Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (98 page)

“So we
do,” he murmured. His eyes were fueled with a sense of knowledge. “How is your
first real day back?”

I
nodded. “It’s good. I hired a few girls back. Girls I unjustly fired last
week.”

Xavier
nodded, not faltering. “Good. It’s good to stick with our own. We’re a team,
after all.”

I
blinked toward him, knowing that he was speaking about me.

“And
what about Jason?” he asked then. “Has he given you any grief?”

I
nodded briefly. “He’s always lurking around the corner, ready to do anything,
to say anything to me to make me feel this small.” I held an air’s inch between
my thumb and forefinger. “But I’m growing used to it.”

“We
still need to do something about it,” Xavier murmured.

I
nodded. “That we do.” A pause hung between us. I ripped at the chicken and
brought the warm meat to my mouth, chewing. So glad to have something to do
with my hands, my mouth.

Finally,
I spoke. “We have a great deal to discuss about us, as well.” Our eyes met in
this moment, and I felt that drive once more. My throat caught. I wanted to
kiss him, to laugh with him. Why were we struggling like this?

Xavier
placed his fork on his plate, upside down. He brought his fingers together and
laced them. He peered at me closely. “What do you suppose we do?”

I
shrugged my shoulders lightly. “Anything we want, I suppose.”

Xavier’s
voice came in husky syllables. “You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked.

I
nodded, biting my lip. “I do. I do know.” I peered down at my plate. “I think I
love you, too.”

“I
fucked up. You know I fucked up. I just—“

I held
up my hand. “You were under so much pressure. And I came at you with too much.
I won’t—I won’t do it again.”

“You
better not,” he said, his eyes glinting with humor. His eyes gestured toward
the floor beside us, where I’d been dancing only a few moments before. “You
want to dance again? With a partner?”

My
eyebrows rose high on my forehead. “I’m not sure. Does our chemistry really go
that strong?”

He
leaned toward me, his fingers brushing against mine on the table. “I think we
have something here, Amanda. Something physical, something chemical. Something
that was surely meant to be.”

I felt
my heart beating faster, harder in my chest. I stood suddenly and found myself
face to face with him in the center of the floor. The plates still steamed with
food, but I had forgotten my hunger. I brought my hand through his; I felt his
hand at my back. We began to dance to no music, to complete silence. He twirled
me, his eyes continually on mine. I felt the heat of his body; I felt the
sexual need from him—his need for me.

“I
think about you constantly,” he murmured. “Your body. Your mind. Everything
about you.”

I
didn’t dare turn away from him, to reduce my eye contact. This was our time
together—our long-lost moment. I didn’t even have the words for him. I came
closer to him and propped my breasts on his chest, closing my eyes.

Suddenly,
he twirled me into the sidewall, between two mirrors. In the yonder mirror, I
could see myself, the back of Xavier’s head. He moved his hand around to unzip
my dress and drag it down my body, toward the ground. In the mirror, I could
see his mouth form around my nipple. I could see my hand mold over his head,
guiding him, needing him. I closed my eyes as he removed my tights, tossing
them to the ground. For a moment, I remembered that we needed to get to a
meeting in just ten minutes—that they’d be expecting us: the president and the
campaign manager. But as he descended his tongue over my hot pussy; as he
placed his fingers at my G-spot; as I felt my body give way to feeling, I
couldn’t care about that fucking meeting. Not for a single moment.

I
brought my fingers toward his buttons and undid them in a mad rip, bringing the
shirt back behind his shoulders. His chest gleamed with sweat, with desire. As
he continued rubbing at my clit, making me go crazy, I moved his pants and
boxers from his waist and found my hand around his pulsing cock. I started
giving him a hand job, feeling the pulsing blood, the desire, the need behind
it. It was so hard in my hand, and I wanted it inside me, ramming into that
G-spot he always hit so well, taking me to my climax.

