Billionaire Beast (Billionaires - Book #12)

by Claire Adams

  I guess that's what made the sex with her so incredible. I knew she wasn't faking it or trying to act like she thought I'd want her to. The reactions she gave to every touch were her true sexual responses, and that was erotic as hell. When her skin shivered and her mouth sighed, I knew I had truly affected her on a deeper level, and when she clutched at the sheets and screamed out in passion, I knew I was really giving her the best orgasm of her life.

  It seemed oddly selfish to think of it these terms, but making Kayla come was the greatest pleasure I'd ever known. It made me feel gratified in a way I'd never experienced before. I had always been an over-achiever, getting top grades in school, working my ass off for Krueger, and then working even harder to create Speed Motorcycles and turn it into what it was today, but all that hard work and been selfishly motivated. I was serving myself with the ultimate goal of achieving wealth, and I'd succeeded. I was now outrageously rich with no one in my life to share it with or enjoy it alongside me.

  When I was Kayla, however, making her writhe on the bed with delirious pleasure as I fucked her all night long, I was giving something to someone who truly deserved it. Kayla Brandt had felt unloved and unappreciated most of her life; she was craving male attention and acceptance. I wanted to be the one to give that to her and reward her with pleasures unlike anything she'd ever known. I wanted to be the one to make her light up in that way and to say that I was her man.

  She had the kind of body I knew I would never get tired of, and the kind of personality I could just sit and talk with for hours. Nothing about her was boring, fake, or annoying. She was just terrific all the way around, and I never wanted to be without her.

  I guess that said it all. I wanted to be in a relationship with Kayla Brandt. I wanted to be with her alone and no one else, and I wanted her to commit to the same with me. I was ready for this next stage in my life.

  It felt good to come to this realization and I felt invigorated. Just moments ago, she and I had been fucking wildly on my dining room table. Now, I was in the shower, having this amazing catharsis while she was in my bedroom rubbing lotion on her perfectly round ass.

  I turned off the hot water and reached for a towel as I stepped out of the shower. I couldn't wait to tell her I was ready to commit to her, and see what she said. A flash of fear washed over me as I wondered if she would reject me, but I had to shake it off. Every instinct I had told me that she felt the same way as I did. I just had to go for it.

  I could hear the television blaring in the bedroom and realized she must have turned it on. I strained my ears, trying to figure out what she was watching when I became aware of the sound of my cell phone ringing. I found it on the bathroom counter and answered it.

  "Hey, buddy. It's me again." The voice sounded drunk, or maybe high.

  "Charles Dorsey?" I asked, placing the voice with the asshole junkie I'd had to throw out of my office that morning. "It's late. Why are you calling me at home at this hour?"

  "I thought we were friends. We used to be friends. Remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember." He was definitely high. All I wanted to do was end this conversation quickly so I could get back to a much more important one with Kayla.

  "All those nights at the frat house: you, me, Vick, Bradley, Mike, and what was the name of that other dude?"

  "I don't remember. I have to go. It was nice talking to you, Charles." I started to hang up, but he stopped me.

  "Oh, yeah, Speedy. Remember, Speedy? How good it felt when you got that first buzz? How it made us feel like we could do anything."

  Shit. That part of my life was behind me. The last thing I wanted to do was take a stroll down memory lane with a fucked-up friend of mine from my fraternity days who never learned how to stop partying and get off that shit.

  Charles was talking a mile a minute into the phone. "I remember this one time we were all fucking loaded as shit. You shouted out, ‘I can move at the speed of sound,’ and you climbed on the banister of our fucking stairs, straddling the railing. Then I said, ‘You look like you're riding a motorcycle.’ And then you said, ‘A motorcycle that runs on fucking speed.’ Then I said, ‘Yeah, a speed motorcycle.’

  “You laughed your fucking ass off, and then you said, ‘If I ever start my own company, I'm going to call it Speed Motorcycles,’ and I said, ‘Yeah, you should totally fucking do that, only I want half because it was my idea.’

  “Well, guess what buddy? It's time to pay up my fucking half."

