The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy

by Alexa Wilder

  Adam was different. So far, not an asshole. But also, way out of my league. Like I said, I'm a pretty good catch. I've dated men with money. Successful men. Good-looking men. Adam was all three. He was the kind of man you'd expect to see helping a supermodel out of a Ferrari. Not the kind of man you'd expect to meet in a cooking class at the local community college.

  There I’d been, slicing carrots at my first night of learning to cook Thai food, when from beside me I heard a low, deep voice say, "What exactly are we supposed to be doing here? I got in late, and I don't have a partner. Tell me you're not taken."

  I'd almost passed out when I got my first look at the new arrival. Tall, at least, 6'4". I’ve always loved tall men. At 5’ 10" it was a luxury to look up into a man's eyes. Short dark hair, eyes so dark brown they were almost black, sharp cheekbones, and full lips. All of that with broad shoulders, lean hips, and no sign of a beer belly. I was ready to swoon. I immediately forgave my friend Allison for talking me into Thai cooking class and then bailing at the last minute because she got back together with her boyfriend.

  "Nope, I'm free," I’d said with a smile. "I signed up with a friend, but she's a no-show."

  He let out a relieved breath and said, "Same for me. I thought I was going to have to do this myself." Holding out a hand, he’d said, "I'm Adam Stewart."

  That was the beginning of what had become the wildest love affair of my life. That first night we’d eaten the Pad Thai we'd cooked, and Adam had asked me out for a drink. The class was on Wednesday nights, and I didn't usually go out drinking when I had to work the next day. Especially with all the stress at the office in the last few months. But cooking with him had been a blast. He was fun as well as hot, and I wasn't ready to say good night.

  Two glasses of wine and a scorching kiss later I'd left him in the parking lot and driven home wondering what would happen when I saw him in class the following week. If he even showed up. I didn't want to get my hopes up. After that kiss, I had no doubt he would've preferred to end the night in my bed, but I didn't sleep with guys on the first date. Not even guys as hot as Adam.

  Who was I kidding? I’d never been with a guy as hot as Adam. I still wasn't sure why I hadn't taken him up on his not-so-subtle suggestion that I invite him home. Maybe I was intimidated. Maybe it just seemed too good to be true that someone as attractive and interesting as Adam Stewart wanted me.

  I walked into class the following week to find him waiting at our work table. He looked up and saw me, a welcoming smile spread across his face, bringing light to his intense eyes and melting my caution. We spent two hours making a green chili curry, and when we were done, I swallowed my nerves and asked him if he wanted to have a glass of wine with me. At my place.

  We'd barely made it through the door before we fell on each other, all eager, frantic hands, his mouth hungry and insistent on mine. That first time he overwhelmed me. He tore the buttons from my blouse, my fingers slipped on the catch of my skirt, and then the rasp of the carpet against my back as we hit the floor. I was lucky he remembered protection. By the time we were naked, I was too far gone, dizzy and blind from the feel of his hard body against mine.

  I'd been going through a dry spell for the past few months, and the press of his cock inside me was almost too much. The first orgasm had crashed through me in a tidal wave of sharp, sweet pleasure. He fucked me in hard, deep thrusts, dragging out my orgasm until he followed me into bliss, his eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched. We'd lay on the carpet or a few minutes, trying to catch our breath before Adam rolled to his feet, took my hand and led me to my bedroom.

  And then things got a little crazy. As I've mentioned, I'm a pretty normal girl. Not a virgin, not a slut. I don't break any mirrors, but I’m not gorgeous. I'd had sex before, a handful of boyfriends and one long-term relationship. So far, the sex had been fairly normal, just like me. Not much worth gossiping about with my girlfriends, but not bad. Just sex.

  Sex with Adam was not normal. Not that first time when it was all desperate urgency and crazed desire. And definitely not normal the second time when he carefully removed what was left of my bra and used it to tie me to the bed.

  It had never occurred to me that I'd like being tied up. I've been thinking about it since that first time. A lot. Because I didn't just like it, I loved it. When we had our clothes on Adam treated me like an equal.

