RYKER (Rogue Billionaires, Book Two)

by Olivia Chase

  “Like this?”

  “Like that.” Holding her face still, I revel in how gorgeous she looks in this position. So submissive, a dog in heat, and there’s no shame in that. I would do anything to have her like this nightly, even daily. “Open your mouth,” I tell her, and after a moment’s hesitation, she does. “Beautiful.”

  I slide my cock into her mouth and slowly fuck it.

  Fuck that gorgeous face, that sassy mouth. “Maybe you won’t talk back as much now,” I tell her.

  And this is all her fault for leaving the bedroom door unlocked, as I warned her not to do.

  Clearly, she doesn’t understand the monster that lurks inside every man.

  But Sweetness doesn’t care, because Sweetness is hungry for my stiff cock. Hungry for a release. I know because she’s reaching down to fiddle her clit through her panties while she pleasures me, but she won’t be doing that herself, not while she’s under my roof. Damn it, she’s putting a kink in my plan. “You want to come?” I withdraw momentarily.

  “Yes, Mr. Townsend. So badly. Please fuck my mouth again, and I will.”

  Sassy and sexy as fuck with her backtalk.

  “Oh, no. You don’t call the shots, Sweetness. I do. On your back—now.” As perfect as that pleading sounded, I can’t have her thinking she’s in control of me. Doesn’t work that way. Penelope scrambles to her feet then slides onto the bed, pushing back so she’s centered. Her legs are slightly parted, and her breathing is ragged, uneven. “Take those off,” I say, eyeing the panties. “Slowly.”

  Her fingers hook into the sides of her light-colored panties, soaking through with her juices. I can see it even in the soft light and it makes me harden even more, if that’s possible. “Like this, Mr. Townsend?”

  She’s fucking with me. Even in sex, she’s spirited as balls, and God help me, I love it. But she cannot be allowed to know that, as I can’t encourage this sort of behavior and disobedience.

  “Yes. Like that, Miss Wallach. You hear how we’re addressing each other? That’s how we will always address each other. Why?” I say, as she plucks off the rest of panties and tosses them to the corner of the bed. Her pussy glistens as it drips. I can smell the warmth between her legs like a wolf picking up blood in the forest. I want it. I need it like I need oxygen.

  “Why, Mr. Townsend?” she coos, reaching down to touch herself.

  I kneel between her legs, grab her wrist and push it to the side of her body. “Because this is a professional relationship,” I say, pressing my nose against her hot skin, taking in the lust and pure desire waiting for me there. “And it will continue to be one, and that is why you will never, ever leave your door open again. Are we clear?” I press my tongue against her clit and hold it there.

  Not moving.

  Not licking.

  Just pressing.

  She shudders with need. “Yes, Mr. Townsend. I’m sorry for disobeying you. I just need to come so badly.”

  “Again,” I say, lighting licking around her clit, dipping into her juices, and familiarizing myself with my Sweetness’s innermost secrets. “I call the shots. You lay back and learn.” My finger slides into her, and she moans aloud. The sound is like music, art, and lyrical dance all rolled into one. I could sit in an empty theater, front and center, and listen to the sweet refrain over and over again. I give her two fingers to hear just how amazing she can get.

  Her groans fill the room. I’m so glad there’s no one in the house to hear her through the baby monitor in the room next door, because that sound is for me alone. I don’t care that I barely know her—she’s mine.

  I feel the need to possess her deeply, down in my gut, in my balls.

  Fuck, I’ve never felt anything like this before. For a moment, there’s a flood of anxiety that almost makes me second-guess myself. I don’t want to get in deep with anyone, don’t want to lose myself in another person.

  But then I shake it off. My lust overcomes whatever fears this woman brings out in me.

  Pressing my tongue onto her clit, I begin to lick and suck, flicking that hard, tiny kernel against my mouth, coaxing it into submission. More beautiful sounds emit from her throat, as she grips my hair and writhes against me, pushing her folds into my face, coating my tongue with her elixir.

