Kissing the Billionaire

by Sophie Stern

  "I thought this was a meeting to discuss ideas," I hiss to Timothy as we walk back to the administration building. "Not a meeting so Jason could complain about every aspect of the site."

  "I'm sorry," Timothy shrugs. I know his hands are tied. He's my superior, but even he has to answer to Jason. "There's not a lot I can do. I know that the website is your thing, but if he's demanding changes, no matter how unreasonable, you need to do what he wants, Charlie."

  "It's not a matter of doing what he wants," I complain. "It's the fact that he has no idea what's going to draw in new students. I mean, seriously, Tim. Frames? He wants frames on the site? I haven't seen a legitimate website with frames since about 2004. You've got to be kidding me."

  Tim just sighs. We reach the door of his office and he puts his hand on doorknob for a moment before turning it. He seems to be deep in thought.

  "I'll talk to him," he says, finally. "I'll see what I can do. Just be ready for anything. I agree with you, Charlotte. I really, do. The changes he's suggesting are outdated and will probably have a negative effect on the way people view the school. Put together a report, get some articles together, something. Give me something tangible I can use and I'll schedule another meeting."

  "Fine. I can do that. When do you want it?"

  "Have it to me by tomorrow morning." Then he walks inside his office and collapses into his chair. He's as exhausted as I am, both emotionally and physically. The idea of completely wrecking everything I've worked for is insane to me, not to mention painful. I feel like Jason has no idea how hard I've worked to really boost the image of our school. We have a lot of great programs, but they're useless if no one ever knows about them.

  I've poured hours, days, even weeks into creating the perfect website with matching social media profiles. Hell, our school is even on Pinterest. We're up-and-coming. We're out there. But making me go back to plain HTML and...frames? Seriously? Jason is going to undo all of my work and I don't know if it's something I can live with.

  Reaching my own office, I sit down and slide my chair to the desk. I rest my elbows on the edge of my desk, prop my forehead in my hands, and let out a huge, drawn-out sigh. I can put together some spreadsheets and articles for Tim. I can do that. I just don't even know where to start. Jason is so far out there that I won't be shocked if he doesn't even have a personal email address. He might not even have a Facebook. Fuck. He might not even know what Facebook is.

  I find myself, for the millionth time, resenting the fact that no one seems to care that they hired me to do something and they won't let me do it. At least if I work with August, I'll have some respect. I'll have some trust. He’s practically begging me to come work with him to give his company a social media reboot. It's what I'm good at and I know I can do a good job. I only hesitate to say “yes” because I love this job so much and I'm not sure that I can handle both.

  But it's looking more and more like I'm going to want to seriously consider August's offer.

  I open a new browser and start searching for information I can use for this report I'm creating for Tim. If I want any chance of getting my way, I know it has to be incredible. Jason isn't going to talk to me again. He's going to talk to Tim. And I'll be lucky if he even gives Tim a portion of the time we had originally allotted to talk today. He'll have maybe 20 minutes. Tim's going to have to be incredibly persuasive.

  None of this would happen if I was working with August, I think.

  And then I remember our date for tonight. Our date at 7 tonight. Our date where he asked me to look nice because he wanted to take me out properly.

  I pick up the phone to cancel, but not before I bang my head against the wall twice. It hurts, but I don't care. This day cannot get any worse.

  12

  I twist the hourglass necklace I'm wearing. It's the one August gave me. It's the one that reminds me of my mother. It hasn't been long since she died, but sometimes it feels like she's been gone forever. On days like today, all I want to do is go curl up her couch, lean my head on her shoulder, and cry. I miss having my mom to talk to. I miss being able to tell her anything and have it be okay.

  I still have Anna and I still have my dad, but sometimes I just really want Mom.

  Finishing the presentation for Timothy takes longer than I anticipate. I don't leave the office until after 9pm. It's long after I should have left and it's not like I get paid overtime for shit like this. With a sigh, I make my way through the dark parking lot to my car. I slip inside, start the engine, and turn toward home.

