“Would you consider going on the pill?” Alexander said.
“I …” I began, containing a small flurry of elation at the question. If he wanted me to go on the pill, it was fairly safe to assume that he wanted to continue having sex with me. “I don’t … well, I don’t have health insurance at the moment. But I’m sure there’s a free clinic I could go to–”
“You do have health insurance now,” he interrupted, almost gruffly, as though the topic annoyed him. “It’s part of the employment package. I’m going to get you an appointment for Monday morning, if that works for you. Then, if you’re game, you can start taking them immediately.” If you’re game. One thing I was sure of: when it came to Alexander, I was game for anything.
I already knew he was a dominant type of person. He was the CEO of an entire empire, after all; he had to be dominating. He was used to calling the shots, and to giving orders. I might have felt an inkling of rebellion about his arrogant authority if it hadn’t been for one thing. He’d just succeeded in taking full control of my health, my birth control method, my job, my accommodation and my sex life. In one fell swoop. But the way he’d phrased it all found me agreeing to any suggestion he made. If that works for you. If you’re game. He was handing me the promise of money, safety, rewarding professional challenges and on-call multiple orgasms for the foreseeable future. But he wasn’t assuming anything. He was giving me the choice. This concession seemed to suggest to me that I held some measure of power in this relationship, too. Even if he, for all intents and purposes, was the bestower of all these … gifts, for lack of a better word, and I was the recipient and the underling, there was more to this story. I brought out a vulnerability in Alexander, and I could feel it. I felt it when I took him into my body, and I felt it now, as he watched my eyes. He didn’t want to scare me away. He wanted to lure me and hold me. He had grown attached to me, already, as I had grown attached to him. Strongly. He wanted me badly, for now, to be with him and to stay with him. I could see it written on his face.
As if to prove me right, he said, “I’m supposed to meet my brother tonight for dinner at eight o’clock,” he said. “And I’d like you to come with me.”
I was a little surprised when Alexander asked me to dinner with his brother. I knew we shared a surprisingly intense attraction, even if we’d only met just over a day ago. Our bodies were like magnets that couldn’t resist each other’s pull. But still. It seemed too soon, despite the whirlwind consummation of our new connection, both romantically and professionally, to be meeting his family.
“No,” I said, sitting up. “Thank you. But I should get going. My roommate probably thinks I’ve been abducted by aliens. I’ve texted her, but she’s probably wondering what’s going on. And besides, I don’t have anything to wear to dinner. I’d need to go home and change.” I’d only brought two small items of clothing with me, and in fact I was wondering where they might be located. Probably still laying where we’d left them in Alexander’s office. I’d spent most of my time in Alexander’s company completely naked. “You and your brother probably have a lot to talk about. You catch up with him, and I’ll go home and prepare myself for my new job. I’ll see you on Monday.” Even as I said it, I wondered: would he still want to hire me? Maybe I’d blown the job interview by have sex with him seven times.
He snaked his arms around my waist, halting my retreat. “It’s still early,” he said. “I’ll take you shopping for some new outfits. Some evening clothes and some work clothes. That’s also part of the employment package: a clothing allowance.” We both knew a clothing allowance was well beyond the scope of my job description. “Then we’ll go to dinner. I want you to come meet my brother Jake.”
Some underlying emotion in his voice when he said his brother’s name seemed steeped with affection. I got the feeling Alexander and his brother were close. And I wondered why he wanted me with him.
“Alexander –” I began, but he pulled me back to him, mouthing my nipple, nuzzling and biting gently.
“Please,” he whispered against my breast, biting more strongly. Holding me with his teeth and his gripping hands. His mouth gentled, drawing the sensitive nub of my nipple into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking in tiny rhythmic pulls. It was a strange sensation. Like he was feeding on me with a kind of tender adoration I had never imagined. He was worshipping my body: that’s how it felt. Each little pull sent a wave of some indefinable pleasure into my body. Not lust, entirely. I was over-satiated, if anything. This sensation felt rare and vast and sacred.
