Billionaire's Matchmaker (Titans)

by Sierra Cartwright

  There were two enormous, polished-wood front doors, one with a large brass knocker shaped like a magnolia blossom.

  He opened one door for her, and about three feet beyond was a second set.

  “Typical of these houses”—Rafe explained—“to protect against storms. The floor is original. Imported from Italy, I’m told. The Kirbys enjoyed traveling and bringing back treasures with them.”

  The tiny tiles were well-worn, making her marvel at the history.

  Rafe pulled the door shut behind him, but instead of continuing into the house, he backed her against one of the walls. In the dark, small space, her breath shortened. This was the Rafe she expected and knew. The one who terrified her. The one who thrilled her enough to take unimaginable risks.

  “I’ll welcome you properly at our cottage. But this will have to hold you.” When he was like this, all Dominant and determined, it spiked a potent headiness inside her, spiking her pheromones.

  He kissed her.

  Not that what he did could be described as a kiss.

  He took and consumed, hot and determined, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, not coaxing, but demanding her submission.

  She offered it, not that she had a choice, not that she’d ever had a real choice since he walked into her office to teach her about sadism. In a relationship, Hope was beta to his alpha.

  He fucked her mouth with his tongue, rocking her so hard that it took all her concentration to hold on to the handle of her purse.

  When he pulled away, there was both promise and threat in his expression. She had a vague sense of disappointment that it had ended so fast.

  “Shall we?”

  Before she nodded, she needed a moment to take a deep breath. She didn’t want to walk in disheveled, like a woman who’d been ravaged in the entryway.

  He tucked in hair he’d dislodged. “Oh, sweet, sweet Hope. Soon. Fucking soon.”

  Once she was in control again, or as much as she could be, she nodded. He opened the door and she took a step inside, then stopped to stare at the opulence. “Oh my God. This was all Julie’s design?”

  “All of it. I understand the architect took a year off after finishing this. Widely regarded as his finest work, however.”

  Inlaid parquet flooring appeared original and unblemished by the centuries. Instead of a single staircase, there were two, each leading to the second story. They flared out, curving away from each other. Banisters were crafted from hand-hewn wood that gleamed in the light from the magnificent chandelier.

  “The Julie staircase is what we call it. Lends itself to weddings and receptions, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s fit for heads of state. Princes and princesses.”

  “The Kirbys entertained often. There were grand coming-out parties for their daughters, held in the ballroom. It has a conservatory where the band would set up. We grow plants in it still.”

  “I’m overwhelmed.”

  “I wanted you to see the entire grandeur, which was why I wanted you to come in the front door.”

  “And I thought it was because you wanted to kiss me.”

  “That might have been part of my plan.” He grinned before pointing to the top of the staircases. “The balcony was also Julie’s idea.”

  It protruded in a semicircle, reminding Hope a little of box seats at the theater.

  “Rumor has it that Mrs. Kirby would stand there when someone came to the door. She could come down if she was interested in receiving the visitor. She had an art studio on the third floor, so it’s possible, but I’d think she spent her waking hours in the main part of the house. Makes for a good story, however. I’m inclined to believe the family used it when they had soirees. Imagine looking down at your guests and having them aware of your presence.”

  “Like royalty.”

  “Indeed. We still use it for some formal occasions. The chairperson gets the place of honor.”

  Toward the back of the main entryway was a gorgeous bar with a large mirror hanging behind it. From the wavy texture and silvered glass, it might have been original to the house. Numerous shelves were stocked with premium liquors.

  One of the tables was occupied. A man and woman stood near a wall, wearing suits, and if she wasn’t mistaken, earpieces. Bodyguards? Or Secret Service? She didn’t recognize the one person she could see, but he was seated with a person who appeared to be a woman, though she was shadowed by a huge potted hibiscus. Hope thought she recognized the long blonde hair, though.

  Before Hope could ask, they were greeted by a man in a dark suit. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Sterling.”

  The two shook hands before the man turned to her. “You must be Ms. Malloy. I’m Fitzgerald, head of security. Welcome to the Parthenon. I’m sure it was a long journey. May I have the bar fetch you something to drink?”

  “Sparkling water with fresh lime for Ms. Malloy,” Rafe responded for her, making Hope wish she’d snuck some of the bubbly from the plane. “Nothing for me.”

  The man signaled for a waitperson, placed the order, then invited them to join him at his antique desk.

  After they were seated in comfortable velvet chairs, he asked, “May I see your driver’s license, please, Ms. Malloy?”

  She dug it from her kitty purse, and he swiped the back of her identification through some sort of machine, then asked her to face his computer so he could take her picture.

  In less than one minute, her drink arrived, just as he slid a piece of paper toward her. “These are our guest rules. Please read them and sign the bottom.”

  Rafe nodded for her to continue.

  The expensive linen paper had a Zeta Society watermark, and it was titled Decorum. The page was aimed at protecting the privacy of guests and members. Picture taking was prohibited, except for rare occasions by a hired professional. Though ideas that were discussed at the annual gathering could be spoken about in general terms outside of the membership, names were not to be mentioned.

