Driving Stick (Bride of the Billionaire)

1. Grayson

1

Caleb

I wake up as I normally do – with a nice firm ass pressed up against my thighs and a mess of hair on the pillow next to me. My head hurts from last night, and I rub my eyes and open them to the sight of the gorgeous naked body next to me.

She stirs in her sleep. Shit, what was her name? Karen? Carmen? Kristen?

I shrug, yawn and swing my legs out of bed. Not like it matters. I won’t be seeing her again after this anyway.

Sure, she’s pretty – in a country bumpkin kind of way – but when we met at the bar last night and I told her who I was, I could see it in her eyes; she only wanted me for my money.

And that’s no surprise. That’s just one of the perks of being a 31-year-old CEO worth 3 billion dollars. But at the same time, it’s also one of the major drawbacks. I mean, how would you like it if you never knew whether a girl liked you for you or not?

I stretch, and as I head into the bathroom, I hear hurried footsteps and someone cursing under their breath. I push open the door to see a girl – Jamie? Janine? – wearing nothing but a pair of boy-short panties and a ratty old bra, stuffing a wad of cash into her cleavage. A wad of cash she just pulled from my wallet.

“Caleb! Hey, I was just…uh…”

“Robbing me blind?” Rolling my eyes, I move to the sink. She almost trips over herself getting out of my way. “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

It’s a shit move on her part, but I don’t blame her. Things up here in Upstate New York can be pretty slow. From what I remember about last night, these girls both waitress at a dive bar that’s home to mostly local farmers and truckers. I could have them arrested, but what’s the point really?

Janine – or maybe it was Jenny – wastes no time; she rushes into the bedroom, wakes up her friend, and they both quickly get dressed as I brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair.

“Have a good one!” I call out as they both rush out the door and slam it closed behind them. All right, time to get out of here and back to Manhattan.

Still shaking my head, I pull on my T-shirt and jeans and go outside to find my driver Brian – which I do. I find him jumping into the Rolls with the thief and her girlfriend. He catches my eye, and I don’t even see a flicker of guilt.

I hear one of the girls shriek triumphantly as he hits the gas and speeds out of the lot.

Whatever. I’ve got tracking in the car. They’ll be picked up and hauled off to jail. I knew Brian had a bit of a drinking problem and probably should have fired him last month when he showed up drunk to drive me to one of my meetings. But his mom has cancer and I knew they needed the money, so I kept him on.

Oh, well. I’ll deal with them later. But for now, I need a ride back to the city.

I pull out the Uber app and put in the address of the penthouse. There’s only one driver in the area, Desiree, and she’s five minutes away. I tap confirm, head back inside, and by the time I’ve washed up and got my things together, she’s pulling into the parking lot.

“Desiree?” I call out as I approach. Through the glass, I see her waving happily. She seems nice already, except for the pair of bimbo-sunglasses she’s wearing. I open the door, slide my bag in the back and hop in.

I’m greeted by what has to be the best smell I’ve ever smelled in my life. A mixture of orange and chocolate. It washes over me, instantly getting my attention. I’ve never been a fan of chocolate really, but suddenly I’m salivating. And when I get a good look at the girl in the driver’s seat beside me, I’m practically foaming at the mouth.

Her body is phenomenal. She’s only wearing an old black T-shirt and a pair of dusty khakis, but she’s got a figure you could see through a burlap sack. The cotton of her shirt is stretched thin over her plump breasts, and as my eyes move down, I see she’s got a pair of birthing hips on her that wake up something deep inside me that I’ve never felt before.

Shit. Am I actually thinking about getting this girl pregnant?

“Hi, I’m Desiree,” she says. I almost don’t hear her, and it takes me a second to acknowledge her.

“Caleb. Caleb…” My voice trails off. If I give her my last name, she might recognize it and figure out who I am. And based on my experience with women, I can guess how that might change the way she acts around me. “Just call me Caleb.”

Desiree laughs slightly as she puts the car in gear and pulls away from the motel. When the tires hit the road, her tits bounce, and I feel myself starting to get hard beneath my pants. Suddenly my headache isn’t bothering me so much…