Taken By The Billionaire (5 page)

 

We didn’t even undress completely. Back at my room I lunged at Damien before the door had closed behind us. I wanted him inside me as I sucked on his tongue and his hands roamed freely over my body. Damien tore the zipper on my dress in his eagerness to be at me. We were kissing and gasping and clawing at each other’s clothing in a frenzy of pent up lust.

 

His tongue went between my legs first, sliding over my taut, hot flesh as he took me so quickly to my first climax. Before I’d finished groaning and gasping, Damien hauled me across the plush room by my wrist. I staggered after him, almost falling because my legs felt like jelly and I still wore the heels Damien insisted I wore to dinner.

 

There was no finesse, no tenderness during the time of our first coupling. What Damien did was, instead of laying me on my back on the huge leather sofa, he made me kneel on its cushions with my elbows on its back. I felt so naked and vulnerable like that, all exposed to his stare with my ass in the air and my dress hiked up to my waist as the bootlace straps hung down to my elbows. Damien leaned low over my back and kissed the nape of my neck. His hands squeezed my bare breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples until they felt bruised and tender.

 

Then, with my hips thrust back at his command, he ripped the
fragile string
of my sodden underwear from my body an
d nudged that bludgeon
at my opening.
I gasped when I felt him slide inside, his size like nothing I’ve experienced before.

 

Thank God I was so wet.

 

Damien began to move and I could feel the tremors starting again. I knew I was close to another powerful climax and pushed back against Damien to urge him on.

 

Just before I came for the second time, Damien twisted a handful of my hair and forced my head around. It was awkward, knelt there like that while he took me so forcefully from behind, but despite the discomfort I opened my mouth to his kiss.

 

I groaned and trembled and sighed into Damien’s kiss as I came again.

 

Then, when the kiss broke abruptly and I felt him suddenly withdraw I heard Damien mutter an obscenity and felt a spattering against my back.

 

“I’m cumming,” Damien grunted and I realized then that what that rain was that I felt on my skin.

 

“Oh my G
od!” I cried. “That’s
so hot. You’ve cum on me.”

 

Nobody had ever
done anything so remotely kinky
to me before, but far from being disgusted at the stuff sliding over my skin, I only wanted him to do it more, but next time I wanted to watch.

 

We showered together, locked at the lips as we kissed and kissed until, eventually we tumbled into the bed where, for the rest of that night, Damien made love to me, so tender and caring and attentive that, with Rafe an indistinct bruise on my heart, I felt I was losing control of my emotions.

 

Today, on set, during the break for lunch, Damien came to the trailer and began to touch me. Then he swept all the make-up and stuff off the table with his arm and just lifted me up and plonked me on it.

 

It turned me on, just like he knew it would, but I was afraid that I was starting to fall for him. It was turning into something more than sex and I was worried about what might happen in the future.

 

“Damien,” I gasped. “Please. I’m not sure about all this. I think we’re moving way too fast. I’m scared of being hurt again.”

 

He instantly let go of me, his face creased with concern.

 

“Hey,” he said in that drawling accent of his. “We can take it as slow as you like, Kylie.” He smirked and pointed at my nipples pressing against the thin fabric of my tee-shirt. “But I can see you really want me to carry on right now.”

 

“God, Damien, I do, I do so want you to keep on doing it; I’m just afraid for my heart. It’s so soon after …”

 

“Shush, Kylie,” Damien murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth while he stroked my hair. “Don’t think about it. Don’t let that guy or your sister affect you.”

 

Damien reached under me and lifted my ass from the dressing table. His hand slid up my leg and under my short denim skirt.

 

“Oh, God,” I moaned when I heard a rent of fragile cotton as he ripped the waistband of my underwear. “What are you doing to me?”

 

“Taking you there,” Damien murmured before he eased down between my legs and pushed my thighs wide open.

 

I wriggled my butt in my eagerness to get my skirt bunched up at my hips. I wanted him to look at me, to see how hot he made me.

 

His tongue touched me and I gasped, my fingers pushing through his short, tick hair so I could pull him against me.

 

“Deep,” I groaned. “Push deep.” I felt him squirming into those private places, his breath hot as it wafted over my swollen center.

 

His tongue and fingers worked at me, rubbing and probing and causing such tingles and tiny pulses in my flesh that I cried out and arched my back and came so hard on his face.

 

“Good, eh?” Damien said as he wiped a hand across his mouth. “You having a good time? Am I taking it slow enough?”

 

That wasn’t the kind of slow I meant and he knew it, but he also knew how much I’d enjoy having his face between my thighs. He kissed me, and the dirty bastard slid his tongue into my mouth and forced me to taste myself.

 

“Jesus,” I blasphemed when, after that kiss, he dropped to his knees and took me with his mouth again.

 

We were kissing when my second climax hit with a trembling, almost violent thrashing of arms and legs. I grunted and groaned and squealed as my thighs shivered and my back arched, and I swear I squirted onto Damien’s wrist as his fingers curled and rubbed inside me, insistent and unrelenting as they took me higher than I’ve ever been before.

