The Billionaire's Seduction

by Jay S. Wilder

  We’re escorted to our seats near the runway. I’m waiting eagerly to get started but try to exude casual calm. I notice Adam’s chair, to Kelly’s right, is conspicuously empty.

  “Where is he?” I ask through a wide smile, looking around the room. I don’t want to appear concerned but we’re just minutes away from the start of the show. The magazine is in poor enough shape without Adam Gerome snubbing the Ralph Lauren show.

  “As you know,” Kelly singsongs through her own wide smile, “he takes event times as a mere suggestion.” She’s not kidding, either. I remember my first day at the office, when he kept me waiting.

  I look around at the other women in the room, all dressed to the nines. There’s more than one celebrity in attendance. I remind myself not to ogle them like a star struck fan girl. I’m a sophisticated fashion magazine journalist now.

  A hush falls over the crowd—we’re about to start. Just then, there’s a movement at Kelly’s right as Adam slides into his chair, as the first model appears on the catwalk. My heart slows down to a normal rhythm, my mental energy now freed up enough to let me pay attention to the models.

  Of course, his nearness soon distracts me. It’s like he’s a tractor beam, pulling me toward him. I keep trying to catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye when I should be paying attention to what’s happening in front of me. I manage to snap a photo which includes two of Hollywood’s biggest darlings seated side-by-side, knowing it will be perfect for Facebook…even as I wonder what Adam would think of it.

  Well, what of it? I ask myself. He’s my boss, after all. Why shouldn’t I want to impress him?

  Yet when the show is over, he seems less than impressed with my photos. In fact, he seems bored beyond belief. “God, this is death,” he mutters to me as we climb into the car. Okay, maybe he’s more than bored.

  “You have to be joking,” I say with a smile, but one look at his face tells me he’s sincere. Then I remember he has no interest in fashion. In fact, he’s only worked at the magazine for slightly longer than I have.

  “I don’t see what the big deal was about the collection,” he says. “It looked like somebody rolled around in dirt and was like, ‘Oh, this is fashion’.”

  I know he’s referring to the browns and tans which were prevalent throughout the collection. “Believe me, it was beautiful,” I inform him. “Just because you can’t appreciate it doesn’t make it garbage.” I’m already irritated with him and we’ve been in LA, what, two hours? It has to be some sort of record. If nothing else, Adam Gerome has a talent for pushing my buttons.

  I happen to know he’s talented at more than just button pushing. But it will never happen again.

  “Why are you getting so defensive?” he asks, frowning.

  “I’m not defensive,” I counter, defensively. “I’m just trying to get you to see another side to the story. I didn’t know you’d be so offended over me disagreeing with you.”

  “Right, so you come at me all worked up like you’re the one who personally designed the pieces and I’m personally attacking your personal work.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I should have known better than to try to illuminate you on the finer points of anything related to your profession.” The two of us sit, arms crossed, facing away from each other.

  Kelly clears her throat. I forgot she was in the car with us. “So…this is fun,” she says brightly. I can’t help snorting. Adam chuckles, too. I throw her a grateful look for cutting the tension.

  I show them both the photos I took so we can discuss captions for social media. It helps to change the subject, too. “You have a good eye,” Kelly says warmly. “You see what makes for engaging posts. Nice work.” I can’t keep the proud smile off my face. I’m sure by now she’s come around on my being here.

  * * *

  “Where’s Kelly?” I ask Adam when he appears, alone, in the doorway to my room later in the evening.

  “She made plans with some guy she met at the Lauren show. Maybe she’ll actually get laid tonight and take the stick out of her ass” he says, which gets an eye roll from me. I now remember her chatting with a guy who looked vaguely familiar. At the time I thought he might be an actor.

  “So it looks like it’s just the two of us tonight,” he says. I know exactly what he has in mind thanks to his sexy smile.

  “Remember,” I say, warning in my voice. “Strictly professional.”

