by Sky Corgan
“Ladies,” Nelson quickly addresses us before walking away. Stephanie looks sad to see him go, but it's short lived. Now her attention is on Anders and I. She watches us shamelessly.
“I just came to check on you,” Anders tells me. “You didn't seem like you were feeling too well when you left last night, so I wanted to make sure you're alright.”
“That's kind of you,” I say reflexively, confused about whether or not he's being sincere.
He bends down then, touching his fingertip to my chin and drawing my face up. Our lips meet, and I'm completely blown away by the fact that he's kissing me out by the pool in front of so many other clients. There's no way to tell if some of them are his or not. I can feel eyes upon us. I don't even have to look up to know that people are staring.
His tongue whispers across my bottom lip, and I gasp slightly, which is all the opportunity he needs to seek entry. He steals my breath, making my head spin with the sheer hunger of his actions. This kiss is deep and hard, perhaps more so than any he's given me behind closed doors. When he finally pulls away, I feel lost without him, completely wrapped up in his seductive spell.
“You are mine while you're here. I don't want anyone else touching you.” It's a demand, not a request. He casts a distasteful glance towards Nelson to cement his meaning. “I'll see you on Thursday.”
Then he walks away, returning to the main building, and I'm left sitting there with my mouth open and his taste on my lips, feeling completely dumbstruck.
When I finally regain enough sense to turn and look at Stephanie, she seems equally shocked. I've never seen her surprised by anything. But the look on her face is definitely unexpected.
“Well, wasn't that a surprise,” she says finally.
“I don't know what just happened.” My head snaps forward, and all the other ladies around the pool are lowering their eyes, though a few whisper to one another.
“I've been coming here for five years, and I've never seen any of the billionaires come out to check on a client before, much less do . . . that. You must have really made an impression on him.”
His words play through my mind. You are mine while you're here. I don't want anyone else touching you. I don't know if he was being sincere, or if it was all just an act. All I do know is that I'm confused all over again.
CHAPTER FIVE
His words wreck me until Thursday night. How can he sound so possessive when that's not what this place is about? The very night he spoke those words to me, he fucked another woman. What makes him think he can make such a demand?
When he takes me up to his suite on Thursday, I dodge his advances. It's hard to resist him, as usual, but I do better than I ever have before.
“What's wrong?” he asks as I pull away from him and head to the sectional sofa in the living room. We're talking, whether he wants to or not. I need to get this off my chest.
“Tuesday at the pool you came to me,” I say.
“Yeah.” He arches an eyebrow as he sits next to me, and I quickly relocate to the other side of the sectional. If I allow him to put his hands on me, I'm lost. He's good with his hands. Too good.
“This place is for my pleasure. I came here to . . .” I hesitate, a bit disgusted by my own words. “I came here to sleep with men.”
“Then why are we wasting our time talking?”
“You kissed me at the pool.”
“Were you going to sleep with him?” there's a twinge of jealousy in his voice.
“What if I was?” I cross my arms over my chest, allowing myself to sound angry.
“I don't want that,” his tone softens.
“Why not? That's what I paid for. The men here are a free for all, are they not?”
He chews his bottom lip, looking sinfully handsome as he formulates a response. “I'm a jealous man. I don't like to share.”
“I don't like to share either, but you went and fucked your client for that night, and I didn't say anything about it.”
“I didn't have a client that night,” he sighs. “I had the night off.”
“So are you saying you just came here to see me?” My heart skips a beat at the prospect.
“Yes. I was genuinely worried about you.”
“Oh.” I feel like a complete bitch for saying anything to him. That still doesn't excuse the way he acted though. “You do have other clients right now?”
“Is that really what you want to talk about tonight?”
“No. Not really. I just want to understand why you don't want me sleeping with other people when I'm clearly allowed to.”
“You're not allowed to.” He shakes his head.
“What do you mean I'm not allowed to?” I crease my eyebrows in confusion.
“I'm not allowing it. While you're here, you're mine. And I'm not allowing it.”
“You don't make those rules.”
He crosses the distance between us again, and though my body tenses up, I don't move. He cups my cheek with his hand, drawing my face towards his. “I don't think you understand how desperately I want you. When I saw you with him . . . When I thought about what you might have done with him . . . It tore me apart. Please tell me you haven't fucked anyone else while you've been here.”
“Why does it matter?” I ask, feeling weak.
“It matters. I need your body. I want it to belong to me and only me.”
His warm breath caresses my face before his lips meet mine. His kiss is earnest and needy, and my body responds without my consent. How I've missed the feel of those lips. Being deprived of them is like being deprived of oxygen. His kiss awakens me, but it also fills me with a strange sense of sorrow. He's weaving the fantasy again, playing with my emotions.
“I don't think I can do this anymore,” I tell him as our lips break free from each other.
“You say that every time I see you.” He smirks, placing a hand on my inner thigh and rubbing a tight circle there with his fingertip that's slowly inching closer towards my sex.
