The Billionaire Bad Boys Club (18 page)

“Wow,” she said, unused to finding this sexy.

When he smiled and lowered his gaze meaningfully, she noticed she was gripping her pussy considerably tighter than before. Her whole sex was pulsating: lips, clit, the soft wet parts that were inside her. She wasn’t quite masturbating, but she was close.

“You’ll have to move your hand out of the way for me,” he said.

She did so with surprising reluctance.

When he came over her again, she knew there’d be no more waiting. His face was intent, focused on her and what they were about to do. He propped himself on his elbows and aligned his hips with hers. God, his shoulders were broad. She slid her hands over them, then down his sides to where she could hold on. His cock rested on the line of her pussy lips, hot and thick and pulsing with excitement.

Its weight felt amazingly good to her.

“We’ll take this easy,” he assured her.

She wasn’t worried. She and Trey had managed . . . and then she realized maybe this wasn’t the most appropriate comparison to make. She couldn’t help it. Trey was leaner overall, but erection-wise, they were around the same size.

The image of Trey’s highly aroused penis rolled into her mind: the wider flare of his cap, the dragon’s tail circling his root. Her pussy contracted, embarrassing her.

Being turned on by the memory of another man wasn’t appropriate either.

Thankfully unaware, Zane smiled at the increase in her wetness. Tipping his cock down between her labia, he angled it to notch her. To her delight, he bit his lip as he pushed inside.

This, of course, wasn’t her only reason to be happy.

“Oh boy,” she said, palms sliding up his back. “Oh wow, that feels good.”

He entered her in one slow glide, working his right hand beneath her bottom to ensure his cock squeezed in all the way. All the way felt incredible, like she was filled and then some. Rebecca bracketed her legs around him, leaving her heels on the mattress. When her hips cocked up to get closer, he chuckled.

“My cock’s still crying,” he informed her. “You are so fucking soft and tight around me.”

“Better move,” Rebecca advised. “Give your friend what he’s crying for.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. Zane moved like he was the boat rocking her: slowly, smoothly, long ins and outs that left them both moaning. When one position got him too restless, he shifted into another. He rolled her to her side for a while, then on top of him. As she sat above him, his fingers plucked the aching tips of her breasts. When that no longer addressed his needs, he pulled her down to kiss her shoulders and urge her mouth tight against his neck. His hands stroked her everywhere, even the crack of her butt cheeks. Nothing felt wrong to her. His touch was magic no matter where it went.

Patience fraying yet again, he eased her off him and onto her stomach. Rebecca clutched the edge of the mattress as his cock plumbed her sheath from behind.

“Zane,” she said, arching her ass to him. “You can go faster.”

Zane gave a little grunt. “I want this to last.”

Apparently, he thought their latest mutual torment could be improved on. He shifted her more onto her side and crooked her top leg up, thrusting in from a close rear spoon. With his left arm pushed beneath her, he was able to wrap her up with both. That was a nice position, the spots his cockhead knocked against and rubbed over delicious. The way he held her felt marvelous, the nuzzling of his face against her shoulder. The only drawback was the incredible wound-up tension in their bodies.

“I need you to go faster,” she admitted. “And I can tell you need it too.”

He moaned out a sound of protest, but his next shove surged in harder.

“Yes,” she urged, tightening on him.

He shoved again, harder still.

“God,” he gasped, letting her know this felt as great to him as it did to her. He wrapped one hand around her mons veneris, shifting his weight a bit more on top of her.

His next thrust was hard enough to make her cry out.

“Good,” she praised for fear he’d think he’d hurt her. She fumbled back to grip him behind the thigh. “Please, Zane, do me more like that.”

Her plea made him growl, made his erection stiffen and swell in her. When she clenched her sheath around him, he cut loose. He fucked her then, no other word for it. Both their right knees dug into the mattress, his forcing her leg higher and more open. The stretch felt wonderful, being overwhelmed by all that big male power. His abdomen slapped her butt like it was spanking her.

“You’re . . . too small for this,” he gasped even as he went wild.

