He reaches for my shirt but I suddenly stop him.
“What?” he asks me amidst his delirium.
"I don't feel comfortable getting naked in front of you," I confess.
He smiles and kisses me gently on my neck, and then slowly whispers in my ear while unbuttoning my shirt. "I've had enough of skinny girls in my life that care more about their appearance than what's inside their head. You are much better than them, Chloe. You are real, fresh and exciting."
That gives me the strength I need to succumb to his hands. The hallway behind the door is covered with a thick carpet. When we lie, the floor is hard but the carpet makes the sensation ideal. There's no time for the bed; we have to touch each other fast and passionately.
Before I know it, we’re in our underwear, kissing and hugging. He aligns his body above mine and starts rubbing his hardening dick on my pussy.
“I see you’re talented in every single aspect,” I say lasciviously.
He snorts but doesn't stop kissing me. I’m feeling totally aroused by his rhythmical movements. If only such teasing can make me so horny, what can I expect at the later stages? The thought of it gets me even more excited.
The rubbing gets harder, faster, until Deacon is turned on as well and ready to slip inside me. But before that, I have something special for him too.
With the help of the narrow hallway and a spur of creativity, I push Deacon off me and make him sit on his ass.
“Did I do anything wrong?” he says cautiously.
I shake my head slowly and lean closer to him. I touch his pumping dick over his tight, black boxers. I lick his chest all the way down to his belly and then I lower his underwear to reveal that big, throbbing cock right at my face.
Deacon tries to stop me from doing something I might not want to, but the pleasure I get from knowing that my mouth is the reason his whole body trembles from excitement is more than rewarding.
I lick the top of his dick and then let my lips move down his shaft until I reach his balls. I do the same thing over and over again, listening to Deacon’s husky groans while indulging in his precum until he stops me.
“I want to get inside you,” he whispers.
He gets up hurriedly and fishes for a condom in his bag. I'm laying naked enjoying the view of that perfect ass moving around me and waiting for my lover to finally invade my body. There's no need for a lube, even though Deacon asked me. The idea of having sex with him is already enough to make me dripping wet. Even so, his first entry stings and I have to stop him from going all in.
However, after two slow thrusts, Deacon picks up his pace. My legs are crossed behind his back and I push him deeper inside. He likes to kiss my neck every time his face gets close to me and I love to cup his buttocks with my hands.
I haven't felt like that in a very long time. He knows what to do to get the best of me and he continues doing so until the sensation becomes unbearable and I feel all that pleasure erupt inside me. But Deacon doesn’t stop there and I can no longer hold myself. However, I am not the only one on the verge of climax.
“If I don’t stop now, I’ll cum,” he moans in my ear.
Then, without waiting for him to continue, I make him turn and lie on the ground and ride his cock. He doesn’t complain; on the contrary, his smirk is deep and cocky. He likes knowing that he’s fucking me good.
I take my position on his dick and spread my arms to touch the walls of the hallway. I start riding on his cock up and down, inside and out of my vagina. Deacon's expression is lit with feelings of amazement and restraint. He's using all his power to not cum immediately.
But it doesn't matter to me. I ride him fast in purpose, to make him scream my name when coming, to make him burst inside me. I move my hips up and down until I can't hold back anymore.
I scream in the sweetest orgasm.
A warm explosion of bright colors happens behind my eyes, a feeling of content spreads throughout my body. When it's finally over, I rest my hands on his chest and look at him. He is still heavily panting.
"I don't know....what to...say," he mutters.
I lie next to him and laugh. "Stop. I'm embarrassed."
"Well, you shouldn't. This was the best sex I've had in a long time. I don't know what you did, but please, do it again. Now," he says.
I continue to laugh. "Are you sure you can handle two times in a row?" I dare him.
“Do we even need to talk about it?”
But, before we get it going again, I stop him. “One second. I have to tell you something.” He pauses and braces himself to listen to me. I cover my naked chest with my shirt and start talking to him. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I don’t know what gotten into me.”
"Don't apologize. I was a douche bag. I kept sending you all those signals, getting you confused. There's a really good explanation behind this. I promise you. But this is not the time to talk. The night is still young. I want to get the most out of it."
Chapter 6
Four months ago there was nothing, not one thing that could prepare me for my relationship with Deacon. I mean, there are books and movies talking about these things but there's also a thin line that separates reality from imagination. Deacon made sure we both crossed that line after our steamy night in the hotel.
The next day, and for every day since, Deacon and I see each other...a lot. We meet before work, after work, during lunch (sometimes twice), during our days off and whenever there’s enough time. We can’t get enough of each other’s body, and to be honest, is there anything not to like about the statuesque build of a billionaire playboy like Deacon?
I guess not.
