The Billionaire's Touch

by Olivia Thorne

  “Mr. Carlson.”

  “Hello, Mr. Carlson.”

  “Hello, Ivan. Hi, Miriam. How soon can we be in the air?”

  “Five minutes, Mr. Carlson.”

  “Wonderful. Bring me a drink and get some food ready for lunch.” Grant turns to me. “You want anything?”

  “What?” I ask stupidly.

  “To drink.” Rather than waiting for the answer, he turns back to the stewardess. “Champagne for both of us.”

  “Yes sir,” she smiles, and moves towards the front compartment.

  Grant walks through the main cabin, guiding me by the hand. We pass a bunch of leather seats and tables, even a flat-screen TV, and enter a back room – where there is a bed, a bathroom with a shower in it(!), and more chairs and a table.

  “You have a bed?” I ask in shock.

  “I do… but first things first. We have to strap in for takeoff.”

  First things first, I inwardly grumble. Overconfident jerk…

  We sit on a plush leather loveseat next to each other and put on the safety belts.

  The stewardess appears in the doorway with a tray and two glasses of champagne.

  “Ah, thank you, Miriam.” Grant takes the glasses and hands one to me as the woman disappears back into the main cabin, shutting the door behind her. “A toast – to outwitting psychopaths.”

  “Okay,” I say, still stunned that five minutes ago I was in a limo. Thirty minutes before that I was in my humdrum, regular apartment.

  The pilot comes over the intercom and gives updates, just like on a regular airline flight. Then we taxi onto the runway.

  “Down the hatch,” Grant says, and drinks the rest of the champagne in his glass. I follow suit, and within sixty seconds the plane takes off.

  After we climb high enough to level off, Grant undoes his safety belt. Before I can undo mine, his lips are on my mouth, giving me a long, hard kiss.

  “Now where were we?” his voice rumbles seductively.

  He flips the safety belt latch, and then he’s kissing me again. One hand is on my breast, softly caressing my nipple through my blouse and bra.

  “No… they’ll hear us…” I moan.

  “This part of the cabin is soundproof.”

  “But the door…” I gasp as I pull away.

  “What about it?”

  “Anybody could come in!”

  “I thought you liked the danger of getting caught. You seemed to the first night,” he grins.

  I blush scarlet. “Lock it,” I insist.

  Grant walks over to the door, clicks the lock, and looks back. Satisfied?

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  “You’re welcome,” he says as he sits down, and then his hand is on my leg as he kisses me again.

  His hand slowly moves up the inside of my thigh, under my skirt. He begins to stroke me through my panties, making me even wetter than I already am.

  “Take off your underwear, but leave everything else on,” he instructs me.

  A tingle goes through me as I stand up, pull the edges of my skirt up, and shimmy my legs as I pull down my panties. They fall around my ankles and I step out of them.

  “Sit down again,” he commands me.

  I do, and his hand is between my legs again as he kisses me. His fingers are skilled; within seconds he’s wet the tip of his index finger with my juices and is massaging the hood of my clit.

  I stifle a moan as he starts circling my clit, getting it wet, turning me on even more. His fingers part my lips and gently stroke inside me, then go back to my clit and all around it, then back inside me, repeating the cycle five, ten, twenty times. My legs are trembling now, and the first orgasm is building in my pussy. I grip his arms with my hands, feeling his hard muscles under my fingers, as the first waves of ecstasy roll through my legs and belly.

  I cry out and lean forward, almost overcome.

  “Jesus,” he mutters, his voice low and savage. Suddenly he backs up, grabs my legs, and pulls them up onto the leather loveseat.

  In a split second I go from sitting upright to lying on my back.

  “What – ?” I manage to get out, before I figure out exactly what he’s up to.

  He’s kneeling on the floor at the end of the loveseat. He pulls my skirt up until it’s bunched at my waist, then forces my legs apart and puts his head between my thighs.

