Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother)

by Lexi Duval

  The amber liquid drifts down Ellen's neck, and a smile grows on my face.

  Phase one, done.

  Chapter Two

  “Did it work? What did you even do?”

  Morgan and Ellen have just left us, continuing to do the rounds and accept toasts from various other couples or groups of people around the room. Already, a sense of drunkenness is descending, but for me the world is as clear as glass.

  “I spiked her drink,” I tell Sage. “Within about ten minutes, she's going to be feeling rather sick...”

  “What else do you need from me?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nothing. You've done well, Sage. Just continue your night as if nothing's happening, I'll do the rest.”

  I know, though, that this night is still far from over. I've spiked her drink, but there are other hurdles to jump, and some of that will be completely out of my control. Her actions, when she begins to feel the effects of the drug, will determine my success.

  So I watch her like a hawk, spying for any hint that she's beginning to suffer. I do it furtively, glancing through the crowd as we hang back. Sage speaks with others, and I continue with my shy bit, but my mind is now completely taken by the girl of the hour...and the drug working its way through her system.

  Gradually, I see it taking effect. I watch her withdraw, stop drinking her champagne, lift her hand to her mouth on occasion. She blinks a little more forcefully, and I see a slightly change in her complexion, turning a little more pallid.

  It's happening...

  I watch as Morgan's arm goes around her, and he whispers in her ear. He's noticed it too, but both will have put it down to the alcohol, and nothing more.

  An elegant woman like her, though, won't want to make a fuss. And she certainly won't want to let people know that she's feeling ill. She'll retire to the bathroom in a bid to regain her composure and try to settle her stomach in privacy.

  Morgan, meanwhile, will stay in the hall, wanting to continue hosting and not draw too much attention to his fiance's absence.

  And right now, it's all going like clockwork...

  So I make my move. Before Ellen has even left her future husband's side, I'm slinking through the crowd and leaving Sage behind. I leave the hall, go out into the adjoining reception room, and go and stand outside the door of the nearest bathroom.

  Around me, a few people mingle away from the main party, desiring a quieter place to chat and drink. I eye each of them carefully, and note that none of them have taken any interest in me.

  I wait, and hope that my hunch is correct.

  It is.

  Within only a minute of my arrival outside the bathroom, Ellen appears, looking the worse for wear, her face growing quickly pale and sweat starting to glean on her forehead.

  “Are you OK?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Fine, thank you, um, Kristen. I just...need the bathroom.”

  “Oh, well, you can go before me if you want. This one's occupied right now,” I lie.

  “That's OK...there are plenty of others.”

  I laugh.

  “Sure, it's a big place I guess. Well, I'd rather not get lost, so I'll just wait it out here!”

  She laughs faintly, before scurrying off down the corridor away from the party.

  Perfect...

  Now I turn into my head, and think of the layout of the mansion. A place I know inside out from my obsessive studying of the blueprints. I search in my mind's eye for the nearest bathroom, and know that it's down the corridor, to the left, and through into another wing of the house.

  And that's exactly where she's going.

  Another few surreptitious glances at the limited people in the hall tells me that none are paying attention. They're mostly looking the other way, and I count a couple of pairs of eyes that are too far clouded by alcohol to notice anything I'm doing.

  With that assurance, I turn my eyes down the corridor, and follow Ellen.

  Through the mansion I go, the sound of the party fading in the distance, working my way around the corner and into another wing. I move silently, knowing just where Ellen will have gone, arriving outside the bathroom all alone.

  The door is ajar, and through the gap I notice a pair of legs, crumpled onto the floor, unmoving. I slowly push the door open, and see that she's passed out already, her mouth dribbling with vomit, her eyes shut and body limp.

  I reach forward, and feel a slight pang of guilt as I unclip the necklace and store it into a secret pouch in my handbag. I check her airways to make sure that she's not going to choke on her sick, and leave her lying there, sure to be found as soon as her absence is noticed.

  Quickly, I note anywhere I might have touched, and rub the surface down with a cloth, before using the cloth to pull the door shut. It clicks quietly in the silence, and I turn my eyes up and down the corridor. I'm still alone, and my work here is done.

  Quick as a cat, I go back the way I came, stepping back toward the bathroom only a couple of minutes after I left it. Still, the people in the hall seem oblivious to my presence, and I hold back a smile as I return to the main hall.

  There, across the room, I see Morgan still chatting wildly. And, on the other side, Sage speaks with a couple of other men, his manner a whole lot more reserved and calm.

  I approach him, and quickly fuse into the conversation, waiting for my chance to get Sage alone.

  I grip his arm, and his eyes drop down to mine.

  “It's done,” I mouth, and he nods to tell me he understands.

  We slip away, turn to each other in a corner of the hall, and right there, he kisses me deeply. For that split second, I slip fully into character, and let it become me, and kiss him back with everything I can muster.

  When he pulls back, a smile of joy and lust and success sparkles in his eyes.

  “I think it's time to go.”

  Chapter Three

  Hand in hand, we walk through the crowd toward Morgan, sparks in our eyes and our bodies tightly locked together.

