The Man In The Mirror: A Billionaire Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  “It was hell, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  Tears filled my eyes.

  When she brought her forehead to mine and then placed a kiss against it, the tears rolled down my cheeks. I closed my eyes when she began to trail kisses down my nose. But when she placed her lips on my scars I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to pull away, but she grabbed hold of my head.

  My eyes shot open then and I met her tear-soaked face.

  “I don't want you to pity me,” I said, a bite in my tone I had not intended.

  Her snort was incredulous. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeves. “It’s not pity. I’m just angry, that you had to go through all of this without me by your side.”

  My eyes widened in shock.

  She couldn’t be real …

  That was all I could think, but in that moment I didn’t want her to be. I wanted to believe that she was this angel that I could love and she would love me back and we would live together happily ever after. I could feel my control of the situation and myself slipping, and it was too much to handle. It was real.

  I pulled her hand away and rose to my feet.

  “I’m going to get some coffee,” I said. “You should go back. I’ll call Logan and get him to come pick you up.”

  She rose with me. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  It sounded like a fucking order. I turned around to stare at her. “What did you say?”

  “You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” she asked.

  I stared at her. Under normal circumstances no one in their right mind would want to have sex in a hospital, with sex and death for company, especially when their son is lying in one of the rooms, but nothing about this moment was normal. The stress of rushing Zackary to hospital, not knowing if he had forever damaged his spine or damaged his brain, then the joy of knowing he would be fine, combined with the intense sexual desire we had built up had screwed me over.

  I couldn’t even think rationally anymore.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” She brushed her hair away from her shoulder and began to walk away. For a second I was frozen. I couldn’t believe it. Then I followed her, until we reached an empty room where they stored brushes and brooms.

  She went in.

  The moment I joined her she jammed the door shut. My cock was already painfully hard as she slipped her sweater down her arms and pulled up her night dress. She pushed me down on a metal table and sat astride me. With her gaze locked on mine she pulled away the mask that I was holding tightly in my hand.

  She tossed it to the floor, and with my face in her hands, crushed her lips to mine. Her kiss was ferocious, her tongue plunging into my mouth and warning me of the urgency of her lust.

  I sat back as she ravaged me, my hands sliding up her warm skin until they arrived at her breasts. She was braless. In all the worry and tension about Zackary I had not noticed. Her nipples hardened and strained against my hand as I closed them around the full, soft mounds, kneading and pumping.

  She began to grind against me, her clit pressed to the bulge of my swollen cock. I felt it all for the gorgeous woman astride me … lust … warmth … possession … pride. She was going to make me lose my mind. Dragging my lips from hers, I threw my arms around her pressing my head to her chest as I tried to catch my breath.

  She stilled for a moment and then threw her arms around my head. Our passion rose and built as she ground her open pussy against my cock. Unable to take anymore, my hands shot to the waistband of my slacks. I began to jerk it open. In no time, my cock sprang free. Instantly, her hands closed around it with delicious excitement. I buried my head underneath her dress and drew her breast into my mouth.

  While I sucked her nipple, she stroked me, her fingers circling the broad tip, then running down the length. When she cupped my heavy balls, she breathed into my ear, “My, my, Mr. King, what a monster you have hidden away in your pants.”

  The compliment brought a ray of sunshine into my heart. It had been so long since a woman wanted me. Or thought I was attractive. She began to pull away, but my teeth wouldn’t let go of her nipple.

  “Ouch,” she complained.

  Before I could stop her she had sank down to her knees and covered my slick head with her mouth.

  I spread my legs apart, unbridled lust taking over, lost, slamming my groin into her wet mouth. And she, she sucked fervently on my cock, her teeth deliberately scraping, making me shudder as she moved up and down my length.

  Needing to hold onto my sanity, my hands gripped her hair as her mouth hollowed to take as much of my cock as would go down her throat. She was delicious. There was no other word to describe her. I felt like the luckiest man on earth. My head fell backward and an animalistic groan of sheer pleasure tore from deep inside me.

  I looked down and my whole dick was deep in her hot, slick throat, but it was not enough.

  I needed my penis inside her. Inside that pretty pink cunt just as I had imagined countless times lying alone in my bed. With my hands under her arms I lifted her up, my cock slipping out of her mouth with a plop.

  “I need to be inside you,” I said. I had no condom. But it didn’t matter. Condoms are for people who have something to lose. People who are afraid of diseases and unwanted pregnancies. I wanted anything and everything this woman could give me. I could handle disease, and I desperately wanted her babies. I wanted a football pitch full of children from this woman’s womb.

  I tore away her panties and flung the scrap of material from us. The wetness of her pussy rubbed against my dick. Her hand gripped my shoulders for support. She rode the hardened length, breathless and with a dirty smile across her face that I relished.

  She rose suddenly to her feet, and for a moment I was disoriented, almost close to panic. Then she lifted one leg up and slammed her swollen wet pussy on my face. My fingers dug into her luscious ass, as my mouth began to eat up her pussy.

  Her moan was belly deep and sent shivers down my spine.