  His tongue, soft and wet and warm, starts lapping at my clit. His lips encircle it and gently suck. His tongue pushes between my lips and enters inside me, making me yearn for something bigger and thicker – and then he goes back to licking my clit.

  “OH GOD,” I cry out as I start coming again.

  I arch my back and press myself into his mouth. My whole body is on fire – pleasurable fire. Waves of heat are rolling through me.

  Suddenly his mouth pulls away. I’m disappointed, until I look down and see he’s wetting his first two fingers with his mouth.

  Seconds later his tongue is massaging my clit again. At the same time, I can feel his fingers softly pushing apart my lips and slipping inside me.

  There is the sensation of something filling me up as he licks my pussy… and then he starts caressing me from inside, his fingers curled in a ‘come hither’ motion, stroking my g-spot as he sucks and licks and swirls his tongue around my clit.

  My legs have a mind of their own. One is up over his shoulder, my high heel shoe on his back; my other leg is off the loveseat, angled as far out as possible to give him as much room as he needs to lick me.

  My head is flung back over the opposite end of the loveseat, my hair hanging onto the floor. I’m gripping his hair with my hands, forcing him harder and firmer into my pussy, wanting more pressure, more everything.

  As the orgasmic contractions die down again, suddenly his fingers and mouth withdraw. I’m disappointed – until I see him stand and start tearing off his clothes, flinging off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he can. There’s a look of intense, searing passion on his face as he stares into my eyes.

  The windows of the airplane cabin are wide open, and golden sunshine is pouring in. For the first time, I can see his body completely.

  He’s absolutely gorgeous.

  His muscles ripple under golden skin. His shoulders are broad, his chest and arms are massive. His abs look like they were chiseled out of stone.

  I start ripping off my blouse and skirt just as fast as he’s undressing.

  His pants come off last. I gasp when I see his erection spring out of his boxers. He’s rock hard – a thick, pink cock straining up towards the sky. I can see the swollen head is wet with pre-cum. A bead of it glitters in the sunlight.

  Then he grabs my legs and pulls me violently towards him so my ass is on the edge of the loveseat. He kneels again, takes his cock in his hand, angles it towards my pussy – and with one long, wet stroke, he slides inside me.

  I cry out in ecstasy. It’s so hard – I can feel it pressing firmly against me from the inside. And he’s so thick that he fills me up. And so long that I can feel him touching places inside me no other man has ever reached.

  He begins to fuck me. Not make love… not rock back and forth gently or softly or romantically. He’s fucking me. Like an animal in heat. That same look of pain stays on his face as he plunges inside me, over and over, his body grinding against mine as he thrusts deep inside me, his balls slapping my ass as his cock fills my pussy.

  I scream and whip my head back and forth in agonized pleasure. It’s almost more than I can take – something that big, that pleasurable, and this animal frenzy he’s in. This animal frenzy he’s got me in – because I want to be fucked. I want it hard, and deep, and thick. There’s no good little girl here anymore, shy about who might hear her. There’s only a woman who needs, who craves that amazing cock, who lusts for the godlike body towering over her, thrusting inside her. And his face – his gorgeous face, with those liquid brown eyes and that look of pained need, that suffering that can only be quenched by being in
side me.

  “Fuck – fuck – fuck – ” he starts bellowing.

  “Oh God, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I scream.

  “I’m going to pull out – ”

  “No, don’t!”

  “I’m too close – ”

  “I have an IUD – don’t stop – come inside me,” I beg him. “Come inside me!”

  That’s all it takes to push him over the edge. He roars, and suddenly his cock is pulsing inside me – big, thick jolts of pressure between my lips. I can feel hot spurts of liquid inside me and I claw his back and scream as I come even harder.

  Ten seconds later he’s lying on top of me, utterly spent. I can still feel the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pulses every five or six seconds… smaller versions of the massive contractions I felt inside me earlier.

  I drift down from my cloud of pleasure and sigh.

  He lifts his head. The look of animalistic pain is gone; instead, he’s grinning again.

  “Welcome to the Mile High Club.”

