My Italian Billionaire: A BWWM Italian Billionaire Romance

by Stacey Mills

  She rubbed herself against him, and he groaned. How could this have happened? The woman distracted him far too much, and now he wouldn't even be able to satisfy them both.

  "Do you have any?" he hoped.

  "No." But she didn't look upset. "There's still plenty we can do without one." She tugged on his hand and pulled him out of the kitchen to her small makeshift dining room. Her small feet stepped over the towel—he'd dropped it accidentally—and she stripped off his clothes and pressed a hand to his chest to force him onto a chair. With her finger, she gestured for him to sit as if ready for a meal at the table, and he did so, his cock quivering with anticipation.

  Then she disappeared from view. He blinked. What was she up to?

  Soft hands touched his knees and slid up in small circles, eventually come nearer and nearer to his cock. Lucca sucked in a breath and fought with the urge to reach beneath the table and force her to touch him where he most wanted to be touched, to let her have control.

  She only tortured him for another five minutes or so, more than long enough for some precum to drip free. God, she drove him crazy.

  Her fingers brushed against his balls, and his cock jumped.

  "Like that, did you?" Megan giggled as she did it again.

  His cock tightened.

  "Yes, you do. I know what you want." Her lips kissed the tip of his cock, and she licked his head, her tongue swirling around. Up and down, inch by inch, she shoved his fullness into her mouth, one hand stroking the portion of his long cock that didn't fit into her mouth, her other hand squeezing his balls gently.

  Oh, God, this was heaven. Her mouth was so warm and wet and her sucking him was almost too much for him. If she kept this up much longer… Even for a few seconds more—

  "I'm going to—"

  She pulled his balls away from his body, and his urge to come subsided enough that he could tolerate her licking and kissing and sucking, oh, yes, could she suck, for a long while yet. Eventually, he knew the point of no return was coming.

  "Megan, yes, oh, God… If you don't want to—"

  "Come for me," she said around his cock, and the vibrations of her speech sent him over the edge. From his base, cum worked its way up, and he squirted into her mouth. She never stopped bobbing up and down, swallowing every drop, even swirled her tongue around the opening once he'd finished as if to ensure she got every last drop.

  He closed his eyes, sitting back on the chair as she climbed out from beneath the table.

  "See? Condoms aren't always necessary."

  "God, I l—" He yanked on her hand and forced her out from underneath the table and onto his lap. His kiss ruined his declaration. A good thing, because how could he know that for certain? That he loved her? Yes, how she made him feel, he loved that, craved it, wanted it every day and every night, but that wasn't the same as loving her. The way she pleasured him…

  Right now, it was her turn to be pleasured.

  Cupping his hands on her fine ass, he stood and placed her on the table. His large hands pried her legs apart. Wetness dripped from her slick folds, but still he ran his fingers along her, wanting her arousal to increase even more. "So ready for me," he whispered.

  "Yes." She whimpered, gyrating her hips.

  "What do you want?" he asked. His fingers lazily teased her folds.

  "For you to…"

  "For me to what?"

  Her pelvis buckled a few times, and he couldn't torture her any longer. He dove between her legs, licking and sucking on her clit.

  "Gentle," she hissed, trying to pull away.

  He eased up the pressure slightly, and she moved more easily beneath him, her face contorting with pleasure. Gradually, he licked faster, sucked harder, and she didn't complain again. When he shoved one, two, and then squeezed a third finger inside of her, he kept up the pressure on her clit.

  "Oh. Oh!"

  Her juices flowed, and he kept on fingering her, licking around his fingers as the juices squeezing by. She arched her back, and he didn't stop, didn't ever want to stop. Pleasuring her without receiving anything back made him feel invincible.

  "Please," she moaned.

  "Please what? Please you?"

  "Yes…"

  Lucca removed his fingers and groped for and found a large breast. He tugged on the nipple as his lips and tongue replaced his fingers, sliding around her folds, licking, sucking, and enjoying every quiver that jerked her body. Only after she came a second time did he stop.

