The Billionaire and the Wild Man

by Lucy Felthouse

  “Please don’t make me wait any more,” he groans. “I need you, Carrie.”

  For just a moment I contemplate making him wait, but my desire is as urgent as his, so I step forward and he encompasses me in a tight hug then flings me onto the bed. I screech, and he laughs as I pound his shoulders.

  “Bastard,” I curse, then moan as he drops his head to kiss the nape of my neck.

  “I want you,” he whispers, nibbling up my throat and sucking on my earlobe. “I need you now.”

  “That’s no excuse for scaring a woman like that,” I gently tease, stroking his warm, firm back.

  “Oh, it is, Carrie. Now stop whining or I’ll have to gag you.”

  “Oh, kinky,” I gasp.

  “You have no idea how kinky I can be, sweetheart.” He finds that sweet spot at the curve of my neck and kisses, sucks, then bites. Arching my back, I growl with surprise and arousal. He continues to bite and suck, and my whole body seems to dissolve into ecstasy.

  When he stops, my brain kicks in for just a moment.

  Fuck, that’s going to leave a mark. Turtleneck for work tomorrow.

  “I want to find out,” I pant, clasping my knees around his waist and digging my nails into his shoulders. Two can play at this game.

  “Jesus,” he curses. “You will, oh you will, but right now I just need to fuck you. Got condoms?”

  Yes, of course. I’m usually more prepared than this. I shake my head and try to remember the location of my supplies. “Let me up a minute and I’ll find ’em.”

  Flynn reluctantly shuffles back from me. I can see the eager lust in his eyes.

  “I’ll be quick.”

  If I know I’m going to have someone ‘round I’ll have condoms at the side of the bed, but I hadn’t predicted this at all, and I haven’t needed them in Flynn’s absence. The only sex I had was with my favorite vibrator and memories of Flynn.

  I pad quickly over to the en-suite bedroom and flick open the mirrored cabinet. There’s an unopened box there. I glance at the date and when I’m sure it’s okay, I grab the box and head back.

  “Here you go.” I aim towards the bed, and he sticks out a lazy arm and catches the box. Flynn has made himself comfortable in the very center of the mattress.

  God, he looks good enough to eat.

  “How many condoms?” he asks with an arched brow. An echo of the same question he asked the first time we fucked.

  “I like to be prepared, as you well know,” I answer with a wink and climb back onto the bed, snuggling next to him.

  “I like that in a woman.” He smiles, and I plant a kiss right on his smirking lips. It is meant just to be a quick peck, but once we are joined we can’t pull apart.

  He envelops me in a hug. I slide my leg over his, reveling in the rough hairs that tickle my soft flesh. I want to feel him deep inside me, and I press my pubis against him, eager to show him how much I need him, my mouth still engaged with his. I want to melt into him completely.

  “Let me get a condom, woman,” he gasps. “God, you drive me wild.”

  “Hurry, Flynn,” I groan, “please hurry.”

  I duck my head in towards his chest as he employs both hands in opening the box and grabbing a condom. I hear tearing cardboard and grin at his eagerness. A rustling packet, then a clunk as the box is eagerly discarded causes me to look up, straight into his beautiful blue eyes. I’m where I’m meant to be. A surge of contentment floods from our joined gazes down to my toes. I can’t help but smile broadly. He’s smiling, too.

  “Now, where were we?” He pushes me back forcefully and kneels between my spread thighs.

  “Ah, yes.” He sits back on his heels and opens the condom packet slowly. He might be teasing me, or he might be struggling to do it through the shaking of his hands. “I was getting ready to fuck the most beautiful woman in all the world.”

  My cheeks flush. From any other man I’d see it as hyperbole, but I know that Flynn is not on a charm offensive. He’s not like that.

  “I’m ready to be fucked by my handsome wild man.” I grin, running my hands down my body, over my breasts and to my stomach. I was a broken woman when we fucked last time, wasn’t really myself. It’s time for Flynn to see the real me, and I’m no shrinking violet. Slipping my right hand down through the soft, well-maintained curls of my pubis I stroke down between my wet lips, over my aching clit and groan as I push a finger inside myself. I’m soaked.

