Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother) (31 page)

I'm in a hotel room in Manhattan. Nothing particularly
expensive, but not cheap either. The guy I'm meant to meet,
thankfully, told me he'd be happy to pay for it.

Of course, that made me feel even more cheap, but given
my current financial state I was only too happy to accept.

Vince. That's what he called himself on his online
profile. Nothing more than that. No surname, no real details of what
he does or anything else beyond a first name and a series of
unforgettable photographs.

And wow...those photographs. They're the reason I'm
here. I mean, he had to be something truly special to get me into
this situation, standing in a hotel room, waiting for a guy I've
never actually met to come and fuck me.

If I described all of this to a person who didn't know
me they'd think I was an absolute, bona fide slut. But that's not
true, at least it's never been true until now.

The more pertinent point is that I haven't had sex for
two years and, well, I'm in serious need of some. Something
completely non committal. A single night of well earned passion
without any strings attached.

I keep fidgeting, going in circles round the room,
intermittently checking through the peep hole to see if he's coming.

Nothing...

He's late. Over 20 minutes late, and I'm starting to
think that this is some massive wind up.

There's a mirror up on the wall above an ornamental
fireplace that I continue to check my look in. I'm wearing a light
summer dress, and some frilly lingerie underneath. It's what he'd
suggested – ordered almost – during our brief online
correspondence.

Frankly, with those pictures, I wasn't going to deny him
that.
To fuck a guy that hot, I'd dress up like Batman if he
wanted me to.

My hair is blonde, straight, and long. Not peroxide
blonde like some bimbo barbie doll. More of an earthy blonde, a more
natural tone. It goes well with my blue eyes which carry a hint of
green in them if you look close enough.

From his pictures I know that he's largely the opposite
of me. I'm short, only 5'4'', and he's tall. His profile said 6'2'',
and that looks about right from his pics.

I'm blonde, and he's dark. Not ethnically dark or
anything, just dark, brooding features. Dusty brown hair, deep
chestnut eyes, a skin tone that speaks of plenty of time spent under
the sun.

He looks athletic, too. Strong build, but not overly
developed like a football player. More like a swimmer, one of those
sprint swimmers who look like they're carved from rock, with long
arms and lengthy, ripped torsos.

I quickly pull out my cell and look at the pics again,
which I'd taken the liberty of saving to a special file marked
'Vince.”

I swoon, and feel my thighs burn, and remind myself
that, yes, this is actually a good idea. I mean, the guy might be a
total jackass, but I don't care if he is. This is only going to be
about sex. Nothing more. No second dates, no matter how good he is.

It's all just one night...

Well, if he ever turns up, that is.

I continue pacing, checking my look in the mirror,
looking at the time as the minutes tick by. If he doesn't turn up,
not only will that leave me completely sexually frustrated – a
state I've occupied for some time now – but I'll have to pay for
the room too, something he'd assured me he'd be able to do.

A double dose of disappointment, and not exactly what I
need right now in the state my life is in. Basically, the nutshell
version of that is that I'm currently jobless, about to be homeless,
and have little to no prospects currently on the horizon.

That was my damn fault for doing a stupid arts major in
college. Not exactly the most forward thinking thing I've ever done.

Jeez, where is he?

It's been half an hour now, and still no sign. I mean,
the pictures I sent him were pretty good I thought. Surely he's not
having second thoughts? I even took one of me topless just to give
him a bit more to think about. With perfect lighting, that picture
really accentuated my breasts nicely. Well, at least that's what I
thought.

For the next ten minutes, my mind turns to the
likelihood that this just isn't going to happen. With that thought
starting to dominate, I feel my heart losing its pace behind my ribs,
my body coming to terms with the fact that I'll be spending the night
alone in this hotel room.

So, I begin thinking of a contingency. I'm here now, so
might as well make the most of it.

I take a seat on the bed, my sexual frustration building
to bursting point, and quickly realize that the only way of solving
that issue is by enjoying a bit of self administered pleasure.

In my bag is a special toy for that purpose, my trusty
ally in times of need who's got me off more than any guy ever has. I
lift the vibrator from my bag, hitch one leg up onto the bed, and
begin slowly probing around the edge of my vagina.

The effect is immediate, the pink vibrator quickly
getting to the heart of the matter and massaging my clit in its own
very special way.

Within a few minutes, I've begun slipping it inside me,
my lips growing wet as I prod and probe.

I even let out a few moans, lie back, and imagine that
it's a dick, tongue or finger that's doing the job, and not this man
made contraption designed for those who don't get laid enough.

That describes me nicely. I'm the perfect target
audience of the dildo...

Just when I'm about to step it up a level and start
launching myself toward yet another self induced orgasm, there's a
loud knock at the door.

I freeze, my hand seizing, and quickly drop the vibrator
to the floor in my panic.

Without thinking, I call out, my voice cracking and
nervous.

“
Who is it?”

“
It's Vince,” comes the immediate reply.

My heart threatens to explode once more, hammering so
hard I swear I can feel it pushing against my ribs. I jump to my
feet, hide the vibrator in my bag, pull my panties back into place,
and let my dress fall down. A quick check in the mirror tells me I'm
sufficiently straightened out to open the door.

Before I do, I hold my breath, look through the peep
hole, and pray that he looks even remotely close to his pictures.
Pray that they weren't taken 10 years ago or he'd gone and lost 3
teeth and developed a beer gut since then.

Thank fucking God...

