Most Eligible Billionaire CEO, page 38
Two slow, wicked thrusts, and she reaches the precipice. Her screams of ecstasy bounce off the walls as she rides my face—and my hand—like a woman possessed, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my fingers while her tight pussy clenches and pulses with her climax.
Slowly, I pull my fingers out and get off the bed.
A frustrated whine tears from her lips.
“I can’t fuck you fully dressed, sweetness.”
“Oh, of course,” she lets out a shy laugh.
I strip naked, roll on a condom in record time and climb back on the bed.
I lift her legs so they rest on the crook of my arms, lining my cock at her entrance.
I hope I survive this.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say, inching in.
She clamps down on me, making it difficult to slide in further.
On second thought, I’m not going to survive this.
That is one tight pussy.
I withdraw and then push in again, further this time.
A pleading moan leaves her lips.
“Can I feed you more of my cock?”
“Yes,” she says, breathless.
I push deeper, forcing my way.
Even though she’s slippery wet, it’s still a struggle.
She groans. “You’re huge.”
“I’m a big guy,” I concede.
“No, you’re huge,” she insists. “And so, so hard.”
“I told you how much I wanted you.”
“I still can’t believe you feel this way about me. I mean, we just met.”
“Believe it,” I tell her. “When it’s right, it’s right.”
“I like hearing that,” she smiles warmly.
I take advantage of the moment to bury myself as far as I can until I’m completely inside her.
“God,” she chokes.
I grind my hips. “Do you like having my big cock in your pussy?”
“Yes, I do.”
“So do I.”
Adulting has robbed me of my free time, and it’s been a long while since I’ve allowed myself a night of carnal debauchery.
My instant attraction for her, coupled with a long period of abstinence, unleashes my feral nature. I let go of her legs, angle my body so my pelvis rubs against her clit and fuck her like an animal.
It’s a good thing she’s bound to the bed. I wouldn’t have made it with her hands on me, scratching at my back and ass, or wrapped behind my neck.
“Show me how much you appreciate the way I worship your pussy,” I growl. “Come for me, sweetness.”
“I––I can’t believe I’m going to come again,” she cries out. “Oh! I’m close.”
Thank the fuck God.
“You’re ready to come hard for me?” I grunt.
“Oh, yes,” she sobs. “Oh, oh, oh,” she wails. “I wish I knew your real name.”
Fucking club rules.
For some insane reason, I’ve never wanted to hear Levi fall from a woman’s lips as I make her come as I do right now.
“Ignatius. Oh, Ignatius,” she cries.
Fuck, that sounds so wrong.
I don’t have time to dwell on it.
Her climax comes crashing in like a wave, hitting the shore with full force. It’s so intense, her body convulses, fighting against the ties, forcing me to hold her down.
She cries out a sob of pleasure as she freefalls, her pussy clenching in staccato pulses around my cock.
“That’s it, sweetness. Take it all.”
I relish how she milks me with her body.
“I could watch you come all night long,” I admit in a labored breath.
She’s too busy shuddering with the aftershocks of her orgasm to respond.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
My balls contract, reminding me of my looming climax.
I start to move deep inside her, pumping my cock in and out of her with determination. I swear I’ve never been this hard in my entire life.
She’s still clamping the muscles of her pussy around my cock, which only seals my fate.
The orgasm I’ve been holding at bay rears its head and I’m a breath away from exploding. Resolved in my promise to brand her body in a way she’ll never forget, I pull out of her, yank off the condom and toss it aside. I pull off her blindfold and untie her hands. I might not know her real name, but I need this connection.
“Holy shit,” she says, blinking a few times, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, before zooming in on my hand stroking my cock at an infernal pace.
“I want your eyes on me when I come.”
She licks her lips in response.
I jerk my cock with a few rough strokes, grunting like a caveman. “I need you to see what you do to me.”
A few more hard strokes and I’m done.
I jet my warm cum all over her stomach as my climactic grunts take over the room.
When she reaches out and runs her fingers across her stomach covered with my release, smearing it across her tits, I nearly come again.
Fuck.
My heart drums against my chest so hard, I fear I’m about to have a heart attack.
I have to coax myself to regulate my heartbeat.
Judging by her heavy breathing, I’m guessing I’m not alone.
It seems to take an eternity before my feet touch the ground, and for my breathing to slow to almost normal.
“That was undeniably hot,” she pants.
“Not bad for a first round.”
Her jaw drops open.
“You already made me come twice,” she rebuts.
“Three times, but who’s counting,” I correct.
“That’s well past my quota for one night––”
“You asked me to make you forget,” I remind her. “I take an oath very seriously. Lucky for me––and you––the night is still young. Let’s aim for another few rounds.”
Her hazel green eyes take over her face. “You can’t be serious.”
“Be careful what you wish for, sweetness.”
Chapter 6
Jules
Darkness surrounds me when I open my eyes.
For a second, I’m lost, until a warm, hard body stirs next to me and I’m immediately transported to last night—and earlier this morning—as saucy images loop in my head.
It wasn’t a dream.