  "You're out of your fucking mind. Good night, Charles," I said, feeling annoyed.

  "No, I went to see a lawyer today after you threw me out of your office. He agrees, I've got a claim. We came up with the idea together. You owe me half the money from your company, but I'm willing to settle out of court. Give me a million even, and we'll call it fair."

  "That's bullshit. You might have a lawyer, but that claim will never make it to court. Any judge will throw it out as being ridiculous, and if you can find one who will listen to you, I've got a team of lawyers that will bury you under 50 tons of paper. Forget the whole thing. Sober up, Charles. Get yourself into rehab."

  "Fine. You might be able to keep a judge from hearing my story, but someone else will listen to it. I've got an appointment with Becky Wilson tomorrow."

  "What are you talking about?" I tried to sound like I didn't give a shit, but suddenly, this asshole had my attention. Becky Wilson was a primetime anchor, well respected by the media. Any story she reported on went global.

  "I've seen how they've been pushing you in interviews, trying to get you to say how you came up with the name of the company, and I know why you don't want to say. Now that you're a billionaire and the owner of this fancy company, you think you’re too good for us. You don't want the public to know you used to take speed for breakfast and that you were flying high that entire first year you built the company. You don't want anyone knowing what I know."

  "Now hang on just a minute, Charles." My voice was stern as I struggled to hold in my anger.

  "No, you hang on. I was the one who gave you your first hit. I've seen you when you were so fucking high, you didn't even know what planet you were on. I was there when you were so fucking low, you'd have done anything to score more speed."

  "I'm not that guy anymore. I stopped using that shit a long time ago. When Gwyneth dumped me, it was a wake-up call. I went into rehab, and I haven't touched the stuff since. I've been clean 20 years."

  "That will make an inspirational story for the newspapers then, won't it? I'll tell them all about how doped up you were taking huge doses of speed just to get high. Gwyneth can back me up, confirming the story for the reporters. I bet the rehab center has records of your stay, too. The papers will pay me top dollar for dirt like that. I'll bet I can get six figures out of them, unless you'd like to top it."

  "You're blackmailing me to keep this quiet? Fuck you." Now, I was really pissed.

  "What do you think your investors at your company will think of the Ethan Colson the cokehead? How many advertisers will you lose? How many buyers will go someplace else? Once the story gets out, everyone will associate Speed Motorcycles with doing speed, and you know it. It will become a joke. You'll never be able to shake the stigma once it starts. You'll be laughed right out of business."

  I knew he was right. All those motorcycles all across the country with my logo Speed emblazoned across the chassis will be mocked. No amount of P.R. will be able to fix it. My brand will be ruined and everything I'd worked my entire life for will be lost.

  "Shit! Are you out of your fucking mind? You're trying to ruin me. Well, I won't let it happen. I'll destroy you first," I shouted into the phone. I was gripping it so hard, my hand hurt and I had to force myself to put it down. On the other end of line, I could hear Charles laughing.

  "Meet me tomorrow outside my lawyer’s office. Give me a check for one million dollars, or I go inside and make up a contract to sell my story to the papers. Either they'll pay me, or you will. It makes no differen
ce to me; either way, I'm getting what's mine."

  The line went dead, and I slammed my phone down onto the counter so hard it shattered.

  "Shit," I shouted out. That's when I saw Kayla standing in the doorway looking sexy as ever in nothing but a towel.

  "Is everything okay?" she asked, putting her arms around me and kissing me tenderly. God, she tasted so good.

  "It's just a problem at work I have to take care of tomorrow." It wasn't exactly a lie; it just wasn't exactly the truth.

  "Well, let's go to bed then. You'll feel better with a good night's sleep," she said, running her manicured fingers through my hair soothingly. It made my dick hard and I grabbed her ass, squeezing her close to me.

  "Actually, I think I need something else to make me feel better." I grinned at her with a horny leer.

  "Ready so soon?" Her face brightened and I nodded.

