The Billionaire's Embrace (The Silver Cross Club)

by Bec Linder

  The door was open slightly, just a crack. I peeked inside.

  Carter was sitting on the sofa, bent over his phone. I recognized him just from the back of his head and his jacket. I thought I would know him even in the dark, even if I forgot how to see.

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since the last time I saw him, but I still felt my pulse quicken in the hollow of my throat. I wanted to go to him and press my face against his neck, right where he splashed his cologne.

  I opened the door further and stepped into the room. When I shut the door behind me, Carter turned at the soft sound. His hair was falling across his face, and he looked tired. His shirt was rumpled and rolled up at the sleeves.

  “Regan. You found me.”

  “You weren’t hard to find,” I said. I crossed the room and stood in front of him, burying my hands in his messy hair. “Long day?”

  “The longest,” he said. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against my abdomen. “I wanted to see you. Selfishly. I won’t keep you long. The others will be arriving shortly.”

  “You’re having a party tonight?” I asked.

  He made a noise of agreement. “Hackett’s coming. I’m supposed to ask him some leading questions. It’s difficult when he spends the entire time with a dancer wiggling around in his lap.”

  Having seen it myself, I knew exactly what he meant. Carter was helping to build a case against Richard Hackett for securities fraud, but it had been months, and Hackett was too interested in the dancers to say anything incriminating. I knew that it was stressing Carter out, but I couldn’t be too sorry. Hackett was the whole reason Carter came to the club, and if it weren’t for him, we never would have met.

  I drew my hands through Carter’s hair, running my fingers across his scalp. “Why don’t you ask me to serve for you anymore?”

  “Because I don’t want to share you,” he said.

  Oh. That sent a shiver down my spine. I liked it when he was possessive.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Talk to me. I spent all day having people yell at me about operating costs. Tell me what you did this morning.”

  I sat beside him on the couch, smoothing my skirt over my thighs. “Well, I woke up,” I said.

  He grinned at me, his tired eyes lighting up. “And then what? You rolled around in bed for a while in your silk nightie?”

  I mostly slept in oversized T-shirts. “Yes,” I said.

  “That’s a pleasant mental image,” he said, and then he sobered, and looked at me with a serious expression on his face. “I enjoyed meeting your friends last night. Please tell Sadie I’m grateful to her for inviting me.”

  “They liked you,” I said, and I thought it was true. I hadn’t done a full postmortem with Sadie yet, but she had texted me after Carter dropped me off at home: nice catch

  “I’m glad,” he said. “So tell me more about this silk nightie.”

  I blushed. Did he really want to spend time discussing my nonexistent lingerie? “Well, it’s silk,” I said.

  “Yes, we’ve established that. What else?” He leaned toward me and put one hand on my knee. The weight of it, the warmth, reminded me that it had been more than a week since we’d done anything but trade a few kisses. My libido sat up and took notice. Carter was touching me, and my body wanted more of it, and right away, and damn the torpedoes.

  “It’s red,” I said. Red was a sexy color, right? “And it has—lace along the neckline.”

  “Good,” he said. He kissed my neck, right behind my ear. I shivered. “Tell me more.”

  “I, um.” I racked my brain for something else to say. “The fabric—feels nice against my skin.” This was embarrassing. I sounded like bad soft-core porn.

  But Carter was enjoying it. He slid his his hand up my leg to settle in the crease of my hip, and moved his mouth down my neck, sucking soft kisses against my skin. I tilted my head to one side to give him better access, and he took full advantage, pulling me close against him and kissing his way down to the sensitive hollow of my collarbone.

  I felt alive, alight. His hands and mouth shaped my body into a new form, and I welcomed the change. He knew me as someone desirable, and when he touched me, I felt myself becoming that person. Someone worthy of love. Someone who deserved the intimacy and pleasure he offered.

  “What time is it?” he murmured against my skin.

  I looked at the clock on the wall. “4:15.”

