The Billionaires Club Read online

  The Billionaires Club

  Sky Corgan

  Copyright 2014

  All rights reserved.

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  Smashwords Edition

  CHAPTER ONE

  Never before has my pulse raced so much just from being looked at. My first impulse is to avert my eyes. Is this how I'm supposed to act? Is this how the other girls before me acted?

  His eyes are that of a predator, dark and smoldering in the dim light of the club. They're fixed on me as he takes confident strides across the room. I am his prey.

  Every warning light programmed into my subconscious mind goes off, the ones that protect you from making mistakes. Fight or flight response kicks in, and it takes everything in me to keep my black heels planted on the floor, to not turn around and pretend I don't see him.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” he says as he reaches me, his hand moving forward to wrap around my waist. It's like he's known me for years. But he hasn't known me for years. This is the first time we've met.

  “Hi,” I manage to stutter out, knowing that my cheeks are redder than roses. Thankfully, he can't see it in the dim light. Would he care if he could? Guys like him are probably used to having girls blushing at them.

  “Shall we go upstairs?” His fingers delicately trace my side, sending a strange electricity straight to my nether region. I want him. There's no question about it. But I'm also scared. What have I gotten myself into?

  “Do you come here a lot?” I ask stupidly, stalling.

  His face pulls into the most intoxicating smile I've ever seen, and he laughs. Good God does he have a sexy laugh. “I came here tonight for you. Just you. Let's go.”

  He takes my hand and leads me to the door of the club. With each step, my heart thumps harder in my chest. This is what I want, right? This is what I came here for. To spend one night with a man whom I'd never have a chance with in a million years in real life. To feel what it's like to be touched by someone with experience. A man, not a boy. Yes, this is what I'm here for, but if that's the case, then why am I so afraid to give in to desire.

  He places his hand on the small of my back as we wait for the elevator, leaning into me. I'm too nervous to look at him, but I can smell him, the scent of expensive cologne and everything that makes him worthy of being part of The Billionaires Club.

  “I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before,” he whispers into my ear. “And you're going to love every minute of it.”

  I don't doubt his words. How can I? My body is wanton for him, so desperately wanton.

  In the elevator, he can't keep his hands off of me. He corners me, bearing into me with his intense gaze. In the club, his eyes looked dark, but now I can see that they're a pale shade of blue. Could he have gotten anymore handsome.

  I bite my lip, looking up at him nervously. His lips move to meet mine, and the kiss is teasing at best. He brushes his thumb affectionately across my cheek, sending feelings of lust racing through me. His touch is magic, and I can only imagine what the rest of him will feel like.

  When the elevator door opens, he leads me out into the hall and pulls a key card from his pocket. This entire floor is his suite. It's almost staggering to think it. Of course, this is a rented room. He doesn't actually live here. It might not even belong exclusively to him. It's just a stage to set a scene, the place that he takes all of his girls. But I don't want to think about that. Tonight, it's all about me.

  I stare at the back of his suit as he opens the door for me. Once I step inside that room, there's no going back. Is this really the right thing to do? I've wanted something like this since the first time I picked up a romance novel, but actually experiencing it is completely different. Besides, this isn't really anything like the novels. This is something else. But it's as close to the novels as I'll ever get, so I should take it.

  “My name is Anders,” he offers to me once he opens the door. “That's what you'll be screaming later.”

  “Is that your first name or your last name?” I ask, peering into the room like a timid animal fearing a trap. This is not like the novels at all. The heroine never acts this stupid.

  “It's my first name.”

  “Mine is Tessa.” I take a deep breath and step forward, crossing the threshold into his expansive suite and a night of sex that I'll likely never forget.

  Almost the instant both of my feet land inside the door, he's on me, overpowering me, dominating me. “Tessa.” My name sounds so sweet on his lips. “Tonight you are all mine. Tonight you will think of me and only me. I'm going to make you come again and again, and tomorrow you'll likely not be able to walk straight. I hope you don't have any plans.”

  He devours any response I might make with his lips, pushing them hungrily on top of mine as he presses me against the entryway. No response is needed. He knows what I'm here for, that this is the pinnacle of my stay at The Billionaires Club. Everything else is just icing on the cake. If I'm laid up in my room tomorrow, it means he did his job right.

  I can feel his arousal beneath his slacks, and though my hands want to go for his cock, I wrap them around his broad muscular shoulders instead. He's every bit as solid as I imagined he'd be. Of course, he is. You don't get to be a host at The Billionaires Club unless your body is custom designed for women. He's almost unrealistically perfect. His face, his lips, his hands. Everything about him was built for pleasure. My pleasure.

  A soft moan escapes my lips as I give in to fantasy, tilting my head to feel his mouth brushing over my neck. His warm breath on my skin is pleasant. His hands on my thighs feel even better. He's hiking up my skirt, and all I can do is stand there, leaning against the wall, powerless against him. No woman in her right mind would ever resist him. He's too irresistible.

