The Hotel 2 (The Billionaire Seduction) (7 page)

His breath is hot on my bare
back. “I’m going to fuck your pussy until you come, and
then I want something else.” He withdraws his fingers and
traces them up my ass, lightly between my cheeks. I shiver at the
soft touch and his wicked meaning.

“Have you ever been taken
here, Juliet?”

I shake my head. I’ve never
wanted it before, but now, I feel a tempting curiosity. Dominic works
my body like he was made just for me. And I trust him. Whatever he
wants, I know it will bring me pleasure. And him, too.

“Soon,” Dom promises.
He grips my hips, positioning me open for him. I hover on the hard
edge of release until he finally finds my entrance and thrusts his
cock into me from behind. God, yes. It feels perfect, so fucking
good, so right. This is exactly what I needed. He thrusts again,
rubbing my inner walls, filling me up completely, pushing me over the
edge.

“Dom!” I cry out,
desperate.

Dominic keeps his angle just
right, pumping me with raw pleasure. My orgasm builds from deep
inside, a tidal wave preparing to crash over me. And then I feel it,
his fingertip sliding between my ass cheeks, finding my sensitive
knot of muscles. I tense, but Dom thrusts deep into my pussy again
and I can’t help but surrender totally to the feeling of his
cock buried deep inside me.

His finger traces my asshole,
adding a new dimension to the pleasure. The pressure increases, and
then I feel him, pushing just inside. The sensation is incredible,
and with the hard thrust of his cock, I can’t hold back
anymore. My fingers dig into the mattress, grasping for something
solid to cling onto, but the pleasure doesn’t stop. There’s
nothing I can do except call out his name.

I scream as he wriggles his
finger and thrusts deeper, and the wicked tension releases. Lights
burst behind my eyes, my pussy clenching hard around his cock as an
intense orgasm slams into me. The waves still pounding through my
body, Dominic withdraws and pulls my hips up, urging me onto my
knees. Before I can register what’s happening, his cock is
pressing against my ass.

“Now,” he says.

I gasp for air. Can I take it? I
want to feel him, if it’s anything as good as his finger, but
he’s so big. What if I can’t—

“Relax, my dirty girl,”
Dom murmurs. “Let me show you how good this can feel.”

He slides a hand around my waist,
bracing me on my hands and knees. Then his hand moves between my
legs, stroking my clit. I’m still sensitive there, but the heat
is sharp and immediate. I moan.

The pressure inside me begins to
build again, a deep hunger I don’t even recognize.
Instinctively, I jut my ass back towards him, grinding against his
fingers as they wreak havoc on my swollen peak.

“God, you’re so
fucking sexy,” Dom growls. He twines his hand in my hair,
giving a light tug. “You’re going to take my cock all the
way, baby. You’re going to feel what it’s like to the
very hilt.”

His cock presses my asshole
again, wet with my own juices. This time, I don’t tense. I’m
in a haze of pleasure from his touch, my clit throbbing, my pussy
aching for more.

Slowly, he pushes inside me.

Holy shit!

It’s a fullness like
nothing else, a pain edged with deep pleasure. Dom pauses, just
inside, waiting as my body relaxes and stretches to accommodate the
thick intrusion. Then he inches forward, pushing deeper with a groan.

I shudder. Fuck, the fullness and
intensity are so big, I don’t think I can stand it. Even if I
want to.

Dom grips my hips with both his
hands.

“You touch your clit now,”
he growls as he holds back. He’s tense, coiled, but taking it
blissfully slow. I reach to where his fingers have pushed me to a
frenzy, stroking just how I need it.

“I can’t hold back,”
I gasp. God, it feels so good. “Please, Dominic. Give me more.
Please.”

He thrusts into me again, deeper,
saying my name over and over, chanting it like a prayer.

Suddenly, he pushes into me,
once, twice,
hard
.

“Oh my God, yes,” I
moan.

Stars flash before my eyes as
another orgasm flares, stronger than ever, my whole body exploding in
bliss. I hold back a scream, groaning instead, pleasure radiating
through me. We collapse onto the bed, and he gently pulls out of me.
His arms come to hold me tight, anchoring me in place.

