The Billionaire's Desire

by Lila Lacroix

  “I’m fine. The service in this place is incredible. Great choice Jon.” He studied Julia’s face, then started to play something rather Jazzy on the piano, “He always did have great taste.”

  The evening went perfectly after that. The band played late into the night. Jonathan even got up and played a few tunes on the piano with Rupert on saxophone. They had a close relationship, at least musically, Julia could see. Although they mustn’t see each other often, living so far from each other. Scarlett was most clearly the one on the outside looking in, and Julia wondered if she had always felt that way, and whether that was her reason for being such a viper.

  Either way, there was just no excuse to be cruel. There was always a better way.

  At the end of the night, after his folks left for bed, after she had met his friends and extended family, and after Jonathan had danced with Danielle—as her friends rather than as his PA—she took her husband in her arms, kissed him, and whispered “Would you like to climb aboard, I’m not wearing a scrap of underwear!”

  The sound of his gasp sent an electric charge through her groin.

  He swooped her up into his arms, his mouth on hers. They didn’t bother with goodbyes. There wasn’t time.

  In their room, Jonathan kicked the door closed and lowered Julia onto her feet. She pushed him against the wall as he struggled with his shirt buttons. “Let me,” she said, ripping it open. The buttons popped and shot in all directions, but on this occasion, she didn’t care about the recklessness, the cost, the waste. Driven by love; an internal blend of unrelenting desire, the complete surrender of oneself to another for all time, pushed her to take him. She’d never burned for another this way, because she’d never truly given herself as she had to Jonathan.

  She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor. Commando, nothing else lay between them but her own clothes.

  Jonathan swung her around, unzipped her dress, then turned her to face him again. He beaming as he pushed it down slowly, delighting in how it revealed Julia’s breasts, her erect nipples hungry for his mouth, her toned tummy, and lower still to the floor.

  He stared at her body, then her face, his pupils huge black plates, panting. “You’ve been naked beneath your wedding dress all day? God, that’s …” He groaned menacingly and Julia throbbed at the sound.

  Weakened by long day, by arousal, by the smell of his musk, his sex dripped with need, as did hers.

  His strong chest rose and fell, imitating the pulse inside her.

  They licked their lips at the same time, and with equal urgency stepped forward to seize one another’s faces. Jonathan fiddled with her hairgrip, until her hair fell in curls around her shoulders.

  “My sexy blonde baby,” he whispered softly, twirling a curl around his fingers.

  “Kiss me, Husband.” They kissed delicately first, but soon, more like teenagers; teeth knocked, noses squashed, the animalistic craving surpassed all care for irrelevances.

  He carried her to the bed, threw her down and spread her legs, his arms outstretched to fondle her breasts and nipples. Julia writhed in pleasure as he consumed her sex with absolute precision, hungry for her juices. “Ah,” she sighed, running her hands through his dark waves, remembering how handsome he had looked waiting for her at the end of the isle in his linen suit. “Ah, I need you Jon.” She ached inside, she had never needed so much to be penetrated, to consume a man with her body. When she pushed his head away from between her legs, his dreamy eyes continued to rest on her, his mouth shiny with evidence of her arousal.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, continuing the stroke her sensually, where his tongue had been.

  She slid down the bed, wrapped her legs around his waist and hoisted her body onto his erection. A mutual groan of pleasure followed an initial moment of surprise.

  Julia admired how Jonathan immediately provided what she needed: him deep inside of her, hard rhythmic thrusts, her face to his face, her hands in his hands, her mouth searching his mouth. And he gave it, repeatedly.

  With equal desire, they searched the face in front of them intermittently for a glimpse of the love they felt so deeply, and found it looking right back at them.

  Eventually, utterly spent, they climaxed together in a sweaty heap, tangled in sheets and each other, in time for a few hours sleep before their honeymoon began.

  Julia smiled to herself, languishing with a full heart and the kind of soreness only acquired by great sex. Her cheek rested on her husband’s chest, she listened to his heartbeat, knowing that she had much more to look forward to. A lifetime with Jonathan Jergan; life really was good.

