Dating the Billionaire Read online

  “Oh my God,” she murmured weakly as she lay limp on the mattress. “You really are that good.”

  “I really am,” he assured her. His body throbbed for its own release, demanding it. Wanting to bury himself inside her wet heat, he stood up and quickly disrobed until the only thing separating them was the condom he rolled on with a shaking hand. His cock pulsated within his grasp as he guided it inside her.

  She bucked beneath him, arching her hips, taking him deeper. He buried himself to the hilt, thrusting and thrusting. She felt so damn good, so tight, so hot, her inner muscles grasping at him, squeezing him. He had not exaggerated in his mind how amazing she felt; she was even more amazing than he’d remembered. She was incredible, so it was no wonder he’d not wanted anyone else...but her.

  She lifted and bent her legs, sliding them over his shoulders, and he sank deeper inside her yet. She cried out, and he tensed.

  But she clutched his butt, sinking her short nails into his skin, and urged him to thrust. “Harder, harder,” she demanded, greedy for more of the pleasure he’d already given her.

  He loved that.

  Loved how he could feel the little ripples as she started to come again. She was so damn responsive, so sexy, so addictive...

  He was getting so attached to her—in a way he had to no one else.

  Her fingers slid over his butt, between his legs as she stroked his scrotum. Her touch drove him insane, pushed his control, so he moved in a frenzy—desperate for release. Finally his body tensed, then shuddered as he ejaculated, coming and coming in an orgasm more powerful than the ones she’d given him that first time. She was even more amazing than he’d remembered.

  “Savannah!” He shouted her name.

  She unwound her legs from around him and sank into the mattress, seemingly boneless and satiated. He should have been, too. But his cock stirred inside her.

  She arched dark blond brows over those navy blue eyes of hers. “Again? You are incredible.”

  “So are you,” he said. She was the most responsive, generous lover he’d ever had. It was no wonder that he could think of nothing and nobody else but her.

  He’d never clicked with anyone sexually as well as he had with her. She just knew what to do—how to move, where to touch him...

  But it was more than that; he felt a connection to her—a complete intimacy—that he’d never felt with anyone else. It was as if she was part of him, inside his body, his mind, his passion...

  Shifting on the mattress, she contracted those inner muscles around him. But he had to pull out, had to pull off the condom to reach for another.

  Before he could put one on, her fingers sheathed him, and she pumped his cock in her hand, making him fully hard, making him throb and ache again.

  How could he want her so damn much? She was quickly becoming an obsession for him.

  She wanted him, too, though. She pushed him back, so that he sprawled on the mattress. Then she replaced her hand with her mouth, sliding it up and down him until he was on the edge of coming.

  Before he could, she slid her lips off his cock. Then she took that condom from his fingers and rolled that onto him, and she straddled him.

  And she rode him, driving him out of his mind as she bounced up and down and jostled against him. He cupped her breasts, which bounced with her movements, and he rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples, teasing her to the brink of the same madness she’d brought him.

  She increased her rhythm, bucking and grinding against him...until finally she came, screaming his name. He arched up and kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth like he thrust his cock deep within her core. And finally he came again, his groan filling her mouth like his ejaculation filled the condom.

  How could it have been so powerful after the one he’d just had? What the hell did she do to him? Was she making him fall for her?

  CHAPTER TEN

  “YOU’RE STILL HERE,” a deep voice murmured as lips skimmed across her cheek, which was a little sore yet from that damn glue. “You didn’t sneak out again.”

  “I can’t move,” Blair admitted. Not after everything they’d just done to each other. Her muscles must have melted away because she couldn’t feel them anymore, or her bones...nothing but his lips.

  Then teeth lightly nipped her shoulder. “You need to move,” he said. “You have to get dressed.”

  So content and ready to sleep, she had to pry open one eye so that she could peer up at his handsome face as he leaned over her. “You’re kicking me out?” she asked. “Is this some kind of payback?”

  Maybe he was angrier with her than he’d seemed over her not returning his messages. Maybe she’d hurt his ego too much, but she hadn’t thought that he was that arrogant even though he had every reason to be. He was handsome, successful and an incredible lover. And she’d been insane to ignore his messages the past couple of weeks.

  “You deserve it,” he said, “for depriving us of that the past couple of weeks.”

  “Agreed,” she murmured. Sex with him was beyond anything she had ever experienced before. He brought her so damn much pleasure and so easily. He was so unbelievably handsome that just looking at him nearly made her come.

  Her heart began to thump with the fear she’d felt over seeing him again. She’d wanted him, but if he knew who she really was and what she did, he wouldn’t want her. Maybe he had figured it out and that was why he was tossing her out. He couldn’t support who she really was and what she did, not just for a living but for her life. Flying had always been her first love.

  Apparently it would be her only love, though. Because she couldn’t fall for someone who didn’t understand how important being a pilot was to her. She couldn’t change who she was to try to please someone else—like her mother had spent so damn much of her life doing.

