The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy

by Alexa Wilder

  9

  Dylan

  She was a revelation. The entire night hadn’t been what I’d expected. I pulled out of Leigha’s clinging pussy and stepped back, taking in the sight of her lush, curvy body, damp with perspiration, flushed with passion, our come dripping down the insides of her thighs.

  She was innocence debauched, her dark hair tousled, her eyes still closed, those pink lips parted as she gasped for air. I’d known she would be good. That was why I’d suffered through a half an hour with her ridiculous family. I’d had no idea she would be this good.

  Leigha was gorgeous. She was a real woman, beautiful, with real curves and real responses. Her soft, heavy breasts were a dream all on their own. Add in that tight, eager pussy, and she was perfect. Her intelligence and sweetness were only a bonus.

  Whatever I’d thought I was getting myself into when I’d proposed being her date in exchange for her body, things had changed.

  She thought this was just for a weekend. She thought I would let her walk away. Before the next two days were over, Leigha Carmichael would learn. She was mine, for as long as I wanted her.

  10

  Leigha

  I woke up to the sound of the door closing, the metallic click startling me out of my dreams. For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The room was dark, the bed wide, the sheets heavy and silky smooth. It wasn’t my bedroom, I knew that much. I’d been living there for two years, and still hadn’t hung curtains to block the early morning sun. My bed was a double with the same sheets I’d had in college. Stroking a hand over the fabric covering my naked body, I resolved to get a new set of sheets at home ASAP. I didn’t want to think about what they’d cost, but Dylan’s sheets were amazing.

  Dylan. The thought of his name brought the night before rushing back. First, meeting him in the bar, making that insane deal, then sucking his cock in a hallway, almost in plain view of the whole casino. And the orgasms. I’d never had sex like that before. I never even imagined I would. Leaning up against the window in his living room, my eyes on the lights of Vegas as he fucked me from behind was unbelievable.

  Sitting up in the bed, I pulled the sheet around me and looked for Dylan. The room was empty, the bathroom door wide open, and the light off. From what I’d seen the night before, the penthouse was enormous, so he might be somewhere else, but he wasn’t in the master suite.

  There was a folded note on the bedside table. It read, At the gym, back by 9:30. A glance at the clock told me I had an hour before he was back. Part of me wanted to laze around in bed, but the rest of me desperately wanted a shower. Getting up, I headed for the bathroom to see my toiletries arranged neatly on the right side of the sink. If I had to guess, I’d bet my clothes were hung equally neatly in the closet. It must be nice to have a whole hotel’s worth of employees ready to jump to do your bidding. I’d never aspired to wealth. I’d always just wanted to be secure - a good job, with a decent place to live, and maybe enough money to go on vacation occasionally. But it was fun to see what the other side was like even if it was only for a few days, though.

  I could happily start with the bathroom. Easily bigger than my living room at home, it had a wide, creamy, marble counter, with a square custom designed sink set in the middle. The mirror was huge, framed in gilt, the linens all top quality. The shower and tub were opposite the sink, and both were big enough for an orgy. I couldn’t guess how much water it would take to fill the tub, though I’d love to find out. Fashioned from the same creamy marble as the rest of the bathroom, it sat beside the shower, in front of yet another window overlooking Vegas. It looked more like a hand carved piece of sculpture than a bathtub.

  As much as I would have loved to try it out, I headed for the oversized shower instead. A quick look in the mirror showed ratty hair, eyeliner circles under my eyes and pillow creases on my cheek. I didn’t want Dylan to see me like this. Not if I could help it. It took me a minute to figure out the controls for the multiple showerheads, but once I got it, I started to think about redoing my whole bathroom at home. His shower was amazing - jets of water coming from all sides as a waterfall spilled from above. Yum. Then I remembered Steven and my empty bank account. Never mind. No new bathroom for me. Not for a long time. And probably no new sheets either.

