Borrowed Billionaire #2 Lexie Goes Shopping Read online

  She said she'd do what she could and get back to me, then she held the phone away from her mouth and spoke to her husband, saying something about where clean towels were for his shower. Suzanne had everything. She had a man there twenty-four-seven to satisfy her whenever she needed it. She could hang up the phone and be grabbing onto his manhood, feeling it stiffen in her hands, and then slipping it into her mouth, within seconds.

  How I envied her.

  Yeah, I had my toys for pleasure, tools to get the job done, but you never, ever feel sexy sticking a chunk of silicone in your mouth. For some things, there's just no substitution.

  * * *

  I bought lollipops.

  I bought lollipops and I sucked them as I waited for my personal shopping client, at the coffee shop across from the ritzy department store I'd never been inside.

  I felt like a goofy kid, sucking away on my big, round, red lollipop. A few guys and one girl gave me a funny look, and I liked it. I wished the lollipop could have been Mr. Thorne, and wishing made my loins hot with desire, but wishes aren't reality.

  When the shopping client approached me, I thought she had to be someone asking for directions, because she wasn't alone. She had a man with her, a classy-looking guy with silver hair. A silver fox.

  “I'm Alison Hubert,” she said, reaching for my hand. I spat out the lollipop and dropped it on the coffee shop's plate before I shook her hand.

  “Mrs. Hubert,” I said. “I'm so delighted to meet you.”

  She eyed the big, red lollipop, still shiny from my saliva. “God, I haven't had a lollipop in years.”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out another one, green, and offered it to her.

  “I don't know,” she said, hesitating. “Green?”

  The silver fox with her guffawed.

  I rummaged around and pulled out a purple one. Her eyes lit up and she took it from me.

  “Where are my manners?” she said. “Lexie Ross, this is my better half. He keeps an eye on me when I'm shopping, so I don't spend too much.”

  “Mr. Hubert,” I said, shaking his hand. His steely blue eyes raked over me, all the way down past my hot crotch to my shoes, then back up again, stopping at my breasts. He grunted acknowledgment, but he seemed to be a man of few words.

  I guessed he was somewhere in his fifties, and fit, by the grip of the hand. Mrs. Hubert looked like she could be Mrs. Hubert Number Two—no, Number Three. She was in her thirties and had a giant rock on her wedding ring finger. Good for you, Mrs. Hubert the Third, I thought.

  We left the coffee shop and crossed the street over to the ritzy department store.

  When the doorman opened the glass door for us, I got hit in the face, full-blast, with the scent of riches. It made me twitch, deep inside. This was where they kept the good stuff, away from people like me.

  All those gorgeous designer clothes, and the high-priced makeup counter, too. I felt like a starving kid in a candy shop. I'd worn a low-key flared skirt, in navy, and a newer blouse, simple and cream-colored, and I'd cut off the labels, which was good, because if I fainted of pleasure amongst all the good stuff, I didn't want the paramedics to see what cheap clothes I was wearing.

  As we started shopping around, I noticed Mr. Hubert, the silver fox, was looking at my ass like it might have Mrs. Hubert the Fourth written all over it.

  I caught him looking, and he didn't look away. Oh, he was a bold one!

  Mrs. Hubert wanted to try on some perfume samples before we moved on to the “main event” of clothes and shoes.

  “A little shopping foreplay?” I said to her.

  She blushed prettily and said, “That's exactly what it is. Working up the appetite. You're so good! I bet you're naughty, too.” She raised her eyebrows and gave Mr. Hubert a pouty look. “I think today might get expensive for you.”

  He took her by the hand and kissed her bony knuckles. “Anything for my kitty-cat,” he said, shooting a look at me, over her shoulder.

  MEOW!

  Mrs. Hubert tried on some perfume samples, getting at least two makeup counter girls to run back and forth, growing flustered in their pristine white jackets. It's funny how girls with absolutely no medical training suddenly look like doctors in those white makeup counter outfits. The two girls, one dark and one fair, were attractive enough, but Mr. Hubert only had eyes for … me.

