Play Thing: A Billionaire Romance

by Kira Blakely

  I can’t wait to see how she’ll look tonight.

  ***

  Holy shit.

  The silent curse leaves me as I watch Abby come down the stairs, breathtaking in the coral gown I’ve picked for her. I knew it would look good on her and the catalog said it would suit her complexion and her figure perfectly. But this?

  It’s beyond my wildest imagination.

  The gown hangs from around her neck, her slender shoulders bare. The lace bodice hugs her firm breasts, showing them off for once while a slit in the middle provides a peek of cleavage. The layers of skirt flow from the empire waist to her ankles, moving gracefully with her, giving just an occasional peek of her white sandals and pedicured toenails.

  And it’s not just the gown that’s perfect. Only a quarter of her hair, now shimmering black and wavy, is swept back, the rest cascading down the sides of her face. She’s wearing more makeup than usual but it’s not too heavy, her lips glossy and a delicious shade of pink, making me want to kiss them.

  What the fuck have I done?

  “Well?” Abby asks as she stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you think I look good enough?”

  Good enough? All the men at the party will probably be staring at her. As for me, I want to do more than stare. I want to tear that gown off her and fuck her right here on the stairs. I know I can’t, though, at least not now, and so I do my best to restrain myself, thinking of random funny things to keep myself from getting hard even as I reach for her hand, planting a kiss on it.

  “Gorgeous,” I compliment her, looking into her eyes. “The black hair suits you.”

  Abby shrugs. “It’s my natural hair color, after all.”

  Is that why she seems to have a newfound confidence? Indeed, I seem to be looking at a new Abby – more feminine, more sure of herself.

  More exciting.

  “I’m glad.” I offer her my arm and she takes it, smiling.

  Something tells me she’s going to enjoy the evening more than I will.

  ***

  I’m right.

  Abby seems right at home in the grand hotel ballroom, swimming effortlessly among the sea of women in glamorous gowns and the men in tuxedos, graciously smiling at each of them. Every now and then, she stops, subtly pointing someone out or whispering some tidbit of information in my ear while I do my best to pay attention and keep my gaze from wandering to the curve of her breasts even as they press against my arm.

  “The man with the gold-rimmed glasses is Edward Tucker,” she informs me. “Most of his investments are in shipping and manufacturing. Still, he seems to like gambling so maybe you can convince him to take a chance on you.”

  I nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And the man he’s talking to is Phil Goldman. No need to waste time trying to impress him. If his wife – that woman in the red gown – tells him to invest in something, he’ll do it.” She lowers her voice a tad more. “I hear that’s the price he has to pay for cheating on her.”

  “I see.” I bring my glass of champagne to my lips.

  “And that…”

  Suddenly, she stops and the next thing I know, she’s running off toward a woman in a blue gown.

  “Sam!” Abby places her arms around the other woman.

  “Abby?” Sam looks at her in disbelief. “I hardly recognized you.”

  If Sam is here, that means…

  “Well, well, well, Grant.” Nathan places a hand on my shoulder. “I have to say I like what you’ve done with her.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” I tell him crossly, taking another sip of champagne.

  “Really?” Nathan raises his eyebrows. “I would have thought you’d have done a lot by now, especially since you practically asked for her.”

  I look at Abby, who is still busy talking to her friend, Sam. Good. She didn’t hear what Nathan just said.

  “I’m well aware of what you think of me. But what can I say? Abby is a real lady so I have to act like the half-baked English gentleman I am.”

  Nathan chuckles. “So, you’ve finally met your match, have you?” He squeezes my shoulder. “Well, good luck.”

  I frown. What on Earth does he mean?

  “I’m not the same as you, Nathan. I…”

  I stop talking as Abby approaches, smiling at Nathan.

  “Mr. Landers,” she greets him. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Please. You no longer work for me so call me Nathan.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “And I must say you look stunning tonight. I almost regret letting you go.”