Nevertheless, it has been a month since we started dating and for the first time, Deacon wants us to go together to some charity event. He wants to make our relationship public to the rest of the world.
His proposal took me by surprise. I don't know what changed during this last month, but I think I'd like going steady with him. Okay, who am I kidding? I think it's perfect that he wants to make things between us official. That doesn't mean that I don't feel anxious about everything that is going to change between us and in the office.
You see, it's difficult to avoid gossips and having the feeling of some colleagues' eyes darting my back isn't something I would fancy in particular. Neither it must be for him.
So when Deacon wants to be with me and for him to walk that extra mile, it must mean that he's prepared to deal with the repercussions of his actions.
Things like that swirl inside my head throughout the day. I barely managed to fit any work between seeing him and thinking about him. The worst part, however, is that I'm also thinking about all these things now that I'm heading back to the office. I was at the reception hall when I realized that I have forgotten my purse on my desk. You see, my card was in there and I couldn't leave the building without presenting it at the security terminal.
Any other day I would be happy seeing Deacon again, but today I'm wasting minutes from my precious preparation time. And if our last meal in that Chinese restaurant is any indication of the lengths Deacon can go to if he wants to impress a girl, then I want to be ready for any possible outcome.
When I finally arrive at the office again, almost all desks are empty. The place is mostly dark except a light lamp shining down in the hall. It's Friday and people don't usually work overtime on Fridays. It strikes me as weird but I decide not to take it into consideration. It's not like I have the time to further investigate the incident.
It's only after I've walked to my desk that I hear that distinctive, bitchy giggle of Linda. What I didn't expect to hear, though, was Deacon's voice together with hers.
He was too far away for me to hear what he said, but just the thought of him staying alone with Linda on the deserted floor makes me feel jealous. What are they doing? Deacon made it very clear to me that he isn't busy today and will leave work early.
Like a moth drawn to the fire, I wander
to the lit desk on the other side of the floor. The moment I'm able to see their figures, I stop. I don't want to bother them if they're working, and also don't want to seem like an insecure young woman that doesn't trust her man.
I stand there for a moment, looking at them, trying to understand what's going on until things start to get warm between them. Her head leans closer to him but Deacon doesn't pull back. Instead, he keeps talking, his body shaking from all the words coming out of his mouth. I feel like I'm witnessing a crime. I can't move, my feet have rooted in the floor and I'm barely breathing.
What's going on here? Why Deacon doesn't pull back? Why does Linda continue to get closer to him? Why is her hand resting on his?
WHY ARE THEY KISSING???
***
I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't know when I started believing the lies I kept telling myself. A billionaire falling in love with me? Have I gone mental?
Linda and Deacon had an affair. Full stop. He was playing me for a fool and needed me, the poor, sympathetic girl to be his front while he was chasing God-knows-how-many women behind my back, making me look like a total and utter fool.
Not only that, but he has even the courage to keep calling me since that incident, trying to apologize to me. He even got Rachel to call me to try and explain things to me, but when she started talking about Deacon, I hung up on her too.
There is nothing left to say; Deacon was cheating on me with Linda. I can't get their kiss out of my head. I'm thinking about it all the time, every passing moment. I've skipped work for a week now, not answering any call from any of my friends, and have holed up in my room, refusing to leave before watching every possible movie with blond, skinny girls getting murdered.
But who am I kidding? It’s not her fault. She’s pretty, single, smart; Deacon knew all that when he hired her. It was Deacon who should have pulled back. It was him that betrayed me, not her.
My mother keeps bothering me, trying to learn the details of what happened. But I don't have the guts to tell her. I spend enough hours every day replaying that scene in my head, seeing them kissing, Deacon crossing his hands around her waist and pulling her in.
God, I want to kill them. Both of them!
Today, when I woke up, I found the usual pair of missed calls from the company and a handful of calls from Deacon's cell phone as well. I ignore them all and head straight to a text message from Nadia. She's the only one I've talked about what happened between us.
The text message says: “Get on your feet, put on some clothes and come take a walk with me. If you don’t, I swear I’ll call your mother and tell her everything about Deacon.”
She can be pretty manipulative if she wants to, but Nadia means well. I know because I would have done the same if she were in my shoes. Still, for the first time since the incident, I don't find her proposition a bad idea. I've grown tired of waiting when will Deacon stop calling me. I need to break away from this room. I need to take in some fresh air.
I take a shower and put on a casual outfit. I don’t plan on staying out for long. We meet at the local park. It’s Friday, exactly one week since all shit happened. To my surprise, the world hasn’t stopped turning. People don’t stare me in the eyes like I’m a poor, heartbroken curvy girl. No. They don’t give a damn about me...and somehow it feels reassuring.
Life does go on, time can mend any injury, and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That’s it.
