The Billionaire's Girlfriend (3 page)

I had no time to
trace the veiny length of him; barely drawing a breath before he pushed past my lips and into my mouth. I gargled around his length, stretching my mouth wide and moaning into the salt and musk of his skin. He thrust deep, deeper than I was expecting and nearly forced his way down my throat. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I gagged on his length. The wet, sloppy sounds seemed to turn him on even more as he used my hair like reins and dictated a feverish beat.

After a few minu
tes of discomfort chased with the warmth of giving him pleasure, he slowed his thrusts, drawing back until the head of his cock lie just behind my lips, letting me lick and tease the angry purple head with my tongue. From the way his muscles tightened and his breath hitched, I knew that he could have melted in my mouth then and there—and for my infraction, I had no right to expect any more than that. But my body hummed for more, it needed to feel him and touch him from the inside.

With a hollow moan h
e pulled from my mouth and climbed on the bed. I couldn't stop a smile from stretching from my mouth to the very sun that was dancing on the beautiful contours of his body. He was clearly trying to maintain control, his arms flexing as he poised the head of his cock at the edge of my slick heat, his eyes narrowed and stern. But I didn't want control right now. I wanted all of him.

I locked my legs around his waist, pulling him into me, taking every hardened inch in one swift stroke. If my brazen act rubbed him the wrong way he gave no in
dication, rocking into me with a frenzy and a desperation that matched my own. He drove into me, hard, fast, and wild until we were only heated flesh; until we both reached that fever pitch and melted in each other’s arms..

We didn't move from where we lay lengthwise on the bed, still catching our breath
. We were both sweaty and slick against one another, tangled up in love stained sheets.

"That was a pretty ballsy move just now." There was the usual sternness in his voice, but there was something else. Something warm and approving.
“I think I like it when my little sub is defiant every now and then.”

So I decided to bring up the thing we'd avoided since he started introducing me as
a staff publicist to reporters a week ago.

"I don't want you to promote me, Jacob."

He let out a sigh. "Don't be silly, Leila. Of course I'm going to promote you."

I pushed his hand from its place across my stomach and pulled myself to a sitting position. "Don't be dismissive."

He didn't move from his position of leisure, hands tucked behind his head, but his eyes were straight up business. "I'm not being dismissive. You said you were the best. Why shouldn't you have the best job?"

"Because no one will respect me if I go from aide to personal assistant to publicist
in a month."

Business changed to personal as his eyes darkened
. "If anyone says a word-"

"That'll s
how 'em," I scoffed. "’Better treat Leila extra nice or she’ll run and tattle’." I scooted back on the bed, needing to be close enough that he could see how serious I was and how important this was to me. "I need to do this for myself, Jacob. I've wanted to do this job all my life. It's my freaking dream for crissakes."

"Then I'll help you fulfill it," he said simply. "It's settled."

"I don't want a handout," I insisted, my voice rising along with my frustration level. "I want the job on merit, not my relationship status." When it still seemed like I was banging my head against the wall, I took a breath and kicked my legs back off the side of the bed.

I walked over to the window,
looking out at the beautiful lines of the concrete jungle. This city was full of stories. Pages of broken dreams. Tales of unbelievable success. Jacob had his own saga himself—his father wanted him to go in show business, in front of the camera, instead of handling crises behind it. He should have known better than anyone what it meant to make a name for yourself and the power of controlling one’s own destiny.

I turned back to him, cooling my temper
. "I appreciate everything you've done for me babe. Really I do. But I need you to understand how important this is to me."

He sat up and gave me a long pensive look
that rooted me in place. "I need you to understand that it is hard for me to not give someone I love every damn thing under the sun." He raked a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. "But if this is important to you, I'll try and support you."

‘Try’ wasn’t as concrete as I was hoping for, but with Jacob, I knew I’d have to celebrate inches like they were miles.

I breezed through the front doors of Whitmore and Creighton, my heart hammering in my chest. The nerves weren't the same ones that I felt when I came in for the interview,
with my chest tight and butterflies whipping around in my gut, but the same feeling that I stuck out like a sore thumb remained. I was dressed as stylishly as everyone else—wearing a blush colored blouse that had the right amount of femininity and allure, a inky black pencil skirt hung on my curves and nude pumps—but I still felt like I was wearing a costume, playing a role and I didn't quite have the words down.

There was one key difference though
. Before, I gawked at the art and glossy lobby I'd only seen on my television screen. Now,
I
was the one being gawked at. Icy, female eyes gave me the once over before taking another go round in disapproval. With their noses practically touching the ceiling, they were clearly stumped as to why Jacob chose me. The men's gaze lingered hungrily before they realized I wasn't oblivious. They quickly turned away like they expected Jacob's wrath to rain down like hellfire. Even the nice old security guard looked at me with new eyes. It was clear I had my work cut out for me. A dash of favoritism got me through the door and I needed to prove I could do this job.

I stepped into the elevator, gravitating toward the back and keeping my eyes front and center. People petered out at each floor until it was only me rocketing up to the executive floor. It was quiet in the lobby except for the hum of classic
al music and the click of my heels on the glittering floor. I frowned when I saw that Natasha, Jacob's secretary, was nowhere to be found. I was hoping for a quick refresher course and I would need her key to access my office space. Maybe it would be open anyway since it was unoccupied.

