This is Love (High Stakes Billionaires)

by C. J. Thomas

  Elyse was going to be the talk of the art world and there’d be copycats everywhere before we knew it.

  I beamed with pride. I was glad that she’d done mine first and that we’d been able to set the bar for her. She was amazing and deserved all the good that headed her way. She and Trent were a perfect match, having experienced so many rocky spots in their lives before they met.

  My body tensed as a dark-haired man in a navy sport jacket and dark jeans stepped around one of Kim’s sculptures. Electricity sang through my limbs at the sight of him.

  He was sexy on a stick and I wanted to spend hours licking his tall, lean body.

  I bit my lip and shifted, cocking one hip and studying the way he moved around the sculpture, noting the nuances of the art. He moved quickly onto Life, a delicate china bowl of sorbet cradled in the palm of his hand, long fingers curling around the edges.

  Now that the evening was winding down, I could decide who to take home, and this gentleman had risen to the top of the list of ways I wanted to celebrate tonight.

  Trent dropped his arm and puffed out his chest, ever the protector. “Who’s that?” he asked following my gaze.

  I shook my head, sending waves of hair tumbling across my shoulders. “I’m about to find out.”

  His warning went unheeded as I stepped away from him and straight toward my newest sex target.

  51

  Gavin

  I lifted the bowl of ice cream to my nose and inhaled.

  It smelled like wine, making me frown. I’d never been much of a foodie; food was fuel and I ate what I needed to keep me working. On the rare occasion, when I had to meet with investors, I’d put up a front that hours spent leisurely enjoying decadent food and wines were what I wanted to do more than working.

  None of which was true. Work paid me and work made me who I was. Food didn’t.

  Granted, the food was a nice touch and someone more skilled than I was in the art of art could probably spend a couple paragraphs extolling its virtues.

  Me, I’d come because Vince had made me. The guy was partly responsible for our last million in venture capital, so I’d humored him.

  I glanced back at the wire sculpture. He’d thought something from tonight’s show would work well in the lobby of our office.

  What did I care? Shit, art was all the same to me. I didn’t care what I walked past in our lobby as long as we had a lobby and that I could get to work.

  This painting however…I glanced for a place to set my bowl so I could shove my hands in my pockets and study the lines and message in this piece. A waiter paused at my elbow. “Can I take that for you, Sir? Bring you a drink.”

  A rush of relief washed over me. “Please.” I handed him the bowl and asked for a martini. He nodded and disappeared. I felt bad about skirting the “experience” but I wasn’t much of an ice cream guy, not if there weren’t dollar signs attached to my eating it.

  “No ice cream for you?” A woman stepped into the space the waiter had just left.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t keep my gaze from traveling the length of her body, admiring the sculpture that was her curves. Those legs went on for miles and she had the most perfect set of tits I’d seen in a long time, the kind that called a man to stick things between them and—

  I blinked and jerked myself away from that thought, dragging my gaze to meet hers. She smiled like she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “I’m more of a whipped cream guy.” I winked at her.

  She laughed and faced the painting, taking a step closer to it so I could admire her ass. “You like this?”

  My fingers twitched with the need to step up behind her and cup her ass. Or wrap my hand around her waist and pull her back against me.

  I hadn’t fucked a girl in a couple weeks and it was starting to wear on me. Maybe this one would be up for some fun later tonight. She sure looked like a girl who could take a few hours of a good time.

  I took a small step, moving behind her and to the left, leaving a foot of space between our bodies. I lowered my voice and stared at the painting over her shoulder. I was close enough to smell her and I liked her scent.

  “I do like it. And I’m not much for angry paintings.”

  She inhaled swiftly and I closed more of the distance between us. She didn’t twist fully around to see me, but her body shifted. Her ass tilted and she canted forward ever so slightly. Her neck elongated and she tipped her chin. All infinitesimal changes, but noteworthy.

  “Angry? I haven’t heard this painting described that way before.”

  “Hmm.” I felt the heat rolling off her and I lifted my arm toward the painting, brushing my fingers against her shoulder.

  She rubbed into the pressure and it took everything I had not to grind my hard cock against the outline of the curve of her ass in that skirt. God dammit, I wanted to push her through the employee only door and fuck her right here, right now.

  Oh yes, I was definitely taking this one home tonight.

  “See the lines?” I whispered against her ear. “See the hard slashes there through the river? And more up there against the mountain?”

  Her breath quickened and I didn’t give a shit if she was looking at the painting or not. I wanted her to shift backward the last inch that separated our bodies. “Maybe that’s from the medium.”

  “No. This painting is the only one that looks like anything. The rest are all impressionist and abstract. This one meant something to the artist,” I strained forward to read the name on the plaque. “It meant something to V. Fenner. He was pissed, angry at the world, or his parents, or life. Probably life, since that’s it’s name. The edges are so hard. There’s not a single curve in the painting. Even the trees are angular. That’s the work of someone in pain.”

  Like me. Right now.

