Run to Him: The Full Novel: A Domination/Submission Alpha Male Billionaire Suspenseful Romance (The Billionaire's Beck and Call Book 4) (13 page)

He pinned my hands above my head, kissing me hard as he fucked me, right then and there, in the middle of the driveway. I bucked up against him, my hips urging him on as he plunged deeper and deeper, the feel of him reverberating through me with each hard thrust.

He bit my neck, and I called out his name, cumming so hard my legs shook. He laughed and fucked me even harder, riding me as I came apart around him. My knee hit the steering wheel as I shook around him, my pussy milking him as he came with me, shuddering in my arms—my lover, my friend, my fiancé—my incredible, gorgeous Max.

I was his, and he was mine, and it was so, so
right
.

The horn blared as the sun set over Pierce Manor, hazard lights flashing over the empty driveway, our laughter echoing through the car as we held one another tight, knowing we never had to let go, not for as long as we lived.

~The End~

Keep reading… Part 1 of “Sworn to Him: The Billionaire’s Beck and Call, Book Five” is up next!

Sworn to Him, Part 1: Caught

(The Billionaire’s Beck and Call, Book Five)

Lilly

Stealing’s easy.

It’s living honestly that’s hard, which is why I stick with what I know. I was taught how to lift a wallet before I learned how to throw a ball or ride a bike, and over the years I got damn good at it.

They say if you’re good at something, you should make a living out of it, and you’ll never work a day in your life… or something like that. Who the hell knows what normal folk do, with their 9-to-5’s and their white picket fences? I sure ain’t one of them, and I make my way the best way I know how.

That’s how I came to be in possession of the wallet of Mr. Damien Black, billionaire playboy, on that fateful June day, and how he suckered me into being
his
.

Normally, I wouldn’t spit on a man like him if he were on fire, even if he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life. Folks like him and folks like me didn’t mix, and that was that. Well, usually.

But when I bumped into him as we waited in a crowd together at the crosswalk, we made eye contact for the briefest of moments.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, palming his wallet.

My eyes flicked up to his, and for the span of a heartbeat, I was mesmerized, caught in his dark gaze. He looked like the kind of person you’d only see in the movies—too beautiful to be real—and I stood there, my blue eyes locked with his. I stood there longer than I should.

Then, the signal changed, and I tore my gaze away, trying to work my way back into the crowd, away from the tall, muscular man in the expensive suit who I’d just relieved of his money. I tugged my ragged baseball cap down lower, and slipped his wallet into my hoody where it snuggled in with several others I’d lifted that day.

I usually tried not to let anyone get a good look at me, or draw attention to myself, and I swore under my breath as I ducked into an alley, angry at myself for staring at him for so long, like an idiot.

I jogged down the alley, toward the light of the next street, and almost made it, when I felt the hand slam down on my shoulder, grabbing a handful of my sweatshirt and stopping me short.

“Just where do you think
you’re
going?”

The voice in my ear was low, gruff, and dangerous.

I froze, my heart in my throat, then tried to twist out of the man’s grip. He held me fast, then spun me around to face him. I looked up into those same dark eyes, now narrowed as he looked me over.

“In a hurry to spend my money, are we?”

He had waves of dark hair pushed back from his handsome face, his jaw hard and chiseled, those mesmerizing eyes of his glinting coldly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

I pulled again, trying to get out of that iron grip, but it was no use. He held me fast. He flipped off my baseball cap, freeing my choppy brown hair. I blew my bangs out of my face and glared at him, hoping to intimidate him. It didn’t appear to be working.

“So you
are
a girl,” he said. “And a beauty, at that. What exactly are you doing stealing people’s wallets, little lady?”

“I ain’t no
lady
,” I growled.

I reached for my hat, but he jerked it away, just out of arm’s reach. I growled, trying to pull away, but he held my wrist in an iron grip.

“Mm, I can see that,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “A little rough around the edges…”

“Let me GO!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “If I let you steal from me, then what’s next? I just start handing money out to random criminals I meet on the streets? I can’t have that, Lady.”

He bent down and swept me, screaming, over his shoulder, like I weighed no more than a kitten.

“No, I’m afraid I have to teach you a lesson,” he said, and began carrying me off through the alley. “Scream again, and I’ll turn you over to the cops so fast your head will spin.”

I shut my mouth, tears of anger burning behind my eyes as I bounced along, the wallets I lifted poking me in the ribs as he carried me, God-knows-where. I thought about the knife I had strapped to my ankle, tucked just inside my boot, and vowed to use it as soon as this fucker set me down.

Just because I was small, didn’t mean I couldn’t defend myself.

I didn’t get as far as I did on these mean streets without knowing how to take care of myself, especially against asshole men who tried to control me.

If this bastard thought he had the drop on me, he was about to learn a very nasty lesson.

***

Damien

And to think, when I woke up this morning, head splitting from the wild night before, I worried today might be boring.

Then again, when you were a billionaire with nothing to do except whatever you pleased, that was always your greatest fear: that boredom would creep into your life with no cure in sight. When you’ve seen it all and done it all, every party tends to look the same—every supermodel blends in with all the others, and each bottle of fine champagne is identical to the last. And in the end, all you have to show for your day is a hangover and the fact that you kept boredom at bay for one more day… barely.

But this—this little thief with her big dolls eyes and her tight little body squirming in my arms—this was something new. Something
exciting
.

No one ever dared cross me, the heir to the Black family’s steel empire, or my family, for that matter. We ran this town, and everything and everyone knew it. No one messed with Damien Black… which is why I couldn’t just let this little lady go.