  When she woke to sounds of Jonathan singing Sex is On Fire in the shower, a jolt of excitement propelled her out of bed. She ran to the bathroom and nocked on the glass door, “Room in there for a little one?”

  “Always, wifey,” he said, grinning. “Always.”

  She stepped inside and wanted him. He’s turned me into a raving nymph. He shampooed her hair as his body rubbed up against her backside. He rubbed oils into her skin, all over her body as she moaned at the sensation, and then he held her close, kissing her beneath the cleansing flow of hot soapy water. Soon, his eager fingers entered her, to massage her G-spot thoroughly, while her hand worked on him until she could wait no longer and guided him fully inside her. It hurt at first, just a little, but as he pulled her legs around his waist, pushed her gently against the wall, and moved back and forth swiftly and smoothly, soon only immense pleasure carried her toward cries her own sweet release, until the mutual music of their climax filled the shower cubicle.

  Holding her from behind, nibbling her neck, she murmured, “You get better at that every time.”

  “Coz, I can’t get enough of your love,” he sang, overtly thrusting himself with a hand behind his head. They both laughed before resuming neck nibbles.

  Honeysuckle and lime filled the steamy air around them, and she was happy. But nothing lasts forever and a rebel thought popped into her mind; an evil doubt threatened to squelch her newfound joy. I keep thinking this is forever, but what if it isn’t? Is it to Jon? He says he loves me, and I do believe him, but we’ve never discussed what will happen about that deal.

  “Jon, I…” began Julia, but felt unable to continue. She wanted those feeling of joy to last forever but failing that, for as long as possible.

  “What is it, love?” asked Jonathan, finger beneath her chin. “Want more of me, is that it? I’m up for that, you’re insatiable.”

  He moved in to kiss her, but she moved away.

  “No.” She mentally kicked her doubting mind. “I just think it’s time for us to dress, pack, go down to breakfast. We have a lot of travelling ahead of us, off to Paris of all places! I never dared to dream I’d go to Europe.”

  Jonathan looked like a child who had his favourite toy taken from him, as she backed out of the shower.

  “Oh don’t look so hard done by, we’ve been at it on and off for eight hours. I’m sure we could do with refuelling for the honeymoon. I foretell a very energetic two weeks in the City of Love,” she teased, loving the clear effect it had on his body.

  * * *

  Julia and Jon explored Paris together, and although Jon had been many times before, Julia marveled at how he caught her enthusiasm, like a virus he could not fight off.

  The Champs-Élysées cut through an exclusive district, studded with luxury hotels and top fashion boutiques, which Jonathan had to show off by treating Julia to a warmer coat for the cooler Parisian weather, and a few more dresses for the evening. She allowed this—how could she not? If she could, the way she felt for him now, she’d buy him the World and be damned.

  Julia cooed at the sights as they walked from the Louvre at the heart of the city, to the Grande Arche de la Défense in the west, where impressive panoramas dominated, incorporating some of the city’s most famous landmarks—not only the romantic Champs-Élysées but also the fragrant Tuileries gardens, place de la Concorde, and the Arc
de Triomphe.

  Jonathan said, “You’d think this whole area was designed by a single town planner rather than successive kings, emperors and presidents. It’s always incredible to see this.”

  She admired his knowledge and fervor, even if she had no idea what he was talking about, “I guess,” she shrugged. “All I know is how ancient and beautiful everything looks. They don’t make ‘em like they used to, and they sure don’t make ‘em like this in Chicago!”

  He kissed her head and laughed along with her, snuggling her in close, his arm draped easily around her shoulders, her cheek snug against his body. She loved his robust size and how safe it made her feel.

  They walked along, taking in the sights. People watching, they played the game of ‘Who are they?’ Julia said about a man in a suit feeding birds bread from a paper bag, “He’s François, a businessman who couldn’t get the loan he needs to secure next month’s salary payment, and instead of addressing this hellish news with his employees or his business partners, he’s feeding the birds. A coward with conscience.”

