TRAINWRECK 1: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Inspired by a True Event

by Nelle L'Amour

  “Wow!” exclaimed Ben. “You’re awesome.”

  Ari’s brows lifted with shock and then a smirk slid on his kissable lips. “Saarah, you are surprisingly good at manipulating things with your hands.”

  The innuendo (and boy, was he full of them tonight) made my cheeks heat and my skin prickle. And not just on the back of my neck.

  “Let’s play again,” begged Ben.

  A familiar voice stopped me from answering. “It eez bedtime for Señor Ben.”

  Standing at the entrance to the room was Luisa, her arms folded under her buxom chest. A warm smile spread across her bright-eyed face.

  Ben frowned. His father gave him a signal to get up, tilting his chin toward the foyer.

  “No fair,” he sulked.

  The cutie-pie reluctantly rose from the couch, leaving the remote behind, and shuffled over to Luisa. She wrapped an ample arm around the child’s slender shoulders.

  “Luisa, I’ll be there in a minute to tuck him in and read him a good-night story,” said my companion.

  I was impressed by what a devoted father he was. A pang of sadness stabbed me. That was something I had never had in my life.

  The adorable little boy gazed up at me and then unexpectedly broke away from Luisa to give me a hug. The warmth of his little arms wrapped around my waist radiated throughout me. My heart melted.

  “Thanks, Sarah, for my cool train. Can you come over and play Pac-Man with me again?”

  I fired an uncertain look at Ari. The impassive expression on his face was unreadable. “Maybe,” he said. My heart quivered, not knowing what that meant.

  After wishing us “buenas noches,” Luisa shepherded Ben out of the room, leaving me alone with Ari. Despite the mixed messages this devastating man was giving me, I didn’t want this evening to end. I wanted to be in his arms and make delicious love with him in his bed. Don’t go there, Sarah. I was hit hard with the realization that it was time for me to leave. That I would not be spending the night. His house, his rules.

  “I should say goodnight.” My voice wavered.

  “Wait for me here. I’ll be right back.” He abandoned me but returned quickly holding a small shopping bag. “Yours,” he said softly, handing me the bag.

  With just a glance, I knew what was inside. I took out the Jimmy Choo box and lifted the lid. Inside were the black satin peep-toe stilettos. I was on the verge of crying.

  “Thanks.” My voice was watery.

  He tilted up my chin with his thumb as I fought back tears. “I thought you might like to have them back. You’re quite a Cinderella.”

  In some way, at this moment, I felt like Cinderella. A clock gonged in my head. It was time to leave. That was the deal. His next line confirmed it.

  “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

  Planting his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me out of the room and walked by my side as we traversed the long foyer. There was no more physical contact, not even the holding of a hand. Maybe, “maybe” really meant maybe. Or never. I had to remember that this man was afraid of a relationship. Afraid of commitment. I had to accept that. It just wasn’t as easy as I thought.

  Ari pushed the button by the elevator and the door immediately slid open. To my shock, he shoved me into the carriage, straight into the corner. As the door closed, he pinned me against the upholstery with his hip and crushed his lips onto mine. The kiss was fierce, all-consuming, and passionate. As the elevator descended, a fire re-ignited in my core and coursed through my body. Oh what a kisser this gorgeous god was!

  When the door reopened, he pulled his lips off mine. I was breathing heavily, and my legs were trembling.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” he said, leaning his body against the door to hold it open.

  “Sure,” I said breathlessly.

  “Andre is waiting for you outside to take you home.”

  My heart clenched. Reality. I was going home.

  As I stepped out into the lobby, he placed his strong hands on my shoulders, holding me back. He spun me around to face him. My skin tingled from his touch as his warm breath skimmed my cheeks.

  “Goodnight, Saarah.”

  My gaze held his as if we would never see each other again. I held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

  “Goodnight,” I said softly.

