Taken by the Billionaire (4 page)

I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and whimpered in anticipation as he slowly lowered me onto his engorged member. I clutched at the railing for balance—my knuckles white and my arms shaking—and a surge of pleasure shot through me as I felt his tip against the elastic lining of my underwear.

I shivered and tensed up in excitement as I felt the crotch of my underwear slide to the right, and then his head slowly pushed into me, spreading my lips and slowly filling me as he penetrated deep into me again.

My thoughts grew hazy again as he stroked into me, and all I could think about was the chain of amazing, unbelievable sensations arcing through my body with each thrust. I felt my breasts bounce lightly up and down in my bra—my nipples brushing sensitively against the soft fabric—and their pleasures trickled down my body and mingled with the incredible feelings rising from between my legs.

He suddenly pulled me down onto him, at the same time thrusting his cock as far into me as he could, and I screamed in ecstasy so loudly that my ears rang.

“I can’t hold myself up much longer,” I blurted out in between moans and screams of delight as he pounded deep into me. My arms were shaking from exertion and pleasure, and I knew I was going to have to let go of the railing soon.

“So let go, Sarah,” he said, interrupting himself in the middle to kiss me and let his tongue play with mine for a long, passionate moment. “I’m not going to drop you; you just have to trust me on that.”

I took a deep breath and let go of the railing.

For one brief moment, I felt myself falling. My mind panicked and my body tensed up in preparation for hitting the floor, but his arms almost immediately caught me and held me firmly against the elevator wall.

“See? Whatever you may think, you can trust what I tell you,” he whispered in my ear. He kissed me gently on the cheek, nibbled on my ear, and then thrust into me with all his might just to hear my delighted screams again.

The elevator rocked and creaked as Peter held my legs up in the air and penetrated me over and over and over again, each time driving me even deeper into a frenzy of pure sexual desire. I could feel his arms shaking and his body trembling as he struggled to keep up with his conflicting lusts: his desire to take me, and his desire to take me the way he wanted to.

There was something about Peter fighting against himself just out of longing for me that was not only amazingly sensual and exciting, but also strange and alien to me. I’d never met someone who wanted me the way he did, and the experience was as indescribable for me as it was sexy and primal.

Rational thought got harder and harder for me as I felt an orgasm building up inside me. It was almost there—hiding just around the corner inside my mind—and I knew that any moment now it would overwhelm me. I cried out deliriously as the incredible friction of Peter’s shaft against my most sensitive of places ignited my body. My skin burned with desire, and it felt as if my entire body was on the verge of bursting into flame.

I suddenly felt him throb inside me, followed by a sudden heat, and Peter gasped in pleasure as he came. I moaned through my euphoric haze as I felt the heat of his seed inside me, each languid thrust filling me even more as he came, and the strange and wonderful sensation of it gave my mind that one last push it needed.

My mind was tumbling downward as if in freefall and hurtling toward the ground as winds of searing pleasure and orgasmic delight howled past me. I couldn’t even hear my screams over the pounding of my heart in my ears and the incomprehensible sensations shattering my mind and scattering the pieces on the winds.

Suddenly, I was back in the elevator and sitting on the floor in the corner, trembling from fatigue but satisfied. My chest heaved as I caught my breath, and as Peter sat down next to me, the elevator began to descend again.

“You are amazing,” he whispered, and he kissed me softly on the cheek as he put a strong arm around my waist. I laid my head on his shoulder for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body and the feeling of comfort as my mind pieced itself back together from the orgasm, and then I wobbled to my feet and smoothed out my skirt again.

“Me, amazing? Holy shit, what does that make you then?” I asked, staring at him as he rose from the floor and dusted off his suit. How on earth did his suit not even have a wrinkle after all of this?

“Damned if I know,” he said, winking at me with a mischievous smile. “If you figure it out, maybe you can tell me.”

The elevator came to a stop and chimed as it reached Parking Level One, and the doors slowly slid open.

“Okay, now we hurry again,” said Peter in a low voice. His executive mask was back on. His gray eyes hinted of steel now, and his lips were tight and determined.

