Billionaire's Playmate

by Chance Carter

  Instead, he kissed her. His mouth was warm and welcoming, inviting her to dismiss her doubts. He placed his hands tenderly on her shoulders and lovingly guided her back into the cushions, ensuring her comfort. She appreciated the gentleness and smiled at him, unsure whether he was looking at her or not. A feather touch on her cheek answered her question and suddenly made her feel completely at ease with her mystery man.

  He slipped aside the lacy material of her bra and pulled a nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the bud. She felt a warm gush of pleasure between her legs, as though her nipples had a direct line to her libido. He offered the same attention to the other bud, grazing his teeth over her sensitive flesh. She quite liked it, but wouldn’t have minded a little more bite. He must have read her mind, because seconds later he clamped his teeth down on each nipple with the perfect amount of force, then bit into the fleshy mound of her breasts, tenderly brutal. The sensation was sublime. She sighed deeply, rewarding his confidence and his skill with a throaty groan.

  Encouraged, he unsnapped the top button of her jeans and quickly slipped them off, panties and all. She chuckled nervously, feeling vulnerable and very sexy at the same time. He placed a reassuring hand on her thigh, as though asking her to relax. She nodded and offered a tentative grin, which he instantly read as consent. He placed a hand on her other thigh and gently pried her legs apart, hesitating as though he needed a moment to take her all in. She didn’t need to see him, she could feel his stare burning between her legs. Heat rose up her chest, spreading to her face, girlishly blushing her cheeks.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage as he buried his face into her pussy. His enthusiasm was palpable, as though he had been anxious to taste her all along. Emma mewed quietly as he began sucking gently on her clit, releasing an eruption of warm pleasure through her womb. His hunger was evident in the way he greedily lapped at her pussy, mapping out every line and fold. He sucked and nibbled on her, and although he didn’t know her body well, she sensed he knew enough to quickly make her cum. Unable to control her passion she unleashed the guttural moan she had been stifling, grinding herself into his face as she peaked, spilling her sexy zest in his mouth.

  It was like nothing she had ever experienced before and she couldn’t hold back her giggles. She heard him chuckle between her legs, kissing her clit playfully.

  Who the fuck was he? Emma reached out to stroke his hair, hoping to memorize him by touch so that perhaps she could recognize him once she was free of the blindfold. His hair was soft, full, and not too short. She was easily able to lace her fingers through it, and she did, signaling him to rise and shimmy up her body. He rested himself on top of her and gave her a sticky kiss, her juice still warm on his lips. She didn’t mind so much and returned his kiss with passion. He moaned into her mouth, enjoying her enthusiasm. She could feel his cock twitching between her legs, tapping anxiously against her clit. He wanted to fuck her.

  “Do it,” she urged, opening her legs wider for him.

  He kissed her again, hot and demanding. He peeled himself away, and moments later she heard the unmistakeable crinkling sound of a condom package being torn apart. Seconds later, he was above her again, his hands raising her hips, presenting her pussy to him. She wanted to feel him inside her, test his size, scratch the deep itch of the denial she had suffered for many years.

  He lifted her ass and slipped his shaft into her, filling her to the hilt. His size was noticeable, surprising even but not uncomfortable, and she groaned her approval. This encouraged him to drive even deeper into her, testing her grit.

  She loved the way he filled her so completely and let him know exactly how much she wanted him.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” she growled, not giving a damn that her words were unladylike, “fuck me harder, please, don’t fucking stop!”

  He chuckled quietly, sliding his hot cock in and out of her wetness. She matched his motions with equal enthusiasm, opening herself up so he would deeply penetrate her. He fucked her assertively, eagerly, but also controlled, proving that his cock wasn’t all show. She grabbed his ass, squeezing his cheeks not so tenderly. He groaned wildly and kissed her neck, sinking his teeth into her soft flesh. The sensation was incredible, instantly heating her core, making her cum all over again.

  She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, and that was enough to push him over the edge. It was as though he couldn’t hold back any longer. In one swift motion, he rocked back on his knees, and hoisted her on his lap, his erection never leaving her body. She felt the pressure of him against her clit and her passion quickly surged. She rocked herself on his cock until she came again, her face buried into his neck, branding him with a hickey. He growled desperately, deliciously surrendering to her sharp bite, her aggression sending him over the edge. He pulled her ass tight against his body just as his pleasure crested, sending powerful surges through his core. His breath was sharp and shallow, as though his jaw was tightly clenched.

  Emma held herself against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, his heart beating rapidly against her chest, soothed by the rhythm of his breath. In that split second, she felt pure ecstasy. Raw, sexy, vulnerable and unapologetic. She never wanted to forget it. It was the moment she stopped belonging to Andrew and reclaimed herself.

  They stayed that way, wordlessly entwined in a lovers’ embrace, until he softened inside of her. Finally, he kissed the top of her head, encouraging her to raise her face to him. He kissed her sweetly on her mouth then gently peeled her off his lap. She rolled off him, and landed on the cushions with a soft thud, patting at the ground to locate her clothes. She managed to find her blouse fairly quickly but was unsuccessful locating her jeans and panties. She felt his hand on her back as he placed her jeans in her lap. She made quick work of slipping them back on.

