BILLIONAIRE’S CHRISTMAS
BY
SIERRA CARTWRIGHT
BILLIONAIRE’S CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2018 Sierra Cartwright
First E-book Publication: November 2018
Kindle Edition
Editor: Nicki Richards, What’s Your Story Editorial Services
Line Editing by Jennifer Barker
Proofing by Bev Albin, ELF
Layout Design by BB eBooks
Cover Design by Rachel Connolly
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Thom Panto
Photo provided by ©Wander Book Club
Promotion by Once Upon An Alpha, Shannon Hunt
All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Adult Reading Material
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is for mature (18+) audiences only and contains strong sexual content and situations.
It is a standalone with my guarantee of satisfying, happily ever after.
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
A very special thank you to Sierra’s Super Stars. You are the best reader group ever! I appreciate you.
Shannon, you are amazing. Simply amazing.
For Whit and Nicki, the Titans world wouldn’t exist without you.
Always, I want to thank my other key teammates, Bev, Jen, ELF, the All Star Beta Readers, and Rachel. Thank you!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Excerpt from Billionaire’s Matchmaker
Excerpt from Come To Me
Other Titles by Sierra Cartwright
CHAPTER ONE
“Are you ready?” Rafe asked.
The sound of her fiancé’s richly timbred voice slammed Hope’s pulse into hyperdrive. She turned to see him leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb that separated the bedroom from the bathroom. He swept his gaze over her as if she were a treasured prize.
“Jesus.” As if unable to stop himself, he took a few steps toward her. “You’re exquisite.”
His approval was her aphrodisiac, making her knees bend.
“Show me.” He made a circle with his index finger, and she twirled around.
The dark-green floor-length gown flared as she spun, thanks to the A-line and the daring slit up the front. The dress had double V necklines with draped pleats wrapping the bodice.
“What do you think of it?” he asked when she stopped in front of him.
“I love it.” The dress was elegant as well as risqué. Rafe had custom ordered it for her, and he’d had a hand in the design. “It’s everything I dared hope.”
He crooked his finger, beckoning her toward him.
Her pulse raced and her stilettoes echoed on the tile floor. It didn’t matter that she and Rafe had been together eight months. When her lover, her Dom, gave an instruction, every feminine instinct responded with a flood of pheromones.
“You look like a princess, my sweet, sweet Hope.”
“And you look like…” Words failed her. He wore a black tuxedo with a snowy-white shirt, elegant forest-green cummerbund, and matching bow tie. Rafe always dressed well, but this evening, he was so devastatingly handsome that he sucked the oxygen from the room. With a grin, she settled on, “A Titan.”
Heir to the legendary Sterling Worldwide hotel empire, Rafe was descended from a long, successful line of men, including one who had helped found the Zetas, a secret society. Tonight was the group’s Christmas party and semiannual induction of new members.
“And today you become one of us.”
Her tummy jumped. The waiting list to join was years long, but because Celeste—Hope’s mentor and a member of the steering committee—had sponsored her, Hope’s approval had been pushed through in record time.
“I have a gift for you,” he said.
Innuendo laced his words. The thrill that rocked her, heated her, chilled her when he gave her orders was like a drug. If she went without too long, she needed a fix.
“Oh, I have a special gift for you as well,” he added. “But that will need to wait until we return.”
He took her hand and guided her into the bedroom of their rented Magnolia Cottage on the grounds of the Parthenon—the society’s Louisiana plantation. Many times when he visited, he stayed in a room in the original home, now called the Grand House. But since they’d become a couple, he preferred the extra space and privacy of the one-bedroom accommodation. On top of the dresser lay a large box. “Open it,” he encouraged.
A white-gold choker with a dozen strands of tiny diamonds lay nestled in velvet, reflecting light everywhere. Stunned, she glanced at him.
“What do you think?”
It wasn’t a collar. For now, he didn’t require her to wear one every day. But there was no doubt about his intention. “It’s…beautiful.”
“May I?” He held out his hand, and she picked up the piece of jewelry and placed it across his palm.
Until Rafe, she’d known almost nothing about BDSM, and he’d taught her that each relationship was unique. What she shared with him was as much emotional as physical. His constant mindfucks created an unbreakable bond.
Responding to the unspoken command in his turbulent blue eyes, she turned and lifted her hair, baring her nape to him.
Since his fingers were so big, it took him several attempts to fasten the necklace. “You need a ladies’ maid,” he said.
“But then I wouldn’t have your hands on me.”
He leaned forward to kiss that sensitive area on the back of her neck.
“We could skip the event,” she said.
“But we won’t. Waiting makes you all the more responsive later.”
“Waiting annoys me,” she corrected, despite the fact he was right, and they both knew it.
