Billionaires Club

by Elsa Kurt

  We are on the elevators and speeding to the 21st floor before I even think to figure out which direction my room is. As we step off the elevator, I realize that my upgrade was quite significant. I’m clearly on an elite floor. There is a large library and private bar with a lone bartender busying himself with drying crystal. Two men in suits glance up and nod to us from a large leather couch near a fireplace. On the wall beside the elevator is a list of five destinations, Terrace Pool, Botticelli, Caravaggio, DaVinci, and Michelangelo. Max is halfway to DaVinci before I even finish reading the sign.

  “The DaVinci Suite sounds promising.” He smiles down at me as I catch up. “Maybe you’ll have a copy of the Mona Lisa.”

  “If the Last Supper is hanging above my bed, I’m just going to check out now.” I laugh.

  “Do you mean above your bed or above your headboard, because above your bed would be pretty weird, even for Vegas.”

  “I think it would be pretty weird either way.” I shake my head and hold my key to the door. The green light and click of the lock is my cue to look up at him for my kiss goodnight, but his hand is already on the handle.

  “Maybe you will be really lucky and have a catapult.”

  “What on Earth am I going to do with a catapult?”

  “Are you kidding, what aren’t you going to do with a catapult?”

  “There isn’t going to be a catapult.”

  “It’s the DaVinci Suite. There has to be a catapult.”

  “There is no way there will be a catapult.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “Absolutely, what are we betting?”

  “You first.” He grins.

  “Okay, if there is no catapult you owe me…” I struggle to come up with something that doesn’t involve taking his clothes off. “…a photo of you wearing a fireman’s hat.”

  “Again with the firemen.” He shakes his head. “Fine. And if there is a catapult, you owe me a bottle of that wine we had with dinner.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes as he pushes through the door.

  Damned if there isn’t a catapult on the entryway table.

  My jaw drops. First, he clearly cheated. God only knows what types of dances he has done in this suite before. Second, my upgrade was indeed quite substantial. We’re standing in a large circular entryway, but beyond that is a spacious living room with floor to ceiling windows and a gorgeous view of the Vegas strip. I’ve stayed in a lot of nice hotels and in some beautiful rooms, but this is something special.

  The living room opens on the right to a full kitchen with beautiful stainless steel appliances and a Wolf gas range. Two stairs lead to a large dining table that would seat at least ten. On the table are a large platter of fruit and cheese and tiny pastries that look like art. Beside it sits a wine bucket with a 2013 bottle of Guigal La Doriane Condrieu. Next to it is a small silver notecard that reads, “Thank you for your understanding. Enjoy your evening.—Stacy”

  “Well, there’s your bottle of wine.” I glance up at Max. He smiles reassuringly, but there is something about all of this that seems very strange.

  “And look, we have ammunition.” This time his smile turns into a mischievous grin.

  “Ammunition?”

  “For the catapult.” He grabs a few grapes and heads back to the entryway.

  “You are not going to shoot grapes across my hotel room!”

  “I most certainly am.”

  My attempts to strip the grapes from his hands only results in a very unbalanced wrestling match.

  “They upgraded me to this amazing suite, I’m not going to destroy it!”

  “They put you in a room with a two-foot catapult and a bunch of grapes. What did they think was going to happen?”

  “You are insane!” I can’t help but laugh. I watch as he loads the first grape into the small sling and lets it fly. I let out a small scream as the fruit explodes against the far window.

  “Hmm, but apparently not a very good aim. I was trying for the pyramid. Here, see if you can do better. I’m going to open the wine.” He hands me a grape and walks away.

  I stand there holding a grape and staring out across the Vegas skyline. The grape he sent flying is slightly distorting Aladdin’s castle. Max is busy pulling the cork from the wine but when he glances up at me I lose all interest in behaving. Because really, I’m standing in the most beautiful suite I have ever been in with a man who may have made a deal with the Devil to look like Adonis, and I’m next to a catapult holding a grape. I don’t think I’ve heard any advice that fits this situation precisely, but I’m pretty sure the only real option at this point is to catapult the grape.

