Exes (Billionaire Romance #3)

by Aria Hawthorne

  Slowly, a cloud passed over the full moon, extinguishing the brilliant light passing through the Tiffany window.

  Empowered by the darkness, she undressed and slipped into her black leather bustier and zippered thong. Freeing the rubber band from her hair, she let her long dark hair flow over her bare shoulders while admiring the reflection of a shadowy enchantress in the vanity’s oval mirror. Somewhere, out there in the world, was a stranger who had just gifted her a million dollar necklace without any assurances that he would never hear from her again. Instead, she could barely resist the magnetism of their connection because he seemed more familiar than any other man she had known in her real life.

  With surreal urgency, her phone rang. She wanted to make him wait before answering it until she realized she was only torturing herself.

  “Yes—” she whispered, attempting not to betray the quiver in her voice.

  “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment,” he said with dark intentions.

  She closed his eyes, soothed by his deep, masculine voice.

  There was a long pause of silence before she gathered the courage to reply.

  “So what do you think?” she said, subduing her voice to match the persona she planned to adopt for tonight.

  “Your voice is the loveliest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  His compliment infused her with a sexy confidence. She had always imagined his voice in her mind. But now, in a moment of weakness, she caught herself projecting her ex-husband’s face onto it. She had just seen him. Clearly, he still affected her.

  “You must have had a really bad day,” she responded, feeling the sudden urge to assume whatever role he expected her to play.”

  “Not anymore…” he exhaled, sipping from his unknown drink.

  “I suppose that means you expect me to say something…seductive.”

  “Nope.” He paused and took another sip from his tumbler as the ice clicked against the side of the glass. “I don’t generally expect anything from lovely things, other than the pleasure of enjoying them.”

  He had that way about him, as if everything he said was really a subtle sign that he was interested in getting to know her more—if she would only let him. And although she could tell he had been drinking—perhaps too much—it didn’t make him sound sloppy or incoherent. It made him sound honest and vulnerable, as if he’d been waiting for months, possibly years, for her to call and rescue him.

  “Tell me you’re wearing it,” he urged her. “It was originally made for an Italian Contessa. You’ve only told me that you have dark hair and dark eyes, so I thought it would be fitting.”

  Attempting to still her trembling hands, she focused on the distinctive edge in his voice—a richer, huskier tone, tinged with an inebriated lilt that playfully courted her.

  “Yes, I’m wearing it. And yes, it’s lovely. No, gorgeous,” she stressed, carefully lowering her voice to mimic the dark sensuality within his own. “But you know that I can’t keep it. It’s important to me that you believe me when I say that I’m not interested in your wealth. Which is why I plan to return it to you tomorrow.”

  “Cruel woman,” he shot back. The ice cubes jangled louder as he downed his drink. “That’s like returning my heart.”

  Whenever she read his teasing texts, she was always emboldened to tease him back. But now, hearing the vulnerability in his voice gave her pause; she expected to embody the role of an icy femme fatale—seductress, temptress, the symbol of his ultimate fantasy. And yet, the trace of humility within his reply inspired the more genuine, tender side of her femininity.

  “Perhaps you were too quick to give it away,” she softly replied.

  “I’ve never had a problem giving it away, just with finding the right woman.”

  “And how can you be so sure I’m the right woman?”

  “Because you haven’t hung up on me yet.” The spontaneity of his laughter relaxed her, and the blend of his dry wit and his Chicago-native frankness convinced her there was nothing phony about him. “And because you don’t seem to mind that I’m a soulless bastard who wants to buy you expensive jewelry.”

  “You definitely don’t sound soulless,” she countered, adding a hint of jest in her voice.

  “But I don’t want this—whatever this is—to be about expensive gifts.”

  “It’s not. It’s about gaining your trust.”

  His resoluteness disarmed her. She glanced at herself in the mirror and traced the outline of the diamond choker necklace with her fingertips, feeling its heavy platinum setting pressed against her flesh.

  “Well, it certainly proves that you’ve got money.”

  He laughed again. “Or that I’m a criminal.”

  “Or perhaps a little bit of both,” she teased back.

  “Yes, likely both,” he mused with an unguarded exhale. She took pleasure in their easy connection and their mutually playful bond. “Or maybe I’m just a fraud,” he finally added.

  “Or maybe this is the real you, and you’re a fraud to everyone else.”

  Her comment silenced him. After a moment, he responded in a low, slightly menacing tone.

  “So tell me, Contessa…what if you found out what I was really like during the day? That the truth was…in the real world, I was a corrupt, unscrupulous business tycoon who everyone hated, loathed, and despised.”

  “I wouldn’t believe it.”

  He pressed the point. “What if I told you that I did horrible things like close orphanages and animal shelters?”

  She withheld her smile. “I’d call you a terrible liar. We’ve talked about children and puppies, and you like both.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, knowing she had caught him. “Maybe it’s worse than that. What if I told you I’m just a worthless, miserable bastard who has lost all the joy in his life?”

  She heard the weariness of pain beneath his wry tone, like a tiny crack within a slab of impenetrable concrete that would only get worse over time.

