Dance with the Billionaire (10 page)

“Oh come on, Dylan,” she says. “It’s not like I’ve even left the
state
. I just have a paper due, and I can’t concentrate. There’s too much drama ... So I figured I’d hang out here for a few days, get some work done.”

“Well, just make sure you stick to that plan, okay?” he says, playing the role of concerned older brother to a tee. “Mom will
freak
if you fail this year for the second time. So you stick to the East wing, where the
library
is. We’re in the West. Got it? I don’t want to see you, okay?”

“Suits me,” she says, shrugging dismissively and pushing her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

“But first,” he adds, “you’re having dinner with us tonight.”

§

Jesus Christ. If I thought Dylan Campbell was complicated, his kid sister is a whole other ballgame. It turns out Isabella is
exactly
the same age as me, but right now I feel like her fucking babysitter, she’s such
a spoiled brat.

Before we came down to dinner, Dylan told me a little about her backstory. She’s been kicked out of various fancy prep schools, always getting into trouble and always having an excuse. Everything was always someone else’s fault. But she’s the apple of their dad’s eye, and he’s always spoiled her. She charmed her way into Brown, but ended up flunking her first year there because she was partying too much. And by the way she’s been slurring her words, obviously having taken good advantage of cocktail hour (or ‘afternoon’) today, it seems like she
still
knows how to party. James is as attentive as ever, filling our glasses, but even so, she still gets up a couple of times to top up her drink.

As I watch her knock back drink after drink, while Dylan tries to make polite conversation which she continually bats away, it dawns on me – maybe fully for the first time ever – that your upbringing is just one part of you. The rest comes from who you are deep inside. And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that deep inside,
this
girl is just plain nasty.

As we eat, I’m trying to make myself as small and inoffensive as possible, because I’ve got this awful feeling that any second now she’s gonna turn on me, and when she does it’s not going to be pretty. I’ve already come close to punching her out in the dance studio, and I really don’t want to be involved in the same kind of scene at this dinner table.

Because if I knock this bitch’s teeth out, I’m basically kissing goodbye to my money. All I can do is stay out of her line of sight. But despite my attempts to keep a low profile, sure enough, halfway through dessert, she finally bites. I didn’t even have to say anything to upset her; I guess I must have just looked at her funny.

“So, Juliet ...” she says, dropping her spoon dismissively in her bowl.

I know I should correct her, but right now I just don’t dare.

“Where did you two
meet
?”

I’m dumbstruck. I’ve no idea what to say. After all,
Your brother offered me a thousand dollars for my panties
is hardly polite dinner table conversation now, is it?

But luckily, while I’m still frantically searching around in my empty head for an answer, Dylan leaps in to the rescue.

“I met Juli-
a
,” he says pointedly, “in the bar where she works. Or more correctly, where she
worked
. You see, Julia is taking up a prestigious scholarship at the Eldridge school of dance in a few weeks.
Julia
is a hard worker.”

I blush. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really pleased by the way he pulled this explanation out of the bag, not to mention flattered by the glowing way he’s talking about me. He makes it all sound so ... respectable. But even so, the word ‘scholarship’ kind of makes me wince. Because after all, if anyone’s funding my time at the Eldridge school, it’s Dylan Campbell, right?

Why did I lie to him? Why did I tell him I’d got that damn scholarship?

“You see, Isabella?” he continues.  “Julia is a dedicated student. You might learn a thing or two from her.”

Uh oh. This was obviously not the right thing to say. Isabella looks totally furious, her eyes darting with fire, like she’s about to upend the whole fucking table.

“You want me to start taking
lessons
from whatever little sluts you pick up off the street now?” she hisses. “Is that it, Dylan?”

I freeze, clenching my fists beneath the table. I can feel my cheeks burning red. I’m so fucking angry that this nasty piece of work has the power to make me feel like I do right now: worthless, cheap and ashamed. Whatever sheen of respectability that Dylan’s explanation gave things has now vanished into thin air, and I want the ground to swallow me whole.

But it turns out I’m not the only one who’s angry. Dylan is furious, too.

“Isabella,” he roars. “Watch your mouth.”

There’s no trace of brotherly affection left in his voice. Just pure, white hot anger.

“Whatever, Dylan,” she snaps back. “You’re not in charge of me.”

And with that she stomps out the room, slamming the door so hard behind her that it makes the antique flower vases jump.

I can’t look at him. I’m too embarrassed, too ashamed, my face flushed.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “She went too far. She always does. She’s a total nightmare.”

“But she’s right,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“What?”

“She’s right, isn’t she?”

“No, Julia. She’s
not
right,” he replies urgently. “She thinks she knows everyone’s business but she never does see anything clearly. She’s too wrapped up in herself. She doesn’t know anything about me, and she
certainly
doesn’t know anything about you. Forget her, please. For me.”

He reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

I shiver, surprised as much by the gesture as by the intensity of my reaction to it.

Did he really just do that?

And even as I’m warning myself not to start falling for him, I wonder if maybe it’s already too late ...

§

Tonight I’m fresh out of ideas – perhaps I’m gonna have to accept the inevitable, and kiss goodbye to my virginity after all. And as if to confirm my suspicions, I don’t have time to think up a new plan before a blindfold is tied tightly around my eyes.

“Now it’s my turn to be in control,” Dylan says. “Hands in the air.”

