Billionaire Bachelor_Michael

by Eve Black

  Too late, the elevator dinged, indicating a new arrival, and when the doors opened, he wasn’t surprised to see Amanda slink into his penthouse. She was wearing a sleek, form-fitting black dress, with black heels, and a glittering bracelet on her wrist. Her platinum hair was straight and loose down her back, which used to be a turn on for him. But now…he much preferred curly red hair.

  “I’ve got to go, Dad,” he growled, hitting the END CALL button on his cell.

  Damn! Why couldn’t his dad have kept his mouth shut? If Helene came home with Amanda there, he might as well forget about Donovan Innovations; he’d never see Helene or his company again.

  A sickness roiled in his gut, and the sour taste of bile coated his tongue.

  He closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair, and praying for patience to deal with the woman, even now, bearing down on him. He could hear the click-clack of her designer heels as she came toward him.

  He opened his eyes. “What are you doing here, Amanda?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She leaned in, reaching out to run a hand from his collarbone to his shoulder. Her touch used to excite him—in the beginning. But toward the end, it only chilled him to the bone. And now, her hands on him made him physically ill.

  Amanda smiled up at him, her patented fuck me now smile emphasized by the dark pink lipstick on her collagen-filled lips. “I missed you, Michael. Isn’t that enough reason to come by?” she purred, lowering her chin and lifting her chest.

  Her tits did nothing for him now. Not when he had Helene’s bountiful breasts to fill his hands.

  Just then, the tell-tale whirr of the elevator descending made everything within him turn white.

  Damn, he thought, urgency pushing through his veins, Amanda needs to go. Now!

  “You miss my money, I’m not a fool, Amanda,” he intoned, pulling her hand off his shoulder and dropping it from him like a filthy rag. “You need to leave,” he demanded, pulling her toward the hallway, and the secured back door beyond. At the end of the hall, behind a steel door, was a set of stairs leading down to the next level where a service elevator was waiting. It would take her downstairs and allow her to leave through the parking garage…where Helene wouldn’t see her.

  “Whoa, there, baby. If you want me gone, why are we headed right to the magic room?” she said, laughing. Her laugh raked over his nerves like claws on a chalkboard.

  "I'm not taking you anywhere but to the back door. You can find your way out of the building from there," he said, continuing down the hallway with her panting behind him. Finally, at the door, he entered the code into the security keypad and depressed the latch. The door swung open silently.

  “Out you go.” He pointed to the opening and looked at her; she was pouting, her blue eyes narrowing into an expression he couldn’t mistake. Rage.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you agree to meet me for lunch on Saturday,” she demanded, pinning him with a glare he knew by heart. She wouldn’t move from the spot unless he gave her what she wanted. What was lunch anyway?

  “Fine. I’ll meet you a Gino’s at one. Now, go.”

  Her made-up face broke into a big, man-eating smile.

  “See you then, lover…”

  She was gone with a flick of her blonde hair over her shoulder, leaving behind a cloying cloud of her expensive perfume.

  He shut the door, engaging the lock, and rushed down the hallway. Just as he emerged into the main living area, the elevator dinged again. This time, though, the woman who walked into his house was the one he actually wanted there.

  But, damn, she had some explaining to do.

  13

  Helene peeled away from the elevator door and practically crawled from the lift and into the penthouse. She was soaking wet, exhausted, and pissed—at herself and at Michael. At Michael for basically dismissing her after their mind-melting kiss, and at herself for not being better about sticking to the clause she’d agreed to. Things would be so much easier if she’d just kept her hands off her husband. She wouldn’t have kissed him, wouldn’t have rushed out the penthouse without her phone, and wouldn’t have had to walk five miles to the nearest open convenience store to use their phone and call for an Uber.

  She dropped her satchel on the gleaming floor with a splat and groaned as a pool formed at her feet. She needed a long, hot bath, a bowl of soup, and her nice, warm bed. Stat!

  Before she made another move, a loud curse made her look up. Michael was standing there, hands on his hips, and a scowl on his face.

