Romancing the Billionaire (20 page)

“I love hearing you say that,” he told her, then shifted on the bed. He leaned over and tongued one of her nipples even as he continued to rub against her clit. Violet moaned, the dual sensations bringing the budding orgasm closer to the front. She forgot all about wanting penetration and wanting to drive him crazy. She was the one losing her mind, now.

His fingers found a slow, steady pace against her clit, and it was as maddening as it was delicious. “Faster,” she moaned, even as he gently bit down on her nipple. “Oh, God! And keep doing that!”

“I will.” His voice was thick. “Sweet, beautiful Violet.” She felt his hand shift, and his thumb pressed against her clit, then he began to rub slowly back and forth, even as she felt his forefingers push into her core.

Violet moaned, tightening her muscles against him. “Yes,” she cried out again. “I'm so close!” The sensations were overwhelming her, and her entire body felt like it was being pulled tight, like a bow, as he continued to stroke and pet her clit with his thumb, his other fingers pushed deep inside her, his mouth tormenting her nipple.

A moment later, she felt it peak inside her, and she gasped, the orgasm ripping through her body with a ferocity that surprised her. She quivered, limbs locked in place as he continued to rub and stroke her through waves of the orgasm, until she was left trembling and panting with need. Then, limp, she relaxed against the pillows, breathing hard. “Oh,” she whispered. “Lord have mercy.” That had been intense.

He lifted his head and she looked down just to see him slowly tongue her nipple. That sent a quivering aftershock through her, and she felt her pussy clench around his fingers, still buried deep inside her. Slowly, he dragged his thumb over her clit again, and she felt another aftershock ripple through her. A moan built in her throat.

“I want you to come again for me,” he told her in that low, intense voice. His fingers pulled back and thrust deep, and she arched as he pushed in, her muscles quivering in response. “I need to see that again. You were so fucking lovely it nearly stopped my heart.”

“Jonathan, please,” she murmured. “I want you inside me. Don't you ache?”

“I do, but I'm enjoying watching you too much,” he told her.

Time for more dirty talk. She was breathless and wriggling against his touch as he continued to glide his thumb over her oversensitive clit. God, she wanted him to pull away—and to keep going. Little orgasmic quivers kept rocking through her, reminding her that she could have another one at any moment. “But you promised me penetration if I asked for it,” she told him softly. “And I asked for it. I practically begged you for it.”

His fingers thrust deep inside her again, eliciting another moan. “I am penetrating you.”

“No, I want all of you,” she told him. “I want that big thick cock deep inside me, filling me up until I can't stand it. Your fingers feel good, but your cock feels better, and it's been too long since I've had it inside me.”

His dark eyes were practically black with need. “Don't you want me to bury my face between your legs and make you come again, Violet? I love licking you. Love the taste of you on my mouth.”

Violet quivered. He knew just what to say to make her weak, didn't he? That mental image haunted her, and she thought of the screaming orgasm he'd given her on the plane. But the ache deep inside her wouldn't go away, and she wanted to see him come this time. She'd come twice under his hands; she wanted to see that same release on her lover's face. She wanted to see Jonathan let go.

“Please, Jonathan,” she begged. “I need you deep inside me.”

“Come again for me,” he demanded.

She tightened her interior muscles, trying to clench his dragging fingers inside her. “Not until you're in me and we can come together.”

He hesitated, then groaned and pressed his face against her stomach. “Damn, I love you, woman.”

She hoped that meant she was going to get her way. “Hurry,” she encouraged him. “I'm aching so badly for you.”

Jonathan turned and climbed onto the bed fully again, then leaned down and kissed her, and she eagerly wrapped her legs around his hips. He groaned against her mouth, and she felt his hand move between them, guiding his cock to that perfect spot between her legs. When he placed the head of it at her core, he hesitated.

She bucked against him, trying to encourage him forward. “Yes!” But he only rubbed it against her, that wicked beast. She groaned as he thrust against her entrance, but no further. “Do it!”

“I love you, Violet,” he said hoarsely. Then, he pushed deep and sank to the hilt.

