Page 53 of The Billionaire Babe

“I’m about to head home.” My dick’s already standing to attention.

“Great. I’ll come.”

“Come where?” I ask, imagining her coming on my cock, on my face, with my fingers. I need to move to subtly adjust myself at the thought.

“Come with you. To your place. You can cook me dinner. Pay me back for the breakfast I made for you,” she says, panting slightly.

“Is that so?” I ask, not giving her an inch. I shouldn’t. She will take one look at my apartment and run. She will see where and how I live and not want anything to do with me. It is the only thing that will keep us apart at this point, our economic and class differences, because I think about her constantly and have no idea how to keep my distance, especially when I really don’t want to.

“Yeah, big guy, live a little,” she says teasingly, walking up to me and giving me a wink. I itch to pick her up by her ass and pummel into her against the wall like we did in her penthouse.

“I'm game if you are, sweetheart.” Her body now too close to mine, I have the urge to kiss her in front of all these morons.

“Let’s go. I’m hungry,” she whispers to me, her eyes full of desire.

“I’m fucking starving.” I grab the gloves from her hands and throw them on the floor and march her out of the gym, swiping my bag on the way, leaving the boys hooting and whistling behind us.

28

VALERIE

The ride on AJ’s Harley is freeing and gives me a chance to clear my mind a little. I have no idea where we are going; the streets on this side of town are not ones I have been down before. I feel at ease on the back, my arms wrapped around him, his hand permanently holding my knee. He rubs his thumb across it, his touch tender and in complete contrast to the man himself. As we pull up to a small apartment complex, I take it all in. It is dark-brown brick and on the older side. There are no garden beds or flower boxes. Graffiti is painted across a small house on the other side of the street, but otherwise it seems clean and nondescript.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” AJ says gruffly, taking my hand as I step off the bike, then leading me inside. My anger and frustrations from the garden party have settled, but his shoulders seem a little higher, his jaw clenched. I look out once more to the road and see a black town car pull up slowly. It wouldn’t usually be something I notice, but it looks out of place here, and I stop. AJ looks back at me and follows my gaze.

“Friends of yours?” he asks, and I get a partial view of the plate number and swallow. They are Van Cleef Security. It should make me feel better, but I have never had security before. Even when I had a stalker after college, my father still didn’t offer any help by way of security, and I guess I followed his advice so I never arranged any for myself. Not even all these years later, even though my father never goes anywhere without a full security team. But there is no mistake, that car is Van Cleef Corp Security.

“No,” I say, swallowing. “Not my friends.” I can’t count on anyone in the business like that anymore. I turn my head back to him and he looks at me, his face in a scowl, clearly unhappy before he pulls me along again. We go through the glass door and walk up cement stairs. The hallway is clutter free, painted in a shade of light blue, reminding me of an old hospital or somewhere just as clinical.

“We’re here,” AJ growls, and I watch him as he unlocks and opens the door to apartment 3B, seemingly tense and a bit nervous. I was so much in my own head, I hadn’t given any thought to me turning up at the gym and then demanding I come back to his place. But he walks in and holds the door open, so I follow.

The first thing that hits me is that it is small. The kitchen is tiny but clean and with everything you need. There is no dining table. There’s just a small sofa and a TV with a timber coffee table between the two. There is a glass sliding door that opens to a small balcony, but the view is only of the neighboring apartment block and another brown brick wall. There is really nothing here. No books, no photos, no artwork or decor. As I walk through, I take it all in.

“It isn’t Harborside, I know,” he says, and I spin and look at him. Is he worried about what I think?

“Harborside is a little overrated,” I say as I watch him. He looks down at me slightly, and I take in a breath. I’m not sure where my newfound sexual confidence comes from, but I silently unbutton my blazer and slide it off my shoulder, throwing it over his sofa. It’s been a tough day, and I need him.

“The view here is getting better already.” His eyes burn into me as he rubs his mouth with his hand.

“What about now?” I ask, slipping my singlet top off and over my head, throwing it on his sofa as well.

“Hmmmm…” His voice rumbles deep and low, but his body remains unmoving, watching me like a hawk from afar. I don’t stop as I open my tailored trousers and let them fall to the floor and I am left in my heels and a new red matching set of underwear.

“It’s new. Your favorite color,” I say to him from where I stand. I trail my fingers slowly across the top of my bra cup, and I see him swallow, his jaw tight as he leans against the kitchen counter a few feet away. “I got it for you.” My heart races. I saw this matching set in La Perla and scoffed at myself for even thinking of owning something as sexy as this, but after spending time with AJ, I ordered it online the very next day.

He pushes off the counter and walks toward me, a deep scowl on his face. I hold my breath because he looks angry, but then he always does. Once he’s standing before me, our chests almost touch, and he looks down at me, his eyes searing into mine. Then he does something startling. He falls to his knees. His hands run over my sides on the way down, pulling the soft lace from my hips, my underwear falling down my legs and I step out of them quickly.

“These are now mine,” he growls, putting them in his pocket, and then his large hands smooth up the back of my legs, cupping my ass. “This pussy is also mine.” His nose brushes my pelvic bone as he skirts his lips around my skin.

“I’m all yours. No one else's,” I whisper, my hand coming to rest in his hair, massaging his scalp, and I see his eyes flutter closed. It feels good to say the words. It's my choice to give myself to AJ. No one has ordered it. No one has demanded it. He wants me and I want him. It is simple. Just like how life is meant to be. We haven’t spoken about us, what we are doing, what we want to be. But there is no other man I want to be with right now, and clearly, he feels the same. His lips start trailing across my skin and he kisses his way down my hip. When his mouth hits my center, I gasp as he dives in with his tongue.

“Oh…” I moan, biting my bottom lip, my hand now gripping into his hair, trying not to stumble.

“I needed this… I needed you,” I whine. The minute he is on me, everything else is forgotten. Whenever I am with him, all I think about is him. His large hand squeezes my butt cheek, pulling me to his face. I nearly lose my footing, until his other hand squeezes my other cheek, and I lean forward a little, both my hands now in his hair for support.

“This is… this is so good… you are sooo good at this,” I moan, my hips moving a little against his face, and I tilt my head up, enjoying the moment. I have had men go down on me before. But never like this. Never at my feet. He lifts my leg slightly and throws it over his shoulder, his tongue delving in deeper, and my breath shudders as my body quivers.

“AJ… oh God… oh God… oh God…” I am not making any sense because everything in my mind flew out the minute his lips touched me. But he doesn’t stop. With one hand he holds my lower back, pulling me closer; with the other, he grabs my other leg and puts it over his other shoulder. He is still on his knees, but I am piggybacking him, with my front to his face as I tremble.

---