Billionaire Games

by Frasier, Kristin

  Again.

  And the bitch of it was that he’d been more than justified in his anger. She’d flaunted herself, flirted with someone else like she wasn’t his. He’d been rightfully pissed.

  He still was.

  Simeon slammed down his pen and then stood, loosening the tie that seemed to get tighter with each passing second.

  She dismissed him once before, moved on as thought he was nothing. But that boy who had been so easily dismissed was gone. And the Simeon Hayes who could be so easily tossed aside didn’t exist anymore.

  No. Sydney owed him, and she would pay. He wasn’t finished with her yet, and no matter how much she affected him, how much he wanted her, Claire did not call the shots.

  Something he planned to remind her of.

  25

  Claire stayed at work late, far later than she usually did, and around nine thirty, she finally headed home.

  It was an old ploy, one where she thought she could exhaust herself until she was too tired to do anything, especially think of Simeon.

  When she turned into her driveway, she noticed the huge SUV idling outside her house, and for some reason she wasn’t surprised.

  She turned into the driveway and parked, and, body weary, she walked into her home. Simeon, standing in her living room with his back facing the door, his hands crossed behind him, was the very first thing she saw when she entered. The only thing she saw.

  He didn’t turn when she entered, but there was attentiveness to him that told her he understood that she was there.

  She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and then walked to her refrigerator, all the while ignoring him.

  In fact, she was dedicated to ignoring him and his intrusion completely, so instead of acknowledging him, she grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open. After she quenched her thirst, she rummaged in the refrigerator and prepared a plate of leftovers. As her food warmed in the microwave, she wiped down the kitchen counter and then retreated to her bedroom and changed into her evening clothes. And as she moved through each activity, she paid Simeon no mind.

  She didn’t even look in his direction.

  When she came back into the kitchen, he hadn’t moved, still standing as rigid as he had before. He didn’t speak, but she felt the heavy weight of his gaze on her every move. She didn’t allow it to unnerve her. The microwave dinged, and she opened the door and pulled her plate out. She placed it, her fork, and a fresh bottle of water on a tray and carried the entire thing to the dining room table. She sat and then proceeded to eat, and all the while, Simeon Hayes stared at her.

  She ate her meal leisurely, impressed with herself when she managed not to rush or allow how much he was affecting her to show. When she was done eating, she tidied the dinner dishes and then went to her bedroom and brushed her teeth and hair like she did every night. And then, finally, when she’d done everything she’d planned to do that night except fall into bed, she returned to her living room, where Simeon stood dressed in his custom-made suit, his face tight with rage.

  Claire didn’t make as impressive a sight, she was sure, but she marched up to Simeon and stared directly into his eyes.

  “Should I bother to ask how you got in?” she said.

  “So you’ve noticed me now?” he replied, his voice vibrating with anger.

  “I noticed you before. But I ignored you,” she said.

  “You’ve made a mistake, Claire. I’m not a man to be ignored,” he said.

  Then he locked an arm around her waist and lifted her to him and captured her lips in a crushing kiss.

  One hand tight in her hair, his fingers threaded through it, the other anchored around her waist, he kissed her with all that he had, and to her embarrassment, she yielded to him, kissed him back.

  When his tongue pressed against her lips, she yielded and parted her mouth, giving herself to his full possession.

  He untangled his fingers from her hair and trailed them down her shoulder and reached for her breasts, stopping to squeeze her nipple. She flinched at his touch and then moaned at the pleasure that flooded her as he brushed away the sting. The little bit of pain broke some of her fog, and Claire lifted her eyes to stare at him.

  “Punishment for your second mistake,” he said by way of answer to her unspoken question.

  “And what was my first?” she asked, unable to hold back the words, even though she deeply wanted to.

  “You’re supposed be waiting for me, ready,” he said. As he spoke, he drove his hand into the waistband of her panties and quickly found her center, petting at her wetness.

  “Let me amend that,” he said. “You were ready. But you weren’t waiting.” He searched her gaze with his before he spoke. “And I’m not waiting anymore either,” he said.

  Then, deftly using one hand, he unbuttoned his slacks, reached into his pants and freed his rigid cock. He wrenched her nightdress up around her waist and then pushed her cotton panties aside, exposing her slit to him without removing them.

  Then, on one unrelenting thrust, he entered her, pushing until he was balls-deep inside her, her pussy clasping around him.

  Then he began to thrust, no preamble, no buildup, just hard, full, strokes that made her lungs squeeze in her chest and wrenched away her power to do anything but hold on to him and ride the sensation that each of his hard thrusts filled her with.

  The desire to do something to not yield to him so easily filled her, but she could do nothing but tighten her fingers against his broad shoulders and hold him, the low thud of their pelvic bones colliding and the light smack of his balls hitting her with each of his hard thrusts filling the living room.

  Her orgasm came over her powerfully, intense, strong, and she clamped down on him and went rigid as he emptied his seed inside her.