I listen to him breathing and I’m
wrapped in more contentment and peace than I’ve ever known.
Suddenly I know what the feeling is that won’t go away.

I’m falling in love with
Dominic.

“I
want you with me at the meeting this morning.”

Dominic is adjusting tie as he
looks at me in the mirror. I stop in surprise. “The board of
investors meeting you have in twenty minutes?” I ask. I’ve
just stepped out of the shower, my hair is soaking wet and I’m
pretty sure any clothes suitable for work are in a wrinkled mess in
the bottom of my suitcase.

“Yes.”

“You know, a girl needs a
little more notice than this,” I only half-joke, grabbing for
the hair dryer. It’s alright for him, he just has to pull on a
perfectly-tailored suit and look like a million bucks, but it takes
work to get me up to ‘important meeting’ standards.

Dom doesn’t respond. He’s
already checking his Blackberry, back in professional mode this
morning. Part of me is disappointed. I imagined us snuggling together
in bed, sharing a room service breakfast – and more. But of
course, that’s stupid, I remind myself. He came here for
business, not just a romantic getaway.

I walk over and smooth down his
shirt.

“Are you sure, I can just
wait here for you to be done. Or take a walk, do some exploring. You
don’t need to babysit me,” I add, worried he thinks I’m
going to get clingy. “Why do you even want me there?”

He stops adjusting his cufflinks
to stare at me as if he’s confused by the question. “Do I
need a reason?”

“No, but maybe I do.”
Oops, that sounded a touch too combative. The look he’s giving
me says he agrees. “I mean, what will the board think if you
bring me? Am I supposed to play your secretary today?” I tease.

He shrugs. “You’re a
highly motivated intern who should take this opportunity with a
smile.”

My face falls at his suddenly
cool, businesslike demeanor. I can’t stop myself, and I turn
before he sees the disappointment that I feel. This is silly. We’re
back into work mode today, that’s all—

“Hey,” He takes my
elbow and turns me to him. “I don’t just want you there.
I
need
you.”

I pause, but Dom draws me in for
a kiss, and my reservations melt away.

“You get ready,” he
says. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Twenty-two frantic minutes later,
I hurry across the lobby, breathing hard. I managed to dry my hair –
barely – and pull it back into a braid. With a button down
blouse, navy skirt and blazer, I think I can just about pass for
professional, if my red cheeks and breathlessness don’t give me
away.

My phone buzzes with a text—a
series of them, actually. I set up alerts for any news or blog
results about the Rexford, and now a flurry of them arrive. My pulse
races as I read them. They’re all positive, enthusiastic, and
responding to news of the gala events with excitement. This is
excellent!

I see Dom waiting in a side
hallway, talking to some businessmen in suits. I want to tell him the
good news, but there’s no time. He greets me with a nod, then
ushers me into a conference room. Inside, there’s a group of
people already seated around the boardroom table. They look polished,
and severe, and, well,
European
.

Dominic takes a seat at the head
of the table. There’s a space beside him, so I slide into the
chair. Without any kind of formal introduction, they begin to talk.
Loudly.

In French.

I sit there, totally baffled.
Whatever they’re saying, it’s a heated conversation.
Dominic’s expression hardens, but his voice is even and calm in
that rational tone that he has.

“Gentlemen,” he
finally says in English. “I understand your concerns.”

Immediately, they switch to
English. One of the other men is wearing a bow-tie and white linen
suit. He scowls across the table. “Then you are aware that
Prescott’s team is acquiring a building, just a few blocks
away.”

Prescott wants to put a hotel
here?

“Yes, Bastian, I am. I fail
to see the problem.”

Bastian isn’t placated.
“Our company has lost a lot of money from this rivalry. Your
investors here in Europe are worried what will happen if the feud
spills over to our shores.”

A murmur of agreement goes up
around the table. I feel bad for the position Dominic is in, but I
understand. Nothing matters more to a board of directors than cash,
and Blaine Prescott has been plucking it from the Rexford’s
pockets left and right.

Slimy weasel.

“Your concerns are valid,
and understand that I take them seriously.” Dominic looks at
each person in the room. “But we’re already taking
measures to rebuild and strengthen the Rexford brand, at home and
abroad. Juliet, why don’t you explain a little about our new
direction?”