Only that it hurts. It hurts like nothing before in my life. It fucking hurts so much that I don't know how long I've been looking at the flavors selection of that ice-cream cart Nadia dragged me to in the park. She has to nudge me to make me snap out.
"Come on, Chloe. I don't have all day," she says in an annoyed manner.
“I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” but I don’t have the strength to complete my sentence.
"I know you didn't mean to, but pick something. You might get surprised by how much eating the ice-cream can help you," she insists.
I sigh and go with the safe choice of chocolate and vanilla. You can’t go wrong with chocolate. The ice-cream man quickly pours a hefty ball and passes the bowl to me.
“How much?” I mumble.
“It’s my treat,” he says.
His words make my head jolt in surprise. “What? Why?”
And then I see him. Dressed in the all-white uniform of an ice-cream man, there is Deacon Stamford, the man that can afford ten, no, a thousand ice-cream carts like this.
"One of your friends told me that there's nothing time and a lot of ice-cream can't mend. Since I can't afford to spend more time away from you, I thought of going for a lot of ice-cream."
I can't help but grin at his reply. But that feeling of warm intimacy only lasts for a second. Linda's lips touching his make me feel sick again.
The lines of his face tense after seeing me get mad at him. He's perceptive; he knows that if he doesn't leave now, all the ice-cream of the world can't stop me from slapping him.
I take out my wallet and leave a five-dollar bill on the cart. "This is for the ice-cream. Keep the change and please pass my congratulations to your girlfriend, Linda. She finally got what she wanted from you.”
I turn my back and get ready to leave when a hand pulls me to a stop; it's Deacon. "There's nothing between me and that woman. Linda was delusional. Just because we dated once, she thought she owned me," he says.
"Let me go. I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm not as beautiful and confident as her. But I don't care. You know why? Because beauty comes with the price of a broken heart, and I'm not one to do the same thing that others did to me."
Without ever letting go, Deacon makes a step closer and looks me in the eyes. His glance is steady, honest. How can it be? Isn’t he ashamed of what he did? Am I the only one hurt by this relationship?
But then I see it. The black circles under his eyes, the red corners of his irises, and a growing stubble on his face. He must have had trouble sleeping.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, Chloe. I never meant to do something like that. What you saw was Linda trying one last time to win my love with cheap tricks. When I told her that you and I are dating, Linda tried to kiss me. She took me by surprise and I couldn't stop her in time, but when I pulled away, I fired her on the spot. I had to call the security to take her away from the building. That woman was crazy."
“And why should I believe you?” I say.
Time slows down when I see him getting on one knee in front of me. My free hand caps my open mouth. Is this what I think it is?
"Because I am madly in love with you, Chloe Ashbourne. I've been in love with you for some time now, but after losing you, even just for a week, I figured out that I have deeper feelings for you than I thought. You're smart, handsome, and you like me for who I am and not for my wealth. I love you, Chloe, and I want to ask you something:
Will you marry me?”
Am I dreaming? Is this real? Is Deacon proposing to me? Me? Busty Muddy? That disastrous girl that couldn't keep a job at a coffee shop even for a day? I can't believe it. My feelings go rampant inside me; I want to scream from happiness and burst into tears after everything I went through. I want to kiss him and slap him and kiss him again.
But most of all, I want to yell, at the top of my lungs:
“Yes! Yes, I will!”
THE END
Taming The Billionaire
Chapter 1
‘Conceited…’ ‘A complete and utter sex mongrel’ ‘Arrogant rich boy…’ ‘Egotistical, privileged beta male in actuality...’
Beta male my ass, Drake Vance chuckled to himself. He knew for a fact that he was practically the exact delineation of an Alpha male. Jealousy sure could work a number on these females around here. Drake was well aware that he was so far from the realms of ‘beta male’ that the thought literally made him laugh out loud. This, in return, caused him to spew the hot splash of coffee he’d just sipped. He c
hoked a bit as the coffee and his laugh tried to finagle one another. The hot espresso dribbled down his smooth, hard chin and dripped down onto his massive, bare chest.
Goddamn! The drink was scorching hot and in his reaction to the choking and burning, he jerked his arms upward, causing the cup of molten hot lava coffee to splash and jostle around. The piping hot java then spilled from the hand-crafted mug, down onto the crotch of his luxurious white Marcel sleeping pants. This caused further excruciating burning, and just like that, Drake’s morning was already off to a very marvelous start. As the spilled coffee soaked into the expensive silky material, it outlined the shape of his rather large member. He smiled to himself as he shed out of the pants and slipped into his Ralph Lauren bathrobe. And why in the hell did Banks make the coffee so fiery hot this morning? It was never that searing on any other day. Perhaps the family butler was finally beginning to slip in his older age. He was awfully Jurassic.
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