  "You're right," he said, and he wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, "condoms aren't always necessary."

  She nodded, eyes closed, still lying on the table.

  "You can stay there. I'm going to wash up and whip up some lunch."

  Megan nodded again. When he reached the bathroom and looked over his shoulder at her to see she hadn't moved a muscle, eyes still closed, he laughed to himself.

  He washed his hands and face and entered the kitchen. Anyone could heat up soup in the microwave, so he opted for a pot, dumped two chicken noodle soup cans into it, and turned the heat on medium.

  Now for the grilled cheese.

  Megan kept some butter on the counter, and he loved how easily warm butter spread. He buttered four slices of bread and shoved two thick slices of cheese between each. Oh, shouldn't he have preheated a pan? Guess he better do that now.

  As he waited for the pan to warm, he stirred the soup. He didn't want it to be done well before the grilled cheese, so he turned it down some.

  He held his hand above the preheating pan. Not that warm yet, but hey, the pan and the grilled cheese sandwiches could heat up together, right? He tossed them both on and had to fix the one because the top slice slid off.

  A satisfied sigh came from the dining room, and he grinned, watching Megan stretch and stand. She smiled sexily at him and walked away. "I feel like I need another shower," she called.

  "If you wait until after lunch, maybe I can join you."

  "Mmm… I would like that, I think."

  He snorted. "You think?"

  She appeared in the doorway, and he almost frowned to see her in clothes. A simple black tank top and a dark miniskirt, but still, he loved looking at her dark skin. My black warrior princess.

  "Do you need any help?" she asked.

  "Nope. You just relax." As he stirred the soup, his gaze followed her as she removed the tablecloth and replaced it with another one. Probably a good idea.

  Oh, shouldn't he flip the grilled cheese? He did, although it was a major struggle to do so with both of them for some reason, and he winced at the burnt side staring up at him. Well, crap.

  And since he'd turned down the soup, it wasn't heating any, so he knocked up the heat by two. How dark should he let the other side get? Too dark, and he might as well throw them out, but if it was too light, his gaff would look even worse, wouldn't it?

  While he fiddled with the grilled cheese, the soup started to pop. Although he immediately turned down the heat, he realized the soup at the bottom was sticking to the pan. He scraped it off, and black noodle floated to the top.

  Soup. He couldn't even heat up soup properly.

  Her hands on his shoulders had him sighing. "I screwed up. Again."

  "So try again."

  This time, she stayed by his side and guided him through the grilled cheese-making process. "You don't want to flip too late. You can always flip a second time if you have to."

  "Never thought being early might be a good thing."

  She swatted his shoulder. "I do recall you have a habit of leaving drops of precum on yourself."

  "But that's a present." He grinned broadly, ducking as she swatted him again.

  "There's a lot of ways to be creative with grilled cheese. You can add bacon and tomato, that's a favorite of mine. Or you can use spicier cheese and jalapenos. Do you like avocado? That with pepper jack and lime juice, maybe a little lime zest too… Or pesto and provolone and mozzarella." She tapped his wrist. "Flip now."

 
; He obeyed.

  "A little on the light side, but that's okay." She set about buttering more bread slices. "Two sandwiches each?"

  "Good idea." He'd worked up an appetite, so maybe he'd want a third. Or another helping of her. "And that bacon one sounds amazing. I love bacon."

  "Why am I not surprised?" she teased. She took the cheese and stored it in her fridge. "You can take it back to your place then. A whole pound for some grilled cheese sandwiches." Her laughter washed over him.

  "You can keep it." He flipped the sandwiches. Maybe not quite golden but close enough.

  She grabbed the rest of the bread and put it in the bag he'd brought. "What's this?"

  "Oh. That. It's a—"

  "Are all of these places hiring?"

  "Yes." Only five. He'd hoped for more than that, but that couldn't be helped.

  "You didn't have to do all that."