  "I'm always ready for you," I said. Holding Kayla in my arms, I kissed her passionately. The towel she was wrapped in fell to the floor, and her naked breasts pressed against my bare chest. In that moment, everything else was forgotten. I was no longer thinking about Charles Dorsey and his bullshit lawsuit or worried about if I should just pay him the blackmail bribe. Nothing else mattered when I was Kayla, except how good I wanted to make her feel.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kayla

  Ethan kissed me with such fiery passion, it stole my breath away. I could hardly believe he was ready to make love again so quickly, but feeling his erection pressing into my bare thigh through the fabric of his towel aroused me, too, and I let my towel drop to the floor.

  Ethan moaned with pleasure and slid his hands around to cup my breasts sensuously. A sigh of delight passed from my lips as his thumb grazed over the top of my nipple, making it harden into a taut nub. Playfully, he flicked it with his finger, back and forth with quick movements, making me arch my back and moan.

  "Do you like that, naughty girl? Do you like it when flick your nipples?" Ethan teased.

  "Yes, sir," I said, and my voice was husky with desire.

  "What else do you like, nasty girl? Tell me."

  The idea of talking dirty thrilled me. Mick never included any conversation. He barely made love to me long enough to unzip his jeans, let alone talk, but I found the idea of talking dirty to Ethan delightfully fun.

  "I like to suck your dick," I said. It was first time I’d ever said such a thing, and I felt my cheeks burn as they turned bright pink.

  "You do? Tell me about how you like to suck my dick," he urged me on.

  "I like to take it deep suck it until your come shoots down my throat," I said, daringly, and I was shocked at just how empowering dirty talk made me feel.

  "Do it." Ethan tore the towel from around his waist and tossed it to the floor. "Let me feel you suck my dick, you naughty girl."

  A thrill of excitement rushed through me as I bent down on my knees right there on the bathroom's tiled floor. I started off timidly, kissing the tip and then licking my way up the shaft. He was wonderfully hard, and I liked the way his cock twitched and throbbed as I lapped along the length of him. When I took the round tip fully into my mouth and began to gently suckle, a loud groan of pleasure tore from his throat, making me pause, but he ran his hands through my hair, holding my head in place and encouraging me to keep going.

  "Suck it, naughty girl. Suck it hard," he groaned, and I kept drawing him into my mouth until I had enveloped him completely down to the base. My tongue and lips lapped and suckled as I kept deep throating him, and his hands curled in my hair as he groaned loudly with ecstasy.

  Soon, he would come, and I couldn't wait. I had never tasted a man's semen before, even my ex. I wanted Ethan's to be the first.

  I felt his muscles tense and his body flex, and I prepared myself, but he suddenly pulled out of my mouth. He turned on the sink and splashed cold water on himself as he grit his teeth.

  "Come back," I complained, reaching for him, but he caught my hand by the wrist.

  "No, not yet. If I come now, it will be too soon. I want to wait until we can climax together."

  While I was disappointed, I was also deeply touched. Mick had never cared if I had an orgasm or not as long as he had his. Ethan always wanted to know that I received as much pleasure as he did, and many times, even more. It made me want to give him an orgasm even more than before and I reached for him again.

  "But I want you to come in my mouth," I insisted, and abruptly, Ethan twisted my wrist behind my back painfully.

  "You're being disobedient, naughty girl. Do I have to teach you another lesson on how to behave?" His voice was ominous. I could still feel the welts on my ass stinging from earlier that evening as I shook my head.

  "No, sir. I'll obey," I said contritely, and he let me go.

  "Good. Now get up on the bed," he commanded. I did as I'd been told as he went to his dresser, and when he returned, he was carrying several lengths of rope. Looking at me sternly, he said, "Give me your hands."

  I lifted them up to him willingly. I never would have thought I would be the kind of girl who submitted to playing these kind of kinky sex games, but ever since Ethan introduced me to BDSM, I loved it in a way that was impossible to describe.

  It freed me to enjoy sex in ways I never had before, and gave me pleasures far greater than I had ever thought possible. Not only did I want to be his sex slave, but I needed to be. I craved it now, with animalistic hunger, and I would do anything he asked me to do to get the pleasures I knew he would provide.

