Mr. Black's Proposal (Part One: A Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Aubrey Dark

  Fortunately, Lacey’s family was as nice as any Midwestern family could possibly have been, and by the time I was separated from the celebration, I felt almost like we were part of their blood line. Steph chatted amiably with Lacey’s mom about the bakery, and I had some laughs with her two brothers, Tim and Connor.

  Lacey came over to me once I was alone. I clinked my champagne glass against hers.

  “Steph told me you were afraid of heights,” I said teasingly. “If I’d had known, I would have told Jake to propose elsewhere.”

  “Oh, I think he likes torturing me,” Lacey said with a snort of laughter. “How is Steph?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said.

  “No?” She looked genuinely surprised.

  “Why would you think I knew anything about her?” I asked.

  Lacey shrugged.

  “Oh, no reason. I think she likes you,” she said in a low voice.

  “Really? I think she wants to push me over the edge of the Eiffel Tower.”

  “She hasn’t tried to do that once this evening.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And so, if she really wanted to, she would have,” Lacey said, a serious expression on her face. “Just the fact that she hasn’t pushed you over the edge says something.”

  “We’ll see if she succumbs to my charms later,” I said, sipping my champagne. “But it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt her, would you?”

  Lacey’s face was still serious, and I frowned.

  “Hurt her? Hey, I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “I don’t mean like that. I mean, are you going to use her for one night and then forget about her?”

  “Ah, I see,” I said. “No. That—uh, that wasn’t my plan.”

  “Because if you are, then be honest with her. I don’t know how Steph feels about that kind of thing. I mean, she’s had one night stands before. But it’s different with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re Jake’s friend. And she’s my friend. Things could get awkward.”

  “Alright,” I said mildly.

  “Seriously, then. Do you like her?”

  I almost laughed aloud at how blunt both of these friends could be.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like her as more than just a one-night thing?”

  “Yes. I don’t know. Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  I wasn’t expecting to answer to an inquisition about my feelings for Steph, but Lacey was relentless.

  “How can I say I want more than a one night stand? I don’t know what she’s like.”

  “What do you mean, what she’s like?”

  “If she wants me to put pickles up her butt while I pinch her nipples, that might be a bit weird, that’s all,” I said.

  Lacey burst out laughing.

  “Pickles?”

  “Or something equally weird. I don’t know. I’m just saying, there are a lot of reasons why we might not be compatible. Pickles being one of them.”

  All the while, I was wondering if Steph would like me as more than a one-night stand. She responded to me every time I touched her, responded to my orders. By all accounts, she would be a perfect submissive. If not for the fact that whenever I tried to go any farther with her, she pulled away.

  Lacey eyed me.

  “I think you two would go well together.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re both ridiculous and funny. And you’re both very independent.”

  “That’s what makes for a good partnership, is independence.” I swallowed another gulp of champagne.

  “You know what I mean. She isn’t going to be like your other girls. She won’t roll over when you snap your fingers.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “I think so.”

  I looked up at Steph. She was dancing with one of Lacey’s older brothers. I felt at once acutely jealous and acutely silly at feeling jealous.

  “Well, I’m happy that you and Jake found each other,” I said, feeling a bitter pain in my heart. I could figure out how to win any girl. Actresses, models. But I hadn’t figured out Steph.

  Yet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Steph

  Lacey and Jake looked so beautiful together. I was near tears with joy as we headed down the Eiffel Tower. “Congrats again, you two,” I said.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” Lucas said.

  “It might come for you someday soon, just wait and see,” Jake said, a grin on his face.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lucas said.

  I clamped my lips shut. Of course, Lucas would have to try to ruin such a romantic occasion with his snark. As though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure already about what a confirmed bachelor he was.

  “What’s up between you two?” Lacey asked, once the boys had moved away.

  “Between who?” I asked.

  “You and Lucas.”

  I was glad that I had already finished my wine, because my throat seized up in surprise. I coughed once, then twice, swallowing my shock at her question.

  “Nothing! There’s nothing between us. Why would there be anything?”

  “I don’t know.” Lacey cocked her head, squinting her eyes. “I thought, the way you were looking at each other…”

  I raised my hands in protest.

  “I wasn’t looking at him at all, okay? I don’t know what he’s looking at, but—”

  “Alright, alright!” Lacey laughed. “I thought I noticed a little something between you two, that’s all.”

  I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. I wanted to tell Lacey all about what Lucas had been trying to do to me. I wanted to tell her about his audacious flirting, about the kiss that had made me ache all over with desire, about the other girls I’d seen him with. But tonight was not the time for details. Instead, I leaned close and whispered to her softly.

  “Yes, you’re right. There’s more.”

  “What? Steph!”

  “I’ll tell you later, okay? It’s seriously weird,” I held up my hand to stem the inevitable tide of questions. I could already see her face animated with excitement. There was nothing to be excited about, not really. I’d ask for her advice on dealing with it later. “But right now, you should enjoy your proposal and Paris and… and not even think about me!”

