The Billionaire From Philly

by Lena Skye

  “Do you want more?” Victor’s lips dragged along her jaw, down to her throat.

  “Fuck—yes, I want more,” Danielle told him. Victor chuckled lowly.

  “Tell me exactly what you want,” he said. His hands began to drift up to her breasts and Danielle’s breath caught in her throat in anticipation—but instead of actually touching her, he stopped just short. “Come on, Danielle,” Victor murmured.

  “I want you naked,” Danielle told him. “And I want you to touch me.”

  “Where?” Victor asked playfully.

  “I think you know good and damned well where,” Danielle countered firmly. Victor chuckled and pulled back, rising to his feet—if a little unsteadily—and started to unbutton his jacket. Danielle watched, transfixed, as the billionaire stripped down, and almost belatedly began to remove her own clothes, fumbling with the zipper at the back of her dress for a moment and then slithering out of it.

  Victor unbuttoned his dress shirt and Danielle almost purred to herself as she saw his broad, muscular chest, pale and dusted with dark blonde hair, revealed. Then the dart of hair shooting down from just below his navel, past the waistband of his pants.

  Danielle unhooked her bra and saw Victor’s attention go straight to her as she lifted the straps down from her shoulders, letting them slide along her arms as she gently tugged the cups away from her breasts. She smiled, feeling the heat in her cheeks as she blushed, aware of Victor staring at her.

  “You are entirely too gorgeous,” he told her, stirring himself enough to finish unzipping his fly before pushing his pants down over his hips. He let the material fall to the floor and stepped out of it easily, standing before her in tight-fitting jockey shorts.

  Instead of continuing to strip down, they seemed to move together like a magnet and a piece of iron, reaching for each other’s bodies eagerly, and Danielle pressed up against Victor, loving the heat of his skin, the softness of him wrapped around the firm, not-quite unyielding strength of his body.

  Victor’s hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples into firm little nubs in a matter of a few heartbeats. She met his lips as he moved in to kiss her, reaching down to find the ridge of his erection at the front of his jockey shorts, and began rubbing him there. She moaned against his lips as she felt the thickness of him, the length of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.

  Then, somehow, she found that Victor was leading her out of the living room, towards a door that she assumed went to a bedroom. Victor’s hands moved over her body, drifting away from her breasts down to her hips, then up again; bypassing her breasts to cup her face, and then moving over her again. Danielle felt every nerve in her body tingling as she became more and more turned on by the moment, the slick heat between her labia spreading and deepening even as her inner muscles tightened in little spasms.

  Victor opened the door he’d been leading her towards and Danielle saw—in a quick glance—that it did, in fact, lead into a bedroom. But she didn’t have enough time to get more than a brief impression of a huge bed, stately furniture, and the thick rug under her feet.

  The next moment, it seemed—even before she could fully realize what he was doing—Victor picked her up and carried her the few steps to the bed, not quite letting her fall onto the firm-yet-yielding surface. The light seemed to come up in the bedroom almost by magic, letting Danielle see the effect of her hands against Victor’s pale-yet-flushed skin, dark against light. She marveled at it for a moment: her light sepia fingers playing against the pinkish cream of Victor’s chest, and the wheat-blonde of his hair there.

  “You want me to touch you?” Victor’s voice had dropped down to almost a growl, and Danielle grinned up at him.

  “Everywhere,” she told him.

  Chapter4

  Victor looked down at the beautiful woman on his bed: the delicious brown and golden tones of her skin, her full, heavy breasts tipped with dark nipples that still stood pert and firm, seeming to beg for more attention and the pink lace of her panties, damp at the front from how turned on she was. He wanted to devour every inch of her, to taste her and feel her wrapped around his aching, throbbing cock. Danielle looked up at him, her full lips moist, her eyes darkening with desire, and Victor couldn’t wait any longer.

  He kissed her lightly on the lips and then made his way downward, lingering at her breasts. He claimed first one and then the other of her nipples, sucking and licking the hardened nubs, swirling the tip of his tongue around them. While he occupied himself there, his hands moved downward, finding the waistband of Danielle’s panties and tugging the flimsy fabric down over her full hips, along her legs, until he felt her take over, kicking the panties the rest of the way down and away from her.

  He breathed in the smell of her skin: sweat, a faint sweetness beneath it, and the sharp scent of her arousal as he moved away from her breasts and down along her not-quite-flat abdomen, towards her hips. He nuzzled against the spot where her hip and thigh met, breathing in the sharp-sweet smell of Danielle’s arousal, mingled with the warm, almost honey-like smell of her skin.

  Victor gently pushed Danielle’s legs apart and slipped down between her thighs, looking up at her with a faint grin. She’d waxed her pussy almost completely bare, leaving a little heart-shaped patch of dark hair just above her labia; Victor smiled to himself, pleased, at the sight of her slick, wet folds.

  He buried his face against her, carefully spreading her labia, and began to lick and suck, tasting and teasing Danielle with his lips and tongue. She tasted just as he’d thought she would: tangy, slightly sharp, with musk underneath that made him want to devour her all the more eagerly.

