentment, real happiness . . . real lust.

  Now he just had to convince her that they could make this crazy thing they had permanent.

  Then again, judging by the way she’d greeted him tonight? Maybe she was thinking along the same lines he was. Cade grinned to himself and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  SIXTEEN

  Kylie enjoyed a week of perfection in her otherwise shit-sandwich life.

  The tour ran smoothly—or as smoothly as a tour could run with a manic-depressive junkie at the center of it. Still, Daphne went on stage and sang her heart out every night, so her managers were pleased and money was being made. As long as money was made, all the other complaints just sort of fell by the wayside. Which was a little sad, but to be expected.

  Kylie herself was on cloud nine. Were there clouds higher than nine? Maybe she was hanging out on number ten, because damn, she felt g
ood. Her nana’s nursing home bill was almost caught up. The job was fairly predictable, and predictable was good. Cade spirited Kylie away twice more that week for furtive hotel room sex and late-night dinners on the town. And when they couldn’t be together because his business called him away, they constantly texted and sent each other goofy little notes.

  She was happy. More than that, she was in love. Even when Daphne was irascible or got cranky when Kylie couldn’t quite cover one of her many bruises and make it look natural, it didn’t faze Kylie. This was just a passing thing. It’d get better, and the tour would be over in another two months. Surely she could hold out for two months.

  “Not that shade, Fat Marilyn,” Daphne said peevishly, knocking a tube of lipstick out of Kylie’s hands before she could add the color to her makeup palette. “How many times do I have to tell you? I want red. God, are you fucking stupid?”

  Kylie bent over and picked up the tube before it rolled under the makeup station, trying not to lose her temper. It was clear to anyone that Daphne was having a bad day. Even as she sat in Kylie’s makeup chair, she was sweating. Kylie kept having to wipe her down to apply makeup, which didn’t make things easy. She set the tube of tomato red lipstick back into her caddy. “Show me which color you want, then,” she said, keeping her voice patient. It was like dealing with a child some days.

  Daphne pointed at a terra-cotta shade. “Like that, but with more red.” She pointed at a purple. “Mix it with that.”

  “That’s not going to make a red—”

  “Then it won’t be fucking red. Just fucking do it, all right? Who’s the goddamn star around here?” She picked up Kylie’s sudoku puzzle and began to fan herself with the paper. “Christ, it’s broiling in here. Someone turn on the air.”

  “I’ll get on it,” Snoopy said, jumping up and running off. Kylie guessed that she’d been waiting for an excuse to escape her irascible boss for a few minutes.

  “All right,” Kylie said, pleasant through gritted teeth. “Reddish brown and . . . purple.” She picked up the tube and used her tiny makeup spatula to dab small amounts of both horrible colors on her makeup mirror, then used a brush to dab the two together. The resulting color looked rather . . . toxic, but hey. What Daphne wanted, Daphne got. “Part for me?”

  Daphne parted her lips and tilted her head back, and Kylie noted with a bit of concern that she was clammy with sweat again, a bead rolling down one temple. Her lips were dry and cracked, too. Worst of all was her breath. Daphne’s breath smelled like something had died in her mouth, and Kylie had to hold her own breath to lean in close enough to paint her mouth.

  “There,” Kylie said when she was done. “What do you think of that color?” She leaned back and let Daphne look in the big, lit mirror. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she peeked at it, unable to resist looking.

  Cade: Thinking about you, sweetheart. I’ve got your panties out and I’m daydreaming about the taste of you. Can’t wait for tonight. You gonna surprise me with another outfit?

  Blushing, Kylie tossed her phone in her open purse at the far end of the table. She’d text him back a response as soon as Daphne got out of her chair.

  Daphne perused her bruised looking mouth in the mirror. “This looks like shit. Not gonna lie.” She snickered. “Maybe we should start over with a different color.”

  “All right,” Kylie said, getting cleansing wipes and handing them to Daphne. Someone knocked at the door at the far end of the room—the one marked STAFF ONLY. Kylie looked over. No one was rushing over to answer it.

  “I bet that’s Snoopy,” Daphne said, taking a sip of her drink and looking expectantly at Kylie.

  “Okay,” Kylie said. “Be right back.”

  She hustled over to the door, and sure enough, it was poor Snoopy, her arms full of Daphne’s favorite brand of bottled water. “Thanks,” Snoopy told her, staggering under the weight of the bottles. “They fucked up the tour rider again, so we’re going to get stuff in piecemeal for the next hour or two.” She pushed a case of water into Kylie’s hands. “Help me shove these in the fridge?”

  The two of them filled the fridge full of the water, and Snoopy shot Kylie a grateful look. Kylie hurried back to her makeup table. Daphne hated waiting and Kylie didn’t want her getting bored and destroying some of her expensive cosmetics.

  But as she approached the makeup station, her stomach clenched in dread. Daphne’s mouth was smeared with the garish lipstick, as if she’d been distracted mid-cleanup. In her hands, she held a familiar phone with a bright red case.

  Kylie’s phone.