  “I’m going now,” she offered to the dark space in front of her, uncertain he was even still nearby. She sensed him crouching down in front of her and then he kissed her one last time. She wished she could just rip off her blindfold and unveil the mystery of who the man was that fucked her so well. She almost did it too, until she sensed someone new standing over her.

  “Here, hold my hand,” a woman offered, taking Emma’s hand in her own. Emma stood up and allowed herself to be guided through the room, into the holding area she presumed.

  “Ok, it won’t be long. You can take off your blindfold, honey,” the hostess explained kindly.

  Emma nodded and lifted the material away, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. She wasn’t alone. There were several other women in the room with her, sitting on comfortable sofas and chatting enthusiastically with one another. They waived at Emma to join them, which she greatly appreciated. She nodded at them and held up a finger, signaling that she would join them soon. She located the powder room and freshened up, then poured herself a glass of wine at the bar before joining them. A few others had joined the group, then one by one, the room filled up with the remainder of the female guests. Not sure what to expect, she had thought things might feel awkward but the mood was pleasant, playful and lively, which suited Emma just fine.

  Sensing eyes on her, she looked up to see Diana across the room, her expression flat, not impolite but also not welcoming. Emma nodded at her, hoping to ease the tension. Diana nodded back curtly but offered little else.

  “Okay, ladies, we hope you enjoyed yourselves and had a sexy good time. The men are waiting for you in the other room, grab another drink and feel free to join them whenever you like,” the man in charge explained, holding the door open for them.

  Emma stood up and offered a friendly farewell to her new acquaintances, then skirted back to the party, hoping to spot Luke. She wanted to ask him if he knew who her mystery man was, certain he would spill the beans in spite of the silly rules. She had to know.

  As she was searching the room she saw Arran leaning on the bar. He made eye contact with her and waved her over. She nodded and wandered over to him, searching for Luke along t
he way. She couldn’t find him. Odd, she thought, it wasn’t like him to wander off. She took one more look around the room before she finally landed in front of Arran.

  “Well hello,” he chirped, pulling her into his embrace. She looked up at him and smiled.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, caressing her shoulders. Perhaps it was the worried expression on her face that made him question her.

  “I am. Sorry, you haven’t seen Luke have you?”

  Arran’s expression of concern faded, replaced with curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite interpret.

  “He left after you were escorted into the holding room. I thought you knew?” he offered, regarding her carefully.

  “How would I know?” she asked, mindful not to roll her eyes. She’d been blindfolded the entire time.

  “I thought he might have texted you,” he smirked, casually shrugging his shoulders.

  “My phone’s in the closet, in the jacket pocket.”

  “Ah,” he responded half-heartedly. He turned his head, casually glancing around the room.

  Emma pulled her breath in sharply, shocked to see a fresh hickey on his neck, masked under the collar of his shirt. Was that her handy work? Arran was her mystery lover? Maybe! His hair was the right length, his face clean shaven...and the frigging Obsession! She shuddered, goosebumps rising on the back of her neck.

  Was he the one?

  He had been much more assertive than their first date together, yet all the pieces fit together. Maybe it was the sexy atmosphere that made him more confident, or her blindfold. He was, admittedly, a kinky guy. She reached up and pulled his collar back, grinning at him. How much proof did she need?

  “Looks like you had an enthusiastic partner tonight,” she alluded, offering him a cheeky wink. He chuckled back softly and shrugged his shoulders, ambiguously playful.

  “You could say that,” he agreed, absently raising a hand to his neck, grinning back at her.

  Should she ask him outright? Would it be appropriate? Would he admit it? Christ, where the hell did Luke go, she wondered crossly. He would be able to solve the mystery!

  “That was an interesting experience,” Emma pressed, hoping Arran would bite the hook.

  He chuckled at her again and winked, the closest he could come to an admission, she assumed.

  “Ah, yes, but I would have chosen a different way to describe it,” he insisted, reaching out for her hand. She let him take it, recalling the incredible intimacy they’d shared only moments earlier. She couldn’t deny their chemistry any longer.

  “What would have been the word?” she purred demurely.

  “Eye-opening,” he winked obscurely.

  Emma regarded him curiously and grinned, “I agree.”

  Maybe it had surprised him as much as her. She’d held back on their date too. Perhaps this was what they needed to break the ice and step forward together. She certainly couldn’t deny the explosive chemistry they’d just experienced together. She laced her fingers through his and smiled warmly. He slowly returned it, gently shaking his head, his expression a combination of surprise and surrender, as though he had suddenly made a realization about her too.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked hopefully, raising her hand to his lips. She was ready to leave, but her thoughts turned to the woman Arran came with.

  “Do you need to find Diana? Take her home?”

  “We came in separate vehicles but I should say my goodbyes...will you give me a few minutes?”

  Emma nodded and released his hand, “yes, I’ll just grab my jacket. Meet you at the front door?”

