The Undercover Billionaire Read online

  The treason was a different story and she still refused to believe that, but even if it was true, it should be brought to the authorities. It wasn’t Wolf’s job to dispense justice.

  And that wasn’t even considering what else he’d told her, that he hadn’t been beaten after all, like she’d always thought. Or that Noah Tate was his real father.

  No, those things didn’t matter.

  What mattered right now was that she use what little power she had over him to change his mind about killing her father.

  And save him from himself …

  His big body was still beneath hers, his fist in her hair painful, the arm around her waist crushing. She had her head back against the hard slab of muscle of his shoulder, could hear the beat of his heart, the slow rhythm of it gathering speed.

  “You loved me?” There was shock in his rough voice.

  She shouldn’t have said it, but she’d wanted to hurt him. And she had so very little to hurt him with. “Once,” she whispered, and she couldn’t tell whether it was a lie or not, the emotions inside her confused and tangled. “Not anymore.” Then she squeezed that hard ridge under the denim again, testing her power.

  He gave a low rough laugh that ended on a hiss. “Keep doing that and I might decide to change your mind.”

  Beneath her hand, she could feel him getting harder, his heartbeat slowly accelerating. Good. This was a way she could reach him, she was certain of it.

  You’re getting off on it yourself, don’t lie.

  No, she couldn’t lie about that. There was a pulse between her thighs, heavy and slow, and she wanted to spread her legs and lean forward, grind herself against the muscle of that powerful thigh, use him the way he’d been using her all this time

  And why not take him? Why not use him? Everyone else had no qualms about using her, so why shouldn’t she take something for herself too?

  Olivia squeezed him again, even harder this time, relishing the sound of his breath catching, feeling his muscles tighten, shifting and flexing beneath her. She rubbed her thumb along the length of him for good measure, pressing down on the sensitive tip.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking. “Little tease.”

  He shifted, releasing her hair and taking her hips in his hands, moving her so that her butt was more fully settled against his cock, shoving a thigh between hers.

  Then he rolled her hips forward, gripping her tightly, grinding against her ass as that hard thigh of his pressed between her legs and the wetness there.

  She wasn’t wearing anything beneath his shirt, the denim rough against her tender flesh, pushing on her clit, sending that insane ache into the stratosphere.

  The breath went out of her and he must have heard, because his fist was in her hair again, dragging her head back, his mouth near her ear. “You like that, baby?” The question was all gravel and heat. “You wanna ride my thigh, get yourself off like that?”

  God, if she wasn’t careful she was going to lose her advantage, fall under his spell instead of him falling under hers.

  Gasping as he rolled her hips again, grazing her clit, she fought the need to simply lie back in his arms and let him do whatever he wanted with her. This was too important for simple pleasure. This was a power game and one she had to win.

  She moved her hand again, fumbling with the button on his jeans, finding the tab of the zipper and pulling it jerkily down. The she pushed her fingers under the fabric, grazing what felt like an iron bar covered in hot, velvety skin.

  This time it was his breath that caught, a harsh rush in her ear as she closed her fingers around his cock.

  “Oh … fuck…” The curse was hoarse, his massive body shuddering as she ran her thumb around the head. “Baby, that’s so good.”

  Her mouth was dry, her own heartbeat thundering in her head. She was bitterly conscious of his thigh and the way he was moving it, subtly, against her. Making her want to rock and grind, forget the power play and simply lose herself in pleasure.

  But she wasn’t going to. She needed this. She had to have it.

  “If I find your mother,” she forced out raggedly. “You leave my father alone.”

  His breathing was fast and hot against the back of her neck, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin under her ear. “Is that what we’re doing here? You’re using my dick against me?”

  “Yes.” She slid her thumb around the head of his cock, his skin slick and hot. “Well, do we have a deal?”

  He groaned. “Hell no.”

  Dammit.

  She gripped him tighter, moving her hand up and down awkwardly, not knowing what she was doing, but judging from the growing harshness of his breathing and the way his hips were moving, it was having some effect. “I’ll find your mother and you give me some time to find proof that Dad didn’t kill Noah.”

  He made another rough sound and the hand on her hip slid forward, his fingers pushing between her thighs, slipping over her slick flesh.

  She shuddered, pleasure igniting along every single nerve ending she had, a raw gasp escaping whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Wolf’s voice was a rough caress. “Maybe I’ll just get you off like this. No need for all this fucking deal bullshit.”

  No, she wasn’t going to lose this one, she refused.

  She let herself melt back against him, spreading her thighs wider, letting him feel how ready she was for him. How wet she was for him. But she kept her hand on his cock, slowing down her movements, squeezing him hard. “Two hours,” she said thickly. “I’ll find your mother and you give me two hours to find proof of my father’s innocence.”

  He was panting now, his hips moving, pushing himself against her hand. “Little bitch,” he murmured, and despite the harshness of the word, she could hear what sounded like admiration in his voice. “You think you can get what you want just because you’ve got your hand on my dick?”

