The Billionaire's Obsession

Jack

Ican’t tear my eyes off her. I’m too busy memorizing the scene in front of me—the curves of her breasts, the way her fingers slid down her belly to her pussy. I want to drag her to me and lick every inch of her.

One second I’m sitting, the next my arm is around her waist, dragging her to me. She’s warmer than the fire and fits against my body so perfectly.

“Jack,” she whimpers.

“Charlotte.” I feel my cock harden against her as she shifts slightly.

She swallows and pushes her hands against my chest. I arch an eyebrow at her, then chuckle. “You stripped for me, but don’t want me to touch you?”

“I wasn’t sure that you would.”

“And now that I am, what are you going to do?” I dare.

She blushes hard and bites her lip.

Fuck, I want to taste her, make her moan and whimper for me. I slide my hand down her spine, feeling her soft skin under my fingers. I pull her closer so she knows exactly how hard I am for her, then I lean forward and run my nose along her throat.

She fists my shirt in her hands. Definitely not a no.

“Tell me what you want, or…”

“You’ll what?” she pants. “Keep teasing me without doing a damn thing?”

I groan and grab her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. I run my thumb over her bottom lip and lean in closer, still trying to feel her out.

“See, no follow-through,” she murmurs, her lips brushing mine ever so slightly.

I growl and bite her bottom lip. She whimpers, her nails scraping against my chest through my shirt. I kiss her hard, sliding my tongue along the valley of her lips. As soon as she kisses me back, I grab a handful of her hair. I jerk her head back, determined to devour and make the most of the moment. Her lips finally part for me. I stroke my tongue along hers and pull her tighter against me.

She shivers and clutches me more tightly, panting whenever my lips free hers. I lick across her jaw and bite her throat. So delicious, slightly salty skin to pair with her sweet mouth. I want to feel every inch of her, touch and explore and taste.

I meet her eyes and she slides her hands around my head and pulls me down to kiss me again. Groaning, I drop on the couch with her. I don’t give a damn which of us is wet or dry. I just need her closer.

I stroke down her body, wrapping her thigh around my hip. She moans, her body arching to welcome me against her. I grind against her pussy, kissing and licking deeper into her mouth. The sounds she makes, the way she drags her nails down my back, her whimpers whenever I pull my mouth away for a breath drive me crazy.

I slid my hand between us and cup her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between my fingers, enjoying her reactions. So sweet and honest, nothing fake about her red face, molten eyes, or raw lips.

“Fuck, Jack.”

“Is that a request or a review?” I tease, gently biting the top of her breast.

A hoarse laugh echoes from her throat, then a moan as I lick across her nipple. I can’t resist, I suck and swirl my tongue as my hand inches down her body, to the place between her hips. I bite her nipple gently, just as I slip my hand between her legs.

“Wait!” Charlotte yelps, her body suddenly becoming rigid.

I freeze, then slowly pull away from her, thinking what could be wrong. Isn’t this what she wanted? “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

She manages to get out from under me and covers her body, glancing to the side like she’s just woken up from a trance.

“What are we doing?” she asks. “We hate each other.”

I adjust myself and reach for her hand. “Does it look like I hate you?”

She chews her lip. I can see the hesitation in her face and could practically hear her brain whirring. Whatever we were doing, it’s over now. The moment is gone. It’s probably for the best. I lost my head there for a second, but good thing Charlotte was able to keep hers. Though how she was able to stop that train, I have no clue. If she hadn’t put a stop to it, she would have been coming by now, forgetting everything but how good I was making her feel. But I’ve never forced a woman, and I won’t force Charlotte.

“You look ready to run, Charlotte. At least let me get you some clothes.”

“Okay.” She flinches away from me as I walk around her.

“Sit down, take a few breaths. Once you’re dressed, you’re free to go.”

“Not going to hold my clothing hostage?” She gives me sarcasm with the smallest bite.

“I won’t. I’m trying to give you a better impression, remember?”

Her clothes are warm, slightly damp in the dryer, but definitely better than what they had been. I carry them over to her as she tries to cover herself with the towel, as if I didn’t just get to see her completely naked. I have to admit it’s cute. Her cheeks flushed red and she keeps her eyes on me. Such wide eyes, so innocent and vulnerable, so different from the wickedness from a few minutes ago. She snatches the clothes from me and runs off to the bathroom.

I chuckle and shake my head. Hamlet meows at me, but I’m completely distracted. It’s not quite so easy to hate her at the moment. Even as she mumbles excuses, gives me nervous glances, and then slams the front door before I can get a word out, I smile.

