I wanted to prove them all wrong. I needed to show them that my family wasn’t the same one portrayed as evil environmental murderers whose oil spills covered wildlife in oil leaks, and destroyed natural habitats. The memory of standing in front of my class is clear as day. I announced that I would take a signed petition home to my father. The request was for Alexander Industries to stop its offshore operations and look at better, cleaner forms of energy production. It was signed by everyone in the class, including my teacher, and I naively gave my word that my father would take care of everything.
I went home that day, and in addition to asking my mother if the article was true, I showed her the petition. She made me wait for Dad to get home. He decided it would be the dinner topic for the night. My father confirmed that we were old money, operating a set of businesses in a highly regulated cutthroat industry, and that I’d spend the rest of my life being hated for both facts. After dinner, he took me into the backyard and used his cigarette lighter to set the petition on fire. That was what he thought about finding cleaner forms of energy.
His parting advice before my bedtime was that I needed to toughen up. I toughened up, all right. Dad did not expect me to take his advice literally, but I did. Again, I was eight. I came home the next day with a note that confirmed the teacher’s earlier phone call to my mother, that I was suspended for beating the crap out of that kid with the newspapers. My mother finally put to rest the idealistic dream of raising me as a normal kid. That was the year they finally moved from Texas to New York. I was enrolled in private schools, forever to be surrounded by my wealthy peers.
Except, the experience stuck with me. It was one of those defining moments in a child’s life. I did not want to step into that legacy the way my father and grandfather had done. To this day, no one in my family or Alexander Industries realizes that I am still that kid with the petition. I may have graduated from an Ivy League school with a degree in business, but every optional course that I completed relates to environmental and conservation sciences.
Back when I finished college, my father told me I could do whatever I wanted. Working for the family business was optional. He would say that ownership and control were two very different things, and I didn’t need to have a position at Alexander Industries to benefit from the privileges of a controlling interest. I paid attention to every word my father ever took the time to share with me. Not to follow in his footsteps, but rather, to inject myself into Alexander Industries and toe the line. When the time is right, the kid with the petition will have his day as CEO and chairman of the board.
That kid is lying in wait.
Riley Hampton is that kid’s other half. Hiring her to work for the company benefits me in so many ways, I feel like a bit of a megalomaniac to know that all the pieces of the puzzle fit together so well. I should be thanking her for thrusting herself into my field of vision two nights ago, and demanding that I remember her name. It’s fate, and karma, and kismet all rolled up into one big, satisfying coincidence.
I can’t quite make this revelation to her just yet. She still has to pay for making it personal.
Or maybe it’s a reward for us both.
Chapter 8
Riley
Malcolm returns to the bedroom in what feels like hours later. I’m naked, cold and horny as hell. The loss of my vision and my inability to move play tricks on my awareness. I may have dozed off too, given that I was too terrified to close my eyes in my jail cell last night.
These blindfolds let in just enough light for me to discern shapes and shadows nearby. My hearing and sense of smell are also intensified. I don’t have to guess where he is in the room, and when he walks over to the bed and lowers his head to mine, I can tell his breathing is different.
“What took you so long?” I ask, not even caring how weak I must sound to him.
“I’ll tell you later,” he says, and begins to undress.
I want the blindfold off so I can at least see what I’m dealing with. Sure, I went down on him the other night, but I would like to take in the entire head to toe package that is Malcolm Alexander.
I feel the scorching heat of his skin moments before his naked, ripped, muscular body straddles me, and lowers on my hips and upper legs.
He leans forward. My stomach flutters from the feel of his rigid length so close to my core.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispers into my ear, causing me to swallow hard.
He doesn’t move his lips from their spot. They’re less than an inch from my ear, hovering, kicking off a reaction all through my body. I can’t answer. I just can’t. I’m not supposed to be ready. He puts his hand through my hair and begins to nibble on my ear lobes. My body has a mind of its own. I’m soaking wet between my legs from this proximity, and from his throbbing cock that presses against my belly. I want to curl my arms and legs around him, but I can barely lift my head, let alone move.
I gasp when he grips the hair at the back of my head into his fist. “What the fuck was that for?” I demand.
“I want an answer, Riley. Are you ready for me or not?”
I shudder. He’s daring me. I can’t say no, even if I wanted to. I don’t want to say yes, because no man deserves to have that power over me, especially not this particular man. Still, the fact that he wants to know leads me to believe my answer somehow matters to him. In the midst of all this rationalization, his grip on my hair tightens some more.
“Yes!” I blurt out.
“Yes, and?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Yes, I’m ready and?” With each question, his fist tightens some more.
“I don’t know what you’re asking of me,” I admit, eyes snapped shut from the pain he causes on my scalp.
“I want you to call my name. Every time you speak to me or answer me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Malcolm,” I mumble through clenched teeth.
“Good.” He releases my hair and runs a scorching hot finger down my stomach, stopping only when it reaches my clit. “You’re wet as fuck. Tell me, who’s turning you on right now, Riley?”
