“Fuck,” I groaned at one point, my head rolling back on the bed with my eyes screwed shut in blissful frustration.
“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, a grin in his voice, and then he withdrew his hand completely.
Before I could complain, his hand closed over my mine – which was still wrapped around his cock – and I felt him arch out his shaft at an angle and then sloooooowly push his slick, wet head over my clit. The friction made me cry out. Then he pushed his cock inside my pussy, centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, never stopping, just slowly, slowly filling me up.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. I took my hand away as he moved deeper and deeper inside me. I put my wet fingers on his shoulder, clutching him as he filled me up so sweetly and amazingly that I wanted to scream.
He still had his arm underneath me, and it pushed at my back, forcing me onto my side. He kissed me deeply, his tongue just as slow and thick and hot as his cock was as it kept on moving deeper and deeper inside my body.
I circled both my hands around his neck and crushed his lips against mine, moaning and crying out as his thick base filled me up completely, his cock fully inside my pussy. I was almost crying it felt so good.
As we kissed, he began to rock backwards and forwards just the slightest bit – never withdrawing more than an inch, just enough for me to feel him deep inside me, over and over, filling me, making me expand around the thick base of his shaft, letting me feel that thickest part of him between my lips, over and over.
When his body pressed against mine, I could feel his body grind against my clit, too, which sent me into flights of ecstasy – and then he would withdraw, just an inch, then fill me up with a quick, small thrust, touching me deep inside.
He broke off our kiss and pulled back just enough so that our lips were almost touching.
“Do you love me, Lily?”
“Yes,” I moaned, straining forward to kiss him – but he wouldn’t let me. He moved his head back slightly, a smile on his lips as my whole face strained with frustrated desire and brimming ecstasy.
“Do you love me?” he asked as he pulled out further, then thrust into me harder.
I gasped. “Yes – ”
“Do you love me?” he asked as he did it again, pulling out, then thrusting deep, so deep inside me.
“Oh God, yes – ”
He didn’t withdraw this time, he just pressed his cock into me as hard as he could, as deep as he could, as though he were trying to become one with me, grinding his hips against mine, his body or his pelvis or his lower abs or something pressing insistently against my clit, making it explode with pressure, his cock swirling inside me as he rotated his hips. His hand clutched my ass and forced me against him so hard, so good, so hot, so thick and strong and amazing.
“If you love me – ”
“OH GOD YES – ”
“Then come for me,” he whispered in my ear.
“FUCK, OH FUCK,” I screamed, and my fingers were raking down his back and I was biting his skin as I came, over and over, harder and harder, higher and higher, as he grinded against me, swirling his thickness inside me, the pressure mounting and increasing as I came. I clutched at his ass and his cheeks clenched against my fingers and then he was groaning, grunting, moaning, and he pressed inside me so hard as I felt him explode inside me, my orgasm setting him off, both of us coming together, moaning together, me screaming and him crying out, until his contractions began to slowly ebb away, and mine began to abate, and then we just lay like that, clinging to each other. We began to kiss again, softly and sweetly and gentle.
I don’t remember much after that. I think we talked some more, but it gradually descended into semi-coherent murmuring… and then I fell asleep in his arms.
32
I awoke to the sound of the shower. Somewhere in the muddled fog of my brain, I thought about getting up and going in to join him… but the bed was so soft… and he would be coming out soon…
…so that he could go on Good Morning America and talk about the sex scandal.
A shot of adrenaline ripped through me. I jolted up on my elbows, my heart pounding.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…
After the magic of last night, I had forgotten all my pain and problems for a while.
HA haaaa, as the bully on The Simpsons would say. Back to the real world.
I lay back down and tried to breathe.
Everyone was going to know soon. Everywhere across America, people were waking up and seeing those photos of me and Connor on the front page of newspapers, or on the internet, or on the television…
I was going to have to call my parents today.
SHIT.
I spent another fifteen minutes in a semi-panic attack until the bathroom door opened and Connor stepped out.
He had turned off the light before he came out, so I could only see the black rectangle of the open door against a slightly less black wall. I couldn’t see him at all, but I could hear him.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm and composed.
“Come here,” I whispered.
His shoes whispered along the carpet, and I felt the bed give way as he sat down on the edge next to me.
I reached over and felt for his face. It was freshly shaven, smooth, and still warm from the shower. He smelled clean, like soap and water and steam, with a hint of the cologne he was wearing the first time I had met him: musk and sandalwood, masculine and rich, with the tiniest bit of sweetness underlying it all.
I reached up and kissed him in the darkness. The smell of scotch was gone, replaced by sparkling mint.
Something was off, though.
His kiss was nice… but reserved. He pressed his lips to mine, but little more. There was no heat like usual, and the tenderness from the night before was gone.
I pulled back, puzzled.
