Sharing Nicely (6 page)

“He’ll stay in the back until I call him and I’m not going to call him any time soon.”

“Well, okay.” I continued to kiss him with the sound of engines in the background and a slight unease in my stomach from being in close proximity to Greg as much as being in flight. I knew I was off the ground, I felt floatier somehow, but Greg’s kiss grounded me. I wanted to get even closer but then he pulled back with a pop.

“Trust me,” he said, and slipped down off his chair onto the floor. I did wonder for a brief moment if he’d gone completely off his rocker but then I felt his knees tapping at my shoe ends so I widened my thighs. His fingers wandered up the inside of my naked legs and under the hem of the short skirt I wore. A tad impractical for a cold autumn day, but I’d not noticed a lack of heat, and now the temperature was soaring.

When Greg’s questing led him to the edge of my knickers he simply hooked the material to one side. He insinuated his whole body between my spread thighs, his head ducked under the fabric of my skirt. I could just see his movement under the material if I looked closely at my lap. I scooted my butt closer to the edge of the chair and spread my thighs wider. Greg plunged his tongue between my folds and eagerly lapped up the juices pooling there. The arousal was intense—his lapping was frenzied but expert as he hit my clit over and over, causing whimpers to escape from my throat unbidden. I came hard and fast, still surprised by his actions. He didn’t give me time to recover, though. He crawled out from under the table and sat on the thick cream carpet. He beckoned me over with a finger.

I slipped down onto the carpet and crawled over. I wondered if he could see mischief shining in my eyes.

“On the floor?” I whispered, crawling nearer him. “Really?”

“Yes, the good thing about being a billionaire is you can do what you want wherever you want, and I want you here now.” He kissed me briefly—I could taste my musk on his lips. Then he pushed me over onto my back and I yelped in shock. The sound mellowed into a giggle of surprise. He wasted no time. He pulled a condom from a packet on the side of the chair nearest to us.

“Always prepared,” Greg said. I pulled down his trousers while he fiddled with the condom. His cock was hard and throbbing, deep pink nearing red at the tip. It left me breathless and wanting more even after my explosively good orgasm of moments earlier. He sheathed himself confidently then without a moment’s hesitation he took me.

Greg slammed into me. His dick stretched my eager walls around him. He didn’t take it slowly, he banged into me with force and determination. I curled myself around him, grabbed his shoulders and gripped his hips with my thighs. I clung on as he hit my sensitised clit with his pubis over and over, every touch sending paroxysms of pleasure through every inch of me. It wasn’t long, it wasn’t pretty but it was one of the most memorable fucks of my life. When he came it was with a roar and when he softened he slipped from within me and lay next to me, spent on the floor. We panted in harmony.

“Better get up,” Greg said a few moments later. “We’ll be coming into land soon.”

* * * *

The hotel was astounding, the suite we were in was opulent but comfortable and the little balcony had a view out towards the Eiffel Tower. It was perfectly romantic.

“What a view,” I sighed. I leaned against the edge of the steel scrollwork of the balustrade and felt the autumn breeze ruffle my hair. I was a little cold, but I didn’t mind. I was in awe of the vista, the sprawling city with quaint corner cafés and pretty white houses, tall and thin and elegant. I’d always dreamed of visiting Paris—I only wished I could stay longer.

When I looked over my shoulder to find where Greg was because he hadn’t answered, I saw him pacing up and down past the golden scrolled fireplace with his mobile pressed to his ear. It was clearly a business call. I felt momentarily disgruntled, but then I shrugged it off. He was a billionaire businessman, would he really stop his work just because of me?

A wicked idea crossed my mind and before I really thought I turned around. I walked back into the room and slipped off my shoes. He hadn’t noticed me, so I cleared my throat. He looked up to see me unfastening the top buttons of my blouse. His eyebrows raised but he continued to talk into the phone.

“Can’t Robertson deal with it?”

I sashayed closer to him, hips swaying as buttons unfastened surprisingly easily between my shaking fingers. At six feet away from him I dropped the blouse from my shoulders and fiddled with the fastening on my skirt.

