The Billionaire and the Babe: A Romantic Comedy

by Ellie Rowe

  He makes a break for the elevator, but once he sees me hot on his tail, he flips around like a gymnast and sprints toward the massive staircase.

  I tear up after him. Just as I’m about to nab him at the top, he slips on the other side of the bannister and runs down the stairs. Not to be beat, I side-saddle the bannister and go sliding down after him, inches from clutching his jacket.

  Roger lets out a muffled yelp as he sees me flying toward him like a staircase harpy, and tears into the ground floor wine boutique. Without a purse to cause havoc, I’m ready and able to meet him in the maze of bottles.

  I race into the store, my eyes peeled for any signs of movement. I see the worried store manager and give him a wave. Then I see Roger tentatively bring his head up from an aisle, like a meerkat watching for danger.

  “Got you!” I yell and chase after him. Roger yelps and I see the whisper of a grin on his face before he ducks down and dives from the aisle, rolling into the connecting bar.

  “Excuse me, pardon me, we’re in a terrible rush,” I say to the patrons as I weave past them and Roger shoots me a look, his eyes growing wide as he realizes just how close I am.

  People are guffawing, drinks are wobbling and near spilling, but we charge on, heading back into the lobby.

  Shit. Where’d he go? I freeze and scan the area. Clever boy.

  Suddenly, there’s a shaking of leaves near me and I see Roger fumbling behind a massive palm tree in the center of the lobby.

  “Hey!” I shout and lunge after him. Roger curses and tears off again, heading for the back. Gone again! I return to the lobby table to ground myself when I spot him, watching me through the glass wall of an elevator going up.

  Oh, no, you don’t! I race to the opposite one after him and hit the buttons so fast, I’m maybe only one floor behind him. Roger looks down and sees me standing opposite him, huffing against the glass as we glide upward in tandem.

  Though I can’t hear him, I watch his face crack into a smile. He completely breaks up and starts howling with laughter, clapping his hands and doubling over. I can’t contain myself anymore either, and double over with him, cackling against the sheer idiocy of whatever just happened.

  His elevator stops at my floor and we both get out of our respective elevators, walking to meet in the middle.

  “Oh, fancy seeing you here,” I say as soon as he’s within earshot and he races to me, his grin still plastered on his face, before he grabs my waist and presses me to him, covering my lips with a breathless kiss.

  We’re laughing into each other’s mouths, hungry kisses keeping us locked together while we press our way toward my door. I fumble with the key as he grabs me from behind, nibbling my neck as we burst through.

  He slams the door shut behind him and gives chase through the apartment. I shriek and run for the bedroom. If I’m only staying a little while longer, we may as well make the most of it. Roger proves a better pursuer than prey, and catches me, immediately pushing me into the bed.

  He tears off his jacket while I pull my blouse over my head and kick off my heels. It all happens amazingly fast and hot and desperate, the feeling of our chase still affecting our every move. Roger’s down to his underwear and lunges at me to tear at my skirt.

  With my skirt off, he slides on top of me, licking from my belly button to my neck before crashing his lips against mine. Using his knees, he spreads my thighs apart and starts to grind against me. The friction is dizzying, and I moan into his mouth as I clutch his back.

  Roger sits up, and in one fluid motion, reaches down to grab his discarded tie.

  “Do you want this?” He asks as he presses his tie over my panties, sliding it through his fingers before he drags it up toward my hands. I nod helplessly, and he ties my wrists together with the speed of a sailor.

  As soon as I’m tied, I feel like coming and Roger knows it. He slides his hands inside my panties and finds me completely wet. With a sexy eyebrow raised, he attacks again, his mouth covering mine.

  I bring my tied hands down to the back of his neck and hold him close as he grinds into me.

  “Roger, please,” I beg into his ear. I need him, I want him. I’ve wanted him so much. He flips over next to me and slides his briefs off, letting his erection spring up.