  “We have time,” he said. “Enough.” He sat back and touched my cheek. “Do you want to be good for me?”

  I knew those words. They meant he was about to take control, and I would surrender to him joyfully. I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “My sweet girl,” he said. “I want you to kneel on the floor.”

  Trembling with anticipation, I slid off the sofa and knelt before him, hands clasped in my lap. He spread his knees, and I could see the shape of his erection, outlined by his wool trousers.

  My mouth watered. I knew what would come next, and I wanted it.

  “That’s right,” he said. “You’re eager for it, aren’t you? I want you to unbutton my pants.”

  My hands shook as I reached forward and unfastened his trousers. My wrist brushed against his hard cock, and I felt it twitch in response.

  “Good,” he said. “Now unzip me.”

  I did as he said, tugging the tab of his zipper and revealing his black boxer-briefs. The fabric clung to his erection, showing me the thick shaft and the round head.

  He slid one hand around the back of my head and cupped it there, holding me in place. His other hand slid into the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugged it down, slowly, slowly, until his cock sprang free and rested, flushed and heavy, against his lower belly.

  He fisted his other hand in my hair and tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “Do you want to suck my cock, Regan?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

  “Should I let you?” he asked. “I don’t know that you’ll be any good. I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

  “I’ll be good,” I said. “Please let me. I’ll be—I’ll—”

  “You’ll have to convince me,” he said.

  I moved my hands to his thighs. He released my hair, and I looked down, at the apex of his thighs, at his arousal. I had never been this close to a hard penis, and I was both excited and intimidated. I didn’t want to do anything wrong and disappoint him.

  I knew the basic mechanics, of course, from reading magazines and watching a little bit of porn, but putting it into practice was daunting. I slid my left hand around the base of his cock and gave it a tentative squeeze. It was firm, solid. I moved my thumb over the swollen vein on the underside, feeling the hot blood washing through it, and looked up at Carter to gauge his reaction.

  He was watching me with hooded eyelids, face unreadable. No help there.

  Using my hand to hold him steady, I leaned forward and licked the head of his cock. It tasted salty, not unpleasantly so. I ducked my head and used my tongue to trace the course of that fat vein from the base to the tip.

  Carter’s hand tightened in my hair. “Less teasing,” he said.

  I hadn’t intended to. I wanted to take my time to explore, but he was probably worried about his guests showing up. I slid my mouth over the head of his cock and gave a gentle suck. It was smooth beneath my tongue, and then felt crinkled where the head flared out over the shaft.

  He inhaled, just the slightest click of noise in his throat, but I heard it and was encouraged. I wasn’t doing it completely wrong, then.

  I just hoped I didn’t choke. Then he would know I hadn’t done this before.

  I rubbed my tongue against the head, keeping my mouth soft. I wasn’t sure what to do next. I knew I wouldn’t be able to deep-throat him, and what looked so simple in porn turned out to be sort of daunting when I was expected to do it. I wasn’t sure how to coordinate my mouth and my hand, or how hard to suck, or what to do with my teeth.

 
Carter came to my rescue. “You want to be coy, hmm? You want me to tell you exactly what to do? That’s fine. Keep your mouth open.”

  I relaxed my jaw and closed my eyes, so relieved I could have cried. I wouldn’t have to fumble around and screw up. Carter would take care of me.

  Carter rolled his hips slightly, nudging his cock further into my mouth. I held still and waited for him to tell me what to do next.

  “Go down as far as you can,” he said. “Don’t push it. I know you aren’t an expert.” He said it mockingly, and I knew he assumed that I had done this before, and that he was trying to goad me. If he knew the truth—

  Well, if he knew the truth, he probably never would have touched me at all.

  I was happy to keep him in the dark.

  I swallowed the moisture gathering in my mouth, and sank down on his cock. I went down until my lips bumped into my curled fist, and then paused there, the head of his cock filling my mouth and brushing the back of his throat. My eyes watered, and I swallowed again, compulsively, fighting my gag reflex.

