Page 30 of Forbidden (Wicked Billionaires #1)

STORM

Lorenzo and I agree to take the week off, and we decide to get out of the city. I’m lucky the library lets me take a break, but I have worked my butt off for them since starting. I’m also on top of my graphic design projects.

Lorenzo has several meetings around the country, so we decide to combine two things. Travel, and time together.

Lorenzo informs tells his private jet crew they have the week off, paid, and the idea of a fun trip gets me excited. Lorenzo is used to having staff, but I don’t feel comfortable being waited on.

By anyone.

We fly west alone, but when I notice the compass swing south, I know something is up. Lorenzo comes clean as we fly on, and he explains he has a place he wants me to see. Hours later, we land in Georgia.

A uniformed man picks us up in a white Range Rover, and we drive through stunning Savannah.

After being driven to a gorgeous southern mansion, now boutique hotel, we walk around the property. It is a massive piece of land, with the mansion down a long drive. Large trees fill out the estate, and horses are peppered around.

So far, it feels like an upmarket exclusive retreat.

“I don’t come here enough,” a relaxed, Lorenzo says as we stroll under the trees.

I get it, it does feel calming. Especially considering the hustle and bustle of NYC.

We sit outside on a large white wooden back deck, and there are no guests around. A staff member in a crisp white uniform brings us ice teas, and we rest in the shade.

The sun is due to set in a few hours, and Lorenzo tells me he knows of a special place to watch it kiss the horizon.

He then walks off, leaving me alone. As he heads inside, he turns and winks.

I follow him in, and then to another door. I follow Lorenzo slowly up the side of the old building as if we’re in some hidden passage.

After reaching the top level, I find a private suite. It takes up half of the top floor, it is spacious, and exquisite.

The inside is dark wood, billowing curtains, and ornate antiques fill it out. The white curtains blow in the wind, and the fresh Southern breeze cools the place.

“Well, what do you think?” Lorenzo asks, relaxing.

“What do I think?” I ask, lost for words. “It’s amazing.”

I walk through the place, and admire its sophistication and style. I then work it out, this… is not a hotel room. This suite is Lorenzo’s, and it’s likely an apartment.

A photo of him with an older woman, gives it away, and I hold it in my hands. Lorenzo steps behind, and he kisses my neck. “That is me and Martha. She’s my old secretary.”

I spin, and smile. “It was her that arranged things? And talked to my mother?”

Lorenzo nods, before he inhales, as if worried.

“It’s amazing Lorenzo,” I say, continuing, lost in the class and old money feel. I admire old landscape paintings, and even more swords he has collected. Some of the art must be worth a small fortune, and I suspect there may be a Rembrandt and a Monet.

As I circumnavigate the entire apartment, Lorenzo puts old music on. I finally find the deck, and it is wide, with views of the many trees and gardens below.

I stroll back inside, and I find a gorgeous, dark oak library. I stop to admire rows and rows of old leather-bound books, and my heart flutters. Many are classics, and there are a lot of first editions. The collection must be worth a fortune.

“Lorenzo, you never told me you collected books.” I run my finger over them, and I check their titles.

“Just a few,” he says, walking over, twirling an old hat in his hands.

The hat is an old-fashioned Spanish conquistador hat, with a large peacock feather in it. I pluck it from his hands, and carefully put it on my head. Lorenzo laughs, and I spin like a fool.

Suddenly Lorenzo chases me, and I run along the polished dark floors. He catches me in a corner, and he tosses me on a giant four poster bed.

It’s in the corner of the suite, and the views are spectacular.

As Lorenzo tosses the large hat aside, he undresses me. I lay back, with my eyes closed, and I let him do what he wants to me.

I am so relaxed, and the smells of the rare old home, the cinnamon, suede and cloves relax me. I feel content, and it feels like a dream.

Lorenzo kiss every inch of me, and finally, he reaches my core. “Spread your legs,” he commands.

I do as I am told, and holding his hair, I guide him towards me. He suddenly pauses, and I don’t like it. “Tell me what to do.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

“I… I want you to lick me.”

“And?”

“And make me come on your tongue.”

Lorenzo’s eyes darken, and he lets me guide him down, and forwards. To where he needs to be.

Suckling my clit.

After a minute Lorenzo looks up, and his eyes are dark.

“I want you to help me. You need to play with yourself, as I tongue fuck you. Understand?”

I pause, hesitant and then I nod. I’ve never done this in front of anyone, and I feel naughty. And then good.