  As we get closer, I run my hand along Sage's neck and pull him down to me, and we kiss passionately again. With a glance I see that Morgan notices.

  Good.

  We approach him, like two giggling lovers, and a knowing look flows over Morgan's face.

  “You two leaving us?”

  Clearly, he's gotten the sense that it's time for us to be alone. That's exactly what we were going for.

  Sage nods, and takes his hand.

  “Afraid so Trayfoot. Fantastic party, though, and thanks again for inviting us.”

  “A pleasure,” says Morgan, who moves in to kiss my cheek. “I can see that your night isn't quite done, though,” he offers in a suggestive tone.

  “Not by a long shot,” concludes Sage. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief that Sage doesn't mention Ellen. Doing so would have drawn Morgan's attention back to her absence and, most likely, he'd be straight off looking for her. Although, something tells me that he's enjoying himself just fine without her.

  We make our way back through the crowd, which is slightly thinner than when we first arrived, and step out into the cold night air. Others have the same idea as us, and are also calling it a night.

  They step into cars or wait, smoking, as valets deliver their vehicles. Within a few moments, Sage's chauffeur has pulled up and we're clambering into the warm interior, my heart now beating fast as we pull away from the mansion.

  The longer it takes to discover Ellen, the better. It will confuse the issue, and no one will quite know when it was that the necklace was taken from her.

  I can't quite relax until we leave the gates and I don't hear any sirens or alarms behind us. As with any job I pull, I remain completely on edge and ready to act until I'm far enough away to know that my presence hasn't been noted.

  This situation is, of course, different, but there will most likely be nothing tying me or Sage to this theft. Perhaps he'll be questioned
, but I certainly won't.

  Because after tonight, I won't be found around here anymore.

  We cover the relatively short distance between the two mansions in a little over ten minutes, and until we enter through Sage's own gate, my body remains rigid and stiff.

  When we pull up outside the front steps, however, he turns to me with a smile.

  “What a night...”

  He leaves the car, and helps me out, and together we climb the steps to his front door, arms locked together, giggles of joy and relief gurgling up through our throats. He leads me straight inside, the house empty and quiet, and takes me into the living room.

  Once there, he pours two stiff drinks, passes me one, and we clink them together in a silent and congratulatory toast.

  “Now let me see it,” says Sage, staring at my handbag.

  I open it up, slide it out of the secret compartment, and hand it over to him. Under the lights of the chandelier above us, the necklace sparkles with a thousand lights, looking every bit like it's worth its hefty price tag.

  “Queens and Princesses wore this necklace,” he muses. “And now, it's mine...”

  He stares at it with delight, like Frodo staring at the Ring, and gently paws at its many diamonds and gems, shining with colors of red and green and blue.

  “It's truly amazing, Sage,” I say, encapsulated by its beauty. “But, what are you going to do with it?”

  “I'm going to keep it,” he says. “It's not the money I want, but what it represents.”

  “Which is?”

  “Revenge.”

  He steps forward, and unclips the back of the necklace. He places it around my neck, and I feel its weight – not just physical, but monetary – hang over my soft skin.

  I move my hands to take it off, but his own fingers stop me.

  “No, leave it on. You look far more stunning in it than Ellen did.”

  Then he kisses me and his fingers graze my skin and the necklace lying above it.

  “Thank you, Kristen, for everything you did tonight. You've really earned those earrings.”

  He fiddles with my earlobes, and kisses me again.

  And with a rush of desire lighting inside me, I ask him a question that sends his eyes blazing with lust.

  “And would you like to see me naked with only the earrings and necklace on?”

  I echo the demand he gave me earlier, one which I had no choice but to follow. Now, though, I'm the one providing the offer. His demands are done. His control over me has been extinguished by the job I've pulled for him.

  “Only if you want to,” he says, confirming the end of our spoken contract.

  I push him back lightly with my hands, creating a gap between us. He drops into a chair, cradles his scotch to his lips, and watches as I strip for him.

  My dress – black on the outside, crimson on the inside – slips off me, piling at my ankles. I reach back with my arms, my breasts pouting forward, and undo the knot in my hair. It falls down over my shoulders, cascading like water.

  I stand, naked, and bend down to undo my heels. I slip out of them, and drop a few inches to the floor. Nothing covers me now, only the sparkling jewelry around my neck and twinkling in my ears.

  “And how do I look?” I ask seductively.

  “Perfect,” Sage replies, breathless.

  “And, is there anything else you'd like me to do for you?”

  Our agreement may have ended, but I want this now. This one last time...

  “I won't give you any more orders, Kristen. You've done enough.”

  “Well then,” I say, my voice warm and low, “maybe I should give the orders tonight?”

  His eyes light, and behind them I see something spark.

  “And what would you like me to do for you?”

  I consider things a second, before slowly sitting in a chair and taking my own glass of scotch.

  “It's your turn,” I say. “Strip.”

  A smile glazes over his face, and he stands up.

  I cross my legs, sit back in my chair, and play it just as he did as he watched me undress. Sipping my scotch as his jacket drops to the floor, as his shirt is removed. I stare with salacious eyes at his muscular frame, my free hand drifting over my breasts as he removes his pants and shoes and socks.

