First Comes Love: A Billionaires, Brides, and Babies Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Damn.

  I’m starting to think that auction was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  “But right now,” he continues, “I’m going to make good on my promise and make you cum on my cock.”

  I swallow, nerves reappearing, even though this is exactly what I want.

  “I’ll go as slow as you need me to,” he assures me.

  I nod, watching as he rolls on a condom and settles himself between my legs, bracing himself on his palms on either side of my head. Wes locks his eyes on mine, positioning his huge cock at my entrance.

  I swallow, my breath coming in desperate pants as he pushes the wide head of his thick cock into my virgin pussy.

  “You okay?” he asks, watching me.

  I nod again. Inch by tortuously slow inch, he presses into me, stopping when he feels any resistance, letting me adjust to his size before he pushes any further. Finally, he’s all the way in, filling me to the max, stretching me in a way that is a combination of searing pain and unbelievably exquisite pleasure. Taking up every bit of space inside of me. Filling me with him.

  And he stays there, waiting. A rush of need takes over my body, and my pussy clamps down on his hard cock, needing the friction.

  Wes groans. It must feel good to him. I clench over him again, loving how it feels to have him inside me. Then he begins to move. Thrusting inside me over and over and over. My body responds, instinct taking over, and I meet his every thrust, desperate to get more, to get closer, to feel him stroke me in the best possible way.

  Placing his hands under my hips, he tilts me up until he’s hitting me at just the right angle. And it’s fucking perfect. In the next second, I’m doing exactly what he said I would. I’m coming all over his cock. Drenching him. Squeezing him. Milking him.

  He lets out a fierce growl as he gives into his own pleasure, his cock swelling and pulsing inside me so hard that it sends me right into another spiral of ecstasy.

  When I finally float back down to Earth, he takes me and wraps me in his arms, so gently, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Perfect,” he whispers.

  It was. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Nothing at all like jumping into a pool of freezing water. It was more like sliding into a hot spring.

  If that was just the first time? I can’t even imagine what’s ahead.

  As if he knows what I’m thinking, he rolls me toward him, cupping my face. “And it only gets better from here.” He kisses me softly, and know I can’t wait to find out.

  Part Seven

  Jules & Linc

  Jules

  “Okay, Jules, what do we have on the agenda?”

  I expertly balance my tablet in the crook of my arm while holding my Venti Caramel Macchiato with the same hand so I can swipe through Linc’s morning schedule.

  “Eight-thirty with Mackenzie, ten o’clock with the Burroughs, and eleven with—” I pause and glance up at my boss as we walk at a steady clip toward the subway entrance. I almost hate to tell him. “—Wes.”

  He groans. “Way to start a Monday morning, Jules.”

  I try to smother the laughter, but it bubbles up anyway. “He’s not that bad, Linc.”

  Linc levels me with at stare that tells me just how bad he thinks his brother is. Yeah, we both know how he makes his money. Linc was sure to warn me about his brother from the first time he came in for a visit at Linc’s investment firm—the first week I started working for him two years ago. That doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.

  He sips his own coffee. Black and strong. “Well, at least he won’t be hitting on you this time. I have it on good word that he’s officially off the market.”

  My eyebrows fly up, and I press a hand to my heart. “The women of Manhattan are going to be devastated. Oh, wait,” I say, as I pretend another thought hits. “This means they’re going to double down on their efforts to get their claws in you. How am I ever going to get any work done in between fighting them off with a baseball bat?”

  Linc gives me a lopsided grin. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Jules. You’re only the most efficient assistant ever. You can fight them off one handed while drinking lattes and keeping me in line. And that’s no easy task,” he adds with a wink.

  I try to ignore the flutter of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. I hate when he does that to me. Thrown off balance by the effect he has on me, I nearly lose my footing on a crack in the sidewalk, the heel of my Manolos catching.

  He reaches out to steady me, leaving his hand around my waist for what might be considered a few seconds too long. When he removes it, I can still feel the heat radiating out from where he touched me.

  “Yeah, keeping you in line is far from easy. Wish I’d known it was part of the job description,” I joke. It’s nearly difficult as keeping myself in line around him. How I’ve made it through two years working for him keeping my girlish crush to myself is a mystery.

  “Ah, you know you love me.” That grin again. Full of mischief. He bumps his shoulder against mine, and I laugh, shaking my head.

  We head underground, the crush of the morning commuters all around us. Linc places a hand on the small of my back, searing me yet again. I would think after months of this morning routine I would be immune. Nope. Furthest thing from it.

  When I moved into his neighborhood a few months back, he decided to forgo his town car that normally took him to work in favor of taking the 6 Train with me. Said that the walk and the fresh air did him good. And it gave us a head start on the day.

  I don’t complain. Even though we’ve always had an easy vibe at work, I feel like these mornings have given me a chance to really get to know him outside of the office. Because even though we’re supposed to be using the time to get ahead of the workday, most of our mornings are spent discussing the Knicks or what happened on our favorite shows the night before. Working for him is a dream anyway, but these mornings? Best part of my day.

