The Billionaire’s Pawn

STRIKER

She was still staring at the ceiling, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. I leaned in and let her feel the lightest caress of my lips on her exposed flat tummy. Her muscles contracted against the touch.

“Really? None?”

She shook her head. Okay. Challenge accepted.

I swept my tongue onto the belly button. Her body moved, her eyes squeezed shut, and her toes curled.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me,” I said as I teased the tip of my tongue on her belly button in a sensual dance that made her pussy wet, and I could see behind the black negligee that her nipples puckered and as hard as pebbles.

I moved up, hovering over her body, supporting my elbows, and made sure I wouldn’t crash her with my weight. “You’re unfair, Vanderford.” I planted a kiss on her chin.

“You were mean.”

“I was not.” I kissed her again. “Let me just make it up to you.”

“You always do that while you wouldn’t even let me try.”

“I swear, you can do anything you want. You’ll get tired of me.”

When she rolled her eyes like that, I thought she was childish but cute. “Very mature.”

“Just get off of me. I wanna go to sleep.” I held her hand when she tried to push me off of her.

“In that situation?”

She stopped, glaring at me. “What situation?”

“I know you’re wet, baby. Let me help you with that.”

Her cheeks turned crimson. Her eyes were even narrower. “I am not.”

“Come on, let me take care of you.”

“No way. I wanted to join you earlier, but you pushed me away. So my lust is gone, thanks to you.”

“If you’re not wet right now, fine, we’ll sleep, and I won’t touch you unless you want.”

“Why do you care so much about me, and you don’t care so much about what I want for you?”

“I wanna marry you first before I sleep with you.” It was irrational. London was willing to sleep with me, it always had been, but I wanted it to be special. And fuck me, it fucked me in the head to control the urge, and to have a constant raging hard-on was not so much fun.

She barked out, laughing. “No wonder you and Dad just get along so well. He arranged a man for me, and you acted like some old-fashion man when you slept with many women before me.”

“Okay, I made that up. Forgive me. But what’s in part of taking slow you didn’t get?”

“You gave me an orgasm, Cade. You touched me. We kissed like it was the end of the world. We almost slept together the other night. What’s so different this time of taking care of my needs and sleeping with me on our wedding night? Are you gay?”

“Yeah. I am.” I grabbed her hand and let her touch my hard-as-steel cock through the pants. “You definitely can’t make me hard, right?”

When she tried to laugh and pulled her hand from my grasp, I held it there. “Tell me if I’m gay.”

“My bad. My apology, sir.”

“We’re getting married next week. I promise not to make you take another breath and give you orgasm after orgasm. And I promise to fuck you in every corner of the house or hotel room until you can’t walk for weeks.” Before she could reply, I pressed my body against her, kissed her so hard, and delved my tongue into her mouth. Finally, she moaned and desperately arched her hips, searching for relief from the ache between her thighs.

And I was also desperate to give her what she wanted. I slid my hand inside her skimpy shorts and found what I sought. She spread her legs apart as if she had given me her permission.

I broke the kiss, and her lips were swollen and red. I quickly went down before she could protest. I gripped the band of her lacy shorts and dragged them down her legs, making her gasp.

She was gorgeous, just half-naked. Her creamy skin looked supple and soft. The lips of her folds were pink and bare. I flicked my eyes to her for a second, and she eagerly watched me through hooded eyes.

I dropped and went onto my knees before her and splayed my legs. Taking her ankles with my hands, I brought one over my shoulder. Her arousal hit my nose the moment I leaned down through her glistening labia.

“I told you, baby. You’re wet for me.” I parted her pussy lips with my fingers, and my free hand went to her breast, cupping the firm mound. Before she could take another breathless pant, my mouth was already on her pussy.

“Cade.”Just like that, baby. Chant my name.

God, she tasted better than around my finger. With my fingers, I rolled her stiff nipple while I ate her. Her hands came to my hair with a hard tag. I licked and nipped her hard clit, making her pussy slick with need.

She let go another long moan, getting herself lost in the sensations. I felt it, too, I was dizzy with lust and wanted to take it further, but this was only for London. I would have my turn soon.

As I moved my tongue through her folds, I lapped her wetness, and there was much more dripping. It was hot, erotic, and mind-altering.

Maybe this made it special-I was eating the pussy of the person I cared about the most. I’d never had a chance to do this before or chose not to. But I never thought twice about going down on this beautiful woman because she meant more than anything to me.

I moved my hand to another breast, giving the same attention as I did with the other, then I ran my tongue over her clit. My other hand went to my cock when the pain became unbearable, gripping against my sweatpants and began pumping it. I sucked the hard nub into my mouth, and she gave me the sweetest reward, moaning with my name in it.

I growled into her pussy when I couldn’t take it anymore. The pleasure I gave her and the impending orgasm brewing on my cock became more intense for us.

“Fuck my face, baby.” And she did as I asked, backing her hips against my face. I began fucking her with my tongue. The vibration from my growl, in tandem with my hard thrust, had her exploding, screaming my name, and pulling my hair. It was painful, but the pain turned into pleasure. Fuck the reputation I had to uphold. I needed to come, or I would have a heart attack.

I continued stroking my cock, sucking and fucking as she came hard and long. It didn’t take long, and I came so hard my body shuddered. My sweatpants were wet with my release.

***

I woke up to the constant ringing of my phone.

“Is that your phone?” London curled into me, stirred, and loosened her arms around me.

“Sorry, baby. I have to answer it.” Dad called me at four in the morning when I checked the caller ID. This must be urgent. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

“Sorry to call you this early, son.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“It’s already morning, Dad. It’s okay.” I rubbed my eyes and got up. When I looked down at London, she was already wide awake.

“My guess is you haven’t seen the news.”

“No.” I kissed London on the cheek before I got out of bed. I went down to the family room to turn on the tv. “Which channel?” Before Dad could answer me, I instantly knew what he was talking about.

I didn’t realize the remote fell from my hand until London wrapped her arm around me. “What happened? Who’s in that plane crash? Oh, God, that’s horrible.”

“Son? Striker, are you there?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, Dad. I’m here.” I didn’t know that man. I wanted to hate him my entire life, but Dad never let me. He said I couldn’t live and be happy if I held grudges. He was right. I was better than allowing my life to be get controlled by my past.

The flash news continued. His face flashed on the screen. The more I looked at his latest picture, the more I realized he did have half of my DNA.

“Oh, thank God he survives and his bodyguards,” London rephrased what the reporter said. “And the pilot and crew. Wait. That’s Braddson of the Hover. The billionaire.”

“Dad, can I call you back?”

“Of course. I’m here for you, son.” When Dad hung up, I stared at the phone screen with many things rushing into my mind all at once, making me dizzy. I didn’t know why I couldn’t ignore the guilt of sharing that bastard’s DNA.

“Are you okay?” London looked at me and back to the tv screen.

“Yup.” I pulled her into my arms. “Sorry I woke you up early.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you close with Moses Braddson? With your Dad?”

I snorted. “I wish, Vanderford.”

She looked at me intensely. “You know him, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Somehow I managed to smile. “You called me sweetheart?”

“Does it bruise your ego?” She wrinkled her nose.

“You can call me however you want, Vanderford.”

“You look so miserable. What is it?”

“He’s my father.”

“Who? Tate? Of course, I know. He was just on the phone.”

“No, baby. Moses fucking Braddson is my biological father.”