  Something in the way her words seem to catch had him rushing to take the sandwiches off the burner and onto a plate so he could face her. She looked like she was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to rip him a new one. "Did I do something wrong?"

  Megan exhaled loudly. "No," she said, but her tone suggested otherwise.

  "I was only trying to help."

  "I know." She walked out of the kitchen.

  Had he wounded her pride somehow? He'd never intended to hurt her, to overstep.

  This Megan, there was a lot about her he didn't know yet it seemed.

  Chapter Twelve: Frustration

  It was sweet, him trying to be a white knight, but she didn't need a knight, white or otherwise. All she needed was a job. Which, admittedly, was what he was trying to be a knight about. But the names on the short list had her stomach churning. Four- and five-star restaurants. Places she'd love to work one day, but places she'd be laughed at if she applied to them now.

  Right now, her ego couldn't take being laughed at.

  She forced herself to return to him in the kitchen. "Let's eat."

  His dark eyes were mesmerizing and wide. "Megan, I wasn't trying to overstep—"

  "You didn't." She grabbed a plate. "I'm starving."

  He winked as he followed her. "I wonder what could have worked up your appetite."

  "I don't know," she teased. "It's a mystery."

  He took the first bite. "Mmm. This is good."

  Megan laughed. "You sound surprised."

  "Hey, in case you couldn't tell, I'm not exactly a cook."

  "No?" She gasped and put a hand to her chest. "I never would've realized that."

  His eyes narrowed. "Mock me, will you?" He jerked his chin toward her plate. "Go ahead and try it."

  It was good. Simple and ordinary, but since they had made it together, it was the tastiest traditional grilled cheese she'd ever eaten. "Not bad," she conceded.

  He sighed. "Maybe you should be a food critic as well as a chef."

  Her nose wrinkled. "Wouldn't that be a little bit of a conflict of interests?"

  "Maybe. Yeah, I guess so." His sheepish smile had her lips curling upward.

  Maybe it was silly for her to be so stubborn about the job search. She couldn't put it off any longer. As soon as he left, she'd have to start making phone calls herself.

  Not that she wanted him to leave right away.

  Although there was one issue that had to be resolved.

  She waited until they'd finished their sandwiches to broach the subject. "So, Lucca, that's twice now you cooked for me."

  "Only one meal though." He sighed. "My grandmother would be so disappointed in me. Italians are known for cooking enough food for ten times the amount of guests. I can't even cook enough for two."

  She refused to be sidetracked by his charming plea for pity. "It's my turn to return the favor. Are you free for dinner tomorrow?"

  His dark eyes brightened. "I think I just might be."

  "Good. What time can I come over? Do you have any food allergies? What kind of meals are your favorite? Obviously, you have to love anything Italian, but I won't dare touch that with a ten-foot pole since nothing will compare to your grandmother's." She was rambling, she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself. She almost didn't want him to speak because she knew what would happen when he did.

  And he didn't disappoint her, although it made her jaw clench and her hands on her lap curl into fists.

  "Why not here?" He glanced around. "I like the memories we're making here."

  Her face a mask—she hoped—she stood, grabbed his plate, and put hers on top. On her heel, she turned away and marched into the kitchen.

  "Megan…" He approached her and started to rub her shoulders.

  It felt so good, his strong, skillful fingers working at the tension knots, but she shrugged him away. "I really should get started on the job hunt."

  "Oh. Sure." He backed away. "Can I bring a bottle of wine over to dinner? Red or white? Or a… a blush?"

  "You don't have to. I might need more time to put together a menu. I'll give you a call and let you know when to come over."

  Lucca frowned. Even when unhappy, he was too damn good looking, and right now, she wished he wasn't quite so fine. "So it might not be tomorrow?"

  "Maybe not. I'm sorry." She turned to the sink and started to clean up.

  "Here. I made the mess. Let me—"

  "You've done enough." Her sharp tone made her wince. "I appreciated all you did for me, with lunch and the list and everything…"

  "But…"

  She took a deep breath. "I'm not just a lay, okay? So if that's all I am to you, if you have another woman, or a wife, then go back to her and never come 'round here again."

