ALL THAT HE WANTS (Volume 1 The Billionaire's Seduction) (30 page)

Then he licked back up, then down to my lips, then up again…

…and then he softly entered me.

I moaned.

It was weird, it was wrong, it was bad, it was hot, it was
so
hot, it was kind of distracting, it was – I don’t know. It was everything all at once. Soft, and light, and wet, and warm, and utterly wrong, bad, slutty, sinful, not what good girls do –

– and I was loving it.

His tongue began to thrust softly inside me as his fingers brought me to a fever pitch. I could feel his smooth face press into me over and over and over, just the way his hips might slap against me if he were thrusting inside me doggy-style. And his fingers were making me crazy, filling me up, pressing against me, as he was doing that
other
thing, my whole body awash in crazy sensations, and then suddenly I came, my whole body bucking and trembling and on fire of the sweetest kind.

I screamed into the sheets, grabbing them between my fingers, gripping them, holding on for dear life until the glorious convulsions wracking my body slowly abated, and just left my thighs trembling with weakness.

“Stop, stop,” I choked out, and put a hand back there to stop him.

He did, immediately, and I fell over to the side quivering.

He slowly crawled up the bed, rubbing his face on the sheets before he started kissing me along my back.

He peeked over the top of my arm like a mischievous little boy who knew he shouldn’t have done something… but enjoyed doing it anyway.

“You’re…” I whispered, looking at him.

“I’m what?” he asked, resting his chin on my arm.

“You’re
bad,
” I said in a low voice, with just a throaty bit of lust mixed in.

He grinned. “I think you’re bad, too.”

I shook my head ‘no,’ though it was hard to do with one side resting against the sheets.

He rolled me over onto my back and slid on top of me. “I think you
are,
” he whispered, and began to kiss my breasts.

“No… I’m a good girl…”

“No… no, I’m pretty sure you’re a
very
bad girl.”

I moaned as he sucked on my nipples, and my eyes rolled up into my head… and then I seized his face in my hands and brought him up so I could look him in the eyes.

“Why did you do that?” I whispered.

“Because I like it.”

“Why do you like it?”

He grinned even wider. “Because I’m
bad.
”

I bit my lip, then let my hand rove down towards his pants.

He got a confused look on his face. “What are you doing?”

I smirked as I undid the zipper. I could feel him straining against the cloth, he was so hard. “I think you know.”

“But… I thought you were sore…”

“Strangely enough, that seems to have disappeared,” I whispered as I took him in my hand and began to stroke him softly along his shaft. It was hot and long and thick, and the head was slightly wet and slippery. He’d been so turned on, he had soaked both his boxers and the front of his pants with his lubrication.

I pulled him over onto me. He propped himself up on his forearms, and I positioned myself in place and opened my legs wide.

The whole time, he stared into my eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

In answer, I took the swollen head of his shaft and slid it across my drenched lips and put it right between my thighs.

He groaned, and gingerly inched forward.

My eyes rolled back in my head again as I felt him enter me, filling me.

He breathed hard as he moved slowly in, then slowly out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I grabbed his hair and pulled him down so his ear was right by my lips.

“Connor…” I whispered.

“…yes?”

“…I want you to
fuck
me,” I breathed into his ear.

He pulled back and stared me in the eyes. At first I was worried that he would react negatively – in fact, I was already amazed and a little ashamed I had said it – but a look of shocked joy slowly spread across his face.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” he grinned.

“Didn’t you hear?” I whispered. “I’m
bad.
”

He grinned even more, then kissed me as he moved deeper inside me.

Within seconds he was thrusting hard and fast, and my orgasm was building again.

I shrieked and moaned and cried out in pleasure. He slowed down… only to start again, faster, then slower, never letting me know what was going to happen next.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I cried out, and he drove into me harder and faster, his breathing ragged in my ear.

I could feel it building inside me, fast, hot, sweet, full of light, and as I was about to climax, I whispered in his ear, “Come inside me, come inside me.”