  Forcing myself to not look back, I headed toward the entrance of 1001 Park Avenue. I heard the elevator door close behind me. My heart sank. He didn’t ask me out. Or even ask me to meet him for a coffee or a run. Clutching the bag with my shoes, I stepped into the foggy New York night, unsure if any form of “we” was meant to be.

  Ari

  “Goodnight comb.”

  “And goodnight brush.”

  “Goodnight nobody.”

  “Goodnight…”

  Waiting for Ben to shout out “mush,” the next word of his favorite book, one of our bedtime rituals, I realized he was sound asleep. A small smile spread on my lips. I stared at my beautiful little boy, feeling so blessed to have him in my life. A shudder ran through me at the thought that I had almost lost him—on more than one occasion. Yes, that hellish night, but that wasn’t the first time. There was the incident right before that one as well as another in the Hamptons. And I almost lost him right from the onset. Eight months into her pregnancy, fucking Cassandra, who was high on something, fell down the stairs of our Upper East Side duplex and had to be rushed to the hospital. In the ambulance, she went into premature labor, requiring an emergency C-section to be performed. After two hours of surgery, Ben was born at a mere four pounds with a life or death condition known as PDA (patent ductus arteriosus)—an opening between two major blood vessels leading to his heart which could result in heart failure. While Cassandra recovered quickly from the fall and the surgery—at least physically—poor Ben, who almost didn’t make it, had to remain in the hospital for two months on ventilators and IVs until the heart defect closed—that is, if it closed up. Every morning and night, I visited my tiny, brave boy and prayed for him to get well. The bitch, on the other hand, didn’t visit him once, and spent her days in bed, strung out on a cocktail of vodka and Valium, with an endless pile of fashion magazines that featured her on the cover or in spreads inside. As little Ben’s heart defect healed, after a couple life-threatening setbacks, mine began to fall apart. I went into a state of denial—thinking that this nightmare would go away. That once Ben got better, Cassandra would come out of her depression and we’d be that family that fairy tales were made of. But that never happened. Cassandra fell deeper into her depression and wanted nothing to do with our son. As my love for him never wavered and grew every day, I began to wonder—had she deliberately fallen down the stairs in an attempt to end our unborn baby’s life?

  To this day, I didn’t know the answer to that disquieting question. But what I did know was I couldn’t live without Ben. He was a miracle baby, the gift of life, and the only bright light in my years of darkness with Cassandra. Knowing what he’d been through, each birthday was more special to me than the one before. Loving him with all my heart and soul, I gave my precious son a kiss on his forehead and, then after putting the book on his nightstand, headed to my bedroom to call it a night.

  I did a little bit of last minute packing for tomorrow’s trip, performed my normal bedtime routine, and then got into my pajama bottoms. While I used to love to go to sleep in the raw, I no longer did that in case Ben woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. I couldn’t waste a second getting to my son whenever that happened. Checking the two-way monitor on my night table, which would let me know if he was having one, I crawled into my king-size bed and hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of last night. While he was having his nightmares less and less frequently, they were never easier to deal with. And I sure didn’t want him to end his perfect birthday with one.

  Both my mind and body were restless. While darkness bathed me, the uncanny events of the day whirled around in my head. Sarah’s presence at Ben
’s birthday dinner had made me forget about Cassandra, who had wreaked havoc on my mind all afternoon after Lisa had mentioned her name. While toe-fucking Sarah, I had banished the thought of my ex being back in town. It was impossible. Thanks to my sister, the lawyer, we had a heavy-duty agreement that forbid her from ever setting foot in New York again or for returning to this country for that matter. My worries subsided as thoughts of Sarah filled my mind, and I became aware of my raging boner beneath the covers.

  Sarah totally turned me on. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. And the more amazing I found her. I was impressed by the way she wasn’t intimidated by my snide, in-your-face sister, who I wanted to smack a couple times, and was blown away by the way she kept her cool while I made her come under the table. Most of all, I was astounded by how well she and Ben connected. My little boy seemed to take a strong liking to her and vice versa, and this more than anything turned me on the most.

