BILLIONAIRE (Part 5) (2 page)

Wow.

A man had uncorked the chilling champagne and was pouring it into two glasses, placing them on the table.  Alexander pulled a roll of American dollars from his pocket and handed the young man a hundred-dollar bill.  Then he handed the rest of the cash to the wide-eyed bellboy and said, “Change the rest of this into francs and leave it at the front desk.  I’ll pick it up later.”

“
Oui
, Monsieur Wolfe,” the man said, almost bowing.  He hastily left the room, closing the door behind him.  Which Alexander proceeded to lock.  He picked up the champagne flutes and handed me one.

“I have never, ever seen any place as beautiful as this,” I said.  “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He clinked his glass against mine.  “Thank you for coming with me.  It is my pleasure to give you anything and everything you want.  I like having you in Paris with me.  Paris is my sanctuary.”

Something passed between us as we sipped the bubbling, delectable drink.  A connective, visceral tenderness as I looked into his midnight eyes.  The champagne tasted like starry magic.  Just a few sips of it gave me a beatific buzz.  Probably because this was breakfast and all I’d had for dinner was a few bites of filet mignon and some chocolate cake.  I sipped again, but Alexander took my glass.

“You can have more of this.  But first I want you to go into the bathroom.  Return to me once there is nothing on you, or in you, that might present a barrier to me.  Take as long as you need.”

I wrapped my fingers around his, lifting the glass to my lips and taking a long sip.  Then I obeyed him and retreated to the bathroom.

“But not
too
long,” he added.

Alexander had bought me several new travel bags – wildly expensive ones, of course – and the smaller of the two had already been placed in the bathroom.  I brushed my teeth then experimented with what was not actually a second toilet but a bidet.  I’d heard of these but had never seen one.  A clever invention, I decided.

When I opened the door to the bedroom, Alexander was standing on the balcony, looking at the view.  I went to him.

I was naked, but I joined him on the balcony anyway.  I knew he would like this somehow: my display.  We were high enough that no one might notice.  If they did, I hardly cared.  My nakedness was making me feel reckless.  Free.  The extreme luxury that buffered me from the outside world only compounded the effect.

Alexander put his drink down.  He stood in front of me, pulling me against the hard planes of his body.  “I’m going to take you out to breakfast, lunch and dinner every day, and feed you the most delicious food you’ve ever had.  But first I’m afraid I just can’t wait another minute, or even another second.  I’m going to ravage you, sweet Lila, until you can barely remember your own name.”  He kneeled down in front of me, holding me in place with his hands.  He kissed the soft cove between my legs, once, and again.  His tongue burrowed to find my hidden clit, which he circled with his tongue, drawing it out, sucking the tiny nub in hungry little pulls.  The cocktail of lust, champagne and mild sleep deprivation, not to mention jet lag, gave reality a sumptuous, luminous tint.  I felt lucky and playful and supremely alive.  I squirmed from his hold.  He grabbed for me, but I had the advantage of surprise, and I darted in through the door, standing behind one of the large couches, ready to bolt.

“Lila,” he said, standing in the doorway.  He was in no mood for games.

But I was.

He walked towards me, skirting the couch to get closer.  But I moved, too, keeping just out of reach.  He was so aroused, the broad tip of his cock was visible, poking above the waistband of his jeans.  The sight of it, engorged and slick with pre-cum, was enough to slow my retreat.  I wanted to taste him, to put my mouth on all that bursting impressiveness.  “Come here,” he said, “or I’ll have to take you over my knee.”

I laughed at his heated, feral expression and I continued to evade him.  He lunged over the couch to grab at me, but I pulled back and he missed.

We circled, slowing to a stop.

I touched myself, fingering my nipples, pulling lightly and rolling them between my fingertips.  “Is this what you want, Alexander?” I cooed.  “You want to suck on me?”

He went very still.  Then he unzipped his jeans, taking his enormous cock in his hand.  “You know I do.”

I let my hands slide slowly down my stomach and across my hips as he watched me, slowly stroking himself.  My body made smooth little gyrating movements, almost unintentionally.  Arching my back, I swayed my hips in a slow, back-and-forth motion.  I licked one of my fingers, touching it then to my sex, swirling the moisture to open myself, to tease my clit.  “Or is
this
what you want?” I breathed, gasping a little as shards of pleasure rose under the touch of my own fingers.  “You should feel how hot and wet I am.”