  God, I love the way it looks. I want to taste it, but Roger has other plans. He puts me on my knees, grabbing my hips and arching me toward him. Sliding a finger inside me, he makes sure I’m still sopping wet and ready for him before he pulls my panties aside and slides into me from behind.

  I hear him moan, which only makes it feel better. With my hands tied, I want so badly to sit up and hold him, but something about being unable to makes it all that much hotter. Roger slides out and slowly thrusts in again.

  I can take it, but, wow, is he a lot to handle. Just as he starts to pull out again, I arch my back and thrust my ass into him, pushing him deeper inside.

  “Oh, fuck,” he rasps and his hands glide down my hips, reaching for my clit. It’s my turn to moan as his two fingers make contact, just as he presses into me again. I’m rocking my hips back into him as he slips deeper and deeper inside me.

  My thighs start to shake, and I get closer and closer.

  “Oh, God, don’t stop,” I moan as I see stars and give into a trembling orgasm. Just as I’m finishing, Roger pulls out and flips me, so I’m on top of him.

  Before he can adjust, I spin around so I’m facing away from him, slowly lowering myself down on his cock.

  “Oh, Natalie,” he groans and grips my ass as I start grinding into him. Pitching forward on my tied hands, I have better control while sliding myself up and down.

  I feel his fingertips digging into me and I know he’s getting close, so I pull myself out and stand up to face him. He looks up at me like I’m a Greek goddess or something before beckoning me to come down.

  I oblige and sink myself into him. He grabs my wrists and pulls me hard, thrusting himself inside me with zeal. I have an exceptional angle from here, and slide him in and out while grinding myself against his pelvis.

  Roger takes my captive wrists and my hips, and flings me over, rolling on top while still inside me. I squeal in ecstasy and he finds his rhythm, devouring my lips and neck, running his fingers through my hair as he fucks me hard.

  “Yes,” I breathe as his movements grow more frenzied. It feels like I’m again running through the hotel, hot on his heels, my heart hammering in my chest and my instincts keyed up. Every thrust is a rush and I hold him close to soak in every moment.

  He sits up to grab my hips and offers a whole new world of pleasure. I’m completely done for, and can’t hold back from exploding into pleasure at the feel of his grip on my thighs, his fucking amazing dick hitting just the right spot.

  Roger’s face contorts into complete pleasure watching me come from his hard work, and he can’t withstand it any longer. He lowers himself into me, clutching me close as he pumps his final thrusts. He moans my name as he finishes, and I feel him burst inside me.

  It’s almost enough to make me come again, sharing in this pleasure. We lay there, panting like we just ran a marathon. Everything about that was raw and hot, and fueled by an unbeatable adrenaline rush.

  I’m beginning to think I need to chase him through the lobby more often.

  Eighteen

  Roger

  You know how amazing you feel the morning after a great screw? How, no matter how little sleep you get, you feel more rested than you can remember in a long time? The after-effects of the orgasm you just had wash over you again, making your brain buzz just like the first sip of alcohol does at the end of a long day?

  Yeah. I feel like that, and it’s fucking fantastic.

  I lie spread-eagled on Natalie’s bed and just enjoy the sensations for a moment. I’ve already got a fresh hard-on. She’s not in bed though.

  The shower’s running.

  So, I get my naked ass up and quietly slip through the bathroom door. I watch her a mome
nt through the smoky glass of the shower. I take in the curve of her body, the shape of her ass. I stroke myself. Then I notice she’s got one hand pressed against the shower wall… and, I swear to God, the other is tucked between her legs.

  The little minx. Starting without me…?

  I tiptoe to the shower, then fling the door open, shouting. “Ha!”

  She screams like the scene from Psycho! Flinging herself back against the far wall of the shower, she covers herself with her hands. Water streams into her eyes, blinding her.

  I laugh.

  She flicks the water out of her eyes. “Goddammit, Roger!” she shouts.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” I say, stepping into the steaming water and pressing up against her.

  She puts a palm against my chest to stop me. “Get out.”

  “What were you doing in here, huh?” I gently poke her ribs, tickling her. She squirms away.

