Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel

by Hawthorne, Aria

  “Wowzers…”

  Startled, she whipped towards the voice. Miles’ mischievous blue eyes gazed over the door and into the dressing room.

  “Is that a gift for me?” he said, tugging on the lock.

  “What are you doing here?” Maribel’s pulse raced with horror.

  “I’m stalking you, of course. And waiting for you to change into that…”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise.” Maribel whisked up her skirt—a feeble attempt to cover her bare legs and backside from his view.

  “It worked. I’m surprised. Now, open this door, and don’t even think about getting dressed.”

  Their eyes locked. His blue eyes seared into Maribel. They made her want to trust him—even when she had doubts and fears about his intentions and the consequences. Maribel obeyed, opened the door, and allowed Miles to slip inside the dressing room and seize her without restraint.

  “We can’t, not here.”

  Miles swept his tongue into her ear and down her neck.

  “Shhhh… I’ve got the entire department store working on putting together a full wardrobe for you. They’ll be busy until close. And there’s no possible way I can control myself when you’re wearing that.”

  He peered down at her, taking in every angle and curve she had just cursed and scorned.

  “Miles, you don’t need to buy me every women’s apparel item. And really, truly, we can’t do this. Not here, not now.”

  “What you don’t need is an excuse not to come to my apartment tonight.”

  Maribel pulled away from his hands, trying to resist him. But it was impossible. He looked powerful and sophisticated in his tan sharkskin designer suit, white shirt, and glacial blue tie. And he smelled amazing—fresh from a shower, the scent of aftershave still lingering on his smooth jaw and chin. The force of his masculine body and commanding embrace overwhelmed her.

  “God, you look so hot and taste so amazing.” He gazed down at her exposed cleavage—accentuated by the red strapless corset—and swiped his tongue over their buxom arcs.

  “Miles…” It was her final protest before she wilted with an exhale. He was indulging in her weakness—the sensation of his hot mouth sucking deeply on the tender nape of her neck. He had discovered it last night, and now, he sucked harder and harder while running his firm hands over her bare thighs, groping her backside and tugging on her red thong with a teasing snap. He fed on her, deeper, lowering his lips along her collar bone and dropping his chin between the firm curves of her breasts. He dipped into the bra cups and searched out her nipples, alternating between flicks and sucks. Maribel’s whole body tingled. She glanced at their reflection in the three-way mirror. He was handsome and debonaire in his suit and tie. She was sexy and provocative in her red corset and garter thong. He followed her gaze. They both watched in the mirror as his fingers nudged past the flimsy silk protection of the thongs and invaded her, forcing her to gasp with the sudden release of pleasure and protest.

  “No, we can’t…”

  “Yes, we can…”

  Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his hands around her backside.

  “We shouldn’t,” she whispered, steadying her hands on his shoulders and peering down at his lips, circling his hot breath over the thin silk crotch of her thong.

  She gazed back at their reflection, and watched as Miles’ tongue slipped past the silk thong and between her legs. Maribel exhaled and closed her eyes, relaxing her knees and thighs wider, granting him access. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to let him taste her… here and now? Maribel had always been so proper and restrained. She had barely managed to have regular sex once a year, much less have this kind of sex in a private corner of a public place. Her work place, she heaved, as the tip of his tongue flicked over her clit. Maribel’s head dropped backwards; she released a soft moan that encouraged him to stimulate her more with the velvet strokes of his tongue. Naughty and disgraceful. Dirty and taboo. She finally found the courage to open her eyes, settling them into the mirror—her knee was propped over his shoulder, his face was buried between her legs, his firm grasp encircled her buttocks, locking her in place. How would she ever be able to face him afterwards? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. The sensation of his tongue stimulated her deeper and deeper. She pressed on his head and nudged him for more, watching in a euphoric daze as he sucked her off while genuflecting in his designer suit, as if it was she who was dominating him.

  You make me want to let go of everything, her eyes petitioned him.

  He held her gaze. And you make me want to have every part of you.

  He pushed up her knee higher and fingered her deeply before delving back into her with his tongue and hot breath. Maribel gushed for him, unable to believe the way she wanted him—needed him—to suck her dry. Just when she thought she could bear no more, his steady hand rose up and stripped down her corset below her cleavage, exposing her full breasts and maroon nipples. His fingers pierced her tits, one at a time, with unforgiving force. The prick of pain eased the swelling desire between her legs. In response, she slipped his fingers into her mouth and sucked them the way he had returned to sucking her.

  Come inside me, Maribel whispered down to him, as if she was granting him permission to dominate her without restraint.

