Billionaire Bad Boys: The Company Ink Series

by Kira Blakely

  She grabbed a set of black panties and a pretty, strapless bra. She shimmied into her undergarments, and then she misted perfume into the air before walking through it, letting the droplets collect on her hair and skin before putting on the dress.

  She waffled again, and then she added a set of stockings – daring little things with lacy tops that were made of sturdy elastic neatly hidden in the lace. They slid onto her legs, and she stood in her bedroom feeling both naughty and sexy and eager for that bell to ring.

  She had just slid her feet into shoes when the doorbell did ring. She hurried into the living room and opened the door,

  Jackson looked crazy good. He wore a simple suit, all black and a light blue shirt below. He said, “You look great.”

  “So do you.”

  Her breath came out in a soft squeak. Jackson said, “I started to bring flowers, but then I remembered that you said to a guest at the party that you were not a fan of the flowers in the room.”

  She gawked at him. “You heard that?”

  “I was not that far from where you were standing. It was not like I was eavesdropping or something,” he said in a defensive tone.

  “No I mean you heard me. Never mind. Thank you for not bringing flowers.”

  She moved toward him and ended up in his arms. It felt good, so she moved closer. She lifted her head, and he smiled down at her.

  Then he kissed her, hard.

  She kissed him back. Her body squirmed closer as passion surged from a low ebbing tide to an overpowering crest. His fingers went to her hair, fisting it. Her hips pressed against his, and she felt the press of his dick against her body.

  He groaned out. “We have reservations.”

  “To hell with them,” she muttered between kisses.

  His hands found her clothes and then dropped them onto the floor. Naked and panting, she climbed up his body, her toes digging into his calves and her arms winding around his neck as he carried her to the bed.

  They landed on the bed, fingers working to get his clothes off. She finally found the button and zipper on his slacks and tugged them down.

  His mouth went down her body, finding the throbbing ridge of her clit and teasing it. His fingers pressed into her body. Her ass shook as he licked and suckled and thrust his fingers in and out of her body.

  He groaned out, “God damn, you taste so good.”

  She kicked and writhed as he took her ever closer to the edge of an orgasm.

  He finally sent her into release. Her walls clenched and opened, sensation created by friction and heat soared even higher, stiffening her nipples yet again and making her toes curl. Heated oils slid from her inner walls, spilling over his silken and rigid flesh as he kept moving within her, taking her higher and higher still.

  He came up and she flipped him over, eager to touch and please him as much as he had teased and pleased her. Her mouth circled his nipples, her tongue licking and sucking, and then she moved downward again.

  She took the hard length of his shaft into her hand and she fisted it loosely. His meat was thick and pulsing, wrapped with blue veins. Her tongue found the silky head of his dick, and she licked it gently. Then, she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the flesh where the shaft met the head. She bobbed her head, taking him down her throat. He groaned and writhed, his hips arching upward until he was impaling her throat.

  She kept sucking and bobbing and using her hand. Jackson’s fingernails left tingling trails in her scalp, and she whimpered, opening her mouth more widely so she could take him down even further.

  He said, “Damn it, Hope. You are going to make me come if you do not stop and soon.”

  “Maybe I want to make you come.”

  She did want to make him come, but more than that, she wanted to feel him inside her body. She wanted to feel him all the way in her, and she wanted him then.

  She came up and poised herself over his body. Her legs straddled his thighs and she glided her hips downward until he was inside her, pulsing and penetrating her with his powerful organ.

  His hands found her hips, and she whimpered as she moved upward, releasing him from her clenching folds. Her oils dripped and ran, and she grit her teeth before moving downward again. Her hands flattened on his chest, and her ass humped up and down.

  His ass tilted, and he held her hips even more tightly. He pushed upward with his heels, and she whimpered as her walls began to spasm and a smaller but powerful orgasm began to roll through her body.

  Jackson grunted and then he came – a thick spurt of come burst into her body.

  She fell flat. His hands ran up and down her body, his fingers caressing her ass and back.

  She got off him and flipped over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. It was official.

  The man was turning her into a nymphomaniac.

  9

  HOPE SPOKE IN A LOW MURMUR. “Well, that was amazing.”

  He chuckled and buried his face into the hollow between her shoulder and neck. “Thanks. I was just about to say the very same thing.”

  Her fingers ran through his hair. “Well, if I had known what was going to happen, I would most certainly have foregone panties.”

  “I owe you a pair of panties,” he lifted his head and gave her an unrepentant grin. “Tell me where to buy them, and I will get you a dozen pairs.”

  She laughed at that, but her laughter was interrupted by a loud gurgle from the direction of her belly. She slapped a hand down and went a little red. Her smile turned sheepish.

  “We should get you fed.”

  He sat up slowly and stared down at her. Sprawled out across her narrow bed, she was a vision, and he wanted to stay right there and make love to her again and again. She sat up with her hair spilling over her shoulders in a glorious tumble. She said, “I almost canceled our date.”

  He said, “Me, too.”

