The Billionaire's Dark Lady

The man I now called my lover and I had been friendly for years. He was my family's neighbor, moved in a few doors down when I was eighteen years old. As soon as I met Roger Hill, I was attracted to him. At six feet five inches tall, he made me feel tiny at five seven. I was used to looking the boys at school in the eye, I loved being around tall men.

I tried to do the ‘right’ thing – fall for a guy my age. Fall for… well… a black man.

Roger was white, and I was black.

That never seemed to matter to him, though, so maybe it shouldn’t matter to me. That was one of the things I liked about him.

His muscular figure, and flirty smile only made the butterflies in my stomach dance harder whenever we spoke.

When he came to a cookout my family held, he gave me some good advice about my cheerleading tryouts, and when I aced them, I went to him to thank him. That struck up a friendship, and I walked down to chat with him a few times a week.

Before long, it was his shoulder that I cried on when my dog died, him that I showed off my Honor Roll report card to. He was always kind to me, always interested in what was going on in my life.

Frequently, though, he would disappear for a few days, or even two or three weeks. When that happened, I moped around my own house and sighed - because the only secret I kept in our conversations was my ever-growing crush on him!

One rainy Thursday afternoon when I was eighteen, six weeks or so before I was set to graduate from high school, I went to his house for a quick visit, to ask how his week had gone at work.

As I was getting ready to go, my phone fell out of my pocket onto a soft carpet in the entry hall, and he picked it up, glancing down at the screen. He started to look interested, and a slow smile spread across his face. Oh, no! The last thing I'd been looking at was a series of texts between me and my friend A’isha!

"What's this?" he asked. "You're about to go visit your totally sexy crush? I hope you tell him hello from me."

Not only could I feel my face turning hot, I could see the red flush spread across my cheeks in the mirror hanging across from me, so I knew he could see it too.

"Um, I sure will," I said. I held my hand out for my phone, hoping to make a quick retreat.

"No, no, not so fast," he said, holding the phone out of my reach and twiddling it teasingly. "You've never mentioned a crush before, and I thought we were such good friends. I'm so disappointed in you."

He laughed as my cheeks turned from rose pink to cherry red.

"It's just a silly crush, okay? I've had it for a long time, but A’isha is the only one who knows," I said quickly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It has to be a pretty serious crush, A’isha seems to think that you should 'jump his bones.' Come on, tell me who the lucky boy is," he coaxed, but he handed me back my phone.

I worked on stuffing my phone into my pocket, but I was wearing tight jeans and I was so embarrassed that I struggled to put my phone away.

"Um," I said. "That's just A’isha. She always says things like that."

"Sex is a very serious part of adulthood. You're an adult now. I should know, I sent you a very nice necklace. Do you really think it's appropriate to be joking about it like that?" he said. He looked mostly solemn, but his mouth twitched and his eyes danced behind his frown.

"Don't worry," I said, "I can promise you he won't, er, sleep with me. He's not interested. Way out of my league."

"Oh, don't say that. You're an cheerleader, no one is out of your league."

I hated being teased, and I hated being embarrassed, and my temper flared up at once.

"Look, my crush is on you, okay?! I've had a crush on you for years, and I know you're not interested and I am way too young," I said.

He raised his eyebrows and his mouth fell open, the picture of a startled man. It only lasted for a moment, though, and the confident grin that made my heart go pitter-patter spread across his face. There was a touch of sweetness, though.  It was just kind of smile that I'd dreamed of receiving from him as long as I'd known him.

"Oh," he said. "I don't know about that."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, although I'm pretty sure I looked more like a frightened deer than the self-assured sexpot I sometimes longed to be when I was around him.

"Do you..." I started. "Do you think I'm..."

"Oh, my dear girl," he said. "I think you're rather devastatingly lovely, not to mention bright and charming. If you'd like to jump my bones, I wouldn't hesitate to let you."

“I want you to take me,” I blurted out. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but he didn’t seem to mind.

We stood there in the entryway for a few agonizing seconds. I wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but I was terrified of making the first move. It looked like my dream was going to come true, if I had the courage to try for it.

Finally, I reached one hand out towards him, and then let it drop and turned away out of embarrassment.

He took hold of my shoulders and turned me back to face him. Leaning forward, he closed the distance between us and kissed me.

