Dance with the Billionaire (7 page)

Turns out I was right, there is a whole department store’s worth of makeup here, but in weather this warm I just go for a little bronzer and some lipstick. Once I’m happy with my look, I make my way out of the room and start to walk down the huge staircase, just as Dylan arrives home through the front entrance at the bottom.

He sees me then stops in his tracks, mouth hanging open. He clearly likes what he sees, and I can’t help but want to please him. Because even though this is a business arrangement, some part of me still wants to make him happy. And besides, when he smiles, it’s a total killer.

“I see you got my message,” he says, his eyes burning.

“Sure did,” I reply. “This is quite some dress. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s on quite some body,” he says, quick as a flash, and I feel myself blush.

Fuck, Julia. Focus. You are not some stupid schoolgirl being picked up by her prom date. This is not romantic, remember? So get it together.

“So?” he says. “Will you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?”

Repeat: this is not romantic.

A laugh escapes my lips.

“What exactly is so funny?” he says coldly. 

“You are,” I say, “with your Prince Charming act.”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“And besides,” I say, taking his arm, “I don’t really have any choice now, do I?”

§

We eat
in a massive dining room, at a table big enough to easily fit thirty, but it’s just set for two at one corner. James does the whole butler act to perfection while he serves us the most amazing dinner, matched with the nicest wine I’ve ever been allowed to drink a whole glass of. We tasted so many amazing wines at the bar, but I was never allowed more than a mouthful.

And tonight I feel like I’m in
Downton Abbey
or something. James has been so attentive to me all day – breakfast, lunch, cocktails, and now dinner. I’m starting to wonder if he ever gets any time off. The whole thing is out of this world. I’ve never been treated like this before. But it’s so new, so over the top, it’s kind of overwhelming, too, and it’s killing any conversational skills I might normally have.

I can’t seem to think of a single thing to say, and I feel like some Barbie, sitting here silently in my fancy dress.

“Sorry I’m so quiet,” I say as James clears away our desert plates, leaving us alone once more in the cavernous dining room. “To be honest I’m still a little weirded out by this whole arrangement. I mean, you do
know
this isn’t what us normal people do, right?”

“I am fully aware that this is not what ‘normal people’ do,” he agrees. “However, I am
not
normal people, Julia. I don’t have time for a relationship ...”

I take a sip of my wine, feeling kind of surprised at how honest and direct he’s being. Sure, what he’s saying might be kind of fucked-up, but at least he’s not trying to get me into bed by lies or manipulation. At least he’s being honest. Weird. I never thought I’d have anything in common with a guy who grew up in a huge house like this one, a guy who went to Ivy League colleges and has his own private
jet
. But what he’s saying? I agree with it, one-hundred percent. It’s everything I’ve ever said.
Love is for losers. Relationships are a waste of time. You’ve got to focus on ‘doing you’ ...

Maybe we’re both a little fucked up, eh?

“Relationships are all about compromise, about meeting some of each other’s needs and demands, and conceding a little of your own,” he continues. “I do not have the time to meet someone else’s demands. Nor am I willing to concede anything I need. Why should I? I have my desires, and I get just what I want.”

We lock eyes, and with these words it’s like something changes in the air between us. It’s
on
again. I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. He’s thinking:
how do I get her undressed, as quickly as humanly possible ...

Meanwhile,
I’m
thinking about my strategy. Sure, he’s drop-dead gorgeous and what girl
wouldn’t
want to fool around with him, but even so I need to stay clear-headed and focused. And one thing that never fails? Attack is the best form of defense. So I decide that
I’m
gonna make the first move. Oh yes. And when I’m done, he’s not going to know what the fuck just hit him ...

So, as Dylan Campbell continues to talk, I slowly ease off my heels beneath the table, then begin to caress his inner thigh with my bare foot.

“An arrangement like this?” he says. “Well, I guess it just makes much more sense to me ...”

I can see from the look in his eye that I’ve got his attention. He knows exactly what I’m doing with my foot beneath the table – and what he
thinks
I want from him.

He gulps, loosening his collar a little, then continues to speak.

“We have a contract. A deal. I have bought your time for one week, but more importantly, what that buys for
both
of is clarity. No feelings are going to get hurt. You are not gonna cry because I forgot your birthday or turned up late to your friend’s dinner party ...”

My plan’s working. I can tell from the low tightness of his voice that I’m getting him worked up, just like I want. Because I need to get him
thinking
about fucking me, long before he even knows he is. So I toss my hair over my shoulder, exposing the bare skin of my neck. And then I run my fingertips suggestively up and down my wineglass. It’s corny, but believe me, it works.

All Dylan Campbell can think about right now is those same slender fingers caressing his cock.

Meanwhile, I’ve worked my foot higher and higher up his leg, and when I finally push my toes right into his lap, just as I hoped, he’s already rock hard. I can feel that huge bulge radiating warmth through the fabric of his pants and I begin to work him with my toes, kneading him slowly and seductively. But this is only the beginning. I need to make sure this is all over before he’s even worked out what’s happening ...

“But that said,” he continues, “I like to leave a woman satisfied. I have no doubt you’re going to enjoy your time here with me. And once this week is over, I can get on with my life and my business with a clear head and no other responsibilities ...”

I work my foot even
harder
into his crotch, and we’re still playing this like a game. One where he’s pretending he hasn’t even noticed what I’m doing. You’d think that nothing whatsoever was happening beneath the table, the way he’s acting, except every now and again, I hear the sharp intake of his breath as I work my foot back and forth, back and forth, across his swelling crotch.

