The CEO's Lucky Charm_A Billionaire Novella

by Stella Marie Alden

  He growls, the tux jacket falls onto the floor, and he drags the dress shirt over my head. Naked and super aware of my small size, I stand before him, wondering if this is where he stops.

  “Ah fuck.” He pushes me onto the bed while straddling me, holding my hands over my head.

  “You are so damn beautiful.” His mouth closes over a breast and he suckles so hard, my core twinges, and liquid pools between my legs.

  Then he pinches that nipple while licking across my chest to suck on the other. When he bites, I jump.

  “Too rough?” He stops, eyebrows raised.

  “God no. Don’t stop. Please.” Never have I been so devoured, wanted and worshipped.

  A huge smile crosses his face as he kicks off his shoes and drags off his pants.

  I’m no virgin, but still, that monster is enough to make any woman take pause. My God. How will it fit?

  He reaches his hands between my legs, feels how wet I am and now it’s his turn for his mouth to drop open. Sliding off the bed, he pulls me by the ankles to the edge and drops to his knees.

  “Damn.” One finger brushes over my swollen clit. “You’re all ready to explode and we haven’t even begun.”

  He’s so right, and just by saying so, I hang on the precipice of what will no doubt be one seriously, incredible orgasm.

  He takes his tongue, and teases around my opening and it widens for him. “Come for me, princess.”

  One finger slips inside me, he curls a knuckle and twists.

  His eyes grow dark with want as he sticks a second finger inside me. With his thumb pressing onto my nub, I arch, find my release, and scream. My God, stars swim in my brain as he stands, locks my ankles behind his back, and thrusts until my orgasm reaches new heights. I clench my thighs round him, he stretches me beyond anything I’ve ever known, and his face is so intense, it’s scary as he pulls out and drives into me again.

  Suddenly he stops. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Go.” I lift up until I feel his balls near my ass, he grabs my behind and fills me beyond my wildest dreams.

  My clit’s on fire, my body’s shaking all over, and I’m in the throes of an everlasting mind-numbing orgasm of epic proportions.

  Chapter 9

  Kit

  She’s wild, wanton, and with more stamina than any woman I’ve ever bedded. I’m half-crazed as I see how long I can keep her high. When my balls scrunch tight, ready to let go, she comes screaming while pulsing around my cock. Then I thrust deep, fast, repeatedly. Shit, oh shit. I’m fucking out of this fucking world. My juices spurt, she milks me, and she shouts out my name with no regard for anyone who might be sleeping in the whole damn hotel.

  Like that, we finish. A perfect ten.

  After, when her body stops twitching, I roll onto my back, pulling her onto my chest.

  She kisses my cheek, and regards me through half-closed lids, her lips swollen, her dark hair mussed and knotted. She’s an almond-eyed sex-witch, that’s what she is.

  When it dawns on me that we didn’t use protection, I pull out fast, heart racing, I’ve never been this into a woman and it scares the hell out of me.

  “I’m clean. On the pill. No worries.” How did she just do that? Read my mind?

  “Me too. Tested recently.” Her relieved smile is an invitation to go for a second gold medal.

  At some point, in between fucking like bunnies and resting, I manage to call CJ my best friend. Okay. I’ll admit it, my only friend.

  I have to speak loudly to be heard over the baby in the background. “It’s me, Kit. I need a favor.”

  “Sure. Just a sec.” He calls for his wife, Mel, there’s a warm exchange, and all goes quiet. “Okay, I’m back. Sorry, Gabi is teething.”

  A twinge of jealously shoots through me. Who wouldn’t want what he has, eh? A beautiful, loving, wife and a baby?

  What the hell’s wrong with me?

  I got no time to figure it out, not right now. “CJ, mon ami, can I have your brother’s number?”

  “Sure. Everything okay? Why you need a lawyer?”

  Before, I might’ve shared what’s going on because he’s the kind of guy that always has your back. Right now, I don’t want him messed up in my shit. Not when he’s got a little baby daughter.

  “Nothing, really. Just an immigration thing.”

