Biker Billionaire #3: Riding the Heir (7 page)

He glanced down at me. "Dad owns this entire building." He pulled me down a shadowed hallway and past doorway after doorway, looking into each one. "I remember seeing a nice corner office with a couch somewhere around here...ah, here it is."

The office was mammoth, overlooking Manhattan with its endless lights like topaz jewels and the lines of traffic coiling in red-and-white lines. It was dark, lit only by the open window. There was a desk with a monitor in one corner and a phone opposite, a pair of chairs in front of the desk, a potted plant dominating one corner of the room, and a deep, dark leather couch along one wall. Shane closed the door and locked it, then turned to me, pinning me with hungry eyes.

I sauntered toward him, swaying my hips, reaching for him. Our lips met, the banked fire low in my belly blazed to life, and my hands developed a mind of their own as our tongues explored each other. His suit coat came off, draped across a chair, and then his pants were open and I had his hot, hard cock in my hands, greedily stroking him, pulling him toward me. I shoved him back against the couch so he sat down on it. He shimmied his pants lower and tugged me toward him, brushing the hem of my skirt up above my hips. I straddled him, and he pushed the string of my thong aside, then stopped.

"What? What are you waiting for?" I asked.

He didn't answer, but dug in the pocket of his pants, producing the foil packet of a condom. "Less clean up."

I took it from him, ripped it open and rolled the latex onto his shaft. Kneeling on the couch, I lifted up, guided him to my entrance and sank down onto him. Shane exhaled a groan as he filled me, his hands around my waist and skimming up to caress my breasts, rocking his hips to plunge into me.

"God, Leo, you're so tight. You feel so good." Shane whispered in my ear, hands grazing my body, pulling me down, lifting me up, caressing and holding and nipping with his teeth.

I snaked my arms around his neck, buried my face where his shoulder met his throat and pulsed my hips above him, driving him deep, gasping his name. Tremors shuddered in my belly, set my thighs to quivering. Every thrust of his cock into me sent me higher, jellied my muscles and stole my breath until all I could do was hold onto him and let him rock into me.

"Yes, Shane, harder. I'm so close, god..."

I felt a shriek bubbling up in my throat as I neared climax, and I knew I couldn't let it free, but it was there in my mouth and escaping. I bit his shoulder and screamed, the sound muffled by his shirt and his flesh. I was on the edge, teetering, waiting, not falling over into climax yet, and I knew I wouldn't, couldn't, not until he came with me.

"Come with me, Shane," I gasped. "I can't until you do. Give it to me..."

"Yes, right now...right—oh god...right now..." Shane stuttered, thrusting into me, clutching me hard against him, his mouth in my cleavage and groaning as he came, came, came.

I watched him as he climaxed, watched his eyes roll back and his features tighten in pleasure, and then, as he drove into me ever harder, finally then I toppled gloriously into orgasm with him, my breath coming in shrill whimpers against his cheek, our bodies moving in synchronization.

We went still after an eternity of gasping, trembling ecstasy. Shane held himself at the root of his cock, keeping the condom in place as I slipped off of him, feeling the loss of his presence within me as an acute ache. I didn't want to leave him, I wanted to lie with him inside me until he hardened again.

As if sensing my thoughts, Shane kissed me, and said, "Later, sweetheart. This was just a taste."

He tied the condom in a knot, and we straightened our clothes, then left the office. Shane ducked into a bathroom to discard the evidence and fix his mussed hair, and I did the same, checking my hair and makeup in the mirror.

The charity auction was in progress when we entered, and Virginia eyed us in irritation as we took our seats next to her and Henry. She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at us.

Shane leaned over me to whisper to his mother. "Leo was feeling hot and overwhelmed. We snuck out for a breath of air."

Virginia smirked and nodded, as if she knew better, but she didn't say anything.

There were all kinds of things up for auction, costumes worn on-set by actors in attendance, signed instruments, jewelry, high-end cars, even an island home in the Carribbean. Millions of dollars were being spent as if nothing. My breath caught when Shane lifted his hand to bid on a sapphire necklace, worth an ungodly amount of money retail, being bid on at sums that left me dizzy. He ended up in a bidding war with an older man, who went as high as ten million dollars, and then bowed out when Shane upped the ante with an offer of fifteen.

