On top: Billionaire bachelor romance (The Playgirls Book 1)

Chapter 1

She needed sex and she needed it now. Seriously. It had been thirteen months. Thirteen.

Alice set her music a peg higher, although it was well past midnight, and reached out for one of her dicks, almost shaking.

The curved pink dildo hit the top of her wall right away, poking at the bundle of nerves that needed to be eased. Her movements weren't very gentle. Savagely, without a care, she rammed it inside her, again, and again and again, ten times quicker than the rhythm of the blues blasting around her.

Eventually, she'd eased the ache – momentarily. No halleluiah for her, though – she'd never orgasmed in twenty-five years, and didn't think she ever would. But her body was sated. For now.

It didn't last long. She went back to her book – a boring romance; there was nothing remotely erotic, but the first kiss the protagonists exchanged had her reaching for Bob, this time. She needed the vibrations.

It had grown worse over the last couple of months, and it was completely
their
fault.

Her job at On Top, the newspaper Linda Donovan – an old school friend – had started up, was the stuff of dreams: she was needed at the office about three hours a week. The rest of the time, she was expected to write, attend cool events, fly around interviewing interesting people; Linda hadn't meant her columns to be about the A-List – not even the B or C-list – but genuinely fascinating individuals; there had been the occasional author, a few dancers, self-made businessmen, cut-throat lawyers who never lost their cases.

And at the beginning of the fall, there had been the Colburn.

Yes,
those
Colburn.

They had been a bit of a leap, because they were quite high up in the A list, but Linda had asked Alice to reach out nonetheless; her article hadn't been about Xander's latest movie, Kellan's match, Colt or Kane's business ventures, but about
them
, as a family unit. A little bit of a "yeah, we're normal people, actually."

The thing was, unexpectedly, Alice had clicked with Tamsin, Xander's wife. Tamsin was new in town, which meant that her contact list wasn't long; obviously, Alice's name was at the very top, because she somehow ended up meeting her two or three times a week.

She wasn’t complaining: Tamsin, a writer herself, was a bundle of fun.

But half of the time, Xander – or one of his three yummy brothers – had been around, hence Alice's desperate need for quality time with her fake cocks. Thank god she had a few.

She was giving it a third go when Skylar Grey's voice was replaced by the generic iPhone ringtone. Dammit. She'd been enjoying that round.

Without bothering to unsheathe Bob, she grabbed the phone, saw Tamsin's name and answered with a: “Bad timing, sweetie. Really fucking bad timing.”

She didn't try to hide her breathlessness, relishing in the idea of making the prim and proper British woman blush.

It was hilarious that Tamsin – a sex symbol in the flesh, exotic with massive tits and an ass like
that
– blushed to every suggestive comment, while Alice – who was pegged as the good girl – was the one whose mind resided in the gutter.

The response didn't come from the voice she'd expected, though.

“Do I want to ask?”

It was a guy; definitely a guy.

Shit.

There was no point guessing which of the Colburn she was now addressing; either way, the fact was, she was on the phone with a sex god, while a yellow dildo was lodged insider her.

Alice was mortified for about three long seconds, before laughter took over. Damn, she was
so
going to write something about that.

“Believe me, you don't.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” the man teased.

That immediately ruled out Xander; the tone had been on the flirty side and Alexander Colburn didn't flirt with anyone, save for his wife.

So, quite unabashedly, she reached out between her legs with her left hand and pumped Yellow Man inside her, a bit more discreetly, as though he might somehow hear it through the phone.

“Anyhow, why are you calling? Tamsin's fine, right?”

“Never better. We're in England, sorry if it’s late.”

“No worries,” she replied, not quite sure what he'd actually said. The main thing was, her masturbation was getting seriously good, with his low, rumbling voice in the background. “But stop stalling and tell me what you’re after, honey.”

They were friendly enough, but nowhere near a level of intimacy where he would have called from another continent just to say hi or see what she was up to, so he wanted something.

“Now you mention it, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Go on?”

Given the fact that he was providing a delicious soundtrack to her self-indulgence, she was somewhat in his debt.

“It's Tamsin and Xander's anniversary next month. Our parents are throwing them a party, and well, as baby Alexander has bagged himself a
most unsuitable
wife, dear mother has taken to pairing Kane, Colt and I up with what she considers perfect candidates.”

It was Kellan, then. Alice relaxed; he was by far the least intimidating out of the four sex symbols.

“I'm desperate. I need a date who would get her off my back, and well, mom would love you, with the conservative thing you've got going on.”

