Hard Interest: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Page 5

  His shoulders.

  His skin.

  That tattoo…

  He stood there in front of me, upright and strong, and I finally understood why he knew me so well. Why he seemed to be able to read my mind in ways no other man could. The man I was looking at and the bartender who made me cross that invisible line in the sand was one and the same.

  There was no mistaking that tattoo on his shoulder.

  He ran down the stairs of the beach house and across the sand. He dove into the ocean seamlessly before coming back to the surface. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. They were the same. Liam Walsh had been that bartender. Memories of that night crashed back to the forefront of my mind. His arms around my waist. My teeth raking against his lower lip. His hands pinning me to the bar as our clothed bodies bucked against the other.

  The control.

  The command.

  The confidence.

  I felt every ounce of my body come alive as water trickled off his body in the light of the sunset.

  I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I couldn’t. I had the opportunity to have a dream and a hopeless fantasy at the same time. To remake a night of passion that ended with me waking up aching, throbbing, and fully clothed without so much as an ounce of release.

  What woman in their right mind would be foolish enough to walk away?

  Certainly not myself.

  Liam

  The second she started in on that story in the car, I knew exactly who she was. That woman. The woman. The drunken woman from the bar I almost destroyed my one rule with. Never take a woman home while drunk. It was a rule my father bashed into myself and the rest of my brothers from a very young age. Never give in, no matter what she says while intoxicated.

  And with Philomena, I almost broke that rule.

  I splashed in the water and purposely lead her towards me by walking closer to the shore. She was under my spell, and from her expression I could tell my secret had finally been revealed. Her mention of that night brought with it an explosion of memories. I knew there had been something familiar about her. Every moment since our sensual meeting that night had me measuring the women I dated over the one that had gotten away. What threw me was her natural look. The conservative clothes. Her hair thrown up and her thick-rimmed glasses on her face. Her stern glare. Her penchant for control. Because that night, she didn’t want control. That night, she didn’t have her hair up. She had stress in her shoulders and sweetness in her thighs she was more than willing to give over to me.

  She had wanted to be chased. Consumed. Devoured.

  Philomena was my white whale, and I was determined to spend as much time with her as possible.

  “Do you take pride in satisfying your clients, Miss Wright?” I asked.

  The water splashed against her feet as she approached the shoreline. I turned to face her, watching the way her eyes raked down my body. She made no attempts to hide her lust for me, and I enjoyed a woman who owned what she wanted. Who owned what she stalked after. She had her heels in her hands and her bottom lip was quivering.

  Her lust, however, was written all over her tinted cheeks.

  Something had to give.

  “You’re the bartender,” she said.

  She eyed me carefully, the waves lapping at her stocking-clad legs.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “Do you take pride in your work?”

  “That isn’t what you asked.”

  “It is, in part,” I said.

  “To answer your question,” she said as she tossed her heels to the ground, “I do take pride in it. Every client I take on leaves satisfied beyond their wildest imaginations.”

  I grinned as the waves battered my back. I caught her gaze and held her stare, daring her. Tempting her. Silently urging her into the water. She took another step. Then another. And soon, her hands tugged her blouse from her skirt. She unbuttoned the clasps and cast it to the shore, with nothing but her lacy red bra covering those glorious tits.

  A bosom I’d never be able to forget.

  I splashed water in a competitive nature to get her to come closer to me. To get those last shreds of clothing off a body I wanted beneath my fingertips again. But the warm nature of the sun was deceitful. The water had a twinge of chill to it, and the second those waves lapped at her shins her nipples puckered behind that pathetic bra of hers.

  I wondered if her panties matched the pathetic crimson scraps she dared to call ‘underwear’.

  She began shivering, so I decided to put her out of her misery. I stalked to her and I wrapped my arms around her in an effort to warm her with my body. It was nice to be close to her. To have my hands explore her curves again. My fingers were the tips of paintbrushes and her skin was my canvas. They fell to the zipper of her skirt and I grasped it, inching it downward as her hands slid up my sides. Her fingers rippled over my muscles as her breath began to quicken, and soon I was inching her skirt over that luscious ass of hers.

  Oh yes.

  Her panties were just as flimsy as her sorry excuse for a bra.

  My fingers brushed the backside of her legs and I thought she was going to collapse under her own weight. It was a good thing my chest was broad enough to catch her. My cock nestled against her stomach, raging with heat and ready to be inside her again. It hearkened to a memory it recalled perfectly. That night came barreling back to my mind in bits and pieces. Her moans. Her lips. Her bright red pussy as I pounded into it.

  I could feel her heat taunting me again. Trying to coax me into the warmth of her bodily embrace.

  She stepped from her skirt and tossed it to the shoreline before I gripped her hips. I spun her around and shuffled her backward until we were up to our knees in the water. I dropped to get a personal view of her excitement. Of the juices my mouth salivated for as they dampened her lacy red underwear. The sun finally set and the moon high above us illuminated her lustrous form. I ripped the fabric away from her body, listening to her gasp as my eyes beheld those pretty pink lips.

  I used my thumbs to peel open those wet folds so I could see the bubbling cauldron of her desire for me.