  That had been so painful and sad to watch as her mother had become more and more of a shell of the woman she’d once been, a woman who had had dreams of college and law school until she’d fallen in love with a selfish man.

  Teo wasn’t a selfish man, though. At least not in bed...

  He’d given her so much pleasure. She’d wondered if she’d imagined how great it had been between them. But it had been even better than she’d remembered; he had been even better.

  Hadn’t it been as good for him? Was that why he wanted to get rid of her now?

  Light flooded the room, momentarily blinding her.

  She groaned in protest but forced both eyes fully open to stare at him. He was wearing the tuxedo again. “I take it you don’t rent that thing,” she murmured.

  “It’s mine,” he said. “And this is yours.” He tossed a garment at her. “I just had it delivered to the suite.”

  She picked up the swatch of red silk and stared at it. The label stared back. “This is designer...”

  “Yes,” he said. “We’re going to a fashion show.”

  “That’s why you needed a date,” she mused. “So you bought this dress for whoever showed up at your door?”

  He chuckled. “In your size?”

  Suddenly suspicious, she narrowed her eyes and studied his handsome face. “Did you and Miranda set me up?”

  She’d thought she’d coerced her friend into sending her in place of the other date Teo had requested. But maybe it had been their plan all along and the reason for Miranda’s call in the first place.

  He shook his head. “I don’t play games. After you fell asleep on me...”

  Heat rushed into her face. After riding him into an insanely intense orgasm, she had literally collapsed on top of him—exhausted from her sleepless nights and from the exertion of having crazy-hot sex with him.

  He continued, “I called up the designer and had him send over this dress for you.”

  “Of course you did...”

  And of course the designer had imm
ediately complied—because every time she’d been with him, everyone fawned all over the Italian billionaire. No one dared to deny Matteo Rinaldi what he wanted except her. She’d denied him the male pilot he’d requested. She’d denied his wish for honesty and no games. A twinge of guilt struck her, and she considered telling him the truth now. But a rush of fear followed her guilt over how he would react, how angry he might be. And he was obviously in a hurry.

  He’d probably sponsored the show or financed the fashion house. So he shouldn’t be late. She forced herself to roll out of the tangled sheets. But when she stood up, naked, beside the bed, he uttered a deep groan. His eyes, usually that warm chocolate brown, turned black as his pupils dilated. His nostrils flared, and a vein stood out on his forehead and another on his neck as his pulse pounded. Feeling a feminine power she rarely remembered she had, she smiled and reached for him, but he stepped back and shook his head. Then, cursing, he turned and rushed out of the bedroom.

  “Chicken!” she called after him, teasing him, with a few clucking noises.

  “Damn right I am,” he said from the other room. “You’re a scary woman.”

  The smile slid away from her face. Blair was a scared woman. More scared than she could remember being in a long time. If she wasn’t so afraid, she would have told him the truth—about everything.

  But she didn’t want this night to end. Not yet.

  But it wasn’t just the sex she wanted. She wanted another evening out like the one they’d had that first night. She wanted the glimpse into his life—with his family, with his friends, and she wanted the fun of having dinner with him, of dancing with him...

  Then, after the appetizers, she wanted to come back here for the main course. For him.

  “We need to leave,” he told her.

  She cleaned up quickly in the bathroom and tugged the sheath of red silk over her head. The dress was simple but beautiful. She stepped out of the bathroom into the living area. His back was to her, as he stood at the windows staring out at the lights of the beautiful city. But he must have caught her reflection in the glass because he turned.

  “Damn.” The curse slipped out of his lips as his mouth dropped open. “You’re stunning.”

  “It’s the dress,” she said. “Thank you for borrowing this for me.” Wasn’t that the way it worked with celebrities? Designers lent them dresses for their special events in order to market their designs.

  “It’s yours to keep,” he told her.

  She shook her head. She had already felt like an escort the first time she’d met him at his hotel suite. Now she was beginning to feel like a mistress. “I told you I don’t want your money,” she reminded him.

  “I didn’t buy it,” he assured her.

  “But still...” He’d received it somehow, as repayment for something he’d done—not her. She shook her head again. “I can’t accept this.”

  “You can’t return it,” he told her. “You would insult the designer.” He held out a box to her.

  It was square and too big to hold jewelry. But still it was another gift she didn’t want to accept. “What’s this?”

  “Open it.”

  “I don’t want you to give me things,” she insisted.

  “It’s not from me,” he said. “And we don’t have time to argue. Open the damn box.”

  With a sigh, she lifted the lid from the box and found a pair of gold shoes inside that glittered as brightly as jewels. Her breath shuddered out. “They’re beautiful. And you shouldn’t have done this...any of this.”

  He shrugged. “They are gifts, not from me but from the designer. And to show your appreciation, we should get to his show before it starts.” But he stepped closer to her and trailed his fingertips down her bare arm. “You are so damn tempting, though.”