He exhaled in a barely-spoken breath.

I swiveled my hips, turning my back to him, leaning forward to reveal myself from behind.  I slid my fingers across the lips of my pussy from the back, opening myself to his riveted gaze, dipping a finger into the wetness.  “Or do you want to spank me?  For being naughty.  For denying you what’s yours.”

He didn’t speak.  He seemed almost incapable of it.  His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them.  He looked mean and dangerously aroused.

But still, I wanted to push him.  To ignite him.
 
To play with my own power.  To somehow push him further than he’d ever been pushed.  “Because you know this is all yours, don’t you, Alexander?” I said softly.  “This mouth is yours.  These warm, sensitive nipples are yours.  This tight, wet pussy, all slick and ready for you.  Yours.”

I walked over to the bed, leisurely, sliding onto all fours with my hips up.  I wanted to tease him but he was already there, and his thick cock speared into me from behind as his hands adjusted my body into the position he demanded. He pushed my shoulders further down until my cheek was pressed against the covers.  He pulled my hips higher and shoved my knees further apart.  Alexander’s hands held me down in a vise- grip that felt on the verge of bruising me as he thrust into me, thick and deep.  I cried out at the unexpected ferocity of him.  If I had attempted to push him past some unknowable boundary, I’d succeeded.  He’d never been this forceful with me before.  His massive, rigid cock drove roughly into me, again and again, reaching all the way to my womb with each indomitable lunge.  When I reached back to touch some part of him in an unspoken plea to slow down, to be more gentle, he grabbed both my hands, clinching my wrists behind my back in one of his big fists.  The combined force of his depth, his thickness, his grip and the driving, vigorous pace was too much.  I was wet but still too-tight and sensitive, and the sliding friction was edged with pain.  I’d forgotten how unbelievably strong he was.

“Alexander!” I whimpered.

It took him a moment to slow, as though he was having difficulty pulling himself out of a delirium of total, blind dominance.  Then he did slow, pulling himself all the way out of me so only the broad tip of his cock was inside me.  He curled his body over mine, resting his chest against my back, covering me.  He kissed my shoulder.   “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t hurt me,” I whispered.

“I won’t.  I’m sorry,” he said again.  I could hear the remorse in his voice but also the thrumming voltage of his need.  He would go easier on me, but he would not be denied.  I almost wondered what would happen if I asked him to stop, now.  Would he?  I had the distinct feeling that he wouldn’t.  That he
couldn’t.
  I wanted him to continue but this edge of doubt fed me a passing note of unease.  “You’re just so fucking gorgeous,” he said, kissing and biting my skin.  “I want you so much.  I want to eat you and drink you and live inside you.  I’m going crazy, sweet girl.  I can’t handle this.  I can’t handle you.  Do you want me, Lila?  Do you want me?”

I did want him.  So much.  Too much.

He didn’t wait for my answer, and I didn’t expect him to.  With measured, potent intention, he slid himself in to the hilt, pressing his hips against me in a tender but very persuasive thrust.  As he did, he groaned loudly.  Anguished: that’s how he sounded.  Like he was lost.  This time, the depth of him rubbed a compelling, charged place inside me.  He did this again, pulling slowly out, thrusting in, seeking in the last inch of his drive an insanely intimate trigger.  And finding it.  A zinging flare began to flower deep within me.

“Lila?” he whispered, thrusting again.  His words were near-slurred with lust.  “You okay, honey girl?”

“Yes,” I moaned, not caring anymore about gentleness or boundaries.  He was breaking me open, casting light into darknesses, flooding my body and soul with hard beauty. I didn’t care if he couldn’t stop himself.
I
couldn’t either.  If he’d pulled himself away now I would die from his absence. The physicality of our need had taken a turn. “Yes, Alexander. 
Yes, please, yes
.”