  “Fuck!” Flynn doesn’t know where to look. His gaze darts between my face and where my finger is lazily dipping in and out of my pussy. Once my finger is thoroughly wet I trail up and press the tip to my aching clit. The noise I emit is pure lust. I’m caught up in wanton desire. I close my eyes, unable to take the visual and the sensual all at the same time.

  I want to come, I really want to come, so I have to hold back on my motions. I know just what stroke will make me explode, but I wait for Flynn. He surprises me by covering my hand with his and making me stop.

  Opening my eyes I look at him questioningly. Then he lifts my hand slowly to his mouth, my finger still extended, and he sucks it slowly and purposefully, wrapping his tongue around my digit.

  My stomach clenches as he pulls my finger from between his lips with a pop. He winks and settles my hand back where it was, then shuffles forward. Glancing down my body I see that he has sheathed himself. At last, we can fuck. I lift my arse off the bed in my eagerness, finger poised over my clit.

  “I want to never forget this moment,” he gasps, “want to preserve it forever.”

  “Fuck that,” I exclaim. “Would you fuck me already?”

  He laughs deeply. It is a beautiful sound that resonates through me. I want to hear more of it. I want to hear his joy every day for the rest of my life.

  “You’re so fucking romantic.” He presses the tip of his erection between my lower lips. “And so fucking ladylike, Carrie.”

  “But you’d have me no other way,” I respond distractedly as I try to maneuver my hips so he slips inside me.

  “Oh, I plan to have you in many ways, Carrie.”

  He pulls back, and I whimper. I need him.

  “I’m going to have you on that fancy sofa of yours, I’m going to have you bent over your desk at work, I’m going to have you tied up, tied down, and chained to the damn wall. I’m going to have you any way I like.”

  He pushes forward, and I feel his bulbous tip stretching me open.

  “Yes!” It is an affirmation that I want all that, too, and a celebration that he is inside of me. He stays annoyingly still.

  “On top of me, below me, with your mouth around my cock or with it lodged in your tight arse, I’m going to have you, all of you, whenever I want, and however I want.”

  He slides in that little bit further, and I greedily scrabble my legs around his hips and try to pull him further into me, but he is strong and keeps on resisting. I’m wild with want.

  “Please,” I beg. “Flynn, please?” I’m taut with anticipation. I’m going to break if he doesn’t move soon. I’m vibrating with need.

  “What do you want?” he asks, smiling down at me, arms pressed into the bed either side of my shoulders.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I growl.

  “Now?”

  I can see on his face that this is a strain for him, too. He’s just as turned on as I am, and this is some kind of erotic mutual torture which paradoxically I want to last forever and to end right now.

  “Yes now, Flynn. Please?”

  His answer is to drive himself forward and deep inside me. My pussy clamps down on him and my spine lifts, my thighs shake and my head throws back as the tortuous tension is released.

  We both know that this isn’t going to last long now. The tumult tingles between us. We are joined together in a perfect circle of lust. He pushes in, and I push back. We are in perfect synchronization. His every move brings me closer to orgasm.

  My finger still rests on my clit. I don’t need to move it—the vibration
of our fucking is transmitted along my digit straight to my clit and I can feel the pleasure building with each new thrust. I toss my head from side to side as it all becomes too much. He is here, he is fucking me, and we’re in love.

  “I love you.” I have to express it out loud, and I force my eyes open to look at him.

  “I love you, too,” he pants, his own eyes flicking open. That look heightens my desire. I can see the love clearly displayed in his eyes. He is open to me in a way he has never been before, and that gentle vulnerability under all his strength and masculinity is my undoing.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I chant as my orgasm takes over. I keep repeating it even though my words get screwed up in the gasping of breath as the intensity of climax flows through me. I wrap my arms around his neck and continue to chant as his rhythm quickens and pushes me to further ecstasy. It rolls between us as he grunts and groans and finally stills.

