The Billionaire's Passion (2 page)

Grant nods, resigned, and goes back to staring out the window.

“Should we get out of the city? Maybe out of the state?” I suggest.

“That ordinarily wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I’m working on something,” Grant says.

“What?”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”

We drive until dark, when Grant suddenly says, “Here – let us out here.”

He pays with a fistful of hundreds, which makes the driver’s day.

“You never saw us, understand?” Grant says, holding out an extra $500.

The cabbie eyes the money greedily. “Never saw who, boss?”

Grant pays, the taxi drives off, and we walk through the shadowy streets of a residential neighborhood full of brownstone apartment buildings.

“What are we doing?” I ask him.

“Going to ground for the night.”

He looks at the buildings carefully as we pass, then selects one. I know immediately why he chose it: the three newspapers piled at the doorway. A pretty good indication that no one is home.

“Let me see the backpack,” he says. I hand it to him, and he pulls out a small box full of metal picks. Within seconds he is using them on the three different locks on the door, one by one. All three unlock.

He opens the door and pauses for a second, listening.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask, glancing around nervously at the semi-deserted street, afraid we might be seen.

“A dog or an alarm.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t hear either,” he says, and walks inside. I follow quickly behind him, and he shuts the door.

Then he starts to walk around, looking at windows, searching the different rooms.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Casing the joint. Making sure there’s not a silent alarm or surveillance system. Figuring out where to run if we get found out.”

“Oh… makes sense…”

I reach for a light switch on the wall.

“Don’t,” he warns me. “If the neighbors see a light and they’re not expecting one, they’ll call the cops.”

“Are people really going to know if their neighbors are away? This is New York City, you know.”

“First rule of breaking and entering: never take a chance you don’t have to.”

That was actually a really good rule for computer hacking, too.

Evidently my mad skillz on the internet don’t translate so well to the real-world art of cat burgling.

I stay in the den as he walks through the house. I’m freaking out, worried about every creak of the floorboards, every police siren in the distance.

There’s a computer over on a desk near the television. It would be so easy to boot it up, hack into Grant’s security network, and find out what’s going on…

But I can’t.

Too dangerous.

Grant comes back five minutes later, his hand behind his back. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

I swallow, my throat dry. “What’s the bad news?”

“No turning on any lights or TV while we’re here. And we’re out at daybreak.”

“That’s not so bad. What’s the good news?”

He brings his hand out from behind his back. He’s holding a bottle of cabernet. “They’ve got a couple of bottles of wine.”

“Is getting drunk really a good idea right now?”

“Two glasses for you, two for me – that’s hardly my idea of drunk.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“We got out alive today. Second rule of cat burgling: celebrate the little victories.”

I relax a little and decide,
I’ll drink to that.

The refrigerator is virtually empty – another good sign that the homeowners are away for awhile – but there’s canned food in the pantry. I’m so hungry, I would have gorged myself on stale saltines. Fortunately we’ve got canned spaghetti, and we’re able to warm it up on the stovetop.

“Without even turning on a light,” I tease Grant as I turn on the burner.

We sit on the floor, sipping our glasses of wine and eating our noodles, and talk about what happened earlier.

As we go over the details, he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

“There’s no way you could have anticipated it.”

“I’ll get you to safety as soon as I can, and you can go back to your regular life – ”

“You’re joking, right? You think this guy is going to just let me go? No way. If he catches me, he’s going to use me against you as leverage. Or bait.” I shiver. “Or treat me like those two women you found.”

Grant gives me a sharp look. “Stop it.”

“Well, you can forget about ditching me. We’re in this together now.”

“If I can figure out a way to get you out, I will.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me.”

“Stop telling me you’re going to get rid of me, then.”

He sighs, and we go back to our dinner.

“Life certainly has a way of taking you down a peg, doesn’t it?” he muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday I was a billionaire eating filet mignon with a beautiful woman in my penthouse. Now I’m sitting on the floor eating Spaghetti-O’s in an apartment I just broke into.”