  “Are you thinking about it? Writhing beneath my body. I bet you want it right now, for me to take you right here. I'm going to savor you though. Every kiss. Every touch.” His thumb teases softly between my legs, and I respond by opening them a bit wider, feeling embarrassed by my own need for him. He's not the only one who is going to be savoring every moment. But I think he knows that. That's why he moves oh so slowly.

  His fingers tug my panties aside, and he delicately thumbs across my folds. “You're so wet for me. I'm not even inside you yet, and I can already feel it.”

  He's not lying. I'm practically dripping with want for him. No man has ever made me feel this way this quickly. All I can think about is having him inside of me, of what it will be like to be beneath him.

  When he pushes his fingers between my folds, I buck my hips, yearning to feel him. His touch is gentle and sensual, playing back and forth over my heated swollen clit. I worry I might be so hot that I'll burn him, but he doesn't seem affected by it. If anything, he seems more aroused. The look in his eyes is pure lust. And in that moment, it's all for me.

  I tremble slightly as he skillfully rubs my pleasure button, already feeling my body racing up the hill to climax. I'm a bit surprised at how quickly my orgasm is building. It's never been like this before. Perhaps it's because I'm so attracted to him. I feel almost unworthy of his touch. But it's a stupid silly thought. Anyone with en
ough money is worthy.

  I can't think about that. Can't think about how this is all just a fantasy made flesh. Can't think about how my best friend spent a portion of her lottery winnings to send me here, to make one of my greatest dreams come true. I'll ruin it by thinking about that stuff. I need to focus. Focus on him.

  His heated kiss brings me back into the moment. His scent intoxicates me while his mouth moves sensually on top of mine. I taste his lips and his tongue, wanting to indulge in him forever. He holds my face in one hand and drives me to the height of pleasure with the other. I moan against his mouth as I feel the surge overtake me. He presses his body against mine, and all I need is the feel of his arousal for me to send me plummeting over the edge.

  “That's it,” he whispers gently against my mouth. “Come for me, Tessa.”

  I shutter as my orgasm wrecks me, my eyes closing as I allow the entire experience to make me drunk with sensation. It's the best climax a man has ever given me with his hands. I've never been touched like this before. Not like this.

  He draws me the rest of the way into the room and closes the door behind us. There's really no point in closing it. No one will come up to this floor. Still, it makes the fantasy seem more real.

  I look around while I catch my breath, unable to hide the wonder on my face. This is exactly the kind of place I'd picture a wealthy man like him living. Expansive rooms, plush furniture, perfectly and richly decorated. He doesn't seem interested in giving me the grand tour though. Instead, he takes my hand and leads me straight back to the bedroom.

  “Sit.” He gestures to the bed, and I obey, still in complete disbelief that this is actually happening. “If you thought my fingers were good, you're going to be blown away by what I can do with my mouth.” His perfect lips quirk into a smirk, and I don't doubt him for a second.

  In that moment, I'm a sponge, soaking in everything he says. Everything he does. Each second alone with him is a gift.

  He unbuttons the front of his suit jacket. After he shrugs it off and tosses it onto the floor, he goes for his silk tie. My eyes watch him move, undressing with the confidence of a God. The tie ends up on my lap once he's done pulling it off. A teasing gesture. I giggle like a school girl, my cheeks heating up all over again.

  Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I feel mesmerized by the very sight of his skin. He's very muscular and cut. Each open button reveals more and more delicious hard flesh. By the time he reaches the bottom button, my hormones are on overdrive. God how I want him to fuck me.

  “You should be undressing now,” he says to me with a whisper of a smile, perhaps tired of watching me drool over him.

  In all honesty, I would rather him undress me. His hands move with confidence. Mine will be moving with uncertainty; I know it.

  I stand awkwardly, practically stumbling. My eyes leave his in fear of judgment, though I doubt I'd ever be able to tell if he was judging me. He's a great actor.

  I try to muster up all of my confidence as I grab the bottom hem of my dress, moving to pull it over my head. Just as I start to lift it, his phone rings. The perfect expression he's held onto all night falters, and an annoyed look takes its place as he scrambles for his phone.

  “Sorry, I have to take this,” he tells me before answering it and taking long strides out of the room.

  My hands let go of my dress, and I sit back down on the bed. This wasn't part of the plan. Or was it? Important business men get phone calls. But I don't think this was supposed to happen right before we had sex. Then again, what do I really know. It could be part of the fantasy, a way to postpone the moment even longer, to push me to my limits.

  I think about undressing the rest of the way like he told me to. Is that what I'm supposed to do? I'm not sure anymore. Suddenly, I'm just confused.

  His voice becomes more distant, and then I hear a door open and shut. I wait for him. And I wait and I wait and I wait. Five minutes pass. A few more minutes later and I hear a door open again. My body instantly tenses, nervous anticipation taking over me. He's back. We're going to continue where we left off. Should I have gotten undressed while he was gone?