He suddenly grabbed my hand and yanked me sharply after him as he sprinted out of the elevator.

“Come on, Sarah! Run already,” he snapped, glancing over his shoulder as he dragged me along behind him.

“You could have said something instead of just grabbing me,” I snapped back as I tried to catch up. My heels echoed loudly through the nearly empty garage.

Peter fished around in his inner coat pocket as he ran, and he pulled out a key ring and pushed a button on it. About fifty feet ahead, a sleek black car let out a cheerful ‘beep’, unlocked its doors, and started its engine.

“Mister Ibramovic!” called a loud, gruff voice from somewhere behind us just as we reached the car.

I spun around just in time to see the black-suited man with dark shades draw his gun and aim it straight at me.

T
he world seemed to slow down around me as the man raised his arm and pointed the gun at me. I instinctively raised Peter’s bloodstained briefcase up to my chest—as if that would protect me from a gun—and stared down the shining black barrel of the handgun like a deer looking into the headlights of an oncoming truck. My ears rang loudly as he fired, and for one agonizingly long second the world stopped around me. It was as if I could see the bullet hovering in the air—its tip telling me exactly where it was going and how much it was going to hurt—and then time caught up again.

Suddenly, the heavy, metal briefcase slammed hard against my chest and squeezed the air out of me as it crushed me against the side of the car. Dazed, off-balance, and unable to breathe, my body opted to take the easy way out and collapsed into a tangled heap of arms and legs on the pavement.

My head swam as I gasped and wheezed, trying to catch my breath, and two more gun-shots rang out close by. Peter screamed something in Russian, and though the words were unintelligible to me, the emotion behind them rang through clear as day. He was pissed off.

Tires squealed from somewhere off behind me, an engine roared, and then everything went quiet.

“Sarah? Oh god... are you alright? Answer me!”

I looked up into his anxious face and nodded. He still thought I’d been shot and had a look of terror on his face. I glanced down at the enormous dent in the outer shell of the shining metal case and the tiny, centered perforation where the bullet had made it through into the lining. Well... I had been shot, but thankfully the only casualty was his briefcase.

Still, it was nice to see he cared. There was more to Peter than the executive façade let on.

Are you serious? Of course he cares!
snapped my brain, ever the rational actor.
He doesn’t want a dead translator in his garage!

I tuned myself out and accepted his hand as he helped me up.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I’ll get you to a hospital as quick as—“

“No, I’m fine!” I answered, cutting him off. I wasn’t going to the hospital. I wasn’t going anywhere but back to my apartment and getting some goddamned sleep. It had to be near dawn by now!

I held up the suitcase again, showing off the giant dent and the bullet-hole, and a wave of relief washed over Peter’s face.

It was then that I noticed the dead man lying on the pavement, maybe four car lengths away. Deep red blood poured from a hole in his chest and made a lake around the black-garbed, former assailant. It was like watching the scene of a gruesome car accident; I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, even though it was making my stomach turn.

The smell of burning rubber hit my nose, thankfully distracting my brain from the dead gunman. I traced the path of the black tire tracks from their origin at a nearby parking spot to the garage exit, and I realized that the gunman hadn’t been alone.

“Oh thank God you’re okay, Sarah!” gushed Peter, and then his shields snapped back up just as quickly as they had gone down. His emotions were cut off from me once more, and again he was simply the alpha executive.

“We have to get out of here. Now. Let’s go,” he said, and he grabbed my hand sharply and yanked me toward the car. I stumbled along after him—still in shock from nearly being gunned down—and he all but tossed me into the passenger seat before racing around the front of the car and leaping into the driver’s seat.

The tires squealed loudly as he revved the engine, and we flew out of the garage and onto the road.

Not quite the car I expected.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’d expected. I hadn’t really given it much thought, since I didn’t expect to spend the early hours of the morning racing down the highway alongside a drop-dead gorgeous billionaire, but here I was! Whatever my expectations were, though, a five-year-old Mercedes—better suited for a fancy cab than a billionaire’s ride—would not have been my first guess. It was clean and well-maintained but hardly what I’d thought he’d drive. It was almost too practical for him, I thought.