He pulled back again, but not all the way, immediately pushing back in, stoking the fire.  With each plunge, he retreated a fraction less, until the cyclical glide was not a withdrawal at all, but one dynamic, rolling thrust that stayed with me, not leaving the stroking contact of that deep, perfect sweetspot.  The pleasure grew, inflaming my body, and I was pushing my hips back against him as he played this beautiful rhythm.  My arms slid to the bed, giving me leverage to push back against him more strongly, keeping him as deep as he could be.  His fingers found my sex and skated across the slippery center of sensation, and his other thumb was wet and sliding just barely into the secret puckered cove of my ass, not entering me there but fondling and prodding gently.

The pleasure compounded, riding a silky wave, coasting then breaking with a force that sent a flurry of liquid, bliss-laden stars through my brain and my body that I could feel in zapping surges all the way to my fingertips and toes.  I might have blacked out for a moment, riding some sweet, ultimate high that ungrounded me.  When my awareness returned, I was crying out, moaning and bucking back against him.  My pussy was drawing lusciously around his massive, pulsing cock until he groaned and lay his body heavily over mine, coiling and gripping me as his climax racked through him.

After the beat of his upheaval had calmed, he rolled us to our sides so he was wrapped around me, spooning me, still inside me.  I had tears in my eyes and I wasn’t sure why.  Was it because he’d been so rough with me at the start?  The pain had been overridden by pleasure, but I remembered it.  Or was I crying because I felt so close to this remarkable, complicated man that my chest felt heavy with some kind of strange new longing?  I didn’t understand my own emotions; they were too raw, too vast.  We lay like that for several minutes, catching our breath and recovering from the sheer potency of our lovemaking.

“What’s my name again?” I whispered.

“Told you,” he murmured against my hair, stroking the long locks with careful, supplicating tenderness.  As though to make amends.  “Sweet girl.”

I didn’t answer him, settling back against him.  I’d already forgiven him, if that’s what this required.  I wasn’t sure and at that moment I didn’t care.  I already knew I was in for a wild ride, physically, emotionally, psychologically, existentially.  All of it. 
Let’s not forget the icing on the cake
, I thought. 
Financially.

I pushed that thought out of my head.  I just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

We were quiet then, touching, feeling.  We dozed for a while, sated and spent, still connected.  I woke when I felt Alexander’s semi-softened shaft slide from my body.  “Let’s have a bath,” he said, walking into the bathroom to draw one.

He called me in when it was ready, and he was already submerged, leaning back, up to his neck in bubbles, his jet-black hair flicked with frothy suds. Something about this big, CEO sex god taking a bubble bath struck me as not only funny but ridiculously endearing.  I smiled at the sight.

“Come here,” he said.

I climbed in, getting ready to recline towards the opposite end but he said, “I want you close to me.  Come lean against me.”

The water was almost too hot and felt heavenly against my sorenesses.  I lay against Alexander’s chest and he began to soap me, rubbing a soft sea sponge against my skin.  Not lustily, for once, but gently, just gliding the softness across my breasts and my body.

I listened to the light splashing sounds of the water and the muted sounds of the city outside and down below.  A European siren in the distance.  Laughter.  Music.  I savored the feel of Alexander’s hard chest and the tender caress of his hands.

“Where were you born?” he asked quietly.

So we were back to twenty questions.  He’d caught me at a better moment this time.  If I wanted to find out more about him, it was only reasonable I begin to open up to him, too.  Within reason.  “You first,” I said.

He seemed encouraged by this although there was a reserve in him that I recognized, only because it was mirrored in me.  “Texas,” he said.

“You grew up in Texas?  I wouldn’t have picked you for Texas.”  Although, come to think of it, strong hints of that cowboy twang surfaced now and then.  Mainly when he was lust-drunk.  When his guard was completely down.

“We moved to Florida when I was ten,” he said. “We lived there until I was seventeen.”  The comment was laced with all kinds of craziness: anger, regret, matter-of-fact grit.  All that layered emotion made me feel for him in a new, unchartered way.  I could sense that Alexander’s road had not been at all smooth.  Something I could definitely relate to.  I was curious but I didn’t want to push him.  I waited for him to continue but he said, “Your turn.”

“Virginia,” I said quietly.  “A small town in the foothills of the Shenandoah mountains.  I was born in my mother’s house.  I arrived so quickly she didn’t have time to drive to the hospital.”  I was a little amazed with myself.  I’d never told that detail to anyone.  Not that it was all that earth-shattering, but still.  And then I heard myself say, “She was alone.”