Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (74 page)

Chapter
11

Xavier pushed himself up from the table, a
bit uneasy on his feet. He smiled at me in that crooked way. I was falling in
love with him in each passing moment. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“Did the wine go to your head?” I asked
him, teasing him. I felt a lightness about myself, as well.

He reached out his hand to me and I
accepted it. We stood there together, in the shell of the candlelight. I
couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes, feeling such a weight in me. Every time I
was with him, the world around us seemed to calm; I seemed to forget every
element of my responsibilities, of my dreams. I could just be. There was a
freedom in it.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked me then,
his words a bit sloppy.

My eyes coursed toward the doorway, where
I could see the Secret Service walking and talking, a bit anxious to go home.

I shook my head. “Too many witnesses,” I
said, my eyebrows going high on my forehead. I felt silly, for some reason—up
for anything.

Xavier nodded, stepping closer to me. I
half expected his mouth to come toward mine, to engage in that kiss once more.
Deep in my heart, in my stomach, I wanted it—I wanted so much more, as well.

But instead, he whispered in my ear. “Do
you want me to take you home?”

I reared back for a moment, shocked at his
words. He’d been such a president during much of dinner—with a loud voice, with
a dominant personality. But this softer side forced me to nod my head, to lower
my eyebrows, and to admit to myself that I very much wanted him to take me
home. “Please,” I said, biting my lip once more.

He allowed me to accept his arm, and we
walked out into the foyer, where we found the secret servicemen, including
Dimitri. Dimitri looked at me with a vague, confused expression. He didn’t say
anything, of course. Gosh, he’d been my friend for so many, many years. What
would he think of me, now?

“Gentlemen. I’m going to accompany Miss
Martin back to her home. Dimitri, if you could drive us. I believe you know the
way rather well,” Xavier announced, administering his president voice once
more. I sniffed, lowering my eyes. I tried to become invisible—not a proud,
dominant girl of the White House. Surely not her.

“Yes, sir,” Dimitri stated, his voice a
bit harsh. I looked down at the ground, not wanting to see his assuredly
shocked, angry expression. Sure, I’d known he liked me throughout all those
years of friendship. I didn’t mean for it to be this way—for this start of a
torrid affair hurt his feelings. It wasn’t meant to be like this.

Dimitri rushed to grab the car. Meanwhile, the other secret servicemen grabbed
a few others, meaning to follow us, I supposed. Xavier and I stood together, my
arm still through his. We casually sipped on wine and spoke of other things—not
of the things we might do, in the back of that black, secret car. I wanted to
smack myself, to allow myself to understand that this was all off-limits. I
couldn’t—I wouldn’t do this. I would dance with him, hold his hand. I’d talk to
him and play fantasies in my head. But no more.

Dimitri pulled up before the White House,
allowing us to enter the back seat of the black vehicle. Xavier swept in after
me, closing the door with an affirmative clunk. In the back, the intensity was
heightened incredibly. Xavier’s face was inches from my own, and our lips were
so close together, needing each other. I held my hand over his chest and I
pressed my fingertips into his muscles, wanting to rip his clothes from his
skin. Stop, I kept thinking. Stop wanting him.

Stop needing him.

Dimitri pulled up in front of the
apartment building without my realizing that time had passed. Xavier turned
toward me, his breath hot. “Do you want me to walk you up?” he whispered, his
mouth so straight, so serious across his face.

I paused for a moment, my mind rushing.
Perhaps this could be the only time? I nodded subtly, allowing it. I needed him
so deep in me. My pussy called out for him, needing him. I wanted him to rip my
clothes from me, to bang me into a wall. Anything, goddammit. Anything.

Xavier called up to Dimitri in the front
seat. “Dimitri. Drive around the block for about an hour or so. Okay? I’ll call
you when I need picked up.”

“Will do, sir. The others will come wait
outside the door.”

“The others?” I asked Xavier, then.

Xavier nodded. “I come with a slew of
Secret Service every time I leave the White House. You’ll get used to it.”

What did he mean I would get used to it? I
wasn’t sure I would. I panicked at the thought of even one person knowing about
this, let alone many. But I stepped out of the vehicle anyway and found myself
walking into my apartment building with the president’s arm around my lower
back. My need for him overtook anything else. I couldn’t think anymore.

I rustled the key from my pocket and
stuffed it into the doorknob, pushing it open. Xavier darted in after me,
closing it behind us. He gazed around my apartment, tapping his tongue against
the top of his mouth. “Not bad, Miss Martin. Not bad.”

I stood at the doorway, trying to right my
emotions and my inner self. I was in there somewhere. All my hopes and dreams
had to overtake my sexual drive! I knew that I was being unruly—that my
feelings for this man couldn’t come to fruition. Sure, he was the most
attractive man I’d ever seen. His power was outrageous, and the way he kissed
me made me swoon.

But I couldn’t allow it to continue. I
cleared my throat. “Do you want some wine?” I asked him. I would change the
conversation; perhaps I could ask him about his wife again.

He spun around and nodded. “I’d love some.”
Thankfully, he kept his distance, standing over by the bookcase. “You have some
great books in here.” He brought his hands into his pockets. I imagined them
all over my body, rubbing at me. Forcing me to come to orgasm.

I nodded, pouring the glasses. “If only I
had time to read them, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m saving all the reading
for after the presidency.”

I didn’t want to tell him that if we were
caught doing this—even just drinking in this apartment like friends—he wouldn’t
make the next election. He would be on his back, reading paperbacks until the
day he died. He would be known as another president who had a sordid affair
with a White House employee, thus ruining both his career and hers.

Mine.

“Me, too. After my presidency, of course,”
I said, clinking my glass with his. I winked at him. “Cheers.”

His eyes flitted over me, over my breasts,
over my waist. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t comprehend something.

