Billionaire's Playmate

by Chance Carter

  “Do you want me?” Emma called from the kitchen, stirring him out of his thoughts. “What?” he asked, swallowing hard. Certainly he heard her wrong.

  “Tea?” she repeated, looking around the corner. She raised her brows, as though curious about his confused expression. “Orange Pekoe? Earl Grey? Oolong?”

  “Um, sure. Whatever you’re having,” he mumbled, picking his pants up off the floor. He pulled on his jeans, roughly tugging them over his muscular ass, fastening the zipper hastily. He walked into the kitchen, following the smell of frying bacon, his empty stomach growling its approval.

  “Oh hey,” she said, looking up from the frying pan, “will you make some toast?”

  “Sure,” he mumbled uncomfortably, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. “I think I’m going to bounce right after breakfast, though. I have some errands to run.”

  “Oh,” she answered, half disappointed, half curious. He smiled at her weakly but offered no further explanation. The truth was, he just wanted to put some distance between them. He was of no use to her if he didn’t get his head on straight.

  “Ok,” she acknowledged, tossing him the loaf of bread. “I just texted Arran back. He’s sending a car for me at 5:30. Can you believe that?” She offered him a broad smile, shaking her head at the extravagance of it all.

  “Wow, fancy,” Luke agreed lightly, controlling his tone.

  “Yeah, apparently he is working downtown until about 6:00 and thought it would be easiest this way,” she continued, her hands busy with the task of flipping bacon. “I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.”

  “Sure,” he answered quietly, “well, actually don’t call until tomorrow afternoon. I’m probably going to be out tonight....late.”

  Emma smiled at him knowingly, chuckling under her breath. He’d let her believe whatever she wanted, returning her grin with a half-hearted smirk.

  “Fine, I guess I can wait. Pass me a plate?”

  “Mimi?” Luke uttered quietly, waiting for her to look up.

  “Yes?”

  “I think you should fuck him.”

  Chapter 23

  Arran’s driver met her in the lobby to escort her to the car. She tried to look casual as she walked past Wayne, the doorman, but couldn’t stifle a giggle when he gave her the universal symbol for ‘rock on’. She rolled her eyes playfully to cover her embarrassment.

  “Ma’am, may I?”, the driver asked politely, opening the car door for her. She smiled at him sweetly and shimmied her way into the back seat, minding that her dress didn’t slip up too high. She wished she could have just climbed into the passenger seat beside him instead, forgoing the formalities.

  “Where are we going?” Emma asked him as soon as he pulled out.

  He looked at her in the rear-view mirror and raised his brows. “Ma’am?”, he asked, as though he didn’t hear her question.

  “I’m just wondering where we are going?” Emma clarified, speaking a little louder.

  “Boeing Field,” he replied, turning the radio down.

  “The airport?” Emma blurted, not even trying to conceal her shock.

  “Yes ma’am, Mr. Barlow is meeting you there in 30 minutes. The flight is leaving at 19:00 hours.”

  Emma looked at the rear-view mirror, hoping to catch his eye. “Flight?” she asked nervously, wondering what the hell was going on.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where is this flight heading?” she asked impatiently, frustrated by his professional ambiguity.

  “I believe Mr. Barlow will fill you in on the details when you arrive, ma’am,” he reassured, his soothing tone mindful of her apprehension.

  “Will he now,” she uttered, a little more crossly than she meant to. He wisely didn’t respond.

  Emma sat back in her seat, her thoughts scrambling to make sense of the situation.

  What was happening? Where on earth was Arran taking her? He hadn’t shared many details with her, other than the fact that he wanted to take her to his friend’s restaurant. Apparently, he was a culinary master in French cuisine. She hoped it wasn’t in France.

  “You can control the temperature from the panel in front of you, ma’am, the music too. Are you comfortable?” asked the driver, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

  “How high tech,” she quipped a little more graciously, amused by his question. No, she thought, she was decidedly not comfortable but maybe that was ok. If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you, she contemplated, reminding herself how long she’d been complacent in her life and how miserable she had been.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, offering up a weak smile. She turned and stared out the window, watching the city pass by and did her best to settle herself.