  Jonathan disagreed, “Nah, I reckon he’s a sales guy, and not a very good one. Look at those worn out shoes. He’s been treading pavement for years. He’s feeding the birds as his one act of defiance in a life of conformity.”

  “Defiance?” she asked.

  “Read the sign.” Jonathan pointed to the information board, which apparently instructed in French not to feed the birds. “He’s not going to make enough commission again this month, and younger, better sales people are ready to take his job.”

  “Aw,” she said, “we both think he’s a sad case, either way. Poor guy.”

  They passed him by, and she felt even luckier to have him; she could so easily be the guy feeding the birds. When she caught a whiff of delicious coffee and sweet pastries her mouth watered and tummy rumbled. “We’ve been walking for ages, and as beautiful as all this is, I’d love a coffee. How about you?”

  Jonathan stood in front of her, looked up and down the busy road, then said, “Your wish is my command, not least of all because it’s a damn fine idea.” He grabbed her hand and they ran together across the road.

  Safely on the other side of the road, Julia asked where he planned to take them, while glaring back longingly at the café’s and restaurants they had left behind.

  “I’m taking us to Rue de Lévis a few blocks up.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It has one of the city’s most colourful and appetizing markets around. You’ll love it, I know it. Let’s face it, if you’re going to sip coffee in Paris, one must do so with entertainment. No?”

  “Loving the sound of that, and I do love a good market.” She beamed, feeling like a child at Christmas, loving how she married someone who knew so well a place like Paris.

  Then, she thought something unpalatable, “Did you bring other women here?”

  He said nothing but kept moving toward their destination in silence. Then, “Just once.” His expression was stoic, unreadable. “That doesn’t bother you, surely?”

  Julia hated the idea of him with another woman full stop. But sharing her honeymoon experiences with one of his old flames made her feel a little sick. “On our honeymoon?”

  A moment more of stoic Jonathan, then he laughed and kissed her nose, “I do love teasing you.”

  So, was he teasing that he hadn’t bought women here, or that he had? “What?” she let go of his hand. “Have you or not?”

  Jonathan stopped. “I came with Scarlett once, and I’ve been here alone many times for business and yes, for pleasure. But I haven’t actually come here with a lover. Come on, would I bring you to a place I’d brought other women … for our honeymoon?”

  For business and … pleasure!

  “Kiss me, stop this,” he tried to kiss her but she snatched her screwed up face out of his way.

  “Wow, I see you’re a little snarky, perhaps cake with your coffee?”

  He was right; Julia knew it. She was in Paris, free from Mike, punctuating heavenly sex with walks along the Champs-Élysées. She needed to chill out. “Sorry, I guess I’m so used to being stressed or afraid or filled with dread, my body is unable to simply switch off. Which is ridiculous, because even without the restraining order, he couldn’t afford the airfare, let alone stand the hours of flying to get here.”

  Jonathan cuddled Julia, stroked her, kissed the top of her head. “You’re full of nervous energy. Come on, let me give you a little sugar.”

  She held him tight, breathing him in and remembering how he made love to her before they left the hotel that morning. “Err, sugar is good, but not on the street, even in Paris.” Julia giggled.

  “Just think Julia,” he said, grabbing her hand and continuing onto their destination, “after our deal ends you could start a new life anywhere in this huge World of ours. Somewhere far away from Mike, where you’ll never have to worry about him showing up again.”

  Julia’s face burned, she felt sick a kind of shock held her in its icy grip, stifled her breathing, pushed blood to her extremities and away from her heart.

  Jonathan, oblivious to her emotional pain, simply continued to walk with her at his side.

  Until she stopped walking, and he looked at her cluelessly, offering his hand. She so wanted to take it and not care about the implications of what he’d just said, but she couldn’t. And she knew her insecurity over the damned contract was why she’d flipped out over him bringing other women to Paris.