  They stayed that way, joined so intimately as the sound of Claire’s heartbeat filled her ears. After a few moments, Simeon pulled out of her, a trail of stickiness clinging to the tip of his cock. The sight of it aroused her even though her last climax was still firing through her body.

  “I have you for two more days, Claire. Don’t make me wait again.”

  He looked at her, his expression stern, and all of a sudden she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled from her.

  It wasn’t a humorous laugh, though. It was sharp, brittle, bitter, and Simeon tilted his head in question as he tucked himself back inside his pants.

  “I amuse you?” he said.

  She shook her head and then, around laughter, said, “No. You definitely do not, Simeon. But I have to laugh because it seems you are right.”

  At his quirked brow, she continued.

  “You’ve proven it. I am what you thought I was. Some slut who’ll let anybody with a big cock and a bigger bank account fuck her on demand. Congratulations, Simeon. You were right about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to bed,” she said.

  Then she fled, running from her own living room to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

  26

  Simeon stood in Claire’s neat, modest home, his heart racing at a speeding gallop.

  The causes of his racing heartbeat were twin. First was the anger that had coursed through him, building and building as she had ignored him, walked through the house as though he wasn’t even there, as if he didn’t even matter.

  The second was the elation that being with her had brought, the feel of her tight, slick walls around his shaft, her body under his hands sending him into a place that only she had ever been able to.

  And Simeon wasn’t sure which would take control. Talking to Claire, taking Claire, always did this to him, spun him and turned him and touched him in a way that no one did. Not anymore.

  But it seemed to come easy to her.

  Simeon continued to stand in Claire’s living room for long minutes after she left. Part of him wanted to go after her, comfort her, and that was the part of him that he had hoped to squelch.

  No such luck. Instead, it had only grown more
and more intense, still chased by the anger.

  It shouldn’t be this way. Simeon had come here to prove a point, but as always, it was Claire who had done that. And when she looked at him, her eyes burning with sadness, and worst of all, resignation, he’d felt worse than he ever had for anything else he’d done.

  It occurred to him that maybe, possibly, she might have been what she seemed to be, might be what he hoped she was.

  That she might really have loved him. But that didn’t quite square with what he was feeling.

  As he had watched her change and scrub her dishes and wait for her dinner, he felt like he had as a child and even as an adult. Invisible. Worthless. Those feelings only broken up by the time that he had spent with her and then later after he had through sheer ruthlessness and unrelenting intensity acquired wealth that made it impossible for people to ignore him.

  Claire had, though, and with apparent ease, something that hadn’t sat well with him. That was why he had forced the issue.

  He’d been willing to be swayed, might have consider taking a different approach, but with each moment that passed his anger had increased, and he felt the undeniable need to show her such.

  But fucking Claire being Claire, she turned the tables on him, had turned his attempt to reestablish the power balance in their relationship back on him, and had made him, as he always had been, her prisoner, trapped by the feelings that only she could reach.

  And that was why he was angry. He’d all but confessed that he was powerless against her, and yet she continued to play the victim, continued to pretend that it was he, not she, who had destroyed him.

  Simeon went in the direction that she had earlier. He turned the knob and found it locked.

  “Claire. Unlock the door, or I’ll break it down.”

  Simeon waited, hoping it wouldn’t come to that but more than willing to do as he’d said. Finally, after several long seconds he heard the doorknob click. Claire looked as him, her eyes still sad, and then she sighed. “Have you come to torment me more?”

  He pushed past her and then stepped into her bedroom.

  “Claire, I wasn’t done speaking with you,” he said.

  She ignored him and then returned to her bed and curled into a ball and buried her face in the corner of her elbow.

  “But I was done with you, Simeon,” she finally said, her voice muffled by the placement of her face.

  “Are you…? Are you crying?” he said.

  That got her attention and she turned, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks stained with dried tears. She looked absolutely miserable, and he was even more angered by the sight.

  “Does that make you happy? I’m suffering,” she said. “You live for that, remember?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Claire,” he spat.

  “What else should I conclude? You seem to enjoy this so much, wouldn’t even give me the honor of letting me cry alone. You’re still here, standing in my space, speaking to me, when I made it more than clear that I want to be alone.”

  “Yes, I’m doing all those things. But what you’re doing is so much worse,” he said.

  “Enlighten me. What am I doing, Simeon?”

  “You’re pretending that you’re hurt. You’re trying to make this my fault. I won’t stand for it. Not anymore. So save your tears for someone who can be swayed by them,” he said.

  She was no longer crying, but as Simeon watched her, he thought she might start again.

  But not out of sadness. No, the look on her face was one of pure rage, one that he’d seldom seen from Claire. It was one of the things he had so loved about her when they were younger. She was gentle, but not a pushover, and always, or at least so he’d thought, tried to see the other person’s perspective.

  There was no hint of that woman now, and instead all he saw was the anger that radiated off of her.

  “What are you going to do?” he said, taunting her.