  I can’t begin to tell you how hard it was (no pun intended) for me not to ravage her in the elevator. While I fucked her luscious mouth with my tongue, all I could think about was fucking my Cinderella up against the wall. Hoisting up that pretty dress of hers and ramming my dick right into her delicious pussy. Banging her until she saw stars and I don’t mean the ones in the sky. With the way she submitted to me, I thought she wanted it too. Damn, a missed opportunity—something that, as a shrewd businessman, drove me crazy. The sublime taste and scent of her invaded my senses as I slipped my hand under my pajama bottoms and curled my fingers around my enormous aching erection. I needed relief if I expected to get any sleep. Imagining one of her exquisite talented hands wrapped around the girth, I closed my eyes and began to jerk myself off, fantasizing that her luscious mouth was sucking me off in tandem. My breathing grew ragged as I stroked myself faster, more furiously and imagined what it would be like to come in her mouth. Within a few minutes, I exploded with a loud grunt, my release spreading all over my hand. I kept my hand there as my breathing calmed down.

  I snapped open my eyes and reached my free hand across the firm mattress. For the first time ever, I felt lonely in this big empty bed. An unexpected sadness and longing swept over me. I wanted Sarah’s soft body in my arms. But was I ready? Was I capable of feeling again?

  This weekend I was going to find out.

  I was tired of saying, “Goodnight, nobody.”

  Sarah

  I woke up the next morning with Jo-Jo and reality in my face. I didn’t sleep well. My evening with Ari plagued me, and I had a nightmare in which I was Dorothy and his sister was the Wicked Witch of the West. “I’ll get you and your little pussy Jo-Jo,” she cackled, her evil laugh still echoing in my ears.

  As I stumbled out of bed, doubt wracked my brain. I had no clue if I’d see Ari again, or after last night, he’d want to see me. I had to remember this was a man who was fucked up. He had not been in a serious relationship since he’d left his wife, and commitment—okay, date—was a four-letter word.

  Heading into the bathroom to complete my morning routine, I decided today was as good a day as any to start looking for a second job to help pay for my mother’s treatments. My plan was to scour the local restaurants to see if I could get an evening or weekend job as a waitress or hostess. The good news was that I had done both before to help pay my RISD expenses. I was an exemplary employee—punctual, hard-working, personable, and courteous—and could expect glowing recommendations from my former employers. Later, I would call my mom, and hopefully, we could share some good news.

  Dressed in a mid-length paisley skirt, a lightweight sweater, and my beloved combat boots, I grabbed my bag and trotted down the stairs, passing Mrs. Blumberg, who was already carrying two shopping bags full of groceries.

  “So, how was your date the other night?” she asked, always the nosy busybody.

  “Very nice,” I replied with a quick smile. Wishing her a good day, I skipped down the stairs, pondering my response. Very nice… but…

  Upon opening the front door to the building, sunlight assaulted my eyes. Squinting, I recalled that for New Yorkers, today was the second day of the three-day Memorial Day weekend. Unlike your typical Sunday, the city streets were empty. Families and singletons, like me, had already escaped the rushed, stressful life of the Big Apple by heading to more restful destinations like the Hamptons. Like Lauren and her fiancé Taylor. All their friends owned or rented second homes in these exclusive oceanfront communities along Long Island’s South Fork. Except me, who couldn’t afford to do either. And truthfully, I had better things to do than sun on the beach.

  As I headed east on Forty-Fifth Street, Ari filled my mind. My body ached for him—his arms, his lips, his tongue, and most of all, his glorious cock. My longing ate away at me. Pessimism persisted. With every step, I was growing more and more positive I’d never see him again.

  As I got to the end of the block, a car honked loudly behind me. I turned my head to see what the commotion was about. Rolling up to me was a midnight blue Bentley convertible. A beyond handsome man, wearing a white visor with a T-shirt and expensive-looking wraparound sunglasses, was at the wheel. Holy shit!