  Asshole.

  “Oh, stop it.” Abby blushes, making me feel even more annoyed. “Sam will get mad.”

  “No, she won’t. I’m only telling the truth, after all.” He holds on to her hand. “It seems working for Grant has been good for you, but if he ever gives you a hard time, you know you can still come to me, right? After all, in all those years that you’ve worked for me, I’ve grown to think of you as—”

  “I think that’s enough,” I cut him off, unable to contain myself any longer.

  I grab Abby’s arm. “Shall we dance?”

  “Okay.”

  I whisk her away to the middle of the ballroom, ignoring Nathan’s smug grin. That bastard. He was flirting with Abby on purpose just to provoke me into a fit of jealousy, and now that he has succeeded, he’s looking awfully proud of himself.

  “Is something wrong?” Abby asks, a look of concern on her face.

  “Nothing,” I tell her.

  To hell with Nathan and his games. I have my own.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I add.

  “Surprisingly, I am,” she confesses. “How about you?”

  “It’s not too bad, especially since I have you by my side.”

  She falls silent, looking away as another blush coats her cheeks. At the same time, a lump forms in my throat, another threatening to form elsewhere.

  Fuck. Maybe dancing with her isn’t such a good idea, after all.

  All evening, Abby has been beside me. But now, she’s closer to me than ever. Her body is practically pressed against mine. I can feel her breasts brushing against my chest, and each time, my breath catches and a heat surges beneath my skin.

  I want her. I want to kiss her right now, to take her home and be entangled with her under the sheets until morning.

  So, you’ve finally met your match, have you?

  No. I have to stay calm, stay in control. I have to wait for her to want me.

  I have to make her want me.

  Just then, my gaze crosses with that of a redhead in a purple gown. She smiles at me, and I smile back.

  “Do you know her?” Abby asks.

  “No,” I answer. “But I think I will. If it’s all right with you, that is. Is it?”

  She pauses.

  Come on, Abby. Say no and I’ll stay with you. Just say the word.

  “Of course.” She lets me go with a forced smile. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”

  I suppress a frown. She obviously wants me to stay, and yet she’s letting me go? She’s been confident all evening. Why be shy now?

  “Are you sure?” I ask her.

  She hesitates for just a second. “Yes.”

  Your loss.

  “All right, then. I’ll see you in a bit.” I go over to the woman who’s waiting for me.

  Nothing makes you want something more than seeing someone else have it.

  Now what will you do, Abby?

  ***

  “I never thought you’d get yourself drunk,” I tell Abby as I help her up the stairs of the mansion, my arm around her waist.

  Yet, that is what she is, her cheeks redder than ever and her eyes barely open, her knees like jelly. She had already fallen asleep on a couch in the lobby, in fact, which was where Sam found her and why she decided to get me.

  “Seriously.” I lift her up another step. “How many more glasses of champagne did you have?”

&nbs
p; “Too many,” she answers, her voice slurred.

  “Damn right,” I tell her, letting out a deep breath as we reach the top of the stairs. “You shouldn’t drink more than you can handle, you know.”

  She pushes me away, leaning on the balustrade to keep her balance. “You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do. I let you do what you want so you should let me do what I want.”

  “And is this really what you want, hmm? To ruin the evening and look like a fool?”

  “You’re the one who did that.” She points an unsteady finger at me. “You’re the one who ruined my evening and made me look like a fool.”

  “Really?” I place my hands in my pockets. “How?”

  She laughs.

  “How?”

  “You… went with that woman. You left me.”

  So, she drowned her jealousy in champagne.

  “If you didn’t want me to leave, you should have—”

  “You left me!” She pushes me and then grips the front of my shirt. “You told me I looked gorgeous. You said I looked good enough. But I’m still not good enough for you, am I?”

  “That’s not true,” I tell her. “If you had wanted me to stay with you, I would have. But you didn’t want that, did you? You don’t want me, do you?”