I l
et out a small sigh of relief as I twisted the doorknob and pushed into the room. It was as unassuming as I expected. The walls were painted a conservative beige with white crown molding. There was a mahogany corner desk with a Mac Desktop computer perched on top. There was a cube like bookcase on the other wall with small decorative baubles in a handful of nooks.

I trailed
my fingertips along the hardened surface of the desk, trying not to think about the other women that sat behind it. I pulled open my briefcase and pulled out some odds and ends to mark my territory. The others didn’t matter. This was my time and my chance to take on the world.

Even as I sat
my little figurine I got from a tacky souvenir shop outside of Venice (much to Jacob’s chagrin) and a crystal figurine of a sleeping kitten that I got from my father as a child (even though I was deathly allergic to cats), I couldn’t help but notice how inadequate they looked on the glossy wood desk. The high back chair seemed to engulf me as I leaned back into its leathery embrace.

I slumped forward
with a sigh, putting my head on the desk. I’d put on a brave face for him, for everyone, and I knew that I was more than capable to be his personal assistant and more, but I couldn’t help but think about the train wreck with Rachel. While our current client had zero chances of attempting to sabotage my personal and professional livelihood out of unresolved feelings for Jacob, I still had pause. Jacob had never really reprimanded me about my quick temper with Rachel, but I knew that I had to learn to put aside my insecurities and issues for the client. It was Business 101 and in publicity, where appearances were everything, I had to work on my poker face. I had to prove that I was the tenacious worker I’d presented at the interview and not just a quick witted with a bite.

“Ahem.”

I jerked up at the interruption and came face to face with Jacob’s secretary, Natasha. In a white blouse and a pale blue skirt that danced around her knees and equally blue eyes narrowing in distaste, the title ‘Ice Queen’ came to mind.

“Miss Montgomery, I take it?”

I stood up abruptly, clasping my hands awkwardly in front of me. “Yes--I think we met briefly before I went to Italy.”

“What are yo
u doing in here?” she said abruptly, crossing her arms.

I frowned, stepping around the desk. “This is my office.”

“This is the office for the assistant to the CEO.”

“And I
am
the assistant to the CEO,” I said pointedly.

Sh
e propped a hand on her hip. “You want to maintain your position?” The biting rudeness in her voice slowly shifted to curiosity.

“
Why wouldn’t I?” I said, looking at her strangely.

“Well, I’ve seen your resume,” she answered simply. “
You’re overqualified. You don’t really belong in this office.”

“Well, I think this position is a lot better suited
over research aide,” I rebutted, my cheeks flaming angrily. I got that I wasn’t Jacob Whitmore, but her stank attitude was rubbing me all sorts of wrong. “Is there something I could do for you?”

She gave me a smile so frigid that I literally shivered. “Actually, yes. I have some
paperwork for you to sign.”

I followed her back to the main executive lobby, holding my tongue and trying to remember my
whole being respectful and non-confrontational pact I made with myself, but it was hard to swallow Jacob’s secretaries outright disapproval of me. Even as a secretary, she had more social and political capital at Whitmore and Creighton than I did and I needed someone on my side besides the boss if I wanted a pleasant tenure at the company.

I picked at st
raws, trying to find any common ground that I could stick a white flag on. Her head was bowed as she picked through documents on her desk, a flash of green glittering in her ears.

“Your earrings are so pretty,” I offered with a shaky smile. “Are you a Gemini?”

She didn’t even acknowledge my attempt at a compliment, instead, holding out a manila folder. “If you could just sign on the dotted line, I can process it and you can go to the job you worked so tirelessly for.”

I accepted it with a scowl,
not missing the sarcastic tint to her words. I expected paperwork for insurance and benefits. But there was no escaping what I saw with my own two eyes. The documents detailed the forfeiture of my position as Jacob’s personal assistant and a new position as a staff publicist.

My hands, lips, and voice trembled as I read over the bold font over and over again. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“This transfer was approved by Mr. Whitmore, Miss Montgomery. Surely this isn’t news.”

My eyes flashed as I brought them from the paper to her face. “And I’m telling you there’s been a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

Was there an
echo in here? “Yes! I didn’t agree on or ask for any new position.”

“Ah,” she said with a slight, crisp nod. “Just the original promotion from research assistant to personal aide to the CEO then.”

I snapped the folder shut and held it back out to her. “I won’t be needing this.”

“I
’d suggest holding on to it,” she said with a patronizing smirk. “I think we both know that whatever Jacob wants, Jacob gets.”

The first thought that ran through my head was to rip it up and make it rain all over her smug head, but I just gripped the folder tight and turned on my heels, marching back to my office. I was strapped
to a rollercoaster of emotions; careening over fury, dipping into shame, and upside down and disappointed.

I told him how important it was that I work my way
toward any other positions. I told him I would never respect myself otherwise and Natasha’s treatment of me was proof positive that my colleagues wouldn’t respect me either. From the contract that changed my life to the paparazzi snapping pictures left and right, I had very little control. But I could put my foot down here. I could control this.

He answered the phone after one ring, his husky voice almost making me forge
t that I was furious with him. “Miss me already?”

"Jacob we need to talk."

"I agree," he said without missing a beat. "You snuck out of here without a word. After I thought we'd reach an understanding."

"I told you I was going to the office today.
”

"And I told you I wanted another day with you." His voice took on a hungry note that made me tingle. "We still have surfaces to christen."

I fell as silent as if he'd just ordered me so, practically salivating at the thought of us laid out on his dining room table.

"I still haven’t shown you the powder rooms or the Persians with your backside written all over them…”