Very Bad Billionaires (44 page)

“Which is why I told you to get in the car. I don't know why you're being so difficult. Your friend isn't coming back, and you're coming with me.”

CHAPTER 8

The words hung in the air.

You’re coming with me. Your friend isn’t coming back.

I knew he was right. I couldn't realistically just stand out in the rain all night hoping that Rachel would come and pick me up on a whim. She was probably already at home, passed out on whatever drug she decided tickled her fancy.

Finally, I simply forced myself to look up at him and gave a small nod. He was going to do whatever he wanted anyway—anything after this was a suggestion. If he was willing to protect me against the wind and cold, he couldn't have anything too terrible in mind.

He gave a quick motion toward the limo.

“Get in.”

He walked beside me as I made my way across the puddled sidewalk, and we slipped inside quickly. I shrugged his jacket off, pushing it to him and sliding away slightly on the bench seat.

“There. Sorry I got your jacket wet.”

“I don't give a damn about the jacket.”

He settled in, brusque and remote, giving a firm knock to the burl wood side panel to signal the driver to pull off.

As we rolled slowly past the entrance to the bar, I felt a strange thrill of adventure. There was plenty of nervousness, even something bordering on dread, but it felt good. It was exhilarating. I was taking off in a limo with a man I'd never met, going
somewhere
, and it was fine.

Hanging out with Rachel was great and we always had our fun, but it was nothing like this. Rachel hadn’t seen fit to take me to her more exclusive meetings yet. The 712 Club was as close as I had gotten.

But now I was cupped against the thick leather of a limousine’s back seat sitting beside the sexiest man I had been close to, probably ever, and I had gotten there largely on my own steam. For all I knew, Rafe was the CEO of some multi-national corporation, and I was about to make a connection that would set me up for the rest of my life. Independence be damned.

I bit my lips closed and tried to settle in without giggling in nervousness. Trickles of water seeped across my belly and the humidity stuck my thighs together, but a curious warmth seemed to ooze up from below me.

Heated seats. Oh my lord.

I stifled a groan and rolled my ass cheeks against the leather. I knew what they were, of course, but I had never actually experienced the luxury of being licked from behind by a hot leather tongue.

Rafe cut his eyes toward me and scowled slightly. Could he tell? I wasn’t sure and jammed my knees together, holding my sensitive parts away from the seat so I didn’t enjoy myself too much. Though most of the little white pill’s worst effects had faded, I still felt sort of buzzy and hypersensitive.

I turned to him, putting on a timid smile to try to seem a bit less invasive. I was too curious to keep quiet, and I needed something to distract myself from the very sexy heat under my panties.

“So, not a supermodel then?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

I hummed, nodding, and continued to stare at him as the streetlights went by outside the window.

“It’s just the most obvious choice,” I explained, hopefully in a charming manner.

He was silent for a moment, then gave a soft chuckle. “No, but I suppose I’m flattered you said so. I do… a few things. I take care of people, and I have a few investments in the right places.”

Well, that tells me a lot.

“Investments,” I repeated, trying to get my head around it. Investments were as remote an idea as “retirement.” Investments were for old people, to help fund their end of life.

“Precisely,” he replied.

“Okay. What I mean is, like... hmm. So, you probably don't have what you'd consider a 'job' anymore, huh?”

He shook his head, his eyes cast out toward the rainy street. “No, no. My income is passive, though I do keep busy.”

I searched my mind for another question, one that he would answer more concisely. But he was apparently determined to maintain his privacy and I wasn’t the master interrogator Rachel was just yet.

Silence loomed between us and I could hear my belly rumbling, tying itself in knots. Whatever that pill had been, it seemed to be shredding a path as it went through the rest of me. Breathing deeply, I tried to command my body to settle down and my brain to calm.

Just be still. Enjoy the ride.

Perfectly normal car ride with a perfectly gorgeous rich man who's going to take me home and call me in the morning and ask me on a date or something. Yeah.

I gave a soft sigh. No way anyone like him would want anything to do with me. Not really. He was probably playing a game with me, seeing what he could get me to do. I didn't care anymore. He could play his little game of “help the poor drunk girl” and I could get my ride home. That's all this was.

CHAPTER 9

Rain lashed the limo’s windows in diagonal streaks. I turned to him, my hands folded primly in my lap.

“I live on Dunsbury Drive in the red apartment building. Can you let the driver know?”

Rafe stared at me, equally confused and amused.

“I don't know where you think we're going, Jolie, but it's not your apartment. Thank you for the information, though—if I ever decide to stop by for a visit, I know where to find you.”

He gave a low chuckle, settling back into the seat a bit more and knuckling his chin distractedly as he stared out the window. After a few more seconds, I saw the 712 Club door roll by again.

Oh my god, we’re going in circles.

And now he knows where I live
.

