The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction

by K C Luck

  Puffing out a breath, I come around the last curve to see the resort’s main building, a giant structure of hewed timbers and natural stone. Five stories and wings to the left and right. It is as majestic as I imagined. Still, I frown. A quick calculation of the possible number of guests, and I realize my task will be even more challenging. Of course, my role is to protect Lila and not try to secure the entire area, but my training won’t allow me to ignore the potential avenues of danger. Georgia DeLane could be checked in as a guest under another name, and it would be difficult to know it. I will simply have to be vigilant.

  As I cross to the steps leading to the twelve-foot tall, double, wooden, front doors, I see the jeep and the driver waiting. He grins when he sees me. “You made it,” he says, and again I am not offended. He has no way of knowing I could snap his neck in a moment. All he knows is I am a glorified gopher with a middle eastern accent here to serve a wealthy aristocrat's beck and call. Before I respond, a pair of bellmen come out a discreet side door to fetch my luggage. I might be a no one compared to the guest list of elites staying here, but I will still be treated to seven-star service by the resort staff. The woman I answer to demands it by reputation, even if she would never seek it.

  “Thank you,” I say to the two men as they usher me in through the grand doors to the lobby. The space is vast and centered on a towering fireplace. Guests lounge in sofas and chairs, dressed in a variety of attire from those fresh from the slopes to others attired elegantly for dinner. As I follow my luggage, I covertly scan faces. Nothing jumps out at me, and I shake my head at my optimism. As if this assignment would be so easy as to spot our adversary in the first five minutes. No, this task will be a challenge, but one I am eager to embrace. Nothing will distract me from my purpose of keeping Lila safe.

  I am about to reach the reception area when I am surprised to hear someone say my name. “Jael?” the voice repeats. “Oh good, it’s you. I’m so glad you were able to make it here tonight.” It’s a lovely woman's voice with a trace of a European accent. Not quite British, as if the speaker has absorbed many different dialects to make her own. Turning, I instinctively smile and then freeze. Walking toward me is Lila, and it is as if a thunderbolt has struck me. Her mature elegance, even dressed casually as if just coming from the slopes, takes my breath away. It is not just her classic beauty, only enhanced by her years, or the twinkle in her blue eyes, but her entire aura. No one has ever attracted me more, and in an instant, I realize this may not be an assignment I can accept.

  5

  “Well, you are not quite what I was expecting,” Lila says so faintly, I almost don’t hear it, her smile faltering. I am not sure what to make of it. I assumed Zena briefed her on my background, and obviously, she knew who to look for if she spotted me so easily. Still, I can tell my presence has the woman off-kilter.

  “I’m sorry?” is all I think to say in response. Lila quickly composes herself, and the warm smile, which I feel to my toes, is back.

  “Nothing,” she assures me. “You’re just much… younger-looking than in the photo I was presented with.” She waves an elegant hand at the reception desk. “No need to check in. I’ve arranged everything for you. Unless you need something from your bags, I'm headed up, and I can show you the rooms.”

  I swallow hard. She wants to show me my room. This exquisite woman, full of grace and sensual beauty, one of the richest and influential in Europe, is about to lead me upstairs. In any other circumstance, I would have thought I died and gone to heaven. Now though, my reaction is a problem. A very big problem. An unwelcome image of taking her face in my hands to kiss her mouth pops into my head, and I grit my teeth to ward off the rush of excitement it elicits. Clearly, she senses my hesitation, and again, the smile dims, this time accompanied by a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Or a porter can show you. I didn't mean to presume,” she adds.

  “No,” I blurt out far too loudly, but I hate the idea she thinks I want anyone but her, regardless of the task. “Please, I would be honored if you took the time to acquaint me with where I will be staying and working.” I feel a blush coming on but can do nothing to stop it. Her effect on me is that strong already. “If you’re sure it’s not a hassle.”

  Lila laughs softly, a touch of relief in it, and comes closer. “You are charming, Jael,” she says resting a hand on the sleeve of my winter coat. “Not a hassle at all, I assure you.”

