by Cara Nelson
I had nothing to fear any longer. I knew now that Solomon was nothing like his father. He’d given up everything for me. How had I not seen it until now?
“Is this truly how you feel?”
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry.”
“Well, to be honest with you, Sasha, I really did think this was all just a fling. Something I could squash and never think about again. I didn't know he really loved you, or that you loved him back. I can't afford to lose both of you. I was wrong.”
Chapter Thirteen
I needed a break from my life. I still hadn't decided what the heck I was going to do with my life now that I had left my father's company . . . hell, my company. I decided to take a mini vacation to see my brother James. Well, he was actually my stepbrother—I had a few of those because of my father's many marriages. This brother was the son of the woman from my father’s previous marriage. I really liked Marie, but I had never once seen anything wrong with his previous wife. I had a hard time seeing anything wrong with any of my father's previous wives. I was starting to think it had been my father all along who had no idea how to keep a marriage together. And to think he had been my idol for so long. Like him, I had always thought it was best to treat women like things I could throw away when they no longer suited my needs. But Sasha had been different, and it made me realize just how wrong I had been about all of it.
The thing that I most enjoyed about James’s family was the fact that it was a family. He was only a few years younger, and yet his life was so much fuller than mine. I couldn't figure it out, but it was true. He was happy living such a simple life—and I loved watching it.
He had been married just a few years ago, and they already had a one-year-old son. Here was James—younger, married, and already with a child. Something I had never even thought about because I was too busy having one-night stands. How stupid could I have been?
The fact of the matter was that James’s wife Christie adored him, and he was gloriously happy. Their child was just the cherry on top.
How had James gotten it right when he had grown up in the same turbulent type of family environment that I had? Why were we so different? Was it only because he had decided against working for the family business? Was that the thing that separated us? James had somehow found his freedom and claimed it, while I was the one tethered to a man who controlled my life.
No, I was determined. My life was going to be about something, be for something, even if it killed me. I was going to somehow find the life that James had. I wanted the same thing for myself.
Chapter Fourteen
I got a phone message requesting my presence at the office that day. I didn't know what to make of it. There was no indication of whether it was from Solomon or Roger—and I wasn't sure how I would deal with either of them. My mind was shot, and although I knew I wanted Solomon more than anything, I didn't know how to get him back, or if it was even the right thing to do. I didn't even know if he wanted me back.
I walked into the office and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Solomon back at his desk. Did that mean he was back for good? What was he doing here?
“Oh my god, Sasha, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”
“Really? The way you left . . . I thought . . .”
“No. Please. I was stupid. I thought I was protecting you.”
“Please stop doing that. I don't care if I lose my job.”
“Sasha, you don't mean that. I know how important this is to you.”
“It is. But you’re more important. I love you.”
“What did you say?”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Sasha, I love you, too. I’m so sorry. God, how am I ever going to make you see how sorry I am?”
“I'm sure you’ll figure out a way.”
“You’ll never believe what happened.”
“Dare I ask?”
“My father came to his senses. He wants me back at the company, not working for someone else. He wants you to stay as well.”
“What? Why?”
“He apparently realized that it was real, that we were real. Maybe you had something to do with that. He's okay with you and me. Forever Sasha, if that's what you want.”
“I do. It's all I’ve ever wanted. So show me, just like old times.”
He chuckled. “Here? Seriously?”
“Yes, here.”
He pulled me to him once again. “Well, I guess I'm going to have to give you what you want then.”
He smiled and kissed me deeply. He started undressing me, sliding me out of my tank top and unclasping my bra, my breasts bouncing out in front of him.
“Sasha, your body’s so hot, it makes me hard instantly.”
I felt the front of his pants and smiled with delight.
“Now, that's hot.”
I loved when he felt my breasts, and I moaned at his touch. He then put his fingers against my jeans and rubbed me. I moaned eagerly—I couldn’t wait to have him inside me once again. He continued to rub me harder, escalating my excitement.
“Oh god, you make me so horny, Solomon.”
“Mmmm.”
“Please . . .” I moaned. I wanted him so badly. I had a fire between my legs that needed to be extinguished, and only Solomon could do that for me. He was rubbing his fingers against my clit, soaking my panties.
“Oh Sasha, you're so sexy.” He undid my jeans and pulled them off. My panties were the next to go. He slid his fingers inside me, and I moaned, feeling incredible as he finger-fucked me.
“Oh god, that feels so good.”
He was making me incredibly horny, and I didn't know how much more I could stand. I wanted him to slide his cock inside me and please me better than nothing or no one else could. Only his cock could take away the ache and bring me to an orgasm. I moaned as he held me close to him. We were still standing as he slid his fingers in and out. I held on to him as my pussy grew wetter. I couldn't get enough.
I took his hand and pulled it out of me, then lay down on his desk and spread my legs. I couldn't wait any longer to have him. He had other things in mind, however, as he slowly lapped at my opening. He slid his tongue slowly inside of me then sucked on my clit as I moaned and my eyes rolled up into my head.