“They’re not Spaghetti-O’s,” I say. “It’s Chef Boyardee.”

He looks at me, and we both burst out laughing at the same time.

There’s nothing to do – we can’t watch television, we can’t even read without turning on a light – so we decide to go to bed.

The master bedroom is on the second floor of the building. I start to take off my blouse when I notice him getting under the covers fully dressed – even with his shoes still on.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“In case we have to make a run for it, we should be ready to go.”

“Oh,” I say, and button my blouse back up.

“You could be a
little
undressed,” he suggests.

“Not if we have to make a run for it.”

“Damn it, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he jokes.

We lie in bed, him holding me tight against his body.

“Have you ever been in a situation like this before?” I ask.

“On the run, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“There were a couple of times where I narrowly avoided being caught. Security came after me, there were Dobermans chasing me… but nothing like this. Nothing where I felt like the other side knew the next move I was going to make. Nothing where I felt… hunted.”

I shiver. He can feel it against his body.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes me. “We’re going to figure this out. We can beat him at his own game.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely. We just need to get you to a computer, and – ”

“But I have no idea how to track him down,” I say, and for the first time I voice my real fear: “I have no idea how to catch him.”

“Shhh… shhhh. We’ll figure it out. He’ll make a mistake – ”

“I don’t know that we can count on that.”

“Then we’ll outsmart him.”

That was the wrong thing to say. I think of the art gallery, the raid on the penthouse…

“I don’t know if we can count on that, either.”

“We’re going to win, Eve. Do you know why?”

I look at him in the darkness. I can see the dimmest of light glinting in his eyes, reflected from the streetlight shining through a crack in the bedroom curtains.

“No… why?”

“Because I never lose… and I have a feeling that you never do, either.”

I want to believe him. I do.

But the darkness is too deep, and my despair is too strong.

“There’s always a first time,” I murmur.

“Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t happen this time around.”

He kisses me softly, lingering on my lips.

I nuzzle against his body, trying to get closer.

He feels warm… safe.

Right now, my world is neither.

But he is.

I press my face into his chest.

Under his pants, I can feel a slight pressure, growing.

I reach down and touch him through the cloth. Feel him growing in my hand.

“We don’t have to,” he whispers.

I lift my head and kiss him.

“I want to,” I whisper back.

And I do. If for no other reason than to forget my fears, to blot them out at least temporarily. To use pleasure to give me a moment of peace.

We kiss longer. His lips drift to my chest… slowly move up my neck, then higher. He gives me tiny delicate kisses on my ear that make me shiver, but in a good way.

I unbuckle his pants as he lies there next to me. Slip my hand inside his underwear and find him. Soft, hot skin over a hardening shaft. I lightly caress him, my skin barely grazing his, making him stiffen even more.

His fingertips trace over the tops of my breasts not covered by my blouse. One by one he undoes the buttons until he can reach his hands inside, run them over my lace bra, cup me in his palms. His fingers circle the fabric over my nipple, making me harden, and I arch my back against him from the pleasure.

We slowly remove one piece of clothing at a time, lingering for long moments to enjoy the sensual slowness of it all.

All of this is in the near-dark, and in complete silence. The only noises we make are the tug of fabric, the clink of metal, and stifled moans and sighs.

My blouse comes off, and he spends minutes tracing his lips over my arms, kissing the insides of my wrists, sucking on my fingertips.

I peel off his shirt, and I luxuriate in the hard bulges of his muscles. I trace my fingertip between the grooves of his abs, then over his massive pecs and biceps. I brush my fingers through the hair on his chest and lick his tiny, hard nipples with my tongue.

My skirt is next. His hands find the inside of my thighs and stroke me, softly, all the way up to my panties, then move away just as I’m about to beg him for more.