  “Mimi!” Arran greeted, opening the car door for her as soon as the limo came to a stop. He offered her his hand to help her out of the car, which she cautiously accepted. She still had not decided if she was annoyed by his covertness or excited by the spontaneity. She had flip-flopped between the two all the way to the airport.

  “Arran,” she sang, her tone playfully scolding, “what is going on?”

  “We’re going to dinner!” he replied ambiguously, closing the car door behind her.

  “It looks like we’re getting on a plane.”

  “Yes, and we need to hurry, our flight is scheduled to take off very soon. You look stunning, by the way,” he praised, hoping to win her over with flattery. It was working.

  Emma smiled sweetly at him, delighted by the compliment. He was looking pretty dapper himself. She couldn’t deny it, he was a striking man. He looked her up and down, grinning his approval, then offered her a tender kiss on the lips. She kissed him back reluctantly, not because she didn’t want it, but because she was still a little apprehensive.

  “Don’t be cross, Mimi. You’ll like where we’re going and I promise to have you home before morning.” He held out his hand to her once more, inviting her consent. She exhaled slowly and accepted it.

  “Before we go, may I ask you one thing?” she asked, halting him with her free hand.

  “Of course, my beauty, what is it?”

  “Call me Emma, ok?” she insisted kindly, her eyes searching his. Mimi was Luke’s pet name for her and she just didn’t feel right sharing it with Arran. He smiled at her curiously, as though trying on her new name in his mind.

  “Emma. Emma. Yes, much better,” he purred confidently. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. “Now, let’s get on the plane, Emma, San Francisco awaits!”

  Chapter 24

  Those few hours with Arran in a private jet gave them the time they needed to get intimately familiar with each other without any distractions. Aside from the pilots and a very discreet flight attendant, they were completely alone. They enjoyed expensive champagne while he fed her chocolate-covered strawberries, listened to classical music, and shared a few passionate kisses, most of which were quite nice. It was the epitome of romance. Arran knew how to make a girl swoon, but Emma couldn’t help but wonder if this was his modus operandi. Although she enjoyed the seduction, everything seemed so well-rehearsed, and she wondered if she wasn’t the first girl he jetted away on an exotic date.

  She learned that he was a self-made man, literally pulling himself out of poverty and laboring his way to the top, relying on instinct, diligence, and a ‘ton of grit’. She was surprised when he revealed he was 47. Aside from the salt and pepper hair he certainly didn’t look it. He either had incredible genes or one hell of a plastic surgeon, his toned body put men half his age to shame. He had been married once, divorced after only a few short years. Apparently, his wife got tired of sharing him with his ‘mistress’,

  a.k.a. his career. He seemed regretful that he hurt her and admitted that he was solely responsible for the breakdown of the relationship. He assured her that he had learned from his mistakes.

  They talked a little about Emma but she reserved some of the more intimate details of her life, e
specially of her own failed marriage, not wanting to burden their date with too much gloom and doom. They did, however, talk about his more ‘adventurous’ interests which she had been quite curious about. He admitted he was a pretty kinky guy, enjoying a variety of sexual flavors. He was looking for a woman with a voracious sexual appetite and an open-mind. A playful partner who also liked to shake things up, sexually speaking. What he really wanted was a ‘good girl with a naughty pussy’, he said. Emma appreciated that there was no pretense with Arran, he was direct with his wants and needs, completely honest about who he was.

  He wanted to know where she stood with all of it, what brought her out to the clubs he’d met her at. She didn’t really have a good answer for him, other than the fact that she was looking for adventure and trying to find herself. It sounded so damn cliché, and the second the words fell from her mouth she wished she could have taken them back. Arran didn’t seem to mind though. He just offered her a supportive smile, his eyes swimming with curious desire. She wasn’t sure she was on the same level as he was, or if she ever would be, but Emma always believed that everyone she’d met had been placed in her path for a reason and she was intrigued to know what lessons he had to teach her.

