BREATHE: A Billionaire Romance, Part 2 (4 page)

We walked into his apartment building and saw Jim, the doorman, at the front desk reading a book.

“Do you mind actually doing your job?” Derek sounded, clearly frustrated with the fact that Jim hadn’t opened the door for him.

“Yes, Mr. Sholts, sir. I’m sorry…” He staggered, hurriedly, to his feet and rushed over to him and pressed the elevator’s button.

“You don’t have to apologize, Jim.” I said, equally as frustrated with Derek that he felt so entitled.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked. “It’s his job, as doorman, to get the door.”

“And is it your job, as asshole, to constantly talk shit?” I was actually proud of myself with that little comeback. I didn’t have many good ones, but I was actually proud of that one.

I could tell, though, that Derek wasn’t as amused. His face grew redder, and he looked at Jim.

“I’ll be speaking with your boss in the morning,” he snapped to Jim just as the elevator arrived.

My mouth fell open in terror, as I stepped in the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I looked at Jim, who I knew had to carry two jobs for his small daughter, and I could tell that he, too, was filled with terror and fear.

“Don’t worry, Jim.” I assured. “He will do no such thing.”

And then the doors closed.

Immediately, furious red rose to my cheeks… but I held off.

I said nothing.

Not until we got into his apartment suite.

“How could you do that!?” I screamed, hoping that the entire ground shook as I yelled out. Complete, earth-shattering, seething anger was the only way to describe the emotion that I was actually feeling. I was furious, more furious than I had ever been. I was so furious that it surprised and terrified me.

“How could I do what? I’m so beyond sick of you arguing with everything that I do and say!” he shouted at me. Only, he wasn’t angry—at least, not to the degree that I was. He sighed. “You’re my employee. I should fire you for your insolence.”

My mouth fell agape and immediately more anger fueled. It wasn’t even just what he said, it was how he said it. He said it so calmly.

“Insolence!? Are you shitting me?!”

“You just cursed!”

“I’m about to curse you into a lifetime of oblivion!” I retorted, swinging my hand back, loading my arm up for a punch.

But just as I had my arm drawn back, he began to laugh.

He laughed at me!

I growled with intensity, my anger growing, and dropped my balled fist to my side. I wasn’t going to hit him. I couldn’t.

Instead, I turned around, my body shaking, the anger so pent up that I felt as if I was going to explode. “You have lost your mind, and I’m not going to be a part of it!” I said, my back towards him.

Nothing was going to stop me from walking away from him—the job, his illness, any of it. In that moment, I was as done as I ever could have been.

But then he spoke. “I’ve lost
my
mind?” he asked, a mocking tone not exactly hidden in his voice. "Do you have any idea how delusional you are?” he chuckled.

And then I had to stop walking away. I had to face him once again. Hell, I wanted to smack him. Nay, I wanted to beat the ever-living-shit out of him. But I couldn’t. I knew that I couldn’t.

It was crazy though. I had never had even so much as an inkling of a feeling of wanting to hit someone before. I had never wished harm on anyone, but of course, Derek Sholts had to be the first.

“Oh, really?
I’m
delusional?” I spat, pivoting on my heel to face him. I threw my hands up in the air, rolling my eyes. He loved to push my buttons.

Every button.

In fact, he loved pushing my buttons so intensely that it was only a matter of milliseconds from the time I turned around to face him that his lips were on mine, as if he was claiming them as his, stalking them, possessing them.

I groaned, heatedly, and placed my hands on his shirt, ready to yank him right off of me with the muscles my daddy made sure I possessed, but instead I pulled him towards me. I let him in; I let him deepen the kiss. And he took full advantage of it.

His tongue probed and consumed me, and I could do nothing but moan out from the sudden attack and the sheer surprise of his hands moving from my face to my hips, pulling my body so that it was flush against his own.

I felt his lust; I felt his desire—and I felt my own. It was all growing—burning even—with red-hot intensity.

My fingers made their way into his hair, pulling at his scalp, as I gripped strands between my fingers. I was angry, and I wanted him to know it—but I was also full of passion, full of lust for this incredibly sexy man. No matter how angry he made me.