Peter was silent as we drove in the darkness down the nearly empty highway. Streetlights flashed past us as the car hummed along smoothly.

“Peter... where are we going?”

He quickly picked up his cell phone and started dialing a number.

“Hello? Peter?” I asked. Why the hell was he ignoring me now?

“English. New York. Austrian Airlines Departures at JFK Airport, please,” said Peter, still not answering me. “Make it fast.”

I could hear the sound of on-hold music playing through the tinny speaker of his cell phone.

“Will you answer me already?” I snapped, waving at him, and he shot me a glare and shook his head before turning his attention back to the cell phone.

“Hi there! Booking, yes. Zagreb, Croatia. I need two tickets for your next flight, however soon it is. Executive first class.”

My head snapped up in alarm. Zagreb? For two? I wasn’t going to Zagreb! I was going straight home and straight to bed from there!

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t have executive first class on that route? Why not?” shouted Peter into the phone. I couldn’t make out what the airline clerk’s response was.

“Okay... you know what? Book out every seat in first class. Every last one. I don’t care if there is someone else in the seat already. I’ll pay double what they’re paying. No, not tomorrow. Today!”

What on earth is he doing?
I thought. That had to cost a fortune! Well... a fortune to me, maybe. For him, it was probably a drop in the bucket.

“No sir, this is a one-time offer. I will buy out your entire first class section for a flight to Zagreb, at double price, but only if you get me on the next flight. Get me to Zagreb, damn it!”

Peter’s face lit up, and I could only assume he’d heard an answer he liked.

“Perfect! We’ll be there for check-in within the hour. Thank you very much, sir.”

I took a deep breath as he hung up the phone.

“So, sweetie... do you think that maybe,” I started, trying to lay the honey on so thickly that the sarcasm couldn’t possibly be missed, “just maybe... you should have asked me first before wasting your money buying me a ticket to Zagreb?”

Peter glanced at me and shrugged, and his reaction only infuriated me even more.

“Well... you’re stuck now, so I figured I might as well.”

“What? How the fuck am I stuck?” I snapped at him. “Just take me back to my apartment, drop me off, and that’s that! Done! I can go to sleep!”

“There were three gunmen, Sarah,” said Peter quietly, and from how tense his neck looked, I got the impression that he was desperately trying to control his temper. “I only killed two. They were working together, as well.”

“And?”

“Do you really think they’re just going to let you go, now that you’re a witness? If they don’t already know who you are, they will soon enough.”

If angry glares could kill, I’d be on death row right now. What had he just gotten me into?

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said after a long, long silence.

“Sorry for what? Getting me shot at? Tossing me onto a plane to Croatia?” I snapped at him sarcastically.

“Well, that too,” he answered. “Mostly though, sorry for getting you caught up in my family’s business.”

“Your family? Who the hell was shooting at you?”

It was nearly three in the morning, and I was in no mood for vague answers.

“Sorry, it’s just a hunch. I have nothing more to say yet,” answered Peter.

That was the last straw for me. Even if it hadn’t been so late in the evening and I hadn’t been so completely exhausted, I hated being kept in the dark over things that affected me. I’d been shot at, so this affected me.

“You know what, then? Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what the fuck you’re getting me into!”

My voice was shrill, harsh, and angry, and my own ears rang from how loudly I screamed at him.

“Okay, I’ll drop you off at your apartment,” said Peter, shrugging as if my fury had simply bounced off of him, and then he added, “but they’ll probably kill you in your sleep tonight.”

That glib little comment completely took the wind out of my sails. What if he was right? What if they did know who I was and came back for me?

How about, instead, I offer to double your salary and bring you to Croatia with me as a translator? I need someone with your skills to speak to my mother.”

“Your mother?” I said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I told you earlier, but you were a bit... preoccupied,” he said, winking at me. “She is deaf. You studied Croatian Sign Language. I need a person who can talk to her, especially since she is pretty angry at me right now and probably will throw a teacup at me when I walk in the door.”