  I drink it. I drink, because there’s nothing more amazing than this woman’s pussy pushing against my nose and mouth, begging for more, dying for release. I intensify the onslaught with my fingers, fucking her tight little cunt while I continue to lick, feeling her legs tighten, knees press against my head, and I know she’s mine. She’s mine and forever will be. Tightening her grip around her hair and bending to one side, she fights against the waves even as they come. Even from here, I see her nipples stiffen as she cries out, but I don’t stop licking her. I lighten my strokes but kiss her through her orgasm, feeling the muscles spasm around my fingers.

  Fucking sweet little temptress.

  When she’s begun coming down from her high but not quite drifted into the middle realm of giddiness, I stand, flip her around, then slide her to the edge of the bed. Like a cat getting dragged away for a bath, she holds onto the bed sheets, glancing around for clues as to what I’m going to do.

  “My turn, Sweetness.” With her pussy still dripping from her orgasm, I slip my cock into her cunt, hold onto her hips, and plow in. I need her, want her, have to have her, make her mine. Drive it all the way home.

  Wrapping her legs around mine, she’s still facing down, facing away, so I don’t have to see her pretty face, don’t have to feel anything when she looks at me, because this won’t be happening again.

  Even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself.

  In any case, while I have her, she will obey me. She will listen, and she won’t beg for more after I fuck her, because I’m going to wear her out.

  “Have you ever been fucked like this before?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “No, or no, sir?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, the next time you leave your door open, I won’t be this nice. You hear that, Sweetness? This is me being nice.” I fuck her harder, hold onto those hips, and relish in feeling that ass, watching it jiggle with every pound I give her, contract with every stroke.

  Little do I realize until I’m almost close to coming that her hand has disappeared between her legs. She’s getting off on my cock’s onslaught. Damn, she really needed it. I would tell her to stop—not on my territory—but I just want to feel the release now and sensing her muscles tighten again around mine would only enhance it. Still, I can’t have her calling shots, so I reach around and double her efforts by pressing my hand on hers.

  Her neck strains out, and I ride her ass from behind. She groans long and loud, and the result is so animalistic, it’s transcendent. “Come again, Sweetness. Come all over my cock.” I love it. I love the juices, I love her hot breath panting, I love the way I’m crouched behind her like some animal catching its mate off-guard, pounding her until we both lose ourselves in the sound and fury and ecstasy.

  She feels so good and tight around me, I can’t take it anymore and I blow my load into her delicious pussy. So. Fucking. Good. This woman belongs to me. The whole thing feels so right, that it isn’t until my brain turns back on, as I come down from this high, that I realize I wasn’t wearing a condom. She didn’t care, and I assume that’s because she’s on birth control. Still—it can’t happen again.

  The mantra I need to repeat until it becomes fact.

  We’re both exhausted. I barely have the strength to lift her and settle her down on her pillow, then I curl up next to her. I should probably leave, but I can’t—I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight in what’s left of the moonlight. An angel waking up from a dream, glancing at me like I’m her star-crossed lover, then falling asleep faster than she came.

  I look away. I can’t take in the vision. I can’t stare straight at her or I’ll feel, and that was the last thing I wanted when I came here.


  Still, I stroke her arm gently and move her hair all to one side, because it’s too silky not to touch, and anyway, she’s fallen asleep. Fascinating creature, this Penelope Wallach, some kind of siren beckoning me to the rocks, where I will surely crash and be destroyed if I let myself. And I’m a fucking idiot who needs to get the fuck out of this room before I ravage her all over again.

  Once she’s twitching in her sleep a half hour later, I slip out of bed and pull on my pants, carrying my shirt over my arm. I give her one last glance—beauty in sleep—before exiting the way I came in, through the bathroom. Turning off the hallway light, I close that door and quietly shuffle past the baby’s room. Inside, Lilly Belle stirs, whining in her sleep. Did she hear us grunting and moaning in there? Is she dreaming about her mother?

  I can’t fucking think about that.

