Girl Meets Billionaire

by Aubrey, Brenna

  “You, sir, concocted a most excellent Margarita,” she told him.

  He’d tapped the side of the glass, and said, “Someday I’ll be sipping this in Bora Bora or the Bahamas.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice? Sitting on a hammock in the sun with a nice cool drink.”

  “Blue skies and mixed drinks,” he added. “A perfect getaway.”

  One time, after everyone else had left, he’d hung back, raised his hand as if in a classroom, and asked, “I have a question. I know student-teacher relationships are generally forbidden. Does that apply to bartending school, too?”

  “Terribly forbidden. Violates all sorts of mixed-drink laws,” she teased.

  “Call me guilty then,” he said, and then asked her out.

  They’d gone to a Turkish restaurant in Russian Hill for the first date, then for a walk through that neighborhood. A photographer, he’d made a decent wage shooting interiors of homes in the city for realtors, so he showed her the outside of some of the homes he’d shot, including a rather tiny one that he’d made look palatial in a picture. He used to say that with the right-angled shot he could make any room look “spacious, open and well-lit.”

  Later, after they became a couple, he was the one who had encouraged her to expand her role at Cubic Z, and to invest in the bar. She didn’t regret that decision, not one bit, though she sure as hell regretted him, and wished she’d gotten out sooner.

  All his sweetness had leaked away by the end, and they were merely holding on, until he left. The unraveling of that relationship wasn’t what hurt; it was the way it fell to pieces that stung like snake poison. The way she had to bear the brunt of the breakup and all he heaped on her, and she couldn’t even tell McKenna the specifics. At times, Julia ached to pour out all the sordid details, especially because her sister understood heartache. But McKenna understood happiness, too. Newly engaged to a man who made her wildly happy, McKenna was in that haze of believing that every new relationship would turn out to be the one, so Julia fully expected a text from her sister asking when she’d be getting engaged too.

  Ha. As if Julia were ever going to do that.

  She fumbled for her phone, unlocking the screen. McKenna’s name popped up and the first word she saw was size. She shook her head in amusement. She wasn’t sure if her sister was talking about ring fingers or other measurements, but before she could open the note another text flashed.

  Where is the pretty bartender? She wasn’t at the bar last night. She should hope she’s not skipping town. I wouldn’t want to have to inquire with that other woman behind the bar. She seems like she might be preoccupied, and more so in a few months . . .

  Her blood ran cold. He’d noticed Kim and her pregnant belly.

  She wanted to punch the screen. That slimeball had gone to Cubic Z for one of his pop-ins. Those were the worst, when she had to serve him, and act like she didn’t detest him as she poured his martinis. She hoped he hadn’t bothered Kim, her hubby, Craig, or anyone else they worked with last night. She didn’t want him near her co-workers. She could only imagine how that would go down, especially when Charlie took out his knife and nonchalantly scratched his chin. Those gestures were meant for her—reminders of what he was capable of.

  And he was capable of a lot more than just scratching an itch. She’d gotten glimpses of Charlie’s cold-blooded nature through Dillon. He’d hinted of things he’d seen while shooting pictures of the limos. Punches thrown, knees whacked, noses broken, eyes blackened . . . Charlie was a man who got what he wanted by any means possible.

  Her skin crawled as she imagined him shaking down sweet Kim, the true definition of an innocent bystander.

  That was the real rub, though. Everyone in her life was an innocent bystander, and she’d have to keep them innocent. The less anyone knew, the less they could get hurt. If they knew about her troubles they’d try to help her, and then they’d be in his debt somehow, and his crosshairs.

  She swallowed back all her anger, and replied quickly. Of course not. I have the weekend off. Don’t worry—I’ll be at the game Tuesday, and I plan on winning big again.

  Seconds later, he replied. That confidence is so alluring.

