The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction

by K C Luck

  The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction

  KC Luck

  Copyright © 2019 KC Luck Media

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons—either living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  20191227

  Contents

  Foreword

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by KC Luck

  Thank you for your interest in The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction. I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It was a pleasure to write. If you find time, a review, or even better, a referral to another reader, is always appreciated.

  Please enjoy!

  KC

  Preface

  “The club holds many benefits. Financial connections beyond measure, a sense of security as we all keep an ear to the ground of any threats to each other, and of course, the comradery. With a sigh, I know the last reason is the one hurting me the most. I could find others to fulfill my other needs, but the companionship of women who truly understand me is irreplaceable…”

  Before reading further in this novel, The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction, it's essential to know it is book two in a series titled The Lesbian Billionaires Club. Reading the stories in order is recommended as characters, such as Lila, Madison, and Claire, are introduced in book one. This is not a drop-dead requirement, however, as this novel can stand alone as an erotic romance. Please note the word erotic—there are many sensual woman-loving-woman scenes in the next hundred and fifty plus pages. If you enjoy reading erotic content, then this book will stimulate your senses and deliver a steamy sexy experience.

  To help in the instance The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction is being read out of order in the series, here are a few key points to consider. Foremost, the stories in this series revolve around the life of a group of extremely rich, and therefore highly influential, lesbian women. They are fictional, and for fun, come from different parts of the globe to include, among others, the United States, Australia, and Hong Kong. Some key members to note are Madison, the American media mogul; Zena, from the middle east and the unofficial head of the club; Val, a key member from the old Soviet Union; and Chloe, the carefree Australian. Typically, they meet as a group a few times a year at exotic, but highly secret locations to enjoy each other's company. It allows them to relax and act like ‘regular people’ for a few hours. Unfortunately, by the end of book one, things for the billionaires are far from normal.

  There are two intertwined plots in the first novel, The Lesbian Billionaires Club. The book centers on the story’s narrator, the billionaire codenamed Madison. A pillar of the entertainment industry, she is the manager to the managers to superstars of music, film, and a little of everything else. No one makes money without her getting a cut. A large cut.

  She is being forced by the club to find a woman to settle down with. This leads her to Claire. Their relationship dance, including hot sex, is the primary focus of book one. As the story unfolds, however, it becomes clear someone is working at cross purposes with the club’s members. In fact, one of the most prominent members, codenamed Lila, is specifically targeted. How the club rallies around this threat is the second plot focusing more on intrigue, and introduces a billionaire villain, Georgia DeLane.

  Going into book two, The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction, the series’ focus shifts to the European billionaire, Lila. After the events ending in book one, her well-being, even quite possibly her life, is in danger.

  And so, The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction begins…

  1

  Holding the bouquet of red roses in front of my face, I tap the brass doorbell and wait. I'd like to say patiently, but the anticipation of what will happen soon makes me shift my stance. As always over the last three weeks, I am more than ready to see her. Sexy and sensual Alma. Courting her is delicious, and although I work too many hours in the royal guard’s secret service to partake in relationships often, I’m enjoying this one entirely.

  When the door finally opens, I see it is worth the wait. Alma is wearing a man’s black suit jacket, open enough to let me peek at the black corset beneath it and matching stockings to mid-thigh. Already an ache builds between my legs, and I lick my lips wanting to taste her. She squeals with delight when she sees the roses, and when I look from behind them, she grabs my shirt and pulls me inside the house. “Jael, you are such a romantic,” she says kicking the door shut behind me and pressing her hungry mouth to mine. It’s true; I am ridiculously romantic and always have been. I believe a woman should be treated like a queen. Cherished always.

  At the moment, though, my thoughts are less romantic and hungrier as I return her kiss with a passion of my own. When she parts her lips to invite me in, I ravish her mouth with my tongue. The moan that escapes her only thrills me more, and the kiss grows deeper. She is so eager for me I can barely contain myself, but I will. Always staying in control is critical to my line of work and carries over to my personal life. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not ready to rip off her clothing and fuck her on the floor until she loses all restraint. That I am good at, indeed.

  Breaking the kiss, Alma grabs the flowers and absently drops them on the table in the foyer. Other things are on her mind, and still holding me by the shirtfront, she leads me toward the stairs. I don’t mind. Initiating is what turns her on, but she knows when to be passive, too. I happily play along until we reach the staircase, and then I take her by the wrist. “Lie back,” I say, no room for argument in my tone. Her eyes widen.

  “Here?” she whispers, and I know the idea of having me take her on the stairs is making her wet. The choice is something unexpected, and therefore, thrilling. She sinks to the steps halfway up the first flight.

