Wicked Billionaire

by Sawyer Bennett

  Taking a sip of my bourbon, I relish the burn as it slithers down my throat and into my belly. In an attempt to act unaffected, I keep my question benign. “Are there people here who like vanilla sex? I mean… this is a sex club. Isn’t it all taboo stuff?”

  “On the contrary, there are plenty of members who like plain old missionary, but they love having sex in front of others. That’s their kink—having people watch.”

  Makes sense.

  And it makes me blush deeper… because that has always been a fantasy of mine. I tried to get Caleb into semi-public sex before—like going at it in the living room at night with the blinds open. Once, I attempted to get him to fuck me on a park bench on an evening stroll. He’d declined. Now, I don’t know if it was because he’s not into public kink or because he was pining for another man.

  “One thing to keep in mind tonight,” Declan says, his tone once again clipped and remote. Back in professional mode. “I don’t intend to have themed rooms. It will be one large facility.”

  I nod because this is still beyond me, so I don’t have anything smart or helpful to add.

  “Would you like to walk around to see how things are set up here?” he asks, but it’s not a request. He’s telling me that he’s ready to show me a whole new world, and it hits me like a wall of cold water… a gasping revelation.

  I don’t need to be here.

  There is absolutely no reason he needs me involved at this level.

  Declan Blackwood has me here for some other purpose than to get up to speed on what happens in a sex club so I can help him plan his new resort. But I don’t know what that purpose is.

  It could be that he wants to fuck me. While I have noted moments where I think he’s checking me out in a sexual way, he’s never once acted on it. He hasn’t overtly flirted or made a move.

  I’m at a crossroads. Deep in my gut, I know if I continue on a journey through this club—witness things beyond my imagining—I am putting myself at risk. I understand how attraction and desire are built, and there’s no doubt I’ll be affected by what I see. It’s a given Declan will be as he’s a man. I’m sorry, but stereotyping or not, they just react more viscerally than women do.

  It’s going to open a door before us. If we step through it, there’s a risk we’re going to end up crossing a line.

  I take another sip of my bourbon, a bigger one this time. Letting the fire burn, I consider the paths before me. The safest one would be to decline to participate. Offer my apologies, say I changed my mind, that I can’t be a part of this type of planning, and hope he doesn’t fire me.

  Or I can choose to assuage my curiosity, attempt to maintain a professional distance, and hope to God neither of us acts on anything.

  Later in life, there will be a time where I’ll reflect back on my youth. I’ll chuckle over my mistakes or maybe even reprimand myself over my choices. Without a doubt, there will come a day when I’ll look back on this moment and wonder what happened to the responsible and cautious woman who usually walked the straight and narrow. But that day won’t be today.

  Inclining my head, I say, “I’m ready.”

  A shiver races up my spine when his eyes darken. He tips his bourbon back, downing it in one swallow, then sets his glass on the bar. I choose to hold on to my drink as he leads me to a set of double doors that will lead me, no doubt, into temptation.

  We enter a small semi-circular foyer paneled in dark wood with Italian marble flooring, which branches out into several hallways. Declan’s hand goes to my elbow again, and his touch is simultaneously irritating and comforting. It’s a relief not to be alone as I plunge into the unknown, but his touch is like rough fabric rubbed against over-sensitized nipples… frustratingly painful, yet still pleasing, until it’s a confusing irritation.

  “There are five main areas where people congregate to have sex.” His voice rumbles with his intimate knowledge. “There’s an outdoor deck, a waterfall room, an orgy room, The Silo—which has glass viewing rooms within it—and finally, a private club within the club called The Apartment, which is basically the original area the owner used to live in.”

  “And where are we starting?” I inquire, cursing the breathless way my question comes out.

  “The Orgy Room,” he murmurs, shifting me toward the closest hallway. “It’s what a sex club is all about.”

  He opens the door, ushering me into a room that’s so dimly lit I can’t make out much until my eyes adjust. There are no adequate words to describe what I see once they do. I’m bombarded from every direction, immediately thrown into sensation overload.