He
wrapped his lips around mine, bringing his hand around my ass and cupping it
safely. I felt like a part of him, like he was molding my body into his. I
caught my legs around his waist and pushed his dick into my pussy, becoming one
with him. He shoved himself—hard—into me, and I felt the wall of mirrors around
me shake. I watched in the mirror as he fucked me, pound-pound-pound, into the
wall. With each thrust, I could see his ass clench; I could see my eyes fill
with pleasure. I called into the room, not even caring about being quiet. After
all: this moment was safe from all the others. I had lost any comprehension
about why we shouldn’t be together.

“Yeah,
baby,” Xavier began. “I love you. I love your body, your mind. I love your
ass.” He slapped it, then, sending vibes of pleasure through my spine, through
my pussy. I called into the room, bringing my foot up as he fucked me. As he
thrust further, deeper, I found that I lost control. My foot erupted too close
to one of the table’s plates, and the chicken fell to the floor. The plate
crashed into a thousand small pieces. I screamed lightly, and Xavier placed his
hand over my mouth, making me be quiet. Feeling taken advantage of, feeling
like he had control over me, made the pleasure more tactile, more real. I cried
out, feeling tears fall from my eyes.

“Fuck
me. Fuck me harder,” I murmured, shaking and allowing my breasts to
bounce—boom, boom, boom, against his chest. He caught one of them in his mouth
and brought his tongue over the hard, revving nipple.

Suddenly,
Xavier spun me around. “Touch your toes,” he murmured into my ear. His breath
was so hot. I leaned down and touched them, and then, all at once, I felt him
enter my pussy from behind. He brought his fingers around my pussy. He caught my
G-spot with his dick and revved into it, making my body fuel with pleasure. I
wanted to start crying, to tell him that my body was his forever.

He
whispered, then, that he was going to come—that he was moments away. “I love
you, Amanda,” he whispered, a bit of desperation coursing through his words. “I
love you. Know that.”

And
suddenly, his thrust caught me into a wave of euphoria, of pleasure. I felt the
orgasm course through my spine, through my breasts, and burn with such passion
at my pussy. I heard him as he came, as well. The orgasm rattled through us
both, making us seem like a single organism, a single monster of sexual drive
and passion.

Finally,
he pulled away from me. He turned me around and kissed me with such drive. Our
naked bodies were dripping with sweat. “Don’t leave me again,” he whispered.

“I
won’t,” I murmured back. He brought his hand to my chin and stroked it, shaking
his head.

“I
can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

I felt
the same. But I knew, then, that we were already ten minutes late to the
meeting. As usual, my mind dove back into practicalities. I shook my head and
blinked into his eyes. “Baby. We have that meeting. Ten minutes ago.” I bit my
lip and watched as his own face erupted into that realization. “Shit.”

He reached
toward his clothes and started hurrying them on. I grabbed my tights and
bounced into them. As they wrapped around my waist, leaving my breasts still
bare, I heard someone at the door. Someone arguing. I froze and turned toward
Xavier, my eyes wide. The fear was rattling through me. The voice was familiar.
But the fear in Xavier’s face forced me to panic. He stood in his boxers, his
chest still sweating. The smell of sex was in the air.

And
then, the door opened. In the doorway, stood Camille, Xavier’s wife. She
brought her slim hands to her thin waist and gazed at his, nearly raping my
naked frame with her snake-like eyes. “Well, well, well,” she murmured. “What
do we have here?”

POWER #5

Chapter 1

I
stood, holding my hands over my nipples, gazing up at Camille, Xavier’s wife,
with what was surely a gross, indecent expression. My hair was in a tizzy after
fucking the president. I held my breath for several moments as Camille traced
her eyes over us, folding her hands over her stomach; she looked less like a
wife catching her husband cheating and more like a grandmother catching her
grandchild with a hand in the cookie jar.

Xavier
stood beside me, a mere foot away, looking at this woman before him as if she
were his equal. And I supposed, in many ways, she was. She’d helped him stride
to this great position—most powerful man in the world. And look at what he was
doing to her. I imagined the strain lurking behind her eyes; the sheer
unhappiness.

The
tense moment ended in an instant, however. She shrugged her shoulders and spun
around, facing the wall. Her voice was stark in the room. “Get dressed. Both of
you,” she ordered. Her blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight.