  I don’t want Penelope waking up after I so effectively put her to sleep, especially since she’s with the baby all day long. The woman needs a break, and I’m not a total asshole. I slip into the nursery I’ve kept sparse on purpose, because what the hell—she’s not going to stay here very long—and peer over the edge of the crib. The baby pumps her little arms and legs with eyes closed. Bad dream. I turn her onto her side and pat her tiny body. “Shh, shh,” I tell her, like Penelope did on the first day.

  The new nanny has already taught me something.

  The baby immediately settles into peaceful sleep again, sucking on an invisible bottle, tiny pouty lips moving up and down.

  My chest tightens and I swallow hard.

  Fuck. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

  Too bad I’m not the right dad for her. I’m not even the right uncle.

  But perhaps it’s better this way. Better to lose your parents early, because this is what real life is like—surviving on your own—and the sooner she learns that, the better.

  I cover her up and leave the room, making my way back to my wing of the house through empty, cold hallways.

  Penelope

  Sunlight filters in through the light curtain, and the sounds of happy gurgling through the baby monitor gently awaken me. I sit up, ready to go check on Lilly Belle, warm her bottle and sit with her when all of a sudden, the memory of last night hits me hard.

  Ethan was here last night.

  It wasn’t some dream spawned by the full moon. He was really here. And oh, my God…the things we did. I was bad. So bad! Did he really… My cheeks flush with prickly heat. Did he really do all the things I let him do? I’m mortified at the acts I let him perform, but also surprisingly impressed with myself. I am not a sex goddess by any means, but I’ve been needing it.

  I slept with my boss.

  And holy crap was it good. Holy god was he good. Just the thought of his perfect cock sliding into my mouth, into my pussy, makes me wet all over again.

  Shit, I need to get it together…

  The baby’s gurgling turns to desperation, like Lilly Belle is saying, Hellooo? Anybody home? I heat up her bottle and enter her room with a rush. “Good morning, sweet pea. How did you sleep? Like a rock, apparently. I didn’t even hear a peep from you!” She’s a good sleeper, this one. She already makes my job that much easier.

  Assuming I still have a job.

  I’m terrified of what I’ll find when I come downstairs.

  When all eight ounces of milk are gone, and she’s had her changing, I set her to play in her crib with music, while I change into day clothes. Coming back to pick her up, I carry her through the house, pointing out the emotionless, black-and-white photography Ethan (or Ethan’s interior designer) has placed throughout the house. Old saw mills, the Eiffel Tower, modern skyscrapers…things to do with steel.

  Cold, hard, and strong. Like Ethan.

  More memories from last night… He wanted me to fear him, to keep my door locked.

  But in another way, he wanted me to want him even more.

  It was evident from every move he made.

  I am feel nervous about seeing him again, but I have to face him. I have to. We have to talk about what happened, and it’s better that I do it with Lilly Belle in my arms, so he doesn’t yell at me. Who would yell at a baby?

  Of course, Ethan Townsend might…

  “Shall we go see your uncle?” I ask O Little One.

  Lilly Belle coos and gleefully grips a fistful of my hair.

  “Ouch. Leave Penelope’s hair alone, honey bunny.”

  I follow the smell of coffee downstairs into the kitchen and see him standing there, dressed and ready for work and ho-ly shit, does he look hot as hell. Black pants, dark blue button shirt, silver watch, silver cuffs, cup of coffee in his hand, other on his hip. Perfectly “all man” from head to toe. The sight of him almost makes me regret coming down. Every kiss, every touch from last night comes barreling into my mind, and now I’m just going to look flushed.

  “Good morning, Miss Wallach. I trust you slept well?” There’s a glint in his eyes.

  “I…” What am I supposed to say? He’s implying that he made me come so hard—twice, now that I remember—that I zonked out. He would be correct, which absolutely burns me. “Not bad. Woke up once or twice,” I force myself to casually say.

  “Did you now?” He smirks and resumes sipping his coffee while standing at the counter checking his iPad for work-related things, I presume. What a handsome man, like a runway model for sexy businessmen. “Then you would’ve heard the baby crying shortly after our…meeting. No worries, I took care of it.”

