Hands On: Bride of the Billionaire Read online

  Hands On

  Bride of the Billionaire

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the book

  One touch was all it took…

  I just wanted a masseuse. Really, I did.

  But then she walked in looking for work…

  …and the job description changed.

  I gave her the position, and now I’m about to give her everything else.

  There’s just one thing standing in my way, but that’s not going to stop me.

  I’m going to claim her and make her mine forever.

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  Contents

  1. Grayson

  2. Jennie

  3. Jennie

  4. Grayson

  5. Jennie

  6. Grayson

  7. Jennie

  8. Grayson

  9. Grayson

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  Ruler Sample

  About the book

  Prologue

  1. Bryce

  1

  Grayson

  “It will be better this time. I bet my job on it.”

  I turn to Sheryl, my assistant for the last three years, and shake my head. “Unless she’s miles better than the last four girls you brought me, I highly doubt it.”

  Today is Day 5 of my masseuse-try-out week. Galina, the old Russian lady who worked for me for the last fifteen months, decided now would be a good time to move back to the motherland and reunite with her high school boyfriend and leave me high and dry with a neck full of knots and no one to work on them.

  So I told Sheryl to find me a replacement and find me one fast, but so far all she’s come up with are a bunch of college girls who want to know if I’m “a generous man” and if I “know how to spoil a girl.”

  Fuck outta here. I may be a billionaire, but I didn’t become one by blowing money on cute girls with gym booties stuffed into yoga pants. And besides, I’m not looking for a companion; I’m looking for a masseuse. If all I wanted was a gentle rub with a happy ending, I’d get one. What I want is a professional.

  “Well, if you weren’t so damn particular, Grayson—”

  “All I want is someone who knows what she’s doing,” I reply, dampening my abruptness with a smile. Sheryl is an amazing assistant, but she’s also pretty sensitive. She sighs and glances at her phone.

  “Well, she’s three minutes away. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll send her in when she gets here?”

  One of the great things about being a billionaire is that you can do the most absurd things to your home. Like for instance, having a spa installed, or a bowling alley, or a gym…

  …or a massage room.

  I strip down to my briefs, turn on some Mozart, and get on the table. Despite Sheryl’s reassurance, I’m skeptical. To say the least.

  Girl 1 started off with what she called a “tease routine,” that involved dragging her acrylic nails gently up and down my back until I told her to stop. “It’s supposed to stimulate your autonomic nervous system,” she’d told me. I’m pretty sure she just read that on Google.

  Girl 2 didn’t even get a chance to get her hands on me. She smelled like avocados that had gone bad and brought a small dog with her. I told her to scram and went back to work.

  Girl 3 was decent, but told me she could make sure I was “fully satisfied” if I was generous with my tips. Girl 4 said basically the same thing but just came right out with it. She got topless after about five minutes, oiled up her tits and rubbed them all over my back while doing pornstar breathing sounds in my ear.

  Most guys probably would have hit it, but not me. I’m not interested in girls throwing themselves at me because I’m rich. Been there, done that. The next girl I’m with is going to be the one who’s with me for the rest of my life.

  I’m getting comfortable on the table when the intercom on the wall buzzes and Sheryl says, “She’s on her way in.”

  The speaker clicks off, and I sigh. Here comes another girl looking for a sugar daddy, a pay day, an easy gig from some rich guy simp. I glance over my shoulder as I hear footsteps approaching. When I see her, every one of my expectations shatters like broken glass.

  I’m a perceptive person, so I quickly search her for any warning signs that she might be trouble, but don’t find any. Instead, I see a vision of beauty walking towards me, wearing black yoga pants, a nice but professional top, with her hair pulled back and a bag over her shoulder.

  The smile she flashes at me as she enters the room could move armies. Is this Helen of Troy reincarnated?

  “Hi, Mr. Radcliffe,” she says, extending a hand. We shake and I feel her strength in her grip. “My name is Jennie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I feel my cock between to swell against the table. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  The girls I’ve seen up until now would wink at a comment like that – or their eyes would sparkle and they’d respond with some sexual innuendo, but Jennie doesn’t miss a beat. She sets her bag down and pulls out a bottle of lotion.

  “So, Sheryl said you have some issues with your neck and upper back?”

  Even her voice is perfect. My eyes move up her legs as she starts to oil me up. She’s slim, but the hips on her…I don’t see any panty lines. Is she even wearing any? Maybe this girl’s not as innocent as she seems.

  “Yeah, I carry a lot of my tension there,” I tell her as she starts to work on me.

  “Must be because you’re so tall,” she replies. “How tall are you anyway?”

