Taken By The Billionaire (4 page)

2 – Paris (Kylie)

When I stop and think, not that I’ve had much time to pause and take a breath lately, I still can’t believe I let him talk me into it. I mean I was supposed to all cut up about Rafe, heartbroken and then obsessed by my idea of getting back at Jenny, but Damien Taylor said those things to me in the restaurant, and the
way
that he said them made my head spin.

When Damien kept on saying all that stuff, right there surrounded by other people who were all – thank God, oblivious, he opened a door to my imagination, a place that felt bad to walk into, good bad, not bad bad – like sexy bad. I got the same wicked, naughty feeling I used to get fooling around with Ra
fe when my dad was in the house.

Damien kind of hit the right note when he started up with the talk. Of course I was disgusted by the things he said he’d do, but he somehow managed to slide around that and what he said fascinated me too. I couldn’t tell him that what he was saying had my body reacting in the way it was. I could feel a pulse between my legs as I got all wet down there. And that stuff about tying my hands and exploring me, about how he’d excite me and I wouldn’t be able to touch myself – Oh my God did THAT ever make me want to squirm.

His ultimatum, the sexual contract, took my breath away. I was shocked at his audacity. OK, I know he’s got the reputation to be a hard negotiator, but I never expected the condition attached to him giving me the lead role would involve anything so sordid. I’d joked about the casting couch but had no idea he had that he really had that kind of thing in mind all along. At that point, no matter how sexy he’d made me feel, I knew I had to make a stand. If he thought he could just use me for sex he’d never take me seriously. There was no way I’d let him do that.

I rose to leave, even though part of me wanted to stay. The dirty girl voice inside my head told me to stay and take him up on his offer of hot, wild sex, but I couldn’t listen to that voice.

What stopped me from storming out in a righteous huff was the reminder that I’d gone to him in the first place, that I’d wanted to be the big star and outdo my tramp of a sister, the woman with the morals of an alley-cat.

When he told me he understood the pain of loss and that he knew I was fragile and that he wouldn’t cheat on me, he came over as sensitive and caring, and when he said our contract would be exclusive, binding us together, I wanted so much to believe him. Then he started with the sex in risky places stuff, and I felt myself grow getting damp. He talked about hot, nasty sex and tender love-making on a boat on the river.

So here we are, in Paris. I’m seeing the sights, eating in fantastic restaurants and sipping coffee in street cafes and rubbing shoulders with rude Parisians. I saw a guy park his car yesterday, right on the corner of the street, almost blocking a path for pedestrians. The guy actually nudged his way into the space between the other two cars. Literally bumped them with his own car to edge into the gap. How crazy is that!

Shooting on the film is going great, and both Damien and Alexandra Eagleton, his assistant, are being so supportive. Alexandra has become a friend even though she got into a little hot water for letting me trick her into seeing Damien. I don’t know if I’d have had the nerve to actually go through with the acting if it hadn’t been for Alexandra’s support.

Damien tells me I’m an intuitive actress, like I can anticipate his direction before he’s given it. He says it’s because we’re physically intimate and in tune, and that it’s such a turn-on, which makes it better for him than working with the usual air-heads.

And the sex! Oh my God, the sex. Just like with his direction when I’m working, he seems to instinctively pick up on what I need, what I want him to do but am still a little unsure about saying out loud. I might want him to put his hands on me a certain way, or need him to just kiss me in an intimate place that I’m still too uptight to tell him to do outright, but Damien just
knows
and goes ahead and does it. Damien’s exactly like they say. He’s super confident, tough, can be very aggressive and uncompromising in his dealings with anyone involved in his business. If someone says they’ll do something and then let him down he’s like a dog with a bone, chewing and gnawing until they deliver. And what I’d imagined to be so much hype, Damien’s legendary penis, all true. What’s better is he knows how to use it too, and to top that, he doesn’t just focus on his cock, but takes me to places with his tongue and his fingers that are beyond description.
Damien wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to explore my mind as well as my body.
When we’re out together enjoying life he talks to me and really listens to what I say. He’s not worried about offending me if our points of view differ, but he won’t try to bully me or put me down just because we don’t see eye-to-eye, instead he challenges me to justify why I hold an opinion on this or that and we discuss our way around issues.

After I agreed to Damien’s sexual contract, and that moment is kind of hazy in my memory, we didn’t actually consummate the agreement fully until Paris. Once it got out that Damien had cast me as the lead in his film the paparazzi went nuts. His history with Jenny Clark and me being her sister had speculation in the media boiling. I was suddenly so busy with preparations for Paris and dodging the flashbulbs that I didn’t have much time to give Damien’s ultimatum much thought. It was something that was just going to happen.

Eventually.

Damien’s workload was huge, and I saw firsthand just what a powerhouse of energy he is, but even as hectic as his schedule was he still paused and gave me some of his personal time when he sensed I needed it.

To keep me protected from the pushy, invasive paparazzi, Damien insisted I stay at his house.

“Your dad doesn’t deserve to get hassled by those arseholes,” Damien said. “Even though he’s Jenny’s dad too, he won’t be able to handle those pricks and their cameras. You can move into my house. I’m fully secure. And don’t worry about the press, we can just tell them the truth, most of it anyway. After all you’ll be moving in for exactly that reason, because the paps are hounding you you’re under my protection.”