  The Orgy Room’s illuminated from below by muted panels set into steel supports running diagonally across the sizable, square room. Interspersed among areas furnished with piles of huge, silk-covered pillows are multiple overstuffed beds, lounges, and chaises. Hanging low from the ceiling, silk lampshades in varied shapes—spheres, cones, and squares—and hues of blue tint the subtle lighting.

  But the decor isn’t what grabs my attention.

  Even before my eyes adjusted, the sounds hit my ears. My legs instantly go weak, fingertips buzzing. Moans, grunts, groans, bellows of pleasure, and the slapping of flesh on flesh. It’s the noise of sex—of dozens of people fucking and writhing and climaxing, and it encompasses me before my brain even manages to untangle the mounds into the shapes of people and body parts.

  And then I take it all in, unhurriedly scanning from end to end while Declan patiently waits, hand still cupping my elbow. I have no idea how long—seconds, minutes, a lifetime—passes without a word spoken as I devour my first live-action porn of epic proportions.

  The group closest to me occupies a chaise as wide as a queen bed. One, two, three, four… no, five people in a writhing mass of entwined arms and legs. It takes a moment to work out what I’m seeing. Once I do, the heat suffusing my face could rival a five-alarm fire, but my embarrassment isn’t enough to make me look away from the absolute debauchery.

  While on her back, a woman splays her legs wider than what seems humanly possible while two men fuck her at the same time. As in both have their cocks inside her, side by side, and I’m not sure I even knew that was possible. By her head, another man kneels on the edge of the chaise. He thrusts his shaft into her willing mouth while she clutches his hips hard, hungrily gobbling down every inch he feeds her.

  But what shocks my sexual sensibilities the most is group member number five.

  It’s a man… He stands behind the one currently shoving his dick into the woman’s mouth. His feet are firmly planted on the floor. But he has his hands full of the other man’s ass… while he slowly fucks in and out of it, his motions perfectly matching the rhythm of the blow job.

  Until this moment, I’ve never seen two men together outside of porn.

  I mean, I’ve imagined it a million times. I’ve seen porn. When I found out Caleb was bisexual and was leaving me for a man, I bitterly wondered if he prefers to top or bottom. But I’ve never thought it would be so beautifully masculine to watch a man plow another man’s ass from behind… while the one getting fucked is also getting a blow job.

  It’s just… surreal.

  As I continue to take in the other spectacles around the room, it quickly becomes apparent that I’m incredibly turned on. Steady throbs pulse between my thighs, my panties already damp.

  Greedily, I rove my gaze over the tangles of bodies—from singular couples to groups of three, four, five. Each person seems sheathed in the passionate throes of pleasure and brazen decadence. Ashamedly, I want a taste of it.

  A pit forming in my stomach, I twist toward Declan, thinking he’ll be watching the action, too. But he’s not… he’s studying me with a laser-like intensity I feel all the way to my toes.

  His eyes are banked with flame and promise. Filled with lust and indecision.

  “I knew this would end up being a bad idea,” he murmurs. He speaks so softly I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.

  I knew it, too, bu
t I don’t validate him. I can’t. My throat is too dry, and my pussy is too wet.

  “Not once,” he grits out with underlying anger laced within his words. “Not once have I ever crossed a line with an employee.”

  “M-m-m-aybe should we leave?” I stammer, the vibe of fury I’m getting both intimidating and strangely exciting me.

  Declan bends in toward me. “It’s either that, Miss Robbins,” he says in clear warning. “Or I bend you over the nearest lounge chair and fuck you hard.”

  That should send me scurrying away in fear. While he’s clearly attracted to me, he’s pissed about it. Furious we’re in this situation, but seriously… he knew what this was all about, and I didn’t. He knew exactly what we’d see here, and he damn well knew he’d most likely have a reaction. He had to have known I would, too.

  “This is your fault,” I accuse, pointing a shaky finger. “You had to have known this was a bad idea from the start.”