  Fuck, I was so god damn hard I was going to blow if she didn’t help me out. Maybe I didn’t want her to move an inch or I’d have to shove that skirt up over her ass and take her against the painting, all hard angles and slashes.

  “You don’t see it?”

  “Pain.” She swiveled her hips to the right and back, dragging the meat of her ass right across the tip of my dick.

  I hissed and dug my hands into her hips, holding her still so I wouldn’t blow a nut right here. “Jesusss.”

  “No, but you can call me Vi.” She bounced that sweet ass up and down, rendering enough friction on my dick to nearly take out my knees. She turned in my arms and held out one slender hand in greeting. “Or V. Fenner, whichever you prefer. Thanks for coming to my debut.”

  52

  Violet

  I should have been pissed that he’d thought a guy had painted my favorite work.

  But I was too curious about how he’d seen right past the façade of the happy landscape and picked out every single detail that I’d put in there. He’d recognized the pain and I was shocked.

  Just when I’d thought he couldn’t get any sexier, he knew all kinds of things about art. I wanted to know more about him and why I hadn’t run into him before tonight.

  Who in the hell had invited him to the showing?

  He sure wasn’t on the mailing list for the gallery; I’d have seen him before. And no way would I have forgotten a man like him. Most artists weren’t worth my time. They were competition when I was still building a name for myself.

  Maybe he was a buyer, but that didn’t fit right either. I’d definitely have spotted him somewhere in the world of art if that was the case. San Francisco wasn’t that big.

  I was so turned on by his insight that I might have to keep him around for more than one night—not more than three, though. No one was that good of a fuck. Or an artist.

  God damn was he going to rock my world. His huge, hard dick had been imprinted on my ass and I nearly dropped to my knees and sucked him off right here. For all that I’d wanted tonight’s show to never end, now I couldn’t get out of here fast enough so I could get him naked and ride that cock like my life depend
ed on it.

  His insight made me want to know more about him; where he’d studied, what his medium was. Artists were usually so boring and all about their own work, too caught up in how they would have changed things in others’ works.

  Not this guy though.

  While I waited for him to get over the shock of this being my piece and that I was far from being a man, I let my gaze travel down to the massive bulge in his pants. I licked my lips, making no pretense about what I wanted.

  His nostrils flared and he stepped into me, holding that sweet cock too many inches away so I couldn’t rub up against him. Normally I had some sort of composure, but Madrid had left an hour ago and the only people left were Trent and our friends, who’d all seen me in much worse states when it came to men. They knew I was a whore who loved her men and they usually steered me toward the good ones.

  I wasn’t sure who’d brought this guy, but he was turning out to be the ultimate gift.

  “Gavin.” He enclosed my hand with his warm one and tugged me against his body, dropping his face within an inch of mine. He smelled like leather and spicy aftershave. I wanted to taste his cock and see if that was as good as I imagined, wanted to suck him deep until he came down the back of my throat.

  He swallowed and heat bloomed across his cheeks. I didn’t mince looks or emotions. I wanted what I wanted and I got what I wanted. Everyone knew it. Clearly he was as good at reading me as everyone else was.

  I rubbed my clit against his length, my eyes drooping with the heat and need. “Gavin, I’m going to need you to come to the after party so we can discuss this piece with a little more depth.”

  Along with the piece of ass I’d be giving him as soon as humanly possible. Like in the back seat of his car on the way over to Trent’s bar for the party.

  He swallowed and his hand dropped to my ass, jerking me tight against him. “I didn’t know you were the artist.”

  “Does it matter?” I let him move my hips, grinding my clit against him so rough and hard that I was going to come right god damn now. I didn’t dare look away from him to see who was watching. I didn’t give a fuck and I didn’t want him to think I did. He obviously didn’t.

  “Feels like entrapment.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I’ll show you entrapment.”

  “Right now.” He jerked his hips hard into me and I gasped.

  Oh sweet lord, this was going to be the best fuck I’d had in a while.

  I bit my lip and thought about where he could take me, but we’d done so much remodeling at the gallery over the last few months that the closets were overflowing with stupid shit that wouldn’t give us a single place of reprieve. Even the store room downstairs was packed with Kim’s shipping crates and Elyse’s machines and a mobile freezer.

  God dammit! I was going to explode if I didn’t get his dick in me.

  By the strained look on his face, he was in as bad a state as I was.

  I so wanted him right now. Wanted to pull him into a shadowy corner and tell those guys that we’d be there late, but I couldn’t. Of all nights, he had to show up tonight when I had all kinds of obligations and no way to hide from the limelight.

  “You didn’t answer me about the after party.”

  “Does anyone tell you no?”

  I smiled and dropped my hands to his ass, taking over our movements and showing him just how much fun we could have tonight. “Not if they know what’s best for them.”

  His gaze dropped to my lips and I wet them, begging for him to take my lower one between his teeth and suck the fuck out of it. I was already so wet, but if he would hurt me just a little I could come right here, right now.

  It seemed like the most fitting way to end the show.

  “I most certainly know what’s best for you.”

  I pumped him against me. “You said it wrong.”

