The salesperson handed the package over to me and made me promise to stop by the next time I was wearing it.
“I promise,” I said, and I left the store. I walked quickly back to my hotel room, avoiding even looking into any other store windows. The dress had set me back almost a month’s salary, which, even considering my recent promotion, was barely justifiable. But, I set the dress on my bed and looked at it. It seemed to call to me, to beg me to put it on.
As if reading my mind, my phone pinged.
Dinner 2nite. Wear something special.
I smiled at Brad’s text. Responded.
Can’t wait. Meet u in the hotel bar. I’ll be dressed to kill.
That’s a high expectation to set, he texted back. Don’t disappoint me.
Don’t worry, I responded, smiling. Then, I shut off my phone.
I’d spent most of the afternoon shopping, so I didn’t have a lot of time to get ready. I showered, did my hair and make up carefully, then slid into the dress. If possible, it felt even better, the soft fabric cool against my skin, still flushed from the heat of my shower. I slid into thigh high black silk stockings, and finished the look with three inch black patent leather heels. I shivered when I saw the full effect in the mirror, then smiled. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so sexy.
The only thing I didn’t have was a proper handbag; I was stuck with the one I’d used earlier that day. I emptied out everything I didn’t think I needed, leaving only my wallet, phone, lipstick, and mascara. At least it was black, though it was clunkier than I would want.
I took the elevator downstairs and sat at an open seat in the bar. The restaurant bar was full; it was dinner time and those who weren’t seated in the restaurant had either opted for seats at the bar or were waiting there for their table.
The bartender was someone I hadn’t seen there yet during my stay. He was young, definitely a student, and had his blond hair cut in a floppy haircut that made him look even younger than he was. He glanced at me and did a double take that made me smile; the power of the dress, I knew. He scurried over to me, put a coaster down in front of me, and apologized for making me wait.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I just got here. Could I have a glass of your house red wine? I’m in Suite 20B.”
“Right away, Ma’am,” he said. I watched his eyes as he registered that 20B was the VIP suite. He poured the wine and returned.
“Can I see your ID?” he asked, a marked hesitation in his voice. I arched my eyebrows. I wasn’t exactly old, but I definitely looked over twenty-one.
“I’m old enough to drink alcohol,” I said, with just the smallest amount of attitude in my voice.
The bartender blushed. “It’s not that, Ma’am,” he stammered. “It’s… we need proof you’re a guest…” He was looking over at Hartford, the maître d’, who came rushing over. He’d heard the exchange.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Cassie,” he said. “James is new. You don’t need to show us ID.”
“Thank you, but now I’m just wondering where it is!” I said, reaching for my purse to search through it. It wasn’t in my wallet, which, of course, it wouldn’t be. I always carried it separately from my driver’s license and money. I tried to picture the things I’d taken out of my purse when I’d emptied it; my passport wasn’t on that small pile, I knew. “Shit,” I said out loud. “I have no idea where my passport is.” Hartford looked at me. The bartender, sensing a problem he couldn’t solve, escaped to wait on a couple that had just sat down.
I thought back to the last time I’d seen my passport. I’d needed to show it as proof of my signature when I’d bought the dress this afternoon, but, after that, I hadn’t seen it. I wondered if I’d dropped it in the store or on the sidewalk on the way back to the hotel.
“We can have someone check your room for you while you’re at dinner, Ms. Cassie,” Hartford said soothingly. “Don’t let it worry you; I’m sure it just got mixed in with some of your bags today.”
“Who is this beautiful woman, and how did I get so lucky?” Brad whispered into my ear over my shoulder. His warm hands slipped around my waist, and I leaned back into him, my body immediately moving into arousal at his touch.
I turned to face him, and he scanned me from head to toe, taking me in. For a moment, I forgot all about my passport.
“Holy smokes,” he whistled. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Just a little thing I picked up today at a boutique.” I smiled and winked at Hartford. He smiled and slipped away.
“I’m suddenly very hungry for something other than dinner,” Brad growled, his voice low and throaty. His grip returned, this time to my thighs, and he squeezed my quads with his warm, broad palms. I smiled and stood.
“Shall we, then?” I asked, playing the innocent. “I’m starving.” I waited as he took me in again, this time seeing the full effect of the dress on me from head to toe.
“You’re in so much trouble,” he whispered, taking my hand. He turned and smiled at Hartford, then led me out of the bar.
“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked.
Brad
When I woke the next morning, the first thing my eyes settled on was that fucking amazing dress Cassie had worn to dinner last night. It was crumpled up in a ball on the floor where I’d basically torn it off of her after she teased me all through dinner with it. I smiled, remembering the feel of the dress under my hands, the sensation of it melting off her body as I pulled it down, the sight of her stepping out of it in those hot stockings and heels. I’d told her to keep the stockings on, at least for a while, and my eyes traveled to the one that had gotten tangled up in the base of the bedside lamp. I had no idea where the other one had ended up. I reached out and stroked her silky thigh, the warmth of her body sending an arousal signal straight through me. I rolled toward her and kissed her lightly.
