by Nella Tyler
"A woman after my own heart," he joked.
I didn't know what he meant and based on the expression on my face, he picked up on the question.
"I don't like to put anything on my meat," he commented with a shrug. "It drowns the taste."
For a moment, I wondered at his choice of words, and then I felt the heat of a blush rise into my cheeks. I glanced down, pretending to smooth the linen napkin I placed in my lap. Over the next half hour or so, we enjoyed our dinner, taking our time. It was delicious. The filet mignon practically melted in my mouth. Before I knew it, the bottle of champagne was empty, but with the meal, I didn't feel nearly as tipsy as I had the first time.
By the time the main course was finished, I felt pleasantly full. He asked me if I wanted any dessert and I shook my head. "Heavens no, I’ll pop!"
He laughed, and when the server appeared, he asked for the check. She returned moments later and he slipped a credit card onto the tray and immediately gave it back without even looking at the cost of the food. I wondered what it would be like to ever be able to do that.
While we waited for his bill to be processed, I saw him watching me. "What is it?" I finally asked. I had a feeling I knew what he wanted.
"Maggie, how about coming back to the house with me? Just for a little while. We don't have to drink any more if you don't want to. I just thought it might be a nice way to cap off the evening, give us a chance to get to know each other a little bit better. What do you say?"
Despite my brain telling me that I should decline, that I should thank him graciously for a wonderful dinner, I was tempted. As before, invitations like this didn't come along every day, and to a degree, Savannah was right. I should enjoy myself a little bit more. I didn't think there was anything wrong with a man buying me dinner. The fact that I had already been over to his house – mansion – made me feel a little self-conscious to decline. Finally, after thinking about it for about twenty seconds, I nodded.
"Okay, then, we can do that, but…"
He held up a hand and half-laughed. "I know, Maggie, no pressure. No strings."
The bill arrived and he signed his name. The servers left, thanking both of us and wishing us a nice evening. He slid the credit card back into his wallet and tucked it into his pants, and then pulled the cell phone from his pocket. He pressed a button on it and then spoke. "Can you pull around to the front, please?"
That was all there was. A brief request. Then the phone was back in his pocket and he stood from his chair and walked over to mine. He extended his hand down to me and I took it. Hand in hand, we walked out of the restaurant. The sounds of diners enjoying their food and families gathered together left me smiling. By the time we walked out the front door, evening had settled in. The city was aglow with lights. Seconds later, the shiny black limo pulled up to the front entrance, perfectly timed.
Ben waved a hand at the driver and opened the door himself, and allowed me to get inside and situated before he climbed in after me, sitting close on the soft, plush seat. In a matter of moments, we arrived back at his mansion. We didn't go out to the Jacuzzi this time, but instead walked into his formal living room, where I guess his servants, or someone, had set a large platter on the coffee table. The bottle of red wine and the two glasses beside it, along with a selection of crackers and cheeses looked inviting.
Before I knew it, I had downed yet another glass of red wine. Once again, I lost count of what I had had to drink this evening. And again, I felt my barriers coming down. Before long, we were stepping hand in hand up the carpeted stairs to his bedroom. Ben carried the remainder of the bottle of wine and two wine glasses in one hand, the other wrapped around mine. To say I was a little tipsy would be an understatement, but I wasn't slurring or tripping over my feet. I felt sure that I had all my senses, and I wouldn't allow things to get too far out of hand this time.
To my surprise, we sat on the bed, side by side, while he situated the wine and the glasses on the bedside table. Then he looked at me, grinned, and reached for something along the headboard. Suddenly, I heard a low humming noise. The bed began to vibrate beneath me. My eyes widened and I giggled, looking at him and the mischievous grin he wore. I began to laugh.