  Even as his wife leaned across the counter and bade him to smell all manner of samples, on her wrists, her arms, her neck, he kept looking my way, hungrily.

  The silver fox was hungry.

  And I was his prey.

  I pretended to be really interested in the perfumes, saying, “Definitely a chocolate undertone,” when prompted by Mrs. Hubert. “Delicious,” I said, “Makes me hungry for another lollipop.”

  Mr. Hubert's lip twitched.

  I knew if I could get him alone, I would get fucked so hard. Every time I made eye contact with those steely blue eyes, I thought about the silver hairs that likely sprouted around his firm manhood, and I kept thinking, you want to fuck me, over and over, like telepathy.

  So hard, he said with his eyes.

  I glanced over at Mrs. Hubert. Her face said, whee, shopping! At least she was happy. I felt ashamed for eye-fucking her husband, but I was sure she'd done the same to him back when he was with Mrs. Hubert Number Two.

  My mound was getting so hot and juicy over Mr. Hubert's eager looks that I considered excusing myself to the ladies' room to have a little finger-blast on my own, but I figured as soon as I left Mr. Hubert, the silver fox heat would fade, and it would just be me, banging away. I was good, but I wasn't that good.

  I wondered if Mrs. Hubert was kinky. Maybe she wouldn't even mind if I blew her husband. She could watch, even. I didn't care. I'd heard things about the ample-sized changing rooms at this particular boutique, and I wondered if the stories were true.

  Apparently, according to certain unnamed sources of mine, the staff were extremely discreet.

  As I was mulling this over, trying to remember which one of my friends had tipped me off, one of the makeup counter girls gave me a knowing look. “You're new,” she said.

  “I usually work in the home,” I said. “Organizing.”

  She gave me a meaningful smile and leaned toward me, looking like she wanted to tell me something in private. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Hubert were down in the men's cologne section, and she was trying to mist him with something, while he was being obstinate and refusing to try a new scent. He liked the one he had, he insisted. She giggled and chased after him with a spritzer.

  I leaned in to talk to the makeup-counter girl. She was the darker-skinned one, and her name tag said Teisha. “Do they come here a lot?” I asked Teisha.

  She smiled, revealing perfectly-white teeth that matched her pristine jacket. She wore shell-pink eyeshadow, which contrasted nicely with her dark carob skin. “The Huberts have an interesting arrangement,” she said.

  “Do tell.”

  She looked around, as though keeping an eye out for a supervisor.

  “I shouldn't say.”

  I leaned in. “One professional to another. I work hard for my money, as I'm sure you do. Rich people are weird. You can tell me anything.”

  She looked around again, then giggled. The other girl, the fair one, had disappeared, running after the Huberts with tissues and cologne.

  Teisha said, “Their rule is he can do anything he wants, but nobody but Mrs. Hubert is allowed to touch his … his you-know-what.”

  I frowned. “Well that's no fun. That's the best part.”

  She raised her eyebrows and batted her eyelids, her pale pink eyeshadow shimmering. “You'd be surprised.”

  “With you?”

  She nodded.

  “He gave you … ?”

  Her tongue darted out of her mouth, made a few suggestive licks, and went back into her mouth.

  “No way. Here?”

  Teisha nodded. “Right here behind the makeup counter.” She pointed ove
r to a cubby under the counter. “He got down there while she was shopping. We were technically closed for the day, but people could still see in the window. I was wearing a skirt that day, so I slipped off my panties and stood right there and he went at it.”

  “No!” My jaw was fully dropped open.

  Her dark cheeks reddened. “He was a champion, too.”

  “Did you … come?”

  She laughed, suddenly and loudly. In answer, she held up three fingers. Three times! Wow, Mr. Hubert.

  I said, “And Mrs. Hubert, she doesn't mind?”

  “As long as he doesn't touch a girl with his penis, she doesn't mind one bit. You know, she actually invited me over to their house for dinner after, but … I have a boyfriend!”

  “You bad girl, Teisha,” I said.

  She held one manicured finger to her lips. “Don't tell.”

