Forbidden Love (Venture Capitalist Book 1)

by Ainsley St Claire

  We both sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.

  ***

  Sara and I enjoy the zoo while the guys head to the Ford Museum. I haven’t spent much time in Michigan before, and I’m surprised by its beauty. It’s green and lush, so unlike where I grew up. Denver is high desert, so other than pine and aspen trees, it’s dry and brown, though with its own beauty of the purple mountains, the high plains, and the blue sky.

  We meet back at the hotel after lunch, then head to the church together for the funeral service. Several friends of Dillon’s dad get up and say beautiful things. Siobhan shares several stories and struggles with a prayer, her husband leaving his seat and putting his arm around her to support her and help her finish. Together they choke out words of wonderful memories and their loss.

  When Dillon stands up, he shares stories of his childhood and how his father taught him so many lessons in life. There isn’t a dry eye in the house.

  Following the service, we all head to Dillon’s family home. There are probably fifty people who’ve joined us, and with the help of my team in San Francisco, I had arranged for a catered dinner for everyone before we left for Detroit.

  Dillon is stoic, staying strong for his mom and sister.

  I’m looking at the decades of pictures hanging on the walls when a woman comes up and introduces herself. “Hi. I’m Celeste.”

  Celeste is a curvy platinum bottle-blonde with a lot of shiny makeup. She has the figure of a nineteen-fifties model in a tight black dress, complete with red talon nails that are ready to scratch your eyes out. “Nice to meet you. My name is Emerson.” I know exactly who she is, remembering the shower story from the previous night, but not wanting to give anything away and trying to be polite, I ask, “How do you know the Healy family?”

  With high confidence, she tells me, “I’m Dillon’s girlfriend. We’ve been dating since high school.”

  I’m floored by this. Dillon has never mentioned her at all. “Wow. Did you go to Stanford, too?”

  “No. I went to school here, and we have a long-distance relationship. I can’t leave my mom.” She pauses and looks at me carefully before asking, “How serious are you and Dillon?”

  I’m quick to assure her, “We’re business partners. We aren’t dating.”

  Like a spider trying to lure a bug into her web, she tells me, “He likes you, you know.”

  I won’t fall for her fake charm. “I like him. He’s a good business partner and friend.”

  “Dillon’s in California to make money so we can have a big family when he returns to Michigan.” She puts a hand on her hip with a cat-who-got-the-canary smile.

  I can’t think of anything to say, so I squeak out, “Good for you.”

  She nods at me and walks away.

  Sara sidles up to me after Celeste walks away and asks, “Who's that?”

  Watching her retreat to the other side of the room with a lot of sway in her hips as she walks, I explain, “Dillon's high school girlfriend warning me to back off.”

  “What?” Sara asks incredulously.

  “Yep. Celeste is marking her territory.” I take a big swig of my Irish whiskey.

  “What are you going to do about her?”

  Trying hard not to show that my feelings are hurt, I share, “Nothing. If Dillon wants to explore a relationship with Celeste, I can’t stop him. We’re not together. We’re just close friends, nothing more.”

  I’m in bed reading when my hotel room door opens and Dillon walks in. “I know I didn’t call or anything, but I hope you don’t mind.”

  I’ve been upset about Celeste all evening. I know her idea of what’s going on with Dillon is probably not realistic, but I’m still mad. I need to protect myself. Trying not to sound too snotty, I say, “No, I don’t mind, but how does Celeste feel about it?”

  He stops in his tracks and seems completely surprised by my question. “Celeste?”

  I’m letting my anger with her spill over, which is uncool, but I can’t stop myself. “She pretty much told me to back off at the funeral today.”

  Dillon looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Back off from what?”

  “You. Celeste shared your history and implied you were picking up where you left off when you make your millions and move home. I’m to get out of the way.”

  Laughing, he removes his jacket and shoes. “She hasn’t been my girlfriend since high school. Ignore her. That’s what I do.” He moves toward me and holds me tight. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you here today. Thank you.”

