A Billionaire With Benefits

She forced herself to focus. This was just her being drunk. She wasn’t too drunk, but she was kissing him back. Was he drunk, too?

His hand began to skim over her bare shoulder, and she realized she wanted this. He trailed kisses on her neck as she moaned in desire. Mikaela realized she had never felt this much lust for anyone as Justin’s hands roamed all over her back, then waist, and her neck again.

She surrendered to the feeling and allowed this pleasure to steal through her. It was delicious, this feeling of being with him. She saw his eyes, burning with passion. This was the same look she had seen yesterday, that smolder, that primal lust. She didn’t know he wanted it this bad, too. He slowly shoved her onto the couch, dragging her blouse down to her abdomen. Then he licked one distended nipple and she let out a soft groan as the cool sea breeze fluttered in the room.

Then he slid down, all the way down, and his tongue trailed on her lean stomach and she writhed a little. He moved his hands nearer and in between her thighs as he slid up and kissed her again. His fingers found their way into the folds of her clit and he stroked it slowly with his thumb first. She shuddered.

He slipped in two fingers and found her wet. She let out another moan. It was a moan he wanted to hear again and again.

“Oh god…” She let out a sigh as she closed her eyes. He went further down and she was glad she had changed into sexier lingerie while on a toilet break at the restaurant earlier…

His tongue teased her and she felt something in her release. This primal urge to just make love to him. It all just felt so right. He was sucking her and she moaned and moaned softly, trying to find something to hold on to and she ended up holding onto his head, actually, his hair, as he licked Mikaela over and over again ruthlessly. She had never known that a man’s tongue could do this. It was an astounding feeling and waves of pleasure kept banging onto her body.

He wanted to be on top of her, he made sure of that as he positioned himself. He slipped himself inside of her and she jerked a little, loving the sensation of his cock filling her. He licked her taut nipples at the same time, and then she felt his teeth rake over one nipple and Mikaela trembled even more. Her heartbeat was so loud, she thought he could hear it. Blood roared in her ears before she had lost all coherent thought, sticking to moans and murmurs like he did.

His eyes told her all that he wanted to do to, all that carnal desire. She wanted to succumb to it.

Blood rushed to his member, and she was swollen. Their bodies rubbed against each other, their pace had moved faster. She raised her hips against him, meeting him halfway with a thrust. Mikaela panted, enjoying the tip of his member caressing her clit. Justin held onto her right thigh and continued to gyrate against her.

The sea breeze didn’t matter at all as they slammed against each other, sweat forming on their bodies. He thrust himself into her harder and she bit her lower lip to keep herself from screaming.

“You can be as loud as you want to be, you know,” he whispered roughly into her ear.

She bit her lower lip again, determined not to cry out for his name, as he pounded into her again and again, and again.

***

She loved the feel of cotton against her skin that was for sure. She didn’t want to wake up from that lovely dream. A dream where they had made love, passionate love and he held onto her tightly, never wanting to let go. She still felt a little sore, but it was a good kind of sore, the kind of sore she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Mikaela woke up anyway. She awoke into reality with a smile though. It wasn’t a dream. She was really here, in his house, and on his bed, fully naked. Feeling a bit modest, she dragged the bed sheets of Egyptian cotton (500 thread count) closer to her body. The other half of the bed was empty, as equally messy as her side.

She wondered where he was and all of a sudden, she thought that Justin was in the kitchen, making breakfast for them. How romantic was that? She smiled to herself and didn’t bother to grab clothes. She looked around and saw the bathroom door open. It was a beautiful black marble bathroom with a walk-in closet twice as large as her apartment. She saw a tub at the far end and a hefty counter and sink with mirrors that lit up the moment she was in front of it. There were freshly laundered bathrobes hanging in one half-opened closet. These were not cheap bathrobes either and she slid into one and felt she was wearing some pricey dress. She decided to gargle next and took a swig of mouthwash to surprise him with a kiss while he cooked.

Then she looked at the mirror and smiled. She had this glow that she wanted to show off. Clearly, it was an enjoyable night when she had a face like that, and it was something she hadn’t felt in years. She walked out of the bathroom with a skip. She hadn’t been anywhere near the kitchen. It wouldn’t be hard to find though. All she had to do was follow her nose. But she couldn’t smell anything remotely cooking now. She had thought she did earlier.

“Justin?” she called out, wondering if someone else was here. “Justin?” she called out again, this time louder. The penthouse suite was eerily quiet. Where was he? Was he hiding? Was there another bedroom?

She found herself in the large, stainless steel kitchen with its state-of-the-art ovens. It was devoid of people, devoid of Justin. Her eyes narrowed and she looked confused. Last night he had been murmuring he wanted her, and now he was nowhere to be found.

No, he had to be here. He wouldn’t leave her just like that. She wildly looked around for him, calling out for him in a louder voice.

“Justin?” she said, stepping on the shiny wooden floors that encompassed the living room. The veranda window was open and she stepped out into the sunlight and saw the city had only begun to wake up from a good night’s rest.

Funny, she swore she could smell pancakes earlier. Realization dawned on her he wasn’t here. Maybe he went out for some breakfast. He would leave a note, or a text, right? She walked back to the bedroom to check her phone. There were no messages. No calls. No emails. Then she saw something on the corner of the table beside the bed, propped up against a sleek, stainless steel lamp. There was an envelope in powder blue, with her name scribbled hastily. He had pretty good handwriting.

She reached for it, hopes of a romantic explanation diminishing. There was nothing inside, except $1,000. A thousand dollars for a romantic night with her. That asshole! That idiot! She began to seethe, she had been played for a fool! She wasn’t a whore! How could he? Of all the shitty things to do!

She returned the envelope on the table with trembling hands. She wanted to scream and curse. He had told her no one would hear her scream and this moment was a good moment to scream. She took a breath and wildly looked around. Had he planned this all along? She angrily searched for her phone in her bag, and when she found it, a few other things fell out of it and she cursed again.

Mikaela furiously punched for his name and called. It rang, and it rang, yet he didn’t pick up. He couldn’t be asleep, he had left her far too early. A headache began to form and she felt a growing embarrassment to what was happening.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot!” she muttered, her face in her palms. She thought about calling Lynne, but she stopped herself. She saw the lacy lingerie on the floor and she suddenly wanted to burn it. She looked around the room and looked at the bed and that’s when she felt really dirty. She didn’t want to shower here, no matter how strong her urge was. Maybe he was a creepy twat who had closed circuit cameras installed all over to record their—his, his sexcapades.

She hoped there were none. She picked up her clothes and dressed hastily. There was a small stain on her white shirt from the red wine, but she didn’t care. What was important was that she didn’t look like she was doing the walk of shame that

morning. It was just jeans and a used shirt, which she hoped didn’t smell that much. His bedroom smelled faintly of potpourri anyway, and she didn’t mind smelling like dried spices and flowers in the least.

She huffed and stashed her phone in her bag and she saw her shoes at the foot of the couch. She quickly put the sandals on. Looking around one last time, it was when she realized that this wasn’t really his home. There was nothing that spoke of home in this penthouse. No pictures, no warmth. It was probably just a place where he could bring women and pay them for sex. He had paid her for sex. The thought of it made her blood boil.