  Distracting myself with research today was a good thing, I tell myself. It gave me a chance to focus on actually creating something important and not just on August. Part of me still can't believe the way he kissed me this morning. Part of me can't believe he likes me.

  I know there's a reason he keeps arguing that he's not ready for a relationship. Maybe it's because he's been hurt before. Maybe he's scared. Maybe his family doesn't like seeing him date women who aren't as wealthy as him. I don't know. It could be anything.

  But I get the feeling that it's not going to matter. None of it will.

  I've been driving for almost half an hour when I realize that I didn't drive home like I was planning to. Instead, I drove to August's. I don't know why.

  That's not true: I know exactly why. I can't stop thinking about him. I don't want to wait until tomorrow to see him. Canceling our date was hellish for me, but I also don't know if showing up on his doorstep is acceptable at this point in our relationship.

  I pull into his driveway and turn off my car.

  I stare at his house for what feels like an eternity. Should I go in? I should go in. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't know. Maybe he's not even home. That's a copout and I know it. The lights on in the house let me know that he's definitely home and he's probably relaxing by himself, maybe with a glass of wine.

  Maybe in his boxers.

  Finally, I pick up the phone and call him. He answers on the second ring and his sultry voice melts my heart.

  "Hello." It's a statement, not a question.

  "Hey, August, it's Charlotte."

  "I know. Come inside."

  "How do you know I'm here?"

  "I can see you, Char. Come in."

  I peek out the front window of my car and can see his silhouette in the living room window. Okay, so he is home. He probably thinks I'm a total weirdo now for just showing up like this, but at this point, I don't really care. I hop out of my car and scurry up to the front door, wishing suddenly that I had sprayed some perfume on or something. I hope I don't smell like someone who just spent the entire day and then some at an office.

  He opens the door before I even knock and wraps his arms around me. He doesn't kiss me. He just holds me. I can't complain because it feels amazing. Everything about this moment feels incredible. Part of me wonders how I've gone my entire life without knowing August. He makes me feel comfortable, safe, and excited.

  "I'm glad you're here," he says to me, running his hand through my hair.

  "Me too," I murmur. "I'm sorry I just showed up. I just sort of ended up here."

  "You're always welcome, Beautiful." Then his lips are on mine and he's consuming me in an incredible kiss that takes my breath away. I feel weak. I feel powerful. I feel hot and cold at the same time. I feel everything I could ever want to feel and then more. I don't understand how August and I could have known each other for such a short period of time, but feel like it's been forever.

  He finally pulls away and I'm able to catch my breath. I soak up his sparkling green eyes and just smile. I'm sure I look like a huge dork with this cheesy grin on my face, but I don't care.

  "I had the worst day," I say. "I'm really glad you let me in."

  "What? As opposed to leaving you out on the porch all night?" He smiles. "Come on. Let's get you something to drink."

  I watch him strut confidently into the kitchen. He's wearing black silk pants. I guess they're the rich-person equivalent of sweats. His black t-sh
irt clings to him, revealing his muscular arms and back. I wonder how much he works out. Maybe he has a home gym somewhere around here. Maybe he has a personal trainer.

  I glance down at my own body, briefly self-conscious about my extra bit of pudge. I'm not fat by any means, but I do like to eat. My not-entirely-flat stomach showcases this for the world to see. Oh well. August seems to not care. He's seen me naked a couple of times now, so I guess he must not mind.

  Following him into the other room, I slide onto a barstool at his kitchen counter. He grabs a glass and drops a couple of ice cubes in before asking what I want to drink.

  "Whiskey." He looks surprised at my answer, but I'm not. We drank a lot of wine the other night, so he probably assumes I don't know my way around liquor. How wrong he is. I spent a summer working at a restaurant downtown, so there's not much about alcohol I don't know. It’s amazing how many different ways rich guys like their rum-and-colas mixed. I can make a lot of different drinks and I can make them well, but my personal favorite has always been, and always will be, plain ol' whiskey.

