Exes (Billionaire Romance #3)

by Aria Hawthorne

  Clutching her calling card in her hand, she strode toward the elevator. She had already received an invitation for a slow dance from the most enigmatic man in the room. Now, she just had to prepare herself for the consequences of accepting it.

  * * * *

  Alma gazed at herself in the polished brass walls of the elevator doors.

  Was she ready for this?

  She wasn’t sure. But her reflection whispered back that she was dressed as though she had hoped for it all along—free flowing hair, suggestive sheer blouse, tight leather skirt, garter stockings, and stilettos that she endured, even though she hated every minute wearing them.

  It had all been for him. She had spent the whole day trying on different combinations of dresses and shoes before finally settling on the one that would best reveal her ruby and diamond anklet. Wearing a braless low-cut blouse and a leather skirt insinuated that she was the same seductive woman he’d come to know through the phone, but calling out his gift and complementing it with garter stockings and her only pair of high heels signaled she was prepared to pursue something more. He’d promised her more, and she intended to give him the chance to make good on his promise.

  Maybe running into Harvey had spurred her into action over indecision. Yes, it was true that he was more used to seeing her in bunny slippers and flannel pajamas than dressed up like a high-class hooker. And it was also true that she had played the role of his dutiful wife, rarely who rarely stepping out of her comfort zone; she didn’t need the reminder. But over the past few weeks, her life had changed. She had changed. Without anyone realizing it, she had cultivated a bad girl persona through a sexting affair that enabled her to escape the entrapments of her daily life. If she were truly honest with herself, she would admit she had only one expectation for tonight—the expectation of her ultimate liberation.

  Confident in her decision to meet him in the private suite, she reached out to press the call button for the seventy-seventh floor until she realized it didn’t exist. Flustered, she checked again, scanning the numbers to ensure she simply hadn’t missed it. She hadn’t. The call buttons ended on seventy-six.

  She was flooded with doubts until she remembered what she was clutching in her hand—the keycard.

  Glancing above all the call buttons, she spotted the keycard slot and exhaled a prayer. Inserting the card into the slot, the elevator cab hummed to a start and slowly ascended.

  It was the longest elevator ride of her life. Counting every floor in numerical sequence until she arrived to number seventy-six, she held her breath, waiting and watching as the cab continued beyond its mysterious, unmarked destination for what seemed like an eternity before finally floating to a silent stop. Trapped like a bird in a golden cage, suspended at the top of the world, she thought, before the doors rolled open and released her into a candlelit garden paradise.

  Garden of Eden—at midnight. It was the only thought that fluttered through her mind as she exited the elevator, lured into the decadence by the serpentine pathway pebbled with polished jade stones and the sound of percolating water from unseen fountains. Golden oil lanterns flickered against the Mediterranean tiled walls while delicate glowing orbs hung from miniature lemon trees. Guided by crystal lights illuminating her way, she wound through the maze of flowering shrubs and ornate trellises ensnared in moonflower vines until everything opened into an airy glass atrium, its domed ceiling revealing the starry night beyond it. And beneath the atrium, brilliant beams of moonlight streamed down upon the opulent octagonal sauna, a white marble sanctuary accented by Arabian archways and pillars inlaid with enameled mosaic tile. She halted in front of the oval-shaped bathing pool encircled by golden tealights and decorated with floating pink lotus flowers—one of her favorites.

  Had she told him?

  She couldn’t remember, and it didn’t seem to matter the moment his voice echoed against the hard surface of the marble.

  “You’re one ballsy woman—meeting a stranger in a strange place.”

  Addressing her from the white marble throne on the opposite side of the room, she immediately noted how his face was conveniently ensconced in shadows, except for the profile of his chiseled chin and the hint of his strong shaven jawline. But the rest of his body—and its masculine, athletic physique—was hard to ignore. Clad in a black silk shirt and matching pajama pants, he sat casually to one side with his leg propped on his opposite knee, holding his tumbler like a man used to getting his way—both physically and professionally. Later, when she would attempt to recount every detail that had made her trust him, she curiously remembered his feet—bare and perfectly manicured.