  I pressed one hand to the small of her back and she took the cue. Her hand slid into my hair and her legs parted, giving me the perfect opening I was looking for as she bent over my body. The tip of my tongue snaked out of my mouth, barely touching her clit before finding its way into her dripping entrance. I gripped her thighs. I slid one of her legs over my shoulders. Her throbbing walls clamped around my tongue before I lapped up her slit, nuzzling her pulsing clit with my nose.

  “I’ve wanted this for months,” she said breathlessly. “And I’m not going to let you get away this time.”

  I could’ve died with a happy man, face deep in her pussy. Nothing was better to me than a woman openly admitting what she wanted before demanding it. I slid my tongue back inside and felt her inner muscles gripping my tongue. Holding it in her grasp. Trying to rip it from my mouth. I reached around and traced the rim of her asshole with my finger, feeling her jump against my face. She shook. Trembled. Rolled with the waves of the ocean as she bucked against my face.

  My cock throbbed. Despite the cold water surrounding us, her moans and her folds provided my body with a heat that was inextinguishable. My resurgence made the periscope of my excitement pulse obscenely underneath the surface of the water. Her sounds were lewd. Her words were untamed. I could map the growing crescendo of her voice ringing out in the dark as she approached her end against my face.

  I slapped the glistening orbs of her ass, then watched how her eyes rolled back. I felt her legs pull taut, contracting with the sensations running throughout her body. More and more memories came rushing back. The teeth-clattering kisses she begged me for. The way she wanted me to fist her hair. All of these images, compiling to remind of the woman I wanted.

  The woman I dreamt about.

  The woman I craved.

  “Liam. Liam. Oh, shit. Yes!”r />
  She fell forward, her arms giving out with her flesh slapping against the water. Her body shook as it grew lax over my shoulder. My hands held her upright. My tongue slid out to catch the sweet droplets of nectar falling from her pussy. The waves battered against us as her walls clamped around my tongue, filling me with an uncontainable lust for the woman collapsing into me.

  I hadn’t gotten this far the first time. Taking advantage of a woman in an inebriated condition wasn’t something I made a habit. I’d reluctantly called her a taxi that night, but watching her leave killed me inside. Especially since I’d forgotten to get her number in between her trying to pull out my cock and her nibbling on my lower lip.

  She caved against my body and I picked her up into my arms. I waded closer to the shore before lying her down in the sand next to her clothes. Neither of us said a single word. And her stoic face betrayed nothing except for her half-hooded eyes glazed over with ecstasy. I had no idea what was going on inside her mind. Was she happy that she took the plunge? Was she angry that she had allowed a man to get that close? Did I have to worry about the possibility of her turning into a lunatic?

  I had no idea what to do.

  “Still trying to catch my breath,” she said.

  “I’m glad my performance was satisfying,” I said.

  “I didn’t say all of that.”

  I looked over at her and watched a grin crawl across her face.

  “I have to admit, you had me curious. And you more than exceeded my expectations,” she said.

  “You were a delectable treat, Miss Wright. I couldn’t get enough. It was a good thing you collapsed over me, though. I probably could have stayed in that position all night.”

  I reached over and slid my fingers over her body, tracing the droplets of water that seemed to converge at her belly button. She shivered, but she didn’t move. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as my eyes danced over her naked form. The supple curve of her breasts. The deep dip in her waist. The flare and bloom of her hips and thighs.

  The only sounds between us were our breathing and the water lapping at our toes.

  It was a perfect moment of complete bliss. Nothing else mattered, other than the lingering taste of her on the tip of my tongue. It was tempting to dive back between her legs as she laid there, sprawled out along the wet sand. I was happy to give her my undivided attention and to show her the kind of devotion any woman deserved from a man.

  Especially when she tasted like the sea. Rejuvenating and endless.

  “So, about that dotted line,” Philomena said.

  Her eyes found mine and they twinkled with the stars in the sky.

  “Hell of a tactic to sell a piece of property,” I said.

  “Trust me, I don’t make it a habit. I’m not prone to doing things this spontaneous. But, I made myself a promise when I woke up the morning after our encounter, and I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.”

  “And what promise was that?” I asked.

  Her eyes flickered down my body as my hand settled against her bare thigh.

  “I promise myself if I ever encountered you again, I wouldn’t let you walk away.”

  Her hand rose and landed on my chest, right above where my heart beat against my sternum. She rolled over onto her side, propping her head against the palm of her hand. Slowly and inexplicably, she danced her fingers down my body. Over my chest, down my abs, and directly towards my twitching cock.

  I grabbed her wrist, afraid she thought she was obligated to do something. In truth, it was the furthest thing from my mind. I’d be lying if I said the very idea of feeling her lips wrap around my girth was something I hadn’t thought of often. Having her this close to me was making it hard to be a good boy. But watching the way she unraveled—feeling the powerful Philomena Wright give herself over to me.

  I could walk away a happy man and purchase this property without a second thought.

  “If you give me a moment, I promise I’ll put the same smile on your face you put on mine,” she said.

  Her fingers brushed the head of my cock and I shuddered.

