Billionaire's Matchmaker

by Sierra Cartwright

  He lifted each foot, and she untied his shoes and removed each of them before taking off his socks. “While you’re there, you can remove my slacks.”

  “Yes, Rafe.”

  Every time she said that phrase, her words were more natural, music and eroticism lacing through them.

  Hope pulled down his zipper, the rasp an audible promise of her submission. She released her grip and his pants fell to the floor, leaving him in his tight-fitting black boxer briefs.

  Rafe stepped out of the trousers, and she scooped the garment from the floor. “Would you like me to put this on the valet?”

  For a moment, he was taunted by the idea of tying her to the wooden structure, perhaps making her hold on to the shelf, or the part meant for his suit coat. His valet as bondage equipment. Delicious. “Thank you.” Hands on her shoulders, he assisted her up.

  She paused at the closet door to look back at him. Her eyes sparkled, and her ass bore a few fine lines from his paddle. He couldn’t wait to dig in his fingers and reignite her pain.

  As if reading his mind, she hurried.

  When she returned, he said, “You may finish what you started.”

  Hope unbuttoned his shirt, then removed it, noticing the bandage on his shoulder from the biking accident over the weekend. He’d been so into her that he’d forgotten about it.

  After clearing her throat, she asked, “Your underwear?” She clutched his shirt in front of her, not that the action would save her. “Are you going to take them off?”

  “You are. Being on your knees will make it easier.”

  “I might have guessed you would say that.”

  “Then next time, feel free to make that an assumption.” He grinned, more determined than ever that there would be a next time.

  She knelt, her face inches from his crotch. After almost no hesitation, she placed her hands inside the waistband, then worked the material over his penis. “Oh!”

  “Oh?”

  “Your…uhm…”

  “Cock? Dick?” He couldn’t hide his grin.

  “Wow.”

  He was hard and had been most of the time since he’d walked into her office and seen the look of shock on her face. Having her respond to him, then marking her conference room table, had made his erection painful. Now that he was free of the constraints of a somewhat civilized society, he desired her with need that bordered on savage. “On the bed or I will fuck you on the floor.”

  She scrambled, but it wasn’t fast enough for him.

  Rafe grabbed her upper arms, pulled her up, then turned her away from him and bent her over the bed, forcing her breasts into the mattress. “I’m out of patience.”

  “Good.”

  Her face was buried in the sheet, and the word was muffled, but he’d take bets he hadn’t misheard her. “On your toes. Push your ass toward me.”

  “Yes!”

  So she didn’t get away, he dug the fingers of his left hand into the flesh near her hipbone. With the other hand, he dragged open the drawer in his nightstand and fished out a condom.

  He pressed his knees against her thighs while he sheathed himself, then he reached between her legs to squeeze her cunt. She cried out, coming all over him. “That was hot.” He spread her buttocks, then used his grip to lift her higher so that he could slide his dick into her. “Put your arms over your head. Stretch them as far as you can.”

  “Fuck, Rafe…”

  Even though she was wet for him, the angle and his size made her pussy tight, the entry difficult.

  He had to control himself and slow down.

  “I want…”

  He did, too. Rafe slipped in and out, short, easy movements until she accommodated his length. When he was seated, he stopped.

  “Do me! Fuck me, Rafe. Do it. Please!”

  “I love it when you use manners. So sexy.” He leaned over, fed the words into her ear, and she bucked beneath him. Once he was in control of his emotions, he began to move inside her, this time pulling almost all the way out before easing back in.

  “Oh, God.” She formed her hands into fists.

  He stroked her clit, forcing her to writhe. The fact that he had so much power over her went to his head faster than the finest bourbon.

  She climaxed, her internal muscles clenching around him. He tightened his jaw to stave off his ejaculation.

  When it was over, her body went limp on the bed.

  He bent his knees to move inside her. He dug one hand into her hair, then worked his free arm between the mattress and her so that he could hold her in place.

  After a few moments while she recovered her energy, she moved with him. When he was sure she was turned on again, he jerked his hips harder. Her body bounced with her responses, and she murmured his name.

  “That’s it.” When he was unable to wait any longer, he came inside her. “Goddamn.” For him, this was about more than sex. She filled a place that he hadn’t known was empty.

  He loosened his grip on her hair, and she laid her head down but didn’t try to move away from him.

  As the final shudders went down his spine, he stroked the sides of her breasts. She made some tiny, unintelligible sounds.

  When he was aware of time and place again, he knew her legs had to be tired. The whole time, she’d been on her tiptoes. He had more appreciation for her than any other woman he’d been with. Everything he’d offered, she’d accepted, with unadulterated desire.

  He pulled out, then helped her onto the bed. Saying nothing, she curled on her side. Rafe left the room long enough to dispose of the condom before joining her. She didn’t seem to be asleep, nor was she awake.

  After grabbing the bedding, he crawled onto the bed beside her, curled his body around hers in some sort of caveman-like protection, then covered them both.

  In his arms, Hope dozed, and when she woke enough to shimmy her sweet ass against his cock, she got his interest.

