by Alexa Wilder
Maybe there was a bright side to leaving Dylan so quickly. Eventually he’d show that he was an asshole. In my experience, most men did if I gave them enough time. A hot, brilliant, billionaire? It was too much to hope that he was as sweet and caring as he seemed. No, anything that seemed too good to be true always was. At least this way I’d be leaving before I saw the jerk hiding inside his perfect exterior.
We brought only the black and white dress and matching shoes back to the penthouse. Lola had arranged for the rest to be delivered later in the day. Dylan barely spoke on the ride back to the Delecta, his jaw tight, eyes on the road. I might have worried about his closed expression, but his hand on my leg, fingertips tracing circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, convinced me that he was just focused on getting home as fast as he could.
He held himself in check until we were behind the heavy doors of the penthouse. The second they shut, he tossed the dress to the floor and swung me around until my back hit the door. A breath later, his hands were under my dress, tearing off my panties. He lifted me, fingers gripping my ass as my legs wrapped around his waist. My head dropped back, thudding into the door as he filled me, the stretch of his cock more than welcome after wanting him all day.
It went fast, his face dropped into my neck, his breath against my skin, the pressure between my legs building with every thrust. I heard myself crying out his name as I came, the sound sobbing out as the pleasure overwhelmed me. I think Dylan came with me, but I wasn’t sure since he never really went soft.
Still inside me, he carried me back to the bed and lowered us down, pulling off my dress as we went. Needing to feel his skin on mine, I tore at his shirt until my breasts pressed to his warm chest. I reached for his face, wanting the connection of his mouth on mine. He gave me what I wanted, kissing me with hunger as he started fucking me again. I wouldn’t have thought I could come again so quickly. I would have been wrong.
Later, after drifting into sleep draped over Dylan, his hand possessively clamped on my ass, I woke to find myself alone in the bed. After a quick visit to the bathroom, I pulled on the button down shirt I’d torn off Dylan earlier and went looking for him. As he had that morning, he stood at the window, phone to his ear, this time bare-chested. Yum. When he wasn’t spending time with me, it seemed he was working. Catching sight of me in his shirt, his eyes heated.
He gestured to the room service cart in the center of the room. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but it felt like breakfast was days ago instead of hours. Lifting the lids on the trays, I saw a cheeseburger with waffle fries, a grilled salmon sandwich and fish tacos, all still steaming. They must have just been delivered. My stomach growled.
Dylan’s arms closed around me. “Hungry?” he asked, kissing the side of my mouth.
“Very,” I said, leaning into him. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“Don’t be. It’s my mission to wear you out.” I felt the heat hit my cheeks. He’d definitely done that. I was hoping that after we fueled up he’d be willing to do it again. “Which do you want?” He gestured to the food.
“All of it looks good,” I said.
“A little of everything?”
“That would be perfect.” He began dividing the plates. “Dylan?” I asked, nervous I was going to upset our cozy afternoon. He looked up at me, waiting, eyes narrowed as if he knew he wouldn’t like my question. “I need my purse back. I have to check my phone, see if my Mom called.”
“Then you just need your phone,” he said.
“Why don’t you want to give me my purse?” I asked, confused and a little weirded out.
“I don’t trust you yet,” he said, bluntly, his eyes meeting mine in a stare that left no room for compromise.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I protested.
“This morning, if you’d had your purse, would you have left me?”
I looked away. I would have. I would have run out of here as fast as I could and not looked back. Still, saying he didn’t trust me was harsh. Then again, clearly, I didn’t trust him either, or I wouldn’t have freaked when I saw the women’s clothes in his closet. We’d only known each other a day. Why was trust even an issue?
I could answer that question myself. Because we had a deal, and Dylan thought I was going to bail on my end. After my behavior that morning, I couldn’t really argue with his logic, even though keeping my purse was taking it a little far.