  By the time Fitzgerald handed her a pen, she needed a drink of her water. Before she’d put down her glass, he presented her with a golden-colored identification badge.

  “You’re welcome to keep your guest pass in your purse or in a pocket, but please keep it on you at all times. You’ll need it to access your cottage if Mr. Sterling is not with you. You’re free to leave the compound at any time, but Mr. Sterling will need to be with you when you return. If that’s not possible, we will call for him.”

  Rafe’s name was on the top of the card. Hers was beneath it, and her picture filled the reverse side. Hope wondered if she’d entered an alternate universe. In a way, she supposed she had. Rafe’s. Until now she hadn’t thought about the needs some people had for privacy. In current social-media-hungry society, stars and politicians were often photographed or asked for selfies anytime they were in public. She offered a silent thanks that she could pop down to her building’s workout room or to a coffee shop or grocery store without makeup.

  “As requested, you’ll be in the Magnolia cottage. Everything was prepared to your specifications.” Then he smiled at Hope. “If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, there’s an in-room virtual assistant. Just tell it what you need. Or you’re welcome to use the in-room telephone.”

  Rafe stood and held her chair for her. After the two men shook hands again, Rafe placed his fingers at the small of her back and led her toward the side door. He waved off the valet and took care of her himself.

  The car had been kept beneath the porte cochère, and it was turned on with the air conditioner running. “This is like being at the best five-star hotel on the planet,” she said when he was seated beside her.

  He checked his mirrors. “The service staff was trained at Sterling.”

  Why was she not surprised?

  “The security was trained by a firm that Celeste works with. Hawkeye.”

  He drove past several buildings.

  “Are people allowed to stay in the Grand House?”


  “The chairman and steering committee members, yes. And others as availability permits. We’ll be in the cottage farthest away.” He slid her a glance. “So no one can hear your screams.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rafe lived for Hope’s gasps, the sharp scent of fear mixed with the tang of anticipation. He didn’t terrify her—he turned her on. More than ever, he was convinced she was the woman he needed, the wife he wanted.

  This weekend meant a great deal to him. She would have the opportunity to meet some of his colleagues as well as understand more about him and his obligations to the Society. She’d experience what it would be like to live with him, see what being Mrs. Sterling might demand of her. Perhaps most importantly, they would each be exploring their roles as Dominant and submissive—tonight, in public. Rafe wasn’t a fool. Whatever happened this weekend would define their future relationship.

  “I can’t believe how big this place is.”

  “We can go for a walk in the morning if you like. Or a golf cart tour if you didn’t bring suitable shoes.”

  “Can I see where you have the sacrifices?”

  He smiled. “That’s a bit of a myth. Sorry to disappoint you. It’s a bonfire.” With an effigy, he allowed. “And yes. You can see where we host our annual gathering. A lot of the meetings during the event are informal, based on member interest. Some are held on porches or at the Grand House.” He braked to a stop in front of their cottage, and he asked her to wait for him.

  After exiting the vehicle, he rounded the hood to assist her out. “One day it will be more natural for you to yield to my wishes.”

  “Will it?” After a short hesitation, she accepted his extended hand.

  The front porch had two gliding Adirondack chairs and a small table for drinks.

  “Makes me want a mint julep,” she admitted. “Even though I have no idea what one tastes like.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Would I lie about milady’s beverage of choice?”

  “This place may be a small slice of heaven.”

  “Wait until you see the inside.” In front of the door, he waited for the biometric scanner to clear their entry. The lock snicked open and he lowered the handle.

  The cottage was spacious, with flowers in a beautiful vase near the door. There was a living room, bedroom, an en suite bathroom, and a kitchenette.

  Both the living room and bedroom had French doors leading to a hot tub and a dipping pool that wasn’t large enough for swimming, but perfect for cooling off.

  “Do we ever have to leave?”

  While Hope’s security check-in was in process, the hospitality crew had delivered their luggage and unpacked their clothes. A bottle of champagne chilled in an acrylic ice bucket, and two flutes stood off to the side. “I can pour you a glass, or we can order those juleps.”

  “That seems like a lot of trouble since this is already here.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time for the sparkling later.”

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  He grinned. All part of his overarching plan. After placing the order, he removed the fruit-and-cheese tray from the refrigerator, along with a platter filled with chocolates.

  “Oh God. I am so tempted.”

  “Don’t worry about the calories, Ms. Malloy. We’ll be working them off.”

  “In that case…” She skipped the fruit and cheese and instead selected three chocolates for her small plate.

  Rafe suggested they enjoy their courtyard, and she changed into a bathing suit and covered it with a big fluffy robe she found hanging in the bedroom closet. Rafe opted to wear nothing under his.

  Within ten minutes, a room service attendant arrived, wearing a bow tie and vest. Had they sent an actual bartender?

  The man crossed to a sideboard and unpacked the insulated cooler. Two silver goblets were chilling on ice. With competency and showmanship, he muddled extra-fine sugar on top of mint leaves, releasing the strong aroma into the air.

  “Please go easy on the bourbon in one of the drinks,” Rafe requested.

  “Yes, sir.” When the man was almost done, he placed very short straws in each silver goblet so that the scent would fill the senses, garnished each with a perfect piece of mint, then offered the beverages on a tray.

