Billionaires & Babies: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  Her head was spinning. She thought she’d seen every type during her career in California. But here it was—the cream of the crop. The underwear model–grade, sexy gaming nerd turned reality TV star.

  “I work out,” she said, hopping onto a stool at the enormous island. Donovan pulled some foil pans out of the oven and got to work laying out the spread. The scent of curry wafted toward her. “I just do it old-school style. You know, like, by myself, locked in my living room.”

  Donovan tutted. “You gotta get on the Fitz Gaming train.”

  Heat crept up into her cheeks. Was everything he said suggestive? Pounding it out at the gym…getting on his train…or maybe she just wanted things to enter that realm.

  “I don’t know if I could compete at your level.” She drank him in from head to toe, not afraid to do so now that the conversation had moved there. “You’re made of steel.”

  Donovan smirked. Her comment clearly pleased him, but he didn’t say anything else. He revealed a big dish of what looked like rice and a sort of stew, then headed to a wine rack on the wall.

  “Red or white?” he asked.

  “Red,” she said without even thinking, leaning in to get a whiff of the food. “What is this?”

  “Dinner.” He made quick work of the cork, and it made a loud pop. “Duh.”

  She bit back a laugh. She’d known this guy for less than twelve hours, and already he felt like a friend. Good thing, too. That would make the next six months of filming painless. Or as close as she could get to it.

  “It’s a fusion stew with jasmine rice,” he said, peering at the food like even he wasn’t sure. “Ethiopian something something curry. It’s vegan. It’s my favorite dish at this little hole in the wall nearby.”

  “It’s your favorite and you don’t even know what it’s called?”

  He shrugged, plopping onto the stool. “They know what I want when I come in, so I don’t really have to order it.”

  Melissa snickered, and the two of them loaded their plates up. Donovan poured generous glasses of wine, which turned into a second generous glass of wine once they’d finished their food. Sated and silly, the two of them chatted until the bottle ran out. Donovan stood to grab another.

  “Is this how most of your business dinners end?” she asked, not wanting to stop him. This whole evening was the stuff of fantasies. If this was #producerlife, then she was more than up to the task. She watched as he seamlessly poured their third glass of wine. This had to be the last one. As it was, she couldn’t drive home.

  But maybe that was the point.

  Maybe she should stay the night. Maybe he wanted her to.

  The thought thrilled through her, both scandalous and natural. Sure, she’d only met this guy earlier that afternoon at the pitch meeting, but hell, after seeing his master bedroom and secret gaming room, they were practically dating. Or something. She took another sip of wine.

  “This has been a very productive business dinner,” she said, flashing her best approximation of a sexy grin. “I do think it’s going to be a great show. I’m just worried about one thing.”

  “Oh yeah?” His cheek twitched. “And what’s that?”

  “How you’re going to seduce these women.” Melissa bit her upper lip, shaking her head. She knew enough about reality television. It wasn’t as simple as showing up and following a loose outline.

  “You doubt me?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been in the business long enough to see what can happen. You’re likeable. But likeability doesn’t always translate to popularity.” She paused, dragging a finger around the stem of her glass. “It’s really about how seductive you can be.”

  His eyes narrowed, a smile toying with the edge of his lips. “How about I show you then?”

  The rational side of her hadn’t thought he’d actually take the bait. Did she really want to go through with it and sleep with the new starring cast member?

  Yes.

  Donovan came over to her side of the island, his blue gaze electrified as it raked up and down her body. His fingertips trailed up the side of her arm. And then he gripped her by the wrist.

  Oh, yes. She wanted to sleep with him immediately.

  “Are you seduced yet?” he asked, stepping closer, his other hand finding the curve of her neck. She could barely nod, much less get herself to uncoil in his presence. He made her rigid and expectant, every cell in her body waiting for what came next. Too scared to move and interrupt this.

  “Not quite,” she cracked.

  He grabbed her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back. He was inches away now. So close she could see the small lines by his eyes. The barely visible scar above an eyebrow.

  “Understandable.” Donovan lowered his face closer to hers, their lips just a breath away. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

  Melissa grabbed his wrist. “Better get to it, then.”

  Donovan smiled and surged forward, capturing her lips in a long, hungry kiss. And then all bets were off. The first kiss bled into a ravenous second and third. Donovan’s hands found her hips; Melissa gripped his bicep, cementing herself to his warm, grounding frame.

  The wine buzz collided with her simmering attraction for this man. It had been too long since she’d scratched this itch. Her life had been pure work since she decided she wanted to really make a go of it in the television production world.

  “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” he said suddenly, hoisting her up. She collapsed around him, clinging to his bulky man body as he carried her effortlessly through the kitchen and into the living room. “Somewhere I can have my way with you.”

  She giggled, loving the naughtiness, the wrongness of this. They were about to embark on a six-month work project together. Hooking up on the first day was the worst choice ever.

  Or maybe this was how all the executive producers did it. Maybe this would bring her even closer to her promotion.

  “Sounds like a good way to kick off the new show,” she said, nibbling on his ear lobe. Every square inch of him beneath her was rock solid and on fire. Her pussy practically buzzed with anticipation. “Need to get it in before you get married off.”