  “Then I’d just ask you to stay on the phone with me all night and tell me more because that doesn’t make you a worthless, miserable bastard. It just makes you human.”

  He fell silent again. This time, her resoluteness seemed to disarm him.

  “Well…” he cleared his throat and lowered his tone almost an octave, signaling he was preparing to reveal his darkest secrets. “You know, I learned a valuable lesson about a year ago—things you love can easily go away and there’s no guarantee you’ll ever get them back. So what’s the point of trying to be the good guy when the miserable greedy one gets you the same outcome either way?”

  She was surprised to hear the tenor of isolation within his voice—and the fact that he trusted her enough to express it—and it made her tread carefully.

  “I think it’s more important not to focus on the outcome, but the fact we have a choice to contribute to life in good ways or bad ways, and that choice matters.”

  “Yeah, I used to think that it mattered,” he replied, almost mournful. “But now I know that nothing matters because you’ll lose it all in the end, anyway. One way or another, life will come knocking on your door and take something away. And at the end of the day, I’d rather be a filthy rich son-of-a-bitch than a struggling one with the same amount of heartbreak.”

  “I don’t believe you believe that,” she said, feeling the need to challenge him. “I may not know your name or your age or what you do exactly for a living—”

  “Mass produce plastic vampire teeth that pollute landfills,” he interjected.

  “But I know,” she overrode him, “that you’re sophisticated enough to realize that money won’t ultimately make you happy.”

  “No, it’s true. It will ultimately destroy me. But in the meantime, it’s absolutely worth the cost of my soul because I’ve been waiting all day to imagine you wearing that million dollar diamond choker necklace—and nothing else.”

  And that was how he always did it. As if it was the most natural transition in the
world, he transformed their soulful late-night confessions into a primal game of seduction. And it was exactly the reason why she was always lured in by him.

  “You know, I have my own confession to make…” she paused, listening to the rise and fall of his breath. “I’m not exactly naked.”

  “That sounds both unfortunate and intriguing.”

  “Well…I decided since it was our first time talking on the phone, it might be a good idea to wear something special for the occasion.”

  She let the innuendo hang in the air. It made her feel sexy and powerful, and the certainty that he would follow her lead excited her. He may have been the one who initiated the game, but she was the one who was in charge of how they would play it.

  “Something special that needs to be removed? Or something that needs to be kissed?”

  She smiled. She loved the way he escalated their foreplay.

  “That depends on your preference.” Relaxing onto the edge of her bed, she crossed her long legs, accentuating her black garter stocking. “I’m looking at myself right now in the French heirloom full-length mirror, and the arcs of my breasts are the only things exposed in this black leather bustier.”

  Almost as if he was there, next to her in the bed, he exhaled through the phone into her ear—an unconscious release. Not only had she raised the stakes, but she had granted him permission to raise them as well.

  “If I were there, you know I wouldn’t settle for just the arcs.”

  “I’m not certain there’s anything you could do about it. It’s cinched up with satin cords that have to be cut off.”

  “If I were there, I’d much prefer to cinch it tighter and tighter until you beg me to pull down the cups and nip your tits between my teeth to relieve the ache.”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, indulging in the constricting sensation of the bustier around her torso and the arousing fantasy of being bound and pleasured by him.

  “And what would you do to relieve the ache between my legs?”

  She waited and listened, desperate to hear the strength and conviction behind his threats.

  “I’d suck you off, harder and harder, then spread you wide at the knees and force you to show me every glistening moment of yourself in heat in that full-length mirror.”

  “That’s assuming I’m fully exposed below my waist.”

  She savored his sudden silence. She knew he hadn’t expected that.

  “If you’re not, I intend to do something about that.” His husky restraint turned guttural and provocative.

  She lowered her voice, intending to draw him in, as if she were revealing a dirty secret. “I’m wearing a black leather thong with a chrome zipper crotch. You’ll have to be good with your hands.”

  “Who said anything about my hands?”

  A shot of adrenaline rushed up Alma’s legs and tingled her inner core. She never could anticipate what he would propose next, but she knew it would always be something naughtier than she would ever propose to him.

  “Are you looking at yourself in the mirror?” he asked, foreshadowing his intentions.

  She shifted her backside to the edge of the mattress and shifted her weight off of it.

  “Yes.”

  “Spread nice and wide…”

  She slowly spread her knees as wide as possible, yearning to please him.

  “Yes—” She sighed in submission.

  “Good. Because I’m kneeling before you now, running my hot breath up those luscious black stockings before stripping them down to your ankles and letting them dangle there like an invitation. Then I’m going to taste every inch of salt along your bare skin, creating one solid wet line, starting from the tip of your ankle bone, up your calf, and around to the back of your inner thigh before burying my nose in your scent.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined every action he had described to her.

  Releasing a quivering breath, she encouraged him for more. “Then?”

  “Then I’m going to lick that metallic chrome zip with my tongue before pulling it down with my teeth.”

  “And if I try to push you away?” she whispered.

  “I’ll brace your wrists and invade you like the whore I know you’re dying to be with me.”

