BILLIONAIRE (Part 2) (3 page)

I
let my fingers wander through his disheveled hair as he suckled me in this gentle, reverent way.  “I would like to go on the pill, yes,” I told him, as sure of every decision I was making as if there had never been any other choice.  “And if we’re going shopping before we meet your brother, then we’d better get ready.”

I’d noticed, of course, the opulence of Alexander’s penthouse office and adjoining apartment.  Real estate location aside, both were large a
nd fitted with wildly expensive, if sparse, appliances, furniture and decorations.  But going out on the town with him was something else entirely.

A driver pi
cked us up and took us to Barneys.  Alexander had called ahead and we were met by a personal shopper.  She was an impeccably-dressed middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Maude.  We were politely led to an upper floor where an open fitting room with views of the city, plush chairs and several tall mirrors had been artfully arranged.  We were served champagne as a team of assistants answered Maude’s orders for sizes and styles.

“She needs an entire new wardrobe,” Alexander had explained.  “Work outfits, eveningwear, fitted short skirts
and tops.  A nice warm coat for fall.  Leather, maybe.  Or suede.  And shoes.  Lots of shoes.  Accessories, too.  Whatever she wants.”

And so I sipped my champagne as Maude and her minions
dressed me and undressed me, outfitting me again and again.  Alexander sat by the window, checking his emails on his phone, making a few calls.  He would give his approval from his perch, or veto the selections he didn’t like.

Anything she wants.

It was true.  Two hours later, my wardrobe had easily quadrupled in volume, quantity-wise at least.  Any one single garment Alexander had bought me, however, was more expensive than the entire content of my closet in Eva’s apartment.

At first I protested, of course
, but Alexander wasn’t interested in my protests.  “Let me.  Consider it part of your pay.  You’re going to need clothes for work and for travel.  We have a trip coming up soon.”  His phone rang.

And, b
efore I could ask him where we might be going, Maude brought me the most outstanding, luxurious coat I had ever laid eyes on.  Soft-worked suede, rimmed with fur, belted, hanging to mid thigh.  It was stunning and I, once I put it on, felt like my newly-released inner goddess had found her regalia.  This coat was
me
.  It was perfect, and I felt perfect in it.  It matched my newfound state of mind.  I slid it on over the black silk halter minidress I was wearing.  Petite, sexy wedges were held out for me to step into.

And my
transformation was complete.

Jake Wolfe looked eerily like his older brother, but he was slimmer, an inch or two shorter and had a more artistic flair to his overall look.  He had the same almost-black eyes as Alexander but his hair wa
s a shade lighter: a curled dark sable brown as opposed to his brother’s near-wavy, very-black locks.  And his mouth quirked with the same contemplative pout.

But it was ther
e that the similarities ended.

After Alexa
nder had paid the bill at Barney
s and sent the bulk of the new purchases back to his apartment – not
my
apartment, I’d noted but not commented on – we made our way to the restaurant.  It was a clearly-expensive darklit Japanese restaurant and Jake was already at our table, which was by the window and raised.  We had to take our shoes off and step up into the cushioned, cozy little enclave.

O
n the drive to the restaurant, Alexander had told me that Jake managed one of his investment companies for him – the smaller one – but it was a relatively new appointment.  Before that, Jake had had a string of jobs that “hadn’t quite worked out.”

As Alexander took my coat and introduced me to his brother, Jake kissed my hand, taking in the
svelte, perfect fit of my new dress.  He must have been four or five years younger than Alexander and did not have the seasoned masculinity of his older brother, but more of a lanky youthful swagger that suggested he hadn’t entirely mastered life and had suffered from some of its harder edges; a bruised vulnerability was barely masked.  He was good-looking in a somewhat more boyish way and there was a loose, reckless edge to him that clashed slightly with the underlying reassurance Alexander’s presence offered me.  I couldn’t help thinking that, while I’d waltzed into Alexander’s private lair without so much as a backwards glance, I would have thought twice about entering Jake’s.

Despite this,
I found him likeable.  His smile was mischievous and contagious, and there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Jake, meet Lila.  Lila,
this is Jake, my much younger, much less handsome brother.”

“I’m not quite as rich, either,” said Jake.  “But I’
m a lot more fun.”  He held his lips to the back of my hand a fraction longer than he needed to.  Still holding my hand, he helped me slide around the semi-circled velvet seat to sit next to him.  Of course I didn’t dare tell him that the past twenty-four hours I’d spent in his brother’s company had been not only the most fun but the most adventurous, erotic, and orgasmic of my life.  I kept the thought to myself but it made me smile coyly.

Jake was watching my eyes as though reading my thoughts, and this caused me to blush.

“Behave,” Alexander growled at him, sliding in next to me, so I was seated between the two of them.  Jake had already ordered sake and he poured three cups of the clear liquid, to the brim.  He held one of the cups up to me and I held it in both hands, taking a sip.  It was warm and strong and delicious.