Greg’s gaze was fixed firmly on me. His voice rose.

“Look, Victor, I have left you in charge, so you need to deal with it. Yes, I know what I told you but now I’m telling you to deal with it your bloody self!”

Greg licked his lips. I dropped the skirt from my hips and I took another step towards him. I was bold, I was brave. Maybe it was something in the air because when I reached him, I entwined my arms around his shoulders and whispered into the ear unoccupied by a phone, “I want you to fuck me now. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

I stalked away from him, heart thumping, and as I moved I slipped the material of my knickers down over my buttocks and let them fall from me before stepping out of them and into the bedroom.

“Look, I’ve got something more urgent to deal with. Just go with your gut, I’ll call you later.”

I scurried into the bedroom, pulled off my bra in a hurry and threw myself onto the bed which bounced back joyfully and enveloped me in warm, luxurious comfort.

“Wicked, naughty girl.” I looked up to see Greg striding across to the bed, his shirt part removed and his hand on his belt buckle. “I should spank you for distracting me like that.”

“What?” I asked, coquettishly fluttering my lashes. “I did nothing.”

The clunk of his trousers to the floor and the addition of his weight to the bed made my stomach leap with anticipation.

“Nothing, wench? You could well have just caused the downfall of my company.”

“Oh, no,” I squealed as he grabbed my naked waist and pulled me to him. “I merely gave you a suggestion.”

“A suggestion I’d have been mad to refuse,” he growled then kissed me hard, crushing the breath from my lungs.

“Well,” I gasped when he let me up for air, “I have always been good at providing a convincing argument.”

“Indeed”—he nodded, a sparkle of mischief in his eye—“and I am good at providing suitable punishment for bratty, beautiful girls like you.”

He pulled me towards him. I yelped and sprawled across his lap, his erection digging into my stomach, my hands dangling down the side of the bed, my legs wrapped in the mussed up blankets.

“Oh no,” I gasped. “Don’t spank me!”

I’d never been spanked, never seen the attraction. As I waited there under the control of a hard, ruthless and gloriously handsome man I started to realise what I might have been missing.

“Nope, you deserve it. Stop wiggling,” he commanded and slapped my buttocks. The impact stung but excited. I yelped. Greg stroked my arse and whispered gently, “If it’s too much, darling, shout ‘Diamonds’ and I’ll stop immediately.”

I nodded, touched by his caring words, then thrilled by the crack of his hard hand on my soft, giving flesh once more.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he growled, hitting me once more. It hurt. He wasn’t holding back. I was tempted to shout out in my shock but I didn’t because beneath the pain and the embarrassment was the prickle of pleasure and the anticipation of more.

“No,” I gasped, the heat of my arse rolling through my body, making me glow with ecstasy.

“I will not stop”—he punctuated each word with a spank—“until you say sorry, you naughty, naughty, wicked, temptingly wonderful woman.”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, grinding my hips against him, the hot, harsh bloom of pain diffusing into the hot throb of desire. “I’m so sorry.”

“And so you should be.” He stopped spanking. My arse ached more with need than the pain of impact. I wanted him to continue. “Now get up here and kiss me, so we can make up and fuck.”

“Yes, sir.” I brought myself up on hands and knees then lifted back until my buttocks skimmed my heels. The pressure against my reddened skin made me squint and tighten up but then he leaned in and kissed me and I melted into Greg’s embrace. He wiggled down onto the bed and pulled me over him.

“Condom,” I squeaked, my words almost refusing to leave my lips. I was eager to fuck but not that eager.

“Got it.” Greg slipped his hand beneath the top pillow and pulled out a small, square packet. I assumed he’d put it there earlier
—
either that or this place had run out of chocolate mints. I kissed him and he reached beneath my body to cover himself. He barely struggled, confidently sheathing himself and doing battle with me, lip to lip and tongue to tongue.