My paranoia was beginning to re-bloom, and I struggled to crush it out. Plenty of people knew where I lived, and his words didn't carry any weird, threatening overtones. He was perfectly natural and neutral.

I must be going nuts.

A long silence passed between us before Rafe turned his head to me, crossing one leg over the other, his voice as flat and disaffected as his expression. I smiled shyly, the corner of my mouth twitching nervously.

“Take your skirt off.”

Or not.

I stared, mouth dropping open slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Take your skirt off.”

He cocked his head at me, the way he had at the bar. Apparently my hesitation did not compute with his worldview. Blinking his coal-black eyes, he simply stared me down. That dispassionate gaze remained on me, though his fingers began tapping lightly at his slacks.

“Why would I... take my skirt off? I don't even know you.”

Rafe leaned forward then, his brow coming down a bit.

“I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with, but I am not in the habit of repeating myself,” he growled. His breath swirled over my bare neck, sending gooseflesh racing over me.

“You're going to take your skirt off. You're going to pick that ass up and wiggle out of it. Panties too.”

I gasped as a bolt of excitement shot through me.
What the fuck was that?
I jammed my thighs tightly together, the throbbing at my clit telling me what I hadn't wanted to admit to myself.

I loved the way he was talking. Every time he gave me a command, I wasn't just compelled to obey—I
wanted
to. It wasn't just my body dragging me along on whatever self-indulgent adventure it had in mind. In fact, I’d practically begged him to boss me around, if I was honest. Hadn’t I been antagonizing him with question after question just to get him to this point?

I felt like I had won something.

Without another moment of hesitation, I brought my hand to the side of my skirt, yanked the zipper, and pushed it down my legs after lifting my ass from the seat. My thumbs hooked the sides of my panties as I did, and they were both heaped on the floor in one quick motion. If I was going to do it, there was no point in wasting time. Like pulling off a bandage, quick and sure.

I felt incredibly exposed, even with my legs closed as they were. Rafe slid close to me, laying a hand again at my upper thigh. Fingers curled in a
C
, he squeezed that some spot as if to remind me.

He leaned in, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel the heat of his breath as he whispered softly, “Spread those legs for me.”

Nothing in the world could have made me refuse a single command the man gave me, even if I wanted to. I could feel the raw strength of him, his hard body pressed against mine, the soft brutality of that hand squeezing ever-firmer at my thigh in anticipation of their parting.

My breath came slow and soft, shuddering at the words he spoke. I spread my legs for him without hesitation, though not as far as he wanted. The hand came to shove my other leg out roughly, forcing my foot up onto the seat, exposing me completely.

His hand slipped in toward my now-soaked slit slowly, fingertips trailing along my skin, the tingling intensity of it causing me to jerk back a little. His touch followed me no matter how I squirmed or shifted, and I found myself with my eyes fixed firmly on his fingers in anticipation. I wanted it faster. I wanted those fingers inside me, pumping me, rubbing at my clit—anything but this agonizing teasing.

His eyes were on mine, but there was no smile on his face. I think he was enjoying it, but he almost seemed to be studying me and my reactions. Every stuttering breath, every hitching moan as his fingertips brushed over my skin, the loud gasp as his middle finger slid down the length of my slit.

“My, you're wet,” he growled so softly in my ear that I had to strain to understand him. “It's exciting, isn't it? A man you've never met—the sort you may never meet again—desiring you this way. Ah, the things I could do to, and with, you...”

My hips pushed forward against his hand slowly, and I released a soft, drawn out moan as I nodded. I could easily imagine the things he could do to me, and a series of pornographic images flickered through my mind’s eye with alarming swiftness. He slipped his finger down and into me unexpectedly in one quick motion, and I gasped at the sudden sensation. Before I could process the feeling, he was slowly pumping my pussy with his thick middle finger and rubbing at my clit with his thumb.

He'd turned nearly all the way toward me, his full lips still nearly touching my ear. “Mm. Nice and tight. You don't get fucked as much as you'd like, I imagine. Do you masturbate often, Jolie?”

I felt my lips tighten, my body seeming reluctant to answer, but my mind was all too willing. I simply nodded, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth as his pace quickened.

“And what do you think about when you touch yourself?”

I turned my head slightly toward him as he spoke, filled with the desire to answer the question just right. I wanted desperately to please him so that he would continue to please me.

“Being touched like this,” I gasped between strokes. “Being... fucked, hard. I don’t… Ahhhh… I don’t know. A lot of different things.”

He gave a low chuckle.

“Well look at you. You're obeying well, now. Just needed a little incentive, I suppose.” He slid his finger from me, giving a firm tap at my clit, causing my body to tense as I jerked back from the sudden slight sting of the impact. “Ah... beautiful.”

I relaxed slowly against him and his finger returned. A second pressed into me quickly. He slowly spread his fingers as he began pumping again, stretching me agonizingly slowly. I didn't want fingers anymore. I wanted him. I turned my head to him, my lips parted expectantly, but never found his on them.

