Billionaire Romance: Club Billionaire (The Complete Series) (6 page)

“
OK,” he says. “And how did you feel when you saw
me
.”

I don't answer.

I feel his fingers lightly touching my chin, guiding it
up, bringing my gaze to his. “Did you like what you saw?”

“
I guess.” My voice is weak, nothing but a mumble. I
feel like a child, being spoken to by an adult.

“
You don't have to feel ashamed if you did. I
understand this place is nothing like what you've experienced
before...”

“
How do you know what I've experienced?” I ask
quickly, almost curtly. I'm overstepping the mark, and I know it.

“
Do you know what money gives you, Belle?” Kyle
asks.

He doesn't wait for an answer.

“
It gives you power and influence. It buys anything
you want, including information. I know more about you than you
realize.”

I feel suddenly like I'm under a spotlight. Like I'm
open, bare, my life exposed in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

“
I know about your parents' deaths. I know about your
time working in LA in the strip bar. I know it all, Belle, and that's
why you're here. This place will suit you well, and...it will be good
for you.”

His mention of the strip bar throws me. How the hell
does he know about that? I was using a different name, earning cash
in hand. Nothing official, everything off the books. It was soon
after my parents had died when I was 18, and I was rebelling. I would
get drunk and do drugs, strip in front of the dregs of the
underworld. Back then I didn't care. Back then I was lost.

“
So Belle, I ask you once more. Did you like what you
saw back there?”

I fix my eyes on his, thinking of his lean, muscled body
and that damn towel. Wishing I could have ripped it off and seen
beneath it. All I have to rely on now is my damn imagination. It's
not enough...

“
I liked it,” I say firmly.

“
That's good.” He nods, lifts his palm to my cheek.
“That's very good.”

His touch is electric. It sends shocks and shudders
through me, shooting from my face, past my lips, my breasts, right
down to my inner thighs. I shift my weight gently, sucked in toward
him, like a magnet drawn to another. An impossible attraction grips
me, like I've never felt before. A yearning to have him, to feel him
inside me. His tongue inside my mouth, his cock inside my cunt...

I look in his eyes, narrow and cut deep beneath his
brow. I see a reflection within them. A reflection of my desire, my
need. And he can take it. Take me now, take me anywhere. I'm a mortal
standing in front of a God, unable to resist. And Alice's words echo
between my ears.
This man is impossible to resist.

His lips touch mine first.

I feel myself being drawn up onto my toes, my heels
leaving the concrete floor, my mouth agape and waiting for his
tongue. It drifts inside, like a boat passing slowly under a bridge,
and begins working its way around the inside of my mouth.
Tentatively, my tongue joins his, and they dance together in the
darkness.

A fire consumes me. The feel of his lips, the touch of
his tongue, the gentle probing of his fingers at my hips; it all
sparks an inferno, a blaze from within. I feel my pussy grow wet and
warm. Waking up from a slumber that's lasted too long. Yearning for
the feel of his tongue, his fingers, his dick. Preparing for the
assault.

I want to reach down, grab him below, but something
holds me back. Something that tells me he's the one in control. That
I'm nothing but a pawn in his game. A toy for him to enjoy.

The feeling overwhelms me. The wealth, the power, of the
man locked to my lips. He can do anything to me. Do anything to
anyone. I'm an ant next to him, an insignificant life-form, at his
mercy, bowing to his desires.

His lips become more frantic, and I notice the change in
his breathing – faster, shorter. His hands grow more busy, sliding
up my hips, my sides, reaching my hair, brushing through it. He takes
a light grip, pulls my head back. There's a tiny dart of pain through
my scalp, but the look in his eyes makes me forget it. A sensual look
of rabid lust. Eyes so narrow they're nothing but slits, like a
hunting cat staring at its prey.

I'm your prey.

I dare to glance down at his crotch. Beneath his pants
is a bulge, his cock growing and fighting to escape. He follows my
eyes down, then drops his large, strong hand onto the top of my head.
The instruction is clear.

