Rescued By the Billionaire by Lisa Kaatz

10

Abby Walker was making me break all my rules.

Rule number one: Don’t get attached.

I’d already failed spectacularly at that. I thought I’d sworn her off for good, but now she was back in my apartment. Naked. In my bed. The way I’d imagined her for the last few nights. I’d dreamed about this very moment. Touching her again. Tasting her.

Except, in my dreams, she wasn’t a virgin.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. Being a virgin. It’s just that I would never have dreamed that a woman like Abby would be one. At her age. Abby was a walking contradiction, simultaneously naive and world weary, experienced and inexperienced. She seemed as though she’d seen things. Been through things. And yet she’d made it to here and now, where our paths crossed, completely untouched.

And she had let me do what I wanted to her that night in my office. Didn’t even hesitate. Just yielded to me, leaned back and let me take whatever I wanted, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to make out with a virtual stranger against a wall.

That had been her first kiss. Her first fucking kiss. I couldn’t get over that. Had it been special? I could hardly recall. Lust had clouded my head. I would have taken her that night, if it had gone farther. I would have bent her over my desk and taken her from behind until she was screaming my name.

Tonight she had asked me to sleep with her, to take her virginity. She said it so easily, as if she was asking to borrow a jacket.

Why me? Why now? If no man had ever enticed her, if every man before me had failed to pass the test...

Part of me wanted to hold back. To make sure Abby wasn’t making a mistake. Because like it or not, I had gotten attached to her. And that meant that I wanted to be more than a mistake to her. I didn’t want her to wake up one day and not want to look at me, dodge my calls because the sound of my voice reminded her of something unpleasant that she’d rather forget than remember.

Like my own exes.

Like my own past.

But I was a man at the end of the day. I could only resist her for so long before giving into primal urges. And somehow, despite her innocence - or maybe because of it - Abby managed to draw out my most primal instincts.

The instinct to protect. And right now, the instinct to conquer.

I’d be the first man to ever touch her in these ways. To ever be inside of her.

I’d make it so that she could never forget me. So that every man after me would seem like a disappointment in comparison.

Hell. Just the idea of her being with another man made my blood boil.

“Ow!”

Abby’s small cry of pain brought me back to earth. I’d been grinding against her open legs, spreading her wetness around with the shaft of my cock, and devouring her breasts with my tongue and teeth.

“Too hard?” I gasped, coming up for air.

She looked down at her breast, cupping it in her hand to inspect the damage. Seeing her hold herself like that made me want to dive into her right now.

But I had to resist. For now. Because tonight was going to be unforgettable, remember?

“Too hard,” she said at last, throwing her head back down on the pillows. “But...not bad. If that makes sense.”

It did.

I rolled over and pulled her on top of me so that she was straddling my waist, my cock pressed against her stomach. It was a better view from here. The undersides of her delicious breasts rose and fell with her every breath. She looked down at me with uncertainty, hands combing through her hair, which was matted and knotted in the back. Her lips were pink and swollen from my kisses.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“I know,” I said. “Do you want to stop?”

It took every ounce in my strength to ask her the question. I didn’t want her to want to stop. I wanted to lift her up and pull her down on my cock right now.

But I also didn’t want to be a regret.

She shook her head, eyes looking fierce with renewed energy. The post-orgasm fog had disappeared.

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered. “I want this. Now.”

“Come here,” I said, pulling at her wrists. She walked on her knees forward, stopping to sit on my chest.

“More,” I said. “I want you over my face.”

“Lincoln,” she blushed.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her wrist roughly. “I want to taste you again.”

She complied, though her face had gone tomato red. Her shyness was so sexy, and somehow made her want me more.

The instinct to protect.

She kneeled over my face. I pulled her down onto my face so that she was sitting on it and she gripped the headboard for balance, looking down over heaving breasts to me. We made eye contact and I didn’t look away as I dragged my tongue slowly up her wet slit.