  He grunted, tossing her onto the black leather couch. “If I make you come will you promise to pick good contestants?”

  She gasped as he tugged at her skinny jeans, pulling them down over her hips. “We could work out a deal.”

  “What if I make you come twice?” He pulled the jeans over her feet.

  “I’ll make sure your future wife is the best ever.”

  “And if I make you come three times?” An evil glint made heat pool in her core. He tugged at her panties, revealing the tightly trimmed patch of hair between her legs.

  “I’ll marry you myself,” she blurted, meaning it as a joke, but realizing too late that it was just wrong.

  He chuckled as he pushed down his workout shorts, revealing a tempting bulge in his briefs that made her mouth part.

  He wet his bottom lip, those crystalline blue eyes stealing the breath from her lungs. “So, you’re the best there is, huh?”

  3

  All thoughts disappeared once Donovan excused himself to find a condom from the downstairs bathroom. In the silence of the living room, shit got real.

  Half-naked and sprawled out on the nicest leather couch she’d ever touched in her entire life, doubts crept in. But desire overruled.

  Donovan returned and tore his shirt off, revealing washboard and all, which effectively erased any remaining doubt. She was just about to make a joke about how he expected to make her come three times without any foreplay, when the guy knelt between her legs and pushed aside the crotch of her panties.

  His soft lips kissed a trail up the inside of her thigh. Her entire body tensed, anticipating what came next. And then his warm mouth found her clit, enveloping it fully before his tongue started a slow, thorough dance. She melted back onto the couch, a low moan escaping her.

  Donovan had the ski
lls to match his swagger. That much was certain. Although she couldn’t be sure how much of her rapid climb to climax was due to it simply having been too long. Either way, he had her coiled tight and ready to spring. When he pushed his middle finger into her, her pussy contracted with an orgasm. She clamped a hand over her mouth, struggling to catch her breath.

  He glanced up at her. “Round one already. That was fast.”

  She sighed heavily, bucking her hips. “Keep going.”

  Donovan pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly, almost too slowly, as his mouth returned to the tight, needy nub between her legs. She groaned, collapsing backward once more. She never wanted to move from this spot.

  When he pushed a third finger into her, he stilled, looking up at her.

  “You have the sexiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

  The compliment made her freeze. “Uh…thanks?”

  He wet his bottom lip, tilting his head to get a better look while his fingers were buried deep inside her. “I don’t want to hurt you. Gotta make sure you’re ready.”

  His words made more sense a moment later when he pulled his fingers out of her and shucked his briefs. His cock stood at attention, bigger and fatter than she’d expected. Her mouth parted as he rolled the condom over the tip. The package he’d discarded said XL.

  “Go easy on me, then,” she whispered, her core tightening. Maybe three orgasms weren’t out of the question. She was usually lucky if she got one. But Donovan promised to be different.

  A wicked grin covered his face. “I’ll do my best.”

  Donovan tugged her over the edge of the couch, supporting her ass cheeks in the palms of his hands as he surged forward. His cockhead grazed the slippery folds of her pussy. She watched in awe, still in partial disbelief that this was even happening. Donovan checked the boxes for hottest guy, richest guy, and maybe best hookup of her life. She’d know for sure in a few minutes, but already this was promising.

  What if she needed more after this?

  Her thoughts dissolved into ecstatic nothingness once he eased himself inside. He’d primed her well enough that he could push in without much resistance, but he still stretched her. Donovan was a big boy—no wonder he needed to make sure she was ready to receive him.

  Donovan grunted, his grip on her ass tightening. He eased himself inside until there was no more room to be found. His eyes fluttered shut. And then he rocked himself in a slow circle, finding just a little bit more depth.

  Melissa’s head lolled back, a moan ripping out of her. “Fuuuck.”

  Donovan laughed, but the chuckle faded quickly. He eased himself out of her and then back in. Each flinch and flex of his body sent a warm wave of pleasure through her. Being filled by him was the closest thing to spiritual ecstasy she’d ever experienced. Her chest heaved, though she wasn’t even moving. And fuck if she wasn’t close to coming a second time.

  “Donovan—” she began. What was there to say? He felt too good?

  “Yes, Melly?”

  She laughed, swatting at him for the nickname, but missed his shoulder entirely. “I’m close.”

  “Again.” That same self-congratulating smile. But this time, she couldn’t even blame him. He surged forward, making her breasts jiggle as he claimed every last millimeter of space inside her. A ragged moan escaped her lips.

  “This was a better bargain than I anticipated,” he murmured into her clavicle, lips drifting down over a shoulder. He stilled against her, buried balls deep, as one of his hands wandered between her legs. His thumb found her clit and he pinched it, over and over again, as he drew his cock out of her.

  She took a shaky breath, trying to calm the prickling warning signs inside her. But it was hopeless. When he slammed back into her, her pussy tightened and quaked around his cock. She dug her nails into the ridge of his shoulder and cried out.

  Donovan scooped her up into his arms then sat back on his heels. She used the couch behind her as leverage, hardly able to prop herself up.

  “Oh, lord,” she moaned.

