The Billionaire's Secret: A BWWM Romance Mystery

by Mia Caldwell

  I raise my eyes and look at him. His whole body is focused on me, waiting to see my response. He is holding me firm, but somehow I know I have all the power here.

  I wrap my lips tightly around his thumb then and when I am sure he is watching me raptly, I suck on it, lightly running my tongue around it before biting down gently with my teeth. I taste a few crumbs of torte and the salt of his skin and it is all I can do to keep from moaning.

  Carter growls a low sound and pulls me flush against him. We are pressed together, my breasts mashed into the front of his shirt, the buttons digging into my skin. We stand there like that for a moment, and I can feel his heart racing in his chest. My breath quickens.

  And then his lips are finally on mine. Warm and soft, yet rigid and demanding, he devours my mouth, parting my lips with a rough stab of his tongue to invade the space where his thumb just was. His hands smooth down the length of my body, cupping my ass to press himself firmly against me. I can feel the entirety of his desire.

  "Sanniyah," he breathes my name.

  "Yes? Yes!" I am answering him, and also telling him. Yes, yes, oh god yes please.

  "Hold on tight. And watch your head."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Carter

  I sling her over my shoulder like a caveman. She whoops and pummels my back, but I can feel her laughing, so I don't care. And besides, her ripe, round ass is practically in my face right now. If I turn my head, I can make good on my promise to devour her, right here on my deck.

  But it's getting too dark and I want to see her. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I had this image of her splayed out naked, her caramel skin wrapped up in my white bedsheets. They call me a visionary, and in this instance I am hell-bent on seeing my vision become reality.

  Sanniyah is kicking her legs as I stride across my deck and it's driving me crazy. I find myself regretting just how huge this fucking house is, because it's taking forever to get to my bedroom. I start to jog, then sprint, Sanniyah laughing wildly as she bounces on my shoulder.

  When I reach the bed, I half lower, half toss her onto the mattress. She lands on her back, bouncing a little, and my cock nearly bursts out of my trousers when her breasts bounce too. She eyes me with a catlike grin, and arches her back a little.

  "Sanniyah," I exhale.

  "Carter?"

  "See my face?" I tell her as I kneel down.

  "Yes?"

  "Keep watching me. I want your eyes on me the whole time."

  She lifts herself up on her elbows, her lips parted and panting, watching me just like I want. "That's right, I want to see you seeing me." This is more than I've talked to anyone in months. Sanniyah Jones has me babbling like an idiot, fucking narrating everything I'm doing because I just can't stop. "Your skin tastes so good, you know that?" I tell her, sucking a trail of kisses up the length of her inner thigh. "It's driving me crazy."

  Her slow moan inflames me further. "That's right, I want to hear you just like I want to see you. Moan for me again, Sanniyah," I tell her as I shove her panties to one side. The hot flesh is already glistening wetly and as she moans again, I swear I can see her getting wetter by the second. "Jesus, I am so fucking hard for you right now," I tell her, loving the way her big brown eyes just keep getting wider and wider. "I'm going to taste you now, Sanniyah. Just like I promised."

  "Carter!" she gasps as my tongue sinks into her. She flings her head back and I can't see her face as it contorts in pleasure.

  "Look at me," I tell her firmly, reaching up and cupping my hand around the back of her head. "I need to see your face."

  "Ah god, if you keep doing that, I'm going to fall down." Her hips are already undulating under me, rolling in a dancing rhythm dictated by my lapping tongue. She tastes like honey and sweetness, getting hotter and hotter. I just want to disappear inside of that sweet opening, losing all of the fear and paranoia in Sanniyah Jones' sharp cries. She has me in a frenzy already. The louder she gets, the more I devour her until she suddenly arches her hips clean off the bed, her eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god!" she pants, then lets loose with a wild keening sound.

  I stand up and roughly yank off my shirt. I need to feel my skin on hers. She is coming down, her cries dissolving into sharp moans, her wetness hot and ready to welcome me inside.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sanniyah

  My eyes fly open when I feel his fingers delving into the space where his tongue has just been. Carter Easton is kneeling above me, shirtless and glorious and I am completely drunk on him. "Shit, you're incredible," I slur. His broad shoulders and narrow waist are sculpted to perfection and the way he is hovering over me, supporting his weight, makes the muscles in his arms pop out. I reach out, fascinated, tracing a line from his tanned forearm up to his sharply contoured shoulder.

  He pulls back and looks me up and down. "Take off your dress," he orders. "I need to see you."

  His bossiness is oddly thrilling. I reach behind me, unzipping the dress, watching his eyes rake over me as I shimmy it downward. "Fuck," he growls, just before he lunges for my breasts.

  "Carter?"

  "What?" he snarls impatiently, curling his tongue around my nipple.

  I am panting, my whole body throbbing, practically delirious with need. "Fuck me. Please." I arch into him, wanting to feel the whole length of his naked body pressing against mine. I bend my neck, exposing my throat to his sucking kisses, aware that he is probably leaving marks all over my skin and not really caring.

