To Want A Billionaire (The Billionaire's Baby Series Book 1)

by Ava Claire

  Before I had time to pull us from the moment, to get defensive, he spun me to face him and I saw all I needed to see in his eyes. He was different. The cold, terse enigmatic billionaire was not all there was. There was a husband there, a man who had needs, but also had love and understanding and support.

  He was hard and throbbing with all the things he wanted to do with me. To me. But he wasn’t sure how to be my Dominant, my husband, and a expectant father, too. And despite the little tug from earlier, he needed my words. He needed me to speak up. ‘Let’s have sex’ wasn’t good enough.

  I made a T sign with my hands. It earned a smirk and a nod from him, despite his body screaming the very notes my own body screamed. He’d felt the days and nights without claiming me too, and the last thing either of us wanted was a time out or a soliloquy on the state of the Whitmore union.

  “I’ll be quick, promise,” I assured him, my voice raw and husky with lust. Since I was already in deep, I went a step further and assured him with my grip, wrapping my hand around his cock and squeezing. My words fell from my lips like machine gun fire, frantic and absolute. “I’m afraid, too. Of everything. Of being a mom. Of balancing it all. But I don’t want us to become one of those couples that has sex once a month. Or on their anniversary.”

  He pressed a single finger over my lips, shushing me as his smirk broadened to a full-on smile that made my heart float right to my throat. “Life happens, baby. And if you have any doubts about how badly I want you, need you, and how impossible it would be for me to only have you once a month, hell, once a year...” He rounded my breasts, his fingers poised around my nipples. “Let me ease your worries.” He flicked them with his pointer finger, massaging my swollen mounds until I forgot every word in the English language and could only moan. “I want you. Now more than ever.” He let go of me abruptly and crossed his arms. “Now lay back and spread your thighs for your Dom.”

  I moved with more eagerness that my new body was prepared for, and the aches and pangs had nothing to do with BDSM. I eased myself down with a little bit of TLC and reclined like he commanded. He saw me, all of me, and I couldn’t stop the blush from possessing my face and racing down my neck. The sunscreen kept me from turning red as a lobster at the hand of the sun, but there was no shield that could keep me from turning crimson under my husband’s hot gaze.

  I focused my energy on steeling my trembling limbs and spreading my thighs. I couldn’t meet his gaze. It brought out the brat in me, the wild woman who wanted to ignore protocol and pull him into me. The impatient woman who forgot that the ritual was just as important as the release.

  “Close your eyes.” His order came from above me, the sun darkening his features, masking him in a way that turned him into everything. My whole world. “I just want you to feel me.”

  I shut my eyes, welcoming the dark. Riding the bliss as his fingers skated over my knees and he pushed my knees gently apart. I bit my lip, reveling in how exposed I was. Completely at his mercy.

  Nothing prepared me for his mouth. His lips collided with my erotic flesh with no warning. His tongue lapped and circled my clit with a frenzied beat that matched my pulse, galloping, reckless as I gripped the armrest and begged for more, knowing that I’d never be sated. There was no ending. No amount of him that would be enough. No way I, or he, could stay away long enough to bring my worries to fruition.

  Blowing on my clit, ending me in three of our favorite words, he whispered, “Come for me.”

  My release came roaring from me like something that seemed tamed, only to break its shackles and go for the kill shot. I thrusted my hips up to meet him, my body, forgetting that there was anything except this bliss.

  I clutched the air, clutched my husband, with everything I could muster. Still trembling and trying to catch my breath, I turned to Jacob. He wasn’t staring at me like I was the current record holder for ‘Hottest Mess Ever’.

  In his eyes, I saw nothing but love.

  Chapter Two

  “Do we have to go home?” I sighed ruefully, gazing out at our incredible view of Diamond Head. The sun glittered on the golden sand, beckoning me in a way I’d either ignored or practically missed our entire vacation.

