On top: Billionaire bachelor romance (The Playgirls Book 1)

by Sage, May

Masturbate him in front of other people.

  Rough – handcuffs is a must. Spanking welcome. Oh, and those riding crops.

  Parent’s house.

  Skirt sex.

  Panty sex.

  Phone sex.

  Anal. Definitely anal.

  Shower sex.

  Double penetration – choose adequate Bob.

  Have an orgasm.

  “It’s a comprehensive list of things I haven’t tried,” she clarified, while he was reading it for the sixth time. “I don’t need more than a few points for my article. I only get a couple of pages.”

  “What’s skirt sex?”

  “You know, with my skirt still on. Anyhow…”

  “Tell me you’ve had an orgasm before,” he begged.

  She blushed. Fuck. He wasn’t ever going to stop being hard around her. Ever.

  “Anyhow,” she repeated. “You’re single right now. I thought we could help each other out – you know, free, consensual, no-strings-attached, sexual satisfaction and…”

  That made him frown. So what, they’d have a ball for a couple of months and then, she’d be on her way?

  He wondered why it sounded so bad. Wasn’t it the ultimate bachelor fantasy? A hot sexual partner who didn’t want anything past his dick?

  The thing was, Colt wasn’t a bachelor by choice; not anymore. Sure, he’d only wanted to get his dick wet in the past – but somewhere in his late twenties, he’d started wanting companionship. It was a no-no to mention it for a young, single man, but damn, he wanted kids, too – with the right person. So his relationships were serious; which was why he was serious about vetting who he started them with in the first place.

  Colt should have been relieved, though; Alice wasn’t suitable, which was why her idea was ideal, the kind of solution he’d never even dreamt of. They could go back to being friendly acquaintances after he’d fucked her out of his system.

  The issue was that she’d shocked him, he hadn’t expected it at all. He’d thought she’d want a full on relationship from him, and he’d been prepared to give it a go despite the issue of her friendship with his sister-in-law.

  What she offered seemed… insufficient, in light of what he’d anticipated.

  “I mean, tell me if you don’t want to… I just thought… We kissed and you seemed into me. I could feel you.”

  She would have had to have a pussy made of steel to miss the boner pocking at her through his trousers.

  “Anyhow, if you’d rather not help me out, just tell me. I will…”

  “Find someone else?”

  Her mouth opened in shock; she seemed lost for words. Then, she got up, grabbing her bag.

  “Goodbye Colt. Sorry about wasting your time.”

  Fuck.

  “Wait, I just need a second to process everything. It’s not a no, princess. Actually, let me tell you right now: it’s a yes.” That made one thing he was certain about. “I just need to get my head around the details.”

  She frowned, not returning to her seat. Her eyes were looking everywhere, expect at him.

  Damn. She was about to cry. Cluster fuck.

  Women were emotional creatures, he wasn’t overly surprised: his apparent hesitance had hurt her pride in the worst possible way, making her think he didn’t find her appealing in the least – not even good enough for casual sex – when he’d only been trying to regain the ability to speak coherently. And think, too.

  “I’ll do all of that to you and more,” he swore, returning the list he’d committed to memory. “But I have a few rules. First, we will be dating. I’ll not go around my brothers’ back, like some sort of teenager. That means that you’ll accompany me to any social gathering I have to attend while our arrangement is in place. Consequently, everyone will know you’re referring to me, when you write about your… escapades. I am a public figure, so do bear it in mind.”

  She looked like she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying; he took a pen and wrote each point, before sliding the note across towards her, and checking his watch. Twelve minutes. Only twelve minutes had passed.

  Incredible, how quickly the world could turn out of its axis.

  “Eighteen minutes. That should be sufficient. Come here.”

  “Mhh?”

  “Come here right now, princess. The rest can wait, but you most definitely are overdue for a fucking orgasm, Ms. Vaughan.”

  •

  She advanced skittishly; she couldn’t help it. He looked dangerous, predatory, his eyes never leaving hers.

  When she made it his side of the desk, Colt took her hand reverently, almost tenderly.

  Then, he pulled her close, grabbed hold of her waist, turned her around and pushed her bust against his cold glass desk in the space of an instant; she gasped at the briskness.

  His hand slowly glided down her waist, to her hips, the curve of her ass, then moved back up to the top of her leggings and pulled them down, taking her underwear with them.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what made her whimper. Having her bare ass in the air does that to a girl, she supposed.

  The cold was a shock at first, but Colt must have known that because his hands were massaging both of her ass cheeks and just like that, she’d never been that freaking warm in her entire existence.

  “You have a very sweet cunt, princess,” he told her, his breath right there, between her legs.

  She’d never heard someone actually saying that word, which was supposed to be demeaning, degrading; so why the hell did she get wet?

  His hands were rubbing her in circle, and his thumb brushed against her asshole each time he brought them together. Then, he stopped that particular little routine by slapping her left cheek suddenly, making her squirm, gasp, and moan all at once.

  “A very prudish one. I can’t even see it, your lips are hiding it from me. What are we going to do about that, Alice?”

  She didn’t care, as long as he did it now. Fuck. She needed something inside her or she’d have to be certified within the next five seconds.