“Fine,” I said, not wanting to start a fight in the middle of our perfect day. “How about you just let me have my phone?” A long, intent stare. Then he nodded and set the plate he was holding back on the table.
“You eat. I’ll get your phone.”
He came back a moment later with my phone in his hand. I took it and clicked it on for a quick look. A few texts from a number I didn’t recognize, but no calls. I set the phone aside and sat down at my plate, waiting for him to join me.
“So, what do you do?” I asked, curious what had him on the phone all the time. Sitting across from him and his bare chest, my mind was trolling the gutter. I wanted to make an effort at an actual conversation before we fell on each other again. “I know you run the Delecta and oversee the rest of the company, but what does that mean?”
My job was interesting to me, but fairly routine. I was curious to know what being a billionaire CEO really meant. In between asking me questions about my own work, I found out that being Dylan meant a ridiculous amount of responsibility, making decisions that affected millions of dollars and thousands of people’s jobs every day. He took his company seriously, seeing it as a family legacy he shared with a brother and cousin, all of whom were based on the east coast. Kane Enterprises had holdings in a wide range of areas, from hospitality, to precious metals, to hospital equipment. How they stayed on top of everything was beyond my brain’s ability to process. I handled my clients’ sometimes-complicated financial affairs, and I did it very well. However, what Dylan did was another world of complexity. When I asked how he managed it all, he said, “I hire the best and I pay them very well. Never underestimate the value of a good team. Without my people, Kane Enterprises wouldn’t be what it is.”
He was making it hard to keep my heart distant. He could be overbearing and bossy - my missing purse case in point - but when he said things like this, I melted. So many men in his position would take all the credit. Instead, Dylan deflected it back to his employees. We sat there so long, asking questions and trading stories, I lost track of time. If my mother hadn’t called to ask if I knew where the rehearsal dinner was (I did), I might have missed forgotten it completely.
Looking at the time, I jumped out of my chair. “I have to start getting ready,” I said, eyeing his chest again. I’d been planning on wearing my hair up that night, since the black and white dress demanded it. But getting my long, thick hair curled and pinned in place would take some time. If I did what I wanted and got my hands all over him, we’d be late. Very late.
Dylan glanced at the clock on his phone. “Fine,” he said. “First, come here.” I did as commanded, mostly because I didn’t want to say no to him. When I was within reach, he yanked me close, wrapping his arms around me. His mouth hit in a rush of heat, his lips opening mine. I sank my hands in his hair, kissing him back, loving the taste of him, the consuming way he kissed me as if he wanted to absorb everything I was. He was addicting. All too soon, his arms loosened and he let me go. My knees wobbled.
“Go,” he said, turning me toward the bedroom. “Get ready for dinner before I call your mother and cancel.”
Blindly, I walked away, wondering how mad my Mom would be if we didn’t show. Mad. So mad her head would explode. And, as annoying as my sisters could be, I loved my Mom.
An hour later, I was showered, wearing a hotel robe, my hair dried and pinned in sections, ready for the curling iron. As I lifted the iron to wrap the first section of hair, my phone beeped with a text. I put the iron down and reached for my phone.
Don’t ignore me, you bitch.
>
What? I stared at the number, then flipped back through the day’s texts. When I’d seen the unfamiliar number earlier, I’d assumed it was a mistake. The texts started at eleven that morning.
Call me.
Where are you? Call me back.
This isn’t over. Call me before I come find you.
And then the one from a minute ago: Don’t ignore me, you bitch.
They had to be a wrong number. No one I knew would send me texts like this, and I’d never seen this phone number before. It was local to Vegas, but so were millions of other numbers.
Only one person had ever talked to me this way, and he was gone. Long gone. Besides, I didn’t have anything Steven could want. He’d already cleaned out my savings. I didn’t have anything else for him to steal.
Putting the phone back down, I lifted the curling iron and got to work. I only had tonight and tomorrow night with Dylan. I wasn’t going to waste them worrying about some stranger’s drama that had ended up on my phone.