  I could be loud, and I could be opinionated. That had been a problem with men in the past. My personality attracted them at the beginning, but once we were together, it always seemed that what they really wanted was a quiet woman who agreed with everything they said. Not Adam. He enjoyed our verbal sparring. He liked my enthusiasm. And while he was pretty much the definition of confident and assertive, he didn't need to control me to feel powerful.

  When the clothes came off, everything changed. Adam was in charge, and what he wanted, he got. In a million years I never would have thought I'd find that attractive. I don't know if I can explain it because I've always hated it when anyone told me what to do. The easiest way to get me to do something is to tell me to do the opposite.

  But when Adam gave me that intent focused look and followed it with an order, I complied immediately, my body heating in anticipation. I think it's safe to say the whole relationship had me spun. The first time he told me to get on my knees and suck his cock, I'd glared at him in outrage. He’d raised one dark eyebrow and stared me down. By the time I had his belt open, the insides of my thighs were slick with moisture, every cell in my body white-hot with need.

  Maybe I would've felt differently if he'd dismissed me afterward, if he treated me like a one night stand or a booty call. But after the sex, after the orgasms, he was always there. He never slept over, but he didn't rush out either. He'd lay in bed with me, his long body curled around mine, his hands stroking my skin, soothing and sweet. Sometimes we'd talk, whispered conversations about nothing and everything. Other times I'd fall asleep with him and wake alone.

  Adam Stewart seemed like my dream man. For the most part, he was. But still, there were things that didn't add up. He was very, very good at distracting me with his body, but I hadn't missed the fact that I'd never met any of his friends, never been to his place, and never seen where he worked.

  We hadn't been together that long, barely a month, but by now he should have at least invited me to see where he lived. I'd asked, and his excuse about renovations could have been the truth. I didn't want to doubt him. For one thing, I trusted him. At least as much as I could trust anyone I'd only known a month. Maybe I just didn't want to believe he was hiding something.

  I'll admit it; I worried that if I got any deeper and found out something I didn't want to know, I'd have to give up the best sex I've ever had. Maybe I should have broken up with him, or demanded he prove he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend. Another woman might have tried snooping in his cell phone or his wallet. I didn't do any of that.

  My life had gotten very complicated in the past few months, and Adam was a blissful distraction. I was afraid if I peeked behind the curtain I would find out that he had been nothing more than an illusion. I was wary enough to continually remind myself not to fall for him. Laughing over a shared dinner, mind-blowing kinky sex, and snuggling were all well and good, but I was keeping my heart out of it. At least, I was trying to.

  Across the table, Adam broke through my reverie when he put down his fork and pushed his plate away.

  “Almost finished?" He asked, his eyes focused on my mouth as he watched me take my last bite of pasta. Adam had a number of looks I couldn't decipher. His intense gaze and heavy eyelids were not one of them. My belly tightened in anticipation. I had no idea what he was planning for tonight, but I knew whatever it was, I was going to love it.

  I put down my fork, finished chewing, and took a sip of wine. "I'm finished," I said. Adam gestured for the check, not bothering to ask if I wanted dessert. Normally, I always wanted dessert, but with the way Adam was looking at me, I couldn't have cared le
ss. I’d get my after dinner treat; it just wouldn’t be in the form of food. The waiter was at the table a moment later, then walking away a minute after that, cash in hand.

  Adam and I rose together, our eyes locked on each other. He helped me into my coat, his gaze leaving a searing path across my skin everywhere it touched. Standing behind me, settling my coat over my shoulders, he reached around to fasten the top button, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of my upper chest. My nipples tightened at his touch, and I shivered when he whispered into my ear, "I like this dress. I'd hate to damage it. What should we do about that?"

  "I guess that depends on how you want to fuck me," I murmured back. "Do you want me naked? Or do you want me to bend over and pull it up out of your way?"

  Adam's hands dropped as he fastened the middle button of my coat. I felt the loss of his touch as soon as he stepped away. He took my arm and led me toward the door in silence, my question hanging in the air between us.

