The Billionaire and the Con Artist: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Girls Series Book 1) (4 page)

But my curiosity won’t go away.

Who the hell is staying there?

I have an urge to disturb them as they’ve disturbed me.

I allow the group to be led to the rooms, then at the first opportunity, I head over to my usual spot.

One of the guys happens to catch me, but I don’t acknowledge them and keep walking.

It’s crazy, but anger makes me pretty crazy.

Still, I won’t do anything stupid. I just need to see.

Push come to shove, I could just pretend I got confused since I usually stay there.

* * *

I
was fairly calm
when I started to head over, but my anger builds with every step as I get closer to what was supposed to be my room.

I knock on the door of the suite, determined to get a peek at the usurper.

I’m not sure what I expected once I got there—I’ve been known to go off half-cocked—but I really didn’t plan anything specific.

What if some boxing champion had opened the door? Someone with fists that are legally considered weapons?

What if it’s the CEO of the hotel who then decides to ban me from the place since I clearly have no problem harassing guests?

Jesus, what the hell was I thinking?

Of course, the problem is that I wasn’t.

I start regretting my rash actions, imagining a younger, stronger, Mr. T, Chuck Norris, The Rock.

What I definitely didn’t expect was for a pocket goddess to open the door.

I have to bend my head a bit, adjusting my eye line to make eye contact with the tiny suite thief.

I won’t lie—a lot of my anger sort of melts away when I get a load of her—she’s petite, gorgeous and she’s wearing nothing but one of those medium-sized towels so it barely covers her feminine parts.

I briefly forget why I’m there.

“May I help you?” she asks sort of seductively.

She’s so distractingly beautiful and alluring, it takes me a few seconds to process her words.

“How did you get this room?” I finally manage to say.

One of her perfectly arched eyebrows raises.

“Same way you would,” she says.

She looks at me like I’m an idiot but it’s in a playful way.

Jesus, she’s cute. And she seems a bit sassy. I like that.

I especially like that she seems unfazed about standing there practically naked in front of a male stranger; in fact, it almost angers me a bit that she’d be so careless.

But anger is a hard emotion to maintain at this moment with my cock throbbing with interest.

I can’t stop my eyes from going over her exposed shoulders, and I try really hard to keep my eyes above the towel, but my gaze drops as I say, “This room’s supposed to be mine.”

She fixes me with a defiant glare, her blue-gray eyes hardening, and for some odd reason, I’m actually looking forward to her tearing me a new one for being so forward.

My cock twitches even more in anticipation.

I
register
brief surprise on the hottie’s face and it seems his breath caught, but he recovers quickly.

He’s still angry for whatever reason, but he is most definitely aroused.

“How did you get this room?” he demands.

I shake off my brief waver of confidence.

His tall, heaving, broad-shouldered presence has thrown me off a bit. Not to mention his beautiful flashing green eyes.

But I have to stay focused.

Truthfully, I haven’t encountered a specimen like him in…have I
ever
been this close to a guy this hot up close?

The guy is cut, rippling with muscles, and his face is high-end luxury car commercial-ready.

I answer him simply, which doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

Although the sight of me standing here like this seems to.

“This room’s supposed to be mine,” he says, barely able to keep his eyes off my cleavage.

“How is that exactly? Was that your card I booked it with?” I say firmly but keep my voice even.

I also keep my face calm and pleasant.

When confronted with an emotional person, escalation can happen extremely quickly if you rise to their level.

Even when folks are near irrational, when faced with calming tones, part of them will most likely become aware that they’ll look crazy if there’s a hugely disproportionate emotional engagement, and most people aren’t cool with looking crazy.

Still, I need to make sure this guy doesn’t go digging for more information—I mean he was already ballsy—or crazy—enough to actually come here, not knowing who he was going to be faced with just because he feels entitled to this room.

He’ll want to know who I am beyond anything I tell him; I need to distract him.

Not the worst task in the world, and certainly not the hardest; I have a very distinct advantage here.

I step closer to him so that there’s about an inch between us.

Though he was agitated with anger before, a bit mediated by his obvious attraction to me, my slender, nearly nude body this close to him is now changing the game—his breathing is different, his mouth hanging open in the usual arousal, his eyes darkening with unmistakable desire.

Haha! Got him.

But damn, I’m actually wet in anticipation.

