The Billionaire's Allure

The Billionaire's Allure

By

Vivian Leigh

Copyright 2012 Vivian Leigh

All rights reserved.

***

The back stairwell of Adamson Aerospace was my favorite place in the building. It gave me a few moments of privacy every morning as I climbed to my cubicle, and in the bustle of Washington, those were precious moments. The wide windows and stunning view didn’t hurt, but the best part was passing the handsome stranger every morning.

He sat in the same place every day, a private balcony off the building’s café, the one only available to level As and above. He screamed power with his strong jaw line, tailored suits and handmade shoes. I knew he was so far out of my league that I was lucky to even see him, but in my fantasies it didn’t matter. Underneath the well-made shoes and expensive suit was a sturdy body--a body ready and willing to engage in every naughty fantasy I could imagine. They were my fantasies; why shouldn’t I pick the best looking man in town?

After four years in a grueling undergrad program, I was a professional fantasizer. I barely had time to date, not that I was asked much growing up. Who could blame the boys, after all? A plump book worm wasn’t as sexy as a cheerleader. Now, on my own in the real world, I was struggling to stay ahead of the workload my bosses kept piling on me. I may have lost a few pounds, but I didn’t have enough time for relationships, and I had never been the sort to have a one night stand. I couldn’t help the fantasies, though. The thought of a man like that pressing his body to mine made my heart beat a little faster.

I licked my lips and hurried past him, my eyes drinking in his image. He couldn’t be much past thirty, but somehow he was able to take his breakfast on the private balcony. I watched him from the stairwell as I passed, adding fuel to my fantasies, without him ever knowing I was there.

As I turned the corner and went a level above, I paused, and gazed down. A newspaper lay spread before him, a fruit cup and glass of orange juice beside it. I imagined his breath on my neck, his strong fingers holding my arms. It made me warm just thinking about it.

Without warning, he looked up and met my eyes. I gasped. His dark hair, stubbled cheeks, and deep blue eyes pierced through my clothing. His dark and dangerous look made heat build in my abdomen. I could feel my muscles tighten and my nipples harden. What was my body doing? Was I that in need of attention? Realization and embarrassment washed over me. It was one thing to watch him from a distance, unseen, but to have his attention on me, I felt like a field mouse in front of a mountain lion. I startled and hurried up the stairs, my heart racing. As I glanced sideways on the next landing, I saw him raise an eyebrow inquisitively, but the rest of his face gave me no clues about what he was thinking. I broke the connection and climbed the stairs with my eyes locked forward, afraid of him catching me watching again.

By the time I reached the fourth floor, I had calmed down a little, but my hands still shook as I opened the door. I hustled to my cubicle with the other paralegals and signed into my computer. I had to concentrate, to get through the documents in my inbox before my 8:30 meeting, but my mind wouldn’t stop churning. I couldn’t afford to lose this job, not with the economy in the state it was in—there weren’t other jobs available, at least none that would get me the kind of experience I needed if I was ever going to get into law school.

I skimmed through the documents, but focus wouldn’t come. I struggled through my 8:30 meeting, then returned to my cube to digest government contracts for an hour. Adamson Aerospace provided software for all manner of guidance systems, and my job was to parse the contracts to ensure that we didn’t expose ourselves to excess liability. Well, sort of. I was one of several people that parsed them; all I did was raise red flags for my boss and her boss. Exciting stuff, if your idea of exciting is that special brand of legalese that can only be found in Washington.

Thoughts of the dark-haired stranger plagued me all morning. At the top of every page I’d catch a glimpse of someone moving through the cubicles, and I’d think it was him, come to whisk me off for a night of fun. Or maybe his aide, ready to lead me to his office to become a personal assistant like all the mommy porn portrayed.

By lunch time I had fantasized so much that I had an ache in my stomach that had nothing to do with food. I wished I were home in my favorite pajamas with Miles on the stereo and my magic wand at hand. Instead, I made my way to the ladies’ room and locked myself in a stall.

It didn’t get much more romantic than the Adamson Aerospace ladies’ room. Cornflower blue walls, a random chair filling space in the corner, and a line of half a dozen stalls. The ones on either side of me were empty, and my pussy was pounding, so I eased up the hem of my skirt and slipped a hand to my slit. My fingers massaged my hard nub, then down into my wetness. My middle finger dipped into my channel, moving in and out, slick with my juices. It didn’t take long to have myself right up to the edge. The dark haired stranger flitted through my mind. I imagined how he’d take me. In the backseat of his limo. On a recliner in his private jet. Maybe bent over the rail of his yacht.

I moaned and rubbed the heel of my hand across my clit. An orgasm’s soft escape flooded through me, releasing my tension and easing my need. I gave myself one last stroke, then cleaned myself up as best I could. I adjusted my panties and skirt back into place and flushed the toilet as cover.

I thought a quick rubdown would help me concentrate, help me forget about the fantasies. All it did was make the rest of day stretch on at half speed. I couldn’t wait to get home to a glass of wine and a vibrator. The only thing that got me through the day was the knowledge that I could do myself all night if that’s what it took.

***

The next morning, I hurried across the crowded ground floor of the building, dodging between women in high heels and men with briefcases. Sam, the old man at the security gate, smiled as I presented my identification.

“You have a good day, Miss Wilson,” he said, as he passed back my badge.

“Thanks Sam. You, too.” He buzzed me through the gate and I headed for the back stairwell.
Should I take the elevator instead?
I didn’t want the mysterious stranger to think I was some kind of stalker, but I didn’t know how I was going to get through another day of reading contracts without even a glimpse of him. I sighed. It wasn’t worth the risk, not after yesterday.