By the look on his face, he approved of my move. “I want to fuck you from behind, Sasha.”
He plunged inside me, and I cried out, “God, you have such a big cock.”
“I'm going to fuck you good with it baby.”
“Mmmm, give me more Solomon, please. I need it.”
He pumped into me fast, and an orgasm crashed into me hard and intense. I screamed out his name as wave after wave of pleasure consumed me. He slowed down his thrusts to keep himself from cumming, too.
“Your pussy is soaked, Sasha. It’s so hot inside you.”
He flipped me around so that I was on my back again. Climbing on top of me, he gazed down at me with a smile on his face.
“Do you want me, baby?”
“Yes, Solomon, I need you. Come back inside me.”
He bent down low and kissed me on the mouth. He slid his tongue in, and I accepted it ravenously. I never felt safer and more loved than when he kissed me.
He entered my wet pussy immediately and pushed in hard. We moved into a reverse scoop position—still in missionary but on our sides facing one another. My legs intertwined with his, and he drew me in really close, his cock still inside of me. He looked deep into my eyes, and I smiled back at him.
We pulled apart, and I was instantly sad he was no longer inside me, but I knew it wouldn't be long before he was again. We both sat, leaning back. Inched forward towards each other, he entered me again. I moaned his name and cried out when his cock thrust inside me. He felt incredible, and his forcefulness made me crazy.
He was fucking me good and hard, and I felt my orgasm building. He was hitting every nerve inside me, and I thought I would lose my mind. He had connected with my G-spot, and the world was starting to get
a little fuzzy. I knew an explosive orgasm was coming, and I couldn't wait. I couldn’t hold back.
“Solomon, I'm going to cum.”
“That's what I want to hear, darling. Cum on me hard.”
He moved inside of me faster, causing me to spin out of control. I cried out in ecstasy, feeling the waves of passion thrashing inside me. I had needed him, needed this. I moaned as I came on his cock for the second time.
“It's all you, sweetheart.” We both lay down, exhausted but very satisfied. He rested beside me, very close. He made me feel complete, and I couldn't imagine ever being away from his side.
THE END
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Excerpt from ‘The Billionaire’s Hotline’ Download Instantly Today!
“That’s right, Miss Hollingford, number nine on the list. Rebecca, actress, 27. Tonight at the Blake, say eight o’clock,” Jasper told his social secretary.
So far, the project had worked like a charm. Hot and cold running blondes at the touch of a button. Last night’s text had delivered a stunning lab assistant to his favorite sushi place in a barely-there bandage dress. She wouldn’t eat, swearing that there were bacteria in raw fish, so he didn’t even have to buy her dinner, just a dirty martini. Tonight he wanted someone light and fun. An actress sounded just right, although 27 was a little on the elderly end of the spectrum for his taste.
Jasper had had a productive day, finalizing the acquisition of two more promising competitors in the wind energy industry. He didn’t care much about green energy, but he liked to breathe and figured it was easier to make a profit off people who were healthy and generating income to buy his other products. It seemed a sound investment. Better than those e-cigarettes he’d passed up; although they were gaining popularity, he still thought they looked ridiculous. He hoped the actress didn’t smoke plastic cigarettes or anything else…he couldn’t stand the taste.
At eight, Jasper was sitting at the bar at the Blake in the same suit he’d worn to work. If it had been a date or an event, something where he had to worry about the impression he’d make, he would have gone home to change. As it was, he was able to work straight through until 7:45 and still make it to his rendezvous on time. He congratulated himself again on the sheer convenience of his planning…investing in a hotel with a lux bar close to the office, hiring a secretary and ersatz bagel boy to orchestrate his social life. It was good to be king, he mused complacently.
At 8:10, his actress had not arrived. He called Miss Hollingford with instructions to text the woman again. At 8:20, he demanded the number and texted her himself. There was no response, and certainly no delectable blonde on the menu at the Blake Bar. Exasperated, he texted again five minutes later. Didn’t she realize his time was valuable? If she showed up by 8:30 and apologized, he’d still sleep with her, he decided magnanimously. If she showed up by 8:40 and was suitably gorgeous, he might even buy her a drink first, although to his mind she had already wasted the getting-to-know-you courtesy quarter hour with her appalling lateness. He knew he should give up and return to the office, but he was reluctant to admit that his system had failed. It was a matter of pride now. Even though he could be at the gym or signing off on a leveraged buyout. Irritated beyond the telling of it, Jasper texted again. It felt good to plague her with obsessive reminders. It was satisfying somehow. He didn’t even admit the possibility that she’d discarded the phone or forgotten to charge it.