  Declan tips his head, moving in so close I swear I can feel his heartbeat. “What I knew is I’d be turned on in here. I always am. What I didn’t anticipate was you having such a strong reaction, nor how much I liked that reaction.”

  My chin jerks inward. “Strong reaction?”

  “Every inch of you is primed, Miss Robbins,” he replies blandly. “I can see it in your eyes, your posture. I can tell by the rise and fall of your chest.”

  “You can’t possibly—”

  “If I slip my fingers in between your legs right now, you’ll be sopping wet,” he challenges. “I bet I could get you to orgasm in seconds. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “But you’d be crossing a line,” I murmur, my last-ditch attempt to dissuade him. To see reason and lead both of us out of temptation. “You don’t ever do that.”

  “That’s true,” he replies, his voice rough with ire obviously pointed solely at himself. “But I think I’d be willing to make an exception just once.”

  “Just once?” I ask.

  “Scratch an itch for me,” he replies with a shrug. “Market research for you.”

  Crap. He’s totally trying to justify this so we can both get our rocks off. And I’m seriously considering it.

  Just once.

  “Make the choice, Miss Robbins,” he clips out, and I jump at the command within it. “Leave… or walk to that empty chaise.”

  He says the latter while pointing at a low, plush divan not ten feet from us.

  Once more, I glance around the room, and I realize… I want in on the magic that seems to permeate the air. I want to feel Declan Blackwood within me while the entire room watches because I know… way down deep in my girly parts… it will be the most pleasurable experience of my life.

  Decision made, I turn away from Declan and walk to the chaise, a thrill running through me knowing he’s going to follow.

  CHAPTER 9

  Declan

  Fucking hell.

  She didn’t leave, so now I have to decide… am I really going to cross this line?

  My eyes narrow as Bailey walks with a graceful stride to the chaise I’d pointed out, coming to a stop beside it. She takes hold of her hair, then pulls it to the side to drape over one shoulder. It reveals the zipper at the back of her neck on the geometric block pattern dress I’d picked out that’s professional, for sure, but hugs her body in all the right ways. She’d probably kick me in the balls if she knew I’d picked out all her clothes knowing exactly how they’d fit her.

  She plucks at the zipper. My balls start to throb when she lowers it as far as she can manage without my help. Her arms fall to her sides. As she stares over her shoulder, it’s obvious she knows precisely what she’s offering to me.

  Fucking hell.

  There’s not even a moment where I consider not taking her. I knew exactly what could happen—would probably happen—by bringing her tonight. Not many can walk the halls of this sex club and not get swept away in the sexual temptation presented.

  I knew this would force me to cross the line with her, and while deep down, I know it’s wrong, I know I fucking want this too much to ever say no.

  I move toward her and as I get close, her gaze moves away from me and back out over the crowd. I’m glad because I don’t want her to get cold feet. I want her to watch the fornication and listen to the screams of release, so she continues to want the same things.

  I come up behind Bailey, put one hand to her hip and with the other, I take the zipper between thumb and forefinger. When I tug it, the creamy expanse of her back is revealed as I lower it.

  I’m pleased when I recognize the lace of one of the bras I’d chosen… a pure, virginal white that glows in the dim light against her tanned skin. I pause a moment, turn my hand, and graze my knuckle just above the strap. Bailey shivers, and it’s the first indication she’s overly sensitized. I can’t fucking imagine how she’ll react when I reach her clit.

  Dragging the zipper down as far as it goes, I consider giving her one more chance to change her mind, but I decide against it. She might come to her senses, and that’s unacceptable to me at this point. I won’t accept anything less now than being balls deep inside her tight cunt.

  “Arms up, Miss Robbins,” I order.

  There’s no hesitation as she holds them up. Grasping the fabric at her hips, I lift the dress up her body, finally pulling it over her head. When I drop it unceremoniously on the curved back of the chaise, she lets out a sensual sigh.

  I lean back just a bit so I can take in her backside, the matching white lace thong nestled through the crack of her ass hugging dark depths I wouldn’t mind playing with tonight. I wonder if she’d be up for it.