“Ah!” he groaned into my mouth, breaking the kiss apart. He reached around me and clawed at the flesh on the small of my back.

I screamed out, a mix of pleasure and pain echoing throughout the room.

His other hand made its way to my neck, holding me, squeezing it just enough for me to know that he was there, and to know that he—like me—was still angry. But I didn’t care. I was angry too, and by God, I was probably angrier than he ever dreamed of being.

He pulled me forward until our lips met again in the most desperate kiss that I had ever witnessed, let alone been a part of. Indeed, there was nothing delicate about the situation, nothing loving. There was nothing tender about the act; and definitely not in the way he held me against him. But there was something so incredibly sexy, and pleasurable about it that it made it all okay.

I couldn’t believe that I was allowing it to happen…. but I was.

His hand moved from my neck, downwards—lower and lower—until it roughly grazed my breasts. I felt him smirk against my lips before he wildly began palming and squeezing them with ferocious desire.

I mindlessly arched my body into his touch, enjoying every bit of him kneading my fully plump breasts. And it was then that I knew that my desire was just as ferocious, and just as needy.

“You make me so fucking angry. Did you know that?” he hissed at me, inching his face away so that he was just far enough so that I could look at his face.

His eyes were narrowed but ignited with passion and lust that I had never quite seen in a man before.

“Same here!” I hissed in return, my chin high up in the air, defiant as ever. And then, in a mere instant, I felt it. I felt him turn me violently and slam my chest against the door, my hands restrained behind my back.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, moaning, completely impressed by his brute strength.

“I intend on letting you,” he growled, the heat of his words scolding my ear.

“Ah!” I moaned out, without really meaning to.

He pulled me back, allowing just enough space for his hand to fit between the front of my body and the wood surface of the door.

I shivered, anticipating his touch. I thought he’d touch me, smoothly and gently now that I was letting him get what he wanted.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he ripped at my blouse, tearing it nearly in half, away from my body.

My mouth fell open in shock, and I didn’t even have time to react before I felt a familiar tug at the waist of my jeans. And it was then that I knew how primitive his instincts had become. He was running on pure, animalistic instinct.

He was ready, and he wasn’t going to slow down until he got what he wanted.

And I loved it. It was the only thing I loved about him in that moment, and the only thing that seemed remotely positive was the sheer fact that I needed release; I needed to feel good.

But in the haste of grabbing my clothing and ripping them away, I realized that he no longer had hold of my hands. They were free.

I smirked, knowing that I was about to gain some leverage, as I pressed my palms to the door and tried to twist myself around to face him. However, he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he grabbed my hips in place and whispered in my ear, “No, ma’am…not yet.”

I shivered, wriggling helplessly against the door, as I felt him rip my panties away from me.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really that strong, or if I needed to buy higher quality clothes, but I soon realized it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this man was ripping my clothes off—literally. He wanted me that badly.

And I wanted him too, although I wasn’t sure why. I was still so angry at him; I could almost say that I hated him—almost. But it was within that hate that I felt something else, something as close to passion as I had ever gotten. I wanted to fuck his brains out and hurt him a little as I did it.

I writhed roughly, just enough so that my mouth found its way to one of his arms as they grasped at me tightly. I bit down. Hard. I wanted to ensure that he felt me.

“Ah!” he screamed, pulling away from me. And I smirked, knowing that I had hurt him a little bit. Part of me felt bad, because I knew that he was sick, but I had to let that go. I couldn’t let his illness trump every negative emotion I had for every negative trait of his.

I stood there, only my bra left, shivering from the sudden coldness of the room, but then I felt him, his heat once again. His warmth enveloped me, as I felt his body grind against me even more fully than before.

I felt his erection poking at my fleshy butt-cheek and suddenly felt possessed with an idea. I smirked, knowing that I could stimulate him, tease him, if only just a little.

I smiled devilishly before pushing back and up against him with my ass.

I heard him hiss just under his breath, the stimulation almost too much for him… And then he did something that made me realize that we were still very much in a war.

He spanked me.