Through the hole in the door stands Vince, tall as
expected, dark as expected, and potentially even more delectable in
the flesh. He's even grown a light blanket of stubble over his cheeks
and chin that makes him look just that little bit more rugged.

As I watch, I see his reach forward, his arm slipping
out of a leather jacket, and knock again.

“
You gonna let me in or what?”

Somehow, he doesn't seem overly pleased to be left
waiting out there, even if it's only for the shortest of moments.

Well he can fuck off, he's kept me waiting here for
nearly an hour.

I open the door, and see his full form for the first
time. Leather jacket draped comfortably over his wide shoulders,
white vest beneath that hangs low and displays the curve of his pecs
below his collar bone.

Jeans, dark blue and patchy, cover his athletic legs,
and on his wrists he wears what looks like a very expensive watch.
Although, frankly, it could be a fake.

He holds a light scowl, but as soon as he sees me his
eyes brighten and a desirous grin stretches between the corners of
his mouth. He looks happy with what he sees, his eyes quickly taking
me in with a quick scan.

“
Well hello Abby...it's good to meet you. Shall we get
started?”

Chapter Two

Vince steps forward into the room, walking straight past
me as I shut the door behind him.

In fact, walk isn't quite right. He saunters, that's
what he does. He strolls like he owns the place, glancing around at
the fixtures and fittings with a slight look of disdain on his face.

When he turns back to face me, he begins removing his
leather jacket, displaying arms taut with muscle and glistening with
a bronzed tan. He throws the jacket onto a chair in the corner, and
looks me up and down once more.

“
You look like your pictures.” He says it with a
slight slant of surprise in his voice.

“
So do you.”

“
It's unusual to look just like the picture. Most
people never live up to them.”

“
So, you do this a lot?” I ask hurriedly, my heart
still pacing.

“
I've done it once or twice. First time for you?”

I nod.

“
Yeah, I can tell.”

He steps forward, passes the mirror, and checks himself
out. There's an arrogance about him that would normally put me off
but which, in this case, I couldn't care less about. As I said, this
is about sex, not personality.

And fuck me does the guy look gorgeous.

As he looks in the mirror, he kicks off his shoes, and
takes off his vest, revealing that body I'd ogled so many times in
his pictures. Breathtaking is the word, because I'm literally having
trouble breathing right now.

Then he moves onto his jeans, undoing them, removing
them, tossing them to one side. Before I even know what's going on
he's in his underwear while I'm still fully dressed.

The bulge of his penis is clearly visible underneath,
his briefs leaving little to the imagination. And my pussy, which was
already wet and frothing from my little masturbatory session,
continues to moisten.

He looks at me now, holds his arms to each side, and
shrugs his shoulders.

“
So, we doing this or what?”

He's basically asking me to get undressed like him. But
it's not quite so easy for me, being my first time. The last time I
was even naked in front of anyone was two years ago, and that was a
boyfriend who I knew inside out.

Shut up, Abby
. I quickly tell myself off inside
my head.
Sex...it's only sex. Now take your damn clothes off!

So, I do what the devil inside me orders, and pull my
dress up and over my body, leaving me in just my underwear and small
heels. The shoes quickly join the dress in a heap on the floor,
dropping me down a few inches.

“
So, you wore what I asked you to? You look amazing.”

His eyes are lust heavy, gleaming with desire. Meanwhile
I'm just thinking about the obvious patch of wet at the front of my
panties that hasn't yet had a chance to dry.

He seems to spot it, and his eyes narrow further.

“
You look like you're ready for this...”

He smiles, confidence dripping off him, and sticks his
hand under his briefs and grips his cock. He pulls it up, shuffling
his underwear to the floor, and slowly begins sliding his hand up and
down the shaft.

I'm transfixed. Not only at the ample size, but at his
complete and utter disregard for any sort of official process. I
mean, I thought we'd at least talk first, maybe try to set the mood.
Start with a kiss, go from there.

But no, he's been here about 3 minutes and he's already
standing naked in front of me, with his dick in his hand, casually
jerking off to the sight of my body and the obvious wet patch on my
panties.

Well, Abby, you asked for sex...and you're gonna get
it.

“
You gonna take off the rest or...”

He smirks at me and I remove my bra, letting my breasts
fall into position. They're not big, but enough for a handful.
Vince's eyes light further when he sees them.

He's still slowly tugging at his cock when I pull down
my panties, flick them to one side, half sodden, and stand in front
of him, nude, with my hands covering my groin.

“
If your hands are gonna be there, they might as well
being doing something useful.”

He steps toward me, his now fully erect cock swaying
from side to side, and puts his hand onto mine. Then he guides my
fingers between my thighs, over my clit, and up into my pussy. He
slips my index finger in, then joins it with his own.

“
How's that?”

Oxygen is no longer forthcoming, and I'm frankly unable
to answer for the spread of carnal joy rushing through me.

Somehow, the guy's found my clit quicker than I could
myself, probing my own finger and his into just the right spot to
summon the brightest spark of pleasure I've felt in years.

Who is this guy, some sort of sex angel send to take
me to heaven for the night?

As he massages me, he reaches forward and takes my other
hand, pulls it toward his dick, and fastens my fingers around the
shaft. It's big enough so that my fingers find it hard to reach all
the way around.

Then he starts coaxing my hand up and down, as if
teaching me how to jerk him off, his own hand on top of mine. So now,
he's got us both fingering and tugging ourselves and each other at
the same time.