“I’m happy to share,” I say.

I didn’t even have to fake the sultry tone.

This guy has turned me on so much, I have to stop myself from hopping up on him.

I grab his hand and pull him inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

Then I drop my towel, facing him.

His eyes immediately start traveling my body, lingering over my naked breasts before traveling lower, straight down to my waxed mound.

By the time his eyes make their way back to mine, I can tell he is finished—his other animal side has taken over.

No doubt, whatever he was mad about is far from his mind as he grabs me to him, planting his mouth on mine.

I find myself getting wetter, anticipating more of his warm body against mine.

I am so ready for him—and I don’t even know his name!

All I know is that I need this man inside me. Forget everything else.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling his head closer to me as I kiss him back just as hungrily.

He picks me up and takes me to the bed, and in record time, he has shed his own clothes, distracting me briefly with his sinewy body.

Christ, I didn’t imagine how much hotter he would be like this—his tanned sculpted shoulders, strong wide chest and rippling abs, the giant raging cock above powerful thighs.

A wave of fear suddenly passes over me, catching me off guard.

What the hell was that about? Guys like him don’t scare me.

There’s no risk here—what we’re about to do is purely physical.

I figure it’s just because it’s been a while, and I’m probably doubting a cock that size can push inside me without hurting me.

Then again, I’m about as wet as can be.

He covers my body with his, and his mouth tastes my neck, making me emit a moan as he teases the sensitive flesh.

He continues nibbling and tasting my body, his mouth moving from my neck to my shoulders while his hard, muscled body hovers above me, his cock a tease just hanging out there when all I want is for it to sink into me.

What he’s doing feels good—too good—and I just want us to get on with it, dive into the basics.

All this slow tasting and teasing feels far too intimate.

It gives me time to appreciate too many parts of him—the softness of his lips, the warmth and strength in his touch. I notice his thick, wavy brown hair I can’t help but run my hand through.

I’m dripping in anticipation as his cock hovers above my heated, slick mound, threatening invasion while he gets to know my body with his lips and tongue.

“I can smell your arousal,” he says hoarsely. “I know you’re soaking wet for me.”

His fingers slide over my heated core, making me twitch at the electric sensations from his light, grazing touch.

It’s almost too much for me.

Then he starts exploring me there, slipping one finger inside me, letting out a deep groan as he invades my slick, heated core with his long, hard digits.

He slides his finger in and out, curling it every now and then and taking me closer to snatching his head bald as my grip tightens on his hair.

“I can definitely feel your arousal too,” he says almost mockingly. “Your pussy’s squeezing my finger, pulsing against it. You feel so tight. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

None of your business, pal.

But I know it’s rhetorical anyway so I don’t say anything, waiting for him to give me what I want.

Please just push it in. Just push your cock in my dripping wet…

“My cock wants in there so badly—but not before I taste you,” he says, then before I can think or say or do anything, his mouth has captured my cleft, making me arch my back and cry out loudly in surprise and pleasure.

My brain shorts and I start to see white spots.

Soon, I’m just a writhing, bucking mass of reaction to his warm, slithering tongue.

I become dimly aware of him lining up the head of his cock with my begging entrance and become fully aware again once he starts pushing it inside me.

He shoves it all the way in so that we’re practically pelvis to pelvis before he starts pulling it out and slamming it back into me with delicious rhythm.

His hard, thick cock slides against my hungry walls in delicious massage, reaching parts of me that will rocket me into orgasm soon as he plows into me.

I try not to look into his eyes as I pant and whimper while he drives his huge cock in and out of my warm, wet canal.

He surprises me with a gentle brush of his thumb on my sensitive nub, and all hopes of holding out longer fly out the window as he takes me to clitoral orgasm, then makes me come again the same time he does from deep inside as he fucks me harder and faster.

I moan loudly as our bodies contract against each other, the stranger sunk balls-deep in me as he comes with a deep, masculine groan, his cock throbbing inside me, my walls pulsing against him.

I experience brief panic as it occurs to me for the first time that he hadn’t whipped out protection—my brain stopped processing properly once he got me going, and now I’m paying for my momentary lapse.

My mind starts going a mile a minute till I remember how easy it is for an over-the-counter EC.

He collapses on top of me, and it feels so delicious to have his hard body against my soft curves, I wrap my arms around him and hold him there, smiling like an idiot.