  We squeeze onto the platform and talk about our favorite draft picks. When the train rushes by, screeching to a stop, we push forward, Linc guiding me on board with a hand on my elbow. Standing room only. Great. My favorite.

  Suddenly, raised voices catch my attention as the train lurches forward, and I crane my neck to see what’s going on. Some arrogant businessman is arguing with a woman, and she’s shouting insults and waving a flyer in his face.

  I arch my brow at Linc and shrug. Just another day in the city. When we reach the next stop, the same man pushes through angrily, obviously in a hurry to get off the train. He spins to hurl one last remark to the woman, and when he does, his elbow hits my coffee cup, sending milky brown coffee flying from my hand to land smack dab in the center of Linc’s chest.

  The shock on his face would almost be comical if it weren’t for the huge stain spreading across what I’m sure is a ridiculously overpriced dress shirt.

  “Fuck,” he grits out, glaring at the man. But he’s already off the train.

  “Here,” I say, shoving my tablet into his hands. “I’ve got this.”

  I dig in my bag for a minute and proudly produce stain-removing wipes, holding them up in front of him as if it’s a winning lottery ticket.

  Linc chuckles and shakes his head. “What would I do without you? You’re like a Boy Scout or something.”

  “You’d probably be avoiding the train and enjoying the luxury of your fancy chauffeured car. That’s what.” I smile and pull a wipe from the package, hurriedly dabbing at the stain. It’s really not that bad. With any luck, it won’t even be noticeable.

  I place my palm flat on his chest, pulling the shirt taut so I can scrub the fabric.

  I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we are. Inches apart, really. I take a deep breath, but that only makes it worse because now I have a lungful of his spicy, musky scent. Shit. My hand shakes as I continue to work on the stain. His gaze bores into me. I can feel it.

  “What?” I say, not looking up, my voice nearly as shaky as my hand, and I want to curse whoe
ver that asshole was. There is no way Linc isn’t going to notice the effect he’s having on me right now. The way my fingers are twitching with the urge to dig into his shirt and pull him even closer so I can rub my body all over his.

  “I think you’ve got it,” he says. He’s right. I’m still furiously scrubbing a stain that’s no longer there. He drops a casual kiss on my hair, causing me to freeze. “Thanks, Jules. Saving the day yet again.”

  I swallow, schooling my face before I look up at him with a too-bright smile. “That’s my job.”

  His eyes flicker with something I don’t quite recognize, a sexy smile curving lips that I really want to lick, and I tell myself it’s nothing. The hand that’s back on my lower back, resting oh-so-lightly there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fucking kiss he just dropped like that’s just what we did.

  Nothing. It’s nothing. So, why does it feel like something?

  Linc

  Jules is so fucking cute. I mean, who else would have a giant stack of stain removing wipes in her purse? She’s always coming to my rescue one way or another. I lucked out when she fell into my lap.

  Well, not literally into my lap. Though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had more than one fantasy of something along those lines. A late night at the office, her leaning over me as we work, her just happening to trip and fall and land right on my dick. Okay, more than one fantasy. More like I have a whole spank bank of them.

  A smile pulls at my lips as I rest my hand on her back, fighting the impulse to yank her to me.

  “Are you laughing at me again?” Jules says. “There is nothing wrong with being prepared. Saved your ass today, didn’t I?”

  “That you did, Jules. That you did.” I grin in earnest now, her sassy attitude making me forget all about the fact that I was irritated by the coffee.

  She smiles back, shaking her head. “You’re so crazy.”

  Yeah, crazy about you.

  I want to tell her so badly. How much I fucking want her. How she drives me absolutely mad with need and want and desire.

  But I don’t. For the same reason I’ve kept this little secret to myself for the past two years. She’s fucking amazing. And I’d be an asshole to mess up what a good thing we have going. As her boss, as her friend. All of it.

  That doesn’t mean I don’t totally check out her ass as she bends over to pick up the now-empty coffee cup. Or that when the train takes a curve, I happen to lean into a little more than necessary just so I can get a whiff of that sweet strawberry scent that wafts off her mahogany hair.

  I can’t even smell strawberries anymore without getting a boner. Seriously. That’s what this girl does to me.

  “So, Wes has seriously found a girl?” she asks, her nose wrinkling up in disbelief.

  I sigh. Back to my brother. “Yeah. Seems like it. Why? You jealous?”

  And how ridiculous am I that I’m actually worried she might be?

  She snorts. “Please. But I’m seriously terrified that we’re going to need to upgrade the security system to keep the ladies away from you.”

  The train slows, and we move toward the door. I take her elbow in my hand again, the feel of her soft skin making my body light up in awareness.

  “Sounds like you just might be jealous after all, Jules, baby,” I tease. Jules baby? What the fuck? Where did that come from? But I go with it.

  She elbows me in the ribs as we move off the train and head toward the stairs. “Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you just love that?”

  Her tone is light, full of jest, but the thought that she might be jealous of other women wanting my attention gives me pause. She’s never given me any indication that she thinks of me as anything other than a friend. I mean, hell, we discuss sports on a daily basis. Like she’s one of the guys.

  I shamelessly take in her ass as she climbs the stairs in front of me. Okay, definitely not one of the guys.

