Sexy Beast--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Read online

  You need to stay in control, man.

  That was true. Yet I hadn’t. I’d let myself get pissed off, then I’d snapped at her and stalked off. I hadn’t expected her to follow. And I hadn’t expected her to explain or apologise. And now here she was, doing both.

  She leaned against the doorframe, looking sexy in the white towelling robe, her hair flowing, long and thick and tousled, over her shoulders. Her arms were folded and she was giving me a defiant look, as if daring me to argue with her.

  As if I would.

  I’d been offering her things for years and she’d never accepted any of it, and now I finally got why. And I understood. I’d seen her stumbling around in too small shoes and too small clothes and wondered why she’d never just asked her aunt to get her new ones. She’d never really explained why not and because we’d both been young I hadn’t pushed for more of an explanation. And afterwards I’d kind of accepted that it was just part of Freya being stubborn.

  But it wasn’t. It was Freya wanting to be noticed. Freya wanting to be cared about.

  Unwanted emotion sat on my chest like a stone, sympathy for her and yet more anger at her goddamn family who had been so reluctant to take her in after her mom had been killed, and who’d never made any attempt to hide how much of an imposition it had been for them.

  I couldn’t do anything about that, couldn’t change the way her aunt especially had treated her. But I could make her feel noticed. I could make her feel beautiful and special, and all the things she truly was.

  I could make her feel cared about. And perhaps this time she’d let me.

  ‘Good,’ I said gruffly. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Her expression softened. ‘I know you do.’

  I wanted to pull her into my arms in that moment, kiss her, take her over to the bed and make slow, sweet love to her, show her how appreciative I truly was. But slow, sweet love wasn’t our dynamic, and it sure as hell wasn’t mine. And, besides, it would have been changing something that was already working well, and since everything already felt like it was in a state of flux I ignored the urge.

  Instead I said, ‘You’d better get some clothes on. Can’t have you running around London bare-assed.’

  She grinned. ‘You’d kind of like that though, wouldn’t you?’

  I gave her a measuring look. ‘Keep pushing and you might just find yourself on the receiving end of a few punishments. Such as taking a naked stroll, sure.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  This time it was my turn to grin. ‘The question isn’t whether I would or wouldn’t. The question is whether you’d obey me or not.’

  She flushed, which was interesting, then pushed herself away from the doorframe. ‘I’m going to...uh...go get dressed.’

  I let her go, finishing getting ready myself then going back out into the living area to complete a few tasks. Ulysses had left me a couple of texts and more than a few voicemail messages, asking me where I was because we needed to meet to go over the funds we’d raised at our event the night before, and also where the fuck was Damian, because he wasn’t answering his texts.

  I did care about the fundraiser, but it didn’t require ten texts and five missed phone calls about having a goddamn meeting right the hell now. I cared even less about whether Damian was answering his texts—given his preferences, he was probably still asleep in some woman’s bed. And I cared even less than that about Ulysses being pedantic about all this shit.

  What I cared about was that finally Freya was letting me do something for her and I was going to take that opportunity with both hands.

  So I ignored Ulysses, made a few other phone calls, arranged a few things, then I turned my phone off.

  And waited for her.

  The things I’d arranged were a private tour of the Tower of London so we didn’t have to wrestle with the crowds, including a look at the Crown Jewels and a visit with the Ravenmaster who looked after the ravens. And after that I took her for a special lunch at a historic London pub, where she had a pint and a ploughman’s lunch and then made me laugh at the face she pulled at the packet of pork scratchings I’d also bought for her to try.

  Afterwards, I took her up in one of the Black and White helicopters—I’d flown in the army and I liked to keep my hand in—and we took a sightseeing trip over London by air. She loved that, I could tell, though I thought she was at least as interested in the helicopter as she was in the city below us, which made sense: Freya loved machines.

  Back on the ground, we went back to the hotel and got rid of some of the steam we’d built up over the course of the day by indulging ourselves for a couple of hours in the suite. Naked.

  Then I took her out for dinner on the Thames, on one of the company’s luxury yachts, motoring slowly under a beautifully lit up Tower Bridge.

  She stood on the deck, leaning against the rail, and I watched her tip her head back to look at the bridge as we went under it, the lights shining on her face. She was grinning, her eyes alight, and the tight feeling I’d experienced back in the suite that day returned.

  It felt good to make her smile like that. To make her happy. Because if there was one thing Freya deserved it was to be happy.

  ‘This is great, E,’ she said as the lights slid over her skin. ‘Thank you.’

  Simple words and yet I knew she meant them. And that meant something to me too.

  I didn’t speak. I just reached out and took hold of her hand, lacing her fingers with mine, and for a moment I felt like I had the night before, when I’d pushed myself inside her. As if the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle had been found and locked in, revealing the entire picture. A picture I’d never seen the whole of before.

  Why are you thinking about goddamn jigsaw puzzles? And, more to the point, why are you holding her hand?

  Shit.

  I glanced at her to see if she’d noticed, but she was still looking at the bridge. Yet her fingers were tight around mine as if holding hands was something we did every day.

  It wasn’t, of course. Because holding hands wasn’t something friends did.