  “I didn’t do what I did to get anything in return. I’d be a damn fool to turn you down, especially after that night. You have no idea how much I’ve kicked myself for not getting your number,” I said.

  Those manicured violet-painted fingernails wrapped around me in an instant. She squeezed from the top all the way to the bottom, and I saw the way her lips quivered. Her body inched closer as my head fell back to the sand, lying there with my legs spread open. Her grip was solid. Declarative. Commanding in the slow movements she had.

  “I have something very special in mind for you. So, open those eyes and look at me.”

  Her hushed tones and her seductive stare hooked me the second I leaned my head back up. Her tongue darted out as she traced the head of my cock. Pressed the tip of her tongue into the pool of precum gathered upon my skin. She took my cock and painted my precum on her lips, and her skin glistened in the illumination of the lights of the beach house.

  “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but you have a captive audience of one.”

  Her tongue continued to trace my cockhead as saliva dripped down my dick. She slid one hand along my shaft, the pad of her thumb pressing into the engorged vein protruding from underneath. My legs kicked out, displacing the sand beside her as a grin trickled across her flushed cheeks.

  This had been her plan. To unravel me the way I had her.

  And I couldn’t wait.

  She added her second hand and interchanged her massage techniques. Precum rose up my cock in puddles, and each time she wrapped her tongue around the liquid and slid it between her lips. Her eyes never left mine. She watched my every move. Her eyes studied me, like her favorite little pet. She had me in the palm of her hand and she knew it. Her hands moved quicker, causing my hips to rear up into her grasp. Her slow and meticulous approach grew desperate. Hot. It shook my legs and contracted my thighs until sand sprayed from my heels and my hips rose to her tongue.

  My eyes were wide open, not wanting to miss one single moment.

  “I think I see why—you don’t do—do this very often.”

  I stumbled over my words as I lost my composure. I felt her stripping me of my defenses. Removing my control with each stroke of her hands and each circle of her tongue. Her pace quickened, and she wrapped her tongue around my cockhead, adding a corkscrew that had me panting. That had my toes curling. That had my fists rolled into the sand beside my body.

  The way she looked at me. The way she licked her lips. The way she willingly drank down my offering to her with a smile on her face. I didn’t want it to end, but I knew the inevitable was going to happen. I felt my body caving to her. To the softness of her skin and the heat of her mouth. My balls pulled into my body and my heels dug into the holes I’d left in the sanded earth. I heard her chuckle as my eyes finally screwed shut.

  I was so close. So close I could taste it.

  Then she slowed down.

  But she didn’t stop.

  “I’m impressed you’ve held out this long,” Philomena said. “You might have set a record, and that’s not easy to do when I get started. So, I’m going to try something else.”

  “You what?” I asked.

  She took her hands away from me and I had to bite back a groan of frustration. She crawled up my body, her engorged tits grazing my shaking body. She leaned forward and kissed me, her tongue playing on the roof of my mouth. It excited nerve endings I didn’t even know I had. She straddled my waist with the wetness of her pussy performed called to me. Beckoned to my cock as it jumped against my stomach. She ground against my shaft, sliding her juices along my skin as her nipples poked into my chest.

  I was on the brink of a war that raged through my veins. I wanted to grip her ankles, flip her over, and slide my cock into her until she begged me for mercy. I wanted to fuck her imprint into the wet sand and forever mark this property as ours. I wanted the waves to echo our name
s every time they battered against this shoreline because of how loud she called out my name.

  But her eyes held me in a trance as she pulled back from our kiss.

  She pressed her hands to my shoulders and her fingernails scratched my sensitive flesh. She raked them down my chest, leaving red marks behind before she flicked my nipples. She teased them. Taunted them. Tugged at them until my body could no longer take it.

  The dam burst from between my legs, sending my soul flying into the sky as my hips arched into her soft form.

  The intensity of my orgasm sprayed the evidence of her massacre all the way up to my neck. She continued to rake her pussy lips across my pulsing cock, milking me for more streams that finally dribbled to a stop. She ran her fingers through the mess I made, painting it along my skin.

  Like she’d painted my precum along her lips.

  I saw her shaking and I watched, transfixed by the way she had her eyes fluttered closed. Something gushed onto my cock and I looked down, watching as her decadent pussy flooded my skin with her arousal. She bit her bottom lip, like she was relishing the warmth of my cum against her fingertips. She shivered and bucked, riding out her own orgasm before her hands fell to my chest.

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think straight as I watched the mesmerizing sight of her juices pour against my skin.

  My head fell back and I took in her eyes, watching as she blinked back into focus. She took her hands off me like she was touching a hot stove, then flicked them. Like my cum was something to be washed off. She scrambled off my body as her eyes widened, the evidence of our oceanside debauchery reflecting the scrambled moon against my skin. I reached for her to pull her back to me. To tell her things were all right. But instead, she made quick work of clamoring for her clothes.

  She barely made it past me on shaky legs and I turned just enough to watch Philomena try to cover herself with her clothes. She ran as fast as she could, stumbling in the sand with her clothes and her heels cradled in her arms. Like a sense of shame had come over her.