His Dirty Demands (Dirty Billionaires 1)

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll have dinner on the table before it can get here.”

With a shrug, I give in. I take my time to focus on soaping her up, before washing her under the stream. Her little moans are going straight to my cock, which I didn’t think would be ready to go so soon again. Alicia begins cleaning me in return and my cock is begging for her touch. Her hands move slowly over my cock as she cleans me. The witch, she’s learning fast. For a brief second I consider getting a condom, then remember her offer of not having to use one. It’s been decades since I’ve fucked without a condom—I’ve never trusted another woman’s assurances she was safe. I don’t doubt Alicia for a moment.

The shower is more of a wet room with two showerheads above and a strip of them at chest and body height. I pick up Alicia and carry her to the bench. With a moan she’s right there, her hand around my cock, guiding it into her as I move her over me. Holy fucking shit, I’m seeing stars at the feel of her hot, wet, and so fucking tight around my cock, then she’s driving me out of my mind as she’s moving on me on her own. She’s grinding on me, as her pussy throbs and clutches me tight from inside. I barely have time to take it all in when she’s sobbing her orgasm in my ear as her pussy convulses around me. Goddamnit, her pussy clamps down around my cock, milking me for every drop of come in me. Leaning against the wall, I fight for air. Her tongue licks the skin of my neck as she whispers my name. My woman, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

***

Alicia

If somehow this is a dream, I don’t want to ever wake up. Cesare is gentle as he dries me off using an ultra-soft terry bath sheet he wraps around me. “Go get dressed,” he says as he smacks my ass with a heavy hand I feel even through thick terry cloth. So bossy, it’s so totally not a turn-on...okay it is a little, okay a lot.

I stumble out of the bathroom on legs still gooey from what happened in the shower. Wow, it’s all I can think about. It’s hard not to blush as I remember the way I screamed when I came. Only there’s no blush because I also remember the way Cesare growled like an angry wolf as he came inside me, hot, sticky, and so fucking awesome my whole body shuddered and I swear it caused me to come again at the feel of it. Cesare was right: one night would never have been enough.

In the walk-in closet I marvel at how neat and organized everything is. Slipping on a pretty pink silky, stretchy camisole with lace details, I hope Cesare likes it. The top has thin support on the inside because supposedly you could go without a bra. I’m going to disagree with that as my breasts still sway with every movement as I step into the silky pink pajama pants. I find Cesare picking up our clothes to put them in a hamper. Then he turns and sees me. I love Gertrude—she was right, this is much better than an old T-shirt. He crosses to me, his hands at my hips pulling me against him hard and tight. I melt without hesitation.

His kiss is hungry as if we hadn’t just spent hours making love. When he ends the kiss I groan, “You are a revelation hour by hour. I can’t wait to find out more.” Oh my, those large hands of his cup my breasts, then his thumbs tease my nipples. Oh, this is cruel. “Not yet—first we feed one hunger, then we’ll feed the other.”

“Tease.” I pout as he pushes me ahead of him out of the bedroom. His only reply is a chuckle. He stops outside of my room, then goes in. Before I lose my nerve, I ask him, “So is this supposed to be my jail cell or something?”

His shock is immediate, the last of my tension disappears. “What? Why would you think that? You have the entire run of the condo.”

Shrugging, “It’s just this room was decorated for just my use. I mean I love it, don’t get me wrong, I’ve wanted one of those desks for ages but I don’t know, is this where I’m supposed to go when you don’t want to be around me?”

He shakes his head as he comes toward me, his arms sliding around my waist, his hold loose. “Did you not get a look at the condo on your way in here? I’ve gotten a lot of heat from both Enzo and Dante about how...I think Dante describes it as sterile. There aren’t many soft touches to the place. I’m also well aware I’m not the easiest man to be around all the time. I wanted to make sure you had a place to come to feel comfortable. I also don’t like television, so if you do I want you to be able to come in here and watch it.”

I remember thinking the same thing as I walked through the place earlier with Claudine. “It is a little...austere. I guess I was surprised there isn’t a single picture or piece of art anywhere. How long have you lived here?”

His head tilts as he considers the question. Someday I’m going to be able to look at him and not get all soft and gooey about how gorgeous he is. “It will be seven years this year.”

“Seven years?” Good lord, I thought it was like a year or two.

He shrugs. “I don’t spend much time her

e. It’s basically a place to sleep. If I’m here I’m in my office or working out.”

“Thank you, then, for making this room so nice. I’m not much one for television, either. I don’t even have one. There are a few things I watch on a subscription service but not often. I prefer to watch movies, comedies, thrillers, action movies, that kind of thing. Come on, I’m starving.” I pull him behind me out of the room before I try to thank him by begging him to take me on the fluffy white rug.

Walking through the condo knowing he’s been here almost seven years, I see the place differently. The whole front of the condo is open plan. After walking down the hall from the foyer, the kitchen is to the right. It’s a chef’s dream with a six-burner gas stove, a double oven, quartz counters

in black, stainless steel everything and a double door refrigerator that could hold enough food to feed a football team. The cabinets are a dark cherry wood, and there’s a walk-in pantry. Next to the pantry is a wine room, with a refrigerator for whites. Beside the kitchen is a large dining area that seats twenty with a table made out of a solid piece of ebony with black leather chairs.

Dark hardwoods run through the whole place, yet my room and the bathrooms are the only place there are soft rugs on the floor. With the stark white walls, the place feels like a hotel. Actually, I’ve been in homier hotels because at least they had something on the walls, even if it was generic art. I will definitely be thanking him later for my room. My stomach grumbles, okay food now, thanking Cesare later.

I open the refrigerator; there are dozens of bottles of water, some eggs, some cheese and not much else. The freezer is a treasure trove: there’s chicken, three different types of fish, shrimp, and steaks. “Do you eat anything other than steaks?”

He’s watching me from the other side of the large island bar. He smiles at me. “I like most fish, shrimp, I’ll eat chicken as well.”

I love shrimp and it will defrost in no time. I grab a bag of shrimp and put in the sink and turn the water on as hot as it will go. While that’s working I go into the pantry. “Wow, I’ve never seen so many different kinds of pasta.” Two shelves are devoted to pasta in jars. It’s obviously all made by hand, none of that mass-produced stuff in here. I have the perfect dish in mind, it won’t take long.

Only twenty minutes later, I’m proud of myself for how well it turned out and I’m hoping Cesare likes it. I prepare a plate for myself and Cesare. It’s linguine with shrimp in a butter sauce with lemon and a few pinches of red pepper to keep it interesting. Taking the plates to the table, I put them at the end of the table. Cesare is on the long leather couch on his cell phone.

“Come eat,” I call. Man, this place is huge. He gets up, his eyes still on his phone. Nope. “No phones at the table. Either leave it in the living room or turn it off and put it in your pocket.” His eyebrows go up. I don’t back down. “Your business empire won’t come tumbling down while we have dinner.”

“Now who is bossy?” he mutters as he puts his phone down on the leather ottoman that acts as the coffee table. “Did you select a wine?”

“No, I figured that was your area of expertise.”

With a nod he checks our plates. “Looks good, a white it is.” It doesn’t take him long to come to the table with two glasses and a bottle of white wine. He uncorks it and pours with a finesse I wonder if I’ll ever achieve. At his prompting I try the wine.