  “What the hell, Helene?” he ground out, just before noticing the sodden state of her clothes. “Shit,” he exclaimed. “Come here,” he demanded, stalking toward her. Sighing, she did as bid; too tired and too uncomfortable to fight him right now. Maybe after her bath…and a week of hibernation.

  “What happened? Where did you go?” Michael asked, reaching out to cup her chilled cheeks in his hands. “Damn, you’re like ice. Let’s get you warmed up.”

  Without a word of protest, Helene let Michael lead her down the hallway and into his room. Right passed his huge bed and into his huge bathroom. White tile, chrome fixtures, a large jetted tub, and a standing shower with four shower heads and enough floor space to accommodate at least four more of her. Numb, weary, and pummeled by her own thoughts, Helene didn’t notice when Michael began peeling the t-shirt from her shoulders. It wasn’t until the heat of his breath hit her naked collarbone that she realized he was undressing her.

  Gasping, she stepped back, raising her hands to stop him.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she husked, her voice thick.

  He stopped, rising to his full height to stare down at her, his eyes as deep blue as the storm outside. “I want to. You’re my wife,” he said coaxingly. “Let me take care of you…” The timbre of his voice slid through her, raising goosebumps over her now hot flesh.

  Unable to find her voice, she simply raised her arms. Vulnerable, excited, anxious, yearning…she didn’t know which way was up, but she did know Michael was her anchor in the hurricane raging through her.

  Michael dropped to his knees, his gaze flicking up to watch her face as he undid the button and zipper on her jeans. As he slid the zipper down, she held her breath. His eyes danced, a fire flickering. When he began to peel the wet jeans from her hips, she let her breath out, suddenly terrified of him seeing her—all of her—without the benefit of dim lighting and raging hormones.

  She raised her hands to push him away, and he shook his head.

  “Nuh-uh, wife. I need to do this…” The word need carried more weight than she thought it should.

  Helene snapped a nod and continued to watch him as he dragged the sodden, taut fabric down her thighs, over her calves. She lifted one foot, then the other, to allow him to pull the jeans off her body completely. Then, she stood, wearing only her wet, see-through bra and panties, her breath coming in shallow pants.

  The LED lights glared down on her from everywhere. The bathroom was the absolute worst place for her sexy husband to see her in all her glory.

  No! If this is going to work, I can't hide from him. He needs to know who I am—all of me. Forcing herself to keep her hands at her side, she continued to watch as Michael tossed her jeans into a wet heap on the floor. Then…he stared up at her, his blue eyes devouring the pale flesh of her thighs, belly, and the tops of her breasts. When his eyes met hers, she saw something she wasn’t expecting…desire.

  "Michael…" she murmured, unsure of what to say—which was the first time in a long time. What was he doing to her? Her mind swirled, tumbling, spinning, and her heart was following suit. She shuddered, and not because of the chill that used to encase her bones. No…this man, the one on his knees before her, was stirring up something within her she never thought possible.

  But she dared not give it a name.

  In one, slow, lithe movement, Michael stood—not once breaking eye contact. With his hands on her shoulders, he slid the straps of her
bra down her arms until the only thing keeping her breasts covered were her erect nipples, holding the lacy fabric in place over the swell of her mounds.

  Michael seemed to tense, his expression hardening, and then, his hands were back on her shoulders, his fingers tracing the indent on her shoulders where her bra straps had been.

  “Beautiful burdens,” he murmured, and he slid his hands from her shoulders, up her neck, finally cupping her face. “You are lovely, Helene…” He leaned down, brushing a kiss over her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered closed—her mind and body and heart were battling one another. Her body hungered for Michael’s touch, his explicit attention. Her mind wanted to know what it felt like to touch Michael, tracing all the bulges and hollows of his solid, masculine form. And her heart…her heart wanted that connection she’d been searching for.

  Could Michael truly be the one to give her everything?

  Stop thinking! Feel! Enjoy! The whole of her screamed at once. This was it…the chance to know what being cherished felt like.

