Ambition: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Driven Book 1)

by Landish, Lauren

  "A promise I made to myself," he said, covering my hand as I traced the mythological beast. "Just a promise."

  "For what?"

  "Later," he said, reaching up and pulling me down for another kiss. His tongue wrestled with mine, looping and twisting around each other. My skirt was lifted and his strong, still slightly calloused hand ran over my hip to cup my ass. He squeezed and I squealed with glee as he found one of my most sensitive areas. Unfortunately, he misinterpreted the sound and stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No," I giggled, leaning back and undoing the buttons on my top. I shrugged it off and was rewarded as Patrick's eyes grew round as saucers when he saw me in the white lacy bra I was wearing. "I like what you were doing. Think you can keep it up?"

  "As you wish," he laughed, letting go of my hips to reach for the clasp on my bra. "May I?"

  "Yes," I said, leaning forward to give him a bit of assistance. The bra was clasped in the back, and he struggled a bit with it for a second before getting the catch. Shrugging my shoulders forward, I let him take off my bra, his lips following the fabric so closely I couldn't even register the cool air before my skin was lit on fire from his kisses.

  I love to have my breasts pleasured, and Patrick was superb at that. Hearing my sighs and moans perfectly, he set my body on edge as he explored me. His teeth scraped lightly across my nipples and I cried out in a light release, almost brought to orgasm just from his touch.

  Not that his mouth was the only thing touching me. His hands, which were still the strong, slightly rough hands of a man who worked with his hands more than sitting behind a desk, wrote poetry on my skin, his left thumb teasing my nipple while his right hand roamed over my back. Beneath me, trapped in the denim of his jeans, I could feel him hard and wanting, bulging against the wet fabric of my panties until neither of us could take it any more.

  I pushed him back onto the bag, grinning wolfishly down at him, and I was thrilled at the touch of not fear, but uncertainty in his eyes. "What have I gotten myself into?" he whispered as I reached for his belt.

  "A lot more than you bargained for, and I hope you can handle it," I replied, fumbling with his belt before realizing that it wasn't the normal type. Instead of the typical buckling method, it was one of those GI style web belts with a rolling friction clasp in the buckle, which I quickly undid before unbuttoning his jeans. As my fingers worked, I felt the hunger growing inside me, and I knew that even if Patrick and I didn't end up having a long term relationship, I was ready and needing his body at least for tonight.

  I peeled down Patrick’s plain boxer-briefs, and what was inside more than made up for the packaging, as his thick, beautiful cock emerged from hiding. He lifted his hips and helped me get the rest of his pants off, and I took a moment to get off of the bag and look at him.

  He was very fit, with large swells to his muscles that flowed to a tight waistline and then back out into strong, tree trunk like legs. Not fat, but muscular. His cock stood tall and proud from its base, and I could see that I’d be challenged by his thickness. I love a good challenge.

  "Take off the skirt," he said, his confidence growing as he saw how I reacted to his body. I was glad, in that while I enjoyed his initial trepidation, I don't want to do all the work when it comes to having sex.

  I reached for the fastener on my skirt, then let my hands lower. Instead, I raised them and cupped my breasts, and toed off the sandals I'd been wearing. "You do it," I replied, turning my hip to show him where the thing closed. "Please?"

  "As you wish," Patrick replied, getting to his knees and crossing the short distance over to me. His hands caressed my calves and thighs, running under the skirt to cup my ass and send more thrills to me. His leaned forward and kissed my belly button, and I felt more powerful than I'd ever been with this strong, handsome man on his knees in front of me, his hands kneading my ass while he kissed my stomach. I stroked my hand through his dark hair, and knew that regardless of anything else, this was not going to be a one night thing.

  Patrick let go of my butt to reach higher, finding the waistband to my bikini briefs and pulling them down and off my legs. "Not the standard way, but I like it so far," I teased as he lifted one leg and then the other to free them.

  "I like this skirt," he answered, running his hands back up my legs. His right hand turned to go in between my thighs and I parted my knees, giving him access. Blindly, he found my pussy, cupping it in his hand. His eyebrows lifted as he stroked the smooth skin.

