The Philanthropist (Trillionaire Boys' Club Book 5)

by Aubrey Parker

I look over.

  And, of course, it’s Aiden.

  I run faster. But he isn’t easily winded, and rushes to catch up without much effort. I haven’t looked at him properly yet because part of me hopes this is a dream and that he’ll go away if I ignore him, but my sensible self sees him fine. He’s in a pair of blue jogging shorts, and is running shirtless. I’d say he followed me, but from the corner of my eye he seems to have earned an admirable sweat already. It’s not that warm, so he must have been running for a while.

  It’s a big coincidence. And my stupid luck.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I glance over. His hair is tousled, dark with perspiration at the roots. I don’t look down because I get the feeling that’s exactly what he wants, but I still can’t miss the sculpted shape of his body and the way his sweat defines it.

  A glance and a nod, that’s all I’ll give him. I keep running.

  “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I say between puffs.

  “After last night,” he clarifies.

  That, I won’t answer. What, does he want — a score?

  “Hey,” he says. “Slow down.”

  I speed up.

  “It’s hard to talk when you don’t slow down.”

  “I’m not looking for conversation.”

  “I just want to know how you’re feeling.”

  I look over. Was that a real question about my feelings, from the King of Assholes?

  “How do you think I’m feeling?”

  “I don’t know.” A few steps; a few jogging breaths. “That’s why I’m asking.”

  “It didn’t mean anything.”

  “It meant plenty.”

  “I needed to get off,” I say, hoping I’ll believe my own lie. “Just like you.”

  Aiden takes my arm and drags me to a stop. We’re in front of a boutique. The women inside are in haute couture. With my sweat-slicked pony tail and jog top, and Aiden’s bare chest, we must look like Philistines affronting their champagne tastes.

  “Hey,” he says, more seriously.

  “Get your hands off me.” I yank, but he holds firm.

  “I just want to know if you’re okay.” He’s still catching his breath, but words come easily enough. He’s in excellent shape. “Judging by the fact that you won’t talk to me, though …”

  “Do you want me to tell you how good it was? Oh, Aiden,” I purr. “You made me feel like I’ve never felt before! Get over yourself.”

  I turn to run, but again he holds me.

  “Wait. Is that what you think I’m asking about? About … us?”

  “There is no us.”

  “Of course not. I was talking about what happened at L'Auberge. With that guy.”

  The sneer dies on my face. I think, Oh, yes. When I was almost raped, and suddenly I have nothing snide to say.

  “I figured you’d be shaken up.”

  “Something you took advantage of,” I say, recovering. Although with some distance, I’ve started to think of a truer answer: Something I apparently needed relief from, which Aiden willingly provided, and I eagerly accepted.

  “So are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure. Now if you don’t mind—”

  “Are you running to the beach?”

  “I was.”

  “What a coincidence. So am I.”

  “But now I think I’ll run the street instead.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  “No, you will not,” I say.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I laugh, turning toward him. The move, even though it’s mine, takes me off guard. My careful composure slips and I can’t help but look down at Aiden’s body. I’ve seen it before, but right now it’s reminding me of last night’s encounter. It’s hard to stay stoic when my fingers want to roll down his hard abs, counting striations, imagining them flexing with his thrusting hips.

  Sounding haughty, I manage to say, “Are you seriously asking me what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t ask things I don’t want to know.”

  “So what’s supposed to happen now, Aiden? Are we supposed to be a thing? It was only a moment, okay? And now it’s over.”

  “I’m not asking about that, Jamie. If I hadn’t found you when I did, he might’ve—”

  “But you did find me, didn’t you? What, were you following me? Watching where I went?”

  I don’t think I’m mad at Aiden right now, though I’ve been mad at him so many times before. My rage is for Rudy, Caitlin, and the circumstances that conspired to rob my confidence, then take my friend.

  Aiden is the closest person. The only one I can punish.