“And of course you, Julia, will be
very
handsomely rewarded ...”

Just then, he falls silent, the air between us pulsing, and when he moistens his lips with his tongue, it’s as if I can feel it gliding across my skin. I feel my nipples tightening and my clit throbbing, but I ignore the sensations as much as I can.

Stay focused on him, Julia.

It’s time for my special move – one of my dirty tricks.

You see, the secret is to make it look like you want it – like you want nothing more than to be fucked, hard and fast, right here and now. So I push myself urgently to my feet, and then with a sweep of my hand I send our now-empty wine glasses crashing to the floor.

Dylan gives me a
what-the-fuck
look for a moment, but in answer I climb up onto the table, spreading my legs for him and hitching my skirt up high around my waist, allowing him a perfect view of my panties.

“Come and get me,” I say, my voice trembling a little. You might think
this
is part of the act too, but the truth is, I’m getting just as turned on right now as he is. That intense white heat is growing between my legs with every second and it’s like my whole body is crying out for him now, but even so I remain in control, keeping my wits about me as much as I can.

He gives me this look, like a man who’s been walking in the desert for days and has just been offered a glass of water, his gaze moving over the bare flesh I’ve uncovered, fixing on the tiny pink panties that cover my aching wet pussy.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he says, “right here, right now on this table ...”

The moment he stands to join me, I pull him roughly on top of me, kissing him passionately and urgently, pushing my tongue deep in his mouth and running my fingers through his thick silky hair. Fuck. This feels so damn
good
– like the release I’ve been craving. But with each second we’re kissing, the intensity builds between us, and soon I’m worked up even more, moaning into his mouth as I feel his hand sliding confidently up my bare thigh, getting closer and closer to that burning wet place between my legs.

The sensation brings me crashing back to reality.

Focus, Julia
, I tell myself again, knowing I
need
to take control of this situation again.

So I begin to undress him. Pulling at his tie, then his jacket, then his shirt, like I’m unable to get the clothes off his body fast enough. I feel his shirt tearing and then a moment later I hear the buttons scattering against the cold marble floor of the dining room. Soon my hands have uncovered his body – his bronzed, sculpted chest, the rippling abs and flexing pecs, with just a fuzz of dark hair, dark as his eyes. And his hands are travelling all over my body, too, causing me to shiver and moan all over again.

Fuck. There’s no time to waste. I’ve got to go in for the kill now. It’s now or never.

So I unbutton his pants with trembling fingers, my hands finally enveloping the burning heat of his ...
wow, okay, he’s even bigger than I guessed ...
cock. Fuck. He feels so impossibly hard and thick between my fingers, like he’s been carved out of some kind of white-hot stone, and I shiver as I feel him grow even
bigger
and harder in my hands in response to my touch. We writhe urgently together, our bodies pushing back and forth against each other on the large dining table, and I’m using all of the strength in my dancer’s body to arch my back and flex my hips, to try and keep in control of this situation.

I moan. I can’t help it.

He’s pressed right against me now, grinding himself harder and harder, covering me with his body, his cock brushing against the sodden silk of my panties, his hands cupping my ass, spreading me wide, urging me to push against him like this, my back sliding against the dark polished wood of the dining table.

And I’m unable to take that sweet delicious frustration any longer, knowing that I’m right on the brink of giving in and fucking him ...

But instead, using all the remaining strength in my body, I pull us around, so that
I’m
the one on top of him, back in control again.

His eyes widen with surprise; he obviously wasn’t expecting me to be half this strong.

I’m on top of him now, gripping his cock firmly between my spread legs, jacking it with both hands, grinding against him like I’m on some kind of crazy bucking bronco ride, arching my back, rolling my hips, all the while the hot hardness of his shaft grazing back and forth against the lips of my pussy through the pink silk of my panties, stimulating my clit, each fresh movement of my hips sending another electric pulse of pleasure right the way through me, my pussy throbbing madly as his hands move to my breasts, cupping them as I ride him, faster and faster, dry humping him like there’s no tomorrow.

“Your body is incredible, Julia,” he says. “I can’t wait to see
all
the things it can do ...”

I lock eyes with him, knowing just how to send him over the edge.

I bring his left hand to my mouth, sucking his middle finger seductively between my lips as if I wish it was his cock, and I let my eyes slowly close and a long low moan escape my lips. Sure enough, a moment later I feel him explode, his thick cock pulsing in my grip, the warmth of his come splashing against my bare thighs and flowing like nectar over my fingers.

And now ladies and gentlemen my final trick
...

“Oh?” I say, feigning disappointment as I look down between my legs at his still-hard, still-twitching cock.

“Oh my God,” he says, flustered. “You really
are
talented ...”

“You’d better believe it,” I reply sweetly, wiping my sticky fingers on his thousand-dollar slacks. “But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty more opportunities to take things further. Right now, though? I’m beat.”

And with that, I lean down to give him a final chaste little kiss, then quickly and gracefully climb down from the table, pulling my dress back down around my thighs, leaving him lying there, undressed and disheveled. I reach beneath the table to grab my shoes, and with them swinging in my hand, I head for the door, turning around just before I leave to take a final glance at him, still lying there dazed, looking back at me as if to say,
What the fuck just happened?

“Just you wait,” he calls after me, a playful note in his voice, giving me the suspicion that he’s actually
enjoying
this little game. “Tomorrow night, you’re not going to get away quite that easily.”