“What do you want done?” Richard asked.
“Whatever is necessary. I need this little rat out of my way. Get him arrested, get him thrown out of school, get him deported to Mexico. Whatever you need to do.”
“I’m not sure he’s an illegal,” Richard said dryly.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I said. “I’m going to deal with Becka; I’m trusting you to deal with Ethan Hernandez.”
How I planned to deal with Becka was by taking her on vacation for two weeks while Richard took care of Ethan. She would balk at it, I was sure, but I needed her to not be in contact with Ethan until my partner had reached an agreement with him.
***
The next day, I stopped by Becka’s desk. She had my coffee waiting promptly at 8:45, and I smiled at her.
“Come on into my office,” I invited. “I have a proposition for you.” I tried to hide my smile as she began to blush immediately, a red flare moving from her gorgeous, full cleavage all the way up her slender neck and into her cheeks. “You can keep your clothes on,” I whispered, though there was no one around.
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” she said as she stood up and followed me into my office, “but you can do plenty of damage without removing my clothes.”
I smiled and nodded, acknowledging that I knew exactly the type of damage I could do. I sat on my desk in the exact same spot she had occupied, and I looked at her.
“I need to go away for two weeks. To Italy. There are some oils I want to check out from an investor, and the only way to confirm that everything is on the level is to see them for myself.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “What will you need me to do while you’re gone?”
“I want you to come with me,” I said.
Her eyes widened and she smiled as if she couldn’t believe she’d heard me correctly. “I can’t do that, Oliver, I have class. And I have a job.” She pointed out the door to her desk.
I stood and walked around my desk so I was just a few inches from her. I leaned against my desk and lined my foot up against hers. I could tell she felt it because the flush in her face deepened. It was a risk on my end; I was incredibly aroused myself, and getting closer to her was only increasing that arousal.
“Get a sub,” I said. “And you’ll be working for me while we’re there. I can’t go without my assistant.” I looked at her as if the matter was settled; in my mind, it was.
“Does this have anything to do with Ethan?” she asked. “Because if it does, you don’t need to worry. I won’t let him ask me any more questions. If he gets aggressive, I’ll call campus security or something.”
“I want you to come to Italy with me,” I whispered, leaning in to her. I took her hands and she stood up; I pulled her in to me. I knew she could feel my cock, hard and wanting her, against her leg. I put my hands on her ass, full and supple beneath my palms, and I squeezed her toward me. Her breasts felt like warm pillows against my chest and I kissed her warm, wet mouth.
“I’ll find a sub,” she said. “But it might take me a few days.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “Go make the calls you need to make.”
She turned and walked out of my office, her gorgeous ass swaying back and forth in her skirt. I watched her until she sat back at her desk, then I got on my computer and began making a list of things to do in Italy.
Becka
I couldn’t believe how quickly the week went; before I knew it, I had packed, found a sub, gotten to the airport, taken a plane to Italy, and now, here I was, standing at baggage claim with people speaking Italian all around me and Oliver at my side.
“Our driver should be here already,” Oliver was saying. “He’s our private driver for the entire time we’re here. Though I thought we could rent a car over the weekend and take it for a ride in the country.” He leaned down and kissed me. My body, as it always did, sank toward him as though it was coming home after a long day at work.
We grabbed our bags and loaded them onto a cart, then walked toward transportation. Right away, I spotted our driver. He was a dark skinned, dark haired, very tall, very handsome Italian man. He spoke perfect English with a thick accent. He greeted us, paying particular attention to Oliver, then drove us to Tuscany.
We were staying in a private house, a mansion, as it turned out. I was surprised, but then chided myself; would I ever stop being surprised at Oliver’s expensive lifestyle? The house was beautiful. It had a pool, a vineyard, and a kitchen where I could easily see a Michelin star chef cooking meal after meal. Oliver gave me a tour of the parts he had seen from the rental agent, and we explored the rest.
