Billionaire Romance: Club Billionaire (The Complete Series)

by Duval, Lexi

  Now, that's all changed.

  Now, I understand the word at its deepest level. I know everything there is to know about it. Hell, I could write a fucking thesis on it if you asked me to.

  Kyle.

  It's all about Kyle.

  Billionaire, beautiful, brilliant. Three words that sum up the man in a nutshell. A man who's taken his life and forged it into something everlasting, something that mere mortals could never hope to achieve. A man who's redefined the meaning of the word desire. A man who lives in my head always, who haunts my waking dreams and completely consumes my thoughts.

  I have given myself to Kyle. I did it because he wanted me to, because I wanted to. In his eyes I see that same lust, that same reflection of a carnal need to explore each other from top to toe.

  And now, each day, I pray for my return to Club Billionaire. Pray for the day to speed up so that I can see him again, if only across the room. Pray that he'll be there, that he'll find me in the stockroom and lay his hands on me. That the fantasy will engulf me once more and I'll lose myself to his lips, his fingers, his electric touch.

  It's been three weeks now since Kyle saved me from the clutches of Bradley Turner. Since he diverted me from a path I wasn't willing to tread. Like a single wrong step, or wrong turn, I might have found myself moving into a completely different life, a different world.

  If I'd have fucked Brad, then where would it stop? He'd have kept coming back for more. He'd probably have told his friends about me, sent them in to have a go. The floodgates will have opened, and there would have been no way to hold back the storm.

  But Kyle saved me, and now I belong to him.

  I go to the club that night, and when I see him my heart soars. Always impeccably dressed. So smart he'd make Stephen Hawking jealous. Standing upright, perfect posture like he's cut from stone. And underneath, that Greek God body, rippling with muscle, his condition perfect.

  He catches eyes with me across the room, and I see his composure lost for a split second. Down here, our relationship is being kept secret. Our sex sessions hidden behind closed doors; in stock rooms, in the brothel when everyone else has left. He keeps me hidden, not through embarrassment, but because he wants to keep me safe. Keep me to himself, away from the vultures. The spoils are his, and his alone.

  Isabelle, the innocent looking girl who caught us in the stock room several week ago, has been told to keep things quiet, to keep our secret to herself. It wasn't me who ordered it, but Kyle, his word the law, unbreakable. As far as I can tell, so far she's been true to her word.

  Yet still, eyes linger here and there. Alice knows something, that's become clear to me. But she's not the person to worry about.

  That honor belongs to Brad. Brad the spoiled brat billionaire who looks down on nearly everyone. Brad, the son of one of the wealthiest men in the world, the boy with the surfer looks but the heart of a sadist. He's the sort of boy who can do anything and get away with. The worst sort of snake in the grass. Deadly, dangerous, and completely untouchable.

  His eyes linger too. They notice the little looks between Kyle and me. The slightly brighter smile I offer him when delivering drinks. The touches, so subtle you'd have to look for them, that are a window to the truth.

  Yet still, I don't care. I care about little expect him. His taste, his touch, his smell. Everything about him puts my body on edge, primed to devour him at a moment's notice.

  Tonight, I see that look in his eye. I see it when I deliver drinks to his table. Sometimes it's not there, overtaken by a serious business discussion or some other important matter on his mind. But tonight it's there. A forest fire behind his eyes. A burning desire for me. The look itself is enough to make me grow wet, to shorten my breath and quicken my pulse.

  Tonight, I know, I'll have him inside me.

  It's quiet when Kyle comes to me, stepping into the bar room. I'm there alone, tidying the place up as the club winds down for the night. He scans the area quickly, making sure we're alone, before darting forward and kissing me deep. He pulls back just as quickly, quickly regaining his composure.

  “Stock room?” I ask, a glint in my eye. There's something about that room that makes me super horny. Perhaps the memories of when he first went down on me, when I first sucked him off. Or maybe it's the secret nature of it all. The forbidden sex, hidden from the world.

