Jessa James - Billionaire Bad Boys

Today, he’d touched me. Kissed my cheek. Had he been fishing for an invite to Frankie’s tonight?

“Shut up, woman. You’re losing it.” I scolded myself in the silence of my bedroom. Carter Buchanan was a billionaire. A sexy, arrogant, hard-nosed businessman. He’d never in a million years be interested in a stupid virgin like me. But if he offered, would I give it to him? Would I let him punch my V card and just be another woman in his long line of them?

Hell, yes.

As I slipped into my heels, I knew it didn't matter. I was leaving the company anyway. Sure, being Ford’s secretary was interesting, and good experience, but I hadn’t gone to school for six fucking years to answer the phone and keep a man’s schedule. No, I’d gotten the call just the day before, a position at a new company in their finance department. All mine. Three times the pay and half the overtime. My final interview with the CEO was tomorrow, but they’d already offered me the job.

In fact, I’d already given Ford my two-weeks notice. One more week, and I was out.

No more making copies and getting coffee. I’d have my own office with an admin assistant working for me. No more Tuesday and Thursday morning meetings with Carter Buchanan. No more sitting across from him ignoring that sexy as hell cologne.

No more Carter.

I walked to the dresser and put my favorite diamond stud earrings in as I scolded myself. “It’s for the best, Emma. You can’t have him. It’s time to move on.”

No. More. Carter.

I couldn't stand to see another picture of him with a gorgeous woman on his arm. I had to give up the dream that he'd ever want me, that he thought of me as anything more than an employee. And so I was thankful for the change my new job would bring. I'd let this ridiculous obsession with Carter go and move on with my life.

Starting tonight. First, I'd find a guy who wanted a good time. In a couple weeks, I'd start my new job as a full-fledged, experienced woman and finally be free of my obsession with Carter Buchanan.

Carter

I got to the bar early, sat at a stool where the lighting was dim, nursed a drink and watched Emma. She met up with Tori promptly at seven—her punctuality was borderline OCD—and had a drink. Only one, which had kept me relaxed.

They talked and scoped out the room, no doubt debating the man choices for Emma. I was content to sit and stare at her blatant curves, the bright slash of red on her full lips, the way her pale hair fell in ringlets on her neck. But when the ladies moved to the dance floor and random men joined them, I wasn't so patient. Tori looked great, as usual, her body hugged in a tight white dress that highlighted every curve. Her hair was a dark auburn, and next to Emma’s pale blond hair and tight black dress, they were toting some dangerous curves. And I wasn’t the only man in the room who noticed.

It was after the third song that Tori went to the restroom, leaving Emma alone. One guy had danced two songs with her, shifting and swaying with her to the steady beat. He hadn't touched her. Yet. All the men were watching her in that form fitting black dress, some I recognized from the office. With the V-neck, her breasts were on display. Grudgingly, I had to admit that she was dressed tastefully. Emma wasn’t a whore, she was classy. But it was the most of her cleavage I'd ever seen.

That view was for me, not every horny asshole in the bar. When the guy moved behind her, placed his hands on her hips and started to grind against her ass, I was done biding my time.

There was only one thing on that guy's mind. Her pussy. And that pussy belonged to me.

I tossed some money on the bar and walked over to the dance floor. Emma's eyes were closed and she moved to the music as if she had an internal beat. When I stepped close, the guy looked my way. I angled my head, telling him, without words, to get lost.

Perhaps it was because I was right in his face. Perhaps it was the look I gave him, but he let go of Emma's hips, held up his hands to show me they were off her, and stepped away.

The man had a good instinct for self-preservation because he'd gotten his dick as close to Emma as it was ever going to get.

Settling in behind her, I put my hands on her for the second time. I was glad the music was loud because it hid the groan I couldn't hold in. She was so warm, her body so soft and lush. I stepped up close and moved against her, my cock pressing against the soft swell of her ass. Leaning in, I breathed in her scent at the side of her neck. When she angled her head to give me better access, I kissed her sweaty skin and licked the taste of her from my lips.

The scent of lemongrass and sugar drifted up from her still damp hair, but her neck tasted salty and sweet and I wondered if her pussy would be the same. My mouth watered to find out, but not here. Not now.

Now I reveled in holding her, to feel her writhing, completely uninhibited, against me. I saw Tori approach, watched her brown eyes widen in surprise at the sight of me dancing with Emma in my arms. The woman wasn't going to keep me from my Emma. She wasn't going to interfere with me getting what I wanted. Fuck no. Because Emma was already mine. From the way Tori smiled at me, she knew. When she angled her head toward the entrance, I nodded in reply. She was leaving and knew I was the one who was going to keep Emma safe tonight. Yes, the woman was a genius and she was getting a fucking raise.

When the song ended, Emma spun around, put her hands on my chest. When she looked up at me through her long lashes, saw who'd been dancing with her, she froze. Her hands came off my chest as if I'd burned her, but I grabbed her wrists, pressed her hands back where they belonged.

“Carter,” she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips made my balls ache. She’d never said my name before, and suddenly I wanted to hear it over and over, preferably as she begged me to stretch her open on my hard cock. Her eyes were wide as she licked her lips. I doubted she knew what that little gesture did to me. “I’m sorry. I mean, Mr. Buchanan. What are you doing here?”

“Dancing with you.” I smiled then, but it only made her more nervous.

“I don't think… I mean, we shouldn't.”

“Dance?”

She nodded, looked around. The crowd swirled around us, unaware of the electricity arcing between us.

“All right, Emma. We don't have to dance.”

Releasing one of her hands, I tugged her along behind me toward a VIP room they kept open for their top tier clients, like the Buchanan brothers.

“Wait!” she cried, all but digging her fuck-me heels into the hardwood dance floor.

I looked back at her, took in her wide, wild eyes, the frantic breathing that only made her breasts press invitingly against her dress.

“Where are you taking me? I need to find Tori.”

I stepped close, tucked a stray curl behind her ear, watched as she licked her lips. I stifled a groan.

“Tori is a big girl. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

“But… but where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” I replied.

“But… you can't. I mean, I shouldn't. I need to—”

She bit her lip when I stopped moving. I pulled her out of the way of the constant flow of bodies to and from the bar and cupped her jaw. I placed my thumb on top of that lip, right over her dented flesh and tugged it free from her teeth. The lingering wetness there nearly made me groan. Fuck, I wanted to taste that. Now. Right fucking now.

But she was already running scared. I had to tone it down a notch, or my sweet little virgin was going to bolt like a gazelle running from a lion.

“Need to what?” I asked, watching as my thumb stroked over her plump lower lip, spread that bit of wetness all over her mouth. “Get laid? Get rid of your V-card?”