Protecting Her: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

by Kira Blakely

  But after tonight, I knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. She had no reason to remain here, not after how she had felt today at the party. And if she wanted to keep running away from me, it was probably time to just cut her loose so that she could go back to living her own life.

  Chapter 24

  Gemma

  Tim opened the door, and I noticed the look of surprise in his eyes when he saw us. He hadn’t been expecting us back this soon.

  “Thank you, Tim, and will you please get Ms. Preston to book tickets to Seattle for first thing in the morning? Book a car for her to Carlow Ridge from there,” Vincent said, not wasting any time to get the flight booked for me. I felt a sudden desperation to stop him, to stop Tim, but he had already turned and walked away from us. When Vincent looked at me, he had a smile on his face.

  “Shall we just go upstairs? Unless you would prefer a separate room for the night,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible.

  My brows crossed, and I shook my head. “No, of course not. I’m all settled in there already, I don’t mind,” I said in a meek voice. So, this was going to be my last night with Vincent. My heart was already breaking, but I needed to keep a strong front. I had brought this upon myself. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

  Vincent nodded and then started climbing the stairs. I followed him in silence, hitching my dress up again as I walked. Only now did I realize that I was still barefoot. I’d forgotten the heels back at the party. There was that rush of guilt again!

  He led me into his bedroom in silence, and I stood at the door with my hands clasped together. He had already walked over to the full-length gilded mirror, where the new makeup bag was sitting on the dressing table, its contents spilling out.

  He was busy undoing his bowtie, looking at himself in the mirror. The smile had disappeared from his face; he had a dark unhappy expression in its place instead.

  “Keep the dress, and the makeup things,” Vincent said, looking at me through his reflection in the mirror. He looked even more handsome suddenly, if that was even possible. The bowtie lay loosened at his neck and he was proceeding to take his jacket off. I could see his rippling biceps under the thin material of the white shirt he was wearing. I knew how smooth his bronze skin was under there, how the ridges of his muscles felt under my fingertips.

  “I can’t accept them,” I said, spreading my hands out. There was no way I was going to carry back home reminders of Vincent.

  “What am I supposed to do with them?” he asked in a sudden harsh tone. The kindness and calmness from before had disappeared. He turned to look at me directly. It was like he was accusing me of something.

  “Give them to somebody else. I don’t know?” I said defensively. How had the atmosphere suddenly changed between us? I could feel my heart beating manically in my chest.

  “I bought them for you, Gemma. They are yours now,” he said and turned back to the mirror to look at himself as he untucked his shirt from his pants.

  I was still standing by the door, a worried expression on my face. Where was this sudden aggression coming from?

  “I didn’t ask for the dress, or the shoes or these earrings,” I said and started fumbling with the clasps of the earrings.

  Vincent turned to me again, and I could see his mouth was set in a firm stiff line. I took the earrings off and walked with them over to the dressing table, gripping them tightly in my hand.

  “Stop it, stop pushing me away!” Vincent growled and grabbed my wrist, just as I was about to place the earrings on the table. Our eyes met; we were both glaring at each other. Our polite chatter from earlier had turned into something else.

  “I didn’t ask to come here, I didn’t ask for these things,” I snapped.

  Vincent pulled me to him by my wrist. “You think I forced them on you? Why didn’t you say something before?” His eyes looked angered or in pain, I couldn’t tell which. All I knew was that a change had come over him.

  He was holding me to him, and we were glaring, right into each other’s eyes. I could feel the strong grip of his hand on my wrist, but I didn’t move. I had wanted to be close to him for so long that I was willing to accept anything he had to offer.

  “Because you always get what you want, don’t you, Mr. Vincent Stoltz?” I purred sarcastically.

  Vincent drew in a deep breath, still keeping a steady gaze on me. “That was never my intention with you. You had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted,” he growled, pulling me closer to him. My breasts were now pressed tightly to his chest. I knew he could feel my erect nipples through my dress. I could feel his growing cock against my leg, too. We were both painfully aroused. Despite the conversation we were having, we wanted to tear the clothes off each other.

  “I tried to run away,” I said and his nostrils flared.

  “And I keep bringing you back,” he countered, his voice still tight and angered. I tilted my head away from him, to look at him more clearly.

  We were silently looking at each other and several moments passed. His cock was throbbing against my leg now; he could probably see my flushed cheeks, too. His grip on my wrist hadn’t slackened; we hadn’t moved in several minutes.

  “You don’t want this dress? Fine,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. Before I had a chance to react to what he was saying, he had let go of my hand. Grabbing the top of my dress with both hands, Vincent ripped through the fabric. A loud tear struck the air as the dress fell apart, ripping right down the center. The tear was all the way down to the bottom of my belly and the fabric fell on either side of my torso, settling at my waist.

  “You don’t need to do me any favors. You don’t need to take it with you,” he said and stepped away from me.

  I was panting from the rush of emotions, standing in front of him with my breasts exposed. He could see my erect nipples, the rise and fall of my heaving chest. His gaze went directly to them, settling at the spot between my breasts.

