Autumn Rolls a Seven (Billionaire Baby Club Book 2)

by Jasinda Wilder

  “Let me down,” I breathed, “let me down. I need to catch my breath.”

  He stepped back from the wall and brought my thighs down over the outsides of his shoulders, to the crook of his elbows. He held me like that, legs askew, bare sex smearing wet against his diaphragm, and he walked with me to his room. He had my essence smeared on his mouth, his lips, his chin.

  I wiped at it as he walked with me, and he pulled his face away from my hand with a sly smirk.

  “Kiss it off,” he murmured. “Taste yourself on me.”

  I kissed his chin and tasted myself, and then I kissed his upper lip, and the corner of his mouth, and he let me kiss him, and then suddenly he was tipping forward and I was momentarily weightless. The bed caught me in a cloud of soft blankets and firm mattress, and he was braced over me and kissing me with devouring passion. One fist pressed into the mattress at my left ear, and his right hand cupped under my neck, pulled me up to him, while his knees framed my hips. He was all bulk and weight and power above me, pinning me in place with nothing more than his kiss.

  When he finally allowed the kiss to fade, I smiled up at him, feeling faint and limp. “You were supposed to let me breathe.”

  “Nope. I like you breathless. You make cute, sexy little noises.”

  My hands needed his skin, his muscle. I let myself have what I wanted—I touched him. Explored the broad hard shelf of his massive shoulders, the column of his neck, his acres-wide back rippling with power. His trim, narrow, wedge waist. I hesitated at his sides, and then slid my fingers under the elastic of his shorts, finding the cool firm round bubble of his ass. He groaned, and his forehead fell to rest on my chest bone.

  I clutched the fullness of the hard globes, then softened my touch to caress, and his breathing stuttered. His hand, under my neck, wiggled downward. Found the tab of the zipper at my spine, worked it deftly downward. That was distracting, but his ass was glorious and I gave it my full attention, as it deserved, squeezing it and petting it and clawing it. Then, I needed more. He was kneeling over me, leaving me full access to anything I wanted.

  And I knew exactly what I wanted next.

  I brought my hands around his hips, under the elastic of his shorts and underwear. My heart hammered as I continued bringing my touch around to his front, until I found what I wanted—his erection.

  And oh, holy fuck.

  What a cock.

  He groaned, and now he lost patience and yanked his hand out from under my back and just tugged the bodice of my dress down, exposing my tits with a rough bounce. “Fucking finally.”

  He buried his face in them, groaning against my flesh, exulting in a long-awaited revelation. His mouth was busy, then, kissing and kissing and licking and suckling my breasts and my nipples, kissing everywhere, using his hand to cup one and then the other, lifting, squeezing, kneading, thumbing a nipple.

  I had his cock in my fist, and I couldn’t believe it was real, that any man could be that hugely endowed without needing a damn wheelbarrow with which to haul the thing around. The constraint of his shorts was infuriating, though, so I reluctantly released him long enough to push the stupid garments down. He sprang free, and I watched between our bodies as his huge member swayed, thick and long and hard and proud, veined, a paler shade of skin than the rest of him, crowned with a bulbous fat soft weeping head, rooted with a tight sac of skin. God, so beautiful.

  I caressed him, one long stroke of my hand from tip to root and back up, twisting at the tip, and he moaned, his teeth involuntarily nipping into the soft, delicate skin of the underside of my breast.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Even just your hand feels so fucking good, Autumn.”

  “Oh, just you wait,” I whispered, nuzzling his ear, biting his earlobe. “There’s a lot more where this came from.”

  At the emphasized words, I squeezed him, then used both hands to plunge a downward caress that became smooth, twisting, sliding strokes.

  “Not about to argue with that,” he muttered, and then hissed as I switched to short, shallow pumps at the head of him. “Shit, shit. Makin’ me crazy, here.”

  “What’s that phrase?” I smirked up at him. “Oh yeah: turnabout is fair play.”