I'd been kissed a few times before, but mostly by high school boys, sloppy and gross. This was nothing like those kisses. When his lips met mine they were warm and dry and soft against my own, and he pulled me against him, oh, so gently. Unlike the high school boys, he didn't try and immediately put his hand up my shirt or grope my ass or stick his tongue halfway down my throat, he simply let me feel the long line of his body against mine and the insistent press of his lips against my own.

I leaned against him, pressing my breasts into his firm chest and tilting my face up towards his to give him the best access to me. I kept my arms at my side at first, but soon enough, totally swept away by this embrace, I put my arms around him and held him close.

He smelled so amazing. A strong, masculine, spicy scent, not the body odor and Axe that wafted from a high school boy.

Finally, he broke the kiss, let go of my shoulders, and stepped back from me. When he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse.

"Enough. I don't want you to regret this,” he said.

“How could I?” I asked. That kiss was so powerful that I was a little unsteady on my feet. How could I ever regret feelings that strong and wonderful? How could I regret such an amazing man giving me his attention?

He chuckled.

“Oh, a lot of reasons. How about this? Let’s not talk for a week, so you can think about whether or not you want to be with me,” he said, and paused. As his words trailed off, he reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “Whether or not you want me to fuck you. If you still want that, come to my house next Friday night wearing a sexy dress. I’ll take you out for dinner, and then we’ll come back to my place and I’ll fuck you silly.”

I nodded hesitantly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Get out of here! I’ll see you in eight days.”

I turned and fled back to my noisy, chaotic house where there was hardly ever any privacy. My nipples were diamond-hard in my bra and I could feel the wetness in my panties as I trotted along, but there was no way to address that need in the room I shared with my sisters.

CHAPTER TWO

Two mornings later, my entire family left for an overnight trip to the beach. I pleaded homework to stay home by myself. It took only five minutes alone for me to decide that today was the day, I couldn’t wait another week, I had to be kissed like that again, I was aching for it.

I sent him a text message: “What would happen if I came over this morning?”

His reply was almost instant: “You’d get what you want, but you’d also get punished for not waiting.”

Mine was nearly as fast: “See you in an hour?”

I wasn't sure what sort of punishment he had in mind, but I was certain that any punishment would be better than going absolutely crazy with desire.

Along with his assent came a return of those butterflies in my stomach. Was I really going to do this today? Was I about to lose my virginity?

To prepare, and calm my nerves, I started with a shower, taking my time and washing every inch of my body with my nicest soap and a soft loofah. A delicate jasmine aroma hung in the air as I bathed, paying particular attention to my breasts, soaping and rinsing them repeatedly, in the hopes that they would be as soft and silky as possible, because I was pretty sure that today would be the first time that they would be seen by someone other than me... and, I'll admit it, the desire had built up within me to a steady ache, and the soft touch of the loofah on my breasts and nipples felt incredible. I shivered as I imagined Mr. Hill’s strong fingers tracing the path that my fingers were taking.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to linger in the shower all day and think about what could happen later. I only had an hour to prepare for our meeting, I needed to get out and get dressed and ready to see my neighbor again.

I turned off the shower and stepped out, taking my old towel and rubbing myself dry before walking down the hallway into my bedroom.

As I opened my underwear drawer, I hesitated. Normally I wore sensible white cotton panties and a beige bra without a hint of lace or decoration, but if things went well I didn’t want him to think that I was a boring little girl. I wanted him to think that I was a woman. Underneath the rest of my underwear, I dug through and pulled out a little bright red lace thong that an ex-boyfriend had bought me. I had refused to wear it then, it was a totally inappropriate gift and I broke up with him, but for some reason I hadn’t thrown it away. Now I was glad that I had kept it - something about this sexy older man made me feel bold and exciting, just right for wearing a thong like that. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bras that were anything but dull - little white numbers. At a 34DD, I didn't usually wear anything like a push-up bra, but perhaps I should have bought something with a little lace.

After my efficiency with my panties and bra, it took me twenty minutes just to decide what to wear. I couldn’t put on anything that would call attention to me when I walked down the street, but I didn’t want to wear anything boring or unflattering, either. I ended up wearing a khaki miniskirt that was a few inches shorter than most of my school skirts, although not as short as my cheerleading uniform, and a white t-shirt of my little sister's that was a little too low-cut for me and stood out spectacularly against my dark skin.