by Paige North
As I do, I’m afraid that the Bellini has affected my balance and I’m going to fall, but he grasps my leg, guiding my foot to the top of his thigh with practiced confidence. I watch as he unstraps my sandal.
“Now the other one,” he says after he finishes.
I stand on my two feet again, then lift my other foot until he wraps his fingers around that ankle. After he has this sandal off, he cuffs me with his fingers, keeping my foot where it is. My knee is bent, giving him a flash of my panties, and his skin warms mine, sending burning rays up and up to tickle my clit.
A small sound of need escapes me, and Cage’s animal gaze fires up. I can’t look away from him as he runs his fingertips up the side of my calf then down again. Then he whisks his knuckles over to the inside of my leg, urging me to spread for him.
My breathing tightens, my heartbeat wavering.
“I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, taking his time petting the inside of my calf. “I want you to help me unwrap my gift.”
I’m still too frightened and stimulated to speak.
“Start with the top of your dress, baby,” he says. “Peel it down and show me what’s underneath. Slowly.”
Baby. I like being called that. It makes me feel taken care of, cherished, even if this is only temporary.
My chest rises and falls with my uneven breaths as I bashfully reach up to the buttons on my dress’s bodice. My hands shake as I undo one clasp, then another. With every button I unfasten, Cage’s gaze grows more famished, a wolf in billionaire’s clothing, a greedy predator who can’t wait to see what I’ve been hiding.
After I finish, my dress slumps so that the short cotton sleeves are at my elbows, exposing the tops of my breasts as the lacy bra pushes them up. I bought the lingerie for this job, thinking I would need it to please my client so he wouldn’t send me back and ask for a refund. But from what I see in Cage, he could care less about the frills.
He wants more skin.
“Show me those tits.” There’s dangerous grit in his voice. “Give it to me.”
My pulse deafens me as I fumble with the front clasp, so nervous now that I can’t make my hands work like they should. Impatient, Cage pulls at my skirt and brings me down to him.
My legs give out. I fall all the way forward to straddle him with my knees, bringing my sex to press against the hardness of his cock through his trousers, and I gasp, easing slightly away.
He only clenches his jaw then slips his hands into the sides of my dress where the fabric gapes away from my body. The feel of his palms on my ribs electrifies me, and I grab his arms.
“Easy,” he says. “Just relax.”
“I guess this is why you don’t usually have anything to do with virgins,” I babble. “Because we have no idea what to do.”
“I’m not going to fuck you yet. I’m only going to make you cream for me, just like yesterday.”
It’s as if he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about our first encounter either, and I let go of some of my tension. For some reason he wants me. I can see just how much in his fiery gaze, even though he isn’t saying it out loud.
“Now that’s more like it.” He slips his hands up my ribs until he comes to the bottom edge of my bra. “Yesterday, I liked watching your face, seeing how good I can make you feel. Show me that again, baby.”
As he easily undoes the front of my bra, I close my eyes, fully giving in. When my breasts pop free of the cups, I bite my bottom lip, not knowing if my boobs will measure up to the tits on his more experienced women. I suspect I have nice ones—full but not big, firm with pink tips—but when I open my eyes and see the way Cage is looking at them, I feel as if they’re the only breasts that’ll ever matter.
His eyes are filled with desire as he cups them, gently squeezes them, and I arch back my neck, moaning.
“Do you make those sounds for other men when they touch you like this?” There’s an edge to his question.
“No.”
He keeps fondling me, exploring and making me move with his every caress.
“How much of a virgin are you?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
He rubs my nipples with his thumbs, bringing them to hard peaks. I bite my lip so hard that it stings.
“I mean,” he says, “how far have you put out for other men?”
Boys, I want to say. Because no one compares to Cage and the way he touches me. The one guy who ever got anywhere near this point with me doesn’t deserve to be called a man. Not after the nightmare he’s putting me through.
“I’ve never given other guys very much,” I finally say. “No one has ever…”
I can’t go on, because Cage is lightly playing with the very tips of my nipples now, and I’m overtaken by waves of heat.
He pulls me toward him, positioning me so that he can suck one nipple into his mouth. I haul in a sharp breath, bracing my hands on the top of the chair and digging my nails into the leather. My pussy nestles against his cock, and I feel his tip nudging me every time he sucks on my breast, every time he lightly pushes my hips forward with his hand so that I’m barely humping him.
I’m so wet that my pussy is sliding against my panties and his trousers, and every time his head hits my clit, I mewl a little.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my breast. “You feel so damned good, taste so damned good.”
Then he flicks my nipple with his tongue, and I press my sex against him harder, gripping his thick hair with one hand. A low growl seems to be vibrating inside of him, as if he’s getting just as turned on as I am. Every time my pussy hits his cock, he seems to lose that much more control.
When he comes up for air and looks up at me, there’s a hellish need in his eyes. Even though I don’t know what I’m doing, I think I know what he’d love for me to do now.
Still unsure, I ease off of his lap. My heart is thundering inside me as I look at his groin, where I can see the length of his cock under his trousers.
“Do you want me to…?”