  We didn’t have to say a word. In two long strides, Vincent was holding me in his arms. His lips engulfed mine, and he pushed his tongue into my mouth furiously. I welcomed him in, kissing him, nibbling on his bottom lip.

  With one hand, he was supporting me as he leaned me back; with his other, he was ripping down the rest of my dress. His cock was pressed against me. I knew it was big, hard and ready for me. I cupped it through his pants, and he groaned as I began to stroke.

  “This is insane,” he mumbled as we kissed, and as the rest of my dress fell away from me. Now I was completely naked in his arms, and he was still half dressed.

  I didn’t stop stroking him, playing with his cock so that it grew even bigger in my hands. He pulled away from my lips so that he could undo his pants. It went sliding down, so that now he only had his half-buttoned shirt on.

  His cock was throbbing, hard and pointed erect toward me as he pulled me close to him again. I could hear him unpacking the condom in his hands and just the sound excited me. He licked a wet trail down my chin, my neck and then to the top of my breasts. I had thrust myself toward him, enjoying the feel of his rock-hard cock against my thigh. I wanted him inside me. I was dripping wet for him already.

  But Vincent had started nibbling on my breasts, taking one nipple at a time inside his mouth, while his fingers found their way down my belly to my soft core.

  I moaned loudly when I felt him slip his forefinger inside me. I stroked him harder. His forefinger slid in; he pushed it deep inside me like he was exploring where his cock was going to be any moment now. He was testing me for my wetness. Then a second finger slipped in, and I arched my back. He was teasing me again, making me feel like I was going to explode.

  “Vincent…” I breathed, just as he started pulling his fingers out. Then he pushed them in again, practicing his strokes for what was to come later.

  “You’re going to come for me now,” he said, right into my ear. He was holding me; we were still standing pressed together as he pushed his fingers into me and pulled them out again. In qu
ick jerky motions, not giving me any time to prepare myself. My legs quivered as I felt him reaching that spot; it was going to be very difficult for me to control myself. He was making it impossible to gain composure. It was like we were running out of time.

  I came swiftly, wrapping my arms around his neck and flinging my head back in uncontrollable pleasure. I knew I was moaning loudly as I came, and he kept stroking me with his fingers until he was satisfied. Until he knew that I couldn’t come anymore.

  “Now, you’re going to come again,” he said just when my breathing had begun to settle down. I was panting, completely out of breath and staring at him with pleading eyes. I wanted it as badly as he did. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to watch me come all night.

  “On the floor, spread your legs,” he said, releasing his grip on my waist. I did as I was told in a hurry. I sank to the floor and lay down, spreading my legs wide for him.

  Vincent unbuttoned his shirt so that he was standing over me completely naked now. He looked powerful with his throbbing cock between his legs, which he was now encasing with the condom. His eyes were narrowed, glowing like black crystals as he lowered himself over me.

  We were going to be looking at each other. Our eyes were fixed, holding each other’s gazes as he thrust himself into me. Vincent’s mouth was open, I could see the taut veins on his neck as he started pumping. I held his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh as he thrust and thrust, deep inside me.

  He was groaning. With each thrust, the tension was building higher and higher. This orgasm was going to be different. I could feel it already.

  “Come with me, Gemma,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. I had no other choice but to let go. Our gazes were locked. His face looked blank, emotionless and yet stuck on me. I couldn’t look away either as we came. My body writhed and shook under him as I felt him release at the same time. He was burying himself deep inside me, with no escape. It was a voiceless orgasm. Neither of us moaned or said a word. He remained suspended above me, watching me silently as I came and as he came, too.

  It wasn’t until several seconds later that my body began to descend from the high it was on, but he was still moving over me. Like he didn’t want the moment to end. I didn’t want the moment to end either, but neither of us had words for it. What were we supposed to say? I was going to leave in the morning; this was going to be the last time.

  Chapter 25

  Gemma

  When I woke up, I was lying on top of him. We were on the carpeted floor, in front of the gilded mirror. Vincent was under me, his arms wrapped lazily around my waist, his legs spread apart to accommodate my body. I had been sleeping with my head on his chest, I could still feel the warm imprint of his skin on my cheek.

  My hair had come undone, and my red lipstick from the previous night was smudged all around my lips and cheeks. I had been sleeping facing down, my body pressed to his.

  Vincent was sleeping noiselessly; his breathing was even and subtle, and his eyelids didn’t as much as flicker. What was he dreaming about?

  I only had to fidget slightly for his arms that had been holding me loosely to fall to the sides. I slid away from him, kneeling on the carpet beside him. My skin was still tingling from the comfort of sleeping with his arms around me.

  It was the dreaded morning, early still, but in a few hours it would be time for me to leave. Would he come to the airport to see me off? I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to see his face as I said goodbye. Vincent had changed my life, and he didn’t even know it.

  I stood up and staggered over to the bathroom to wash my face. My phone was still lying on the table next to the bathtub. Naked to the bone, I walked over and switched it on. I really didn’t care anymore.

  But I was surprised to find that neither of my parents had texted since our last conversation. Worried, guilty, heartbroken… I called my mother. She answered after several rings.

  “Mom?” I said, my voice breaking as I heard her breath at the other end.

