The Billionaire's Embrace
Page 55
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She was magnificent.
She quieted at last, and I turned off the vibrator and slowly, very carefully, drew my fingers from her body.
She looked up at me with her dark eyes, her face soft, body limp with lassitude. I couldn’t resist. I bent and kissed her, and she returned the kiss eagerly, opening her mouth to mine, our tongues sliding together.
I had to have her. Waiting any longer was impossible. My need was suddenly urgent, overwhelming all rational thought. I unzipped my trousers and drew forth my aching cock, dark red and wet at the tip from waiting so long. I fumbled in my pocket for the condom I had stashed there earlier and rolled it down my cock. And then I lifted one of Regan’s thighs out of the way, my hand hooked beneath her knee, and plunged into her in one smooth stroke.
We cried out in tandem, her at the intrusion and me at the feeling of her around me, tight and hot. I rolled my hips once, experimentally, and knew that I wouldn’t last long. Regan had that effect on me. Everything about having sex with her—the way she smelled, the sounds she made, the way her body opened around me—seemed designed to make me lose control as quickly as possible.
I lowered myself so that I lay directly on top of her, our bodies pressed together. I wished now that I had taken the time to remove both of our clothing, so that I could feel her bare skin against mine, but it was enough to be close to her, to kiss her neck and rock against her, thrusting slowly, making it last as long as I could.
It wasn’t long. I was too aroused, and she kept making small, contented noises that utterly did me in. I buried my face against her neck and let go, and my orgasm poured over me like a rising tide.
I came back to myself several long moments later and reached up to untie Regan’s hands. Then I staggered off the bed and into the bathroom, feeling like I had been hit by a truck. Death by orgasm. I discarded the condom, and washed my hands and splashed some water on my face
Regan was lying where I had left her, stretching luxuriously, hands clasped together over her head. She gave me a sleepy smile and moved her legs so that I could kneel on the mattress.
“You left me,” she said, mock-pouting.
“I did,” I said. “And then I came back.” I lay down on my side, in the tiny sliver of space between her body and the wall, and turned her so that she was spooned against me, her back to my front.
“So did I,” she said.
I frowned, confused, and then realized: she wasn’t talking about tonight.
“I won’t do it again,” she said.
“You’d better not,” I said. I wrapped my arm around her waist and held her against me, my face buried against her hair. Maybe I shouldn’t have believed her, but I did. If I was being naive, I didn’t care. The joy that I felt, holding her and feeling the warmth of her body, left no room for doubts.
I knew, then, that no matter what happened, there was no turning back for me. Regan was everything I wanted, and I was all in.
Chapter 18
I spent the next two weeks on cloud nine. Regan and I saw each other constantly, every chance we had. She spent more nights than not at my apartment, and would even come over in the evenings after her night classes to have a late dinner with me and watch television. We told each other all of our secrets, both good and bad. We screwed like rabbits, we cooked meals together, and every morning that I woke up with her in my bed, I said a silent thank you to whatever power in the universe had returned her to me.
At first I was afraid that my work would suffer, but instead it benefited from my high spirits and abundant energy. Once, I even caught myself whistling while I did paperwork: truly an indication that the end times had arrived. I finalized a merger in record time, invested in three promising start-ups, and crushed a small firm that was attempting to poach one of my best executives.
I didn’t, however, have time to maintain my personal relationships as much as certain parties would have liked. Namely Carolina and my mother, both of whom eventually resorted to calling my office phone in the hopes that I would pick up. I didn’t; I had Nancy take all of my calls. If there was one thing I hated, it was having my train of thought interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.
It wasn’t that I was deliberately trying to avoid them. It was simply that I had a finite amount of mental processing power, and the portion of it that wasn’t dedicated to work was currently fully occupied with Regan.
I did manage to maintain my weekly appointments with Nelson. The weather was finally getting warmer, spring inexorably rushing in, and I took him to the batting cages on Randall’s Island. He wasn’t particularly athletic—I sympathized; neither was I—but he seemed to enjoy swinging his bat around and yelling, and I was more than willing to indulge him. I was less than pleased, though, when he squinted up at me and said, “You’re acting all happy. You got a new girlfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re ten, Nelson. What do you know about girlfriends?”
He rolled his eyes right back. “Yeah, I’m ten, not two. And I have a TV, and my cousins tell me stuff. I’m not a baby.”
I laughed. “You’re right. You’re not a baby. And you’re also right about my girlfriend.” Why lie? I was too happy to keep it to myself.
“I knew it!” he hollered victoriously, and jumped around the batting cage like a manic dog while I laughed.
So Nelson was pleased with me, at least, and Regan, even if I was busy alienating everyone else in my life. I wasn’t particularly concerned about my mother—genetic ties meant she would have to forgive me no matter what—but I felt a periodic twinge of guilt when I saw that Carolina had sent me yet another text message.
It was guilt that motivated me to answer when she called my cell on the one day I had forgotten to silence it. I was in the middle of reading some extremely dull investment reports, and so I allowed myself to be distracted enough to glance at the screen. When I saw Carolina’s name, I sighed, shook my head at myself, and answered.
“Carter, my darling!” Carolina said. “You have been avoiding me.”
“Now why would I do such a thing?” I asked, leaning back in my desk chair and turning to gaze out the window. It had been raining all day, and the upper floors of the building were completely clouded over, so that my view was a blank gray haze. It was like being inside a cloud.
“I cannot possibly think of why, but I have been calling you for two weeks, and nothing,” Carolina said. “You have not totally succumbed to despair, have you? I’ve been worrying about you.”