  “Out,” she commands. I don’t listen.

  “Hmm? Need a little help?” I cup one of her breasts and teasingly lick a nipple.

  She closes her eyes in pleasure, but, says, “I mean it. Get out.”

  I still don’t. Instead, I start tickling her for real. She squirms, yelps and shouts. The tickling dissolves into laughter, which evolves into us sharing a warm, shower-wet kiss. We press our bodies close, my erection between us. She gives it an approving glance.

  Meanwhile, I lift the hand that had been doing the job earlier. I put those previously wandering fingers in my mouth. There’s still a faint taste of her on them. I suck for a moment, running my tongue between them, giving a little bite to the tips. I hold her palm up to my mouth and kiss it.

  “Mm,” I say, “I think I know what you were doing.”

  Now, I slide those fingers down, back between her legs. Our eyes stay locked. With my hand, I indicate the movements I want her fingers to make against her clit. Little patterns. A slow, but strong and steady pace. She complies, adding a little flourish of her own here and there.

  She closes her eyes and lets out a pleasure-filled breath. I kiss her ear, her neck, and as she continues to masturbate, I slip a finger inside her. I make a curling motion with it, gently massaging her G-spot.

  It sends a hot wave of enjoyment through her, and she lets out little moans of pleasure. She presses her upper body back, shifting her pelvis forward, urging me on. I keep at it, dipping my mouth down now and again to lick and suck her breasts. I flick my tongue at the water running off her erect nipples. I bury my free hand in her wet hair, sliding back up to lavish her mouth with hot kisses as the steam rises around us.

  She’s getting close, when she leaves off her massaging herself and putting her hand on my penis.

  “Get inside me,” she whispers.

  I slowly, delicately, remove my fingers from her pussy, running them over her clit one more time for good measure, and sending a little shiver through her body. I put the fingers in her mouth, and she sucks them. I kiss her as I slide my cock slowly inside her.

  With her up against the wall of the shower, we move slowly, sensually.

  “God, you feel so good,” I whisper in her ear.

  “You feel amazing…” she whispers back. Her hands grab my ass. She pulls me in deeper.

  I fit perfectly inside her. I can feel every inch of me against every inch of her. I go as deep as I can, slowly pulling nearly all the way out, then in again. She gasps and makes little sounds of ecstasy to match my groans of pleasure.

  We take our time. The water cascades down our bodies. We slide our hands over our wet skin as we kiss, and kiss, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm down below. Then, we ride the crest of the wave for a long moment. I kiss her as she makes little whimpers of anticipation.

  We come together quietly, our eyes locked as long as we can before the force of the orgasm makes us collapse against one another. I stay inside her for a long time after.

  “Maybe,” she eventually says, “I did need help after all.”

  “Thought so…”

  A short time later, we lounge in bed wrapped in her fluffy towels. She lounges with her towel just around her waist, her breasts exposed, her wet hair fanning out across her pillows. For fun, she’s forced me in one of her pink ones and put a bright blue one on my head in a tall wrap.

  Whatever. It’s that kind of morning.

  My head’s on one end of the bed, while hers is at the other, and I massage her feet as we stare at one another like dopes. Happy, satisfied, fulfilled dopes.

  “We should, um…” I start to say. I look at my hands working on her feet.

  “Go on,” she encourages.

  “We should, um, probably talk seriously about this. About what’s going to happen next,” I look up at her, bracing for what she says.

  She tenses but doesn’t break eye contact or yank her foot away. That’s a good sign, right?

  “I’m still moving out at the end of the month,” she says calmly.

  I purse my lips, and nod in what I hope is an understanding manner.

  “It’s not about you,” she says. “It’s about my independence.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve lost my job and that was a big part of my identity. You’ve been so generous. But if all I do is rely on you to fix my problems, then I’m afraid I’ll disappear entirely.”

  I nod again, hoping it seems like I get it, like I’m cool with it.

  “You wouldn’t want me then,” she explains further. “The person I’d become if I keep on this way? Neither of us would like that Natalie.”

