by Vivien Vale
“What’s this?” I ask. When I look up at Wes, he’s not in his seat anymore, but kneeling on the ground.
“Marry me,” he says. “I love you. Be mine forever.”
It’s so simple, so straightforward and tears well up in my eyes. I nod. “Yes,” I say.
Wes takes the ring and slips it onto my finger. It’s beautiful – a princess cut with diamonds set around it into the band and it fits perfectly.
I kiss him. He stands up, pulling me into him, pressing his body against mine. He’s just as turned on as he was when we were at home, and my body responds immediately. I want him.
“I want you, now,” I say.
Wes looks around. We’re in a classy restaurant. He calls for the check and pays for the meal before he takes me with him to the entrance where a coat check girl is reading a book.
“What are you checking in?” she asks.
“Us,” Wes says, and he slides a couple of bills across the counter to her. She glances up at the manager that sweeps past us in a hurry before she takes the bills.
“Only a couple of minutes,” she says.
“It’s all I need,” Wes says and pulls me into the closet.
“What are you doing?” I ask. We’re acting like teenagers when we have a home to go to and a bed we can fuck in all night.
“Keeping it fun,” he says, and he’s right.
The thrill of being caught reminds me of the sex we had in the office so many months ago. Any moment, we can be caught, and that makes it feel so much more fun, even though the sex is always perfect at home. Wes presses me against the coats that are lined up along the one wall, and we’re engulfed in the smells of other people, perfume hugging us.
Wes doesn’t waste time. He hikes up my dress, pulls down my panties far enough to give himself space and brushes his fingers against my pussy.
“You’re so wet,” he says.
“You sound surprised,” I whisper. I’m already out of breath, my skin tingling, my body aching for a release.
He grins at me, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I know you’re my little office slut.”
It’s a running joke between us. I don’t have time to laugh at it. His fingers circle my clit a few times, and I gasp before he pushes his fingers into me. I gasp. He finger fucks me for a short while. I reach into his pants and pump my hand up and down around his cock.
When he lets go of me, I can focus on undoing his pants, and I free his cock. It’s hard and eager, and I want it inside of me.
Wes hikes up my leg and holds it up, pressing me against the cushioning wall of coats. His other hand is on my breast, massaging me through the material.
“We don’t have much time,” he says in a throaty growl.
“Best do it quick then,” I say. I’m already breathing hard. The thrill has me on the edge already, and Wes is so hot and demanding I love it.
He pushes himself into me without much ceremony and I’m so wet he slides right in. I gasp. I’ll never get used to the size and the feel of him.
He starts pumping into me, fucking me hard. I moan, and he lets go of my breast, clamping a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, instead.
It’s hot. He’s pinning me against the coats with his hand over my mouth, and I can’t help but want more domination. I want him to take me.
As if he knows what I’m thinking he fucks me as hard as he wants to, slamming into me. I am so close to the edge it’s driving me crazy. He grunts and groans softly as he pounds into me. He was right when he said he didn’t need a lot of time. In no time at all, he pushes me over the edge, and I orgasm. It’s hot and heavy, washing over me, blinding me for a moment. His hand is firmly in place over my mouth, and I gasp through my nose. My orgasm kick starts his, and he empties himself out inside me, pumping and jerking. He shudders when he’s done, and slowly he uncovers my mouth. We’re both breathing hard.
“Let’s get out of here,” Wes says. “I want to take you in every position I can, and we don’t have time for that, here.”
I nod. He pulls out of me and lets me go. I’m unsteady on my feet. I bend down and pull my underwear back on. I don’t have time to clean up, but I don’t mind the wet mess in my panties. We’re going home, and I’m getting more of that.
Wes pops his head out of the closet and pulls me with him a moment later. The coat check girl looks smug as if she’s happy with her end of the bargain. Wes and I walk hand in hand out of the restaurant and back to the car.
There’s never a dull moment with him, and I’m sure we’re going to keep having this kind of fun. I lift my hand and look at the ring that sparkles in the dim lighting.
I can’t wait for the rest of our lives together.
Hard Luck
A Billionaire Second Chance Romance
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Sienna
I take a handful of my thick, long golden hair and twist it tight, securing it in place with pins.
Then I ease on the wig and adjust the glossy black bangs so they sit at the top of my brow. I make sure the part is straight, as if it were made by a knife. I smooth down the hair around my face, moving my head from one side to the other.
I’m assessing myself, critiquing my reflection.
My new hair shines under the overhead light of the hotel’s dressing room. The cut hits under my chin, a dramatic frame for my face.
My gaze moves down, taking in how the soft gold silk dress I’m wearing hugs my hips and falls around my legs, rippling when I move. I look as if I’ve been dipped in honeyed ambrosia.
The dress has turned my hazel eyes to gold.