  A week in paradise—I’d spent that time away working remotely, napping in a bed I wished I could take home with me, and delighting in my growing baby bump. I’d heard that those peevish requests to feel my tummy (and those who didn’t bother to ask) got annoying, but I hadn’t reached the point of glaring anyone down. I saw the wonder and awe in their eyes and I felt it whenever I touched my tummy myself. It was a humbling and terrifying thing, like the world had become vast and filled with colors and sensations and possibilities I’d never even considered...and a niggling fear that there were two sides to this coin. What in the world had I done to deserve this life? What had I done to deserve happily ever after? And why couldn’t I shake the feeling that there was something lurking, waiting to turn everything upside down?

  “Personally, my vote is to sell it all and just live here.”

  Jacob’s voice rippled across my skin, so close that my heart danced in my chest. When I caught Jacob’s glimmering outline in the glass, my body sighed with contentment as he wrapped his arms around me.

  He pecked my bare shoulder with his lips. “We could open a little cafe on the beach.”

  “I’d be the head chef, of course,” I grinned, going all in since we were crafting our fantastical island life. “You could round up the coconuts so we could give every table their own coconut water, straight from the source.” I bit my lip as I snuck a hand between our bodies. I gripped him, knowing I’d find him swollen. At this hour, he was only a few strokes, a squeeze, or a coy glance away from being throbbing, pulsing, and ready. “You’d hunt for coconuts shirtless, just so we’re clear. A walking billboard for our cafe.”

  I couldn’t see his face, but from the way he twitched against my palm, I had a feeling I’d find that signature Jacob smirk on his lips. It was etched into my heart: one side of his lips lifted just far enough to say that he wholeheartedly approved of my boldness—but to tread carefully. If there was one thing that drove him crazy (and made him hard as a rock) it was when I topped from the bottom. It was a surefire way to ensure he’d punish me.

  I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate our last morning on the island.

  He rounded the curve of my bottom in response, squeezing and kneading it. When he spoke, his voice like red wine and honey, I nearly melted on the spot. “Didn’t get enough yesterday, hm?”

  “Psh,” I dismissed that notion, pushing my body backward, feeling solid proof that he didn’t get enough yesterday, either. “There is no ‘enough’ when it comes to you. To us.”

  “On that we are in agreement,” he answered, his voice dropping a few octaves to the rich timbre that drove me mad with desire. Truly bold. Bold enough to do whatever it took to have him. “But your methods,” he continued, digging his fingers into my flesh. “They’re guaranteed to bring out the Dom in me.” He lightened his touch, his fingertips grazing my tender skin. “But you know that, don’t you?”

  “No sir.”

  I smiled at his reflection. Jacob had let his hair grow in the front, softening the cool, fierce lines of his face. Making him more playful. There were no fun and games in his blue gaze as he outlined my spine, stopping when he reached my neck. I’d teased him so he gave it right back to me, stroking the back of my neck, gazing at me like he had the best view in the house and it had nothing to do with what lay on the other side of the glass.

  “No sir?” He repeated, vaulting his dark brow. His fingers stopped tugging my strings, his voice deepening with equal measures of admonishment and intrigue. “So, you're not only provoking me, but you're lying as well?" The rumbling in the back of his throat was hard to pin down. There were equal notes of incredulity, awe, and something that I swore was grunt for 'Tread carefully'.

  I did my best to still my stammering heart and focused on the part o
f me that wanted to be bad. That needed to be punished. That needed his strength so when he let go, we both could find our bliss.

  Besides, we hadn't put a dent in the lust that seemed to be eating me alive. As much as he craved control and my submission, neither of us could deny that there was something about my defiance, a taste of brattiness that clearly turned him on. And I didn't know of any other way to be. The fight, the comebacks, the bite of sarcasm along with my submission—it was me.

  I bit my lip, muting the smile that reached from my mouth down to my core, remembering the feel of him hardening in my grip a few moments ago.

  I spun on my heels, the tangled covers swirling to the ground around me. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief when I saw that awe had kicked anything else to the curb. His face was awash with curiosity, and I had his full attention. My eyes darted to his crotch and shot back up as heat claimed my cheeks. All of his attention.

