BILLIONAIRES’ INDULGENCE
Book 1—Irresistible Attraction
Scarlett Avery
Copyright © 2015 by Scarlett Avery
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Scarlett Avery / Absolutely Naughty Publishing
Edited by RJ Locksley
Proofread by Chrissy Becker
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. This book is for sale to adults over 18.
Billionaires’ Indulgence / Scarlett Avery.
ISBN 978-1-987943-23-8
Foreword
I can't thank you enough for purchasing this sizzling read.
I’m absolutely passionate about what I do. Once I start writing, I just can't stop.
It's taking me a whole lifetime to get to the point where I’m able to live out my dream every single day.
The captivating stories and the enigmatic characters live with me throughout the writing process. I think you'll quickly notice how much care and attention I put into each one of my romance novels.
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***
Billionaires’ Indulgence Series
Book 1—Irresistible Attraction
Book 2—Pure Lust
Book 3—Wicked Pleasure
Book 4—Craving More
Book 5— Burning Desire
***
CHAPTER ONE
ALLISON
How is it possible to adore your family, but at the same time feel the urgent need to get as far away from them as possible?
As much as I love seeing my parents, they can be a bit much to handle. I know my mom wants me to be happy, but if she asks me one more time if my boyfriend Clark and I are making any plans to take things further in our relationship, I swear I’ll scream. I’m sure she means well, but Mom is constantly reminding me that my three older brothers are married and I’m not. As if I couldn’t figure that out on my own.
I made a special trip back home to Chicago to spend time with my brother Josh’s firstborn. I had planned on spending four days doting on the sweet child like a good aunt, but since she was so sick my sister-in-law, Stefani, decided it would be best if little Kimberly didn’t have too many visitors.
I could have stayed longer at my parents’ house, but I saw my niece’s cold as my cue to return to New York. I was supposed to catch the last flight of the day back to the Big Apple, but instead I grabbed a four-thirty flight. Since the trip is only a few short hours, I was able to land an hour ago and I should be home soon. I’m already relishing the thought of kicking back with a mouth-watering pizza in one hand and my remote in the other. If traffic isn’t too horrendous, I should be sitting in front of my television by eight.
As I’m zooming down the busy streets of Manhattan at the back of the cab, I can’t help but wonder if Clark will ever pop the question.
Do I even want to marry him?
I know it’s an odd question considering we’ve been living together for a year now, but lately, it’s felt like we’re more roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend. I often wonder if he’s seeing someone else behind my back, but Clark is always quick to brush away my concerns. Every time I broach the subject of his distant attitude, he blames his workload. It’s not as if I was a skinny supermodel when he met me, but I might have put on some weight lately. In the last few months I’ve often caught him ogling slim and sexy women, but what can I do? As long as he’s just looking, we’re good, right? Where would he find the time anyway? Since his recent promotion to junior trader, he’s been chained to his computer working the most insane hours. When he’s not crunching numbers or analyzing graphs in the hopes of advancing his career, he’s drumming up business for Venture App, the investment company he started a year ago with his colleague Jasper Reid. I know I’m being insecure for no good reason.
Maybe I should have called or texted him after all to let him know I’m coming home early.
I thought of letting Clark know I would arrive home at eight this evening instead of midnight, but I figured since he had plans to catch a Yankees game with his friends, he wouldn’t be home until midnight anyways. Every time he goes to see his favorite team play, it turns into a rowdy evening with his best friends—Tim and Anthony. Since it’s Tuesday, it’s half-price chicken wings and beer at Atomic Bar & Grill and I’m pretty sure he’ll stop there before coming home.
I could use the time alone to unpack and relax.
You’d think four days back home visiting my parents would be a vacation, but it never is. It’s so hectic and now that two of my brothers have young kids, it means my time in Chicago is always crazy. There’s never a dull moment in the Randall clan.
When the cab turns off the main street, I pull out my phone to check the time.
Seven thirty-five. Great. I’ll have the house all to myself for at least four hours.
My eyes are still glued to my phone when the cab driver slows down in front of the house we’re renting.
“We’re here, ma’am. Your fare comes to seventy-three dollars. Cash or credit card?”
I can’t believe how expensive it is to drive in from the airport. “Cash, please.”
After parting with my hard-earned money, I climb the few stairs separating me from an evening of lounging in my little abode.
When I open the door I stumble on a pair of ridiculously high-heeled shoes. Huh? Those aren’t mine. I drop my luggage and squat down to pick up the pair of strappy hot-pink sandals. I hold them up and twirl them in my hands with such fascination, you’d think I’m looking at a work of art. Nope, those are definitely not mine.
As I rack my brain trying to understand what’s going on, noise comes from the upper floor. I panic at first, afraid we might be being burglarized, but then I realize I’m listening to two people moaning. Is Clark watching porn again while jerking off? I slowly climb the stairs and more items of clothing are scattered on each step—a woman’s black lacy bra, a tiny black skirt and a matching jacket, a hot-pink bustier and a skimpy G-string.
