Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Consider yourselves fortunate,” he finished. More laughter followed. “I’m Jaxon Mills, your host for the evening. It gives me great pleasure to direct your attention to our chairperson, Judge Gideon Anderson.”

  The judge, rumored to be a front-runner for the next vacant Supreme Court seat, stood in the semicircle at the top of the stairs. With stunning silver hair, astute blue eyes, and a physique chiseled by competitive running, he was an impressive figure. “A merry Christmas to all!”

  Everyone lifted glasses and echoed the sentiment.

  “Welcome to our Christmas party and new member induction. It’s a delight to have you at the Parthenon. Let the festivities begin.”

  He made his way down the stairs.

  “He needs a wife,” Remington said. “It would help his bid for the Supreme Court. Rumor suggests it was a consideration when he was passed over last time. Image is everything.”

  “Interesting.” She’d had a couple of politicians come to her for help, just for that reason. “Maybe I’ll chat with Celeste about it.”

  “I’d like to see him appointed. No one deserves it more.”

  When the judge reached the lobby, the crowd parted to let him through, and he walked toward the doors leading to the dining room.

  “Enjoy yourself,” Remington said. “If I decide to consider a relationship again, I’ll be in contact.”

  Rafe had informed her they were assigned to table three, and it didn’t take long for them to find their place cards.

  She was next to Rafe, and there was an empty chair to her right. Rafe was seated beside a woman who ran an exclusive travel arrangement company. According to her, they didn’t just book hotels, homes, cruises. They created experiences. It might include a cruise, but on a ship that would stay in port long enough for guests to spend several days in a Norwegian fjord and a night under a glass dome to see the Northern Lights. The woman indicated an interest in chatting with Rafe about the launch of his upcoming exclusive cruise ships, large enough to contain five-star amenities but small enough to be reserved by organizations and able to access locations that bigger liners couldn’t go.

  Hope was getting tired of nodding while pretending she could hear everyone else’s conversations when a man walked over to the table to pull back the vacant chair.

  Conversation died as electricity arced through the room.

  “Kian!” Rafe stood, and the two men shook hands. “It’s been a long time”

  While he wore power as naturally as the other Titans, she’d never seen anyone like Kian. While other members were dressed in tuxedos, he was in jeans and a leather blazer. His tie was looped in a careless knot. His hair was a little too long, a lot too mussed.

  A tattoo streaked up from beneath the collar of his white button-down shirt, stamping bad boy all over him.

  She shook her head to stop staring at him.

  “Did you ride in?” Rafe asked.

  “From Dallas.”

  “In this cold?”

  “I froze my—” He broke off abruptly and looked at Hope with a halfway apologetic tilt of his head. Then he flashed her a sincere, pulse-stopping smile. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.”

  “Allow me to introduce Hope Malloy, the future Mrs. Sterling.”

  “Ah. Congratulations are in order. Kian Brannigan.” He extended his tattoo-covered hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Recovering her manners, she slid her palm against his as she looked up, meeting his eyes, and suddenly she saw beyond the obvious good looks and practiced charm to the pain laced in his eyes. He was here, at the party, but at the same time…not.

  A waitperson walked toward him, carrying a cut-crystal glass on a silver platter, interrupting their greeting.

  Banishing the fanciful thoughts about a man she didn’t know, Hope eased her hand from his.

  Rafe returned to his seat, and Kian sat in the chair next to her. In a single swallow, he downed his drink, then signaled for another.

  “You rode in? Like on a motorcycle?”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Prefer it to a car.”

  “Most people would fly that distance.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “Most people, perhaps.”

  His second drink arrived, and this time he stared into for a moment before taking a sip.

  Since he’d arrived late, he opted to skip the salad and go straight for a rare steak. “Tell me about Hope Malloy.”

  “I’m a matchmaker.”

  He put down his fork. “Are you?”

  “Don’t worry.” She gave him a reassuring grin. “I’m not soliciting clients.”

  “Thank God. I’d go broke if I hired you to find me a wife.”

  “Tell me about Kian Brannigan,” she invited a few minutes later, when he’d loosened his tie even more and allowed his shoulders to relax.

  “I build custom rides. Motorcycles.”

  “High-end ones,” Rafe supplied, leaning in and placing a hand on her thigh.

  Awareness of her man went through her in a wave so powerful she lost the thread of the conversation.

  “He also races them,” Rafe added.

  Kian tipped his glass toward Rafe. “You’re welcome to stop by the shop, or the track.”

  “I’ll do that.” He nodded. “Might be an interesting option to offer our hotel guests.” Keeping his hand on Hope, he turned back to the woman next to him. “What do you think? Could be some sort of package? Staying at a Sterling property and touring Brannigan Custom Bikes, perhaps a day or two of racing school, followed by a day at the track?”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of coffee and dessert. A few minutes later, Jaxon announced that the program would begin in fifteen minutes.

  Rafe looked at her with his eyebrows drawn together. She recognized this particular type of smile. He intended to suggest something wicked, way outside her comfort zone. Something she both hated and liked. To the rest of the attendees, the way he leaned toward her would appear to be endearing and intimate. “This would be an excellent time for you to excuse yourself to the ladies’ room to masturbate.”