  I adjust the catapult a few degrees to the right and place the grape gently in the sling. I pull it back and around and take a deep breath before letting go. We both watch the long arc as it flies over the perfectly arranged room and pristine carpet and lands with a satisfying thunk against the glass. Right at the heart of the pyramid.

  Max let’s out a low whistle. “Nice shot, beautiful. Want to make this a little more interesting?”

  “What did you have in mind?” I’m having trouble wiping the grin from my face.

  “How about, for every shot you miss you have to take off a piece of clothing.”

  “You want to play strip catapult?” I can’t help but laugh. “That’s crazy. You’re wearing twice the amount of clothing that I am.” The moment the words are out of my mouth I realize my mistake. Clearly, I meant that it’s crazy because there is no way I’m going to play strip anything with a near stranger.

  Max wastes no time taking advantage of my momentary slip and starts loosening his tie, at which point my mouth goes dry. I’m not sure I have the strength to object under these circumstances.

  “True, I don’t want to be accused of cheating.” He keeps his eyes on mine as he lays his tie across the back of a chair. His jacket is next, and I have to remind myself to breathe as he folds it neatly and leaves it behind. He grabs two glasses of wine and starts toward me. “Better?”

  I feel like my eyes have grown the size of frisbees. The man is still completely dressed but watching him take off his jacket and tie has been enough to leave me speechless. He must be an extremely successful stripper.

  He stops in front of me and offers a glass of wine and it is clear he’s waiting for my reply.

  “You should know that I have some experience with a catapult.” It appears my habit of saying ridiculous things is safely immune from his influence.

  “Thanks for the warning.” He reaches up and runs his fingers down a length of my hair. “But you should know, the house always wins.”

  “The house?” I raise an eyebrow. “Taking this casino owner thing a bit seriously, aren’t we?”

  Max just smiles and takes a long drink of his wine. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but the look is calculating. I’m about to ask when he takes the other grape from my hand.

  “All I know is that, right now, I’m losing. And I have some strong incentive to win.” He looks me up and down as he says this. I realize that he may be right about the house always winning. Because really, it’s pretty clear that this little game of his is going to end with one of us naked. If it’s me, I’m pretty sure that look says that he’ll be happy to join me. Really, it’s a win-win.

  “Well, don’t get too cocky.” I smile and tilt my head sweetly. “And by my calculations, you are still wearing too many clothes.” I look him up and down as blatantly as possible.

  “In that case, why don’t you tell me when to stop?” He smirks down at me.

  I swallow the lump that just formed in my throat. Holy crap, I’m really doing this. “I think one more will do.” My eyes drop to his shoes.

  Max the stripper apparently has a different idea. He pulls his shirt from his wasitband and begins unbuttoning. My eyes lock on his long fingers as they slowly move from button to button. As the fabric disappears from his shoulders, my heart rate spikes. For once in my life, I remember to clamp my j
aw shut so that my thoughts do not get released into the wild. I’m not sure I could recover from saying, “I can think of something better to do with those grapes.”

  And then he chuckles. Crap, I did it again.

  Max just turns and loads the grape into the catapult. Apparently, he’s too much of a gentleman to take advantage of my inability to filter my thoughts.

  Chapter 4

  Maxwell

  I have no choice but to turn my back to her. It’s the only thing keeping me from backing her up against the wall and ripping that flimsy excuse for a dress from her body. It’s clear she wants me to, but this is moving too quickly. I need to cool off before I blow it all on a quick fuck. I want to savor this one. The problem is, I’m not sure how to convince my cock to slow down, short of an ice cold shower.

  Ah, a shower. I turn back to her and try to decide how straightforward I can be. The grape is left hanging in the perfectly crafted basket of the catapult. Let’s pray I won’t be left hanging as well.

