The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake(27)

Her breathing escalated. She was quiet, but he could tell she was  listening, and judging by the small, soft sounds she was making? She was  into it.

"I can't stop touching myself picturing you, Greer," he told her, and  his hand worked his cock harder. When he got to the head, he'd squeeze  tight, trying to pull himself down off the ledge long enough for her to  get what she needed out of this. "I'm picturing coming up behind you and  lifting that little skirt of yours and finding your panties all soaked  at the thought of me touching you. Hell, I wish you were here right now  and it was your hand on my cock instead of mine. I'd love to watch you  stroke it for me."

"Y-you would?" Ah, Christ. There was so much tension in her soft little  statement. Her breathing was faster than ever, her voice husky and  almost as raw as his.

"Hell, yes," he growled. "I'd lie back and just let you touch me  however you wanted. You could use me how you liked . . . and if you put  those sweet, honey-smeared thighs in my face, I wouldn't complain. I'd  just hold them tight and start licking."

Her breath caught in a little half gasp. So she liked the thought of  him licking her, did she? God, when he saw her again, he was going to  hold her down and tongue her pussy for hours on end. Endless, endless  hours. "Should I start with your clit, Greer, baby? Or would you want my  tongue deep inside you, thrusting like I'm going to do with my cock?"

She made a little mewing noise on the other end of the phone.

"You touching yourself for me, baby? Spreading that wetness all around?"

Her whimper sounded like a yes.

"Play with your clit for me, since I can't be there to do it for you.  Rub your finger all around the hood and tease it good. Get your pussy  all wet and juicy for me-"

Greer whimpered again, and it turned into a little high-pitched whine. Her breathing stopped.

It was silent on her end of the phone. Then, her breathing started  again, deep and panting. Ah, fuck. "Did you just come for me, baby?"         

     



 

"Oh my god," Greer breathed on the other end of the phone. "I can't believe I just did that."

She sounded so shy and awed at the same time. He loved it. He pictured  her holding the phone to her ear, her legs sprawled in her bed with her  hand in her panties. That was all it took for him to finish, and finish  fast. With that mental image, he stroked his hand hard up and down his  cock, working the head, and came with a hiss of breath. Hot come  splattered on his clothing and his hand, and he kept pumping his cock,  seemingly coming forever. When he finally felt the last quaking moments  of the orgasm finish rolling through him, Asher groaned.

"Did you just . . ." Greer let the words delicately trail off.

"Hell yeah. All over the damn place."

She giggled. "I'm picturing the horrific tragedy of cleaning your maid is going to have in the morning."

He chuckled, amused that she was making such a filthy joke with him.  "Okay, not that bad. Just . . . it was a strong one. Probably the best  orgasm I've had."

"Mmmhmm." The skepticism had returned to her voice. "We back to flattery, Ash?"

"Nah. Just telling the truth. And here's another truth for you, Greer,  baby: When I see you again? I meant every word of it. You'd better be  prepared to have me go down on you for hours."

It was gratifying as heck to hear her suck in a breath all over again.





Chapter 8


It was going to be another damn day before Asher could return to Vegas,  and it was killing him to miss all this time with Greer. It was only  one more day, but he wanted to touch her. He craved the feel of her skin  and the sight of her smiles. He'd managed to wrangle phone sex out of  her again last night, but she refused to Skype. Too shy, he guessed, and  it made him feel protective of her . . . and made him vow to be that  much dirtier in his talk. The moment he wrapped up his last meeting, he  was taking a flight back to Vegas and getting out of the city and away  from his business that should have been running itself.

Asher glared at his CEO as the man bluffed his way through another  high-level meeting, and wondered if he'd been too quick to pass off  control. But, damn it, he didn't want to spend sixteen hours a day for  the next ten years grooming the company for someone else to take over.  He wanted to live his life. He wanted to spend time with Greer.

He wanted to see his baby born.