  "Shaved?"

  I shook my head. "Waxed, and a few laser treatments," I half moaned in reply. It was the one indulgence I'd partaken in during the lean years of my student days and early associate days working, and if that made me vain, so be it. Still, I love the feeling of being bare and smooth, silken under a lover's touch. "You like?"

  "I love it, all of you," he replied, stroking a finger between my lips. Wetness coated his questing finger and he smiled, bringing it out from under my skirt to admire in the light before licking it clean. "Delicious."

  Lifting my skirt, he lowered himself more until my pussy was open to his tongue, and his hands cupped my ass again. With my skirt in the way I couldn't see anything except the flex of muscles on his back and shoulders as he made love to me with his seemingly impossibly long, deft tongue, which swept from top to bottom on me before probing inside. I couldn't believe how good it was or how amazing he felt, my mind flashing with desire as he licked me over and over.

  My legs trembled as he found the hard little button of my clit, flicking his tongue over it. I bent over, trying to keep my balance and leaning on him as he licked and sucked, his strong hands and arms keeping me within his tongue's reach. "Oh fuck Patrick," I gasped, my hands digging into his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

  Pulling back, Patrick's face was covered in my wetness and he stood up, sweeping me into his arms and covering my face with kisses. "I'm worshiping the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he replied before nibbling on my earlobe. He turned easily and carried me to the bean bag chair, where he laid me on the carpet next to chair. "I'd use the bag, but I'm afraid we'd be unable to move the way we want."

  "You read my mind," I replied, pushing him back. "I'm very active in bed."

  "Good to know," Patrick said, grinning. "One request?"

  "What?"

  "Leave the skirt on,” Patrick said, as he tore open a package and slid a condom on with a quickness.

  Laying down next to him, I lifted my leg and reached for his cock, which was still hard and thick in my hand. Guiding him, he pushed his way inside me, pausing when he could tell I was getting stretched too much. "You okay?"

  "Just go slow, it feels great until the last bit," I said. "It's been a little while, and you're pretty thick."

  Patrick nodded, his green eyes looking into mine as he worked slowly in and out. The unpleasant stretching soon melted into wonderful fullness, and I felt more and more of him inside me. It was funny, in that the way we were laying, we were almost in a scissor position. It was a favorite of mine, but with Patrick, it was so different and so much better at the same time. When the base of his cock rubbed against my clit for the first time I nearly came, I was so close. My fingers hooked into his back and I growled. "Now you promise me," I said, my fingernails threatening to tear his back apart. "You don't stop until you and I both come. And I mean don't stop."

  "As you wish," he said, pulling back and pushing forward again. Explosions of pleasure tore through me as Patrick stroked in and out, my pussy already quivering from the wonderful oral attention he'd given me. I was delirious, drunk off the heady mix of pleasure and hormones as he pounded me without restraint, his cock filling me again and again.

  Part of the reason I'm so adventurous sexually is because for me, orgasms are not just a momentary thing, but rolling, building upon one another. Multi-orgasmic is barely a beginning to describe how I can be, and Patrick's unrelenting, powerful stroking cock was all I needed. In only a minute, maybe less, my pussy clenc
hed and the first wave of my orgasm broke through me, soft cries joining my gasps as I felt myself tense around him.

  Patrick's lips found mine as he increased his pace, flowing with me in perfect harmony, like no other lover I'd ever had. The image of Scott Pressman flashed through my mind only to be shattered and obliterated as Patrick kept going, right there with me. Scott had played me emotionally, set me up. Patrick was doing nothing of the sort, but just staying with me, his body in tune with mine.

  Pulling on me, we rolled so that I was on top, filled deeper than ever by Patrick's wonderful cock. Holding my waist, he planted his hips and thrust hard and deep, his eyes still looking into mine. My body tensed again as another wave of orgasm swept on me and I cried out, my body singing joyfully to the universe as pleasure and release shot through me all the way to the tips of my fingers and back again. It felt like my hair was almost standing on end it was so electrically wonderful, and still Patrick kept up his thrusts, even as sweat stood out on his forehead and beaded on his chest muscles.