“I’m not,” she promised, groaning with pleasure. Heaviness gathered in her pussy, an ache only he could cure. “Zane, Zane—”

The pad of his middle finger dug firmly into her clit and rubbed. She came with a spike of feeling that blinded her. Zane cried out, churning into her so fast it was insane. Then, with a cry and a good hard slam he crashed over the edge as well.

His cock throbbed inside her, his ejaculation so distinct, so strong she couldn’t have missed it. Finding that sexy beyond belief, she came again.

“Re . . . becca,” he said, her name broken by panting.

His cock slipped from her as his body relaxed.

“Mm,” he hummed and—as easily as that—he was unconscious.

Caught beneath half his weight, Rebecca laughed softly. She’d had men fall asleep after sex before, but never so abruptly. Coming had felled Zane like the proverbial tree. She wriggled around beneath him until she lay face up. Zane’s cheek settled on her breast. Still asleep, he snuggled to her, one long arm and leg wrapping her. His slumbering self seemed determined not to let her get away.

Rather than allow the rubber to get them both messy, she reached between them to peel it off. Zane grumbled as she stretched to discard it. Finding a luxury brand tissue on the nightstand to stroke him dry earned her a melodic sigh. She was done then, free to enjoy his snuggling and his warmth and the oddly pleasant intimacy of his nakedness and hers. Like Trey, he smelled incredible after sex, a combination of personal chemistry and what was probably hundred dollar an ounce cologne.

Now that she wasn’t occupied with Zane, she could look around. The space was bigger than her bedroom at home, the furniture in it equally oversized. Like the bed, the wall panels were dark wood. Whatever sealed them left them with a glossy shine, an effect echoed in the nightstands and the portion of the elegant en suite bathroom that she could see. The counters there were white-veined black marble. Apart from the bedroom rug, which glowed in subtle desert hues, everything her eye fell on gleamed softly. She might have been shut up in a very expensive box—a protective box, it actually seemed to her. Nothing bad was allowed to happen here.

Extending from the wall above the bed was a wooden half-moon canopy. Two reading lights were recessed within it, suggesting—in case she’d ever doubted—that this bed hadn’t been designed for one person to sleep in.

Oh whatever
, she chided. She’d known Zane wasn’t a monk. Maybe she should simply savor being here tonight. She had plenty of time to remind herself not to get used to it.

She closed her eyes, smiling at her temporary worry sabbatical. Not intending to fall asleep, she didn’t realize she had until the dream came to her.

Night had descended. She was waitressing on Zane’s boat. Its spacious dining room was packed, Boston’s skyline twinkling behind the long windows. She was serving her own food, and for some reason all the courses were on her tray at once. Knowing that was wrong, she debated returning to the pass-through. The last thing she wanted was to humiliate herself in front of all these people.

“Here,” Zane called, signaling her from a table. “We’re ready for dinner now.”

Trey sat across from him in a gorgeous all-white tuxedo. That was awkward. What if Trey realized she’d slept with his closest friend? Unlike Zane, her new boss wasn’t smiling.

“I tipped you,” he said sternly, pointing to a pair of hundred dollar bills that lay across his bread plate. “The least you could do was leave him alone.”

This was an odd way to put it, she thought.

“Don’t listen to him,” Zane said. “He has no claim on me.”

Zane’s formal wear was black and white. He reached across the table to hold Trey’s hand—which seemed to contradict his words.

“I’m confused,” Rebecca said. “Do you two want me or not?”

With a simultaneity that had to be practiced, the men unzipped their tuxedo trousers and pulled out erect cocks. Rebecca gasped, suddenly painfully aroused. The men turned in their chairs to face her and began to stroke themselves. They’d spread their legs very wide. She could see into their trousers down to their testicles.

The display was too much for her. She wanted to drop to her knees before them, to suck one reddened cock and then the other until they exploded. They’d like watching each other. Somehow she just knew that.

Her heavy tray trembled on her shoulder. She realized she forgotten to pull on panties beneath her brand new skirt. Hot cream from her arousal was trickling down her leg.

“We
would
want you—” Zane began.

“—if you weren’t
so
needy,” Trey finished.

“I’m not needy,” she objected. “I work like a dog. I take care of everyone!”

Zane shook his head sadly. “You only pretend. We know how much you want to cling.”