  He takes me by the arm, leading me down the hall toward the elevator. “Of course. We’re headed to one of the hottest parties in LA tonight, you’re looking like sex on a plate…but we can keep it professional.” I cast a glance in his direction. His poorly-concealed smirk tells me he has anything but professionalism in mind.

  Chapter 3

  Adam

  If I didn’t know better, I’d call her a prick tease.

  We start out at the party, held by one of the biggest fashion houses at one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. There are dozens of celebrities here. I think we might be less likely to be “spotted” by photographers with all of the potential for tabloid fodder going on around us.

  After Anna gets a few shots for Instagram and Facebook, she turns to me. We’re seated at a VIP table in one darkened corner of the room. I’ve been sipping my vodka, watching her.

  “What?” she asks, but for once there’s a bit of playfulness mixed in with her exasperation.

  “Just checking out your work,” I say with a wink. She smirks.

  “More like you’re checking out my ass.” It would have been difficult not to, seeing as how so much of it is exposed thanks to the tiny little fragment of silver fabric covering not only it but the rest of her body. It’s little more than a long tank top. It’s sleeveless with a low, draped neckline and a hem barely reaching mid-thigh. I’m already twitching in my pants just thinking about the perfect body beneath it.

  “I have good taste. Besides, I’d have to be blind to miss you,” I take another sip of my drink, watching her reaction over the rim of the glass.

  After two hours and a few more drinks, she’s much more relaxed. We talk, just like we did during our first date-but-not-a-date at the club in New York. Then the dancing begins.

  She starts it, standing up to stretch which turns into moving her body to the beat of the music.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, instantly aroused. Her dress, promising so much. Every time she moves it shifts slightly, threatening to reveal more than it already does. I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting to see what will happen next. She’s driving me crazy without even touching me.

  “What’s it look like?” she asks, raising her arms. She shimmies. I’m hooked. Before I know it we’re pressed against each other, me behind her. I hold onto her hips as she grinds into my crotch, where there’s a hard-on with her name on it.

  We’re smarter than we were back in New York, staying in the shadows. I don’t know what happened to change her mind this way. All I know is I want more. I run a hand up her thigh to graze the curve of her ass cheek, relishing the sound of her gasp.

  Before I know it, we’re making out in the car. One of her long, lean legs is thrown over my lap so she can dry hump my thigh as we kiss like horny teenagers. I reach down the top of her dress to grab one perfect breast. She moans into my mouth.

  Then she pushes me away.

  “What is it this time?” I ask, my breathing heavy. I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm down while she adjusts herself.

  “I want to do this on my own, Adam,” she says solemnly. She’s so sincere, so ardent, it almost breaks my heart. I didn’t think they made them like her anymore.

  “Do what?” I ask, wishing my balls didn’t hurt so damn much.

  “Advance in my career. I want to do it on my own, without special favors from the boss.”

  I pretend to seriously consider this when I really want to get through the conversation so we can get back to what we were just doing. “Who said I planned to give you any special
favors?” I ask. She scowls.

  “I mean it. I don’t want favoritism. I won’t be accused of it, either.”

  “I see what you mean,” I tell her, seriously. I slide closer to her, though, as I speak. I reach out for her, stroking her face, staring into her endless blue green eyes.

  “Then again,” I whisper as I lean closer, “a little help never hurt anyone.” I run my thumb over her bottom lip, drawing a moan from deep in her throat. Then I run the tip of my tongue over that lip. She opens her mouth further so I can slip it inside. Soon we’re going at it again, even more passionately.

  “Damn,” Anna whispers shakily. The massive erection in my pants strains painfully against the zipper, echoing her arousal.

  I run my index finger along her collar bone, loving her sharp intake of breath as I do. She’s as turned on as I am.

  “I’ve been trying so hard,” she whispers, panting. “So fucking hard. Trying to stay away from you.”