  He shakes his head.

  “Not tonight.”

  His words send my heart shrinking.

  He smiles. “Grab your coat, and leave in five minutes. Make sure you enter the elevator alone. I'll meet you on the ground floor.”

  My shrinking heart stops in its tracks and quickly begins to bloom.

  “OK,” I say hurriedly, wondering what he's got in mind.

  He leaves the room and I check my watch. Kyle is a man of timing, the sort of guy who sticks to the clock. When he says five minutes, he means five minutes.

  When the time comes, I step out into the main social chamber and move toward the door. Alice is there, talking with the last few clients yet to leave. Thankfully, Brad and his cronies departed some time ago. This place, as exclusive as it is, isn't always the best place for a night out for young men of wealth and power.

  I reach the elevator, step inside, and am quickly at the ground floor. As the door pings open, Kyle steps in without a second's delay.

  “What are you doing...?”

  Kyle hits the button marked R, and the elevator quickly zooms upwards. It's the first time I've been anywhere other than the basement floor where the club is hosted.

  Within a few seconds, the doors are sliding open, and Kyle is leading me out onto the roof. The night shines above with a thousand celestial lights, the sky dotted with stars that seem brighter than ever before.

  A chill runs through the air, but next to Kyle, I'm not cold. His arms wrap around me, enclosing me in his blanket, and he kisses me passionately.

  “Here, we can be alone,” he says.

  I dance my eyes around us, and see a glass conservatory. Kyle leads me inside, and immediately I'm hit by a comfortable warmth. Beautiful luxurious sofas are spread out within, surrounding a glass coffee table. To one side is a bar, fully stocked with drinks.

  “We come up here in summer, sometimes,” Kyle says. “To smoke, discuss business. Maybe even have a barbecue.”

  Somehow the idea of billionaires gathered on a roof having a barbecue seems ridiculous to me. I suppose they just seem above that sort of thing, although I don't know why.

  Kyle leads me in, and we drop onto a sofa. Beyond the glass walls I see the dark silhouette of Central Park looming, hear the distant rumble of cars passing along 5th Avenue below.

  He kisses me again, more passionately this time. His hands rise up my face, brush my hair away, run down my back. He pulls off my coat, and I slip out of it, letting it fall onto the sofa behind me.

  Gently, bit my bit, he strips me off. Soon I'm lying there in nothing but my skin, draping myself back over the sofa, Kyle looming over me like a big cat about to spring forward.

  He drops, his head plunging between my legs, his tongue massaging my clit. Fingers reach my pussy, slip inside me, probe and glide in and out until an orgasm threatens to explode from me. He stops, teasing, and stands, before carefully unveiling himself.

  I squeeze my thighs tight as I watch, slide my hand down past my navel, masturbate to the show. The sight of me lying nude with my fingers exploring my pussy gives him pleasure. His eyes fire up, his clothes comes off quicker.

  He's in nothing but his underwear now. He drops them down, showing everything he's got. His cock looks hard, ready, delicious. I grow wetter at the sight.

  He takes over from me again, climbing on top of me and replacing my fingers with his. I reach down, grip his dick, tug as he likes it.

  He kisses me again, and I close my eyes. I feel my legs widening, his body positioning itself over me. Then his dick replaces his fingers, the tip sliding through my lips, gently moving further into the w
arm, wet, darkness.

  He fills me up. All of me. And we're locked together as one. A sharp dagger of pleasure stabs through me, the sensation sending my eyes fluttering, my limbs tensing. I reach around and grip at his ass, muscled and strong, as it pumps up and down. Gently at first, then faster, harder, more forceful.

  We swap positions, and I roll him over onto his back. He smiles sexily as I take control and straddle him, his cock never leaving me. The sensation is different, the angle more intense. I gyrate, my tits bouncing, his fingers reaching for my nipples, hard from pleasure and the hint of cold.