  “I can’t use my hands,” he told her apologetically, resuming his massage. “You see, they’ve wanted to own that ass for so long, I can’t stop them now. But I’d really like to see that cunt of yours upclose. Can you open it up for me?”

  Fuck. One of the hands she’d instinctively used to rest her head on went straight down between her legs and she pushed her outer lips apart, moaning as her own touch shocked her.

  She knew how her fingers were supposed to feel; not like that. Their contact was absolutely foreign right now.

  “Oh princess, that’s such a slutty, wet little cunt.”

  She moaned harder.

  What was happening to her? She’d never been into the whole sex talk thing, it had seemed silly. Like, why would you ask if I want your cock when my legs are wide open waiting for it? But it didn’t seem pointless with Colt; because he was in total control. It wasn’t about asking rhetorical question: he was telling her what they were doing.

  Good thing, too, because she had no idea.

  This wasn’t sex; at least, not sex as she knew it.

  So far, he hadn’t touched her inner folds. He’d slapped her once. He’d copped a feel of her ass.

  Yet, it already felt better than every single fuck she’d ever experienced.

  “That cunt seems hungry, princess,” he told her, before his mouth got too busy to add a word.

  She’d been prepared – so prepared – for him to lick her pussy; what she hadn’t expected was for his tongue to dart out and lick the rim of her asshole.

  And she’d most definitely not anticipated that she might like it so much.

  It was strange. It also made her insides clench harder than anything; she wiggled, unable to keep still, and he slapped her right ass cheek for that, without a word. When she stopped moving, the reward was a finger, curving straight inside her ass.

  That was good, so good, but at the same time, pure torture, as her pussy had never needed so m
uch attention; her finger helped, massaging her clit to take the edge off, but damn, she needed more.

  “Please…”

  She wasn’t a beggar. It was like the rest of the sex talk thing; she’d never asked someone to fuck her, because hell, they wanted to, after all.

  Now, though, she’d beg. On her knees, if that’s what it took.

  “Please what, princess?” he asked against her ass, replacing his tongue with another finger.

  “I need you inside me.”

  “I can imagine you would. And I need inside this lovely cunt of yours, too. However, we have nine minutes left, sweetheart. So…”

  He smacked a kiss on her ass, before pushing his face deeper between her legs, and attacking her poor pussy, next.

  It was relentless. He sucked, licked, fucking bit her clit, while his fingers curved inside her in a way that made her toes curl.

  Alice was exhausted, she needed him to stop; there was no way she could take more. She did her best to wiggle out of this torture, but he kept her firmly in place by biting every time she tried to slide away. She thought she might have cried a little bit. And scratched him, too.

  Then, it was over. He’d actually killed her, there was no other explanation. The explosion meant her insides had somehow given up and died of pleasure.

  Fuck.

  Somewhere, someone had written a song about this.

  •

  He’d been tempted – so tempted – to cancel the meeting. Would have, too, if his mother hadn’t been supposed to attend; anyone else, he could have bluffed, but he needed a rock solid explanation to fool The Dragon.

  On the other hand, fuck. Alice was still absentmindedly rubbing her clit and whimpering. I know sweetheart. He was crying inside, too. His balls had never been in so much pain in his entire life.

  “Princess? Take your time to compose yourself. There’s a bathroom on your right. I’m leaving a key on the desk. There’s an address underneath. Can you meet me there? Let yourself in anytime, I’ll try to make it as close to eight as possible. Order takeaway – there will be some cash in the kitchen.”

  He momentarily thought about alien abduction again – his, this time.

  Women had been invited in his place, but never without him, and he certainly hadn’t offered up a key to anyone.

  However, this was a means to an end. He needed her in his bed as soon as humanly possible. The rest was details.

  He shouldn’t have been quite so shocked, but he’d never considered the possibility that she might not have obeyed, until he made it back to his office on his first break and saw that the keys were still there.

  What the hell?

  He couldn’t get his mind around that cluster fuck. He’d made her fucking fly, so why would she be back-peddling?

  He tried to put himself in her place to understand.

  She’d come to him, which meant that she was attracted to him. She’d asked for a favor that did involve repetitive intercourse with him; yet, after the first orgasm, she was running.

  That thought did niggle him, somehow.

  The first orgasm. Her very first.

  She’d been overwhelmed, he’d seen as much. But he’d just left her to it, rather than trying to discuss it. Women liked talking about shit.

  Fuck.

  “I need Alice’s contact details,” he sent; not to Tamsin, he wasn’t a total idiot.

  “Why?”

  Oh, for Christ’s sake!

  “Now, Xander. Don’t make me go to the IT department. Brothers don’t let brothers turn into creepy stalkers.”

  Chapter 5

  She’d made a run for it, dressing herself as quickly as humanly possible, escaping the office less than a full minute after Colt had closed the door; she’d pressed on the button three, four times, but as the elevator doors remained decidedly closed, she’d found the staircase and raced down the thirty-one levels. One short, overpriced taxi ride later, she was home.