  Following his orders, she grabbed a condom and rolled it onto his hard cock. Then she rode him. Rafe grabbed her ass, digging his hands into the places where he’d spanked her. Her breathless whimpers were all he could hope for.

  They found a rhythm, and her lips parted a little as her eyelids slid closed.

  “I want to watch your reactions.”

  Obediently, she kept her gaze on him. The golden color of her irises darkened, and she struggled with his order as her pussy constricted on his cock. “Come for me, Hope.”

  She lifted her hips, meeting each of his thrusts, moving with him in a timeless, primal beat.

  This time, her orgasm came in a series of tiny gasps that fed his response. With her, sex was more than a driving hunger. It was a fevered connection.

  When he was certain she was satiated, Rafe took his pleasure. When they were both dizzy, breathless, he rolled to his side. Savoring the moment, he tucked her next to him.

  She sighed and blinked, fighting off sleep.

  He left her long enough to dampen a washcloth with warm water. When he returned, she mumbled a protest about being disturbed. “Shh,” he soothed as he bathed her.

  “That feels good.”

  He kissed her forehead, cherishing her. She smiled, and he tucked the blankets around her. Once she was asleep, he took a quick shower, thinking of her, realizing how different his interaction was with her than with submissives at his clubs. He always took care of the women he scened with, but she meant more to him than any other woman had.

  Naked, warm from the shower, he climbed into bed with her. He smoothed her hair and snuggled her close. How was she going to react when she realized he didn’t intend to let her go?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hope froze as awareness and horror crept over her. It wasn’t dawn, and she was naked in Rafe Sterling’s bed. Thank God he wasn’t in the room with her.

  She let out a long sigh. What in the name of everything sacred had she been thinking? The man and his sexiness had made her forget she had a brain. She was stupid, crazy attracted to him. He wa
s right about the pheromones, but she couldn’t allow it to happen again.

  She jumped from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. Every muscle burned, and her pussy ached. She had to be a mess.

  She stood near a mirror and contorted herself so she could look at her ass in the mirror. There wasn’t a mark on her body. How was that even possible? There was no doubt she’d been used last night, spanked, tied up, fucked hard. He’d made her beg to come, ask for punishment. What was worse was that she’d wanted to.

  They’d had sex, several times. Once in the middle of the night, even. She’d half woken, shivering from the air-conditioning. Seeking warmth, she’d scooted across the bed toward him. He’d captured her, and his dick had been hard.

  Although she wasn’t sure how he’d managed it while still mostly asleep, he’d grabbed a condom, put it on, then taken her from behind, holding her waist tight while he slid in and out of her. After she’d had a delicious orgasm, she’d drifted off, satiated.

  She pulled her hair on top of her head before remembering that her clip had hit the floor in his bedroom.

  Time to get out of there. She’d been hired to find him a wife. The sooner she did that, the better for her emotional state—before she fell for him.

  The scent of coffee wafted through the air, encouraging her to get the day started and face Rafe with her decision to end this now.

  Unable to brazen her way through the morning after, she hurried into his closet to find a robe. The arms were far too long, and she had to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t cover her hands. She wrapped the belt around her waist twice before tying a knot so secure it was at least as good as the ones he’d used on her.

  Their scene replaying in her mind, she hurried to the bedroom to drop to her hands and knees to search beneath the bed for her hair clip.

  “I see you’re up.”

  She bumped her head on the bedrail before looking over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in hand.

  Damn him.

  Dressed in tailored slacks, polished shoes, and a crisp shirt, he took her breath. Even though he had no tie on, his cufflinks were in place. He might have been casual, but his look still spoke of power.

  “Looking for something?”

  She pushed off the floor and sat back on her calves. “My hair clip.”

  “On the nightstand. I found it last night.”

  If she hadn’t been so intent on escape, she might have found it. “Thank you.” She hurried to her feet; then she grabbed the clip and secured the metal in place, hoping the act might stabilize her ping-ponging emotional state.

  “I brought you some coffee.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised her, but Rafe waited for her to come to him.

  Once she was a few feet from him, she inhaled his masculine scent, unmistakable resolve combined with the spice from his shower.

  “You were everything I could imagine.”

  There was nothing she could say in response. The evening had revealed parts of herself that she’d been unaware of. “Thank you for the coffee.” She accepted the cup and took a drink, not because she wanted it but because she was desperate to escape the scrutiny. The brew was strong and rich, inviting her to linger, something she dared not do. “I’ll get dressed and call for a ride.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’ll drive you home and take you to work.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  His eyes turned dark, the cold twilight after the sun had set.

  “I will see to you, Hope.”

  “Mr.—”

  “Don’t.” Rafe held up a hand. “Don’t pretend that it didn’t happen, that you’re unaffected, that you didn’t scream my name, beg, then ask for more.”

  Coffee nearly spilled over the rim before she steadied her hand.

  “It happened. I liked it, and so did you.”

  “You’re a client.” She wondered which one of them she was trying to convince.

  “And don’t you damn well dare pretend it doesn’t matter.” He closed the distance between them. With aching tenderness, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re two consenting adults who had an amazing scene. Admit it.”