  “Ballsy,” she repeated, detecting a hint of mockery in his tone. “I usually consider that a good thing. And normally, so do you.”

  “Yes, I definitely do,” he agreed, swirling the ice cubes in his tumbler before lifting it into the shadows for a sip. “Which is why I’m trying to determine whether or not I should reward you or punish you.”

  It was the only time she thought of Harvey. The playfulness in his voice, the luring tease of his threat. She had just seen him, flirted with him, and even reconsidered all the reasons why she had separated from him. And he was also the last man she had slept with—over a year ago. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge her burning desire to change that fact. Her ex-husband had already moved on from her. And now, Alma was equally determined to do the same.

  “Neither,” she sassed back. “Because we’re not really strangers, are we?” Placing her hand on her hip, she pitched her leg forward through the high-slit of her skirt, accentuating the sparkle of her anklet and every dirty text that had come before it. “If we were, I’m not certain you would have invited me here. And I’m not certain I would have accepted.”

  Strangely, he fell silent, as if he was searching for the hidden meaning within her tease.

  “No, definitely not,” he finally said, like the answer to a riddle. “So I guess it’s a good thing for me that a stranger as bewitching as you is also the only woman that I want to make climax.”

  And as simple as that, he turned the tables on her, challenging her own ballsiness. She attempted to formulate a witty comeback, but it was useless. She was there for one thing—and they both knew it. He had named her deepest darkest desire, and in doing so, he asserted who would dominate who—and how.

  Setting his drink aside, he exhaled and loosened the knot along the waist band of his pajama pants.

  “Take your clothes off, pussycat. It’s time for your bath.”

  Without warning, the hanging Moroccan lanterns dimmed above him, allowing his figure to fall completely into darkness.

  “Start with your blouse,” he said evenly.

  The red glass torchlights along the walls intensified their illumination. Like the devil’s lair, she thought, as she slowly put her fingers on the first button, knowing she was braless and vulnerable to his voyeurism once she removed it.

  When it slipped away from her body and onto the white marble floor, she only heard the faint sound of his arousal, mirroring her own. Even in total darkness, she recognized it, the whisper of his desire and the betrayal of his weakness in her presence—his inability to contain his need to pleasure himself.

  “Now your skirt and stockings.”

  His tone turned uneven and husky; she heard his uneven breathing between every stroke.

  Following his command, she buzzed the zipper down the curve of her hip until the heavy leather dropped down past her ankles, revealing her black leather G-string through her sheer garter stockings.

  “Don’t – rush,” he warned her.

  Rotating a quarter turn, she slid her fingers down the side of her leg, bending forward to unfasten the clasp on her heels. It was all for show. She could have easily slipped out of them without granting him a full view of her backside, perfectly cut in half by her taut black leather G-string. But it was one of her best features and she was empowered to use it. He had confessed many times during
their sexcapades about all the ways he had fantasized about her ass—dirty, naughty, taboo ways that she flagrantly dared him to make good on now. It was her only source of power—seducing him beyond the brink of self-control—and the vixen inside her was determined to challenge his domination until he could endure no more.

  After stepping out of each heel, she slowly prepared to peel off her stockings.

  She searched out his face, obscured within the darkness, but sensed his hungry gaze rolling over every inch of her body.

  “Slower,” he whispered, directing the pace of how she slid the waistband down over her public bone and her G-string.

  A tingling pang seized her sex. Damp and in heat, exactly how he liked her, she thought, desperate for his touch.

  Flinging her stockings away from her, she confidently adjusted her stance, knowing she held his unseen gaze. Her final rebellion. Like a sultan indulging in his favorite harem girl, he had turned her into his possession. But ultimately, she knew she had the power to test his endurance, simply by standing before him in nothing but the G-string, awaiting the moment he would cave and request her to strip bare, exposing herself completely to him.