  “I understand,” I say. And I do.

  She’s right. The Natalie I’m... falling for… would be destroyed if she felt like she had to rely on me for everything. Part of what I like about her is her independence. Her can-do, you don’t like it you can fuck off – attitude. If that disappeared because of me, I’d hate myself.

  Still, it’s never fun to be rejected. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t hurt. I stop massaging her feet.

  There’s a tension in the air that threatens to ruin all the sensational, post-coital peace. I refuse to let that happen.

  So, I give her feet a reassuring slap and say, “OK, then, you’re gonna have to find a new apartment.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’ll help you look,” I declare. I crawl along her body, kissing her as I make my way up. “I know every real estate mogul worth a damn in this city.”

  I kiss each breast in turn, then move up to her neck. “I’ll make some calls. We’ll have you situated in no time.”

  I move to kiss her lips – but I’m met with one of her fingers instead.

  “No,” she says softly. She kisses my forehead and gets out of bed.

  Right. That would be me helping her again, which would undermine the whole reason she’s moving out. I accept her rejection a little better this time.

  She drops the towel. As she gets dressed, I watch as each part of her beautiful body disappears, one at a time, into each piece of clothing. I think about how nice it’ll be to get her back out of those clothes later tonight…

  I become more convinced that she’s absolutely right. We need to be equals. If I help out, I’m creating a power dynamic that’s sure to rot this from the inside. Y’know, whatever this is.

  “All right,” I say, and shed my own towel. I notice her glancing my way as I get dressed, too. “I have to get ready for work. See you tonight?”

  “If I still live here,” she teases.

  “Well, if I come back and you’ve moved out, the doorman will be treated to one hell of a delicious dinner.”

  I give her ass a soft smack for good measure. Then we kiss goodbye and I head to my place for a change of clothes.

  As I ride the elevator up, a thought occurs to me.

  Did I just have my first ever, real-life, adult conversation?

  Nineteen

  Natalie

  I take a deep breath as I lift with my knees to bring a giant box of cutlery inside the apa
rtment. My brand new apartment. Well, new to me, anyway. This place has been around for at least six hundred years. It’s been around so long; the roaches have unionized.

  It’s a shitty building and I’m not too fond of it. No Greg to greet me at the door and accept the little gifts I bring from the office, no familiar ding of the elevator — in fact, I’m too scared to take the elevator, so stairs it is for me — and certainly no grand staircase to slide down in hot pursuit.

  I smile despite the situation. That was one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done. Whipping down a staircase banister in a place like that. Something only an unemployed me would ever do. Wonder what Chic would think of that!

  “Ah, just over there, guys, thank you so much!” I call to my moving crew. They’re a rough burly bunch, but they’ve been amazing. “You guys are wonderful, all the boxes are exactly where they need to be!”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t usually get a lotta people who label like you, ya know? You got like a whole system here,” he chuckles and I blush under my own absurdity. Listen, my type-A overbearing labels got all my shit in the right place, so who cares if it makes me seem uptight!

  Wonder what these guys will think if they hear I slid down a bannister… “Well, thanks, I think. Here, let me grab your cash —”

  “Oh, that’s already been taken care of, ma’am.”

  Huh? I pause by my purse and give the guy a quizzical look. He shrugs, “Some hotshot from the place we moved you from, already paid in advance with a pretty sweet tip. You got a good one there, ma’am.” He grins.

  Roger. He’s one clever son of a bitch. I was wondering why he kept pestering me about which moving company I’d be using and when they’d arrive. I half-thought he’d show up himself, clad in suspenders and work boots. Now I understand his motives.

  Sneaky little devil.

  “Yeah, I guess he’s okay,” I smile. “Well, thank you, fellas!”

  “That’s alright, ma’am, you take care. Come on, ya schmucks.” The mover gruffly slaps his guys’ backs and pushes them out the door. As soon as the door clicks behind them, I sink into the crinkled packaging of one of the chairs.