  Even through the thick fabric of my jacket, I feel the heat of her fingertips on me. Only through sheer willpower am I able to keep from reacting, yet it is apparently not enough as Lila pauses, too. I watch her look from her hand on my arm, then up to my eyes. I am much taller than she is, so she must lift her face to look into mine. The position welcomes a kiss, and I bite my lip. The craving is intense. I've met her only a few minutes ago, but somehow, I am completely and utterly captivated. “Oh my,” she murmurs and steps back suddenly. She drops her hand and turns away.

  I reach for her out of instinct. “Are you okay?” She slips another step from me, and I realize what I am doing. She is an aristocrat, wealthy beyond my imagination, world-renowned for her kindness and generosity. My touching her at all is unacceptable. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it's my fault,” she says. “Please, the elevators are over here.” She starts to walk without turning to me again, and I obediently follow. Thankfully, there are a few other passengers to ride up with us, so there is no need to make small talk. We have started off on the wrong foot somehow. I have embarrassed myself, and Lila is clearly put off by my behavior. She won't even look at me. It’s for the best though, as my first task once I am alone in my room will be to call Zena on our secure line. This is an assignment I must refuse. The idea of trying to remain objective about anything in Lila’s presence seems impossible. My desire for her is too distracting already. For all I know, Georgia herself could be on the elevator ready to pounce, yet my heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe, let alone be alert to danger.

  “This is our floor, Jael,” I hear Lila say gently snapping me back to the moment and proving my point. I didn’t even register our progress. To cover my ineptitude, I smile and hold the doors open for her.

  “After you, my lady.” When she hesitates, I worry I have screwed up again, perhaps coming across disrespectful somehow. I turn to her to apologize, but when I see her face, I freeze. A myriad of emotions is playing there, and my confusion deepens. I watch as her gaze slips to my mouth, lingers, and then comes back to my eyes. She licks her lips, and an unbidden flare of heat comes from my center. Such a kissable mouth. This absolutely cannot work, and I am only saved by one of the other elevator passengers clearing his throat.

  “Is everything all right?” he asks, and it is enough to snap both Lila and me out of our daze.

  “Yes, so sorry,” Lila replies slipping past me quickly. I step after her and have to hurry to keep up. She is all no-nonsense now, and after a moment, we are at a set of double doors. She keys the lock with her card, and I am relieved to find we are entering a suite of rooms that were converted to office workspace. If there were a bed… I shake my head to banish the start of any thoughts along that line. Being alone with her at all is thin ice enough. I don’t miss how Lila moves behind one of the desks to put a barrier between us. She is repulsed by my actions, and I hold my breath while I wait for her to dismiss me.

  “We will work here,” she says. “I know Zena briefed you, and that you are aware I am in hiding of sorts, but I cannot let my international relief efforts suffer because of my poor choices.”

  “Yes, of course,” I respond, although I am a bit confused. The file I read on the situation notes Lila as a victim of Georgia’s deception. The ‘poor choices’ comment doesn’t seem to fit. Not that it matters, as I am going to resign this post before the day is out. Still, I hate the look of what seems to be embarrassment on her face. Before I politely follow-up, she looks down at her hands and continues.

  �
��Georgia DeLane is quite captivating,” she says. “Mesmerizing really. Like a cobra, I suppose.” She sighs. “In the end, I was so cleverly deceived by that woman’s false flattery and promises. Seduced on so many levels, like an old fool.”

  “Don't say that.” The words come out before I can stop them. She is anything but an old fool, and the thought anyone made her feel that way makes my stomach turn with fury. My dislike for Georgia DeLane increases by the second. The realization she used sex to work her way into Lila’s trust goes against every shred of honor in my being. “Please,” I say to soften my initial outburst. “You were a victim. Nothing more.”

  She turns to me, and our eyes meet. As much as I try to help it, electricity jumps between us, and for a split second, it almost seems the spark comes from her as well. But that is impossible, and I drag my eyes away.

  “Thank you,” Lila says. “You are generous to say so.” There is a strange tone to her voice. Not just the usual warmth, but almost a yearning and again, I wonder what is happening. Even if the impossible were possible, and there was a mutual attraction, that would only make this worse. I must leave the room at once.