  I take a step in, bring the front of my body to her backside, and press my palms to her flat stomach. Her ass settles against me, and the hard length of my cock nestles against her lower back. Sliding one hand down, I slip my fingertips into the waistband of the lace below her navel.

  Bailey moans as they glide through her curls, find the slit of her pussy, and rub through the slick wetness I find there. Bringing my other hand up, I wrap it around the front of her throat, forcing her to tip her head sideways, baring her neck.

  I graze my teeth there a moment before putting my lips near her ear to whisper, “I knew you’d be drenched.”

  Her response is a swivel of her hips, a low growl of need in her throat. When I use the tip of my finger to gently flutter her clit, she jerks in my arms.

  So fucking responsive.

  I could easily get her off, which sounds appealing. There’s nothing sexier or more of a turn-on than making a woman orgasm, but a dark part of me wants to torture her a bit.

  I remove my hand from between her legs, applying pressure to her throat to spin her to face me. First, I want to test her mouth.

  Her eyes flare, but that’s all I note before I claim her lips. She gasps when I slant my mouth over hers, invading with my tongue. A hum of approval vibrates from her as she delves her hands into my hair, hungrily returning my kiss.

  I wring every bit of pleasure from our tongues mating, our teeth clashing. Hauling her against me, I clutch her ass. Bailey grinds against me, making needy noises.

  Part of me wants to let her climb my body and have her way with me, but the other part wants her to submit to me. It’s that part—that craves control—that speaks the loudest, so I bring my hands to her shoulders to push her back slightly.

  She blinks, lips wet and swollen, eyes filled with question.

  I smile at her as I remove my suit jacket. I’d gone without a tie tonight, which in hindsight is a shame as I could have tied her hands behind her back.

  Next time.

  No, no, no. There won’t be a next time. We agreed… one time only.

  With swift deliberation, not leaving her any time to question my actions or ask what I’m doing, I undo the buttons of my shirt and whip it from my body. It lands over my suit jacket, which is on top of her dress.

  I undo my belt enough to get my pants undone. Bailey’s eyes wide
n when I push them past my hips to free my cock. Gaze traveling down, she—fuck—bites into her lower lip, appreciatively appraising my length and girth.

  “On your knees, Miss Robbins,” I command.

  She jerks her head up. Briefly studying my face, she sucks in a shaky breath, then drops to her knees without hesitation, landing right in front of me on the plush carpeting.

  Christ, she’s beautiful in her submission, eagerly waiting to take me in her mouth.

  I give her jaw a slight squeeze until she parts those sexy lips. Sliding my hand to the back of her head, I urge her forward until my cock touches her mouth.

  Fuck me.

  Deep and sure, she sucks me in, her mouth hot and slick. I suppress a groan, tightening my fingers in her hair, and take control of her movements. Her eyelids flutter as she bobs. I lengthen my strokes until she’s taking me into the back of her throat each time, and it feels so good my ears start to ring.

  So good it wouldn’t take much for me to blow my load.

  A waitress loiters nearby, but she’s not the type who serves drinks. Nearly naked herself in only a thong with her breasts covered by the shoulder straps meant to help balance her tray, she has offerings of the more carnal kind, as evidenced by the bevy of condoms, lubes, small glass anal plugs, and mini vibrators. I jerk my head so she comes my way.

  Using my hand to exert pressure, I force Bailey to stop sucking. When her eyes fly open, she’s clearly startled to see the waitress beside us.

  She tries to pull away, but I hold her firmly and give her a stern look. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

  Eyes flaring in what is probably defiance, she still does as ordered, not moving. And Christ, she’s lovely with her mouth stuffed full of my cock. Stroking the edge of her jaw, I murmur, “Good girl.”

  Attention returning to the tray, I consider the displayed offerings. So many options to play with, but, frankly, I want to fuck Bailey more than I want to play games. I don’t need anything more than her tight pussy wrapped around me.

  After I snag a condom, I mutter my appreciation to the waitress. In seconds, she disappears into the shadows.