  When I pull his lips down onto mine, we kiss with blissed-out delight. Soft, gentle and filled with the promise of more, our lips dance as our bodies relax. He gently melts into me, and I hug him closer into my embrace.

  “Love you too, Carrie,” he whispers and slips down to a comfortable position, resting his head on my shoulder. We shift our midsections until we’re lying side by side, my leg cocked over his hip, my arm over his waist.

  “This is real, isn’t it, Flynn?” I ask after a long moment just listening to our combined heavy breathing.

  “I’m not sure,” he replies, “but if it’s a dream, I really don’t want to wake up.”

  “Me either.” I sigh. “God, I’ve missed you.” The words catch in my throat and I feel the sob shaking my body, but I’m helpless to do anything about it.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” He holds me tighter, shifting his position so I can cry into his chest.

  “I don’t know why I’m crying,” I force out between sniffles. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh, don’t apologize.” He strokes my hair soothingly. “Just let it out. I’ve learnt that it really isn’t good to bottle emotions up. It’s healthy to cry.”

  “I’m not sad,” I sniff. “I’m intensely happy. I … I think this might be relief.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m relieved, too. I went to your office today convinced you’d chew me up and spit me out. Hell, I nearly didn’t come in, I was so scared you’re reject me.”

  Wow, this is a new level of honesty between us. Before, we were both damaged and in self-preservation mode. Holding back enough to not be completely vulnerable.

  “Well, I was kinda majorly pissed off, so I can see why you were scared. You were a complete dick. I don’t tolerate that at all.”

  “I was a dick, Carrie. Thank you for forgiving me.”

  “You’re worth it, Flynn.” The shuddering sigh that follows shakes my body. “This is refreshing. I’m not used to being so honest with people, you know. Others only see a version of me. That way I know I can’t be hurt by them.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve always been the same, more so in recent times. You broke through that though.”

  “I did?” I look up at him, “I thought you were the one doing the breaking through with me.”

  He shrugs. “Must have been a team effort.” His smile is wistful. It suits him.

  “Yeah, we work better together than apart.”

  “I’m sure of it. I didn’t realize how wrong I was until I met you. Wait, does that make sense?” His brow crinkles, and I reach up to stroke his cheek.

  “Sure does, Flynn. Both of us were broken, but together we’re fixed. Mostly.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah.”

  The kiss we share is full of promise for the future. This might only be the start for us, but I know we’re building something beautiful together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One year later

  As the sleek black helicopter settles in to land on the smooth asphalt of the large car park, I can’t help the huge grin that takes over my face. It’s not just because Carrie’s here—though naturally I’m delighted to see her—it’s a combination of things. Past, present, and future, I suppose.

  Past, as I remember the first time Carrie’s private helicopter touched down in the grounds of the Old Newhaven Hotel. I’d almost pissed myself laughing. The very thought that my billionaire girlfriend—something I’d still struggled with back then—had her own fucking helicopter had amused me no end. It had just seemed so ostentatious, so completely unnecessary. Yes, she had lots of money, but did she have to show it off so much?

  To a man like me, helicopters were modes of transport used in dangerous missions, to get men and women in and out of places as quickly and safely as possible. Not for swanning up and down the UK to check on one’s business interests.

  Carrie hadn’t been at all impressed by my reaction. She’d stood, cool as a cucumber, arms folded and heeled foot tapping as I clutched my stomach, trying desperately to get a hold of myself. Once I’d finally exhausted my mirth and managed to meet her gaze, the look there sapped the rest of my amusement. In fairness, it could have sapped all the heat from the sun if she’d wanted it to.

  It hadn’t taken too long to change my opinion of the helicopter. Particularly since it dramatically slashed the travel time between Newhaven and London. Three hours—on a clear run, which could easily become four or even more if something went wrong on the motorway—shrank to less than an hour, making our long-distance relationship a breeze. I also saw how much easier it made Carrie’s life when it came to her more distant hotels. It wasn’t like she used the damn thing to get from home to her office, or the coffee shop across the road.