Even though I step over Clark’s favorite grey suit when I reach the top of the stairs and the grunting sounds are becoming too loud to ignore, I’m still trying to understand what I’m about to witness. It’s as if I’m watching a movie of myself in slow motion walking through my home with my mouth gaping. I step towards my bedroom and I push open the door that’s already ajar to find Clark balls-deep in a woman’s pussy.
My eyes widen. I’m unable to believe the raunchy scene in front of me. Of course, hearing the woman Clark is hammering scream out obscenities only adds to the surreal moment.
“Yes, yes, yes, Superman, fuck me harder.”
Superman?
When the woman yells out, I immediately recognize her voice—it’s Paula Bullock. The woman’s eyes are shut tight as my boyfriend rams into her with way more passion than he has with me in a long time, but her voice is so distinctive, it’s impossible for me to not know that those skinny legs wrapped around Clark’s waist belong to one of his colleagues from hi
s trading firm. Her voice has always irritated the heck out of me since the first day I met her. I usually join Clark every Friday night after work with a few of his colleagues for happy hour at Barboncino for cheap drinks and tasty pizza—I’m very familiar with that voice.
“Shmoopie, you’re so wet for me.” That’s his pet name for the bitch? “I love how I slide in and out of you so easily. It’s so mind-blowing to fuck a woman with such a hot body. I almost forgot how good it feels.” Hot body? “It’s so amazing to be with a babe who appreciates sex.”
“Superman, your cock is so big. Ride me like a dirty stallion.”
“Your pussy feels like it’s made of kryptonite. It’s as if it’s robbing me of my strength to resist you. Baby, you fuck me so well, I swear your sweet pussy has superhuman powers.”
Seriously?
“I’m going to ride you, baby, don’t you worry about it. I want to make you cry out with pure bliss when you come all over my huge cock.”
Huge? As if.
“Oh, yeah, Clark, give it to me.”
“I was tired of boring vanilla sex, but you’re blowing my mind.”
Fuck you, asshole. It’s not as if you were Channing Tatum in bed.
“I can’t get enough of your juicy dick. I was dying because you hadn’t been inside me in over a week. I hate having to travel to our Boston office. I don’t want to be away from you.”
“Paula, I’m going to come, I’m going to come, I’m going to come.”
“Fill me with a big shot. I’m close, Clark. Pinch my clit.”
“Arghhh.”
Clark and his bitch yell so loudly, I’m sure the neighbors at the end of the street hear them. I’m so shocked by the scene I’m witnessing, I’m still frozen at the doorway like an ice sculpture with my jaw dropped, watching my boyfriend fuck his colleague’s brains out. Suddenly, Paula opens her eyes and we’re staring at each other—the adulteress and the scorned woman.
The blood drains from her face and she panics. She tries to call to Clark, but she’s so surprised by my presence she’s unable to utter the words strangling her right now. She can only tug at his shoulders, desperate to catch his attention.
“What, baby? You want some more? Already?”
Obviously, Clark hasn’t clued in yet and he’s still flirting with Paula looking for his second fuck of the night. God, he disgusts me.
“Clark.” Paula nearly chokes on his name as she points to the door where I’m standing.
When my boyfriend meets my icy stare, he jumps out of bed as if it’s on fire.
“Allison, what the hell are you doing here?” Clark stares at me with wide eyes, cupping his family jewels like a wimp.
“What am I doing here? Are you seriously asking me that question, you jackass?” I respond with contempt, bouncing my gaze from my boyfriend to the trashy brunette sprawled across my bed with her legs spread open—on my fucking Calvin Klein sheets. I blink incredulously when my eyes zoom in between her thighs.
Of course he’d go for a skank with piercings on her clitoral hood. And of course he’d fuck her without a condom.
That’s way more than I need to know about the bitch, but for some reason, I’m not surprised she’s the kind of woman to adorn her private parts with jewelry. I move my unimpressed gaze to the wannabe Superman and I take in his pathetic naked body from head to toe and my skin starts to prickle into goosebumps. A lava ball forms at the pit of my stomach.
I’ve always been the understanding one, the supportive one, the attentive one, the compassionate one. I’ve stood by Clark throughout his outrageously expensive studies to move his career forward, his long hours at the office, his business venture that sucks up any of his free time, and his recent distant demeanor. This is how he repays me.
I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten mad at Clark over the six months we dated and the twelve months we’ve been living together. I’ve been pretty good at eating my emotions to avoid rocking the boat… especially since he got his big promotion at work.
He’s been cold with me. He even makes sure to linger in front of the television until I’ve fallen asleep before coming upstairs. I’ve noticed, I just chose not to say anything. I honestly hoped it was something I had done or that he was overwhelmed by his new responsibilities. Being faced with the reality of his treachery is a bitter pill to swallow. I’ve always bitten my tongue when it comes to Clark, but in this moment, I snap.