  I zipped my lips. “Your secret's safe with me.”

  I took one more look over at the cubby under the counter and imagined Mr. Hubert, Mr. Silver Fox, folded up in there like a caged animal, his head under a skirt, going to town on Teisha's juicy peach. I glanced down at the lollipops in my purse. Lollipops weren't going to cut it, not after the hot story she told me. I wondered if it was true, or just the product of her imagination. Teisha didn't strike me as a liar, but … Mrs. Hubert's rules seemed too good to be true.

  When the Huberts came back over, he swatted her on the butt. From the smell of it, she'd gotten him good with the cologne. I could have smelled him a mile away, but the cologne was nice—musky and sweet, not overpowering.

  He said, “Teisha, thank you for everything.”

  She flushed red and nodded mutely.

  So, it was true.

  And if it was true, how was I going to get his silver fox face between my own legs? I was more than ready for it. As I browsed the clothing racks with Mrs. Hubert, picking out green garments that complemented her pale skin, I was burning up with fever for something belonging to a man, be it juicy cock or wet tongue.

  She grabbed a gauzey red dress and said, “How about this?”

  Mr. Hubert was already sitting on a chair nearby, looking at something on his phone. The way he held the phone made me think he was using it to take photos of me. I posed at a saucy angle for his lens, sicking out my butt and chest.

  “Not sure if that's your best color,” I said to Mrs. Hubert. She seemed like a nice enough lady, and I was being paid for my help, so I figured I ought to be honest. “A few shades lighter and you'd be good, but that burgundy will wash you out.”

  She frowned at the dress. “It would look great on you.” She thrust the dress at my chest. “You try it on!”

  I surreptitiously took a glance at the price tag. It was twice what I'd be getting paid for today's private shopping session. No. No way. “I'm not here for me,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “You're not marrying the dress. Just try it on while I'm trying on my things. I'm going to be in the changing room for a long time.” She glanced over at Mr. Hubert and gave me a sly smile. “Besides, you need some excuse to go into the change rooms.”

  Was she pimping me out to her husband? She was, I knew it. My little passionflower lit up inside my panties. I thought having him look at me was hot, but having her push us together was even more delicious. My lady cave started to ache. If my pussy had a voice, it would have been whimpering, begging for some juicy loving.

  “Sure,” I said, accepting the red dress, which was just my size. The fabric was incredible, so soft and strong, like the skin of a certain organ.

  Another pair of sales clerks fluttered around us, finding more suits and tops for Mrs. Hubert to try on, and soon, we were being whisked back to the changing rooms, at the back of the store.

  Rich people really know how to live! And shop!

  The changing room entrance was like a luxury suite compared to the places I shopped at. The entry had comfortable sofas for the gentlemen, and the actual changing rooms were spacious and completely outfitted with mirrors, as well as a tall bench. Usually change rooms have those awkward low benches you feel like you're squatting on when you sit down, but this bench was pure elegance. I hung the one red dress on a hanger inside my room, then went to check on Mrs. Hubert, making sure her needs were being met.

  “I like to try on everything twice,” she said, removing her jacket as I stood inside the small room with her.

  “You're going to do great, you have a rockin' body,” I said, and I wasn't lying. She had a tiny little waist, and really nice breasts. They looked like they cost a fortune.

  She glanced down. “I should have stuck to the B-cups. These puppies are hard to fit into designer lines.”

  “You are one hot lady,” I said.

  “So are you.”

  I wanted to ask her something, but I wasn't sure what. Mind if I get off on your husband? No. I couldn't ask.

  As though she could read my mind, she said, “Lexie, can you do me a favor?”

  She unbuttoned her shirt and I wondered, with a tiny note of terror, if she wanted me to do stuff to her!

  I gulped, hard. She was a really hot lady, and if I was going to indulge my bisexual curiosity, I supposed doing it with her would be as good as anyone. “Anything,” I said, almost meaning it.

  “I like to take my time trying on clothes.” She slipped off her blouse and started to unfasten her gorgeous slacks. “Can you keep Mr. Hubert entertained?”