I can’t believe I’m asking him this…or almost asking him. I’m too much of a novice to know how to ask, but I want so badly to make him happy.
He only smirks in answer, and it’s a dark, greedy expression of lust. A hungry yes.
As the blood pounds in my ears, in my chest, in my clit, I drop to my knees in front of him. This time I don’t fumble—I want to see what’s underneath his zipper too much—and when I pull him out of his trousers, I blow out a taut breath.
He’s thick and long, and my mouth waters just looking at him.
“Now touch me,” he says.
Eagerly I stroke my hand under his shaft, and he pulls in a breath between his teeth. His intense gaze encourages me, more darkness whirling there, joined by a yearning so powerful that all I can do is respond to it.
I run my palm under him, his cock getting stiffer by the moment. I’m so fascinated by his dick that when I lean forward to lick his tip, it seems the most natural thing in the world to do.
He groans his approval, then mutters, “Now do more of that, baby.”
I do as he says, experimentally running my tongue around him and tasting a slight saltiness. I love the firm feel of him, the unfamiliar sensation of doing something that I’ve only fantasized about, and before I know it, I’m swirling my tongue up and down his cock, slowly at first, then with increasing gusto.
His hand is in my hair, and when I look up to take a breath, his gaze is utterly lost.
For a moment, the power I have over him swamps me, but I’m too dizzy to think much about that. I’m all body and no brains, and I start laving him again, sucking and giving him head as if I actually know what I’m doing.
He makes a guttural sound as he fists his hand in my hair. It’s primal, tortured, and it keeps me going, taking him in my mouth and sucking him faster and faster—
When he comes, I swallow up the juices until I can’t take any more. Then after he’s spent, I back away, feeling his
cum slip down my throat as I wipe him from my lips, his gaze going entirely wild.
“Now it’s your turn,” he growls. “I want to taste your sweet pussy.”
He surges out of his chair and scoops me up, bringing me back to my own chair with raw ferocity.
Now he’s really out of control, that darkness in his gaze getting me so hot that I can barely stand it. He kneels and pushes up the skirt of my dress, then rips off my panties, tossing them aside. Before I can take in another breath, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and pulls my hips to him.
When he kisses my pussy—a kiss that’s fevered and so, so dirty—I gasp. He keeps going, sucking, ravishing, using his tongue to lap up the cream from every bit of me. I grip the sides of the chair, stifling a scream. He devours me mercilessly, circling my clit with his tongue until my hips are churning. I spread my legs wider for him, hanging them off the sides of the chair, asking for more, always more…
A tense pressure starts pushing at me from the inside out. It starts to roll around in my belly like a heavy stone creating waves that grow and grow as he uses his fingers to part my pussy lips. When he delves into me with his tongue, I can’t hold back. I moan loudly, just as I did yesterday, but with more desperation now.
There’s a part of me that’s still afraid the plane’s crew will walk in on us. But there’s a bigger part of me that doesn’t give a shit as he tongue-fucks me, adding his fingers to the naughty play, massaging my clit at the same time, driving me crazy, crazier…
Something big and wet and wonderful explodes inside of me, and it feels as if I’m splashing everywhere—inside and outside. I cry out some more, loud and nasty, no matter who might hear it.
But that’s not all—Cage is intent on completely breaking me down, sucking on my clit now, and helplessly I come again for him again, jerking, gushing with heat, pulling at his hair.
It’s as if the power goes out in me, my mind going black for a flash. Absolute darkness. An eternal second of blankness.
Slowly, I gain my senses again, but then my mind scrambles until, with yet another wet burst, I suck in a deep breath, everything in me rattling, destroying me, then dying.
I open my eyes, and my surroundings solidify, coming together. I exhale, long and hard.
While my breathing and heartbeat slow down from the wild ride I was just on, I realize that Cage has been watching my free fall as if he can’t get enough of what just happened either.
As if there’s a deep feeling there—one that stuns me.
It’s only when I start to blush furiously at the fact that he’s still between my cream-wet thighs and that I’m still entirely spread out for him that reality sets in.
He owns me, and not only because he paid for me.
By now his expression is different. There’s something…off…about it. Where he should be warm and intimate, he’s distant, cool, hard-edged.
It makes me think I never did see what I saw in him.
Without a word, he adjusts my body until I’m sitting, and he tugs down my dress so that it covers me. Then he stands. He turns his back as he silently puts himself back in his trousers. The sound of his zipper cuts through the tense air.
What’s with him? It’s as if he can’t handle the closeness that just passed between us.
He goes back to his seat and picks up the phone from the table next to him. He doesn’t look at me.
“I’ll be making a few calls,” he says tightly. “Then I need to get some sleep for the rest of the flight.”
His words slam into me. I think I’m being dismissed.
After a numb moment, I uneasily stand, feeling the slickness that still moistens my pussy. I bend down to pick up my panties and clutch them.
Then, without a word, I walk the path of rejection to the back of the plane toward the bedroom, knowing I won’t see Cage for the rest of the flight.
I might as well try to make up for the sleep I didn’t get last night. Might as well hide back there and try to figure out what just happened.
In the end, I get about as much sleep there as I did back in Miami.