  “Shall we explore your suite?” I offer my hand and watch as she considers her reply. It’s clear to both of us what a yes would mean. I’m happier this way. No more hiding behind games and chance. I want her to make a conscious choice. I want to hear her yes.

  “You’re sure?”

  Her answer surprises me. She is still worried about me. She doesn’t want to take advantage of what she sees as an imbalance of power. It’s sweet really, but I think it’s time to tip that balance back in my direction.

  I take the glass from her hand and set it on the table. I step into her and can’t help but smile when she doesn’t step back.

  “Layla,” I’m rewarded with a small hitch in her breath, “I was sure the moment I saw you. You are the one who has to choose.”

  I regret the words almost the moment they leave my lips as the shock registers and then disappears from her eyes. I remember her story about her boyfriend and know that my phrasing was like a slap to her face. Too recently she was asked to choose. Too recently she said no. I can’t let her do that here. Not to me.

  I feel her body start to stiffen and watch her lips part and know that I have to stop her. I let my mouth fall over hers. There is a pause, and for a terrible moment I think she’s going to push me away, but instead, she lets go.

  Her mouth is sweetness and softness and ripe citrus wine, and the moment she starts to kiss me I lose control. I back her into the wall behind her and press my weight against hers. She answers by wrapping her long arms around my neck and pulling her legs to my waist. The moment I sink my fingers into her I’m lost.

  “You are so fucking wet.” I sink my teeth into her neck to keep from talking, from making it clear the impact she is having on me. My silence backfires immediately.

  “Because of you,” she gasps as I curl my fingers inside her. “I’ve been wet since you dragged me off that barstool.”

  Her confession causes my dick to push hard against my zipper.

  “I want to fuck you.” I push my fingers deeper and rub my palm against her clit.

  “Then do.”

  “I don’t want this to be over. I want to enjoy you.”

  “We have time.” She looks into my eyes with a question and I know that this is her yes. She is giving me one night, and I plan to reward her greatly. But first I have to regain control. With her, that means losing it first.

  “This one’s for me.” I can’t help but grin. “The other four will be for you.”

  “Four?” I can tell she thinks I’m joking.

  “At least four. But only because you asked nicely.”

  “Did I ask?”

  “In the bar. You said you needed a man who was interested in giving you an orgasm.”

  She glances up at me, surprised.

  “I said I needed a bath.”

  “We can do that too.” I don’t give her enough time to respond. I’ve been busy pulling my cock from my pants and wrapping it in a condom. I push inside her, and all thought disappears.

  Too soon I find myself slamming into her with all my might. I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t help myself. Her pussy pulls deeper, so warm and tight that it feels made for me personally. She feels like a gift wrapped around my cock, driving me insane.

  My body coils as it readies for release, and judging from the way she’s panting my name, she may not be far off either. I reach my hand and press firmly on her clit as I pound into her. She’s either going to come with me or I’m going to rip her in two.

  The string of curse words that pours from my mouth when I come is new. I can’t seem to stop them or the way my fingers dig into her ass, pulling her body into mine. She’s gone perfectly still except for her pussy, which pulses around my cock through her orgasm. My last, “Oh fuck,” is whispered into her ear like a prayer as our bodies begin to reset.

  I feel her start to pull away from me, but I’m afraid to let her go, so I do the only thing that makes sense, I carry her into the bedroom and drop to the bed with my cock still in her. I lift enough to see her surprise and watch her drag her pink tongue over her lips in anticipation, and it is enough to make me hard. I switch out condoms and begin again, this time slower, willing my cock to memorize every inch of her.

  This time when she comes I ask her to look at me. I watch her pupils dilate and her vision go cloudy just before I feel the first spasm. I hold her tightly against my chest as I push forward one more time. It feels incredible to be the one holding her together in this moment when her entire body is coming apart.