  I gave her a sidelong look. “What do you mean … exactly?”

  “Entertain him. He's allowed to have as much fun as he wants, but he's not permitted to touch the flesh of another woman with his cock.”

  “What about the balls?”

  She smiled. “Sure, you can play with his balls. Like I said, I like to take my time, and I don't need help shopping so much as I need a hand … husband-sitting.”

  Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see the fair-skinned girl from the makeup counter, the redhead, standing behind me.

  I backed out of the change room and the redhead took my place.

  Ahh, so that was how it was.

  I looked around the large chamber for Mr. Hubert, but he was nowhere to be found. I felt a twinge of disappointment and annoyance. He'd already gone off and found Teisha, I figured. He was probably under the counter, eating her juicy peach right that moment.

  I sighed heavily and wondered what the billionaire I'd seen the day before, Mr. Thorne, was up to.

  Damnit, but I needed some cheering up. I went into my changing room, determined to put on that red dress, and if it looked good, I was going to buy it for myself. To hell with my bills and my plans for starting a business. I needed to start treating myself right.

  There was someone in my changing room.

  I startled and held my hand to my mouth, my heart pounding.

  Mr. Hubert, the silver fox, was inside the change room, sitting on the tall bench. He loosened his tie and said, “Does kitty want to play?”

  My heart was still pounding, but I didn't feel it in my neck and chest anymore. All my blood flow diverted to my pussy, which began to throb.

  I clicked the changing room door closed behind me. We were alone together, in private. Well, sorta in private. People were milling around on the other side of the door, coming and going.

  I said, quietly, “What did you have in mind? Wanna help me try on this dress?”

  He grinned. “That's what I'm here for.” He grabbed me by the waistband of my cheap, navy-blue skirt and pulled me close to him. His legs were parted and I stood within the space between his legs. He still smelled strongly of the cologne he'd been doused with, and it was intoxicating, like two glasses of wine straight to my head.

  My legs shook from nervousness as he gently undid all the pearl buttons down the front of my blouse.

  His hands were smooth, his fingers long.

  When my blouse was undone, he ran his hands below the edge of my bra, stroking my sides and then running a
finger up and down my center, pausing to play briefly around my navel.

  “You like to take your time,” I said, thinking of what Mrs. Hubert had also said.

  He leaned forward and ran his tongue up along my stomach as an answer.

  I shivered at the touch of his wet tongue.

  If we'd been naked already, I would have thrown myself desperately at him, but we weren't.

  I could hear other people on the other side of the door, other women talking to the sales girls about clothes.

  “Do you have this in a size six?” some woman said, at the same time as Mr. Hubert reached up under my loose-fitting skirt and rubbed the tops of my thighs.

  The salesgirl said, “You're a size six? No way, you're a four, you tiny thing!”

  The woman giggled.

  As I was distracted by the conversation, Mr. Hubert roughly turned me around and pulled my ass down against his crotch.

  He was so hard down there, inside his pants, and I hadn't even noticed!

  I hiked up my skirt so I could feel him against my skin and through my panties, but he still had his pants on. I rubbed myself on the rising lump that was his manhood, restricted inside his pants.

  He moaned, almost inaudibly. The ladies getting changed in the adjacent rooms wouldn't have heard him, but I did, and I loved it. I wanted to hear him moan, louder, even. I wanted us to get caught. I wanted some old lady with a tiny, yappy purse dog to yank open our change room door and shriek in horror just as Mr. Hubert's cock exploded all over the interior of the room.

  I rocked my hips and rubbed myself on him, angling my torso to the side so I could get a glimpse of his face behind me, in the mirror.

  Just as we made eye contact, he reached up with something, sticking it against my mouth. It was one of my lollipops, that he'd pulled out of my purse. The green one. I opened my mouth and took it in, closing my eyes to show him how much I liked it.

  After a few moments of grinding like this, I turned around and faced him, still sucking the lollipop. I took my blouse the rest of the way off and hung it from a hook so it didn't get rumpled on the floor.

  He pointed to the bra, so I removed that next.