Page 19 of The Damaged Billionaire

“Good night, Willow.”

I end the call and toss my phone on the side table, feeling lighter and happier than before. It’s been three days since I first saw her again, and I have been horny for her ever since. I have never thought about a woman like this before. I sleep with them, get them out of my system, and move on. But Willow, she is constantly on my mind. I want to talk to her. And I ache to touch her, though I know I shouldn’t. She is changing everything I thought I wanted and making me see things clearly for the first time.

I think back to that night we had, not only how hot her body is, but how great our banter is. Her long hair as it fell down her back, the way she rocked on my body and gripped onto my neck when she saddled me. Her perfect breasts as they bounced in my face. I want her. I want her badly.

Putting my hands under the covers, I grab myself. I am fucking hard as a rock, and I close my eyes tighter as I think more about the night we had. Her laughs, her smart comments, her quick wit. My grip is firm, my cock throbbing, and I stroke myself to the memory. Her moans, her whimpers, her pants, her lips as they wrapped around me. Fucking her in the armchair, tasting her against the wall, her on her knees in front of me. I start to get breathless, my skin feeling hot as I jerk myself firmer and quicker. I remember our time in the shower, when I pulled her up on my waist, pushed her against the wall, and fucked her so hard and fast neither of us could get enough.

“Fucking mine,” I grit out, just as my cock releases in my hand, my orgasm coating my stomach. I lay my head back, breathless for a beat, as the stress of the day leaves my body. As I slow my breathing, my body feels relaxed, and I walk to the bathroom and clean myself up before climbing back into bed. And just like last night, I am asleep within five minutes, the second deepest sleep I have had in years.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - TENNYSON

It is Thursday, and Willow is supposed to be here any minute. I feel antsy, and energy hums through my body as I pace around my office, not able to sit still. My sleep this week has been better than ever, thanks in most part to my nightly telephone calls, followed by chasing my release with images of her. My motivation’s high, my eyes clearer, my brain firing on all cylinders, and I haven’t felt this good in months.

On Monday night, her admission of wearing yellow bed socks was enough to lighten my mood. I have imagined her naked in nothing but yellow bed socks since. I called her on Tuesday night, because I still couldn’t sleep, and I learned all about Betty, the stray cat she had taken in, and somehow, I agreed to rescue a dog. Wednesday’s call we talked about her cupcakes, revealing that baking is something she does when she is stressed or angry. I had vivid memories of devouring that cupcake once she left earlier in the week. It was the best thing I have eaten in a long time. In at least six months…

“What are you doing?” Willow's voice breaks through my thoughts as she stands in the doorway, looking at me. She is in a black dress this time, the type that is extremely professional, but shows off her curves. Her hair is again down, glossy and over one shoulder. I stare at her as I swallow around the lump in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. This is the third time I am seeing her beauty this week and each time is better than the last.

“What do you mean?” I ask as my mind slowly comes back into the present.

“Why are you pacing your office? What happened?” she asks, now slowly walking in and putting her coat and bag on the armchair, but not making any move to sit down as she watches me.

“Sometimes I pace when I need to think,” I offer with a shrug.

“Did something good happen?” A small smile plays on her lips as she tentatively walks toward me. Fuck me, she is stunning.

“No. Why?” The urge I have to put my hands on her is growing by the day, even more so as she comes closer.

“Because you are smiling,” she says, her smile now wide on her face, making mine grow wider. “Whatever you were thinking about obviously makes you happy, so continue to focus on that. It can be what you pull on whenever you are stressed or angry.” If only she knew I was thinking about her.

“Oh, I brought you something.” Turning away from me too quickly, she steps back to her purse, where she rummages around and pulls out two brown paper bags.

I know what one is immediately, as the smell of freshly baked goods hits my nostrils. Moving back to my seat, I keep the desk between us, so I don’t do something stupid, like smash my lips against hers.

“Here. Red Velvet this time,” she says, putting the two bags in front of me, and I peek inside, seeing the cupcake with thick white icing and a sprinkle of red glitter. My eyes flick back to her.

“Why were you stressed?” I ask her, concerned, knowing now that she bakes when she is upset.

“Oh, no reason.” She waves me off, her smile not as bright as it was before. I know she isn’t being completely honest, but I let it go as I open the second bag and see a small pile of green fluff before I upend the bag and a pair of socks falls onto my desk.

I bark out a laugh as I pick them up. They are soft, bright lime green, and look like they will reach my knees.

“Bed socks. So now you can look as ridiculous as me every night,” she says, her voice too sweet for her own good.

“You think these will help me sleep?” I ask, feeling their softness. They are utterly absurd, but I already can’t wait to put them on.

“Well, you should try everything. Never underestimate a good night's sleep,” she says simply, but to me, it’s not simple at all. She went out of her way to get these for me.

“But talking to you helps me sleep. I will just call you,” I say, taking the tags off the socks and pulling one onto my hand to get the feel of it.

“Yes, but our calls need to stay about work.” My smile leaves my face, but I check myself quickly.

“But they are about work. By talking to you every night, I am staying out of trouble,” I say to her before I give her a wink, my smile turning into a smirk. She knows I am playing with her. Her lips thin, and she sighs, trying to ensure she does the right thing while all I want to do is the wrong thing. The very wrong thing. With her. Over and over and over again.

“But I won’t be there every night. In fact, I won’t be able to chat with you tonight.” My head whips up to look at her.

“Where will you be?” I ask before I sit back a little, knowing that it is probably none of my business, but I am intrigued to know what Willow does in her spare time.

“I have a date,” she states, looking a little uncomfortable as I feel my morning coffee spinning in my stomach.

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