Jessa James - Billionaire Bad Boys

“Look at me,” he ordered and I opened my eyes to comply. His gaze locked onto mine as he gently filled me with one finger. I held on, gripping his rock hard biceps, keeping my eyes on his gorgeous face until he pushed the thickness of his hard palm to my clit and started fucking me with his hand.

I thought I couldn’t get any hotter, and more desperate, but his free hand lifted to my breast, squeezed the hard nipple through the thin material of my dress and lace bra.

When I gasped, he lowered his head once more, kissing me as his finger moved inside me.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door and I stiffened, but Carter squeezed my nipple again and nipped at my lip. He pulled away, staring down at me as he used more force to fuck me, nearly lifting me off my feet. “You’re mine right now. Ignore them.”

As if to prove his point, he increased the speed of his moving fingers, the rhythm of his palm rubbing my clit. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head up for his kiss. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I was in a bar, in the damn bathroom. I only wanted to think about Carter, about his hands, his mouth, his dominant touch.

He rubbed and fucked me with fingers and tongue until I felt completely overwhelmed, as if he was already inside me.

Hard. Fast. Stop.

Slow. Fast. Stop.

His touch drove me mad, until I whimpered and begged. “Carter, please.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mine, Emma. Say you’re mine.”

“Yes.” I would have agreed to anything. I was so close. The orgasm building inside me like a tornado caught inside a paper house. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on.

Carter shifted again, his body pressed to mine, his arm trapped between us. His forehead met mine, but I did not open my eyes. I didn’t want to know if he was watching me. I didn’t care.

“Then come for me. I want to watch you give everything to me.”

He increased his rhythm, but this time, he didn’t stop, didn’t slow when I whimpered, when the desire built to a fever pitch. This time, he pushed me over and stole my cry, swallowed it down in his kiss as my pussy pulsed around his finger. This was nothing like my vibrator. Nothing.

His soft groan made me feel sexy, edgy, dangerous. And I knew, if we’d been truly alone, I would have let him do anything he wanted. I would spread my legs and beg him to take my virginity, to make me his.

That last thought was like a splash of ice-cold water. As was the insistent knocking at the door. “Hello? Are you all right in there?”

“Someone get the manager. They have to have a key.”

“I really need to go. I hope they hurry up.”

“Just use the men’s room.”

The voices were all feminine, and impatient. I knew they’d have the door unlocked soon, and here I stood, with Carter’s hand up my skirt and my juices all over his fingers. He lifted them to his mouth and licked them. He held my gaze as he tasted me and suddenly I couldn’t get the image of his mouth on me out of my head. Oh God.

What the hell was I thinking?

Emma

Carter Buchanan stared down at me like I was his favorite treat as the voices continued outside the door. He lowered his hand from his lips to the vee between my legs and pressed against me, just holding, as if afraid I would move away from him. He wiggled his fingers, teasing, and I moaned. I couldn’t help it. That orgasm blew my mind, sure, but something worse was happening here. I wanted more.

More Carter.

Bad Decisions 101. That was a class, right? And the very first fucking rule? Don’t sleep with the boss . Rule number two? Don’t sleep with players. Carter Buchanan was notorious for the supermodels and actresses he dated, not just for his billionaire family.

I shuddered as Carter nuzzled the side of my neck, his grip possessive and raw, down there. Like he owned me now. Like that orgasm gave him rights.

“Come home with me, Emma.”

I shoved at his chest as keys rattled in the lock. He stepped back and adjusted my skirt as if straightening a woman’s clothing was the most natural thing in the world.

For him, maybe it was. For me? Well, I was so far out of my league I had no idea what to do or say. Hell, I didn’t even know where to look. I couldn’t even glance at him, at his sexy dark hair and chiseled chin. At those thick, very skilled lips. Looking at his hand was worse, because his palm was thick and strong, the fingers long and thick. When I looked, my thoughts got wrapped up in the fog of what those fingers felt like inside me. Touching me.

My body wanted more, more, more.

But my mind? That abandoned organ I’d forgotten how to use the last few minutes, was screaming at me to run. Fast.

“I'm not interested,” I lied, just before the door burst open and a stream of curious women filled the small room. When I saw the second knowing grin, I ducked my head, scooted around Carter and bolted out the door, past the dance floor and the bar, straight for the front door.

No purse. The only things I needed, my cell phone, ID and credit card, were stored in my bra, nestled between the girls.

“Emma, wait!” Carter’s order registered as he followed me, winding through the dancing bodies and the tables filled with drinking singles looking for a hook-up after work. But I wasn’t listening. I was running. He was too much. No. I was too much. Ridiculous, letting him finger me in the bathroom like a horny teenager.

So, Carter Buchanan wanted me.

Wait. Scratch that. He didn't want me, quiet, uptight, organized Emma, the grad student . He wanted to fuck. Take my virginity. Pop my cherry. Tonight. Now. Somehow, knowing that I was a virgin made him turn from cool, disinterested professional to caveman.

Did he only want me for a novelty? How many virgins had he taken to bed? Was that like a thing for him? Being the first?

“You want to get laid, Emma, I'm right here.”

Oh. My. God.

He knew. God, he knew I was a virgin. He must have heard me talking to Tori earlier.

It wasn't nerves that made my hands shake, it was embarrassment. Embarrassment over what we'd done, the pseudo walk-of-shame when we'd walked out of the bathroom to the knowing and amused looks from the waiting women.

“ Come home with me.” He'd said the words I'd dreamed about, longed for, since the first day on the job. And now, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Obviously, the orgasm he'd given me had short-circuited my brain.

I'd let Carter Buchanan, the man I'd been secretly lusting after all year, finger fuck me in the bathroom. I'd lost my mind. Begged him not to stop.

He was good. Really, really good and that had just been his hand.

I turned my head to track his movements and saw someone from work grab his arm, stopping him for a chat. Thank God. Not up for small talk, I kept on walking, right out the front entrance. When the cool evening air hit my cheeks, the last of my orgasm faded and reality set in. Shaking as I pulled my cell from my bra, I tried to focus on the positive. At least Carter hadn’t run for the hills like Jim from accounting. Maybe being a unicorn wasn’t the single woman’s kiss of death for dating.

Carter wanted me. Or, at the very least, he was willing to take my virginity. Pop my cherry.

In the year I'd worked at Buchanan Industries, he'd never once let on that he was interested in me. Not once. Not a heated stare, not an inappropriate comment, not even an accidental brush of his arm against mine. Nothing.

Of course there were sexual harassment laws that would have shut him down if he did anything at the office, but nope. Nada. Not even one lingering stare. Absolutely zero interest.