That did manage to make her chuckle quite a bit. Might have had something to do with the fact that she was still fucking herself, her hips now up in the air to get a better angle.

His mother would find her
real
conservative, if she saw her now.

“Ok, no worries. I'll be your fake date, whatever. Sounds like fun.”

Kellan, she could deal with. At least, it wasn't cold, calculated, dismissive Colt Colburn.

•

“You did
what
?”

“I asked her out. She's gorgeous and single, for some reason; why not?”

There was a very long line of reasons why not. Alice Vaughan wasn't a valid dating option; Colt would have asked her out, if she had been.

“You don't have a problem with it, right? I mean, you met her first; if you've called dibs...”

He
had
met her first. It was he who had read her lighthearted email about setting up an interview and, against his better judgment, had accepted to discuss it.

Look,
she’d written,
On Top is a magazine for young professional women. My boss and I know that having the four of you on our cover would boost our sales to the moon and back for a good quarter, so give a little startup a hand; I’ll bring cake.

Colt handled public relations, because he was the most indifferent, focused and merciless amongst them; yet even he had laughed at that.

The meeting had been brief. He'd planned on quizzing the fuck out of her, get her angle, her goals,
everything,
but she'd appeared and put him on in ass.

He had no idea what had occurred but somehow, after a mere fifteen minutes, they'd set up an interview with the rest of the family.

There had been cake. Homemade apple pie, to be precise.

However, in no way had he done anything that could be conceived as calling dibs, despite his inclination.

She'd had her hair in a messy brown bun, off her neck, and seeing the elegant curve, he'd wanted to kiss the naked skin, put his hands around those hips, and...

But he hadn't, so his brother had every right to date her, if she was agreeable.

Fuck. The last time a brother of his had announced he was dating, they’d had a sister-in-law within three months.

What if Alice and Kellan actually hit it off?

“Chill,” his youngest brother said, joining him on the terrace where he’d isolated himself to think things through. “You heard the conversation. He asked her out to stop mom from setting him up. It wasn’t exactly romantic.”

Xander had grown uncomfortably observant.

“But she’ll have someone eventually – for real. If a fake date makes you look like this, you might want that someone to be you.”

“What about when we break up? Tamsin likes her.”

Save for Kane – Colt’s twin – the Colburn boys were so close they’d developed an unhealthy codependence; they weren’t about to stop, it worked for them.

When Colt or Kellan needed eggs, instead of dropping by the closest store, they drove downtown to borrow them from Xander.

Ok, it may have to do with the fact that Tamsin couldn’t help herself from feeding them, and she was a great cook, but whatever.

Alice spent an awful lot of time at their place, and it would be incredibly uncomfortable to see her after she’d dumped him because he worked too hard.

She would, too.

Colt had dated two kinds of women: those who hated the fact that he often spent twenty-hours straight at the office, and those who didn’t mind.

The first lot dumped him, he dumped the second.

There was no doubt in his mind that Alice would be one of those who grew resentful; she wasn’t a gold digger, or a woman who just liked the stigma and advantages one got from dating a Colburn.

Whoever ended up in a relationship with her would get a genuine, full time, wholesome kinda love. And apple pie. In exchange, she’d demand some of her partner’s time and attention – two things he didn’t have a great track record at relinquishing.

Chapter 2

The party sucked balls.

Most of those under forty seemed to be having fun, as they’d teamed up and were either making out or chatting with a full glass of something containing a decent percentage of alcohol, but no such luck for the likes of Alice Vaughan, otherwise known as Ms. Boring.

As soon as she’d been introduced, Mrs. Colburn had all but jumped on her, like every mother she’d ever met. She had yet to release her wrist.

“Alice dear, may I introduce you to…”

Looking like the perfect socialite in training sucked balls.

Alice had tried to get rid of that stigma, but changing her hair hadn’t helped: instead of making her edgy, the bob had turned her into a wannabe pin-up.

Save me,
she mouthed to Kellan, who was enjoying another round at the bar.

Her phone rang in her clutch and she excused herself to check the text.

“So polite,” one of the mother hens cooed.

At this point, she could fart in their general direction and they’d think it was sweet.

“Sorry love,”
a text from Kellan said.
“I’m not fighting my mom to free you. There’s a reason she’s called The Dragon.”

“I always give a blowjob to my dates. You’ve just given up on yours, sweetie.”

She held up her orange juice in salute as she saw him spit his drink across the room; take
that,
traitor.

He was soon showing his phone to his brothers, no doubt sharing her text. Most of them laughed; all, in fact, expect Colt.

