Borrowed Billionaire #5 Set it on Fire

  Borrowed Billionaire #5 - Set it on Fire (Erotic Romance)

  © 2012 Mimi Strong

  Description: After Indonesia, can anything go back to how it was?

  Length: 17,300 words, or 70 book pages long. This is the final part of a 5-part series.

  Spice Level: Erotic and romantic. This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only.

  1: Out of the Sea

  The Yellowstripe Basslet, a cheery pink and yellow fish, darted in front of me as I tried to hold on to my consciousness.

  I had to keep breathing normally through the scuba diving regulator and not panic. That meant not looking down at my leg to see why it was bleeding. I swam to Suzanne and tapped her on the shoulder. Bubbles plumed up. She took the longest time to turn around, and before she did, I felt hands on me.

  Luthor. He was there.

  Everyone was wildly waving around, trying to communicate, and my head was reeling. I felt like I might throw up, which I knew could kill me. I'd choke to death, under the sea.

  Luthor grabbed my shoulders and brought his face close to mine. He gazed into my eyes, and I found strength in him.

  We all swam up together.

  The surface, above the water, was chaotic. People were yelling. Suzanne was crying, and Simon was a wreck.

  We got on board the boat, and they got my scuba suit peeled off. I had an ugly gash on my leg, near the shin, from the stingray.

  Despite my injury, I had to pat Suzanne's hand on the boat ride back to the resort. Lucky for me, Luthor Thorne was a rock. He didn't say much, and I could see the tension in his jaw when he thought I wasn't looking, but he put his arm around me and told me I would be fine. I believed him.

  “You'll be back diving in no time,” he said.

  I avoided looking at my leg, and looked at him instead. The nausea that had first hit me underwater came back with a vengeance. I turned and threw up over the side of the boat, into the churning water. As I was throwing up, tears ran down my cheeks, my nose was running, and I was a revolting mess.

  Luthor got out his clean shirt and mopped off my face once I was done heaving.

  One of the men on board the boat tried to reassure me, saying, “The nausea is a side effect of the stingray's poison. Try to stay calm. The faster your heart beats, the more quickly the poison spreads.”

  Him telling me this only made my heart beat faster, of course. I turned and threw up again, even though it was just dry heaves.

  Stingrays don't normally attack people. The one who got me must have been startled when I stepped on him, and stung out of reflex alone. They're flat as pancakes and rest at the bottom of the sea, where they blend in perfectly. As I tried to stay calm and not throw up on Luthor, the helpful man on the boat advised me to slide my feet along the sand if I were to go wading in at the shoreline. At that point, I didn't want to get in any water ever again, let alone the ocean.

  We got back to the resort, and I was treated there by a woman doctor who was staying at the resort.

  She treated me in the kitchen, for better access to boiling water.

  Luthor hovered around, as nervous as Suzanne and Simon. I tried to send them all away, but they wouldn't leave my side.

  Luthor offered to fly another doctor in, but the woman assured him she had it under control. She squeezed my ankle and examined the injury.

  I gasped and saw white light, and stars, too. “I'll have that mojito now,” I joked.

  The woman, an Australian doctor, shook her head. “No mojito tonight. But I have good news. It doesn't look like the stinger embedded. You could still have an ultrasound to be certain, but the wound looks clean. You got lucky. Didn't nick an artery or anything precious.”

  Glancing down at the gash, I said, “My shin is precious to me.”

  She flashed a large silver needle and applied topical freezing to the area, then quickly stitched the wound.

  The treatment for the stingray venom, strangely enough, is hot water. We soaked my lower leg in a bucket full of water as hot as I could stand it. Apparently, the heat denatures the venom.

  Me and my little party were shifted over to near the dish washing station, and before too long, the kitchen got busy with preparations for dinner.

  The doctor finished the stitches, packed up her kit, and patted me on the knee. “I think you'll live,” she said, offering her first smile of the day. She also took a long, appreciative look over at Luthor, with no shirt on, and licked her lips. “Take it easy tonight,” she said to me as she left.

