Billionaire on the Loose

by Jessica Clare

  She shook her head. “It gets worse all the time. If I’m not on the computer for a day, he wants to know where I’ve been. He’s looking up my online profiles—I guess he did a reverse lookup on my phone number and got my personal information. He comments on things I post on Facebook, and sends flowers to the LAN party when he knows I’m going to be there.” She shuddered.

  “So he’s stalking you.”

  Taylor looked up at him, her expression one of frustration and confusion. “That’s just it—I’m not sure if he is. I don’t get the impression he wants to meet. He’s been invited to the LAN parties and there have been gatherings in his hometown. People have offered to buy him a ticket to the convention here, but he never goes. He just wants me to be online with him all the time.” Her mouth crumpled a little. “All the fucking time. I’m so sick of it.”

  He was surprised to hear that, given that she loved her computer games. “So stop playing? Spend more time in real life than on the computer?”

  “That’s the thing. He wants me there with him.” Her fingers smoothed over his side in a decidedly possessive way. “And if I try to avoid the computer, he throws on a guilt trip.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s not just any guilt trip—it’s a really big one.” She sniffed again.

  He didn’t see how any guilt trip could be that bad. “Tell him to sod off.”

  “It’s just . . . like I said, it’s complicated. And it’s easier to log on than to deal with the aftermath.”

  More like it sounded as if a spoiled child wasn’t getting his way. It made Loch irrationally angry on her behalf. Taylor was entirely too nice and she was letting this Sigmund idiot walk all over her. “You need to put your foot down and tell him to leave you alone.”

  Taylor was silent. After a moment, she said softly, “I’m his friend. Sometimes I think I’m his only friend. He’s just lonely and depressed. I don’t want to hurt him more than he’s already hurting. It’s just that . . . the pressure sometimes makes me sick of being in the game. I’d have quit long ago if it wasn’t for . . .”

  “The guilt?”

  She nodded.

  “Some friend he is.”

  “He’s depressed.” She gave him another bright smile, clearly trying to deflect the situation. “As for me, I’m the opposite of depressed. How can I be anything but wonderful with you here? And at this awesome convention?”

  “I’m starting to think the convention was a mistake, especially if you’re sick of the game.”

  “A beach would have been a nice alternative,” Taylor teased, then slid her arms up around his neck. “But it’s the thought that counts, and this is super thoughtful. And I’m going to have lots of fun as long as I’m with you.”

  Loch leaned down and kissed her upturned face, unable to resist. “Just do me a favor,” he murmured between quick pecks. “No gaming this weekend, and no Sigmund.”

  “Fine to both,” she agreed readily. “I already told him I was going to be completely unavailable all weekend.”

  He didn’t point out that Sigmund had been texting her non-stop for the last half hour, clearly thinking he’d get his way regardless. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Let’s just leave it alone for now, all right?” She kissed him again, and the tip of her tongue flicked against his lips in a promising tease.

  Seemed like now Loch was being manipulated himself with a few kisses and Taylor’s sunny smile. He hesitated, then said, “You’ll talk to him when you get back? Tell him to leave you alone?”

  “I promise.” She toyed with a lock of his hair. “Want to go to the Chaldassian banquet tonight?”

  “I might be able to answer that if I had a clue what it was.”

  Taylor grinned. “It’s a dinner put on by the con that’s basically a mock-up of a traditional Chaldassian feast. Chaldassi is the kingdom in the game, remember?”

  “Ah. And this would involve you wearing your costume that consists entirely of a scarf and tape?”

  She grinned wickedly. “It just might.”

  “Then I think dinner sounds like an excellent idea.”

  ***

  Though Loch had an idea of what Taylor’s costume entailed, he was still stunned at the sight of her as she emerged from the bathroom in her outfit. Her glorious body, normally covered by layers of clothing, was on display for all to see. The tiny scarves that made up the top of the costume barely seemed decent, and her cleavage looked magnificent . . . and rather bare. The costume was open from neck to navel, with only the two scarves making her top half covered, and even then that was questionable. The scarves looped back, and at her waist she wore a third scarf that was tied at the side, like a tiny miniskirt.

