Babysitting the Billionaire (8 page)

“For what?”

“For a penguin!”

She frowned. “They’re both wrong. They have tails.”

He threw up his hands and turned away from her. “They
can, too, tell the difference. I just ran a field test with two subjects, and
they both know it’s wrong. Fix it.” There was a pause. “So be it. Get me Meri
on the phone.” He pressed his ear, disconnecting the call. “Meri is in
India
, with the
secondary artists. The ones who have never seen a penguin.”

“This is the new addition to the game?”

“Supposed to be. Guess we’ll be going with ‘unexpected
delays’ at the cons this month.”

She looked at the images again. “It shouldn’t be that
hard a fix.”

He looked past her, to the clock on the wall. “Still an
hour before they’ll bring us breakfast. You should go back to bed.”

She looked at him steadily. “My thoughts and feelings
haven’t changed.”

Suddenly, all his attention was directed at her. Even
his gaze alone could make her hot.

“Mine either.” He took the half-full glass from her hand
and downed the rest of the juice.

“That’s mine.”

“Then come take it back.” He raised his eyebrows in
clear challenge.

She rose to it. Scooping her hand up and over his belt,
she pulled him close. Their lips met, their tongues, and it was last night all
over again. Except better.

She tugged at his shirt, and it slipped free of his
slacks. Finally, her palms touched skin, and she thrilled to the shiver they
touched off in him.

His mouth possessed hers, and she gave him what he
wanted, everything, willingly, wantonly. Excitement built behind her closed
eyes and down her spine. Just kissing him made her wet.

He slid a palm over her hip, under the shirt of her pajamas,
and her knees buckled. They sank slowly, him supporting her, to the plush
carpet. The angle was wrong, and her mouth fell away from his.

His eyes were dark and large, his mouth so mobile, his
breaths heavy. She’d done that. She smiled, despite her own heavy breathing.

“Miss Reed, might I show you my etchings? I have them
there in my bedroom.”

“You mean your condoms?”

“Those, too. May I?”

She nodded, and he swept her into his arms. Careful of
her head, he carried her down the short hall and kicked open the bedroom door.
The room looked as if no one had stayed in it.

“You make your own bed?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, tipping her to her feet by the
bed so he could pull the covers away. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled
her to face him between his legs. “You’re sure?”

“You have to ask?” He couldn’t see?

“I need to be sure. I don’t usually do this, and I don’t
think you do, either. I don’t want to be something you regret.”

She’d regret if they didn’t move on with the program right
now. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” His mouth softened in relief. “I’m so hungry for
you.” He pushed off the terry robe and touched one of the toucans patterning
May’s pajamas. “Yours?”

“My college roommate worked in fabrics. We
collaborated.”

“She has good taste in fabric.” He traced the curve of
her breast through the fabric. “So soft.” She arched into his touch. He made
short work of the buttons holding the shirt together in the front. First his
palm, and then his tongue took her in as his other palm warmed her other
breast.

His tongue was magic, and she was hungry, too. She tried
to lift his shirt over his head, but he had to leave her breast to do it, and
she groaned. He took her mouth, hard. As her breasts touched his bare chest,
she could have sworn she felt sparks, a chilled heat.

He tugged her hips, not breaking the kiss, and she
crawled onto his lap. Too eager, they tipped back onto the bed, her kneeling on
top of him. He lifted a leg and locked his knee behind her rear to hold her
there. Her hands explored his chest, his sides, his neck, his hair. His ears
were ticklish, and as he wriggled he slid his hand over her ass, gripping,
pushing, grinding her into him.

She needed her pants off, now. She tightened her thighs
and threw herself to the left on the bed, pulling him with her. As soon as he
started to roll, she let go with her legs and scooted the annoying pajama
bottoms out of the way.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” He palmed the side of
her head, and planted a kiss on her crown. “What next, my queen?”

May blushed. He wanted her to talk? Couldn’t he just
read her mind? She took his hand and pressed it into her belly button. Then she
turned their hands so the fingers pointed down, and slid them down, into the
thatch and over the nub, the hungriest part of her at the moment.

He scooted closer to her, pressing into her side from
armpit to foot. She squirmed herself to lock into him. They fit perfectly.
Amazing.

She started him making that blessed figure-eight
movement and then lifted her hand, reaching for his belt buckle. “Not yet,” he
said.

“Just the belt,” she said, undoing it. It took quite a
while to work it out of the loopholes, as what he was doing to her was so distracting.
She pulled her hand back and over her head, forgetting to let go of the belt.
It slid off the opposite side of the bed.

“Next?”

“Fingers, inside, right underneath. And tongue, here.”
She pointed at her mouth. He shifted, and then took her in both places at once.
She sighed in pleasure, almost overcome in her eagerness to track all the
sensations.

Then he started circling a nipple in the same rhythm,
and she started her happy squirm.

All of a sudden, it was too much. She nipped at his
upper lip, and he pulled away. He did not seem to mind the fine sheen of sweat
he’d induced in her. In fact, he was looking mighty proud of himself. She
needed to do something about that.

Later.
“More fingers, there,” she said.

“My lady,” he murmured against her neck, pressing kisses
down, and into the cleft between her neck and her chest. She bucked. He’d found
the trigger, deep inside.

“Slow, and often,” she said, and then let go and let the
sensations wash over her. Her blood was buzzing, her bones humming, her muscles
singing. And her voice, her voice, screaming.

When she came back, he still had that grin on his face.
It brought her right back to the brink. “Yeah, yeah, you did that. Let’s see
how you like it.”