I let my fingers wander through his disheveled hair as he suckled me in this gentle, reverent way. “I would like to go on the pill, yes,” I told him, as sure of every decision I was making as if there had never been any other choice. “And if we’re going shopping before we meet your brother, then we’d better get ready.”
I’d noticed, of course, the opulence of Alexander’s penthouse office and adjoining apartment. Real estate location aside, both were large and fitted with wildly expensive, if sparse, appliances, furniture and decorations. But going out on the town with him was something else entirely.
A driver picked us up and took us to Barneys. Alexander had called ahead and we were met by a personal shopper. She was an impeccably-dressed middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Maude. We were politely led to an upper floor where an open fitting room with views of the city, plush chairs and several tall mirrors had been artfully arranged. We were served champagne as a team of assistants answered Maude’s orders for sizes and styles.
“She needs an entire new wardrobe,” Alexander had explained. “Work outfits, eveningwear, fitted short skirts and tops. A nice warm coat for fall. Leather, maybe. Or suede. And shoes. Lots of shoes. Accessories, too. Whatever she wants.”
And so I sipped my champagne as Maude and her minions dressed me and undressed me, outfitting me again and again. Alexander sat by the window, checking his emails on his phone, making a few calls. He would give his approval from his perch, or veto the selections he didn’t like.
Anything she wants.
It was true. Two hours later, my wardrobe had easily quadrupled in volume, quantity-wise at least. Any one single garment Alexander had bought me, however, was more expensive than the entire content of my closet in Eva’s apartment.
At first I protested, of course, but Alexander wasn’t interested in my protests. “Let me. Consider it part of your pay. You’re going to need clothes for work and for travel. We have a trip coming up soon.” His phone rang.
And, before I could ask him where we might be going, Maude brought me the most outstanding, luxurious coat I had ever laid eyes on. Soft-worked suede, rimmed with fur, belted, hanging to mid thigh. It was stunning and I, once I put it on, felt like my newly-released inner goddess had found her regalia. This coat was me. It was perfect, and I felt perfect in it. It matched my newfound state of mind. I slid it on over the black silk halter minidress I was wearing. Petite, sexy wedges were held out for me to step into.
And my transformation was complete.
Jake Wolfe looked eerily like his older brother, but he was slimmer, an inch or two shorter and had a more artistic flair to his overall look. He had the same almost-black eyes as Alexander but his hair was a shade lighter: a curled dark sable brown as opposed to his brother’s near-wavy, very-black locks. And his mouth quirked with the same contemplative pout.
But it was there that the similarities ended.
After Alexander had paid the bill at Barney
s and sent the bulk of the new purchases back to his apartment – not my apartment, I’d noted but not commented on – we made our way to the restaurant. It was a clearly-expensive darklit Japanese restaurant and Jake was already at our table, which was by the window and raised. We had to take our shoes off and step up into the cushioned, cozy little enclave.
On the drive to the restaurant, Alexander had told me that Jake managed one of his investment companies for him – the smaller one – but it was a rela
tively new appointment. Before that, Jake had had a string of jobs that “hadn’t quite worked out.”
As Alexander took my coat and introduced me to his brother, Jake kissed my hand, taking in the svelte, perfect fit of my new dress. He must have been four or five years younger than Alexander and did not have the seasoned masculinity of his older brother, but more of a lanky youthful swagger that suggested he hadn’t entirely mastered life and had suffered from some of its harder edges; a bruised vulnerability was barely masked. He was good-looking in a somewhat more boyish way and there was a loose, reckless edge to him that clashed slightly with the underlying reassurance Alexander’s presence offered me. I couldn’t help thinking that, while I’d waltzed into Alexander’s private lair without so much as a backwards glance, I would have thought twice about entering Jake’s.
Despite this, I found him likeable. His smile was mischievous and contagious, and there was a playful glint in his eyes.
“Jake, meet Lila. Lila, this is Jake, my much younger, much less handsome brother.”