  We fuck for an hour, stopping and starting. Licking, kissing, touching, probing with all parts of our bodies. We change positions like a dance troupe, our sex a ballet of swinging dicks and ravenous cunts. I devour him like it's my last meal, my last night on this earth, losing all sense of time.

  When he comes, the force is so hard I feel it filling me up inside. He builds to a crescendo, emptying himself of fluids, his eyes flickering and mouth gaping as he orgasms.

  But I got the lucky end of the stick. He'd already brought me to climax twice.

  When we're done, we lock ourselves in each others' arms, and I wish, under the lights of heaven, that it could be more. That this relationship of ours could be more than just sex. His tender embrace tells me there's feeling there, but my logical mind, when not clouded by his presence, tells me the opposite. That a man like Kyle could never want more than sex with a girl like me. That whatever this is will end, perhaps soon, and I'll never have a God between my thighs again.

  The thought is sobering, enough to drop the endless smile from my face.

  Chapter Two

  It's about 4 weeks since I started working at Club Billionaire that I'm drawn deeper into its world. As Kyle had told me when we first met, the club isn't only restricted to the four walls of its permanent address.

  Events are commonly held around the city, country, and even in other parts of the world. For these men, money isn't a factor, and these events are generally the most lavish on the planet.

  One, Alice had told me, involved a party on an Airbus plane flying between New York and London. Like something out of the Wolf of Wall Street, all manner of things went on during the flight, including several members of the club joining a new one – the mile high club – during the journey.

  Events such as those, however, are generally organized and enjoyed by the younger members of the club. The billionaire brats like Brad who behave like they're rock stars, when in actual fact they're nothing at all.

  The main events organized and often hosted by the more serious members of the club are, however, more sophisticated and cultured. Events that provide a change up from the regular surroundings of the club and offer everyone a chance to enjoy an evening of ever greater opulence surrounded, often, by wives, girlfriends, and even other associates.

  These events, it seems, aren't always restricted to the members of the club. Depending on who organizes them and what the intention of the event is, they can be much larger and more inclusive. It really is up to the discretion of the host.

  Tonight, my role as waitress is being transferred to a mansion on Long Island. According to Alice, a masquerade ball is being held, always a favorite among these high society aristocrats.

  “Come to the club for 5 PM on Saturday,” she'd told me toward the end of last week. “A bus has been arranged to transfer all of us to the mansion. Be there on the dot, or you might miss out.”

  She'd gone on to say that missing out means missing payment. The event has a fixed fee of $2,000 dollars per girl, more than ten times what a regular waitress would expect to receive for such an event.

  “That's the price they pay for our looks,” Alice had finished with not the least bit of humility. Unlike me, she is clearly completely aware of how beautiful she is.

  “Give it time. Once you've worked here as long as I have, with all the confidence it gives you and the compliments you get, you'll know how good looking you are too.”

  That Saturday, I resolve to arrive at the club in good time so as not to miss out. When I arrive it seems I'm not the only one with that idea. There are about 15 girls there, some of whom I haven't seen before, but most I know by now. Unfortunately, the Brazilian girl, who I've found out is called Julia, is there, standing about like a supermodel, brushing her fingers over her pouting lips.

  We eye each other like two staring cats, an animosity between us that's hard to explain. We both know it centers on Kyle, but it's more than that. I just don't like the way she carries herself, the way she butters up the men so well. Perhaps it's just because she's better than me, more attractive than me. Or maybe I just don't like her in a way that girls do, something that needs no explanation or reason.

  When the bus arrives, I step on and sit beside Alice, my only true ally among these girls. Most are nice, but it's generally a closed off environment, one full of jealousy and competition between the girls.

  Who can get the most tips. Who can fuck the hottest guy. Who gets the most shifts. Who's the most popular with the billionaires.

  It's a constant power struggle, a world within a world, and creates plenty of tension that the men are probably not aware of. So, on this bus, with everyone locked together in a tight space, there's a serious awkwardness that hangs in the air.