  I wanted to be good for him.

  I liked kneeling there, obedient, waiting, ready for him to use me.

  “That’s right,” he said. “Now pull off, and slide your hand up.”

  Which direction was up? I took a guess, and when I lifted my mouth off his erection, I drew my hand in the same direction, so that my fingers curled loosely around the fat head of his cock.

  “Good,” he said, and a warm glow settled in my belly. “Now do the same thing in reverse. Hand down, and then your mouth.”

  I followed his directions, and the gentle pressure of his hand at the back of my head, and quickly established a rhythm. I went down, mouth loose and wet, and sucked hard as I pulled off, and kept my grip firm. Once I got the hang of it, it was easy, and I started feeling overconfident; and then I went down too far and choked, and had to pull all the way off, coughing, eyes streaming tears.

  Carter laughed at me. “Slow down. It’s not a competition.”

  I hoped it wasn’t; I would lose. I didn’t like the idea that I was competing with anyone, with any other woman he’d known in the past. “Your party,” I said, as if my clumsiness was due only to haste.

  “There’s time,” he said. He touched my chin. “You’re crying.” His commanding persona dropped away, and his expression softened. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “I want to,” I said. “I just, uh. Got carried away.”

  “So I see,” he said. He used his thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek. “Not tonight. Some other time.”

  I nodded, fighting back disappointment. I didn’t want to stop—I wanted to keep going, to show him I could do it. But he was probably right, and I didn’t want to argue too much. What would I say? It’s my first time, I want to keep going?

  “Come here,” he said, and bent over to help me off the floor, lifting me back onto the sofa with him. He ran one hand through my hair and kissed me, hot and sweet and slow, and I melted into him. I wasn’t an expert at giving blowjobs—at least not yet—but he didn’t seem to mind.

  He shifted on the couch, and I looked down to see him tucking his erection back into his trousers and zipping them up.

  Shame flooded through me. I said, “I can—”

  “No,” he said. “Some other time.”

  “But you can’t just—” I made a vague gesture that meant walk around with a hard-on all night. I was too embarrassed to say it.

  He chuckled. “Oh, I can. You, on the other hand.” He cupped one of my breasts, brushing his thumb across my tightly furled nipple. “I don’t think you can wait.”

  When he said it, I suddenly knew it was true. I had been ignoring my body’s demands, too focused on Carter, but with his words, I became aware of every tingling inch of skin hungry for his touch. I was wet between my legs, soaking through my underpants, and throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

  If he let me leave without touching me, I would probably die.

  But it didn’t seem like he was going to do that. He moved his hand away from my breast and dropped it to my hip. He pulled me against him, the sides of our bodies pressed together, and turned so that he was leaning into the corner of the sofa, and I was leaning with my back against his chest. Then he reached down and started hiking up my skirt.

  I lifted my hips to give him easier access, and with a few quick tugs he had my skirt pulled up around my waist. He traced his fingers along the lacy waistband of my panties, making me jump.

  “What should I do with you, hmm?” he asked me.

  I thought the answer was obvious. “I—anything you want,” I said, already breathless.

  “Oh, good girl,” he said warmly. “That was the right answer.”

  I shivered with pleasure, warm and safe against him, both of his arms around me, holding me close. He slid his right hand between my legs, tracing delicate patterns over the lace of my underpants, stimulating my sensitive flesh and making me burn with arousal.

  “You’ve soaked your panties,” he said. “You liked sucking me off, didn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have made you stop.” He pressed his fingers against my slit and rubbed firmly, and I squirmed against him, wanting more.

  “Please,” I said. I wasn’t ashamed to beg.

  “As much as I’d like to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess, we don’t really have the time for that,” he said. “So you’ll just have to imagine that I spent half an hour making you forget your own name.” And without any more warning, he slid his hand into my panties, the waistband stretching around his wrist, and started rubbing my clit in tight circles.