“Turn on the light,” I whispered. “I want to see you.”
There was the sound of cloth moving as he stretched out his arm, and then the light beside the bed came on.
He was impossibly handsome, even more beautiful than the first time I’d seen him. The shadows cast by the bedside light set off his features like a Rembrandt painting. Dark, wavy hair, perfectly in place. Strong chin, granite jawline, those cheekbones… the lips, masculine but sensual… the golden brown skin, the crystal blue eyes. And his suit was perfection: charcoal grey pinstripe, crisp white shirt, shimmering blue tie that complemented his eyes.
He looked tired, but there was a determination there, a steely resolve. The warrior’s spirit. I’d seen it in him before, when he was arguing with his family, when he was verbally sparring with Klaus, when he was talking about his plans and dreams for changing the world.
But something was different.
I touched the knot of his tie, the way women do in movies, to straighten it – but it was already impeccable. “You look hot.”
He laughed, and the ‘something different’ was gone, replaced by the old Connor. “Well, that’s good to know.”
Then he settled back into that calmness and repose. He gave me a gentle smile. “I better go.”
He started to move, but I hung onto his arm. “Wait…”
He paused and looked at me, his eyebrows slightly arched, questioning… but otherwise expressionless.
The poker player’s mask.
“…are you okay?” I whispered.
He smiled again. Reassuring, calm… but not quite authentic. “It’s going to be a stressful day. I’m nervous.”
I frowned.
Connor, nervous?
Yeah, right.
Something about the way he said it felt strange.
“Are you… sure that’s all?”
“I’m sure,” he said, and kissed me again. It was gentle and pleasant, but without sensuality. It was a kiss from a man who had been married twenty years. A man who still liked his wife, but hadn’t tried to have sex with her for the last ten months.
Or just someone under incredible
strain, I chided myself. Cut him some slack.
Or better yet, give him something nice.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, giving him all the tenderness and sweetness I wanted from him.
There was a spark there… but it didn’t feel fully reciprocated. And it didn’t burst into flame.
I broke it off first and looked in his eyes, searching for something.
I didn’t find it.
Suddenly I was very, very frightened.
I leaned forward again and hugged him as tight as I could.
For some reason I couldn’t explain, it felt like I was saying goodbye.
He hugged me back, his hands warm against my naked skin… and then he gently pulled away. “I better go before Sebastian barges in here.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“See you soon.” He got up from the bed and strode over to the bedroom door.
“Good luck…”
He smiled back at me as he opened the door. “Thanks. Go back to sleep, get some rest.”
I waited for him to say it, silently pleading with him to say it –
I love you.
But he didn’t.
He just walked out and shut the door silently behind him.
33
I tried to go back to sleep, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
I lay there, tossing and turning, my mind going a million miles an hour.
Why didn’t he say it?
What was wrong?
What changed?
The little voice that likes to undermine me whispered in my ear.
Maybe he was waiting for YOU to say it.
I’d wanted to.
But something had held me back. The subtle shift in his manner, the lack of passion in his kiss.
Maybe you should have said it first.
Maybe I should have.
But I’d had a reason not to.
Because I was afraid he would repeat it woodenly back to me.
Or worse, say nothing at all.
Why didn’t he say it?
Leave it to Connor Templeton to be able to take my mind completely off my impending global shaming and the utter destruction of my personal life, all by not saying three little words.
34
Sleep was impossible, so I got up, threw on one of the hotel robes, and then paced back and forth. I wasn’t quite at full-on, hand-flapping freak-out mode… but I was getting closer, minute by minute.
My slowly rising panic overrode my ordinary hesitations, and I called room service for some coffee and fruit. I paced back and forth furiously as I waited. When the guy came up with the rolling tray, I thanked him and signed for a nice tip. As he left, I peeked out after him. Down the hallway were two big, burly men in suits, one on each side of the elevator.
One of them looked over at me, his face curious.
I snapped back in the room faster than the groundhog seeing his shadow and shut the door behind me.
I fixed myself a cup of coffee with cream and way too much sugar, then turned on the giant flatscreen in the penthouse’s main room.
This is crazy, I told myself. It’s only…
I searched for a clock. There was a fancy digital one over on a shelf, all sleek glass and brushed steel.
4:17 AM.
Nothing’s on, I told myself. Nobody knows yet unless they saw it on the internet.
How wrong I was.
Yeah, it was mostly infomercials and bad movies, but I also discovered a ‘Guide’ button on the remote that brought up a listing of the various channels available. I discovered that, despite being in Los Angeles, I had access to New York channels.
Including the New York City ABC affiliate… featuring Good Morning America.
Yippee.
My hand trembled as I pressed the ‘Enter’ button on the remote.
I really, really shouldn’t have done that.
The screen exploded into a 52-inch shot of me and Connor, my back pressed against the brick wall, a black bar across my breasts as I had an orgasm for the camera.
