Possess Me: A Billionaire Romance (Intensity Book 1)

by TN King

  He needed to take care of it, he knew, so he could act right around her. He didn’t know how else to make that work. He hesitated, laughing at himself for how much more often since meeting Ellie he had needed to do this. Or at least he would have laughed if he weren’t so worked up, near gasping when his fingers finally fit to wrap around his cock. He shifted his fingers, squeezing and rolling against the hot skin as he began to stroke himself. All he could picture was Ellie, on her knees with his cock in her mouth, tongue flicking against the head of him just like it had that first time. All he could imagine was Ellie’s mouth seizing around him as she came in time with him.

  His strokes sped up, hand hardening against himself as he remembered it. It was the hottest blow job he’d ever had, in all of his life. And by a little slip of a girl with no experience no less. He remembered her sweet mouth and how she’d so readily swallowed him clean. Just sucked him down, like his cock was something she’d been yearning to have. His hand moved faster then, strokes harder and harder as he braced his hand against the shower wall to steady himself. He could feel himself, lust seizing his abdomen, building and peaking closer and closer to that release he knew that he needed. He could see her then, ass cheeks spread above him and his hard cock disappearing inside of her hot, wet pussy. “Ellie…” he grunted loudly, coming all over the shower wall with a hard series of pants he couldn’t control.

  Morgan blew out a heavy breath, forehead falling against his forearm as the warm water beat over him, washing away his tension and ejaculation slowly. Dammit. Here he was again, jacking off because he’d messed up by leaving her that morning. He could have her, right now… He’d assumed after he’d had her that he’d be done with her. He’d assumed that she was just any other woman. He’d assumed wrong. Ellie could have been right here in this very shower with him, with him fucking her up against the tile wall instead of using his own hand… but he’d made a huge mistake, and now he was paying for it.

  He would have that and more though. Eventually. He just had to make up for his mistake and come through on his promise to make her his.

  He never lost a deal though. Never. And he wouldn’t lose this one.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ellie

  A voice woke her, rattling through her subconscious clearly. She had been sleeping, one of the few dreamless sleeps that she had been afforded recently. Her body resisted, trying to pull her back under and into it, every molecule hesitating joining the world of the living. She’d been so relaxed when she finally fell into bed ‒ all of her muscles softened from the long, warm bath she had taken. Her fingers were wrinkled severely, and she loved it. All she knew was that she wanted to stay in that same, safe slumber. She laid very still, her consciousness still slowly returning with the voice calling her name again. Who is that? She grumbled, her relaxed state slowly lifting further.

  “Miss White?” the voice called again, unfamiliar and close.

  There it was again, her body shifting on top of the pillowtop mattress that had been provided for her. No one called her Miss White, not ever. At the diner, it was sweetie, sugar, darling, or Ellie. Never Miss White. With Morgan it was Ellie White, sweetness, or love. She couldn’t hesitate anymore. It was a woman at least, her brain was just foggy as to why any woman would be in her suite.

  She sighed, slowly blinking her eyes into the bright sunlight that filtered in through the now open shutters. She could swear that she had shut them before she went to sleep, but judging by the bustling figure just out of her vision, she doubted that she had hesitated opening them.

  The form appeared suddenly, a tall woman standing over her with a bright smile. Her silver hair was immaculate, swept up into a loose, professional bun on the top of her head. She might have been older but she was elegant. The kind you expected to see in a tiara or a magazine. “Coffee?” she asked genially, pushing a tray up to the side of the bed warmly.

  The smell of the beans in question assaulted Ellie’s nose instantly.

  The woman didn’t even wait for a response, bustling gracefully backwards and awaiting the response she had asked for.

  Ellie still didn’t feel awake enough, her brain struggling to catch up. She shook her head, trying to awaken further as she sat up, blinking confusedly at the mystery woman. “W-what? Are you room service or something?” She wasn’t used to waking up to strange people in her hotel rooms, but then again she wasn’t used to the kind of first class service that was provided here.