  I could see the questions forming on her lips, but Jake pulled her away to dance as the Eiffel Tower lit up over our heads. I turned to find Lacey’s mom, but she was off with her husband already. I heard a throat clear behind me.

  “Care to dance?”

  Lucas held out a hand to me. I looked at it like it was a viper’s tail.

  Then he smiled, and the same emotion that had taken me before swept through my body. Lucas wasn’t serious, sure, but that was okay. After all, I wasn’t after anything serious with him.

  I took his hand cautiously, and he swept me into a waltz. I was too close to him to look down at my feet, but fortunately I didn’t feel myself stepping on any shoes. His hand was warm and strong on mine, and his other palm rested on my lower back, guiding me expertly to the music.

  He didn’t speak, and neither did I. After tonight, I didn’t want to fight against him anymore. Maybe he thought the same thing.

  The world spun around us, and in the cool evening air I chanced a glance up at Lucas’s face. He had a serious look on him, his mouth turned down slightly. Despite myself, I felt a sudden urge to pull his head down into a kiss. To taste his lips again, to feel his hot breath on mine— He looked down, and I turned my face away. The music had slowed, and I let my cheek rest against his broad chest as we swayed silently under the Eiffel Tower, that steel-girded structure which looked so delicate, almost like it was floating in the air above us.

  Lucas brought me back to the hotel. Already, my mind was thinking ahead to the chores that wou
ld be waiting for me when I got home to New York City. Tonight had been magical, there was no doubt of that, but it was time to get back to the real world.

  “Goodnight, Lucas,” I said, turning into the hotel room before I had a chance to feel disappointed.

  “Wait, Steph,” he said.

  He stepped quickly into the hotel room, closing the door behind him. With one stride he was there in front of me. There was no warning before his mouth came down onto mine again. Again I felt the burst of desire, a strangling need in my core that made me whimper with pleasure as he took my lips between his teeth in a soft nibble. I melted under his touch.

  I wasn’t proud. I should have shoved him away. I should have kicked him in the crotch. I should have—but his lips on mine tore all sense from my brain.

  “What… what are you—”

  “I want you.”

  His throat rumbled with the words, and his hands were around my waist, pulling my hips against him. I was wet already, soaking through my panties under the cream silk gown. I gasped breaths, trying to regain intelligent thought, but my mind couldn’t piece together a sentence of protest. His hands—his lips—his chest in front of me, blocking out anything else. The hotel room seemed far away, and he was here, right here, his fingers so strong, pressing against my skin through the fabric.

  I stammered out his name, not sure if I wanted to stop him or make him keep going.

  “Lucas—”

  “One night,” he said breathlessly. His lips were only a few inches from mine. “Kick me out afterward if you want to. Just give me tonight.”

  He kissed me again, and I was helpless. The passion he tore from my lips was something more than me. It was an animal impulse that made me lean into his kiss, deepening it.

  Then his words swirled around my mind, until I caught them. Tonight. Just give me tonight.

  I saw him coming into my bakery, the first time we’d met. I pushed back on his chest, gasping for breath.

  “Lucas, stop.”

  “Why?”

  His face shone with sincerity, but I knew it couldn’t be real. He wasn’t real. I shook my head so softly I didn’t think he would see it.

  “I don’t want to be another one of your girls,” I choked out.

  Lucas paused, looking at me in shock.

  “You’re not,” he said finally. “You’re nothing like them.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “There’s no way in hell you could ever be like them. I knew the moment I saw you. There’s something stronger inside of you. That passion.”

  That word again. I swallowed hard as he put his hand up around my neck. Oh, God, his long strong fingers curling around the back of my head, pulling me close…

  “I need you, Stephanie. I can’t get you out of my system. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  He kissed me on the side of the neck. Thoughts of protest drifted in and out. Was he real? Was this real?

  “This… this isn’t professional,” I stammered.

  “No,” he agreed. “Nothing professional. No business. Just you and me.”

  He kissed me hard, then, brooking no argument. All the breath went out of me as he kissed me again and again. His hand slid down between my thighs and I squealed. He quashed my cry with another kiss, and the heat that pulsed out from my core made me shudder.

  My back was to the wall, and as he leaned forward, his hand pressed hard. His fingers slid over my dress, over my already-soaked panties, sending flames of desire burning through my nerves.

  “Lucas—” I gasped.

  “If you want to be professional, you can call me Mr. Black,” he whispered, teasing. His breath was hot against the skin of my neck.

  “Mr. Black,” I whispered, teasing him back. I had scarcely gotten the words out when he lifted his hand away from me. The pulsing urge inside of me leapt up in a new, ferocious need. I was hollow without him pressing against me, and I moaned, arching to his hand.

  “Say please,” he whispered.

  “Please,” I moaned.

  “Please, Mr. Black.”

  “Please, oh Jesus, please, Mr. Black.”

  I hated it, hated that he had such power over me. At this point, I would do anything he said, say anything he wanted me to. Me, who never wanted to need anyone. Me, the independent one. I was begging for his touch, I was as needy as I’d ever been.