Oh no, Mr. Grumpy Pants was above crude jokes. His eyes shot straight from the phone to her, narrowing dangerously, menacingly.

He looked like she’d just threatened his family, his dog and his unborn children. What the hell was this guy’s problem?

If he’d been anyone else, she might have guessed he needed a good screw to chill out – she
would
know abstinence could push the grumpy buttons like nothing else – but he was Colt Colburn.

His reputation was notorious; he’d left a trail of broken hearts behind him, as he was solely focused on work, and completely indifferent to anything related to his girlfriends.

The actresses didn’t get his company on the red carpet. He never went to hear the musicians’ performances. The tennis girl had won Wimbledon without him attending one single match.

Yet, within months of every breakup, a new willing victim volunteered, perhaps believing that she’d be the one to change him.

Major snort.

The only thing that could change a man was a man who wanted to change.

He didn’t.

During the “in between,” before a new sacrifice was offered up to his altar, he was seen with the kind of women no one settled down with – the Tamsins of the world, who looked like the opposite of Alice Vaughan.

Alice had a heart shaped face and dimples; she was blonde, naturally, although, in her latest attempt to alter her appearance, she’d gone for the brunette thing; it hadn’t worked. She still looked like the prudish wife who stayed at home while the husband was banging the secretary.

It might have something to do with her posture, her body, which wasn’t surgically enhanced; she didn’t know.

The only thing that mattered was that she was freaking tired of it.

Twenty-five-year-old single women with healthy sexual appetites want to be the bangable secretary, every once in a while.

“Now, tell me dear, where did you go to school again?”

She wished she could have said something absolutely shocking, rebellious, breaking the stigma…

“Stanford,” she mumbled, blushing.

It wasn’t her fault: they’d given her a decent scholarship, dammit!

She’d been two minutes away from having to confess that, yes, she did volunteer at an animal shelter, when she was unexpectedly saved from the hungry lot of future mother-in-laws.

Seriously, each of them was ready to offer up a son or two.

But someone pulled her hand and next thing she knew, she was ensnarled in a pair of strong arms, following the steps of a waltz.

She’d been startled at first, but soon enough, she checked her footing and followed the lead.

Her eyes rose from her feet – when she deemed she’d look at them long enough to ensure that they recalled what they were supposed to do – and went up to her savior’s face.

What she saw shocked the hell out of her. Colt. It was Colt.

She wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself rescued by any of the others, Xander included – Tamsin wasn’t the kind of insecure girl who would begrudge a dance with a friend; but never would she have put her money on the older, colder, and most beautiful one of them.

“You dance,” she mumbled, a bit startled; it wasn’t an awkward little tour in a circle; they’d already waltzed across the entire dancefloor twice, and he elegantly turned his head towards the direction of their steps with a practiced indifference.

Thinking about it, she wasn’t too surprised; she
would
have pegged him a waltz kinda guy, if she’d considered it.

“I turn around in circle, at the minute,” he responded, uncaringly. “I might just dance with you, some day.”

She was rather confused, which kinda pissed her off; words were her thing, she rocked at it, though – but those ones had her all flushed and excited and she couldn’t put her finger on it…

Then it hit. Oh. Dance that way; like, naked and under the cover. Gosh, his intense green eyes turned her brains to mush.

She’d finally worked it out but the moment had passed – too late to come up with an awesome come-back. 

Or to demand a demonstration.

•

She hadn’t protested when he kept his hand on the small of her back and led her to the bar, where his brothers had converged; it had been different while they’d waltz, but there, in front of everyone, when there was absolutely no need for any contact, it was a claiming; he knew it, his brothers – including fucking Kellan – knew it. Their smirks said that much.

Ah. So
that
was why Kellan had invited her; to get a reaction out of him.

Well played, little shit.

Colt wasn’t overly taken aback by the turn of events; his brothers were always trying to interfere.

Kane had pointblank refused to go to college, demanding to be given a failing subdivision of their company instead of tuition money; in fourteen years, he’d completely turned it around, making Colburn Finances one of the most lucrative parts of their business.

Kellan was the jock, a player in every possible sense of the world – it was only fitting that he’d made a career out of it. Having one of the strongest arms ever recorded in the history of baseball helped.

Xander, taking the rebellious wave a notch further, yet, had followed the steps of their mother’s early career and gone to freaking Hollywood. Not as an actor, thank fuck, but still.

Colt was the responsible one, the eldest; he’d gone to Harvard before starting on an entry level position at Colburn Global – a decade later, he was CEO. Yeah, sure, that would never have happened if it hadn’t been for his surname, but the thing was, he deserved it, too. His father hadn’t planned to retire as yet, but Colt’s performance had ensured him passing the reigns wouldn’t be detrimental to the business.

