The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake

  She was going to talk to her lawyer in the morning, get the contract changed. If Asher wanted to be in the baby’s life—in whatever capacity—she’d welcome it. No more revenge or making plans out of anger. There were three lives affected by the baby, and he deserved a say.

  “You look so serious,” Asher said, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings with what I said about your father. He’s not a complete dick . . . actually, I can’t even say that. I know he’s a complete dick.”

  Greer chuckled and began to unbutton Asher’s shirt. “I know he is. And I’m not upset. I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About how I should get some practice, too?” She wet her lips and gave him her most distracting look. “I mean, I think you’ve got a few things down pat, but I’m pretty sure I could use a little experience of my own.” And she kept unbuttoning and continued to his pants when she was done with his shirt.

  His eyes watched her hotly. “You want to do that?”

  Of course she did. He was incredibly sexy and she loved touching him. She grew bolder with every time they had sex, but this was the first time she’d been bold enough to ask to do this. He’d spent endless hours lavishing attention on her body—now she wanted to play a little with him. “Do you mind?”

  Asher chuckled. “Asking if I mind if you give me a blow job is like asking if I mind if you give me a million dollars.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows at him and slid off the side of the bed onto the floor, where she knelt on the worn throw rug. “One million dollar blow job coming right up. Well, actually, since I’ll be practicing, it’ll be more like a buck fifty blow job.”

  “If you’re doing it, it’s priceless.”

  She looked up to tease him at the words . . . and then realized he was utterly serious. Oh. A rush of affection surged through her and Greer smiled up at him. Just when she thought she knew the man, he blew her away with a quiet statement.

  She wanted to make this good for him. All right, all those years of reading Cosmo magazines had to be good for something. She knew the basics, just lacked practical application. No teeth, lots of licking and sucking, and the occasional nut jiggle. She could do this.

  Greer carefully unzipped his pants and pulled the fabric aside. His cock was already straining against his boxers, forming a tent in the fabric. “Poor thing,” she murmured. “All trapped and just wants out.”

  “Are you being playful?” Asher asked, his voice incredulous. “Fuck, that’s so hot.” His hand went to her hair, and she thought he was going to stroke it, but he knotted his fingers in a fistful of it instead, holding her head. “You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen, Greer. You know that, right?”

  “I do.” He told her constantly. Repeatedly. Either he really did think she was sexy—which was nice for the ego—or he just liked to pile on the lies. She preferred to think it was the former. Smiling, she pulled down his boxers carefully and freed his shaft.

  His cock was interesting. She’d seen porn on the Internet—who hadn’t?—and thought she’d seen her share of dicks. They weren’t the best-looking of features, really. But there was something about Asher’s that she found incredibly appealing. His skin was smooth, the head thick and mushroomlike at the top. He was long and slightly curved, and there was a thick vein on the underside that she wanted to touch and see if he was sensitive. Really, she just wanted to play with all of him.

  And this was her chance.

  With a quick glance up at him, she curled her hands around his shaft. He felt thick and heavy in her hands, and the skin here felt warmer than the rest of his body. Softer, too, even though it covered something incredibly hard. She traced a finger around the head, then trailed along his shaft. “I’m going to put my mouth on you.”

  “I’m totally fine with that.” His hand tightened in her hair. “More than fine. In fact, I’m going to have to demand it.”

  “No need to demand.” She curled her fingers around his shaft and parted her lips, letting her mouth descend.

  The first taste of him burst on her lips as tart and salty. It was shocking, really, but curious. She wanted more, and she flicked her tongue over the precum, lapping it up. At his groan of encouragement, she grew bolder. Her tongue explored more skin and her hand caressed his shaft and even down to his sac, experimenting with touches. He made more sounds when she toyed with the head, so she spent a lot of time caressing and licking it, coming up with new ways to try and please him.

  “Suck me,” he murmured after a moment. “Take me in your mouth and suck.”

  Oh, right. She’d gotten so distracted with the velvety texture of his skin and licking him that she’d forgotten about the other part of the blow job. Eager to please, she slid the length of him onto her tongue and closed her lips, sucking hard. His muttered expletive was exceedingly gratifying. She could do more.

  She did; she took him deeper, working him with her mouth and her tongue until his shaft was stroking into her mouth as if he was fucking it. Most of the movement was hers, but she found that his hips were moving in subtle little motions as if it were impossible for him to stay still. She tried to take all of him into her mouth and down her throat a bit, but only succeeded in triggering her gag reflex. She released him with a cough. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. That’s fucking hot, sweetheart.”

  Okay. She went back to lavishing attention on his cock, happy that her efforts were pleasing to him. Her tongue glided up and down his length, and she stroked him with her hand, trying to figure out the magic combination that would push him over the edge and make him come. Touching him like this was arousing to her, too. She wanted to do more than arouse him, though; she wanted to make him utterly crazy. What could she do? Her hand brushed over his balls, but she didn’t have enough experience to tell which touches there were the right kind, so she tried a different tactic.

  Dirty talk.