  Victor worked Danielle with lips and tongue, worshipping her, listening carefully for the noises that left her throat just as much as he paid attention to the way her body tensed around and underneath him in reaction. His cock throbbed in his shorts, aching from how hard it was—but making sure that Danielle finished was important, too.

  Victor glanced up at Danielle’s face, watching her as he brought the tip of his tongue to swirl around her swollen clit. He smiled slightly to himself and began to draw the alphabet against the little bead of nerves, paying attention to which letters got the best reactions.

  He teased her for as long as he dared, finding the things she seemed to like and focusing on them, feeling the tension building up in her and pulling back just when he thought she was right on the edge; Danielle moaned and writhed, her hands grabbing at his hair, his shoulders, the blanket underneath her. Her hips bucked and twisted, trying to get back contact that he teasingly denied her before giving it back, bringing her right up to the edge once again.

  Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore; the ache in his balls was just too intense. Victor pulled back, licking his lips clean of Danielle’s fluids, and slithered up along her body, pressing messy kisses to her abdomen, her breasts, her lips. “You want more?” He looked down into her dark eyes and Danielle nodded eagerly, her breaths coming short and quick.

  “I think you know goddamn well I want more,” she said. Victor chuckled and pushed himself up onto his knees, reaching down and easing his boxer briefs down. He saw Danielle’s gaze move straight to his hips as his cock sprung free, fully erect and hard as a rock; he could almost feel his pulse down even through his balls, it seemed—he was that turned on.

  “Let me get a condom,” he said, belatedly realizing he would need one. Danielle watched him intently, almost distrustfully, as Victor leaned over and opened the drawer in his bedside table. It took him just a moment, but he found the strip of condoms he had there; he checked to make sure the one he pulled from the strip was still good, and carefully opened the packet.

  Danielle sat up, giving him an arch look, and Victor, reading into her expression, handed her the slippery latex. She carefully—carefully—placed it against the tip of his cock and rolled the material down, stroking him in the process, and Victor groaned in pleasure, closing his eyes. At some point—later, he thou
ght—they would have to fool around more; she was entirely too good at touching him. But for the moment all he could think about was how much he wanted to be inside of Danielle, how much he wanted to feel her wrapped around him.

  He gently pushed her onto her back once more and covered her body with his own, shifting down between her hips. Victor reached down and guided the tip of his cock up against Danielle’s slippery, hot folds, and then thrust into her, inch by inch. “Oh—oh, fuck,” Danielle said, her voice a moan as he filled her up.

  Victor groaned in agreement with that sentiment; she was so hot, tight around him, her body flexing as if it wasn’t sure it wanted to keep him out or pull him deeper in, until he had penetrated almost halfway—and then it was very much like her body was pulling him in. He thrust into Danielle fully and stayed still for just a moment, savoring how she felt, the little spasms of her muscles around his cock.

  Then he began to move, trying to find the rhythm that Danielle would respond to—and within moments they’d found it together, Danielle pushing her hips down, twisting them away from him in response to his movements, in perfect counterpoint. Victor kissed Danielle’s lips, her neck, down to her breasts and back up to her mouth again, holding himself up on one arm while he reached the other hand down between their bodies to stroke her clit slowly as they moved together in a tidal rhythm.

  They started slow, but the friction built up between them, and Victor felt the tension down in between his hips—down along his groin, even—as they began to speed up at the same time, getting more and more turned on by the moment. He began rubbing Danielle’s clitoris more firmly as he thrust into her harder and faster, and Danielle wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her hips down to take him deeper, moaning in pleasure as he worked her with his fingers at the same time.

  Victor felt the telltale signs as Danielle came closer and closer to orgasm: the way her muscles wrapped around him tightened in little spasms, the tension in her body growing more and more intense as he moved even a little harder and faster inside of her. He felt a jolt of a spasm work through her body when the tip of his cock brushed up against her pleasure center.

  Healmost chuckled to himself, rubbing her clit with his fingers as he thrust a little shallowly, and then up against her inner pleasure center once more. Before long, though, he wasn’t able to hold back anymore—he let himself go, pounding into her mindlessly, touching her and kissing her all the while.

  Danielle cried out in pleasure, and Victor barely kept control over his own impending orgasm as he felt Danielle’s body ripple with hers, muscles tensing all around him and her moans coming louder and deeper, as if the pleasure working through her pushed them from somewhere deep down in her chest.

  He held on for a few minutes, thrusting hard and fast, rubbing her, and then the tension deep down in his balls, and deeper—in between his hips—gave way with a sensation like a jolting snap, his own climax finally cresting. He kept moving for as long as he could, coming right along with Danielle, until the last of the spasms worked through him, leaving him spent.

  Victor sagged against Danielle, panting and gasping for breath, still feeling the electric jolts of the aftershocks of his climax. It had been ages since he’d come that intensely—whether on his own or with a partner—and Victor thought about an idea that he’d begun entertaining sometime after he’d mentioned to Danielle that he wanted to hire someone to be in charge of his charitable endeavors.

  Save it for later, he thought—he was too pleased, too wrapped up in the warm afterglow of his climax, to even consider thinking. There would, he thought, be plenty of time for thinking later. For the moment he just wanted to recover, get rid of the used condom, clean up a bit...and maybe propose round two for them both in the shower.