  But I loved it, too, loved the way he smiled at me when I called him Mr. Black. I loved the way he gently pressed his lips to mine, teasing out all of the honeyed sweetness of the kiss. I loved the way his fingers danced between my thighs, teasing, stroking, building the ache inside of me until it was a crescendo of desire that tortured me.

  I groaned as he lifted his lips away from me. If I didn’t know him better, I would swear that the look on his face was love. Desire, love—how could you tell the difference?

  “Pull up your gown,” he said.

  I bit my lip between my teeth. I reached down and took the silk in my hands, pulling the skirt up to reveal my legs. He touched me with one hand, sliding his fingers across my upper thigh.

  “Higher.”

  The word was a command, and I responded instinctively.

  “Yes, Mr. Black.”

  He smiled. It gave me a shock of pleasure to make him smile, I realized. How had I fallen so quickly under his spell?

  Any doubts I had disappeared as soon as he knelt. A gasp escaped my lips as he lifted me up and forced my legs apart. His mouth came down on my panties and I saw white.

  Pleasure, nothing but pleasure. His tongue pressed through the fabric in slow circles against my most sensitive area and the pleasure exploded through my nerves. My head hit the back of the wall as he kissed me there.

  “Mmm,” he moaned. The vibrations from his mouth went through me, pressed into my swollen flesh and turned me molten.

  My fingers threaded through his hair. Golden hair. Golden between my thighs. Was this really happening? It couldn’t be. It couldn’t— “Oh!”

  His fingers slid under my panties and thrust into my slick folds. My fingers clutched his hair, gripping hard. My body, too, clenched around his fingers as he eased them in and out, moving slowly, deliberately.

  He had to know what he was doing. As he worked his fingers in and out of me, his tongue teased me through the silk fabric of my panties. I cried out as he pushed inward, sending me to the edge again and again but never letting me fall off.

  I was going to collapse. My legs couldn’t hold me up for this long, not when every muscle in my body was shivering with want. My hands pushed against his shoulders to hold myself up.

  Then his fingers were gone. I gasped in painful need as he withdrew completely. He stood up in front of me, one hand still pinning my hip to the wall. He raised his other hand to my mouth, his fingers wet with my juices.

  “Taste yourself,” he said.

  I could have cried with need, but I did what he asked. My lips parted and I tasted my own saltiness on his fingertips. I closed my eyes and moaned as I sucked all of the slickness from his fingers. My tongue licked at the pads of his fingers. I wanted him so badly, wanted every part of him.

  A sharp intake of breath made me open my eyes. Lucas was staring at me like I was an alien creature, someone different than he was expecting. His thumb grazed my chin as he lowered his hand.

  “Yes?” I asked throatily.

  “Stephanie…”

  “Mr. Black?”

  His eyes narrowed and he glanced over into the hotel room.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  His hand gripped my shoulder, his thumb pressing into my collarbone as he guided me forward. The bed in the middle of the room was canopied, dark silk drapes hanging down the bedposts.

  “Perfect,” he said. He sat down on the end of the bed, loosening his tie. I went to sit next to him, but he motioned me to stand instead.

  “Right here,” he said. “Take off your dress, Stephanie.”

  I gulped. I had a
lready gone too far. Was this stoppable anymore? But I didn’t want to stop it. No, I wanted him so badly, wanted him inside of me. I would do anything he wanted, anything at all, to that end. The only saving grace for me was the thought that this was one night.

  One night, and it would all be over.

  “Stephanie?”

  “Yes, Mr. Black,” I said automatically.

  “Take off your dress.”

  I unzipped my dress at the side and let the cream and gold fabric slip down over my hips. The dress pooled at my feet and I stepped out of it. I stood in front of him, feeling utterly vulnerable. The skimpy black lingerie was the only thing covering me.

  His gaze was like fire on my skin. Wherever he looked, I could feel it, as though his eyes were actually touching my shoulders, my breasts, my hips. A searing touch.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he said. The words made my throat close up. I stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.

  He seemed utterly unconcerned with my nervousness. He tugged at his tie and let it fall to the floor next to him.

  “Come here,” he said. “Put your hands on the edge of the bed.”

  I nodded and came forward, leaning against the bed. My breasts spilled forward in my bra, and my hair fell forward too, over my face.

  Lucas ran his hand through my hair as I bent forward, but his eyes were down, following the curves of my body. His hand moved to follow his eyes, caressing first my shoulders, then my back.

  He stood up suddenly. I stood too.

  “No,” he said sternly. “Hands on the bed.”

  I leaned forward again, the blood rushing to my head. He was right behind me, now, his hands molded to my hips, my ass. I felt the brush of his pantlegs as he stood between my legs. Then the touch of his hard cock through his pants, pressing against my asscheek. I gulped, the ache inside of me rising at the thought of his cock thrusting into me from behind.

  The sound of a zipper made my arms tremble with anticipation. His hand tugged his cock from his pants. I could feel it now against my thigh, the tip of his cock so smooth and tight against my own skin.