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

by Alexis Angel

  He seems to see this, because the next thing I know, he’s kissing me with a desperation that matches my own. As if he’s wanted this as long as I have. I don’t know how that’s possible, but that’s how it feels.

  “Jules,” he groans against my mouth. “So sweet. Need more of you.”

  Yes.

  He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, gently at first, then tugging on it with a slow pull that’s echoed in my body all the way down to my pussy. A warm, delicious pull that has me clinging to him.

  Never breaking the kiss, he runs the hand that’s digging into my hip down further until his fingers graze the hem of my skirt. My breath catches as he pulls it up, inch by tortuously slow inch. His fingertips graze my thigh as he climbs higher, and electricity rockets through my body as if I’ve been struck by lightning.

  I shudder against him, and he holds me closer, wrapping me up in himself. So close I don’t ever want to be anywhere but here.

  He leans me back against the conference table, and my fingers dig into the wood for support, afraid I’ll fall over from the dizziness that sweeps over me when he brushes his fingers across the damp lace of my panties.

  “Oh god.”

  Linc pulls back just enough to study my face, a brow lifted in questions. I nod quickly, urging him to go on.

  My teeth clamp down on my lip as he pushes the scrap of fabric aside and runs his fingers through my folds. My whole body quakes.

  “Feel good, Jules, baby?” His eyes are soft, watching as he whispers the sweet endearment I tried to ignore earlier.

  “So good, Linc.”

  Mischief flashes in his eyes, in his quick smirk. “Told you it would be so bad it was good.”

  My breath comes in pants as his fingers work higher, teasing my clit, edging me closer to pure bliss.

  “Want to watch you cum,” he says, voice gritty.

  “Please.” It comes out like my life depends on it, and when he slides his fingers into my wet heat, my head falls back from the sheer ecstasy of having him inside me.

  Oh my god. Linc has his fingers inside me. It’s better than I imagined. And I’ve imagined it plenty.

  “Look at me,” he says. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see your eyes when you cum.”

  In what has to be the most intensely erotic moment of my life, I simply stare into his eyes while his fingers plunge into my depths over and over. I’m so close. All it takes is the flick of his thumb over my clit and I’m hurtling into an abyss of pleasure. My hips surge forward, and he drives deeper, his magic fingers never stopping as I cum hard. My walls clamp and clench, drenching his hand as I pulse around him.

  The entire time he watches my face, raw hunger all over his.

  When I drift down from the clouds he sent me soaring to, I slump down, my body heavy and limp, and he catches me in his arms, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Jules.”

  His words take me by surprise, but then he’s straightening my clothes, running his hand through my hair. With another quick kiss, he stands up and gives me a cocky smirk that is nothing but sexy.

  “Best lunch break ever.”

  I shake my head to clear it, trying to process what’s happening. I do the only thing I can think of. I sit down and have lunch with my boss, just like I do every day of the week.

  Now what?

  Linc

  Best. Week. Ever.

  It’s like every single one of my fantasies about Jules now has a chance to come true. We haven’t discussed what this is, and I don’t really want to yet. I just want to enjoy it.

  Nothing has been awkward yet, which is a huge relief. I nearly regretted doing what I did. After two years of fighting it, I thought I’d wrecked the good thing I had going in a moment of weakness. But apparently, I haven’t been alone in this thing. She wants me as much as I want her. The only thing I regret now is that it took me so damn long to do something.

  The entire week has been stolen kisses and naughty deeds in between clients. But tonight? Tonight she’s coming to my place. The Knicks are playing, and we’re ordering pizza and beer. Yeah, my girl is pretty perfect. Just like one of the guys. Except she is all woman and I’m hoping I get to bury myself in her before the night is over.

  The doorbell rings, and I let her in. She looks so fucking sexy in her cutoff shorts and tight little Knicks t-shirt thats stretched across her tits. I only ever see her in work clothes, and seeing her like this does something to me. I want to see more of her like this. Outside of work. All the time.

  Swallowing the words that are on the tip of my tongue, I just pull her to me and shut the door behind her.

  “About time you got here,” I mumble, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss. She responds just like she has every single time since Monday, pliant and willing and ready. I can’t get over it. I don’t know how I lucked out.

  “I brought dessert,” she says when I finally let her go, dangling a bag between us. I didn’t even notice the little bag from a bakery.

  I wink. “I think I could have found something else to eat for dessert.”

  She pretends to pull out an imaginary tablet and mimes scrolling through it. “Yes, Mr. Brightman, I see we do have that on the agenda for the evening.”

  Laughing, I lace my fingers through hers and lead her into the kitchen.

  Her eyes go wide as she focuses on my apartment. “Nice place.”

  I shrug. “I like it. But what I like even more is having you here in it.” I grip her hips and lift her up onto the counter before grabbing a couple beers from the fridge and popping the caps. Handing her one, I settle between her legs, leaning against the counter, and clink my bottle to hers.

  “What are we toasting?”

  I arch a brow. “A landslide win?”

  “I’ll drink to that.” And that’s one more thing I love about her. This girl is practically perfect for me.