  She exhaled. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Your clothes are downstairs,” he told her. “When would you like to leave?”

  Her victory had been too easy to trust it. “Ten minutes?” That was long enough for her to finish the coffee, clean up, and dress.

  He nodded. He picked up his coffee cup, pivoted, and headed toward the doorway.

  Damn it, she didn’t want him to go.

  As if sensing her indecision, he stopped, then turned back to her.

  With three steps, he was in front of her. He placed his cup on the nightstand. She remained rooted where she was, and she slumped in relief when he cradled her shoulders.

  She was up on her toes again, and he claimed her mouth with ruthless intent, a potent reminder of what she’d offered last night and a glimpse of what part of her hoped he still might demand in future.

  When Rafe released her, she was shaken, her mouth bruised from his passion.

  With that, he left. If she’d thought she could steady her emotions, she’d been wrong. She sank onto the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees to recover from the storm that was Rafe. It wasn’t until minutes later that she was steady enough to join him downstairs.

  Fortunately, he was nowhere in sight.

  He’d folded her clothing and stacked it in a neat pile on the bench near her purse. After snatching up her belongings, she dashed into the powder room.

  She was pulled together and ready to face him when she emerged from the bathroom, dressed, shoulders squared, wearing mascara and some hot-pink confidence-faking lipstick. She’d tucked last night’s panties into her purse. It was the first time she’d ever gone without underwear, and she feared Rafe would realize it.

  Showing there was no end to his surprises, he was standing in front of the stove when she found him. He’d set two plates on the countertop and poured them each a glass of orange juice.

  “Morning,” he called out when he noticed her. “Mushrooms, onions, green peppers okay in your omelet?”

  The sweet scent of toast filled the air, and oil sizzled in a pan. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

  “You need the energy after last night.”

  So much for forgetting the events had happened. In a horrible betrayal, her stomach grumbled. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind grabbing some napkins from the pantry?”

  She’d been hoping to escape, not get drawn into an intimate kitchen scene that made him more human and less the Dominant who’d introduced her to a dozen deviant delights. “Do you do this every morning?”

  “Cook?” He turned toward her wearing an apron with Some Like It Hot embroidered on the front. “Yeah. I would eat croissants and doughnuts if I didn’t cook.”

  “And the problem with that is what?” She found the napkins and carried them to the countertop.

  He ladled beaten eggs into the pan then tossed in a handful of veggies. “Cheese?”

  “The more the better.”

  “A girl after my heart.”

  Since he was facing the stove, she couldn’t read his expression. She hopped up onto a barstool, then shifted because her bottom was a little sore.

  “There’s more coffee in the carafe.”

  “I’ve had enough. Thanks.”

  This time, he did look at her. “I’d like another one. With cream.”

  She wished she’d called for a ride. Each moment that ticked by deepened their ties. “You’re closer.” Where had she found the courage to say that?

  “You’re being difficult.” He reached for a wooden spoon and waved it in her direction.

  Reading the threat, she climbed off the stool as she asked, “How much cream?” Hope closed her mouth to prevent the reflexive Sir from slipping out. Side-eyeing the spoon, she refilled
his cup, then removed a carton of heavy cream from the refrigerator. No wonder her coffee had tasted so good. At home, she poured in liberal doses of sugar-free vanilla imitation creamer. This was a definite upgrade.

  “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he asked when she placed the cup onto the counter beside him.

  Before he could ask for anything else, she fled for the safety of her stool.

  A few minutes later, he plated their food, then joined her.

  The food was exceptional, and he made small talk while they ate, charming her, regaling her with stories of the Sterling company’s history. “We were the first to have running water in guest rooms.”

  She recalled historical hotel images featuring water basins and pitchers. “I guess I’d never considered that there was a time that didn’t exist.”

  “And televisions.”

  “What?” Hope gave a mock shudder. “No TV? Say it isn’t so!”

  “We started in New York City in 1947. As you might have imagined, it was an upgrade that many people appreciated. That became a strong selling point for families traveling with children. We were also the first to install air conditioners in public areas, after my great-grandfather stayed in the Maison Sterling in New Orleans, during what might have been a heat wave. In the late 1920s.”

  It made sense that the hotel had been in the South. “I had no idea air-conditioning had been around that long.”

  “It took years to have them in all rooms, as you might imagine, and it wasn’t until the late fifties that we launched an effort to bring it to every hotel in our portfolio. Many of the amenities in today’s travel industry were innovations pioneered by my family. Central reservations, telephones, hotels at airports. My grandfather, Barron, the one I worked for, traveled coast-to-coast, visiting our hotels. He’d sit in the lobbies, pretending to be a guest, and he’d talk to people about the things that would make their stay better. We’ve continued that tradition. Our executives are required to travel two weeks out of the year as if they were a regular consumer, sometimes under a false name if they’re known in the industry. No comped rooms. No upgrades. One of the weeks must be in hotels they haven’t stayed in before. They interact with the associates in valet, baggage handling, concierge, restaurants. And they report back to the head of their division. I’m thinking of expanding the program, down to regional managers.”