Spanked me!

Hard.

“Ah!” I breathed out, another strange sensation of pain and desire filling and electrifying me.

He had to break my concentration. He had to win, but I wasn’t going to let him.

Not by a long shot.

He spanked me again, nipping at my ear, ravishing me, teasing me.

“Ever since I hired you, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass,” he whispered where he had just nipped, the burning sting of his hot breath against my tingling ear was enough to make me gulp with anticipation.

“Good!” I growled. “Because you’ve been the same to me!”

“You make me so mad that I don’t even know what to do with myself. Would you like to see how mad you make me?”

“Can’t possibly be as mad as you make me!” I spat, and it was honestly the truth. Although I enjoyed what was happening, I still wasn’t over how much of an ass he had been or what he had said to me.

“Do you really want me to show you? I will….”

I thought he already was.

His hands moved from my hips towards my front and yanked down my bra. He fondled my breasts, holding them for a moment, as if weighing them—contemplating their size. I smiled. I was proud of what I had, and by the looks of it, it looked like he was as well.

His hands rubbed over my erect nipples, and I squealed as he tugged on the little nubs over and over again. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much stimulation from my nipples. But I was wrong.

“Yes!” I squealed, as he tugged again, causing me to squeal again.

I was sure that I might combust from the feeling; the fire within was explosive.

He was torturing me on purpose, as if he was seeking revenge. But for what? I was the one who should have been seeking revenge!

I smirked and ground my body back against him. I had to let him know that my purpose was equally vengeful, and equally as angry. I moaned out; the feeling of his clothed erection against my bare skin felt amazing.

A throaty, masculine groan escaped him, and immediately he froze for a moment.

But only for a moment.

Without putting much distance between us, his right hand moved from my hip and went to his belt buckle. The sound of his belt clanking about was like music to my ears, and I knew what was to come.

I heard—and felt—the heavy drop of his pants onto the floor, and I almost whimpered in response. I whimpered in anticipation, but also because his left hand remained on my breasts and continued its ongoing assault…it’s glorious, glorious assault.

His right hand made its way to my thighs and soon after his left joined it—in unison—his strong hands grabbed them, massaging them as he spread them apart.

I couldn’t believe it. My legs were open; they were open for him, and immediately, I felt the moisture of my arousal seep from my center.

He groaned at the contact, grinding his erection against my bum, as he continued to touch and caress every inch of my body, and then he worked his fingers, his glorious touch, to my womanhood.

Without warning, he plunged three digits in, filling my hole with determination, as his thumb assaulted my engorged clit.

It wasn't slow, purposeful touching though. Not by a long shot. There weren’t gentle pets or any sort of tender embraces. Instead, his fingers maneuvered at a punishingly determined rhythm.

I cried out, almost helplessly, with my head thrashing about. I could feel his eyes on me, and I was a little embarrassed by how much I was enjoying it, and how much he could
see
that I was enjoying it.

I was enjoying it so much that within a mere minute or so, I was on the brink.

My body tightened, and a sensation formed deep within the core of my belly. I was ready.

“Yeah!” I screamed. “Oh, God, yes!”

I was losing it. I could feel my walls contracting around his wonderful fingers… but then, he stopped.

He was still after an argument. I growled, frustrated and angry, before my eyes shot open to bestow a gaze upon his smug face. It was the face of a man who thought he had won. But he didn’t. I wouldn’t let him.

I had to admit, the masculinity he possessed in that moment—the musky scent of manly aroma, sweat droplets beading off of his ferocious muscles, and the gorgeous smile—it was all incredibly arousing. However, I couldn’t give in.

I wouldn’t.

I looked at him, sighed, and made to move away from him. I was going to act as though I didn’t care… I was going to win.

But just as I made my move to leave, his fingers rolled back to where they had left off just a moment before.

“Oh God!” I moaned out instinctually.

Suddenly, scolding myself internally for letting it escape my mouth, I bit my lip, trying to hold my pleasure in, until I tasted a slight tinge of metal.

He stopped again.

“This is your punishment, on the edge and helpless to everything I do,” he said. “This is how I feel every time we argue. This is how you make me feel.”