  Pulling the covers back from me, he sees I’m wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a Stanford golf T-shirt. He climbs on top of me. His kisses are needy, and I respond by moaning into his mouth.

  I tug my shirt over my head, and he hands me a condom and presses kisses all over my firm breasts as my nipples harden to his touch. He pushes them together and licks at the nipples in tandem as he growls over and over.

  He rubs himself against me and I whimper in response. Lovemaking can come later; I need Dillon to take me hard and fast. Last night was the first in a long time that I’d been intimate, and I need him again.

  Pulling my boxers over my hips and throwing them over his shoulder, he smiles as if he’s found treasure. “Tell me if you need me to slow down or if I’m hurting you, Emerson.” He moves back as I drive against his hard cock pushing against my core.

  “Stop talking and start fucking me.” I groan as he drives forward, opening me up and working his way into where he belongs, deep inside me.

  “You’re so damn tight,” he grunts.

  I mewl and push back, taking more of him. He grips my hips and rocks against me, picking up speed as he grunts softly. Pleasure rolls through me in waves, my shallow breathing increasing as I enjoy the intense pressure of his thickness.

  He leans forward and kisses the side of my neck as his fingers slide between the wet folds of my sex. I arch my hips forward and jerk back in rhythm with his deep thrusts as he softly pinches my clit.

  “I want to feel you come,” he whispers against the damp skin of my neck, and as if he’s already gained mastery over my body, it responds to his desire. I let out a guttural cry and come hard, his words commanding and voice thick with passion as I lose myself in it.

  “Oh my God,” I groan and rock against him, never wanting the moment to end.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dillon

  The team left this morning. It was nice to have my friends here to support me. I need to find a way to thank them.

  Emerson and I made love before she headed out, and I already miss her. The smell of her perfect perfume. The look on her face when she reaches her pinnacle. And I love the look of desire she has when she sees my hard cock. It’ll be hard being here without her.

  I took care of the hotel room for Emerson, the least I could do for crashing in it. I extended the reservation so I could stay there. The team agreed to allow me to work from here for a few weeks since much of my job can be done remotely as long as I have a computer, internet connection, and my cell phone.

  I’m not sure my mom understands why I can’t stay with her, but she’s trying. She’s struggling, and I know she’s scared; my dad took care of so much.

  Siobhan and Steven are heading home to Texas after helping for the past two weeks, so I spend some quality time with my mom, attempting to get her comfortable with what I can. She’s nervous to pay bills, so I set them up to come to me, and I’ll make sure they get paid on time. I knew my parents had invested in many of the companies I’d worked for and also several I had personally invested in, so I talk to her advisor, who says she’s going to be quite comfortable. They have a good nest egg, which is a significant relief.

  Celeste stops by unannounced, and she’s a little too friendly. She holds my hand and tells Mom and me that she’s going to look out for my mom after I leave. My mom gives a big eye roll behind Celeste’s back, and I know I’m in for a big lecture later. I need to have a talk with
Celeste, but I don’t know where to start. I’ve told her many times to move on, but she probably thinks that because I’m not married, I’m holding out for her. That is most definitely not the case.

  I talk to the team multiple times every day. I’m struggle to keep up with my work, but I’m doing it, slowly but surely. Emerson touches base with me almost every day and shares some sort of tidbit that always makes me smile.

  Emerson: You missed it. Cameron came in wearing salmon-colored pants, a white dress shirt, and camel-colored suede loafers.

  Me: He must be in love.

  Emerson: Agreed!

  Emerson: John in accounting must have been trying to impress Annabel. He tried to fix the copy machine and is now covered with black toner. I tried to talk him into running home, but he’s refusing. Toner everywhere.

  Emerson: Mason, Cameron, and I ran into Bob Perkins and Terry Klein at a luncheon. Wow. They had girls on both arms and were such assholes.