  I pushed that problem to the back of my mind. There was nothing I could do about Steven and all the money he’d stolen, so there was no point in dwelling on it. When would I get another chance to spend the weekend with a hot billionaire who was fantastic in bed? Likely, this was my one and only shot, so I wasn’t going to waste it moping about my asshole ex and his theft of my life savings. Instead, I’d think about the night before.

  The sex alone was enough to keep my brain occupied. The way he’d taken me against the glass window, not letting me turn to look at him, was beyond hot. And after, when I’d finally gotten my breath back, he’d wrapped me in a loosely woven blanket and led me to the couch where he’d fed me bites of the meals we’d abandoned when we’d fled the dinner with my family.

  I vaguely remembered Dylan letting the waiter in while I’d stood at the window, naked and under orders not to move. At the time it made me hot. I should have been embarrassed about it, now that I’d had a night to sleep on it and I wasn’t so turned on. But I wasn’t embarrassed.

  I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I’d been following Dylan’s orders. There was something both freeing and arousing about giving him responsibility for my decisions. I’d always been the responsible one, the one who had the bills paid on time, was never late, and took care of everyone else. Now that I was an adult and living on my own, I only had myself to care for, but my job involved making the best decisions I could for others--decisions that could cost them a lot of money if my judgement was off. Letting Dylan take over, if just for a little while, had felt like freedom. It was only playing, only sex--Not real life. That made it even better.

  He’d taken me to bed after the last bite of the decadent cheesecake he’d ordered, sliding into those smooth sheets bedside me before turning my naked body to his and making love to me all over again. I didn’t remember falling asleep, just those last moments of laying on top of him, his cock still inside me as his hands roamed up and down my back. We had a whole day to kill before the rehearsal dinner. I wondered what he had planned.

  11

  Dylan

  I ended my work out early. I never did that. It was the one part of my day I kept for myself, no matter what else was going on with the casino and Kane Enterprises. But that morning, I couldn’t get Leigha off my mind. Running on the treadmill, then lifting weights, all I could think about was her—naked, sleeping in my bed, waiting for me to come back and fuck her again. Just the thought of her tight, hot pussy and those full tits had me half hard. Not exactly what I was going for when I was surrounded by a room full of sweaty strangers. Fuck the workout. I could get a different kind of workout upstairs.

  I heard the shower as soon as I opened the bedroom door. At the mental image of Leigha slick with soap, my cock went from half hard to a steel bar. I hoped she was ready for me. I’d come inside her three times the day before and it still hadn’t been enough. Opening the bathroom door slowly, so she wouldn’t see me right away, I watched her through the film of steam on the glass shower doors. Her head was tipped back as she rinsed her hair, pink lips parted, upper back arched just enough to point her heavy breasts up toward the ceiling. I couldn’t wait another second.

  Stripping off my workout clothes, I paced to the shower and pulled open the door, enjoying her squeal of surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes wide. I nudged her out of the stream of water and tipped my own head back, rinsing away the sweat from my workout.

  “I live here.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later. You surprised me.”

  “A good surprise or a bad surprise?” I asked, watching her pupils dilate as she took in my already hard cock. For a moment, she said nothing, but looked her f
ill.

  “A very good surprise,” she said, reaching for the bottle of soap on the shelf. “Turn around,” she whispered.

  So far I’d been the one in control of everything between us. The only thing Leigha had done on her own was that blowjob in the hall the night before. Given how fucking amazing that had been, I was more than happy to let her take over, at least for now. She didn’t disappoint. Filling her hands with soap, she ran them over my back, slicking the suds over my skin, massaging and stroking me clean.

  She didn’t rush, taking her time to explore every inch of my back before she moved on to my arms. I thought she’d turn me around before she went any lower, but she squeezed out more soap and dropped to her knees, smoothing her hands over my ass before giving me a tight squeeze. Then down to my hamstrings and my calves. My cock was so hard, I was leaking drops of pre-come. It took everything I had to resist taking charge. But I wanted to see how far Leigha would go.