“I mean it.” I grab his hand and push it away. “I know what this place is. Everything you say, it's to build a fantasy for me. I know that's what people come here for.” I turn from him, gazing out the window at the moonlight. “But I'm too emotionally fragile for this. I was finally getting fine with the idea that it's all about sex. But when you came to me on Tuesday . . . I can't play this emotional ping-pong game. It might not be real for you, but it's real for me. I can't pick apart lies from truth. I can't act like what we do doesn't change how I feel.”
“Is it so bad for you to feel something for me?” He brushes my hair behind my shoulder.
“Yes, because it's one-sided. You're going to break me before I leave here, and I don't mean physically.”
He leans back then, taking in the full weight of my words. A strange sense of relief rushes through me. He's finally starting to get it.
“I want you, Tessa. It doesn't have to be anymore complicated than that.”
“Good. If you can promise that it won't be anymore complicated than that, then I think we can still do this.”
“Then let's do this, and don't worry about anything else, okay?” His fingers whisper across my shoulder, pinching the strap of my gown and pulling it down. When I don't pull away, he takes the initiative to move closer, leaning in to place fluttering kisses on my skin.
It's just sex, I tell myself, craning my neck for his touch. And it's the best sex I've ever had. If we just call it what it is, I can get through this. A few more weeks of pleasure and not having to worry about attachments. We both acknowledge that it's all fantasy, and everything is fine.
We spend the next several minutes undressing each other, and then he leads me into the bedroom where I tell him to lie down on his back. He thinks I'm going to crawl on top of him, but then I take his cock into my mouth instead. It swells from the warm wetness, and I feel my jaw tighten from the expansion as I begin to slide my mouth up and down his length.
“Like that, baby,” he moans, pulling my lon
g brown hair away from my face so that he can watch me suck him off. I have a pretty good view as well, his whole naked body exposed for my pleasure. Thick cock and chiseled abs and firm chest. It's like something out of a fever dream.
“You're so good at sucking cock,” he tells me as I fondle his balls while my mouth sucks on just the tip, feeling my lips play over his sensitive ridge. I love his cock. I could suck it all day.
Occasionally, he bucks his hips, but for the most part, he gives me control. Briefly, I consider telling him to fuck my face, but I think I'd rather have a nice relaxing night. If he wants it badly enough, he'll take it. I think he's pretty attuned to my desires at this point.
“Put on a condom,” I tell him as I prepare to ride him like the stallion he is.
“Fuck yeah,” he whispers, leaning over to pull a condom from the bedside table drawer.
I position myself over him and wait, giving him a good view of my ass. When the condom is in place, I feel him grab his shaft and point his glans towards my hole. In a collective effort, we stick him inside of me, and I slide down, groaning as I take him fully into me.
“Oh yeah,” I moan as I place my hands on his muscular thighs and begin to rock my hips, using him like a human dildo.
My legs are getting a good workout, and I'm enjoying the sound of his pleasure from behind me. I've probably gotten more exercise in this last two weeks from fucking him than I have in the entire month prior to coming to The Billionaires Club. Working out has never been my thing unless it's the sexual kind.
“I've been dreaming of your pussy all day. But I want to see your face,” he says, and I turn around to accommodate him.
His eyes are hooded with lust as I continue to ride him. His hands reach up to grope my breasts, squeezing them, and I lean down into his touch, letting my hair fall in his face as I kiss him hungrily. He tugs at my bottom lip as I pull away, and I squeal in delight, though I'm not sure why. I just enjoy fucking him. Enjoy him. Love being with him like this.
He licks his thumb and rubs my clit while I ride him, driving me closer to the edge. I pick up the pace, taking him into me with a desperate ferocity. Almost the second my climax overtakes me, I hear his guttural moan. His full balls empty into me, and the look on his face is sheer bliss.
“Fucking amazing,” he pants as I collapse on top of him. For once, I'm the breathless one. My heart is in my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth. The scent of sweat and sex is in the air, and it's the sweetest smell that I can remember.
***
“So, did you have him?” I ask Stephanie the next day while we're getting pedicures at the spa.
Even the spa guys are dreamy, though they're far too busy with their work for a romp between the sheets. I also suspect they're gay, but that doesn't stop Stephanie from blatantly staring at them and bossing them around like God put them on the planet just to serve her.
“Have what?” she asks, distracted by the fact that the guy doing her pedicure accidentally got some nail polish on her cuticle when she jerked her foot.
“Blondie.”
“I don't have him again until Sunday,” she says matter-of-factually, scowling at the aesthetician as if she could burn a hole right through him for messing up.
“No. I mean the other Blondie. The new maintenance guy.”
“Oh. Nelson. They're starting to get a lot of blonde guys around here.” She motions with her head to the guy doing my toes who happens to be a platinum blonde. “Call them by their names or I'll get confused,” she sounds incredibly annoyed, taking out her frustration on me.
“Well, did you have him?”
“He seemed a lot more interested in you.”
“You saw what happened with Anders though.”
“I did,” her voice raises an octave in interest, and she finally gives the poor guy at her feet a break as she turns her attention toward me. “Did you ever find out what that was all about?”
“He says he's jealous.” I make a face, recalling his words.