  She put her hands on her hips and strutted out of the bathroom for his approval. “How do I look?”

  “Naked,” Loch said bluntly. He was both aroused at the sight of her in the costume and a little worried that she’d be going out in public with so much skin on display. Clearly he was going to have to watch over her like a hawk so no one tried to pull one of those tantalizing little scarves off.

  In her normal clothes, she was cute, sweet, approachable.

  In this costume? She was a vixen, all curves and soft skin. He wanted to touch her and peel off those scanty layers . . . and he wanted to throw a blanket over her at the same time.

  But her expression fell. “You don’t like my costume?”

  Loch immediately felt like an ass. It was her body; she could dress it however she wanted. His jealousy was his own problem. “You look incredible,” he admitted. “I’m just imagining all the heads I’m going to have to break for looking at you the wrong way.”

  She smoothed her hands down the front scarves of the costume, and dear god, he saw nipple. “They’re supposed to look. It’s if they touch that’s the problem.” Taylor winked at him and then gave a saucy little walk across the room.

  “I’m not going to be able to walk,” Loch told her, adjusting his erect cock in his slacks. Hell. The sight of her in that costume was doing all kinds of things to him. Her back was almost as bare as her front, and when she walked, he saw the little dimples at the base of her spine that made him want to grab her and push her down onto the bed for a round of quick and utterly filthy sex.

  “Poor baby,” she teased, casting him an impish look over her shoulder. “Want me to fix that for you?”

  “If you do, we’re not leaving this room tonight.” Not that it would be a problem for him . . .

  “In that case, you’re on your own,” Taylor said pertly, and pulled her freshly ironed cloak off the ironing board. “Don’t worry, the cloak will help.” She settled it over her shoulders and then pulled the hood over her face. “Better?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, studying her. Now instead of intense curves and tons of bare skin, she was a lot of midnight-blue cloak and a pair of barely-clothed tits that jutted out from the cloak and jiggled when she walked.

  She chuckled and waved a hand in the air, as if brushing aside his concerns. “I know I look damn good in this thing. Come on. Let’s go down to the banquet!”

  ***

  Guarding over Taylor in her finery proved to be a full-time job. As they went down to the banquet hall, Loch noticed that the vast majority of attendees were in costume. Some had cheap, handmade costumes, some had lavish sets of armor, and almost all of them were male. And every single one of those men was eyeing Taylor and her magnificent, barely covered breasts.

  Loch hovered close, of course. He found them a table off to one side and while Taylor exclaimed over the decorations and how the beer steins were straight out of the game, he glared at every man who came close enough to gawk at Taylor’s costume. She looked magnificent—far too magnificent for this crowd, he thought grumpily.

  “Silenus?” Taylor squealed, and jumped up out of her chair to go hug a friend, a mid
dle-aged, bearded man dressed like a bard. They chatted for several minutes, and Silenus kept casting Loch nervous glances. Good, Loch thought sourly, drinking his beer.

  “Him?” Taylor said after a few minutes. “Oh, that’s my boss. He’s here to learn about the game.”

  And Loch gritted his teeth. Damn that arse Sigmund for making Taylor have to lie to people about if they were together or not. Right now, he wanted to go King Kong on the entire room of leering men and drag Taylor away. But she was enjoying herself, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the the city, and he forced himself to sit and play bodyguard, just in case any of the men who were lining up to chat with her or get their picture taken next to her got too familiar.

  Their table filled up with a few other people who Taylor chatted with eagerly, and all of them discussed game culture and bosses and classes and all the things Loch knew nothing about. He watched Taylor instead, appreciating her animated expression and the way her cleavage looked in the shadows of the banquet hall. If he ate, he didn’t realize it. He just drank his beer and let her be a social butterfly, all the while thinking filthy thoughts about her in that costume.