  “Bath time—” he said with unexpected resolve. His hand relaxed within the shadows, and he cleared his throat as if he was attempting to regain control over his shallow breath.

  Her gaze scanned across the oval-shaped hot tub, bubbling and glistening like gold before her.

  “There’s another gift for you in the oyster. I want you to put them on.”

  Alma glanced over to the edge of the tub where the iridescent shell of a splayed oyster shimmered beneath the dimmest glints of light.

  Kneeling beside the edge of the bath, she lifted the pair of chandelier earrings from the shell. They flashed fire and ice, their ruby and diamond stones matching the sparkling beauty of her anklet. But as she lifted one to her ear lobe, preparing to slip it on, she quickly realized it lacked a traditional earring post.

  “Lower,” he said with seductive command.

  Alma peered down at them again, inspecting their contracting clasp. Nipple rings.

  “I want you to adorn those beautiful tits.” His intimidating voice lowered as he drew closer behind her. Squinting into the shadows, she spotted his silhouette rounding the perimeter of the room, stalking her with silent footsteps.

  “Do you trust me?” Low and steady, his voice was directly behind her now.

  She didn’t answer immediately. Her mind was in a whirl.

  “If not, Contessa…we will stop now.” His dangerous voice encroached upon her; she shivered from the surprise and anticipation. Sweeping her long hair to one side, he traced his fingertip over the tender curve of her neckline. “We can stop whenever you wish.”

  Closing her eyes, she absorbed the fear and excitement of being touched by him for the very first time.

  Did she trust him? She wanted to—more than ever. But should she trust him? Any sane woman would have said she was irresponsible for allowing herself to come this far. But she was no longer a sane woman; she was a submissive in the presence of her master. And now, the only thing she trusted was the throbbing ache between her legs and the way she grew wetter and wetter with every teasing stroke of his finger along the band of her G-string.

  “Yes, I trust you,” she finally whispered.

  “Good girl,” he said in his familiar way, dissolving her inhibitions.

  Without warning, everything went black before she realized what was happening—a blindfold.

  “Trust,” he repeated into her ear.

  As the heat from his breath calmed her anxious heart, she shut her eyes beneath the blindfold and gave in to his game. For a brief moment, she expected him to bind her hands and whisk her away to his sex cave. Whips, handcuffs, deviant sex toys…nothing seemed unthinkable now. Instead, the unexpected intimacy of his bare chest against her back made her gasp until the erotic touch of his masculine hands, enveloping her breasts, massaged her into submission.

  Trust, she repeated in her mind as he pressed her body against his hard, firm pecs, seeking full control with his embrace. Yes, yes, yes…trust.

  Whatever fears or doubts she had about tonight—the anonymity, the secrecy, the blindfold—all melted into arousal with every intimate caress. Phone sex and sexting seemed like juvenile games compared with the raw sensuality of being pleasured by him now.

  “Such a good girl,” he whispered as the jangle of the chandelier ring crossed beneath her chin.

  Her nipples grew hard in anticipation. Would she cry out the moment he placed it over her tits? She grit her teeth and braced herself for the initial nip. But it never came. Instead, she heaved an exhale of satisfaction when the sensation of his mouth suckling her entire areola overwhelmed every sense. His hot tongue flicked her left nipple, prepping it to be erect and ready. When he finally fastened the first ringlet around it, she forced out a breathy moan as the cold, stark clasp tightened with an erotic squeeze.

  “Shhhh,” he soothed her, securing the second ringlet in place, balancing out the pricking tension between them. “Now, you look like a queen.”

  She sighed, yielding to his domination, relishing how the nipple jewelry made her feel cherished like an idol. The alternating waves of pressure and pleasure on her tits spiraled down her inner core, sparking a slow burn of yearning at the base of her slit. He knew exactly what she needed…all too well. He was making her slick and needy, priming her with his foreplay, until she surrendered every part of herself to him, craving even more.