The bedroom was decorated in dark colors, rich tapestries hung on the walls and the king sized bed was clearly the centerpiece of the room. Oliver turned to me and kissed me. He walked me over to the bed and I sat down, then pulled him in with me.
“I’m hungry,” I said. “I want you.”
“We can eat anything we want, whenever we want. I’m here for work, but you’re basically here on vacation. I’ll need you sometimes… who am I kidding, I’ll need you all the time… but you won’t be working very often.” He smiled, flirtation in his tone, and he kissed me. I pulled my sweatshirt off over my head and revealed to him that I had opted to not wear my bra on the plane. He smiled, and whistled quietly.
He cupped my breasts with his hands and drew them together. The stretch on my muscles combined with his touch, his hot breath so close to me, hardened my nipples and started the rest of my body moving toward its highest aroused state. It wasn’t just Oliver; it was the entire thing. Italy. A beautiful private mansion in Tuscany. Oliver. I laid back on the bed and slid my yoga pants off, revealing a black lace g-string. He moaned and yanked his pants and shirt off as I pulled my panties down and tossed them on the other side of the bed.
“Your body keeps getting more beautiful every time I see it,” he said. “What kind of witchcraft is that?”
I took his cock in my hand and began to stroke the shaft, cupping it loosely in my palm. His cock was hard and hot, and I used my other hand to cup his sack. Its thin skin was cool to the touch, but warmed quickly. I shimmied down and he rolled over so I could take him into my mouth. As I licked his shaft, he laid back, but he kept his hands on my body, touching my skin. The connection of his fingers to my flesh sent continued waves of pleasure rocking through me, and I increased my attention to his cock. It was throbbing with my touch, and I knew he was close to coming.
I knew guys, Oliver in particular, were tremendously visual. I twisted my head so he could see me move my lips over and around his shaft, flipping my hair over my shoulder to give him an uninterrupted view.
“Oh, Becka,” he moaned. “You are so fucking gorgeous.” I smiled, releasing my lips from his cock and licking it with my tongue instead. I licked up and down, bringing my palm to his sensitive head, red and dripping already with pre-cum. That small change pushed him even closer, and he reached for the back of my head, directing me to suck him once again. I complied, plunging his cock deep in my mouth and quickly bobbing my head forward and back. I felt his cum moving and he cried out, grabbing the back of my head and holding me in place as he came, his fluids pushing into my mouth. I swallowed, savoring his juices, and smiling as I finished. The final touch, I used my index finger to wipe away the non-existent cum at the corner of my mouth.
He laid back, breathless, then he sat up suddenly and grabbed me, flipping me over onto my back. I burst out giggling as he tickled me, then he stopped and guided my legs open. He reached for each of my ankles and put them over his shoulders, then he began to pleasure me. He took his time, beginning at the base of my inner thigh and licking slowly, alternating his licks with gentle, sucking kisses that drove me wild. I pushed my hips down toward him, opening my pussy to him, and he brought his mouth closer, teasing, then pulled away. I groaned.
My legs were spread wide and I knew I was wet enough to be ready for him to fuck me, but he was still recovering from his own or
gasm, so he was pleasuring me in the meantime. He finally finished teasing me with kissing my thighs and brought his mouth to my pussy. Each lick, each movement of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure surging through me. I was hot, sweating already, waiting for what I knew was an inevitable conclusion.
He pressed his tongue into my pussy and wiggled it around, his nose gently bumping against my clit. I gasped and pressed toward him. He began to lick my clit and, at the same time, slid his fingers, first one, then two, then finally a third, into my pussy. He finger fucked me slowly as his tongue swirled circles around my clit. My body felt complete sensory overload in the best possible way, and I began to moan as my climax surged through me. He continued, lapping up my wetness as I moved through my first orgasm and directly into my second.
“Fuck,” I cried out. “Oh my God, you feel so fucking good!” I had a grip on his shoulders and I clawed at him, my moans dissolving into gasping sighs.
