Paris with the Billionaire

Everything she says is tinged with shyness, causing stakes of rage to stab into me, twist, torture.

My woman shouldn’t be shy, not when she’s so beautiful and talented and has so much to offer the world, so much to offer me.

“But how do you know I am who I say I am?” I say.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “Exactly.”

I wave a hand. “Feel free to look me up online. I’ll wait.”

“Really?” she murmurs.

I take another step forward, standing directly over her now. I can smell her perfume and her sweat and, beneath it all, I’m sure I can scent the tangy ripeness of her young sex.

My fingers twitch as I remind myself that I have to work up to this. I can’t just grab those full, gorgeous breasts of hers and start rubbing, squeezing, making her beg and moan as I work my hand under that shirt and find her nipples.

Fuck, I bet those nipples will harden when I suck them, squeezing her flesh and greedily taking her pert nipples between my teeth.

She’s got tits made for sucking and milking, the perfect combination of beauty, fertility, and sexiness.

“Really,” I growl. “Don’t worry, Fiona. I’m not easily offended.”

“Okay,” she says. “Just give me a sec.”

I smirk as I watch her turn to her laptop, opening it and leaning forward.

Surely she knows what she’s doing when she bends at the waist like that, pushing those meaty divine ass cheeks of hers out. There’s so much of her to grab and please, so much fleshy heavenliness for me to indulge in.

I could spend an entire afternoon on her ass alone, kissing and biting every inch of it before slipping between her legs and palming her budding wetness.

She taps a few keys and then starts scrolling.

Dozens of photos of me flash by on the screen, as well as articles in Forbes and Time and countless other publications.

One gossip column headline reads, Will real estate billionaire Forrest Ford ever settle down? We pick our ten most likely candidates.

I glanced at that list once out of curiosity.

It’s laughable.

None of them do anything to stir the beast inside of me, not like this woman, this queen.

She turns to me.

“You’re a billionaire,” she says.

“I’m a billionaire,” I agree.

She throws her hands up, laughing musically. It’s the most intoxicating sound.

“I don’t know what to make of this,” she says. “Are you sure you’d really not prefer if I took a different room? I don’t mind.”

She should mind.

A woman this majestic, this perfect, should feel comfortable demanding the finer things in life. It’s what she deserves.

When she’s mine, I’ll never let her want for anything.

“Why?” I say, trying to make my voice sound casual.

Even so, I can hear the animalistic rumble beneath the question, feel it making my chest vibrate like my seed is trying to make my body explode if my manhood can’t right now.

“I’m sure we can work it out,” I go on. “But if you’re really not comfortable with it, I can arrange to stay at one of my other hotels. It’s just that I like to stay in this suite when I’m here for business. You have every right to tell me to leave, Fiona.”

I stare into her eyes, my insides blazing.

This is the moment where I’ll discover if she’s as hungry as I am. If she sees what’s happening here.

This isn’t a coincidence.

We’re here for a reason.

We’re here to consume each other, hungrily, wildly, to take everything the other has to give until we’re ready to walk hand in hand into our bright future together.

“You’d do that?” she asks.

“You won the contest to stay here,” I tell her. “You’re in control, Fiona.”

And you always will be, I want to roar. Apart from me – the man who owns you – no other man, or person, will ever be able to tell you what to do.

I’m your king and you’re my queen.

I force the words down, not allowing them to rise to the level of speech.

The last thing I need to do is scare the woman of my dreams away.

“I think we can work it out,” she says after a moment. “Yeah, I mean … it’s a huge suite. The living room alone is bigger than my apartment. I guess my only concern is if you’re going to have people over.”

My heart pounds in my chest, a smirk twitching my lips.

Is my shy young soulmate subtly asking if I’m going to be bringing women back here?

“No,” I tell her. “I don’t socialize much. In fact, this conversation is the longest non-business talk I’ve had in a while. I’d like to keep it going. How about we order some room service?”

Her cheeks bloom an even deeper shade of red, the flush spreading down to her neck. My balls throb when I think about her tits turning that same color after I grab them. She has the sort of skin that looks like it would bear the markings of my desire for a long time.