Fighting for My Billionaire Boss (5 page)

“Gretchen released the footage. The paparazzi are looking for you.”

Oh shit. “You couldn’t talk her out of it.”

“I didn’t try.” He sighs. “I should have. If anything happens to you—”

“Nothing will happen to me.” I don’t understand what he thinks will occur. The worst the paparazzi can do is take some terrible photos of me and make up stories. I don’t have any deep dark secrets I’m hiding from the world. “I can handle them solo if—”

“No handling anything solo,” he yells. “Promise me you’ll stay where you are.”

“I’ll stay where I am, but—”

“No buts.” Brick’s voice is an arousing low rumble. “I’m coming for you, Lucille.” He ends the call.

“What did he say?” The ladies gather around me.

“He’s coming for me.” I grin as I send the address.

They cheer. More champagne flows. I sit in one of the overstuffed dressing room chairs and wait for my boss to arrive.

I hear Brick before I see him.

“Ladies, return to the limos. If you arrived with Miss Henderson, take my limo instead.”

The women scatter, rushing to obey his commands. Even drunk out of their minds, they recognize authority when they hear it.

I stand and smooth down the skirt of my dress. My fingers tremble. I’m nervous as all hell. Will he like the dress? Am I glamorous enough? Will he ask me to be his date tonight?

Chanelle and Vivi squeeze my shoulders, murmur words of support, and leave me alone to face him.

“Tom, escort them,” Brick tells a huge man in an ill-fitting dark suit. “Make certain the paparazzi—” He glances at me and stops talking. His gaze drops, pausing on my breasts, hips, legs.

“Sir?” Tom prompts.

Brick swallows hard. “Ah. Um.” He shakes his head as though trying to clear it. “Protect them. You know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.” The man moves toward the back door, his tread fast, silent.

Brick doesn’t look away from me.

He must like the dress. I glow.

“Miss Henderson.” His voice deepens. “We have to leave.”

“I’m coming.” I turn toward the chair and retrieve a tote containing my suit, purse and phone.

He groans.

I face him. His jaw is clenched. His body is stiff. My glance flicks downward. And he’s hard. I smile. That’s one impressive ridge in his dress pants.

“Miss Henderson needs another dress,” he tells the passing saleswoman. “Something more conservative.”

“Oh.” My confidence dips. “I thought you liked it.”

“The dress she’s wearing won’t survive our limo ride.” His gaze returns to me. “I plan to rip it off her body as soon as we’re alone.”

“I’ll find her another one, sir.” The saleswoman rushes to do exactly that.

“I should try the new dress on, ensure it fits,” I murmur.

“Miss Henderson requires five dresses.” Brick’s eyes gleam. “One of them will fit.”

The saleswoman looks positively orgasmic.

“All of the dresses don’t have to be conservative,” I protest. “There will be women at the gala wearing less than this.” I play with the hem of my dress.

His gaze tracks the movement of the silk. “I can control myself around those women.”

I inch the skirt higher.

“Have mercy on me, Lucille. A man can only take so much before he snaps.”

“I like it when you snap.” I walk toward him, my hips swaying.

“I know you do.” Brick braces his feet apart as though he’s preparing for an attack, the stance emphasizing his erection. He doesn’t give a shit that others see his need for me and that excites me. “This isn’t the time or place for that. We lost the paparazzi on the way here but they’ll track us down.”

“They won’t bother us in the limo.” I place my palms on his lapels and he shudders.

“The dresses,” Brick barks.

“Here they are, Mr. Armitage.” The saleswoman holds a garment bag.

“Send the bill to the office.” He hands her a business card and takes the dresses. “Lucille and I have to leave now.” Brick takes my hand, linking our fingers, and pulls me forward.

Another large man is stationed at the back door. He opens it for us.

All of the limos remain parked along the street. Brick’s driver, Jeff, stands near the limo I arrived in, the vehicle now positioned in the middle of the convoy.

Brick helps me into the vehicle. He then slides along the seat beside me. “Drive until you lose them, then return to where I spent the afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.” Jeff closes the door.

“Where did you spend the afternoon?” I set down my tote, return a toppled champagne flute to the bar. The vehicle is a mess, napkins and glassware strewn everywhere.