  “Get in,” he ordered.

  “I can’t,” I stammered, marching up Eighth Avenue.

  The Bentley trailed me.

  “Get your sweet ass in the car, NOW,” barked the driver.

  He pulled up to the curb beside me and opened the car door. Torn between stepping into the car and running away as fast and far away as I could, I opted for the former, against my better judgment.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked after slamming the heavy car door closed and fastening my seat belt.

  Ari peeled away from the curb. “It’s a surprise. Ben agreed you should come along.”

  Ben? I guess I’d made a positive impression on him. Ha-ha. Score more points for me. I held back a smug smile.

  “We’ll be spending the weekend.”

  Huh? I jolted as Ari picked up speed. I was spending the weekend with this god and his son? I hadn’t even spent a night with him! In fact, I hardly knew him.

  Ari glanced my way. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered.

  Truthfully, I was already regretting getting into the car. A flurry of worries swarmed me. I had no clue where he was taking me. I had nothing to wear. I should be looking for a second job. I was freaking out about spending the rest of weekend with him. And there was this…who was going to take care of the poor cat? Maybe Mrs. Blumberg could.

  “Open the glove compartment,” Ari ordered, shaking me out of my mental madness.

  I did as he asked and unlatched it. Inside, along with a Bentley Continental GTC manual, was a white visor like his and a pair of black Ray-Bans.

  “Those are for you. You’ll need them.”

  I slipped them on. Ari shot me that dazzling, dimpled smile.

  As we zoomed uptown and the wind whipped against my face, I began to relax and look forward to my adventure. My guilt and angst succumbed to the joy of being with him. It felt good. So good. At least for now.

  We were no longer going to be strangers on a train.

  Ari

  Oh, yeah. I had her where I wanted her.

  She was in my car.

  Strapped in a seatbelt.

  She protested once. Okay, twice.

  I told her to shut up.

  She did.

  I then asked her if she was wearing panties.

  She was.

  Not for long.

  A victorious smile curved my lips.

  It was going to be a stellar weekend.

  My cock twitched.

  End of.

  Sarah

  I’d never been in a convertible before, let alone a Bentley. I was loving every minute of it. As Ari zoomed uptown along traffic-free Park Avenue, my ponytail whipped across my face. My eyes darted from the sun-lit skyscrapers to the car’s rich leather and veneer interior, and then over to Ari’s gorgeous but unreadable profile
.

  “So, come on, tell me where we’re going,” I begged him. We were getting close to his apartment.

  “If I tell you, will you play with my Pac-Man?”

  While it was way too early in the morning for one of his sexual innuendos, my eyes roamed down his beautiful body and I instantly flushed at the sight of the big bulge between his legs. Tingles rushed to my pussy.

  “Sure,” I stammered. “But not in front of your son.”

  Ari broke into a smile. “Southampton. I have a house there.”

  Southampton was the summer playground of New York’s elite. It figured that he would have a second residence there. My stomach bunched up with nerves. Two questions pummeled my head: 1. What was I going to wear? (I didn’t exactly come packed for a weekend at the beach), and 2. Where was I going to sleep?

  I put my mental ramblings on hold when Ari’s stately Park Avenue apartment building came into view. His adorable son Ben was already standing under the awning, holding the handle of a small roller bag in one hand and the toy train I’d given him in the other. Dressed in khaki shorts, an oversized Spiderman T-shirt, and a New York Yankees baseball cap, he waved to us as we pulled up.

  “Isn’t Luisa coming?” I asked Ari.

  “No, I’ve given her the rest of the holiday weekend off. Olga and her husband Vadim will be waiting for us at the Hamptons house.”

  More of Ari’s staff.

  The doorman helped Ben put his bag into the trunk, and then the little boy hopped over the rear window into the backseat.

  “Buckle up, buddy,” Ari said.

  “Sarah, it’s so cool you’re coming with us,” replied his obedient son.