Chapter 6
After a driver picks us up in a limo and drives us into Manhattan, I don’t push myself on Cage as he makes more calls. I know enough to realize he doesn’t owe me anything personal. The deal we made was only one of many daily transactions he deals in, and it isn’t as if I entered into this arrangement expecting to come out of it with a soul mate.
All I need is the money, and then I can take care of the past that keeps coming back to haunt me.
Get rid of my stubborn problem once and for all…
Even though hurt keeps nudging me, I keep repeating this, even as we’re dropped off in front of Cage’s skyscraper. There, a doorman tips his hat to him and professionally smiles at me as we enter the extravagant lobby with its sleek black floor and a light fixture whose round bulbs shower down from the ceiling in a sparkling show.
After we ride up in the black-tiled and gold-trimmed elevator, Cage brings me to his duplex, which is probably about 10,000 square feet and costs millions of dollars. Even if he is distracted, he efficiently shows me around, and I’m blown away with the Swarovski crystal chandelier in the main room, as well as the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that feature views into the heart of Manhattan. Everything is high-tech: the security system, the entertainment offerings, and even the kitchen where a private chef is on call.
Once again, I’m like a princess in a fairy tale, although based on what happened in the jet, I’m sure my Prince Charming is going to ride off into the sunset all by himself after he gets his ultimate way with me.
But, hey—why should I complain when I’m with a hot billionaire who’s giving me money, amazing orgasms, and the finest luxury amenities that a woman can have? Not too shabby, and I’m going to enjoy it the best I can and not worry so darn much.
And it gets much easier to enjoy once Cage shows me to “my” bedroom.
There’s an oversized cushioned gold headboard for my king-sized bed, which rests on a raised, thickly carpeted platform. Sculpted golden lamp fixtures and tasteful modern paintings decorate the room.
When I peek inside the walk-in closet, I laugh in glee. “Clothes?” I ask.
“They’re all your size,” he says. “My assistant asked the Highest Bidder to provide that information so she could supply you with what you’ll need. I thought you should have something to wear besides what you have in your bag.”
The website did ask for my size, probably just in case their billionaires want to pamper their girls like this. “Thank you for thinking of that.”
I run my fingertips over a gorgeous silk shift that one of his dates in those paparazzi photos might’ve worn. Little, black, and elegant.
I feel Cage standing behind me, and I drop my hand to my side.
“I’d like to choose what you’ll be wearing for the rest of the day, Karini.”
His voice is sandpaper rough, and it scrapes over me, burning my skin. It seems he’s back to paying attention to me now, and I can’t stop myself from imagining him taking the simple dress that I’m currently wearing off of me like more gift wrap.
“Which dress are you thinking of?” I ask softly.
When he walks into the closet, he brushes by me, and I shiver. Did he do that on purpose?
His expression tells me nothing as he peruses the selection on the racks in front of him—nightwear, daywear, an array of shoes. He finally pulls something down on its hanger.
It’s a lovely yet unremarkable filmy shift the color of sea foam. It’s sweet yet elegant.
He moves toward me then rests it against my body, as if to see how I’ll look in it. But I’m only thinking of the slight pressure of the dress as the fabric whispers over me. I never thought having Cage cover me up would make my stomach flip like it’s doing right now.
When he slips a hand around so that his palm rests against my shoulder blade, I hold my breath. And when he guides me toward a full-length mirror
, it feels as if I’ve been ignited through and through.
There I am in the reflection, everyday average me, my light brown hair resting on my shoulders, my eyes wide as Cage holds the dress over the front of me. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, my belly joins my stomach in its circus of somersaults.
“This brings out the color of your beautiful eyes,” he murmurs.
I look again, and he’s right—my eyes aren’t just a boring gray anymore; they’ve picked up the blue-green hue of the dress.
Cage’s hand slips down my shoulder blade, and in the mirror I see that he’s lost focus. He’s watching his fingers trail down me as if he’s entranced.
Just as my heart begins to piston in my chest, he stops touching me and hands me the dress, already on his way out the door. “Be ready in ten minutes.”
Ten? Does he think I can put myself through a car wash or something?
But I won’t argue. “We’re going somewhere?”
“We’ve been cooped up in a jet, then a car. I need some fresh air.”
Suddenly he sounds irritated. Did I do something wrong?
What now?
I think about his whiplash change in temperament on the jet after he gave me oral—from intense to removed. What’s with him?
But he’s gone, and I don’t waste time messing around. I strip, choose a cute pair of Valentino slide sandals to go with the dress, then jump into the bathroom to wash up.
I do get a little sidetracked there by all the sumptuous soaps, gels, and fragrances he ordered someone to stock for me—at least I think they were purchased for me and not someone else. But I manage to meet him in the foyer in ten minutes flat.
He’s still in his business suit as I sweep past him to the door with a you-didn’t-think-I-could-do-it-didja smile. He lifts a dark brow.
I lean back against the door. “You probably thought I was going to pamper myself too much and keep you stewing out here. I think those toiletries in my bathroom were actually a Venus Fly trap you set for me, but I was up to your ten-minute challenge.”