  My smile for the present is, quite simply, because I can’t wait for her to get her sexy arse out of that helicopter and into my arms. It’s actually been a couple of weeks since we’ve seen each other because I’ve been so busy putting the finishing touches to my pet project, and there were a few things I didn’t want Carrie to see until they were complete.

  Which brings me neatly onto my grin for the future, perhaps the widest grin of all. The Old Newhaven Hotel is—pending Carrie’s approval, of course—complete and ready to open for business. With help from the HR department back at the London office, the place has a full complement of staff. Carrie’s already met the big cheeses, naturally—the general manager, the head chef, restaurant manager and the like—but I’m looking forward to introducing her to everyone else. They’re a great bunch of people and they’re going to do us—and Carro—proud.

  On top of that, they’ve helped me to prepare a big surprise for Carrie, which I’m very much hoping she’s going to love.

  After what feels like an age, my gorgeous girl exits the helicopter, amazing me as usual at her ability to do so gracefully in a skirt suit and heels. Returning my smile, she bends a little, avoiding the updraft from the rotor blades, and walks quickly in my direction. By the time she reaches me, my arms are opened wide and she all but throws herself into them, seemingly without caring who’s watching.

  I certainly couldn’t care less who might see us as I squeeze her up against me and lean down to capture her lips in a kiss that I hope shows her how much I’ve missed her. If she’s not convinced by my kiss, then the stiff cock that’s throbbing between us will definitely give her the hint.

  Sure enough, when we finally come up for air, she looks up at me from beneath her lashes and gives a salacious smile. Wriggling her hips, which stimulates my dick no end, she says, “Missed me?”

  “Stop that,” I growl, only half-meaning it. “Otherwise I’ll chuck you over my shoulder and take you straight upstairs, work be damned!”

  “All right,” she replies a little breathlessly. Looks as though I’m getting to her as much as she’s getting to me. “Much as I like the sound of that, we ought to get back to business. We have people waiting for us, don’t we? We can’t exactly have people hanging around for us while we go upstairs for a shag.”

&n
bsp; I shrug. “You’re the CEO of the business and their boss. You can do whatever the hell you like.”

  Carrie chuckles. “True, but I’m not that kind of person. Besides, I’d much rather get all the work out of the way, so then we’ve got the rest of the day to play. Undisturbed.”

  My cock gives a lurch at her words. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “All right. Okay then, Mister Project Manager, do you want to show me around? Where shall we start?”

  Taking her arm, I lead her away from the hotel’s main entrance. “In the gardens.”

  Understandably, she looks confused. But when I indicate my tented crotch, realization dawns on her face. Smirking, she says, “The gardens it is.”

  Not that the gardens are a bad place to begin, in fairness. It’s a little overcast, but it doesn’t look as though rain is imminent, so we ought to take advantage of the dry weather when we have it—this is England, after all.

  Carrie and I walk across the car park and step onto the gravel path. I tuck her hand into the crook of my elbow, keeping her close in case her heels are unsteady on this surface. But she’s as elegant and efficient as ever, striding along beside me with no problem at all. I keep hold of her anyway, as it’s a good excuse to keep touching her.

  “This is nice,” she says after a few minutes of taking in her surroundings. “It’s natural but still classy, and I’m guessing it’ll just get better with time, once the trees and shrubs mature.”

  “Absolutely. As you can see there were some mature trees on the site, but it was mostly just grass, which had been uncared for. The idea is this is a bit of a woodland walk—or at least it will be when the trees have grown—then around the back of the building is the parterre, which you can see from the dining room and the rear bedrooms. Beyond the parterre is the maze. There are also plant pots, hanging baskets, and flowerbeds, which will be filled and refilled dependent on the time of year. Basically, the whole outdoor space will be gorgeous all year round, ready to be enjoyed by those guests that are interested.”

  Carrie nods, her gaze continuing to take in everything around us. “It’s fantastic, Flynn. Well done.” She looks up at me, her eyes full of warmth. “I knew you were the right man for the job. If this is what you’ve done out here, I can’t wait to see what you’ve done inside.”