  3

  Emma

  Adam was silent on the ride home. So was I, though the sounds of my fidgeting filled the car. I couldn't sit still or stop thinking about being naked, Adam's skin on mine. I had an image stuck in my head of me bending over, braced on the couch or the kitchen table or the side of my bed, the skirt of my dress pulled up over my back while Adam took me rough and fast. Or slow and sweet. It didn't matter. Every time I put my body in his hands, he paid me back in pleasure. I was willing to follow his lead wherever it took us.

  He parked the car in front of my building and came around to my door. It still felt odd to wait for him to let me out of the car. I'd never dated a man who insisted on opening my car door, or any door, really. Adam refused to have it any other way. The first time I'd preceded him through a door, he'd grasped my shoulders and set me firmly behind him.

  I'd made a comment about his wanting the 'little woman' to take second place, annoyed at being treated like a second-class citizen. He'd scowled at me and told me it was a matter of safety and by going first out of the door, I was leaving myself exposed. Which was a weird thing for an app developer to think about, but he'd said he'd been in the military when he was younger, so maybe something stuck.

  I humored him and let him open doors because I liked it. The downside of being a tall, smart, and outgoing female is that very few people worry about protecting you. It was undeniably nice to have a big strong man looking out for me, and I planned to enjoy it for however long it lasted.

  He led me through the parking garage, his strong hand pressing against my lower back, the heat of his palm making my knees weak. By the time we were up the elevator and walking down the hallway to my apartment door, my heart was racing. I pulled my keys from my purse, and, as he always did, Adam took them and unlocked the door, using his tall body to herd me into my foyer. My hands reached up to unbutton my coat when he stopped me.

  "Don't move," he said. "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

  At the sound of his deep, intense voice I trembled and squeezed my thighs together, my body swaying back towards him slightly as if the timbre of his words was a magnet. In truth, it was. He only spoke with that particular tone when he was about to get me naked, and it never failed to make me wet. Needy. And just a little desperate. In response to his question, I closed my eyes and nodded.

  "If you open your eyes before I give you permission, I'll punish you." An involuntary shiver wracked my body. "Not that kind of punishment," he said, amusement coloring his voice. "The kind where you don't get an orgasm. Not for a long time. Maybe not at all."

  That threat sent chills down my spine. He'd punished me before, but as he'd implied, I liked Adam's brand of punishment. Just like when he'd tied me up, and I'd gone off like a firecracker, the first time he'd spanked me had been explosive. At the first strike of his palm against my ass, I’d been affronted. No one hit me. Not ever. I’d tried spanking one time with an ex-boyfriend, but it had hurt and hadn't been the least bit arousing. After that, the idea of letting some guy hit me had been repellent.

  Clearly, I hadn't been spanked by the right man. Adam knew what he was doing when he punished a woman. He'd started with light smacks, enough to sting, but not truly painful. By the time he spanked me as hard as my ex had, I'd been riding high on endorphins, and the flash of pain had pushed me that much closer to orgasm. Since then I’d welcomed any threats of punishment with a thrill of anticipation. It seemed, this time, Adam's intended punishment was something else. I didn't like the sound of being denied my orgasm.

  I squeezed my eyes shut even harder. If I'd learned anything in the last month, it was that Adam wasn't kidding around when he gave an order. I didn't have to obey. But it was worth my while if I did. I felt Adam's hands on the buttons of my coat, the tug of the fabric, and the release of the garment as it fell open.

  Hangers clicked as he hung the coat up. His heat was against my back, knuckles grazing the skin between my shoulder blades as he slowly lowered my zipper. The filmy green dress had a deep V in both the front and the back. Without the zipper to hold it together, it slipped down my shoulders and off my arms to pool around my hips. With an expert flick of his fingers, my bra was loose. I knew better than to shimmy it off. And I didn't have to. A swipe of Adam's hand and it was gone.

  Without my bra to contain them, my breasts swayed with every breath I took, my nipples tight. I expected Adam to touch me, to feel his mouth or his fingers teasing my newly bared flesh. I was disappointed. Instead, his hands settled on my hips, pushing the light fabric of my dress to the ground where I could feel it pool around my feet. I didn't dare look, keeping my eyes tightly shut.