  “Got me there.”

  I grinned as I clutched his thick, throbbing length. “No, I’ve got you here.”

  He just laughed, and the laugh turned to a grunt and groan as I used one hand to cup his balls, caressing and teasing them as I slid a light, barely there touch of just my circled thumb and forefinger around his cock—my two fingers couldn’t meet around his massive girth.

  I teased him with alternating touches, light and then squeezing, quick and then slow, plunging tip to root and then barely fluttering around the very tip of him. His chest heaved as he held still through my touching, as if the control he was exerting over his…baser instincts…required intense focus and effort.

  “You’re playin’ with me, babe,” he growled. “Tryin’ to let you have your fun, but in a second, my control is gonna snap.”

  “Oh, goody,” I breathed. I slowed my touch to a barely moving crawl down his significant length. “You keep acting like I should be so scared of you. As if I shouldn’t want exactly what you seem so afraid of showing me.” I laughed. “You’re literally threatening me with the best sex of my life. So to that I say—yes please.”

  He laughed, a guttural growl of amusement. “In that case…”

  He flipped over to his back, bringing me astride him. Before I knew what was happening, he had my dress fully unzipped and bunched between navel and diaphragm, strapless bra with it. My breasts swayed with the roughness of his movements, and with my heaving gasps for breath.

  I was sitting on his thighs, his erection protruding between us, bobbing, straining. I captured it in my fists, stroked him again. “I want you inside me.”

  He snarled, a wordless sound of need. “You got no clue how bad I want to bury my cock inside you right now.”

  I lifted up. “What’s stopping you?”

  He grimaced. “One problem, which I just thought of.”

  “Okay?”

  “Not gonna like it. I know I don’t.”

  “Okay?”

  “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Big swingin’ dick player like you? I figured you’d stock up in bulk.”

  He snorted. “Until I saw your ad, I was taking time away from dating.”

  “From dating, huh?”

  He smirked. “Fine. Hooking up. My last hookup wasn’t…great. Left a bad taste in my mouth, metaphorically speaking, and I wanted some space from the whole game.” Serious, then. “Haven’t been with anyone in any capacity in over a month and a half.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “In a stupid attempt to make sure I stuck to my guns, I threw away the last of what I had.”

  I groaned. “That was really stupid.”

  “I wasn’t expecting…you.”

  I still had him in my hands, and I wasn’t about to let a good thing go to waste. “Well, there’s other things we can do, in the meantime.”

  Because I wasn’t about to broach the idea of unprotected sex, no matter what my friends had said in that ad. I for sure wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But that was a line of thought for another time.

  “I could just do this.” I caressed him, stroked slowly.

  “You could.” He let out a slow, hissing sigh as I added my other hand to the first, one hand twisting around the base while the other fluttered at the tip. “Not what I was thinking, I gotta admit, when you said ‘other things.’”

  I felt my stomach flutter. “No?”

  “When I left your place, that night. Know what I did?”

  “What?”

  “I came home, and I got in that shower over there.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I jerked off, furiously, thinking about you.”

  I bit my lip. “You did, hmm?”

  “Know what I was fantasizing about, Autumn?”

  “I
can guess, but why don’t you just tell me.”

  His thumb traced my lips. “This mouth.”

  I bit his thumb, and I wasn’t exactly gentle. “And what was my mouth doing, in this fantasy of yours, Seven?”

  He grimaced, huffed as I sped up the twisting, teasing caress of my hands around him. “Making me feel good.” He groaned, eyes closing, back arching. “I wake up in the middle of the night, fuckin’ hard as a rock, dreaming about your sweet, sassy mouth on my cock.” His eyes flicked open, and he gathered my long loose wild messy copper hair in his fist. “Please? I’m man enough to beg.”

  I made an innocent face. “Why, Seven…I’m a good girl. I don’t know what you mean.” I let a wicked, devious smirk cross my lips. “You might have to show me how to do that.”