“Shit, are you on the pill?” he suddenly asks about a minute later, trying to look at me.

“Yeah,” I lie, not looking at him.

* * *

“
I
don’t even know
your name,” the guy says with a contented and alarmingly gorgeous smile as we finally disentangle ourselves, his cock finally leaving me.

I miss it immediately.

“Jewel,” I say easily.

It just popped into my head, but now I have to remember it for a few minutes.

I hardly ever use my real name.

That was one of the first things Taylor taught me—never use your real name.

“Do they really need to know it? The answer is usually no because ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Struck up a conversation on a bus? It’s likely you won’t see that person again. No need to know. Going on a first date? Romantic relationships are a liability. It won’t last, it won’t matter in the long run. Only harm can come from them being traced to you and them knowing your name. Some dude you fuck really doesn’t need to know.”

When people have neither your real first nor your last name, and sometimes, not even your real hair or eye color, you’re a hell of a lot harder to track down.

This guy already knows what I really look like since I shed my wig and contacts and washed off my moles.

“I’m Axel,” he says, reminding me that I neglected to get his name too.

Axel.
I like that. Sounds pretty strong. Solid.

Part of me wants to tell Axel my real name, but I squash the urge.

I want him to know the real me for some odd reason, and that’s an insane thought if ever there was one.

I mean, at some point, he’ll realize I’ve relieved him of his watch.

Luckily, if he notices it’s gone too soon, he’ll assume he’s at fault somehow.

The best part of having booked this suite is that, despite all the usual easy indicators for people to trust me, the fact that I’m here means I must have money too.

So why would I swipe anything?

“I’m definitely willing to share the suite,” I say to him. “But it comes with a price.”

“Wait, you’re exacting sexual favors in order for me to stay in this room?” he says with mock outrage. “I can live with that,” he finishes happily.

What a fool—he’s already looking too attached. What’s that genuine smile all about?

I try to ignore the part of me responding to it but it’s persistent and worrying me a little.

Shit, what did I get myself into?

I start panicking a little; I need to get out of here for more reasons than one.

But first, I need to get him out of here.

“You’ve exhausted me,” I say lazily with a slow smile. “I think I actually have to take a nap to recuperate. Oh god, this is so embarrassing.”

I briefly cover my face, knowing the move makes me look disarming.

I catch his smile of pride.

“I’m afraid that comes with this package,” he says with a crude thrust against me.

I try to roll my eyes, but it actually makes me laugh.

His adorably sly grin returns.

Goodness, I could get used to the sight of that.

Who would have thought the deranged prick who knocked on my door would turn out to have such a beautiful gentle side?

He was so considerate as a lover—that’s totally rare, isn’t it?

And now as he smiles, I see no trace of the angry devil who rolled up here, practically frothing at the mouth.

His hand reaches out and caresses my cheek and my heart pounds in an alarming way.

I melt into the touch, suddenly saddened that what we have here will be over pretty soon.

“I hate to leave you,” he says, sounding genuine and making my heart leap. “But I have some friends I left behind who are missing me.”

“Some friends they are—you could have been pulled in here by some hitman and ‘disappeared.’ Shouldn’t they have already come to check on you?”

“Well, we happen to amuse ourselves in various ways. They probably agreed on a specific time limit before checking on me while betting on the outcome.”

He starts counting out on his fingers.

“Let’s see—Pete probably started the bet at five hundred that I’d return with my tail between my legs within five minutes. Scott probably upped it to a thousand while betting I’d try to negotiate more comps. Nate probably wanted to come get me immediately but they held him back.
How will he ever learn? Give him a few minutes
, they probably told him, then found ways to stretch those few minutes out.”

His phone lets out a video game sound—like a gold coin obtained.

“There you go. See? They care. I’ll let ‘em know I’ll be down soon. Give you enough time to recuperate for round two.”

I nod with sleepy eyes and a satisfied smile.

He smiles back at me, his eyes soft.

Fuck.

“Don’t get too crazy down there,” I say as if I care. But people love it when it seems you do.

For some reason, though, it seems sadness passes over his eyes.

What the heck’s that about?

“I won’t,” he says way too seriously. “I just have to make an appearance since I dragged them all here to begin with. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

Then he smiles again, before kissing me on my forehead.

“Me too,” I say with a warm smile back, ignoring the melting within me.