I slowly drop to my knees, set my fingers free on his
zipper. I'm trying to be sexy, trying to take it slow, but my hands
are shaking, my tremulous fingers overacting. I unbuckle his belt.
His zipper comes down. His cock, enclosed beneath tight black
underwear, springs forth from its cage.

When my fingers brush over it, I feel a shudder through
his legs. I grip the elastic top of his underwear and peel it down,
releasing the tip of his dick. I gulp, sucking air at the sight as I
reveal it fully. He's not fully erect, but already I can tell he's
big. The end throbs, silently moving up and down as blood rushes into
it, filling it up, preparing it for what's to come.

Now I hear his words, coming at me through a haze. “Do
you like what you see,” he asks, staring down at me. I look up, my
eyes large like a doll, and smile, breathless. He doesn't need me to
answer.

I feel his hand on my head once more, and slowly,
surely, he guides me forward. I need no coaxing. Not with him. I
quickly run my tongue over my lips, lubricating them, and feel his
dick slide inside me, hardening with every second, creeping to the
back of my throat.

The groan that escapes his mouth is audible. It makes me
feel powerful myself. Pleasure, it seems, is also power, wielded by
those capable of giving it.

It's my first blowjob in months. But it's something I've
always enjoyed. I've always been more of a giver than a taker. More
happy to please than be pleased. But few dicks are as delicious as
this. As beautifully formed, like something from a Greek statue, only
bigger.

My tongue notes every ripple of skin, every throbbing
vein. I reach and hold the base, pulling back and forward, devouring
him as his breathing intensifies, his strong thighs shudder.

My own thighs warm further, and I can't help but slip a
hand down as I work on him. My fingers dig beneath my skirt, brushing
through my shaven pussy, probing at my clit. I massage both him and
myself, one hand working at his cock, the other now sliding inside my
cunt.

“
I never expected this...”

Kyle's words stop me in my tracks, burst me from the
living fantasy, and suddenly both my hands are retreating.

I look up. “What?” I whisper.

“
You,” is all he says.

Then he lifts me effortlessly, gently guides me back
against the wall, and drops to his own knees. I watch as he now works
his fingers at my skirt, unzipping it, pulling it down to my ankles.
His eyes glow at the sight of my panties, gripping tight around my
waist.

“
Amazing.” His voice is a whisper, not intended for
me to hear. But I do, and it sends my heart soaring.

I lose myself in the fantasy again, hardly believing it
to be real. I shut my eyes, tilt my neck back, and feel my panties
dragged down. A cold blast of air shoots between my legs, cooling me
momentarily, but I keep my thighs closed.

His fingers inch between them, both hands pulling my
legs apart like a vise working in reverse. More cold air streams up
against my warm pussy, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. But
it's nothing compared to what comes next. Nothing compared to the
action of his tongue, mining inside me. The touch of his thumb,
working its way over my clit, discovering it faster than any guy has
before.

He sends one hand to the back of my left knee, and I
feel my leg hoisted into the air. Still kneeling, he drops it onto
his shoulder, hands gripping at my ass, and continues to gorge
himself on my cunt. And all the while, I'm wondering when I'll wake
up.

A loud creak breaks me from the spell.

My eyes open like a shot, my head twists quickly to the
side. At the door stands a waitress, young and innocent looking, eyes
bulging at the sight of Kyle's tongue inside me.

“
Oh, Mr Lawson, I'm so sorry...”

Kyle is quickly to his feet, dick still standing to
attention outside of his pants.

“
That's quite alright Isabelle. Please, fetch what you
are here to fetch.”

Isabelle darts in, sheepishly avoiding both our
eyelines, and fumbles for a box of champagne. Kyle, meanwhile, cool
as an iceberg, returns his manhood to its cell, returns his pants to
their proper state, and straightens himself out. I balk at how casual
he is, how nothing seems to faze him.