  “Why are you fighting it?” I ask, my fingers now tracing a path down her slender, toned arm to the inside of her wrist. I linger there, tracing slow circles. She whimpers softly.

  “You know why,” she replies, then moans when I touch my tongue to what I know is a sensitive spot, right where her pulse pounds into her palm. I lick her there, gently, watching her squirm.

  “Tonight. Right now…” I stress each word with long, open-mouthed kisses trailing up in the inside of her arm. “None of it matters. Only this matters.” I look into those impossibly beautiful eyes, where there’s fear and longing for me.

  “Don’t you see?” I ask, touching her hair, pulling her head closer to me so I can taste her full mouth. She sighs, giving in. A flick of my tongue is enough to part her lips. The heat of passion has passed, but only for now. I indulge myself in her sweetness, probing her mouth with my tongue, trying to get to the source of whatever it is which makes her so irresistible. I take my time, lingering there, wanting to drink her in. She’s mine right now. Who knows what will happen tomorrow or even later tonight. Right now she’s mine.

  “Come on,” I whisper, taking her by the hand. I have my jacket over one arm, hiding the erection currently threatening to burst out of my pants, to climb from the car. I pull her along with me, through the lobby of the hotel to the bank of elevators. I’m struggling to keep from exploding in my pants like a kid. Had we been alone in the elevator I might have pushed the STOP button so I could take her, right there.

  I manage to make it back to her room, but just barely. The moment the door is open we tumble through it. I have her back pressed against the wall before the door closes. The tiny scrap of shimmering silver fabric is up around her waist in no time.

  “Ohhh…” she moans, my fingers already stroking the soaking wet lace between her legs. Her fingers dig deep into my shoulders as my own fingers plunder her treasures. She’s so wet I can slide my fingers right up inside her with no problem.

  “Adam!” she gasps, both out of surprise and satisfaction as my fingers slam home. I want to watch her beautiful face as she comes for me. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open, her head tilted back to reveal her slender throat. She wraps one leg around me, riding my fingers.

  “Yes, baby,” I murmur, relishing her excitement, the power I have over her. “Make yourself come for me. Let me see you. Let me hear you.” When she cries out I know my words are driving her as crazy as my fingers. I hook them toward myself to find the special rough patch inside her hot sheath. Just as before, she jolts as though I’ve shocked her with a million volts. She nearly speaks in tongues, moaning…crying out…panting…gasping until her muscles clamp down on my fingers. Her juices flow even more freely, soaking my hand.

  “Oh…god…” she whimpers, her entire body shuddering after the full force of her orgasm hits her. She’s still pressed against the wall, moaning softly with every ragged exhalation.

  “I need you,” I growl. I grab onto both ass cheeks to hoist her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my shoulders. Her mouth finds mine as I carry her to the bed. She’s poised right over my throbbing cock. I groan as she presses her body against it. My groan is lost in her mouth, mingling with hers.

  We fall onto the bed together, then immediately work on the other’s clothes. Her fingers fumble with my buttons as I reach under her dress to pull off her lace thong. She slides the shirt over my shoulders, then sits up enough for me to lift her arms and slide the dress over her head. She falls back onto the bed, her hair fanning out around her, her hands working on my pants. I drink in the sight of her perfect body before I attack her with my lips, tongue and hands.

  “Yes!” she cries out when my tongue circles one pink nipple. I flick the sensitive little bit of flesh with the tip of my tongue, then move over to the other. She grasps the back of my head, her body writhing as I tease her until she begs for more.

  She’ll get more, soon. I can’t hold back much longer. I reach into my back pocket to pull out a condom, then work my pants and shorts down until they puddle on the floor. She’s touching me, dragging her nails over my skin, playing with my balls. I let out a groan as I roll the condom down my length, then slide into her without a word.

  She throws back her head, letting out a shuddering gasp as I fill her. I groan as her heat envelops me. She’s so tight, so ready. I slam myself home, my balls against her ass. We both take a moment to adjust to the new sensation.