  He laughed, an honest, amazed, amused chuckle. “You never cease to surprise me. Just when I think you’re the sweet, innocent, good girl you look and seem like, you turn out to be something totally else.”

  “Me throwing myself at you in a drunken fit of lust is your idea of me being a good girl, is it?”

  He rasped a laugh. “You got a point there. But that seemed like an aberration—a one-off thing from having been unexpectedly hammered.” He tugged at my hair, gently but firmly. “Enough talk. I got other uses for that sassy little mouth.”

  I moved down his body. Kissed his belly, his hipbone. He guided me to his cock, and I took it in my hands, watching him sideways up his torso. I teased him, pressing a closed-lips kiss to the tip. “Like this?”

  “Gonna play this game, are you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “All right, then, sweet thing—I’ll play.” He fisted my hair tightly, his knuckles against my scalp, gripping and guiding, but not hurting. Firm, in command, but respectful of my feelings. “Open your mouth for me, Autumn.”

  I parted my lips, and he flexed his hips. His thick, veined cock slid against my lips, entered my mouth, stuttered over my tongue. I tasted him, licked him. He groaned, a deep, rumbling, pleased noise, a snarl of raw male pleasure. I closed my lips around him, but so thick was he that I could barely get my jaws around him. He pressed deeper, tip nudging the back of my throat, and either he could feel it or my eyes showed it, but he backed away. Slow, slow, drawing out, fluttering a thrust through my mouth, just the tip of him on my damp lips. I clutched his root, plunged slow strokes there, and he stayed shallow, pushing just his broad precum-smeared head through my lips.

  “Oh fuck,” he snarled. “Fuck, Autumn. Fuck, you feel so good.”

  I was done playing. I wanted his orgasm. I needed to know what he sounded like when he came, what he felt like as he lost control. I wanted him inside me, but I’d take this for now.

  I took over, quit acting like I didn’t know what I was doing. I did, and under the right circumstances, I could enjoy this act. And ohmygod, was this the right circumstances.

  I suckled around his head and bobbed, suction making loud slurping noises as I backed away and took more of him, and my fists circled him down low, twisting and stroking, faster and faster as he grunted, groaned, allowing himself gentle, shallow thrusts as he neared his peak.

  My phone rang, then, on his side table.

  I pulled my mouth away. “Ignore it.”

  He snagged it, glanced at it. “It’s your boss.”

  “Lizzy?

  “I dunno. Just says ‘Boss Lady.’”

  “Shit.” I shook my head. “I’ll call her back.”

  “Didn’t you say you were in trouble?”

  I let go of him entirely, reached up and took the phone from him, leaned on an elbow to one side of him. Grasped him in my other fist and slid slow caresses up and down while I swiped the answer bar. “Hey, Lizzy.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Um.” I watched Seven as I quickened my touch. “Downtown LA. Why?”

  “I need you. Like, urgent.”

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “And the fact that you’re still downtown is lucky as hell. I have a listing, a condo in a new development, and I got a call just now asking to see it. But I’m literally ten seconds from showing another place north of Malibu. But I’ve been trying to unload that condo for months, with no bites. I can’t reschedule because the prospective buyer is only in town for today, and only for a couple hours—his flight leaves at three thirty. Can you show my buyer the condo for me?”

  “Yeah. Send me the address, and whatever else I need to know.”

  “Autumn?”

  “Lizzy?”

  “He wants to see it twenty minutes.”

  “Shit.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Well, sort of? I’m, uh, still in my dress from last night.”

  “Autumn, is there something I should know?”

  “Uh, no. I’ll figure it out.” I bit my lip around a laugh as Seven writhed, flexed into my touch, desperate for me to take him over the edge. “Can you get me half an hour?”

  “Like, show it in half an hour? Or buy you half an hour so you show it in fifty?”

  “The more time the better. I’ll find a shop and buy something on the way.”