  She sneered, then her heart beat faster at the next message, from Kim. You’ll be pleased to know there were no unsavory types here last night. Only the usual assortment of hipsters and VCs. So San Fran. Xoxo

  If only Kim knew that there was an unsavory type there last night, scoping them all out. But she planned to be back at the poker table on Tuesday night, working on winning more to line Charlie’s pockets, playing hard, and taking down the marks to get out from under his yoke as soon as she possibly good.

  She wrote back: Glad to hear Cubic Z is representing the city so well. Love you madly. See you soon.

  She took a deep breath, reminding herself to push her troubles out of her mind for the weekend. She was far away from all her obligations, and she planned to enjoy her temporary break.

  She shut off the phone as Clay stirred. Good—he hadn’t seen her texting. He’d seemed perturbed last night when she was writing to McKenna, and she didn’t want any weirdness between them. She wanted only good times with Clay, only dessert. This weekend together was the frosting on a scrumptious cupcake. It wasn’t real, and that was A-OK. She sure as hell loved a cupcake, and right now she wanted another bite.

  Now was as good a time as any to show this man what kind of wake-up call she could deliver, so she slinked down under the sheets and stroked him a few times, enjoying the low rumbles from his chest as he started to wake up.

  She wrapped her lips around him, and instantly his hands were tangled in her hair and he held on tight as she licked and caressed him in her mouth. He groaned loudly, and she thrilled at the sound, at knowing she could do this to him, elicit this sort of reaction.

  “Good morning to me,” he murmured in a sleepy voice. His voice was rough, husky from the early hour, and the sound turned her on even more.

  She let him fall from her lips momentarily. “It’s going to be a very good morning in a few minutes.”

  “That’s all it’s gonna take?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You think I can’t make you come quickly?”

  “The verdict is out,” he said with a lazy grin.

  She narrowed her eyes. “For that attitude, Clay, you just bought yourself a wicked tease,” she said and returned to his delicious cock, flicking the tip of her tongue up and down his length. He groaned lightly as she licked him, but she stopped short of taking him into her mouth.

  “I’m going to take my sweet time now,” she said with a purr.

  “I can handle it,” he said.

  “I don’t know if you can.” She swirled her tongue around the head, then rubbed him against her lips, watching him as she administered her best torture. His chest rose up and down, and his eyes darkened as he stared at her. “It’s getting harder, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is.”

  “You still want this? I’m not entirely convinced,” she said, and blew a stream of air across his cock. He twitched against her lips and she quickly kissed the tip then released him.

  He cursed under his breath.

  “I didn’t hear you. Are you sure you want me to do this?”

  “I want you,” he muttered, and she grinned, knowing how hard it was for him to have the tables turned.

  Still, she wasn’t ready to give in. She needed him to want her desperately, to need her terribly. “I think I might require you to ask real nice,” she said, as she cupped his balls, lightly rolling them in her hand, then darting down to give a quick lick and kiss to that most sensitive set of parts. She gripped his shaft hard in her hand as she tasted him, and those twin actions set off a long, long moan from Clay.

  “Please,” he whispered, so low it was barely audible.

  “I’m not sure I can hear you,” she said, but started giving him his reward, taking him all the way in her mouth, surrounding his hot, hard length with her lips.<
br />
  He panted hard, and nearly growled at the relief. But she stopped once again, peeking up at him, enjoying the view of his big, strong body stretched out on the sheets. “Do you want it? Ask nicely and I’ll give it to you.”

  He shut his eyes briefly then opened them, holding her gaze. The look was both desperate and hungry. “Please suck me, Julia,” he said, in a hoarse voice.

  “Gladly,” she said, and then gave him the full treatment. First hard, then slow, alternating between teasing him and taking him in.

  “Maybe not too long now after all,” he said as he gripped her head, sliding his fingers through her hair, tugging as she feasted on him. They kept at it for a bit, him rocking into her mouth, her savoring him all over. He was quieter than usual, though; he wasn’t reeling off directions and telling her what to do. Maybe it was because she’d taken the reins. But then his dirty mouth woke up as he pushed her hair off her forehead, looking at her with dark eyes, “Use your teeth.”