  But I didn’t pull my hand away and neither did she.

  After the boat trip, we went back to the hotel and I had her on her knees in the elevator as we went up to our suite, ordering her to get me off by the time the doors opened or else there’d be trouble.

  Little witch was damn near successful too, but I’d had years of controlling my physical responses and I managed to hold off until we got back to our suite. Which naturally meant I could dole out a few punishments, which she loved.

  We didn’t get to sleep until exceptionally late and that involved another sleep-in the next morning. I’d arranged a few more trips that day too, another helicopter ride, this time to Windsor Castle, and then a private tour around a wizard theme park based on one of her favourite books as a kid. She squealed a lot about that and even let me buy her a few souvenirs.

  But I’d saved the best—or at least what I considered the best—till last. I knew she didn’t like shopping and wasn’t much into clothes, and part of that was because she just wasn’t interested. But I wanted to show her how beautiful she was. That I noticed her. And so I’d booked a private couple of hours in one of London’s most exclusive sex stores. It wasn’t sleazy, catering only to ultra-high net worth clientele, and you couldn’t just walk in off the street. You had to make an appointment.

  It was tucked away in a historic building in an alley near Oxford Street, and Freya was still talking about the wand I’d bought her as the limo stopped outside it and I got out, holding the door open for her.

  ‘Where to now, Jeeves?’ she asked in a terrible faux English accent, looking around at the old buildings surrounding us.

  I took her hand and pulled her to the entrance of the store and pushed the buzzer. The door opened and a small, delicate Bambi of a woman pulled it open, smiling at u
s both. ‘Mr Calhoun, Ms Johnson, please come in.’

  Freya was frowning now as I pulled her through the door and into the plush interior of the store.

  The floor was dark, ancient-looking wood polished to a high sheen and covered with silk rugs. The walls were painted dark blue with lots of medieval-looking paintings in heavy gold frames. Thin stainless steel rails held hangers on which were positioned bits of silk and lace in every kind of colour there was, as well as long negligees and nightgowns. All very pretty and all very vanilla. As long as you didn’t see that the rails also contained all sorts of very expensive and exquisitely made fetish-wear too.

  Freya looked around, her eyes getting rounder and rounder as she took in the glass cases on the walls with all the jewellery in them—jewellery you wouldn’t find in a normal jewellery store, that was. Rings and chains and studs for all kinds of piercings, plus clamps and plugs in various different metals, studded with gems or plain. There was a variety of vibrators and dildos and lots of other fancy sex toys too.

  I tended to go for plain and functional when it came to toys, though I did prefer the materials to be of the highest quality.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Freya hissed in my ear as the shop assistant made herself scarce, as per my instructions.

  Once she’d vanished out the back, I turned to Freya and said, ‘I wanted to buy you something.’

  ‘Buy me what?’ Her face had gone very pink. ‘Because if you’re thinking that rubber mask thing over there then—’

  ‘I want to buy you something pretty and frilly and sexy,’ I said very deliberately. ‘Something feminine. Something that’s just for you. I’d also like you to choose something that we can both find pleasurable.’

  She blinked, glancing at the rails of pretty lingerie and then the cases full of jewellery. At the crops and whips displayed on the wall, and the leather restraints displayed nearby. ‘Um...’

  I watched her face, saw the doubt and anxiety flicker across her familiar features. ‘I don’t go for hardcore stuff,’ I said, addressing the anxiety at least. ‘So don’t worry about that. This needs to be something you’d like too.’

  She looked back at me. ‘And if I don’t like any of it?’

  I’d prepared for her refusal and I knew what I was going to say. ‘Then you don’t have to. But—’ I paused, holding her gaze ‘—I would love to see you in something pretty, Little. Because I think you would love it too.’

  She shifted on her feet, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I don’t like this kind of stuff, E, you know that. I don’t like shopping and girly things...’ She faltered, her gaze sliding to the rails again.

  ‘Yeah, I think you don’t like it because of all the bullshit your aunt put in your head. I think you’d love to put on some pretty lingerie for me, to get yourself feeling all sexy and hot just to tease me.’

  She continued to stare at the clothing on the rails, the flush in her cheeks deepening. ‘None of these things are going to fit me...’

  It was strange how much I wanted her to do this for me. Or maybe it wasn’t strange. Maybe I only wanted her to be able to see herself the way I saw her—tall and strong and beautiful. A complete fucking goddess. I wanted to get all that shit her aunt kept telling her right the hell out of her head.

  ‘Yeah, they will. All the lingerie in the store right now is your size.’

  That made her look sharply at me. ‘What?’

  ‘I made certain that everything on the rails right now is stuff that fits you.’ It had been a precaution; I wanted nothing in here that might potentially get in the way of her enjoyment of this. And I knew if she allowed herself this she would enjoy it.

  And so would I.

  Her gaze narrowed. ‘How?’

  ‘I asked them to.’ I allowed myself a slight smile. ‘One of the benefits of being a billionaire.’

  Freya snorted, but when she looked around again her gaze was more appraising.

