Dirty Billions: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance: (A Chicago Suits Second Chance Romance) (18 page)

F
ree bonus book
!

A
bbie
& Jay’s story

W
hen money can't buy
you love, how far would you go to get what you most desire?

“
D
ammit
,” I let my arm flop to the side and opened my fingers. The vibrator rolled out of my hand and thudded onto the floor.  Orgasms were getting harder and harder to achieve without having another warm body against mine.  My resolve to stay far away from men after what Matt had done was softening.

I peeled myself from my bed and plodded into the bathroom.  Ugh, the oversized vanity mirror, I hated it, and there was no way to escape its reflection.

I'd shifted some of the weight I’d gained during my six-year relationship with Matt, though I still wanted to lose enough to get back into the jeans I’d worn when I met him.  I even keep them at the back of my closet, for when that day came.  At twenty-eight my breasts were still pert, at least.  My roots needed doing.

I stepped into the shower and anxiety kicked in about the workday ahead.  The water pounded off my forehead as I contemplated the fastest way to get the dreaded Weeksend report over and done with.  My manager, Calvin, required an end of week report every Friday.  He thought he was clever ‘It's a week send off at the week's end’ but I failed to see the point of it, other than Calvin got a little tingle every time he said the term Weeksend.  Fridays used to be something to look forward to, before he got the job.

I did my hair and makeup then pulled on a tight navy skirt (to remind myself to pay attention to what I ate) and a cream blouse.  After sticking my navy pumps in my bag, I locked my condo door and walked the fifteen minutes to my office in comfortable shoes.  The commute through Chicago’s busy downtown was my favorite thing about the job, at least it has been since Calvin became my boss.

* * *

“
M
orning Sam
.” I smiled to my co-worker and cubicle-mate as I slung my bag into my chair.  I slipped the sneakers off and pulled out my heels.

“Hey!  It's Friday, all ready for the Weeksend report?” Sam asked with a wink.

“This is what I'd like to do to the Weeksend report.” I made a hammering motion with the shoe in my hand.

“Yes, this requires coffee, shall we?” Sam swung her chair around and stood, her long curls bouncing with the movement.

“Most definitely.”

We made our way to the little independent coffee shop on the corner by the office.  Friday mornings were always super busy and we got in line.

I listened to Sam order the jumbo deluxe chocolate mocha, which sent my mind to my already tight waste band.  I should hang those jeans at the front of the closet, for the extra motivation.

“Skinny regular,” I said to the clerk.

“Uh-huh, your name?” the frazzled looking clerk asked.

“Abbie.”

“I think our drinks may take a while, be right back,” Sam apologized and sprinted to the washroom.  She always needed to pee before eating or drinking, as if her body needed to make room for the new stuff.

I shuffled towards the drink collection area, though it was impossible to get anywhere near the counter due to the horde of people still waiting for their caffeine fixes.  I ended up leaning against the wall.  Through the heaving crowd I noticed a gorgeous man stirring his coffee for a ridiculously long time.  Once or twice I thought I caught him looking at me but decided that I was being silly.

As the other customers left and made space, I moved towards the collection point.  At last they called my name and I took the coffee to the preparation area.  I grabbed a sugar and tore it open but as I lifted it to pour, I paused remembering the jeans that used to fit and I wanted to fit into again.

“Trying to resist?” a man said, his voice smooth and rich.

“Um,” I snapped out of my thoughts.  My eyes refocused and looked to the voice, it was the same man I’d noticed earlier, he still hadn't left the prep area.

"Put it in, you can spare it.”  He said, flashing me a brilliant smile.

It was a little unnerving, coming from a stranger in a coffee shop.  Only he didn't seem creepy.  Maybe there was a legitimate reason for him standing there so long.  I sized him up, early or mid-thirties, nice suit, deep brown eyes.  He was tall but not crazy tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist.

“You can't stand there all day hovering a sugar packet over your drink.”

I realized my arm hadn't moved and tipped a little of the sugar into the coffee.

“Here.”  He handed me a stir stick.

“Thanks,” I said, examining him more.  His dark hair had a lot of volume and a slight wave.  Executive hair most men would envy.  And mesmerizing deep brown eyes.