  She slowed for a moment, dragging her teeth lightly against his shaft. “Like that?” she asked, glancing up at him.

  The look on his face said it all as his features contorted with pleasure. “Yes. Like that,” he rasped out.

  “Damn, you like it rough, don’t you?” she said, and returned to his cock, touching him exactly how he wanted, scraping gently with her teeth as she moved her lips up and down.

  “I like it rough, but I also like pretty much anything you do to my cock,” he said, and she took him in further. “Like that,” he hissed out. Then she went deeper, drawing out a louder groan from his lips. “And that’s fucking good too.”

  She swirled her tongue around the head as she gripped the base hard in a fist. He hitched in a breath. “That’s perfect. Take me all the way in and use those gorgeous teeth, Julia.”

  Ah, there he was in full force, her dirty-talking, direction-giving man. She smiled, loving the way he used all his talents in the bedroom, his body, his tongue, his cock, and most of all, his words. She drew him in, nibbling and sucking and rolling his balls in her hands as he started to fuck her mouth harder, to drive deeper into her.

  “You tell me now if I’m fucking you too hard, okay?” he said firmly, but they both knew she wasn’t backing down. They both knew she liked it the same way he did. They were perfectly paired in the bedroom; he gave as good as he got, and she did, too. They were two tigers, tussling and tangling and taking each other, talking dirty, playing rough.

  “I’m good,” she said, even with her mouth full. She dragged her nails along the inside of his strong, muscular thighs, making him shiver, then grazed him right between his legs where his thighs met his cheeks, sending his hips shooting off the bed and deeper into her mouth.

  “I love it when you use your hands like that. All over me. I want you all over me, your hands, your tongue. And your lips are so fucking beautiful wrapped around my dick,” he said, his narration punctuated by grunts of pleasure. “Fuck, Julia, you’re going to make me come so hard in your mouth right now.”

  She gripped the base with her palm, feeling him twitch hard against her as she sucked him off, his salty, musky taste sliding down her throat as his words started to falter, and his sentences broke into bits and pieces of truncated words. Feels so fucking good, so good in your mouth, and then her name, over and over, like a chant. Yes, that was her favorite dirty word that fell from his mouth, when he groaned out Julia with unbidden pleasure, and she couldn’t help but be satisfied too to have gotten him off so thoroughly, so completely. He looked like a most contented man, a happy grin across his gorgeous face.

  “Don’t ever doubt me,” she said playfully.

  “Never.” He pulled her up, drawing her next to him, and moved in to plant a kiss on her lips.

  She shook her head.

  “What? I can’t kiss you after I come in your mouth? It doesn’t bother me.”

  “No, that’s not it. I just have to confess I hate morning breath, but I really want to kiss you, so how about we brush our teeth and then make out?”

  He chuckled deeply, and smacked her ass with a strong hand. “Did I tell you yet how perfect you are? I don’t like morning breath either, but then I’m not such an ass that I wouldn’t kiss you if you had it.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “But you don’t.”

  “Thanks, but there’s a toothbrush calling my name anyway.”

  After they returned to bed with minty-fresh breath, he ran a hand along her hip. “So, what else, besides morning breath? What are your other pet peeves?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I really want to know. So I can avoid them,” he said, holding her gaze with his own, his dark-brown eyes, so earnest and true, as if it were deeply important for him to know what irked her, so as not to do it.

  “Washcloths,” she said, and held out her hands as if to say, what gives? “I don’t get it. I don’t understand washcloths. Why use a washcloth to wash your face when you have hands? Put the soap on your hands and wash. Or worse, leaving a wet washcloth hanging up in the shower, because then it just becomes a damp, used, smelly washcloth.”