  My options were endless. I could drop, or ease, all things considered, to the floor and take him in my mouth. Show him how badly I craved him. Feel the way his body reacted to my lips. My tongue.

  I could lead us back to the bedroom, the sheets already discarded, giving us a blank slate for a very erotic masterpiece, starring Jacob and Leila Whitmore.

  I could skip the bed and step things up a notch and head to the shower. I'd finally figured out the console that controlled the water. It was high time that we determined if the ledge in the shower was the right height for me to perch a foot and him to slide in real close.

  “I can see your mind is racing with all the things we could do,” he said casually, crossing his arms against his chest like he wasn't naked, delicious and hard as a rock. His blue eyes flashed with something closer to the truth. A heat that flickered and danced and made it seem logical, hell, mandatory to play with fire because it would hurt so good.

  “Let me tell you what you're going to do.”

  I was too enthralled to do more than listen, gladly giving over control.

  “You're going to turn that hot little ass of yours back around, go to the window, put both hands on the glass-” He paused, knowing I was riveted. Holding on to ever word. “Then get comfortable, love, because it's been way too long since I've spanked you.”

  I clasped a hand to my mouth to stifle the glee that fell from my lips. Scattered pieces of my squeal broke free and even with the specks of light, I could make out his arched brow. It was quickly followed by his crystal blue eyes freezing over. It made me swallow the confetti happiness, remembering that this treat had edges. This wouldn't be a playful smack on the butt, quickly followed by romance novel approved sex.

  This was gonna hurt.

  This time, I didn't spin like a horny ballerina, I slowly pivoted. The room was so quiet I swore I heard the hardwood floors sigh. There was only a few steps until I reached my destination and I made every one count. I focused on my reflection because I knew if I looked at him, I'd start shaking. I’d get self conscious under his hot gaze, wondering what shade of red he was gunning for.

  My reflection didn't help much either. My curls rioted against the bun I’d forced them into. I tugged my hair loose, flexing my wrists before I leaned forward slightly, my hands shoulder width apart. This close, my face told a totally different story from the nerves that were dancing in my stomach. My eyes were hooded, the deep chocolate hue the very color of sin. My nostrils flared with every breath I took. My cheeks were flushed with want. With a need that consumed me. My lips trembled with a curiosity of my own. Would he make me count out the strikes or be silent unless I needed to say red? The not knowing, giving up all control, going to a place where my responses were reduced to yes and no sir, colors, and moans, added to the thrill that coursed through me.

  Wetting my lips and finding the right angle to obey the comfortable part in his command, I gazed out at the water and felt the pull of lust rocking through me. My eyes fluttered closed as he advanced toward me, anticipating his next command.

  “No need for that.”

  My eyes flew open when something soft and silky brushed against my cheek. I knew what it was immediately.

  A blindfold.

  Just the tactile sensation of the blindfold against my skin was enough to make a moan rise in my throat. The jolt when he secured it, his fingertips brushing my cheekbones before resting on my shoulders, made me tremble with desire. Taking away my sight intensified everything else. I felt his touch like whispers on my bones. I felt my heart racing beneath my skin. Pleasure would sing and the pain would bloom, the two opposing sensations taking hold and creating something uniquely ours.

  He swept his fingers along my shoulders, kneading my muscles gently. The stark contrast between his touch and the richness of his voice turned my skin into gooseflesh.

  “You are not to utter a single sound, or you'll be punished.” He drew his touch from my shoulders downward, pausing at the small of my back. “As always, 'red' will bring anything to a halt, if necessary. Understood?”

  The only thing I could see was darkness, but I had a feeling if I could steal a peek at my face, it would be scrunched in confusion. “Yes sir, but does that mean-oh my god!”

  My right cheek exploded in a sea of pin pricks, his first strike rippling over me. Snatching the rest of my words right out of my mouth and giving me the only thing that mattered.

  We had begun.

  ~

  “Now that you know what I mean by no sound, and what happens when you disobey, are you ready to proceed?”