  Even she hadn’t been prepared for his words to be so filthy, at odds with this grand event.

  “Since I’m edging you, you will stop before you come.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Please return to me with your juices on your fingers.”

  Her breath whooshed out.

  “Do you understand my instructions?”

  “But—”

  “Do you understand my instructions?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her traitorous body already responding to his seduction. Life with him would always be interesting. She picked up her handbag, and he stood to pull back her chair.

  “You please me,” he murmured.

  Pretending her life was as ordinary as everyone else’s, she made her way to the restroom. Unnerving her, there was a waiting line, and she took her place at the end.

  When it was her turn, her cheeks were heated, as if everyone knew what she’d be doing in the stall.

  Her hand shook as she hung up her clutch, then lifted her dress to brush a finger across her clit. From all of their play earlier and his constant reminders, her body was already aroused. Her gentle touch made her gasp, and she yanked her hand away.

  When she returned to the table, he would no doubt ask how long she’d pleasured herself. He’d see through any half-truth, and she didn’t have the courage to admit she’d quit after a couple of seconds. That would be a recipe for him taking her back to the cottage, uncaring whether or not they missed the ceremony. Whatever punishment he doled out would be so much worse than enduring this.

  With determination, she pressed her lips together so she didn’t cry out as she swirled her first two fingers around her clit. The tiny piece of flesh swelled, but she continued until it throbbed.

  In order to avoid an orgasm, she had to stop while she caught her breath.

  All around her, conversation buzzed. She wa
s grateful the hiss from the electric hand dryers drowned out her tiny whimpers.

  When she was in control again, she slid a finger inside her pussy. The memory of Rafe splitting her apart as he had probed her depths rushed through her. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, lost in thoughts of being his submissive while she fucked herself.

  Within seconds she was panting, so very close to coming. Her fingers were slick with her own juices, and she had to lock her knees to stay upright. She wanted the climax. Needed it. It would take a handful more strokes to put just the right amount of pressure on her clit…

  It took all her control to pull away her hand and allow her dress to drop.

  She grabbed the door hook until she could suck in a couple of deep steadying breaths.

  Hope wasn’t sure how her legs supported her, but she squared her shoulders, unhooked her bag, then left the stall.

  She busied herself at the sink, rearranging her hair and touching up her makeup, stalling while she struggled for composure. Finally, a minute later, she exited the ladies’ room.

  Surprising her, Rafe lounged near one of the marble pillars. Rather than take her back to the ballroom, he led her to a private alcove beneath the magnificent staircase. Because people were getting ready for the event, some at the bar, others making final trips to the restrooms, no one noticed them.

  “I want every detail,” he said, voice roughened with arousal.

  “I’m so…” She sighed. Overwhelmed.

  “You played with your clit?”

  “A couple of times…” She licked her lower lip. “I fucked myself with my hand until I couldn’t take any more.”

  With one eyebrow cocked, part curiosity, part frown, he waited.

  “I stopped before I came.”

  “That’s my girl. Now give me your fingers.”

  She trembled anew as he lifted them to his mouth and licked them. In the bedroom, that was erotic. Here, now, it was scandalous and threatened to make her come.

  “You didn’t wipe yourself when you were done?”

  A threat made his voice rough, shooting a tremor through her. “No, Sir.”

  In the distance, Jaxon boomed a five-minute warning.

  “Go wash your hands.” Rafe released her.

  With a nod, she hurried to obey. She was losing herself in him, but the deeper she went, the more he was there for her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rafe pulled back Hope’s chair, waiting while she seated herself. Instead of moving away, he stroked her neck. She shivered, and the same lightning that had clearly chased through her at his touch now went through him.

  He loved this woman and was always delighted with her, and tonight, more than ever. In a few minutes, she’d take her rightful place among the Titans, then, soon, as his wife. For a man who’d spent his adulthood avoiding relationships, Rafe was besotted.

  At one time, she’d demanded to know if he wanted a spine-tingling attraction to someone who consumed him, a wife he couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d said he didn’t. And now…lucky bastard that he was, that was exactly what he’d gotten.

  After almost losing her, he’d invited her into places in his life that no other person had witnessed. And it had strengthened their commitment. She demanded a lot from him, but she gave so much more in return. He could no longer picture coming home to an empty house.

  Even if she wasn’t there, the Colonel was. Hope’s feline was a bossy and moody Somali cat who, for some reason, liked him. Whenever she thought he wasn’t giving her enough attention, she’d pounce on his lap, claws bared, unconcerned about any damage she might cause. Sometimes she slept on top of his head. Regularly, she burrowed beneath the bedcovers to curl up between him and Hope.

  His life was fuller than it had ever been, and it promised to get better. Hope had indicated she was willing to entertain with him, and there were strategic business alliances that might further his firm’s interests that he was eager to pursue. Having a spouse who was a Titan, with her own connections, and understood the workings of the Society, would no doubt be advantageous. A baby would complete the picture perfectly.