Doing my hair took almost an hour, but it was worth it. I’d curled each section, then twisted it up and pinned in in a pattern that looked like a mess to start, but ended up an elaborate pinwheel of twists and curls. I rarely had an excuse to get dressed up, but I’d had long hair my entire life, as well as an addiction to watching styling videos on YouTube. I’d been dying to try this one since I’d seen it months ago. It looked as good as I’d hoped.
Paired with the Oscar de la Renta dress and glittering gold heels, my elaborate hair and evening make-up looked exactly right. Hopefully, Dylan would agree. I couldn’t help feeling a little smug at the thought of what my bitchy sisters would say when they saw me. I wasn’t a skinny Minnie, but in this dress it didn’t matter. Even my critical eye thought I looked awesome.
On my way out the door, I glanced at my phone, considering. Lola had sent along a selection of evening purses. I needed one for my lip gloss, but I didn’t need my phone. Everyone who might call would already be there. As I reached for it, preparing to put it beside the bed, it beeped with another text.
Call me now, you stupid whore.
Another beep. Then,
Don’t make me hunt you down, Leigha.
A bolt of ice froze my spine as I sank down to sit on the side of the bed.
Whoever this was, they were after me.
17
Leigha
I stared at the phone on the table as if it were a snake, poised to strike. It remained silent and dark, nothing more than metal, glass, and plastic. Before it could come to life with another creepy message, I turned and left the room. Whatever was going on, I didn’t want to know. Not right now. I wanted to walk out of that room in my fabulous dress, wearing fabulous heels, and go to my evil sister’s rehearsal dinner with my unbelievably hot date. That phone, and the powder keg of drama it suddenly represented, was staying behind. Nothing was going to ruin my night with Dylan.
I was so focused on closing the door to the bedroom, I didn’t see Dylan until he was standing right in front of me. The guy was knee-weakening hot, normally. Standing before me in a classic black tux, he might have stepped right out of a romantic movie. More than his good looks, or the way the tux fit his broad shoulders, it was the look on his face that did me in. Possession, arousal, and admiration swirled in his eyes, telling me that I didn’t look as good as I thought I did, I looked better.
Holding out his hand to me, he said, “Come here.” I crossed the distance between us, smiling as he drew me into his arms.
“I’m going to ruin your lip gloss,” he said, his mouth coming down on mine.
I didn’t give a flip about the lip gloss. I’d kiss Dylan any day, for any reason. He was gentle, almost reverent, his fingertips holding my chin in place as his lips claimed me.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked when the kiss ended. I smiled up at him, suddenly a little shy. Unzipping my purse I said, “Almost.” I dashed into the bathroom and made a quick repair to my lips before re-joining Dylan. I was heading to the door when he stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“One more thing,” he said.
He picked up a velvet-covered box from the table beside him. My stomach pitched with nerves and apprehension. All of these clothes were one thing, but jewelry was another entirely. I knew that the necklace and earrings I wore with the dress weren’t sophisticated enough. My pearls were okay, but I was wearing Oscar de la Renta. A simple strand of cheap pearls didn’t cut it. Still, anything Dylan had in that box would be far more extravagant than what was appropriate. The dress alone went beyond the realm of acceptable gifts from a man I’d known only a day. Reading my mind, he said,
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“Dylan, you can’t -”
“And don’t tell me what to do. That was the deal. I’m your date for the weekend, and in exchange, you’re mine. That means you do what I say. No arguing.”
“If you don’t want any arguing, you’ve got the wrong girl,” I said.
“I’ve got exactly the right girl,” he said, opening the black velvet box to reveal a thick gold choker that gleamed in the evening light. Beside it sat matching earrings and bracelet. “I was tempted to go for diamonds. But those are for tomorrow’s dress. This one calls for gold.”
