Billion Dollar Love

by Sam Crescent

  The random flicks to and sucking of her clit amped up her pleasure, keeping her in a constant state of dizzy desire. But his control kept her from going over. As if it was his own pleasure depended on it. He knew exactly how to push her toward orgasm but also when to pull back until Elodie was mindless with lust.

  She needed release. Now. Before she lost her mind.

  Easing a hand down her over sensitized skin, she insinuated it between him and her clit. Elodie barely managed to circle the little bundle of nerves once before he pulled her hand away with a growl.

  When she tried it again, he lifted his head to pin her with his dark gaze. “Do that again and see what happens.” Threat uttered, he lowered his head again to taste her.

  Elodie gripped his hair in an attempt to direct him where she needed him most. What choice did she have when he continued to drive her mad but refused to give her relief?

  He lifted his head, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting hers in challenge. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “You’re driving me crazy.” The whine in her voice would have irritated her at any other time, but right now she was desperate for him—for anything—to end her torment. “I need you.”

  The lazy smile he gave her only served to infuriate her more. Instead of pulling him closer, Elodie sought to push Caesario away. She’d had enough of game playing for one night. But pushing at his shoulders proved to be fruitless, and her display of anger only amused him more.

  He slid over her, pinning her down with ease. “Calmati, my little wildcat.”

  The glare she gave him made him chuckle again, incensing her. When she would have shoved him again, Caesario entered her roughly, fitting their bodies together with one sure thrust.

  There was no time to get used to his size before the pleasure overtook her. The friction and stretch combined with the sensation of him bucking so deep and hard inside her sent her careening over the edge. Head thrown back, Elodie opened herself up to the bliss and convulsed around him as pleasure swamped her.

  “Beautiful. Perfection.” Caesario claimed her lips, taking the last few gasps of pleasure into himself. He thrust slowly, almost experimentally. The rhythm was unhurried yet fierce. His groan of appreciation rumbled through her. “You feel incredible coming apart around me.”

  And he felt amazing inside her.

  He kissed her again, exploring her body with his hands, his thrusts strong and deep but deliberate as if they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other. Each caress, each murmured word, each kiss, added to the fire already threatening to incinerate her again. Elodie opened herself up to it completely as she arched under him, offering everything of herself. What was it about Caesario that made her throw caution to the wind? Even now, in a stranger’s bed, with a building full of people, his aunt included, just downstairs, Elodie was more than willing to let him do whatever he wanted to her.

  Writhing against him, Elodie sought to get closer, wanting every inch of their sweat slicked bodies to be in contact. Caesario was only too happy to comply.

  But it seemed even a man as godlike as he was only human. The slow, languid pace quickened, until she was being dragged into his savage thrusts. Even the pain from him driving so deep heightened her pleasure to a fever pitch.

  “Look at me, cara.”

  She obeyed the whisper without a second thought to watch as Caesario sat back on his knees; he in turn was studying her with lust-darkened eyes as he plunged into her. If she thought him beautiful before, seeing his body move so erotically, his face rigid in the moments before he came, was a revelation. His eyes grew darker still as he unerringly found and circled her clit with his thumb as if he knew just how close she was to the edge. It took him seconds to have her crying out another orgasm. As her body gripped him tight, he exploded. Caesario groaned as he slid over her again, thrusting through the pleasure. Filling her.

  Elodie had no idea how long they lay there entwined, their spent bodies cooling. Nor did she really care. All that mattered was drifting on the dreamy cloud she was on just a little longer. Her sleepy gaze was drawn to the room. Now that she wasn’t in a lust-filled haze she was able to appreciate the work that had gone into the décor and design. The palette was predominately white with soft greys that glowed in the moonlight. And the bed they were in was like a massive cloud swathed in high thread-count sheets.

  Elodie closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the bliss a while longer.

  Caesario’s voice seemed like it was coming from miles away. “I suppose you want to get back to the party.”

  She opened one eye to find him on his side next to her, his hair wild but his eyes soft. She closed hers again. “Not particularly.” In fact, she could quite happily hide in there for the foreseeable future.

  There was a chuckle from him as she felt the tip of his finger circle her nipple. Her body responded immediately, tightening, begging for more of his touch.

  “Not concerned about your reputation?”

  She sighed as the calm evaporated. Elodie lifted herself up on one elbow to look at him. “It was in tatters the moment I let your aunt talk me into coming tonight.”

  “I don’t think it’s quite as dire as you think.”

  “No? You don’t think it was a bit mercenary of us both? She offered to be my patron if I came and, of course, I said yes. Even if it wasn’t because of her offer I would have come. But she wouldn’t know that, would she? Then to spend the night all but letting you grope me in front of everyone, that scene with redheaded bitch, then running up here with you … I doubt I can ever show my face in society ever again!”

  It was his turn to sigh. The touch of his finger on her chin opened her eyes and lifted her head so she met him face to face. “To hell with everyone else.”

  “Easy for you to say. No one would ever dare say a disparaging remark about you.”