 

For the rest of that day I acted my ass off, euphoric on such a rush of emotion caused by Damien that I surprised myself at how good I actually was in front of the camera.

 

I didn’t know then, but there were forces at work behind the scenes that were conspiring to upset the little world I shared with Damien.

 

The next day’s filming came and I crashed to Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

As soon as I saw the word on the page I felt myself go all hot and clammy.

 

“We just added to the script,” Damien said. “Alexandra had the idea and I think it’ll work.” He looked up from the sheet of paper and I saw is brow crease with concern. “What’s wrong?” Then he grinned. “Oh, don’t worry; it won’t be a real spider that you have to step on. We’ll have a fake one made up for that scene. At first we’ll shoot the scenes of the live one crawling around, milked of venom or whatever the hell they do. You won’t even see the real one if you don’t want to.”

 

And that was it, or so Damien thought. He didn’t know just how bad my phobia of spiders is. He probably thought I was just being a girl, him being the super-tough he-man and all. But it was worse than just being averse to creepy-crawlies. Just the thought of it made me go cold and goose-pimply and want to vomit.

 

But when Damien saw my worry, despite his tough reputation he showed that sensitive and caring side that he hid and I felt a rush of emotion for that kindness. There’s been a lot of that over the past few days, those little slides in the pit of my stomach when Damien speaks to me or I catch him looking. I think I’m beginning to fall for Damien Taylor, and when I see him looking at me too, all deep and thoughtful, I wonder if he’s feeling it as well.

 

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Damien just how frightened I was of doing the scene. Even though the spider would be fake, for me it’s just the same as the real thing. Irrational and a little kooky I know, but knowing on a logical level doesn’t make it any less real in my head.

 

Alexandra came over,
giving me the once over with a weird look on her face. Maybe she thought I was critical of her suggestion?
“Everything OK?” she asked,

 

“Sure,” I bluffed, “just going over the script.”

 

“Any problem with it, Kylie?”

 

Why did she sound so snippy? “No, no problem at all,” I replied, a little too enthusiastically as I tried to mask my terror.

 

Alexandra nodded as she glanced at my sweaty forehead and flushed face. Then, after giving me a final, weird look, she turned to Damien. “I’ve spoken to all the people. We’ll shoot it this afternoon.”

 

I felt like a condemned woman. Shoot it this afternoon? – They might as well be shooting me instead of a scene in a movie.

 

My character is a kind of do-gooder Lara Croft figure who is trying to save a small African village from being decimated by a greedy mining conglomerate. In this scene I’m in Paris at the mining company headquarters and am tricked into entering a basement level where they’ve put me in a cage with a deadly spider they’ve brought over from Africa.

 

It’s a simple scene. Spider sneaks up on me; I see it just before it gets to bite me. There’s a bit of action where it disappears into a crack in the floor only to pop up again ready to pounce. In the end I have to squish it under my boot. Simple.

 

Determined to fulfill my ambition to burn as a brighter star than my sister I decided to power through the scene. Besides, I didn’t want to let Damien down. Plus it was Alexandra’s idea and I would feel really bad if it all went wrong for her because of me.

 

“It’s only a fake, it’s only a fake,” became a mantra I kept muttering under my breath.

 

“You OK, Kylie?” Mike, the sound engineer asked.
“I can hear you,”
he added, pointed at his huge headphones.

 

“Fine, fine,” I said in a weak voice.

 

“OK, let’s go!” Damien called.

 

And we were off.

 

It was a disaster. At first I was simply
paralyzed with fear, trembling from top to bottom
, pale and sweating, as if I’d
suddenly come down with the flu.
Reminding myself that I wanted to outdo Jenny I dug deep and found some hidden reserve of strength. I muttered my mantra a few times and took a couple of small steps forward. The last I recall before I collapsed was Damien shouting, “Cut!”

 

When I came round, all groggy and confused, I saw Damien and Alexandra looking down at me. Damien’s face was etched with worry, and I felt like such a wimp. A fake spider, a fucking fake and here I was on the floor after fainting with fear.

 

After flying so high in the first few days of filming I felt like a complete failure. The heady rush of excitement that caused me to perform so well the previous day had evaporated and I had absolutely no self-confidence left.

 

“I’ve suspended shooting for the day,” Damien said, his fingers brushing my hair away from my face.

 

“I’m so sorry,” I said, tears welling as I started to sob.

 

“Hey, don’t worry,” Damien crooned as he knelt beside me and enveloped my in his arms. “It’s no big deal. Don’t you worry about it.”

 

I think that’s the moment I started loving him. He was just so kind. I don’t know how much work and time and money I cost him that day, but there he was, just being nice to me. I was suddenly homesick for my dad, and I clung to Damien and let all the anguish pour out of me. It wasn’t just the scene and the fact I’d let Damien and Alexandra – everybody in fact – down, I felt so foolish for flaking like that in front of everyone, and on film as well. I think those wrenching sobs were also for what Jenny and Rafe had done, were cathartic and a sign that maybe I’d come some way towards being repaired. I’d always bear the scars, like a vase that’s been dropped and glued back together. I’d never be the same, but I’d be whole again.

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