I take off his shoes and socks, then help him pull down his pants. I try to take off his boxers, but he stops me. Instead I play with that long, hard shape straining at the material… lovingly brushing my lips over the thickness of it, teasing him.

He pulls me on top of him and reaches around to undo my bra – but he doesn’t just pull it off me. He keeps it in place, slowly pulling up the material from the bottom, exposing the underside of my breasts, licking from beneath until his tongue touches my nipple, wet and hot. I gasp as he takes me in his mouth. He removes the bra entirely, clutching my left breast with one hand while he sucks greedily at the other.

Finally I break away and pull his boxers off. His cock is so stiff that it fights against the material, and I have to be careful to pull the waistband far away so as not to hurt him. But then he’s lying there naked, his shaft jutting into the air. I lick him up and down, slowly… pausing at his balls to loll them on my tongue.

Finally he’s had enough, and he pushes me back and roughly removes my panties. But he doesn’t plunge inside me immediately. Instead he lowers me onto his cock, which lies flat against his stomach. My lips envelop just a few centimeters of the middle of his shaft, the same as if I were kissing him with my mouth. He slowly moves me back and forth, forcing my hips with his powerful hands, making my wet pussy slip up and down the surface of his cock.

I lean over at an angle and grind my clit into him as I slide across his shaft. It feels so I good I don’t want it to stop… my thighs are pulsing, and I can feel my muscles fluttering inside my belly.

I have to stop myself from making noises. Little gasps escape my lips, but I try my best to be silent. I feel like a teenager having sex in my parents’ house, with an ever-present danger of getting caught. That danger, that tension, makes it soooo much hotter. I come for the first time, my legs spasming. A little cry bursts out of me as I continue pressing myself as hard as I can into his rock-hard shaft.

He’s trying to keep quiet, too, but deep grunts escape his throat – sounds he tries to repress, but can’t.

Finally he can’t take anymore, and he pulls me all the way to the swollen head. I lift up on my knees, and he uses his hand to angle his shaft up so that he’s in line.

Very slowly, I ease back onto his cock.

Oh my God…

His swollen head presses tight against me, pushing, easing further – and there’s a slight give as his head slips in far enough that I can glide down the rest of his cock. Although it takes me awhile to go all the way down. His girth keeps expanding towards his base, filling me almost past the point I can take.

It’s overwhelming, but it feels like heaven.

I play with my clit as he sinks further inside me, using that extra bit of pleasure to counteract the slight hint of pain. He’s so big, I still haven’t gotten used to him yet…

I move up and down, rocking with my body, my hips rolling back and forth, up and down his shaft. My fingers move faster on my clit – the sensations are astounding from both outside and inside my body.

He’s watching me hungrily. His eyes are the only thing I can see clearly in the dark, the bright points of light reflecting across his pupils like some predatory cat about to devour me.

I’ve forgotten everything now – all the danger, the fear, the terror. All I can think of is how good it feels as he moves deeper and deeper inside me.

I rub myself faster, harder, almost in a frenzy as I start to plunge deeper down on his cock.

“Oh God… oh God oh God oh God…” I whimper frantically as I start to come.

The violence of it takes me by surprise. I actually double over as the contractions overwhelm me, shoot up and down my thighs and belly, showering ecstasy all the way up to the crown of my head.

I can feel myself releasing, getting wetter all over him as I plunge down harder, letting him fill me, letting my fingers work in a blur over my clit.

And then I can’t contain it anymore, and I’m screaming –

His hand reaches out and clamps over my mouth, muffling my cries.

For some reason it’s even hotter with him restraining me, and my dying orgasm flares up again. I come a second time – or maybe I just keep coming, my body bucking and writhing in ecstasy.

Suddenly he looks like he’s in pain. He clamps his jaw shut, trying to stifle any noise, and I feel him explode inside me. Burst after burst of pressure pulses inside me, driving me even crazier. He just keeps forcing me to ride him as he comes inside me, driving his cock deeper into me with the rocking of his pelvis.