Selling Out to the Billionaire

By: Penny Wylder

I send an email to Derek, asking him to meet me at the Sunset Realty office at eight o’clock in the morning. Finally, I can rest. I close the laptop and stretch. It’s close to two in the morning, and my body is reminding me that I’ve barely moved in hours. I go through the motions of getting ready for bed, barely able to keep my eyes open now that I’ve finished.

But despite my exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I see Derek, reliving that moment when he held me on the stairs. I try to recapture that delicious feeling of him pressed against my spine, those moments when I thought he was trying to seduce me and I was going to let him.

Remembering the heat in his eyes as he looked up and down my body has my hand sliding inside my underwear. Feeling how wet I am at just the thought of him makes me shiver.

What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped when he had me pinned to the window? What if he hadn’t changed his mind. I imagine his hands sliding down my body, far enough to grab the hem of my dress and pull it up.

He would have pulled me against him, fingers exploring the skin of my legs and the fabric of my panties before daring to touch me where I want it most. I dip my fingers inside myself as I imagine him doing the same, and I let out a moan. His lips would be at my neck as he whispered the things he wanted to do with me. His thumb circles my clit and my own fingers follow.

I can still feel the hardness of his cock against my ass and I think about him grinding it against me as he drives me to the edge with his hand. It doesn't take long and I come hard and fast as I imagine Derek thrusting his fingers deep inside me.

My body relaxes as I come down from my orgasm. Even the guilt about my private fantasy can't keep me awake. With weird thoughts about green eyes and beautiful smiles in my head, I fall asleep.


The hideous sound of my alarm is almost a relief. I kept dreaming of Derek and his amazing body and his eyes and his hands and what he could do with them. I kept waking up to the sound of his voice, remembering the maddening way he was so sure of himself. Not exactly a bad thing to dream--but I feel more tired now than when I went to bed.

I drag myself into the kitchen and put on the coffee while I wash my face and do my makeup. I need to get to the office early so I can pull the files for the showings. I do my make-up, being extra careful to look polished and professional. Not in any way encouraging Derek to think I'm coming on to him. Yesterday was weird and awful, but today is different. Today, I'm going to impress him with my choices. Today, I'm going to sell my first house.

As I drink my coffee I feel a little better. There's nothing that can erase exhaustion like a good cup of coffee. At least I feel a little closer to normal.

The office is quiet, most people not in yet. My desk was pointed out to me yesterday, and even though I haven't gone through all the office training, I figure it's okay if I use it. I'm glad it's quiet in here though, because it takes me longer than I would like to collect the files for the fifteen houses I have scheduled today. I double check the showing times, and put the files in the order I'll need them before stowing them in my bag. My phone buzzes and I answer it.

"Penelope Swanson."

"Good morning, Miss Swanson," Derek says in my ear.

It's like he ran his fingers through my hair; I shiver. "Mr. Conway."

His voice is warm. "I'm ready to start our tour, if you'll join me outside."

"Of course," I say, "I'll be right there."

I glance at the clock, and I see that he's a few minutes early. After yesterday I was thinking that him arriving on time might be a miracle. I grab my bag and my coffee and head outside. The sight that greets me isn't one that I was expecting. Derek is standing by a large black escalade, holding the door open.

For me.

I freeze in place. "This isn't necessary, Mr. Conway. I can take my own car."

"It is necessary." He scans me in that way of his that makes me feel sexy and exposed. "I think I've already made it clear that I'm not a patient person. One of my many faults. Looking for a 'multi-million-dollar new home' is exhausting enough, I don't want to take the risk of being separated and wasting time."

Ouch, way to throw that back in my face. I resist the urge to grumble under my breath as I climb into the car. He thinks that looking at those houses was exhausting for him? I give the address of the first house to the driver, settling into my seat. "I've followed your instructions, and I've put together a list of houses I think you'll really appreciate," I say as he drops into the seat across from me. "These are some of the best, and I'm sure you'll agree.

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