  “Let’s not bring God into this,” he murmured, hand sliding up the curve of her waist, cupping her left breast. “This is just between you and me.”

  Donovan bumped and rocked and rolled beneath her, a rhythm that held her hostage. Each time he drilled up into her she went weak and dreamy. He seemed determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from her. Making up for all those months—and sometimes years—she’d gone without sexual satisfaction, without his even realizing her need.

  And if waiting this long meant this was her pay off? Then she hadn’t waited in vain.

  Donovan held her steady by the hips as he drilled up into her. Sweat beaded on his brow, his bright gaze snagging her like spider web snagging a gnat. This was the end of her. And she didn’t even care.

  He thrust faster, tiny grunts escaping him as he fucked her. “Melly. I’m almost there.”

  She found the hollow of his neck, taking a small bite. He inhaled sharply and drilled up into her again.

  “Therrrre,” he started, and then his voice gave way to a guttural groan and he went rock hard and still beneath her, abs tightening into the stuff of pinup legend.

  Her heart raced as his movements slowed slightly, but the friction was still there, the base of his cock against her throbbing clit. The power of his orgasm somehow transferred to her too, and the combination of everything—the heat, the sweat pooled behind her knees, the dizzy climaxes they’d reached—sent more warmth spilling through her. This orgasm was weaker, but holy hell, it was there.

  She laughed weakly, collapsing into his arms. His chest heaved beneath her, his arms rock steady around her.

  “That,” she said, barely able to force the words past dry lips, “was number three.”

  4

  Melissa had promised good contestants.

  And based on how many times he’d driven her to climax last week, Donovan was pretty sure she’d make good on that promise.

  Even though technically, with the three orgasms he’d given her, she had signed over her own hand in marriage.

  The euphoria of their unexpectedly sexy meet-and-greet last week still hadn’t quite left him. And while Melissa had made sure all things returned quickly to business, Donovan found himself stilling his hand on more than one occasion with the urge to text her. Invite her over again. Ask if she’d like one more tour of the house. Tell her that three orgasms were the new minimum when they met up.

  Donovan grinned as he watched Melissa walk into the interview room and set down her papers on an empty desk in the middle of the room. He and another producer were safe behind a one-way mirror, watching like police detectives as Melissa started the last round of contestant interviews. She had the final say, but Donovan was expected to give input.

  And the only input he had today was how damn sexy she looked.

  He loved her style, caught somewhere between boho and studio executive. Today she wore a loose-fitting emerald sweater over a white sheath dress and kitten heels. The studious glasses had returned, along with that top knot. His fingers twitched with the urge to loosen her hair, something he hadn’t gotten to do last week.

  He couldn’t stop imagining what she’d look like with that hair spilling down her shoulders.

  “Okay,” Melissa said, strutting toward the one-way mirror. Her gaze didn’t land exactly on Donovan or her colleague, Frank, since she couldn’t see them. She pursed her lips. “I’m bringing in the first round. You two ready?”

  Donovan knocked on the window to signal a yes, and she spun on her heel to bring in the first interviewee. They’d gone through a similar round a few days after he and Melissa hooked up, paring down the contestants until only the top ten remained. They were looking for six. So now it came down to the critical elements: a healthy mix of drama potential and love potential. Too much in either direction could prove to be an imbalance.

  Melissa led in a pretty blonde who clutched a handbag against her hip. A skintight dress highlighted droo
l-worthy curves. Donovan assessed her clinically, like a doctor searching for worrisome moles. Then his gaze shifted to Melissa. She sat down primly, her face uncharacteristically stoic and concentrated. The face she reserved for business. He was coming to know her sides—and they fascinated him.

  Donovan tapped out a quick text to Melissa. “Better be careful, your face might get stuck like that.”

  Melissa cleared her throat as her phone lit up. He watched her check the screen. A smile ghosted across her face, and she squinted toward the one-way glass. That was as much of a reprimand as he’d get. For now.

  Melissa launched into the interview smoothly, going through the standard battery of probing questions, ranging from emotional to psychological. Donovan followed along—mostly. After all, Melissa had made it clear that she was the final arbiter regarding these contestants. And really, Donovan didn’t entirely care. He knew they’d all be pretty. They’d all be ratings material. He paid attention enough to catch the gist, but really? He watched Melissa.

  The way she lifted her brows, feigning engagement, when the contestant rambled off about something petty, like manicure issues or slow service at Michelin-starred restaurants. Sometimes Melissa’s gaze would swing his way, and he wondered, was she searching him out? Their eyes would lock without her knowing, and still that surge of acknowledgement would pass through him. It made him smile just thinking about the snarky comment she had buried away.

  The current interviewee, a brunette named Jasmine, had just been debriefed about frankenbites—the common practice in reality TV shows of splicing together disparate conversations to make them into something new, usually with entirely different meanings. The producer had full control of how to portray all these contestants. It was a lot of power. Donovan wondered how Melissa might manipulate even his image.

  “You can make me say whatever you guys want,” Jasmine said with a laugh, smoothing down her hair. “Honestly, I just want the screen time. If the bachelor is hot, well, that’s a plus, too.”