CEO's Christmas Party: A Bad Boy Billionaire Boss Romance

by Cassandra Bloom

  Chapter 8

  Abbie went back to her room, and when she rested her aching limbs on the bed, she fell sound asleep. She woke up in pitch darkness. The condo stood silent and empty all around her. She sat up and listened, but no sound came from outside her room. She poked her head into the hall. No lights shone in the living room.

  She crept out to the kitchen and found a plate of dinner in the fridge. Malcolm must have left it there for her. She found two dishes in the dishwasher, one for him and one for Trina, so they both must have already eaten. The clock read eleven-fifty-seven. Dang, she must have been a lot more tired than she realized.

  She tiptoed back down the hall to her room, but she paused on the threshold. Was Malcolm upstairs waiting for her? Did he decide to leave her alone for the night? Maybe he wasn't interested in her anymore.

  Never mind. She had her work to do with Trina. That's what she really came to this condo to do, and she wouldn't leave Trina alone, now that Abbie uncovered her deep, dark secret. She would see Trina through until she could read well enough to go out on her own.

  Mischievous excitement sent Abbie's blood singing. What if Malcolm was upstairs right now? What if he was lying on his bed with a raging hard-on? What if Abbie walked in and climbed on top of him? What if she rode him to glorious rapture all over again? What if he grabbed her by the back of the head and sprayed his seedy mixture up into her?

  Her pussy oozed open, and her lips dripped into her panties. She could just steal up there and find out. She eased up the stairs to the upper level and down the hall to his door. Her heart sank when she found the door open. The room was pitch dark and the bed neatly made. No Malcolm, no hard-on, no glorious rapture.

  Abbie wandered over to the big windows and watched the city lights for a while. Where was he? Was he out there somewhere right now? Was he dreaming of her the way she dreamed of him?

  She turned around and surveyed the bathroom suite. It sure was a nice bathroom. She wouldn't mind enjoying it, just once. Her pussy and ass could use it right about now. She turned on the tub water and checked the temperature. She rested on the bed while she waited for the tub to fill. She left one bedside lamp burning so the bathroom remained in darkness. Only the city lights glistened on the churning water.

  Just then, footsteps approached along the hall and Malcolm turned into the bedroom. He smiled at Abbie and the filling bathtub. “I thought I'd find you up here. Taking a midnight soak?”

  Abbie nodded. “I need it. Where have you been?”

  “I went out for a drive in town.” He sat down next to her. “I took Trina to the airport.”

  Abbie gasped. “You what?”

  He sat down on the bed next to her. “She told me everything. She told me all about what happened, and how she never learned to read. She went back to her mother's, but she says she's going to tell her mother the truth, too. She's going to work to learn to read so she can get back into school.” He took her hand. “I don't know what you did, but you did it. You got through to her. She thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

  Abbie hung her head. “I wish she hadn't left. She was doing so well this afternoon.”

  “She's ready to go ahead on her own. She's ready to face this and beat it. Her mother and I will work with her and get her back into school.” His voice cracked. “She's happier than I've seen her in years. You did it. You gave me my little girl back.”

  She put out her arms to fold him in a tight embrace. “I was only doing my job. She deserves so much better than to sit on the couch playing games all day, but if she's gone home to her mother's, you don't need me anymore. I don't have to work here as your nanny anymore.”

  “You won't be Trina's nanny anymore, but I need you more than ever, Abbie.” He kissed her hand. “Don't you see? Now that you're not working for me, there's nothing to stop us being together for real. You can stay here with me. You don't ever have to leave. You can stay in this room and make your home here—with me.”

  Abbie caught her breath. “Are you serious? You really want me to stay?”

  “I never wanted anything more in my life.” He touched a tear from the corner of his eye. “I thought you came here just for me. I thought you came here as an answer to my prayers. I didn't know you came here to save Trina, too. You must be some kind of angel from heaven.”