  “Helene…let me take care of you. All of you,” Michael coaxed, his voice like melted butter. Stunned by the intensity of his plea, she met his gaze. Her heart turned over in her chest—his eyes were burning with true, real, unfettered sensuality.

  Her breath caught. “Yes,” she uttered, reaching around to undo the bra clasps at her back.

  As she allowed the bra to fall from her breasts, she quelled the urge to cover them with her arms and was rewarded by the deep, dangerous growl from her husband's throat. She trembled, both excited and scared by that sound. The sound of passion, of hunger. A passion and hunger she shared.

  With her breasts exposed to his ravenous blue eyes, Helene felt her confidence soar, and so, she gripped the waistband of her panties and shimmied until the panties were on the floor, still around her ankles. And now…she was completely bare and vulnerable to her husband. She couldn’t believe how terrified she felt, how powerful. She gazed down at her chest, her heavy breasts were flushed a light pink, and her nipples had darkened, coming to pebble-hard points. They ached, so much, as though they were begging for Michael’s touch…for his mouth. Just like last night.

  “My God, Helene…you are perfect,” Michael whispered, his voice heavy with awe, and she exploded, her thoughts disappeared in the waves of heat pulsing from her husband. “Fuck that non-consummation clause,” Michael rasped just before his mouth claimed hers.

  14

  It was a spine-melting, heart-imploding, leg-shaking, earth-quaking kiss. When Michael took possession, he ruled with an iron will and a hot, demanding tongue. His thick, strong arms encircled her, and he flattened his hand against the small of her back, drawing her in closer. But she couldn’t get close enough. Never close enough. Her round curves fit perfectly against his hard, lean muscle. Her naked flesh thrilled at the feel of the soft fabrics of his shirt and jeans, but she needed to feel him against her.

  Almost as if hearing her thoughts, he broke the kiss and moved around her to open the shower door. He stepped inside and turned on the water. To scalding.

  “Get in,” he commanded, his voice gravelly. And she did—she couldn’t deny him even if she had a mind to, which she didn’t. Her mind was focused solely on Michael and getting his hands on her.

  Stepping into the shower enclosure, she turned to see what he would do. She lost all ability to speak…he was undressing, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal an expanse of male form that couldn’t be real. The shelf of his pecs was dusted with black hairs, and the rigid muscles of his abs tightened, flexing and twitching as he moved to undo his pants. Then, he was bending down to push the fabric down his muscular legs, and she was standing there, under the hot water, watching the most beautiful man in the world reveal his perfect body to her. And, when he stood up, her gaze riveted to what he’d been hiding: a cock that was thick, long, and erect. For her. This was hers. Michael groaned, and she looked up to see that he’d been watching her reaction to seeing him naked. And he appreciated her appreciation of him.

  A lopsided smile graced her mouth, and an answering smile lifted his.

  “You like what you see?” he asked, stepping up into the shower to stand before her.

  “Hell yes,” she blurted, and he chuckled.

  “Good…because I love what I see,” he growled, bending down to nip at her neck. Tingles of electricity zipped through her, making goosebumps break out over her arms, and making her nipples ache. God, she ached everywhere. His mouth on her neck, Michael reached up to cup her breasts, and she arched up into his hands, bracing her back against the cold tile wall.

  The hot water hit her chest and neck, but the hot water did nothing but heighten the intensity of her yearning.

  Trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone, Michael kissed and nipped, and she moaned and hissed, loving the pain-pleasure of his attentions.

  “More,” she keened, desperate for something deeper. She needed more than kisses, she needed him. Inside her.

  But the kissing is glorious, her mind murmured. Groaning, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, silently begging for him to devour her.

  Michael must’ve felt the weight of her need because he slid his hands into her hair, holding her head steady against the wall. Deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to taste her, to tease her. She met lunge for lunge, her own desire mounting with every breath. An animalistic growl erupted from his throat and he let go of her face to grab handfuls of her ass. He squeezed, and she cried out. His strong hands clenched tight then released, making the flesh of her ass bounce. With a grunt, he hauled her against him. His erection was thick and heavy, and it burned into her belly.