  “So big….” she moans, her head rolling from side to side, her mouth open. I stick two fingers into her mouth, push them in and out, mimicking the motion of my thrusts into her pussy. She sucks my digits, moaning around them as I slowly fuck her. Our eyes meet. In hers I see endless depths of passion. I’m the only one who can unlock it. The thought makes me grunt as I slam myself deeper.

  I replace my fingers with my tongue. She gladly accepts it, her own tongue invading my mouth as we both struggle to possess each other. Her legs wrap tight around my ass, pulling me closer. We groan, gasp, strain, her clawing at my back, me riding her mercilessly until our sweat mingles together just like the cries coming from our mouths and filling the room.

  “Oh…oh…shit! Adam!” she screams, her nails digging into my skin until it stings. Her muscles clamp down on me, trying to milk me dry. I cry out into her neck as my balls seize against me and empty.

  We’re both breathless, wasted. Somehow I know, even before I look at her, she’s going to tell me she regrets this. But I can’t pretend to agree. She’s a drug. Somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, I started getting hooked.

  Chapter 4

  Anna

  “Come on, lady,” Kelly says with a wide smile. “I need something to eat if I’m going to make it through the rest of the day.” I can’t argue with her. Who would have thought watching models parade down a runway could be such hard work?

  Not only do I have to keep an eye out for anything I think would make great social media content, but I’m also meeting a lot of new people, shaking a lot of hands, having conversations with people just like me who are trying to maintain a solid social media game with their publications. I’ve picked up a lot of tips. My fingers have been flying over the surface of my tablet all day.

  Of course, this goes on while maintaining an impeccable appearance. Let’s face it, I can’t represent a fashion magazine looking like the exhausted newbie I am inside. I’ve been keeping my head above water but it’s as though others are smoothly breast stroking their way past me.

  It’s my first Fashion Week, I remind myself. It’ll get easier. I just have to do a good enough job this week to ensure there will be a next time.

  “I’m starved,” I admit to Kelly, in a low voice. I worry if I were to own up to hunger in a voice loud enough to be overheard, I’d be thrown out of the building…if not LA. I’d always managed to stay trim thanks to sports and a healthy metabolism, but some of these women made me look like a candidate for the fat farm.

  We head to a chic downtown restaurant. I get the distinct impression
that people come here more to see and be seen than to eat. I remember the mistake I made on my first day, when Kelly’s salad made my burger look ridiculous.

  It’s a struggle to keep from laughing when I take my first look at the menu. While the fashion-conscious of NYC are known for living on coffee and cigarettes, at least the restaurants serve actual food. I’m surprised there’s no entry for “air and ice cubes”. If there was, I was sure they’d charge at least thirty dollars for it. “I’ll have your garden salad, lemon wedges on the side,” I murmur to the waiter. “Is there any way to get a grilled chicken breast on top of it?”

  “I’ll do what I can, miss,” the waiter replies, sounding scandalized.

  “Could we have maybe gone somewhere to get actual food?” I ask Kelly, who giggles.

  “Anna, a size zero and burgers don’t mix. You won’t be able to get your ass into any of the clothes you’re seeing this week,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, it’s LA. They don’t do greasy here.”

  I’m slightly offended. Surely she didn’t mean to insult me, did she? “I didn’t say I wanted grease,” I defend myself. “I just want a grilled chicken breast.”

  She’s oblivious, looking through her phone. “Your posts are getting tons of engagement, Anna!” she says, showing me the stats on the latest content. All of a sudden she’s bubbly again. I shake off the sour taste her remark left in my mouth, deciding to let it go. I focus on the stats, instead. She’s right, things are blowing up. Not only are our followers leaving comments, but they’re sharing. This has always been the key goal. We’ve already picked up several hundred new followers in the last four days, with our engagement growing steadily.