  "Megan, it's nothing like that," he protested.

  "Then what is it? Because there's something." Her eyes widened. "Are you just using me to try to forget your grief over losing your father?"

  He winced. "Megan, I would never use—"

  "You don't have to say anything." She pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm sorry I jumped all over you."

  His hands ran down her arms to capture her hands. "I don't mind when you do that." His kiss was sweet, tender, and it started a slow burn between her legs.

  "Hm." She smiled at him.

  "When I'm ready, you can come over to my place." He took a deep breath. "I just… Right now… It's… well, it's a mess. I have to go through all of my father's things and it's not suitable for visitors."

  Now she felt like a real heel. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so pushy and demanding. I have no right to—"

  "It's fine, Megan." He kissed her again, this time slipping a little tongue. "I should probably head back to the office. I hope you call me for dinner tomorrow. Or the next night. But not later than that."

  She walked him to the door and closed it behind him with a sigh. So he had lived with his father? That surprised her. Or maybe he was just staying at his father's place until he got rid of everything. But it still bothered her that he seemed to hold her at arm's length when she wanted to learn more about him but was still so willing to rip her clothes off. And when she realized she didn't even know his last name yet, she grew annoyed all over again.

  I'm just frustrated over the whole job thing and I'm pushing it onto him, she tried to reason with herself as she started to call around to restaurants. It took her forever to make any progress so she decided to go out for a walk to try and cool her temper down.

  At a red light, she spied a magazine vendor. To kill time until it was safe to walk, she approached the stand and glanced at the covers.

  A familiar face jumped out oat her. Father Dies, Son to Become CEO… If He Marries.

  Well, now she knew his last name. Lucca Greccio. And he was worth a good chunk of money, if the magazine writer wasn't exaggerating. But what was this about him having to marry?

  She grabbed the magazine off the rack and started to read, to the annoyance of the stand owner. "A source close to the Greccio family has leaked that Lucca Greccio will only become CEO of his late father's company if
he marries before his thirtieth birthday."

  Dazed, Megan shoved the magazine back into its spot. Never had she thought Lucca could be someone so important. Yeah, he dressed and carried himself well, and had a swagger and a way about him that screamed he was used to having things his way, but still… first in line to be CEO of a huge company?

  But only if he marries.

  Why hadn't he told her who he was? Why had he kept her away from anything personal?

  Trust was the only thing she wanted from a relationship. Well, trust and respect. And honesty. He'd broken her trust, obviously not respected her enough to confide in her even with his last name, and hadn't been honest from the very beginning.

  It's done with. It's over.

  Chapter Thirteen: The Fallout

  It was absurd the number of times he had checked his cell. He was acting like a schoolboy, hoping his crush would notice him.

  Why hasn't she called? He wondered for the hundredth time.

  He'd set up a small tasting ceremony to determine which of the five catering companies he'd narrowed the field down to. Each had brought far too much food with them, so he invited his workers to partake in the eating so long as they gave their opinion as to which was the best.

  When Cindy approached, he thought nothing of it until he saw her pinched lips. He held up a finger to the pudgy owner of one of the catering companies and stepped to the side so they could talk in a semblance of privacy.

  "Is something wrong?"

  She handed him a folder.

  That she hadn't said anything made him nervous. He opened the folder to see a magazine, his face on the cover, a photo he hadn't been prepared for, taken at the funeral if he wasn't mistaken. And the headline…

  He muttered a few curses, some in English, more in Italian.

  "Sir, I have no idea who would have—"

  "It doesn't matter who." He grinded his teeth. It did matter. He refused to have a mole working for him, someone who would sell secrets for money.

  "I'll find out who it was, sir." Cindy hurried away.

  One more item to add to the list. At least most everyone was picking the same caterer, so that was decided, but if Megan didn't call him in the next hour, he'd have to figure out other dinner plans.