“Isn't that a double-edged sword,” she huffs.
“That's what I told him. He sleeps with a different girl every night of the week.”
“As is his job,” she reminds me with a curt nod.
“I told him he has no reason to be jealous.”
“He doesn't. Everyone is here for the same thing.” She stretches out to relax, and the aesthetician misses his mark again, getting nail polish on the side of her pinkie toe this time. She shoots straight up in her chair, causing him to cower away. “Where in the hell did you go to beauty school, you moron?! I could do a better job myself.”
“I'm sorry, ma'am. You moved.” He refuses to look her in the eye as he quickly tries to wipe off the polish.
“I didn't move. You're just bad at your job.”
His cheeks flush red with anger, but he says nothing more. He knows he's on the losing end and is better off keeping his mouth shut.
“I don't understand why he'd act that way,” I continue the conversation, trying to divert some of the heat away from the poor guy at Stephanie's feet. “And I still can't believe that he came all the way out here on his day off just to check on me.”
“That is something. Maybe he actually likes you.” The way she says it is curious, as if she doesn't quite believe her own words.
“I doubt that. He doesn't even really talk to me beyond the sex.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“I suppose you're right. If he did like me,” I dare to let myself dream, “this wouldn't be the type of romance I had hoped for. Gorgeous billionaire who services women in his free time for charity. Unemployed girl who happened to get the chance to experience his services. No. That's all wrong.”
“Well, you certainly didn't make it sound good.” She rolls her eyes at me, and I can't help but grin.
“No, I didn't.”
“How about this? Handsome billionaire falls for girl who blows his mind in the sack.”
I burst out laughing, “That sounds way more accurate.”
“The stomach isn't the only way to a man's heart. Sometimes through his fly works just as well.”
“I doubt what we do in the bedroom has gotten me any closer to his heart.”
“You're probably right. These men aren't known for their big hearts. They're known for their big something else.” She winks at me.
“I told him I just want sex.”
“I'm sure that's what he wants as well.”
“He agreed to it easily enough.” My lips crease slightly downward.
“Tessa, you're way over-thinking everything that happens here. My best advice to you is to stop fantasizing about romance. I've already told you that's not what this place is about.”
“I know.” That's what I want though. That's what I secretly crave. This fucking, though incredibly good, just isn't doing it for me.
After my pedicure, I head back up to my room and take a nice long shower. It's hard to believe that my time here is halfway over, but I'm kind of glad. Every time I see Anders, my rationality gets all fuzzy. It will be a lot easier to think once I get home, once I don't have to see him anymore.
I groan as I wonder how I'm going to live without the sex. Prior to coming to The Billionaires Club, my sex life was completely mundane, even when I was a relationship. Being with an assertive man has been so different. I'm honestly not sure if I'll ever be able to go back. Will sex from this point on just be a disappointment to me?
I slip a hand between my legs and work out my frustration, playing a montage of sex scenes I've experienced these past two weeks in my head like my own personal porno. It doesn't take long for my body to heat up and melt into pleasurable release. When I finish, I'm breathless and uncomfortably hot.
I get out of the shower, towel off my hair, plug in the blow dryer, and find that it's dead. With a frown, I walk over to the phone and dial down to the front desk. The person who answers tells me that I'll have to go downstairs and pick up a new one, because
there's no one who can bring one up to me right now. I grumble as I hang up the receiver, wondering why they don't just call one of the various maintenance people to bring it up to me. This is supposed to be a luxury resort after all.
Then again, that might be a bad idea. With my luck, I'd probably end up getting seduced. Not that I'd particularly mind.
Having sex with Anders has done something to me, and it seems like I'm horny all the time now. Just being in this place has raised my hormone levels be several degrees. When I'm not pondering whether or not everything that Anders says is real or fantasy, I'm thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex with the pool boy. Sex with the maintenance men. Though most of all, I think about sex with Anders.
I slip into a day dress I brought with me, step into my sandals, and head downstairs. One of the guys at the front desk apologizes to me profusely while the other one checks in a client. I can't help but wonder if she's a new girl for Anders. The thought makes me realize even more that I need to stop thinking about him as anything other than a temporary fuck.
“Sorry if I seem impatient,” I tell the guy at the front desk. “If I let my hair dry naturally, it will be a frizzy nightmare.”
“It's no problem,” he laughs nervously. “I'm just sorry we didn't have someone available to bring you a new one.”
He goes into the back to retrieve a working blow dryer, and my eyes follow him, noticing how awkward he is. It appears that he isn't a part of the fuck-me package. That thought is somehow refreshing. Even though he's incredibly attractive, it's nice to know that not everyone here is an undercover prostitute.
When he returns, I take a look at his name tag. Ryan, it says. A solid name. It's probably not fake.
“Is that your real name?” I dare to ask.
“What?” He looks at me like a deer in the headlights. He's not hunky like the other guys around here, but there's a youthful charm about him. His lanky build and big brown eyes make him look almost innocent.
“Ryan. Is that your real name? It seems like everyone else around here goes by monikers.”