  "Gladly." He pushes up off of me quickly, dropping his trousers down off of his narrow hips. The sharp 'V" where his abs meet his legs makes me bite my lip. He has a condom ready and I am spreading my legs embarrassingly quickly. He sees me and pauses, then shakes his head. "Sanniyah, you are absolutely gorgeous like this. I hope you know that."

  "I do now," I whimper, as he presses himself against my entrance.

  We both groan together as he surges upward. He rolls his hips, stretching me, filling me, and I clutch his back. "Ah god, Sanniyah, you feel...." he trails off, his whole attention given over to moving within me. He buries his head in my neck, sucking, and kissing and biting, his moans driving me closer and closer to the edge. In an instant, he has me panting, gasping. I feel like I am standing outside myself somehow. I sink my teeth into the skin of his shoulder, holding on as he pumps into me like a jackhammer. "Carter!" I shriek as I near oblivion.

  He looks up from my neck, his face a mask of dark ecstasy. "Say it again," he growls as his hands rake down my body.

  "What?" I pant.

  His fingers press against my most sensitive place. "Say my name while I touch you," he orders, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

  "Unh," I moan, watching him back up, his thrusts shallow and slow, the glisten of sweat starting to collect across his abs. I can barely form words anymore, but something inside wants to obey. "Carter," I gasp.

  "Now come for me, Sanniyah. I want to feel you come all around me, can you do that?" He rubs faster, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. "Do it now, Sanniyah, come right now."

  His words travel through my body and every cell wants to obey. My body begins to flutter, my breath coming in short gasps. He watches me with hooded eyes, his lips parted glistening and wet. "I can feel you, do you know that? Holy shit I can feel you getting hotter and tighter. Let go for me Sanniyah. Just let go, I've got you." He is just barely holding on to control, the strangled gasp at the edge of his words is all I need to know he is right there with me.

  We come together, exploding, shattering into a million pieces that blow away in the wind. With a roar that fills my ears, he stiffens, and then collapses on top of me even as I am trying to pull him up higher, faster, harder, as I come over and over again.

  At last he falls to the side. We are both gasping. I stare up at the ceiling, utterly and completely wrecked. He slides his warm hand over my skin, pulling me closer, forming his body around mine so that I am completely enveloped in his warmth. He yanks the tangled sh
eet over us both, but I barely need it. He is warm, so incredibly warm, and solid and real that I am asleep in moments.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carter

  I've been here before. Though it looks all wrong, I know where I am and the fear grips my throat.

  It seems like a restaurant, though there is no one else around. A harsh spotlight shines down on me, washing out my features so that I could almost disappear into the whiteness. All around is shadow, but I know something is there.

  My parents are seated at the table across from me; smiling, laughing, proud. "You're alive," I whisper.

  My mother's eyes sparkle, but she doesn't answer me. She doesn't see the shapes moving in the shadows behind her, but I do. I know the danger. "Mom, we need to go," I tell her, but she is not paying attention. She laughs merrily with my father, so alive it hurts me.

  "We need to go," I repeat. I stand up. The noise of the chair scraping across the floor is so loud that I cringe. If they didn't know where we were before, they do now. I'm too loud, I've caught their attention.

  The first black lens snakes around the corner, shining and metallic, but also strangely plastic, melding into the shape of a hand reaching for me. I stare at it, dumbfounded, and then I suddenly understand.

  This is a dream, a nightmare. I've been here a thousand times before, and nothing can prevent what happens next.

  My parents are going to die.

  With a cry, I leap forward, ready to fight. Maybe this time I can save them. Maybe this time things won't end the way I know they're going to end.

  The flashes start going off. Blinding, harsh. I stagger backwards, and my heel catches on something, sending me sprawling to the ground. The metallic black glare of the cameras closes in on me. They are ready to devour me and move on to my parents. I have just one last hope...

  I swing upward, wrapping my arms around the shifting black monstrosity and I yank it away. I've done this before as well. I know that what I see next will ruin the rest of my waking hours. The faces of the men who stalked my parents, running them off the road. Richard Senna, Gil Hastings and Howard Blair, their faces the same grim masks they wore in their mugshots. But in the dream they will snarl at me like wild animals, baring teeth too sharp to make sense. And then I will wake up sweating.

  But I have to protect my parents. They don't know the danger they are in. And so I wrestle with the cameras that are now the size of giants. "No," I shout, straining against them. "You won't win. I won't let you in. You can't find me anymore. I won't let you in."

  I heave the camera away from my attacker and hurl it to the floor where it shatters into a million pieces. Shielding my eyes from the rain of glass, I wait to wake up. I wait for it to be over.

  But this dream is different. From out of the shadows, my attacker steps into the light. Sanniyah's gorgeous face smiles up at me. "You already let me in," she smiles, radiant and contented.

  "No," I groan, as the shadows close in. "You're not like them. You can't be like them."