While the meeting (the third one of the day) droned on, he picked up  his phone and started to Google Dutch baby names, and then Indian ones.  Staring at a long list of choices didn't help much, though, considering  he had no idea if the baby would be a boy or a girl. It didn't matter to  him, because he'd love either one, but he liked the thought of a baby  girl with Greer's dark hair and eyes. At what point in the pregnancy  would she find out the sex, he wondered, and Googled that, too.

As early as twelve weeks. Huh. He pulled up a calendar and counted  back. It had been over twelve weeks. He immediately texted Greer.

Asher: Got a moment?

There was no response right away, which meant she was probably busy  with something, and he impatiently put his phone aside and tried to  focus on the meeting. It was probably a good thing she wasn't answering,  since he wasn't supposed to care about the baby. That was getting  harder and harder to pretend, though. He wanted to ask about it every  time he talked to her, wanted to know if she was feeling well or if the  baby had started moving and if she could feel it. He wanted to  experience it with her and hated that he was being held back.

As the meeting droned on, Asher rubbed his jaw, staring down at his silent phone.

"Mr. Sutton?"

He glanced up and looked over at Ishikawa, his recently hired CEO. "Yeah?"

"Did you want to temporarily adjourn the meeting to go over the latest reports?"

Asher nodded and got to his feet. Any excuse to get him out of there.  "I need to take care of a few things actually, so I'm going to hand this  off to you."

Ishikawa looked pleased, and the others on the board a little  concerned. Fuck it. The man had to take control at some point. Asher  grabbed his phone and laptop and left the conference room. He returned  to his office where he could have a little privacy and was disgruntled  to see that there were still no messages from Greer. Normally she  responded faster.         

     



 

He decided to contact Stijn's assistant. Augusta sounded annoyed to  hear from him, but he didn't care. "Is Greer at the castle today?"

"Last I checked, she was upstairs napping. Do I need to install a video camera to monitor her actions?"

Sarcasm. Fun. "I'm just checking on her."

Augusta made a noise of assent. Or maybe irritation. "She's probably just tired. Been napping every day lately."

"She has?" Worry threaded through him. Maybe he needed to push Stijn  and insist that he get Greer an assistant. She was pregnant, after all,  and this wedding-the wedding he'd concocted-was a lot of work.

"Yeah, and today was a doozy." Augusta snapped her gum. "Can I help you with something in particular, Mr. Sutton?"

"Doozy how? What happened?"

Augusta cleared her throat. "Something about the girls not liking the  designs on the tablecloths. And then there were the centerpieces. And  the people providing the tables and chair rentals tried to back out. She  was up here in my office for a few hours faxing contracts and arguing  with people."

That sounded . . . rotten. "What can I do to help?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Yeah. Good point. "If you see her, tell her I need to talk to her."

"I'll take down the memo, Mr. Sutton."

"Same message for Mr. Janssen," Asher told her. He needed to talk to  Stijn. It would do Asher no good to try and squeeze time in with Greer  if she was working herself to exhaustion for her father's ridiculous  wedding. "It's imperative that I talk with him. Today."

Because his Greer was not going to wear herself out for this stupid  shit. Even if he had to tell Stijn to cancel the wedding. Asher was  fairly certain-or at least hopeful-that Greer had gotten over her  seething hatred of him and had moved on to simply mistrust. He could  work with mistrust. There was no longer a need for the wedding to go on.  He hung up his phone and let his assistant know he was unavailable  until further notice. Ishikawa could handle all meetings from this point  onward.

He opened his desk drawer to find a pen, and to his surprise, a framed  portrait of Donna stared back at him. Fuck. He must have shoved this in  his desk a while back, unwilling to toss it away. He pulled the picture  out and studied it for a moment. Donna was smiling, her red hair blowing  in the breeze, her yellow bikini bright against the Mediterranean  background. They'd taken this on vacation after he'd graduated from  college. Even in this picture, though, she looked bored. Complacent. He  remembered her wanting to go out every night rather than spend time in  the room with him.