  When her body starts to relax into me, I pull from her and flip her over on her belly. I could pretend that this is about giving her the four I promised, but when she looks back at me over her shoulder I know that this is all about me. That small smile, eyes glazed over with pleasure. I couldn’t stop in this moment if I tried.

  This time when she comes she pulls me over the edge with her. I collapse next to her on the bed and gather her into my arms, just holding on. Walking into that bar tonight was one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.

  When I feel myself start to drift, I remember the bath. She watches me climb from the bed and I can tell she’s waiting to see what happens next. When I start the bath and come back for her, the look she gives me stops me in my tracks. She’s clearly surprised that I’m following through. I guess it makes sense, she thinks I’m a stripper she’s just using for a distraction. It makes me wonder, though, if anyone follows through for her. Well, tonight I’m following through. Tonight she is mine to pamper.

  Scooping her off the bed, I make my way into the bathroom and can’t help but grin at her small gasp.

  “Now that’s a bathtub.” She smiles and nestles her head into my shoulder.

  I try not to break contact as I lower her into the water and settle in behind her. She slides back and sighs as her body slowly melds into mine. I would assume it’s the bath that has brought her to this level of peace if she weren’t so tightly pressed against me. The soft scent of strawberries wraps around me and I find myself lowering my nose to her hair. This is an amazing woman, all sweetness and strength. She’s going to make someone very happy. Or, in the case of her ex, break someone’s heart.

  When the water starts to cool, I refill it and then reach for the shampoo. The best part of taking a bath with a woman is the perfectly legitimate excuse you have to explore every inch of their body. After all, you have to get clean, don’t you?

  My fingertips slide down the length of her arms and back up again, massaging the tightness out of her shoulders as I go. I take my time, enjoying her taut stomach, chasing the knots from her back. When I run out of places to explore, I pull her back to my chest and wrap my arms tightly around her. The sigh escapes from my lips and I’m startled by a feeling of peace.

  I try to think of the last time I felt this calm. The last few years have been hectic. New hotels and new cities have made my life a hurricane of networking, politics, and construction. I’m not even supposed to be here this week
, if some business hadn’t come up with an old friend, then I would be in Paris. Or was it DC? I can’t even remember.

  But here I am, in my own city, with my arms around a woman who feels like she was built for my pleasure. For a split second I consider confessing, consider telling her who I am and asking her to share my bed for the weekend. But maybe naked in the bathtub is not the best time to tell a woman your lies.

  She makes the decision for me when she turns and pulls herself to her knees. She is balanced between my legs and the picture of her there, dripping with water and leftover suds, ruby red lips curled into a smile, is mesmerizing. This is a vision I will surely remember for eternity.

  When she leans forward, she places her hands on either side of my shoulders and brushes her lips over mine. Her mouth wanders over the edge of my jaw, and I can’t help but groan when she nips at the skin just below my ear. She smiles at my sound and moves to straddle my quickly hardening cock.

  She slowly envelops me, and I strain to keep my hands on the edge of the tub. This is clearly her time to take charge and it is taking every ounce of my self-control to let her. With her slow swaying and gentle pressure, she is testing my need to sink my fingers into her ass cheeks and pull her to me with all my might, but there is something beautiful about her using my body to get off, so I let her.

  The insane part is that I am loving it. I love the way her body teases mine, working me into a slow frenzy. I love the way my cock seems to grow and stretch inside her. I love the way it feels like I am slowly and gently losing my mind.

  Just when I can’t take it anymore she seems to relent. Her movements become faster and more urgent. Her hands move to my shoulders and I watch her close her eyes. I take that as my cue to take over.

  I shift my hands to her hips and start to punctuate each of her thrusts by pulling her tighter against me. Soon I’m pushing up to meet her. I can feel my control slipping, so I slide my thumb against her clit and gently pulse. Her response is almost immediate, and both of us spasm when she gasps my name.