Brick tosses the garment bag on the far seat. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He pulls me onto his lap, spreading my legs until I straddle him. My G-string-covered mons presses against his hardness, the contact divine. “I want to do this.” He captures my lips, his kiss fervent, intense, hungry.

Chanelle was right. I’m the sexual equivalent of a red velvet cupcake and he’s ravenous, licking and sucking. My lips part. He pushes inside my mouth. Our tongues slope and swirl.

He slides his palms down my bare back, his skin rough against mine, and I tremble, awareness flicking along my spine, settling at the base of me. There’s no disguising my need. My nipples are tight and only a thin layer of silk covers them. He’ll feel how aroused I am.

I don’t care. The limo is moving and so am I. I shamelessly rub against the ridge in his dress pants. Brick glides his hands under my skirt, over my bare ass, and he groans into my mouth, sending vibrations throughout my form.

Needing to touch more of his skin, I loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, my fingers clumsy, my progress aggravatingly slow. I mumble my discontentment. He grabs the collar and rips, the rending sound shockingly loud in the vehicle. Buttons ping against my chest.

God, he knows how to turn me on. I splay my fingers over his flat pecs and his muscles ripple under my palms. He’s as aroused by my caresses as I am by his. He kneads my ass. I flex my hands and relax them, flex and relax them. Our bodies bump and grind, my wetness soaking my panties, branding his pants with my scent.

He drags his mouth over my chin, down my neck. I quiver, leaning back, offering myself to him. Brick blazes a trail between my breasts, pushing the bodice of the dress lower and lower and lower. The tiny straps dig into my shoulders and then they snap.

The silk falls to my waist. Cool air sweeps over my breasts, tightening them even more. “So beautiful,” he murmurs against my chest, holding me to him.

I thread my fingers through his ink black hair. “They’re yours, Brick. Suck on them.” I ache for his devotion.

He takes my right nipple into his hot mouth, and I whimper, feeling the tug and pull of his lips down to my pussy. My form pulses with the same rhythm, the pleasure building, building, building.

I move against him faster, swiveling my hips against the bulge in his dress pants, torturing both of us. Brick plucks at the ribbons keeping my panties in place, reminding me how little separates us.

It’s still too much. “I need you inside me.” I reach between us, unbuckle his belt, carefully unzip his pants.

“Yes.” He lifts his hips, effortlessly supporting both of our weights. I tug his pants and boxer shorts downward, freeing his long, thick cock.

“That’s yours.” My boss’s dark eyes gleam. “Not for a week. Not for eight days. Forever.”

“That’s a long time.” My voice is husky. “I’ll hold the record.” I stroke him a couple of times, relishing the feel of him, soft skin over hardness.

“You hold me.” He pushes into my palms. “I have quite a few fantasies.” He slips one of his hands into the inside pocket of his jacket, removes a condom package. “Let’s make another one reality.”

“What will it be this time, boss?” I tear open the package and sheath him quickly. “I live to serve you.”

“When it pleases you.” His lips twitch. “You’ve never been subservient, not even during that first interview. You told me my chocolate chip muffin was a cupcake in disguise.”

“Yet you hired me.” I rock against him.

“Because you were right.” He winds the ribbons of my panties around his fingers. “And because I don’t want subservience.” Brick tugs and the ribbons break. “I want an equal.” He cups my ass, lifting me upward. “A dainty, delicate lady who can take care of her damn self.”

Those are my words. “You’ve given up trying to protect me.” I grip his shoulders and shift over him, aligning his cock head with my entrance.

“I’ll never give up trying to protect you.” Brick helps me descend upon him and I moan, the fullness melting my brain. I sink lower and lower and lower, the emptiness inside me vanishing, the link between us intensifying.

Finally, I touch his base and sit, straddling his hips, gazing at his handsome face, seeing my bliss reflected in his eyes. I’ve never felt this connected to another person.

Brick leans forward, brushes his lips over mine. “Stay strong for me, Lucille.” His expression turns heartbreakingly bleak. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

He’s genuinely concerned for me. I don’t know why. I touch his cheek. “You won’t lose me. Ladies such as myself always survive.” I summon a smile. “And we do it with style and grace.”

The sparkle returns to his eyes. “Ladies such as yourself constantly surprise me.”

I laugh. He knows I’m full of shit, making up the rules to being a lady as I go. I rise and fall on him, my movements shallow and slow.