  Her mouth hung open. Then she asked, “Why?”

  He tilted his head to one side. “I could give you the long answer or the short answer. Your pick.”

  “Go short.”

  He wished he had not admitted that, but now that he had, he had no choice but to say why. “I do not want you to feel like you have to do this just so I will create that program for you.”

  “I never thought about that.” She brushed aside a tangle of hair. “Is that why you offered?”

  “No. I offered because I wanted to.”

  “Because you’re bored.”

  He shrugged, “Well, that and the tax deduction.” The joke fell flat, so he pressed on. “Look, I really want to get to know you and…hell, to be honest, I have not done many good things in my life, so I would like to maybe do one thing that is totally for someone else.”

  “I see.” Her eyes dropped then came back to his. “Listen, I don’t know what this, exactly, that we are doing, but I am not doing it because I feel like I have to.”

  Relief hit. “That’s good to know.”

  His relief was short-lived. “But you should know that I…well I…I don’t know what we…I mean I don’t know what you want from me exactly.”

  He didn’t know either. Might as well admit it. “Yeah, me neither.”

  Her eyes widened. “I see.”

  “Then could you explain it to me, please?” He gave her his most disarming smile. “Seriously, I just want to spend some time with you. Beyond that, I don’t know. I know you care a lot about your work and that you are busy and that you do not date in a serious way.’

  “Wow. How do you know that?”

  “I asked Ashton, and he sort of asked Laura.”

  He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “You were checking up on me?” There was a flatness to her voice.

  “No, I just wanted to know more about you, and I asked before that party. That answer was why I stayed away.”

  Hope frowned. “So you knew before the party that I did not date in a serious way, so you did not want to talk to me?”

  Jackson shrugged.
“Honestly, I am a bit sick of the one night stand and NSA thing. I want a woman who wants me around. I get that you are busy and you have a career that does not leave you with much free time. I’ll take whatever time you have to give right now, if you want to spend it with me. If you do not, it’s okay. I won’t get all pissy and not write the program, and I will not try to force you into it either because that is not how I roll. I believe in consent and mutual wanting.”

  Hope gawked at him and then burst into laughter. “You’re a feminist!”

  “I’m a guy who thinks a woman has the right to call the way her life will work out. Call it whatever you want.”

  She swung her lean legs off the bed and stood, giving him a delightful view of her heart-shaped ass. “I am starved.” Her words floated back to him. She looked over her shoulder. “Also, I do not really want to go to some fancy place where we have to be polite and distant and order the perfect wine. How do you feel about pizza and beer?”

  “You are speaking my language.” He climbed off the bed and gathered his clothes. “I might be overdressed for pizza and beer though.”

  “You’re naked,” she pointed out.

  He laughed. “Yeah. True. But I meant…”

  “Oh, The Pit gets all types.”

  She opened a door and yanked out jeans and a shirt, a denim jacket, and a pair of boots. She dressed quickly and he did, too.

  He asked, “The Pit?”

  “It’s here on campus. It’s cheap and grimy, and on Friday nights there is usually a fight or two.”

  “Sounds perfect.” He wanted to say a dozen other things, but it seemed she was done talking about the serious things for the moment. Okay then, he would just roll with it. He really did want to spend time with her and he really did want to get to know her, so now would be the perfect time to start.

  She grabbed her keys and they headed out, Jackson shrugging into a jacket as they went. Once outside, he went toward his car, but she said, “You will never get a parking space. Let’s just walk it. I always do. In fact, I walk most of the time here on campus because it means I do not have to look for parking.”

  He had to ask, “How long have you been living here?”

  They swung out of the small complex and onto a paved-brick path. She said, “Ever since I graduated med school and finished my internships at the research hospital, which is part of the campus, too, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” He paused, then added, “You just seem awful young to have done so much.”

  She laughed at that. “You should meet my sister. I graduated high school at fifteen…”

  “Fifteen? Holy shit!” He had known she was smart, but god damn! “You’re a genius!”

  She said, “I’m glad you think so, but it’s not as uncommon as you might think. Lots of kids graduate even younger than that. Hell, my sister graduated at fourteen, so I do not even hold the record in my family.”

  He heard the irritation in her voice. He guessed that that was something of a sore spot. “You have a sister?”

  “Yes. Clara. She’s a hedge fund manager and very good at her job. My stepfather is very proud of her.”

  No mention of him being proud of her, and no mention of her mother either. Jackson mulled that over as they wound down paths past frat and sorority houses and then onto a small street fronted by stores.

  He asked, “So why be a doctor? I mean, your kind of doctor? Was it just always what you wanted?”

  “My dad died.” Her words held no emotion. “It was right after I was born and I do not even remember him, but I always wondered what my life would have been like if he had lived.”

  He stopped walking. “Oh shit, Hope, I’m sorry. That was a lousy thing to bring up.”

  She turned to face him and her feet halted, her smile reassuring. “It’s okay. You did not know and really, I never knew him. I was just that young. I was not even a year old and…and well, my mom got remarried not even a few months afterward.”