  And the only one, a voice reminds me, who’s on your side.

  “Yes,” he says. “Just like I was watching you today.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I stare.

  “I won’t insult you, Jamie. I knew who you were when we met. You’re not stupid, so I won’t pretend that you are. Of course I’ve been trying to play you. Of course I was on you last night for a reason, and of course I watched to see where you went.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  I don’t, but won’t admit it. Yesterday, I’d have said that Aiden followed me to get himself in front of Anthony. Today, I wonder if it was something else. I don’t like how this man talks or seems to think, but I’ve thought about what he said last night more than a few times already: Why did I help you tonight? Because he was touching what was mine.

  Aiden is deluded, and now I’ve encouraged him. How could I be his by any definition, especially before we consummated our poison union?

  “Goodbye, Aiden.”

  I resume running. He effortlessly catches me, jogging at my side. We run in silence. He stays a stride back as if deliberately giving me space, like an escort, along for safety rather than companionship.

  I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t.

  “I told you I don’t want you to run with me.”

  “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “It’s broad daylight and there are tons of people around. Nobody’s going to attack me.”

  “That’s not how I’m looking out.”

  “Go away, Aiden.”

  Another thirty seconds pass, then, “It’s not healthy, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Keeping it all inside.”

  “I’m not keeping anything inside.”

  “Sure you are. Who knows what happened? Did you tell Anthony?”

  “No.”

  “See? You need to talk about it.”

  “With you?”

  “With someone. Don’t you have any local friends?”

  I grit my teeth and run faster. I’m at a half-sprint, and conversation is about to get a lot harder. But Aiden easily matches me again, and when he speaks, it seems almost effortless.

  “So do you or don’t you? Have friends you can talk to, I mean.”

  Shit. Now he’s digging his nails into freshly buried pain without even knowing it.

  I feel alone. I need to get back to Anthony’s mansion. The need to confess all that’s happened is a burden I’ve been ignoring too long. And Caitlin has added to it. I don’t normally discuss stuff this intimate with Anthony, but now I feel like I need to. Or else I might burst.

  Aiden looks at me. He must see the change in my expression as my feet have trouble finding their marks. I’m dizzy. I’ve had panic attacks before, and this is sort of what they feel like. I’m mentally and physically exhausted, with no way to vent. If I keep this up, I’ll curl into a ball. If I keep running away, I’ll end up fetal.

  And Aiden must see it, because he grabs me yet again.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  I’m not.

  God Fucking Dammit, I’m crying.

  Crying while I heave for breath. I must sound like a horse and look like a pig.

  “Jamie? Seriously. Stop runn
ing.”

  But … no. I won’t stop. I run harder.

  “Jamie!”

  Finally, I trip. We’re on the edge of a lawn, so my tumble looks more spectacular than it is. I make a full roll before coming back up without a scratch.

  “Hey,” Aiden says, sitting beside me. “You’re okay.”

  I don’t know why, but I grab onto Aiden like a life preserver.

  I cry.

  And I cry.

  And I cry into him, until it’s all out.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  AIDEN

  “I SHOULDN’T BE HERE,” JAMIE says.

  I look over at her. She’s wrapped in a L'Auberge robe, sitting on the couch in my luxury hotel room. There is nothing sexy about her right now, despite her nudity under the robe. She’s clean — and she’s finally stopped crying — but fatigue is on her like a garment.

  It makes me see her in a new light. She’s fought me for months. She’s been my adversary, and I’ve loathed her. But now I see that, in fighting me, she must’ve been battling someone else — her father, maybe, for dying and leaving her alone. An early boyfriend, who crushed her the way Onyx once crushed Mia.

  Either way, I see Jamie’s struggles through a new lens. It’s hard to hate her, as tired as she seems.

  There’s nothing overtly arousing about the near-nude woman in my room — but in a way, she’s never struck me as sexier.

  “You can go as soon as the concierge sends up those new clothes.”