I planned my look this evening especially carefully. I want to walk out of this room onto the casino floor and into my new life as part of Roger’s Inner Sanctum, the elite escort service I’ll be working with from now on, and to exude power and mystery.
Of course, it’s my bad luck that my debut has to take place in the back rooms of the Alchema, the sleek and elegant hotel and casino owned by none other than Leo fucking Asher.
Leo’s come a long way from the boy who raced around the grounds of my father’s estate.
His father worked for us; his mother lost a battle to cancer when he was a toddler. Growing up, Leo and my brother, Jax, would spend their days teasing me and racing around the grounds of our California ranch.
We grew older.
Jax went east to boarding school; Leo won a scholarship and followed.
I stayed behind.
When the boys came home on holidays, Jax’s teasing turned into sharp jabs at my expense. His friendship with Leo had cooled significantly.
Maybe it was simply a case of growing older and growing apart, but I don’t know what happened. Jax would get annoyed when I’d ask and Leo would ignore the question completely.
By the time they went to college, neither one was speaking to the other, so Leo turned his attention to me. He would call me Golden, because of my hair and eyes. We would talk or sit together quietly for hours.
Then, ten years ago, he left California and transferred to Harvard. He only came home to visit once. It was the summer I turned eighteen.
Three months before my father had to shutter the mines that made the Reids the prominent family we were.
Five months before the beginning of the legal wrangling that left my family broke.
We lost everything.
Meanwhile, Leo made a name for himself in New York. Opening bars and then clubs, he had the golden touch because every establishment he worked on was a wild success.
Now, at 30, Leo Asher is a hotel and ca
sino magnate. He not only owns the 55-story Alchema Hotel in Vegas, but the Nocturne in Monaco.
If I see Leo, I want to be the opposite of the girl he must remember: she was young, gentle, eager, shameless, and curious.
I try to assure myself that I won’t see him because otherwise I won’t maintain my calm.
Ten years ago, when I was eighteen and hungry to explore the things he made me feel, Leo ran his finger across my jaw one afternoon.
I let him see me shudder.
He called me Golden, and I opened myself to him.
Gave myself to him.
Gave him everything.
The memory quickens my pulse. I can see the flush on my cheeks reflected back to me in the mirror, feel the heat on my skin as it reddens before me.
My nipples harden under my dress, the fabric feeling suddenly restrictive, invasive, and giving me attention I don’t want because I memories I can’t forget.
I exhale and try to push the thought of him out of my head, angry that he still has this effect on me after all this time.
Control is exactly the thing I don’t want to grant him; it is precisely the thing he has over me now.
I want control of my body, but my reactions leave me as helpless as if his hot breath was between my thighs right now while he looked up at me, searing my soul with that wicked blaze in his eyes from that night.
“You won’t see him,” I say aloud to remind myself that even if I do see him, he won’t recognize me because I’m disguised.
It is his hotel. He’ll be busy tending to guests and putting out fires as comes with running a business.
He won’t recognize the woman I’ve become...beneath the disguise, or through the years.
I reapply my lipstick and draw a sharp nail across the bottom of my lip to catch any color which may have bled. It’s unnecessary. My lipstick is perfect.
I smile at myself in the mirror.
There’s a knock on the door—two short raps and then the sound of the electronic card beeping entry.
The door opens and Roger walks into the suite, moving towards the dressing room.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered. His clear blue eyes are sharp under black brows, and his white hair is clipped neatly. He looks and acts decades younger than his seventy-seven years.
The only concession to his advancing age is the silver-topped mahogany cane he’s forced to use.
“Hello, Sienna, my darling,” Roger says as he stands behind me.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. His left hand caresses my arm, moving up and down. It’s a familiar gesture, one that’s meant to comfort…and excite.
I smile at him.
“Hello, Roger.”
“Are you ready for your debut?”
I nod. My heart’s racing so fast, I worry it’s vibrating my skin and he can feel the thrum through the skin of my arm.
Roger bends and kisses my neck.
“You’re absolutely beautiful tonight,” he says. “They’ll be lining up for you.”
The other escorts told me to expect this.
“He’s harmless,” they all promised.
“He thinks of us as his daughters,” one girl told me.
He’s a pretty fucked up father.
I watch his eyes move over my body. Taking his time evaluating me.
When my eyes meet his, he smiles.
I hold my breath as his hand travels down the side of me and over my curves, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
“They’re going to love you,” he says. He skips a beat and looks to the door.
This is the opening, the break in his actions that lets me move on and I start to breathe again.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I nod and slip my feet into black leather heels.
Grabbing my clutch, I follow my new boss out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator made of glass.
Below us, the hotel is abuzz with activity. The lights on the machines flicker as the noise from jackpots sound incessantly.
My heart beats fast. I’m nervous… but I’m excited, too.
If I can handle this new job, I’ll be able to do everything I want to do.