The coffee cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I felt the hot liquid splash across my bare feet, but I barely reacted.
“…the scandal rocking the nation this morning,” a woman’s voice said over the photos, “when pictures of a billionaire’s very public encounter with a woman of… let’s say, ‘questionable occupation,’ surfaced last night on TMZ.com. That very billionaire, Connor Templeton – of the famously rich family – will be joining us via live feed in just a few minutes from Los Angeles to explain his side of the story.”
I sank weakly onto the couch and watched, my stomach churning, as more pictures of my enraptured face flashed across the screen.
Then I ran into the bathroom and threw up.
35
By the time I’d collected myself and cleaned up the coffee, Connor was on TV.
A strange mixture of fear and tenderness coursed through me when I saw him.
He looked amazing. I could see the strain around his eyes, but only because I knew him. Otherwise he was picture-perfect, from his $5,000 suit, to his confident smile, to his stunning good looks. On another day, in another context, he could be running for the Senate, or maybe even the Presidency – an incredibly handsome man, powerful and assured, young and full of vigor, about to change the world. It was like JFK’s spirit had been reborn in a shell that was ten times better-looking, and without the Massachusetts accent.
He was in some sort of studio with wood paneling and potted trees in the background. He looked like he was relaxing and enjoying himself – definitely not undergoing a nationwide sex scandal.
The screen cut back to the female host, and her voice filtered into my consciousness. “…billionaire investor and philanthropist Connor Templeton is here with us now via satellite from Los Angeles. Thanks for coming on the show, Connor.”
“Thanks for having me.” He flashed that panty-dropping smile, and I imagined ten million females across America – housewives, women getting ready for work, eighty-year-old grannies – all swooning at once.
“Connor, these are some pretty… um, ‘compromising’ photos of you here.”
He laughed. “Yes, that’s putting it mildly.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I think you can see from the pictures exactly what ‘happened.’”
Nervous, titillated (yes, I used that word deliberately) laughter from the female host. “Um, yes, well… yes, I guess we can!”
Connor’s eyes suddenly focused on the camera with laser-like intensity, as though staring out at ten million souls, speaking to them each individually. I know I felt like he was staring at me, that’s for sure.
“The question is, how did these photos come out, and why? I’ll tell you – because they were an attempt by my ex-fiancée and my parents to blackmail me and try to stop me from financing a clean energy revolution that would bring inexpensive electricity to every household in America within five years – and after that, the world.”
The camera cut back to the hostess; she was clearly astounded. “That’s – um – wow, there’s quite a bit in that statement, let’s unpack that for a second. You’re alleging that your ex-fiancée and your parents tried to blackmail you?”
“They were in my Las Vegas hotel room yesterday at 4PM. That’s when I first saw the photographs, which they threatened to release to the media unless I abandoned my plans to bring inexpensive, clean energy to the nation.”
“I don’t understand – why would they try to stop you from doing that?”
“Because my father – Augustus Templeton, I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” Connor said, flashing a sarcastic smile, “has made billions of dollars from the coal and oil industries, and has spent hundreds of millions over the decades lobbying Congress to deregulate those industries, to provide his companies with federal subsidies, to make EPA standards looser – basically to pollute your air and water and make you, the Americ
an taxpayer, foot the bill, while he amassed an unbelievable fortune. My ex-fiancée, Miranda Lockwood, is a hedge fund CEO who makes hundreds of millions of dollars a year in investments in those same polluting companies. My father and Miranda stand to lose billions of dollars if the coal and oil industries are replaced by what I propose – an energy company that harnesses the sunlight in the Nevada desert and distributes it across America for PENNIES compared to traditional energy companies. I want to give back to the American people, and eventually give back to all of humanity. Miranda and my parents want to hoard their money and keep stealing more out of your pockets as you hack up your lungs on the way to the hospital.”
“Um, Mr. Templeton – ”
Again, that dazzling smile. “My father’s ‘Mr. Templeton,’ and I don’t want to be mistaken for him. Call me Connor.”
“Okay, Connor – these are some outrageous allegations.”
“I have some outrageous family members.”
“Do you think there was any sort of, I don’t know, revenge factor in this from your fiancée – ”
“EX-fiancée,” Connor stressed. “She walked out eight months ago after betraying me in a business deal – a business deal she did with my father, by the way.”
“Okay, your ex-fiancée – I mean, you ARE pictured with an attractive young woman in these photographs – ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ and all of that – ”
“Oh, I KNOW Miranda wanted to destroy me, but she’s always been very focused on money at the expense of everything else. I think that’s why she’s doing this, why she’s effectively trying to screw the American public out of what I want to do for them – because she wants to make billions of dollars, no matter what the cost is in human lives.”
All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction) Page 10