  Dropping her head back, she lowered her hand over her own crotch, unable to contain the need to imagine what he might do next.

  “Do you want to hear me unzip it?”

  There was a long pause, as if she had surprised him that her lingerie wasn’t an elaborate lie.

  “Yes—” he sighed, releasing his own yearning to believe it was all real.

  She lowered the phone between her legs and buzzed down the zip, slowly exposing the most vulnerable part of herself to him.

  “Are you pleasuring yourself?”

  “Yes,” she confessed, breathy and unguarded. “Just for you.” She had already began fondling herself, unable to contain the fantasy that he was there, stroking her into ecstasy.

  “Good,” he answered, “Because I’m going to think about that image while I’m licking your clit and loving every drop of your sweetness.”

  She groaned as she pushed her fingers deeper inside herself. The thought of him between her legs, mouth hovering over her glistening slit, his hot tongue massaging her clit while she stimulated herself in front of him was more than she could bear.

  “I’m so wet for you,” she whispered into the phone, placing her full vulnerability into his care.

  “And you taste amazing,” he whispered back, heightening the taboo exchange between them. “Now, tell me…how deep can you go?”

  “As deeply as you want me to go…”

  “Trust me,” he said, slyly. “It’s not going to be deep enough.”

  She wondered what he meant until his next command explained everything.

  “Draw it out of your drawer for me.”

  Shifting her gaze from the mirror to the nightstand, she released a moan of surrender. She knew exactly what he meant. She had teased him about it during one of their many casual sexting exchanges. But the truth was…it had been something she had never experimented with until after her breakup with Harvey. He had been the only man who could ever make her come, and after their marriage fell apart and they separated, she was forced to use a vibrator to initiate her own orgasms. Its existence had been such a shameful secret until her sexting affair with him had turned it into an empowering extension of her naughty persona. How many of her secrets had she confessed to him? She couldn’t remember all of them. She only knew that it seemed impossible to hide anything anymore, including her desperate yearning to obey him.

  “Do you have it in your hand?” he finally asked when the creaking hinges of the opening drawer betrayed her.

  “Yes,” she responded with a nod, slipping it out of its black satin pouch and trying to remember the last time she used it. Far too long.

  “Good girl,” he replied, pausing to savor the image. “Now, turn it on its lowest setting and let me hear you wet its tip with your tongue.”

  God, how he had mastered her. In less than five minutes, he had turned the tables and turned her own wicked attempt to tease him back on her. She obeyed his command and flicked on her vibrator, immediately feeling its titillating pulsations in the palm of her hand.

  Hearing its low hum through her receiver, he whispered, “Lick it, then drop it down against your clit where I’m waiting for it.”

  She released an unfettered sigh and fell back against the mattress, spreading her legs and imagining him in her bedroom with her, kneeling before her, taking over in every way. The vibrations coursed through her pelvis as the fantasy of his presence heightened her arousal beyond her control. With her breathing accelerating, she fought to soften every pant, but there was no hiding her increasing desire to stimulate herself deeper and deeper.

  “I want you to tell me how much you’d love to feel my cock inside you,” he coaxed her.

  “God, I’d love to feel…” but she could barely find the
breath to finish the sentence.

  “Push it deeper and switch it on stronger,” he instructed her in that dangerous tone that she had come to love. “And tell me how much you wish it was my hard dick, sliding back and forth against your slickness.”

  Yessss…she wanted him to know that he was bringing her to the brink. But would she be able to allow herself to fully let go?

  “Don’t stop until…” Her voice faded away as she gave into her need to penetrate herself deeper and deeper, certain the swelling ache of repressed arousal would break her in half.

  “Until I make you come,” he stated, as if it had been his plan all along. “No, don’t worry, my naughty Contessa…I’m not going to stop thrusting my cock into you until I hear you scream for mercy and beg for me to flip you over and force my way into you from behind. Can you take it?”

  “I can’t—” she answered, but her scant breath and the accelerating rhythm of her hand signaled that she was lying to him—and to herself.

  “I think you can and you will. You’re going to roll yourself over onto your belly and raise your ass in the air and imagine all the forbidden ways I plan to dominate you.”

  “How?” she asked, hearing her own voice quiver, already knowing the answer as she moved onto her hands and knees.

  “I’m going to wrap my hands around those pretty smooth cheeks of yours and slide the wet head of my cock against your pretty pink pussy.”

  She sighed, breathy and inviting, while guiding the vibrator exactly where she knew he was describing. A shuddering ripple of pleasure undulated throughout her entire core. Involuntarily, she cried out.

  “Good girl,” he assuaged her. “Now, imagine that’s how it’s going to feel when I press my chest against your back and rock my entire cock into you.”

  Alma sighed and imagined it. God, how she imagined it. Bracing her weight onto her knees and lowering her head against the mattress, she allowed all the blood to rush into her cheeks with a tingling haze. Then, yielding to his order, she watched herself in the mirror as she shifted the vibrator behind her, penetrating her most tender spot. The change in position sent a shocking thrill of stimulation through her entire body. This time, she opened her mouth to scream, seeking to release the building pressure inside her, but nothing came out except a guttural groan for more.