  I feel bad about lying until he laughs and says, “Knowing you, I thought it might be a paternity suit.”

  “Fuck. Can you imagine?” For a moment, I picture Sonia pregnant with my baby, and just as quickly, let it go. “Listen, I got some shit to take care of but we’ll get together soon, eh? Before our seasons start?”

  “Sure. Just a warning, though. If I find out you made a pass at my wife, I’ll deck you.”

  “Just treat her right and I won’t have to. See you, mon ami.”

  Before hanging up, CJ purposefully butchers his French making au revoir rhyme with Paul Revere. I’m still chuckling as I sit on the hotel bed and punch in his brother’s number. While Sonia snores softly, I explain everything to my new lawyer, starting with yesterday’s knock on my door.

  After Andy asks a lot of questions, he says, “I’ll make a few calls and get back to you. Did you get a badge number of the FBI agents?”

  Where I grew up, asking a question like that could get you beaten to an inch of your life. Besides, I don’t think it would’ve done any good.

  “I’m pretty sure they weren’t real.” Beside me, Sonia’s eyes pop open, and I touch her cheek and play with a lock of her silky hair.

  Andy sighs. “Did they give you names?”

  “The woman was Poppy, short for Poopoodoo-pulis or something like that. The man called himself Tory.”

  “I got this. You stay put until you hear from me. Okay?”

  “I really appreciate this.”

  “Hope you still think so when you see my bill.”

  After I hang up, Sonia yawns, stretches, and gives me this cat-like grin. When she kicks off the sheets, her pert breasts show along with tight abs, and those thighs that hold onto a man until he shoots his load.

  Before I can decide which part of her body to worship first, she laughs. “Hold that thought, I need a shower.”

  My mind goes just one place. Obviously, someone should scrub her back. So, I give her a moment of privacy before knocking lightly.

  I love the way she says ‘come in’ in Russian. It can be taken two ways and I know which meaning I need. When I step behind the curtain, despite its workout, my cock jumps to full throttle. She’s so damn beautiful.

  With the water splashing down her body, I fucking have to touch her. With her eyes closed, arms up, I step close and let her feel my hard need.

  A smile breaks out when I kiss her lips, tasting shampoo. Then I cup both her soapy breasts, she arches, and wet hair topples off the top of her head.

  She’s too short for me, standing like this, so I turn her and place her hands of the wall with her back to me. With my cock pressed against her ass, I grab the soap, and wash every inch of her body. My hands lather suds up and down the front of her body, pausing to pinch her nipples until they’re hard and wanting.

  When she lifts her muscled ass toward me, I grab her hip with one hand and reach between her short curls with the other.

  Oh fuck, she’s already swollen and slick as I circle my finger around her hardening want.

  “Oh, oh.” She shivers, on the edge.

  “Wait for me.” I need to be inside her when she comes so I place my cock at her entrance with my finger pressing on her need.

  She’s close, shivering, and growing harder as I press in all the way in and out. Her legs spread wider, her breathing grows harder, and her firm cheeks push against my abs. This athlete is all my wet dreams come true.

  When I slide in fully, she bucks in a kind of exotic dance that makes me wild. That my cue to take both sets of fingertips to her clit rubbing as fast as I can. She shudders while I push, setting an incredibly fast pace. />
  “Oh fuck. Come with me, princess.”

  She does, boobs bouncing and screaming. My hands, thick into her clit are too busy to cover her mouth.

  My God, I can’t get enough of her.

  When I come, my brain explodes. No shit.

  Exhausted, we let the warm water cool us off. And when I pull out, I want to have her again and tell her so.

  She smiles and waves prune-y fingers in front of my face. “We should get out. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  So I call room service and order a late lunch. When the waiter knocks I push out a hand with a few bills and say, “Leave the tray out there. I’ll get it in a moment.”

  Once the coast is clear, still naked, I grab the food and drag it back into the room. I really have got to buy us some clothes. To make my point, she exits the bathroom wearing two giant hotel towels, one like a turban, the other engulfing her body.

  “Sit. Eat.” I point out the salad and wraps on the dresser.