  The woman laughed, a warm, tinkling musical sound. Her brown eyes sparkled just as warmly, watching Ellie carefully. “No, my dear. I am Miss Petra.” she stated, shifting the objects on the tray she’d brought over.

  Ellie rubbed her eyes to try and dislodge the sleep from them. “I’m sorry,” she responded slowly, fighting the haze she was still operating under. “I’m just…?” She trailed off. Lost? Tired? Out of it? Almost all of those would fit, but none of them were what she was quite searching for. Maybe if some combination of the three existed.

  “Lovely!” the woman supplied, clapping her hands under her chin and looking at Ellie as if she’d just discovered her new favorite thing.

  Ellie was even more confused now than she had been before, her body shifting as she blinked her eyes. “Sorry. What?” she finally asked, sure that she must have misheard the woman. Miss Petra. Who wasn’t room service, and who still hadn’t identified why she was in Ellie’s room in the first place.

  The woman stepped forward, her hands expertly lifting the silver coffee pot off of the tray and pouring a large, steaming cup without explanation. “You are simply lovely,” she said instead, nearly bubbling at Ellie. “I can now see why Mr. Hunt recommended little or no makeup. I did worry about that, such directive is usually biased you know. Or simply some sort of misguided preference. Why! Putting any extra on you would ruin your entire complexion!” she trilled, fingers lifting to just barely glance off of Ellie’s cheeks. “Cream, sugar?” she asked abruptly without pause.

  Just that fast it caught up to Ellie who this woman must be. Morgan had warned her and everything, that bath she had taken just apparently had magical properties. Ellie blinked largely at the woman as she grasped it, both flattered and still confused. Cream, sugar? Oh! She must have meant in her coffee. “Oh yes,” she finally got out, catching the raised brows and realizing she would have to be more specific. “Both,” she blurted, red tinging her cheekbones.

  The woman nodded, undoing more lids still. “Three lumps?” she asked kindly.

  Three lumps? This woman seemed to speak an entirely different language even still. “Uh?” Ellie stammered, staring at her in obvious question.

  “Sugar, Miss White. Three lumps of sugar?” the woman clarified gently.

  “Oh, yes,” Ellie said again, staring at her even still. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of this elegant woman. “Three is fine.” She usually just poured it until it looked right, her sugar certainly didn’t come in lumps.

  Miss Petra mixed it, stirring gently and handing it to her. “Now, my dear. I’ve been told you will be wearing the Desaunt, is this correct? In cobalt blue? Not the navy blue is it?”

  Ellie wrapped her hands around that cup, fingers closing and warming her hands as she lifted it up for her first, small sip. It tasted even better than it smelled, and it smelled wonderful. She couldn’t help taking yet another sip shortly after, unable to wait for it to cool, as she was sure she should have. I bet this cup of joe cost a hundred dollars. Not that she was allowed to ruminate on it very long, her gaze shooting up. “I’m sorry,” she said again, apparently stuck on a loop for this visit. “A der… what?” she asked confusedly.

  “A Desaunt, cobalt blue, with diamonds along the bodice?” Miss Petra clarified further, seemingly unsure as to why Ellie was questioning it so far.

  “Oh!” Ellie smiled, finally understanding the path of her words. “My dress,” she said with a large smile, warmth flooding her all over again. The dress Morgan had bought her. The single
most beautiful thing she now owned.

  Miss Petra nodded, eying her with amusement. “Not just a dress, child,” she laughed, the quality much less musical than the first time that Ellie had heard it. It sounded almost mean. “A dress?” She laughed again, as if Ellie had been joking, like she’d just made the largest joke it was possible to make.

  Right up until that moment Ellie had thought this lady was different. Being sweet, serving her coffee, all polite and warm… she hadn’t been, as far as Ellie knew, treating her like she was poor white trash. But here she was now. Apparently, snobbery could be delivered in all kinds of forms. Ellie’s heart constricted, suddenly feeling small and judged. “Well,” she huffed out in a rush, her cheeks burning. “If you find me this hilarious I suppose you went ahead and brought clown make up to ensure that I fit the part!” She spat, fighting the tears in her eyes.

