by Vivien Vale
He pounds into me, unable to stop his own release. Water's crashing over the edge of the tub. The pulsations are turning electric and soon he and I are coming at the same time.
Radiant spirals of cool heaven emanate from within me. I've never had it like this. He's grasping my hair, pulling it gently as he emerges over his own cliff.
"This is perfect," I say. "I don’t ever want to stop, Xavier."
"Just think," he says in low, silky tone in my ear. "You have your whole life to look forward to this. It will always be this intense, Allie. You can count on it."
Fuck me. This is my forever. And it’s better than I ever could have hoped.
Allie
I'm on the site of yet another photo shoot. I guess you could say I've been working like crazy these days. Fashion editors are clamoring for my attention on both the East and West Coast, and also abroad.
What began as a public relations nightmare has ended in me being a social media influencer and an inspiration to all. My story, that of being manipulated by a viral video, seems to have humbled me in the eyes of the public and made me more relatable.
I've come out as the heroine on top of a dark situation. The fact that Xavier put the whole weight of his company behind me and helped to sort out my image crisis, well it helped a lot.
Now I have at least a million followers on Instagram and that is in itself profitable. I've shot ad campaigns for all the major fashion houses, and I'm working on one today.
It happens to be in New York City, which is a treat because I get to be with Xavier instead of on an airplane.
He's here watching me, as he always likes to do when he gets the chance. He's a control freak, really. He likes to make sure every outfit is perfect and that I look like the supermodel I now am.
I love to have his over-the-top, domineering presence around. It makes me feel safe and comfortable. He's become more than just my lover—we're best friends now.
I walk over to him for approval on my latest outfit, even though the stylist is technically in charge of that.
"How do I look?" I say to him as I grab his arm and use my other hand to trace his rock-hard abs.
I will never get tired of this. He's smoking hot, the guy every girl wants to have. And now, he's all mine.
He sees a hungry look in my eyes.
"You can't be thinking of that now. You have to work. You're gonna nail this shoot and they'll give you the cover."
He can always tell when I want to have sex. Which is pretty much always.
"Okay, Xavier, but you know what I expect tonight," I say to him with fire in my eyes.
"Oh, baby, with you looking so beautiful right now dolled up in this outfit, tonight you can expect the very best," he says.
This statement comes almost as a warning of what I'm going to experience tonight. Every day he takes me to new heights of pleasure and our connection is so deep that I never dreamed it was possible to love someone this much.
He's very commanding, and something about that allows me to relax because I know he's got it all under control.
"Okay, Allie, we're ready for you now," the photographer says.
I reluctantly leave Xavier's side and return to the set. The theme is graffiti, street-style fashion photography. So the backdrop is a brick wall they've made in the studio that several graffiti artists have worked their magic on. It's super gritty, and super me.
I'm excited to have this opportunity and I've been grateful every day since the crisis happened. I never dreamed I'd be on top of my career like this, at this level. But this shows that I earned it and I deserve it. You can't fake it at the top. You have to have real talent to be here.
And I'm proud to say Xavier hasn't had to get me any of my jobs. I've earned them all by myself. And that makes me proud. In fact, I've haven't worked for his company at all since the scandal. It's not because I haven't wanted to, it's because I haven't had time.
Usually, he's with me, jet-setting around the world. I feel strong in my power as a model, and I feel independent as a woman. All of that makes it easier for me to give myself to him. I know I rely on him for nothing. So I can give him everything.
"Okay, Allie, let's take it from the top," the photographer says.
The makeup artists that have been primping me scatter away, someone hits the music, and the camera starts to flash.
I'm on.
I give him my best moves and I carefully follow the photographer's direction. He's a joy to work with. This entire team is.
He has me arching my back against the wall and doing a variety of photos that complement the outfit.
I see Xavier watching me at a distance. His eyes are dark and I can only imagine what he's thinking.
He always does this when I'm on a shoot. And the idea of him watching me turns the heat up on things so much. I think I'm a better model under his gaze.
"Nice, Allie, good job, just like that."
I'm trying to put emotion into my posing so that my eyes are not left empty. How could they be when Xavier is undressing me with his own eyes?
His possessive nature turns me on so much and it comes out full force when I'm modeling and have so many eyes on me. He stares at me intently like he wants me to understand that I'm his, his alone.
I move my body in a variety of ways. I smile, I frown, and I give the photographer any type of expression he requests. I crawl and writhe on the ground, and I jump through the air like a gazelle. Anything he demands of me, I do.
And there's my man watching me the whole time. I know this gives him pleasure, and it certainly puts me on my A-game.
At last, the shoot is over, and I rush over to him. I cover his beautiful, chiseled face with kisses and he pulls me in hard for a long kiss.