  “Thanks.” She chows down, not much of a talker either which I usually appreciate but we should discuss our next moves.

  “You heard me talking on the phone, right?”

  She nods.

  “Andy is Melanie’s brother-in-law. You know, our physical therapist? He’s going to help us out of this jam.”

  “What is jam?” Guileless almond-eyes meet mine.

  “Cherie, you just bailed on some kind of arranged marriage, put incriminating evidence onto a hard drive, and ran away from one of the most dangerous men in New York, maybe the world.”

  “I suppose.” She opens a tiny jar of real jam and lathers it onto a piece of toast.

  “You’re not concerned?”

  “Sure, I am but it’s no jam. If you give me the drive, I can sell it online and escape. You can come, too.” She glances up, all of a sudden shy, “I mean, if you want.”

  “What about your career? Going for the gold?”

  She shrugs and purses those tasty lips. “Vastly overrated. Have you ever seen what professional ice-skaters make? Much better I find college online and get good skills to live in America happily ever after.”

  “Wait. You don’t want to skate?”

  “Sure. There’s a life after, no? What do you want to do? After you finish skating?”

  No one’s ever asked me that before and my first impulse is to tell her it’s none of her damn business. Sure, we have this incredible connection but that doesn’t mean we get up in each other’s personal shit.

  Sonia’s completely unconcerned at my silent scowl as she scoops eggs onto her toast and opens her mouth wide. She blinks at me, as if I’m going to respond.

  Maybe it’s those beautiful brown eyes or maybe it’s just time I trust someone. Whatever the reason, I answer truthfully. “I want to buy some land in Halifax. A farm. Some dairy cows.”

  I wait for her to laugh or look surprised. Instead, she nods like she’s considering it for real. “Is not too cold?”

  “Not so bad.”

  “Has ice skating rinks?”

  “Three.”

  “Is college?”

  I nod.

  “Good choice.” She goes back to eating.

  I know she doesn’t know that she’s the first person I ever told this to, and somehow it pisses me off. I want her to poke holes in my future, tell me I don’t know squat about dairy farming, which is true. Tell me I should stay in hockey as long as I can, collect the big bucks, and retire with my millions.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” She grabs for the last piece of bacon but I’m faster and pop it in my mouth.

  “Like what?”

  “Your mouth is rolled down. Open and angry like this.” She mimics me with a devilish twinkle in her eyes.

  “I don’t like talking about personal shit.”

  She shrugs. “Me also but I try, for you. If I don’t, we’ll maybe end up in bed right away and my pussy needs a rest.”

  Something comes from deep within me, a cross between a guffaw and a bark. For sure, I do believe I’m laughing. It feels so strange as these dams inside me break apart. Soon after, when she joins me, my chest bounces, my eyes water, and my face muscles hurt they’ve been so long out of use.

  No woman has ever affected me so. I reach over, take her hand, and bring it to my mouth. Merde. I have no words to explain what’s going on inside my chest.

  When I let go, she cups my rough beard in her palms and pushes her hands through my locks.

  Impish, she laughs at me. “I think maybe, under this tough guy, is somebody I like.”

  “I like you too, cherie.”

  More than I should and even if I wanted to pursue whatever is happening between us, I shouldn’t. She’s Russian, I’m Canadian, and her father no doubt wants to have me killed. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to see that no good can come from this.

  Time to change the subject. “What did you expect to happen once you handed the drive off to the FBI?”

  “They promised me freedom.”

  “A green card?”

  She waves her hands palms down. “Nyet, nyet. I want a life. Freedom from my father and my coach. The only places I’m allowed to go are the rink, the gym, and the hotel.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She died right after Sochi. Since then, things have gone hill-down very fast.” Her lower lip goes out and another new kind of feeling hits my gut. I’m not quite sure what it is but it’s strange and uncomfortable and I want it gone. I reach over and catch a tear about to drop down her cheek.

  My hand falls away when she pulls back fast. “You didn’t have to do that. I never cry.”

  “Another thing we have in common.” I want to see her smile again.