“When you’re pissy with me, your eyes take on more of a golden hue. It’s easy to imagine you as a spitfire or satyr.”
“You’re impossible, Mr. Sterling.” Before they were intimate, she’d confessed that orgasm denial intrigued her. Edging, he’d called it, and making her wait to come had ended up being a major turn-on for him. He’d told her he loved her whimpers, and her frantic pleas for relief. By the time he relented, granting her permission to come, her climax would destroy her. As much as she liked the stunning orgasms, there were times she’d regretted being so honest with him.
“You may put down your hair.”
Once she did, Rafe gripped her shoulders, his large hands warm on her bare skin.
“I’m so fucking proud you’re mine.” He turned her to look at him, and his gaze lingered on the jewelry he’d fastened into place. Rafe fed his fingers into her hair, made a fist, then pulled back her head. “I can’t
wait to show you off.”
She swallowed. On their first trip to Louisiana, he’d taken her to Vieille Rivière, a private restaurant outside of New Orleans. He’d dressed her in a scandalous outfit. Her nerves had been strung tight as they walked through the dining room and she’d seen Doms with subs, some kneeling, others wearing far less than she had been. Though she hadn’t been comfortable being exposed, Hope had enjoyed the experience more than she thought she might.
On this trip to Louisiana, he’d said he wanted to take her to the Quarter, a BDSM club he frequented before their relationship began.
So far, she hadn’t found the courage to agree. Her refusals created tension in their relationship. To her, going to the Quarter meant she’d be on public display. And more, she would be vulnerable in front of others. But she hid her deepest fear from him…that she wouldn’t measure up to the submissives there. They were experienced and composed, while she was a novice, more awkward than elegant.
“I love you, Hope.” Intent radiated through his eyes, and instant arousal spilled through her.
Rafe didn’t have to ask her to open her mouth—she did so without hesitation. He didn’t so much kiss her as mark her, devouring her, simulating an indecent sex act. With his tongue, he fucked her mouth, seeking confirmation that she knew they belonged together.
She ached to have him finger her heated pussy. “Please…”
Surprising her, he grabbed the skirt of her gown and hiked it up, mindless of the extravagant cost of the material.
Because he liked it, she was naked beneath. She never knew when he’d want access to her, and being slowed down by underwear aggravated him. On one occasion, to show his displeasure, he’d kept her thong damp for an entire evening, then refused her an orgasm, even after requiring her to suck him off. She’d learned her lesson.
He slid a finger between her labia. Her clit was already swollen, and a moan ripped from her throat.
“You’re perfect. We are perfect.” His eyes darkened. “Spread your legs.” He teased her needy entrance. “Wider.”
“Yes, Sir…” Since he was still kissing her, the word was more in her imagination than anything, but he knew, knew what she wanted.
As he ended the kiss, he fed more of his finger inside her. “One day, we’re going to make a baby.”
“Rafe…” He knew when she was the most vulnerable to him. She wanted that also.
“Twins might be nice,” he said, now finger-fucking her.
“Twins?” Shocked, she met his eyes. Most of the time she could read him, but right now she couldn’t. She had no idea whether he was teasing or not. He both terrified and excited her. “Are there twins on either side of your family?”
“No.”
She exhaled. “There aren’t on my side either. So that’s not going to happen.” Thank God. One tiny dictatorial Rafe would be enough to handle.
He slipped a second finger inside her. His rough tenderness made it impossible to think. She surrendered to him and the magic of the moment, of dreams coming true, of a crisp Christmas season near New Orleans.
“We should start trying,” he said. “I understand it can take a while to conceive. And I’m going to enjoy the hell out of every moment of trying.”
Her insides clutched, from the spell of his words as well as what he was doing to her body. He parted her farther, inserting a third finger into her, something he’d never done before. She couldn’t fill her lungs. Desperately, she grabbed his lapels to hold herself up. “I’m on birth control.”
“Which you can stop anytime.” His smile was wicked. “Tonight even.”
What would it be like, to have nothing standing in the way? “I think we should be married first.” In the light, her yellow diamond winked. For her stunning engagement ring, he’d splurged on a massive rectangular-shaped center stone, saying it reminded him of her eyes. He’d added two smaller diamonds on each side, and the contrast of the white and bright yellow turned heads, including hers. At times she wanted to pinch herself to be sure their relationship was real.
“We should arrange that,” he said.
Her body clenched around his hand as he changed his angle to press a finger against her G-spot. Holy heavens.
“When?”
She shook her head to clear it. “When…what?”
“The wedding date?” he prompted.
“You’re taking unfair advantage.”
“I prefer to think of it as a tactical, strategic offensive.” Notching his fingers apart, he grinned.