  I smack him playfully on the shoulder. He kisses me, and starts moving in and out of me again. He’s still plenty hard, and I’m still very wet. We stay like that for another five minutes, him slowly rocking in and out of me, us kissing slowly, sensually, enjoying each other’s bodies after the massive avalanche of bliss we’ve just experienced.

  7

  We’re lying in the bed now, side by side, drinking more champagne and eating a selection of fruits and cheeses. I was so embarrassed when the stewardess brought it that I hid in the bathroom – but now that we’re alone, I’m enjoying every bite.

  “We need to talk about how we’re going to find this guy,” I say.

  “So tell me,” Grant says. He’s lying on his stomach but he’s still quite distracting, with his golden skin and rippling muscles of his back. And his ass is out of this world. I mean… daaamn. It’s this curve of powerful muscle. Not quite a bubble butt, but just about there.

  Very distracting.

  Yet I manage to pull my eyes away and concentrate. “What did your people say about the texts?”

  “What, besides the fact that they’re unsettling?”

  “No – about the technical information attached to the phone texts.”

  “They said there’s nothing they can use. They said he covered his tracks incredibly well.”

  “What else?”

  “There is nothing else, so far as I know.”

  He kisses my ear, and a thrill of pleasure shoots up my body.

  “There’s nothing else you know about why he’s after you?” I ask as he starts caressing my breast.

  “Nope,” he says, and nibbles my earlobe.

  “That’s insane.”

  “Yep.”

  He starts kissing my neck. I squirm, totally turned on again.

  “You’re not worried at all?”

  “Not at the moment, seeing as he’s not on the plane.”

  “But – ”

  “Later,” and he takes away my champagne glass and sets it on the table next to the bed.

  I find out that a trip from LA to New York goes a whole lot faster when you have a ton of great sex along the way.

  8

  The light is fading as we land in New York a few hours (and many orgasms) later. I can barely look the stewardess and pilot in the eyes as we disembark, though I mutter my thanks as Grant tells them ‘great job.’

  A limo is waiting for us at the airstrip. As we disembark, a dignified-looking man in his 50’s is already loading my suitcase into the trunk.

  “Mr. Carlson,” the man says with a British accent.

  “Hodge,” Grant says. “This is Eve Saunders. She’ll be staying with me for awhile.”

  “Ms. Saunders,” Hodge says with a little bow at the neck. “A pleasure.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, and manage to look him in the eye, since he has no knowledge of the naughty, naughty things I did back on the plane.

  The limo ride is pretty cool. As we drive through the streets of Manhattan, Grant points out major buildings and talks about their architectural significance. I’ve been to New York multiple times, but I never stopped to think about all the history of the buildings around me.

  It’s funny how impassioned he is about everything around us. He’s like a teenager geeking out on comic books or superhero movies – except that he’s talking about old buildings.

  Best tour guide ever.

  Hottest tour guide ever, too.

  Finally we arrive at a massive skyscraper overlooking Central Park. The limo stops in front of it, and Hodge opens my door.

  I thank him and ask Grant, “You live here?”

  “I don’t just live here – I designed it.”

  Of course he did.

  The lobby is a plush marvel, with black tile floors, tables full of flower arrangements, and soaring columns that reach up to a 30-foot-high ceiling. We walk past a phalanx of security guards, who all greet Grant as ‘Mr. Carlson.’

  Then we step into the elevator, where Grant hits the top button. ‘P.’

  “You live in the penthouse?!” I exclaim.

  He smiles. “Yes.”

  Duh. I keep forgetting he’s a billionaire.

  Which I try to keep forgetting, because it’s kind of freaking me out.

  The elevator whisks us to the top in record time, where we step out into a hallway that’s just as beautifully decorated as the lobby. Two guards who look like Secret Service men – black suits, sunglasses, radio earpieces – are standing by the front door. They greet Grant as ‘Mr. Carlson,’ too, as we walk past.

  “How many people do you have guarding you?” I ask.

  “A lot. I do have a psychopath after me, remember?”

