Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel (31 page)

“Two million hits,” he says. “Fifty thousand in sales.”

“Fifty thousand!” I am suddenly sick to my stomach. “I can’t do this. This was a bad idea. Delete it. Give it back. There is no way I can have fifty thousand made—”

“I love to bake; I’ll help. I’m seriously really good,” Penelope offers, seeming almost as panicked as I am.

“Oh, honey, I appreciate it, but...” I pause. “Can you sew?”

Before she answers, Billy interrupts, “Madison, it’s fifty thousand orders, not items.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I walk away, still holding Penelope’s hand, and head toward the balcony. “Sorry.” I drop her hand. “I’m so sorry. This must be so overwhelming to you, and I would like to tell you there is a lot of peace after the chaos, but it would be a lie.”

“I don’t mind. It’s actually pretty awesome. I had a quiet childhood.”

Billy walks out as she says it. “So did I, and I have almost adjusted. You will, too.” Then he looks at me. “Madison, I won’t let you give up. I know you can do this.”

“How?” I ask.

“Hire people.”

“My products are supposed to be made in the USA. Nobody in the damn USA wants to work that hard. I’m so fucked.” I try to take a deep breath and calm down, but it’s not working out that well.

“I have an idea. It may sound stupid, but it’s an idea,” Penelope offers.

She is so sweet.

“Go ahead.”

“I spent a lot of time at summer camps. One was at the fashion institute of New York. All the peers could sew. Heck, they taught me. I’m not saying hire a bunch of teenagers, but I know that people are always looking for internships.”

Billy laughs, and I look at him.

“She’s right, you know.” He shrugs.

“I know she is. I know, but we have so much going on at work—”

“You have a bank account that has almost five million dollars in it now. That’s more than I make. You need to quit,” Billy says.

“I love my job,” I say defensively.

“Be honest with me. Is it the job or the ability to drive me insane?” he asks.

“That’s pretty damn presumptuous, Billy Jeffers.”

He smiles. “Think about it, but don’t think too long or hard, because we have a lot of work to do.”

“I want to help you, and honestly, I could use a job,” Penelope says.

Billy smiles and looks at me. “What will it be?”

It only takes ten minutes to convince her that she needs to do this. I suspect it has a lot to do with the fact that Penelope is so excited about the idea of helping.

After everyone leaves, Penelope walks out of the room, holding up the original
Star Wars
movie. “I haven’t watched this in forever. Can we?”

Madison falls asleep three times while we watch the movie. Penelope, on the other hand, can repeat the lines verbatim, just like me.

Aside from when Madison and I stopped fighting about us, there has not been a happier moment in my life...until I said goodnight to Penelope and walked in my bedroom.

“Help me, Billy-wan-Kenobi; you’re my only hope.”

At this moment in my life, it matters fuck-not that Princess Leia never uttered those words while wearing the slave costume. All that matters is Madison is dressed in it and even has the side bun hair-do, even though, again, Leia didn’t have those in that costume.

I kick the door closed behind me.

“It appears that the planet Tatooine is now rid of the red rivers that were polluting it.”

I am in geek heaven as I nod my head.

“It also appears that your”—she looks down at my erection and smiles—“lightsaver is fully charged and operational.”

She is slaughtering the terminology—it’s a lightsaber—but fuck if I am going to correct her now, maybe not ever.

“I have been held captive on the Death Star for a week with little pleasure, and I could use a Jedi like you right now.”

“Don’t be pissed,” I say. Then, as quickly as a teenage boy gets off, I snap a picture on my phone. “It could not be helped.”

She covers her mouth and starts to laugh. “You’re making me break character.”

“For fuck’s sake, Madison, if I weren’t afflicted before, I would be now.”

“Well, I am your slave; command me.”

Jedi’s don’t have slaves, and Leia would never take commands, but again...fuck-not.

“On the bed,” I tell her, pulling my shirt over my head.

She gets on the bed and lies down.

“The end of the bed and spread your legs.”

She slowly crawls on her hands and knees to the end of the bed as I pull off my belt and drop my pants and boxers.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers.

“Spread your legs for me now, Madison. Let me see how wet you are for me.”

“Leia, call me Leia,” she says as she spreads her legs.

“No way. You’re my Madison.”

“Your Madison.”

“Hell yes.”

The material made of metal is easily pushed to the side. Then I am on my knees, pulling her legs over my shoulders and sliding her closer.

Her body is already trembling, and her lips are glistening. I run my finger lightly over them then lick my finger. “Christ, I missed that.”

I know without a doubt there is no going in easy. I want to taste her, need to taste her.

I slowly insert a finger into her hot, wet pussy and curl it up.

She hisses, and I am gone. I lick up and down her saturated slit while fingering her. Her body clenches around my fingers almost immediately.

“Billy,” she whispers.

“Shh, sweet thing.”

“I need to come,” she says as her knees clench around my head.

“Grab a pillow.”

“What?”

“When you come, cover your mouth.”

“Right, shit, okay.” She reaches back as her hips grind against my finger. “Got it.”

“What do you want, sweet thing?”

“I wanna come,” she says. Before I can say it, she smiles. “Please.”

“Could you get any better? Fuck! My pleasure.”

I finger-fuck her hard, fast, ruthlessly as I lap and suck and even nibble on her clit. She falls back on the bed and covers her head with the pillow as her pussy tightens around my finger.