  Chapter5

  For the first few moments after Danielle woke up, she felt almost panicked: first was the fact that she wasn’t in her own bed—but then she remembered, easily, that she’d gone home with Victor after the raid in the club and after the drinks and conversation they’d had.

  Then, fast on the heels of that confusion, she thought with dread that she’d overslept her alarm, that she’d be late for work—but then remembered that it was the weekend; she had only gone out with Sam the night before because she didn’t have anywhere to be the next day, apart from a visit to the salon that afternoon.

  That thought prompted the memory that Sam had only barely slipped through the police raid the night before; while he hadn’t gotten arrested in the midst of whatever it was he was doing, that didn’t mean he was completely safe either. Danielle twisted around in the bed next to Victor to make sure that he was still asleep—he was—and then carefully slipped out from under the covers, intent on finding her phone to check in.

  She remembered belatedly that she’d lost everything but her panties before even entering the lush bedroom and shrugged off any shame she might have felt about walking out of the room naked.

  Danielle found her purse, and then her phone; it had less than half a charge, so she told herself not to check her emails or go on Facebook—just check in with her brother and leave it at that until she could either charge the device or go home. Hey—let me know you got home okay, bro.

  “You’re not leaving yet, are you?” Danielle looked up at the sound of Victor’s voice and saw him, standing naked at the entrance into the living room. He didn’t sound accusatory; mostly curious.

  “No, I was just checking in with my brother,” Danielle replied. She put her phone back in her purse and realized the image she was showing to the billionaire: seated naked on his couch, her legs crossed at the ankles out of force of habit instilled in her by her grandmother, demure and shameless all at the same time.

  “I was hoping to chat with you a bit,” Victor said. “Feel like staying for breakfast?” Danielle thought about it; she normally—in the few times she hooked up with anyone—tried to leave as unobtrusively as possible, preferably before her partner woke up. That ship had clearly sailed, and she had to admit that the sex the night before had been far better than any other sex she’d had in her life. Maybe he wants round two; can you blame him? And admit it, girl: you wouldn’t turn down seconds.

  “I could eat,” Danielle said with a smile.

  “I don’t cook much, but I can make the hell out of some breakfast,” Victor told her. “Scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and coffee—sound good?” Danielle nodded, finding that as he mentioned the menu she actually felt hungry.

  “I definitely need some coffee to start,” she told him, and rose to her feet.

  “Let me get you a robe,” Victor suggested. “And I’ll put something on too—not a good idea to cook naked.” She followed him back into the bedroom and Victor opened a door that apparently went to a closet about half the size of her bedroom itself, reaching in to grab two of the robes hanging just inside the door; the one he handed her was soft, jersey material with blue and yellow roses on it.

  “Did this belong to an ex or something?” Danielle wasn’t entirely sure she was fond of the idea of wearing castoffs, even temporarily.

  “I keep a few robes on hand in case I have someone visiting,” Victor said. “Friends, family, whatever—usually I’ll put the robe in the guest room, but you’re not in the guest room, are you?” Danielle had to smile at that and began to relax once more.

  They went back out into the living room, and Danielle settled into watching Victor cook breakfast. She was surprised to find that he actually seemed to know what he was doing; he moved around the kitchen comfortably, and had her coffee made just as quickly as he had the night before, bringing it to her already doctored the way she liked it. “I am kind of surprised at how good you are at this, I have to admit,” Danielle said, watching him scramble the eggs while the bacon cooked in the oven.

  “I wasn’t always a billionaire,” Victor pointed out. “I was actually broke in college.”

  “That explains it then,” Danielle said, nodding.

  “There’s act
ually something I want to discuss with you over breakfast,” Victor said. “Do you want orange juice, too?”

  “That would be awesome,” Danielle replied. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Let me just finish up serving everything and we can talk,” Victor said. Danielle waited, curious and almost a little impatient, but made herself continue to wait even after Victor brought her plate to her, taking a bite or two of the food he’d prepared; the scrambled eggs were as good as any she’d ever gotten from a restaurant, and the bacon was crispy, just how she liked it.

  “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Victor nodded and finished a strip of his own bacon. “I had a thought,” he said. “You deserve a better job than you have—better pay, if nothing else—and I’m in need of a personal assistant to help me with my charity endeavors.”

  Danielle raised an eyebrow at that. “Just for the charity endeavors?”

  Victor shrugged.

  “I have an executive assistant for the business stuff, and I have people who help with getting my dry cleaning, and all that bullshit,” he pointed out. “But I feel like to really make things happen the way I want with the charitable giving, I need someone who can just work on that.” Danielle thought about that for a moment. You have so much money that you can hire someone specifically for the purposes of spending your money.

  It was unreal to her; she couldn’t even imagine ever in her life making enough money even to support a full-time maid, much less to have a team of assistants to manage all the parts of her day that she didn’t enjoy taking care of along with someone whose sole job was finding ways to spend money.

  “Are you saying you’d want me for that?” That was what she thought Victor was implying—but she didn’t want to be wrong.