  I dip my finger into my drink and rub my nipples, and beneath his boxer briefs I see his dick swell. My thighs warm at the sight, and I gently uncross them, placing my glassless hand between my legs and rubbing at my clitoris.

  His underwear comes off, and he joins me in my nudity, standing and waiting for my next order with his eyes clamped firmly on my fingers, working the edges of my pussy.

  “What's next?”

  “Sit down,” I say quickly. “And do what I'm doing.”

  I snake my fingers inside me as he sits, his left hand gripping the shaft of his dick, his right picking up his glass of scotch.

  Like a mirror image, we sit opposite each other, drink in one hand, our genitals in the other, masturbating. His cock grows, and fills his hand, and I watch with glee as his foreskin is pulled up and down.

  I react to the sight by digging deeper, by rubbing harder, and soon we're both breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes, masturbating to the sight of the mirror image ahead of us.

  I spread my legs a little wider, and his eyes widen too, and then I give him his next order.

  “Now come here and eat me out.”

  He stands from his chair, and paces toward me, his dick swinging with the motion of his legs. I withdraw my fingers and watch as he drops to his knees and puts his head between my thighs.

  My sticky fingers run through his hair, and I feel the soft pressure of his tongue working around my outer lips, then snaking further in. I press his head harder, diverting his tongue deeper, and begin gyrating my hips in a gentle motion.

  “Like that, just like that,” I breathe, my head dropping back and staring to the bright chandelier above.

  “Use your fingers,” I pant, and his fingers join the party.

  Within minutes, he's working me toward an orgasm, and my body is shifting and shaking, moans echoing around the spacious room.

  “Stop...”

  He leans back, lips wet with saliva and my juice, chin dripping.

  “Now fuck me...fuck me hard.”

  Like a sex robot, he obeys, rising off his knees and crouching into me. His cock, still swollen and hard, is guided inside me, sliding into my vagina and sending fresh shivers down my spine.

  I gasp, and his fingers keep working at my clit as he dives in and out.

  “Is this good?” he asks, smiling sexily, but I can't answer. I only nod my head briskly, and reach forward to take a grip of his ass.

  Within seconds, an orgasm is engulfing me, and my eyes are blurring. With my cries and groans, he pumps harder, and once more his animal urges begin to take over.

  We shake so hard that the chair threatens to fall over, titling to the side as my body trembles. I push him forward, knocking him down onto the carpet, and jump on top of him. His cock slides in, and I ride him on the floor, gyrating back and forward as his hands reach forward and massage my tits.

  I'm coming hard when he asks if he can come too, still playing the slave, and I manage to slip out an answer.

  “Not yet...”

  I see his eyes refocus, his mind trying to control his urge to explode inside of me, and his entire body tense as I continue to slip and slide on top of him.

  “Put me in your favorite position.” I pant, quietening my motion, my climax passing, my body pulsing and throbbing. “Then you can come.”

  He leans up, pushing with his arms, and kisses me, his hands gripping at my ass and lifting me off him. I'm tossed to the side, placed flat on my front, and I feel him climb on top of me.

  He closes my legs, creating a tight opening below my firm ass cheeks, and begins penetrating me from behind. He starts by leaning up, holding my ass open with his fingers, his eyes set on the sight
of his dick entering my hole.

  Then, gradually, his passion flows uncontrollably, and he leans down onto me, his arms propping him up to my sides, and pummels me harder than ever. I feel his hand grip my neck and twist my head round, and he kisses me so hard I feel he might draw blood.

  But I feel no pain, only intense bouts of pleasure with each new stab of his cock, each new thrust of his tongue. Before long, he's panting like a dog, and is telling me he's coming. I feel the gush, warm and like a spurting tap, and he falls on top of me, exhausted and spent.

  I arch my ass up against his weight, roll him onto his side, and lie on mine as his come begins to dribble out of me, down my inner leg and onto the rug.

  “Your housekeeper's not going to like the mess,” I say.

  He laughs, and looks down between my legs.

  “I think I'll need a new rug.”

  And then he kisses me again, and I fall into his arms, knowing it's the last I'll see of Sage Dalton.

  Chapter Four

  “So, two million as originally agreed upon?”

  The man nods, stern expression giving nothing away.

  “Tell me, Panther, what exactly happened with these earrings? Last I saw, you'd been rumbled with them by the man you stole them from. Managed to escape his clutches did we?”

  “You could say that. Put it this way, he got a lot more from me than these earrings are worth.”

  “Did he now?” questions the man with a suggestive tone.

  The sound of a roaring plane rumbles overhead, and a loudspeaker blares with more announcements. We're at JFK, in a small cafe, and I've got a packed suitcase right next to me.

  “Planning on being gone for long?” asks my contact, setting his eyes on my bag.

  I shrug.

  “How long is indefinite?”

  “Too long. I've grown accustomed to working with you. You're not retiring are you?”

  “Not retiring. Just looking for a career change.”

  “Well, that's a real shame. What will the press write about if there are no more thefts by the Night Panther...”

  “They'll find something. They always do.”