  Simon and Suzanne were satisfied I wasn't about to die, and went off to change and get ready for dinner.

  Luthor sat beside me, checking messages and email on his phone. He looked up at me once we were alone and said, “I can turn this off. Just say the word.”

  “No, no.” My voice sounded funny coming out of my head. The painkillers were kicking in, and I had a floating feeling, offset by the flat feeling of shock. “You didn't come to Indonesia to sit in a kitchen. You can check your email. Hey, is there any email for me?”

  He gave me an amused look. “Nope, just for me.”

  “Good,” I said, waving a hand to show how laid-back I was. “Because I am not in the mood for business. Suzanne always sends me ten emails a day. Did you know that?”

  He smirked. “I did not.”

  I slapped my hand over my mouth, then whispered. “I feel weird.”

  “We should get you over to the villa, to rest.”

  I pulled my foot out of the hot water bath. “The soup is done.”

  Luthor got me to my feet, and the kitchen staff came over with a basket of food for us to take back to the villa, as I'd be missing dinner.

  That evening, our last scheduled night at the resort in Indonesia, I was a little loopy from the painkillers, not to mention the white wine I'd insisted I could have from the mini fridge.

  We'd enjoyed a lovely picnic in our room, just the two of us.

  My brain was mush. I had words in my head, and I'd say them, but they'd come out all wrong.

  For example, I wanted to express how lovely the private pool outside our villa seemed in the moonlight. Instead, I said, “Me pool.”

  Luthor shook his head and said, grinning, “You're not a pool, Lexie.”

  We were seated on the little sofa in the room, me still in my two-piece swimsuit, and so relaxed and drugged-up that I wasn't sucking in my tummy or keeping my posture perfect for Luthor. He was equally relaxed, and shirtless, yet even slouched he looked delicious.

  I reached over and squeezed the area around his navel. “Why do you have no body fat? Do rich people have some cream I don't know about?”

  He grabbed my hands, encouraging them up and over his chest, then around his neck so he could kiss me.

  “I can't feel my lips,” I said.

  He reached up and gently touched my lips with his fingers. “I can feel them just fine.”

  I touched his lips with my fingers as well. He hadn't shaved that day and his upper lip was pleasantly stubbly, in contrast to his soft lips. He kissed my fingers, his hazel eyes gazing into mine, as hungry as ever. There was a hollowness to his cheeks that gave him a look of always wanting. It made me yearn to satisfy his every need.

  He pulled my hand away and kissed my lips, pulling me into him. As I shifted, one foot brushed up against the bandaged injury on my shin and I tensed from the pain, though it was a dull pain thanks to the pills and wine.

  Luthor pulled back and gave me a worried look. “I don't want to hurt you.”

  “Me neither.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, and then he got up, saying, “Let's move you to the bed.”

  �
�Okay.”

  With my arm over his shoulders, I hopped over to the bed. I could walk on the injured leg, as nothing was actually broken, but it didn't feel good because of the swelling. He picked me up and set me on the bed, then took one of the pillows and propped up my bandaged leg.

  I thought he was going to lie down next to me, to continue the kissing we'd started, but he held back, standing there.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, and the next thing I knew, I was crying. The injury, the scare, the emotions, the stitches, the wine, and Luthor Thorne—it was all too much.

  He sat down next to me on the bed and looked really uncomfortable. “Don't be sorry, Lexie. You didn't do anything wrong.”

  Sniffing, I said, “I ruined your vacation.”

  He patted my hand. “No, you didn't. The worst I can say is that ...” He looked away.

  “What?”

  He turned back and gave me a reassuring smile. “You scared me down there. That's all. Simon and I were swimming over to meet up with you girls, and I saw the whole thing happen. The sand was calm, and then the stingray was flashing past us. I should apologize to you. I should have been your diving buddy. I would have looked out for you.”