  Me: They’re douchebags.

  Emerson: That’s exactly what Cameron called them.

  I wish I could’ve been there when they saw Bob and Terry. I know they feel they’re smarter than everyone, but Perkins Klein peaked about ten years ago and got too comfortable with how they were investing. They turn down great opportunities, and it’s easy to take money from them that they’re leaving on the table.

  My time with my mom is winding down. When it’s time to leave, I tell her that if she needs me, I’ll be back right away. She cries as she walks me to the security line at the airport, and I feel incredibly guilty for leaving her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dillon

  As I hit the tarmac back in San Francisco, I text Emerson.

  Me: I’m back.

  Emerson: I’m at arrivals. Your chariot home awaits.

  Me: You’re here?

  Emerson: With open arms, waiting for one of your hugs.

  Me: See you in a few.

  I walk out of security and see Emerson, absolutely radiant in a beautiful pastel green sundress that shows off all her curves. Men all around us are looking at her appreciatively. She has a sign with my name on it, and I walk up and give her a big hug before leaning down and pressing my mouth to her hair, breathing in the sweet smell of her perfume. Her lips are soft when I kiss her, and they open to allow me entry, our tongues dancing a delicate tango.

  When we break our kiss, I look down at her and say, “I’ve missed you.”

  She smiles at me. “Well, let’s get you home. We’ve missed you.”

  “We?”

  “I should warn you, Molly is in the car and anxious to see you.”

  I pick up my bag and throw it over my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We head to my place and I insist she and Molly come up, the tension between us palatable. I want her, and I know by the way she’s fidgeting that she wants me, too.

  In the elevator, I move toward her, my cock hard as a baseball bat. It wasn’t until I kissed her at the airport that I realized just how much I both want and need her.

  Emerson stays with me for the first time at my place. She doesn’t put any pressure on me, but I can’t hold back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Emerson

  We had an amazing night of lovemaking. Stealing a look at myself in the closet door mirror and noting my matted hair and raccoon eyes, I quickly detour to the bathroom and attempt to clean myself up.

  As I walk into the kitchen, I see him open the fridge and lean over, his black boxer briefs pulling tight on the perfect swell of his ass. My body warms, my cheeks flush, and my stomach contracts. I want him all over again.

  When it’s just Dillon and me, everything is much easier. I don’t need to think about a label for our relationship, or about the future. I can concentrate on him.

  He grips the bottom of my dress and pulls it up slowly. I lift my arms and shiver as his fingers brush against my exposed flesh. I’m not an experienced lover, but it’s evident that he is. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want him right at this moment.

  He tosses my dress aside, and something in his eyes that looks like awe sends jolts through my body. Using the backs of his fingers to trace along my collarbone and the swell of my breasts, he pushes my bra straps off my shoulders and down my arms until my breasts rise up and over the lace, revealing my erect nipples, begging for his touch.

  He groans as he lays me down on the bed, and I feel another rush of wetness between my legs. He leans down to run his warm, wet tongue across the sensitive skin above my nipples, and I arch my back off the bed, letting out a groan of my own.

  He takes the hint and slowly licks around one of my hard peaks, bringing his other hand up and pinching the other one with his thumb and forefinger. I arch up for more as he finally sucks the other one into his mouth.

  Fireworks explode in my brain as he uses his mouth to drive me to the brink of an orgasm without even touching my bare pussy.

  I moan his name and he moves his mouth back up to cover mine. While we kiss, I push his shirt off his muscular shoulders and run my hands over the muscles, pressing my bare chest to his.

  I can’t believe how bold I’m being—I’m usually such a shy and hesitant lover—but something about Dillon set parts of me on fire I hadn’t even known existed.

  I rub my erect nipples into his firm chest before he goes up on his knees and slides his adept fingers between my legs. He’s taking his time, not rushing things, and I’m losing my mind imagining how good he’s going to feel once he’s buried inside of me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dillon

  Emerson is amazing. She somehow has the ability to see me in a way others don’t.