  She met his lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grasped around her back, and he pulled her toward him on the bed. Her swollen genitals raked the duvet and excited her to panting quivering wetness.

  His tongue unfurled in her mouth, and their lips smacked in luscious infatuation. Abbie couldn't stop herself from responding. Her cunt ached, and her body buzzed in delicious lust. His hand fell on her knee and probed up her thighs to her tortured slit. She bucked against his hand, and her pussy leaked into her pants.

  He purred into her mouth. “How about a bath?”

  She moaned in deep delight, and he went to work undressing her. He slid her shirt over her shoulders and her pants down to her ankles. He held them open while she stepped out. He stroked up and down her ivory thighs and nuzzled his face into her saturated panties. Her legs creaked open with an agonizing groan.

  He came back up to worship her glorious tits. He left them cradled in her lacy yellow bra and heaved their hefty handfuls in his big paws. His heat melted her resistance. She surged into his hands and moaned in delight.

  He left her bra and panties on and led her by the hand to the waiting tub. He turned off the water and checked the temperature. He stood back and undressed while she panted in breathless anticipation. His naked bulk towered over her, and his prick stuck straight out to discover her.

  He stepped down into the tub, and the jets roiled the water around his legs. He splashed the steamy water on his thighs, and it evaporated on his blistering shaft. His chest bulged with muscle, and his piercing gaze set Abbie's blood on fire. He took her hand and drew her to the water's edge. His head came up to her chest. He nuzzled in close to kiss her, and she mewed in sweet desire. Her whole body quaked in open hunger for him.

  He slipped his hands down her ass to glide her panties down, and he unhooked her bra to free her tits from their confines. He pulled her down into the water with him, and she sank onto his lap in the swirling brew. The water lapped around her breasts and stung her fragile cunt. All those sensations stirred her to fresh devouring hunger for him, for everything this new life could offer her.

  His arms closed around her, and he positioned her over his hips. Her legs circled his hips, and his prick slipped between her engorged lips. She moaned against his mouth. Her breasts floated on the water to bump his granite chest.

  He swayed her back and forth through the rumbling water. His lips sparked her drunken desires, and the water washed her away into dreamy mists of contentment and fulfillment. He lowered his face into the water to nibble her nipples to burning torment. He cupped her ass to rock her hips against his wicked jackhammer. His fingers slithered around behind to distract her darkest hole.

  That most forbidden ecstasy blasted her apart into tempests of primal orgasm. She crushed her clit against his manhood. Her head lolled back, and her loud screams of climactic release broke free. She didn't have to worry about Trina or anybody else hearing her. Her voice echoed against the ceiling and out to sea.

  He called out over the noise, “Come on, baby. That's it. Let me hear you cum. God, you are so fucking hot. Come on, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so damn hard.”

  She never had a chance to come down from that peak before he caught her in his commanding grip. He floated her around and sat her down on his lap facing away from him. She seethed in sighing delirium. He closed his arms around her stomach and took control of her hips. His rod dug between her legs and jabbed her opening.

  He didn't enter her, though. He cupped one hand around her pussy and lifted her on the water's bubbling current. His finger's dove between her legs, and one fat finger came up inside her quivering box. Abbie whined in blessed pleasu
re, but he didn't stop there. He pumped his fingers deep into her hole until she copied his rhythm. She humped his hand to bring herself back to fainting bliss.

  His cock stabbed her clit, and her destruction reached its peak. She grabbed his meaty forearm for support. The waves tossed her sideways and back and forth. They never let her come down until, all at once, he lifted her higher with his hand underneath her and sat her down hard on his upthrusting spike.

  She froze in tense confusion, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He drove his iron tool into her ass, even as his fingers titillated her to the most profound climaxes of her life. He buried his rod in her tightest hole and pumped her full of his smoking meat.

  She supported her heavy head with one hand. How could she stand this? How could he do this to her? How could he split her apart like this and keep her suspended in the heavens with his insistent fingering at the same time?

