The Billionaire's Valentine Vixen

He gives me a moment as my synapses fire in a chaotic mess, but as if by a miracle, my power of speech returns. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, surely you are feeling something right now. You want me to tell you what I’m feeling first?”

His deep voice feels like a belt tightening around my throat as I nod.

“I feel things I’ve never felt before, sweet Alice.” He reaches down, his thumb pressing on my bottom lip, pulling it down. “There are so many things I want to do with these lips.” He leans down, turning his hand so his knuckles drag down my chin, my throat, over my sternum, leaving scorching heat in their wake as the backs of his fingers flick over a nipple giving it a squeeze between them and I choke back a gasp. “So many things I want to do with all of you. And not just your body. I want to be inside you, here.” He pokes his two fingers over the left side of my exposed chest. “I can feel your heart beating. It’s beating for me, isn’t it?”

I nod and his hand turns upward in offering to mine.

“Come with me. As much as I like you on your knees.” His voice is hoarse and while I want to see what’s behind his zipper, I want to feel him next to me just as much.

Like in my dream.

His hands grip mine and pull upward until I’m on my feet, the shirt falling down to my wrist where he releases my hand for a moment and lets it fall to the floor, leaving me naked in front of him.

This man I just met has me wanting things I never dared before. He feels secure, safe, and for once I put all my doubts in little boxes on the shelves in my mind.

I’m not going to worry about money. About if I can pay for my next semester of room and board. About my sister. About the stupid club and staying safe one more night while I dance in front of men because I need their money. Just for tonight, I’m putting all my private fears away and I’m living for right now.

“Are you nervous?” He pulls our hands together against his chest and I feel the thumping of his heart.

“I’ve decided not to be. But it feels like maybe you are,” I tease, licking my lip and nipping it between my teeth as I watch his gray eyes shimmer.

“Not nervous. Excited.” He drives home the last word by shifting his hips forward and I feel the hard length against my belly.

“Clearly.” I raise an eyebrow and drag one of his hands in mine between our bodies, stopping just above the split of my pussy. “If you are brave enough, you could touch me…see if I’m excited too.”

His response is a painful grunt as I stare into his face, his jaw rock hard. At work, I’m known for my teasing, my flirting, but this is nothing like that.

“Is it your goal to drive me insane?”

I twitch my shoulders upward on a tiny shrug. “Not my goal but possibly…” I pull my lips to the side and tilt my head, “…a side effect?”

He closes his eyes on a heavy breath, his fingers warm and still in my hand as the ache between my legs multiplies.

“You are like a ripe cherry, ready to be picked, little girl.”

A chill travels over my hot skin on hearing him use my stage name. There’s no way he could know, or could he? I wear a pink wig, make-up as heavy as any respectable drag queen. My stage look couldn’t be more diametrically opposed to my usual baggy, drab, masculine wardrobe.

“Maybe,” I manage as he pulls his hand from mine and runs his knuckles back upward, through the center of my chest, leaving a trail of desperation behind.

“Maybe you’re a cherry or maybe you’re a cherry ready to be picked? Which is it?”

I push up on my tiptoes, leaning forward so my lips are just under his and answer: “Both.”

His mouth mounts mine. It’s not just a kiss, it’s a claiming. His tongue is inside me in a second and all the years of pushing away boys and men alike now make sense, even as the absurdity of what I’m doing swirls inside me.

His body feels like it grows, thickening everywhere as the kiss hardens, fucking my mouth with his tongue and pressing his hard thigh between my legs on a growl. The pressure makes my core constrict as I whimper, and he grinds his leg back and forth as I soak the smooth fabric of his pants.

I have no idea what this man I barely know has done to me, but I don’t want it to stop.

6

Roan

Any control I thought I had when I walked into the bedroom and saw her there on the floor dangles by a precarious thread.