  I lost track of time, of the world, of everything except the feeling inside me and the wonderful, stupendous man underneath me. I rode him, pleasured myself on him, feasted on his body and his cock with carnal, unbidden need until I could feast no more. My breath tore from my throat as I lost count of the number of climaxes he gave me, still maintaining iron-willed control, until tears were coursing down his cheeks from the effort of his restraint. I couldn't take any more, and I looked down at him.

  "Now," I mouthed, my voice having failed me. "Come for me."

  "As you wish," he said through gritted teeth, pulling me tight and rolling me over so that he was on top. His hips sped up even more, and in moments I could feel the trembling in his back and his thrusts that told me he would be mere seconds.

  I'll never forget the image of Patrick as he came, the way his eyes flew open like it was a holy, ethereal experience. As he came, and my body tensed one more time, coming with him as we found that final level of perfection that I'd never found with anyone before. For the first time in my life, I'd found my total, complete sexual partner and equal, and as we collapsed on the carpet, too exhausted to even disentangle ourselves, I knew that I would forever be bound to this man.

  Chapter 11

  Mark

  I wasn’t so much upset that Tabby was having sex with Patrick in the entertainment room as I was worried. It wasn't about the furniture, mind you.

  I was worried because, as far as I knew, the last man before Patrick to have sex with Tabby was Scott Pressman, the Knave of Hearts. His chicanery had left her an emotional and mental wreck, and while she wasn't the same woman who Sophie had brought home and cuddled on the bean bag chair a whole night using classic Ben & Jerry's therapy, I cared about her enough to still worry.

  "You knew she had to get back in the saddle eventually," Sophie said the next day after they'd both left. We'd loaned Patrick one of the Mount Zion cars so that he could get to his apartment to change in time for work, while Tabby just called Vanessa to say she was running late. Being the President meant you got to do that sometimes.

  "Don't say that," I groaned, trying not to smile. "Because knowing Tabby, she has a literal saddle somewhere that we don't know about. I guess just, after Pressman, I was kind of hoping that Tabby would find a boring, non-criminal past sort of person. Better yet, an accountant who likes cats or something."

  We were sitting in my home office, the Dow Jones and Nasdaq numbers running by me, Sophie on her computer composing an e-mail to some of the media outlets we knew. Bennie Fernandez had gotten back to my blind-drop e-mail saying that while he was too busy to deal with Gerald Traylor, he knew a good guy down in Washington with the IRS who would be able to handle the information we'd given him. Hey, when you’re hiding two mistresses in million dollar apartments, the IRS will find you if they want to. In the meantime, Sophie was using the media to blow up Traylor's facade even before the Feds got to him.

  “I’m sure you would,” Sophie joked back as she typed. "That way there'd be no way to have any lingering issues."

  I shrugged. "Maybe. I just, I'm worried that she's exposing her heart again before it's ready."

  Sophie clicked the mouse she was using and stood up, coming over and kissing my cheek. "Mathew Mark Bylur Marcus Smiley Mark Snow, you are the kindest, sweetest, most protective man I've ever met," she said. "But relax. I've seen Tabby before, and yes, Pressman screwed her up bad. But I've watched, and she's been right here with us. I wouldn't have set up the room the way I did if I didn't think she was ready."

  "I guess. I suppose you know her better than me and I know she’s like a sister to you,” I said.

  “While it was a terrible experience, she’s become a stronger person now."

  I turned in my chair, pulling Sophie down into a hug. "You're too beautiful, you know that Sophie? Just too damned beautiful."

  We held each other for a minute before Sophie kissed me and then patted me on the cheek, climbing out of my lap. "Well, if you want to have more than just a hug, give me a half hour to finish my work. If you can get through the market session, we can do a lot more than just a little playtime too."

  "Oh?" I asked, turning back to my computer. "Why's that?"