  Miss Petra’s laughter halted instantly, her large brown eyes blinking apologetically in her direction. “Oh, my dear, no!” She rushed back over to the bed, pressing her hand softly into Ellie’s arm. “I did not mean to…” she trailed off, huffing nervously. “I simply meant. Darling, it is a designer gown. It is worth…” she trailed off again. “Well…” She halted again, tilting her head and shrugging somewhat more inelegantly than Ellie would have expected. “I-I misunderstood. I do apologize,” she professed, patting Ellie’s arm awkwardly.

  Ellie could feel the forced hesitation. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of the apology at all, but she did doubt the stumbling, pretending not to know about the price range. Why was she hesitating? Ellie stared perplexedly at her, trying to figure it out and coming up short. “What did it cost?” she finally asked, her voice falling low.

  Miss Petra’s features changed to an almost panicked look, her air of confidence completely evaporated from how she had first approached Ellie. She looked at her now as if fighting some sort of inner war. “I, well, I’m not sure of the exact…” She fell off again, glancing around as if looking for some new distraction.

  “What. Did. It. Cost?” Ellie asked forcefully this time, her voice lowering even further, refusing to accept the hemming and hawing that she was getting on the subject.

  “Uh—umm…” Her eyes lifted, stopping on some point just beyond Ellie and freezing.

  “Two-hundred thousand,” a voice came from the door, low and deep.

  Ellie’s gaze lifted, looking over to see Morgan standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

  He stepped in slowly, nodding at Miss Petra without any further kind of greeting. “You can go set up in the wardrobe room, Gena, I will handle this,” he spoke, not unkindly, but also not as warm as she was used to hearing Morgan speak.

  Ellie wasn’t sure if he was upset or not.

  Miss Petra nodded, turning away from him and to Ellie with an elegant shift. “Again,” she said demurely, “I am sorry, dear. Please know that it would be an honor to dress someone as lovely and uniquely beautiful as you. Forgive an old woman her misstep,” she muttered, turning and leaving the room without any further ado.

  Morgan came further into the room, watching Ellie stoically the whole time.

  She could practically feel him testing the air between them as he stepped. It did nothing to calm the war raging within her, like an abrupt, howling wind that had seized hold of her. “Two-hundred. Thousand. Dollars?” Ellie bit off, with each word, her voice rising until she practically screamed the last word.

  He looked uncomfortable as he sat on the bed, folding himself gently down beside her. “Yes,” he admitted shortly, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Thereabouts.” He met her gaze, but she could see his hesitation in doing so.

  “What?” she spluttered, barely getting the words out, shock coursing through her. “T-that w-would buy my whole block where I used to live!” she sputtered further, her mind refusing to accept what he was telling her, like cotton had been shoved as densely as possible between her two ears. “For a dress?” she asked unbelievingly, shaking her head as if to try and dislodge that cotton. Why would he spend that much on a dress? Why would he do something like that?

  Morgan looked slightly upset as he grabbed her hand, rubbing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb softly. “When I thought of a gown, knowing you, I did start at the reasonable ones. I knew you’d prefer it,” he admitted. “And then my assistant sent me an image of this dress. I knew that it was the one. I could immediately see you in it, and I just said yes. That’s all it was,” he finished with a shrug, as if it were the most normal thing in the entire world. As if he hadn’t spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on something, she would only ever wear once.

  “You bought me a designer dress, decked out in diamonds. Y-you…” she couldn’t even finish, stuttering to a stop and staring at him incredulously. He had, he’d as much as admitted it even, she just couldn’t grasp it. The diner that she worked at, the one he had paid to help fix back up after the fire, wouldn’t even sell for that much. She knew he was filthy rich, he only displayed it within every aspect of his life- even down to the fabrics woven to fit his perfectly formed body. She knew it, yet to wear a dress with the price tag on it that held enough zeros to feed a small country? It blew her mind.

  “Ellie?” he asked softly, thumb pressing into the back of her hand and questioning.