Me? I startle, surprised, but
Dominic is waiting with an expectant look on his face. So is every
other person in the room.

“Umm…” I try
to gather my thoughts. It was hard enough stepping up to lead a
meeting back in Chicago, but here, I’m even more out of my
depth.

Deep breaths, Juliet. Just
focus on the plans.

“Well, our strategy covers
several departments. First of all, publicity and branding,” I
begin, my heart pounding in my chest so loudly I’m sure the
room can hear it. “We’re launching an impressive new
awareness campaign for The Rexford Chicago, starting with a gala to
celebrate the hundred-year anniversary of the hotel’s
rebuilding. It’s a first step in fighting back against rival
hotels and reminding them about the Rexford’s illustrious
past.”

I pull out my phone, and access
the texts and alerts I got just before the meeting.

“Our PR team notified me
moments ago that we have confirmed national television coverage of
the event. It will hit every major newspaper, television station,
gossip magazine and internet news site in the nation. The world is
going to see The Rexford once again as the most exclusive, luxurious
destination for their trip: not just in Chicago, but internationally
as well.”

I stop, looking to Dominic for
approval. He gives a nod, then picks up from my speech to finish.

“We plan to do the same for
The Rexford Paris. Nothing Prescott offers can compare to our legacy
and what we’ve built, and we’re going to make sure
everyone knows it.”

The meeting wraps up quickly. The
board members seem placated, at least for now. I wait by the exit,
watching Dom smooth-talk the group, shaking hands before he joins me
and walks us out to the front of the building. There’s a limo
waiting, and I get inside after him. I’m exhilarated and
hopeful that we made a difference. But he doesn’t say anything
either way.

It frustrates me, the way he acts
like I can read his mind. Especially right now, when I need some
reassurance.

“Where are we heading now?”
I ask. “Another meeting?”

Dominic answers me with a kiss,
hot and demanding. He pops a few buttons on my shirt and slides his
hand in to cup my breast, feasting on my mouth until I’m dizzy.

“No meeting,” he
whispers against my mouth. “It’s a surprise.”

He tweaks my nipple between his
fingers, grazing my neck with soft kisses and driving me wild with
need until the limo suddenly stops.

I sit up and readjust my blouse
before the driver can open the door.

“So, does that kiss mean
you think it went well in there?”

He watches me re-button my
blouse. “You were excellent, Juliet. It did go well. You have a
gift for keeping your cool in high-stress situations, and I like
knowing you’re on my team.”

I flush with pride, but then
remember those incriminating photos from the Drake that have yet to
surface. One look at those pictures and Dom might think twice about
whose team I’m on. I push the thought away and try to smile as
the door opens and the driver helps me out of the car.

Outside, I look around. We’re
on a narrow street filled with old, expensive-looking stores. They
have gleaming windows and discreet signs, spelling out familiar
designer names in gold script. Hermes, Gucci, Prada.

“What are we doing?”
I ask, confused.

He gives me a smile. “Shopping.
You deserve a reward for your performance earlier. Anything you want,
ma belle
.”

I don’t have a chance to
ask if he means my performance in the boardroom – or the
bedroom. Before I can object, Dominic leads me into the first
boutique. A well-dressed woman meets us and immediately showers me in
a flurry of French.

“I’m sorry,” I
mutter, embarrassed. “I don’t—”

“But of course.” She
switches to English. “Come this way.” She leads me to a
luxurious dressing room. The light blue walls are lined with displays
of gorgeous formal gowns.

Dominic takes a seat on a plush
settee and folds his hands. He’s enjoying this, and I’m
completely overwhelmed. She begins flipping through stunning gowns,
chattering mostly to herself. Where would I ever wear one of these?
The gala, perhaps.

If I were going. But am I?

This feels like high school prom
all over again.

I haven’t been invited, and
I won’t just assume that I am. I’m trying very hard not
to assume anything about, well, anything, when it comes to Dominic.

She holds dresses up, but I try
to discourage her. I can already tell, these cost more than my annual
salary. Silk, satins, incredible velvet with a swooping neckline and
a hem that splits up the thigh for days…