  "Because anticipation makes it all the sweeter," she breathed into my ear, her warm breath sending chills down my spine. "Besides, after listening to those two for most of last night, I'm needing a lot of satisfaction."

  She reached between my legs and gave my cock a gentle rub and squeeze through my shorts before kissing my ear. "After lunch, this is mine."

  As it was, after lunch playtime lasted until slightly before five o'clock, when both of us woke up from a sex induced nap. Showering quickly, I started a hearty meal and was about halfway through my preparation when Tabby came in the door.

  "Hey bro," she greeted me, setting her briefcase down and giving me a kiss on the cheek. She'd been calling me that a lot frequently.

  Her eyes were glittering with happiness, and I had to admit there was a bounce to her step that she hadn't had even the day before.

  I went back to chopping vegetables and looked over. “By the way, our Traylor issue is on its way to being solved, and I cleared nearly fifty thousand profit on the market today. I wish I could do that every day, we'd make fifteen million a year easy just on the market. So what made today so special?"

  "Nothing much, really. Just normal office stuff. I guess, well, you know."

  "I do," I replied, "and there's no reason to be shy about it. Listen, Sophie's in the back taking a quick shower, so I'll keep this short. Yeah, I'm concerned. You know why. But I also trust you, and will be there to support you however it happens. If emotions get involved, I hope they're good ones. If not, we'll both be there for you. And if you need the guy's ass kicked, you know who to call."

  Tabby laughed and wrapped her arms around me from behind in a hug, leaning her cheek against my back near my neck. Without her heels on, she is kind of short. "That's why I love you so much, Mark. You're the best big brother I wish I'd had my whole life. Thank you."

  Letting me go, she looked down at dinner. "Wow, work up an appetite?"

  "I've got a patrol tonight, I need the energy. I studied the pattern of the amateur up in Filmore Heights, and I suspect he's going to be out there," I said, taking my vegetables and pouring them into the large soup pot I had simmering on the stove.

  "Why are you so worried about this guy, anyway?" Tabby asked, leaning against the counter. "He's just a guy trying to do what you do."

  "What I do is quiet, although a loud sort of quiet. Nobody talks to the cops, and everyone knows that if I come around, to get the hell off the streets and to stop their stuff. But I'm always safe in what I do. Normal patrols, surveillance, even most of the hits I've done, I've never taken the risky route. This guy though.... he's flashy and he's rash, which is great for getting attention, but not the type he's hoping for. He's going to get himself killed at some point. When that happens, t
he cops are going to be on the streets hard, and they're all going to be looking for me. Not because I killed him, but because I'm another rumored vigilante out there, even if the TV doesn't have reports on me."

  Tabby nodded, then crossed her arms over her chest. "You sure it's because you don't actually like this guy? He's out there trying at least, which you have to give him credit for."

  I didn't answer, and Tabby chuckled after a minute. "I'm going to change. Patrick's got a community event that he said would take up a chunk of the evening, and if you're going out, I figure I can help Sophie with her load of the housework. Then the two of us are going to sit back and relax, have some girl talk, and think of all the ways we're going to spoil your daughter. After all, I have to spend that two hundred K a year you're paying me on something besides Chinese food for my secretary."

  * * *

  The early fall air was chilly against my cheek, and I was glad I'd switched to the slightly more thermal compression top I was wearing under my tactical vest. The city, while not one to get tons of snow during the winter, still had more than its fair share of nights that dropped below freezing and I didn't want to have to worry about wearing heavy garments if I didn't need to. The hood hugged my head more too, which helped with my disguise.

  Despite his amateur actions, I had to admit the new vigilante was having a positive effect on the neighborhood as I surveyed it using binoculars from the top of St. Patrick's Church. Its slate roof was slippery, but clinging to the steeple just below where the cross was, I could see a lot of Filmore Heights, and what I saw was encouraging.

  The gangs were spooked, that was for sure. The Latin Kings, maybe as a side effect of our interrupted eavesdropping earlier, were quiet, while the 88's, despite being out, were sticking to their territory.