  Miles rose from his knees, swept up her leg into the crux of his arms, and pinned her against the mirror. The cool surface of the glass stung against her thighs and she watched him unzip his fly and settle his firm cock between her legs. With her corset torn down below her tits and her thongs stripped down along her ankles, she felt dirty and disheveled—at his complete mercy—as he manhandled her like a possession. He anticipated the moment they both knew they wanted—but he was making her wait for it. Slowly, he passed his strong hands over her exposed backside and led her gaze to their reflection. They both watched as his index finger slipped between her cheeks and probed her most tender spot. Maribel’s mouth opened with a silent gasp. She had never let anyone stimulate her there before, and she sank deeper into his caresses, full tender strokes that massaged her with caution. God, how he owned her, daring to seduce her like a sexual goddess, not just a mortal woman. She felt the hot tip of his cock, teasing her slit, priming her for something deeper. Every illicit touch of stimulation made her ache for him to come inside. She wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders and whispered for him to take her now—and take her completely.

  Miles rested his forehead against her heart, like he had been suffering with yearning—awaiting the moment of her ultimate surrender—before pushing himself inside with one searing thrust. They both exhaled in unison, like they were breaking through a barrier, fighting for air. The friction. The pressure. The penetration of his hard erection. Maribel could do nothing else but relinquish herself to him. Miles streaked her bare ass against the cool reflective glass, and thrust upwards again—kindling a burning sensation of ecstasy deep within her. It started low in her G-spot, then rose up through her pelvis with a trembling quake. She was climaxing, climaxing in a way that she had never experiencing before. She felt the rush of blood to her head, a flush sweeping over her face and neck. Gyrations—steady and unyielding—coursed through her entire body as he rode her hard like a saucy, naughty, thong-wearing vixen who she barely knew or recognized. The force of his penetrations shuttered into one orgasmic spasm that released all of Maribel’s tension and inhibitions, including every criticism and fault she had ever harbored about herself.

  Both Miles and Maribel clung to each other with a gasp, then indulged in the relief of their simultaneous release. God, that’s what it felt like to have an orgasm. A true unyielding orgasm. Maribel thought she had always known—until now.

  She withered like a sagging doll. Miles accepted her in her arms, sharing the whisper of their breath and the contractions of their chests. In their reflective silence, Maribel no longer worried about the imperfect contours of her naked body or her waning self-confidence. She only co
ncentrated on her feelings of sexual satisfaction—the blissful fulfillment of being ravished and conquered, a fulfillment which only Miles, and her red siren thongs and matching corset bra, had unleashed in her.

  Chapter Ten

  In the bitter cold and under the hazy illumination of a street lamp, Miles stood on the downtown street corner and waited for Maribel. Four hours—it had been four long hours since their escapade in the dressing room. It had felt like an eternity. Miles had returned to his penthouse, but felt nothing except emptiness there without her. Now, as he stood on the street corner, the anticipation of seeing her again—or not seeing her—was unbearable. If she decided to see him again tonight, they agreed he would wait for her across the street from the department store and she would meet him there at the end of her shift. But she had expressed hesitation about spending the night with him when they parted ways earlier that day. They had moved so far, so fast—maybe it would be better if they spent the night apart. Her suggestion crushed Miles, and he pressured her with a firm grasp of her hand before she slipped away from him and scurried back to the fine jewelry department. He didn’t want to pressure her, but their session in the dressing room had proven to him how much he needed her. Craved her like an obsession. And he had hoped that it had proved it to her.

  Miles blew air into his cold hands and paced along the street corner like a caged animal. Suddenly, she emerged from the department store’s revolving doors in her black coat and black bunny fur ear muffs. God, how those ear muffs made him smile. He grinned and nodded to her, but noted the reluctance in her eyes. Maribel wasn’t ready to go public with their ‘relationship’—if that what it even was. Miles didn’t know what ‘it’ was—he only knew he was determined to see her again. When she escaped through the revolving doors, a gust of wind rushed against her back and pushed her across the street towards him. Suddenly, Miles realized the only thing that mattered to him was right there in front on him. The sight of her shining brown eyes, endearing smile, and yes… those black furry ear muffs was the only thing that mattered. Yes, she had become an insatiable craving because he was falling in love with her.

  Snow drifts swirled down through the evening sky and passed under the misty beams of light from the street lamps. Miles held out his hand. She grasped it. He swept her into his body and greeted her with a tender kiss, vowing to himself that he would never to let go. Her lips, her smile, her flushing cheeks. The taste of her body, her breasts, her nipples, her whole being… He had waited four hours. It had been too long. And he would not give her up again.

  He smiled and she smiled wider. “I’m glad you came.”

  “I almost didn’t,” she confessed. “But then I peeked out through the doors, and saw you standing here, looking so cold and miserable, and you’re not even wearing gloves.” She took his hands into her own. That was Maribel—always filled with caring and concern.

  “Ahhhh, I see—the sympathy card. Noted. Next time, I’ll be sure not to wear a coat.”

  “No, please, don’t do that. Freezing to death is not a very romantic way to woo a woman.”

  “True. But warming up next to a fire definitely has its merits,” Miles spun her into his body, pressing her tightly against his wool coat and stuffing her own bare hands into his broad pockets. “And I’m fairly certain that even without a fire, you would be able to warm me up.”

  Maribel rolled her eyes and tried to nudge away. But he pinned her closer and laughed—a loud, uncharacteristic release of happiness that reminded him of why he needed her.

  “Let’s get you out of the cold,” he said.