  The overhead lights flickered, a silent indication that the ceremony was about to begin. Most people returned to their tables, but Kian had vanished, not that Rafe was surprised. The real surprise was that Kian had attended at all, unless he had reason to be in New Orleans or the South. A new lead he was chasing? A memory he was outrunning?

  Around them, conversation faded to vague whispers.

  Heavy velvet curtains at the front of the room parted, and Jaxon took to the stage to introduce Rykker King, the chairperson of the membership committee.

  Rykker started with warm holiday wishes then began recapping a few events from the year. He read off a list of financial contributions to philanthropic organizations and announced the year’s scholarship winners. That led to a video of Zetas doing charity work overseas, even showing a couple of their doctors on a medical mission in Africa.

  A few minutes later, clips were shown of member efforts stateside, working on recovery after a devastating hurricane, numerous pet adoption events, and a nationwide drive for foodbank contributions. Their service days were highlighted, where Zetas traded suits and heels for hammers, hardhats, power tools, and paintbrushes. In all, the members had donated over twenty million dollars and contributed thousands of volunteer hours.

  The video ended, to thunderous applause. Rafe nodded, an odd warmth in his heart. It wasn’t sentimentality because of the holidays or the love he had for Hope. To him, the ability to be of service was the best part of being a Titan, and he was damn gratified by the work they did.

  As the lights came up, Rykker went on. “Tonight, we introduce twenty new members and the latest addition to the steering committee. We’ll begin by acknowledging those who are in attendance this evening. Please welcome our chairperson, Judge Gideon Anderson.”

  The man waved as he walked across the stage to take his place at the far left. As Celeste’s name was announced, she sashayed onto the stage, her gown shimmering in the light. Next came Senator Susanna Brady from California, in a sequined black dress—the first time Rafe had seen her in anything other than a business suit. Cullen Montgomery, CEO of a data mining firm, followed.

  Once the clapping had ended, Rykker spoke again. “As you no doubt have heard, Theodore Sterling has resigned his seat. Over two hundred years ago, in 1865, John Sterling was one of the original five founding Zetas. Since then, a Sterling has always had a seat on the steering committee. We thank Theodore for serving our organization.”

  There was another pause while members clapped. For years, before the overwhelming responsibilities that Theodore hadn’t wanted had worn him down, he’d been a hard worker. He’d made Sterling Worldwide stronger, and he’d shown up for all the Zetas’ meetings. Theodore deserved this moment of appreciation, and Rafe was sorry his father wasn’t here in person to accept it.

  “In keeping with proud tradition,” Rykker went on, “we are delighted to have Rafe Sterling as the newest member of the steering committee.”

  This time, thunderous applause rocked the ballroom.

  Hope grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

  Having her beside him meant more to him than the honor of taking his seat as one of the leaders of the Zetas. “Thank you for being here.”

  “I love you, Rafe.”

  He leaned in for a quick kiss. At the illicit taste of her, need—stunning in its ferocity—blasted through him. Part of him ached to yield to his caveman-like instincts, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her back to the cottage, witnesses be damned.

  Scarlet flooded her cheeks and she dropped his hand. “Go,” she urged, as if reading his mind. Not that it was difficult to guess what he was thinking.

  He made his way to the stage to shake hands with Rykker. Rafe greeted each of the other committee members before reaching Gideon to accept the official gift, a lapel pin, crafted into the Zetas’ symbol.


  As Gideon placed it, the weight of responsibility settled on Rafe. Though he’d been filling in for his father at recent meetings of the steering committee, being a full member humbled him.

  Even from across the room and with the glare of the bright spotlights, the warmth in Hope’s gaze reached him.

  Once his part was over, Rafe took his place at the end of the line and waited through the inductees until Hope’s name was called and the spotlight found her. Rafe’s breath was tight as he watched her thread her way through the tables and toward the stage.

  Her gown flowed, the long slit revealing a creamy thigh. He’d been stupid to edge her tonight. He hadn’t just denied her. He’d denied himself, as well. He should have fucked her hard and fast. And in future, he might do that…take her while she was dressed in formal wear, maybe bend her over the couch, or, even better, have her lie on the bed with her legs behind his head. He could get off while refusing to let her come. The only thing better than her juices drying on her thighs was the thought of his seed there as well.

  He glanced at his watch, calculating how long he had to wait to claim her.

  One of the volunteers assisted Hope as she climbed the stairs. Instead of walking straight to the podium, she stopped in front of him. “Congratulations, my darling.” Rafe said into her ear so the microphones didn’t pick up his voice. “I figure we can have a glass of champagne, mingle, share a dance. An hour?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  Rykker cleared his throat in a good-natured way.

  With a flirty smile, Hope continued on. Because Celeste was her sponsor, she was the one to present Hope with the box containing her Zeta Society ring.

  She posed for a picture between Rykker and Celeste before another volunteer assisted her from the stage.

  The rest of the presentations dragged on, and Rafe knew he had a lifetime of ceremonies to look forward to. The truth was, he normally didn’t mind. But tonight, because Hope had agreed to set a wedding date, he was eager for some personal time with her. He was more than serious about being ready to start a family.