  The stirring in my core said 'hell yeah', my lips close behind. I clamped them together, realizing I was about to earn myself another lick. I couldn't see anything beyond the black, but I knew his hand was poised above my bottom, fingertips tingling, anticipating my slip.

  He knew me well.

  Smiling, I nestled my chin against my shoulder. I still had a surprise or two up my sleeve.

  Once upon a time, nodding in response to him would have brought a swift punishment, but if I couldn't make a sound, I just had to trust that ducking my chin to my chest twice would give him my answer.

  My skin hummed as I waited, nibbling on my bottom lip when I was met with silence. The seconds passed and the not knowing, waiting for him, needing him in the worst possible way, almost made me push the envelope. Whisper. Plead. Clear my throat.

  I wrangled my impatience, the inner submissive in me that found release in giving up control, in the very uncertainty that made me tremble, taking my internal reins. You didn't sign up for a man who skips to the end of the book. You signed up for a man who lingers, teasing the pages of your story. You signed up for the journey.

  And so I waited, not trying to force his hands or peer out of my blindfold for clarity. I didn't fret that my nod was the wrong answer, because there were no wrong answers. This wasn't a test or a battle of wills. This was dominance and submission. This was trust. And when he broke the silence, whispering, 'Good', lust choked the single syllable.

  My core fluttered with pleasure when he touched me. Softly. His thick and powerful fingers, fingers that knew how to pinch, how to grip, how to dole out slices of delicious pain, also knew how to play me like an instrument.

  Funny, I thought a grunt would force his hand. His fingers were about to force mine. Force me to croon with pleasure because the heat at the center of me, the desire that coated his fingers and was making sounds of its own, was making staying silent a challenge.

  “Is this what you wanted? Me to use you as I see fit?”

  He slipped his finger inside me and I threw my head back, my mouth flying open in a silent cry of elation.

  My answer, my yes, was playing on loop, so close to becoming an audible thing. A screech. And it was like he knew, building in speed, flicking and pulsing around my clit, thrusting deeper like he was getting close to losing his mind too.

  He smoothed a hand over my abdomen, making a hot, delicate path towards my breasts. My chest heaved with every moment, every breath getting away from me because I
knew where he was headed. My nipples were gluttons for punishment, solid and aching. When he swept his thumb over my right one, gripping my breast tight, moving closer until I felt his muscled body pressed against mine, I couldn't help myself.

  I gasped.

  He let out a low chuckle, his grip on my breast tightening as his other hand doled out a strike on my bottom. Pain flashed across my skin, a wildfire that cooled when his fingertips strummed the epicenter. Distracting me from the punishment, with the gift of his touch.

  “Answer me,” he crooned in my ear, his tongue drawing a unfair, tantalizing circle on my neck while his fingers danced inside me. “You were so bold a few moments ago. So demanding yesterday. Is this what you want?”

  Like he knew I was dangerously close to snapping, he withdrew from me, only to follow with the one thing that could make me scream.

  It was only the tip of his cock. The blindfold didn’t matter because I could have drawn it with my eyes shut with detail and precision. That was the mushroom head that he nudged against my swollen clit. There was that sensitive, mouthwatering ridge that he loved for me to linger at. My body clutched the head of him, my muscles quivering with the same hunger as my voice.

  “Yes, Jacob!” I gasped, slamming a hand on the glass. Surrendering to him. A complete and utter slave to my Dom. “That’s what I want! I need you inside me. I need you inside me now!”

  It was like the dam broke, all the cracks rupturing. Not only had I disobeyed, but I’m pretty sure there was some flagrancy thrown in there for good measure. Not that it mattered, but I pressed my hands against the glass, needing something solid to cling to because I was surely about to atone, even if the game was rigged.

  “Now?” he mused, his fingers making me jump because I was expecting his palm to collide with my flesh, not a gentle rounding of one cheek, then the next. His next move was even more surprising.

  He removed my blindfold.

  My eyes struggled to adjust, the brightness of the room too much and a welcome reprieve at the same time. I wanted him to see me. I wanted to see him.