When I arrived at Damien’s house I was anxious and nervous and felt like I wanted to throw up. This was it, the time to pay my dues, and what had seemed so sexy and hot in the restaurant suddenly felt like a sacrifice. I was offering myself up to this god in order to further my own ambition. What the hell had I been thinking? Did I really want to get even with my sister so much?

By the time Damien arrived home I’d been in his house for a couple of hours. My nerves were as taut as violin strings, and if he’d touched me right then I would have screeched like the same instrument in the hands of a novice player.

We ate a dinner that Damien cooked himself, and just because I could hardly eat a bite I could still appreciate he was pretty damned good at cooking. He talked to me and gave me the same red wine we’d had in the restaurant, and after a time, to my surprise, with the wine and Damien’s soothing manner, I found myself calming.

OK, you made a deal. Now it’s time to honor your word. Damien’s fulfilled his part of the bargain, so come on, Kylie, pay up. It isn’t like you haven’t slept with a guy before. It isn’t your first time.

But it felt like the first time. It would be the first time I’d slept with a man for any reason besides love.

When Damien went to shower I steeled my resolve to go ahead and sleep with him. Let’s face it he’s got it all, he’s good-looking, independent, tough, as rich as a Rockefeller …

And when he returned, catching me by surprise he was so quiet moving around, all I could do was stare.

Damien obviously worked out. My God, his stomach and chest could have been carved from marble, while his skin had lost the pasty blue-white of the British and was all tanned. And what gorgeous lean thighs and sculpted arms! His butt was taut and tiny and beautiful, but what had me gawking all bug-eyed was the magnificent curve of his erection
.

“Jesus,” I heard myself gasp.

Damien grinned and replied cockily, “Not quite, but it’s an easy mistake to make.” Then he got serious. His face darkened and I’ll admit he scared me a little. “Come here,” he growled.

Like a sacrificial virgin I walked slowly towards him. My stomach flipped and I felt my legs trembling as I approached. God I was so scared of what he would do to me.

Damien’s face softened, his eyes lit up and
he smiled tenderly at me. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’d never hurt you
.”

When we kissed, my lips tentative against his at first, Damien took my hand and placed it over the iron jutting from his body. My fingers closed around it, not quite able to take the circumference of him in a full grip, and when I felt the heat of that thing in my fist the dam of my reserve collapsed and I began to return Damien’s kiss with increasing urgency.

“Stroke me,” Damien muttered. “Touch my cock and stroke it. Not too hard,” he warned. “I’m not going to cum. I’m going to save that for after I make you cum.”

I didn’t know it at that time, I thought he meant later on that night after we’d made love, but Damien meant for us to both wait until Paris before he’d release us. We didn’t end up in bed together until France, and at that our first time wasn’t in bed.

That first night in his home, Damien bound my wrists with one of his ties and, just as he’d said in the restaurant, made me sit in on a wooden chair in his huge, warm and comfortable kitchen while he kissed my mouth, my neck and my breasts. He licked the length of my spine, swirling his tongue at a really,
really
sensitive spot right down near my ass. He pushed my legs open and murmured softly when he saw me there, saying how beautiful I was. My face burned when he touched me, his fingers gently splaying me open and he felt how he’d affected me.

He sniffed his fingers, sighing when he spoke of my essence and how he wanted to taste me.

I moaned with desire when Damien stepped back from the chair a pace or two and held himself in both his hands and slowly fisted his own length.

“Look at me,” he growled in that dangerous voice. “Watch while I pleasure myself. It feels so good, Kylie. So fucking good. Do you wan
t to touch yourself now
?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “Please, untie me. I want to show you. Please”

But he didn’t, he just kept on teasing me. I don’t know how long he played with me that night all I know is I wanted him. I wanted him in my hands, in my mouth and between my legs. I wanted to feel him moving inside me; I wanted his mouth between my legs, his tongue probing and wriggling and searching, but we never got beyond the teasing.

That incredible mind game went on for the three weeks until Paris. By day we’d both be caught up with our own preparations, but at night Damien would kiss me and stroke me and sometimes, very occasionally he’d split my intimate folds with his tongue to tease me even more. He’d never let it go beyond that, never allowing either of us to climax. During all that time he kept us both in check, was in complete control. Even on the plane he kept on teasing me. It was the same in the limo from the airport to the hotel. By the time we got to the suite Alexandra had booked for me I was ready to explode with anticipation. In all that time since the first night I’d somehow resisted the almost overwhelming desire to touch myself, denying the orgasm I craved. If Damien refused to succumb, then I had to as well.

Despite feeling tired from the flight, I’d been too aroused to sleep even though we were able to stretch out in the first class cabin, I agreed to dinner with Damien. I thought he’d fall on me when we first arrived in Paris, but no the evil bastard kept on playing, tormenting me until I wanted to scream.

In a mild panic I bathed and made sure I was perfectly scented and ready for him should he decide to make his move, even slipping into the tiniest, sexiest thong I owned.

“Here we are,” he said, raising his glass. “In Paris. To us. Cheers.” We chinked glasses in salute.

At the end of the meal Damien looked at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “The choice is yours,” he rumbled in a low, sexy voice. “We can go back to your suite or we can fuck in the bathroom right here.”

As much as I wanted to let him have me right there in the restaurant I opted for the former. “The hotel,” I muttered, my voice breaking because I wanted him so much. “All night in the hotel.”