  “Nor would I care if they did. You shouldn’t either.”

  She sniffed, her eyes filling suddenly. “I’m not built the same way.”

  “Cara.” He kissed her so gently it only made her want to cry more. “What does it matter what other people think?”

  “In my industry? Everything. One wrong word from the right person about my designs or the fabric or even the color of a specific outfit could turn people off and send potential clients to a competitor. I’m sure that redheaded cow is making sure of that right now!”

  He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Hush now. Listen.”

  She shook her head, dislodging his attempt to silence her. “We have to get out of here before the owner finds us in their bedroom.” Because the sumptuousness of the room could only be reserved for the owner of the house. She kicked off the tangle of bedclothes from her legs to slide from the bed, but a pair of strong arms prevented her from moving.

  “Tesoro. Stop. Breathe.”

  How could she when everything was unraveling all because of her lust for the man holding her? How could she be so stupid? “We—I—have to get out of here before someone comes in.”

  His hold stayed firm. “No one will disturb us, cara mia.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Caesario didn’t budge. “Did my dear zia not tell you what this party was for, Elodie?”

  Had she? Elodie didn’t recall her giving a reason for a party. But did the rich need an excuse? She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s a house warming.”

  “Oh my God.” Could things be any worse? “Are you telling me we just did—it—in your aunt’s bed?”

  Caesario groaned, this time with barely concealed irritation, when he had to keep her from leaving the bed yet again. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He rolled her under him and pinned her with his bigger body. “Look at me. I want you to see the truth when I say it.”

  Elodie ceased her struggles and stared up into the dark depths of his eyes.

  “Good.” He shifted positions. Not letting her up but easing back a little and straddling
her thighs. “Ana decided to throw me a house warming party. I had no idea about it until this afternoon. It came as quite a shock since I’d only signed the papers late last week. I was hoping for something a little quieter. More intimate.” He sighed. “The duchessa, obviously, had other plans.”

  It certainly looked like it. “I’m so confused. This is your place? But then why did she come for me? What do I have to do with all of this?”

  His smile grew. “I think, cara, I might have tipped her off to us when I mentioned your boutique to her a few months ago.”

  Her stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m hardly the type of man who goes around looking at women’s dress shops, am I?” The smile on his face grew sheepish. “You’re never far from my mind, cara. The day I mentioned your shop was no different. I’m sure my dear zia knew something was up, and when I mentioned knowing of a boutique when she was bemoaning not having anything fresh in her wardrobe … well, that was probably more than enough for her to figure things out.” He grazed her lips with his. “I never should have let you talk me into keeping our relationship a secret.”

  “You know very well why I wanted to keep us quiet.” Because she didn’t think she’d be able to fit in with his crowd. Elodie’s thoughts went to the creep at the bar and the redhead. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “You were very wrong, tesoro.”

  She tugged the sheet tight as if to armor herself from the memories. “You have got to be kidding me. I was a target all night.”

  He shook his adorably mussed head. “You know what I saw? An accomplished woman who was able to speak to everyone on every level. One who was warm and funny and happy and a true joy to be around. You lit up the room. Everyone was drawn to you.”

  Elodie rejected the notion. She’d tried, but felt on the outside the entire time, the exception being when she was with Caesario. “I felt like I was on exhibit. Especially before you arrived. Your aunt made it her job to introduce me to everyone.”

  “And why do you think that was?”

  “Why your aunt decided to show me off? No idea.”

  His smile softened. “It never occurred to you that she might approve of us and wanted everyone to know the fact?”

  It hadn’t, actually. Her heart bobbed in her chest. “You really think so?”

  “I know so.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Didn’t you say yourself that she’s a bit imperious? I’m just glad she didn’t make an announcement herself.”

  Just like that, her heart sank again. “Why not?” Because he wasn’t looking for permanence? Or perhaps he was but she wasn’t The One.

  He reached for the bedside table, flicked on the lamp and opened the drawer. “Because I want to be the one to announce our relationship to the world.” For a moment he just held her gaze. Looking deep into his eyes, she could see the love there. Blood drummed in her ears when he brought his hand in front of her face and opened it to reveal a deep blue velvet ring box. “Open it.”

  With trembling fingers, she snapped it open to reveal the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Clearly an antique, the art deco design was bold. A large baguette diamond sat at the center. Smaller stones of the same cut flanked the edges and were set off by square cut sapphires at the corners. All held together with gleaming platinum, the effect was spectacular. Glittery with inner fire. Elodie couldn’t find the words to describe how beautiful it was or the immensity of the feelings ricocheting through her.

  “It reminded me of you.” Caesario’s expression was uncharacteristically unsure but hopeful. “So, what do you say? Should we give my aunt a thrill and turn this house warming into an engagement party?”

  Everything inside her was clamoring for her to accept. To grab him and never let him go. “I … I…”

  “Say yes.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It’s very simple, Elodie. We’ve been together over a year, and I can’t think of any one I’m as compatible with. I know you can’t either. We both want this.”

