Another opportunity missed. While I had desperately hoped that Croix would try to kiss me, he kills the moment by withdrawing instead. My emotions roll like a wave as confusion clouds my brain. The mixed signals he's sending me are starting to become overwhelming, and I don't like it one bit. He makes me feel vulnerable and needy and so many things.
Drinking together was a bad idea. It's only amplifying what's already there. And every time he subtly shoots me down, it kills me inside. I want to talk to him about it, but I don't want to make things awkward. Right now, they're bordering on that. For me, not him, obviously. He looks perfectly cool sitting next to me as if his actions don't affect him at all.
When we reach my house, I inhale the night air as I step out of the limo. Being inside with him was quickly becoming stifling after yet another intimate moment that was wasted.
Croix walks me to the front door. I open it and step inside, pivoting on my heels to say goodnight. He leans against the door frame, peeking inside curiously.
“Aren't you going to invite me in?” he asks before I have a chance to get a word out.
The boldness of his request surprises me. I don't know how else to respond other than to tell him, “Yes.”
Trying my best not to wake Cindy, I walk him straight back to my bedroom, turning the light on and closing the door behind us. Once we're in my room, I gesture around to my meager existence.
“This is it,” I say with a deep intake of breath.
He looks around as if there's actually something interesting to see. There's not. I have a twin bed, a computer desk, and not much else.
“Nothing on the walls.” He notices.
“No.” I shake my head sadly. The fact that he pointed that out reminds me of my disrupted life. It also reminds me that this isn't really my home—that I don't feel like I have a home anymore. I don't want to get upset by talking about that. I need to change the subject so that my mood doesn't tank further.
“I'm sorry I can't show you the rest of the house. I'm renting this room, and my roommate is asleep. She's not used to having guests, so I don't want to chance waking her.”
“Are you saying that you never bring guys here?” He walks over to my bed and runs his fingertips across the comforter. There's something oddly sensual about the way he does it.
“No,” I admit sheepishly.
“So you've never fucked a guy in this room before?” He looks up at me, and there's a devious twinkle in his eyes that makes me shiver all the way down to my core.
“No.” I wet my lips with my tongue, my mouth suddenly feeling dryer than the Sahara. I know I'm dehydrated. More than that, those unquenched desires are rearing their ugly head again.
He walks over to me, each step making my heart beat faster. When he reaches up to caress my cheek, I stop breathing. “Would you like to change that?”
I part my lips, but no sound comes out. Is he serious?
The question is answered when he gives me what I've been craving ever since I first laid eyes on him. His mouth meets mine, his tongue immediately demanding entry. My body moves on autopilot, my arms wrapping around him to fist my hands in the back of his blazer.
I don't give him room to breath as we tear at each other's clothing. The mystery of whether he's embarrassed about his size is solved when I stick my hand in his pants and pull out his thick veiny member. It fills my palm, pulsing deliciously with his lust. I'm quite the opposite from disappointed. In fact, his entire body looks made to fuck. The definition that I imagined beneath his shirt when I saw him standing on the balcony at The Billionaires Club comes to life in the form of sculpted muscles. I want to stand back and admire him, but I also don't want him to stop touching me.
Once we're both naked, he picks me up, slinging me over his shoulder to carry me the few feet to my bed and toss me down onto it. I have to stifle a squeal, already worried that we're making enough noise to wake Cindy. The house is small, and the walls are paper thin.
“I've wanted this since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he tells me as he kneels between my legs and hikes one of them up over his shoulder.
“Wanted what?” I smirk, blushing as he kisses a path down my inner thigh.
“To touch you. To know what you taste like.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my words leave me with a moan as his hot breath courses over my wet parts followed by his tongue slicking between my folds. I surrender to pleasure as his skilled mouth goes to work on my sensitive core. The tip of his tongue circles my cleft before plunging into me so deeply that my back arches off of the bed. He clutches onto my hips, pulling me to him so that his face is buried in the heat of my sex. I pant as his lips and teeth and tongue quickly bring me to orgasm.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, draping my arm over my face to hide my shame. Nothing this wrong has ever felt so right.
He's my boss. We shouldn't be doing this. But right now I don't really care. In my drunken state, desire trumps logic.
Croix crawls off of the bed for a moment, leaving me basking in the afterglow of my orgasm. When he returns to me, he tosses an empty condom wrapper onto my bedside table. The condom itself is already rolled down his length. The fact that it was originally meant for someone else causes a twinge of jealousy, but I'm able to brush it off as he climbs back onto the bed.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” His eyes burn into mine with an intensity that scorches my very soul. He looks like a God kneeling between my legs, knowing that he has all of the power—knowing that nothing in this world would make me say no.
“Yes, please,” I mumble shyly.
“Do you think you can handle my dick?” He strokes himself slowly.
I glance down at his swollen cock. The head is impressively wide. It's been a while since I've had one this big. I just hope he knows how to use it.
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” I challenge him.
“Is that so?” He smirks.
“That's so.” I nod smugly.
“Get up.” He gives my hip a gentle slap.
I know what he wants without even having to ask. I crawl onto my hands and knees and turn with my ass towards him. He circles my waist and pulls me back against him. I gasp, worrying that he's going to plunge into me without warming me up first. That, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle without making quite a bit of noise.
He slips his hand into my hair, yanking my head back. His face is so close to mine that my nostrils suck in nothing but the scent of his cologne. It makes my cunt pulse. The whole experience is completely surreal and sexy.