He shouted, a howl and a moan mixed into one, and I tipped over the edge as I felt him burst inside me, pulsing over and over, matching my explosions with his own.

We clutched at each other, kissing blindly, lips on lips, lips on cheeks, lips on ears, until he collapsed on top of me, and I clutched his head to me and ran my fingers down his back…

…with a very naughty smile on my face.

Afterwards, we lay there in bed, me by his side and running my fingers over his chest.

“Well, now I know why you had me take a bath,” I mused.

He laughed. “See, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I poked him in the ribs, and he made a
wuUAaah
sound as he arched away.

“You broke the rules,” I said in a pissed-off voice.

“Nooo, I just
bent
them a little.”

“No ‘in’ through the out door.”

“I think you came up with that rule for something slightly… larger.”

It was true, but…

“This better not turn into ‘give ‘em an inch and they’ll take a mile.’”

“It won’t,” he said with a smile. “And it wasn’t degrading, was it?”

“Nooo, but it
was
a little bit painful.”

“What,” he frowned, “the – ”

“NO, NOT THAT,” I said, blushing furiously, not wanting him to name what he’d done to me. “Just the… the spanking part.”

“Did you like it, though?”

I thought about how to answer. “…yyyyes…”

“Ha HAA!” he crowed.

“ – but that’s not a license to get all crazy on me all the time,” I scolded him.

He grinned. “Only on special occasions.”

“Great.”

“You can always say ‘no.’”

“Mm,” I grunted noncommittally. “So, other than more kinky stuff, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

He lay there in silence for so long, I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think… I’d like to be normal.”

I frowned and propped myself up on one elbow. “What? You’re normal.”

He looked at me like
Come on.

“Well… you’re
better
that normal,” I amended. “In bed, you’re MUCH much better than normal.”

That
brought a smile back to his face. “Thank you – so are you,” he said, pulled me on top of him, and kissed me sweetly.

After I nestled back down by his side, though, I asked, “What do you mean by ‘normal’?”

“I mean I don’t want to be Connor Templeton,” he said, staring up at the dark ceiling. “I don’t want to drive around with a bodyguard, I don’t want to be ‘the Rich Guy’… I just want to be a normal guy out with his woman, out on a normal date.”

 
His woman.

My heart swelled in my chest.

“What do most people do for a date in LA?” he asked me, his voice sincere. “What would you do if you went out on a date with a guy in Accounting, or somebody you met at the gym?”

“Um, I don’t go to the gym.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Go out for coffee or a movie, I guess.”

“Okay, not
that
normal.”

I poked him in the ribs, and he laughed.

“Let’s do something fun… but something you’d do with just anyone,” he said. “Nothing crazy, nothing that requires a ton of money… just a fun, laidback…
normal
day.”

“So you want
me
to take you out on a date, huh?”

He looked down at me and grinned. “Yeah. I’ll pay, but you choose something – ”

“ – normal. Got it. Do you even
have
any normal clothes?”

He thought for a second. “…no. Not in my suitcase.”

“Okay, then… that’s where we’ll start,” I yawned.

“It’s a date,” he said, and kissed me once more.

And we lay like that, in each other’s arms, until I drifted off to sleep.

We started off the morning with a room service breakfast in the penthouse.

“This isn’t exactly normal,” I pointed out as I ate a bite of the best French toast I’d ever tasted. “In fact, it’s distinctly
ab
normal.”

“Okay, normal starts
after
breakfast, then.”

“In the Bentley?”

“You think you’re sooo clever, don’t you?”

I just gave him a bratty little grin.

“Okay,
after
the limo ride,” he said. “Once we get wherever we’re going.”

Johnny was definitely
not
on board when he found out about it.

“NO.”

“Yes,” Connor said calmly.

“Come on, man – last night was bad enough, but you want to go – where are we going?”

“Santa Monica. Third Street Promenade, then probably to Venice afterwards,” I said.

“Oh,
great
. Crowds, no way to control access to you, wide open spaces – will you at least wear the bulletproof vest?”