Thank God.
What time is it?
I lift my body, resting my weight against one elbow as I force my eyes to focus on the clock sitting on the nightstand.
Four o’clock?!
Shit.
Sydney must be worried.
Carefully, I pull the sheet off my body and attempt to climb off the high California King bed. When I move my legs, I groan internally. Our sex marathon depleted everything in me. My legs feel like Jell-O and my pussy is still pulsating from the vigorous workout. From the first thrust, I was stretched to the max. Ignatius’s remarkable size was a lot to handle, but the pleasure of the fullness overruled the slight discomfort, so I didn’t complain. Now, I’m paying the price for fucking a man with a really big cock.
I bite my lip to stifle a grunt as I push myself off the bed and I wobble a bit when I stand up.
I look over my shoulder at the gorgeous man sleeping peacefully. He looks more like a boy than an alpha right now.
My eyes trail over his delectable torso, stopping at his spectacular tattooed chest. I was dying to ask him about them, but last night wasn’t a date.
Sigh.
I should get a move on, but I can’t pull my eyes away from him. My fingers itch to run along the fine layer of scruff adorning his jawline. To mess up his thick wavy hair, which is styled a little longer on top. The craving to slide back into bed, so we can go for another couple of rounds, blooms between my legs. I wish I could taste his full lips one more time before escaping, but I don’t want to wake him and I sure as hell don’t want to come across like the silly girl who falls for a one-night stand.
Even in the lowlight, it’s impossible to remain unaffected by his good looks. I can’t ever recall having such a strong physical reaction to a man upon sight. I’ve heard of insta-lust, it’s just never happened to me. My perfect match is the quintessential irresistible Hollywood playboy every girl wants, and last night, he was all mine. I asked him to forget, and he rose to the challenge.
Thank you for the most amazing night of my life.
I blow him a kiss.
I wish I could stay here in this luxury suite with this beautiful stranger and never step into my tragic, chaotic and lonely life, but I can’t.
One night.
I knew the deal before stepping into the club.
Reluctantly, I tiptoe towards the chaise and quickly slide into my clothes and heels, a pang of overwhelming sadness engulfing me.
This makes absolutely no sense.
I shake off this weird trance I’m under.
In the dark, I smooth down my dress and comb my fingers through my freshly fucked hair. I’m sure I look like a hot mess, but checking my reflection in the mirror is too risky.
You need to get out of here, Jules.
My hand is curled around the bedroom door handle when I spy a pen and small notepad on the dressing table. Without bothering to second-guess myself, I tear off a page and pen a brief note.
Ignatius,
Thank you for helping me to forget and thank you for making me feel again. I’m sure this note screams newbie and it’s probably gauche, but since we’re unlikely to ever see each other again, I’m okay with that. I won’t forget you anytime soon.
—Stay well, Wild Strawberry, aka, J.S.
I’m not breaking the rules per se. I didn’t write my full name, just my initials. I drop the note on the pillow next to him and tiptoe out of the bedroom. I stand in the hallway for way too long before coaxing my feet to move. Once I reach the lobby, I check my phone. Sydney texted me three hours ago to let me know she was heading out. Wow. Hillary also texted me to let me know she was spending the night at her boyfriend’s Malibu house with her daughters. It’s unlikely I’ll see her until much later today since they’re going sailing and then off to another party. She also texted me a long list of chores she expects me to do around the house since it’s Sunday. Great. While the three witches enjoy a leisurely Sunday, I’ll be pulling God knows how many hours at the office in my attempt to save Daddy’s company before going back to the house to play maid.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 7
Levi
A lazy smile stretches my lips as I turn over, searching for the woman I intend to enjoy a few times before breakfast. I pat the bed, expecting to find her sinful hot body, but it’s just the mattress.
What the fuck?
I sit up straight in bed.
She’s gone?
Just like the sexy blonde, the beautiful blue gown is nowhere to be seen, only her subtle perfume lingers.
I search for the time and nearly fall out of bed in shock.
Eleven a.m.?!
Being jetlagged, coupled with a wild night of sex, threw my body’s internal clock out of whack. I rake my fingers through my hair and let out a long sigh as I close my eyes. When I open them again, I catch sight of a note lost in the sea of tangled white sheets. I snatch it off the bed. It only takes me a quick glance to read it. I can’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah, that screams newbie, but it’s pretty adorable,” I mutter to myself.
Adorable?
That’s a word I reserve only for my little nephew.
Seriously, Aldridge, you sound more like a teenage girl than a twenty-seven-year-old executive.
I chuckle at my silliness.
Even though Wild Strawberry escaped, I’m clearly still under her spell.
Jesus.
Images of our naughty time together flash in front of my eyes, and my balls draw up at the memory. Hours on end of over-the-top sex and I still want her. I didn’t expect her to be unabashed. I fucking loved her wild side. And I fucking hate there won’t be an encore.
I read the note one more time.
J. S.
Who are you, sweetness?
Chapter 8
Levi
Mondays are hell. That’s a given.
Technically, Tuesdays should be bearable.