“You are, Malcolm,” I whisper, half-whimpering from his skilled touch along my folds.
I don’t mean it this time. Not in the way he wants me to. Christ, are all arrogant billionaires with massive dicks this needy for validation? I want to tell him I’m turning myself on, but I’d be lying. Of course, he’s turning me on right now. His hand is massaging my pussy, he’s a smoking hot man, and his massive cock is rubbing against my stomach. Something would have to be wrong with me to not be turned on right now. Never mind that I enjoy sex the way some people like coffee—dark, bold, hot, and able to keep me up for hours. A day or two of submission to this man only has more meaning because of who he is. The ropes around my ankles may be a bit much, but even that I don’t mind. A part of me wants to see this game through, and my being mouthy or resistant will only prolong it.
Going down against a wall.
Malcolm’s weight shifts. He’s moving down the bed. The feel of his hot breath as it travels down my stomach takes my mind off its current track. My toes curl from the mental image of his lips trailing along my skin, and when his tongue flattens to my clit, I purr out a whimper and tilt my head up. My knees turn outward as Malcolm grips my inner thighs. Overcome with a primal need to run my hands through his hair and grind on his face, I wrench my hands upward, forgetting about the ropes around my wrists. The movement jerks the headboard. He stops. That’s not the response I expect. It’s more contact that I need, not less.
He groans out a laugh, and just as I’m about to tell him none of this is funny, his lips and tongue and teeth make contact with my pussy, all at the same time. Malcolm brutally devours me. He sucks my clit, dipping his tongue past my folds into my soaking wet center. He groans and grunts as he feasts on me, awakening my core, building my need and pleasure to a level that drives me wild. I can’t stop my legs from shaking or my hips from bucking and rolling. He grasps my hips
and pulls me harder to his mouth. I lose all control. A wave of heat, pleasure and sparks burst out from my core, taking me under and pelting me straight to my climax. The pulsing at my inner walls makes me desperate to be filled.
Malcolm continues to consume my clit, and when he sinks two fingers inside me, my orgasm expands and takes over my entire body. I’m suddenly turned into a quaking, near-screaming mass of nerves that can no longer think. I rock and ride his fingers and mouth as he pounds into me hard. His fingers curl up and lash my G-spot with every thrust. God, I want to scream, to call out his name and revel in the moment, but I’m holding back. Even now as my climax takes me to that timeless, blissful destination, a little voice keeps telling me not to enjoy myself too much. It’s wrong to give him that kind of satisfaction when I’m not here completely of my own volition.
He pulls apart from me. I already miss his hot tongue and deft fingers when the crinkle of a condom gets a sliver of my attention. I barely get a breath in. Malcolm’s hands slip under my ass and in the next instant he buries his thick, throbbing cock all the way to the root. The groan he lets out as he fills me makes my skin crave him. I want him to kiss my neck, suck my breasts, or claim my mouth while he drills in and out of me.
He changes the angle by gripping my waist, picking up speed. The sound of his balls slapping my ass each time he pumps into me is so wild and raw, I can’t ignore the sound or the way it seems to make my inner walls tense each time they hit the same spot. Pretty soon, the rush of another peak is in sight, and again, my hands jerk upward in its attempt to hold onto something as I fly into nirvana.
Malcolm is not far behind me. He rolls and thrusts his hips wildly until his body stiffens, and the heat of his eruption warms my womb as he comes hard. Our breaths are ragged now. Our movements are still rhythmic as we slow down and finally rest.
His chest relaxes onto mine. Our foreheads touch. I don’t have the will to tell him I still want more. All of a sudden, he removes my blindfold. Our eyes lock. I should be embarrassed, enraged, or at least self-conscious. I’m not. It’s not just the post-climactic bliss, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to define it. All I know for certain is that I feel…good.
Chapter 9
Malcolm
One by one, I remove the ropes from her red, sore ankles and wrists. She has not paid enough yet, but seeing the marks the ropes have made on her body does nothing to excite or thrill me.
Riley sits up and stretches out her arms. “I don’t know about you, but that was the shortest thirty-something hours I’ve ever lived through.” She pulls the sheets up over her breasts. “I guess time flies when, well… you know.”
“That’s because you’ve only been here for four hours or so. Do those rope burns hurt?” I ask, taking one of her hands in mine to take a closer look.
The pretty little hellcat slaps my hand away. “No need to put on the bleeding heart act. I’m good.”
I ignore her defensive tone and get back into bed beside her.
“Get on top and ride, gingersnap.”
Moaning, she lifts up and straddles my legs. She finds my hands and place them over her breasts, massaging both my fingers and her breasts at the same time. Once Riley is satisfied that I’m fondling her flesh the right way, she rolls her hips, rubbing her wet heat along my rigid shaft. A condom is in her hand and ripped open before I notice her move. Mind you, I’m occupied with her breasts, which fill my hands so perfectly that it takes a bit more effort than normal to raise my head and capture her nipples in my mouth one by one.
