Page 56 of Billionaire Romantic
After an entire weekend with the most luscious, gorgeous, sexiest girl in the world—who felt so fucking good when her slippery, ludicrously sweet body gripped my cock so tightly I had no choice but to spill inside her, again and again—to suddenly be without her is nothing less than agony.
There was a crazy, existential triumph to spilling my seed inside her. She was the most profound kind of pleasure I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t have put a barrier between us if someone hadheld a gun to my head. I needed to feel her and get as close to her as possible like I needed air. I fuckingwantedto knock her up with a desperate, needy kind of lust I’ve never experienced before.
Mine. My girl. The girl of my dreams.
What if I can’t find her?
Is she okay?
Where the fuck is she?
I can trace the phone, if she won’t answer my calls. One of our tech guys should be able to do that for me.
Are you running from me, Irish? Why?
A thousand women stalk me. The only one I want runs.
I already feel like I’ll go mad if I can’t feel her again. Or hear her musical, infectious, adorable laughter. Or hold her close and tell her how beautiful she is.
Fuck, I’m really losing it.
I slam off the shower, towel myself off and find a suit in my huge walk-in closet. I don’t care if I’m on time for our meeting with fucking Ashton Holdings. I don’t know what they think they’ll achieve by meeting with us anyway. We’ve made our offer, they can take it or leave it. They’re dreaming if they think we’ll go a penny higher than fifteen million.
Going through the motions, I put on an Armani suit and a blue tie, the closest color I can find to her eyes. But no other blue is as deep and bright and light-filled as Lucky Irish’s eyes. Reality without her feels weirdly and severely unbearable.
I smooth my hair into place and check my phone, which is charged to 8%. First I text my driver and tell him to meet me downstairs. I can’t hear my phone when I’m on the Ducati. In the back of a limo, I won’t miss her.
I call her.
Eight endless rings.Hi, it’s Lucky. Please leave a message.“Lucky Irish.”I’ll hunt you down like a Neanderthal, sling youover my shoulder and carry you back to my cave if I have to. “I miss your voice. I miss your lips. I miss that sweet, wet pussy like you wouldn’t believe, baby girl. I miss your blue eyes and your eleven freckles. I miss those little moans you make when you’re coming so hard for me. I miss your eyelashes, blinking at me. I miss everything about you. I want to take you out to dinner tonight. Anywhere you want. Somewhere neutral, if you insist. But I want to get real with you, Lucky. I wanted to talk to you about that before the weekend ended but you left before I could. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please. Call me back. Tell me where to pick you up and I’ll be there. Call me, Irish.”
I hang up, staring at the phone for a few seconds like I’m willing it to ring.
Nothing.
26
I go directlyto the boardroom on the eighteenth floor. It’s where we’re scheduled to meet with the CEO of Ashton Holdings.
On the way, I closed the divider between the driver and myself and left three more messages for Lucky.
The little minx still won’t answer me.
Which pisses me off.
I’m completely, desperately, head over heels in love with her. She’s the one I want and I won’t take no for a fucking answer.
How did this happen?
It’s like I stepped onto a roller coaster on Friday night and completely lost control. I’m on a ride I can’t get off of. I’m so besotted I feel like a completely different person, one who cares about nothing except finding her, keeping her and loving her with every fucking thing I have.
Where the fuck is she? And why won’t she answer me?
Colton and Cash are waiting for me.
I walk in and they both stop what they’re doing to stare at me alertly.
Both of them smirk and Colton launches straight into it. “Wow.”