  “Y-Yes.” Her own voice was ragged, breaking up as his fingers circled her clit then eased down, finding the entrance to her body, sliding inside. Her whole being shuddered in reaction, and she couldn’t stop another moan from escaping her. “Two hours and I’ll let you f-fuck me like this.” The word came out surprisingly easily, and for good measure, she wrapped her whole palm around his cock and pumped hard.

  A groan broke from him, his hips lifting beneath her. “Ah, Jesus Christ … You fucking tease.” He sounded like he was at the end of his patience. Good. “Two hours…”

  His finger pushed deep inside her and she had to close her eyes, struggling to keep herself together and not simply let go. “Y-Yes.”

  “Okay … two hours.” He was panting. “Now get on my fucking cock.”

  “I … want your word, W-Wolf. Promise me.”

  He growled and she felt his teeth against the side of her neck, delivering a nip that only added to the fire he was stoking between her thighs with his clever fingers. “I promise.” His thumb slicking over her clit, making her gasp. “Happy now?”

  Relief and an intense satisfaction swept through her. Yes, she’d managed to get a concession out of him. Thank God. “V-Very happy, yes.”

  “Good. Now get the fuck on my cock. I’m not going to ask again.”

  So demanding. There wasn’t any reason to like it, but she did. It made her want to keep teasing him, keep using her unexpected power over him. Make him burn, make him hurt.

  “Condom,” she murmured, moving her hand then leaning back on him, pressing the curve of her butt against the rigid heat of his erection.

  He cursed roughly and she felt him shift, his breathing wild against her hair. He must have found one from somewhere, maybe his back pocket, because she heard the rustle of foil, and then, a second later, his hands were clamped to her hips. “Lift up for me,” he ordered thickly.

  But she wasn’t done. She undulated against him, shifting her pelvis so she could feel his cock rubbing against her sex, giving him the heat and the slick feel of her flesh but n
othing more. “Say please.”

  Another growl broke from him and he gripped her harder. “You are, you’re a goddamn tease…”

  “Say it,” she demanded, grinding herself against him, shivering as the movement sent sharp, electrical shocks through her.

  He groaned. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re gonna kill me. Please.”

  The word was harsh and raw, but it made everything inside her clench hard.

  She leaned forward, putting her hands on the table in front of her, lifting herself up, the head of his cock pushing against her entrance. And this time they groaned together as she slid down onto him, her already tender flesh burning as she stretched to accommodate him.

  He began to move almost immediately and she found herself scrabbling at the table, trying to hold onto something, his pelvis lifting as he thrust up into her, hard and deep. She tried to move too, to set her own rhythm, but it was clear her moment of being in charge was over.

  Those large, warm hands were clamped to the bare skin of her hips, holding her absolutely still, so she could do nothing but take whatever he had to give her.

  He began to talk, rough, dirty words that made her shiver. That made her break out into a sweat. That made her want to shift around on him, ride him, grind herself down on him to get some satisfaction.

  But he was obviously set on punishing her for making him wait, because he wound one powerful arm around her waist and jerked her back against the intense heat of his body. Crushing her to him. Pinning her in place as he began to thrust up into her. Harder. Deeper.

  She squirmed, because it felt so good but she needed more friction. Craved it. And this time it was her panting, her saying please, trying to move, hot and restless and aching.

  He turned his mouth into her ear again, those hot, erotic, dirty words whispered against her skin, and she had to close her eyes. It was too much for her. He was too much for her.

  But there was no escape. He’d slowed right down so she could feel every single inch of that long, hard cock inside her, the deep slick glide as he thrust in, the pull and drag as he slid out.

  She couldn’t move. Held immobile against him. Gasping and trembling. And just when she thought he was going to deliver the ultimate punishment by not letting her come, he took one of her hands and guided it down between her thighs, to where they were joined. Then he pressed her fingers to her clit. “Touch yourself, baby,” he ordered. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

  So desperate she didn’t even hesitate, Olivia did exactly what she was told, stroking herself as he thrust into her, her mouth opening on a scream as the orgasm gathered inside her, the pleasure crushing, exploding in a wild burst of jagged white light behind her closed lids.

  “Good girl,” she heard him whisper.

  Then both his hands were on her hips, lifting her up and slamming her back down, over and over, until those filthy, dirty words turned into a wordless roar and his massive body went rigid beneath hers.

  Afterward there was silence, broken only by the harsh sounds of their combined breathing and her own wildly careening heartbeat.

  She didn’t want to move, didn’t think she could anyway, not while he was holding her so tightly. His mouth was in her hair and he made no move to loosen his grip on her, keeping her hard against him.

  For a second she simply let herself relax. He was warm and he smelled so familiar, and the sound of his slowing breathing was somehow reassuring. And she wished, suddenly, that all there was, was this.

  That her father didn’t exist—and his didn’t either. That there had never been a feud, and no one had ever gotten hurt, and no one had been lied to. No one had been stolen from.

  That there was only his arms around her, holding her.

  Them, together.

  But there wasn’t only this. And she knew the dangers of letting herself want more than what she had.

  So after a minute she said, “Two hours, Wolf. You promised.”

  * * *

  He didn’t want to move. He would have been quite happy to sit there forever with her in his lap, feeling the wet, velvet heat of her pussy ripple around his cock as she came. Listening to her hoarse gasps of pleasure. Listening to her saying “Please, Wolf, please” in that soft, serious voice of hers.