I run my finger over my bottom lip and shake my head. If we do hate each other this much, then why was that the best kiss I’ve ever had?

I clean up bit by bit, then realize I can still smell Charlotte on me. Something floral, but clean and light. Groaning, I rub my cock through my pants and head to the shower. Even the steamy water can’t calm me.

As I rub my cock, I brace myself on the wall. Charlotte fills my head, which makes me hate her just a little more. She’s not easy to forget or ignore and I want her to be. It would be so much easier if I could just wash her out of my life.

I want her gone. But I also want her under me, on top of me, wrapped around me. Groaning, I stroke faster, imagining fucking her in front of the fire. Savoring each moan, taking my time to explore every inch of her body, staking my claim.

Her hoarse voice in my ear, begging for more, goading me until I just have to, until I…

I come in explosive spasms. I slump against the wall and exhale heavily. Once I’m dressed and in front of the fire, with only the sound of the TV for comfort, I can think more clearly.

Not that it helps at all. Logic tells me I should walk away, just like I have planned from the get-go. After all, if Charlotte spends so much time perfecting her image online, how real is she, really? And even if I caught a glimpse of the “real” Charlotte, that side of her might be locked away and kept quiet more often than not.

It reminds me too much of my ex, my ex-best friend, and the hell I promised I’d never go through again.

But my emotions don’t agree with any of that. Even when we argue, there’s chemistry between us, making it all the more intense. She’s quick witted and determined to make it on her own—which I appreciate.

Tonight, seeing her completely raw and genuine has me confused and wired.

Realistically, I need to stop putting so much thought into it. I’ll just talk to her about it tomorrow and then move forward, in whichever direction feels best. Which works, until I lie in bed, close my eyes, and find myself falling back into the same looping train of thought.

Her lips. Her smile. Her, dripping wet. Her, dropping the towel. Her body. Her taste.

It’s a sleepless night and I feel it in the morning. I take a shower, get ready for the day, and have double my normal amount of coffee just to feel ready to leave the apartment.

I take on the day after doing basic rounds, checking messages, and going over basic parts of the manager’s job. In fact, I feel relieved, less stressed than I have been since meeting Charlotte.

Until I get to the marina and see a familiar woman stepping off a boat in the arms of a man I thought I’d never see again. My ex-girlfriend and my ex-best friend. Together? She leans forward and kisses his cheek, then pushes up her glasses when she notices me.

She saunters toward me, her hips swaying as she pushes her glasses up on her head. I’m speechless. How does a man prepare to see the woman he once planned on proposing to? How can she smile at me like that after shutting the box, telling me “sorry,” and leaving before I could even get the question out?

“Jack.” Her voice is melodious, tempting.

“Serena.” I nod to her, reminding myself that I have to be professional. “Are you members of my yacht club?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But we heard that you have fair rates and that the restaurant is delicious. How could we have known that you’d actually be here?”

I nod. She looks me over as I do the same. She’s tan, tall, and elegant. She leans her head to the side, her rich brown curls falling over her shoulder. “Are you all alone out here?”

“Not at all,” I assure her, lying as easily as I breathe.

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want things to be awkward.”

Then I catch the ring. A huge diamond, at least three times the size of the one I’d bought her. I open my mouth to say something when Max steps up beside Serena. He drapes his arm over her shoulders. I’d always suspected he was interested. At least he waited for her to turn me down to cut me out.

“Jack. Long time.” He offers me his hand.

I glower at him despite my smile. “I hope you both enjoy the restaurant.”

“Come now. Let’s catch up. It’s been what, seven years? We’ve both grown up.” He chides, despite the victorious smile he gives me.

“Please, Jack,” Serena purrs. “And you can introduce us to…whoever’s in your life.”

“My fiancée.” It falls out before I can reel it in.

Serena and Max exchange a look, then Serena smiles—the kind of smile I know too well. The condescending kind that people give children to humor them. “Of course. Your fiancée. Let’s do lunch, yes?”

“I’m sure you’ll know what’s best on the menu, after all.” Max winks at me. “You have good taste.”

Serena elbows him, but giggles and blows me a kiss as they walk along the boardwalk.

I walk along the yachts as I try to figure out how I’m going to deal with this. I’m not a fan of lying, I rarely condone it, but it came out faster than the truth. Now I have to find a fiancée for the day or else look pitiful.

I should have told them I’m living the bachelor dream. But it’s too late to take it back now. That will just make me look even more pathetic. I rub my hand through my hair and groan as I see the obvious solution.

Unfortunately, the obvious way isn’t going to be the easy way in this case.

I need to find Charlotte.