  “Hold on.” A brief pause; I used the silence to put it on speaker and mute the microphone, and then tossed the phone aside. I bent over Seven and took him in my mouth, no longer drawing this out, but rather the opposite—getting him to climax as fast as possible.

  “Autumn?”

  I hurriedly unmuted it, keeping a hold on him, keeping my mouth close to his member. “Yeah.”

  “You have an hour. I’m forwarding you the address—be there at one.”

  “I will.”

  “Promise?”

  I sighed, annoyed. “Have I ever let you down, except that one time?”

  “No,” she said, sighing. “You haven’t. There’s a folder with the disclosures and all that on the island. It’s pretty straightforward, should be an easy sell.”

  “Lizzy?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got it. I’m gonna let you go now.”

  A brief silence. “You’re not alone, are you?”

  “Bye, Lizzy,” I said.

  “Hi, Seven! Can’t wait to meet you.”

  Seven rumbled a laugh. “You too.”

  “I knew it!—” Lizzy shrieked, right as I hung up.

  I tossed the phone aside and grasped him in both hands. “Now. Where was I?”

  “About to make me come all down your throat.”

  “Oh. Right.” I licked his tip. “Now I remember.”

  He growled as I took him abruptly as deep as I could, and then shallow again. I caressed him with both hands, fast and light around his base, and swirled my tongue around his tip while bobbing only an inch or two at a time.

  Then deeper, each bob taking more of him and more of him.

  “Fuck, Autumn.”

  “Please. Fuck Autumn,” I whispered.

  He laughed. “I’ve got a strong pull-out game?”

  “Mm-mmm.”

  “No, didn’t think so.” He groaned a sigh. “Then just keep doing that. I’m close, babe.”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  “God, yeah. Your mouth, fuck, your mouth is so tight, so wet.”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  He let himself thrust, and I met his movements, encouraging him to keep thrusting, pulling away so he didn’t go past my comfort zone, stroking him faster and faster.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Autumn. Gonna come.” He jerked my hair, twice, and then held on, cupping the back of my head, not exactly holding me in place.

  I felt it, then. His orgasm. The rippling power of his body as he arched, every muscle taut. Felt him stiffen all over, felt his cock throb between my lips. Tasted musk, felt a brief tremor shake him.

  “Fuck!” he roared, and then gasped for breath and growled wordlessly.

  He released, then, utterly lost to it, hips thrusting powerfully, taking my mouth. Owning it, fucking it. I swallowed around him and felt the hot wet rush, one
palm flat against his belly, the other squeezing and stroking him as fast as I could, milking his orgasm for more and more.

  And he kept giving me more. Kept snarling, kept spurting into my mouth, hot musky salt thick on my tongue, and I took it all and caressed more out of him.

  He went limp under me, subsiding in my hands, lips. “Holy…holy fuck.”

  I sat up, swallowing one last time. Wiped at my lips. “Turnabout is fair play.”

  He laughed weakly. “I like the way you think.”

  “I bet you do.”

  He worked to a sitting position, scrubbed his hair. “Well. That was an unexpected twist to the morning.”

  “For you? I woke up and had no clue where I was.” I smacked my lips. “You got an extra toothbrush?”

  He grinned at me. “I can do you one better.”

  6

  We stood in his guest bedroom, which was spare to the point of absurdity—a queen bed covered with a thin cream quilt, gray industrial headboard, black minimalist nightstand on one side. That’s it. No artwork, no bureau or wardrobe.

  Specifically, we stood at the door of the closet. I was wearing a T-shirt of Seven’s, which fit me like a dress nine sizes too big.

  Seven hesitated with his hand on the knob. “Now, there’s nothing creepy about this, okay?”

  “You say, creepily.”

  He snorted, shoved open the door—it was a full walk-in closet, smaller than the master closet obviously, but still generous. It was full of women’s clothing.

  I turned to look at Seven. “Not creepy? I mean, if you’re into cross-dressing, that’s fine. I am not here to judge. As long as you can do that with your mouth again, you can wear whatever you want in your private time.”