  Chapter 25

  “I know it seems rather late, but I promise you this food will be worth the effort it took to get here. I have known Chef Laurent for many years, been to several of his restaurants both here and back home in London, and I promise you’re in for a treat,” Arran boasted, pulling her chair out, like a true English gentleman.

  She sat down, adjusting her dress beneath her, offering him an agreeable smile. She was running on adrenalin, truth be told, caught up in the whirlwind of the craziest date she had ever been on. She hoped that her exhaustion wouldn’t catch up to her over dinner. She was operating on 5 hours of sleep, most of which was fitful. She was ravenous too, and hoped filling her belly would offer her a much needed second wind.

  “It’s a beautiful restaurant Arran, and it smells delicious in here,” she approved, enjoying the ambiance. After only a few minutes of being seated, the sommelier came over and introduced herself, offering appropriate wine pairing suggestions, followed shortly after by their waiter.

  “Trust me to order for you, Emma,” Arran proposed boldly, reaching out for her hand. She found the offer, and his confidence, quite sexy and responded with an agreeable smile.

  “Very good,” he chirped, patting the top of her hand like one might praise an obedient child, a gesture that quickly shifted her impression. She chose to overlook it, chalking it up to being overly tired and sensitive.

  He did choose well though. After a tasting of Golden Ossetra Caviar, the waiter brought a starter of seared foie gras with caramelized onions and cherries, a dish that she shared with Arran. It had a rich texture, delicate and buttery, that melted in her mouth. She’d eaten foie gras in the past, but never a dish prepared with so much finesse. She was certain she was moaning after every bite but she couldn’t help herself. It made Arran chuckle, and she blushed like a schoolgirl when he admitted he wished it was him on the end of her fork.

  As they were waiting for their main courses to arrive, Arran looked at her inquisitively, tipping his wine glass in her direction. “Tell me, how long have you and Luke known one another?” he asked nonchalantly, the way people do when they want to appear indifferent. Emma wondered if it was a loaded question, triggered by the tone in his voice. She had trained herself very well over the years to pick up on subtle shifts in body language and inflection. She was also fiercely protective of her friendship with Luke, and didn’t like having to justify it, not to anyone.

  Her pause made him smile, a gesture to set her at ease, she assumed. She shook her head softly, embarrassed by her insecurity.

  “We’ve been friends since high school,” she explained, unapologetically. He nodded, waiting for her to share more. She didn’t.

  They sat in a moment of silence, quietly regarding one another.

  “That’s a long time. Were you guys ever an item?” he finally pressed, trying not to spook her. She knew he was looking for reassurance but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why, and found his question a little inappropriate. He didn’t come across as an insecure man.

  “No. Never. We’re just very close. He’s my best friend,” she answered, nevertheless.

  “Really? Never?” Arran grinned, looking at her as though he found it hard to believe.

  “No, why?” she asked, an amused smile hiding her indignation.

  “I mean no offense, truly. He just seems rather protective of you. Proprietary. What do you suppose that’s about?” he asked lightly, swirling the wine in his glass. Emma shrugged her shoulders indifferently, not sure how to answer him. Luke had always watched out for her, in the same way a brother might, but she never considered him proprietary.

  “He’s harmless,” she smirked, remembering Luke’s advice earlier that morning. He wanted this for her, to go out and have a good time, to be well seduced by an attentive man. He’d been nothing but supportive.

  “Darling, I wouldn’t be so sure,” he mused, refilling her wine glass. She brought it to her lips but didn’t drink. “I have a little understanding of the male species and I know how a man looks at the woman he loves.”

  Emma raised her eyes to meet his, perplexed by his observation. It was either coming from a place of insecurity or ignorance, but either way, he couldn’t be more wrong. Luke didn’t love her, not in the way Arran was implying. She found it rather humorous and chuckled softly into her wine glass. He laughed along with her, sitting back in his chair, and regarded her curiously, as though he considered her naive.

  “But I’m here, with you,” she cooed, hoping to change the subject, “why don’t we focus on that?”

