I let out a breath that’s been caught in my lungs since he walked in this morning, and collapse on the couch. My pussy aches from the rough contact, but it feels good. I’m not one hundred percent sure what I’ve gotten myself into but I don’t care. In fact, I’m grateful. A beautiful man wants me, he’s putting me up in a gorgeous apartment and all I have to do is give him pleasure. Yeah, it sounds a little prostitute-y, but in my position, I’ll have enough money for a new apartment once he’s done with me.
I bite my bottom lip. If I want him to be done with me. I scoff at my own stupid thoughts. Of course I want him to be done with me. Besides, he’s a billionaire. I’m probably not the first girl he’s done this with.
The thought hits me like a slug to the chest. I shouldn’t care. It’s not like I would ever want to marry a guy like this. It’s fun for a little sexual pleasure, but I can’t imagine truly belonging to someone else. I’d have to give up my identity.
Yeah, some identity you’ve got going for you so far.
“Oh shut up, Olivia!” I say and throw my hands over my eyes. The plan is to enjoy this for now. I’ll live out my little fairy tale for the next twenty-four hours and then I’ll go back to my life with a pocketful of change.
A yawn escapes my mouth and I wiggle into a more comfortable position on the couch. Sleep takes over me, and I don’t know how long I’m laying there when I’m awakened by the buzzer. I jolt upright, my bun a mess and my skirt over my bare ass. Quickly, I scramble toward the front entrance in search of the monitor.
I hit the “talk” button and a man’s voice blares into the apartment. “Olivia Wylder?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you downstairs.”
“I’ll be right down.”
“No need, miss. I’ll send him up.”
“Thank you.” I say and the monitor clicks off. I lick the sleep from my lips and tug down my skirt, glaringly aware of my lack of panties. A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. When I open up, I nearly drop to the ground at what I see. Two full rolling racks of clothing, and we’re not talking Marshall’s, here. Designer clothes, in rich gorgeous fabrics. “Please, come in.” I say, eyes wide.
As the doorman, or porter—whoever he is, passes, I see the size tag on the garments are my exact size. Double digits at that. I didn’t know they made clothes like this for women like me. After the racks are steadied near the hall entry, the guy pulls another box out of his messenger bag.
He keeps his eyes down, and doesn’t look at me once. “Thank you.” I say, trying to meet his eyes. But instead, he just nods and takes off out the door, high tailing it toward the elevator.
I open the box and it’s a brand new smartphone. The box falls to the ground as I pet my shiny, new electronic device. It’s been so long since I’ve had one, and the best part there’s already a text message waiting for me:
I TOLD THEM NOT TO LOOK AT YOU OR TALK TO YOU. BE AT THE OFFICE BY FOUR. THE CAR WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU DOWNSTAIRS.
And the butterflies erupt in my stomach.
6
Mr. Ford
I can barely concentrateon work with Olivia’s panties in my pocket. I’ve already jerked off into them twice, something that’s clearly frowned upon in the office, but I can’t help myself. This woman has taken me to stalker level obsessed. I don’t want to think about anything else but possessing her. Of throwing her down and making her forever mine.
Even though I’ve put off the most important business call of my career, today.
It’s not like me to put off multi-million dollar deals for a woman. Is my head on straight? Clearly it isn’t. There’s something about Olivia that makes all of my logic fly out the window. While every ounce of me wants her—I’m certain of it—there’s also a tiny nagging voice telling me that this might not be a good thing for the business I’ve built from scratch, with my own two hands.
I rub my burning eyes, and try to put away the thought. Instead, I’ll focus on tonight. Today is gone. It’s nearly four-thirty and Olivia will be here any minute. My cock jumps at the thought. Olivia with no panties is much more exciting to me right now than the Tokyo deal.
As if on cue, my office phone rings. I lunge for it, desperate to know that it’s my Sleeping Beauty who has arrived. My assistant, Marlowe’s voice is music to my ears. “There’s an Olivia Wylder here for you.”
I grip the phone. “Send her in.” I say, and take a deep breath filled with anticipation. My office chair squeaks under my weight. As the door opens, I nearly fall backward at the sight of her. It’s as though the heavens opened up and dropped an angel into my office.
Her long, cascading hair hangs in ringlets over her bare shoulders. Her red dress cinches her waist and flows out, hitting her just above her knees. Those rosebud lips of hers match the crimson of her dress. Be still my throbbing cock.
Olivia licks her lips, her eyes darting to mine and back to the floor again. “Wow.” I say, unable to pick my jaw up off of the floor.
“All of the clothes you sent are so beautiful. I picked my favorite dress. Do you like it?” She asks.
“Close the door behind you, and I’ll show you.” Her face lights up before she turns and does what she’s told. Her heels click against the carpet as she makes her way over to my desk. “Turn around,” I say. “I want to see you from every angle.”
Olivia bites her lip and does a slow spin, allowing me to take in every inch of her curvy frame. That dress could drive a sane man to the mental ward, and it just might. I beckon her closer with my finger. She willingly comes to me and I run my hand down the silky smooth fabric of the dress, starting with her waist and down around her ass.