Colt thought every step out, first and foremost keeping the wellbeing and reputation of his family in mind.

That applied to his personal life as well: the women he chose were always assessed.

Alice had failed that assessment; perhaps not on a personal level, but the overall picture did matter.

She fell into the friends of the family category, and Colt had a firm “don’t shit where I eat” policy.

However, recognizing that she wasn’t a suitable candidate didn’t mean that he was happy to see her with his freaking
brother.
The text she’d sent Kellan – about giving him a blowjob with that sweet mouth of hers, of all things – completely unhinged him.

So his brother had won, for now, anyway. Alice’s date had just changed from one Colburn to the next. 

He settled her on a bar stool and asked for her order.

“Not freaking orange juice would be a start.” 

Tamsin chucked, apparently privy to an inside joke; he wanted in.

It was uncanny, how important it seem to understand what made that half smile form at the corner of her mouth; he couldn’t recall ever being as intrigued by anything.

“Something I missed?”

“People assume Alice likes orange juice. And crocheting. And baking. She’s upset about it, because she can’t stand orange juice.”

“How about…”

“Cakes are sacred and wait until you see my crocheted bikini before condemning my hobbies. And I’ll have a brandy, if they’ve got it.”

Ah. So the little princess didn’t want to be viewed as such; Colt couldn’t help his predatory smile. He could think of a few ways to make her feel very, very bad.

“It seems to be a standard, though. Assume three things about me. Two would be right, the last, absolutely off the mark.”

“Really?” Kellan was asking, a certain glint in his eyes; everyone groaned. He was about to make a challenge out of it.

“Everytime.”

“I’m game if you can make it worth my while. If I win, I get a kiss?”

Kellan obviously had a death wish; he knew how territorial Colt was. He hadn’t shared Action Man figures a quarter of a century ago; what made him think he’d changed in the meantime?

“And what do I win?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Colt really didn’t like that. Without meaning to do so, he’d walked closer, standing just behind her stool. She didn’t seem to mind, so he grew bolder yet, and placed his hand on her back again.

Still no visible reaction.

What was she thinking?

“Well, then you get to kiss whichever one of us you little heart desires, don’t you?”

Kellan was dead meat if he carried on looking at her like he wanted a piece.

She seemed to consider it, for a minute, but then, she was nodding.

Great. He was going to be incarcerated for murdering a sibling tonight.

Colt didn’t understand it, and for a heartbeat, he despised her for the unreasonable hold she had on him. His attraction, taken to the nth degree, had somehow forged some sense of possessiveness that had no logical grounds. He didn’t know her. Hell, he didn’t even
like
her that much. She smiled too much; some of it had to be faked. She was nothing but a pretty package.

When telling himself that failed to work, he downed the beer and signaled the barman for another round, switching to scotch.   

“No, I’ve got one! You were on the student council, a cheerleader and you won Homecoming Queen, right?”

“Right, wrong, right,” she responded in her singsong voice, yet again proving her ridiculous theory true.

It was uncanny. Everyone except Colt had taken part on and off for two hours; one of his brother or Tamsin would randomly throw a few suggestions and it didn’t matter how likely they seemed, there was always a wrong one.

She’d given her sister’s phone number to check each fact and when Kellan had lost his tenth bet, he’d contacted her; she wasn’t lying.

Colt only smiled; they were looking at that game the wrong way. He could win in two seconds flat, anytime; he would have, too, if he hadn’t been ninety-nine percent certain that Alice would choose him, when she was crowned victor.

She was on her fourth glass of brandy, and it had loosened the perfect exterior; instead of seeming entirely indifferent to his touch, and staying elegantly poised, hands on her closed knees, she’d gotten up and tucked herself under his arm.

Yeah, he was pretty damn smug about that. She could have chosen Kellan or Kane, but she was sticking to him.

“They are
boring
,” she murmured against his ear, getting on her tiptoes to reach his face. 

Her hand was resting on his chest and her body, completely flush against his. How right that felt. 

“You’re right, they are. I’d give it a go, but I’m afraid that would end the game prematurely.”

“That confident, are you?”

“Oh yes. Give me a free go, I’ll prove it.”

“Free?”

“One guess doesn’t count – so we don’t have to end the game for the rest of the kids.”

She considered that, before asking:

“Is it still worth a kiss?”

Is it
ever
.

“Well, I think that would be fair, wouldn’t you?”