As ever, he hovered only inches away, the grin on his thick lips turning wicked.

“Oh, it's not that kind of party, Jolie. We're just having a little fun, aren't we?”

I gave a soft nod as I pulled back a bit and closed my mouth. My eyes met his for the first time since he touched me, and I could see a strange sort of fire burning behind them that I hadn't seen up until that point. He was enjoying this
immensely
, but I don't think it was that he was finger-fucking me. I think it was that he had my complete obedience. I was eager to follow his every command, and the thought of that had me wetter still.

He leaned in a bit, following me as I leaned away.

“I'm going to make you come,” he growled. The word shot through me like lightning:
come. Make me come.
“You're going to thrash, scream—perhaps even cry. Ah, that'd be... beautiful, wouldn't it?”

His thumb began a strange sort of swirling/strumming pattern at my clit, and I felt my climax building rapidly.

“O-oh! That's... that's perfect. Please, more... just, just like that.” I bucked my hips against him hard, hoping to urge him on.

My pleasure only seemed to drive his hand away and widen his grin.

“Ass on the seat, Jolie. Such a desperate little thing you are. You will come when I tell you to, understand?”

I gave a quick nod. God, anything to keep him touching me. His fingers lingered just far enough to barely brush against me for a long, agonizing moment before he returned to his decisive pumping and rubbing at my clit. Every time I responded by grinding my hips or moaning, he'd pull away completely, pausing with his hand just outside my entrance as my sex throbbed more and more painfully. By the fourth time, I was on the verge of tears.

“
Please
! I... I'll beg, please, make me come. I need it, so bad, don't...
please
don't tease me any more!”

His lips curled into a hungry snarl, exposing perfect, white teeth.

“I did promise, didn’t I?”

I nodded fervently. He seemed to consider it for a few seconds longer and I held as still as I could, listening to my heart thrum like a trapped rabbit.

Then with a single, sudden thrust of a third finger into me, all three curling up hard as he rubbed wildly at my clit, I was brought into a mind-shattering orgasm. The world seemed to fade around me, and I could only see—and feel—Rafe and his beautiful, skilled hand. I stared into those coal black eyes as I came, screaming out unrestrained, grinding my hips wildly against his open palm.

It was only once I began to come down that I realized how loud, how wild, how desperate I'd been. I sounded unhinged, feral. Like I’d been holding that cry inside me forever, just waiting for him to unleash it.

I fell back into the seat, panting hard as he withdrew his fingers. He placed them at my lips, giving a single firm command.

“Clean.”

I opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out just slightly, still panting and reeling from the climax. He drove his fingers past my lips, pumping them over my tongue as I sucked and cleaned them, my tongue slipping over and between his knuckles.

As I sucked, he spoke in a hard, cold tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

“From now on, I expect
immediate
obedience. Do you understand me?”

I gave an earnest nod as I eagerly laved those beautiful fingers, my fluttering eyes fixed on his. When he began to withdraw I shifted in the seat a bit, fully ready to be taken.

He drew back his hand when he felt I'd finished, then gave a firm knock at the side of the car. Just as quickly as it had taken off with the first knock, it slowed to a stop and pulled off to the side. Rafe stepped out of the limo and turned back to face me, leaning against the doorframe all calm and collected, leaving me half-slumped in the seat and completely thrashed.

“You'll be taken home now.”

He shut the door without another word, though I heard heard him relaying my address to the driver. I squinted hard through the dark windows on the largely unlit street where we'd parked, and I was surprised to see him simply walk off into the night as the limousine pulled away.

Collecting myself as quickly as I could, I dragged my panties and skirt back on, trying to fix the tangled mess of my hair, licking my lips clean. I wanted to feel ashamed of what I'd done, but I could only think of the way he looked at me as he made me come. He had seemed... intrigued. I had his complete attention and his gaze was so intense that I had wanted to turn away but couldn’t. Watching him watch me… finding me that fascinating. That was
something
. I tried to remember if anyone had ever looked at me like that and couldn’t think of anyone.

The ride home was a blur. Whatever Rachel gave me was coming on again, another wave seemingly triggered by the intense orgasm. I found it hard to keep my eyes open, swaying and struggling to stay conscious. When I saw our tiny red apartment coming up on the right, I placed my hand at the door, sitting up a little straighter so I wouldn't just go tumbling out when I opened it.

The second we came to a stop, I opened it and made for the front gate, slamming the limo door shut behind me. I stumbled up the stairs and slipped inside the apartment building with my card key, breathing a heavy sigh of relief once I was inside. Sanctuary.

What are you so embarrassed about anyway? He probably sees that sort of thing all the time.

I took the creaking, smelly elevator up to our floor, made it to the apartment and crashed out directly on the couch. I seemed to make it just in time, because I could hardly get comfortable before I drifted off into a soupy, dreamless sleep.