“What is it?” I asked him, genuinely
curious. I felt like I was on display, suddenly.

“I just—I can’t believe you exist.”

I tapped the glass on the table before me,
and crossed my arms, my mind rushing. “We can’t, Xavier,” I whispered. “We
can’t.”

He tapped his glass next to mine and took
a step forward. With each step, I felt myself take another back. Back and back
and back, like my kitchen went on forever. “Please, Xavier,” I whispered. My voice
pleaded with him, but I knew my eyes gave me away. They wanted him. God, I
wanted him.

Finally, I was against the door. I could
feel my spine wheedle into the wood. His body was so hot against mine. He
whispered into my ear: “What is it we can’t do?” His voice rasped with such
sensuality.

And then I nearly fell into his arms. He
kissed me so passionately, rubbing his hands against my breasts, against my
thin waist. I kissed back with such earnestness, as well. I felt my knees give
out, and I sighed into him, feeling my hands begin to unbutton his shirt. I
ripped open the thing, allowing a few buttons to course wildly through the
kitchen.

His immaculate, muscled chest gleamed in
the light from my kitchen. He removed his shirt, allowing his upper arms to pulse
with each movement. He placed his hands on neck and began to unzip my dress, as
well, slipping it down around my ankles. He revealed me in just my tights; just
my bra.

“God. You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

And then, he was on me once more, bringing
his hands around my back and unhooking my bra, leaving me to gasp before him,
my breasts bouncing into his open hands. He brought his mouth around the
nipples, coursing the tongue up and down, over and over. I felt my pussy become
so wet in my tights.

He gripped my waist, then, and carried me
toward the couch. He sat down and swept me over him, allowing me to straddle
him. He grabbed my tights and ripped them all the way down the leg, leaving me
to gasp with delight. He separated the lips of my pussy and placed his hand on
my clit, making me call out with such pleasure. I closed my eyes, seeing stars.

I reached toward his waist and undid his
belt, stripping him naked on the couch along with me. I knelt down and placed
my mouth around his huge, pulsing dick and rolled my tongue around and around,
hearing his gasps and sighs as I did it. I couldn’t believe I could make the
president orgasm; I couldn’t’ believe I could make him feel this good.

But then, he pushed me down onto the
couch, making me giggle a bit, even as my breasts bounced on my chest. “What
are you doing,” I laughed at him, giving myself over once again to emotion.

“You look fucking great,” he said,
thrusting his dick into me and bringing my feet up around his stunning face. He
fucked me like that, with my legs vertically in the air and my head and back
arched. Each penetration made me roar for more. He reached down and clamped my
nipples with his strong fingers—the very ones he’d used to sign such important
documents, to declare his oath to the presidency. And now—and now—

Each thrust shuddered the couch into the
wall, making the entire apartment creak. The neighbors would hear, I knew; but
they wouldn’t know who was making the noise. They wouldn’t dare say a thing.

After he nearly crushed the couch into the
heaping brick wall, he wasn’t done. He removed his dick from me, then, leaving
me gasping. He brought me up onto the table, then. I stood on all fours,
allowing him to enter my pulsing, dripping pussy from behind. “Yeah, baby,” I
said. “Yeah.” I rubbed my clit from the front, feeling my orgasm revving in me,
pushing all doubts of my love for this man aside. “Don’t stop!” I cried to the
air around us. I felt like I was going to cry; I felt like this was the
culmination of all my lack of feeling over the years. I’d had nothing for too
long.

“Come for me, baby. Come for me,” the
president said over and over. His hand reached around and helped me rub my
clit, over and over again. Finally I did; I came, allowing my muscles and my
head and my thoughts to come free from the constraints of the past several
years. I fell to the table in a fit of stars, of feeling. Xavier placed his
hand on my ass, allowing me the comfort of coming down from such passion.

Xavier knelt down before me. His face was
so serene. Nothing of the leader of the free world was portrayed upon it. I
cooed at his face and placed my finger on the tip of his nose, on his mustache.
“That, my friend, was brilliant,” I whispered to him, my eyes filled with
light.

He knelt and kissed me once more. I could
feel the passion digging into my gut. I wanted him to stay; I wanted to
continue fucking him, to have him continue fucking me. I reached up and brought
my arms around him, and he carried me into the bedroom, tucking me beneath the
covers.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to him, my
words so sleepy, so disoriented. “Where are you going?”

He was pulling his pants on, buttoning his
shirt. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he whispered. “My gorgeous, gorgeous
secret.”

I bit my lip and hid beneath the covers
for a moment, barely believing what I’d just done. I’d fucked the president of
the United States. And I felt my heart falling for him, harder and harder with
every single passing second.

What was I going to do?

Chapter
12

I rose early, feeling the pulsing headache
emanating through my forehead. I brought my legs over to the side, leaning my
head into my hands. Every limb throughout my naked body seemed to quake. What
the hell had happened last night?

I stood, feeling my nakedness reveal
itself to the sunlit room. The open window presented a chorus of bird’s songs
that lifted my spirits so readily, making me jump to the coffee machine and
begin the brew. I couldn’t believe the previous night had happened. I stood
naked in the kitchen, doing a slight dance for myself, my eyes closed.

I took a quick shower and dressed for
work, seeing myself in a whole new light. I knew that the president understood
the secrecy of the previous night, and for some reason, I wasn’t worried. This was
always going to happen. There was something in us that couldn’t resist each
other. Why should we fight it?

I took a taxi to work, like normal, and
found myself in a sea of phone calls, of flying papers. I smiled to myself,
loving the chaos once more. I reminded myself that this was all for the man of
my dreams: that each day of my life, I worked to propel his life forward. And
in turn, he propelled me forward, as well. We were the perfect political team.
Except, of course, that we were completely off the record.