The Billionaire´s Toy (Last Day)

The Billionaire´s Toy (Last Day, Part I)

Contemporary Romance Fiction

T. B. Weakes

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

THE BILLIONAIRE´S TOY

Published by arrangement with the author.

First Edition Licence Notes

Copyright © 2013
T. B. Weakes

Cover & Interior Design by
ebookIndiecovers

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

T. B. Weakes loves to write about romance.  This is the first book in a three part-series about Alisha Clark.

ABOUT THE
BOOK:

Alisha Clark has been Carson Reid´s secretary for an agonizing year, the chemistry between them burning beneath the surface. As soon as they express their feelings for each other at the office party, their relationship reaches boiling point. The following morning Alisha is faced with a daunting proposition: does she cut ties with her imposing boss once and for all, or does take up his offer and give herself over to him in every way imaginable?

The Last Day trilogy is sensual and mysterious, it will intrigue you and have you coming back for more.
This book is intended for mature audiences.

Chapter 1

“Je veux te la mettre!” he whispered gently in my ear.  I could smell his scent and I knew his voice all too well. 

As he moved closer I felt something covering my eyes. He slipped a mask over my head, even though it was dark and I couldn’t see anything anyway.

It excites me when he speaks French, I have heard him speak it to his clients a number of times and always quivered with excitement when he did.

One day, when I was taking notes, I told him that I loved it.  He said the same words to me in French and I wrote it down as fast I could. I learnt basic French when I started work so that I could learn to greet our French clients and so I would know how to spell it when he spoke to me.

I returned to my desk, Google-translated it and it got me all excited. Just thinking about it now is making me become wet.  At the time i merely blushed, knowing it was something sexy, now the memory of it is making me horny. 

He repeated it to me on another occasion, but by then I knew its true meaning.  I replied as best as I could in my pathetic French accent, “
Oui, Oui Monseiur.”

He had a dark smile across his face and he started to lick his lips slowly.  I stood, mesmerized, watching his tongue move from left to right.  I tried to resist jumping across the table and putting his tongue in my mouth.  My pussy was crying for his lips to be in my mouth — anywhere as long as it was on me.  My senses went wild. As far as I cared there was only me and him in the whole building, everyone else was blocked out. Then his phone rang and my senses crashed to earth.

Stop it, remember he´s your boss, remember.
I tried to tell myself. I was crossing a line I knew I shouldn’t cross.  I´d been warned so many times about my flirting.  The problem was that the flirting wasn’t one sided and most of the time it was instigated by him.

I waited for him to end the call. He held up his hand, indicating that he wouldn’t be long and that I
shouldwait for him.  I had to move.  I was getting aroused by him and he knew it, he kept his eyes on me the whole time he was on the phone.

He apologized for his behavior after the phone call and I told him there was no need.  He said it was gross misconduct and if I felt the need to file a complaint he wouldn’t refute it.  The problem was, I couldn’t do that whilst watching him lick his lips, how could I raise a complaint about it when many nights I lay in bed touching myself, fantasying that about his tongue over my body —  between my legs, neck, mouth, all over my body.

When he whispered I could smell the scent of
Giorgio Armani Code
, my favorite scent.  I inhaled and held my
breath, I loved that scent so much.  Too much in fact. I bought one for him at Christmas and it drove me wild every time he was near. 

I bought him a present not because of my feelings for him, but because I did the same for all my former employees. 
it was my way of spreading some joy after I received a Christmas bonus after being with the company for only three months.

“
Ms. Clark..”

“Please call me, Ali. Ms. Clark, no one calls me that accept the doctor of the bank and you´re neither of them.”

“Okay, Ali…you have exceptional talents,” he had told me.  I wasn’t clear if he meant at work, but when he spoke his eyes were scanning me from top to bottom and they lingered around my breast area. 

I knew he wasn’t talking about my work as a secretary.  It doesn’t require much talent to take notes and answer phones, but he had no idea what I could do in the bedroom.

He made me feel like I was the best secretary in the world.  I loved the way he looked at my body.  I had been buying lower cut shirts and shorter skirts just to walk into his office and make him stare.  I didn’t want his imagination to do the
work, I wanted to put all of it out there for him to see.  I wanted my curves enhanced, my hips elevated and my breasts displayed.  Not too much, but enough for him to want to touch them, hold them or lick them. 

One time in his office, when it was hot, I undid a couple of buttons. He had a hard time dictating.  He stopped a few times,
then stood up to get himself a glass of water.  He offered me one, looking at my breasts as he spoke to me.  He didn’t even pretend that he wanted them. I wanted him to walk up to me and just bury his head in them.

I felt like putting his head in between them, so he could like them from up-close and not from afar.  He could have tasted them and I wouldn’t have disapproved, I would have encouraged it.  I was so wet that day that I had to have a cold shower in the office showers.  No one could understand why I was taking a shower — I lied and told them I had been for a jog.
Damn, that day was hard.

***

Earlier today I told him that I signed the contract. It stated that I had officially resigned from my post and would be employed — within three months — in another post, and if he was unable to provide that I would continue to be paid the same salary for services rendered.  I was unclear what those services were? He told me to trust him and I did, with all my heart. 