"You did so well out there," he says, moving my hand down so I can feel the length of his cock pressing against his pants. “It’s so fucking hot watching you model.”
I lick my lips in anticipation. If no one was here I'd be going down on him right now.
Instead, he pulls me away and I say my goodbyes to everybody. Soon he's got me in the back of the waiting limo and I don't have to wait long for my fantasy to come true.
I slide down to my knees and start to pull his pants off so that I can suck his giant cock.
Before I can get him totally undressed, though, he says, "Allie, I should be the one down on my knees."
"What?"
He pulls me up so that I'm sitting next to him. He's suddenly so serious, and I wonder what's about to transpire. The next thing I know, I see him pull out a small jewelry box.
What’s he doing? This can't be happening. He gets to one knee as comfortably as he can in the back of the limousine.
"Allie, will you please do me the honor of being my wife? I want to be with you every second of every day for the rest of our lives," he says.
I stare at the giant ring he's presenting me and say the only thing I can.
"Yes, a thousand times yes."
I jump into his arms and his hands are all over me. We're kissing passionately and I feel like this is just the beginning of my life.
"You make me so happy, Allie. Now I can tell you where we're really going."
"Wait a minute? Where are we going?"
He pushes the button that lowers the partition between us and the driver.
He says, "Okay, Henry, take us to the airport."
"Where are we going, Xavier? Aren't you gonna tell me?"
"No, I'm not gonna tell you. But I promise you're gonna love it. We need to celebrate our engagement."
God, at the word engagement, it all sinks in as to how real this is. I am going to be a wife. Xavier’s wife.
More than that, I'm going to be with the man I love forever.
We've survived the complicated journey of being together, and that in itself means something. It means that we can get through anything.
With a little transparency, all things are possible. I trust Xavier now more than anyone else on earth
because I know he above all has my best interests at heart.
He kisses me, and it's as if our engagement is sealed by that kiss. I already knew that I'd be his forever, but now he's just cemented our future together.
It feels so good, and my future feels so right. Not one aspect of me is wondering if I made the right choice by saying yes. I know I have. He's my man and my biggest supporter. What could be better?
I look at the beautiful ring he's slipped on my finger, and it's dazzling. I'd like to look longer and to appreciate the feeling of it being on my finger, but Xavier is slowly undressing me.
"It's a long ride to the airport," he breathes as he trails his tongue along my inner thigh.
And with that, I let him fuck me all the way to the airport, and that’s definitely me getting my happy ending.
Hard Luck
A Billionaire Second Chance Romance
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Sienna
I take a handful of my thick, long golden hair and twist it tight, securing it in place with pins.
Then I ease on the wig and adjust the glossy black bangs so they sit at the top of my brow. I make sure the part is straight, as if it were made by a knife. I smooth down the hair around my face, moving my head from one side to the other.
I’m assessing myself, critiquing my reflection.
My new hair shines under the overhead light of the hotel’s dressing room. The cut hits under my chin, a dramatic frame for my face.
My gaze moves down, taking in how the soft gold silk dress I’m wearing hugs my hips and falls around my legs, rippling when I move. I look as if I’ve been dipped in honeyed ambrosia.
The dress has turned my hazel eyes to gold.
I planned my look this evening especially carefully. I want to walk out of this room onto the casino floor and into my new life as part of Roger’s Inner Sanctum, the elite escort service I’ll be working with from now on, and to exude power and mystery.
Of course, it’s my bad luck that my debut has to take place in the back rooms of the Alchema, the sleek and elegant hotel and casino owned by none other than Leo fucking Asher.
Leo’s come a long way from the boy who raced around the grounds of my father’s estate.
His father worked for us; his mother lost a battle to cancer when he was a toddler. Growing up, Leo and my brother, Jax, would spend their days teasing me and racing around the grounds of our California ranch.
We grew older.
Jax went east to boarding school; Leo won a scholarship and followed.
I stayed behind.
When the boys came home on holidays, Jax’s teasing turned into sharp jabs at my expense. His friendship with Leo had cooled significantly.
Maybe it was simply a case of growing older and growing apart, but I don’t know what happened. Jax would get annoyed when I’d ask and Leo would ignore the question completely.
By the time they went to college, neither one was speaking to the other, so Leo turned his attention to me. He would call me Golden, because of my hair and eyes. We would talk or sit together quietly for hours.
Then, ten years ago, he left California and transferred to Harvard. He only came home to visit once. It was the summer I turned eighteen.
Three months before my father had to shutter the mines that made the Reids the prominent family we were.
Five months before the beginning of the legal wrangling that left my family broke.
We lost everything.
Meanwhile, Leo made a name for himself in New York. Opening bars and then clubs, he had the golden touch because every establishment he worked on was a wild success.