Then, he entered me. My eyes popped open and he smiled, bringing his lips to mine.
“Surprise,” he said, and I laughed. Then, we both grew serious as we moved together, our bodies adhered to one another with sweat and heat, our timing perfectly in sync. His cock filled me and I felt his pubic bone rubbing against my clit; I knew I wasn’t going to be able to last long. He couldn’t either; as soon as I began to fall over the cliff of my orgasm, he followed me with his own. We cried out together, still glued to one another, and moved through our pleasure’s fruition simultaneously.
When we were finished, we were exhausted and slept, the strain of the travel finally pushing us to the wall. When I awoke, it was daylight in Tuscany. I got out of bed and walked naked to the entry way, where our luggage still sat from the night before.
“Leave it,” Oliver said. I turned and he stood, naked, his cock at attention, his muscles hard and his skin tan. I looked at him, a questioning expression on my face. “Let’s go for a swim.”
“My bathing suit is in here,” I said, pointing to my suitcase.
“You don’t need a bathing suit,” he said. “You’re in Italy. And you’re in the privacy of your own home.”
“The pool is outside,” I pointed out.
“You’re in Italy,” he said, as if that settled it.
We went for a skinny dip in the pool, then Oliver made a call to have some food delivered while I showered. We ate in our bathrobes and I realized I didn’t think I’d ever been that hungry in my entire life.
“What would you like to do today?” he asked. “Take a drive? Go shopping?”
“Fuck you silly?” I added, matching my tone to his.
He laughed and I grinned, raising my mimosa to him.
“You’re insatiable,” he said. And he was right, though I had never experienced that sensation before. As I stared at him across the table, I realized I literally could not get enough of Oliver Weeks. I needed him with me, near me, inside me.
“Let’s go for a drive through the country. You can point out some of the places you’ve already been, and we can eat. Because, though this probably won’t surprise you much, I’m starving again.”
We dressed and got ready for the drive. Oliver called for a car, a sporty red fiat convertible, as it turned out, and I pulled my hair back into a bun and applied the most basic make up I could. We drove and Oliver pointed out restaurants we needed to return to, vineyards of some of my favorite wines, and the home of one of the men he needed to meet with while we were here in Italy.
I couldn’t believe where we were, but, every few miles there were signs on the side of the road for Rome, Milan, and cities I’d never heard of. The sun was bright in the sky and I leaned my head back against the seat, absorbing the sun’s light and basking in the most perfect moments of my life.
When we got back, I showered and Oliver went to the dining room to do some work. I figured I could check my email and perhaps do some work on my dissertation while he was occupied. I hadn’t gotten my phone adaptable to international texting, so all of my communication while we were here had to be over email.
I had messages from my mom and from Lisa, and a few from students wondering if I was going to be coming back, though they were complimenting the sub I had gotten. I wasn’t surprised; the sub was a professor emeritus and was well versed in all matters of food science. They were in good hands.
Then, I saw a name that chilled me. Ethan Hernandez. I clicked on the message and opened it.
Hello, Becka,
I understand you’re on holiday in Italy… how nice for you. I was just over at Neuotova the other day and was told that the CEO, Oliver Weeks, is on a business trip, also to Italy. Small world full of big coincidences, don’t you agree?
When you return, I’d like to meet with you. I have some documents I think you’d find very interesting, especially considering how convinced you are that Neuotova is completely innocent of any activities involving cruelty to animals.
I look forward to sitting down with you and sharing what I know to be fact.
Sincerely,
Ethan Hernandez
I stared at my computer, my eyes wide. My first instinct was to call Oliver, to have him read the message himself. But, I hesitated. I still had heavy suspicions about Oliver and Neuotova’s practices. If I told Oliver about Ethan’s email, odds were I would never be able to have that meeting with Ethan to find out what he knew. And, did I want to have that meeting?