“I’m not quite as rich, either,” said Jake. “But I’m a lot more fun.” He held his lips to the back of my hand a fraction longer than he needed to. Still holding my hand, he helped me slide around the semi-circled velvet seat to sit next to him. Of course I didn’t dare tell him that the past twenty-four hours I’d spent in his brother’s company had been not only the most fun but the most adventurous, erotic, and orgasmic of my life. I kept the thought to myself but it made me smile coyly.
Jake was watching my eyes as though reading my thoughts, and this caused me to blush.
“Behave,” Alexander growled at him, sliding in next to me, so I was seated between the two of them. Jake had already ordered sake and he poured three cups of the clear liquid, to the brim. He held one of the cups up to me and I held it in both hands, taking a sip. It was warm and strong and delicious.
It was a luxurious feeling, to be ensconced in this lavish, intimate little booth between two big, handsome men. I was dressed in a very-short black silk halter dress and wore nothing underneath. My legs were bare. My shoulders and arms were bare. That such a thin film of fabric was all that separated me from total nakedness was quietly exciting. I felt beautiful, and desirable. I felt fresh and young and alive, like I’d just truly woken up for the first time in my life. My body had taken on a glowing, molten awareness. Alexander’s warm hand rested casually on my thigh and the heat of it was already beginning to feed me with its promise. Jake’s arm brushed up against mine as he reached for his drink.
My femininity had never felt so empowering to me. And my newfound sexuality simmered within me. My breasts felt rounded and sensitive under the soft veil of silk. My sex, delicate and responsive, began to pulse gently. The hem of my dress had ridden high up my thighs to barely cover me. I loved existing in this semi-aroused state of hyper-receptiveness. I felt dewy and open and ready for anything.
I didn’t feel attracted to Jake Wolfe; I was too entirely overcome with the attractions of his brother. But there was an unspoken excitement in his nearness. Being this closely compressed between two ultra-virile males brought out the basest of my urges. I liked that there was a raw and silent challenge, as deeply buried as it might be. I liked, in my soft arousal, that I was this desirable. Oddly, I wanted to work that desirability. I wanted to play with it. My fingers twirled a long strand of my hair. My legs and my lips parted. My sex was moistening and I wondered if they could sense that. I was shocked at the brazen turn of my own thoughts. I wondered if they could smell my sexuality. It was irrational: the kind of behavior animals might exhibit in some far off leafy junglescape. Cultured, educated New Yorkers shouldn’t behave this way. I shouldn’t behave this way. But all I could think about was the way Alexander’s massive, thrusting cock felt inside me when he came, filling me with flooding heat. Even now, the moist dew was gathering as I savored the memory. Alexander’s arm slid around my shoulders and his other rested languidly on my thigh. He was claiming me, almost unconsciously, and I nestled closer to him, wriggling lightly in my seat to ease my rising tide.
But the movement did little to calm me. It was him. He was the reason behind my craziness. Because I could smell him. Under the fresh scent of mint and soap, there it was: his musk-spiced masculinity. God damn him, he was tantalizing. I realized it was the first time I’d been out in public with him and I seriously hoped I could control myself until we were alone again. I felt on the very verge of jumping him right then and then, of climbing on to his lap and writhing against him until I felt him harden, of working his zipper down and sitting down onto him, easing him into my welcoming softness.
“So,” said Jake. “Where did you two meet?”
“At a job interview, actually,” I said, glad for the distraction.
“Lila is my new assistant,” Alexander clarified.
Jake’s eyes roved between my face and Alexander’s. An easy, amused smile touched his lips. He took in our postures and positions, and the way Alexander’s fingers were touching the high hem of my dress. “Assistant?” he drawled.
“Yes,” Alexander answered curtly. “Assistant.”
“I need a new assistant,” Jake said. “Let Lila come work for me.”
“Find your own assistant,” Alexander said. “Lila’s mine.”
Lila’s mine.
Oh God, those provokingly possessive words did nothing to help my restraint. Against every educated, erudite grain I had once valued, I found I wanted him to possess me. To own me. Desperately. Right now.
I was glad a waiter appeared at our table just then. On second glance, he didn’t look like a waiter. He looked like a manager, or the owner of the restaurant.