  He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Step back, there,” he said, indicating a mid-calf high bench set into the shower wall. She stepped up on to it. “Wrap your leg around me,” he rasped, his hot breath blasting against her neck and chest, sending tiny tremors through her.

  But then reality broke through the haze and the hot steam billowing from the shower.

  “Michael…I,” she fumbled.

  He pinned her with his electric blue gaze, and her heart raced right through her chest.

  “I’ll make it good for you, baby. I promise. I just can’t wait any longer to be inside you,” he uttered, pressing her backward until the wall behind her held her up. Then, she lifted her left leg, wrapping it around his waist. He gripped her thigh tightly, holding her in place, and she could feel his erection rub against her hot, aching, throbbing pussy.

  Again, Michael nipped her neck, like she was a delectable cake.

  “Michael” she mewled, leaning back as demanding sensations rocked her. She caressed the bunching muscles in his shoulders, desperate to touch him, feel the strength of him beneath her hands.

  Finally, he stepped up to seat himself completely between her thighs, and she stood on tip-toe—precariously—to line up with him. Holding her breath, she watched as he reached between them and grasped his cock in his hand. He groaned and stroked it, once, twice. He shuddered.

  “Baby, I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice deep with passion. Then, he pressed the head of his cock to her wet opening. She felt him there, scorching like a brand on her untried flesh. But she needed him.

  “Please, Michael, I need you,” Helene pleaded.

  “Yes, baby,” he ground out before thrusting into her, filling her with a startling force. There was a pinch and then a burn, but the utterly devastating feeling of fullness wiped all else from her mind. She cried out at the pleasure and pain, but he didn’t stop. Michael was like a man possessed, like a wolf scenting its prey, he surged, his body hungry for hers. Grasping the mounds of her ass in his hands, he used the slippery tile wall to hold her in place as he pounded into her. Even over the sound of the pouring water, and the muffling cloud of the steam, the sounds of their lovemaking echoed in her ears.

  Helene flexed, tightening her leg around him, trying to hold herself in place
as he thrust into her. With every thrust, the incredible pleasure filled her to bursting, only for him to pull out again, then thrust in again, and she could only dig her nails into his back and hold on for dear life.

  He leaned in, taking her mouth again, and as he filled her, over and over, she grew light-headed—on the ecstasy and the heat of their kiss. The pleasure began to build, and she strained against her own muscles, gasping, begging. Michael sped up, pounding up into her, pushing deeper, thrusting harder. Her release exploded out from her core, immolating everything in its path. She lifted her face and cried out into the ceiling, sucking the hot steam into her lungs.

  “That’s it, baby, milk me—” And then Michael was pumping into her frantically, grunting, and then throwing his own head back to roar his release, his hot seed pouring into her.

  She shuddered, her heart galloping, her lungs burning, her legs wobbling, and her mind whirling.

  Michael let go of her thigh, and she dropped her leg, slowly trying to stand on both feet. Michael turned off the water, but before reaching for the towel on the rack beside the shower, he leaned in and brushed a gentle, heart-achingly sweet kiss over her lips.

  “You’re so beautiful, Helene.”

  And in that moment, standing completely bare and vulnerable before him, she actually believed it.

  15

  Helene watched the sun rise outside the bedroom window, and listened to Michael’s heartbeat, steady, slow. It was no wonder the man had fallen asleep—they’d been using up his stamina, which was still not depleted, if the hard-on pressing against her belly was any indication. She lay, her cheek pressed against this chest, disbelieving that she’d just experienced the most incredible ten hours of her life. After they’d made love in the shower—her first time—they’d laid in the dark, talking, sharing about their lives. She didn’t mention her mother, because that was always the gateway to disappointment, but she shared about her half-brother, Jamie, and all the shenanigans they’d gotten into at her mother’s house in Malibu. She shared about her work at the women’s shelter, her dreams to create a charitable foundation, and her love of Star Wars.