His body stiffened. “Okay, okay. Condom coming right up, impatient little thing.”
“Make it so, Number One,” she said, quoting Star Trek.
He didn’t seem to catch that. He just rolled out of bed and dug through the strewn clothing. She watched his ass, because truly, it was a fine, fine ass. All tight and muscly and just a bit of a bubble, like Brad Pitt’s in that Trojan War movie. Unlike Brad’s ass, though, Loch’s was several shades paler than the rest of his skin, which told her that he was out in the sun quite a bit.
She was fascinated by that ghostly white ass, and when he returned to bed a moment later with a condom packet, she couldn’t resist pinching and stroking her hands over his skin. Here she was glimpsing the best ass in the world and, judging by the lack of tan, she was one of the few. It seemed a shame to hide it away from the world when it was such a nice ass. She wondered if he’d let her put a finger up there. “Are you into ass play?”
The look he gave her was shocked. “What?”
“Prostate tickles? I’m told it’s fun for the guy.”
“I’ve never done that.” He rolled the condom on, dragging his fingers over his length in a rather mouthwatering way.
That wasn’t a no, though. That was just a never done it before. She supposed it probably wasn’t best for a first-and-only date, though. Oh, well. She’d wanted to try that, just to see how a guy would react.
But it didn’t matter because he was now officially gloved and settling his body back over hers, and her body was practically doing a happy dance because it was about to get boned. God, she was ready. She shifted on the bed, so wet and aroused she felt slippery all the way down her thighs.
Loch moved over her and leaned down to kiss her, as if she’d need to be prepped for sex. That was so cute. Taylor’s hands went to his shoulders and she pulled him down in an enthusiastic kiss, wrapping her legs around his hips to let him know she was darn ready. She heard his smothered laugh, but she didn’t care. The time for foreplay was past, and she wanted results.
“Patience,” he murmured even as she felt him fit his cock against her entrance.
In response, she lifted her hips, trying to push him deeper into her. “I’m not a very patient person.”
“No, you’re not,” he breathed, and then he kissed her again. As he did, she felt him thrust lightly, pushing into her.
Happy stars exploded behind her eyes. She gasped and clung to him harder. “More!”
In response to her impatient demand, he thrust hard.
Perfect. She cried out and when he leaned in, she bit down on his neck as he pounded into her. He hissed something under his breath that might have been in French, and continued to thrust into her. Her cries became shrieks, and she might have been clawing at his back—and not really caring—because he fit into her perfectly. There was something about him that hit her in all the right spots, and with every thrust, it felt like he was hitting her G-spot and her clit all at once. Which sounded crazy, except for the fact that she was pretty sure she was about to explode like a rocket. She’d never had a penetration-only orgasm before, and right now? It seemed to be on the table.
So she grabbed his hips and bucked when he thrust. “Harder!”
“Damn, woman,” he panted, but he did as she commanded. Soon, her bed was rocking so hard that she was pretty sure the neighbors were going to complain—not that she cared. That wonderful, clench-y, spiraling feeling was building in her belly, all through the magical friction of his cock inside her.
“You’re killing me,” she cried out, even as she clung to him harder.
“You want me to stop?” He paused in his endless thrusting.
“God, no!” She hammered a fist onto one of those magnificent arms. “Good killing! Good killing!”
His laugh was smothered by another moan, and then she cried out as he angled her hips slightly differently, and then thrust again. That did the trick. She screamed his name, holding on to him for dear life as she came, her entire body clenching around him. She was pretty sure that somewhere beyond all the blood roaring in her head and the chorus of angels screaming in her ears, he was coming, too. His body shuddered against hers, and then he collapsed on top of her.
Taylor stared up at her ceiling, dazed. “That was . . . Wow.”
On top of her, Loch groaned. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Fuck. Don’t be sorry.” He chuckled and sat up, panting. “I think you wrecked me.”
And all she could do was grin, because she felt the exact same way. Wrecked was a good word to describe it. Utterly sated, too. Content? Pleased as punch? All of those worked.
He rolled off of her a moment later and got up from the bed to dispose of the condom. She sat up, too, sweaty and, well, dirty in all the right ways. A shower would be good. Shower and then a bowl of celebratory cereal.
Because really? That orgasm was definitely something to celebrate.
Chapter Six
Loch woke up early the next morning, sleeping in the most uncomfortable, narrow bed he’d ever been in, with a woman sprawled against his side, and his muscles sore.
He’d had a fucking terrific night. With a yawn, he crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. A quick look in Taylor’s tiny bathroom mirror showed him the damage done. His neck was covered up one side and down the other with hickies, there was a bite mark on one shoulder, and if he turned, his back was covered in her enthusiastic scratches.
The woman was a fiend in bed.
He’d loved it.
Everything about Taylor was unexpected, from the way she dressed to her uninhibited actions. Most women he’d dated or slept with had always had an angle—sometimes it felt a bit like performance art, the way they acted in bed. But Taylor had been bossy and demanding and completely at ease with that. And to his surprise, it had been sexy to have a woman bang her small fist on his arm and tell him to move faster or to change his angle. He grinned at his reflection, admiring the scratches on his back. Already, he was enjoying his time in the States. His expectations had been low, but so far they’d been pleasantly exceeded.