  I arched my hips off the sofa, my mouth open in a soundless moan. Everything between my thighs was wet and throbbing, and Carter knew exactly how to touch me, exactly where to put his fingers to make me lose my mind.

  “That’s right,” Carter said. “No time for subtlety. You’re going to cream yourself in the next five minutes, and I’m going to smell you on me for the rest of the evening.”

  How could I do anything, when he talked to me like that, but tip my head back onto his shoulder and close my eyes and let him work me into a frenzy?

  He slid his hand further between my legs and pressed two fingers into me. I clenched around them, welcoming the intrusion. He used the heel of his hand to grind at my clit, and I heard myself make a high-pitched sound somewhere between a gasp and a cry of ecstasy.

  His other hand slid up my side to tease at my breasts through the silky fabric of my blouse. I was wearing an unlined bra, and he plucked and pinched until my nipples were throbbing in time with my clit.

  I never knew, until I met Carter, that I could be this kind of person, this shameless, sexual creature. He drew it out of me, made me forget myself in the search for pleasure, made me want nothing more than to do exactly as he said and come to pieces under his hands.

  “You’re so close,” he said. “Don’t hold back. What else do you need? My mouth? A finger in your ass?”

  I only needed his words, breathed hot into my ear. I pushed my hips against his palm and squeezed around his fingers and came like a rocket, shuddering in his arms.

  He kissed my neck, gently, letting me recover.

  “Wow,” I said, after a couple of minutes had passed.

  I felt his mouth curve into a smile against my neck. He slid his fingers out of me and drew his hand out of my panties. His fingers glistened, and I turned my head away, embarrassed, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried his hand.

  “And now, you need to get back to work, and I need to attend to my guests,” he said. “Don’t let Germaine scold you. I’ll tell her you were doing me a favor.”

  “Okay,” I said. I stood up and shook my skirt back into place and combed my fingers through my hair, smoothing it back into place. My legs still felt wobbly beneath me. I didn’t know how I was supposed to spend all evening serving drinks after that.

  “You’re glorious,” he said. “Come to my mothe
r’s with me on Wednesday for dinner.”

  “Okay,” I said again, without thinking, and then froze. Had he just—

  “You can’t back out now,” he said, reading my expression. “You already agreed.”

  “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked him. “You got me all—relaxed and pliant, and then—”

  “You’ve discovered my master plan,” he said, laughing. “You’re right. I was hoping to catch you off guard.”

  “Carter,” I said. I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say. Was he crazy? We had been dating for less than a month, and I was just some trampy cocktail waitress he picked up in a sex club, some nobody with a high school diploma and a screwed-up childhood. I couldn’t meet his mother. She was—rich, and sophisticated, and she loved Carter. I was sure she did. She wanted everything for him, all of the best things in life, and there was no way she would count me among them.

  “Say yes,” he said. “She wants me to chair one of her social committees. I can’t withstand her assault without backup.”

  “Carter,” I repeated. “I can’t. It’s—your mother, and I—”

  He took one of my hands in both of his. “Regan. I like you very much. I’m sure you can imagine that I’m somewhat picky about who I let into my life. This isn’t a casual thing for me. You invited me to meet your family, and I’d like you to meet mine.”

  I blinked, overwhelmed by pretty much everything he had just said. He was right that Sadie and Ben were my family, the only family I had. And saying it wasn’t casual, that he had chosen me, that I was somehow worthy of being allowed into his inner circle—

  It was too much. I felt my throat closing up. “Carter,” I choked out, the third time I’d said his name, and maybe this time he would understand what I was trying to say, all of the meaning I was trying to pack into that one word.

  “Yes,” he said. He raised my hand and kissed it. “Say you’ll come with me.”

  When he looked at me like that, I couldn’t refuse him anything. “Yes,” I said, heart sinking at the thought of it.

  Oh God. His mother. How was I going to survive?