  Her place was swanky; a large penthouse at the heart of Beverly Hills, the kind of apartment no twenty-five-year-old could afford on their own – well, unless their faces were plastered on a billboard somewhere.

  Her secret: flatshare. Yep, it was still allowed after college, despite what her parents thought.

  Alice had been sharing with her two best friends since sophomore year; when they’d arrived to LA three years ago, they’d gone for a downtown dump, at first, but as soon as they’d landed decent jobs, they’d moved on to bigger and better things – such as running water and the noticeable absence of the sleazy landlord.

  There was Emma, the most gorgeous woman in LA. No, seriously: she was.

  Of all places, she worked at Colburn Finance – under Kane’s iron fist, rather than Colt’s. Alice was very grateful for that small grace. The thought of Emma anywhere near Colt was making her feel sick: everyone fancied her. Red hair, big boobs and pouty lips did tend to have that effect.

  Her second roommate was Lucy, a photographer. She’d gone for the usual, at first – wedding pictures, dogs and the occasional baby, but she was up to something quite different, these days.

  The setup was perfect. Unless you came back in the middle of the afternoon – completely blanched, in need of quiet, calm, solitude – and found a couple fucking on your couch.

  Lucy had been thoughtful: there was a protective sheet to cover the damask.

  It wasn’t unusual; regardless of how many pets, couples, penguins, parties she shot, it was her erotic art that paid the bills.

  Lucy exposed her art in various galleries and whenever a new piece emerged, it was always auctioned for thousands. As in, hundreds and hundreds of thousands, which was why, the youngest amongst the three roommates, Lucy Prius was also their landlord.

  Lucy hired model to shoot her oeuvres, but occasionally, she was commissioned by rich couples who wanted naughty pictures for their wedding anniversaries or whatever; as Alice recognized the couple currently going at it, she imagined they were part of the latter lot.

  Alice wouldn’t have minded, if her pussy hadn’t already been dripping so much she wondered if there was a wet spot between her legs.

  “Don’t mind her, she’s just passing through,” Lucy told her clients, all the while clicking away, her objective straight on their genitals, probably capturing their embarrassment at being caught fucking by someone who wasn’t being paid to watch them.

  Alice made it to her room as quickly as possible and collapsed on her bed, finally allowing the reality of the situation hit the mark.

  In her mind, she clearly visualized Colt’s heated gaze when she’d told him what she wanted from him, heard his voice – oh, god, his voice – and relived what she felt when his face had been buried deep between her legs.

  She just laughed, so much she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried. Damn. That had been incredible. Disturbingly intense, but incredible nonetheless.

  What had he said afterwards? Shit. Suddenly, it seemed important. She hadn’t paid it a blink of attention, lost as she’d been, in a world of her own, but he’d talked.

  Men didn’t talk unless they had something important to say, so she assumed it hadn’t been about the weather. She moved towards her computer and started typing, but stopped halfway. She just had his generic company email, and they were probably filtered by his assistant; how was she supposed to make any communication business appropriate?

  She’d been pondering over it for close to five minutes when a new email popped up.

  From: Tamsin Martin-Colburn.

  To: Alice A. Vaughan.

  Subject: Murder.

  Is there any reason why my husband should be sneakily looking for your phone number, and do I need to murder you?

  Love,

  T.

  PS: If you’re not a backstabbing slut, bring chocolate cake tomorrow night.

  From: Alice A. Vaughan

  To: Tamsin Martin-Colburn.

  Subject: Think before you speak.

  I’m your
friend. We’re close to Christmas. Husbands suck at shopping. You wanna be very nice to me, right now.

  Love,

  Alice.

  PS: Oh, that was sneaky. You just want cake, admit it.

  The excuse was entirely likely, although considering the timing, she had to assume that Xander was acting on behalf of his brother; Alice wasn’t about to put herself in a situation where she had to explain it to Tamsin, though.

  From: Tamsin Martin-Colburn.

  To: Alice A. Vaughan.

  Subject: Dear, Dear Alice,

  Did I ever mention how pretty your hair is? Because it is. So Bobby, and straight and black and… Ok, it sucks, you looked better in blonde, but I fully intend to compliment whatever you’re wearing as soon as you cross the threshold. Just don’t let him anywhere near a home décor section, and I’ll swear my undying devotion to you,

  Love,

  T.

  PS: Yes to cake.

  She’d been reading that last one when another message popped up; Alice absentmindedly pressed on next, expecting either a spam or another silly note from one of her friends. It wasn’t.

  From: Colton Henri Colburn.

  To: Alice A. Vaughan.

  Subject: Great start.

  I don’t do games, Alice. I don’t have the patience or the inclination for it. A responsible adult would have left some sort of response. You haven’t. You just left.

  The way I see it, that leaves us two options. We can either stop this agreement right away because of our incompatibility, or you’re going to have to prove to me that you’re a grown up and freaking apologize. Appropriately. Yes, that means on your knees.

  See the little button with an arrow right there? Yep. It’s called reply. Press it now.

  C. Colburn,

  Colburn Global, CEO

  Alice stared at the computer screen in complete shock. What. The. Hell. How dared he speak to her as though she was a little girl who’d been naughty? How dared he!