She moaned and threw her head back.

“I want to watch you come,” I said, stroking her lips with my fingers. She squirmed against me, bucking her hips slightly as I slid my fingers back and forth, pinching and tugging at her delicate pink lips, pulling them apart so my tongue had better access to her clit. Her last orgasm had made her hypersensitive. Just a whisper of air against her sex had her moaning and shivering.

“How does it feel to be licked here?” I asked her before doing it again. She jumped, bucking her hips again. I gripped her thighs roughly, holding her in place.

“How does it feel?” I asked again. Her head was bowed and her eyes were closed.

“Good,” she breathed.

“Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “It feels good. It feels so good.”

I pulled her back down on my mouth, this time licking small, slow circles around the perimeter of her clit. She twitched and shivered with every move that I made, mumbling words I couldn’t understand.

“Please,” she whispered when I stopped for a moment.

I loved the sound of that word on her lips. I could listen to it all day. The word, said in a breathy whisper, made my cock twitch. She said I was going to drive her crazy. She had no idea that she’d already done the same to me.

She had no idea how hot she was. How beautiful and sexy she was. Underneath the layers of oversized clothing was a body that would bring most men to their knees. Round, full breasts with perky pink nipples. A small waist that curved out at the hips. A tight, round ass and smooth, creamy thighs that were just begging to be wrapped around me.

She was undiscovered territory. I was the first. The only one who had been here, tasting her between her thighs. Sucking on her delicious wet cunt like I was right now. Realizing that I was the only one to have been here lit a fire within me that I’d never felt before. I wanted to be the only one forever. I didn’t want there to be others after me. This was mine. She was mine.

“Please,” she whispered again. The shyness she’d had before was gone now. She was grinding against me and arching back, letting go of the headboard and riding my face with abandon. She was close, I could tell. I could feel it in the way she was tightening around me, in the way that her rhythm outpaced mine now, with me struggling to keep up with her greedy desire. She circled her hips on me slowly and I dragged my tongue across her lips and clit, savoring every inch of her pussy.

And then she was there, for the second time that night. She fell forward against the headboard, pussy throbbing, bucking her hips back and forth against me while I sucked her clit hard, grinding my face into her flesh, wringing out every last drop of raw pleasure from her orgasm.

When she was done she fell away from me, collapsing back on the bed. She ran a hand over her face, fingers shaking, still gasping for air, her breasts rising and falling on her chest as she struggling to return her breathing to normal. I climbed on top of her. My face was soaked with her juices. How could she taste and smell so good?

“I can’t keep going,” she gasped.

“I think you can,” I said, kneeling between her thighs. The head of my cock poked at her opening and she moaned, propping herself up on her elbows so she could watch. I pushed the head in, just slightly. Her breath hitched in her chest. When I pulled back out, she cried out in frustration.

“Lincoln, please, I’m begging you,” she said, writhing beneath me, tangling the sheets.

This was the moment that couldn’t be undone. I searched her face for any hint of hesitation. I was met with fiery desire.

And I was only a man. I could only resist for so long.

I sank into her, as slowly as I could possible force myself to go. Every new inch of her was warm and wet, gripping my cock and inviting me in. She was impossibly tight, so much that I was afraid of breaking her. But her thighs had wrapped around me when I plunged into her, pulling me closer, her hands grasping at tufts of my hair, the back of my neck, her nails leaving trails down my shoulders as she frantically searched for something to grab onto.

When I was completely inside of her I pulled up for air and looked at her face.

“I’m okay,” she breathed before I could ask. “Fuck me, Lincoln. Stop waiting. Stop worrying. Let go.”

Let go.

I did. All restraint I’d shown earlier in the night was forgotten. I pulled out of her slowly, watching my shaft emerge from inside of her coated in her juices, glinting in the dim light of the lamp beside the bed. I was soaked in her.