  He definitely didn’t want her reminding him of the concession he’d granted her, those two fucking hours she’d wanted. He still didn’t even know why he’d said yes, because it wasn’t going to make any difference. She wouldn’t find evidence proving de Santis hadn’t killed Noah. Because it wasn’t there.

  And even if it had been, it wouldn’t have mattered.

  De Santis had to die. End of story.

  Granting her a couple of extra hours was no skin off his nose, though. He was going to need the time to get together his plan to lure de Santis somewhere out of the way, where he could ice the guy with minimal fuss.

  Olivia shifted, sending sparks of electricity through him, making him shiver. Christ, she was so fucking hot. He’d never realized, never understood. He’d never looked at her that way and maybe that had been his brain protecting him. Because if he’d known how good it would be between them, he might done something sooner with her, and maybe have gotten even more attached than he was already. Which would have really screwed everything up.

  She might have been a virgin, but she knew what she’d been doing when she’d put her hand on his cock. When she’d squeezed him and told him she wanted two hours to find proof of her father’s innocence.

  It might have annoyed him that he’d let himself be so easily manipulated, but the orgasm had been totally worth it. Hers too.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, easing her off his lap and onto the bench beside him. “You can have your two hours. As long as you find my mother first.”

  He didn’t look at her, getting up to dispose of the condom in the galley trash, before doing up the zipper on his jeans. Only then did he turn around, and it was a good thing he’d put some distance between them, because she was sitting there, leaning back against the seat. The shirt she’d been wearing had come half unbuttoned, the fabric parting to reveal the lush curves of her breasts. Her glossy brown hair was in a tumble down her back and her face was flushed, her eyes dark and sultry as she gazed at him.

  That just-fucked look suited her. It made him hard. Again.

  And clearly she was aware of it, because her gaze dipped to the front of his jeans then back up to his face again. One corner of her gorgeous mouth turned up in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay, I’ll find your mom. Then I get my two hours. And then if there’s anything I can help you with, I will.”

  His dick, she meant. Obviously.

  Yet the way she said it and the slightly distant cast to her smile, needled him. It looked calculated, and he didn’t like it.

  What do you expect? You’re going to kill her father while you keep her your prisoner. She’s not exactly going to be happy about it.

  That heaviness in his chest, the one he’d felt as he’d made the decision to keep her, grew heavier.

  “I loved you once…”

  Shit. He didn’t want to think about that or the soft thread of pain in her voice as she’d told him she didn’t love him anymore. Didn’t want to think about the way that had made him feel. Angry. Sad. Regretful.

  They were all weaknesses he couldn’t afford. Not now.

  “Maybe it won’t take two hours.” He reached down to adjust himself, not being shy about it. “Maybe you’ll hurry it up so you can get back to the important stuff.”

  Like he’d hoped, her gaze dropped to his hand where it rested on the front of his jeans, and the flush in her cheeks deepened. “Maybe,” she murmured. “Well, why don’t you make me some more tea?” She nodded toward the cup he’d placed in front of her before. “This one’s cold.” Half of it was spilled on the table too, probably from when he’d been fucking her. She’d been holding onto the table for dear life initially, until he’d pulled her back against
him, the soft curve of her ass pressing against his—

  No. Jesus Christ. He wasn’t going to let himself get carried away yet again. There would be time for that later. For now though, if she wanted her goddamn two hours, she could have it.

  He looked away, out the portholes, noting that dusk was creeping over the river, the lights coming on. “Yeah, little late for tea, baby. How about a beer instead?”

  Olivia had sat up and was refastening the buttons on his shirt—sadly. “You know I don’t like beer.”

  “Christ. That’s three teas in a row you haven’t drunk.”

  “Not my fault.” She reached for the computer. “You need to give me your mother’s name so I can do some searching.”

  He frowned, a thought occurring to him. “Wait up. You’re not doing any searching unless I’m sitting right next to you.”

  She flashed him an irritated blue glance. “Why?”

  “Just in case you go tipping your daddy off.”

  “I won’t—”

  “Oh and just so you know, you need a password to open the email program on that laptop, and I’ve blocked webmail sites too.”

  She gave a him a flat, direct stare. “Then how exactly am I supposed to contact my ‘daddy’ to tip him off?”

  “You’re a smart girl, Liv. I’m sure there are a hundred ways to do it.” He bent and pulled open the small galley fridge, taking out a couple of beers. “Soon as my back’s turned, you’ll be letting him know somehow.”

  Her gaze flickered. Of course he was right.

  Taking the caps off the bottles with a twist of his wrist, he came back over to the table and put them down. Then he grabbed a cloth and cleaned up the tea before sitting back down beside her.

  She inched away, putting some distance between them. “I told you I don’t like beer.”

  Resisting the urge to put his arm around her and close that distance, he grabbed his bottle instead and took a sip, relishing the cold liquid as it went down. Hell, nothing like a cold beer after fantastic sex. “Then don’t drink it.”

  She pulled a face, but didn’t answer, opening up the laptop instead. “Your mom’s name, please.”