She gasped. Not only because of his heartfelt words, but because of the sensation of him, the memory of him filling her like this so many years ago. Sex with Jonathan had always been good, even when they were two fumbling teenagers. Sex with Jonathan as an adult was reaching new levels of amazing. She tightened her inner muscles around him, reveling in the feel of his cock deep inside her. God, he felt so good. So perfect for her.

He groaned, his eyes closing, and she watched his face, hungry to see his desire. To see him lose control. She wanted to feel him stroke deep inside her, but more than that, she wanted to see him as he lost control, to see his face tighten with his own orgasm, to watch the release move across his handsome features.

She was hungry for it. And so Violet flexed her hips, encouraging him to start moving. “You feel incredible, Jonathan. You're so deep inside me, aren't you?”

“Violet,” he murmured thickly. “My Violet.”

“All yours,” she agreed, and gasped when he rocked his hips, thrusting into her. Oh, that was sinfully magnificent.

“All mine,” he said in a low voice, and pushed into her again, his movements steady. “You are, aren't you?”

She didn't answer. She didn't have to. It was in the way she greedily raised her hips for his next drive, the way her arms twisted in the bonds, dying to touch him. She wanted all of him. And so she dug her heels into his ass and lifted her hips with each powerful thrust he gave her.

If Jonathan had thought to make her wild with slow, measured thrusts, he'd clearly underestimated himself. She felt his body tremor against her own, and she watched his face go tight, as if struggling to hold on. One hand clasped her hip and he held her firmly, even as he hammered deep again.

“Yes,” she told him, lifting her hips and squeezing her internal muscles with every thrust. “Yes, Jonathan. Give it to me.”

His control was ebbing. His next few thrusts lost their measured cadence, and then Jonathan lifted one of her legs from his hip and dragged her ankle to his shoulder. He pressed a kiss there and pushed into her again, and it made his penetration even deeper, even more wonderful than before. Violet gave a soft cry and bit her lip. Oh, God, that was wonderful.

And all the while, he started to thrust harder and harder. She heard the slap of his balls against her ass, felt his skin smack against her own with the power of his drives. It was wonderful. More than that, the look on his face had gone rigid, inches away from losing control. He was thrusting into her so hard that her breasts were bouncing with every movement, and the bed in the hotel room was squeaking loudly.

She didn't care. She loved it.

She was so fixed on Jonathan's pleasure and the look on his face that she was surprised when she felt the onset of an orgasm begin to bloom deep in her own belly again. “Oh,” she cried out, shocked. Normally she needed for her clit to be manipulated in order for her to come, but Jonathan's wild driving into her was doing it for her. “Oh, Jonathan,” she gasped, urgency building inside her. Her toes curled, and her ankle dug into his shoulder. “Oh, keep going!”

“Come for me,” he growled, voice harsh with need. The bed squeaked louder, and Jonathan slammed into her harder and harder. His hand had left her hip and he was using both to support his body as he drove into her. Her breasts were bouncing wildly, and she was loving it, her moans escalating with each thrust. Violet was pretty sure they were being noisy as hell.

She was also pretty sure she didn't care. She closed her eyes and bit her lip again, focused on that elusive orgasm, on the feel of Jonathan pounding into her. “Oh, God, please keep going. Just like that. Oh, God, yes. Yes!” It built and built, and then she was trying to lift her hips to meet his hammering thrusts as he moved impossibly fast within her. She couldn't keep up with his rhythm, their bodies out of sync. It didn't matter. She didn't care. All that mattered was closing in on that orgasm—

And suddenly it was there. Violet gave a little scream as her body shuddered, her pussy clenching tight around the thick length of Jonathan's cock, and she came and came and came. Sparks exploded behind her eyes and her entire body quaked, and oh, God, it was so good.

Her name dragged out of his throat between thrusts. “Violet.”

She opened her eyes, even as her body quivered with the orgasm, and wished she could touch his face. “Come for me, Jonathan,” she whispered. “Oh, God, come with me.”