Technically, being the operative word…
I spent most of yesterday catching up and updating my brother on my meetings while I was in London. Meetings that promise a flurry of talented British artists looking to make their mark on this side of the pond. As much as my body hates to have to adjust to the jetlag, the potential of new and lucrative business more than makes up for the temporary discomfort.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” My brother isn’t mincing his words. “We’re behind some of the biggest concerts in the last decade. Joel fucking Banner just landed from gay old London,” he says in a crappy British accent, “and he thinks he can tell us how to run our business,” he rages. “Again, who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Stop pacing, Linc. You’re making me dizzy,” I tell my brother.
“It’s either I pace, or I wring Joel fucking Banner’s neck!”
To say Linc is pissed off would be an understatement. Dealing with a bunch of finicky clients is a lousy way to kick off your day.
I’m equally vexed, but one of us has to maintain a cool head.
We just ended an excruciating meeting with Joel Banner and his three bandmates at our Culver City office-slash-studio. They’re the four British rock stars behind the chart-topping group Brawn Impulse. Joel Banner is their lead singer and Linc’s main point of contention right now.
“Their manager needs to rein them in,” my brother points an agitated finger at me. “They’re acting like spoiled kids in desperate need of a good spanking. My son is more mature for God sakes!”
“Their manager is a snob, and it’s clear Joel calls the shots,” I say.
“Joel fucking Banner.” Linc shakes his head.
The four band members and their snooty manager scampered out of here in a cyclone of indignation at our reluctance to roll over like dogs to accommodate their unreasonable last-minute requests.
“Sit the fuck down, Linc!” I demand.
He glares at me, but grants my wish.
He drops his ass in the seat across from me like a four-year-old sent to timeout. He even crosses his arms over his large chest and scowls at me, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration.
“You look like you’re about to burst,” I mock.
His blue eyes meet mine. “I’m well past that,” he retorts. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I know working with musicians can be like working with prima donnas––and I’m fully aware I signed up for this kind of bratty attitude when I chose this profession––but Joel fucking Banner takes the fucking cake,” Linc says, jamming his fingers through his brown hair.
Linc is six years older than me. Together we’re co-CEOs of Lumen Opus Productions. The music industry is all we know. Just like our dad, uncles and grandfather, we’re part of the team of experts and tradesman who work in the background to make musicians look good when they’re on stage, rocking out their fans at concerts. Linc’s former boss was a bigshot in the industry, but he was difficult to work with, hence he went through employees like you go through tissue when fighting a cold. It was a constant revolving door. Linc was one of the rare ones who could handle this guy’s volatile temper. Since he didn’t have kids, he accepted Linc’s offer of a buyout to continue his legacy. My brother was only twenty-five at the time, but eager to prove himself. I joined him the minute I graduated from the American Film Institute Conservatory. Linc designs the actual the stage, while I’m the light show guy. Together, we make magic.
“Joel has the gall to bring a list of demands as long as the goddamn Golden Gate Bridge a month before their Vegas concert—their first on American soil, by the way—simply because he wants to upstage another British band that had a sold-out concert in Madison Square Garden last night?!” Linc balks. “This isn’t fucking kindergarten! If it weren’t for our friendship with Holt, I would’ve thrown Joel’s British ass out for having so little respect for what we do.”
“He’s clueless of the nightmare involved behind making such dramatic changes at this stage of the game,” I say.
“Damn fucking right he is!” Linc shouts.
If Joel wasn’t linking to a good friend, Linc would’ve chewed up out and spat him out.
Holt Christensen commissioned us for this gig. He’s Beckett’s older brother and the head of a record label that’s making waves in the industry. He’s living in London now, but he has offices in LA and New York. Joel’s band is signed under Holt’s label. Don’t get me wrong, the guys are talented, but they’re a royal pain in the ass—especially the band leader.
Holt wasn’t always a record label exec.
Once upon a time, Rod Wolfe, Beckett Christensen, Jace Halsey, and Holt Christensen were known as the formidable musicians behind Random Misconception, aka one of the biggest rock bands of our time. Linc and I designed the stage and light show for their farewell tour. I was really young when I secured that contract. I was hungry, too. It’s the concert that put our company on the map.
Today, the four rock gods run very successful companies. Translation, they’re acing their second careers. Along with being badass execs, Rod, Beckett, Jace, and Holt are paper billionaires. Like yours truly. Years ago, our buddy Gage Hollingsworth needed seed money to propel an ingenious idea to the next level. We jumped in. Jace’s older brother Jagger and his cousin Lochlan Berkshire are also investors. It was a risk, but the gamble paid off. It’s mind-boggling to think StreamTunes has become a multibillion-dollar company as the leader in audio streaming services. The valuation of Gage’s company is approaching the twenty-billion-dollar mark. Once he buys us out, we’ll become bona fide billionaires. Except for Beckett. He’s already a multibillionaire in his own right. The company he owns with his business partner is kicking butt as a market leader. The rest of us will be rich. Pretty boy Beckett will be filthy rich.
