The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little Sister

by Monroe, Max

  “Uh-huh. But I should warn you, this bedroom has a set of rules all its own.”

  I quirk an amused brow. “Is that so?”

  He nods and reaches out with his fingers to tug on the string on the back of the top of my bikini. “For starters, anyone named Lena wearing a pink bikini isn’t allowed in unless she removes the bikini.”

  I grin. “That’s crazy because my name is Lena, and I’m wearing, well—” I glance down at my bathing suit “—a pink bikini.”

  “Wow.” He feigns surprise. “I didn’t even notice.”

  A soft laugh escapes my lips. “You bring a lot of girls in here named Lena?”

  He shakes his head and shrugs. “I’ve never brought any girl into this room.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Be serious.”

  “I am,” he says, and as much as the idea of it is fucking crazy, the honesty in his voice is undeniable. “I’ve had this boat for five years, yet I rarely ever find the time to use it.”

  Jesus Christmas. You better believe if I were a guy with a boat like this, I’d be bringing bitches in here to bang left and right.

  “You mean to tell me this room, that bed, has never been used for anything but sleeping?”

  He nods.

  “That’s kind of depressing,” I say with a little frown, pulling the top of my bathing suit down my arms and off the rest of the way. “And it sounds like something we need to rectify ASAP.”

  Theo watches me with hooded eyes as I remove my top, and then my jean shorts, and finally my bikini bottoms, tossing them onto the floor of the room with purpose.

  “Looks like someone is good at following the rules,” he hums and slides one hand up my arm.

  Goose bumps follow the path of his fingers, and I shiver.

  I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. “You like a girl who follows the rules, Theo?”

  “In this case,” he says, and a million different sexy promises lay silent on his lips. “Yes. I definitely do.”

  As I stare up into his now-heated gaze, sexual tension wraps around us like a cocoon. It is everywhere, all around us, and my breaths go from relaxed to panting in the blink of an eye.

  He is fully dressed, and I am completely naked. Fuck if it isn’t the sexiest conundrum I’ve ever experienced.

  Neither one of us rushes it, instead allowing it to marinate, stretch out—consume us further. He rakes his gaze down my face, along my collarbone, and onto my naked breasts. They move up and down with each stuttered breath, arousal settling in and peaking my nipples.

  He watches me intently, so much so, each blink of his eyelashes feels like a smooth caress on my already aching skin.

  God, this is sexy.

  He’s showing me he wants me without a single touch, turning me on with nothing more than his eyes.

  I don’t know how much longer I can stand here without acting on impulse—without pushing my body against his and kissing him without inhibition.

  He must feel the tension in me—feel the upcoming shatter in my self-control.

  Because between one breath and the next, he’s on me, his hands moving into my hair and his mouth locking with mine.

  His tongue tangles with mine, deep and hard and fast and reckless.

  In perfect synchronization, he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his hips. He carries me to the bed.

  “Fuck, I want you,” he whispers against my lips, and my moan of agreement echoes throughout the lavish space.

  I slide down his body, taking his pesky pants, shoes, and briefs with me along the way. He lifts his shirt over his head as I sink down to my knees in front of him and slide his hard, thick cock into my mouth in one smooth motion.

  “Mmm,” I hum. He’s heavy and hot on my tongue, and I fucking love it.

  He groans when I swirl the tip of my tongue around the head, and it is the sexiest sound that’s ever graced my ears, vibrating through every cell of my body and increasing my need for him tenfold.

  I’ve been nine months without sex, but I’m absolutely shaken to realize it’s been a hell of a lot longer than nine months since I’ve felt this insanely desperate need to have a man inside me.

  His hands go into my hair, and I feed off his energy. I don’t stop moving my mouth on him as he tugs and pulls at my hair, touching, licking, sucking.

  But it doesn’t take long before his need becomes too much and he reaches down to lift me up, laying me down in the center of the mattress.

  “I need to be inside you,” he whispers hoarsely, the tips of his fingers scratching fucking beautifully up my thighs as he spreads them open.

  I moan, forming words in the middle of deep, heaving, anticipatory breaths. “Yes, please.”

  I don’t see where he gets the condom, and I don’t care. All I care about is the fact that he’s sliding it on, and shortly thereafter, sliding inside me.

  He is big and thick, and I can feel the delicious way he stretches me as he pushes himself in deep.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

  It does feel good. He feels good.

  We scratch and scrape at each other with an animalistic passion, kissing and sucking on each other like we’ll never ever have the chance to feel this again.

  It’s wild and boundaryless, and it’s without a doubt the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.

  The delicious ache between my legs turns into a constant throb, and when it starts to creep its way up my spine, I know that I’m close to climax.

  “God, I’m close,” I whimper. “So close.”

  Theo groans, wraps his big, strong arms around my body and, without breaking our connection, flips us over so that he is on his back and I am on top of him.

  The change of position pushes his cock deeper, and I moan.

  “Ride me, Lena,” he says through panting breaths. His large hands grip my breasts before moving down to my hips. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

  Fucking hell.