She arches forward at my touch, hands now in her hair as she starts to lose it. I grind out a demand against the flesh of her breast, commanding her to slow down. I’m not inside of her yet. She slides her hips back and finds my cock to roll on the condom. Wrapping her arms around my head and neck, Riley uses her knees to rock forward. Before long, my cock head is surging past her folds as she lowers down along my shaft.
My pelvis moves on its own, tilting up to meet her movements. I fill her so deeply she lets out a gasp each time I hit a spot deep in her core. She rolls her hips, taking me further. I pick up the pace. My lips slip from her nipple to give her more room to move. I’m lost watching her bounce on my cock, breasts bobbing as her opening clenches the base of my shaft.
Riley is so close, I can see the climax beginning to distort her expression. I help her along by using my thumb to flick her clit. The extra contact has her body pulsing and her breaths short and punchy, until she snaps her eyes shut and whimpers. Her weakened, quivering body stiffens as she loses herself in this orgasm. Her hips rock forward for a while, and soon slow down until she falls forward on my chest. Her body is so still and peaceful, I let her rest a while.
“What’s your plan for the rest of my time as your sex slave?” she asks the moment her breathing comes back under control. “Let me guess. Whips? Ball gags? A sex swing? No, wait. I know. Put a collar on me, attach a long, shiny chain, and show me off to your billionaire buddies. Please, Malcolm.”
“Enough with the sarcasm,” I tell her.
Lifting her off me, I ease out of bed and head over to the bathroom.
I can keep her here all night and all day tomorrow. That’s what my dick wants, but instant gratification doesn’t tend to lend itself to anything beyond the horizon. I dispose of the condom, throw a towel around my waist, and return to stand at the side of the bed.
It’s time to come clean with the highlights of where things stand. The high points include the fact that no charges will be laid against her. Her friends have already been released. She will be offered the articling position. The offer is good, as long as she follows through with the public apology, and the return of all documentation she’s gathered about our linkage to the two energy companies.
I relate my update to that effect. Her mouth drops open, and stays that way for a solid twenty seconds.
Riley scratches her head. “Alexander Industries wants me to work for them. Me? Are you sure I’m not missing something?”
“Positive.”
“Why would they do that? I mean why would you do that? It is your family’s company after all. What’s the logic?”
“Isn’t is enough that you’re an astute law student with real passion to affect future change?” I ask, not ready to give her anything more. Overwhelming her too quickly will scare the hell out of her. I’m also trying to demonstrate some goodwill here.
“Oh yeah. Right.”
I head to the bedroom door and turn to face her. “You’re free to go,” I announce, pointing to her belongings. “One of the drivers will take you home.”
She gives me a skeptical sideways glance. “What? Is this some kind of trick?”
“No. I assure you it’s not.” I nod at the night table. “I left my card over there. Contact me after the holidays. I’ll get my assistant to arrange a start date with legal.”
She stares at me, silently assessing me from across the room. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” When I don’t answer, she slowly crawls off the bed and picks up her clothes. “I need a few minutes,” she says, and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her quick return to the room a minute later, and fully clothed too, tells me she does not want to take a chance that I’ll change my mind.
On her way out, she stops in front of me and stares up into my eyes. It takes all my will not to drag her back into my arms and carry her right back into that bed to finish what I started.
“Are you sure?” she asks for good measure.
I nod.
“I don’t know what to make of these developments, but… thank you.”
I’m tempted tell her that I should be thanking her, but I don’t. “It was great meeting you, Miss Hampton.”
“Same to you.” Riley begins to leave, but stops short in the doorway and looks back at me. “I should be running out of here like a bat out of hell.”
“So why aren’t you?”
“Honestly? A few reasons. I also get the distinct i
mpression you have something weighing on your mind that you want to share with me.”
Riley is right on the money. There’s nothing else I’d rather do right this second than unburden myself to her. My decision to let her leave now lays the groundwork for building a bridge of trust between us. No matter what’s going on in my head or my chest, I just can’t presume that there’s room to take a leap of faith so fast.
“What am I missing here?” she pushes. “Tell me. Give me something. Anything.”
“Merry Christmas to you and yours,” I say with resolve.
“Thanks. Have a great holiday.” With a nod, she steps into the hallway and I watch her leave.
Taking a shower helps clear my head. I grab my things and head up to my private suite for a change of clothes. It’s time to go back to the office. I’m on my way out of the clubhouse when my phone buzzes. I slide it out of my pocket.
The message reads, “Mr. Alexander. This is Miss Hampton.”
I reply with, “You took my business card. Good move.”
“Do you want to know something?”
“Yes.”
“If I come back, I’ll be there of my own free will.”
I smile and hop in the back of the waiting town car. “Perhaps.”
“Or how about this instead? 35 Morningside, Apt 503, Buzzer 768.”
There it is. It takes two to build a bridge, and she has just laid one plank on the other side.
“Sure. When?”
“How about now?”
“It’s one in the afternoon.”
“Shut up and get over here.”
Chapter 10
The Billionaire and The Virgin Page 35