I breathed heavily against the door, just trying to process what was happening, what he was saying, and how I was behaving.

It was all so passionate, lustful, angry, raw….

“Now I get my reward,” he said through gritted teeth, anger still spewing from his voice. He spread my legs apart so that I was nearly spread eagle.

I held onto the door, bracing myself for what I knew was about to come.

And then it happened. He pushed into me in one long, hard thrust, burying himself deep within me. My grip on the door tightened. I couldn’t help myself, but incoherent sounds escaped from the depths of my throat, and I knew he knew how much I enjoyed it.

I mentally cursed myself.

“Damn,” he said. “I can’t believe how wet you are.”

I breathed out. Loudly.

“I think fighting me turns you on!” he stated in a low strangled voice, as he began to move inside of me.

He pulled back, holding my hips as leverage, only to plunge back in with forceful lust.

His pace remained steady, and the rhythm was flawless if I had to be honest.

Every thrust was harder and deeper than the previous, but the rhythm remained the same. I moaned and groaned with each and every pump, and with every breath, I felt the immaculate impact on my body begin to culminate into something I had never quite experienced before.

The door began to shake, as our lustful sex powered against it, but I didn’t care. We could have broken it off its hinges for all I cared. I was floating, lost in the abyss of wonderment.

His sounds were so distinctly pleasured that with every movement that we experienced together, and I knew that he was rapidly approaching his destination… and I was right there with him.

In and out. In and out. I cried out, and so did he. The echoes of our moans and growls seemed to fuse together in some sort of strange mating call. We were animals, lost in our nature. We were out for one thing, and one thing only—raw and passionate sex. Sex so incredible that it would inevitably lead to equally as incredible orgasms.

He placed a soft kiss on my back, right in the middle of my shoulder blades, and I wondered what he was doing. In fact, I stiffened at the kiss; it was too soft, too tender. I was worried. I didn’t want to confuse the moment. Although, I had to admit, even if I hated to…it was nice. It felt nice.

In fact, it was a nice contrast to the brutality we had been experiencing.

I cried out again as intense waves came flowing out of my pores and washed over me.

And by God, I surrendered to them…

I let them take me away.

“Wow!” I found myself moaning out, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I was encouraging it. Hell, I wanted it, and there wasn’t any hiding it.

His fingernails dug deep into the skin of my hips, and I knew that the action would undoubtedly leave evidence of the encounter behind. But again, I didn’t care.

I didn’t care much of anything.

His hand wrapped around me, holding me tightly against him, as he began breathing heavily and raggedly.

I felt the rush of his hot breath flow over my flesh. It heated me, warmed me to the core, but I still shivered.

It was all so much.

“You like that?” he groaned in my ear, the heat rolling over my lobe. It was like hot silk… smooth and sexy. I
mmm’d
—and then he began to lay soft, feathery kisses over my shoulder and neck.

And just as I stiffened once again out of fear of the moment becoming too tender, he changed his style around. He began kissing me roughly, passionately, and dammit almost possessively. It was so rough, and he had jerked my head so violently that I lost my grip on the door and fell forward. I could feel him smile against my assaulted lip just before he bit it.

I groaned, pain and pleasure mixing together to form something that I had never quite experienced before. I never associated pain and pleasure together, but this time, it was different. I felt incredible experiencing something new.

“Turn!” he demanded, pulling me to face him, without even waiting for me to move. He did it for me—violently—just before lifting my legs up and wrapping them around his hips.

I couldn’t believe he had the energy to fuck like that. I couldn’t believe he had the energy to do any of it. And my God, I couldn’t believe a man as sick as he could look as good.

His wonderful V-cut jutted out to me, teasing me, arousing me even more than I already was before.

I moved against him more fully, rolling my hips to allow him to thrust in and out of me even further than before. And the fire within the core of my belly continued to ignite over and over again.

I smiled sheepishly at him, satisfied that I had some control after all.

“You’re going to kill me,” he breathed, humor and satisfaction evident in his voice.

“That’s the hope,” I growled in response.