  He turned and peered across the street. He thought he had heard his name, then he realized he had only heard the sharp horns of traffic and the shouts of cabbies and street vendors. But the sensation of being watched was still there. A cautious reflex that made him scan the sidewalks. There, he spotted her—Gillian.

  She was watching him and her. Them. For how long, Miles didn’t know, but the bitter glint in Gillian’s eyes told him long enough. She was standing at the end of the block in front of the Amory building, which was kitty-corner to his Fields building. Miles recognized Gillian’s clients, Don Olson and Greg Anderson—all there, smoking and waiting for something. Miles wasn’t sure what. Perhaps they had just signed the deal with Harvey Zale. Perhaps Miles had just lost thirty-five millions dollars. Gillian glared at him, took a drag from her cigarette, and smiled—a sly vindictive smile through an exhale of smoke that told him this was just the beginning of the end. Et tu, Brute? Then, her glare fell onto Maribel. The corners of her smile fading like melting ice. She narrowed her eyes with scorn. Miles pulled Maribel closer into his body and started them across the street and away from the Amory building. Thirty-five million dollars he could bear to lose, he thought as he guided them under the ‘L’ tracks along Wabash and towards his penthouse condominium along Michigan Avenue. But this sensation of redemption—a renewed passion for his life and its ultimate meaning—he could not.

  * * * *

  Miles led Maribel by the hand into the opulent lobby entrance of his high-rise building. Her gait next to him felt light, happy, and trusting. They had stopped along the way for deep dish pizza and root beer—something Miles hadn’t bothered to enjoy in years. Business meetings in fancy five-star restaurants and wine bars had long since replaced the casual experience of a ten dollar meal eaten without utensils. In the lobby, Miles nodded to the doorman, who greeted them and held open the elevator doors. Miles escorted Maribel into the elevator cab, then slipped his gold-plated access card through the card reader. The doors shut and the cab shuttled upwards. They ascended in silence—not awkward elevator silence, but natural, meditative serenity. Miles squeezed Maribel’s hand; it was warm and relaxed. She had chosen to be there with him. There was nothing more either of them needed to say.

  When the elevator cab arrived to the top floor, the door chimed and opened directly into Miles’ dim penthouse suite.

  “We’re here,” he said with encouragement.

  Maribel slowly exited into the darkness. Miles waited by the entrance and watched her. She navigated through the shadows, lured deeper inside by the natural illumination of the full moon, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Miles drifted to the fireplace and switched on the gas to ignite the spark. A burst of flaming orange reflected off the surface of the black leather sofa and granite island countertop before receding into a low, smoldering glow. Miles wandered through the living room and towards Maribel, who had settled her hand against the cool glass of the panoramic view.

  “It’s amazing up here. You can see everything.”

  Maribel gazed out across the lakefront. Lake Shore Drive blinked with rushing headlights. The black waters of Lake Michigan were dotted with the sleepy lights of sailboats. And along the Northern horizon, Navy Pier looked like a twinkling pixie fairyland.

  “Wow… look at the moon,” she whispered, “It’s so close. I feel like I should be able to reach out and touch it.”

  Miles had long since taken the view for granted; now, he scanned it with fresh eyes and admired Maribel’s profile in the moonlight.

  “If you close your eyes, sometimes it feels like you’re floating towards it.” Miles moved behind her. He held out her hand and covered her eyes with his palm. She relaxed and smiled, like she could imagine the sensation.

  “I think if I lived up here, I’d never leave. I’d stay here all day, reading books, drinking hot chocolate, and enjoying the feeling of never having to struggle through another day.”

  “It’s an amazing thing to be able to live here, yes…” he nodded, losing his gaze far out across the black waters of the lake, “but it also gets lonely at the top of the world.”

  Miles suddenly laughed, realizing he was betraying weakness. Maribel turned into him, her soulful eyes shining with the moon.

  “Miles, you have so much. So much wealth, so many expensive things. Cars and apartments, and entire buildings. You even have your own private view
of the moon. But you always sound like they’re nothing to you except a burden.”

  She raised her hand and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes. God, he loved that. It was a gesture of compassion, an endearing act of intimacy that casual sex with dozens and dozens of women had never brought him. Maribel, on the other hand, delivered it to him time and time again. It was what made him want to envelope her in his arms and own her in every way. He lifted up her hand and kissed it.

  “I do have more than almost everyone in the world,” he acknowledged. “But it only brings me happiness when I can share it with someone else who deserves it. Someday, I’ll take you out there on my sail boat. We’ll spend the night far out along the horizon where there’s nothing but a veil of darkness—just the moon, the wind, the sound of the lapping waters, and an inescapable silence that forces you to consider what really matters to you most.”

  Slowly, he draped the freshly-purchased luxury watch around her wrist.

  “Miles—” Maribel said in protest.

  “Shhhh…We’re past all that now,” he reminded her. “There’s nothing that gives me more pleasure except having you here with me. Thank you for coming.”

  Maribel admired the watch’s sleek elegance. “Thank you, Miles. It’s lovely.”