  She was fucking delicious.

  My hands held her hips in place as she ground her pussy against my tongue. I nipped at her clit and licked her slit cleanly through. Then I rounded my lips and sucked eagerly on the protruding bud of her sex.

  “Fuck,” she cursed and I swore right then that it was the most beautiful word in the English language.

  She came all over my face, her hands in my hair as she bucked, her hips fucking my mouth with wild abandon.

  I couldn’t breathe and for the moment didn’t need to. I would have gladly suffocated to death beneath her and as she pulled away to gaze at me, the conclusion clear in my eyes as I struggled to catch my breath, she burst into laughter.

  “I’m sorry … Sir,” she said. “I got a bit carried away.”

  With my gaze on hers, and my heart brimming with pure joy, I guided her hips back to mine.

  “I hate it when you apologize for no reason,” I said.

  “Your face is covered in my juices, Sir,” she said cheekily, and began to lick me off. She cleaned her cum off my scars and I crushed her tightly to me, feeling the kind of love I couldn’t believe was possible. When she was done she slipped her tongue into my mouth and I relished that naughty pink tease as it did its best to provoke me.

  I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Grabbing her hips I guided her over my cock. With a saucy smile she pushed her pussy against my cock and bounced her slick slit up and down the shaft.

  “This bad boy and I are going to become best friends,” she said.

  That was the best proposal I had ever had. No negotiation required. I stilled her hips, and with my gaze locked on hers, slammed her down on my cock.

  “Accepted.” I grunted.

  “Fuuuuuuuuck,” came her agonizing cry. It was long and bone deep, as her cunt swallowed my cock greedily. Just as I had imagined.

  Then holding my gaze, she lifted herself up slowly. At the tip she paused, and I could feel her juices dripping down my shaft.

  “My God,
” she cried to the ceiling. Head thrown back, she slammed back down again. This time all the way down. Right to the fucking root.

  With my face buried in her breasts, I dug my fingers into her luxurious buttocks and guided her as she slid in and out of me.

  “Charlotte,” I rasped. I knew I wasn’t making sense, but I needed to somehow convey what she was doing to me.

  I thrust my hips violently upwards to meet her slams, until she began to ride even faster and with more rhythm than I could guide. I let my hands fall to the side and gave total control over to her to fuck me.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she rasped.

  Her cries were the sweetest of music to my ears. I’d always suspected it would be this way with her, but my God, my entire being was blown into incoherence.

  She milked my shaft for all it was worth, writhing and rocking, riding and plunging. At her tight clench around me, her nails dug into my back, and I was sure I was going to find a trail of wounds down my flesh the following morning. I couldn’t recall when I had looked forward to something more.

  My orgasm built and built, but I held on, forcing myself to resist, until I could feel her about to explode all over me. Then, I reached into her crotch and rubbed her little clit, and she came with a scream, shaking violently, as her pussy rippled, convulsed, and contracted on my dick.

  She was frozen with sensation, but I didn’t stop.

  I powered into her, driving relentlessly. When I came, my whole body jerked at the impact as hot seed spurted thickly into her.

  I roared at the wonder, my hand gripping her neck, as my head fell against her.

  “Fuck,” I panted, energized with raw ecstasy. “Fuuuuuck!”

  I could hear her laugh at my growls of awe at the intensity of my climax. The orgasm reverberated through me in waves and waves until I stopped falling, my entire being spent beyond comprehension.

  “That was a long time coming,” she muttered into my ear, and somehow I managed a laugh at the fully intended pun.

  Chapter 44

  Charlotte

  We returned home with Zackary before the day broke.

  Brett carried him, bundled in his blanket, up to his room while I followed. It made me quite happy when he woke up as he was laid down. His eyes were hazy as he tried to adjust to the light from his bedside lamp, his gaze moved from his father to me. He looked pitifully confused and my heart went out to him.

  “Hey,” I said and tapped the tip of his nose.

  “Where am I?” he asked groggily.

  “You are home, in your bedroom,” Brett said.

  “Oh.” He yawned tiredly. “My head hurts,” he muttered, lifting his hand to his head.

  I caught the hand and pulled it back down to his side, and the poor thing winced at the pain in his arm. Even that little thing had hurt him. I wanted to cry then. I couldn’t say a word, but I reminded myself of what the doctor said. He was going to be fine. No lasting damage had been done.

  “Go back to sleep and get some rest, okay,” his father said quietly.

  “I don’t feel sleepy. Can Charlotte read Ali Baba And The Forty Thieves for me?”

  I was ready to set myself on fire if he had requested it, but I had a better idea. “I have to run to the bathroom now, but,” I pulled out the book from the shelf above his bed, opened it at the bookmark, and thrust it into Brett’s hand, “Daddy will read it for you. I’ll be right back so start without me.”

  Brett raised his eyebrows at me, but I motioned to him to take over. Looking mighty uncomfortable he turned back to his son.

  Both males looked lost as I began to walk away, but I pretended not to notice. I disappeared from the room, but left the door open just a crack wide so I could watch them.