I do exactly as he tells me, and a moment later I feel my dress being pulled up and over my head, leaving me standing in the middle of my room now in nothing more than my bra, panties, stockings and heels.

I haven’t thought this through, have I?

My precious virginity, the thing I’ve been so carefully protecting my entire twenty-one years. The priceless gift that I always told myself I would save for The One. For the man who truly
deserved
it. And here I am, about to cast it aside for nothing more than money, to a man I barely know – to a man I’m not even sure whether I
like
or not ...

Instinctively my arms cross over my chest. I feel so on display, so vulnerable, especially now that I can’t even see what he’s doing.

I hear the click of his shoes as he circles me, coming to a stop directly behind me. A pause, and then I feel him unhook the clasp of my bra. There’s no point in fighting this, I think, letting it fall to the floor.

“I know what you’re thinking Julia,” he says. “You’re not in control, and you don’t like that ... Well tonight, you’re finally going to have to let go.”

Again, the click of his shoes and then I feel his thumb hooking beneath the waistband of my panties, pulling it outwards, stretching the elastic taut before letting go, causing me to jump a little as the material cracks back into my skin.

“Hey!” I say in surprise.

“Take them off,” he commands. All I can do is follow his orders, pushing them down over my thighs and then stepping out of them, leaving me in just stockings and stilettos.

I can feel goose bumps on my skin and my heart’s beginning to thud.

One hundred thousand dollars. Just focus on the money, Julia. Focus on your future. Your ticket out of a dead end bar job and a no-hope existence ...

Again I hear his footsteps, only this time they’re walking away from me.

What the fuck?

I wait there, exposed and confused.

He returns a moment later, placing something heavy right behind me.

“Sit,” he orders.

I reach out behind me to check what’s there, my fingers tentatively brushing against what feels like the back of a simple wooden chair.

“
Sit
,” he repeats, his voice so loud it startles me, and I do as he says, taking the leap of faith, hoping there’s a seat behind me otherwise I’m about to fall flat on my ass. With relief, I feel my bare buttocks touch against the cool wood a moment later.

“Very good,” he says. “Now put your arms behind you.”

I hear him circle me again, and the very moment I put my arms behind me, I feel his hands on my wrists, binding them tightly to the back of the chair with what I’m guessing is that same silk rope I tied him with.

“Of course,” I say, my voice trembling. “I knew it was only a matter of time before I found out what kind of kinky shit you
really
like to get up to ...”

“You think
this
is kinky?” he laughs. “You’ve got a
lot
to learn, Julia. Now, spread your legs.”

I do as he says, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Fuck. I’m so exposed. So vulnerable. He could do
anything
to me right now.

“Wider,” he says, that same playful tone in his voice. He’s obviously enjoying this.

I push my legs even wider apart, feeling my clit beginning to throb and my nipples tightening, despite myself. Because he’s right, of course. There
is
something kind of hot about letting go ...

“
Wider
,” he says again.

So I push my legs as wide apart as they can go. I hear him crouch down behind me, and then I feel his hands on my ankles, tugging them backward, binding them one by one to the legs of the chair, so that I’m permanently spread wide apart like this, the cool air of the room tingling against that burning place between my legs.

“Go on, test the ropes,” he says. “I can tell that you want to.”

So I tug and pull as hard as I can, but it’s no use. I’m fixed tightly in place.

“As you’re about to find out, Julia,” he says, slowly and playfully, his voice coming from between my legs, his breath dancing against my clit. “There is exquisite pleasure in restraint.”

Oh man, you have no idea ...

A moment later I feel his tongue, tracing up the swollen folds of my sex in one slow, confident lick, before working in tantalizing circles around my clit.
Wow
. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I gasp, I can’t help it. And with each moan I make, I feel him respond, his tongue lapping me just the way I like, as if he’s quickly learning just what to do to get me off. As his tongue dances around my clit, this time I feel his lips enclose it too, sucking me, his hands moving to my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples into rock hard arousal while his tongue continues to flick expertly across my swollen tenderness.

“Christ. You taste so fucking sweet, Julia,” he murmurs.

I reply in a gasp, as his tongue once more trains its attention in slow sensual circles on my clit, flicking around it at just the right speed to increase the steady build up of electricity in my body, growing stronger and stronger with each new movement of his tongue.

I arch my back, my bound wrists and ankles fixing me firmly in place, my legs spread wide, as Dylan’s fingers play with my nipples and his mouth brings me right to the edge of ecstasy.

And a moment later I cry out, a long animal moan, as my whole body feels engulfed in pleasure, my mind shattering and my senses crackling with energy, bound so tightly in place as I come for him, his mouth clamped around my clit, his hands cupping my breasts, working every last drop of pleasure from my trembling body.

I hear him rise to his feet, then lean in close. When his lips softly touch against my own, I can taste my own sweetness on him, and I moan and shiver as he pushes his tongue deep into my mouth, our kiss quickly becoming urgent and passionate before he pulls away, leaving me gasping.

There’s a long pause, and it feels as if the air itself is crackling – charged with the most intense energy. And then I hear that long, slow, unmistakable sound:

Zzzzzziiiiiipppppp
....

“Now it’s your turn, Julia,” he says, a note of playful competition in his voice, “to show me what
your
mouth can do ...”