He really liked Taylor. Her apartment, however . . . He had closets bigger than it at home. Of course, thinking about home made him wonder if he needed to call anyone. All his life, he’d had servants to check in with, a valet who picked out all his clothing, and drivers to take him around. Now he was here in the States and he had . . . none of those.
He actually wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.
His stomach rumbled, and Loch put a hand there, frowning. He was hungry . . . but there were no servants. Even at the hotel he went to the restaurant and people brought him food. He’d never had to take care of himself in his life. He’d figure that out shortly, though. Shower first, then food.
Taylor’s tiny shower ran out of hot water long before he was done, and he rinsed off, swearing a blue streak as he dug through her cabinet, dripping wet, for a towel. He found a threadbare Star Wars towel and wrapped it around his hips, then emerged from the bathroom to see Taylor still passed out in the bed, her mouth slightly open as she slept, sprawled and utterly without a care.
It was cute, really. He wanted to let her sleep, but his stomach was growling fiercely, so he went over to the bed and gently touched her ankle.
She jerked upright in bed, her messy hair flying. “Hm? What?”
He watched as her full breasts jiggled enticingly under the blanket she hugged to her torso. She was definitely appealing, no doubt about that. “Can you make me breakfast?”
Taylor squinted at him sleepily. “Can I what?”
“Make me breakfast? I’m famished.” He gave her his most appealing smile.
She rubbed a hand over her eyes and then peered at an alarm clock shaped like one of the Star Wars characters.
“It’s five in the morning. Are you shitting me? Who wakes up this early?”
“You should wake up early if you intend to run.”
“I’m not running anywhere other than back to dreamland.” She flopped back down in the bed and pulled a pillow over her head.
Loch frowned to himself. “Do you not exercise?” Didn’t everyone? How else would she keep physical for polo matches and the like? Then he remembered—she didn’t play polo. Ah. He sat down on the end of the bed, pulling one of her small feet into his lap, mostly because he liked touching her. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Sleep for another four hours, then catch up on work,” she mumbled at him.
That didn’t sound like it meshed with his plans at all. “What about me?”
She sat up again, rubbing her eyes. “Loch, I don’t mean to be a jerk, but what about you? I thought this was a one-night stand with no strings attached?”
“It is.”
Her brows drew together and she yawned. “Then what do you want?”
He gave her his most winning smile. “Breakfast?”
She made a pained sound but slid to the side of the bed. That was a start at least. He was less encouraged when she padded—naked—to one of the tiny cabinets near her stove, pulled out a box, and held it out to him.
“What’s that?”
“Cereal. Don’t eat all the marshmallows.” She waited for him to take the box and then shuffled toward her bathroom.
Cereal? He didn’t recall having it before. Quaint. Normally his breakfasts were toast, eggs, orange juice, and various meats depending on the country he was in. A bowl of dry, sweet marshmallows was odd, but he was in America now, after all. He ate a handful of the cereal, avoiding the marshmallows as she started the shower.
A moment later, a muffled scream erupted, and he winced as the water immediately went off again and she emerged out of the bathroom a moment later. “You used all the hot water?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t realize there was so little. You should really fix that.”
She stared at him, her hair dripping. “I live in an apartment building with hundreds of other people. I don’t get a say in how much hot water there is.”
“Ah.” He ate another bite of cereal and then shrugged. “Since you’re awake, shall we go jogging?”
Taylor wiped a wet lock of hair from her face, hugging a towel to her body. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty to look at, or I’d kill you right about now.”
He grinned. “I suspect you’re not a morning person.”
She bared her teeth at him. “And you want me to jog?”
Loch shrugged. “I always jog in the morning. It’s refreshing.” He set down the box of cereal because it was rather tasteless and didn’t strike him as particularly filling. “Speaking of, we should get going.”
“I’m trying really hard not to frown at you. How can a man as cute as you are be so obnoxious in the morning? Now I see why you’re single.”
He couldn’t help it; he laughed. “All right, I guess you don’t have to go jogging with me.”
“Now you’re talking sense.” She dropped the towel and started to crawl back into bed.
It was hard not to admire the sexy figure she painted as she moved on all fours back into the bed. He contemplated joining her, but he suspected she was just going to sleep, and he was wide-awake. A night of really good sex always invigorated him. He rubbed his neck, considering. “You go back to sleep, then, and I’ll go jogging.”
She gave him a sleepy thumbs-up.
“Where would I find jogging clothes?”
One eye cracked open. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“How is it you don’t know where jogging clothes would be?”
He shrugged. “I open my closet and there they are.”
“Who . . . who fills your closet?”
“My valet?”
“Where’s he?”
“Back home. His wife was expecting a child and he couldn’t join me on my trip.” Plus, he didn’t know how long he’d be in the United States, and it’d have been unfair to him to keep the man away from his family for so long.