  Rafe picked up one and handed the chilled metal glass to her. She took a delicate sip. Her mouth opened, and she sputtered. “Wow!”

  “Is that good or bad?” Damn, he adored how expressive her face was.

  “Alcohol just kicked through my veins. And it’s…” She took another sip. “I’m not sure how this works. It either cools you off or gets you so relaxed that you no longer care.”

  “Either way.”

  Hope toyed with her straw. “I get the appeal.”

  “I’ll set up a second serving, Mr. Sterling. You’ll just need to muddle the sugar”—the man held up individual bags and the long wooden pestle—“into the leaves. There’s a container with shaved ice, along with two more goblets at the bottom of the cooler.”

  After the man excused himself, Rafe returned to her. “Shall we?”

  In the privacy of their backyard, he invited her into the dipping pool. After she complained it was too cold, he tugged her in. She splashed him, and they played until they were worn out.

  For a couple of hours, they enjoyed sunning, drinks, conversation, even dozing in the lounge chairs. He hoped she was realizing what he’d known all along—they were more than compatible.

  After she woke up, he sent her to the shower, then joined her in the bathroom a few minutes later.

  She shrieked when he opened the glass shower door. “Rafe!”

  His adorable Hope made a futile attempt to cover herself. “Hiding your body from me is prohibited.” There was no teasing in his voice when he said, “Lower your hands.”

  “I—” She broke off. “I was just about to get out.”

  “I’d like you to wash me.”

  When she stood there, saying nothing, clearly not knowing where to start, he picked up the bar of soap she’d just used and offered it to her. “Lady’s choice,” he said. “You can start with my back or my front.”

  She clutched the bar so hard that it slipped from her grip.

  He could be heroic and pick it up. But a primal beat urged him to stay there and watch her bend over. She licked her lower lip and his cock throbbed. As unheroic as it was, this arousal was linked to her touch of nerves.

  She reached for the soap, and need walloped him, clobbering rational thought. He turned her, forcing her against the back of the shower, sending the bar skittering into the corner.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Hope,” he promised.

  “Yes…” She whimpered.

  “So hard you won’t be able to think.”

  She made a tiny, desperate sound.

  “Right now,” he warned, giving her a single chance to refuse.

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “I’m clean.” And he knew how long she’d been without a lover.

  She ground her ass against him.

  “Needy little sub.” He used his left palm to imprison her head against the tile. Rafe hadn’t used her like this before, and her responsive moans drove him forward. Where was the Hope he’d met such a short time ago? “Spread your legs. Act like you want it.”

  “I do.”

  He guided his cock toward her hot cunt and stuffed himself inside her. She lifted onto her tiptoes to accept him, and he pulled her right arm behind her, against her back, using it as leverage as he impaled her.

  “God. Rafe!”

  He leaned forward to grab her earlobe with his teeth and give it a sharp bite. She gushed all over his dick, all but dragging an orgasm from him. Goddamn. He adored her passion.

  Once her orgasm had receded, he kept his dick where it was, not letting her escape. “Put this hand on the wall.” He released her arm and indicated where he wanted her, then he wedged his first
finger in front of her face. “Wet it. Get it nice and wet.”

  Right away, she sucked his finger into her mouth.

  “Wet, I said.”

  After a brief hesitation, she did.

  “Better.” He let go of her head. “Don’t you dare move.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Use your safe word.”

  She shook her head.

  Good girl. “So brave.” And because he did have a slight amount of compassion, he made his finger wetter before pulling apart her buttocks and pressing it into her ass.

  She whimpered.

  “Take it.”

  Hope wriggled her ass, but since he used the movement to go deeper, he didn’t chastise her. He kept her cheeks spread until he was seated all the way in her. “Now you can try to get away all you want.”

  “God! Too full! Rafe!”

  He used his chest to trap her against the wall, crushing her breasts flat. “Mine.” Had he told her that before? He would, a dozen times, a thousand.

  Rafe hammered his cock in her pussy while he finger-fucked her ass. He wasn’t kind or gentle. He was a Dominant, exerting his will. She moaned, but her screams were muffled. “You can come if you have to. I prefer you wait. I want you throbbing for the rest of the night.”

  Her cunt clamped down on his cock. His words alone had brought her to orgasm? He rewarded her with a kiss to the side of her neck.

  Steam billowed around them as he staked his claim. Knowing it would drive her to greater heights, he wedged a second finger into her ass.

  “Argh!”

  “You’ll feel it burning all night when you’re sitting.”

  She nodded her misery.

  Rafe moved inside her, and pressure built inside him as the orgasm gathered force in his balls.

  “Yes.” The word was a plea, an offering of gratitude.

  He went rigid, consumed with his need for her. Then with a final jerk, he released his hot ejaculate deep inside her welcoming body. For a stupid moment, he wished she wasn’t on the pill. How would she look carrying his baby?

  Because the thought needed to be banished, he shook his head. But the image didn’t rush away. It lingered. What damn kind of sorcery is this? He’d never had sex without a condom, and the actual feel of her innermost flesh made him lose his mind.