Slowly, I reach down and circle my sensitive clit. As my teacher claims me with his thick tongue, and fucks my pussy, I work myself up fast.

In minutes, I am bucking, and I come explosively with a low deep moan against my teacher’s face.

The sunset is stunning, and we have dinner alone on the deck high above the rest of the estate.

We are far away from the other guests, and there are only a few. The suites go for over a thousand a night. We enjoy venison and trout, and it is rare treat for us.

Considering we live, and eat mostly at home in NYC, it feels decadent.

Lorenzo is wearing a white linen suit, it is one he pulled from his wardrobe here. I’m wearing one of his white linen shirts, a pair of my tanned shorts, and the peacock hat. I am shoeless, but I have a devious smile.

That’s because I’m thinking about coming on his sinful lips.

The next day, as we fly off for LA early, we are given a picnic basket to go. It is from the French chef at the hotel.

As we fly over Tennessee, we say little. Occasionally, our eyes meet, but I guess we are both happy and content. We take turns flying, and when not, we take turns to read.

Lorenzo has two movie scripts he says are hot, and worth considering investing in. I, meanwhile, have borrowed one of his leather bound books.

I’m becoming engrossed in it, and it’s a first edition.

It’s an old-fashioned adventure, and about a group of people who try to find a mysterious temple with treasure. There is a gallant man who can handle himself, and a sassy uptight young woman who has come from money.

The two naturally argue, but fall for each other, and their relationship is well crafted.

As I read on, I hope they soon get to have sex. That’s because, I want everyone to have sex. I know the book is too old fashioned for them to, but I am caught up in the plot.

I flip a page, reading fast in the co-pilot’s seat, engrossed, and I adjust my near naked legs under me. Lorenzo already knows what has happened in the novel, because I have told him.

As he checks the radar and looks over, he calls for an update.

I look up, and try to remember where we‘d last done this. And how much he knows.

“Okay, they’re lost on the big river still. And the old steamboat has engine problems. Half of the group are gone now, killed by the natives, or malaria. The bad one escaped with the map, so they are screwed. The macho guy, the hero, has also realized he loves her.”

I look over, and our eyes meet.

I’m unsure if I am playing with fire, I do not know what he will say.

“And what about her?” Lorenzo asks, his voice deep.

I plan my words carefully, knowing Lorenzo is sharp, and that he knows I am playful. “Well, she likes him, almost as much. But he likes her more.”

Lorenzo gives me a look, and I can’t help but smile.

“She wants him to take her,” I say. “Take her over the pumping steam engines below. She also wants it done with the monkey watching.”

“What?”

Suddenly the jet swerves, and Lorenzo looks over, shaking his head. “You are a very sick little puppy.”

I laugh and kick my feet up onto the cockpit console. I then lift a braless breast from the white linen shirt of his. It’s the one that I stole from Savannah.

I run a fingertip around my nipple, and I look over at my man. Lorenzo shakes his head, and he grumbles low. “You’re not going out in LA,” he says, as if he can control me.

“So going out,” I say casually. “And maybe going panty less.”

“The hell you are!”

“It’s my new thing,” I say, sighing and feeling content. As we fly out of the clouds, the view ahead is stunning. Lorenzo clears his throat.

Here we go.

“You know, helping craft you from… ”

“Amazing to more amazing?” I ask.

“Hillbilly to… ”

“Amazing hillbilly?” I ask.

“Was probably a mistake,” Lorenzo says.

“Yes, well the cat is out of the bag, honey,”

We share a look, and I realize I’ve called him honey. We keep looking at each other, and he reaches out. “Get over here.”

I walk over, and I lean down and kiss him hard on the mouth. Extra hard, just how I like it.

Bruisingly hard.

Lorenzo slides a hand up my tan shorts, and he starts to fly his jet with one hand. I spread my legs some, and give him access. He slides his hand deeper into my pants, and he finds me wet.

Lorenzo growls, and I feel two expert fingers swipe up and down me.

My heart picks up, and I look down into his darkening eyes. As I reach down, I flip the dome of my shorts, and they drop to the ground.

I yank down my thong, and I position myself back where I was. Lorenzo moves his hand back where it needs to be, and he swipes me before sliding two fingers inside.

I pant and I lick my fingers. I reach down to my clit, to help him make me come.

I want to come badly, but I also want to come for him and put on a show.

This relationship is really starting to work.