Billionaire Beast

“Wow,” I said. “It looks delicious.”

Caroline had her chopsticks in hand and was stabbing at a green slab of wasabi. “I dare you to eat this whole thing,” she said to Ian.

“You know, in my youth, I might have taken you up on such a thing,” he said. “But now I’d like to at least think I’m a little wiser.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug.

Even though we’d all had some sake with dinner, I thought that after we might all go out and get a drink. I didn’t even really care if I had another drink—I was already feeling the tiniest bit buzzed—I was just really enjoying myself and didn’t want the night to end. But when I suggested it, Caroline shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said.

“Really?” I asked. “Even just for a little bit? I’m having so much fun with you guys; I don’t want the night to be over yet.”

“Sorry, Daisy,” she said. “I’ve got a big deadline coming up, and I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to meet with a client. Another time, though.”

“Well, it was a pleasure to finally meet you,” Ian said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Caroline smiled. “Great,” she said, coming over to give me a hug. “Call me later, okay?”

“Will do,” I said.

I waved as she walked off, leaving Ian and me standing there. He looked down at me. “So you’re not ready for the night to end,” he said.

“No, I’m not. But . . . if it has to, I understand.”

“It doesn’t have to. Why don’t we go back to your place?”

And just the way he said it, I knew that we were going to have sex, and the thought of it sent a tingling happiness through my whole body.

Chapter Fifteen

Ian

We caught a cab back to Daisy’s place. When she got in, she slid all the way over, but once I was in and the door was shut, I patted the seat between us.

“Why don’t you come over here,” I said.

She obliged, sliding over, her leg touching mine. I put my hand on her thigh and squeezed lightly.

“I had a good time tonight,” I said, “though I don’t think your friend liked me too much.”

“Caroline? What are you talking about? She likes you.”

Sure she did. I didn’t give a shit either way, but it was pretty obvious that Daisy’s friend wasn’t that hip on me, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from a girl like that. I didn’t need to have any in-depth conversation with her to know exactly her type. You know, the sort that needs to be in control all the time, calling all the shots. Who thinks guys should be effeminate, wear skinny jeans, and be willing to offer up their balls on a platter at a moment’s notice. Ha. No effing thanks. But I’d let Daisy think whatever she wanted, and I knew it made her happier to believe that Caroline and I could hit it off and we’d all be able to hang out and go out to brunch together and later play Cards Against Humanity or some shit.

But D

aisy . . . she wasn’t like that. She didn’t need to be in control all the time, and I liked that. When we got to her apartment, I paid the cab and slid out. She kept looking around, over her shoulder, as we walked over to her door, but there were just a few people walking by, talking quietly, the cars driving by on the street.

Inside her apartment, she felt around on the wall and turned the light on. It was a cute place, everything neat and orderly; there was the small entryway, then a short hallway to the bathroom and kitchen, at the end of the hallway was the living room and then, connected to it by two French doors, the bedroom.

I followed her down to the living room; I had waited long enough. I could tell that she was ready for it, too.

She set her purse down next to the couch and turned to say something to me, but I just stepped up and pulled her to me, pressed my mouth firmly against hers. Her body melded to mine instantly, like this was just the thing she was waiting for. She groaned softly as I let my hands roam her body, running down the length of her sides, then back up, tracing my hands lightly over her breasts. Feeling them like this through her shirt though simply wasn’t enough; I leaned back a bit so I could pull her shirt off, then her bra.

She had great tits; they weren’t big, but they were high and firm, the sort that didn’t require a bra of any sort, with pale pink nipples that tightened up real quick when I touched them, first with my hands, then my mouth. She made little whimpering noises and raked her hands through my hair.

I was like an explorer conquering new territory; I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d deflowered someone, though there had been a few. I wanted to make this as memorable for her as possible; how many stories did you hear about the first time being god-awful?