  No matter how much she wanted to ignore it, she had to face up to the basted contract, and the possibility that her husband would move on without her as easily as he had hired her for the job of fake wife.

  How can I bear his loss? Not all the money in the world could make up for that, not even freedom from fear.

  Julia’s heart raced and she thought she might have a panic attack. She hadn’t been this afraid facing up to Mike, something only the love of Jonathan had enabled her to achieve. He was wrong, she wasn’t brave at all, her heart would beak and there was nothing she could do about it, which terrified her.

  “You’re panting, can you breathe?” Jonathan cradled her face concern furrowed his brow. She stared at him blankly, gasping for air, and for words to express her terror, but none came. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

  Julia had to get away from him, to calm down and gather her thoughts. Had he duped her with all those ‘I love you’s’? Had he just been having fun, perhaps for authenticity? No one who had seen them together lately would dispute their love. Proof—that’s what he wanted, after all. He’d been honest about that. Was he just a great actor?

  Oh Christ, has he been lying to me all along?

  Julia left him, and she ran fast through streets, where lovers kissed and held hands, where they gazed over coffees into each other’s eyes, through the city her fake husband chose to spend their fake honeymoon, all the way back to their hotel. She didn’t know what she planned to do from there, but she needed to gather thoughts, piece together her emotions, and finally take a deep cleansing breath.

  She hadn’t been there more than a few minutes when Jonathan burst through the doors. “What in God’s name Julia? Did you see Mike, are you okay?” What’s…?”

  Julia ignored him, moved into the bathroom and locked herself in, “I can’t even look at you right now, Jonathan.” Because the wave of love it would invoke would make me sick. “Please leave me alone. Could you book me a flight home or if we must continue with this farce then at least do me the honour of booking another room.”

  “Farce? Another room?” Jonathan wiggled the door handle, “Let me in, this is stupid.”

  “No, I’m stupid. I believed you like an idiot. I need a brain scan. Something is wrong up there.” She scoffed, slumped to the floor, leant against the door and banged her head against it. Lowering her head between her legs, she watched as her tears dripped to the floor from the tip of her nose.

  An exasperated Jonathan slumped o
n the other side of the door, “What is so wrong about believing me? What did I do?”

  “Oh, please stop torturing me.” She blew her nose, exhaling all hope of their happy ever after. Why make this worse for me by picking it apart? “I know where I stand now. I just wish I’d known before. I should have done; I’m a fool. Just let me alone, please.”

  “Stop it with the riddles.” There was silence for a few minutes where Julia continued to sob, then “Wait, is this about what I said back there, about after the contract ends?”

  “Finally.” It matters so little that it took this long to figure it out? “What else would it be?”

  “Oh Julia, I only said that … I just thought you’d want to follow through on the contract. You know, finally reclaim the freedom Mike stole from you. See the world, study, live. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Oh damn you, Jon. You said you loved me. You made me believe you’d cancelled that bloody contract, or at least removed the bit where I get relegated to the ‘no longer of any use’ pile. To think I actually believed you were with me because you wanted to be, not for a damned Visa.”

  “What? Oh, this is maddening. Come out here, I’m not talking about all this, about how I do or do not feel about you, while I can’t see your face, and you’re sat on a toilet floor.”

  Julia tried to breathe between sobs, stood and looked at her swollen face, puffy eyes and reddened nose in the mirror. “Oh shit, look at that!” She blew her nose again, splashed her face with cold water and patted it dry. Fuck it. “Okay, I’m coming out.”

  Oh god, this is it.

  When she opened the door, Jonathan was on bended knee looking up at her. He took hold of her wedding ring, leaving it on her finger, and asked, “Julia, my wife, will you marry me?”

  At first, she gaped, unattractively so she imagined, “I … What?”

  Jonathan stood, put his hand on the back of her neck to pull her in position, and kissed her gently on the mouth. “I wish you saw yourself as I do, as anyone with half a brain and good sight does.”

  “What are you talking about?” Is he, does he?