Even Virginia seemed surprised by Shane's extravagance.

"What are you doing?" I whispered to him.

"Buying you a necklace," he whispered back.

"For fifteen million dollars?"

"I'll make it back by the end of the year. Besides, it's all going to charity."

I shook my head, unable to fathom the kind of money he'd just spent without blinking.

The necklace was put in a locked briefcase held by Gerald for the rest of the night, which passed in a blur of too much wine and hors d'oeuvres. I met what seemed to be half of Hollywood, most of the rock and pop world, and dozens of other behind-the-scenes people, producers and directors and models and their dates, some famous in their own right, and other unknowns like me. I eventually grew accustomed to turning around and nearly bumping into someone I'd seen in a dozen movies.

The party didn't disburse until the wee hours of the morning. Henry and Virginia were already in the limo waiting when Shane and I climbed in. Virginia fell asleep before we'd even made it out of the pick-up line. I wasn't far behind, but Shane's fingers were on my knee and wanting to drift higher, and I could feel his eyes raking over me.

Later
, he'd promised. I was suddenly not so tired.

The necklace was sitting on a table in Shane's room, shimmering against a pillow of black velvet. He crossed the room and lifted the necklace with careful fingers, turned to me, a smile tipping his lips.

"Take your dress off," he said.

I slid the dress off and draped it over a chair, and then turned back to Shane, clad in only a thong.

"That too," he said. "And the pearls."

I set the pearls on the velvet pillow where the sapphire necklace had been, and then stripped the panties off so I was completely bare. Shane circled around me, set the necklace on my chest and clasped it under my hair.

Standing in front of me again, Shane simply gazed at me, then whispered, almost to himself rather than to me, "God, you're so beautiful."

The way he was looking at me, the way he reached a hand out to trace down my cheek, to my shoulder, then to the heavy curve of my breast...it was different than the other times. He'd always touched me gently, hungrily, appreciatively, in a way that made me feel beautiful. This was reverent, almost hesitant, delicate. As if seeing me for the first time...or seeing me with eyes that had come to accept something important about me.

I didn't pursue that line of thinking. I let him look, let him touch. He dragged his fingertips across every inch of my skin, from face to waist, shoulder blades to calves, kneeling in front of me, standing behind me, palms sliding, eyes devouring, lips kissing.

He moved to kneel in front of me, and I knew what he had in mind, so I stopped him.

"My turn," I said.

I pushed his jacket off his broad, thick shoulders and set it aside, then unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, watching his eyes all the while. Sparks had always flown between us, our eyes had always met in a way that communicated as much as a thousand words, but for some unfathomable reason, this night was different. His eyes seemed to shimmer with a million unspoken thoughts, shadowed with potent emotions. I couldn't parse the tangle in his gaze, and didn't try. I knew by now that he'd tell me when he was ready.

I slid his shirt off next, and spent an eternity paying lip service to his skin, the bulky muscles of his torso, touching, kissing, worshipping. He stood as I had, stone-still and absorbing every look, every kiss, every touch.

I moved to his pants next, unbuckling the narrow black leather belt, unclasping the pants, unzipping them with aching slowness, drawing them down, then his boxer-briefs so he was naked in front of me. I kissed and touched every portion of his lower half except the obvious, except his manhood. I cupped the solid globes of his ass, the thick trunks of his legs, his belly to either side of his cock, his hips, his thighs.

The curtains were open, letting in silver light from the full moon. We stood naked in front of each other, bathed in a pool of molten silver. The light caught the giant sapphire of the necklace and was refracted around in the room in glinting glimmers.

Shane wrapped his arms beneath my buttocks and lifted me up. I slipped my legs around his thighs and my arms around his neck. Our lips met in the same moment that he penetrated me, his tongue stealing into my mouth as his manhood slipped into my warm, wet folds. We gasped together, and then he lifted me, his palms on my buttocks, my legs resting on his hipbones to lever me higher. I held myself up, drawing him almost out, our eyes locked together and shimmering with anticipation of the downward plunge.