  And she was flipping through Kylie’s texts, her face unreadable. As she watched, Daphne’s thumb slowly swiped across the screen again, in a motion as if she were looking through a picture album. If she did, she was sure to see the photos of Cade in bed that he’d recently texted her, shirtless and pointing at a pillow with the caption of Missing you.

  She sucked in a breath and waited for the inevitable explosion.

  Daphne’s gaze flicked to Kylie. Her mouth flattened. “You . . . bitch!”

  The singer raised her hand and grabbed something off of Kylie’s table. A green object flew through the air. Kylie realized it was the heavy ceramic flowerpot moments before it cracked her in the head, just to the right of her eyebrow.

  “You fucking bitch!” Daphne screamed as Kylie collapsed to the ground. The world was a blaze of red and black and pain. She put her hand to her face and realized it was wet with blood—her skin had split open. “Right under my nose?” the pop star shrieked. “Under my goddamn nose?”

  Kylie just blinked at the ceiling. It was covered with small, exploding stars, her vision edged with black. Her mind was foggy and she couldn’t focus. There was dirt everywhere, and her flower was probably dead . . .

  Hands touched her arm, helped her sit up. “Oh my God, Fat Marilyn,” Snoopy said in her ear. “Are you okay? She hit you right on the temple.”

  “She’s a fucking man-stealing bitch!” Daphne screamed. The carefully organized makeup cases went crashing to the floor. Next, the cell phone smacked Kylie in the shoulder.

  “Stop it, Daphne!” Snoopy yelled.

  “She fucking stole him from me,” Daphne screeched. Several of the dancers went to Daphne’s side, and a moment later, Daphne burst into loud, noisy tears.

  They spoke, but it all sounded like buzzing to Kylie. Snoopy’s soft voice swam in and out. She was having a hard time focusing. Her head hurt madly, and she was having trouble concentrating.

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled to Snoopy. “Help me up.”

  But when she stood up, her knees went weak again, and she almost took a second tumble. “Get security in here,” Snoopy said aloud. “I think we need a doctor.”

  —

  When Kylie awoke again, she was lying in a hospital bed. Her head throbbed with a fresh, hideous kind of pain. “Ow?” Her mouth felt dry and she put a hand to her head—the pain seemed to be concentrated in one particular spot just to the right of her brow. Her head was bandaged.

  “Hey.” Snoopy peered over the bed and gave her a wan smile. “Can I get you something? Ice cubes? A hot nurse? A bedpan?”

  Kylie chuckled, and then groaned because laughing hurt. “What happened?”

  “Well, apparently you can give someone a concussion if you hit them in the head with a flowerpot in just the right spot. Who knew.” Snoopy grimaced. “The doctors gave you two stitches and are holding you overnight to monitor things just to be on the safe side.”

  “A concussion?” Kylie echoed. No wonder her head felt like it had been cracked open. “What time is it?”

  “Late. Like, ten-ish.”

  Her fingers gingerly touched the bandages. Each brush of her fingers seemed to bring fresh pain. “Who did Daphne’s makeup tonight?”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” Snoopy said. “Daphne has ‘come down with the flu.’” Snoopy made air quotes. “The show has been rescheduled for two nights from now.”

>   “I see. Where’s my phone?”

  “Broken,” Snoopy said. “Pretty sure Daph stomped on it after she pegged you with it. She was pretty pissed. I’m sure management will pay for a new one.”

  Yes, but Cade would worry as to why Kylie wasn’t texting him. Oh God—a horrible thought occurred to her. “This isn’t going to be in the tabloids, is it?”

  “Nope,” Snoopy said, texting something on her phone. “Management’s statement is that you were drinking too much and tripped. You know how everyone on Daphne’s tour likes to party.” Snoopy’s voice was flat, and the smile she gave Kylie was thin.

  Kylie snorted, and then winced because that hurt, too.

  “Yeah, it’s all bullshit,” Snoopy said. “Everyone’s tired of Daph’s shit, but we’re stuck because . . .” Her voice trailed off and she stood up. “Management’s coming in. I need to vacate the premises.” She looked over at Kylie and crossed her fingers. “Good luck. I’ll be waiting outside if you need anything.”

  Good luck? Kylie stared after Snoopy’s retreating back, confused. A moment later, the hospital door swung open again, and a tall, thin man in an expensive suit walked in.

  Mr. Powers from the record company. Kylie recognized him and his small, bitter smile.

  “Hello,” Kylie said, touching her bandages again.

  “Miss Daniels,” he said by way of greeting. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well, my head hurts,” she said meekly. She wanted to ask Why are you here? But she had a feeling that’d be coming out soon enough. So she waited.

  “That’s too bad,” he said in a voice that had zero emotion. He moved to the end of the bed and set a briefcase down. He opened it, pulled out a stack of papers, and offered it to her.

  “W-what’s this?”

  “This is your contract,” he said in a chilly voice. “I wanted you to read over it again so you could refresh yourself with things.”

  Kylie stared at the paper, but the words were so tiny and blurred together that her eyes couldn’t focus. She put it down a moment later and shook her head. “I’m kind of unable to concentrate at the moment. Can you give me a summary?”