I’m not joking. I go apeshit on him. I grab the first thing I can from the dresser to my left and throw it across the room, praying I hit him smack between the eyes. He ducks just in time and the oversize wax candle smashes against the wall behind him.
“Ali, honey, calm down.”
He did not just call me honey.
“How can you possibly explain this, Clark?” I spit. “You can’t worm your way out of this one.”
I’m so enraged, I’m unable to speak. The humiliation of his words while his cock was buried deep inside Paula is devastating. I guess I’m not his ideal woman since I don’t have a “hot body” and our sex life has been “boring vanilla” since I don’t “appreciate sex”. His voice is still ringing so loudly inside my head, it’s robbed me of my power to tell him how I feel about him. I grab another candle and fling it at him and he jumps back in bed, trying to take cover under Paula’s body. Coward.
Both Paula and Clark are hovering under the sheets I saved for months to afford and I’m toying with so many ways of unleashing my fury on both them. I take a step forward and both of them gasp in fear. Instead of attacking them, I head to my closet and I grab an old duffle bag my big brother Dave gave me so many years ago when I moved to New York to go to college. I unzip it and I throw in an armful of clothing. I’m in such a rush, I don’t bother removing the hangers. I turn around to the other corner of the closet to grab piles of folded jeans and sweaters. I dump everything in my bag. I slam shut the closet door and I storm past the two idiots watching my every move speechless like a Trappist monk and nun who have taken a vow of silence. I get to my dresser and I pull every drawer out like a wild beast and I shove in as much as my bag can take. I don’t need to have eyes at the back of my head to know that Paula and Clark are shaking and praying I don’t slash their throats for their betrayal.
Once my bag is overflowing, I straighten up and turn on my heel to face the two people I hate the most in the world right now. I’m sure the expression on my face must be telling because Clark’s eyes are as big as satellite dishes. Are those beads of sweat on his balding forehead? Yeah, asshole, you should be scared. I take a deep breath to steady my voice before speaking.
“I’ll be back later this week to pick up the rest of my stuff and I’ll mail the keys to you.” My comment is directed at Clark, but my eyes are glued on Paula. She’s always wanted him. She’s never been clever enough to hide it. Well, now she can have him.
I walk out of my former bedroom with my head held high and my shoulders pulled back. I won’t allow him to see how much he’s hurt me. I go down the stairs and grab the small suitcase I left near Paula’s hot-pink strappy sandals and I step outside in the middle of the night. I drop my bags on the top step and I reach out for the handle to shut the door.
The minute my fingers interlace around the metal handle, I lose it and a torrent of tears start pouring down my face. I’ve been such an idiot. I exhale and I slam the door shut so hard behind me I’m surprised I don’t shatter the glass into a million pieces.
CHAPTER TWO
ALLISON
Ten weeks later
The last few weeks have been a turning point for me both personally and professionally. I’m still having nightmares of Paula and Clark fucking. I know they say time helps you forget, and I wish I could erase that bad memory faster. As if walking in on my boyfriend’s betrayal weren’t enough, I lost my job as a junior graphic designer at Big Digital Communications. I had been with this agency for nine months and although I can’t say I loved my job—heck, I can’t even say I liked
it—it was a steady paycheck. The hours were daunting and the competitive nature of the business did eat at me, so in some ways I’m not all that crushed about not having to show up there and pretend I was as gung-ho as so many of my other colleagues.
That said, it’s been a sobering past few months. Within ten days I found myself without a boyfriend, a home or a job. Luckily, my best friend Gwyn insisted I move in with her and her gorgeous fiancé Gaven. They’ve been together for a few years now and they are so in love, it’s sickening. They made the decision to start a life together and they bought a modest three-story home to accommodate a family when the time comes. I’m fortunate enough to be able to occupy the basement and live with them until I get back on my feet.
I was lucky to get a retail job at Celestial Beddings to tie me over for a bit. I’m grateful for the money, but a full day of running around in a store fetching ridiculously expensive sheets for wealthy New Yorkers leaves me drained. I’m so looking forward to having dinner, kicking back and allowing the blood to circulate back into my legs, but the commute home is a nightmare because of a signal problem on one of the trains preceding mine. This mess delays my journey by a whole hour. Unfortunately for me, there are no free seats when I get on the subway and I have to stand on my aching legs during this ordeal.
By the time I get off of the subway and walk the two blocks to Gwyn’s house, I’m exhausted. Luckily, when I open the door, my perky best friend greets me with a warm smile. “Hey, Ali.”
“Hey, I didn’t expect you to be home.”
“Something came up and I decided to change my plans for the evening. How was your day? Another rough one?”
“Gwyn, I can’t feel my feet,” I reply, collapsing on the barstool at the kitchen island and dropping my handbag on the hardwood floor. “When I used to be a graphic designer I’d be sitting all day, but now I count my blessings if I get to rest for thirty minutes.”
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