  After all, he liked it when he talked dirty to her and it made her all kinds of turned on. She figured it was the same for him.

  So she traced her fingers over the head of his cock. “You’re so big and hard, Asher. I don’t think I can fit all of you in my mouth.” And she demonstrated by trying to deep throat him and failing. She returned to licking every inch of skin that she could. “Too thick. Too delicious.”

  “Oh fuck, are you dirty talking to me, Greer?”

  She dragged her tongue over the head of his cock. “Maybe?”

  In the next moment, she was on the bed on her back, and he was between her legs. His body covered hers with a speed that was astounding. He gave her a fierce kiss and then thrust hard into her. Her smothered laugh turned into a cry of pleasure and she held on to him for dear life as he pounded away into her. A moment later, she’d come, raking her nails up and down his back and hissing out his name between her teeth. He came, too, but a lot noisier than her.

  And then when he’d collapsed on top of her in that delicious way, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and then her neck. “Dirty talk. Hot damn. I love you, Greer.”

  She said nothing, just stroked his back. She was pretty sure the words were nothing, just sweet utterances muttered after an orgasm.

  But they were still nice to hear. And it made her even more resolved. Tomorrow, she was going to call her lawyer and fix things.

  Because she was pretty sure she was in love with Asher. Again.

  Chapter 12

  “Mr. Sprigham, please,” Greer said into the phone and shifted in her seat near the dressing room. “It’s Miss Chadha-Janssen and I need to discuss a contract with him quite urgently.”

  “Everything all right?” Kiki called out.

  “Just fine,” Greer told her. “Make sure that you’re pinned in all the right spots.”

  They were back at the dressmaker, with Bunni, Tiffi, and Kiki being fitted one last time for th
eir wedding gowns, since the wedding was tomorrow. They’d all three decided on the same gown—a bodice gown with a sweetheart neckline and sweeping satin skirts. The trains were dip-dyed a pale version of each girl’s signature color so the audience would know who was going down the aisle, the bodices were encrusted with rhinestones, and the bouquets would also match the color of the triplet. Kiki fidgeted with her veil and frowned in the mirror, gazing at Greer. More cold feet?

  She didn’t have time to ask; a voice answered on the other end of the phone. “Sprigham speaking.”

  “Richard? Hello, it’s Greer. Do you remember the parental rights contract we worked on a few weeks ago? I’ve changed my mind about it.”

  To her surprise, the lawyer snorted into the phone.

  Greer frowned. “Richard?”

  “Sorry. Go on.” Why did he sound amused?

  “I’ve just been having second thoughts. I don’t think it’s something I should force him into.”

  “I see.”

  Why did this conversation feel so bizarre? “I’d like for you to contact Mr. Sutton’s lawyer and see what we can do to cancel things. I do hope it won’t be an issue.”

  “Oh, I can assure you that it won’t.” His dry tone was unmistakably snarky.

  Greer had had enough. “All right, what’s going on?”

  “Is this a joke, Miss Chadha-Janssen? I can’t imagine that it is, but I have to ask.”

  “Why would it be a joke?”

  “Because the entire thing’s been a clown show from the start.” Sprigham’s dry voice sounded more irritated than amused now. “First they had the nerve to send over that contract with all the holes in it. Big loopholes, I might add, and none in your favor.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, I fixed it because that’s my job. I ensured your end is ironclad and had the documents couriered over. They lost them. Twice. His office is either extremely incompetent or the courier is.” When she was silent, he continued. “I inquired about the contract last week and do you know what his lawyer suggested?”

  Her stomach was twisting into worried knots. “No, what?”

  “That I let him know how much I’d be willing to take to overlook a few clauses. Again, clauses not in your favor.”

  She gasped.

  “My thoughts exactly,” her lawyer said drily. “And when I said that what he was suggesting was illegal, he said I’d heard him wrong and the contract would be on my desk in a few days. Guess what.”

  “It’s still not there?” She felt sick.

  “Bingo.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means that whoever you are determined to keep from having parental rights from this baby is equally as determined to try and weasel their way out of things. And now you’re calling me and asking me to forget it? I just find that awfully convenient.”

  She did, too. Her stomach clenched in misery. Something about this wasn’t adding up. Asher hadn’t mentioned anything with the contracts, and he was careful not to mention the baby . . . unless he was planning on doing something awful?

  Surely not. This all had to be a misunderstanding.

  “Let’s put it on a back burner for now,” she told Sprigham. “I’ll make a few calls and find out what’s going on.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  She hung up, staring at her phone. Asher’s latest text showed on the screen.

  Asher: Hey, baby. Do you and my baby feel like having seafood tonight? I can make reservations at this sweet little place I think you’ll like. Let me know. I know you’re busy but I’m determined to kidnap you and practice my way with you. :)

  That . . . did not sound like the text of a man about to screw her out of parental rights. She didn’t understand.

  “It’s awful!” one of the triplets wailed, diverting her attention. Distracted, Greer looked up to see Bunni pouting at her reflection. Her breasts were overflowing the cups of the gown’s bodice. “I can’t go down the aisle looking like this!”

