Page 16 of Forbidden (Wicked Billionaires #1)

LORENZO

Alfred arrives at the Bentley as requested. I had to get firm with Storm in the lingerie boutique, I did not want her paying for any of it. I brought her to this street, and Maddison Ave is hardly affordable. As Alfred drives away in the Bentley, Storm and I walk home, as agreed.

I want to walk off my energy, and I want a clear head, if that’s at all possible.

Knowing Storm was standing panty-less behind me in the lingerie boutique was one thing. Knowing that if I turned, I could see her pussy, butt and breasts, drove me wild.

Holding her hot panties at the same time added way too much fuel.

Pulling her panties up and being near her tight, likely wet, pussy was next level.

It was far more intense than negotiating a hundred-million-dollar movie, or any kind of entertainment deal.

It was more seductive than anything, any woman had done to me, ever.

Storm was lucky I didn’t ask to slide into her on the spot. The old me, would have fucked her against the wall, after pulling her panties to the side.

And claimed her as mine .

We walk home silently, and the sky is a deep blue. It’s a stunning day. We pass old bookstores, cafes, and people walking dogs, and we walk in silence.

It’s nice to not have a gold digger always talking at me. Always trying to impress, and always trying to get me to put a ring on her finger.

My mind jumps and I wonder how Storm tastes.

I have smelt her, and I know her scent well. I have smelt her arousal twice, and it’s like a fuel. It is intoxicating.

I feel drawn to her, and it is as if I’m possessed

We cross a road, and we pass more cool outdoor cafes. We talk about NYC, Manhattan and The Hamptons.

Storm is playful, and she talks and laughs around me. As usual, she is light, and carefree. She is also uncomplicated and pure.

The opposite of me, my deep thinking, broody energy, and my messed-up desires. She really has no idea how I fuck, and it’s just as well.

I’m a twisted individual.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Storm asks, as I walk head down, thinking about swiping my tongue up her slick folds. God help me.

“Licking,” I say. “Ice creams.”

She seems to buy it, but I quickly lecture myself.

Storm is astounding, and she can go from playful, flirty, young, small-town, to her intelligent deep self in seconds.

Since she has arrived, she has read and recommended I read a dozen books, from history to natural health, and from numerology to biomimicry.

It’s intoxicating, and it is hell, and heaven.

With her new hair, makeup, sharp black outfit, black satin scarf, black sunglasses, and white sneakers, she looks like a model from Milan.

Heads are turning, and in Manhattan, of all places.

That, I don’t like. Not one bit.

As we walk on, I start to get worried. I have helped create a beautiful monster, but a monster who could be damaged by men who will soon target her and take her.

In every way.

The weirdest part is, she still has no idea how gorgeous she is, and she is still, the most uncomplicated and sweetest woman I’ve ever met.

Again, the time frame is staggering, and she has changed lightning-fast.

I’ve flipped companies before and fast. I’ve found small media startups and movie companies with potential. After, I have helped them secure capital, helped manage them, and they have accelerated, and expanded.

They have often moved hyper fast and grown with explosive results. I have made fortunes in entertainment growth companies, and change is something I know.

Storm has gone from a small-town mousy girl to a hot catwalk model, in under a hundred days. And right under my nose.

The problem is, she does not have a wall. She does not have the outer shell, that top models naturally develop from years and years of attention.

Simply because every guy within miles, has tried to ask them out, or tried to get in their pants.

I shake my head, and I realize the universe is messing with me, again.

“What?” Storm asks, now walking backwards, and only feet from me.

I growl. “Nothing.”

“Tell me!” she demands before making a goofy grin. My God. How am I going to control myself with her looking like that.

And how will I protect her?

Finally, we make it home, and it’s good to have her innocent butt behind my walls. I, however, have a new movie script to read, even if it is Sunday.

At times, white hot scripts become available, and it is important to leap on them fast. Top writers and their agents drop them in the market, and bidding wars start over days.

The screenplays do not come cheap at this level, and some run into the millions.

As I read in my office overlooking Central Park, my personal phone chimes. After finishing reading the scene, I look down at it. A message is in from Martha. The closest person to a parent I’ve ever had.

All okay with young Storm?

I type back fast, my jaw clenching up.

Of course.

My cell chimes seconds later.

And are you looking after the young girl?

“Dear God,” I say, through clenched teeth, and now pacing. I pause then send back –

Yes, and well.

My phone chimes again, and I growl and look down.

Good boy. Now, have fun with Storm. Love you.

I inhale, and think about Martha. She is as close as I’ll ever have to family. That is why I must respect her, and her wishes. Always!

I type slow, and my stomach is tight. Finally, I hit send.

Love you too, dear! xo

I rub my temples, and sit back in front of the script.

Forbidden.

Forbidden.

Forbidden.

I can just hear Storm practicing Italian across the penthouse. At times, she also sings to herself, in the gym. It’s adorable, and innocent.

After her work out, and diving lesson across the park, she returns and focuses on her Italian grammar.

Most people slow down after getting some degree of results, but Storm is turning it up, and doubling down. She is also turning heads, and even if I dislike it, she has done well.

Maybe she doesn’t know when to stop, and that, I can relate to, only too well.

I personally have no idea, when enough is enough, but I’m different.

I’m broken.

I walk to the kitchen, and I get a sparkling water. I go to drink it, and suddenly freeze. I almost drop it, and the sparkling water fizzes, and bubbles onto the ground.

I give zero Fs, because I am staring at Storm, who is dancing around the far side of the kitchen.

She is in black bikini bottoms, covered in sweat, wearing sleek black headphones. She is also guzzling water and wearing some kind of hot black sports bra. Her eyes pop as she sees me. “Sorry, thought you were reading. Anyway, how are the muscles now?” she asks way to loud.

I shake my head, and she yanks off the headset.

“Sorry, last focus on my body, even if you said I was fine. Anyway, how do I look?”

The vixen spins on her toes, so I can check out her flat stomach and tight rounded butt. “Hey, is it true guys like a tight butt?”

I clear my throat, but my head needs the clearing. Also my imagination.

I am now imagining pushing my crown between her lips. I then yank on her hair. “Sorry what?”

“Is the toning working?”

“Yes,” I say huskily, lost for words.

“Here, feel,” she says grabbing my hand and placing it on her butt.

“Tight enough?”

I try to pull my hand back, but it’s hard. Her butt is like rock, and I squeeze it tight. OMG. Eventually, I yank it back and it is hard like my cock.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I growl.

Storm passes her drink to me, now that mine is bubbling onto the tiles below me. I drink from hers, as I take in her body, and eyes. Storm watches me drink, and I watch her watch me.

The idea of every guy in NYC checking her out, or coming onto her, is making me melt down.

Her small-town charm, and her sweet humble energy seem to make her shine all the brighter. It may also be the fact, that her body, and looks are now next level. She is stunning, and as hot as any model I’ve seen or dated. Only, she does not know it. It’s a good mix. Heck, what am I saying?

She is the perfect mix. The unicorn we’ve all read about.

She is the one!