My Boss, the Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 2)

by Serenity Woods

  Oh, that feels amazing, my legs spread wide, butt in the air—how did he know I like this position? I guess the wild-animal sex comment gave me away. He thrusts, long and slow, still not picking up the pace. He can’t be long from coming, surely? I moan and lift a hand between my legs, wanting to rid myself of the building ache.

  “Nuh-uh.” He pushes my hand away.

  “Leon… I need to catch up.”

  “I’m nowhere near coming, baby. You can wait.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Do I need to tie you down?”

  “Oh God.”

  He laughs and thrusts harder then, and I cry out, exclaiming with each deep invasion.

  “Ah yeah,” he mutters in response, and for a while he just moves at his own pace, ignoring my pleas for release, apparently turned on by my vocal accompaniment to his thrusts.

  Ohhh… he’s fucking me senseless, and it’s just incredible, I want to stay here forever, with Leon, with him inside me, among the stars. He seems in no hurry to get to the destination—so much for his apology for being fast last time; I’ve never known a man take as long as this. Foreplay has sometimes taken a while if I’ve been lucky, but once they’ve gotten inside me, it’s taken five minutes max for my previous partners to thrust themselves to the finish line. I’m carried along with him on the wave. Pleasure begins to rise, my body stirring at his command, but even as the first muscles begin to tense, he stops and withdraws again.

  Argh, the torture! He turns me onto my back and tugs me down the bed beneath him, and then he’s on top of me again, bending to kiss me while he presses the tip of his erection into my folds and then plunges inside me. Mmm… this man knows how to kiss, how to tease pleasure with his tongue and lips and teeth, and I feel as if I’m remote-controlled, and he’s pressing all the buttons, totally in charge of my arousal.

  He rolls, bringing me on top, and now he’s thrusting up, each position changing the angle of him inside me, pressing on different parts of my body. It’s like two steps forward, one step back, slowly teasing me to the edge, a buffet of pleasure that’s both beautiful and agonizing. I push up so I’m sitting astride him and attempt to lower my fingers between us again, but he catches my hands in his, laughing, and pulls me down for a kiss.

  “Ms. Eager,” he says, sliding his tongue against mine, and dropping his hands to my hips to hold them while he thrusts up.

  “Mr. Mean,” I complain, hot and flustered, aching and desperate. “It’s been hours.”

  He glances at the digital clock on the bedside table. “Don’t exaggerate. It’s been thirty minutes since we got up to look at the lights.”

  “Thirty minutes! That’s an eternity.” I grind against him, determined to arouse myself to a climax if he won’t accommodate. He tuts and lifts me off as easily as if I’m a pillow.

  “All right,” he says patiently, as if I’m a kid asking for an ice cream. He turns me onto all fours again, then tugs my legs—oh, I love how he does that so forcefully—so I fall onto my stomach, pushes my legs wide, and guides himself back into me. He kisses the back of my head, around the wound, tenderly, then cups my jaw and turns my face so he can bend down and kiss my lips and up my jaw to my ear. “You drive me crazy,” he murmurs before sucking the lobe.

  “I drive you crazy?” I don’t think he has any idea of how he’s tormenting me. My body’s humming, as if all the stars are singing and I’m joining in, the vibrations passing through me. Oh, I’m so turned on, running hot; I belong to him completely at this point, and he knows it.

  He pushes up, hands braced on either side of my shoulders, and sinks into me, and I gasp, feeling every fraction of an inch as he slides through my swollen skin. “Fuck, yeah,” he says with enthusiasm, and then he starts thrusting, with meaning this time, so deep inside me I’m convinced he’s going to spear me to the bed. At this angle I’m guessing he’s pressing right on the G-spot I’ve just discovered I have, and the sensation is amazing.

  “Oh my God…” I cry out as he moves his hands to my back so he can lean on me while he thrusts hard. I’m desperate for release, but it’s not going to happen like this where I can’t stroke myself and finish the job. There’s nothing I can do about it, though—I can only lie there, sprawled out, and let him go for it, and hope he’ll take the time to pleasure me when he’s done.