I pull out swiftly, unclip the sides of the bikini bottom, pull her farther down the bed, and then slam into her.

She comes immediately, and I swear to the stars no fake Jedi has ever felt a pussy so hot, so wet, and so tight around their lightsaber before.

I keep going harder, slower, deeper until she comes down. When she is semi-relaxed, I fuck her harder and faster until I explode between her legs.

Afterward, we lie in bed, holding each other. She is still wearing the bikini top.

She smiles. “Life is about to get insane.”

“We can handle it.” I squeeze her tit in the metal top. “The stars have aligned.”

“Feels good, right?”

“Your tits always feel good.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, having answers, having
her
.”

“Not worrying about making the wrong people happy, not doing things because it’s expected, not fighting my desires—it all feels good, Madison.” I kiss the top of her head.

“So what does Billy Jeffers want?”

“I want you; I want her in my life; I want the peace in the midst of chaos. All very simple. I want what I have right now.”

I lie quietly for a moment.

“Music, does it make you happy?” she asks.

“You know the answer to that. You knew it before I did.”

“This apartment makes me happy,” she says.

“Sorry about that.” I hate that I sold it now.

“I need a business partner. I have no idea what I am doing.” She rolls over and looks at me. “I want you to be it.”

“Of course I’ll help you, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”

“Maybe some of it, but I’m not good with money.”

“Says the girl with a two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar bank account in her sophomore year of college.”

“I’m going to have to quit school.” She shakes her head.

“No. No, you’re not.”

“I won’t have time to run the daily operations and the finances. If you agree to be my partner, I won’t quit.”

“This is your thing.”

“No, without you, I would not have had this success. We both know it.”

“Not true. Everyone joined in.”

“Yeah, well, Memphis wouldn’t have if it weren’t some pissing match he conjured up in his head about the two of you.”

I smile. “Yeah, but I won.”

“No, Billy, I won. God, I can’t believe this. I am so happy. So very happy and not about
Sweet Things
, but about you. The only thing that will make me happier is if you say yes. I need someone I can trust.”

“Fine,” I relent, not wanting someone to screw her over. I would kill them.

“Cool.” She giggles. “We’re partners.”

“I think you should invest the two hundred fifty thousand. Something in case you have a slow month in the future.”

“I already invested it.”

“In what?” I laugh because I think she’s joking.

“Real estate,” she squeaks out then buries her head against my chest.

It takes me a minute to figure it out.

“You didn’t.”

She looks up, her eyebrow raised. “I put a down payment on it as soon as you listed it, I was the buyer. I was waiting for the bank to finish up the mortgage paperwork, and then closing.”

“When I first put it on the market?”

“Yep.”

“And you were going to rent it to me?”

“Yes,” she smirks.

“This is not funny,” I scold her.

“You can’t get pissed, you told me you’d take the money. When you didn’t, I decided to speed up the process by not having to involve the banks. It was a steal, a wise investment, and—”

I kiss her to shut her up and because I don’t think I can amply explain how she makes me feel any other way.

She is human with flaws she does not hide behind. Hell, she flaunts them. She can make a man raised like me look at the world in a totally different way.

Do I love her? Yes, without a doubt.

Does she love me? Better than anyone ever has or ever will.

I love my business—our business. Sweet Things blew up. Fifty thousand orders, fifty thousand bras, fifty thousand thongs, fifty thousand pairs of boxers, and even fifty thousand delicious Grandma Ashley cookies, the addition to the Sweet Things family.

With everything so—pardon the pun—sweet in our lives, the sweetest thing was what happened the day the stars aligned, and Penelope and Billy found each other.

The reunion came to an end when her grandmother’s health deteriorated, and we—yes all three of us—went to Connecticut.

Mrs. Ashley’s cost of care increased a great deal. To keep her and Penelope taken care of, it would cost over seventeen thousand a month. Of course, I offered because I’m now kind of well off, and family is very important. However, both Billy and Penelope shot me down.

Two weeks later, we went to visit again, and Mrs. Ashley was having a good day. She talked about the house and how happy she was that their mother and his father had bought it. Billy smiled politely and nodded. And then he looked at me.

“No,” he said adamantly that night in the hotel room.

“Pleeeeeeease. Come on; the mortgage would be cheaper than her rent and Mrs. Ashley’s care. Plus, the kitchen. I mean, they can make cookies. The girls from the art institute could stay there for their internships, and I wouldn’t have to put them up in a hotel. Hell, I wouldn’t even have to rent a space; they could sew right there in the house, or we could convert the garage, and then it’s a tax write off.”

“You just pulled that entire scenario out of your sweet, little ass, didn’t you?”

I laughed. “I was brainstorming, but it makes sense. It really does.”

Billy says I manipulated him. I can’t deny it. I just wanted him to see that things could be okay.

The next day, he was standing in the window, looking out and shaking his head. I knew he was considering the idea.

He turned around after a few moments and said, “Don’t pretend to be asleep; I can hear your brain working.”

“Hot, right?” I try to make light of the situation.

“I don’t like this idea, Madison.” He sighs.

“But…?”

“It makes sense. And Penelope won’t waste the money she still has from the sale of the house. It’s a nice nest egg for when she gets older.”