  “I should go see my quarters,” I mumble backing toward the room’s exit.

  “I can show you—” she starts, but I hold up my hand.

  “No. I’m fine. What room?”

  “Five-two-seven.”

  With a nod, I make my escape, and only once I'm through the door into my own lavish suite, with it closed behind me, do I exhale. The longing in my body makes me shake. Never in my life have I responded to another person this way. “Fuck,” I growl. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This is the worst thing to have happen, and I try to brainstorm a way to explain it to Zena. At best, I will look like an unprofessional buffoon. God knows what the worst is, and I pray I can come across as something other than a crazed sex maniac. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I take a deep breath and start to search for the app Zena provided for our calls. My hand shakes, I am so upset and before I find it, the room's phone rings.

  Thankful for the distraction, I quickly answer expecting the front desk inquiring about my luggage or something simple. Instead, it is Lila. “I know this will seem odd,” she says and then pauses. I feel her indecision on the phone and wonder why she called, yet my heart races at the sound of her voice. I could sit and listen to her talk about nothing, I think. She clears her throat. “What I mean to say is, my good friend is having his seventieth birthday party here tomorrow night. It will be quite the bash, and although I planned to go alone, I was wondering…” Again, a pause. I do not know what to expect and so say nothing. Finally, she finishes. “I mean, I know as my bodyguard you would normally be watching from the shadows, but I was wondering if instead, you would be my plus one?”

  6

  One instant, I am deeply asleep in my suite at the lodge, and the next, I am wide awake and sitting up alert. The sound of my cell phone yanked me from a dream. A very good one if I am not mistaken, and the aroused feeling of my body makes me think it was. Unfortunately, the details whisk away like fingers of smoke, and only the faintest hint of a blonde’s warm smile leaves me with a fleeting image of Lila. With a shake of my head, I force that idea away. Even if I am turned on, because in my fantasy, I am touching the woman who I am charged to protect, entertaining those thoughts is incredibly wrong. She is counting on me, as is Zena, and perhaps all the billionaires in the club. My desiring Lila is an unfortunate distraction. One which will pass, if only because it must if this assignment is going be successful. Until I determine how best to explain the situation to Zena, I will remain at my post. The decision means any emotions, particularly desire, must be locked away.

  Again, my phone chimes beside me, and I blink, realizing I still need to answer it. Just another reminder that thoughts of Lila are incredibly distracting. Grabbing it from the nightstand, not looking at the number, I connect the call. “Jael here,” I growl, frustrated at everything.

  “Jael, where are you?” a woman's voice coos, and I realize it is Alma looking for me. She is unaware of the time difference that now exists between her location and mine. I squeeze my eyes closed, kicking myself for picking up without checking the number. This is the last thing I need right now. Just hanging up occurs to me, but I am simply too considerate to do something so mean.

  “France,” is my one-word answer. She doesn’t need to know more details than that.

  “France?” The disappointment is clear in her voice. “But I need you here.” I force myself not to react to her selfish tone. This is simply the type of woman she is, and I knew it from the start. It’s not her fault I put up with it all that time. Waiting to see what more she wants, I don’t bother responding to her statement. “He’s still not home,” she continues, as if the fact I am in another country doesn’t matter. “And I am desperate for you to fuck me.”

  An unbidden stirring low on my body makes me grit my teeth. As much as I don’t want to feel it, her words turn me on, and temptation flames through me. The dream from a moment before has me aroused already. Now the husky sound of Alma's wanting voice adds to my need for release. “Even if I wanted to, I’m here. It’s not possible,” I explain through clenched teeth.

  “Then, tell me what you would do to me if you were here,” she says in a sultry voice laced with a touch of desperation, and I suck in a breath, heat building in me. It would be so easy, and there would be no harm in releasing some of my sexual frustration on a willing partner. I lick my lips.

  “What are you wearing?” I whisper as if trying to hide my weakness over giving into my carnal need.

  “Only my panties,” she breathes. “The baby blue ones you like so much. Here on my bed, waiting for you.”