  Pausing, I smile at the sight. Dark hair in waves halfway down her back, and the suit jacket falling open to reveal her breasts captured perfectly in the cups of the corset. I look forward to freeing them later, to take one and then the other nipple in my mouth to suck and tease until she squirms. All in due time. “Spread your legs,” I instruct her, and she does a little. Just enough to show me she wears nothing to cover her swollen lips. “Wider.”

  Tossing her head, letting the dark mane slip seductively over one shoulder, she gives me a sly smile. “And if I don't?” she asks.

  I narrow my dark eyes. “Then I will widen them for you.” Moving closer, I run my hands down her thighs to her knees, only to easily push them further apart. She is no match for my strength, and Alma knows it. The demonstration of my power causes her to let out a small cry of excitement and pleasure. She loves this dance, and now I see all of her, pleased to find she took the time to shave for me. I love the
feel of my tongue on the smooth skin of her lips. All the easier to tease her.

  She bites her lip and gives me a coy look I know is only an act. I love it anyway. She went from initiating to inviting the minute I pushed her legs apart and left her exposed to whatever I want to do with her. I plan to do a lot and kneeling on the step between her legs, I lower my mouth to her neck and brush my lips over the racing pulse I find there. The temptation to nip is strong, but again, women are to be cherished, and not serve as my prey. Never would I leave a mark on her. Restraint is key I remind myself as I lower my face to the sweet spot between her breasts and breath her in. The desire in me is building, and I can tell she is growing restless, the wanting to feel me inside her matching my own need to fuck her. “Do you know what I am going to do to you?” I murmur as I move further down her body.

  She gasps. “Tell me.” Alma loves to hear me talk while we fuck. It thrills her to have me describe my lust.

  “Take you in my mouth and suck on your clit until you can’t stand it.”

  “Oh God,” she moans as I slide back another step on the stairs and lower my face until I reach her shaved lips with my tongue. They are perfectly smooth, and I know she shaved them for me not long before I stepped up to her door. The act of it no doubt making her throb with anticipation. Slowly, I part her with my tongue and slip over the tight clit I find there. Alma lets out a cry of pleasure from my teasing.

  “Do you like that?” I ask just before I lick over her again.

  “I do,” she gasps. “You’re driving me crazy.” Chuckling at her complaint, I stop the slow foreplay and now suck her into my mouth. Making her wait was worth it as her hips buck with the sudden change in pressure. “Oh my God, Jael.”

  Now, I don’t hesitate and switch from fucking her with my tongue to sucking on her clit until she can’t stop squirming. From experience, I know she is already close to coming. Any second now. Needing to feel her throbbing as the climax rolls over her, I slip a finger inside. Another much louder cry comes from her throat, and as I slide out and then back with two fingers, it is enough to tip her. Throwing her head back, her entire body shakes as the orgasm takes over, and as it does, I move my hand faster, thrusting deeper. “I can't stand it,” she whimpers as I milk the climax she is feeling, making it go on and on by not relenting. She will keep coming until I let her stop, and I intend for her to be limp from my fucking before I am done. Only then will I lead her upstairs to take her again in the giant bed. It will go on for hours, and when she is so spent she can't move, I will dress and leave her. Staying the night is never on my agenda. Women are special to me, but no single one inspires me enough to stay. It won’t matter. Alma will be sure to still feel me in the morning.

  Finally, knowing from Alma’s whimpers she is satisfied for the moment, I relent my stroking and slip out of her, only to lift myself up and give her a kiss. Not gentle, but hard and with a passion I feel all through me. My own orgasms will come later but waiting is sweet torture. When I break away, she sighs. I smile at the sound of her contentment. There is nothing like coming hard. “I'm so going to miss you,” she breathes.

  Surprised by her statement, I raise an eyebrow. My next deployment is yet to be announced, and there are no plans I know of for me to leave Riyadh right away. “Am I going somewhere?

  Alma sits up, and her beautiful face is full of regret. Confused, I lean back to regard her but wait patiently for her to explain.

  “We have to stop; for a while at least,” she explains. “My husband comes home tonight.”

  “Your husband?” I spit out completely surprised by this news. She never once mentioned a husband. Quite the opposite. I believed she was a divorcee. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Pulling the suit jacket closed to cover herself, Alma won’t meet my eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t touch me if you knew I was married. You’re so Goddamn honorable.”

  I don’t know what to say. She is exactly right. The idea I have cuckolded some man makes me almost sick. Anger building inside me. I stand knowing the wise thing to do now is leave before I say something I’ll regret later. She reaches for me, grabbing the sleeve of my shirt. “Wait. I’m sorry, but the last few weeks have been everything I needed. He doesn’t touch me like you do.”

