The Billionaire's Virgin

“It will be fine.”

“You can’t know that,” I say. “What if he comes back, or someone looks out their window? We could get caught.”

His smile widens, sharklike, the way it did on camera yesterday. “That just makes it all the more exciting, no?”

“You don’t worry about getting into trouble?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I think I could avoid any sort of real trouble, my dear,” he responds pointedly.

“I . . .” Damn. He has me there. I’m sure he could buy his way out of any sort of fines for public indecency he might incur. But could I?

Then again, with the money he’s offering me, yes . . .

But what if someone took photos or something? He’s rich enough that someone might find it worth their while to sell photos of his hookups somewhere, maybe one of those gossip sites. I have a horrible flash of my grandmother stumbling across a picture of me in flagrante delicto in one of the gossip rags she devours, and my whole face heats up bright red.

“Not out in the open,” I mumble.

“My mistake. I thought you wanted to get this over with.” His eyes positively sparkle with mirth. He’s enjoying himself, the bastard.

“Don’t you?” I counter. “You’ve bought your goods. Don’t you want to enjoy them as soon as possible? Get this over with and move on to the next conquest?”

His expression darkens, goes serious. “When I purchase an expensive meal, I do not inhale my food. I take it slowly. Savor every bite.” His hand touches my shoulder now, and lightly pushes my sleeve off my shoulder, so the dress sags down my chest a few inches, revealing my collarbone. His fingers trace that, slowly as promised, like he’s memorizing every inch. “I want you, Bonnie. But I want to enjoy owning you. I want to take you one piece at a time, and make you cry out in pleasure every step of the way.”

My heart beats so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it, or at least feel it in his fingers, which now trail across my chest toward my exposed cleavage. It takes conscious effort to breathe, to keep myself from begging him to take me right now. I’m not even sure if it’s because I want to get this over with, anymore, or if it’s just because his touch, his voice, those self-assured words of his, are making me hot as hell.

He leans in closer, and my lips tremble, anticipating the feel of his rough mouth against mine, the scratch of his stubble on my soft cheek. But he tilts his head, brings his lips beside my ear instead, and whispers, his breath hot on my neck as he does. “If you really are so eager, though, I’ll oblige. If you want to get this over with, I’ll take you into the bathroom right now. Bend you over the sinks and fuck you, hard and fast. Someone might hear us, of course, especially as I intend to make you come on my cock at least, oh . . .” His hand reaches my cleavage, and he drops a finger beneath the neckline of my dress to trace circles around my nipple. “At least five or six times, before I’m finished with you. You’ll be screaming by the time I’m finished.”

I’m breathing hard now, not even bothering to hide it. I couldn’t if I tried. My whole body arches forward, my chest pressing shamelessly up against his hand.

“But if you are set on moving forward now, then very well. I’ll make you beg in the public restroom here, and if we’re overheard, oh well . . . If you want my cock that badly, it simply can’t be helped.”

My face must be bright red by now. I turn to face him, reaching for him almost without thinking about what I’m doing. But he pulls away. Turns in his seat to face the rooftop, his pose as casual as if we’d just been chatting about the weather.

Only a glance at his crotch reveals that he’s as affected as I am. He’s hard as a rock, straining against the zipper of his pants.

“Maybe . . . Maybe not,” I stammer, finally, now that I can think straight, without his hot breath in my ear. “Maybe we should wait until later.” Then my stubborn side kicks in. I won’t give him the pleasure of totally throwing me off guard. “Or not, I mean. Up to you.” I lift my chin, calling his bluff. He said he wants to enjoy me. Savor me. He won’t ask me to fuck him right here, or in some restaurant bathroom. No way.

But to my surprise, he tsks softly, still smiling. “Ah, Bonnie. Now you’ve gotten me all worked up.” When his eyes flash back to mine, I see desire. They’ve gone darker, more dangerous. Hungry. “I told you, all of your firsts belong to me.” He glances pointedly at the table.