“No problem.  Do you come here often?”

“Closest coffee to the office.”

At that moment Sam appeared and dumped two packs of sugar into her chocolate mocha.

“Screw it, it's Friday,” Sam said as she added a third sugar to her drink.  “Ready to face the big C and his damn Weeksend?”

“Ugh, let's go,” I sighed.

“Well, very nice to meet you Abbie, I'll see you around.”

“Uh, sure” I said, disconcerted he'd used my name.

The second we were out the door Sam started probing me.

“Who was he?” 

“Just some guy.”

“Just some absurdly hot guy! Why were you talking to him?”

“He was talking to me.”

“Oh my god, he was trying to pick you up!  At nine in the morning!  In a coffee shop!”

“I doubt it, he was fixing his coffee.”

“Come on Abbie, how long does it take to fix a coffee?  And when was the last time you talked to a stranger in the morning zombie rush of a coffee shop?  Never!”

“Oh well, we've left now, I'll never see him again.”

Was he really trying to pick me up, or was he a crazy stalker?  After all, I had noticed him standing around long before my coffee was ready.  The hurt of Matt ensured I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but I couldn’t ignore the longing between my legs much longer.  It had been so long since I’d been with a man.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about sleeping with someone else, or someone else seeing me naked.  I didn't have the confidence in my body or myself that I’d had when I met Matt at a fit twenty two.

* * *

A
s we entered
the office my blood pressure shot up at the imminent interaction with Calvin.

Drive and hard work had gotten me where I was.  After college I started work at Hamilton's in the accounts payable department and did my CPA in my spare time.  After various positions with Hamilton’s, a headhunter approached me about a job at Force McAllister, an Analyst role. It was just as my relationship with Matt ended.  With perfect timing, the extra salary was what allowed me to kick Matt out.  Before that I would’t have been able to swing the mortgage on my condo without his contribution in rent.  Though realistically, even with the pay bump I still can’t afford the mortgage.

Unfortunately my boss left two months after I started and Calvin replaced him.  Calvin the nightmare.  Calvin the something to prove.  Calvin who was “full of ideas on how things could improve” and who “really wanted to make his mark on things.”  His style of management was to criticize and complain and as a result Sam and I hated him.

Sam has been in the job for three years, long enough to look elsewhere.  But I’m stuck here until I put in some time in the role.  That is, unless Calvin fires me in the meantime.  He’s working on it, I know he is.  He has hated me from the second he laid eyes on me.  No matter what I do, he gives me the lowest marks in my monthly performance reviews.  Nothing I do is good enough, though he’s eager enough to steal my ideas and claim them as his own.  I suspect his real reason is he’s threatened by me.  Like at any time he will be found out as the incompetent boob he is, and I’ll be the person who exposes him.

“Ladies, good of you to come in to work today,” Calvin said in his attempt at a stern voice.

We were used to being treated like school girls by him and it took a lot of effort to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Abbie, I need the Weeksend report by 11 o'clock.”

“Don't worry, I'm on it.”

“I mean it Abbie. You need to get it done now. And make sure your work isn’t sloppy, like it usually is.”

I turned my head away before he could see the rage in my face. My work was not sloppy. Ever.

How was this guy married?  Did he treat his wife the same dickish way?  My mind wandered, envisioning what it would be like to have him pumping away on top of me.  Surely there was no way he'd be in for some foreplay, it'd all be about getting the business done, efficiently and oblivious to his wife's lack of enjoyment.  I hope he did it with the lights off, for her sake.  That pasty dough boy body could only be worse naked.

The rest of the day was mundane, and I looked at the clock in the corner of my computer screen more than I looked at my spreadsheet.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, smacking her laptop lid shut.

W
e walked down the street
, wading through the crowds of workers fleeing their offices.  It was the same every Friday evening, I met up with my best friend Jenny and always tried to drag Sam out to join us. 

Sam held the glass door open for me, and I stepped into the dimly lit bar, already loud with chatter.  Later the work crowd would thin out and the music got turned up.  If we lasted until then, we danced — usually making fools of ourselves but not caring.  Or at least Jenny and I didn’t care.  I suspect this is the real reason Sam always ducked out early.