At nine, a vagrant entered the bar, her cut-offs and tank top spattered with paint. Messy brown hair was coming out of a lopsided ponytail and her face was flushed. Perhaps she was mentally ill, Jasper thought idly. Security should come take care of this before the patrons were importuned with some sort of scene. Even his house cleaner dressed better than that. What business she thought she had in an upscale hotel bar was beyond him. He punched in another text angrily. Seconds later, an absurdly loud message beep sounded…from the phone that vagrant creature held in her hand. She brandished it with disgust and marched directly up to him.
The mentally-ill street person addressed billionaire CEO Jasper Cates.
“Who the HELL do you think you are?” She hissed. People had ceased to talk and were avidly listening to the confrontation. Jasper let his derisive gaze sweep her from head to toe languorously.
“That depends entirely on whom exactly you think I am.”
“You’ve been texting this phone incessantly for the last hour and a half now what do you want?”
“There appears to be some mistake. I was trying to reach Rebecca,” he said smoothly, pleased that he remembered the actress’s name and wondering why in God’s name the half-witted bagel boy would have given a phone to this harpy. She wasn’t blonde, she wasn’t happy, and she clearly wasn’t overfond of Crossfit, judging by the softness of her shape. She wasn’t even clean.
“Becca is my sister,” she said. “You need to leave her alone. She’s happy. She’s with someone now, and she doesn’t need you fucking things up for her with your stalking.”
“Did you just say fucking in the Blake Bar?” Amusement quirked the corner of his sardonic mouth.
“Yes, I fucking did,” she spat. “Now stop texting and calling this number. It’s not Becca’s phone anymore, and I’m certainly not interested in you.”
“I assure you I won’t be trying to contact anyone at that number again. Clearly Rebecca’s life is going another direction now. I cherish the effort and grace required to inform me of that fact when a simple text message would have been adequate.”
“You were texting her obsessively. It was—alarming. I wanted to make sure you backed off.” A number of sophisticated diners were gaping at her, and her courage withered. “I know how I must look. I was painting my apartment when you started texting and…I guess I didn’t think it through.”
“I’ll take the phone back.”
“No. I need it. She gave it to me because she was through with it. It was hers. Were you the guy who gave it to her?”
“No but the phone belongs to my company.”
“Then how did Becca—never mind. My sister gave it to me, and I’m keeping it.”
“Listen, Miss—“
“Largent. Hannah Largent,” she said, hands on her hips, fury at defending her phone burning away her fit of embarrassment.
“Miss Largent, your sister was given the phone for a reason which is no longer viable. Return it to me.”
“Forget it.” She turned around and stalked out of the bar.
Without hesitation, Jasper left his drink and took off after her. The idea of this harpy keeping one of his phones when it could be redistributed to a woman who met his criteria was offensive. That was his thirty dollar disposable phone, and he’d be damned if some stupid actress was going to get away with giving it to her frumpy sister. He caught up to her. Maybe she wasn’t as out-of-shape as he had thought, considering her speed. Grabbing her by the arm, he stopped her. She whipped her head around, her ponytail flicking him across the face.
“Seriously? You’re going to follow me, because all the text stalking didn’t make you seem psycho enough?” She scoffed.
For the first time, he noticed that her voice was gorgeous, low and husky. It made him think of a dark cabaret, a pair of red lips closing around a white cigarette, the tip of a pink tongue
darting out to form a perfect pale smoke ring drifting up to the rafters. Her voice was like velvet, and he had a fierce urge to cover her mouth with his.
“My phone,” he gasped.
“No, that’s MY phone. Were you going to give it to some other girl? Wait—that’s it, isn’t it? You gave the phone to Becca or had someone else do it so you could call her to hook up. How many phones have you given out?”
“Twenty-nine.” He smirked.
“That is repulsive. Who does that?”
“I’m a busy man, Miss Lawson.”
Hannah leaned closer for emphasis. “Largent. But if you’re as successful as you act, you already knew that and just said my name wrong to put me in my place.”
Now Jasper knew she sounded like Nina Simone and smelled like cinnamon gum. He found it hard to regulate his breathing, much less keep his hands to himself.
“Excuse me?” His eyebrows shot up.
“You dropped your voice to make it sound confidential, but your eyes cut to the left. You’re trying to manage me with a falsehood.”
“Are you a criminal profiler or something?”
“Actually, I do voiceovers and some sound effects editing. I work both sides of the sound board. I know how to manipulate intonation linguistics. It’s part of my job. You, Mr. Cates, have a Machiavellian inflection.”
“Is that a clinical term?”
“No. I just made it up, but it suits you, because you’ll say anything to achieve your objective. You belittle me, lie to me, and harass my sister.”
“I merely tendered an invitation which she no longer wishes to accept. Return my phone so it can be recirculated.”
“I refuse to abet such a blatantly patriarchal attempt at human trafficking.” Her low voice grew haughty, but no less irresistible for it.
“Human trafficking entails financial gain or compensation. I read Half the Sky, so don’t try to give me a vocabulary lesson and mischaracterize my dating methodology as an atrocity against women and children.”