He turns to me, still standing stuck against the wall,
skirt and panties around my ankles, and drinks me in one more time.

“
We'll finish this another time,” he whispers,
before disappearing out of the door, leaving me alone now with
Isabelle as she continues to clatter around in the background.

Feeling about as embarrassed as I ever have done, I
hastily put myself back in order before the girl looks at me.

“
Sorry about that,” I say, abashed. The red of lust
in my cheeks has been joined by that of abject humiliation and shame.

She tentatively turns her head, as if checking I'm OK to
look at now, and stands from the back of the room, holding a box of
Cristal.

“
Don't worry. You see plenty round here.”

And with that, she hurries off back out into the bar,
keen to get back to work.

Chapter Four

I'm back in the hall, back to work. I catch sight of
Kyle across the room, already holding a glass of whiskey. He holds a
cigar, puffs on it nonchalantly while chatting to a group of similar
aged men. He looks like the most relaxed man in the world, our secret
meeting in the stock room already forgotten.

It's not for me. I'm still living it, my head still
filled with thoughts of him. I drift around the hall absentmindedly,
half in a daydream, before Alice grips me by the arm and gives me a
death stare to end all death stares.

“
This isn't Disneyland,” she grunts. “And you're
not on vacation.” Her voice is low so that only I hear. Somehow,
however, she fixes a smile to her face that is completely at odds
with her tone of voice. As she told me before,
always be smiling
.

“
Focus, Belle, and get back to work.”

I take her advice – although it was more of an order –
and begin passing from group to group, fetching glasses and bottles,
clearing tables, taking orders where necessary. I keep my eyes on
Kyle, though, who continues his evening as if our meet never took
place. When the Brazilian waitress with the perfect cunt passes by,
their eyes lock in the briefest moment of lust.

A searing jolt of jealousy rocks through me.

“
Well well, Betty, isn't it?”

I turn, and lock eyes with the surfer boy billionaire
from the other night.

“
Belle, actually,” I correct him.

“
Ah, my mistake.” He ogles my ass and lets his eyes
run up my body, stopping for a few long moments on my tits. I can do
nothing but stand there, waiting to be dismissed.

Don't walk away, Belle.

“
You know,” he continues once his eyes have finally
returned to mine, “you're just my type. How tall are you, without
those heels on?”

“
About 5'3''.”

“
Perfect. Short girls are the best. They're easier to
fling around. I'm going to be busy for the next hour but, after that
I think we should spend some time together.”

It's not an offer.

I don't reply.

“
Would you like that?”

I don't know what to say. Over his shoulder, I find
Kyle, who's staring at me, his face crinkled with displeasure. The
Brazilian girl is next to him, dropping a glass of whiskey into his
hand, her breasts heaving out as she bends down.

I turn my eyes back to the blue-eyed surfer boy. “Sure,”
I say. “You're the boss.”

My words seem to please him, turn the corners of his
mouth up into a smirk.

“
Room number TWO, one hour,” he says with one more
glance over me.

And then he's gone.

I look at Kyle again, who's turned his eyes away and has
seemingly forgotten about me.
Well, two can play at that game,
Kyle.

The next hour passes by in a flurry or nerves. The role
I'm acting down here has suddenly become real, and I'm nearing a line
that I don't really want to cross. Kyle was one thing. A dream, the
sort of guy any girl or woman would fall for with nothing but a
protracted look or a quick smile. The sort of guy who could bed
virgins and long time married women alike. The sort of man no one
says no to.

Billionaire surfer boy isn't like that. Everything about
him screams insecure. The way he speaks, what he says, the manner in
which he conducts himself. He's younger than Kyle, sure, but carries
none of his poise. He's little more than an uber rich, uber spoiled
son of a billionaire, the sort born to wealth but with no discernible
skills or abilities. Nothing that would have brought him riches had
he been forced to start over.