  If he managed to make it through the entire night without ripping it off of her and taking her, he’d qualify for sainthood.

  “So what do you play?” the knight seated next to him asked, glancing occasionally over at Taylor as she talked with her hands and her breasts swayed enticingly as she told a story to a married couple. Guild-mates, she’d said.

  “I don’t know,” Loch admitted. “Some Valkyrie-looking woman. Warrior?” He looked over at his date helplessly. Was he even supposed to say? Brunhilde belonged to her “roommate” and he suspected no one knew that he was that roomie.

  “Warlord,” Taylor corrected him, casting a brilliant smile in his direction. “He’s a beginner at the game. He—” Her gaze unfocused and she got an uncomfortable look on her face as she stared at someone—or something—behind Loch. “Shit.”

  Loch turned to look.

  Cutting through the sea of tables was a man in a magnificent red cloak, a plumed helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was long and black, and he wore a suit of shining silver armor etched with red. He cut an impressive figure, his costume clearly expensive and extremely detailed. He was also coming straight for their table.

  “God, this is awkward,” Taylor murmured, cringing. To Loch’s surprise, she scooted her chair closer to his and put her hand on his thigh. “Help me get rid of him fast?”

  “All right,” Loch agreed, a bit mystified.

  “Ho,” called the newcomer as he approached their table. He bowed in a courtly manner to each person at the table and then moved toward Taylor, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “My lady, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.”

  Taylor gave a nervous laugh. “Nice to see you, too, Julian.” She gestured at Loch. “This is my . . . friend, Loch. We’re here together.”

  Why couldn’t she spit out the word boyfriend? He noticed that everyone at the table was watching them, eyes wide.

  “A pity,” Julian murmured over Taylor’s hand. “You know where to find me if you wish to rekindle our . . .”

  “Friendship?” Loch offered. He put a possessive arm around Taylor’s waist. He knew exactly what this man was getting at, and he didn’t like it.

  “Friendship,” Julian agreed. He gave the table a quick bow and then swept on, but not before sending another smoldering look in Taylor’s direction.

  She grabbed her beer stein and took a long gulp. A few droplets spilled onto her cleavage.

  That was enough for Loch. Between the jealousy stewing in his stomach and the near-nudity of his far-too-popular date, along with her inability to refer to him as her boyfriend? And the fact that they hadn’t had sex again since the one fling? He was done with dinner. Loch got to his feet and offered Taylor his hand. “If you’ll all excuse us, we have somewhere we need to be.”

  “We do,” Taylor agreed, getting to her feet. She smoothed her cloak forward, hiding some of her costume, and then put her hand in his—a small gesture that did a lot to soothe Loch’s jealousy.

  They quickly said their good-byes, and then Loch led her out of the massive medieval dining hall. His blood was surging, his cock was aching, and he felt an overwhelming need to claim Taylor as his. He’d never been like this with anyone else, but with Taylor, it was different. Everything was different.

  He scanned the halls of the conference center of the hotel, looking for a private spot to duck into. There was nothing but Excelsior posters, milling people, and computer monitors flashing snips of the game. He tugged her along by her hand, hurrying to the elevator. He’d take her back to their room, ravish her silly, and get all this out of his system.

  And then Loch paused. There was a line for the elevator stretching back at least fifty feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “It’s a busy convention,” Taylor chimed in. “Want to take the stairs?”

  “We’re on the fortieth floor.” He’d never last that long. He’d end up fucking her in a dirty stairwell. That wouldn’t do. He grabbed her hand again and dragged her down another hallway, farther into the bowels of the conference center. “So who was that Julian guy?” It was just curiosity that made him ask, he told himself.

  “Uh, someone I’d prefer to forget.”

  He turned and looked at her. “Has he been bothering you?”