  “It was an accident.” My head was foggy. “Just an accident.”

  “Yes, of course. I didn't mean anything bad by Suzanne. She didn't do anything wrong. It's just that ...” He picked up my hand and stroked my fingers. “I wouldn't have turned my back on you for even a second. I wouldn't have taken my eyes off you.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, a big goofy grin on my face. “You are just trying to get me into bed.”

  “You are in bed.”

  I looked around at the nubby cotton sheets. “I am! Then you're trying to get my clothes off.”

  He let go of my hand and turned to adjust the pillow under my leg. “It's been a long day. I'll sleep on the sofa. You get some rest.”

  “Don't go.”

  He got up from the edge of the bed.

  “Don't go,” I repeated.

  He circled around the bed and came to lie next to me, still wearing his shorts. He rested, up on one elbow, and stroked my cheek. “There, you stopped crying already. Feel better?”

  I surprised myself with the next thing I said, which was, “I miss my mother.”

  He took it in stride, saying, “We're a long way from home. Perfectly natural to miss your family.”

  “What about … your parents? I don't know them.”

  He threw an arm over me and snuggled in next to me.

  He said, “I do miss my parents when I haven't seen them in a while. Then we get together, and within about five hours or so, I remember why I moved out. Don't get me wrong, they're great people, but they can be a little intense.”

  “No!” I said in mock seriousness. And then, since I was so relaxed on the medication, I asked him, “Were you guys always rich? I should have googled you or something. I feel embarrassed now.” I hid my face in my hands. “I'm sorry. That was rude.”

  “Lexie, it's not like I murdered a bunch of people. We can talk about my situation, as long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable.”

  “Oh.”

  “I did grow up with a lot of money, though, and all the problems that come with that. I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me, the poor little rich boy, but my life has had its ups and downs. I had a brother who died of childhood leukemia.”

  “I'm so sorry. That's so sad.”

  “There are some things that even all the money in the world can't fix. I was eight when Jason died. Things were hard for a while, and then things got better. It's been thirty years since he first got sick, and nothing worse has happened since then. So, I guess I've been lucky.”

  “Me too. My parents split up, but that wasn't even too bad.”

  “Until you got stung by a stingray.”

  I glanced down at my bandaged leg. “You know, for a few minutes, I forgot all about that.”

  “So that answers my next question.”

  “What question?”

  “Are you feeling well enough to give me a kiss?”

  I reached out and pulled him toward me while rolling onto my side. My leg was throbbing, but Luthor's hot skin under my hands and his mouth on mine took my mind off my injured leg.

  He moved oh-so-slowly, sucking on my lips and then parting my lips with his tongue. He kissed me, with his tongue darting in my mouth, then moving back out so he could suck on my lower lip. I pushed forward to be closer. Both of us were still on our sides, our fronts touching. He reached around my back and untied my bikini top, then pulled it away from me.

  He kept kissing me as he ran his hands over my breasts, squeezing the nipples until they were firm like raspberries between his fingers.

  I ran my hand down his back and under the waistband of his swimming shorts. Compared to his chest, the surface of his buttocks were cool. As I squeezed them, he groaned and pushed his hips at me, his erection against the bone of my hip.

  Slowly, I moved my hand from his buttocks and over his hip, until I found his lovely equipment at the front and wrapped my hand around that firm shaft. He tenderly bit my lip and pushed into my hand. I pumped him with my fist, enjoying the heat of him and his eagerness.

  He pushed me onto my back and then squirmed around to take off his swimming shorts. He chucked them off the bed, and they landed over a lamp.

  He murmured, “Once I start, I don't stop, so I have to ask, is your foot okay?”

  “Yeah.” My hand was still wrapped around his cock, the tip of it glistening in the soft lamp light of the villa. “Come here,” I said, tugging on him. “Once I start, I don't stop either. C'mere and put your gorgeous cock in my mouth.”