  There's a knock on the wall, and then an unfamiliar voice. “Miss Murphy?”

  “Yes?” I reply hesitantly.

  “Anders had to leave. He apologizes, but he won't be able to spend time with you tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Deflated. Embarrassed. Humiliated. Those are the best words to describe how I feel. I can't even get my pretend boyfriend to spend the night with me. How pathetic. Maybe Evelyn can get a refund.

  “So, how is it?” she asks on the other end of the line, her voice almost shrill with excitement.

  “It's great,” I reply, though I've never been very good at hiding my disappointment.

  “Tell me all about it.”

  “There's not much to tell yet.” I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, I've only been here for one night.”

  “Still, I want to know everything.”

  “Well, I checked in, and they showed me to my room. It's really big and nice. Luxurious. I kind of just chilled out in here until dinner.”

  “How's the food?”

  “Awesome, as to be expected. I had Chilean sea bass if that tells you anything.” I enunciate 'Chilean', trying to make it sound haughty.

  “And then what happened?”

  “Then I came back to my room until it was time to go to the dressing rooms.”

  “Oh, Tess, don't tell me you're going to spend your entire time there in your room,” she groans at me.

  “I'm not,” my tone twists in offense. “I just got here. I'm getting a feel for the place. Tomorrow I'll venture out to the spa and maybe the pool.”

  “Good. The whole point of you being there is to get pampered. You deserve to be pampered.”

  “I really appreciate you doing this for me,” I say, feeling somewhat guilty.

  When Evelyn won the lottery, she didn't have to spend any money on me. We've been best friends since Kindergarten. Her friendship is enough of a gift. But she insisted that I deserve something for sticking by her side for all these years, and spending ten grand to send me to The Billionaires Club for a month wasn't a huge hit to her seven million dollar winnings. If I had a choice in the matter, I would have rather had that money go towards a new car, but I didn't have a choice.

  Since junior high, I almost always had my nose tucked away in a romance novel. My favorite stories were the ones about wealthy powerful men sweeping ordinary girls off their feet. Evelyn loved to tease me for reading them. She was more into watching television. To each her own.

  Neither of us had ever even heard of The Billionaires Club until Evelyn won the lottery and was putting in her two weeks notice at her job. It was then that her boss mentioned it in a joke. Evelyn took the liberty of researching it further. She got the address from her now ex-boss and drove over to the facility. The place was very discrete. No online information. No take-home brochures. They made her go through a consultation, and she decided to enroll me on the spot.

  When she first told me about it, I wasn't sure if I was happy or mortified. The way she described it, it sounded like a brothel for gorgeous rich men. All the profits were donated to charity though, so The Billionaires Club managed to slip through some legal loophole that would have otherwise made it a prostitution ring. The wealthy men there, the hosts, pretty much just volunteered their sexual services to women. The whole concept was a bit strange to me.

  “Tell me about your billionaire,” she says, and I can practically hear her wiggling.

  My face sulks into a frown, thinking about how he ditched me. I don't want to tell her that though. I want her to think I had the time of my life. That's what she paid for, after all. “He's gorgeous.”

  “Of course, he is. They all are. The consultant showed me their pictures. Did you get the dreamy blonde one I was telling you about?”

  “No.”

  “Oh darn. I was
really hoping you'd get that one.”

  I can't help but laugh at the sound of disappointment in her voice. “I assure you, the guy they gave me was every bit as gorgeous as any of the others they could have paired me with.”

  “They were all hot. Too bad they wouldn't let me pick one out for you.”

  From what Evelyn told me about the consultation, the billionaires chose clients based on responses to a survey we were forced to fill out about our personal and sexual interests. We were also required to take a photo for the billionaires to look at. Even though it was the clients who paid to be with the billionaires, it was the billionaires who picked which clients they wanted to work with. That meant Anders hand-selected me out of a pool of other women he could have been with instead. The thought was almost romantic, though I was probably over-glamorizing it. Judging by the way that he fled, he likely regrets choosing me. My mouth sank back into a frown at the thought.

  “Anders is fine,” I say with a sigh.

  “Anders,” she laughs. “Cute stage name.”

  “Stage name?”

  “Yeah. You don't think those guys actually give their real names out, do you? They have to protect their identities.”

  “Of course, they don't,” I reply, feeling stupid.

  “So, how was Anders?”

  Now is the moment I've been dreading. Do I tell her the truth or do I lie? She'll probably be mad if I tell her what really happened. Still, she's my best friend, and I kind of do want to unload about it.

  “Anders was busy,” I say finally.

  “I bet he was,” she quips.

  “No. I mean that he had to leave on business, so we didn't get to spend the night together.”

  “Oh.” The chipper tone leaves her voice. This is what I was dreading. “But you said that he's gorgeous.”

  “He is gorgeous.”

  “So, you did get to see him?”