  “Then you shouldn’t have been eating so much coconut ice cream,” Tiffi said, turning and admiring her butt in the mirror, oblivious to the dressmaker trying to pin things in place.

  Greer tucked the phone into a pocket and got to her feet. Her own problems would have to wait a bit longer. “This is why we’re here,” she soothed the distraught bride. “So last minute things can be fixed. What if we added a ruffle of lace to the top?”

  The dressmakers got to work and Greer didn’t get a chance to think about the lawyers or Asher for the rest of the afternoon. The girls insisted on last-minute changes to all three dresses and Greer ran interference between the triplets and the dressmakers, all of whom were stressed. By the time she got into the back of the Dutchman sedan with Kiki, she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to be left alone.

  The moment the car pulled up to the driveway, though, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Asher again.

  Asher: They must be keeping you hopping. How about I grab some takeout and head over there? Or do you want to meet here for more privacy? Let me know—I’ll wait on you.

  Troubled, she thought about Sprigham’s words earlier. The contract Asher’s lawyer wanted her to sign was a terrible one, and now that they had modified it, the correct contract kept disappearing. And bribery? It was too much to be believed . . . except Asher’s strange little deal with her to spend time together for the next month to practice sex. It was clear the man didn’t need an ounce of practice, and she’d happily gone along with it because she thought she got what she wanted out of the situation.

  In other words, him.

  Something wasn’t adding up, though, and she couldn’t figure it out.

  She didn’t text Asher back. Not yet. She needed to turn things over in her mind for a little longer, to mull on the situation. To come to a logical conclusion, because nothing so far seemed logical in the slightest.

  Greer headed up the stairs to her room, and her phone buzzed yet again.

  Vader: My office, please.

  Her father? What now? Quelling the guilty feeling in her stomach—why did it feel like a trip to the principal’s office? She’d done nothing wrong—Greer turned around and headed back downstairs, to her father’s study.

  He looked up as she entered, frowning. “Shut the door behind you.”

  She did, and then sat down across from him. “Is everything all right?” Was he getting cold feet now, too?

  Stijn narrowed his eyes at Greer. “I heard Bunni is too fat for her dress.”

  Good lord. Was this what he was worried about? “We added a concealing ruffle to the top of her gown and she’s fine. This is why last minute alterations are necessary—”

  “I hired you to keep things running smoothly, Greer. Why did you let one of my brides put on weight?”

  Taken aback, she was silent. He . . . he wasn’t serious, was he? “She’s an adult, Vader. I didn’t watch what she ate. I assumed she was old enough to feed herself.”

  “Well, you assumed incorrectly.” He flipped a page of one of the magazine proofs spread out on his desk. “Tell her to fast until the wedding.”

  With so much going on? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”

  He waved a hand. “We have the girls in the magazine do it all the time. If she wants to have a chance to marry me, she’ll fast.”

  There was so much about that statement that bothered her. One thing in particular stuck out, though. “You haven’t decided which one you’re going to marry yet, Vader?”

  The sound he made was derisive. “Does it matter?”

  Well, she imagined it mattered quite a bit to the girls. “I think it does. Do you love them?”

  He gave her a dismissive look. “As long as they’re not fucking that asshole best man, I don’t care what they do.”

&nbsp
; Asshole best man? Asher? “You don’t like Asher? I don’t understand. Did you two have a falling out?”

  “We never had a falling in.” He frowned at a proof and picked up a magnifying glass, leaning over the picture. Then, he offered it to Greer. “Do you think her labia should be photoshopped?”

  Like she cared? “Why is Asher your best man if you hate him?”

  Her father nudged the picture at her again. “This is important, Greer. What do you think of this woman’s genitals?”

  She wasn’t going to get an answer until she gave him what he wanted, was she? She looked down at the picture. “She’s fine.”

  “I think I’ll have them photoshopped anyhow, just to be safe.”

  “Asher?”

  Stijn turned another page.

  “Asher?” Greer repeated. “Why is he your best man?”

  Stijn glanced up at her briefly, then went back to the pictures. “It was part of our deal.”

  “Your . . . deal? What deal?” What on earth was going on?

  He put down the magnifying glass and gave her an exasperated look. “Greer, I’m very busy right now.”

  She slapped a hand over the pictures, covering them. “Tell me what deal you had right now, or I’m walking out that door and not coming back.”

  Stijn gave her a cold look and pried her fingers off the glossy page. “No need to be dramatic. We made a business deal, he and I. He is going to give Dutchman magazine an influx of cash and in exchange, I’m going to allow him to be my best man.”

  That was . . . the most nonsensical thing she’d ever heard. “Why does he want to be your best man?”

  “Ask him. The wedding was his idea.”

  Alarm bells sounded somewhere in the back of her mind. “Wait . . . what? You didn’t want to get married?”

  “If I didn’t want to marry your mother, why would I want to marry one of those interchangeable idiots?”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” she stammered. “And they’re not—”