I settled down onto him, his cock embedding within me, stretching and arousing me, combining with the ache in my arse to consume me with bliss. I moved instinctively, my mind addled with ecstasy. I lifted and fell, my hands resting on the pillow beside his head, his hands gripped tightly on my hips. My eyes closed, unable to fight the weight of pleasure pulling them down.

Sparks of orgasmic enjoyment erupted at every impact of crotch against crotch, and gasps, pants and moans from both of us merged together in harmony. I felt Greg labouring beneath me, lifting his hips to push him deeper into me to get more purchase. I flicked open my eyes and watched him. His cheeks were red and rosy, his lips parted and his eyes were screwed up tightly. He looked vulnerable, sexy and real and I felt a pang of something deeper than lust that intensified when his eyelids fluttered open. He met my gaze and smiled—his face was transformed with it. I read something there, something fleeting, something deep that sent a jolt of enjoyable fear through me. I closed my eyes, unable to take the intensity, and he screamed roughly, held himself deep within me as he came.

I melted in a puddle beside him, still fizzing with sexual tension but happy not to climax. I had come once that day anyway and I was pleased to have pulled him from his business to provide him with some pleasure. So I was surprised when he turned towards me, kissed my cheek and ran his hand down my front. He swept over my breasts, fingers tickling my nipples and eliciting a soft moan from between my lips. His touch drifted lower, skimmed the curve of my stomach and dipped between my thighs. I spread them a little wider. Greg’s thick fingers tickled over my pubic hair hinting that maybe I was still open for more. I was. Where moments earlier I’d been sated and satisfied with what gratification I’d got, with the sweep of his touch along my body I was once again alive with desire.

I wondered if he was merely teasing because his fingers stopped just short of my clit. I wanted to whimper and moan, to plead for release, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I opened my eyes and looked up, crooking my neck slightly so I met his gaze. He had his head propped on one hand, offering him a good view along the length of my body.

I tingled under his appreciative stare. I didn’t pull away from it. I held my breath as I waited for his reply to my voiceless challenge. Inside my mind I was goading him to make me come, laying down the orgasmic gauntlet. I wished the words would force out of my mouth but the power in his dark eyes locked them away deep inside me. I wasn’t the one in control, I just had to wait to see what his next whim would be. I was pliant and frustrated all at the same time and couldn’t have been more thankful when his fingertips grazed my clit.

I closed my eyes and pleasure tore through me, centring my attention on the fingers that explored me. Greg took his time stroking my slippery folds. Weak and painfully turned on, I didn’t have the energy to lift a limb, to move my body, to direct him to what I wanted. I lay compliant beneath him as his lips tickled my collarbone in time with his seeking digits.

By the time his kisses rolled down to my nipples I was hanging on the very edge of ecstasy. I knew that just a few well-positioned strokes would bring me to climax. I wanted it desperately, but at the same time I didn’t want it. I didn’t want the tension, the anticipation to end. I was so sexually alive and I felt so good being out of control for once. I wanted it to go on forever, even if I would expire from the pressure building up inside me to come.

Greg sucked my nipple hard and slid his fingers to my clit. I tightened, anticipating the last moment of want, eagerly awaiting the breaking climax. He surprised me once more by resting his finger there on top of my wet need and lifting away from my nipple. My eyes flicked open and his face was above mine. His focus drifted from my eyes to my lips and back again. He was taking in every aspect of my visage.

“Come for me.” He said those three words, gently, deeply but with such command that as he pressed my clit and rubbed once and just before he completed the next sweep the ecstasy swamped me. I felt the swathe of his fingertip and I shuddered and twisted beneath him. His upper body pressed down on me as his lips met mine. He sucked on the orgasmic gratification that poured from my body and it transferred from my body to his, like a wave. He then passed it back with the movements of his lips and the stilling of his fingers. The intensity of pleasure lessened as we batted it between us, lip to lip, finger to clit.

I gasped deeply when he pulled out of the kiss, desperate for oxygen and stability. We lay still, atmosphere heavy, bodies replete. I could feel the need to say things, to whisper sweet nothings—this was the point to do that. But when I rolled over, ready to say something potentially stupid, he rolled the other way and perched on the edge of the bed.