  Oh Christ, this is so fucking hot… He’s plunging into me… It doesn’t hurt but it’s shockingly deep and he’s a big guy, strong and powerful, and he’s not being particularly gentle, pushing me down into the bedclothes… Oh man that’s so sexy… I can’t help but gasp and say, “Oh my God,” over and over again…

  I thought he’d come in seconds like this, but he’s taking forever, and I don’t believe it, I can feel my muscles tightening inside. I’m going to come like this… oh no…

  I squeal as my orgasm hits, and I vanish into a hot, shivering mess of muscle clenches and loud cries I can do nothing about, while he rides me through it, showing no signs of stopping to let me recover. Oh Jesus, is that one orgasm or two? Vaginal and clitoral, everything’s throbbing. It’s lasting forever, and my tummy almost hurts from these powerful contractions. Oh God, will this man ever come?

  He finally stops and says, “Oh fuck,” and his big, hard body shudders as he spills inside me, accompanied by his deep groans, and I feel an answering ripple of pleasurable clenches that make me sob. Holy Jesus, I’ve never been screwed like it. I press my face into the pillow and wait for him to stop, throbbing, clenching around him, and then floating on a blissful sea of sensation and emotion that makes me want to cry again.

  I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want to ever stop making love with him like this. Fantasizing is one thing; playing back what’s happened and longing for it to happen again is something else. I feel like I’ve been through an earthquake and a tsunami rolled into one; I’m drenched in sweat and aching and exhausted.

  I’m never going to be the same again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Leon

  Jesus. I think I nearly blacked out there for a bit.

  I withdraw and fall back onto the pillows. I need to dispose of the condom and give Nicola a hug because the last thing I want to do is roll over and fall asleep, but I’m so spent I can’t move a muscle.

  I manage to turn my head to look at her. She has buried her face in the pillow—I hope she’s still breathing. She’s shaking a little—oh fuck, is she crying?

  She turns her head to look at me then, and with some surprise I realize she’s laughing.

  “Holy shit,” she says.

  “Happy birthday,” I tell her. That makes her giggle uncontrollably, and soon I’m laughing with her, looking up at the canopy of stars, feeling as if I’m floating with them.

  “Are you all right?” I ask her eventually.

  “I have no idea. You shagged me senseless. Literally. I have no sense left. I’m numb all over.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh God, Leon, don’t apologize. It was the best damn sex I’ve ever had.” She smiles.

  I smile back, and we study each other for a while.

  “You’re right,” I tell her eventually. “That was amazing sex. You’re very vocal.”

  She buries her face back in the pillow. “I can’t help it.”

  “I love it. I’m surprised your roommates haven’t mentioned it, though—they must be able to hear you through the walls.”

  She turns back to look at me with some exasperation. “Well first, I’m only like that when someone’s screwing the absolute living daylights out of me, Leon King, and second, I haven’t slept with anyone since I’ve been at the Ark, so they wouldn’t know.”

  I stare at her for a moment. Then I manage to summon the effort to dispose of the condom before I roll onto my side and prop my head on a hand. “Why not?”

  “Haven’t met anyone I’ve liked enough.” She plays with a corner of the pillow, looking at it.

  “You’re not on Tinder?”


  “I am, but I’m not keen on the sex-without-a-relationship culture.” She sucks her bottom lip. “Usually.” Then she gives an impish smile.

  Unable to resist, I lean forward and give her a lingering kiss.

  When I eventually move back, she shifts onto her side, and I put my arms around her and pull her close to me, tugging the duvet over us. We kiss for a while, long and lazy, while I trail my fingers down her back and up her ribs.

  “Mmm.” She sighs and rests her cheek on my chest, her breath fanning across the hairs there. “I’m so tired, but I don’t want the night to end. It’s been an amazing day.”

  I slide an arm under my head to prop it up. “I’m glad.”

  “When you booked this Dark Sky Pod, did you think this would happen?”