  She breathed out one more long, slow breath, trying to gather herself in order to use the right words. “How?” she asked softly, her voice low and filled with a sad sort of misunderstanding, “…can I wear a dress that costs as much, if not more than most houses?”

  He looked at her as if it were incomprehensible, blinking at her as if he couldn’t begin to understand what her issue was. And he probably couldn’t, with his lifestyle and all that he was used to. “I already bought it, Ellie,” he said slowly, tilting his head. “You know you will look like a dream in it. You know that,” he assured her, thumbs pressing into her knuckles even further.

  She raised her coffee cup in her other hand, taking a shaky sip to buy for time again. “I’m dumb,” she said slowly, trying to make sense of it. “I know that I am, in your world, to your kind of lifestyle.” She shook her head to stay the argument that she could see building on his face, cutting off his interruption before he could even open his mouth. “No, I mean, you even said that those were diamonds on the dress. I knew as much. Of course, with that, the dress would cost as much as my entire family ever made in all of their lifetimes. I just didn’t think about it in that light,” she explained.

  Morgan’s head dropped, shaking slightly as if to refute her words, but knowing he couldn’t. “I’m sorry Ellie. I just didn’t think about it, at all… well, at least not until you saw it and I had to explain that those weren’t rhinestones. I forget how other people live, I’ve always been privileged, buying this dress wasn’t … a big deal to me, not monetarily,” he explained, shrugging sheepishly. “I don’t think about things like that.”

  Ellie could feel her tears building, dripping slowly down her face as her sadness gripped her. “Until you met poor, white trash like me,” she sniffled. “Like that stupid, knock off polka dot thirty dollar dress that I wore to your hotel,” she cried, her tears coming all the harder. “Like I thought that I-I would look… good,” she choked. “Until all those people in the lobby stared at me, and that lady looking at me like I was beneath her—” she didn’t even get to trail off that time, Morgan cutting her off as he stood so abruptly from where he sat beside her.

  His face was a mask of rage, words nearly a growl. “Who insulted you?” he demanded, skin paling and his grey eyes blazing with barely contained fury. It took only a look at the fear on her face for him to shift, shaking himself as if he were fighting for control over his temper. His hands fisted, fingers pushing hard into his palms as he took in a deep, hard breath. He blew it out again, kneeling down on the floor beside her bed and taking her hand again. “When I saw you at my door in that ‘knockoff’ dress,” he said, spinning the word as if it had different meaning than w
hat she used. “I nearly came all over myself,” he admitted roughly. “You were the single cutest, and simultaneously, sexiest thing that I think I have ever seen,” he told her, staring into her eyes without so much as blinking. His free hand lifted, wiping away her tears with the tips of his fingers. “You are the furthest thing from trash I have ever met Ellie.” His voice softened, lowering to an octave she had never before heard from him. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  Her tears stuttered, slowing as her body froze even further at his words. She blinked, allowing him to push the tears from her face as she stared at him, flabbergasted. “W-what?” she stuttered out, swallowing hard and again, she was at a loss for words.

  He nodded again, seemingly just as unable to tear his gaze from her as she was from him. “You’re better than any of those people, especially those that made you feel lesser. You are better than all of that prejudice. Better than all of the women I have ever been with, even put together,” he said seriously, holding her gaze even more fully. “They were cold, false, and full of themselves,” he explained, unapologetically. “You are a ray of sunshine, everything sweet and real in my life.” He leaned in closer to her. “Too good for a playboy like me,” he confessed in a low whisper.

  Ellie couldn’t help sniffling as she thought about what he said, as his words fully sunk into her. It was too hard to believe that he actually thought and felt this way concerning her. It felt strange enough thinking just that he wanted to be with her at all. “Well,” she said slowly, “if you feel that’s the dress I’m supposed to wear that strongly…” she continued even more measured, a low acceptance that she wasn’t even sure how to phrase. She didn’t know how to answer the rest of his declaration, didn’t know how she could possibly say something back that wasn’t going to make him turn and run out of that door, leaving her again.