  Finally, she stood and moved around my body, facing me. She met my eyes, her grey gaze an intoxicating swirl of lust and nerves. Her natural shyness, combined with her lush body and her uninhibited sexual response, had me hooked. The more I had of her, the more I wanted. She didn’t really fit my life, but I didn’t care. I was Dylan Kane. I could make her fit if I wanted to.

  Stroking her hands across my shoulders, she spread the slippery soap over my skin, rubbing lightly, as if focused on actually getting me clean. Then she did something that surprised me. She tipped the bottle of soap over her chest and rubbed it in until her full, round breasts shone with gleaming bubbles. Leaning closer, she pressed herself to my chest and shifted her skin back and forth against mine, using her tits to clean me.

  The sensation was mind blowing. I was already in love with her breasts, their weight and fullness, the way they spilled over my hands. But, having them stroking me, slipping over my chest, hard nipples almost digging in as she moved herself in circles on my skin, made this the best shower of my life. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on before I had to fuck her. I willed my body to relax and enjoy the moment, but the second her soapy hands reached down to stroke my cock in rhythm with her breasts sliding across my chest, I knew I’d reached the end of my endurance.

  I thought about taking her from behind, like I had the night before, but I wasn’t willing to lose the exquisite sensation of her slippery breasts moving against me. Fortunately, I’d had a bench built into the enormous shower for just this kind of situation. Backing up, I drew Leigha with me, never losing contact with her.

  Moving by feel, I sat down, sliding my hands to her ass, and pulled her to straddle my lap. There was plenty of room for her knees to slide in beside my hips as I fit my cock to her pussy. She was wet for me and still so tight. Her eyes half closed, she trembled above me, waiting. This was what I was coming to love about her, this combination of submission and strength.

  She wasn’t a pushover or weak. So far Leigha was smart, with a strong personality, even if she did need to work on her self-esteem. She didn’t seem to understand how beautiful she was, especially hovering over the tip of my cock. She knew instinctively that I needed control and she gave me that control without question, trusting me to make it good for her, and I would. I hesitated for just a second, taking in the sight of her rounded body, gleaming from the water, shaking in need. I wasn’t going to last long once I got inside that tight pussy.

  “Ride me,” I said, clamping my hands on her round ass. She was so much woman, perfectly shaped, soft and curvy wherever I touched, not too much and definitely not too little. Leigha obeyed, as I’d known she would, pressing her body into mine until she’d taken every inch of my cock. She looked at me, her eyes locked onto mine. The sight of her nerves draining away, replaced by sheer lust, was too much.

  I kissed her, taking her head in my hands, leaving her free to move on me however she liked. She rode me hard, her tits stroking my chest with each thrust of her pussy on my cock. Tiny moans echoed off the marble walls of the shower until she broke our kiss, breathing hard, crying out my name as she came.

  At the sharp sound of her ecstasy, I let go, pulled into my own orgasm by the fierce clenching of her wet heat around my cock. When we were done, we sat there, pounded by the water, getting our breath back. I’d been right. While it wasn’t what I’d planned for our encounters, letting Leigha take a little bit of control had paid off. I loved having her on top, putting those lush breasts within easy reach.

  I stood, placing her gently on her feet. Before I left her to finish her shower, I kissed her temple, somehow unable to walk away from her.

  12

  Leigha

  As soon as Dylan was gone, I sank back onto the bench. Holy shit. I’d thought the night before had been hot. Then, he hadn’t really let me do much other than follow his lead. I don’t really know where I got the idea to wash him, but the sight of him fully naked, in the bright light of the bathroom, was too much.

  It that body was the result, I fully approved of him getting up early to hit the gym. I’d known he was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, based on the way he wore his suits. Seeing Dylan fully naked was a completely different story. Defined pecs, six pack abs and a tight butt, with well-muscled legs. Even his feet were sexy. I saw the soap, and it seemed like the perfect excuse to get my hands all over him.

  I don’t know where I got the idea to clean him with my breasts. I’d never done anything like that before, but by the time I’d washed half his body, I was so crazy with lust it felt like a perfectly normal idea. I had to do that again. The scrape of his chest hair against my nipples, the heated flare in his eyes every time I wiggled and slid my breasts against him - it was the hottest thing I’d ever done, aside from actually having sex with him.