"You have a vibrating bed?” I exclaimed. Now that was an experience. I sat on the bed, enjoying the sensations rushing through me. He poured me another glass of wine, and I drank it, probably much faster than I should have. My head began to swim, and I found myself leaning against Ben as we both continued to sit side-by-side on the vibrating bed. I began to giggle again and he laughed. I looked up at him, thinking to tell him that a vibrating bed was the last thing I expected from him, but the minute my eyes met his, I grew serious. Desire flamed inside me.
He kissed me. It was a gentle, non-demanding kiss. In a matter of seconds, I was returning it. I felt one of his hands cup my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple. The flame that had begun to burn deep in my belly grew. I knew I should stop now, back away, but the feelings running through me at this moment compelled me to continue. I placed my hand on his thigh, and then shifted my position a little bit. My fingers came in contact with his hard erection, extending down the inside leg of his left trouser leg. I heard a groan and realized it came from my own throat.
The kisses began gently at first, but then became more passionate, more insistent, and more desperate. Before I knew it, our tongues were wrestling with one another, and his hands were everywhere, as were mine. In a matter of seconds, I was divested of my top and bra, and his polo shirt lay in a crumpled heap on the side of the bed. I pressed against him, my breasts warm and squished up against his also warm yet hard chest. My nipples brushed against the hairs on his chest and instantly hardened. Oh my God.
His breath felt warm as he kissed my neck, leaving a trail of moistness behind as he trickled light kisses along its length. My hands wrapped around his shoulders, I leaned my head back to give him more access. He obliged. In the next moment or two, I felt his tongue trail down my neck, along the upper mound of my breast, and then lazily circled my nipple. I gasped when I felt him take the entire nipple into his mouth and began to suckle, his tongue lathing my nipple in slow, sensuous circles all the while. The fire in me grew hotter, more insistent. I wanted to feel his lips everywhere, and I pulled his head from my breast and then shamelessly prodded it toward the other.
Before I knew it, we were both naked, drunk, and the foreplay had turned into something quite a bit more serious. My pussy was on fire, my internal muscles clenching with desire, if as they themselves could compel him lower. His tongue left my breasts and worked its way down my belly, then my lower abdomen. I urged them between my legs, where his lips lathed, circled and suckled my most private of parts and then my clitoris in a passionate, slow, and exquisitely delicious massage with his more than gifted and magical tongue.
Then, just as I felt the waves of ecstasy building, casting me toward a crescendo of feeling, he briefly lifted himself away from me, long enough to lunge upward and reach into the bedside table, open a packet that contained a condom, and slide it on to his hard penis. Then, which another few seconds of focused attention on the center of my being, with my knees spread wide and my hand grasping his head, he lifted himself up again, balanced his weight on his forearms and then plunged deep inside me. He filled me in an instant and propelled me beyond control.
No awkwardness. After all, this is what I wanted, wasn't it? This is what he wanted, as well. We rocked in unison for several intense moments and then I relinquished myself to the most intense orgasm. He followed suit only seconds later. For the first time in my life, I made love to a man without any sense of hesitance, but with complete honesty.
*
When I opened my eyes, light was just skimming into the bedroom windows. Like before, I felt a surge of startled awareness when I realized I wasn't in my own bedroom. I was at Ben's house – again. My head pounded, much like it had the first time, but this time I didn't feel any sense of panic or embarrassment. I
moved my head and immediately moaned, the movement sending a slash of pain across my temples. By my side, Ben opened his eyes, stared at me, and then hissed, grabbing his own head.
"Is your hangover as bad as mine?" he whispered.
I had to smile. "I think so," I whispered back.
"I'll have some coffee made pretty soon," he said. “That should make us both feel a little better."
I didn't say anything, trying to assess my feelings. I had definitely consumed too much alcohol again last night, a regular habit it seemed I was developing with Ben, but I wasn't in quite a bit of a state of anxiety as I had been the first time. Yes, I was a little upset with myself for letting go with such vigor, but then, when I recalled – and this time I did recall more, I realized that I had had a good time. I had given him just as much pleasure as he'd given me. I was a consenting adult, and so was he. There was nothing wrong with that.