No, no. She was
far
too interesting to just set free.

And beneath those baggy clothes and boy’s baseball cap, she was far,
far
too pretty…

My dick stirred in my pants as I thought about what might be under all those layers. I squeezed her tight over my shoulder, and felt her kick, her fists pounding my back.

God, did I love a woman with some fight in her!

Getting pussy was easy, but getting someone who could hold my attention was something else, altogether.

“Where the
fuck
are you taking me, you asshole?!”

“Now, now,” I said, walking swiftly to my waiting car. “Language. Ladies don’t speak that way, do they?”

“I told you,” she growled, thrashing against me. “I. Ain’t. No. Lady!”

I chuckled, carrying her easily to the car and opening the back. I slid her into the backseat and climbed in after. I slid open the partition and spoke to the driver.

“Back to the penthouse, Jeffrey.”

“Very good, Sir.”

I slid the window closed again as the car rumbled away from the curb, and turned to my feisty little captive.

“Where are you taking me,” she said, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared up at me. “Are you some kind of psycho ax murderer?”

I laughed, then, and smiled at her, tilting my head to look at her better.

“What do
you
think?”

“How the fuck should I know! You look like you could be the type!”

“Oh?” I leaned in close. “And what type is that?”

She stared back at me, instead of flinching away.

“You know,” she said. “Serial killer types are either fat pig farmers or handsome, rich-looking types, like Ted Bundy.”

I sat back, grinning.

“So, you think I’m handsome?”

I flashed my dimples, which were always a hit with the ladies, but the little thief just grimaced at me.

“Are you kidnapping me or what?”

“Are you going to give me my wallet back?”

I looked her up and down, wondering where she stashed it after she took it off me.

“I
said
I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fucking Perv.”

“You did say that,” I said, smiling to myself.

It was going to be a lot of fun breaking this one, I could tell.

We pulled up to the hotel I was staying in, and I pulled her out by the wrist again, tugging her alongside me past the doormen to the elevators.

“Come along,” I said. “And remember: If you’re a good little girl, I won’t turn you in.”

“You better not touch me,” she spat, “Or I’ll fuck you up hard so your own mother won’t recognize you.”

“Charming,” I said, and ushered her in to the empty elevator.

The doors slid closed, and I turned to her, hoping to get to the bottom of where the little minx was hiding my cash, only to see her darting down, reaching for something in her boot.

Instantly, my reflexes kicked in, and my arm shot out, blocking her knife with my forearm. Thank Christ Krav Maga classes were one of the things I used to stave off boredom, or I might have been taking a trip to the hospital, or worse—the morgue.

“My, my, but you’re a violent little thing!”

I twisted her wrist, making her cry out and drop the blade, and realized my heart was pounding in my throat. I grinned like a maniac.

This is fucking
fantastic
…

I hadn’t felt so alive since I helped my friend Maxwell get his girl out of a bad situation a few months back, and before that, it had been years since anyting this exciting had happened to me in my sheltered, rich-boy life. God, but this girl was something else!

I pocketed the blade, and pulled her close, pressing her back against me, and holding her arms to her sides. I heard her gasp, and felt her stiffen in my arms. I wondered if she could feel
me
stiffen against her as I felt her warm little body rub against mine.

She smelled like something heavenly, and strangely familiar… something I couldn’t quite place, but that sent the blood flowing right to my cock. Sweet and feminine, despite her slouchy, boyish appearance.

“Listen,” I said, my lips inches from her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Understand?”

I felt her shiver against me, feeling my breath against her neck, then saw her nod.

“What do you want from me?”

“Just what’s mine.”

The elevator slid open at the top floor, and I marched her down the hall to my room—the Presidential Suite I’d been occupying since my father kicked me out of the family mansion two months back after a particularly unruly party. I think he’d hoped I’d learn some responsibility being on my own, but with unlimited spending money, room service, and my own driver, what more could I want? In fact, I preferred the privacy.

Especially since I tended to like my sex loud, rough, and kinky as fuck.

Now, I didn’t have to go to any clubs to have it like I wanted it, but could bring willing women here to discipline to my heart’s content. And they were always willing… at least, those who knew who I was, and wanted their chance at the sweet life.

Fat chance of that happening, though.

I’d rather die than settle down with one of those gold-digging groupies. They were good for a hard fuck or two, but past that? They bored me, and boredom was the soul killer.

The last thing I wanted to do was end up like my old man: married for 25 years to a woman he barely tolerated, living in separate wings of the mansion, working himself to death just to keep feeling relevant.

It was pathetic.

That would never be me. I’d make sure of that.

I opened the door and pushed the naughty little thief inside, grinning like a wolf circling his prey.

This was going to be interesting…

***

Lilly

The door closed behind us with a loud
click
, locking me in with this man—this
maniac
.

He turned to me, eyeing me with a smirk on his face that made me shiver. What was he going to do with me? Being without my knife made me feel naked. Vulnerable.

There was nothing I hated more.

“Look, asshole,” I said. “For the last time--I didn’t steal your money!”

“Oh?”

He crossed to me, reaching out for the bottom of my sweatshirt. I pulled away, and felt the wallets shift in the interior pockets I’d sewn in, bulging at weird angles against the fabric.

“Is that why you were so eager to avoid the cops? Because you’re innocent?”

He laughed and grabbed for my waist. I screeched, but he gave me a quick pat down, then pulled away, nodding.

“That’s what I thought. Empty your pockets, little lady.”