  For a moment, she doesn’t answer, just looks into my eyes as she continues to grip the front of my shirt, her own black eyes teary.

  Then she says the words I’ve been dying to hear all evening. “Kiss me, Grant.”

  I hesitate, only because she’s drunk, and she might not remember any of this tomorrow.

  “Kiss me,” she repeats louder, gripping my shirt more firmly.

  Oh, to hell with it. If she can still remember what happened earlier and boss me around, she can’t be that drunk. And there’s no way I can refuse her when she’s looking at me like that, when she’s offering herself to me so willingly.

  I’m just a man and right now, I’m a man who’s harder than he’s ever been.

  Grasping her chin, I kiss her, my other hand pulling her closer to me so that she can feel my erection. She moans, and I slip my tongue between her lips, tasting the sweet berries from her lipstick and the bitter acidity of the champagne. The combination is exquisite.

  My hand moves to Abby’s hair, my fingers becoming entangled with the ebony tendrils as I kiss her harder, my tongue going wild as it explores the uncharted softness of her mouth. In between her gasps for breath, she kisses me back with wild abandon even as she grinds her hips against mine, her passion making mine burn stronger.

  Fuck.

  There’s no turning back now.

  Scooping Abby in my arms, I carry her to the nearest bedroom, throwing her on top of the large bed before turning on the lamp. As I remove my shoes and shrug off my jacket, she laughs, stretching her arms out to me as she kicks her sandals off.

  “Grant.”

  The sound of my name on her lips is like a drug, making me lose my mind even as I try to regain control of my body.

  I toss my jacket on a chair. “Fuck, Abby. You’re going to drive me insane.”

  She just gives another laugh, which I silence halfway through with another passionate kiss as I climb on top of her. I cup her breast, my thumb finding her nipple through the lace and pressing against it. She trembles, one hand trapping my shoulder in an almost bruising grip.

  Still kissing her, I reach for the hooks behind her neck then peel her bodice down. I tear my lips away from hers, pulling back so I can enjoy the view of her breasts. They’re even more beautiful than I imagined, perfectly round and a lovely shade of pink in the center.

  “Fuck, Abby. You’re beautiful.” My words come out hoarsely as I press a reverent kiss to the tender valley between those mounds of flesh.

  She lets out another soft laugh. “If you’re going to start every sentence with ‘fuck,’ you might as well do it.”

  “Oh, is that a challenge?” I lift my head to gaze into her eyes as I cover both her breasts with my palms.

  Abby draws in a deep breath, but the look in her eyes tells me she’s not backing down. “What if it is?”

  I grin as my thumbs rub against her pert nipples. “You know what? I like this feisty Abby.”

  If this is how she gets when she’s drunk, I don’t mind it at all.

  She gasps. “And I like this crazy Grant.”

  And whose fault is that? I wonder. Indeed, I feel like a lunatic, maddened by desire, like a beast driven by hunger.

  And it’s all because of this woman.

  I kiss her again, addicted to the feel of her lips, intoxicated by the taste of her mouth. I’m not the one who’s drunk but I feel like I am. Abby is the most potent drink I have ever come across.

  I lift her skirt, my fingers brushing over her knees and against one quivering thigh. She shudders even more. With need or with excitement? I don’t know. I only know that every shiver that goes through her goes through me, my hard cock throbbing as it strains against the fabric of its confines.

  When my fingers reach the top of her thighs to touch the part of her hidden in between them, she moans, her hips rising from the bed. I feel the dampness of the cotton against my fingertips, and I feel myself leaking, my own boxers getting stained.

  Fuck.

  My mouth moves to her neck then to her breasts as I slip my hand beneath the damp cotton, rubbing the soft nub hidden among her curls before moving lower to slide a finger inside her. It goes in without resistance, the tight softness around my finger making me almost come then and there, so much so that I have to let go of the breast that I’m sucking and bury my head against her shoulder, drawing in a deep, ragged breath.