  He pours the liquor and hands it to me. I take a sip, close my eyes, and sigh as it burns down my throat. I immediately feel warm all over and more relaxed than I have all day. This is the life.

  "Good?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I just nod and finish the glass.

  "My day sucked," I tell him. "And I'm not really sure what to do about it."

  "I might have an idea."

  He pulls me to my feet and I almost drop my glass, but manage to set it on the counter before he envelops me in the kiss of a lifetime. I could get used to this. August is many things and I'm guessing a skilled lover is one of them. I haven't been with many guys, but I've been with enough to know that guys like August don't come around often. Guys who can get your panties soaking wet from a kiss don't come around often.

  I make a mental note not to blow this.

  The only thing I’m going to be blowing is his dick.

  After a moment, August releases me and strokes my cheek softly.

  "You're beautiful," he murmurs. Every ounce of me believes him. Then, before I can get too hung up on his words, he grabs my hand and leads me to the living room. I'm feeling warm and comfortable from the whiskey, suddenly able to forget, just for a moment, about the drama of my day.

  August has a roaring fire going and we snuggle up in front of it on the couch. It's not winter yet, but it's starting to turn cool out, and the warmth feels great. I naturally lean my head on his shoulder, biting my bottom lip as I do.

  All of this still feels very fresh, very new, and very unnerving.

  I feel a sort of comfort with August that I don't usually have around guys I've just started dating. Somehow, he seems put together and kind. He seems trustworthy. He seems like the kind of guy who isn't going to pressure me into anything I'm not ready for. He's the kind of guy I can open up to.

  And I do.

  "I don't know what to do about my job," I say bluntly, surprising both of us. His body tenses briefly, then relaxes again.

  "What's wrong with your job?" He asks gently. "I thought you liked it there."

  "I do," I start. "I mean, I did. It's just, today was awful. And it's not really the first time something like this has happened. I'm just not really sure where to go from here."

  "Well," he says slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You have options, Charlotte." I remember his offer from the other night, about becoming his social media manager. I'd be great at it. I really would. The only thing that held me back from accepting his offer was my current position. Now, just days after meeting August, I'm honestly considering it.

  Can I really take another month, another year, another ten years of being treated like my opinion doesn't matter when it comes to my position?

  "The job at Strongdelt," I say out loud. He nods.

  "I realize that I offered you a temporary freelance position, but if you feel like you're ready to make a change, I'm sure we could make it a permanent job, Charlotte."

  When I look up into his eyes, they're serious. August doesn't mess around when it comes to his company. His father built Strongdelt Robotics from the ground up and he's not going to do anything to mess that up. If August Mason is offering me a full-time, created-just-for-me job, it's because he thinks I'll be great at it.

  Part of me feels like I should immediately accept. Part of me feels like it would be insane to say "no" to something like this. After all, he's offering competitive pay doing something I really want to do. And I get the feeling that working for August is not going to be anything like working for Timothy.

  Or Jason.

  I shudder just thinking about tomorrow and how he's going to respond to the proposal I put together.

  "What?" August senses my frustration.

  "I spent the whole day working on a presentation," I tell him. "I spent my entire day, lost out on a date with you, and I'm worried that it's going to be for nothing."

  He doesn't say anything. He doesn't push me to accept his offer. Instead, he wraps his arms around me tighter and strokes my hair, letting me know where I belong.

  For the first time in a very long time, I feel safe. My mom used to hold me this way when I was scared or searching, when I felt lost. And now August is touching me the same way. He's accepting me. He's making me feel like I'm special. He's making me feel like I matter. He's making me feel like no matter what I say, he's still going to want to be around me.