  The sex had been different this time. It’s not that I had any complaints about the night before. He’d come three times, once in my mouth and twice while we were having sex. I’d come four times. Four times! It had been amazing, hot and passionate. This was more. His mouth on mine, our eyes connecting as I moved on top of him, that gentle kiss to my temple as he left the shower. This time, it felt like more than sex.

  Shaking my head at myself, I rinsed one more time under the rainfall showerhead and turned the water off. No spinning daydreams out of Dylan Kane, I told myself. You made a deal. He wants to fuck you for the weekend, not make you his girlfriend or fall in love with you. Do not get attached. Take the orgasms, rub your sisters’ noses in your unbelievably hot date, and then let it go.

  I was trying to listen to myself. The last thing I needed was another broken heart after what happened with Steven. Not that he really broke my heart, but the humiliation and anger over what he’d done was bad enough. I didn’t need to fall for a billionaire playboy who was only looking for a good time. Resolving to stay in control of my emotions, I concentrated on putting on my lotion, drying my hair and adding some makeup so I looked a little more sophisticated. I needed all the armor I could get if I was going to keep up with Dylan.

  I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, to find my clothes hadn’t been put away neatly like my toiletries. I checked the walk-in closet and found mainly Dylan’s things, rows of suits, dress shoes, casual wear, all neatly folded or hung in a closet bigger than my bedroom at home.

  In a small section near the door, I discovered a few items of women’s clothing. Three dresses, two pairs of jeans I knew cost several hundred dollars each. A few blouses, two tailored skirts and a selection of shoes. Beside it all, a drawer full of lingerie. All of it top quality. I was pretty sure I recognized the black spike heels with the distinctive red sole as Louboutins. Exactly the kind of clothes a woman who belonged with Dylan Kane would wear.

  My heart sank. There was no commitment between us, but I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my own boyfriend and not with someone else’s. He’d been so open with me in front of his employees, I’d assumed that meant he didn’t have anything to hide. Maybe he didn’t. He was obscenely wea
lthy, he owned the casino, and he was well known. If I read the paper more often, I would have recognized him on sight at the bar. Maybe his girlfriend didn’t care if he had fun on the side as long as she got to hang part of her exclusive designer wardrobe in his penthouse closet.

  I sat on the bench in the middle of the closet, my stomach twisting in disappointment, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to stay. Dylan was charming. He was fun, and he was the best sex I’d ever had by far. I only had until Sunday with him anyway, which was barely two days. I wasn’t the one with a girlfriend. I was unattached. I could do whatever I wanted.

  No you can’t. Sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend will make you feel like shit. You know it will. And it would. I already felt guilty and, while I had slept with another woman’s boyfriend, at least I’d done it unknowingly. If I didn’t leave, I’d be doing it on purpose. The whole idea made me feel cheap. Sure, making a deal to sleep with a guy in exchange for his pretending to be my boyfriend for the weekend wasn’t exactly classy, but when I’d thought we were both free it had seemed like fun. Crazy, unexpected, not like me at all kind of fun. Now it didn’t feel like fun at all.

  I stood, cinched my towel tighter around my chest, and prepared to face Dylan. I would rather have done it in anything other than a towel, but I still didn’t know where my clothes were and I wasn’t going to borrow his girlfriend’s, not that they would fit. Any girlfriend of Dylan’s serious enough to have her clothes in his closet would be skinny and perfect

  Dylan was standing in the living room of the penthouse, dressed in faded jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt, his sexy feet bare on the polished wood floor. He had his phone to his ear, talking in a low voice as he absently took in the view through the window. Seeing me, he said a quick goodbye and hung up. I looked around the room, avoiding Dylan’s eyes, feeling my cheeks heat at the sight of the tall window behind him. I’d let him fuck me against that window. Let him show me to the room service waiter. I hadn’t felt ashamed then. I did now.