It was a luxurious feeling,
to be ensconced in this lavish, intimate little booth between two big, handsome men.  I was dressed in a very-short black silk halter dress and wore nothing underneath.  My legs were bare.  My shoulders and arms were bare.  That such a thin film of fabric was all that separated me from total nakedness was quietly exciting.  I felt beautiful, and desirable.  I felt fresh and young and
alive
, like I’d just truly woken up for the first time in my life.  My body had taken on a glowing, molten awareness.  Alexander’s warm hand rested casually on my thigh and the heat of it was already beginning to feed me with its promise.  Jake’s arm brushed up against mine as he reached for his drink.

My femin
inity had never felt so empowering to me.  And my newfound sexuality simmered within me.  My breasts felt rounded and sensitive under the soft veil of silk.  My sex, delicate and responsive, began to pulse gently.  The hem of my dress had ridden high up my thighs to barely cover me.  I loved existing in this semi-aroused state of hyper-receptiveness.  I felt dewy and open and ready for anything.

I didn’t feel attracted to Jake Wolfe;  I was too entirely overcome with the attractions of his brother.
  But there was an unspoken excitement in his nearness.  Being this closely compressed between two ultra-virile males brought out the basest of my urges.  I liked that there was a raw and silent challenge, as deeply buried as it might be.  I liked, in my soft arousal, that I was
this
desirable.  Oddly, I wanted to
work
that desirability.  I wanted to play with it.  My fingers twirled a long strand of my hair.  My legs and my lips parted.  My sex was moistening and I wondered if they could
sense
that.  I was shocked at the brazen turn of my own thoughts.  I wondered if they could
smell
my sexuality.  It was irrational: the kind of behavior animals might exhibit in some far off leafy junglescape.  Cultured, educated New Yorkers shouldn’t behave this way. 
I
shouldn’t behave this way.  But all I could think about was the way Alexander’s massive, thrusting cock felt inside me when he came, filling me with flooding heat.  Even now, the moist dew was gathering as I savored the memory.  Alexander’s arm slid around my shoulders and his other rested languidly on my thigh.  He was claiming me, almost unconsciously, and I nestled closer to him, wriggling lightly in my seat to ease my rising tide.

But the movement did little to calm me.  It was
him
. 
He
was the reason behind my craziness.  Because I could smell him.  Under the fresh scent of mint and soap, there it was: his musk-spiced masculinity.  God damn him, he was tantalizing.  I realized it was the first time I’d been out in public with him and I seriously hoped I could control myself until we were alone again.  I felt on the very verge of jumping him right then and then, of climbing on to his lap and writhing against him until I felt him harden, of working his zipper down and sitting down onto him, easing him into my welcoming softness.

“So,” said Jake.  “Where did you two meet?”

“At a job interview, actually,” I said, glad for the distraction.

“Lila is m
y new assistant,” Alexander clarified.

Jake’s eyes roved between my face and Alexander’s.  An easy, amused smile touched his lips.  He took in our postures and positions, and the way Alexander’s fingers were touching the high hem of my dress. 
“Assistant?” he drawled.

“
Yes,” Alexander answered curtly.  “Assistant.”

“
I
need a new assistant,” Jake said.  “Let Lila come work for me.”

“
Find your own assistant,” Alexander said.  “Lila’s mine.”

Lila’s mine.

Oh God, those provokingly possessive words did nothing to help my restraint.  Against every educated, erudite grain I had once valued, I found I
wanted
him to possess me.  To own me.  Desperately. 
Right now.
 

I was glad a waiter appeared at our table just then.  On second glance, he didn’t look like a waiter.  He looked
like a manager, or the owner of the restaurant.

“Mr. Wolfe,” he
half-bowed to Alexander.  “And Mr. Wolfe.”  He repeated the motion again at Jake.  “Would you allow us to bring you an assortment of our finest delicacies this evening?  As per the usual?  What are the lady’s preferences?”

The lady’s preferences included raw meat but had nothing to do with sushi. 
What was wrong with me?  I’d become a debauched, raging nymphomaniac. 
I forced myself to pull my mind away from the magnificent echoing image of Alexander’s glorious manhood the first time I’d seen it.  I realized right then – at an entirely inappropriate time and place, of course – that I hadn’t yet
tasted
Alexander.  This seemed like a glaring oversight.  I’d taken him into my body many times and in a number of different positions.  But never into my mouth.  And I was suddenly dying to do exactly that.  I wanted to take that big, perfect cock between my lips, to run my tongue along its silky, glossy textures, to suck and lick and draw him as deep as I could until he swore and groaned in agonized ecstasy and came in hot, juicy bursts.  My mouth watered at the thought.  Of the greedy suction.  Of drinking him into my body in creamy mouthfuls. 
It was true.  I had become a complete and utter crazyperson.  A slut.  A whore. 
The worst – or maybe the best – thing about my metamorphosis from nerd to nymphet was that I didn’t care.  I wanted to get down and dirty with Alexander Wolfe like I’d never wanted anything in my life.

I forced myself to focus.