  I lean up and kiss him. His eyes flash with surprise for only a second before they turn dark. He lets out a soft growl as he grabs me closer and kisses me hard. I open my lips to let him in and he doesn't hesitate, taking me.

  This is a man who knows what he wants and who isn't afraid to get it.

  Only, I remember for a second, he said there were things I needed to know about him. I wonder for just a moment what August's dark secrets are, what things he's keeping to himself that no one knows about.

  What is it that haunts August Mason in the dead of night?

  What is it that makes him scared when he's alone?

  What secrets is he hiding in the dark, hoping to forget?

  But then he bites my bottom lip softly, bringing me back to reality, and I forget that there are any secrets. Instead, I'm just wrapped up in him. My hand rests on his thigh and I want to move it higher. I want to feel if he's hard for me while we kiss. I know it's not proper or appropriate to grope your boyfriend on your first night together, but, I reason, he's already seen me naked. It would be rude not to return the favor.

  And so, by the flickering fire in the stillness of the evening, the whiskey still burning softly in my belly, I slide my hand up to August's dick. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it, nor does he push my hand away in an attempt to be a gentleman. He just opens his mouth and hisses my name the way I've been wanting him to, the way I've been needing him to.

  "Charlotte."

  It's a command, it's a question, it's an observation, all wrapped into one word. It's a desire. It's a need. August is just as ready for me as I am for him and I don't plan on making him wait a moment longer.

  13

  The ringtone on my phone blares loudly before I finish pulling my shirt off.

  Fuck.

  I ignore it at first, but then it doesn't stop and August motions for me to get it.

  "It's okay," he says. I know he means it, but I'm annoyed at the interruption. I haven't been fucked in months and it’s well after 10:00. Who in their right mind would be calling me at this hour?

  Oh, I realize, as I see the name flash across my screen. It's Anna. My little sister, who also happens to be my roommate, has no concept of time. I chalk it up to pregnancy-brain, but she's always been like this.

  "What's up?" I ask, trying to conceal how out of breath I am. I have no plans to tell my sister that I'm in the middle of trying to fuck a billionaire. I have no plans to tell her that my pussy is so wet that my panties are permanently soaked. I have no plans to tell her how hard my
nipples are pressed against my bra or that when she called I was about to set them free.

  Instead, I try to play it cool.

  She doesn't buy it.

  "Oh shit," she says, immediately realizing what I'm doing. "Are you fucking someone?"

  "What? No!"

  "Is it August? Are you there? Is that what you're doing right now?"

  "Anna," I say, leveling my voice, trying not to squeak or act weird in any way. "I told you earlier that I had to work late tonight."

  "And I happen to know for a fact that you left over an hour ago because Colby saw your car and we were on the phone when he saw you."

  Now it's my turn to mutter "Shit." Life in a small town is never boring. Being the only person who has a purple God and Guns since 1776 bumper sticker and a back window full of stuffed animals make me stick out even more.

  "Where are you?" She asks.

  "I'm at August's house," I finally admit, making eye contact with him. Damn, he's sexy. Even with his clothes still on and his tell-tale bulge starting to diminish from this lame-ass conversation, he looks good. "What's wrong, Anna?" I ask, realizing that she didn't call just to check up on me.

  "Well, oh, you know, nothing much, but-" Anna's voice cuts out as I hear someone say, "Give me the phone."

  Colby, her fiance and the father of her baby, comes on the line.

  "Charlotte, everything's fine, but we're at the hospital right now."

  "What!?" I screech, and August's eyes go wide. And I'm guessing his dick goes soft.

  There goes our night of fun.

  "It's okay, everything's fine," he assures me. "Anna had some slight spotting and we thought she might be losing the baby. She's fine though, but they're going to keep her here overnight for observation. Anna just didn't want you to worry when she didn't come home tonight."

  "I'll be right there," I glance around wildly, wondering where my keys went. "Give me half an hour. I'm in Pinebluff, but-"