She quieted at last, and I turned off the vibrator and slowly, very carefully, drew my fingers from her body.
She looked up at me with her dark eyes, her face soft, body limp with lassitude. I couldn’t resist. I bent and kissed her, and she returned the kiss eagerly, opening her mouth to mine, our tongues sliding together.
I had to have her. Waiting any longer was impossible. My need was suddenly urgent, overwhelming all rational thought. I unzipped my trousers and drew forth my aching cock, dark red and wet at the tip from waiting so long. I fumbled in my pocket for the condom I had stashed there earlier and rolled it down my cock. And then I lifted one of Regan’s thighs out of the way, my hand hooked beneath her knee, and plunged into her in one smooth stroke.
We cried out in tandem, her at the intrusion and me at the feeling of her around me, tight and hot. I rolled my hips once, experimentally, and knew that I wouldn’t last long. Regan had that effect on me. Everything about having sex with her—the way she smelled, the sounds she made, the way her body opened around me—seemed designed to make me lose control as quickly as possible.
I lowered myself so that I lay directly on top of her, our bodies pressed together. I wished now that I had taken the time to remove both of our clothing, so that I could feel her bare skin against mine, but it was enough to be close to her, to kiss her neck and rock against her, thrusting slowly, making it last as long as I could.
It wasn’t long. I was too aroused, and she kept making small, contented noises that utterly did me in. I buried my face against her neck and let go, and my orgasm poured over me like a rising tide.
I came back to myself several long moments later and reached up to untie Regan’s hands. Then I staggered off the bed and into the bathroom, feeling like I had been hit by a truck. Death by orgasm. I discarded the condom, and washed my hands and splashed some water on my face
Regan was lying where I had left her, stretching luxuriously, hands clasped together over her head. She gave me a sleepy smile and moved her legs so that I could kneel on the mattress.
“You left me,” she said, mock-pouting.
“I did,” I said. “And then I came back.” I lay down on my side, in the tiny sliver of space between her body and the wall, and turned her so that she was spooned against me, her back to my front.
“So did I,” she said.
I frowned, confused, and then realized: she wasn’t talking about tonight.
“I won’t do it again,” she said.
“You’d better not,” I said. I wrapped my arm around her waist and held her against me, my face buried against her hair. Maybe I shouldn’t have believed her, but I did. If I was being naive, I didn’t care. The joy that I felt, holding her and feeling the warmth of her body, left no room for doubts.
I knew, then, that no matter what happened, there was no turning back for me. Regan was everything I wanted, and I was all in.
Chapter 18
I spent the next two weeks on cloud nine. Regan and I saw each other constantly, every chance we had. She spent more nights than not at my apartment, and would even come over in the evenings after her night classes to have a late dinner with me and watch television. We told each other all of our secrets, both good and bad. We screwed like rabbits, we cooked meals together, and every morning that I woke up with her in my bed, I said a silent thank you to whatever power in the universe had returned her to me.
At first I was afraid that my work would suffer, but instead it benefited from my high spirits and abundant energy. Once, I even caught myself whistling while I did paperwork: truly an indication that the end times had arrived. I finalized a merger in record time, invested in three promising start-ups, and crushed a small firm that was attempting to poach one of my best executives.
I didn’t, however, have time to maintain my personal relationships as much as certain parties would have liked. Namely Carolina and my mother, both of whom eventually resorted to calling my office phone in the hopes that I would pick up. I didn’t; I had Nancy take all of my calls. If there was one thing I hated, it was having my train of thought interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.
It wasn’t that I was deliberately trying to avoid them. It was simply that I had a finite amount of mental processing power, and the portion of it that wasn’t dedicated to work was currently fully occupied with Regan.
I did manage to maintain my weekly appointments with Nelson. The weather was finally getting warmer, spring inexorably rushing in, and I took him to the batting cages on Randall’s Island. He wasn’t particularly athletic—I sympathized; neither was I—but he seemed to enjoy swinging his bat around and yelling, and I was more than willing to indulge him. I was less than pleased, though, when he squinted up at me and said, “You’re acting all happy. You got a new girlfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re ten, Nelson. What do you know about girlfriends?”
He rolled his eyes right back. “Yeah, I’m ten, not two. And I have a TV, and my cousins tell me stuff. I’m not a baby.”
I laughed. “You’re right. You’re not a baby. And you’re also right about my girlfriend.” Why lie? I was too happy to keep it to myself.
“I knew it!” he hollered victoriously, and jumped around the batting cage like a manic dog while I laughed.
So Nelson was pleased with me, at least, and Regan, even if I was busy alienating everyone else in my life. I wasn’t particularly concerned about my mother—genetic ties meant she would have to forgive me no matter what—but I felt a periodic twinge of guilt when I saw that Carolina had sent me yet another text message.
It was guilt that motivated me to answer when she called my cell on the one day I had forgotten to silence it. I was in the middle of reading some extremely dull investment reports, and so I allowed myself to be distracted enough to glance at the screen. When I saw Carolina’s name, I sighed, shook my head at myself, and answered.
“Carter, my darling!” Carolina said. “You have been avoiding me.”
“Now why would I do such a thing?” I asked, leaning back in my desk chair and turning to gaze out the window. It had been raining all day, and the upper floors of the building were completely clouded over, so that my view was a blank gray haze. It was like being inside a cloud.
“I cannot possibly think of why, but I have been calling you for two weeks, and nothing,” Carolina said. “You have not totally succumbed to despair, have you? I’ve been worrying about you.”