I moaned as I sank down onto him, letting my weight droop lower so he throbbed deeper and deeper until there was no farther he could go. His strength was the root of my pleasure, vulnerable to his power in this position, held aloft by his arms. I tangled my fingers in his hair, kissed everywhere I could reach as he slowly rocked his hips to pull out and drive in.

We found a pattern, then, a rhythm: plunge, and I kissed his throat; plunge, and I kissed his lips; plunge, and I kissed his shoulder.

Always before with Shane orgasms had come quickly and easily, drawn from me one after another. Now, again, it was different. His thrusts were slow, hard, and deep, and the pressure in my inner muscles built slowly, a gradual burgeoning toward inexorable detonation. Shane's breathing was coming harder, his muscles beginning to tremble as he held me aloft. We were inches from the bed, but he refused to put me down, and I didn't suggest it. He continued to course into me, and I continued to explore his upper body with kisses at every motion.

Finally he moved backward and sank down on the edge of the bed, then toppled backward with me on top of him. Now, riding him, the pressure built more quickly within me, each roll of my hips driving me onward, upward, closer to the edge. Shane felt the increase of my rhythm and he knew I was close; he pulled my hips down with his hands, took my nipple in his mouth and suckled, nipped, moved to the other. His fingers left my hips and moved to the joining of our bodies, sought the soft button of my clit and circled it, pushing me past climax into thrashing abandon. His lips were on one nipple, his fingers rolling another, his other finger working slow circles around my clit, his cock driving deep, his muscles beneath me...he was everywhere, around me, in me, beneath me.

I came, hard and seeing stars, and then came again.

And still he rocked beneath me, hard, thick, unspent.

I rolled off of him and moved to my hands and knees. He slid up behind me, touched my entrance with the tip of his cock, hesitated, then pushed into me, sighing in pleasure. I rolled back into him, rocking on my hands and knees, pushing his rhythm faster, harder, more. He gasped my name, over and over, a prayer.

I didn't think I would come again, I had thought this would be for him, but he drove into me and I gasped and felt the pressure building once again, fire leaping through my blood and blossoming in my sex, and now our motion was a desperate clash of bodies as we neared climax together, a furious onslaught of passion.

"Give it to me, Shane," I said, as he began to climax, "don't hold back...give it all to me."

"Oh god, Leo, yes...all of it, only for you..." And then he exploded, a shuddering groan, and a dozen thrusts within me, each with a spill of hot seed splashing into me, filling me, completing my own orgasm with a clench of muscles around his rigid, pulsing cock.

He folded over me, held to me, trembling, thrusting in small shuddering aftershocks. He kissed my spine, slid palms against my sides, held the dangling weight of my breasts in his hands.

He was still semi-rigid within me as we fell to our sides. I pushed my ass back into him, wanting more of him, wanting him to stay within me. I squeezed my inner muscles around him, and he thrust into me. This wasn't about sex anymore, wasn't about climax anymore; now it was about the pure joy of being filled by him, of our bodies joined. 

We drifted, his body spooned against mine, and I woke to the rhythmic soughing of his sleeping breath, and his cock hard within me.

It was instinctual, my mind half asleep, my body awake and filled and wanting. I moved, a slight roll of my hips, and he, even sleeping, responded, moaning muzzily. His hand was on my hip, and now I heard his breathing change and his hand drifted up to cup my breast, and he pushed into me, pushed into me, and I pushed back, and then we were desperate once more, moving in synchronized need. Full and deep, harder and faster, his breath on my back, his fingers on my nipple, and then he rolled onto his back with me on top of him, sliding up so he was on a slight incline against the headboard, all of my weight on his body, his knees drawn up next to mine, and oh god, oh god, he'd never, never filled me so fully as this. My arms wrapped around his knees and I pulled myself up, released, pulled, released, driving him so deep I thought he might sink all the way within me and disappear, and my muscles were trembling but I kept going, pushed through it, needing his fullness more than ever. As much as I'd had him in the last few days, I couldn't get enough, couldn't be filled without wanting and needing more and more and more.

We came together, in the same moment, a groaning symphony of ecstasy.

This time, when we were finished and limp, Shane got up and brought a towel and cleaned me, gentle and thorough.