  “No. I was determined it wouldn’t. I thought we’d observe the stars and then go off to our own rooms. But I’d underestimated the attraction between us. I couldn’t have kept away from you for all the tea in China.”

  Her gaze lifts to meet mine. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. What I do know is that this isn’t enough for me. I’d thought we could sleep together and get it out of our system, but clearly that was a stupid assumption. I’d thought sex with her would be fun, which it was. But I hadn’t accounted for the connection that happened between us. It’s because we weren’t two strangers, sharing a bed. This was the coming together of two years of getting to know one another, two years of wanting, desiring this girl. I’m not stupid—this wasn’t just physical, and I’m not going to be able to brush it off as if it was.

  “I do have an idea, though,” I tell her. “To give us time to think about it. What do we have on for tomorrow?”

  She purses her lips. “The usual finance roundup. And we were going to take a look at the staffing arrangements and the holiday roster now we’ve taken on some new people for the petting farm.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.”

  “True.”

  “How do you feel about staying another night? Going back on Friday?”

  Her lips slowly curve up. “You mean it?”

  “Yeah. I’d have to check availability of the pod in the morning, or we could go somewhere else. How about Christchurch? That’s not far.”

  To my surprise, her eyes widen, and she inhales sharply at the suggestion. “No, not Christchurch.”

  “Okay.” I can feel the sudden fear rolling off her. Hmm, what happened there to frighten her so much? She’s tensed in my arms, so I decide not to tackle it right now. “Not Christchurch. Anywhere else you’d like to go? Dunedin? Kaikoura, whale watching?”

  She gradually relaxes, and forces her lips up. “That would be fun.”

  “All right. I’ll organize it in the morning.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. She looks different with it down, fragile, vulnerable. It’s interesting that she dyes it. Of course lots of women dye their hair, but she glanced at me in the mirror when she told me, and my gut feeling says there’s something going on here, a secret she’s kept the last two years. Twice when she’s been with me she’s jumped when she thought she saw someone watching her. She’s hiding from someone or something. I won’t press her now, because she’s tired and a little emotional, I think, from our lovemaking. But tomorrow, I’ll tackle it, and hopefully she’ll feel able to confide in me.

  “Shall we go to sleep now?” I ask her. She nods, so I add, “You use the bathroom first.”

  She goes in, and I lie there and look at the colored lights while I wait for her, and then we swap. When I come out, she’s curled up beneath the duvet, and I slide beneath it, pull her back to my chest, and tug the duvet over us.

  “Night,” I murmur, nuzzling her ear. “Thank you for an amazing day.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbles, lifting my hand to her lips and kissing it before hugging my arm like a teddy bear.

  I inhale the exotic scent of her perfume that lingers on her neck, and close my eyes.

  I want to think about the fear on her face when I mentioned Christchurch, to puzzle on what it meant. But I’m too tired, and I have too many after-sex hormones in my system. Within less than a minute, I’m asleep.

  *

  When I wake, the sun’s coming up, and the pod is flooded with golden light. It’s nearly seven-thirty, much later than when I normally rise, the dogs normally rousing me at around six. The bed beside me is empty, although when I put out a hand, I find it still warm. I lift my head—through the glass walls she’s clearly visible in the small kitchen, putting instant coffee into two mugs.

  I study her for a moment, smiling. She’s wearing my shirt. She looks much better in it than I do. It just covers her butt, unfortunately, but her legs are bare and shapely. Not for the first time, I wonder how much ballet she did before she came to the Ark. I’ve never asked her any questions about her life before we met. I’ve deliberately steered away from personal matters, and as a result she’s a mystery, a puzzle I want to solve.

  I rise, visit the bathroom, then pull on my boxers and jeans before padding through to the kitchen. “Morning.”

  She turns and smiles. “Hey, Mr. Rip-van-King. Thought you were never going to wake.”

  “Someone wore me out,” I tell her wryly, accepting the mug she holds out to me. “Thank you.”

  “Best exercise I’ve ever had.” She grins, then walks to the front wall. “Look at that view. Isn’t it amazing?”