“Fuck you,” dream Rebecca swore. “I’ll serve your food to someone else!”

She stormed away with her tray—or tried to. People kept bumping her, sticking their elbows and shoulders out from their seats. At last, she reached an empty table on the edge of the room. She set the courses down on the tablecloth. The plates were cold, an embarrassment to serve. All her hard work was ruined. She wanted to cry but refused to.

A shadow came up behind her. She didn’t turn. She already knew who it was.

“They see the real you,” her father said. “I’m not the only one.

Rebecca shuddered awake. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and anger surging through her in sickening waves. What was she doing with Zane tonight? How could she imagine nothing bad could happen in this room?

Bad things could happen anywhere.

Settle down
, she urged herself, conscious that the nightmare still had a grip on her. Then again, just because a dream was a dream didn’t mean she should ignore the reality check. She eased Zane’s head from her shoulder and sat up. The sky outside the porthole window was nearly dark. They must have slept a while.

Night was the time she worried most. About work. About the boys. Anything she could dream up. Especially since the twins had gone off to college, she felt vulnerable sleeping in the family house. The big man lying beside her tempted her to think differently. For countless reasons, that was a mistake. At the most, she and Zane would enjoy a fling. At the worst, she’d screw up the job she’d just won. That message from her subconscious was crystal clear.

She looked at Zane slumbering. He’d grabbed a pillow to hug instead of her and seemed happy enough with it. He was a good-looking man—a decent one, from what she could tell. What he wasn’t was a person she could afford to lean on.

She’d let his past and some excellent sex seduce her into thinking they had a bond.

He was a billionaire CEO. She was a fancy cook. He bought women thousand dollar dresses. She baked bread as gifts.

He was smoother than a 24-karat egg.

She couldn’t be trusted not to blow a gasket over undercooked salmon.

She eased naked from his luxurious bed, padding down the hall to the cabin where her real clothes lay. They felt rough as she pulled them on, as awkward as a hair shirt. She thought about writing a note for Zane, then decided he must be used to this sort of thing—though possibly not from the receiving end. Did people leave notes after one-night stands? Hell if she knew what was expected.

She crept like a thief down the stairs and across the dark living room. Fortunately, they hadn’t pulled away from the dock. Maybe Zane hadn’t had a chance to issue that order. Maybe the captain had given up and left. Whatever the case, no one challenged her as she slipped away.

~

Okay, Zane was human. Now and then he fell asleep after sex. Usually he only relaxed that much with Trey. Sometimes he intended a second round with a woman and woke up to find her gone. If the first round didn’t bear repeating, he wouldn’t fall asleep at all. He’d get up, pull on clothes, and make polite noises like, “Gee. Early day tomorrow. Maybe we’d better get to our own homes.” Women didn’t always like that, but most appreciated that it saved face.

He wasn’t sure what Rebecca’s disappearing act was supposed to save.

Zane hadn’t consciously decided he wanted Rebecca to spend the night. It was only when he woke to an empty bed that he knew he had. He was annoyed then, and insulted, and maybe a little sad. That was good sex they’d had. Sweet sex. The kind where you thought you’d made a real connection to someone.

Just in case she wasn’t gone, Zane pulled on a pair of boxers, got up and looked around. Her clothes weren’t in the guest bedroom any longer, and the yacht’s living room was dark. The kitchen hadn’t been entered, not even to make coffee. She’d left in a hurry . . . and silently.

Seeing it was 9:10, Zane called her on his cell.

She picked up after four rings, long enough to be considering not answering. “Uh, hello, Zane,” she said.

“Where are you?” was his admittedly gruff answer.

“Home. Were you expecting me to stay?”

“Yes,” he said, only stretching the truth a bit.

“Should I have left a note?”

“You should have woken me. At the least I’d have made you coffee.”

“It’s nine at night.”

“I’d have made decaf!”

A soft laugh came through Rebecca’s end, informing him this conversation was stupid. He imagined her rubbing her brow in that way she had, as if so many thoughts were in there they needed to be soothed. “Sorry,” she said in a less uptight tone. “I guess I’m having second thoughts about taking this any farther.”

He didn’t miss the irony that this was typically his line. “We can talk about that.”