Tonight after most people had left, including Sam, a cute blond guy came up to our table.

“Hi, I’m Duncan,” he said, extending his hand to me.

I looked at his hand, but didn’t offer mine.  “I’m Abbie,” I muttered.

Undeterred, Duncan sat on the bench beside me.  I gave Jenny a look, as if to say what the fuck, but she gave me a wide-eyed stare and gestured to talk to the guy.  He didn’t seem to notice my appeal to her.  Or at least he didn’t let on if he did.

“Do you come here often?” he asked.  How original.

“Sometimes,” I responded then turned to Jenny.  “So Jenny, Matt is taking me to Cape Cod for our anniversary.  I can’t wait, seven years, hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Jenny rolled her eyes, “Hard to believe all right.”

But it worked, Duncan stood and left giving a little wave as he went.

“You’re an idiot,” Jenny said as soon as he turned away.

“I’m not interested in another relationship.”

“I know, you’re still in the all men are assholes phase.  You have to get through that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.  Enough time has passed Abbie, you have to move on with your life.”

“There’s no way I’ll ever trust a man again, I promise you that much.”

“You didn’t have to have a long term relationship with that blond, just a good, casual fuck.”

“Ha!” I laughed, “I could do with one of those.”

“So then go after him, have a one-night stand.  Wake up in the morning feeling better.  Orgasms have amazing therapeutic powers.”

“I’m far too scared for that.”

“Just do it.”

“No way.  What if he has a little pecker?  Or is really selfish in bed?  Then I haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“You’re just nervous,” she teased, blowing air through her straw at me.

“So what if I am?”

“You’re going to miss out on a lot of life with that attitude.”

I pouted my bottom lip out at her.  She was probably right.  Then again what does she know?  She’s never had a boyfriend for longer than a year, and it’s not unusual to see her go through a string of men.  Heh, maybe she does have this figured out right.

* * *

I
laid
in bed that evening, unable to sleep.  With frustration calling out from between my legs, I once again decided to chase the orgasm that eluded me that morning.  I picked the vibrator up from the floor and gave it a wipe.  On reflection, I ran to the kitchen and raided the junk drawer for some new batteries.  Maybe that was the problem, fresh batteries would mean faster vibes.  I pressed my hand through the side of my panties and cupped my vulva before slipping two fingers inside.

Wet but not wet enough.  I moved the fingers back out and searched for my clit.  I rolled it between my fingers and remembered the feeling of being embraced, of hands stroking up and down my back the way Matt used to move his when he fucked me from behind.  Once wet enough, I turned on the vibe and guided it into position with my left hand, making sure the little ears were resting on my engorged clit.

With my eyes closed, I concentrated on the feelings of pleasure radiating out from between my legs.  I tried to zone out the buzzing noise.  I even tried to imagine Ryan Reynolds naked and hard.  But nothing pushed me over that edge.  Frustrated, I kept going, trying to free myself of negative thoughts.  I dragged a hand up my body and tried sucking my thumb, imagining Ryan Reynolds kissing me.  Still nothing.  I tried to stop thinking that I would never have another orgasm as long as I lived.  I tried to stop thinking what I was doing was ridiculous and pathetic and tried to concentrate on the vibrations going on down there.

I was on the verge of giving up when the coffee shop man's smiling face popped into my head. His deep brown eyes sparkled at me, and he smiled. Oh, god that smile was unreal. His shirt fell open, exposing muscles underneath. He drew me into him, tilted my chin towards him, and kissed me.  My body tensed then melted, and pulsing pleasure waves overtook my body.

I slid down the kitchen cupboards and sat on the floor.  Why had that guy jumped into my mind?  And why was he enough to push me into such delight?  Was I that desperate for the attention of a man?  The way he had so much confidence in speaking to me was definitely sexy.  And he was cute.  Okay, not cute, he was exceedingly hot.  The hottest man who has ever spoken to me.  Perhaps I was stupid to be cold to him.   Perhaps Jenny is right, I need a good fuck.  But how would I ever get coffee shop man into a one-night stand?  Would I ever even see him again?