“Fuck, woman.” His lips flatten and his jaw clenches. “You fit me perfectly.” He curves his palms over my ass, assisting me.

“No one will hold you like I do, Brick.” I squeeze him with my inner walls and he hisses. “This is the best pussy you’ll ever have.” There’s no need for Gretchen or one of his other women. I can satisfy my billionaire.

I clasp his shoulders, pull myself upward, and allow myself to fall. My ass smacks against his thighs. My pussy juices drip between his balls. I ride him hard, with a wildness only he invokes in me.

Brick meets me halfway, giving as good as he gets, grunting against my neck. I breathe him in, the woodsy scent of his cologne filling my nostrils. Our skin shimmers with a layer of moisture, easing the erotic slip and slide, bonding us even more, our molecules mixing and meshing.

I impale myself on his cock again and again. My muscles strain. My pussy hums.

His eyes are the same hue as his hair, an endless void of need, sucking me in. I do this to him, make him want with this intensity.

“Who are you thinking of?” I pant.

“You. Always you.” A rivulet of sweat drips down his cheek. I lave his golden skin with the flat of my tongue, tasting the salt of his efforts, and he shudders. “In my mind, I was always with you.”

That’s why he called my name. He was thinking of me, of this. I suck on his flat bottom lip, drawing on the flesh, plumping it.

Brick makes a hurting sound and flips me onto my back. Surprised, I squeal, my bare ass connecting with the cool leather seat. He thrusts hard, his ferocity stealing my breath, severing the sound.

My boss has taken control again and I love it. I bend my knees, cradling his hips between my thighs, allowing him to ravish me. He rubs against my clit with each hard drive forward. Our passion spirals skyward.

“Yes, use me, Brick.” I hitch my hips, pushing him to take me harder, wanting him to completely lose his shit, to discard all vestiges of the sophisticated executive. “Make my body yours.”

“All mine.” He rounds his back and sucks my left nipple, the pressure of his mouth making my eyes roll back in my head.

Fuck. That feels good, too good. My pussy constricts around his shaft, increasing the heat, the friction between us.

He jerks inside me. “Goddamn it, Lucille. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Embrace the madness.” I arch against him, caressing him with all of me. “Let it all go.”

“Only with you.” His eyes blaze with a crazed zeal.

That’s what I want, that level of need. I kick my heels against his ass.

Brick nips my chin with his teeth, drops his head, and gets down to business, humping me with everything he has, slamming our bodies together, smacking his chest against my breasts.

“Yes.” I dig my newly polished fingernails into his skull, holding on for dear life, swept into an uncontrollable lust, a lust we share.

All restraint has been stripped and when release comes for me, it takes me by surprise, a wave of pleasure meeting no resistance, cascading over me. I scream, clenching down on his shaft, elation pulling me under, under.

Brick roars my name, thrusting deeper, pinning my ass against the leather seat. Oh God. I can’t survive this. It’s too much, too good. I writhe, clawing at his chest, fighting to be freed, not wanting to be successful.

He drives into me once, twice more, and then falls, flattening me. I wiggle. He doesn’t move, his suit-clad shoulders heaving, his breath hot against my neck. Once, just once, I’d like to see him without his jacket.

I pet his thick black hair, savoring the short silky strands and this quiet moment in our busy lives, not knowing how long it will last.

He didn’t see Gretchen. I believe him. Brick has never lied to me. But he did see someone and I know he’s holding back with me. Not physically. He gave me everything he had during our fuck. But, emotionally, he’s keeping a part of himself from me.

It has to do with his concerns about the media, about me not being strong enough to handle the constant bombardment of cameras and reporters. “You don’t have to worry about the paparazzi. I probably have more media training than Gretchen does.”

“I don’t give a shit about Gretchen.” Brick lifts his head and meets my gaze. “You’re the only person on this Earth I care about, Lucille, and I won’t allow them to harm you.”

“They won’t harm me.” I touch his cheeks, trying to calm him. “I’ll be fine.”

That gut-wrenching bleakness returns in his eyes. “That’s what she said, too, right before she died.”

“She?”

“My mom.”

Brick doesn’t say anything more. He discards the condom, pulls his pants and boxer shorts back up, and jettisons the tie, leaving his shirt open, the buttons ripped off.