I angled toward the elevator and the mass of people waiting in front of the doors. The doors groaned open and part of the mass shuffled into the cars, but it was a far smaller part than I had hoped. It would take at least two more loads before I could get on, and then I’d have to endure the ride up in a cattle car of perfume and hard edged briefcases. I turned for my stairwell instead.

I was determined to stay focused.
Charge right past him and pretend he’s not even there.
My conscious mind knew what I
should
do, but I worried that I’d still look. Maybe a little glance wouldn’t hurt. Just enough to get his outline fresh in my mind. Maybe see what color tie he was wearing. I mounted the stairs at my normal, brisk pace and glanced out the window as I reached the second floor. The balcony was empty.
Where is he? He’s never missed a day. Did I scare him off by staring too long?

I slowed down and looked harder, searching for a newspaper or the remains of breakfast. As I was looking, a strong hand gripped my arm and spun me toward the wall. The sudden movement made me lose my balance. The hands lifted me up off my feet and pinned me chest first to the wall. My mind screamed with panic, but no sound escaped my lips.

“I see you watching me every morning,” a deep, sexy voice murmured into my ear. “Who are you?” He had an accent I couldn’t place. Something European mixed with Ivy League. Whatever it was, it was sex through and though. My pussy began to throb.

My heart raced. My knees nearly buckled. “I work here.” My voice shook.

Things clicked into place.
It’s him!
The mysterious man from the balcony. But why was he pinning me to the wall and giving me the third degree?

A hand reached around, brushing my breasts, and twisted my ID badge to the side. “Katherine Wilson, junior paralegal,” the voice said.

God, his voice is so sexy.

He spun me around, pushing my back to the wall. His eyes focused on mine. “Who are you with? The Euros? The Israelis?”

I hadn’t noticed before, but up close he had the most amazing eyes. I knew they were blue, but I had no idea how blue they really were—blue like a candle flame, and burning just as brightly. No, they were more intense than any flame. More like a lighthouse. My pussy contracted and grew warm.

“I’m just Kate. I work for Adamson Aerospace.” My voice came out a soft whisper.

He leaned in close, his eyes boring into mine. “Is that…” His head cocked to the side. He took a deep breath. “You’re telling the truth. I can smell it.”

He can smell truth?
He must have seen my confusion, because he smiled. His anger faded, but he looked no less intense for it. He leaned in close taking in another deep breath, savoring the smell.

“No one being accused of being a spy would be
aroused
by it.” He lower me down smoothly tell my feet where planted on the floor, even though he still had a firm grip on my arms. He leaned him firm body in close to mine cutting off all escape. “He smelled so good.”

My hand slipped to my skirt, smoothing it over my legs. I could feel the wetness in my panties. I was more turned on than I had been in ages and suddenly once again embarrassed of my body’s reaction.

The stranger stepped back, his eyes roaming over me. I readjusted my badge and brushed one of my boobs in the process. My nipples were harder than diamonds. His lips twitched into a perfect smile.

He moved his leg in between mine in a single fluid motion. His body pressed against mine. I could feel his hardness on my thigh. I turned my head, knowing what he and I wanted. My body arched in anticipation while His lips found my neck. Warm. Soft. Gentle. He kissed the bare skin from the top of my shoulder, along the curve of my neck. His stubble felt so rough, so stimulating. One part of my mind was horrified that I was enjoying the ambush from a complete stranger. The other part of me was relishing his touch.
This is a real man. This is strength.
It was my fantasies come to life, and I couldn’t do anything but play the role I’d created for myself.

His arms slipped around me, holding me tight, pinning me. I melted against him, feeling him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he whispered, beneath my ear.

I felt like I knew him, like we were long-time friends, just exploring what it meant to be lovers after a lifetime of waiting. His lips found my ear and I gasped. A hand slipped along the swell of my hip and onto my thigh. It massaged my skirt up and his fingers sought my wetness. He pushed my panties aside, one sensual finger slipping between my folds and dipping into my wetness. I could not help but gasp.

I sucked in a deep breath knowing I should object. He didn’t ask permission. He took what he wanted as if it were owed. I didn’t care, or maybe I did. I couldn’t think. All I could do was gasp once more for breath. God, his hands felt so good. I whimpered a small “no” and then “yes” when he hesitated.

His fingers stopped rubbing my nub in mid motion.
What the hell!
my mind screamed. His voice came low and sexy, so close to my mouth I could feel his lips rub mine.

“Yes or no?” he asked.

I bucked my hips into him, willing him inside me. “Yes!” My voice pierced the silence of the otherwise quiet stairwell.

His fingers sank into me, first one then a second. His thumb worked up, massaging my sensitive button, sending fires roaring through me.

“Come for me,” he whispered. His teeth locked onto my earlobe.

My world shattered. I choked back the screams that racked my body and came harder than I’d ever come in my life. My vibrator didn’t have the same touch that the handsome stranger had. It didn’t have the teeth he had. I shuddered against him, letting the orgasm tear my mind to ribbons.

His fingers slipped out and he took a half step away before withdrawing a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his suit. He wiped his fingers and took in a deep breath, then passed me the hanky.

I dabbed the wetness from my throat and held the hanky out for him. I wasn’t about to clean my pussy with a stranger’s handkerchief, even if he had just given me the orgasm of a lifetime.

“You keep it,” he said.

“Thanks.” I tucked it into my purse. I had to get to a bathroom and fast, or I was going to have a wet spot on my skirt.

“We need to get you to work if you don’t want to be late.” He held out an arm.

I hesitated to take it, but a single step on my own let me know that my legs were still jelly.
Good God, he’s got talented fingers.

My face was flushed, hot with embarrassment. There was nowhere to retreat; I had to salvage what little dignity I had left.