  My climax rushes through my body, starting at the tips of my toes and washing over every damn cell of my body until it reaches my head and makes my eyes roll back.

  I am lost in a sea of pleasure, and fuck anyone who tries to save me. I don’t ever want to be found.

  And Theo isn’t far behind. His cock twitches inside me, and his fingers grip my hips as he comes, a growl of sexy, unregulated, intense satisfaction. It is so hot, so fucking sexy, it damn near pushes me over the edge a second time.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper through a shaky breath, leaning down to rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I know,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and cradling me close to his chest. “I fucking know.”

  His yacht is right.

  Theo is a goddamn master in the business of pleasure.

  Theo

  Bright light becomes a constant over my face, and I blink my eyes open to find the morning sun shining through the large windows of my suite. I rub at my eyes with one lazy fist, and after a brief glance toward the clock on the nightstand, I see it’s only a little after eight in the morning.

  For most people, it’s still early.

  But for my usual morning routine? This might as well be sleeping in until noon.

  It only takes one turn to my side for all thoughts of time to be lost, and my gaze takes in the glorious view that is a very naked, downright beautiful sleeping goddess on the pillow beside mine.

  Lena’s long lashes fan down over her cheeks and soft breaths move her breasts up and down, but her eyes remain closed, sleep not quite ready to release its hold on her.

  She is by far the most stunning thing I’ve ever woken up to. Which is quite the realization from a man who has built his empire by opening nightclubs in the most popular, luxurious destinations in the world.

  But there isn’t a single fucking view that even compares to her.

  We’re on the fifth official day of what she calls our sexy Italian rendezvous, and I’ve been inside her more times than I can
count.

  Still, it doesn’t even come close to feeling like enough.

  She is a brand of something I’ve never encountered before. Wild and confident and free in herself. She challenges me to take a second look at myself, and at the same time, somehow challenges me not to take a second look at all.

  To live and learn through experience, rather than trying to get it all perfect the first time around.

  And hell if I’m not fascinated. Intrigued. Fucking fixated.

  Whenever I’m with her, I put the work and schedules and important meetings on a back burner and turn them down to simmer. Still cooking, sure, but doing it very, very slowly.

  I should probably be terrified.

  But in my most introspective moments, I keep coming back to one thing.

  There’s time for a life outside of work. You might find something completely unexpected.

  Wise words from a wise friend.

  Could Lena be the thing I’ve never known how much I needed?

  Internally, I groan at such a deep thought. After all, we have a set of rules to follow, the most important of which is saying goodbye at the end of our rendezvous.

  The last thing I need is to get lost in fantasies of lifetimes and love.

  Love.

  I have to swallow hard against my stupidity. For shit’s sake, I don’t even need to be thinking about the L-word.

  For the last forty-eight hours, we’ve been wrapped up in each other.

  On my yacht.

  In my hotel suite.

  At the resort pool.

  On the beach.

  A veritable whirlwind of kissing and talking and fucking and touching and laughing and having fun.

  No expectations. No commitments. No promises or worries of later.

  I sigh hard, lost in dangerous thoughts again.

  When my phone vibrates on the nightstand, Incoming Call Carey Matthews flashing across the screen, it’s a surprisingly welcome reprieve from the endless thoughts.

  Still, with Lena sleeping beside me, I send it to voice mail and shoot him a quick text message.

  Me: I’m taking the day off. Send Antonio to any of my meetings that are musts and just cancel the others.

  His response is immediate.

  Carey: This is two days in a row of you not freaking out about your schedule. You promise you didn’t, like, hit your head or something?

  I grin. My assistant never fails to be dramatic.

  Me: No head injuries have occurred.

  Carey: You’re not suffering from a stroke, are you? OH MY GOD, what if you are and I’m just ignoring it and not trying to get you help??

  His next texts come in rapid-fire.

  Carey: What’s your name?

  Carey: What month is it?

  Carey: Beyoncé or Lady Gaga?

  And I thought that time he tried to make me come to his Magic Mike-themed thirtieth birthday party last year he was being ridiculous.

  I mean, I obliged by sending him a Magic Mike-themed telegram to the office on his actual birthday, but knowing I’d stick out like a sore-heterosexual-thumb in his and his husband Bill’s crowd of friends, I’d kindly declined the invite.

  But this little neuro exam via text? Well, Care just reached a new level of absurdity.

  Me: Theo Cruz. August. And since you haven’t shut up about A Star is Born for the past year, you probably want me to say Lady Gaga.

  But again, I oblige before sending one final message.

  Me: Now, go away. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.

  Carey: This has to do with the mystery woman, doesn’t it? God, I’d pay money to see what she looks like.

  I set my phone back on the nightstand, despite its incessant buzzing, and ignore everything else. I have no desire to explain Lena to Carey, and even if I did, I’m not sure I could.

  I don’t have the slightest grasp on my feelings myself.

  Lena stirs beside me, and when she flutters her eyelashes open, I turn on my side and press a soft kiss to her lips.

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” she whispers back. Her voice is the perfect mix of sleep and sex. “What time is it?”