  He clinked his wine glass with hers, wordlessly toasting her suggestion. She took a long swallow of her wine, and although grateful to move on, Arran’s pronouncement stayed with her.

  Chapter 26

  Emma shied past the night security guard, keeping her head down as she made her way towards the elevator. Arran had just dropped her off, opting to drive home with her in the same car, going completely out of his way. She insisted that she would be fine, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t ask her if he could come up, but she had a gentle excuse ready just in case he did. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a good time with him, just the opposite. Their flight home had been quite steamy, but Arran had a big personality that filled a whole lot of space. Along with being quick-witted, intelligent and intuitive, he also seemed to have endless stamina, and while she had no issues keeping pace with him, she found it draining, especially given her lack of sleep. Instead, he gave her the sweetest kiss goodnight and told her he would call her soon. Then, just as she was getting out of the car, he said he had never met a woman so captivating, and he was certain he was hopelessly smitten with her. (Could he be more British?)

  Two late nights in a row took its toll on Emma. She didn’t have much energy left, but she couldn’t get into her bed without a shower, especially after being on an airplane. Stripped down, she slipped under the hot stream, allowing the water to freshen her up. She looked down and ran her hands over her breasts, hesitating over the two little welt marks offered up by Arran’s teeth. Without enthusiasm or regret, she allowed her mind to drift back over their date.

  After their meal, they’d spent a few minutes chatting with the chef, complimenting him on the fabulous meal. It truly had been one of the best culinary experiences she’d ever had, and in spite of the indulgence, she felt completely pampered. As promised, they took a car directly back to the airport and only had to wait thirty or forty minutes for take-off. Once they were in the air, Arran had the cabin lights turned down low. The flight attendant brought them some delicious Irish Coffees, heavily spiked, and they curled up together on a sofa to enjoy them. Emma was convinced that she would never be able to fly coach again, especia
lly after kicking it in first-class style.

  It didn’t take long for Arran to commence his seduction. Emma was nervous, partly because she knew where things were heading, but also because she wasn’t exactly sure they were on the same page. Actually, she really didn’t know where Arran stood. She was very attracted to him and was definitely turned on, especially since it had been over a year since she had been intimate with a man, but beyond that, she wasn’t certain that she was capable of anything more. She wanted to bring it up, to put all her cards on the table, but each time she tried to share her thoughts with him, he would interrupt her or distract her with kisses.

  They were in the sky for about an hour when Arran insisted on some privacy, tipping the flight attendant generously to make herself scarce. He assured her they wouldn’t be disturbed and proceeded to clumsily undress her, unfastening the zipper on her dress and baring her shoulders before she even recognized what was happening. When she realized he was having trouble removing her sleeves, she smiled tentatively at him and offered some assistance. It had been an awkward moment but they figured it out, and before long she was lying back on the sofa in nothing but her lacy black bra and panties.

  He eyed her approvingly, then started kissing her again, only this time his mouth came down hard, parting her mouth assertively so he could taste her with his tongue. His eagerness was not unpleasant, quite the contrary. She liked being wanted, having such a desired effect on a man, but his kisses were hasty, even a little sloppy. She had tried to slow him down a little, gently holding his face in her hands so she could guide his passion, but he didn’t seem to understand her unspoken signals. He kissed down her neck, gently nibbling at the sensitive flesh of her throat, pulling at her bra. She assumed he was trying to unfasten it, unaware perhaps that it opened at the back. She eased herself up on her elbows and whispered to him that the clasps were behind her. He looked a little confused, but quickly caught on to the problem and reached underneath her to unhook it. After several seconds, it was clear that he would need some help. She giggled softly, trying to ease both of their embarrassment, and sat forward, easily releasing the hooks herself. If he had been flustered, he hid it well, burying his face into her neck again. This time his nibbles were much more determined, even a little painful, as though he was replacing his embarrassment with aggression. She remembered giggling uncomfortably, not sure whether she enjoyed it or not. While part of her liked the wicked sensation of teeth on flesh, it all seemed so frenzied, manic even.