“NO, that’s
definitely
not normal. And you’re going to have to change your clothes,” Connor said, pointing to Johnny’s suit and tie.

He frowned. “What?”

“Yeah, you don’t look normal.”

“…
what?!”

“Normal. It’s the theme of the day. You gotta look normal.”

Johnny shook his head. “Oh,
hell
no.”

But he ended up giving in.

We drove down to Santa Monica, which is one of the beach communities in LA. Very expensive houses and fairly pricey shops and restaurants – though upper-middle-class pricey, not like Rodeo Drive or Beverly Hills. After we parked the Bentley (which got some stares, let me tell you), we went down to an Urban Outfitter’s on Third Street. The entire avenue is blocked off to traffic for half a mile, and thousands of people were walking along in the Sunday morning sunshine.

Inside, I made Connor trade in his dark slacks for some cargo shorts that showed off his muscular calves. He also bought some leather flip-flops and a loose linen shirt. Me, I chose a red tank top and blue jean cut-offs.

Johnny was resistant to the whole thing, but Connor made him pick. He settled on a black T, a dark Hawaiian shirt that hid his gun holster, green shorts, and some Chuck Taylors.

“Thank you,” I said as we exited in our new ‘normal’ outfits, our designer threads stuffed in Urban Outfitters bags.

“You’re welcome,” Connor smiled. “Thank
you
for indulging me.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not just talking about the clothes?”

He just laughed at that one.

We wandered the street, with Johnny staying about ten feet behind us the entire time, scanning the crowd restlessly from behind his black sunglasses. I forgot about him after a few minutes, and he just let us be.

We went into one of my favorite stores on the Promenade, a toy shop that has
everything,
from all your regular Barbies and toys to giant statues of Star Wars characters. There were hundreds of different models, antique dolls with beautiful dresses, chess sets painted to mimic Alice In Wonderland and Star Trek characters, Japanese sci-fi mecha, and all sorts of crazy foreign toys.

We went in several funky clothing shops, a couple of bookstores, and the Apple store, too. When Connor saw me playing with a $2500 laptop, he asked, “You like it?”

“It’s nice.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

I gave him a look. “That’s not a normal date thing.”

He shrugged. “We can make an exception – ”

“ – but we’re not going to.”

He grinned and kissed me. “Okay, okay. Window shopping only.”

“I don't need any Microsoft products, either,” I joked.

Connor just rolled his eyes and groaned.

We ate at a cool little bistro out in the sun – nothing fancy, but good food. Then we went back to the limo and Johnny drove us to the Venice Beach promenade.

If you’ve never been to Venice Beach, it’s basically the weirdest place in all of Los Angeles. Maybe all of Southern California. The area is still largely rent-controlled, so you have all these stoners and hippies who live in cheap apartments and hang out in one of the priciest real estate neighborhoods in the country.

A promenade stretches along the coast. On one side is the beach and a grassy lawn filled with palm trees. The other side looks like it was frozen in time circa 1972. The shops are dingy, slightly rundown, with bright, crazy colors painted over the cement walls. We strolled along the head shops, smelling marijuana in the air, browsed the t-shirt stalls, listened to crazy bongo players, watched artists hawking their paintings, and saw the Rastafarian guy who rollerblades up and down the promenade playing an electric guitar with an amp strapped to his back.

“I don’t think this is ‘normal,’” Connor commented.

“Too much for you?” I teased.

“No. I’m just stating the obvious, that’s all.”

We hung out there until the sun started to get lower in the sky, then we strolled north along the beach.

“Don’t get in the water,” I warned.

“Why?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s gross. Stuff gets dumped in it.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Too much normal, if you ask me.”

I thought of making a joke about us going to Fiji or Aruba, then caught myself.

There wasn’t going to
be
anything after this.

It made me incredibly sad. Like, verge-of-tears sad. I knew the weekend was coming to a close… but we weren’t there yet, so I pushed the thought away.