  He gives me a tour of the penthouse, which is absolutely gorgeous. It encompasses the entire top floor of the building – thousands and thousands of square feet – with multiple rooms, all designed and decorated differently. There’s a dining room with a twenty-person table and soaring ceilings. A cozy study with wood paneling and hundreds of books, many of them on architecture. A patio outside with an infinity pool, jacuzzi, and a small grove of trees. A den with leather sofas and chairs and an 80-inch HD television on one wall. And then there’s the bedroom, with a California king-sized bed and the plushest carpet I’ve ever sunk my feet into.

  The one thing all the rooms have in common are twenty-foot tall windows, with an absolutely breathtaking view of the New York skyline. Well – all except for the patio. No windows there, just the warm summer air and a 180 degree view.

  “You can put your things in here,” Grant says, pointing me to a closet that is bigger – and waaaay better furnished – than my entire apartment back in Los Angeles. Three-panel, full-length mirrors. Mahogany wardrobes. Floor-to-ceiling shoe racks.

  “It’s good to be a billionaire,” I murmur in shock.

  “Yes it is,” Grant agrees as he circles my waist from behind, then kisses my neck.

  Just as I’m getting into it, he releases me.

  “Dinner first,” he says mischievously, and leaves me to unpack in the cavernous closet.

  9

  Dinner is absolutely amazing. We dine at a small table on the patio under the rising moon. We drink the most delicious wine I’ve ever tasted and sample several entrees – filet mignon, duck, sea bass.

  “Do you have a cook who fixed this?” I marvel.

  “Well, I do have a chef, but he’s got the week off. I ordered this from Le Meilleur.”

  I drop my fork. ‘Le Meilleur’ is the best new restaurant in New York.

  I’m kind of a foodie, too, FYI.

  “You got this from Le Meilleur?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What – somebody ordered it and picked it up?”

  “Naaah, they ran it over.”

  “They ‘ran it over,’” I repeat in shock. “A five-star restaurant ‘ran it over.’”

  Grant shrugs. “I’m good friends with the owner.”

&nb
sp; Of course.

  By the end of the meal, I’m tipsy and we’re playing footsy under the table.

  “Want to go for a swim?” Grant suggests.

  “I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”

  “You don’t need a swimsuit.”

  Heat flushes across my chest. “You want to skinny dip?”

  He grins, amused by my surprise. “Why not?”

  “What about all those guards?”

  “They’re not in the penthouse, they’re outside in the hallway.”

  I stop and think for a moment. “…why not?”

  We laugh and kiss and stumble our way to the pool, shedding clothes as we go. His hands roam over my body, caressing me, cupping my breasts, slipping between my thighs as we kiss furtively, then undress some more.

  We drop the last of our clothes and stand there naked by the edge of the pool. I reach between his legs. His cock, which was maybe a quarter of the way hard (and still a handful), begins to grow in my grasp. It’s incredibly sexy feeling him getting larger and harder by the second, growing heavier and hotter as his cock expands. Within thirty seconds he’s standing up as straight as an iron bar. I gently move my hand up and down his shaft, feeling his heartbeat pulse in my grip.

  Then he pushes me in the water.

  “AAAAAHH!” I scream as the world goes topsy-turvy around me. A rush of warm water – not chilly, but warm – envelops my body and head. I come up sputtering just in time to see him doubled over laughing by the poolside.

  “YOU ASSHOLE!” I yell at him.

  “I had to do it – oh my God – your face – ”

  “FUCK YOU!” I half-yell, half-laugh. I start for the edge of the pool when he suddenly dives over me.

  I have to admit, even though I’m annoyed, it’s damn hot seeing his gorgeous, muscled body flash over me, lit dramatically by the poolside spotlights. Especially that large, hard cock jutting from his body as he arcs through the air and gracefully pierces the water.

  I feel hands grab my ankles underwater and I shriek. He pulls himself up along my legs. His skin glides across mine, and I can feel the hard pressure of his cock sliding up my body.