  Why? I’ve been with many women before but none of them have ever made me feel like this.

  And to think that Abby isn’t even doing anything.

  Suddenly, she does something, stroking my nape with one hand and pressing her lips against my ear, her hot breath tickling the sensitive skin before the tip of her tongue darts out to trace it, sending shivers up my spine.

  “Fuck!”

  “Fuck me,” she whispers before playfully nipping the lobe she’s laid claim to.

  I don’t need to be told a second time. God knows I can’t hold back any longer. Pulling her skirt up, I spread her legs and settle between them, fumbling with my belt and then taking my cock out of my boxers in record time.

  Finally, it’s out of its cotton cage. But it’s not out that it wants. It’s in.

  I want to be inside her.

  With one thrust, I turn that desire into reality, gripping her thighs and grunting at how soft and tight she is, her velvety warmth clinging to my aching skin.

  There’s no way I’m going to last long.

  I start moving, pounding into her. Abby squeezes her eyes shut, her mouth open to let out moans and gasps as she throws her head back, her hands grabbing the sheets.

  I’m close. So close.

  Abby cries out, her back arching off the bed and her nails digging into my back as her body quakes beneath mine.

  “Fuck!” I shout as I follow her over the edge, my own body quivering as my pace becomes erratic. I shudder to a stop as I come inside her, the force of it so intense that it leaves me completely out of breath.

  Spent, I pull out and lie down beside her, staring blankly at the ceiling as I wait for the drumming in my chest to fade. When it does, I look at Abby and realize that she has fallen asleep, her head turned to one side with some strands of hair stuck to her cheeks.

  Sleeping soundly, she looks so different from the fiery seductress she was earlier. She looks so innocent now.

  And yet equally fascinating.

  I brush the strands of hair away, stroking her still-warm cheek. As I do, I feel an unexpected burst of warmth in my chest, my heart skipping a beat.

  What is this sensation?

  I don’t know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Now, the most crucial part of my plan is complete. Abby belongs to me, and soon, succes
s will be, too.

  Everything is going according to plan.

  Chapter 5

  Two Steps Back

  Abby

  Everything is a disaster. I glumly pace the garden with my arms crossed over my chest. My hair, which is still wet from my bath, is occasionally swept by the early morning breeze.

  Less than an hour ago, I woke up in a dark room with my stomach churning and a splitting headache. I dashed to the bathroom to throw up and wash my face only to find that I was still wearing the coral gown I wore last night – well, sort of. It was still hanging around my waist though the bodice had come undone. As I put it back on in front of the mirror, my memories returned and I gripped the sink, gasping as I realized what I had done.

  I slept with Grant.

  I had sex with my boss.

  The stickiness on my thighs and the sight of him still sleeping soundly on the bed I just got out of confirmed it.

  Cursing silently, I ran back to my room to take a long shower. That helped relieve my headache and the sticky feeling. My thoughts remained muddled, though, and so here I am, hoping some fresh air and early sunlight will clear my mind.

  All right. So I know what happened. The question is… how did it happen? How could I have allowed it to happen?

  Fine. It’s because I drank too much last night. But I wouldn’t have done so if Grant hadn’t left me to be with another woman.

  But he asked you if it was all right with you, didn’t he? And you said yes.

  That’s because I didn’t want to sound selfish and needy. After that kiss, I was confused, especially when Grant acted like it was nothing. When he invited me to the party and told me to get all dolled up, I decided to take it as an opportunity to find out whether he was really interested in me. That’s why I took all the extra effort to look beautiful and why I managed to act confident. If I had asked Grant to stay with me, all that act would have been a waste.

  Indeed, I wanted to find out how he felt, not tell him how to feel. And I did. At first, I thought he was interested in me. But I was wrong.

  But he slept with you.

  Because I asked him to. I don’t really remember what I said but I’m pretty sure I made the first move, the thought of which is enough to make me blush.