  To most women, I’m a quick and easy lay. If they make it past one night, they see me as a way to get gifts and expensive dinners.

  Our clients see me as someone who can help them become millionaires.

  But it’s different with Emerson. The way she sees me tells me she could do things with my body that no one else could. That no one ever has.

  It’s probably a mistake to get involved with her, but I don’t care. I want to taste her. All of her. I move lower, trailing kisses down her stomach and across to her hipbone, and she shudders beneath my touch. She’s ready again. She wants it as much as I want it, and the realization is the biggest fucking turn-on.

  She tastes like honey, and I can’t get enough.

  I can’t remember ever liking someone as much as I like Emerson. I want to know what her favorite candy is, where she likes to read books or shop. She’s feisty and passionate, but also gentle, sweet and breakable. I’ve never thought about any woman the way I think of her. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like without her and my chest hurts at just the thought.

  She rolls me on my back and straddles me. Grabbing the condom from the side table, she licks me from the base to the tip, humming as she goes. Rolling the condom on, she climbs on top of me, sliding her wet folds over my length and using her hand to guide me into her. She takes all of me in one slow movement before she pauses, taking the time to adjust to my size. She’s wet and hungry for me, and I love it.

  Her perfect soft breasts, the pink nipples hard like pencil erasers, beg for my touch as she does most of the work, riding me slowly at first, then faster, up and down before gliding forward and back, climbing a hill of pleasure. Her hand moves around behind me and she strokes my balls, careful to be gentle.

  Slowly, I start to thrust with her and guide her hips with my hands as I get harder, moving my thumb to her clit. The pressure on her hard nub each time she moves down on me starts to send her quickly over the edge. Watching the ecstasy cross her face brings me quickly to my climax and I squeeze my eyes shut, the intense waves of my orgasm breaking over me again and again as her pussy milks my cock.

  I’m in heaven. And I need to end this relationship. Our work doesn’t allow it, and I’m becoming too dependent on her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

&
nbsp; Emerson

  Me: Hey. You up for a run tonight?

  Dillon: Sorry, other plans.

  Me: Do I need to schedule time on your calendar to see you?

  Dillon: If you’d like. See you tomorrow at the office.

  No you won’t, and you know that. I’m out of the office all week dealing with our new acquisition, and I haven’t seen Dillon in several days. I’m worried about him.

  I need to get my mind off him. Maybe I can convince the girls to go out for at least a drink.

  I send a group text to CeCe, Greer, and Hadlee: Anyone up for joining me for a drink and maybe dinner tonight?

  I immediately receive a yes from all three girls.

  Yeah! Now I can think about someone other than Dillon.

  ***

  We’re meeting at One Market, a high-end restaurant facing Treasure Island and the Bay Bridge. I’m the last to arrive and work my way around the table, greeting my three closest friends in The City. I don’t know where I would be without these amazing women in my life.

  Hadlee stands and gives me a big hug, kissing both cheeks. Her backless black lace dress hits well above her knees atop a very steep pair of Jimmy Choo sandals, her raven hair in a tight pixie cut highlighting her beautiful long neck. She has a brilliant blue pashmina wrap that sets off the sapphire blue in her eyes. “You look beautiful,” she tells me.

  CeCe’s dark pink Prada floral-print velvet midi dress is sleeveless, showing off her tanned and toned arms. Her hair is blown straight, and her makeup is a dramatic smoky eye. “Sweetie,” she says as she hugs me, then whispers in my ear, “Fuck ’em.”

  Always the fashionista of our group, Greer’s wearing a silver-gray velvet dress that ties at the waist but has a slit to her hips that shows off her long tanned legs. Her auburn hair is in loose curls and she looks divine. “No hot date with your boyfriend?” Greer asks as she hugs me and kisses me on the cheek.