The Billionaire's Valentine Vixen

I’m so fucked.

My button-up shirt is the closest as I scurry to where it’s screwed in a ball on the floor next to his dresser. Getting myself covered seems more important than putting on my bra, so I snatch it up, get to my knees and get one arm through the shirtsleeve.

Click.

My head snaps to the sound and I see the doorknob turn.

It’s a thousand degrees in here. Sweat springs onto my brow. My face feels like I’ve shoved it into a pizza oven as the massive walnut door silently swings open and there, in the low light, I see those eyes that remind me of twin full moons and the massive form of the man whose room I’ve violated in every possible way stares down at me.

He steps inside, closing the door and clicking the lock into place.

Shit, he’s going to kill me.

“Hi?” I manage, my shirt hanging half on and half off, the air of the room suddenly cool against my sweat covered skin; goosebumps tickling as they rise. “I just…I was…I—”

“You were what?” His voice is hard.

Fuck, he’s pissed, I can see it in his locked jaw.

“I’m sorry.” I decide the truth, or at least part of it, is the best avenue, and I suck at lying so I swallow hard and expose my shame. “I don’t know what to say. I have no excuse. I shouldn’t be in here. I shouldn’t have gone through your things, used your shower, slept in your bed…”

“Ate my porridge?” He sniffs, stepping forward, running his knuckles slowly over his lips as he looks down at me and I fall back on my heels with a sigh of defeat.

I may dance nearly naked at the club, but I’m no exhibitionist. Besides what I do for work, I’ve never been even partially naked in front of a man, and those two things feel wildly different to me. At the club, I’m Cherrie, a persona, an act. Right now, I’m Alice, and embarrassment washes over me like a river of shame.

“You’re Goldilocks. Caught sleeping in Papa Bear’s bed.”

I swallow as he closes the space between us and I don’t try to stand. Being on my knees in front of him feels contrite, and even in my fluster, looking up at him is turning me on.

Even as desires spins through me, logic bites it back. He’s exactly what I would never want. Rich. Entitled. But the tension inside of me isn’t just in my lady bits. It’s in my belly. In my thrumming heart. And that’s something I’ve never felt before and don’t understand.

Every cell in my body flames as he approaches. He looks mammoth from my position on the floor. His steps are measured and slow, like he’s working something out in his head as he moves, and there’s something else mammoth that draws my attention.

His cock.

It’s clear against the front of his dark trousers, thick as my wrist and as long as my forearm, rising to strain against the silver belt buckle that struggles to contain it.

A wildness grows inside me. There’s that pull.

No, that’s not right, it’s a need.

Desperate and pulsing, whispering for me to do things with a man I barely know. Things I’ve saved for… for who I suddenly wonder? Who have I saved them for?

I never thought about it before. I just knew no one had ever made me want to give myself to them. That draw, that carnal mating instinct that people talk about, it was never there. But right now, it’s rushing through me like magma and I’m not sure what to do.

But, I think Roan does.

My eyes dart to his, and I see them turn dark, just a silver ring around black irises, and I can’t help grabbing another long look at the monster manhood making itself evident in front of my face.

Liquid warmth seeps out of me as my nipples tingle and betray my wild spinning thoughts. His breathing quickens. Grunts sound like they are stuck in his throat as I begin to tremble and time seems to stretch and snap, faster, then slow, until I’m dizzy and unsure how long we’ve been staring at each other like this.

Finally, Roan’s low voice nearly sends me over the edge as he lowers his hand and holds the thickness of his erection. “You’ve looked through my things. Let the water of my shower and the sheets of my bed touch your naked skin. Did you find what you were looking for?”

His words make me wince as his hand moves up and down, hypnotizing me.

“I—” Words are foreign objects right now. “I—”

The heat on my cheeks is blistering. A flush is roaming down my throat and exploding on my chest in red blotches.

“Not sure?” His tongue traces along his bottom lip, the dark scruff covering his jaw matching the hint of hair I see on the backs of his hands, disappearing under the starched cuffs of his white shirt and the glint of a thick gold watch, worth—more than likely—more than I’ll make in a lifetime. “Well, I think I’ve found what I’m looking for. How does that make you feel?”