  “Hello, Gemma,” she said dejectedly. I could sense that she had given up. Didn’t she care anymore either?

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, walking over and sitting down on the lidded toilet seat.

  “Nothing is wrong, Gemma. What could possibly be wrong? We just have no idea where our daughter is. Your father is sick, and we don’t hear from you unless you call to tell us you’re not coming home.” She sounded exhausted. Had she stayed awake all night, worried for me?

  “I know, Mom, I’m sorry. What’s wrong with Dad?” I asked, my brows creasing with worry. I could hear him coughing again in the background and Mom sighed.

  “The same. His lungs have gotten worse, nothing new. You don’t have to worry about it,” Mom said. I could imagine her pacing the small floor space at the front of the trailer. I could picture Dad sitting on the tattered couch by the window, looking out at the deserted trailer park. The couch had holes in them now, and I had been hoping for the past six months that I would be able to save enough money to buy him a new one.

  I caught sight of the luxurious bathroom I was sitting in now, the gold faucets in the bathtub, the marble floor… My breath caught in my throat. What was I doing?

  “I’m coming home today, Mom. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish for the past few days,” I said, recognizing the tear in my voice.

  Mom sighed again, like she didn’t believe me. Her initial anger had turned to worry, and now had turned to apathy. Her beloved daughter had become someone else.

  “Someone in the diner recognized the man you’re with. Some big shot businessman from California? You’re shacked up with someone who is buying you fancy things, aren’t you?” Mom said, but surprisingly she didn’t have any malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

  “It’s not like that, Mom. It’s not about his money. Anyway, I’m coming home now,” I said, nearly at the brink of tears. It was like I was in a daze all these days and now finally the clouds were clearing. I could see the truth in what Mom was saying. Was that technically what it was? I had been foolish enough to be lured by Vincent’s luxurious lifestyle?

  “Sure, honey. Tell yourself that. Why are you coming home now? Is he kicking you out? Is he done with you then?” she continued, still in that voice that dripped of exhaustion.

  Dad was coughing again. He needed his medicine. I needed to find a job.

  “No, Mom, it’s not like that, just… just… I’ll be home in a few hours. And I’m sorry,” I said, hanging up the phone just as a volley of tears gushed up the back of my throat. The phone fell to the floor, and I caught my face with both my hands. What had I done! Why couldn’t I see the truth in this situation before? I had repeatedly fallen for Vincent’s charm and his lifestyle, when I should have forgotten about him a long time ago. This wasn’t my life. Just like he had a duty to his business and his family, I had a duty to mine as well, no matter where I lived.

  I had my face covered with both my hands when I heard Vincent’s voice at the door. I jerked my head up to look at him as he stood leaning against the door frame. He had put on a pair of jeans, and his thick muscular arms remained crossed over his chest. He was looking at me from under heavy lids, his face softened by the morning light.

  “How can I make this right, Gemma?” he asked.

  ***

  Vincent had found me a robe from the back of his closet, one that he never wore. It was in pristine egg-shell white and soft cuddly cotton, and I tied the belt around my waist. I really couldn’t have this conversation with him while I was naked.

  We had come back to the bedroom, and Vincent now stood in front of the large ceiling-to-floor windows, with his wide back against the sun. I was sitting cross-legged on his bed, nursing a mug of his Colombian ground coffee, two mugs of which he had asked Tim to bring up a few minutes ago.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on with you,” he said when we had settled into our places, and after we had been staring at each other in silence for some time.

 
I breathed in deeply. “I don’t know what you want to know,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.

  “You were talking to your mother on the phone? I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Your voice woke me up,” he said, keeping a steady gaze on me. He didn’t seem like he was going to back down this time.

  “Yes, I was,” I said, gulping.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were close to your parents. I don’t even know who you have in your family,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  I took a long sip of the coffee and looked back at him. “Just me and my parents,” I replied and Vincent nodded gently.

  “And you’re close to them?” he asked, stressing on the word ‘close.’ He had heard me talking intimately to Mom earlier; something told me that he shared a very formal relationship with his own parents.

  “You could say that, I suppose. I don’t exactly have a choice,” I said, mustering up all the courage I could find. If this was going to be our last conversation, it might as well be an honest one. I didn’t really have anything to lose any more.

  “Why don’t you have a choice?” he asked and our eyes met again. Vincent’s brows were crossed, he looked a little surprised, and I didn’t know how exactly to frame the words. I didn’t know what his reaction was going to be once he learned the truth.

  “I live with them,” I said and felt the breath being knocked out of me.

  Vincent was looking at me and his expression remained unchanged. He neither looked surprised nor amused. I wasn’t sure how he had taken the information.

  “I’m twenty-six years old and I live with my parents. There you have it,” I said and took another long sip of the coffee. I kept my eyes on him to study his face, but it remained unchanged. It was like he was expecting to hear some more.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit surprised? Or are you trying to not hurt my feelings?” I asked, shaking my head at him.

  Vincent squared his shoulders and blinked at me. “Why would I be surprised? I didn’t know anything about you. I didn’t know what to expect,” he said and I felt my cheeks burning up. Did he really think that little of me? That he had no expectations from me at all?