Now, at 30, Leo Asher is a hotel and casino magnate. He not only owns the 55-story Alchema Hotel in Vegas, but the Nocturne in Monaco.
If I see Leo, I want to be the opposite of the girl he must remember: she was young, gentle, eager, shameless, and curious.
I try to assure myself that I won’t see him because otherwise I won’t maintain my calm.
Ten years ago, when I was eighteen and hungry to explore the things he made me feel, Leo ran his finger across my jaw one afternoon.
I let him see me shudder.
He called me Golden, and I opened myself to him.
Gave myself to him.
Gave him everything.
The memory quickens my pulse. I can see the flush on my cheeks reflected back to me in the mirror, feel the heat on my skin as it reddens before me.
My nipples harden under my dress, the fabric feeling suddenly restrictive, invasive, and giving me attention I don’t want because I memories I can’t forget.
I exhale and try to push the thought of him out of my head, angry that he still has this effect on me after all this time.
Control is exactly the thing I don’t want to grant him; it is precisely the thing he has over me now.
I want control of my body, but my reactions leave me as helpless as if his hot breath was between my thighs right now while he looked up at me, searing my soul with that wicked blaze in his eyes from that night.
“You won’t see him,” I say aloud to remind myself that even if I do see him, he won’t recognize me because I’m disguised.
It is his hotel. He’ll be busy tending to guests and putting out fires as comes with running a business.
He won’t recognize the woman I’ve become...beneath the disguise, or through the years.
I reapply my lipstick and draw a sharp nail across the bottom of my lip to catch any color which may have bled. It’s unnecessary. My lipstick is perfect.
I smile at myself in the mirror.
There’s a knock on the door—two short raps and then the sound of the electronic card beeping entry.
The door opens and Roger walks into the suite, moving towards the dressing room.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered. His clear blue eyes are sharp under black brows, and his white hair is clipped neatly. He looks and acts decades younger than his seventy-seven years.
The only concession to his advancing age is the silver-topped mahogany cane he’s forced to use.
“Hello, Sienna, my darling,” Roger says as he stands behind me.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. His left hand caresses my arm, moving up and down. It’s a familiar gesture, one that’s meant to comfort…and excite.
I smile at him.
“Hello, Roger.”
“Are you ready for your debut?”
I nod. My heart’s racing so fast, I worry it’s vibrating my skin and he can feel the thrum through the skin of my arm.
Roger bends and kisses my neck.
“You’re absolutely beautiful tonight,” he says. “They’ll be lining up for you.”
The other escorts told me to expect this.
“He’s harmless,” they all promised.
“He thinks of us as his daughters,” one girl told me.
He’s a pretty fucked up father.
I watch his eyes move over my body. Taking his time evaluating me.
When my eyes meet his, he smiles.
I hold my breath as his hand travels down the side of me and over my curves, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
“They’re going to love you,” he says. He skips a beat and looks to the door.
This is the opening, the break in his actions that lets me move on and I start to breathe again.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I nod and slip my feet into black leather heels.
Grabbing my clutch, I follow my new boss out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator ma
de of glass.
Below us, the hotel is abuzz with activity. The lights on the machines flicker as the noise from jackpots sound incessantly.
My heart beats fast. I’m nervous… but I’m excited, too.
If I can handle this new job, I’ll be able to do everything I want to do.
I’ll move Dad from California to Vegas and into the Alzheimer care facility near Bonnie Springs.
Pay off my school loans.
Be able to save for the future.
I can buy myself time to figure out what I want to do with my life.
All I know is working with the Inner Sanctum can give me options.
To me, it feels less humiliating than waiting tables on the strip, where anyone can sit down at the table and ask you to tell them the specials. Anyone…like Leo.
This is just another job.
Though, of course, it’s not.
Still, it can set me up for a decade.
Let me explore myself.
Let me explore my fantasies.
I’m protected from being uncomfortable, for the most part, because with the exception of showing up for dinners and events, Roger says I can say no to everything else.
We ride down thirty floors to the mezzanine level.
When the doors slide open, Roger takes my elbow and guides me out.
The entire hotel looks like it’s gleaming. The marbled floors are buffed to a high shine. The chrome details on the ceiling stretch downwards like stalactites.
“This way,” Roger says, bypassing the escalator to the top of the curved staircase leading to the gaming room. “I want the entire floor to see you.”
It feels like every eye in the casino is on us. For a moment, the noise from the slots and the conversations fall mute as the seconds stretch out in a surreal dreamlike suspension of time.
What have I gotten myself into?
Then Roger places his hand on the small of my back and we walk together slowly down the golden staircase.
No turning back now.
We wind our way through the tourist tables towards an ornate set of doors where two men with beautifully tailored, monochromatic black suits stand ready. One of the men nods to Roger and inclines his head towards me.