I realized that yes, I did. And I hid the message in a folder full of messages from Lisa. I turned off my computer and stood up, then walked to the dining room where Oliver was working. He saw me coming and closed the lid of his laptop; I found that fascinating, but I didn’t say anything.
“I’m hungry,” I said instead.
“Oh?” Oliver asked. “What are you craving?”
I smiled.
CRAZY Weeks
7. An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Sarah Brooks
Becka
Our time in Italy was drawing to a close and I still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell Oliver about the email I’d gotten from Ethan about meeting to discuss Neuotova and Oliver’s potential contributions to and support of animal testing. As we sat on our deck overlooking the beautiful landscape of Tuscany, we sipped wine and ate off of a loaf of bread we had picked up at the market along with several cheeses that I would have never eaten back at home; in Tuscany, however, they seemed perfectly right on my palate.
“What would you like to do today?” Oliver asked as he nibbled on a cracker. His fingers played on my bare knee, my robe tied at my waist but leaving my legs exposed to the middle of my thighs and my breasts exposed just enough to be tantalizing to Oliver without being inappropriate to anyone who happened to walk by and glance up.
I thought for a moment. What did I want to do? We still had another full day and night. We had eaten, shopped, drank wine, eaten more, shopped more, had more wine. We’d hiked, driven around, and picked fruit that we’d eaten at dinner. We’d had sex, a lot. In short, we’d had a very complete vacation. Oliver had worked more than he’d wanted to, but I honestly barely noticed his absence. He kept me busy during the times when he was visiting the olive farmers with being his assistant. When he came home at night, I was his girlfriend and he treated me like a queen.
“We could go to the market,” I suggested. “Pick out something yummy to make for dinner.” I tried to think back to just a few months ago, when my entire world revolved around research and spending time in the lab to continue the experiments with Protame and getting my dissertation done. Back then, the thought of even going out for happy hour with friends seemed ludicrous, never mind going out on an actual date. But, when Oliver had walked into Dr. Evans’ lecture hall, he’d restructured my priority list in one glance.
“I think that sounds perfect,” he said. “I already know what I want for dessert.” He bumped my robe open and it slid to the right, revealing the rest of my thigh and the fact that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I blushed, then I smil
ed at him. His eyes never failed to nearly stop my heart. They bored into me as if he was an animal hunting its prey, as if he could see everything both inside me and out.
It was then that I decided to tell him that I had received an email from Ethan. Why I chose that moment, I had no idea; it was crazy to even bring it up to him at all, but, the truth was, I really wanted his insight on it.
“I checked my school email last night,” I began, sipping my wine slowly. “And I had an email from Ethan Hernandez.” I looked at him, not sure of what reaction I was expecting.
He looked back at me with his exceptionally piercing eyes, which were now glaring with anger. He set his wine down and swallowed his bread very deliberately.
“He emailed you? Privately?” His voice was low.
“Well,” I explained, “my email is listed on the college’s site in the food science department. Along with my first and last name and a picture of me. I’m not really hard to find.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Oliver’s fingers were still on my knee, but now his hand had a pressure to it that wasn’t pleasant, and his hand burned with what I could only assume was fury.
“What did he say to you?”
The contents of his email flew out of my head under the intensity of his gaze.
“I… I don’t remember,” I stammered. I racked my brain trying to remember if he’d wanted something from me or if he’d been offering me something… the entire email appeared as a blank in my mind.
“You don’t remember?” He spit out the word ‘remember’ like poison. “You don’t remember an email from last night? Go get your computer.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just wanted to tell you because, well, I don’t know why. I just thought you should know. But I don’t need to email him back; we can just forget about it.”
He hadn’t moved. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and I knew he was trying extremely hard to stay in control. I tried to remember that he wasn’t mad at me, at least he shouldn’t be; none of this was my fault. Or was it? I knew I didn’t need to tell Oliver about getting an email from Ethan; I could have handled it entirely by myself. Had I wanted to see his reaction? If so, I’d gotten more than what I’d bargained for.
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