  Fuck. The image of her full breasts, dark nipples erect, bare thighs, the faint stain of her wetness showing through the fabric. “Turn over,” I demand and am rewarded with a moan of excitement over the phone.

  “Whatever you want,” she replies. “I’ll be on my hands and knees for you. So you can take me any way you want.”

  “Yes,” I breathe, my own voice low and husky now. I want her to feel me, even if I’m miles away. “Do you know what I’m about to do to you?”

  “Oh God,” she whimpers. “Are you going to fuck me from behind?”

  “I am,” I murmur. “Pull your panties to the side and touch your clit, and know it is my hand there on you. Rub it with two fingers. Do you remember how my touch feels?”

  “Yes, oh yes,” she cries out. “Your hand touching me. I am so wet. So swollen.”

  “Faster. Circle faster. I am teasing you, waiting before I slide inside, to feel how tight you are. Spreading you with my thrust.”

  A small scream of pleasure is my reward and unable to help myself, I slide my hand down inside the gray cotton sweatpants I am wearing to touch my own aching clit. Like I know Alma is from our times together, I am incredibly wet. Running a finger over myself makes me buck my hips in response. The image of me poised behind where she waits on hands and knees, her firm backside lifted and waiting, makes me moan. “Now, I’m going to fuck you. Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she almost begs.

  My entire body shakes at the sound of her want for me. “Slide your fingers inside. Feel them filling you.”

  “Oh God. That feels so good.”

  I rub myself harder, faster. It won’t take long for me to climax, but first I want to hear Alma come over the phone. “Start to fuck your pussy,” I order her. Another cry of pleasure from her throat lets me know she is doing everything I command, and a sense of power runs through me. “Faster. Slide in and out. Over and over.”

  “Oh God,” she repeats, and I know from experience the panting tone in her voice means she is close to a climax.

  “Do not come until I allow it,” I growl. The control I have over her is enough to make the wave of my own orgasm start to crest. My anger at her deception adds an edge to the need I feel to make her ache for release. “Listen to me as I come
in your ear, Alma. You love the sound of it, and I want you to remember I am no longer yours to play with.”

  “Jael,” she whimpers. “I need you. Please—oh God, I want to come so bad. You always feel so good inside me, fucking me so fast.” It is enough, and with a growl of intense pleasure, a climax roars through me.

  “I’m coming,” I moan. “You’re making me come while I imagine fucking you hard. Now beg to come with me.”

  “Please. Please let me come.”

  “Now,” is all I need to say, and I hear a scream of release over the line. The sound of her is enough to make me feel a second orgasm coming over me, too. My hypersensitive clit throbs as I never stop fingering it and while Alma cries over and over, I come again. The intense pleasure leaves me breathless, and for a minute, we both breathe heavily in each other's ear.

  “No one makes me come like you do,” Alma whispers, sadness in her voice. She accepts this is the last time, and there is a tug of regret in my own heart. The woman is truly a fantastic sexual partner.

  “Goodbye,” I say.

  “Goodbye, Jael.” The line goes dead, and I drop the phone to my chest where my heart still races. I have no regrets. That release is what I needed to help clear my head and letting sleep come, a smile crosses my face.

  Nearly under, a different kind of scream slices into my consciousness. It comes from outside of my room. Across the hall? Lila! I leap from the bed, grabbing my handgun from the drawer of the nightstand. Moving through my suite to the hallway door, I stop and listen. I hear nothing. The scream could have been a figment of my imagination. I was less than half-awake when it came to me. Still, if Lila is in trouble… I slowly open the door and am surprised to find Lila in the doorway, dressed in only a thigh-length, soft pink and white lace nightgown. Fear sparks in her eyes, and she steps forward without a word, pressing her body against me as she slides her arms around my waist. Burying her face in my shoulder, I feel her trembling and instinctively wrap my arms around her. For a moment I register my role is only to protect, but the need to comfort her overwhelms me. The feel of her so tight against me, the thin fabric masking nothing of her nakedness beneath. A heat runs through me, and I suck in a breath. Even in this moment of possible danger, a desire burns in me.