  Dream-Sanniyah's face begins to melt and contort, the beautiful color melting away into the sallow, yellowed face of Howard Blair. "You already let me in," she tells me again, just as I'm falling, falling away into the black.

  My whole body jerks on impact and suddenly I am wide awake, safe in my own bed. I am covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

  Sanniyah makes a small, soft sighing noise in my arm, nestling against me with a little squeak.

  I stiffen and count to ten, reminding myself that it was a dream. Sanniyah isn't working for the tabloids. She has nothing to do with my parents.

  I know that.

  I know that.

  I clench my whole body, every muscle, as tight as I can. Then one by one, I release the tension, starting at my toes and working my way up. The last thing to unclench is my fist, and I open my palm wide before resting it lightly on the curve of Sanniyah's hip.

  I could be different with her, I tell myself as I smooth my hand upward. She mutters something in her sleep and pulls away irritably and I have to suppress a laugh. Yes I could definitely be different with her. I want to. I am ready to stop mistrusting the world. I am tired of grief and mourning, of shock and hatred. I am ready to feel good again.

  With a shudder, I forcibly banish the nightmare from my mind and pull her closer, pressing my lips to the soft place where her neck meets her shoulder. She mutters again, rolling onto her back and brushing her hand up to my face. I catch it and kiss her fingers, one by one, watching the smile curve around her lips.

  "Let me be different for this one," I silently beg the universe. "Let me be whole again...for her." I stare at her, watching her sleep, the rise and fall of her chest hypnotic in its beautiful rhythm. My own eyelids droop closed again and I find myself sleeping without the bother of dreams.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sanniyah

  I jerk awake. For a moment, panic grips me as my bleary eyes resolve my unfamiliar surroundings. There is something heavy weighing me down and I fight the urge to fling it off me before understanding finally takes hold.

  I am in Carter's bed.

  His arm is slung over me.

  And he is fast asleep.

  I shift a little, trying not to disturb him as I roll over and regard his sleeping face. It shouldn't be possible, but he is even more beautiful in the soft light of dawn. There is a faint golden stubble along his jaw, and it glints in the sunlight like he has been polished to a bright sheen.

  I catch myself smiling softly at him, and for just a moment all is peace. Little twinges and aches sound in my body as soft, subtle reminders of the incredible night I had with him. I can feel the tenderness between my thighs and flush slightly as I remember how he looked up at me, watching me writhe as he slowly drove me insane. Desire starts to throb in my core, my body already craving his touch like an addict.

  Carter Easton, the reclusive billionaire, golden playboy, darling of the tabloids...I can't believe it. Carter fucking Easton is asleep next to me. And all because I was lucky enough to plan his sister's wedding.

  The warmth in my body freezes to ice and I stiffen. Slowly, the dawning realization of how badly I have fucked up grips me.

  He is a client. Camilla is a client. I am a professional, who has built her reputation in the business by being level-headed and unflappable. Reviews from happy brides point out my rational, pragmatic nature. Not someone who is ruled by her emotions.

  Definitely not someone who sleeps with the brother of the bride.

  Slow horror roots me to the spot, and with it comes the shame. I crossed a line that should never have been crossed. I allowed myself to succumb to private islands, wine and a man who was far too skilled with his tongue.

  The memory of his tongue's skill sends another flood downward, but this time, instead of heat it brings only guilt. I hurriedly untangle myself from his limbs and stand up.

  Carter shifts a little without opening his eyes. "Good morning," he murmurs, his voice muzzy with sleep.

  I shift on my toes, panic gripping at my throat. "I need to go," I say, gritting my teeth.

  Carter rolls to the side and opens his eyes, smiling, a devastating dimple on his cheek. He looks me up and down, a long, lascivious look that threatens to reignite the heat that has fled from my body. "You don't look like you do," he says, casually.

  I look down and blush. Hard.

  I am still completely, ridiculously naked.

  "You look like you should be back in bed with me, honestly," Carter says, lazily sitting up and treating me to a lingering glance of his washboard abs.

  No Yahya, get ahold of yourself.

  I lift my chin and cross my arms, mustering all the professional gravitas I can manage while still being in the nude. "Could you send for the pilot please? I'd like to go home now."

  "But you haven't even had breakfast," he protests lazily. "I make a mean poached egg."

  The thought of Carter Easton making me breakfast nearly breaks my resolve. My traitoro
us brain leaps right to the image of cooking in his gleaming chef's kitchen...shirtless of course...maybe serving me strawberries dipped in cream.

  Stop it, Yahya.

  "I'm not hungry," I tell him loftily. Then my stomach growls loudly, immediately making me a liar.

  Carter blinks at my tone, then raises his eyebrows coldly. His face shows a million different emotions before it finally settles on vast, aching disappointment. But before I can realize what I've seen, it is gone, replaced by the coldly polite mask he wore on the tarmac back on the mainland. The other Carter Easton, not the one I got to know so intimately last night.