She pushed him onto his back and sat up to undo the
buttons on his jeans.

“Commando?”

“A guy can hope.”

She slid her hands around his hips, and he helped shimmy
them off. His cock, full and nice and not circumcised, bobbed toward her. Head
at his knees, she pushed the slacks to the floor, and then looked back at him.

“Use your words,” she teased.

“Hands, first.” He reached for the night stand, opening
the drawer. It held packets of condoms, a three ounce bottle of lube, and the
Book of Mormon. “Toss me a condom, but start with the lube.”

She smelled the lube.
Unscented, good.
She poured some in her hands and held them
together to warm it. Before she could turn back to the job at hand, he spoke
again.

“Give me another condom. Give me all of them.” His voice
sounded strained, which was a little odd since she hadn’t even touched him yet.

Starting with a loose grip at his base, she spread the
lube the way she would a fine paint on a priceless vase. She bent down to his
level, to be sure she was being thorough. So she didn’t see his face, but she
heard the groan from his belly first.

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it. Keep going. But it’s all we can do.”

She looked up at him, surprised. He waved the little
packets, and then tossed them off the bed. “Expired. Every one.”

She’d never heard of such a thing. “Maybe they’re like
milk and still good after a few days.”

“You want to take that risk? After what happened to
you?” He crunched up and took her head in both hands. Rolling back down, he
carried her with him. The motion pulled her hand up and over the sensitive
crown. He bucked, and smiled up at her. “Like that.”

She did it again, and again, watching his gaze go hazy,
his mouth go slack. Then she tightened on him, and he surged up, taking her
mouth with such passion she had to push to her knees to keep her balance. He
had such a lovely, pushy mouth. That’s when she had the idea.

Kissing him, she pushed his shoulders until he was
propped on his side. Then she dropped to her same side, face to his swollen
member. She palmed his sweet balls and flicked her tongue on his tip. This
time, when he bucked and wanted to kiss her, she lifted her leg and, good lord,
he took the bait, and her core, with that marvelous tongue.

May had to concentrate to give him the pleasuring he
deserved. Luckily, they both responded to the same 6/8 tempo. She felt herself
roiling up again, close to coming, but he wasn’t ready. She flicked her hips,
trying to get out of range of his mouth, but he clamped an arm on her hip,
holding her fast. In surprise, she accidentally scraped his shaft with her
teeth. He came yelling, too, the sound reverberating down her vagina, wrapping
around her womb. Pumping, pumping, his cum was salty-sweet going down.

May was pretty sure she was wearing the same shit-eating
grin he had been earlier.

He flopped onto his back, spent and glowing and grinning
just as hard as she was. “So that’s how you Americans do it.”

“I just thought of it now. The shape of it. Like
penguins.”

He rubbed his forehead, and then let his hand flop to
the bed. “Penguins?”

“I can’t explain.”

“Try. For me.”

“It went from penguins, to yin-yang, to kissing, to no
condoms, to sixty-nine.” She pivoted so they were face to face. His eyes were
still a little glazed, his mouth a soft smile.

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

“Could I paint you?” Those eyes would be tough, but the
body, all line.

“No.” He softened the blow with a kiss. “Could I paint
you?”

“Do you paint?”

“No. But my software could make you into a penguin.”

“I’d rather you made me breakfast.”

“Done. Then I have to check in with work. Then we go buy
condoms.”

“Sounds good to me.” It sounded great, actually, but
something was nagging her. “Oh, we have to go to the foundation at noon.”

“Foundation at noon. Then condoms.” He nuzzled her neck,
biting it gently yet pleasurably possessively. “Lots of condoms.”

The idea made her warm all over.

****

It took only a few minutes for May to show Beau the
foundation’s office. A simple, open floor plan for the plebes, with an open
stair in the center to a gallery where the bigwigs had their offices and held
the board meetings.

Beau frowned when he saw her cubicle. “Underneath the
stair?”

“I didn’t want the one by the window. Because of the
glare. And I’m here only two days a week, anyway.” She tried not to feel
defensive as she draped the strap of her purse over the back of her chair.

“Two days? So they don’t have to pay your insurance.”

“No. I’m full-time, but I do some work from home. As you
know.”

“On that relic from the last century I saw in your
apartment. I was afraid to turn it on.”

She counted to five, then ten. What bug was up his ass?
“Just because it can’t play the latest Cranky Penguins doesn’t make my machine
worthless. Apple’s stopped making those workstations, anyway.”

He scanned the room. “Everyone looks sick,
undernourished. Don’t any of you go outside?”

“Okay, I think it’s time for your meeting.”

His attention snapped back to her. “My meeting? What
about you?”

“I’m not the special-big funder, remember?”

“No, you’re the babysitter.”

That was too much, especially since it wasn’t two hours
ago she had her hands all over him. “Wait.” She put a hand on his elbow and led
him toward the coffee room. Bad idea, as it was nearly lunchtime, and two of
her, yes, cadaverous co-workers were there already. She steered him on into the
copy room. “We only need one copier now, since we’ve gone to an all-green
management system.”

She pushed him into the cubby-sized room. “What is the
bug up your ass?”

“I don’t like the way they treat the people here.”

“You don’t know how they treat the people here. You know
all this from just looking at us?”

“All I have to look at is you. Every step we got closer
to this place, you slowed down, your face got more closed, and you stopped
talking.”

“Okay, that’s me. That’s no reflection on the
foundation. We do good work.”