Unsure
of what to do, I brought my bra around my tits, snapping it between my shoulder
blades. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the president jumped into his
own pants, tied his own tie. I zipped my dress and ruffled at my hair in the
mirror, not realizing, for a moment, that I was shaking. God. We’d been caught.

Again.

Finally,
Camille spun around once more. The expression on her face reminded me of a
diplomat—someone working through a deal. She pressed her lips together firmly
and tapped toward Xavier, bringing her fingers to his tie. “Darling. I can’t
have you going into your campaign meeting looking like you just got through
with a fuck fest. Or a fight.” She winked at him. Xavier didn’t say anything,
and I felt my stomach dropping out beneath me.

I
knew, then, that this was my moment; my moment to escape this room, to run away.
I had to get to the campaign meeting. I cleared my throat, but neither the
president, nor his wife looked toward me. “I better be getting to the campaign
meeting—“ I nearly whispered, gazing at them both like a lost child.

But
Camille interrupted my words, speaking only to Xavier. “Xavier. You can’t allow
the girl to go. We have much to go over, after all.”

It was
strange, how she addressed him, instead of me. I stopped short, knowing I
didn’t have a choice. Xavier nodded toward me, his eyes like glass. So shiny
and breakable.

Camille
rubbed at Xavier’s shoulders, then, after adjusting his tie. “Well, well,
Xavier. An affair. How completely classic.” She brought her shoulders up to her
ears and seemed to giggle. The giggle was low, a bit disconcerting. Xavier said
nothing. “You know. I don’t care about this, even for a moment.”

I
raised my eyebrows toward her, feeling my heart beat so fast in my chest. I had
been imagining my career ending; I’d been imagining having to move back in with
my mother, all the way in lackluster Pennsylvania. I knew this woman before me
could ruin me. And yet it seemed she didn’t want to?

Camille
continued. “Yes. It’s a bit easier for me, you having an affair.” She adjusted
her body on her high heels. “After all. It takes a great deal of effort to stay
in love with you. You’re a trip, Xavier. I’m sure your young girl over there
will agree.”

I
swallowed, still unable to comprehend this. Why wouldn’t the first lady look
toward me? I wanted to grab her, to spin her around. But she held the floor so
expertly. I felt my tongue scratch against the back of my dry throat.

“I
don’t love you as I think I should. I don’t think I have, not for a long time.”
She flicked a piece of lint from Xavier’s chest, then. It seemed like such an
intimate gesture, one I would have killed to have the privilege to do. But I
wasn’t his wife; I wasn’t in those ever-tall shoes.

Xavier
swallowed in the silence that followed her words. “I appreciate your openness,”
he murmured. The tension continued, but it seemed that Camille didn’t feel a
moment of it. “If you ever feel that you find—if you ever think that you
could—“

But
Camille turned, then. She addressed us both, primarily talking to Xavier, once
more. Her words were stark, blasting through his. “Xavier. I’d ask that
this—affair, however serious it may be—doesn’t affect my personal life or my
life as First Lady. I appreciate this lifestyle. I’ve worked a great deal for
it. God, all those meetings, all those brunches. And finally, we’re here. I’m
here. And you shan’t ruin me while I remain here. Is that clear?”

Xavier
nodded, closing his eyes. My heart sank. I nodded, as well, thinking only for a
moment that I hoped he would lose the election.

“That
will not be a problem, Camille,” Xavier stated, his voice incredibly
presidential.

“And—“
Camille interrupted once more. “I’d like to further add that I don’t care about
what you do. I don’t care about what both of you do—or what Xavier does in the
future.” She eyed me, then, cat-like, dismissing me as a true suitor. “As long
as you continue these affairs, Xavier, I will discredit the allegations. I will
uphold my innocence and my happiness as First Wife and First Lady.” She cleared
her throat once more. I couldn’t believe all that I was hearing. “But let me be
clear, Xavier. Once more. You are not to ruin me.” She took a step forward and
gazed into his eyes. In what seemed like a sharp, pointed moment, she brought
her lips onto his. She kissed him without a hint of passion. Then, she reared
back, tapping her heels on the ground and escalating herself back into the
White House hallways.