“Lincoln, please,” she whispered again, pushing me completely over the edge. She and her “please”es would be my undoing.

I slammed back into her and she cried out, nails digging into my back as I pulled back again and pushed back inside of her, pounding against her ass and thighs with my hips as I impaled her on my cock, sliding with ease, her wetness all around me.

Her breasts bounced on her chest with every thrust, and she’d thrown her head back, mouth agape, a silent scream on her lips as I filled her again and again.

I was about to lose control. She sensed it, putting a hand on my chest.

“Birth control,” she gasped with wide eyes, as though she’d just remembered.

“Shit,” I groaned. I was coming.

I pulled my cock out in the nick of time - at least, I think it was in the nick of time - and released onto her, shooting my seed all over the creamy skin of her breasts as she panted and moaned.

Her legs were still wrapped around me when I finished. I kneeled down, resting my forehead on her lower stomach. She stroked my hair, sighing happily.

“So,” she said after a moment. “That’s what sex feels like.”

“That’s what sex feels like with me,” I corrected her.

She laughed.

“So that’s what sex feels like with Lincoln Taylor.”

Saying my full name gave me chills. I should tell her now, who I am. She would figure it out soon enough. And now… with what we’d just shared… it seemed like it was now or never.

“Abby, I want to tell you something,” I said, looking up at her.

“Shoot,” she said, smiling lazily. Her eyes were closed, her head back against the pillows, with her fiery orange hair splayed out around her like an angel’s.

How did I start?

“Do you remember the first day we met? When you said that thing about the two presidents?”

She frowned.

“Not really. I - ” her eyes widened. “One second!”

She pushed me off of her and jumped up from the bed, running to the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. After a second, I could hear her peeing.

“Are you okay?” I called after her.

“Fine,” she said through the door. “It’s just, Cosmo always said you’re supposed to pee right after sex.”

I heard a flush and then a running faucet. Moments later she emerged.

“Cosmo said,” I repeated. “You read Cosmo?”

“My mom did,” she said. “And when she was done with them, she threw them away. Except I’d always go and fish them out of the kitchen trash and hide them under my bed.”

“Unbelievable,” I said with a smile. I imagined a young redheaded girl sneaking smutty magazines to her room.

“I’d read them in the bathtub,” she said. “I liked the quizzes and the horoscopes. But they had a whole column on sex ed, too.”

“So you’re a well-educated virgin,” I commented.

“Former virgin,” she grinned, hopping back onto the bed. She sat at my feet, chest wiped clean of my come. “Now, what were you saying about the day we first met?”

I bit my lip.

“I was just thinking,” I said. “About how beautiful you looked. And how cute you were in that apron.”

She blushed.

“That stupid ugly apron,” she commented. “I hated wearing it so much.”

“I liked it,” I said. “I’d rather you be in an apron than in some man’s dress shirt.”

“It was borrowed,” she rolled her eyes. “I spilled coffee all over mine and he lent me his.”

“With pure and good intentions, I’m sure,” I said.

“Weren’t you the one who once asked me why a man couldn’t help a woman out without having his motives questioned?” she asked, raising a brow.

“That’s different,” I said. “I wanted to help you with your job. And pay you back. I wasn’t lending you clothes.”

“Helping me with my job and screwing me in your bed,” she giggled.

“At your request!” I said. “By the way, now it’s your turn to uphold your end of the deal. You’re moving in.”

“Wait,” she said.

“That was the deal,” I reminded her. “I did my part.”

“I’m sure it took great sacrifice, too,” she said sardonically.

“It did,” I replied, with the most solemn expression I could muster.

She slapped me on the leg.

“The deal was that I’d stay in NYC for another three weeks,” she said. “I assumed this meant staying in my current building. And you advancing me some money for rent or something. Like a loan.”

“Why stay there when you’ll just be moving to a bigger place after you get your job anyway?” I said. “Move in for a while, I’ve got so many bedrooms. You wouldn’t even know I was here, I stay in my office most of the time.”