  Wow. He searched her face. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. It is one of those things people always tiptoe around because, really, what kind of woman weds again when her husband’s barely cold in the grave? I don’t know why, but if I had to guess, I would say she was scared and alone and Robert, my stepfather, gave her a convenient out from those things.”

  “Now that I really do get.” He did. He shuffled his feet. “I’m still sorry if the question dredged up anything you would rather not talk about.’

  “It’s fine. Come on, let’s walk. It is getting cold out here.’

  They started walking again, their hips and hands occasionally touching. She said, “My dad was in a car wreck, and he was in a coma for a few days before he was taken off the machines. There was no saving him, and I get that. But there are many people in comas who might still be in there somewhere. I mean, we just don’t know. We have the idea that they can hear us but can’t really communicate with us. I want to try to find a way to do that, and not just to do it but to use the communication sort of like a map to bring them back.”

  It sounded like some sort of futuristic medicine, like something done in a sci-fi movie or something. It was also one hell of a goal. He said, “I thought they had already found out that people in comas could talk or something.”

  “There’s been lots of research done, mostly on people who woke up from short-term comas, but nothing much has ever helped people in long-term comas, and those are the people I most want to help. I feel like if we can just get one long-term patient back, just one, we might be able to figure out a way to get back people who are in short-term comas faster, before physical and mental disabilities and changes occur.”

  “You want to sort of record their journey back so you can outline the steps in a way.” He wondered if such a thing would ever be possible. It seemed too far-fetched, but it was clear that she believed it was possible.

  “Exactly. Like I said, if we had some kind of map, we could know where they were, no matter how long or short a time they have been in a coma.”

  He said, “I have to tell you, you just impressed the hell out of me.”

  She said, “You do know your program might just be a part of it. If we ever figure out how to do it, that is.”

  He was astonished by that thought. He had not considered that he would be a part of something so monumental until she had said so, but once he did, a huge sense of wanting to be a part of that filled him.

  He had never been a part of anything that was life changing, and the idea that he could be had never occurred to him. Filled with that sense of awe he said, “Thanks for letting me be a part of it. I had no idea…I thought maybe you were doing cancer research or something.”

  “Oh, there are lots of talented people already working in that field.” She let her hand brush against his, and he took her fingers into his. Her fingers were slightly chilled, and he curled his around hers, a sense of protectiveness erupting in him as he did so.

  “Not so many in the one you are in, huh? Is it competitive? I mean, is it like a race between the people who are working on a cure?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She walked a little faster as the wind began to blow harder, and he adjusted his pace to keep up with her. “Especially if the competition is a big corporation. They have all the money and investors in the world, you know. They also want to hold the patents, because that would mean that they gain the most, money wise.”

  “I read something the other day about medication costs going up again.” He had skimmed across that article in truth. He was young and healthy, and he had no need for the meds that the article had been discussing, but now he wished he had paid more attention.

  Hope snorted. “The CEOs all want to show massive profit. It is how they get paid the money they do. They are basically soulless sharks, skimming the blood off the water. In the case of the pharma CEOs, it is the real blood of people they are thriving on. It’s sick and sad.”

  “Wow, you really are serious. You are not at all in
to this for gain.”

  They strolled down a long sidewalk that led them to a grim, industrial-looking strip just outside campus. Hope said, “I am. Robert, my stepdad, is a CEO, and I used to sit and listen to him talk about all the ways he could line his and the company’s pockets. I used to ask, ‘but what about the people who have to pay for that stuff?’ ”

  Jackson realized something then. Her loathing of people in it just for the money stemmed from her childhood and that her childhood had been far from happy. She had grown up rich, yes, but she had not been happy.

  He asked, gently, “What did he say?”

  Hope said, “He said he would never meet them, and he did not care to.”

  Ouch. Hope tugged his hand and said, “There it is.”

  He stared at the building with some interest. No wonder they called it The Pit. It sat smack in the middle of a low building with corrugated steel siding and a low roof. The windows were large and wide and showed a huge amount of people jammed into the place. Hope pushed the door open, and they walked into the scent of tomato sauce and garlic, fresh baked dough and spilled beer.

  The place was packed, but they got a table near the wall, just beyond the dance floor on one side and the pool tables on the other. The noise was terrific, but the corner they sat in was quiet enough that they could talk without shouting if they sat close together.

  The darkness, the closeness of their bodies, and the pitcher of beer and the two glasses the server brought gave the whole thing a sort of intimacy. What was more, Jackson felt comfortable there.

  “I like this place,” he said with a grin.

  Hope laughed and sipped beer. When she set the mug down, there was a foam mustache above her lip, which she licked away with a sensual swipe of her tongue, a gesture that made his heart hammer hard in his chest and his dick wake up and poke its head up just a bit.

  Hope said, “Yeah, me too. I hate to tell you this, but I am never going to be the fancy dinner and all the trimmings kind of girl.”