  Reading her cue, he snaked his fingers down the supple curve of her ass, fingering the leather band of her G-string. Would he slip beneath it?

  She dared not move or breathe.

  Nudging his lips against her cheek, he directed her in a low, foreboding tone. “Down on your knees.”

  Her heartbeat raced as she obeyed him, listening to his footsteps circle around her.

  “Tell me how much you love being my naughty vixen.”

  “I love it,” she whispered, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Convince me,” he insisted, sweeping up the locks of her hair into his firm grip and running the wet tip of his dick between her breasts.

  “I love being naughty with you in every way,” she confessed, leading him up to her lips, wanting nothing more than to taste his own masculinity. But he only allowed her a single lick of his sheathed cock, a brief sampling, just to conjure an image of its full length and strength.

  “Yes,” he exhaled, suppressing his own desire to allow her to fully take him into her mouth. “That’s good. Because you’re going to prove it.”

  Dropping onto his own knees behind her, he grasped her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to widen her stance. His warm pelvis cushioned her ass while his hard cock pressed against the small of her back, slowly lowering itself along her crease, nestling its head against her rosebud. When he was certain he had secured her submission, his fingers slipped down the front of her G-string and fondled her swollen clit, as if he was testing how much she enjoyed the taste of cock. But it wasn’t until she felt the titillating sting over her clit—initiating her raw, guttural moan—that she realized what he had done.

  His confession confirmed it. “A bejeweled clit clip for my naughty vixen,” he whispered, as the hard gemstones of the ringlet pricked against the sensitive folds of her labia, intensifying the gratification of his thumb strumming over it. “Now my queen, let’s see how pretty you are.”

  Guiding her forward onto her hands and knees, he withdrew her G-string down past her thighs, fully exposing her slit to his domination. She knew she was glistening and slackened, desperate for his touch. But would it please him?

  The moment the tip of his lush tongue made contact with the clit ringlet, she quivered and heaved her release. She was losing all control and she no longer cared about the consequences. She only wanted to open herself wider and wider, submitting to the teasing pressure of his tongue licking her labia before f
inally slipping beyond it.

  Bearing down, she shifted deeper into his penetrating strokes, unleashing a ripple of undulating waves deep within her core. Yes, yes, yes…she chanted in her mind, pleading for him not to stop. With every flick of his thumb, her clit ached against the constriction of the ringlet, building up a series of frenzied contractions as the rhythmic pace of his tongue accelerated against her most sensitive spot. Before she could control herself, she released an undignified climactic cry.

  Could she come for him now? Without anything more than this?

  “There you are,” he reassured her, fully exploring her sex while she panted for relief. “Now, just a little something extra to make you mine.” Withdrawing his tongue, he slipped completely behind her.

  What more could she endure? How far would he go to bring her beyond the brink? Slowly, seductively, he massaged the curve of her backside, savoring the smooth contour of her cheeks. She fully expected to feel the forbidden lick of his tongue, sending her over the brink. It had been so long since she had been seduced without boundaries or limitations, and she wanted nothing more than to entrust her secret lock to his masterful key. But it wasn’t an illicit act of his tongue that ultimately made her shudder and groan. It was the unexpected invasion of warm oil seeping into every erogenous crevice of body.

  Flowing, slippery, and intrusive in every way.

  Its scent—a disarming blend of honey and spice—overwhelmed her as she bowed her head against her hands, overwhelmed by the arousal of his next forbidden act.

  God, oh God…

  When he flicked on its lowest setting and delivered its first crescendoing vibrations directly against her, she melted into the reverberations of sexual fulfillment.

  “You made me imagine how you looked, using one last night,” he said. “Now, I want to see it for myself.”

  Oh, God…yes, yes, yes…