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I barely know you.”

“And yet we just…” I gestured to her naked body and mine.

“That’s different,” she blushed. “That was a bucket list item.”

Oh. Was that what this was to her?

“I’ll stay at my place,” she said firmly. “And you can help me with rent. Like you wanted to before. Okay?”

I thought of her landlord. It didn’t matter. Wherever she stayed, I’d take care of things. It was easier to fight someone else than her on this. I could tell.

“Fine,” I said. “Stay there. But you should get some mace or something.”

“Already have some,” she said brightly.

Great.

I laid back in the bed and Abby rolled over on top of me, her legs on either side of me, sitting on my hips, where my cock had begun to go limp.

“How long until you can go again?” she asked with a grin.

“Jesus, already?” I laughed.

“That felt good,” she said. She leaned in and kissed me softly and slowly on the mouth. “It felt really, really good. It didn’t even hurt. Not much, anyways.”

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” I said.

“I’d always heard…”

“In Cosmo?” I asked.

“From my friends,” she shrugged. “They all lost theirs in the tenth grade or so. They said it bleeds a lot.”

She looked down with panic, as though she thought she might start gushing blood right there.

“You were very wet,” I said. “I didn’t have to force myself inside of you.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she murmured. “You were very gentle.”

Her fingers traced light trails over my shoulders and chest, traveling up my neck and playing with the ends of my hair.

“What was your first time like?” she asked suddenly.

“Mine?” I asked. “God, you don’t want to know about that stuff. About other women.”

“I do,” she said with a nod. “Really. I don’t mind.”

I sighed. Women didn’t like to know about the others. Even when they said they did.

“I was fifteen,” I said. “Harrison and I were...were in a foster home.”

I waited for the pity that always came when I talked about being a foster kid. For the probing questions.

Abby just watched me patiently, waiting for me to keep talking.

“She was another foster,” I continued. “Older than me. I forget how old. She asked me if I wanted to see her boobs. Well, obviously I did.”

“Obviously,” Abby said with quiet humor.

“One thing led to another, and suddenly we were doing it on her bed,” I finished lamely.

“Did your foster parents ever find out?”

“I don’t think so,” I shrugged. “I was gone the next week. That home was just a temporary one until they could find us a more permanent foster. A place that could take me and Harrison both. Those were hard to find. Especially with all of my behavior problems.”

There was a pause. When Abby opened her mouth, I expected her to ask me why I was in a foster home. Where my parents were. How long I was there. What kind of behavior problems I had. Whether I was “okay” - people were always asking me that. That, and “Do you want to talk about it?”

I hated that question.

“So if you left that place, I guess you didn’t get to do it again,” she said. “Who was your second?”

“You’re asking about my second time?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Is that bad?”

“I guess not. Just...unusual. Most people don’t ask you about your second time having sex.”

“I just imagine that…” she drifted off. “Well, I just had my first time and I can’t wait to do it again. And again. I can’t imagine being a teenage boy full of raging hormones. That must have been torture.”

“My second time was a few months later,” I said. “A girl from my english class. We had a group project. She invited me back to her place. I fucked her on top of our copies of Shakespeare.”

“How romantic,” Abby said wryly.

“You asked,” I shrugged.

“How many women have you been with?”

I groaned and leaned back against the pillows.

“Why do women always want to know that?” I asked.

“I’m just curious,” she said defensively.

“You don’t want to know. You really don’t,” I said.

“That many?” I asked.

There had been a lot. I probably couldn’t even remember them all. Age sixteen and seventeen had been a drunken blur. But I knew I got around a lot. I was a legend at one of my high schools.

“Lincoln?” Abby asked. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. It’s not a big deal, I wasn’t trying to bother you…”

“You’re not bothering me,” I said, turning back to her. “But.”

“But?”

“But I think I’m ready for round two,” I said.