Playboy Billionaire

“What’s the harm?” I cut her off as we walk up the stairs.

“Fine. You can pick mine if I can pick yours.” With raised brows, I press my lips into a smirk.

“Deal.” I reach my hand out, and she shakes it softly, the warmth of her skin causing me far too much pleasure. I turn my body, not letting go of her as I lead her to my room. Though, I wish it was for her to undress me instead of the opposite. I sit on the bed and watch her flip through my closet, walk from side to side and hold things up to herself.

The light is hazy in the room, drifting golden streams through the many windows. Even in my closet, the light permeates, radiating around Stella like she’s glowing from the inside.

Her eyelashes blink at the options, softly sloped nose crinkles every other one until she’s got something put together. It’s a mostly pale purple, busy patterned, oversized vintage Stella McCarthy tee. I forgot I had it, actually. I think my younger brother Romeo got it for me when we were teens. She’s holding it up next to my black Gucci slacks, and on the floor, she’s placed my AMIRI black boots with multiple buckles and chains on them.

“Wow.” I try not to sound sarcastic.

“Too casual?” She asks, taking the pants in the same hand as the shirt and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No. It’s good.” I nod, and she seems immediately pleased with herself, tosses it on my bed, and saunters out of my room.

“Change and meet me in my room.” She calls back, and for some reason, I listen to her. Quickly change, dab on some cologne, brush some water through my hair, so it doesn’t look so wild, and head over to her room.

I swing open the door that’s cracked open and am shocked to see she’s standing in a black, lacy thong and matching bra. I didn’t think to knock; she was expecting me, after all.

“Shit.” I gasp, and she lets out a laugh, clearly less shocked than I am.

“I thought it would be easier to try stuff on.” She motions to her bed full of designer shopping bags. I breathe in sharply through my teeth.

“Right. Okay.” I nod, following every curve of her body with my eyes for a moment. I feel her staring back at me, lips pressed into a smile.

“Ready?” She asks wryly.

“Clearly not.” I huff and shake every thought out of my mind that is bound and determined to rip the rest of her clothes off. I look back at the bags, cross to them. Pull things out gently as she sits on a chair in the corner of the room, texting away on her phone, as if this isn’t the cruelest form of torture that she’s put me through yet.

I stick to my earlier thought: grab the longest dress with the longest sleeves, a lilac color to match my shirt as per her request, and throw it on the bed. Then I cross to her closet and grab some Chucky boots from the floor— haven’t a clue what designer made them, but they’re cool. I place those on the floor next to it and clap my hands together, so she knows I’m done.

She looks up from her phone, eyes trail to the look, and she purses her lips.

“Okay. This look is all about accessories.” She doesn’t explain herself as she crosses to the bathroom with it, closing the door in my face before I can get any ideas to follow her.

I wait for a while, the sun’s almost set, so I flick on a light before sitting down at a seat by the bathroom door. After forty-five minutes, she comes out of the bathroom, and I instantly regret what I chose for her. It’s completely form-fitting, hugging her small frame and highlighting the curve of her waist down to her hips. She’s added a thick silver chain around her neck, thick silver earrings, and she’s pulled her hair out of her face.

“So?” She spins around, making me want to clutch my stomach because I feel like I’m tipping over the edge of a rollercoaster.

“Yeah,” I nod, sounding like an idiot. “Good.” I swallow, decide I hate the deal we made, and stand to walk with her out the door despite wanting to throw her on the bed and keep her here the rest of the night.