Why wouldn’t I after working for him for nearly a year?

I checked his calendar and he was fully booked .  I wanted to talk to him and discuss the contract.  I needed a little reassurance.  The contract had an expiry date and that date was closing in fast.

I had no choice but to sign it.   A week earlier he took me out to dinner to explain the contract that could change our relationship from a work-related one to
an  intimate one. I couldn’t resist.  We had our own private dining area in Maialino and it was heaven, our own waitress serving us delicious Italian food made the evening even more spectacular. 

I know he´s accustomed to such a lifestyle, but it really blew me away.  I could not stop telling my parents about it afterwards.  They did question if I was sleeping with him and that I should be careful.  I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t but that I wanted to, but I restrained myself as I so often do with my parents.

Carson and I have so much in common. We are both big fans of sports. He is an avid tennis fan.  He even flew to the French, Australian and US Open just to watch Nadal play.  That is so crazy! I’ve only seen Nadal on the screen, but Carson promised to take me one day.

We also share a similar taste in music. He used to be a big fan of Jon Bon Jovi fan, but asked me to never tell a soul — as if I ever would.  To top it off, like a true gentleman, at the end of the evening he kissed my hand and bid good night.  He was so informal, which was weird. We were talking like we were old friends just hanging out in a posh restaurant.

He felt so different that night. I spent so much time fantasying about him, but after that night a week ago I’ve done it even more. I’ve seen the nice side of him that no one else sees. The boy that just wants to play and have fun. Flying across continents is nothing to someone of his status, yet he spoke about it like it was a big deal and it was the coolest thing in the world. It was nice.

At the end of the evening, he had his driver drive me home.
Probably to avoid temptation.  It was seventh heaven. I know that he wanted more, I made sure I wore my silver swing dress which emphasized my hips.  I tied my blonde hair in a bun so he could see my full neckline. 

He mentioned once that he liked it when I had my hair up, that way he could see my neckline, but when my hair was down he only saw part of my beauty. I wanted him to be in full view of all of my beauty at dinner and especially tonight, when our relationship was going to be sealed. 

I couldn’t discuss it with anyone  It had been killing me. I wanted to go home and see Mama and Pa, there was no way I would be able to hold off telling them. The whole idea of coming to the office every day and seeing him just makes it feel a bit suffocating. 

Most of my friends work with me.  I moved to the Big Apple nearly a year ago, so I hadn't had a chance to make any real friends.  Also, Sandra and Katie are the biggest gossips, but I love their company.  One word to them and the whole organization would know — all 5,340 employees in the New York office. 

I signed the document and sent him a text saying I had done it.  Carson said I should wait for him. 
Strange
, I found myself thinking. I no longer referred to him as Mr. Reid.  Well, not exactly,  I do call him Carson, but mainly in my dreams and that night when we went to the restaurant, he said I should stop being so formal as it was making him uncomfortable.  Funny, I can´t imagine anything making him feel that way.  He was always in control and he never let his emotions show — except for that night at the restaurant when I saw him laugh and smile like he was really enjoying my company.

***

I waited for a long time. At Seven-thirty most people had left the office, especially on a Friday night.  Sometimes I go with the guys in the finance department, who I often find myself working with.  Normally, we go to a local bar called Fred’s, a couple of blocks away.  It reminded me of the bar in the sitcom, Cheers. The one where everyone knows your name. In Fred’s everyone also knows your name and they also know what you’re having to drink. Nearly everyone is a regular and the owners are fantastic, down to earth people which is unusual in New York.

There is nothing like that in
Montezuma, Kansas.  So, it’s nice that everyone hangs out, talks about their weekend and then leaves, drunk and ready to pass out or hit the clubs.

The younger ones, such as
myself, hit the clubs and dance the night away.  Sometimes I feel like I’m  in my late twenties or even older, so I need to call it a night by three, or four at the latest. The married ones tend to have their partners come join us, or they leave early and make their way home. I asked Carson to come once. He told me, “They’re my employees, not my friends.”

I often wondered if he had any friends and, if he did, were they are all as robotic as he is.  Despite his potential lack of friends, he did have a very loving family.  His mother was lovely, beautiful and
all her outfits were from the latest fashion designers.  I always compliment on her suits, dresses and everything she has on her, they constantly look good on her.  His dad was incredibly laid back.  Whenever they visited him in the office they entered in with a smile, greeting everyone as if they had been friends for life.  If they had recently travelled they brought in little souvenirs or nibbles.

We all loved it when they visited Switzerland during skiing season, which was usually around February or March.  They always brought back chocolate and few things could beat Swiss chocolate. It was so rich and creamy. It melted in your mouth and begged you to put in some more.

Despite their love for his parents, everyone was indifferent about Carson. They didn’t think he was a bad boss, he could be very generous and was always sponsoring charity events and such,
he just never participated in anything. Many wondered if it was his idea to have the charity events or if they had been arranged by his person assistant, Jackson. 

Jackson was his right hand man, the man behind the man.  Carson relied on him for a lot.
  Many times he became more than a personal assistant.  Sometimes, he didn’t speak he simply nodded, which Jackson could interpret as if he spoke the language of the nods. There seemed to be a sixth sense between them.