  I’m lost in my thoughts—and fantasies. Her naked on my desk, her naked on her desk, her naked on the boardroom table—and I think about it all the way to the office. The morning flies by in a rush of meetings, even the one with my brother going well. And it’s official. He’s dating a girl named Celine. When lunchtime finally rolls around, I’m ready for the break.

  Jules knocks on my office, holding up a bag from my favorite gourmet deli. “Hungry?”

  “Starving. You’re an angel,” I say, happy that it’s now one of the highlights of my day. We fell into the habit of eating lunch together early on, and now it’s a ritual.

  I follow her to the boardroom, my tabletop fantasy high in my mind as she leans forward to set the food out. When she turns around abruptly, I jerk my eyes up to her face, but I’m pretty sure it was too late.

  “Lincoln Brightman, were you just checking out my ass?” She places a hand on her hip, her eyebrows flying up.

  I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I laugh, lifting my hands in the air. “Busted.”

  Incredulous laughter rings from her mouth, sucking me in a little further. “You’re no better than your brother.”

  “Now that’s just playing dirty, Jules.” I smirk and take a few slow steps toward her. “But I guarantee I am way, way better than my brother.”

  I don’t know what made me say it. Why I didn’t shove those words right back where they came from. But now they’re out there, hanging in the air between us. She blinks rapidly, as if she’s not sure she heard me right. Or if she did, that she might be imagining the innuendo.

  Nope. It’s totally there.

  “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” she manages, but I don’t miss the way her eyes dart down, running over my body. I also don’t miss the telltale dart of her tongue across her lips as her eyes reach my cock.

  Holy fuck.

  What?

  I can’t even process what’s happening. Because there is no denying there’s some kind of sexual tension gathering in the room, sweeping us up in it. It’s like every fantasy I’ve had come to life. She’s seriously looking at me like she wants me. Something I have never seen on her face before.

  And fuck me, because even though I know it’s a terrible idea—that I’m her boss and there’s nothing that terrifies me more that running her off—I’m walking toward her, stalking, really, with nothing but dirty, wicked intentions.

  Jules

  Oh god. Linc has a glint in his eye. That same one I thought I saw this morning on the train. I didn’t recognize it then, but there’s no denying now what it is. Pure, unadulterated lust. As if he wants to spread me across the table like I’m what he wants to eat for lunch.

  I gasp, my thighs quivering at the mere thought of him between my legs.

  “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low, “you should just take my word for it, Jules. That would be the smart thing to do.”

  My throat feels tight, and I struggle to swallow against the nerves that are rising up.

  Another step closer.

  “You’re a smart woman,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “You know what you need to do.”

  I’m so confused. It’s like he’s warning me off. Telling me that this—whatever this is—is a bad idea. That it would be smart to not go there. But at the same time, he’s coming ever closer, his eyes dark with desire. For me.

  And there is no way in hell I can walk away from that.

  He stops inches from me, his breath coming nearly as fast and sharp as mine.

  “Linc,” I whisper, my eyes wide.

  He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Brushing his knuckles across my jaw.

  I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut, my body both relaxing into his touch and sparking with dangerous, delicious awareness.

  “Fuck, Jules,” he bites out, cupping my cheek in his palm, his thumb tracing my lips.

  I suck in a sharp breath, and suddenly my heart is hammering in my chest. Desire flooding my body. Blood rushing through my veins in a race to my center.

  �
�This is a bad idea,” he says, though he doesn’t step away or let go of me.

  My eyes open, searching his. “It’s a terrible idea,” I manage to say.

  “The worst,” he agrees.

  “Then why does it sound so good?”

  A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Because even though it’s bad, it would be so, so good.”

  I practically whimper, my knees feeling wobbly.

  Linc runs a finger down my chest, skimming over my breasts to my side, where he runs his hand around to my back, tracing lazy circles as he stares into my face. Watching. Measuring. Then he drops his hand lower, hovering lightly over my hips as he leans into me, pressing himself against me.

  I can’t help it. I moan at the hard pressure of his cock straining against my belly. “Linc, what are we doing?”

  “I don’t know. I just know I can’t think past the need to taste you right now.”

  I melt. My body pliant as he tangles his other hand in my hair and angles my head up toward his. His mouth is only a breath away. We’re sharing the same air.

  And I can’t fight it. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. Now that it’s happening there’s no resisting. Even though it will surely end badly.

  It doesn’t matter, though. I tip my head up higher, my eyes clear, showing him that I want this too.

  I can feel the hesitation. The tension winding him tight as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, indecision creeping into his eyes.

  We stay suspending in the moment for what feels like eternity.

  Then he mutters, “Fuck it,” and lowers his lips to mine.

  A soft, testing brush. So light it’s like a flutter. Then another, firmer, surer.

  My lips part on a sigh, so unbelievably content and so desperately needy at the same time, and he dips in, his tongue barely teasing mine.

  Linc pulls back, his eyes searching. Waiting for me to tell him no. But if that’s what he’s waiting for, he’s going to be waiting forever. Because there is no way I’ll tell him to stop.