  All that forced me to Adam's will were his words. He didn't need a blindfold. Adam’s desire that I obey was the only tool he required to compel my obedience. And that only made it hotter.

  "Take off your underwear," he said, his words a growl in my ear, his breath hot on my cheek. I didn't have to see the fine tremble in my hands. I could feel them flutter against my hips as I hooked my fingers in the sides of my red lace thong and pushed it off. "Leave your heels on and step away from your clothes."

  His hand closed on my elbow to steady me as I carefully slid my feet free of my sandals and took a step away, not wanting the narrow spike heel to catch in the fabric and trip me.

  I stood there in the foyer of my apartment, naked except for my heels, my eyes closed, waiting for Adam's next command. He moved, circling me. I heard fabric rustle. Was he undressing? I imagined I could feel his eyes skating over my skin, touching me everywhere. It wasn't enough. I wanted more than his eyes. I wanted his hands. I wanted his touch. Needed him to take me out of myself, to drown my busy mind in pleasure.

  I let out a shocked squeak when teeth closed over my earlobe and bit down, just hard enough to surprise but not hard enough to hurt. "Good girl," he said, kissing the earlobe he'd so recently bitten. "Such a good girl, Emma. Can you be good for a little longer?"

  I made a sound in the back of my throat, somewhere between a squeak and a moan, nothing close to intelligible speech. Adam laughed, his lips grazing my throat as the sound vibrated against my skin. "Such a good girl," he said again.

  In a whoosh, everything was upside down, Adam's strong arms around me as he lifted me, cradling me against his chest. The shock of sudden movement almost had me opening my eyes, and I squeezed them shut in self-defense. I didn't need my eyes to tell me he was taking me to my bedroom. My apartment wasn't that big – his first few steps took us past the kitchen and the living room.

  Once in my room, Adam placed me carefully back on my feet, leaving his hands on my hips an extra moment until I'd steadied myself on my narrow heels. His hands landed on my shoulders, then slid down my arms until his fingers encircled my wrists. Those long fingers tightened, drawing my arms behind me, turning my hands palm to palm. His fingers pressed themselves over mine, weaving them together until my fingers were laced, clasped tight.

  "Keep them just like that," he said. He sto
od behind me, and I heard fabric rustle once more, the thunk of his belt hitting the floor, a shuffle that might have been him toeing off his shoes. Then his skin was against mine, the tight beads of his nipples brushing my shoulders, the thrust of his erection against my lower back. Hot, hard, and silky. I wanted it.

  Still, he barely touched me. His voice was almost inaudible when he said, "Spread your legs."

  I did, widening my stance, opening my body to his. I was almost expecting it when I felt his palm between my shoulder blades, pushing forward with a gentle but undeniable pressure. I straightened my arms behind me, palms still pressed together, using them to help my balance as I slowly lowered my chest to the bed. I managed the feat with some grace and was glad I bothered to go to yoga every once in a while. Otherwise, I probably would've lost my balance and ended up looking like an idiot.

  My cheek was hot against the cool linen of my duvet cover. Bent over like that the air flowed between my legs, reminding me how wet I was. He was taking too long, but I knew better than to complain. Not if I wanted him to fuck me anytime soon.

  My nipples slid against the fabric, the contact a delicious tease. Adam's hand, still resting between my shoulder blades, trailed down my spine, stopping at the small of my back. He traced a figure eight with his fingertips, the light touch both too much and not nearly enough. Then both hands were at my hips, squeezing, molding my body before moving to do the same to the curves of my ass. My palms almost fell apart when a quick, light swat landed at the exact spot where my ass met my thighs. I jumped and gasped, but my eyes remained tightly closed, hands together behind my back.

  "I think," Adam said, his voice heavy with promise, "my good girl deserves her reward."

  Two fingers dipped between my legs, pushing past my entrance, spreading apart to stretch me open. I couldn't help thrusting back at him, earning myself another swat on my ass.