  I join her, and we sip our coffee as we look across the lake, which is the color of old gold, a deep, rich orange-yellow. Mount Dobson rises to the east, white-tipped, its sides dark in the shade. To the south the small town of Lake Tekapo sparkles in the early sunlight.

  “I’m so glad we got to see the Southern Lights last night,” she says. “They were amazing.”

  “Almost as amazing as the spectacle occurring in the bedroom,” I tell her.

  She laughs. “Almost.” She sips her coffee, her eyes meeting mine. They’re a beautiful gray, like an early morning mist over the river.

  Jesus. She’s turning me into a poet. I’ve got it bad.

  “Did you mean it?” she asks. “About taking another day?”

  “Of course. You still want to?”

  She gives a little nod, and her smile of pleasure fills me with joy.

  “I’ll organize everything as soon as we’re ready,” I tell her.

  “I’ll get in the shower in a minute,” she says.

  I have a mouthful of coffee. “Need someone to scrub your back?”

  Her lips curve up. “Always.”

  “You’re not too sore?” I reach out to stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers. I’m aware I was a little rough last night. Her statement that she enjoyed wild-animal sex was part of the reason, and her vocal encouragement was another. I got carried away.

  “A little tender,” she murmurs.

  “I promise I’ll be gentle this time.” I bend to kiss her. She lifts her face to accept it, and we exchange a long, slow kiss.

  When I move back, she studies me while she sips her coffee. “You were an animal, though,” she states, making me cough into my cup. “I’d like to point that out. I thought you were a gentleman.”

  “If you’d not said a word, I might have been. It’s difficult to remain sedate when your girl is… ah… expressive, shall we say.”

  She rolls her eyes as if to say all right, don’t go on about it. Then we both laugh, and I put my arm around her and hug her.

  “Your girl?” she says, nuzzling my shoulder, then kissing it.

  “Maybe.” I kiss her hair. “Do you like the sound of that?”

  “I do. Although I know it complicates things. Leon, I hope I’m not being too forward, but I want you to know that if I have to choose between my job, and being with you, I choose you.”

  I go still, and look down at her as she lifts her face to stare up into my eyes.

  “But you love working at the Ark,” I say.

  “I
know.” She lowers her head and rests her lips on my shoulder. “I know we’ve only had one night together. And maybe that was enough for you, I don’t know. If it was, we can try to go back to how—”

  “It wasn’t,” I tell her. No point in being coy about it. “I want more.”

  Her lips curve up, and she turns her head to rest her cheek on my shoulder while she looks out at the view. “Then I guess I do need to leave.”

  I tighten my arm around her. “Let’s not talk about that yet.”

  “We need to discuss it before we go back.”

  “I know. But I need time to think.” I take her mug from her, place them both on the table, then turn her into my arms. “And I’ve got other things on my mind at the moment.”

  She lifts her arms around my neck and presses up against me. Then she laughs. “Like what?” The push of her hips to mine tells me she has a very good idea.

  “I want you again.” I touch my lips to hers, then kiss up her jaw to her ear and nuzzle beneath it. “You smell and look divine. I want to be inside you again—gently, I promise. I want to watch you and listen to you when you come.”

  “Are you trying to make me blush?”

  “Yeah. I need you, Nicola. I want you.”

  She opens her mouth to me and slides her tongue against mine. I slip my hands beneath the shirt onto her warm skin, stroking down to her butt, then up to her breasts. They sit heavy in my palms, the nipples like velvety rose petals in my fingers. I could make love to this girl all day, every day, and never grow tired of her.

  “Mm, come on,” I tell her, taking her hand and leading her off to the bathroom. “I want you wet.”

  “No worries there,” she mutters, her lips curving up as I laugh.

  I feel a surge of joy as I collect a condom and go into the bathroom. I open the door to the shower cubicle and turn on the hot water. I know there are things to sort out. The ghost of Angela hovers in the shadows, a warning to me not to take this lightly. I have to be careful, and protect myself, Nicola, and the Ark if we are going to let things develop.