“Mr. Wolfe,” he half-bowed to Alexander. “And Mr. Wolfe.” He repeated the motion again at Jake. “Would you allow us to bring you an assortment of our finest delicacies this evening? As per the usual? What are the lady’s preferences?”
The lady’s preferences included raw meat but had nothing to do with sushi. What was wrong with me? I’d become a debauched, raging nymphomaniac. I forced myself to pull my mind away from the magnificent echoing image of Alexander’s glorious manhood the first time I’d seen it. I realized right then – at an entirely inappropriate time and place, of course – that I hadn’t yet tasted Alexander. This seemed like a glaring oversight. I’d taken him into my body many times and in a number of different positions. But never into my mouth. And I was suddenly dying to do exactly that. I wanted to take that big, perfect cock between my lips, to run my tongue along its silky, glossy textures, to suck and lick and draw him as deep as I could until he swore and groaned in agonized ecstasy and came in hot, juicy bursts. My mouth watered at the thought. Of the greedy suction. Of drinking him into my body in creamy mouthfuls. It was true. I had become a complete and utter crazyperson. A slut. A whore. The worst – or maybe the best – thing about my metamorphosis from nerd to nymphet was that I didn’t care. I wanted to get down and dirty with Alexander Wolfe like I’d never wanted anything in my life.
I forced myself to focus.
The restaurant manager was waiting patiently for my answer, interpreting my silence as contemplation over the dinner menu selection. “I’m very adventurous,” I told him. “Whatever the usual is, I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
He bowed slightly once again and walked away.
Growing up as I had, I wasn’t all that accustomed to Japanese food, or ethnic food of any kind. I had learned to cook for myself from a very young age, out of necessity. There had been many times when we had gone without food altogether. I thought of the night I’d eaten plain flour out of the bag with a spoon, huddled by the light of a dying fire as my mother slept with an almost-empty bottle of bourbon clutched in her arms. I had been seven years old. I’d decided then and there to teach myself how to cook and bake and how to fend for myself. I’d made a vow to myself in that cold flickering desperation that I would work and study until I could somehow hoist myself out of the dismal choices I�
��d been given. I didn’t want to end up like her. Drunk and sad and alone. The very next day I’d asked my teacher for extra books, and extra homework. When the electricity bill didn’t get paid, I read by candlelight. I was driven to better my situation. And I’d done it. I’d risen, little by little. I’d skipped a grade. I’d gotten into Princeton with a partial scholarship. I’d escaped the confines of my dead-end home town. And I’d earned my degree in three years.
I didn’t tell them I wasn’t, in fact, old enough to legally drink. Not quite.
And I didn’t allow myself to think of him that way. The way I couldn’t help consider as the flashback rolled through me with the kind of dark force it always inflicted. That wasn’t the reason I was so absorbingly attracted to Alexander Wolfe, not at all. I banished the errant thought. I was attracted to him because he was beautiful. Protective. Surprisingly kind. I wanted to taste Alexander because I knew it would bring him pleasure, which was the only thing I wanted to do.
Or was it?
Alexander and Jake were talking business. I leaned into Alexander and let his warm presence settle around me. That delicious mint-laced edge to his scent touched my still-fresh memory. Mint. It had always seemed the foremost flavor of him, but as I considered the intricacies of his scent more carefully and in more detail, I realized there was more to it than that.
Freshly starched cotton. Expensive soap. Minted paper.
Alexander smelled like money.
Alexander
This was nothing less than addiction, I knew that.
I was powerless to slow it, or calm it. It raged in me like the hellfire that it was. I’d always been prone to obsessive behavior. At least when it came to work. But not women. Or at least not before this woman. Always before I’d maintained a comfortably noncommittal distance. I’d dated many women, but always on my own terms. As soon as they became too needy or too demanding, I’d politely take my leave. I always made it clear that I wasn’t looking for long-term relationships. I’d seen very few that worked. Commitment bound a person in ways I had no intention of ever being bound. I didn’t aspire to that kind of forced restraint and no one had ever given me reason to feel or believe otherwise.
BILLIONAIRE (Part 2) Page 2