  Jamie looks up at me. Her hair is wet. She’s not wearing makeup. Her expression is so matter-of-fact it hurts. Her pressed lips seem to say, Turns out, life’s a bitch. No matter how hard we fight, we can never win.

  “I can go?”

  “If you want, I’ll drive you.”

  “What happened to me being yours? To you owning me?”

  I shrug, unsure of what to say. “I get the feeling you don’t want to be owned right now.”

  “Does it matter? I thought a guy like you took what he wanted.”

  “Only when what I want wants to be taken.”

  She laughs. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. Truth is, I’m used to telling people what to do. Where to go and when to be there. I’m used to buying whatever I want — like when I wanted Urban Design, I didn’t stop to think whether it was even for sale. Same for the women I meet. I hear confidence is sexy. I’m not sure either way; I’ve always known I could have any woman I want, and I’ve always been right. People ask about the key to my success, but I no longer have an answer. In the beginning, it was a struggle for both me and Onyx. Then it got easy. It’s funny — once you no longer need things, they flow like water.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you were something I had to work for.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t have to work that hard.”

  “But if I wanted you again?”

  She shrugs.

  “Exactly. You’re unimpressed by me. My confidence seems to annoy you. The harder I fight you — and I mean in business, with Anthony, whatever — the harder you fight back. That may sound obvious, but nobody stands up to me. They know I expect to get my way, so they hand it right over, usually before I even ask. I demand that people are on time, and if they’re two seconds late they come to me with their heads in their hands, knowing I’ll drop the axe. Everyone folds. They do as I say. I need nothing; I’m given everything.”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with me coming here, to your hotel room.” Jamie laughs again, shaking her head at the absurdity. “I had a fit. I cried and snotted all over you. Then I came here to clean up in your room. It’s farther than Anthony’s place, and I like Anthony so much better than you. So tell me: have you won? Should I get out of your way now, and tell Anthony he should do whatever you say?”

  I shake my head.

  “I’m so fucked up,” Jamie says, looking away. “People think I’m together, but I’m not. I’ve tried therapy. I’ve tried running away. But in the end I’m always a mess.”

  “You’re stronger than you think.”

  “Says the man who wants to fuck me.”

  “I’ve already done that, Jamie. And still I’m here, saying that you can go.”

  “I’m not yours? You don’t own me?”

  “Nobody owns you. Nobody could.”

  “Caitlin says I’m two-faced. She thinks I’m a tease who doesn’t think about anyone else.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “But I don’t think I’m better. I don’t have plans. I react. With you, I reacted. With Mia and Onyx, I reacted. With Rudy, I reacted. I don’t think. I survive.”

  “It’s one of the things that makes you so beautiful.”

  She looks away. “You’re just saying that.”

  I move in front of her and sit. I meet her eyes. She looks away again, avoiding me.

  “Jamie. Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she does.

  “I’m a selfish, arrogant, materialistic bastard. Look into my eyes and tell me if you believe that I’d ever, in a thousand years, just say that. Do you really think I’m good at comforting lost people? Do you really think I’d coddle you, tell you lies, because I care about your feelings?”

  Jamie says nothing.

  “I’ve bullied people into getting my way, and grabbed the business I wanted. I’ve learned a pattern with women: insult, then take them. I’m not good at feigning kindness, or saying nice things just to be pleasant.”

  Jamie blinks. But her eyes stay on mine.

  “When I say you’re beautiful, I mean that you’re beautiful. When I say you’re strong, I mean that you’re strong. When I say that I want you even as you sit there broken, I mean it. And when I say I’ve never precisely felt this way about a woman before, I mean that, too.”

  “You’ve never felt … ?”