  “It’s different. Men feel nothing except in their cock, maybe.”

  I figure that’s a fair assessment and it’s time to demonstrate. Unfortunately, I’m interrupted by a knock on the door.

  A woman shouts out with an Spanish accent, “Cleaning.”

  “We’re good. Go away.” I need to focus on removing Sonia’s towels.

  Suddenly, the door bangs open and her two bodyguards from last night appear. Behind them is a gun barrel pointing in my direction, held by the man she was supposed to marry. Her father is there as well.

  Stupidly, I stand and stare. Dammit. I should’ve guessed he’d have the resources to find her.

  My gun is under her crossword paper, next to the bed. I probably could get to it and take one down. Though in the process, she might get hurt.

  Sonia’s looking as if she expects me to do some kind of James Bond thing but I shrug. When she spits on the floor, I hope it’s for her coach and not for me.

  “Fine. I get dressed and go.” She grabs the little blue dress off the floor and stomps off.

  Adrenaline races through my veins when that abusive dick of a coach follows her into the bathroom. Then, when she screams, I jump up, fists clenched, prepared to die.

  As a kid, I faced death so many times, I’m numb to it. If you die, you die and if someone wants to hurt someone I care for, I’ll make damn sure to take that someone with me.

  Sonia’s father doesn’t know it but he saves her coach by pounding on the bathroom door. “We need to go. My jet’s waiting at the airport.”

  I’ve met many men like Sonia’s father, eh? They think power and money make a man. I think it makes them shit.

  He turns to me, hand out, palm raised. “She gave you something of mine and I want it back. Now.”

  The hotel door opens again, and agents Poppy and Tory enter. Fuck me and all that’s holy. Any hope that they were real FBI agents disappears when Sergey Dmitriyev smiles at them. While Poppy holds a gun on me, Tory checks all my pockets.

  When he finds nothing, he gets within an inch of my face. “Where is it?”

  “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, mon ami.” He thinks maybe I’m stupid, eh?

  Sonia’s father’s eyes narrow just slightly as he nods at her body
guards. It takes both of them to hold me down so Tory can punch me in the jaw, a hit worthy of a girl scout.

  It’s truly difficile to look hurt instead of laugh at his pathetic attempt. However, that’s when Leonid exits with Sonia in tow. Her blue dress is torn, the side of her face is swelling and I’m not amused. As soon as I get free, I’ll teach her coach a lesson in how to treat a woman.

  “Does that make you feel like man, Blokov? Hitting her? Maybe you take me on instead?”

  The asshat growls as he drags her toward the door by the hair, “I’ll kill you for popping her.”

  “Time’s up. Where is it?” Sergey’s punch to my kidneys hurts like a motherfucker. He takes out a knife and puts it to my eye.

  I try to look afraid but when I get empty like this, I got no emotion to show.

  “No!” Sonia screams from outside, followed by a car door slamming.

  “If you care for her, best you give it up.”

  I know they won’t dare hurt her, not so openly. They’ll wait and do it later, someplace safe.

  “If you tell me what you think she gave me, I can help you search.” I know it’s lame, but under the circumstances, it’s the best I can do.

  Sergey’s right eye twitches. “Data. Probably a small USB drive.”

  “She was wearing my coat. Check it. Check the whole room. I don’t care. To me, she was a lovely woman who asked me to get her out of a jam. Understand? And man, your daughter can fuck.”

  A small gasp sounds at the door. Sonia is there, pain written all over her face.

  Merde. I thought she was gone.

  Behind her, Leonid laughs, pinches her chin, and kisses her hard. “Stupid whore. You thought he cared about you? He’s a player. Sleeps with a different woman every night. Now, be a good girl and tell your father where you hid the data.”

  “I gave it to him.” She points at me, eyes accusing, tone full of venom.

  “Talk.” Her father’s knife makes a small cut under my eye and blood drips down my cheek.

  When the two bodyguards tighten their grip on my arms behind my back, I swallow hard like someone who feels scared and nod as if my throat’s too dry to talk. This too, I learned in Bosnia.