  True as that might be, Elodie had one question. “Why didn’t you tell me about Clarice and what she was doing?”

  Caesario shook his head. “To be honest, I barely noticed her presence. I assumed that she was with someone else and just happened to be invited to the same events. I had no idea she was still carrying a torch, let alone attacking women she saw as a rival.” He grazed the bruise on her cheek with his thumb, his eyes glittering with anger as he remembered what Clarice had done before they softened again when he gazed into her eyes. “I never gave her any encouragement, I swear to you. After the one horrid date we’d had long before I’d met you, I never looked at her again, let alone sought her out. The only person I want with me, anywhere, is you.”

  It was all true. She could see it in his eyes, hear the truth ringing in his words.

  Caesario took her hands and peered into her eyes. “I love you. Probably since the moment I met you. You’re the only one who has ever made me feel this way. The only one I’ll ever say those words to. Make me the happiest man in the world and in turn I will make sure you never know another moment of sadness.”

  Her breath caught. “I love you, too. I have for a long time. Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

  With a triumphant whoop, he slid the ring onto her finger before kissing her deeply. “Thank you, cara mia.” Caesario started to climb off the bed. “Now to tell the world.”

  She couldn’t help the impish little smile that crept over her lips as she slid her leg between his and held him tight. As wonderful as it was that he was so excited to share their news with everyone—and of course she wanted to as well—Elodie wanted a more private celebration first.

  “Rio…” Stretching so the sheet covering her breasts slipped downward, Elodie batted her lashes at him.

  He swore roughly in Italian not only at her use of her nickname for him, but her baiting him with her breasts. Smirking, he pushed her back onto the bed. “You play dirty, my love. But you’re right, the world can wait.”

  The End

  Find more books from author Kait Gamble:

  www.evernightpublishing.com/kait-gamble

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S LOST HEART

  Allegra Grey

  Copyright © 2020

  Jax

  “Sorry, babe, it’s not happening.” I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but Serena is crying into the phone, and after a few more unresponsive phrases, I mute my speaker so she can wail in peace. Why did I date an actress? Movement drags my attention from the phone on my desk to the arched doorway leading to the hall in time to see my cousin step through. Steve’s rumpled shirt and dust-covered jeans must be courtesy of our grandfather’s attic storage where I’d last seen him a couple hours ago. His face is smudged with more dirt, and his brows arch as he stares at my shrieking phone.

  “Didn’t mean to intrude, Jax,” he says quietly. I chuckle.

  “No worries. You’re fine.” I kick my feet up on the broad mahogany desk. Grandfather’s study is a nightmare of heavy dark wood and leather books. He’d been a manager at the coal mine, and his concept of classy decor stopped at 1937. “She’s working through her repertoire. It’ll be over pretty quick.”

  “That sounds, uh, personal?” He steps through the doorway despite this, and I laugh.

  “Nah. Serena’s getting in character as a dumped wannabe.”

  “You…”

  “Hold on. Be right with you.” Her wailing volume is decreasing, so I switch the mic on. “Serena, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I don’t care. I’m out. Family shit. You know how it is.”

  “You promised!” Her voice breaks. Half the men in southern California would’ve cracked, too, and gone running. Guess it’s a good thing I’m in godforsaken Indiana.

  “And then my grandfather died.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t make an awards show three weeks from now!”

  “Consider it new priorities.”
<
br />   Steve shuffles over, eyeing the door. I hold up a finger to forestall his escape. Taking the cue, he heads for Grandpa’s small side bar in the corner and pours us both a couple fingers of bourbon in heavy cut crystal snifters.

  “I thought you were coming straight back,” Serena sniffles. She’s damn good at pulling heartstrings with tearful speeches, but I can’t summon any warmth for her. She knows I hate displays, even private ones. “You didn’t even talk to me about staying. I could’ve gone with you. I—”

  “I’m not running my schedule by you. We aren’t together.”

  The rest of the call ends in a hailstorm of names and tears. I hang up before she gets too far into her feelings and face my cousin’s impassive expression.

  “That was cold, bro.”.

  I shrug. “She’s just insulted, not hurt. It’ll be forgiven by Monday.”

  “Man, you’ve been dating for six months. You ain’t even letting her down easy.”

  “She’s dating my bank account, and she’ll have a new account’s shoulder to cry on in ten minutes. Give it a week, all will be forgiven.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll find a new model when I get back to the city.”

  “No country girls?”

  I consider that for a second. I like women, love sex, but out here in the downtrodden hinterlands of the rust belt, the women who’d love my bottomless wallet and limitless credit cards are hungry for more than Chanel suits and Tiffany diamonds. It feels like punching down. I could say I don’t go for crooked teeth or less than perfect body types, but that’s token bullshit. I always date women who frequent the social circles around me, who know the rules. I don’t see anyone for more than a year; I don’t give a damn what their career is, or want to meet their kids or their fur babies. We date to be seen in the media, and create networking opportunities. I don’t hide my wealth, and I don’t put up with pretense on their parts that they want anything else.