  Wait, what? He tended to the baby last night?

  Ugh, the nanny mark of shame. Anytime the family has to step in to do something I was hired to do, I always feel so guilty. I should’ve heard her, I should’ve comforted her, not him. It’s even more embarrassing because of why I didn’t hear her. “Thank you,” I mutter, holding Lilly Belle’s hand, shaking her little fist until she smiles. You little thing, you didn’t tell me. “It’s good that she got to see you then.”

  There. That’ll bite him.

  A quick jaunt down the old guilt trip road never hurt anybody.

  I look up cautiously.

  Ethan stares at me through steely eyes. “From now on, keep your door closed. I’ll be very busy at work the next couple of days, and I don’t want to come home to find things out of order. Doors remain locked, and the baby…” He casts a glance at Lilly Belle. “Stays upstairs. If you need something from the kitchen, come down alone to get it or have Wilson fetch it for you.”

  Is he serious? I can’t walk around with the baby? This little girl who is his sweet, little niece must be kept in isolation? “I see. So you don’t want to see Lilly Belle,” I stress her name. She’s not just the baby, “anywhere downstairs. Just so I’m clear.” And to reiterate what a jerk you are.

  “Correct. The house is big enough. You both have your domain. I have mine.” He glances again at his iPad which emits a cold blue glow onto his face, electrifying his eyes with chilly intensity.

  Let me see if I got this: stay out of the way where I can’t see you, and get that baby out of my face. Got it.

  His aloof demeanor hurts so much more because of what happened between us last night. I’m used to heads of family being somewhat brusque, but this guy takes the cake. What did I expect this morning, for him to present me with roses and tell me what a wonderful time he had? Of course not. Last night meant nothing to him. That much is clear. But…did it mean something to me?

  Maybe not in the way of love and romance, because I certainly don’t feel that Mr. Townsend is my knight in shining armor, but still—I can’t simply forget an intimate encounter the next morning the way he apparently can. Especially one so intense.

  Anger boils inside of me. How can he be so disconnected? Is that all that sex means to him, just hard fucking, then you go about your day? I feel sorry for any woman who’s ever tried to make an emotional connection with him, but it’s not my place to even care. “Yes, sir,” I say, trying hard to keep the scorn out of my tone.

&nb
sp; “Miss Wallach,” he says, while I grab a snack of grapes from the fridge.

  He’s going to say something about last night. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe it did mean something to him—he just prefers not to dwell on it. I could understand that, I suppose. But he only says, “No need to take it personally.”

  “Right. Of course not.” I take a deep breath, chin up. “Don’t worry, we’ll stay out of your way, Mr. Townsend. Come on, Lilly.”

  Damn it, I am hurt, and I am taking it personally.

  I may not have much experience when it comes to love and sex, but I’ve never felt so used. I’m sorry but he needed it just as much as I did, or he wouldn’t have come sniffing at my door. Technically his door. Whatever. For some reason, though, things don’t feel reciprocated. Things feel like I’m the one who fell for his charms. I’m the weak one, the one who didn’t pass some test of strength. And I know it’s because I’m not an all-business steel magnate man who’s used to taking what he wants from whomever he wants, like some Category 5 tornado leaving a mess in its wake.

  It’s because I’m a woman, emotional and affected.

  A woman who should’ve known better.

  Ethan

  Home might be where I unload, but work is where I come to think.

  Usually, that means modeling and setting the company’s strategy and direction, leading the executive team, allocating capital to the company’s priorities, but today it’s something else entirely. Today, I have a twenty-one-year-old girl on my mind.

  A nanny, to be exact.

  My nanny.

  No. Lilly Belle’s nanny.

  Never mind that everyone is waiting for me in the next room or that the meeting will be starting any moment now. I can’t rip my gaze away from my 68th floor Central Park view. Fall is here. Burnt oranges, bright crimsons, and vibrant yellows. Part of me imagines myself out in the park, walking amongst those trees with Penelope and Lilly Belle.