She moved, breathing deeply as she came out of her sleep.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Mmmmm, hi,” she said in a high pitched, sleepy voice. She didn’t open her eyes, just reached out toward me. Her hand found my chest and she began to run her fingertips along my abs, an action that didn’t decrease my arousal one bit.
“I’m still hungry,” I said, and I kissed her deeply. She rolled onto her back, awake now, and I climbed on top of her. She spread her legs immediately and I plunged myself between them, both of us turned on and ready for action. She wrapped her legs around me and drew me to her; I felt her flexing her vaginal walls against my cock as I thrust into her, and I groaned. “You’re so good,” I said, and I came, spilling into her. It took only a few moments, not nearly long enough by most women’s standards, but I wasn’t worried about that. Cassie and I had developed a pattern much like eating; sometimes we liked a long, luxurious meal, and sometimes we liked a quick snack. I rolled off of her and she smiled, her eyes open and bright.
“Better than a bagel with cream cheese,” she said, grinning.
“I should say,” I said, getting out of bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked, putting a slight pout into her voice.
“Work,” I said. “Don’t forget about the dinner party tonight. You could wear you-know-what again.” We weren’t going to see anyone we’d seen last night, and that dress was a complete knockout.
“Well, it would save me the trouble of figuring out what to wear. Hey, have you seen my passport?”
I thought for a moment. “Nope,” I said. “Is it missing?”
She rolled onto her stomach and looked at me, the sheet pulled down to her hips, treating my eyes to a feast of soft skin, her shoulders and back bare.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think so. It’s not a big deal. Just keep an eye out, yeah?”
“It’s not a big deal until you try to leave London,” I said, tying my shoes.
“Well, then, maybe I just shouldn’t leave London.” She tossed something at me; it hit my chest and fell to the floor. I looked down; it was her other stocking.
“See you tonight,” she said, then she rolled toward the wall.
I grabbed my briefcase and wallet, tucked my phone into my pocket, and headed downstairs to the Legacy Suites main office. The second I closed the suite door behind me, the smile disappeared from my face. I needed to deal with a new shipment that was scheduled to come into London later this week. I frowned as I rode the elevator down, checking my text messages. I had nine from an unknown number, all of them with single words that seemed to make no sense. I deleted them, then focused on the messages from my London business partner, Simon.
Rather than respond to his texts, I called him.
“We have an issue with the shipment location,” he said immediately. I sighed. I’d already had my share of difficulties with the recent Belize shipment; I really wasn’t in the mood for another. The issues in bigger cities were never related to the storage facilities, though; they were related to making the shipment as invisible as possible. We needed to make it hide in plain sight.
“What’s the issue?” I asked impatiently. “And why hasn’t it been taken care of?”
“Dion is dead,” Simon said, and I couldn’t hide the gasp that came out of my mouth.
“When?” I asked.
“This morning. Early. I got the call around four.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?”
“Right,” I said. “Okay, where is the shipment at? Has it reached London?”
“It’s scheduled to arrive tonight, a little after midnight. I suggest we meet during the dinner tonight. I can take care of things during the day today; I just wanted you to be aware of the situation.”
“I’ll handle it,” I said quickly. Anytime there was a situation involving a shipment, I wanted to deal with it personally. As long as Manuel Brown was running things, and, I reminded myself firmly, he did run things, as long as he had Antoine, I had to make sure that I handled everything. Even my closest, most trusted associates couldn’t be trusted with my life’s blood. I closed my eyes, thinking of Lorinda, of her scream cutting off suddenly, the silence that followed. Even I couldn’t be trusted sometimes.
“What?” Simon said. I paused. Had I said something out loud?
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just that I’ll handle everything. I’ll be in contact this afternoon, and we can connect tonight at the dinner.”
I clicked off my phone and rubbed my forehead with my hand. Just once, I wanted something to go according to plan.
Cassie
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, shaking Simon’s hand. Brad had just introduced me to his business partner, a tall, attractive man who wore a suit almost as well as Brad. It was easy to see that the two got along well. “How long have you and Brad been in business together?” I was curious enough, but I also thought again of the secret I was sure Brad was hiding. Perhaps researching Simon would reveal some new information. I committed his name to memory and vowed to look him up as soon as I got to my computer.
“Long enough that he knows all my deep, dark secrets,” Brad said, winking at me and grinning.
I smiled back, but I felt that same spike of tension push through my stomach.
“Funny,” I said, letting him know that I knew he was referring to our earlier conversation. He was trying to cover it up with a joke now, but it wasn’t going to work; I knew something was up.
“This guy is a damn comedian,” Simon said, clapping Brad on the shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink and catch up on business? Cassie, do you mind if I steal him away for a few minutes?”
“Not at all,” I said. I turned to Brad. “I’m going to call the Embassy about my passport.” I’d searched my room and Brad’s from top to bottom, gone back to the boutique where I’d bought the dress, and left word with the hotel’s front desk that my passport was missing, and it still hadn’t turned up. I was scheduled to fly back to the States in just a few days, and I needed my passport.
Brad nodded. “We’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “When you’re done with your phone call, just head back here to the bar. I’ll come find you.”