  “I don’t know what you did to me last night, but I know I don’t like it. I have things I need to do — lies I need to tell you, and ways I need to use you. This is terribly inconvenient, whatever it is. I have a business to run in Seattle, and yet I’m here. I need Anthony on my side, but I resigned the position I bought on his board. I’m good at fucking, Jamie. Great at getting women to do as I say. But with you? For some reason, I wanted to find you. And when you made that disgusting scene by the side of the road, all I wanted to do was to bring you here and clean you up, not so much as peeking at your naked body. I should have known when I met you.”

  Jamie fixes me with her iron gaze. “You’re full of shit — lying so I’ll do something you want.”

  “You’re right. It’s all a lie.”

  She watches me longer. Then: “It’s not a lie, is it?”

  “It’s a lie,” I repeat.

  Jamie shifts on the couch. Her legs sigh open. “I’m so fucked up,” she says.

  “I know.”

  “I’m so fucked up that I’m doing this. Even though I know better.”

  Her hands slide up her bare legs. The robe rides higher as her legs spread wider.

  Her pussy is neatly trimmed, not bare. She runs one lazy hand along her inner thigh.

  Her eyes are still on mine.

  My cock hardens. I’m suddenly uncomfortable, but for once I find myself unable to act.

  What is this woman doing to me? Why is she different, and how has she captivated me?

  She slides a finger between her pussy lips.

  “Come over here,” she says.

  “This is a mistake. For both of us.”

  “Of course it is. So let’s make sure it’s a big one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JAMIE

  HE’S JUST USING YOU.

  YOU’RE letting him get his way.

  Giving him exactly what he wants.

  I hear my thoughts, but I no longer care about my doubts. I’ve always heeded my internal compass, but look where it got me: I’m a tramp; I’m a home wrecker; I fight and turn my enemies on
, then fuck their brains out.

  I’m tired of doing the right things. It’s time to give the wrong ones a chance.

  I lay back on the couch as Aiden moves between my legs. He wets a finger, then uses it to paint my pussy. His warm tongue covers me, firming, darting its firm tip across my sensitive bud. He licks me like a lollipop, tastes me like wine.

  “Come for me, Jamie. I want to eat your sweet pussy until you come, again and again.”

  I gasp as his finger slides deeper inside. I tighten on it involuntarily, eager for his entry. Then my body comes alive as the finger hooks back, rubbing the top wall. It stops, finding a spot I didn’t even know was there. He doesn’t move it much once it’s in place, rubbing in tiny circles, the tip of his tongue now flicking my clit.

  Sensations build from unknown places. My center comes alive, nerves lighting from the inside of one knee to the other. Waves run up my back and into my belly.

  Aiden’s finger presses, making tiny strokes inside me. His tongue works my wet clit — back and forth, side to side, occasionally up and down. Firm but gentle, lubricated by my juices.

  “You taste so good. I love putting my tongue on your beautiful little pussy.”

  I moan. My back arches; my nerves are tightening. I can’t open my eyes, but I feel something new — pressure down lower, like another finger rubbing the skin between my pussy and ass. Then lower. Making me squirm.

  “Relax, and come for me like a good girl.”

  Aiden’s wet finger slips inside my asshole, the second finger still on my newfound G-spot, his tongue on my clit. It’s too many sensations, in too many sensitive places, for me to take.

  Then it happens, all at once — a wave reaching its crest.

  I cry out, shouting Aiden’s name. My pussy grips him. So does my ass.

  My entire body is screaming.

  His fingers and tongue leave me. I twitch, coming down, my eyes still closed.

  I open them and see that Aiden’s taken everything off. His thick cock is throbbing.

  He kneels, then opens my robe the rest of the way. He palms my breasts, rolling thumbs across my sensitive nipples. He leans down, licks them, sucks them, then his hands return to their duty. Saliva slicks across my nipples and I shudder with every pass.

  He reaches down, caressing my slit through lingering aftershocks. My breath is short and I pant against him, chin down, eyes rolled up toward his face. His hand moves away, grips his cock by the base. Then he uses its hard tip to paint long strokes on my hungry, waiting pussy.