  Tearing my arm from her grasp, I start down the stairs, no longer able to stand the sight of her. “Not my problem,” I growl striding to the door. I see the roses on the sideboard and consider taking them. Obviously, she will have to trash the gift before her husband arrives. Again, not my problem, and without a look back, I throw open the front door and stride into the night.

  2

  Lifting the heavy dumbbells over my head in the officer's workout room on the base, I cannot get Alma’s eyes out of my mind. It's almost midnight, so I thankfully have the place to myself. This is good because I am not in the mood to socialize. Even as my muscles quiver from forcing myself to go an extra set, and sweat trickles down the back against my t-shirt, the look on her face as I walked out the front door bothers me. She seemed so surprised to realize her confession was a problem. That I cared she had a husband. Obviously, something I am doing made her, and so many women before her, think deceiving me to use as a temporary fuck was okay.

  With a growl, I drop the weights at my feet and puff out a frustrated breath. I enjoyed the last three weeks, and not just because she was a sexy woman and a talented lover. When I think of the feel of her body clenching my fingers as she throbbed from yet another orgasm, an ache of hunger claims me. But I also thought there was a spark between us, perhaps something special beyond the sex. Apparently not. Unfortunately, this is not the first time I felt something I hoped could be serious only to find I was overthinking things. The hopeless romantic in me tries to make something from the sweet endearments whispered into my ear. Particularly, as I lay between the legs of my entirely satisfied partner, the shaft of my strap-on still inside them. Somehow, I can’t seem to learn. My role is clear. Make a woman scream as I plunge inside her until she comes and nothing more. For a lot of people, this would be fine. Although I don’t agree with it, I respect the choice. But I am not into one-night stands with near strangers or throw away sex with a revolving door of partners. That is simply not what I want.

  Studying myself in the mirror, I can’t miss the anger, but also a little hurt in my dark eyes. Why are women so fucking complicated? After a beat, I can’t help but give a derisive snort at my own brilliant question. Of course, they are complicated, particularly in this part of the world where I live when not on military deployment somewhere else on the globe. Although a woman’s role is changing in the larger cities of the middle east, and with the influx of Europeans and Americans, traditions are evolving. However, there are still complexities and even dangers, unlike many parts of the world. That aside, on a more personal level, I have to admit if a woman is not intriguing, I won’t be interested in her. To be fair, I consider myself somewhat complicated as well, with more to me than meets the eye. Still, I am starting to wonder if, when it comes to the heart, anyone can be trusted. Everyone seems to have an agenda. Sighing, I realize the same could be said for me, only mine is a bit old school. I simply want to find love, find someone special whom I can romance and cherish. Forever. Sadly, I am beginning to think she doesn’t exist.

  Racking the weights, I move to the pull-up bar and jump the few inches I need to grab it. Being just over five-eleven, reaching it, like many things, is easy. However, when I am dressed in combat fatigues, and my long black hair is clipped up under my beret, it leads to my being mistaken for a man more often than I like. Between the broadness of my shoulders from time in the gym to my confident stance, it is easy to make assumptions. Then, there is the uniform, which makes me look more mature than my thirty years. Of course, more women than a person might think seem to like it. A lot. Lesbian, bisexual, or straight. Unfortunately, no matter which type of woman I try, the result is the same. Disappointment, or even worse, heartbreak.

  Bunc
hing my muscles, I lift myself to the bar a dozen times in rapid succession, feeling the need to punish myself for not seeing through Alma's charade. I trust so quickly when it comes to beautiful women, which is ironic, because in the rest of my life, I miss nothing. Reading people and situations is critical. As an elite member of the special service division, something almost unheard of at my age, and as a woman, my skills at assessing danger keep my teams and me alive. My many commendations for flawlessly executed missions, although the accolades mean little to me, serve as proof of my talent for maneuvering successfully through hazardous situations. Yet, when it comes to navigating a relationship with a woman…

  Yanking myself up to the bar yet again, my muscles roaring with a burn, I realize maybe the time has arrived when I put all my focus in my work and leave women alone entirely. There is one problem though—I have an undeniable sex drive. In my lust for life and the need for constant challenges, fucking a woman is something I don’t think I can live without. At least, not for long, which leads to the paradox I so often find myself in. I want something special to come from what is so often in my partner’s eyes nothing but a conquest.

  With a grunt, I drop to the floor, my body quivering. It's time to move on to the leg press, and I welcome the challenge of the lift coming. Hopefully my focus on setting a new personal record will help at least temporarily erase Alma and all the women before her from my memory. Adjusting the weight, the decision to swear off women seems the only way to move forward. Even if I must touch myself to keep my sexual needs under control, I will not succumb to my romantic notions again. If true love exists, and life is convincing me there is no such thing, then true love will have to smack me in the face, because my days of chasing after it are over.