  “Six-four,” I reply. She makes a little “mmm” sound of approval that causes me to grin. Who knows where this will end up, but she’s got great hands on her – almost as good as Galina’s. All she needs is a little coaching.

  And all I need is a little more…

  Yeah, I know I said I was just looking for a masseuse, but that was before I met Jennie. Christ, she’s gorgeous. I don’t even want to put my head down into the cushion. I just want to keep my eyes on her and explore every inch of her body. Shit, I’d switch places with her right now just to get my hands on her.

  My cock is aching. I’m so hard I have to raise my hips slightly off the table just to relieve some of the pressure. Jennie notices.

  “You all right?” she asks. “Carry some tension in that booty, too?”

  “Just…getting comfortable,” I reply. I can tell by the length of the pause she takes that she isn’t that innocent; she gets what I’m saying but chooses to stay professional.

  “So what happened to your last masseuse? Sheryl said something about her leaving the country?”

  “Back to Russia,” I reply. “A shame too. She was good. The only gal who knew how to work my kinks out.”

  Jennie digs right into my neck with her thumbs, causing me to groan with relief as I feel the stress starting to slip from my body. Of course, another area is having a completely opposite reaction.

  She’s working on my legs when it happens.

  It’s delicate and could be read as a complete mistake, but the tips of two of her fingers gently brush up my inner thighs and against my balls.

  My body instantly responds.<
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  Did she mean to do that? I almost glance up at her, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. If it was a mistake, it will only make things worse. And if it wasn’t a mistake, my acknowledging it will ruin the moment.

  “That’s it!” she says happily. “Let me wipe you down with a hot towel.”

  That’s it? My mind’s racing as she cleans me up. Every primal instinct I have is telling me to spin around, grab her, throw her down on the table and fuck her pretty little brains out.

  But if I’m misreading the situation…

  I sit up, but as I do, I let the sheet that’s been draped over my midsection bunch up and make no attempt to straighten it. I’m so hard it hurts and there’s no hiding it.

  “You got the job.”

  Jennie may be a consummate professional, but her cheeks go red and her eyes flash with excitement. “R—really?”

  “You’re damn right,” I tell her. “But there’s just one more thing you have to do for me.”

  She knows what’s coming, but she plays innocent. “Wha—what’s that?”

  I reach out and slide my hand around her back and pull her to me. “This.”

  And I kiss her.

  2

  Jennie

  Two fires are burning beneath my cheeks. A thrill surges through me as our lips meet.

  I’m kissing Grayson Radcliffe…

  It almost doesn’t feel real. But even if it’s not – even if I’m somehow dreaming – I know one thing for sure. It’s amazing.

  I came in here as a professional woman to give a professional massage because that’s what I am. I got my CMT license in 18 months and work out of my best friend, Melissa’s, massage parlor. When I got the call from Grayson’s assistant offering the job interview, I almost didn’t take it, and this is why.

  “There’s no way he wants a genuine masseuse,” I’d told Melissa. “He just wants a girl to take care of him every morning.”

  Melissa simply shrugged. “So? See how much it pays before you turn it down.”

  “I didn’t bust my ass for my license just to go give hand jobs to billionaires!” I’d huffed. But in the end, I’d decided to risk it, telling myself that no matter what, I wouldn’t end up doing something like what I’m doing right now.

  I also didn’t expect Grayson to be so gosh darn handsome!

  I’ve seen the pictures of him on Google. Everyone knows just how good-looking he is. He’s made lists of the most eligible bachelor on every site imaginable. The single billionaire who runs a toy empire. It’s almost like he’s destined to be the world’s greatest dad.

  A shock runs through me. Am I really thinking about him being a father as I kiss him?

  Am I really kissing him!?

  Like I’ve been shocked, I leap back from him and put my hand to my lips. “I – I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay—”

  “No, it’s not okay.” I shake my head as I scramble with the lotion bottle. My hands are still slippery, and I drop it twice before getting it into my bag. “I’m a professional woman and…and that was not professional.”

  I’m halfway out the door when I feel his hand on my wrist. “Jennie, wait.”

  “Mr. Radcliffe, please,” I reply, trying not to lose my cool. I’ve already lost the job, there’s no reason to make things worse. “I—I have to go.”

  “But I want you to stay,” he replies. It almost works on me. His voice…his smell…the bulge under the sheet – they’re all working together as a team, a team to break down my defenses that are on the verge of collapsing.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Radcliffe, but I can’t.”

  It takes all my strength, but I manage to snatch my arm from his grip and rush out of the room. Without looking back, I head down the hall to the front door, passing Sheryl in the foyer.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine!” I reply hastily as I head outside and scramble into my car. As I’m backing up, I see Grayson in the doorway, nothing but a sheet around his waist. The view I get of his body almost makes me hit the brakes and throw the car into park. His abs…his arms…it’s like he doesn’t run a business at all but just spends his days at the gym.