  Ethan wound one of the thick braids of soft rope around my delicate left wrist and secured it tightly to the bedpost of his enormous king-sized bed. Then he did the same thing to my right one, and then each of my ankles, tying me down to the bed like a giant letter X.

  "How's that feel?" I moved my arms and legs, straining against the ropes and confirmed that I was unable to move them at all, but that the bonds were not too tight. Satisfied, Ethan nodded. He placed a blindfold over my eyes, submerging me in darkness. "Can you see anything?"

  My eyes strained in the blackness, searching for any glimpse of light, but there was nothing.

  "No, sir," I said, and I could sense the smile on his stern face.

  "Good. I'm going to do things to you now, Kayla, and I want you to be keenly aware of what your body is feeling. Not being able to move or see will heighten your sense of touch. Then, when you're ready, you can have your turn to make me come."

  He left the room, leaving me helplessly bound, forced to wait and wonder what incredible delights he had in store for me. What was coming? What was he going to do?

  I heard him come back in and felt him drawing close to the bed. My entire body stiffened in anticipation. Was it going to be the whip? The flogger? Ice? To my surprise, it was a gentle tickle, and I gasped with delight as I wiggled in my bonds. He was brushing my skin with something soft and wispy, perhaps a feather. It made my nipples pucker and my pussy tingle.

  The gentle feather made its way over my breasts, down my stomach, and traveled between my thighs, brushing delightfully against my skin. When it massaged over my clitoris, I shuddered with pleasure, wanting more.

  Next came a new sensation. Cold and hard. Perhaps the flat edge of knife or a metal ruler. I stiffened as he rubbed it over my skin, liking the way he smacked my breasts with the flat side of it and moaning as he fingered my pussy as he smacked it against my thighs with a series of gentle taps.

  Now, another sensation. This time it was some sort of vibrating toy. I could hear it buzzing before I felt it. He applied it to the sensitive folds of my pussy, working it like an expert until I was writhing and gasping on the bed, straining against my bonds as he brought me to orgasm. The sheets beneath me were drenched in my come and my entire body was tingling with pleasure.

  "My turn now?" I asked, hopefully. I was eager to return the favor he had bestowed upon me.

  "Yes, but I want you to experience it blindfolded so you really notice every sensation," Etha
n said, and I felt him cut the bonds from my wrists and ankles.

  Still submerged in total darkness, I fumbled on the bed, searching for him. I sensed the heat from his body and followed my instincts.

  My hands found an arm and trailed along his flesh, rubbing his chest, exploring the muscles of his pecs and those incredible abs. Touching his muscular body without being able to see him made me appreciate just how well sculpted he was. When I put my lips upon his flesh, he tasted salty, warm, and delicious. I never really appreciated before the finer subtleties of his flavor until now. The soft down of his hair, the smoothness of his skin, the divot of his navel were standing out to me now.

  When I came to his erection, it felt huge in my hands, and I explored him carefully, memorizing the shape and feel of every inch of him. I could hear the changes in his breathing, feel the pulsations of his circulatory system, and smell the masculine musk of his arousal.

  When I put my tongue on the head of his throbbing organ, I could envision the expression on his face as he groaned with pleasure. My pussy was tingling with arousal as I administered to him, taking great delight in pleasuring him just as he had done for me earlier. I was amazed at just how much more exciting a blowjob had become by performing it blindfolded. Not being able to see really had opened my other senses to the incredible nuisances I would have otherwise ignored.

  "Now, fuck me," Ethan commanded, and I mounted his waist, using only my sense of touch to find my way. When I felt his enormous dick slide into my tight, dripping-wet pussy, we both moaned aloud with pleasure.

  "Good girl. Now stretch it out. See how long you can draw out my pleasure by fucking me without making me come. Use your senses to know what my body is telling you."

  Rocking my hips, I thrust gently on top of him, increasing in speed and intensity as he writhed and groaned beneath me. It was difficult at first to determine how close to orgasm he was without being able see the expression on his face, but I reached out with my other senses, and figured it out quickly.