“When did you even have time to get these?” I asked, standing frozen as he fastened the choker around my neck. Without protest I took the earrings he handed me and began to put them in.
“I remembered them from the display downstairs. I had them delivered.” Stepping back he surveyed me from head to toe, eyes hot and satisfied. “You look like a goddess. Not that it matters, but your bitchy sisters are going to choke with envy when they see how gorgeous you are.” He took my arm and drew me towards the door.
“That shows what you know,” I said. “With sisters, it always matters.”
“Not with those two. They should be beneath your notice, Leigha. Until they appreciate you for who you are, they aren’t worthy of your attention.”
I needed to write some of this down. When Dylan was out of my life, I could pull out his outrageous flattery to prop up my sagging ego. No man had ever seen me the way he did–as if I was special, extraordinary, exactly as I was. Not sure what to say in response, I followed him to the elevator in silence. We stood together, side by side, my hand in his. Casually, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“You know that I have cameras everywhere in the Delecta.”
I nodded. I knew that there were cameras everywhere in Vegas, not just at the Delecta.
“If there weren’t, you’d be on your knees right now, sucking me with that sweet mouth until I filled it up. And you’d do it, wouldn’t you? Just because I asked.”
I nodded again. I couldn’t lie. If the cameras hadn’t been there, and he’d asked me to, I would have done it. Gone to my knees right there in the elevator. I might have done it even knowing the cameras were there if he’d asked. In the last twenty-four hours, I hadn’t had a good track record at saying no to Dylan. Just the thought of sucking his cock while the camera watched had my knees weak.
“You’d do it because you’d want to. Because deep down, you know you can trust me. That I’ll take care of you, in every way you need or want.”
Once more I nodded even though this time I had no idea what he meant. Did I know I could trust him? In some ways, I did. In others, I was terrified to put my trust in any man, especially so soon after my ex had stolen so much from me. And what did he mean that he’d take care of me? Did he mean he’d make me come if I sucked him off? I had no doubt about that. So far every pleasure I’d given Dylan had been paid back twice over. But what if he meant more than that? Thinking of the clothes and the jewelry, I wondered if he was talking about something bigger than sex. I pushed the thought away. Sex with Dylan was a dream. I wasn’t fool enough to hope for more.
18
Dylan
I was in over my head with this girl. Half of the shit that came out of my mouth with her was unplan
ned. That wasn’t me. I thought things through. I was methodical, calculating, and I always got my way. With Leigha, I felt like I was struggling my way upstream, off balance and never getting as far as I wanted. I’d known her barely a day, and it felt like years.
She fit with me. Maybe not on the outside, but where it counted. This afternoon was a prime example. My plan had been simple. Eat, fuck some more, shower, get dressed, go to the rehearsal dinner, then bring her home and fuck her again and again.
Instead, we’d ended up sitting at the table talking about our work. My lust for her hadn’t gone away--in fact it had been steadily growing since the last time I’d had her late that morning. But I’d found myself caught up in our conversation. I’ll admit, I started out wanting to impress her when I told her what I did every day as one of the heads of Kane Enterprises.
But, she was genuinely interested in how I ran the business. Her questions were both curious and insightful, a compelling combination. Her passion for her own work was equally appealing. I never thought I’d say that hearing the details of an accountant’s nine to five would have me riveted. I should have been fighting sleep. That was Leigha, turning everything I thought I knew on its head.
Yes, she was gorgeous. That was a given. Call me shallow, but I’d never been drawn to ugly women. She was curvier than the current standard of beauty, sure, but she fit my standards to perfection. That she had a sharp brain was an unexpected bonus. I’d gone into this looking for something different than my usual, but still, no more than a weekend fuck. The way I’d had to talk her into the whole thing had been half the fun, at first. I liked that she wasn’t another easy conquest, that she wanted me but wasn’t ready to spread her legs just because I was reasonably attractive and rich. I was something special for her. It really hadn’t occurred to me that she would end up being the same for me.