“When I slide my dick into you, you're going to come harder than you ever have before.” He holds me firmly in place as he growls into my ear.
His words are almost enough to send me over the edge. I whimper slightly as I feel him shifting behind me, his hand never leaving my hair. My heart is drumming in my chest, my breath coming out way more heavily than it should be from the little we've done so far.
I feel his glans push between my pussy lips. I barely have time to process the sensation before he bucks forward all the way inside. This moment may be what I feared—not being about to control my vocalization—but it was entirely worth it. He didn't lie. The second we're connected, I shatter against him. And when he starts thrusting, I no longer care if we wake up the entire neighborhood.
***
I expect Monday to be awkward. Croix didn't stick around after we slept together on Saturday night. As soon as we were done, he took the walk of shame back out to his waiting limo. It feels oddly good not being the one doing it for once.
I watched my phone for most of Sunday, hoping for a call or text from him. I received neither, which was confirmation that what happened between us was solely the product of too much alcohol and raging hormones. While I am a little disappointed, I understand that's the way things have to be.
I hold my breath as I walk into The Billionaires Club on Monday morning. It's not Croix who I find in his office, though. Bruno Dunne is sitting behind Croix's desk doing something on his laptop. As soon as he sees me, he beams from ear to ear and stands to come greet me, kissing me on both cheeks.
“Raven, how are things going so far?” He clutches onto my arms, looking me over as if he hasn't seen me in years.
“They're going well.” I nod, smiling at him.
Oddly, for the man who runs The Billionaires Club, he's one of the least attractive guys in the bunch, not that he isn't handsome. He's almost twenty years Croix's senior, but he could pass for a man in his late thirties. His shoulder-length brown hair makes his features seem even longer. There's a weathered look to him that's somehow still refined enough to make him appear charming. I can see how other women would find him attractive, but he's not really my cup of tea.
“Where's Croix?” I glance around the office as if he could be hiding under the desk or behind the curtains.
“He's coming in after lunch. I decided to stop by and take over things this morning, see how the place is running.” He lets me go finally.
“Well, it's not running quite yet, but it will be.”
“If all goes well. I apologize for not making the VIP event. I had other obligations.”
“It's fine. Things went fine.”
“I wish they would have gone better than fine.” He leaves me to circle the desk and sit back down. “We didn't have as many volunteer sign ups as I had hoped.”
“The party was on Friday. It's only Monday. I'm sure more volunteers will step forward throughout the week,” I try my best to sound optimistic.
“I certainly hope so. Have a seat.” He gestures to one of the chairs.
I lower myself into it, feeling a bit nervous. While Croix is my boss at the Florida location, Bruno is the boss over us all.
“Did Derrick Wight end up coming to the event?” Bruno closes his laptop.
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to escape the mention of the man's name. It seems like everyone at The Billionaires Club is obsessed with him. Or maybe they're obsessed with the fact that we used to be together. Whatever the case, I wish they'd stop bringing him up.
“No.” I shake my head.
He sighs, giving me an apologetic look. “I'm sorry to have sprung that on you. I probably should have told you when I hired you that he would be there.”
“It's fine. There's nothing between Derrick and I. I don't care what he's doing anymore.”
“I'm glad you can look at this from a professional standpoint. As much as it pains me to say it, we kind of need him right now.”
It pains me even more. No matter how much The Billionaires Club needs Derrick, I hope he doesn't show up. Perhaps knowing that I'm working here is what's making him keep his distance. I highly doubt it, though. If there's one thing I've learned about Derrick Wight, it's that he'll go where he wants and do what he wants when he wants, and he doesn't give a damn what anyone has to say about it.
I leave Bruno to whatever he was doing and go to my office to start work for the day. My morning is spent placing follow-up calls to the billionaires who attended our VIP event. Most of my calls go straight to voicemail, which is disappointing. I try to leave a polite and discreet message, asking for a call back if they're interested.
About an hour before lunch, Raj strolls into my office like he owns the place. I heard him talking to Bruno down the hall a few minutes earlier, so he didn't catch me unaware. I just hope he didn't tell Bruno what a crazy time that he and Croix and I had together on Saturday.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” I grin at him when he spreads his arms, making himself look larger than life. The man certainly has a presence about him. Every time I see him, he makes me smile.
“I came to fill out my paperwork. I'm ready to become a part of the penis buffet.” He pulls out a chair and sits across from me.
“The penis buffet,” I guffaw. “Oh lord, you brighten my day.”
“That's what they call it in California, yes? At least, that's what I've heard the women call it.”
“I was not aware of that.” I nod in amusement, still feeling the urge to chuckle.
“So what do I need to do to get on board with this?”
“Did you fill out the paperwork already?” I open up the software we use for electronic sign ups to see if I might have missed his submission when I checked it this morning. There are no new submissions.
“What paperwork?”
“There was a link in the email I sent you that directs you to a form we need you to fill out.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check his email. “I must have deleted it by accident. Can you send it again?”
“Sure.” I quickly resend the information.
“Ah, I got it now.” He scans through the document. “This is a little bit too lengthy to fill out on my phone. I'll have to get to it later.”
“That's fine. After you submit it, I'll schedule an appointment for you to have your photos taken for your portfolio.”
“Sounds good. I'll be looking forward to it.” He stands. “We should go out again sometime. I had a lot of fun with you and Croix the other night.”
“We should.” Even if Croix doesn't come with us. Raj is the closest thing to a friend that I feel like I have next to Cindy. I hope his invitation is sincere.