  But even if my body is about to overheat – even if Little Jennie is screaming at me to run up the steps and throw myself into his arms, I know better. I shift into drive, hit the gas, and peel out and speed down the driveway.

  “Holy cannoli, holy cannoli!” I keep repeating to myself as I drive, on the verge of some kind of emotional episode. “What did you just do, Jennie!?”

  I shout at myself all the way back to the house. I’m not sure if I want Melissa to be home so I can rant to her or if I want her to be at work so I can avoid an awkward conversation, but it doesn’t matter. As I pull in, I see her car in the driveway. Grabbing my bag, I take a huge deep breath, doing my best to calm my heart, and head inside.

  Melissa’s lounging on the couch with her foot up and a pint of Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream in her hand. I must look insane, because her eyes go wide as I walk in and drop my bag on the floor.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Is it that bad?” I groan as I face plant into her lap. Laughing, she twists a finger in my hair and pulls gently.

  “You look like you either just got mugged, or did anal for the first time and did not like it.” I groan and frown up at her. She shrugs. “Hey, you asked.”

  I roll over onto my back and close my eyes. Melissa’s wearing her normal perfume, but I can still smell Grayson’s scent in my nose and the feel of his hand on my wrist. This is insane. How can such a brief encounter with a man have such an effect on me?

  “Spill it!” Melissa barks, causing me to jump. I look up at her and she gives me a sisterly spank on the forehead. “Come on!”

  “Ow, okay!” I grumble. “I…I miiiiight have just kissed Grayson Radcliffe.”

  I expect Melissa to explode with a huge loud, “WHAT?!” Or maybe just jump to her feet and look at me with a huge gawking expression of disbelief. Instead, she just slowly slides out from underneath me, stands and stares at me with an unreadable frown.

  “Fuck off.”

  “What?!” I laugh, sitting up.

  “Fuck off,” she repeats. “You did not.”

  “I—okay…”

  She stomps her foot on the ground and points at me. “Stop messing with me, girl!”

  “I’m not!” I protest. “Do you think I came home looking like this just because?!”

  “You kissed him!?” she asks. “Are you – what the hell!?”

  “I know, I know,” I sigh, holding my head. “I don’t know what happened. I went in there and told myself I was going to be professional.”

  Melissa laughs. “So much for that.”

  “Ugh, I know,” I groan, flopping over onto my side. “But…Melissa, you should have seen him!”

  “I’ve seen pictures.”

  “But it’s so different in person!” I exclaim. “Like—a completely different ballgame.”

  “What do you know about ballgames!?” Melissa asks. “Or balls for that matter!”

  I groan again. She’s right. I’m a virgin – bigtime. In fact, Grayson was my second kiss ever, my first being Ronnie Greene in 4th grade as part of a dare. I don’t know what it is, and maybe it’s even ironic, but I just can’t seem to loosen up around men. I freeze up whenever I get hit on, which is why I request female clients at the parlor. Most men don’t get fresh, but I’d like to avoid that possibility at all costs.

  I only took this job today for the money. Melissa owns the business, which means she rightfully takes a cut of each of my massages. I still have student loans to pay off, rent every month, and without parents to fall back on, all the other expenses an adult woman has to deal with. Having a billionaire paying me full-time sure wouldn’t hurt.

  But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now.

  “So…are you going back?” Melissa asks. “I assume you got the job!�
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  “No.” I shake my head. “I am never going back there.”

  3

  Jennie

  It’s 10:30 when I turn into the lot of the massage parlor. My first client is at 11 and I like to get there early to make sure I’m ready, but when I pull up to the front, I see Melissa standing outside talking to two police officers. She’s a tough cookie, but she looks like she’s on the verge of having a breakdown. Quickly, I get out of the car and rush over to her.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask. One of the officers glances at me, but Melissa chimes in before he can speak.

  “They’re shutting us down, Jennie! Can you fucking believe that?!”

  “Miss, I need you to keep your voice down,” one of the officers says.

  “Or what!?” she explodes. “What are you gonna do? Fucking arrest me?”

  “We’ve had reports that you are operating without a valid business license,” he continues calmly. “And until we can verify things, we can’t allow you to serve customers.”

  I can’t believe this. “No license?” I ask. “How—how could you possibly think that would be a thing? Black market massage? Is that even a thing?”

  “Miss,” the other officer says. “I think you know it is.”

  I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Did he really just suggest what I think he suggested?

  “How am I supposed to make a living?” Melissa shouts. “This is my life’s work!”