  ‘Well?’ I didn’t want her to know how much I wanted her to say yes. Shit, I didn’t know how much I wanted her to until this moment. ‘Or will I have to order you to do it?’

  She turned that appraising look on me. ‘You’d like to see me in something like this? Pretty lingerie?’

  ‘Yes.’ I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. ‘In fact, right now, there’s nothing I’d like better.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She gave me another look, making everything inside me draw strangely tight. ‘I guess I could try something on.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Freya

  HE LIKED THAT. I saw it in his eyes, the familiar blue spark of desire catching alight. And that made me feel good too.

  In fact, the past couple of days had involved nothing but pleasing him by going on the trips he’d organised for me. And when I knew I’d pleased him I felt pleased too. It was a little closed circuit of pleasing each other, the good feelings flowing back and forth between us in perfect harmony.

  Of course, it wasn’t only about pleasing him. I’d really enjoyed the trip to the Tower and Windsor Castle. And it had been super cool to be on the yacht at night, watching the lights of Tower Bridge move overhead as we went underneath it, feeling his fingers close around mine as he held my hand. And the theme park had been amazing. I’d decided I’d let him arrange the trips, but under no circumstances was he to buy me anything and...well, I’d caved as soon as I’d seen some cool wands. They’d been expensive—nothing I’d normally buy for myself—and he’d been very pleased to get them for me and so I...simply hadn’t objected.

  But this...this felt different. This wasn’t a souvenir of a cool place or tickets to a tourist attraction, but something I would wear. Something specifically designed to make me look sexy. Oh, yeah, and pretty and feminine too.

  I didn’t know why I felt uncomfortable about it. Actually, no, I did know. It was all exactly as Everett had said. It was about the bullshit my aunt had put in my head about my size and my height. How unlike a woman I was, as if that was something to be ashamed of. And I’d thought I’d got over that years ago, that I was comfortable with myself, but...yeah, I wasn’t. And the thought of putting on lingerie, of trying to be pretty and sexy for Everett...

  The way Everett was looking at me was very intense. He’d said it would make him happy and I could see that he hoped I would do this.

  I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. We only had another couple of days to go anyway so...why not? And the truth was I was kind of excited to do it. Everything here was in my size, which meant I wouldn’t have the humiliating experience I’d had as a kid of being way too big for their biggest size, and my aunt rolling her eyes as I told her nothing here fitted me. ‘You’ll need an adult size then,’ she’d said. ‘That’s going to be expensive.’

  That was me. The size of an adult woman at twelve and ‘expensive’.

  Breaking his intent stare, I turned and went over to one of the rails, looking through the sets on the hangers. They were...pretty. Very pretty. In lots of different colours, some lacy and some not. Silk and satin and velvet. Bows and hearts and sequins.

  I liked them, I realised. And more than that, I wanted to wear them. I wanted to put them on and see what I looked like. And then I wanted to turn around and watch Everett’s face as he saw me in them.

  A hot streak of desire spiked in my blood, my mouth going dry at the thought. Would he like what he saw?

  You know he will.

  Yeah, he liked my naked body and he’d never made any secret of how much. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, making me feel beautiful and sexy and feminine...

  Oh, hell. Why was I hesitating? He was going to love this.

  My hesitation disappeared and I gave him a flirty look from over my shoulder. ‘Anything in particular you want to see?’

  His blue gaze burned as it met mine. ‘Something really skimpy. And lacy and frilly.’ />
  ‘They’re all lacy and frilly.’

  ‘Then anything.’

  Guys. They were all the same.

  Smiling, I turned back to the rail and took a handful of hangers off, then headed toward the very luxurious-looking fitting rooms. Each of them had stained glass doors that cleverly hid most of what was going on behind them, while revealing enough to be a little sexy and provocative.

  There was a couch opposite, upholstered in rich gold velvet, and Everett sprawled down in it, stretching his long legs out, his gaze on me. ‘You don’t need to close the door,’ he suggested. ‘I told the shop assistant to take some time off. It’s just you and me in here.’

  I grinned, stepping into the fitting room. ‘Bold of you to assume that I’d be into just you and me being here.’

  He gave me a very intent look. ‘Fortune favours the brave.’

  A shiver went down my spine. A very good shiver. Because if there was something I knew about Everett Calhoun it was that he was both brave and bold and, given that we were alone in here, I was thinking he wasn’t going to let me leave without at least ordering me to do something to him.

  Well, I was more than okay with that.

  Firmly closing the door—he could use a little anticipation—I stripped off my clothes and held up the first piece of nothing. Green silk and gold lace that hid precisely zero. I pulled a face but telling myself nothing ventured, nothing gained, I pulled it on.

  It fitted beautifully, just as he’d promised. But it was very revealing. It was mostly just lace so my nipples were clearly visible and so was my pussy, the bit of string between my butt cheeks not covering a damn thing. The waistband had a frill, which seemed utterly pointless, and for a second I caught myself wondering what the hell I was doing putting this crap on.

  But I shoved the thought aside. I was doing this for Everett, because he would take pleasure in it, and not for any other reason.

  There was a full-length mirror inside the fitting room but I didn’t look at it. I wanted him to see me first.