  We devour the pizza and watch the game, and the night can’t get better because they do win.

  But then it does get better because Jules turns to me on the couch and climbs over me, straddling my lap, a gleam in her eyes. “We should celebrate that win.”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  She rocks against me, my already hard dick wedged against her hot center.

  “Let’s do this thing,” she says, and I have to chuckle.

  “Do this thing?”

  She smiles innocently. “Oh, unless you didn’t want to?” She starts to push up from my lap. “I can just go.”

  I laugh and grab her waist, flipping her around until she’s pinned under me on the couch. “Like hell you will,” I say, tickling her ribs until she’s laughing and thrashing under me. And I pretty much love it because her writhing body under mine is something I can totally get behind.

  We laugh and tease and play as we kiss and explore, taking our time, until finally we’re both stripped bare, nothing left between us.

  The mood shifts, and her usually light and easygoing demeanor becomes more serious. She bites her lip. “Linc, are you sure we should do this?”

  I watch her, brushing her hair back from her face, trying to focus on her words and not the fact that I can feel the wet heat of her pussy right up against my bare cock.

  “Do you want to do this?”

  She nods. “I do. But I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be scared. It’s just me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Her eyes cloud over. “I don’t want this to change anything.”

  “Jules,” I say, barely a whisper, tracing her cheek with my fingers. “It’s going to change everything. In only the best way,” I add as she looks worried.

  “I don’t want to screw things up. Lose my job. Lose you.” She smiles and wrinkles her nose in that way she has that’s so fucking cute. “I kind of like you. You know, every once in a while.”

  I chuckle. “That’s good. Because I kind of like you, too. I get what you’re saying,
baby. But you don’t need to worry about it. I don’t just want this to be a fling or a quick fuck.”

  Her face contorts at my words, and I laugh again. “Like I said, I kind of like you. I think I might want to keep you.”

  I say it lightly, but I know she gets what I’m saying because she seems to relax.

  Her eyes twinkle again with mischief. “So it’s not going to be a quick fuck, you say?”

  “You want to take my word for it?” I tease, throwing our words from the other day back at her.

  “I think this is one area where you need to prove it.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Jules

  My body responds to Linc as if that’s what it was made to do. He peppers kisses all over my jaw, down my throat, across my chest and between the valley of my breasts. Each one blazes a trail over my skin that has me wound tight, ready to take off.

  It’s crazy that we can be so playful, have fun just like we have every day for the last two years.

  And he wants to keep me. Not sure exactly what he means by that, but it definitely settles my fears that this is going to blow up in my face.

  Linc closes his lips over my nipple, and any other thoughts flee. All I can do is feel, and right now he’s making me feel fantastic. I arch up into him, wanting to be closer. As close as we can get.

  I lift my hips, feeling the thick length of him slide against me, and he lets out a quick gasp.

  He stands quickly, scooping me up.

  “Bed. Now.”

  I giggle. “I had no idea you spoke caveman.”

  “I have a lot of hidden talents you’re about to discover.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing along his jaw. “Please do enlighten me.”

  He waggles his brows and hauls me off to his bedroom, where he promptly deposits me on the bed then walks to the other side of the room.

  “Hey,” I protest. “Where are you going?”

  He comes back toward me, waving a little foil packet, and understanding dawns.

  I give him a mock-suspicious look. “Were you planning on getting lucky or something?”

  He grins. “Just trying to be more like you, Jules, baby. Being a good Boy Scout—always prepared and all that jazz.” He rips open the condom and rolls it on, then is right there with me on the bed.

  Brushing my hair from my face again in the way I’ve learned he likes to do, he looks into my eyes. Everything about being with him is an entirely new experience. He’s in no rush, not just in it for himself.

  I reach up and stroke his face. “Make love to me,” I whisper. Because I know that’s what this will be.

  Positioning himself over me, Linc braces himself on his forearms and lines himself up, his eyes on mine the whole time. Then he pushes inside.

  I bite my lip as he slowly slides in, taking his time until I’m comfortable, adjusting to his size that fills me so completely. He begins moving in long, slow strokes, dropping kisses on my forehead, my neck, at last covering my mouth with his.

  I move with him until we’re so lost in each other that everything else disappears. Hovering above me, he laces his fingers through mine, his face intense.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. So close to me. Until we’re as close as two people can be.

  Sensations overtake my body, and our need increases. We race toward our releases, desperate.

  Linc leans down and kisses me again, his eyes sucking me in as he whispers, “Come with me.”

  I let go of everything, giving myself over to the moment.

  I careen over a cliff of ecstasy, and he follows right behind me, my name falling from his lips in awe, just as his falls from mine. As if this is all we could ever want.

  We lay in a tangle of limbs as we drift together. After a while, he pushes up and rolls to his side, tracing circles on my stomach with a little smile on his face.

  Twining his fingers with mine, he kisses my knuckles.

  “Perfect,” he murmurs, and I know what he means.

  This is perfect. We‘re perfect together.

  And when he grins and says, “How about that dessert?” there’s no doubt.