  She wanted to go back to bed, too, wanted to continue to enjoy him as long as she could—before reality and her fears intruded on their intimacy. “It would be rude to be late,” she said, trying to convince herself more than she was him. The designer had sent the gifts.

  Teo uttered a groan of frustration before sighing. “Then we should get the hell out of here before we give in to temptation.”

  “Agreed,” she said. She stepped into the shoes and rushed to the door. Before she could pull it open, a hand slapped against the wood above her head, holding it shut. And a body, long and hard, pressed against the back of hers. She moaned as his erection prodded her.

  “I just remembered you don’t have any underwear,” he said.

  Because he’d ripped hers.

  “You didn’t think to ask the designer to send some of those,” she said.

  “I didn’t want him to,” he admitted. “Because I wanted to be able to do this anytime I wanted.” He slid his free hand under her dress, between her thighs, and stroked his fingers over her.

  She moaned again and pushed against him, and his fingers slid inside her.

  “You’re so hot,” he said. “So ready...”

  So on edge that she was nearly coming already.

  His hand moved from the door. Was he going to open it? Did he expect her to leave—like this? So on edge she was about to come if she walked?

  Then his zipper rasped, and his cock replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of her. He wasn’t wearing a condom, so she should have protested. But she wanted him too badly. She was also on birth control, and Miranda advertised that all the members of Liaisons International were tested and safe. So she gave in to her need for him and braced herself against the door so that her knees wouldn’t buckle. It rattled in its frame, and he moved inside her.

  Moans and cries of pleasure slipped out of her lips as her inner muscles gripped him and convulsed, an orgasm overtaking her. He pulled out, though, and his zipper rasped again.

  She turned around and stared at him in surprise, over the pleasure he’d given her and the pleasure he’d denied himself. Was he really that selfless? That generous...

  That amazing?

  “You didn’t come.”

  Sweat beaded on his brow and his upper lip, and a muscle twitched along his jaw. “We don’t have time,” he said—even though he’d taken the time to please her.

  She reached for him. But he pulled back.

  Through gritted teeth, he told her, “We need to go. Now.”

  She shook her head in amazement that he was denying himself a release he obviously needed as badly as she’d needed the one he’d just given her. “You’re a masochist.”

  * * *

  He really was a masochist. He needed to come so badly that he barely made it down in the elevator to the car, his body ached so much with the need to explode. He didn’t know why he’d denied himself a release.

  He’d wanted her so badly, and being inside her, he’d nearly come. But he hadn’t been wearing a condom, so he hadn’t dared. She’d felt so damn incredible. Without the latex between them, he’d felt her muscles convulse, the ripple and release of them and the heat and wetness of her orgasm.

  He could smell her, feel her yet, and he was nearly going out of his mind with need for her. Forcing himself to focus on anything else, he climbed into the limo and reached for the bucket of ice. Tempted to dump it on his lap, he dropped some in a glass instead and poured grappa over it. His hand shook a little as he extended the glass to her.

  She smiled as she accepted it and leaned back in the seat across from him to sip it. He grabbed another glass and poured more grappa into it and tossed back the entire contents. The fiery liquor burned down his throat.

  He cleared it before saying, “We need to talk.”

  “This sounds serious,” she murmured as the smile slipped away from her lips.

  It was. He needed to distract himself from the desire pulsating in his body, from his desperate need for a release from the madness to which she drove him.

  “We nev
er talk,” he said. “Mostly because you don’t return my calls.” He was still not over that, but she was here now so he wanted to focus on the moment and on her. So he continued, “But we haven’t really ever talked.”

  He’d realized it before, but whenever he was with her, he got distracted by the attraction, the crazy-hot chemistry, between them that he forgot. “I don’t really know anything about you.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Really? What do I know?” Not even her last name. But before he could point that out, she was sliding down onto the floor between their seats.

  “You know how to kiss me,” she said. On her knees, she arched up and brushed her lips across his. “You know how to touch me...” Her fingers trailed down the studs holding his tuxedo shirt together to the tab of his zipper.

  His cock throbbed and pushed against the fly of his dress pants, begging for her touch. She lowered the zipper and released his straining erection into her soft hands. She wrapped her fingers around him and slid them up and down the length of him.

  He groaned and pushed against her hand, thrusting into it like he’d thrusted inside her just moments before. Her hand wasn’t as good as being inside her, but he could remember how he’d felt, burying himself so deeply in her core—joining their bodies, bringing her pleasure.

  Pleasure that he’d denied himself. Now he was close. So close.

  So damn close...

  Then she replaced her hand with her mouth. She sucked him deep into her throat. The feeling of her lips and her tongue...even the gentle scrape of her teeth...all drove him out of his mind.

  Control slipped away from him.

  He pumped into her mouth, an orgasm exploding out of him with such force that he felt as if he left his body. Or at the very least he lost his mind.

  She licked his cock before tucking him back into his pants and pulling up his zipper. Then she moved back to her seat and leaned back, licking her lips.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control like that. Actually, he could—it had been with her.