  The trip doesn't last too long, though, passing through the city and then out into the open reaches of Long Island. It's nice to see some greenery along the way, the sun just settling near the horizon, sending the world awash with beautiful orange and red and golden hues.

  I sit, my head against the window, and watch the world outside. Beautiful houses, quaint towns and the endless beauty of the ocean fill the view. When we near our destination, however, Alice stands ahead of everyone to makes an announcement.

  “Right girls, as I've told you all, it's $2,000 for the night. Don't expect too many tips this evening. There will be women there as well, and a lot more people than at the club. This isn't entirely exclusive to billionaires and our usual clientele. Wives, girlfriends, business associates, political players, and even celebrities will be there.”

  A murmur of excitement runs through the bus.

  “However,” Alice continues, “don't expect to know who you're serving. It's a masquerade ball, so everyone will be in masks. And no, this isn't like the balls from Eyes Wide Shut, so no funny business with any of you. This is strictly above board, strictly PC. Just do your regular jobs and serve drinks and look beautiful. I know that's not hard for any of you. The bus will remain parked outside the mansion to take us home when the night ends. I don't know when that will be, so pace yourself. OK?”

  There's a round of nods and “yes's”, and Alice sits back down.

  A few minutes later, we approach a gate set back off the main road. It looks rudimentary, but solid, and without the sort of aesthetic flourishes I'd expect from a billionaire's mansion.

  Then, further down the road, I see another gate, heavily manned by security and far more grand. It's then that I realize the entrance we're going up is nothing but a service entrance. A backdoor into the grounds so we can approach unseen from the guests.

  Here, security is just as tight. Guards stand outside the gate. One steps on as the driver stops outside and quickly examines the interior. Alice, as always, talks him through it until he's satisfied that we are actually the waitressing staff they're expecting and not a crack team of all-female commandos preparing to assault the social elite.

  We progress through, meandering up a tree-lined path, going deeper into the estate. Beautiful flower gardens and fountains can be seen all over, despite this backdoor entrance, and I begin to wonder what the true road to the front door must be like.

  Soon, the shape of a grand building looms in the distance. A silhouette against the darkening night, lit with a thousand lights from inside the myriad rooms within. As we get closer, I notice the beautiful Victorian architecture, the Gothic flourishes, the high archways an
d bastions, like an ancient fortress guarding a king.

  We stop around the back of the mansion, and I notice a rotund lady waiting for us outside. Most likely the keeper of the house, here to show us around and give us a run down of how the evening is going to progress. Behind me, the bus is alight with excitement now, beautiful sets of eyes staring out at the magnificent mansion beyond. One that puts the permanent address of Club Billionaire to shame.

  Suddenly, I realize I don't even know who's place this is. The thought strikes at me and I lean over to Alice, ready to stand and leave the bus.

  “So which billionaire owns this mansion then?” I ask.

  “Yes, I forgot to tell you that.” She looks me dead in the eye, a warning to be careful tonight.

  “This is the mansion of Oliver Turner, Brad's father.”

  Chapter Three

  With the news that the mansion I'm entering is, essentially, enemy territory, I'm suddenly feeling anxious rather than excited. The wonder I had at seeing such a building, watching it burst from the shadows and materialize in front of my eyes, has quickly dulled to a mild disinterest.

  Of course, aside from the odd sneer and snide remark, Brad hasn't actually been much of a thorn in my side over the last few weeks. Yet still, there's clearly an animosity between him and Kyle that's existed for a while, and I can't help but feel that I'm right in the middle of it.

  With a pat on the shoulder from Alice, however, I step off the bus and, along with the rest of the girls, am ushered inside by the housekeeper. For the next 30 minutes she explains the plan and schedule for the night, tells us exactly what she wants from us, and takes us around the areas of the mansion that we're to be working in. That includes a grand hall, several linked reception rooms, the kitchen, and the adjoining pantry and other staff quarters.