  He raised his eyebrows and his mouth dropped open, like he was going to protest, but I tugged him by hand and licked my lips at the same time, and he just nodded and shifted himself up. Oh, that smooth tan skin of his was so delicious, it made my mouth water. He made everything water.

  I grabbed the extra pillows to prop up my head, and then guided him into my mouth, so he was straddling my upper chest. My arms wrapped around him with one arm over his legs at the front, where my hand could stay to help my mouth, and one arm wrapped up behind, stroking his lower back and buttocks.

  I licked around the head, my lips making noisy smacking sounds. With the hand on his buttocks, I guided him up the bed, closer to me, so I could get more of him into my mouth.

  He glanced around, saying, “How is it that I'm on top, and yet I feel like I have no control at all.”

  “Mm,” I said, and that answered his question enough for him to stop talking.

  He pressed one hand against the wall above my head and gripped the edge of the headboard with his other hand.

  With my head propped up, and my leg, and some of his weight upon me, I felt absolutely comfortable. His beautiful cock, which I'd always been a fan of since the first time I saw it, fit perfectly in my mouth. The relaxing effects of the wine took all the sharpness out of the world, and I was completely in the moment, not thinking about the future, but just enjoying the cock in my mouth and the man above me, his face contorted by pleasure.

  I lost myself in the enjoyment of giving him head, and I didn't realize how close he'd gotten to orgasm until he quickly pulled out from my mouth. We made eye contact for a few seconds, neither saying a word, and then he peeled down my bikini bottoms and carefully removed them, mindful of my bandaged foot.

  He straddled my legs, with his knees on the outsides of mine, and guided his cock between my legs. My pussy folds were slick and ready for him. He pushed his cock down between my legs and in. He lay on top of me, though with his legs still outside mine. As he pushed in and out, I could feel his shaft and sac on my inner thighs, hugging him, like an extension of my pussy. His cock was rubbing against me in a new way, and I liked it. I squirmed, my natural instinct being to wrap my legs around his back, opening myself up to him, but he kept me pinned in place.

  He kept
up his shallow movements, his weight on his elbows on knees, so he was light above me, but still keeping my lower body pinned. We kissed, as we had before, with him languorously kissing and sucking on my lips while steadily pumping in and out of me.

  The pleasure grew in small sparks, like a stubborn campfire that won't catch. Everything moved slowly, thanks to my muzzy mind. His cock seemed to drive ever deeper and deeper, even though he was still shallow, thrusting between my legs. I was on the edge of orgasm when I managed to sneak one leg out from between his. I shifted my lower body, wrapping the leg around him, and he finally drove himself deep into me.

  I cried out, loud, and realized I'd been moaning and panting for some time. He sucked on my neck as he moved deeper into me, and I felt him let go.

  My bliss rose up and crashed over me like a wave. I clenched my arms around his back, pulling him tight against me, our bodies hot and wet.

  He turned his face down as he came, letting out a low noise like a growl.

  His hands moved around, underneath me, gripping my buttocks as he thrust into me and then became still.

  I put my hands on the sides of his head and pulled his face up for a kiss. With his eyes shut tightly, he kissed me and smiled. His eyes opened and his eyebrows went up.

  He said, “How's your foot?”

  “What foot?” I said, and we both chuckled.

  He pulled away from me. Cool air hit my glistening chest and stomach.

  Breathing audibly, he lay next to me, one hand still under my buttock. He gave me a little squeeze and said, “How do you like Indonesia?”

  Thoughts raced through my head suddenly. Indonesia. It was our last night there, and I'd be returning home the next day. Home. Back to my real life.

  I pushed the thoughts away.

  “It's perfect,” I said. “I don't want to fall asleep. Give me a few minutes to rest, and we can go outside and look at the stars.”

  “The stars?”

  “Yeah. I want to see the stars.” I shivered, the fan-driven breeze drying the cooling sweat on my stomach.

  “I'll show you the stars,” he said, and he pulled up the light coverlet for the bed, covering me. The blanket felt so good.