I watched Brad and Simon walk away, admiring the view, and then I stepped out into the cool night to call the Embassy. After a frustrating few minutes trying to work my way through the maze of “press six for more options,” I hung up, exasperated. I could go to the Embassy itself, but not until tomorrow. And, I didn’t even know if they would be able to help me. It looked as though I’d be in London longer than I thought… which required a call to Emma, who was apartment sitting for me, and to my editor, who was expecting me back to meet a deadline.
I walked back in and sat at the bar, sipping a glass of red wine and people watching while I waited for Brad and Simon to return. The dinner party was a fundraising event for an organization in charge of finding missing and exploited children. Brad was one of the founding members, and he had, according to the speaker, given hundreds of thousands of dollars to help the organization since its beginning. I looked around, my journalist senses engaged completely, watching for anything out of the ordinary. The dining area was full of couples and small groups, everyone dressed in tuxedos and cocktail dresses. I didn’t see anyone I recognized from the hotel, and no one stood out as seeming out of place. I realized I had nothing but a vague suspicion based on how Brad had reacted, and I had no solid evidence that he was hiding anything. Perhaps, I thought, I should stop looking for something to be wrong and just enjoy the fact that I’m dating a hot billionaire.
“Can I get you another drink, Miss?” the bartender asked. I jumped at the sound of his voice, then smiled as I saw Brad walking back into the room. He walked toward me with purpose, and I recognized the look on his face.
“No thank you,” I said. “I believe my date and I are leaving.” I slipped off the bar stool and walked toward Brad. He slipped his arm around me and leaned in.
“I want to see what’s under that dress,” he murmured into my ear.
“I think that can be arranged,” I said, smiling back. He said his goodbyes quickly and he walked me to the car. We got back to the hotel in record time, and we went straight to the room. I was surprised Brad didn’t even stop to say hello to the desk staff, but I didn’t complain.
When he keyed into the suite, he immediately turned to me and pushed me up against the closed door, his lips on mine and his hands on me. I felt heat and arousal surge through me, my blood growing hotter. I reached my arms up, my hands on his shoulders, and he grabbed my wrists, roughly pushing them behind my back. I grinned, and I felt his mouth do the same as we kissed.
“Like it rough?” he asked.
“I like it when you handle me,” I said. I struggled against his grip, knowing that he would allow me to break free if I wasn’t enjoying it… and knowing that I loved every second of it.
“I’m going to handle every bit of you tonight,” He said, keeping my hands bound behind me and picking me up, squeezing me against him. He released my hands and I put them around his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his waist. My skirt slid up to my waist, and he tucked his hands under my ass, feeling the flesh of my rear between my g-string and my stockings. He lightly slapped my ass cheek and I felt a shock like electricity shoot straight to my clit. As he carried me, my clit rubbed against him, arousing me, starting my build to orgasm even before he had my clothes off. I rolled my eyes and groaned with pleasure.
He dumped me on the bed and climbed between my legs, tugging my dress up higher. He pulled my g-string off quickly and spread my legs wider with his hand. His tongue plunged into me, and I moaned. He thrust his tongue in and out, lapping up my wetness and creating a flood between my legs. He kissed my thighs, teasing me, and I wiggled my hips, wanting him to move back inside me.
“Want something?” he grinned, looking up at me.
“You know what I want,” I gasped. I wanted his finger
s, his tongue, his cock, I wanted all of him.
He sat back for a moment, pulling off his shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it onto the floor. He peeled off his white undershirt and treated me to a view of his perfect, chiseled chest, still tan from his time in Belize. He quickly dispensed with his pants, and I sat up, reaching behind my neck to begin to unzip my dress.
“No,” he said, stopping me. “Leave the dress on. I want to fuck it.”
I arched my eyebrows at him and leaned back, forgetting I was wearing anything at all as he returned to the space between my legs, radiating heat. He kissed my inner thighs and licked the outside of my pussy, then he slid two fingers into me and pressed his thumb to my engorged clit. I groaned, the sensations moving through me hard and fast, his touch exactly the right pressure in all the right places. My orgasm was rising steadily, and I pressed myself into his hand, reaching for him, bringing his mouth to my clit. He understood and moved his thumb, replacing it with his lips. He took my clit in his mouth and sucked while he finger fucked me, his rhythm forceful and consistent, until my climax rolled over me in an excited rush of adrenaline and sensation. I cried out and he kept going, staying with me through my entire orgasm, until my final shudder, until my legs collapsed into jelly and I let out one final groan of pleasure.
He kissed me, my own salty taste on his lips, and laid on top of me. The pressure of his body on mine was arousing in itself, and I felt his hard, insistent cock twitching by my right thigh.
“Someone is feeling neglected,” I smiled, reaching down to stroke his cock.
“You better fix that,” he said. “I think you’re the only one who can take care of it.”
“You may be right,” I said, and I rolled out from under him. He rolled over and I sat beside him, giving him a full view of the top of the dress as I leaned down to suck his cock.
Billionaire Romance Box Set: The Billionaire's Legacy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set Page 6