  “What? No, he was . . .” She grimaced. “My one and only one-night stand prior to you. I think I was dazzled by his costume. I was not, however, dazzled by his performance.”

  “And now I know too much,” Loch murmured, leading her in the opposite direction of the crowds. If there was nothing to see down this particular way, then that was where he wanted to go. There—a hallway with several doors was just ahead, and nearly deserted.

  “You asked,” Taylor told him. “I was hoping to avoid him. He’s kind of a dick . . . with a small dick.”

  He did ask, but now he regretted it, because he was picturing that prick in the shiny armor touching his Taylor. It wasn’t helping his jealousy. He led her down the hall and tried the first door. Locked.

  “What are we doing?” Taylor whispered.

  “We’re looking for something,” Loch told her, and went to the next door. Locked. Damn it.

  “What are we looking for?”

  The third door opened, and it was dark inside. He grabbed her hand and swept her inside with him. “Privacy.”

  “Oh?” Taylor sounded amused. “Any particular reason?”

  He ran a hand over the wall, looking for a light switch, and found a knob. He twisted it. The lights flickered and began to slowly come on. “I got jealous of everyone staring at your tits.”

  She smothered a laugh. “Poor Loch.” Her voice was sweetly teasing, as was the hand she put on his chest as she stepped closer to him. “You should know that—” She paused and frowned at something behind him. “Is that a mushroom?”

  Loch turned. Sure enough, the lights had come on, revealing the room. It was . . . well, heavily decorated was the best way he could describe it. Plastic vines of leaves swayed all over the room, hung from the ceiling. Fake trees with massive trunks dotted one section, and in the center of the room were several white and red mushrooms, big enough to be seats. At the base of the mushroom cluster, a stand-up banner proclaimed EXCELSIOR CONVENTION. “What is all this?”

  “It’s Kerru Forest,” she told him with a laugh. “It’s the starting area for the Dragon Rider class. I’m guessing they’re going to use this room as a photo booth of sorts. They had something similar the last time I came, but it was Cityport instead of Kerru Forest and—” She paused as he locked the door and then pulled her forward. “Where are we going?”

  He led her into the sea of props. “Have you ever made love on top of a
mushroom?”

  She giggled. “I have not, but I’m game.” She shrugged off her cloak and tossed it to the floor.

  That was one of the things he fucking loved about her—she was always game for anything. He pulled her against him and groaned because everywhere he touched her he touched warm, bare skin. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

  Her arms went around his neck, hiking her breasts in a most magnificent fashion. “Are you saying that to me or to Talia Undura?”

  “Seeing as how I don’t even know who that is? I’m saying it to Taylor.” Loch kissed her, his hands going to her arse to cup it under her tiny, short skirt. Underneath, his searching fingers found a tiny thong and he groaned. It was like this outfit had been made deliberately to tease him. “I want to fuck you in this ridiculous little costume of yours.”

  “You like it,” she said between nipping little kisses. One hand slid down the front of his shirt and then she was pulling it free from his belt.

  “Fuck yes, I like it. I like it too much.”

  “I can tell.” Her hand went to his cock and she stroked him through the fabric. “You have condoms?”

  “In my wallet.”

  “Then I’m all yours.”

  He tugged at her tiny thong, dragging it down her thighs until she could step out of it. One hand went to cup one of her breasts, and to his surprise, the scarf anchored there didn’t move a bit. “Taped?”

  “Double-sided,” she agreed. “It’s amazing stuff.”

  “Can you still feel me when I touch you?” He caressed her nipple, watching her reaction.

  Her eyes closed and she leaned into him. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good.” He kissed her fiercely and palmed her breasts as he did. “I might have to get you to wear this sassy little costume of yours more often,” he murmured between kisses, dragging his thumbs over her hard nipples. She moaned, clinging to him. “You’re so easy to touch this way.” One hand slid down to her skirt and he pushed under it to find her pussy hot and wet. He groaned. “Fuck. You’re that aroused, Taylor?”