  She sensed the tight intrusion, but her mind wouldn't register pain or discomfort. His fingers inside her, his powerful palm against her clit, his hips slapping against her rounded ass to splash the water out of the tub—all those sensations mingled with the impossible tightness to create the perfect storm of erotic cataclysm and explosive ecstasy. He filled her so full nothing remained but to ride him.

  He jostled her up and back against his tormenting piston. Her tits flapped in the boiling water until he caught one and nagged the nipple alert. “Does that turn you on? Is that dirty the way you like it?”

  “Oh, God! Oh, sweet Jesus! Oh, my God, that is so tight. Oh, don’t! Oh! I can’t. Oh, please.”

  “Beg for it, baby. Beg like you want it.”

  Her head teetered on her neck. She couldn’t think. She could feel nothing but him filling her to the very limit. She couldn’t stand it, but she couldn’t get away. She wanted nothing but to collapse into his hands, to take his plunging cock inside her and never let it go.

  His fingers clamped down hard on her nipple. A spasm of pain scorched down her belly to his other hand bumping her aching box. The water swallowed her gushing squirts of blissful rapture, but the sugar syrup soothed his passage into her deepest caverns. He crushed her in his monstrous grip, and his cum foamed into her welcoming receptacle.

  He hugged her tight against his chest, but his rocking penetrations against her ass dangled her on the most intoxicating waves she ever knew. She embraced him with her muscles to hold him there just a little longer. She heaved and moaned in his arms. She would never let him go.

  His lips grazed her neck and lit the rising fire. She rotated her hips to catch him and excite him to fresh gusts of volcanic passion. His teeth sank into her skin, and they galloped away into the velvet dawn rising to take them home.

  THE END

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  BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY’S PLAYTHING

  Chapter One – Maya

  There aren’t many things that get cleaner with history. That’s what I’m telling myself when I walk into the offices of Storm and Associates. It’s one of the oldest consulting firms in town, upwards of 200 years, or so the legend goes. But it’s spotless. Every surface is either white or silver. Everything gleams. There are few hard edges because everything is space-aged and sleek. Even the chairs have unexpected curves. They look more like lozenges.

  Nope. The march of time hasn’t put one spot of grime on this place. Now, the same cannot be said for its owner, Conrad Storm. He’s got a reputation as a billionaire playboy that makes Bruce Wayne look like a shy, fumbling teenager. Conrad Storm, or so the legend goes, is richer than God, the most gorgeous of God’s creations, does not believe in God, and has a bottomless appetite for women.

  A dirty man in this clean place, in other words.

  So why, oh why, did I get invited to apply for a job here? I’m hot and I know it, but there’s hot and there’s otherworldly. Like, say, the woman working the reception desk. Blond. Maybe eight feet tall, which I can tell even though she’s sitting down. Legginess is a state of mind as well as a measurement. She looks like she stepped out of a magazine, airbrushed, but here she is, in person. She’s sizing me up. It’s what we do. But she knows she’s got me beat on this one. It’s no surprise at all to see that her name is Zima. It was always going to be something like that.

  “Can I help you?” she says in the bored, slightly wary tone of voice that makes me feel like I wandered in wearing a garbage bag and pushing a shopping cart.

  “Yes, I have an appointment for—”

  “Send her up please, Zima.”

  Hmm. The voice that filters into the room isn’t like the usual robotic voices you hear on the phone menus when you call to pay an overdue bill. It seems to come from everywhere. It’s warm, unmistakably male, and commanding. Zima, a couple of women sitting on the lozenges in the waiting room, and I all sit up a little straighter and start fiddling with our hair. It occurs to me that these other women might be here to fight for what I’m already thinking of as my job. Even though I have no idea what the job is. I was at home a week ago when my phone buzzed. A text. “We are interested in interviewing you for a position at Storm and Thorston.” It listed an address and a time. That was it.

