A Billionaire for Christmas

Peyton grabbed Raji’s hand and ran, pulling her along the brick corridor behind him.

Raji ran hard to keep up.

They sprinted through the back halls, past security people waving flashlights to mark their path, to a line of cars waiting just outside.

Peyton shoved her into a back seat, dove inside after her, and pulled the door closed behind him.

The tires squealed as the car shot out of the alley and into traffic.

Peyton was thrown back in the seat and jammed his legs against the floor. He was laughing, but in the light from the overhead street lamps, his eyes were wild.

“What was that?” Raji asked.

“A runner,” Peyton said. “To get out of the venue ahead of the crowds, we dash off the stage and jump into cars. Otherwise, you can get caught in traffic. These windows are tinted darkly enough so that shouldn’t be a problem, but you don’t want to get caught in a standstill traffic jam with a thousand screaming fans around you. They probably wouldn’t tear you apart like vicious wolves, but you never know. Xan’s gotten his shirt ripped up a couple of times.”

“That’s awful!” Raji exclaimed.

Peyton shrugged. “Part of the gig.”

“I’ll bet classical musicians never have to worry about that.”

He laughed. “Well, hardly ever. A few of them, maybe.”

The trip to his hotel took barely ten minutes, which was good because after the first turn, Peyton grabbed Raji around the back of her neck and kissed her hard.

By the time the car pulled under the bright lights at the hotel lobby, she was writhing against him and wishing that self-driving cars were a thing. That poor chauffeur up there was probably uncomfortable with all the wet, lip-smacking sounds coming from the back seat.

Peyton led her through the lobby, into the elevator, and shoved open the door to his hotel room.

Raji walked past him into the room, pulling her shirt off over her head as she walked and dropping it on the floor. “Okay, rock star—you over there with your hot muscles and gorgeous, green eyes—fuck me up the ass and then come on my face.”

Peyton slammed the door. “I’ve never really been into that face thing,” he said. “How about I eat you out until you’re screaming my name—you over there with your curvy, luscious ass and your sexy tattoos—and then I’ll come on your chest, and you can watch.”

Raji bounced on the bed like she was testing the springiness of the mattress. “Somehow, that sounds even dirtier. Come on, Peys. Do me.”

In a moment, he was across the room and on her, his body hot from the stage lights. When he grabbed her cheek to hold her while he kissed her, his fingers smelled like the steel of the bass guitar’s strings, and under his shirt, when Raji ran her hands over his body, his chest and ab muscles were pumped like he had worked out in the gym for hours.

He was a stronger, wilder version of Peyton, and though he kept the first part of his promise, he didn’t jack off on her chest. Instead, he flipped her over and fucked her until her arms collapsed from the sheer power of it. His hips slapped her ass over and over as he fucked her hard until she came yet again, screaming into a pillow at the pleasure roiling through her body.Chapter ElevenNoiseRaji held her cell phone in her hand and blinked at the screen, trying to make sense of what she saw there.

Darkness filled the on-call room where she had been stealing a fifteen-minute nap in the bunkbeds. The air smelled like sweat and old French fries. Grime clung to her skin, but she wasn’t going to get a chance to shower for at least another twelve hours. She had been awake, mostly, for the last forty-four hours, and the end of her forty-eight-hour call was almost in sight.

But her phone.

It kept making noise.

Noise.

Raji blinked her bleary eyes harder, trying to focus on the screen.

The screen read Peyton.

A picture of a guitar glowed in the semi-darkness.

Oh, yeah. Peyton. That guy. The one who she had hooked up with a couple of times when she had been awake, unlike now.

She swiped her thumb on the screen to answer the call. “Yeah?”

Peyton’s tenor voice said, “Hey, Raji! Sorry for calling at two in the morning. We just got off the stage in Las Vegas. I figure if I catch a flight or rent a car I could be there by morning. Do you want to have breakfast with me?”

“Um, yeah.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I think I get off at six. I could probably have breakfast.”

“So I’ll pick you up? I know a restaurant that makes the best brunch.”

“No, no. Just meet me at my apartment. We’ll eat breakfast there or something.”

“Yeah, or something.”

Raji felt her heart thump harder in her chest. Her skin flushed at his raw voice. “Yeah, okay. See you then.”