At His Warning: The Billionaire's Beck and Call
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Tensions come to a head between Chase Drake and his business partner, Lex, when his relationship with Isabeau is threatened. After an all-out fight, Isabeau learns some of the secrets from Mr. Drake's mysterious past and realizes she cares about him more than ever.
However, when they discover evidence of Lex's betrayal at the office, they may be too late to stop him from ruining the lives of every employee at Drake & Smith. Will everything Chase has worked for crumble to dust, or will he and Isabeau find a way to thwart disaster?
This 5200 word story is part eight in the bestselling erotic romance series, "The Billionaire's Beck and Call."
Morning arrived, bringing with it a dull, thumping headache and a whole new batch of problems.
I rolled over and rested my head on Mr. Drake’s chest, breathing in the delicious mixture of his spiced cologne and the musky smell that was all him. I ran my hand lightly through the sprinkling of hair over his pecs, listening to the steady sound of his breathing.
If I could have stayed in bed with him all day, I would have, maybe watching old movies and ordering room service to ease my hangover. But I knew we still had investors to please and tasks to accomplish. I sighed with longing and pressed a kiss to his skin.
Despite the throbbing in my skull, I still wanted him, wanted to tease him and stroke him before feeling him inside of me. I ran my hand lower, skimming over the hard planes of his abdomen before sliding below the sheets.
A rough hand grabbed my wrist, Mr. Drake’s low laugh rumbling through his chest.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
I laughed, too, then touched my head and winced. Too loud. Mr. Drake pulled back and smoothed my hair away from my face.
I nodded. “Mmm hmm.”
“Aren’t you supposed to use that as an excuse not to make love, Isa? You seem to be doing this all wrong.”
I stretched back on my pillow, letting the sheets fall off my full breasts. I smiled as his eyes traveled downward, his pupils darkening.
“But what if making love will cure me? Isn’t it worth a try?”
He looked like he wanted to pounce on me, but then furrowed his brow. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Maybe we could... go slow?” I pulled the sheet lower, letting the cotton slide down, revealing the curves of my body.
He groaned as he watched, his hands soon wandering where his eyes had traveled. His fingers grazed my sex, lightly playing over my folds as I gasped. Our lips met as he stroked me softly, his tongue sliding across my teeth.
“I don’t usually do it like this,” he said. “But right now, I just want to make you feel as good as possible.”
I grinned, thinking of his dungeon. No kidding.
But I groaned as he leaned down and kissed his way around each breast, stopping to lap at each nipple until it tightened into a peak. I loved that he could be as tender as he was rough, drawing pleasure out of me the way a master musician draws beauty from his instrument.
When he entered me, it was slow and steady, his hips rocking forward and back, letting me adjust as we began our slow dance together. He looked into my eyes as we moved, the rhythm of his body matching each hitch of my breath, each small moan escaping from my lips.
- Delilah Fawkes, November 2012
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