  “Right away, Conrad,” says Zima to the ceiling. Or maybe she’s looking up at Heaven. Conrad’s rich enough that he may be a majority owner in Heaven at this point.

  Zima glares at me. She jerks her head at the elevator door that is suddenly opening in the wall. She jerks her head with such venom and force that her hair whips around and covers her face. Feeling a satisfaction that I haven’t done anything to earn, I walk to the elevator, enjoying the fact that everyone is watching me get on so I can…well, what exactly, I don’t know.

  The elevator doors close behind me. Well, this is weird as hell. There aren’t any buttons in here. Maybe this was a huge joke and will be my version of being buried alive. I’ll never get out of this elevator and those women in the lobby will get my job and Zima will laugh and laugh. I’ve got to keep it together. He’s probably watching. With that thought, I use the reflective surfaces of the silver walls to do one last mirror check. I chose a gray dress with sharp lapels and a small red sweater on top. My black hair is cut into a modern bob that always delights my hairdresser. He says I’m his favorite and it might even be true. I’ve got a subtle but commanding shade of red lipstick on and the whole package is nicely offset by my pale skin. This is probably the best I’ve ever looked. I know everyone says that when they’re 25, and it’s usually true, but it’s really true today.

  Anyway, if I don’t get the job, at least I know it’s not because I dressed wrong.

  The elevator is moving. That means someone is controlling it. That someone is probably Conrad. This means that he gets to choose where I get off. And that unfortunate phrase, “get off,” reminds me of the latest bit of Conrad press that hit the Internet. He had gotten pulled over for speeding. The details as to what happened next are unclear, but what was happening two minutes later is as clear as it gets. The cop was a woman named Cindy. Conrad tempted her into his car and they started making out where he was parked on the shoulder. They were there for so long that another cop car pulled over to see if a fellow officer was in danger. That poor—albeit satisfied—woman is now under investigation by her own department. “Why didn’t you show some self-control?” they keep asking her in interviews. And every time, she smiles and says, “You’d have to be there.”

  She doesn’t seem sorry in the slightest, even after she lost her job for her refusal to admit she acted unprofessionally. Whatever he said to her, whatever he did to her…it was all worth it to her. She also seems totally crazy, which has kept everyone glued to the TV when she’s going to be on.

  Conrad’s response was simple. “It was part of an experiment.”


  That’s when the elevator doors open silently. I’m looking out onto an expanse of white carpet so vast that I feel like I might go snowblind. The office is so big it feels like a joke. Way down there at the end of the enormous office is a desk. Sitting behind the desk is a man in a dark gray suit.

  I don’t have the best eyesight in the world, but even from this distance, I can tell two things.

  One: he’s as gorgeous in person as he is on camera.

  And two: he’s grinning like I just stepped into a trap.

  “Come in,” he says, and it doesn’t feel like I have a choice. I ponder, for exactly two seconds, how I might stay in the elevator and get out of here, but there still aren’t any buttons. Anyway, I can’t let him see how nervous I am.

  As if I own this building, this firm, the world, and everything in between, I walk towards him with my shoulders back. You don’t scare me. I try to make it obvious in every step. But as he grins wider and wider, it’s obvious that he knows exactly what effect he’s having on me.

  Chapter Two - Conrad

  She’s trying to play it cool. They always do. I love that she thinks this is a once in a lifetime opportunity but has no idea what the opportunity is. With every step she takes, she’s getting more excited, more nervous, and more curious. Nothing shows you what people are like quite like a pressure test. Here she is. In front of my desk. She’s folding her arms across her chest and trying to look like she doesn’t have time to mess around with me.

  “Have a seat,” I say.

  She looks around. The only other chair in here is over by the wall. Is she going to go get it? It took the custodians a while to empty this room out for the interviews. It’s already worth it.

  “I’ll stand,” she says with a smirk. Maybe she thinks she knows what I’m up to. Maybe she’s right, but I wouldn’t bet on it.