  “No. You said it wrong.”

  “Maybe you should shut up and kiss me.”

  “Violet?”

  I ignored the voice to the left of us, knowing exactly what Trent was thinking. He wanted to protect me but I didn’t need protecting anymore. This was my show. My night. And I would celebrate in my way.

  “Violet? We’re headed to the bar.” When he cleared his throat, I finally looked at my brother. “Care to introduce me to your friend, or are you going to fuck him here and not bring him to the party?”

  I turned my gaze back to Gavin’s face, which held all of the lust he’d had before Trent interrupted us. “Oh, he’s coming, all right.”

  53

  Gavin

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I pulled the car door shut and adjusted myself, then gripped the wheel and stared out the blank windshield.

  That had been both the most surreal and erotic experience I’d had in awhile. I couldn’t believe I’d opened my stupid mouth and explained a piece of art to the artist!

  Thank god I hadn’t known that before I’d started hitting on her. She’d left me speechless as I’d processed the enormity of her work and the quality of the stories she’d put into each one. I didn’t know a ton about art, but Vince dragged me to enough of those stupid things that I’d learned along the way.

  Now that I knew, I wanted her more than I had when I’d first spotted her. She was so fucking sexy. That hair and that body. And now, that creative well just waiting to be tapped.

  The painting had intrigued me, but I’d thought it had been painted by a man—I don’t know why, it just hadn’t occurred to me that the artist for a huge debut showing like that would have been a woman.

  Call me an arrogant dick, I don’t give a shit. All I knew was that I wanted that woman in my bed, stat.

  Maybe beneath her painting. That would be the icing on the cake.

  She’d introduced me to her brother, Trent, who—surprisingly—didn’t give a shit about the fact I’d been manhandling his sister with my dick nearly up her skirt. The guy had shaken my hand and said he’d see me around, then had whisked Violet away after she’d demanded my phone number and texted me the address for the party.

  They’d walked away with an air of confidence that I’d follow.

  Weird family. But I wasn’t asking to come to Thanksgiving dinner.

  I wanted to fuck the guy’s sister and maybe let her blow me. Not that he needed to know any of that. If he hadn’t already put those pieces into place, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

  I rubbed the length of my cock again, trying to get it to ease up and give me a break, but mother fuck that only made it worse and it jumped, eager for any attention. I wasn’t sure what kind of bar this place was, but if it had a bathroom, I was dragging her into it and fucking her once there so I could concentrate on talking for the rest of the evening until I could get her in bed and have my way with her.

  I started the engine and put the car in drive just as my phone rang. Jesus she was bossy. I grabbed it out of my pocket and saw Vince’s number. Fucker had stood me up tonight.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry man, just left the office. You still there? Want to grab a beer?”

  I tapped my fingers on the top of the steering wheel. Vince and I were supposed to meet tonight to go over last minute details for our huge deal. We had everything wrapped up and dialed in for Monday, but Vince wanted to triple-check our numbers. If I hadn’t already done the same thing, I might have called him out for over-analyzing the situation or joined him and not met Violet.

  But then, this wasn’t just any deal.

  This was the deal of a lifetime and everything had to work out.

  There were a billion reasons why.

  By dick twitched at the hesitation. If that girl had been anyone else, I would have blown her off, or called tomorrow and made excuses, but Violet—

  “How about lunch tomorrow instead?”

  There was a long pause on the end of the line. I didn’t blame him; I couldn’t remember a single time in the history of our relationship when I hadn’t said yes.

  “Su
re?”

  I smiled. He was doing a hell of a job taking it in stride. He was going to go over the numbers again tonight anyway. If it wasn’t for Violet, I’d be doing the same.

  “Yeah. Let’s meet at noon.” Normally we met at five for racquetball, then had breakfast after. Now he’d really wonder what was wrong with me.

  “You’re dicking with me, aren’t you?”

  “No man, you stood me up. I had too much fun at the showing and now I’m headed home.”

  Why was I lying to him? I told Vince everything. Everything. And nothing came before work, especially women.

  But we were set. The meeting was a technicality. We already had it in the bag. Nothing was going to screw up this deal. I was just doing a little early celebrating tonight. If I thought it wasn’t a private party, I’d have invited him to the after party.

  But I didn’t want to talk business tonight. I wanted to talk about Violet and art and how long it was going to take to get her out of her clothes.

  “You’re right. We’re set.” He sighed and was probably tugging on his collar like he always did when he was stressed. “I should hit the sack early tonight anyway, start getting rest for Monday’s meeting.”

  “It’s all good, man. We are set.”

  “We’re going to rock their little minds.”

  “You know it.”

  We said our goodbyes and hung up. I adjusted myself again and pulled out of the parking lot, far too eager for anything other than work.

  More eager than I had been in a long, long time.

  54

  Violet

  Trent’s bar had always been the place to be, but the private parties were something else entirely.

  Not even the virgin auctions compared, now that they were on again after the drawn-out negative publicity they caused a couple years ago. They were great, but drew a different clientele, created a different atmosphere.