“Rafe!” Lost, she squirmed. He seized the opportunity to drive deeper, making her mad with desire. “I need…!”
He eased back a little, allowing her to exhale, then captured her mouth as he bore forward.
God.
He fucked her with his hand, sought more. And because she wanted all the same things that he did, she capitulated when he ended the kiss. “August.”
“August?”
“I need time to plan.”
“I could have it arranged in twenty minutes. We can be married at the atrium rooftop.”
He was referring to one of the most spectacular places in all of Houston—at a property he owned. She’d gone to an event with him there before, and she’d fallen in love with it.
“The catering department will handle it all. We can have pictures during the day, the ceremony at sunset, dancing beneath the stars.”
Even while he continued his relentless sensual assault on her all too willing body, Hope envisioned the picture he painted. She knew how magical it could be with lights on the potted trees, and if the evening was nice enough, the rooftop could be opened. “I need a dress.”
“Simple.”
“You’re impossible.”
“It takes seventy-two hours for a license. We could be married before the New Year, which is my preference.” He pressed against her G-spot again. “I’m willing to wait until spring. May at the latest,” he compromised.
“Fine.” He’d won. Once again, the formidable Rafe Sterling had outmaneuvered her. Hope was willing to bet he’d planned on a ceremony in late spring all along, but he’d orchestrated this seduction, suggesting they tie the knot before the New Year, just so that she would agree to May.
He leaned in closer, until they breathed the same air. His masculine scent stamped her.
And then it hit her—they’d set a date. They were getting married. Really getting married. “We’re going to do this?”
“Oh yes. You’re going to be my bride. This is the second happiest day of my life.”
“Second?”
“The first was when you said yes to my proposal.”
As he moved his fingers in her, remaining upright was becoming more and more difficult. The need for orgasm clawed at her, but because of his careful manipulations, he ensured she couldn’t get off. “Rafe… May I…?”
“Should I leave you like this, your sex wide open, your arousal dripping down your thighs during dinner? While we dance?”
The idea excited her. She wanted to come, but if she didn’t, she would ache all night, be focused on him, thirsty for the tanginess of his cock. She’d experience the aftereffects of his penetration for hours.
“Tell me what you want.”
She couldn’t believe she was going to say it, and she knew she would regret it the moment the words left her mouth, but the thrill drew her in a way nothing else could. “Edge me, Sir.” This, she could give him.
“Fuck…” He flattened his thumb against her clit, the pressure causing a tiny mind-blowing ache that made her whimper.
Then he thrust in an out several times until she was crying. The buildup inside her was unbearable.
“That will have to do you until tonight, when I properly reward your sacrifice and courage.” He pulled out his hand. If he hadn’t wrapped an arm around her for support, she would have toppled over. He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time for us to leave. Are you ready?”
She nodded. He led her to the matt
ress, where she sank down to recover. After washing his hands, he returned to the bedroom, checked his cuffs, then adjusted his bow tie in the mirror.
He offered his arm, and she stood on still-shaky legs. Her thighs were sticky from her essence, and her pussy was damp. She knew he wouldn’t grant permission to clean herself up, so she didn’t bother asking. In a moment of naughty insight, she realized she liked knowing that under her gorgeous gown, she bore traces of his dominance.
Near the door, she picked up her clutch. Then she caught sight of herself in a small mirror. In horror, she gasped. He’d kissed off her lipstick. Her hair was mussed, as if she’d just left their bed. There was a tiny smear of mascara next to one eye. “I’m a wreck.”
“In the most delightful way, yes.”
“You were going to let me go out like this?”
“Without a second thought.”
“Everyone will know…”
“Know what?” He grinned. “That I am the most fortunate man on the planet?”
She pushed away his arm. “You’ll need to give me a couple of minutes.”
“If you take too much time, your arousal will abate, and I’ll have no choice but to take you to the brink again.”
Hope gaped at him. She knew he wasn’t kidding. He’d risk being late to the festivities in order to make her fantasies come true. She dashed into the bathroom, as fast as she could on the peep-toe heels that he loved so much.
At a casual pace, he followed her, leaning against the doorjamb as he watched her.
“Making sure I behave, Mr. Sterling?”
“I’d hate to have to punish you for wiping your pussy.”
How long do we have to stay at the event?
She did her best to tame her hair. She dabbed the stray mascara from her skin and reapplied a fresh coat. Then she swiped on a layer of lipstick.
In the mirror, she met his gaze.
He was focused on her, his cock swollen against the zipper of his tailored trousers.
“I suggest you finish up. Otherwise I have another use for your mouth.”
She was tempted to stall. But an entire evening awaited them. “Yes, Sir.”
Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3) Page 1