  Emma found her coat among many others and slipped it on, but Luke’s coat was missing. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone, certain he would have left her a message. He’d never walked out on her before and she was feeling uneasy. She felt a little better when she saw his text:

  I had to leave. I suddenly felt sick. Can you catch a taxi home? Sorry, this is embarrassing, but I left you in good hands. Call you later.

  Emma was about to text him back when she felt Arran’s arm slip around her waist. She placed her phone back in her pocket, turning to him.

  “Everything ok?” she asked, observing Diana far behind him. The woman appeared unsettled and Emma hoped she wasn’t the cause.

  “Yes, yes, everything is fine. Diana told me to bid you farewell,” he chirped, his accent thickly agitated. She smiled apologetically at Diana, hoping she wouldn’t think her insensitive, but the woman just turned away, as though accustomed to the routine.

  “Let’s go,” he insisted, opening the door.

  Chapter 30

  Emma was still dazed from the whole crazy experience the week before. Although she hadn’t seen Arran since he dropped her off that night, she was going out with him later that evening and was truly looking forward to seeing him. They’d talked a few times throughout the week, and although they hadn’t spoken about the experience, it was clear that their relationship had kicked up a few notches. He’d definitely been more flirtatious and assertive since the party, his confidence unquestionably inflated in the best way possible.

  Luke, on the other hand, never called her. She texted him several times but his responses were always short and direct, curt even. She wondered if it had anything to do with the party and even asked him outright, but he denied it. He said he’d been under the weather for a few days and had fallen behind at work, that he was just really busy. She had no reason to doubt him but still, something made her uneasy. She was going to give him a few more days and approach him again. They had gone weeks without speaking in the past, months even, but since she and Andrew had split, they had seen one another at least once a week, sometimes more. If she was being completely honest, she missed him.

  Emma was home early for a Friday. Jennifer was away that afternoon at a conference and insisted that Emma take the rest of the day off. It was an unexpected offer but she welcomed it. They’d been busy all week working on a special project that was quickly reaching its deadline and both of them had been pushing hard.

  She had just taken a shower and was lounging on the couch with her laptop, researching the Frye Art Museum. Jennifer had told her about a fascinating exhibit featuring Nicola Abernathy, a fifty-something American woman who, over the course of 10 years had traveled around the world creating art in different forms, painting, sculpture, photography, collaborating with different artists she met along the way. It had been rated one of the best exhibits in the country, boasting an amazing collection. She thought that Arran might appreciate it as much as she would and she really wanted to go.

  The phone rang. She quickly retrieved it from her purse, unable hold back her smile when saw Arran’s name on the display.

  “Hello,” she sang, easing into the sofa, “are you done work for the day?”

  “Hello, Darling,” he greeted cautiously. Something seemed off.

  “What’s the matter. You sound down.”

  “It’s been a long day, everything is fine.”

  “Yeah? Are you still up for going out tonight?”

  He hesitated for a moment, pausing as though preoccupied by something. Emma waited for the shuffling and muted conversation to end before repeating herself, suddenly reminded of the many distracted conversations she’d had with her ex over the years.

  “Arran?”

  “Yes, sorry. I just had to take care of something important. What were you asking?” he replied flatly, clearly in work mode.

  “Are we still going out?” she asked hesitantly.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “We could go to the Abernathy Exhibit at the museum? It closes Sunday,” she offered hopefully. Arran hesitated for a moment too long, making Emma wonder if he’d been interrupted again.

  “Hmmm, I don’t think so. We should just stay in. This day has been bullocks. I’ll just pick up some dinner and come to your place. I’m in the mood for some Indian. Right then?”

  Emma pulled her breath in
slowly, unsure why she felt so apprehensive. The man had a shit day, if he didn’t want to go out that was fair, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to be selfish and insist on her own way but at the same time, something wasn’t sitting easy with her. It was the flavor of his words, the way they were seasoned with authority and delivered without any concern that she might want something different. She was bitterly intimate with the tone.

  As though her silence gave him pause, he suddenly spoke up, this time his words more sincere, lighter. “Emma, I will make it up to you another time, you have my word on that. To be honest with you, the thought of sharing an expensive bottle of wine and shagging ourselves silly was more of what I had in mind,” he purred playfully.

  Relieved, Emma smiled, swallowing her doubt and chiding herself for being so sensitive. It was kind of sweet that he wanted to stay in and have a romantic evening with her, and the truth was, she wanted the night to end passionately anyway. His way made it easier to skip the formalities.

  “Ok,” she agreed softly, “but not Indian. I’m not a fan of Indian food.”

  “What? It’s fantastic, Darling! Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to a fabulous dish. I know you’ll learn to love it if you just give it a chance,” he gently insisted, punctuating his words with a confident chuckle. Emma was pretty sure he was wrong, but kept it to herself. At thirty-one, she knew what she liked and didn’t.

  “Well, another time maybe,” she appeased, ignoring the irritation creeping up her spine. “How about you just bring the wine and I will order in some Italian for us. I know this authentic Italian restaurant that makes the best lasagna, with gobs and gobs of cheese.

  It’s frigging fantastic!”

  “Lactose intolerant, I’m afraid. Not sexy.”