So this time, instead of fleeing his house like I was guilty of something, I lay in bed next to him. I felt slightly nauseous, no doubt about that, but it was nothing that I couldn't deal with. We lay side by side, touching, our fingers entwined. I felt rather surprised and amazed by the fact that I didn't immediately feel the need to flee. This was the most intimate that I had ever been with a man in a very long time. Sex was one thing, but actually staying together after the sun was up was something entirely new and different since my divorce.
He rose from the bed, quickly wrapped a bathrobe around him, and tied the belt at his waist. He disappeared through the bedroom door, closing it softly behind him. I knew he was going downstairs to talk to his kitchen staff. He returned moments later, telling me that the cook was preparing some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, as well as good, strong, black coffee.
I didn't even feel embarrassed that someone else knew I was up here. He climbed back beneath the sheets, and we just spooned for a while until we heard the discreet knock on the door. Once again he climbed from between the sheets, still gloriously naked. I watched as he wrapped the bathrobe around his wonderfully tanned, strong, well-formed body a second time, and then he walked to the door and opened it. I sank down into the bed, pulling the sheets up close to my chin. I resisted the urge to throw the sheets up over my face. No, I had more dignity than that.
I might be prone to dive under diner tables when surprised, but I would be damned if I acted embarrassed in Ben's own house, in his own bed, in front of his house help. In a matter of seconds, he carried the tray into the room while the cook or whoever that had been, closed the door. He placed the tray at the foot of the bed. Carefully, I sat up, keeping the sheet pressed against my breasts. While my stomach did an uncertain somersault at the first smell of the scrambled eggs and coffee, I realized that I needed food.
Ben arranged the food while I sat back on the bed, plumping a pillow behind my back and the headboard. He placed a cup of coffee and a small glass of orange juice on the bedside table next to me, and did the same for himself. Then, he passed me a plate of scrambled eggs and two pieces of toast and sat down beside me with his own plate.
We ate in silence for several moments, and then, finished with his food, he turned to me. I didn't finish mine, but I'd had enough. My stomach felt little more settled now.
"Maggie, let's make a pact," he suggested.
A pact? "What do you mean?"
"Let's make a pact to not let on that we’re together while I’m at the casino."
By his words "together" did he mean that we were dating? Were we exclusive? I had no idea. Still, I felt it was a good idea. It seemed as if he understood as well as I now that it would be a good idea to keep our personal and professional lives separate. It certainly would take a lot of the worry off of me. With a smile, I agreed.
*
The following week passed without much incident. Things seemed to be going well. Ben acted supremely respectful of me when I was at work and didn't bother me anymore, or flirt with me, or in any way let on that we had a somewhat-relationship away from the casino. Before he left his mansion the other morning, he had simply asked me if he could see me on my days off. I hadn't answered right away, and he didn’t push it.
A couple of days ago on one of my days off, he'd taken me to the zoo. Yet again, he was showing me another side of himself. It turned out that we both enjoyed the outdoors and loved animals. I never would've expected it from someone who lived his luxurious lifestyle. It made me wonder what he must have been like growing up.
Our relationship blossomed, one day at a time. The zoo trip had been a unique change of pace from the restaurants and the casino, only two places that we had really spent any time together – out of his bedroom, at least. I felt extremely comfortable around him. He was so laid-back, so casual, and yet he was incredibly attentive to me and any of my needs.
The day had been wonderful, and I couldn't have asked for anything better. I was letting my guard down with him, accepting him for who he was. After our day at the zoo, pleasantly tired and stuffed with hot dogs, churros, and popcorn, we returned to his mansion.
I wasn't expecting anything other than to perhaps enjoy a glass of wine, but then I wanted to go home. I didn't want our relationship to move forward too fast. To my surprise, when we got into his house, he took me to a room that I had never been in before. It was a short distance down the hall from the foyer, with two double doors that had, before now, always been locked. He opened them and stepped back, gesturing for me to enter. I stepped into a room that made my eyes widen in surprise.