“For a hot guy, you are weirdly helpless. I have a couple of guy shirts but no pants, sorry. You’ll have to go back to your place for that.”
“Mmm.” The thought of going back to his empty hotel room was extremely unappealing. It felt a lot like exile—he was alone, bored, and strangely forgotten. It wasn’t a good feeling, especially for him. He’d spent all his life adored and celebrated by family and friends, and the locals in Bellissime loved him. He was always surrounded by people.
Being alone? It felt a bit like torture.
Taylor rubbed her eyes. “I guess you could go buy some jogging clothes. There’s a store around the corner, though I don’t know if it’s open this early. How much do you want to spend?”
He shrugged. “I don’t normally purchase my own clothes. What would you recommend?”
She snorted. “That you stop letting other people control your life?”
“They’re helping me.”
“If you say so.” She gave her pillows one last sad look, then slid to the edge of the bed. “I’ll go with you to grab breakfast if you want, but no jogging.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually,” he teased.
***
An hour later, they were down at a tiny coffee shop near Taylor’s place. The neighborhood itself was a bit rundown for his tastes, and he’d seen a homeless man on the street, which had shocked him. Such things didn’t exist in Bellissime, nor did people just walk past as if they didn’t exist. Taylor had tucked a few dollars into the man’s cup but hadn’t stopped. No one did.
It felt oddly wrong, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He still didn’t, even as he finished off his toast and drank his coffee. Taylor had eaten nothing but a bowl of cereal and was now sipping her own coffee and doing her best to avoid eye contact with him.
“Something wrong?” he asked, because she seemed uncomfortable. Was she as upset about the homeless man outside as he was?
She toyed with her mug. “This is more complicated than I thought. You’re really hot and all, Loch, and last night was fantastic, but . . .” She paused and gave him a soulful look. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. My life’s a little complicated.”
Was that what she was worried about? “I’m not looking for a relationship, either, actually.”
Her face brightened. “Oh good. I was worried that ‘going jogging’ was some sort of euphemism I wasn’t grasping.”
He laughed again. That was the great thing about Taylor. She always made him laugh, no matter his thoughts. “No, I just enjoy staying active. And I’m bored most days.”
“I’m not,” she said bluntly, then put her coffee cup down. “And you were great. Really great. But I do mean it when I say my life is complicated.” A sad look flashed in her eyes. “If it wasn’t such a mess, I’d be chasing your hot ass like there was no tomorrow. Hell, I’d even go jogging if it meant more sex. But my job is a strain right now, and I have a lot more going on than I’d like, so I need to get back and go to work before I get written up again.”
He didn’t know what that meant, but judging from the expression on her face, it wasn’t good. “Is there anything I can help with? I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.”
“What, exactly, can you do with a computer?”
“I can turn them on and check my email. That’s about it.”
Her mouth twitched. “Then no, you can’t really help me with it. Thanks for offering, though.”
“Want to get together later tonight after you work, then?” He was up for some entertainment, and if it came bundled with Taylor’s sexual energy? All the better.
She pulled a few dollars out of a colorful pi
nk wallet and put them on the table. “I’m probably going to be busy. I have to work late to make up for some of the time I’ve spent away. Plus, guild stuff.” The look she gave him was wry. “I need to catch up with them, too.”
“Your team and all. I remember.”
Her smile broadened. “That’s right.”
Loch was feeling bizarrely irritated at her brush-off. She wasn’t his type, so why was it that she was the one desperate to call it a day and get rid of him? Most women couldn’t wait to get his attention. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Busy tomorrow, too.” She bit her lip.
He sat back, a little frustrated. “Not much of a tour guide, are you?”
Her cheeks pinked and he immediately felt like an ass. Well, an aroused ass, because that flush reminded him of her under him last night. And now she was giving him the brush-off? He’d thought last night was pretty damn spectacular, himself.
“I guess I suck as far as being your guide to the city.” Her shoulders slumped.
Damn. Now he was really feeling like an ass. Loch reached across the table and caressed her hand. “It’s not you. I’m just bored. If you have time this week, let me know, all right?”
Her smile brightened, and she squeezed his hand. “Is that code for booty call? I kind of like the idea of me being the one to booty call you.”
“I was thinking more like just hanging out, but my booty is open to calling.” He grinned.
***
Taylor hurried back to her apartment, hating how out of sorts she felt. There was a pleasant soreness between her thighs and the faint full-body muscle ache that came from really great sex. She hadn’t felt like that in forever, and she was enjoying the feeling. Less enjoyable was the guilt, though. It was clear Loch—gorgeous, sexy European playboy Loch—was bored and wanted company, and all she could think about was herself.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with him. If she’d have had two weeks of vacation time and zero responsibilities? She’d have been tapping that twenty-four-seven. As it was, she was already filled with guilt at spending nearly two days away from her computer. Even worse, she was supposed to be on-call for work for the next two days. Ugh. That meant letting all “emergency” tech calls forward to her phone day and night. Everyone had to do their turn and hers just happened to fall at the most inconvenient of times.
Billionaire on the Loose Page 7