  “A little after eight.”

  “Ugh.” She groans and shields her eyes from the sun with a lazy hand. “It’s too early.”

  “Yeah, well, we forgot to close the curtains before we went to bed.”

  A secret, flirty smile kisses her mouth. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so insistent about you fucking me against the windows, huh?”

  “Personally, I think the fucking was well worth the consequence.”

  “Me too.” She winks, blows me a kiss, and stretches her arms above her head. The way her full breasts bounce with the gentle movement has my cock threatening to take notice. “So, what’s on the agenda today? I mean, surely we can’t stay holed up in this room all day.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because we’re out of fucking places.”

  I smirk. “Out of fucking places?”

  “Yep.” She nods and giggles, throwing her head back in faux ecstasy. “We have fucked on every surface in this place.” I laugh as she cocks her head forward to look at me again. “And this suite is big. I’m impressed with us, really.”

  I almost offer up a list of other rooms in the hotel we could access in the name of fucking places but stop myself because of rule number two on the list. No personal stuff. Telling her I own the hotel has to apply.

  “So, I take it you’re requesting a change of scenery?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You feel like taking a little drive?” I ask. “Probably about an hour or so?”

  She turns over onto her belly and rests her head in her hands, and she bends her legs behind her as she curls her toes. “And where exactly will that drive lead us?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Another one?” She pouts. “C’mon, Theo. Just freaking tell me.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head, playfully slap her ass, and hop out of bed. “Now, I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me. But no matter what you decide, your cute little ass better be ready in about an hour.”

  I’m in the shower for all of two minutes before she steps inside and meets me beneath the warm spray.

  Without a word, she sinks to her knees and takes my cock in her mouth, letting her tongue do the rest of the talking.

  Holy fuck. I’m in big, big trouble.

  A little after eleven, I pull up my favorite Porsche—that I almost never get to drive—to the gated entrance that leads to my villa in Marina del Cantone. Located in the little fishing village of Sorrento, it’s about forty-five minutes away from Cruz’s Amalfi Coast Resort.

  It’s a gorgeous place. One I spent far too much money on to almost never visit, mind you. But today, I get to share it with someone. With Lena.

  “Is this it?” she asks, and her blue eyes grow wide with excitement. “For the love of God, tell me we are finally here.”

  For the entire forty-five-minute drive through the notoriously curvy roads, she never stopped badgering me with questions of where I was taking her. And I never stopped giving her vague answers.

  “I’m not sure,” I say and reach out over the driver’s door to tap in the security code for the gates.

  “Seriously, Theo?” She slaps my arm with her hand. “You said it would take about an hour, and I’m pretty damn sure it’s been that long.” She groans. “Just tell me already.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I chuckle as the gates slide open. “We’re here.”

  I gently hit the gas, moving us through the gates and along the winding path that leads to my villa. When I pull the car to a stop and cut the engine right in front of the rustic, Italian marble entrance doors, Lena turns in her seat to face me.

  “Is this yours?”

  I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m pretty sure the answer to that question would be in violation of Rule Number Two, Section Four.”

  “Touché.�
� She laughs at that. “Well, no matter whose place this is, it’s incredible.”

  “Just wait until you see the inside.” I wink, unbuckle my seat belt, and hop out of the car. After rounding the hood, I open her door and help her out of the passenger seat.

  Her eyes are still wide as she takes it all in.

  When I unlock the front door and we step inside, her eyes are everywhere—looking up at the high ceilings, running along the marble tile floors, peeking through the all-glass doors that lead to the terrace with the incredible ocean view.

  “Theo,” she whispers and looks up to meet my curious gaze. “This just might be one of the most beautiful Italian villas I have ever seen.”

  I quirk a teasing brow. “So, you’ve seen a lot of villas, then? Or, maybe, you have a villa of your own somewhere?”

  “Nice try.” She nudges my arm with her elbow.

  “How about you go explore on your own for a few minutes while I check in with the staff?”

  “Staff?” she questions, and I shrug.

  “This villa is pretty big, and whoever owns it,” I say while flashing a secret smile, “probably doesn’t have time to, you know, keep it maintained… I’d tell you more, but some insanely bossy woman basically made me sign an NDA and give a blood oath I’d follow her rules.”

  “All right, all right, all right. You don’t have to turn me into Matthew McConaughey. I get it.” She smirks. “I’ll go mosey around for a bit, then.”

  “See you in a few.” I lean forward and place a soft kiss to her forehead.

  She grins up at me, presses one firm kiss to my mouth, and then turns on her heel to begin her own personal tour of the villa.

  I’m halfway through the living room and making my way into the kitchen when I hear a screech and the words “Oh my God!” come from the direction Lena just took.

  What the fuck?

  “Lena?” I call out, coming to a stop and turning around. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh…Yes…No… I don’t know!” she calls back, but each word that leaves her lips gets closer to my ears. I break into a run and slam right into her as she comes rushing out of the hallway that leads toward the master suite. I grab her by the hip with one hand and put the other to the wall of the hallway to steady us.