It was difficult to take everything in with one glance. At the far end, a fire burned in a massive stone fireplace. Facing the fireplace was a maroon-colored overstuffed sofa. The room was filled with beautiful bookcases, tapestry rugs, and what looked like expensive oil paintings on the wall. The floor was light oak wood, highly polished to a sheen. As Ben took my hand and guided me further into the room, I saw that a table in front of the sofa was completely decked out in hors d'oeuvres, champagne on ice, and two crystal fluted glasses beside it.
Everything in the room boasted elegance and money. Gold filigree crown molding, gold flecked fleur-de-lis designs on heavy white wallpaper, the wood mantelpiece and other pieces of furniture a deep, rich, mahogany. For some reason, I found the room off-putting. It was beautiful, yes, but for my taste, rather ostentatious and flagrant in design. Why had he brought me here instead of the more comfortable living room we usually sat in?
I glanced at Ben, but he merely looked around, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He obviously felt proud of this room. I found it rather overbearing, but to be polite, said nothing. Even for him, this room seemed to be a little bit too much. It screamed money, wealth, and privilege. And I knew that with privilege often came eccentric and sometimes illegal behavior. Still, I was curious, and allowed him to guide me to the sofa. I sat down and watched while he popped the champagne and then poured us each a glass, waiting for the fizz to settle.
Then, he carefully handed me a glass, and then took one himself. He sat next to me, crossed his legs, and casually placed his arm behind me on the couch. "What are we celebrating?" I asked. Certainly that was the reason for this room, this atmosphere, and the champagne?
He smiled a knowing smile, and it almost appeared to me as if he had puffed his chest out with confidence. To me, the gesture hinted of a hint of arrogance, manipulation, perhaps even a little conniving and entitlement. I tried to tamp down the feeling. I shouldn’t think that way of Ben. But what was going on?
"I have a business proposition for you," he grinned. "As a matter of fact, I think you're going to be quite excited, and there's no way that you're going to say no."
I wasn't sure I like the sound of this already. A business proposition? I had no collateral or experience in business of negotiations. "Ben, I have nothing to offer any business relationship."
He made a face, and then, leaning forward with excitement, so close to me that I smelled the champagne on his breath, he said the words that shocked me to th
e core.
"I'd like to make a deal with you, Maggie," he began, his voice tinged with excitement. "Not only will this deal enable you to have access to my money, as much of it as you want, but can also enable you to make some of your own. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I was stunned, speechless. I had already told him that I didn't want to be a kept woman, or a woman who demanded access to any man's bank account. "What do you want me to do, Ben?” I asked, confused.
He leaned yet closer still, a secretive smile on his face. "If you'll help me at the casino, you and I can make more money than you ever imagined in your wildest dreams."
I stared at him, not sure if first I understood what he was saying. If I'd help him at the casino? "You're asking me to help you at the casino?" He nodded, his smile broadening, as if the words bothered him not one bit. I froze.
Then, very slowly, I placed my untouched champagne on the table. I understood. He wanted me to help him cheat at the Blackjack table. I knew it. My heart sank. I had never felt so disappointed, disgusted, or discouraged in years, not since discovering my husband in bed with a woman. The pain took me by surprise, and it was then that I realized that I had started developing feelings for Ben – real feelings. I had just begun to trust him, to believe in him.
And now this. For a minute I felt like crying, but then I grew so infuriated I wanted to slap that smile right off his face.
The Billionaire’s Bluff #3
Chapter 1
To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the year. I stared at Ben for what seemed like forever, my thoughts whirring, trying to form a response without success. I think by blood pressure rose – how could it not – nearly immediately, but then at the same time, I felt a cold sensation rush through me. I knew it! I knew I should've never gotten involved with Ben. I knew I shouldn't have started to like him, or, as I was afraid of happening, that I had begun to fall for him. You see, this is what always happens to me.