  “Pizza, beer, sex, and dessert? Linc, it’s meant to be.”

  He laughs as he rolls on top of me and tickles me again. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  I smile.

  Yes.

  Perfect.

  Part Eight

  Avery & Finn

  Avery

  Yet another stack of fliers almost done. I sigh, pushing my hair back off my forehead and step back to look at my work. Multi-colored pieces of paper line the walls of the 59th and Lex station, yet hardly anyone is paying attention. This is the third train stop I’ve canvased today, and I’m starting to feel like the effort is futile.

  Fucking Finn Turner.

  Thinks he’s a damn king and can do whatever he wants. Well, not if I have anything to say about it. And with any luck, the citizens of New York.

  I mean, who the hell thinks they can just shut down the whole MTA? Seriously. He’s got to be the biggest narcissist ever. Spinning around, I catch a flash of reddish-brown hair sticking out above the crowd as the 6 Train pulls into the station, the speeding cars kicking up a breeze that scatters some of the fliers I’ve just worked so hard to tack to the wall in protest.

  No way. My eyes narrow as I follow the tall man weaving his way through the crowd of morning commuters.

  The man himself, the one I’ve basically declared my mortal enemy, is actually lowering himself to join the masses on the subway? I wouldn’t believe it if he wasn’t standing right there.

  But yep. He turns around, and I see him straight on. Definitely Finn.

  Grinding my teeth, I stride across the terminal, one goal at the front of my mind—to give him a piece of it.

  But the crowd surges forward onto the waiting cars, and for a minute I lose sight of him. I push my way forward when I catch another glimpse of him, determined to get on that train.

  I make it inside just as the doors start to slide shut. Scanning the crowded car, I spot him back and to the right.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter, elbowing my way throw the tight space, ignoring the glares and grumbles passengers toss my way. I couldn’t care less what they say.

  Then I’m there in front of him. Not knowing what to say. A little taken aback by the intimidating presence before. He’s way more captivating in the flesh. Not nearly as steely as the images I’ve seen in the media. But just as forbidding. Commanding. Sucking up all the air around him in a way that dominates everyone and everything around him.

  Cocky bastard.

  Steeling myself against the totally unexpected way my breath catches and my stomach flips, I thrust the rest of the fliers I’m holding up into his face.

  “You think you’re going to get away with this?” I demand.

  He arches a brow, cool and calm and oh-so-arrogant. I want to wipe the smugness right of his perfect face. Almost as much as I want to kiss it.

  What the hell? I shove that aside, not sure where it came from. This man in his fancy designer suit and over-priced haircut, flashing perfect white teeth at me, is not going to deter me.

  “You’re not,” I seethe. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Finn chuckles, a low rumble working its way through me in a way I don’t like in the least. He takes a flier from me and studies it, then his eyes meet mine, suddenly full of anger as he jabs his finger at the words. “You’re responsible for this?”

  I smile humorlessly, glad that I have, in fact, wiped that smirk right off his lips. Lips that are now curved in a sneer. “Yep. That campaign right there is headed by yours truly.”

  “Avery Samuels,” he says, and I don’t like the way my name rolls off his tongue at all. As if he loathes me. Well, buddy, the feeling is mutual.

  I jut my chin out. “That’s me.”

  His voice drops, so low and menacing. “You need to keep your nose out of my bus
iness if you know what’s good for you.”

  Is he freaking kidding me? I bite out a laugh. “Threatening me, Mr. Turner? Sorry, but it’s not going to work. There is no way in hell you’re going to get away with shutting down the entire MTA.”

  He smirks again, but I see the anger in his eyes. “Just try to stop me.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I retort, snatching the flier back from him. “And I will succeed.”

  “You have no idea who you’re messing with, baby.” His voice is still low. Strained. That’s when I realize I’ve been yelling and everyone on the train is casting curious glances our way.

  I raise my voice, looking around. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, Mr. Finn Turner. The very man who wants to shut down the MTA and bring New York as you know it to a grinding halt.”

  Dramatic? Maybe. But it’s effective because now everyone is staring at us, anger in many of the eyes I see.

  Finn grabs me by the shoulders, leaning down until I can feel his breath mingling with mine. “Don’t do this, Avery.”

  Again that flutter in my stomach. A race of chills down my spine. And not from fear. From the pure power of this man’s overwhelming presence, his voice and touch inciting a battle of conflicting feelings within me.

  I gasp. How is he making me feel this way? I hate him. Like, really, truly hate him. He wants to singlehandedly destroy the infrastructure that makes my city thrive. Yet I can’t deny it. The pull I feel toward him is powerful and unexpected.

  As if he could totally turn my world upside down in the very best way.

  It infuriates me. “Oh, I’m going to do it. I’ll stop you, Mr. Turner if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Like I said, dramatic. I may have a flair for it.

  He clenches his jaw, the muscle jumping as he continues to hold my arms. The train screeches to a stop, and he releases me abruptly, leaving me feeling strangely lost when he whirls and strides toward the door, bumping into a couple standing near it and sloshing the woman’s coffee all over her companion.