  She sat up straight, then tossed her covers aside and stood.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, her voice deadly calm, tipping him off to how deeply her rage went. “I’m going to throw you out. And if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police. No matter what you might think of me, Simeon, I’m not like you. I don’t hurt other people to make myself feel better. I don’t get pleasure from injuring them, causing them pain, and I definitely wouldn’t hurt someone who only ever tried to love me. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  She had stepped closer to him as she had spoken and now stood toe to toe with him, lifting her head to glance up at him from his superior height, her entire body wound tight with tension, nerves, and the absolute certainty that if Simeon didn’t leave he would face her consequences.

  He barely recognized her.

  But instead of satisfaction at having finally gotten something from Claire, made her feel at least a little of what he had, he felt only sadness. And he didn’t know why. This was what he wanted. To get to her, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “Well? Are you leaving?” she said after long moments of silence.

  He glared at her. “No,” he said suddenly, “I’m not.”

  “I’ll call the police,” she threatened.

  “Go ahead and waste your time if you want. I’m going to sleep,” he said.

  She glared at him and then let out a frustrated growl that sounded unlike anything he’d ever heard from Claire. Then, a moment later, she stomped back over to the bed and lay down, and then she pulled the covers up and wrapped them around her shoulders.

  Simeon stared at her as she glared at him, and he knew that staying was the only option.

  He kicked off his shoes and quickly undressed. Claire huffed, flipped over, and turned her back to him. When he was naked, he crawled into bed beside her and curled his body around hers. She stiffened but didn’t try to pull away, and he held her tight.

  “I don’t know this was a part of the bargain,” she said.

  “It is now,” he replied.

  “Why? Why the hell are you here when you hate me so? Is making me suffer your only source of amusement?” she spat.

  “Go to sleep, Claire,” he said.

  To his surprise, she didn’t protest and instead closed her eyes.

  Simeon listened to the sound of her smooth, even breaths and then finally let oblivion take him.

  * * *

  When Claire awoke, Simeon was gone.

  She was relieved, she told herself, but she couldn’t ignore the sting of disappointment. Simeon made her insane, made her hate everything including him and herself, but it would be a lie to say that she hadn’t loved having his arms around her as she slept.

  She dressed, and as she prepared to leave she saw a slip of paper propped on her dining room table.

  “Our arrangement is complete,” the note said.

  She stared at the bold script that was undeniably Simeon’s.

  It was official. He was done with her now. She waited for happiness, elation, anything. But no feeling came. She was too hollowed out, too confused, and far too emotionally exhausted to deal with any of this.

  The sadness would come. The tears, too. She knew that as much as she knew her heart was breaking. But she couldn’t deal with that now, and she could only hope that when it did come, she’d be able to handle it.

  27

  Two Months Later

  “How are you feeling, honey?” her mom asked, her voice warm with love and filled with some concern.

  Claire smiled into the phone, but when her stomach lurched again she didn’t manage to hold back the low moan that fell from her throat.

  Her mom chuckled. “That’s my answer,” she said. “I’d thought your little flu would have passed by now, but I guess not. I’ll make you some soup and bring it by tonight, okay?”

  Claire shook her head, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to do that, Mom. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said, certain that any moment she’d feel fine, even thou
gh in this very second she was racked with nausea and dizziness. She tried to put on a brave face for her mom, though, not wanting the woman to worry.

  “Of course I don’t have to, dear. But I want to. You should stay home today, too,” her mother said.

  “No. I’m almost finished with my project. Just a little bit more and I’ll be done, so I want to get it handled,” she said, excited at the prospect of finishing the project she’d been working on for months, though she would have been content to crawl under her covers and never come out.

  “Okay, but don’t push yourself too hard,” her mother said.

  “I won’t. See you later, Mom,” Claire replied. Then she hung up the phone.

  She sat up and then stared at her warm, comfy bed. She was tempted to lie back down but knew if she did, the chances of her getting up again were slim to none. Still…it was tempting. Her stomach lurched, reminding her of the other reason she couldn’t get up.

  She’d been sick for nearly two weeks now, and it didn’t seem to be letting up. So, yeah, lying in bed wasn’t an option with the ever-present threat of being sick. Her stomach squeezed again, and Claire jumped out of bed. Being sick was an interesting way to get her out of bed in the morning, something she’d hoped would be over soon, especially since work was heating up.

  Claire managed to get dressed and then headed to work, excited to begin the day.

  She hadn’t seen Simeon again, or even heard from him, but she had thrown herself into work and was ready to present her new plans for the tiny house project. She’d poured her heart into it, and the project had helped her. Every moment she’d spent considering designs and sourcing equipment had been one less moment for her to think about Simeon, and for that she was grateful.

  The project was coming to a close, though, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to put off her heartbreak much longer. But in the meantime, she’d take whatever distraction she could, even if it was as simple as working or being under the weather.

  When she arrived, she waved at Sydney and then went directly to her desk. Morning passed in a blur and by late afternoon Claire was exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure.