Page 48 of Trailer Park Billionaire (Distinguished Billionaires #3)

BEN

M ine.

Yes, mine.

I should make her mine.

How could I not?

It’s hard to think when your brain is short-circuiting from the most transcendent orgasm of your life, and you’ve just covered the most beautiful person you know in cum like some deranged Jackson Pollock painting of desire.

But there is a reason why I can’t.

I collapse beside her, limbs useless, chest heaving in time with hers.

For a second, we just stare at the ceiling of the RV like it’s going to explain what the hell just happened.

It doesn’t. The kid’s paintings I hung up flutter in the wind every time we exhale. Our fingers intertwine automatically.

“Don’t move,” I say breathlessly. “I’m going to get a towel to clean you up.”

Helena’s head shifts toward me, her nose nudging into the crook of my neck, one leg curling over mine. I wrap my arm around her without thinking. Instinct. Like breathing. Or getting hard at the sight of her. Or panicking when I think about why we shouldn’t be doing this.

“That’s okay,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against my skin. Then she slips her fingers into her mouth again. “I can clean it up myself. I like tasting you.”

Air huffs out through my nose, my dick twitching at her words.

Maybe she’s just a figment of my imagination.

I let my hand glide to her nipple and give it a quick little twist. Helena winces in reply.

“What was that for?” she asks, biting my neck.

“Just checking if you’re real.”

“I think you’re supposed to pinch yourself. Here, let me help.” Her teeth sink deeper into my skin, then her lips kiss the sting away.

“Definitely real,” I whisper, turning toward her, seeking those plump lips of hers.

She tastes like salt and satisfaction. “Just had to make sure, you know. Or else, my friends will think I’ve lost it entirely when I introduce another imaginary girlfriend.

” With all my remaining strength, I untuck my arm from beneath her, roll out of the bed, grab a towel from the tiny bathroom, and return to wipe her clean.

“You’ve got an imaginary girlfriend too?” she asks, pulling me back into bed.

I nod. “You do too?”

“Yeah, but we broke up.”

“Oh, no. What happened?” I say with feigned shock.

“It was too much work to keep up the charade. Also, it was technically a boyfriend. I made him up, so Elaine wouldn’t be as worried about me being alone. But then she wanted to meet him and so…”

“He cheated on you.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. He would never. Or else Elaine would have tried to make me feel better about getting cheated on.”

That makes sense. Elaine does seem to care about her a lot.

Which is unsurprising, considering how kind, and clever, and cute, and—there just aren’t enough words to describe her accurately.

“You’re really good in bed,” I say, because, well, that naturally comes to mind after what we just did.

Helena chuckles softly. “I can’t take credit for that. Team effort. We just… fit.” She snuggles her head against my shoulder and I pull her close. “Sometimes those things just come naturally.”

“We got lucky then,” I conclude and place a kiss on her forehead.

She goes quiet for a beat, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest. “So what about you? Why do you have an imaginary girlfriend?”

“Had. We broke up when Alexei insisted on meeting her.”

Helena laughs. “Was he worried about you being alone too?”

“Yeah,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

We both fall silent for a moment. It’s that kind of silence. The one weighing heavy on your chest. The kind where everything almost gets said.

But I don’t say it.

And neither does she.

Instead, I tilt her chin up and kiss her.

Slow this time, gentle. Like an apology—not for how I just tried to break her in half out of sheer, unadulterated need.

It’s for what we’re doing right now. For the fact that it can’t last. And I think she knows it too.

Still, she kisses me back with that same softness.

Eventually, I pull away slowly, savoring her taste. “We should get you home,” I say. “There are things we need to do.”

“Oh?” Helena raises a brow. “More sex? You know I’ll have to make you beg for that, right?”

“Of course you will, Panda,” I say, giving her bare ass a sharp smack that echoes through the RV. “But first, I’ll run you a bath. A proper one. You deserve to be cleaned with devotion and very expensive bubble soap.”

She pretends to consider this. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t complain about getting treated like royalty for once.”

A grin spreads across my face. “Good. I’ll treat you like a princess first. And like a naughty little whore afterwards then.

” My hand lands on her ass again, my cock already eager to pick up where we left off.

“I promise neither will involve any guillotines though.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pick up the painting she did of my beheading, and hang it back on the tiny wall.

It must have fallen down earlier, along with a mug that’s broken into two pieces.

I toss her a T-shirt of mine so she can put on something comfortable.

Once I’m dressed as well, I scoop her up with the blanket, bundle her into the passenger seat, shoot a quick text to Sienna, and drive us back to our safe house.

When we get to the apartment, Sienna has placed a set of fancy soaps and shampoos outside our door.

Helena looks visibly surprised when she sees it. “How did you?—”

“I’m very rich and powerful,” I tease, leading her to the bathroom and starting the water.

Once the tub is half full, she gets in. I slide in behind her, the heat of the water melting the tension from our bodies.

It’s intimate, familiar. I can’t help pressing soft kisses on her shoulders as I wash her hair, rub her back, and trace invisible patterns down her spine with my fingertips.

She leans into me like she’s always belonged there.

No rush. No heist. No lies.

Just this.

Just us.

Afterwards, I carry her to bed and tuck her in like she’s something breakable. Then I slide in next to her, our mouths finding each other again—this time unhurried, but no less hungry.

Still, our second time is nothing like the first.

The second time is slow, and deep, and impossibly tender. Even the inevitable ass spanking, the nails in skin, the hair pulling, and the relentless pounding I give her from behind is. Somehow, it’s all tender. It’s considerate, and caring, and achingly intimate.

And when she comes again, breathless before me, I turn her to face me so I can watch—see her, see what I’m doing to her. I want to marvel at her unravel, want her to feel the way she makes me feel.

Mere moments later, I come inside her.

Afterwards, I just hold my innocent little woman. Press a kiss to her damp temple and breathe her in like oxygen.

We fall asleep tangled together, our legs intertwined, her fingers laced with mine, giving no thought to routines or heists or prison sentences.