The Billionaire’s Kitten

I was sure Rhonda would be shocked and horrified but instead, she was curiously calm.

“So you think Kitty took off because of the divorce? Or because of the marriage?”

“Because of the divorce, of course! She wants to be married to me, like you said, she worships the ground I walk on.”

I shook my head furiously. Suddenly, this was all so fucking confusing because doubts crowded my mind. Did Kitty worship the ground I walked on? Did Kitty love me like that? If she did, then why had she taken off with no notice? Oh shit, suddenly my thoughts were a mass of confusion, gut churning with anxiety. Aw fuck, did I just fuck up mightily? Shit, fuck, shit.

And I could hear Rhonda’s exasperation on the phone.

“Worshipping the ground you walk on is just a figure of speech, Gray. No one does that unless you’re Jesus himself. And frankly, if I were married to you, I’d want a divorce.”

Complete silence for a moment.

“Thanks, Ma, thanks. Real heartwarming.”

“Just saying,” said Rhonda airily. “You’re not exactly a nice person, you know.”

“Of course I’m not nice!” I raged. “I manage an empire, I deal with so much shit that you never see, I can’t afford to be nice. It takes so much out of me to keep this fucking place going, and now I’ve given away the girl I love because of this fucking hotel!”

Suddenly, I realized the words that had come out of my mouth. The girl I loved? What was that? It was like hearing a dog moo, it was so fucking strange.

But as soon as I said it, my gut settled because it was absolutely true. Kitty is my woman, one hundred percent, but even more than that, I’m her man. All my talk about dominating her, possessing her, and making her crawl was just talk. I was the insane one, I was the one going fucking nuts because she’d been gone for two hours. I was the one climbing the walls because I couldn’t locate my beautiful girl, calling my mom for help.

And whaddya know, but at that very moment, the door clicked open and there stood the curvy girl herself, curls bouncing, breasts so fucking delectable. The cell literally dropped from my hand, clattering to the floor but not before I heard the last of Rhonda’s tinny voice.

“If you love her, then show her Gray. Don’t make a real mistake and drive her away. Show her Grayson, she’s worth it.”

And with that, I took a deep breath, blue eyes hungry and needy, eating up the sight of my wife. Because this was my woman, and I wanted her, and I needed her … for keeps this time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kitty

I’d decided to go shopping. Because shit, there was a deep ache in my pussy that needed to be walked off. That’s right, my lover had done me a heavy last night, and god, it was amazing. The breathless pounding, the intense pump left me shaking, screaming out with pleasure. Even now, I could feel a slight trickle between my legs, last of his male cream dripping out. So yeah, the session had left me sore, and a walk past the stores on the Strip would just the thing.

Yawning, I got up and stretched, luxuriating in the sunlight. There’s a thing in Nevada called one hundred over one hundred, and that means one hundred days of the year, we have temps over a hundred. Today was definitely one of those days, the desert literally baking, and to be safe, I grabbed a frappucino in the way, sipping on a frozen drink while trying to keep cool.

The stores were fantastic, utterly luxurious, the window displays gilded with gold. Shit, this was so different from when I was on my own. Back then, Forever21 and H&M were my only options, if I was lucky. It depended on whether or not their plus-size shipment had come in, otherwise I was stuck with a whole lot of nothing.

And taking a deep breath, I slipped into a designer store. Ahhh, that felt nice! Expensive places blast the A/C so that it’s like a polar wind, and a welcome arctic breeze hit my face and shoulders, making me shiver appreciatively. But I’d forgotten about the help. Because immediately a whip-thin saleslady cornered me, face shiny and tight from too much plastic surgery. I could almost feel the disdain rolling off her in waves because in my t-shirt and cut-offs, I looked more college girl than wife of a hotel magnate. But hey, customer service is trained to be nice to everyone right?

Evidently not. Shooting me an evil stare, the woman literally clacked her red fingernails together, hissing.

“Can I help you?” she said icily. “Can I help you find something other than our free AC?”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. True, I looked a little messy with my hair sticking sweatily to my neck, but that was no way to treat a customer. I could be the Sultana of Oman for crying out loud, there was no reason to be mean.