Even as she came down, he tilted his head back and groaned, the cords in his neck straining as he came on his own. She watched in wonder as his body tensed, his face flushing, and she thought she'd never seen anything more beautiful than Jonathan Lyons, face tight in the rictus of orgasm. His thrusts became erratic and slowed, his panting equally so, and then he dragged his cock in and out of her in one last, almost exhausted thrust, and his sleepy eyes opened to stare at her in wonder.

“Violet,” he murmured thickly.

“I'm here,” she said in a soft voice. “I'm here.”

Breathing hard, he rolled off of her and headed to a nearby garbage can, peeling off the condom. She watched his buttocks flex as he walked, admiring them and the tan lines separating his waist from his ass. He turned back to the bed and moved to the headboard, his fingers undoing the knots that held her wrists in place. “You okay?”

“I can honestly say I completely forgot what my safe word was supposed to be,” she said breathlessly.

He tensed. “Did I hurt you?”

She snorted and sat up as the bonds on her wrists released and she rubbed them. They didn't hurt except for where she'd been straining against them. “Don't be ridiculous, Jonathan. If I was screaming, it was because I was out of my mind with pleasure.”

He relaxed and got back into the bed. Before she could head to the bathroom to clean up, he put his hands around her waist and dragged her body against him. “Don't leave me yet.”

Those words were like knives in her heart.
Don't leave me yet.
Poor Jonathan. She snuggled close to him and enjoyed that she got to touch him now, finally. She rolled onto her side, facing him, and began to slide her fingers up and down his flat stomach.

“Mmm,” he said softly when she dragged her fingers through the thin line of hair below his belly button. “Next time, no hands tied. I like your touch too much.”

Would there be a next time, Violet wondered? Then she decided, yes, there would be. She wasn't an idiot; if Jonathan gave her mind-blowing, weak-in-the-knees sex, she'd gladly take it every chance she could get before they had to part.

Then she frowned. They did have to part. It wasn't a good idea to fall in love with Jonathan again. She might always be fond of him. She might love the sex he gave her. But she didn't know that she was ready to go all-in once again. Her heart still carried the bruises from last time.

Troubled, Violet rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

“You all right?” Jonathan's hand brushed her arm.

“Just thinking.” Her thoughts sucked, too. They were full of her returning to her quiet teaching job back in Detroit, and Jonathan going back to his whirlwind lifestyle of fascinating projects and exploring famous and dangerous places and running his car company. Even though they'd fit together as college students, she'd switched directions once she'd returned home. They didn't fit as adults. Jonathan was a billionaire with a hectic lifestyle. Violet was, well . . . boring. She was just a schoolteacher.

He'd get tired of her in another week or two.

Which was why it was so important that she keep her heart locked down, no matter what. They could have sex, they could laugh and play together both in and out of bed, and she could kiss him, but she had to keep her heart her own.

Because if it broke again, she'd never be able to recover.

Violet sighed and stared at the ceiling without seeing it. She did notice, however, that they'd knocked the picture on the wall askew. It hung over their heads, a few feet above the headboard, and was tilted distinctly to one side. That was rather funny. “I think we were a little overly vigorous,” Violet said with a smile and pointed at the picture.

And just then, she noticed the picture itself. With a gasp, she sat up and whirled around to stare at the picture. It was a giclee, a mass-produced print of a pastoral scene that was probably sold in multiple hotel catalogs full of ugly but unobtrusive furnishings. She hadn't paid a bit of attention to it before, and she probably wouldn't have noticed it now except for one thing: the pastoral scene of a river that flowed toward a mill and a gigantic waterwheel.

A wheel.

“Do you see what I see?” she asked, pointing at the picture.

Jonathan sat up. After a moment, he laughed and quoted the first line of the poem again. “‘Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel.'”

“You think that's our wheel?” Violet asked eagerly. She hobbled forward on her knees on the bed and pulled the picture off the wall, looking at the back of it. Nothing.

“Well, my note did say Kallista Hotel,” Jonathan agreed. He ran a hand over the cardboard backing of the cheap picture. “So it has to be something with this hotel.”

Violet stared at it, thinking. “This isn't an original. I wonder if the other rooms have a similar painting in them?”