  He nodded several times as if taking detailed notes in his head. “You might have noticed I don’t own washcloths. I don’t need an intermediary between soap and my body.”

  She laughed. “Exactly. You’re already ahead of the game.” She looked around the room, as if searching for evidence. “Here’s another pet peeve. I don’t like seeing a man walking around only in his socks.”

  He mimed making a check mark. “Note to self: Remove socks first before taking off pants to fuck Julia.”

  “I don’t like dirty sinks either. I see no reason for bathroom sinks to be anything but pristine.”

  “Did you notice how immaculate my bathroom is?”

  “I did,” she said with a wink. “Don’t you just know the way to a woman’s heart?”

  “Evidently.”

  “I assume you were down on your hands and knees scrubbing every surface before I arrived?”

  “Something like that. Or maybe I had it cleaned, knowing I was having company I wanted to impress.”

  She ran her hand along his strong arm over his tattoo. “You’re getting the hang of it. You know what to do to stay on my good side.”

  “Am I on your good side?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

  She traced a line down his chest. “You are all good side, Mister. Nothing more.”

  “Good. How did you sleep?”

  “Very well, thank you. You wore me out last night.”

  “I like wearing you out, Julia,” he said, then brushed his lips against her forehead. “And I like having you in my bed.”

  “Your bed is pretty damn nice.”

  “You make it look good. I liked having you fall asleep in my arms,” he said, then ran his fingers through her hair. He lowered his voice again, speaking softly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in my bed more often.”

  There was something different about him in moments like this. Tenderness shined through his hard exterior; a sweetness, even. And it scared the hell out of her. Because it was easy to view him as a weekend fling. So incredibly easy. But when he was like this, she could feel the weight of one word pressing hard on her. More.

  Like a temptress with a come-hither wave, inviting her in for more. More him, more moments, more getting to know each other. She wanted terribly to snuggle in close with him, lift her eyes to meet his, and say, I want to be in your bed more often, and I want to be in your life, too.

  But she didn’t have the luxury of more. So she made light of his comment, bringing it down to the sex level. “Oh, you just want to set some sort of record this weekend, don’t you?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, and this time his voice was clear, and firm. He pulled her on top of him, threaded his hands slowly through her hair, keeping his eyes locked on her the whole time. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “I know,” she whispered, the words ca
tching in her throat. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t say too much, wouldn’t admit how much she was starting to want from him.

  “Kiss me,” he said, giving her a command. She obeyed, exploring his lips with her tongue then crushing her mouth to his, trying to get closer, as close as she could be.

  He let go of her hair, his hands drifting down to her backside. He reached for a condom and rolled it on. Then he cupped her cheeks, lifted her up, giving her full access to his erection, and she sank onto him. She inhaled sharply as he filled her, stopping momentarily to savor the sensations. He moved inside her, and it wasn’t rough as she rode him. It was luxurious, and deliciously slow, and it felt disturbingly like making love, especially given the way he kissed her tenderly the whole time.

  Chapter Seven

  The thieves rode away in a convertible, the sunset streaking behind them, the jewels turned into money and the money tucked safely away in a bank account. The closing credits rolled, and Julia leaned in to whisper in his ear, her soft hair brushing his neck. “We need to stay for the credits.”

  His heart thumped a beat harder, and he couldn’t deny that he was happy she’d insisted on proper movie etiquette herself. He didn’t have to tell her he wanted to stay. She got it on her own.

  “I always watch the credits, even when I don’t have a client involved,” he said, staying put in the red upholstered chair because he didn’t want to miss seeing the name of the executive producer scroll up the big screen. He’d wait all the way through to the final shot, because that’s what you did when you were in the biz. What happens before the credits brings butts to the seats, but what rolls on by after “The End” is why there’s a movie in the first place. “But I do have a client in this film.”

  “Which one is yours?” she whispered as other patrons stood, and picked up emptied popcorn tubs and cartons of Junior Mints.