  I watched as Brett started from where I had stopped and began to read the story to Zackary. With a smile I went back to my room. Both April and my mother had called while I was at the hospital so I quickly sent them both a message that I would call them later in the morning. Then I collapsed on my bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Boy! What a night.

  I held a hand to my poor heart. From the fright of a lifetime, I had been ushered into the fuck of the century, all within the space of six hours. I couldn’t help the cat-got-the-cream smile that spread on my lips. I thought about what we had done, and the stirrings of arousal ignited and began to ripple through my body once again. It all was still so very vivid, the reminder of how I had been fucked to complete incoherence just a few hours ago.

  And we didn’t use a condom.

  Even more surprising, I hadn’t wanted one.

  And I was the safe one. The one who warned everybody about STDs from one-night stands.

  I knew I should get the morning after pill, but I didn’t even want to do that. If I got pregnant from one perfect mating with Brett, then I wanted to keep that precious life. I wanted it more than I wanted anything else. Brett’s baby. My baby. Nobody would understand, but I didn’t care. I touched my stomach and prayed I had become pregnant.

  Please God.

  Then my thoughts moved on and I began to relive what we’d done in one of the most unromantic places in the world. Broom cupboards would never be the same again. My clit began to throb as I recalled the feel of Brett’s cock in my mouth, and of his wild thrusts as he plunged in and out of me. I needed more. Before the sun fully rose and we all returned to reality. So I got up and opened my door wide to ensure that I did not miss Brett when he left Zackary’s room. Fifteen minutes later he appeared at my door.

  “Is he asleep?”

  He nodded.

  I opened my arms.

  “Not here,” he whispered, and he slipped his hands under me and scooped me up into his arms.

  “I’m too heavy,” I protested.

  “No, you’re not. You’re as light as a feather.”

  “Wait,” I said, and grabbed the baby monitor.

  He carried me to his quarters and laid me down on his bed. I reached out my hand and pulled his mask away.

  “I want to see your beautiful face,” I said.

  He kneeled on the floor in front of me. I was already so wet, but I felt myself gush when he said, “Show me your pussy, Miss Conrad, because I am hungry for her.”

  Chapter 45

  Charlotte

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEWuAcMWDLY

  You make me feel like a natural woman

  I sneaked back to my room at dawn. It seemed like only a few minutes had passed before my alarm went off. I shot up from the bed, almost panicked. It was already seven o’clock. I hurried over to Zackary’s room. I saw him still soundly asleep on his bed, but when I walked to his bed I saw the bruise on his forehead had already become purple. Thank God, he was breathing evenly.

  Closing the door quietly, I headed down the stairs and met Mrs. Blackmore alone in the kitchen, sitting quietly and having a cup of tea. When she saw me she nodded. “I checked in on the little one earlier. He was sleeping like an angel, but that’s some shiner he has on his forehead.”

  “Yeah, poor kid must be full of bruises.”

  “Mr. Boothsworth told me. Thank God it was nothing more serious. I can’t imagine what this morning would be like if …” She shuddered. “Did you have a good rest, dear?”

  I nodded, noting the ache that ran down my thighs as I sat down, but of course that had little to nothing to do with Zackary.

  She rose then, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll get you something to eat. It was a tough night was it not?”

  “It was alright. Where is everyone?” I asked noting the unusually empty kitchen.

  “Off to their chores … With what happened to Zackary we’re expecting Madam back very soon so no one wants to be caught slacking off.”

  I felt a cold claw squeeze at my insides, but I tried to keep my gaze as neutral as possible. “Has someone told her then?”

  “I would imagine Mr. King would. She is the boy’s mother, after all.”

  I nodded.
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  She glanced at her watch. “He’ll be leaving in an hour so I should start getting his meal ready now.”

  “I’ll take it to him,” I said to her. “I want to ask him some information about the hospital last night so I’ll just take it to him when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said with a grateful smile.

  A quarter of an hour later I was at his door. As I brought up my hand to knock, I found it trembling. Taking a deep breath, I knocked, and when he didn’t respond, I made my way in.

  “Brett?” I called.

  Placing his meal down, and getting no response, I headed into his bedroom to find it empty. From the sound of the running water I guessed he was in the bathroom, so I headed into the massive space.

  The glass of his shower stall was frosty, but I could still see the outline of his frame as he stood gloriously tall and broad under the cascade, his palm was pressed against the wall and his gaze on the ground. He looked beautiful. Like the standing version of The Thinker statue pondering on some important matter.

  For a second I hesitated interrupting him. Then, gearing up courage, I knocked softly on the glass door, and watched as he whirled his head around, water droplets flying away from him. He pulled the door opened and stood before me, gloriously naked, his cock bobbing slightly under its own weight.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off how glorious he was, until his greeting lifted my gaze to his.

  “Enjoying the view?” he drawled.

  I grinned. “Yes.”

  “I thought you would wake me up.”

  “I thought about it,” I replied, “but you looked too peaceful asleep. I couldn’t dare disrupt that.”

  “Alright,” he said with a smile, “but don’t do it again.”