I’ll move Dad from California to Vegas and into the Alzheimer care facility near Bonnie Springs.
Pay off my school loans.
Be able to save for the future.
I can buy myself time to figure out what I want to do with my life.
All I know is working with the Inner Sanctum can give me options.
To me, it feels less humiliating than waiting tables on the strip, where anyone can sit down at the table and ask you to tell them the specials. Anyone…like Leo.
This is just another job.
Though, of course, it’s not.
Still, it can set me up for a decade.
Let me explore myself.
Let me explore my fantasies.
I’m protected from being uncomfortable, for the most part, because with the exception of showing up for dinners and events, Roger says I can say no to everything else.
We ride down thirty floors to the mezzanine level.
When the doors slide open, Roger takes my elbow and guides me out.
The entire hotel looks like it’s gleaming. The marbled floors are buffed to a high shine. The chrome details on the ceiling stretch downwards like stalactites.
“This way,” Roger says, bypassing the escalator to the top of the curved staircase leading to the gaming room. “I want the entire floor to see you.”
It feels like every eye in the casino is on us. For a moment, the noise from the slots and the conversations fall mute as the seconds stretch out in a surreal dreamlike suspension of time.
What have I gotten myself into?
Then Roger places his hand on the small of my back and we walk together slowly down the golden staircase.
No turning back now.
We wind our way through the tourist tables towards an ornate set of doors where two men with beautifully tailored, monochromatic black suits stand ready. One of the men nods to Roger and inclines his head towards me.
“Good evening, sir,” he says. “Evening, madam.”
The man then opens the door to another room.
This one is filled with tables where tuxedoed men and elegantly clad women sit together. Gold and black chips are stacked high in front of most of the men in this room.
The cocktail waitresses aren’t smiling. They all have matching red lips and are wearing identical body-hugging, short black dresses. They move smoothly, deliberately, between the tables, deftly staying out of the grasp of high-rolling men sweating over their winnings.
“Welcome to your new office,” Roger says to me with a laugh.
He takes the two glasses of champagne a waitress offers him and hands me one.
“Our clients are among the wealthiest, most powerful men and women in the world,” he says, using his glass to gesture at the room.
“They come to Las Vegas on business or on a break from business. They’re preoccupied with glamour and luxury. They want to experience sensuality. They come here to play among the elites, the crème de la crème.
“That’s where we—well, that’s where you come in,” he says, nodding at me.
“Your job is to make these men, and sometimes women, feel as if they’ve reached the pinnacle of their lives. It isn’t simply laughing at their jokes and seeing to their needs, but your success hinges on your ability to make our clients feel as if they’ve arrived at the inner sanctum, as if the Earth turns with their every desire.
As I listen to Roger, I let my eyes move over the crowd.
“Make our clients feel like they’re the most interesting people you’ve ever met, as if they’re each more exceptional than the last. You’ll be a player in their beautiful game.”
My eyes lock with an attractive Indian man. He holds my gaze for a beat before nodding to Roger.
The man’s gaze follows me as he whispers to a beautiful Asian woman s
itting next to him.
I note her delicate features as she looks to Roger, then locks my gaze.
The man gets up and he walks towards us, stopping in front of me.
“Hello, Roger,” the man says, “it’s good to see you.”
“Rahul,” Roger says. “Have you met Sienna?”
“No,” Rahul replies, his eyes on me and not Roger. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say. I look up at him through my lashes and let my eyes linger over his full lips. I extend my hand and he takes it.
This is part of the job.
This is what you chose.
These reminders do little to calm my fast-beating heart.
Rahul holds my hand a little longer than necessary as he rubs his thumb across my palm, then finally lets it go.
“I hope I’ll see you soon,” he says to me.
“How is your night going?” Roger asks him. “I see you’re with Salma.”
“She’s lovely,” Rahul says, turning towards Roger.
Rahul looks at me again. “It was nice to meet you, Sienna. Welcome to the Sanctum.”
Salma and Rahul return to their table.
Roger seems pleased. Rahul, he tells me, is one of the wealthiest venture capitalists working in Silicon Valley. It’s rumored he’ll be running for governor of California.
I wonder vaguely if Rahul knows my brother, Jax, Nevada’s junior U.S. senator.
It’s a good thing I chose to wear a disguise…Jax is already furious enough that I took this job. If it became public knowledge…
Roger walks over to another man who is elegantly dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark blue suit. His name, I’m told, is Johnny Engles. He’s a multibillionaire hedge fund founder who happens to be confined to a wheelchair.
Johnny smiles at me and pushes his long dark hair out of his eyes. He looks at me curiously.
Perhaps he’s trying to place me.
We exchange pleasantries and I’m not doing so poorly right now. Rahul touched me longer than necessary, and Johnny was cordial. I think after the variety of introductions I’m sure to get tonight, I’ll just try to take everything in stride.
