Billionaire's Matchmaker (Titans) Read online

  Now, however, he couldn’t banish the thought. And since his mother had already squandered a hundred grand, he figured he should be specific in his requests. More, he wanted Hope to know what she was getting into, even if she didn’t yet realize he’d chosen her. “I want my wife to be submissive twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Can you clarify what you mean?” She clenched the handle of her kitty bag, seeming to pretend this was an ordinary conversation with a normal man.

  Jeanine, the best executive assistant on the continent, entered the outer office. She’d been with Sterling Worldwide for almost thirty years, and with him for the past seven. With her polite smile and firm voice, she protected him against the world. “Morning, Mr. Sterling.”

  “Jeanine.”

  She angled her head toward Hope. “Everything all right, sir?”

  “Unscheduled meeting with the Prestige Group.”

  “I see.”

  “My mother arranged it.”

  Jeanine scowled with understanding. Like a she-dragon, Jeanine would have protected him from his own mother. “Anything you need, Mr. Sterling?” She was asking if he wanted her to call security or to show the woman out. “Coffee?”

  Her combination of savviness and loyalty made her indispensable.

  “Just one cup, please. Ms. Malloy won’t be staying.”

  He captured Hope’s shoulders and pulled her into his office so he could close the door. He held on to her for a whole lot longer than was necessary but not as long as he wanted to. How would she react if he eased his first finger up the delicate column of her throat?

  Would she surrender? Fight the inevitable?

  Forcing himself to resist the driving impulse, he dropped his hands and curled them into fists at his sides.

  “Proclivities,” she prompted.

  The word echoed in his head. “She’ll wear a collar—my collar…” And because he could no longer resist, he traced an index finger across the hollow of her throat. Her pulse fluttered, and her breaths momentarily ceased. “My woman will know that she belongs to me and she will behave as such.”

  Hope’s gaze remained locked on his. When she spoke, her voice wobbled. “And this…collar. She’ll have to wear it all the time?”

  “That’s what twenty-four seven means.” A devilish grin tugged at his lips. He kept his fingertip pressed to her warm skin. “It will be subtle, however. Nothing gaudy. Unless people knew, I doubt they’d think she was wearing anything other than a striking piece of jewelry. But her play collar, the one she wears in private with me or at a lifestyle event, may be different.”

  “Like at a BDSM club or something?” She nodded, as if she were on ground she understood.

  Not that he’d let her stay there long. “I enjoy showing off my sub. There’s a certain restaurant in New Orleans, Vieille Rivière, that she will go to. And she’ll join me when I visit people in similar social circles.” Including other Titans. But there was a limit to how much he should tell her. “There are certain things I would want her to go along with. Bondage. Sensory deprivation.”

  “You mean like blindfolds and handcuffs?” There was no hesitation in her words, so he ascertained she’d made sense of what he’d said and decided that fell under the category of typical bedroom shenanigans.

  “Among others, yes. I use blindfolds on occasion. I like gags so that my woman must beg with her eyes. Her tears are like dripping nectar from the gods.”

  Wide-eyed, uncertain, she sucked in a deep, disbelieving breath.

  “Clamps,” he added, skimming the column of her throat.

  “I…”

  “On her nipples, among other places. And I will want to her to wait for me at the end of a long day, on her knees, head tipped back, her beautiful mouth held open by a dental dam.”

  “You mean…she’d have to do this herself?”

  “Prepare for my homecoming?” He imagined Hope parting her lips, sliding in the dam and positioning it, pictured her naked in front of the door, hungry for his touch. “Yes.”

  She retreated a step. “Mr. Sterling, I—”

  “My wife will focus on me and my pleasure.”

  “That sounds rather old-fashioned.”

  “Does it? What you’re not aware of is what I’m willing to do in return.”

  “In return?”

  “I wouldn’t expect a woman to give me everything she has to offer without me giving equal parts of myself. Her wants and desires will be my highest priority. I will give her the heavens if she wants them, the stars, the moon.” He paused. “Then I’ll take her to the depths of hell as she uncovers what sets her depraved soul free.”

  She shuddered.

  “Can you find me all that in a candidate, Ms. Malloy?”

  “You’re rather particular.”

  “Indeed. I require a woman of impeccable breeding who presents her ass for my punishment when she displeases me.”

  The air conditioner kicked on. The whispering cool air did nothing to dissipate the heat between them.

  He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, then feathered his fingers into her hair. “I want to kiss you, Ms. Malloy.”

  “Uhm…”

  “Ask me to.”

  She scowled.

  “I won’t have you pretending that you’re not curious. When you’re at home this evening, by yourself with a glass of wine, horny and considering masturbating—”

  “That’s not me.” She shook her head so fast it was obviously a desperate lie.

  “No? Ms. Malloy, the room is swimming with your pheromones. Deny it.” She sagged a little against his hand, and he tightened his grip on her hair, as much to offer support as to imprison her. Then he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “You’ll remember this moment, fantasize about being mine.”

  “No…”

  “Invite me to kiss you or tell me to release you. The power is yours. Yield to temptation or leave this room wondering if it’s as good as you imagine it will be.”

  “Mr. Sterling, this can’t be happening.”

  Despite her protest, she didn’t try to escape. “I agree. This is the first time I’ve had three women”—four if he counted Celeste—“attempt to force me down the aisle.” He paused. “And it’s the first time I’ve had this kind of sexual longing for an adversary. Ask me to kiss you,” he repeated instead of arguing. “Be sure to say please.”

  “Ah…”

  He loosened his grip, and she leaned toward him, keeping herself hostage. Rafe didn’t smile with triumph.

  “Kiss me.”

  “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more.” That wasn’t the entire truth. There were a hundred things he’d like to do to her, but he made no move

  Her internal standoff lasted longer than he thought it would. Excellent. She had a stubborn streak.

  Hope glanced away and sighed. Then she looked at him with clear, confident eyes. “Please kiss me.”

  He could drown in her and be happy about it. He captured her chin to hold her steady. On her lips, he tasted the sweetness of her capitulation. “Open your mouth, sweet Hope.”

  She did, and he entered her mouth, slower than he would ordinarily, softer than he would if she were his submissive.

  Hope responded with hesitation, and he continued, driving deeper, seeking more. Within seconds, she yielded.

  She moaned and raised onto her tiptoes to lean into him. A few seconds beyond that, she wrapped her arms around him. Hope, his adversary, had now become his willing captive.

  He released her chin and moved his hand to the middle of her back, then lower to the base of her spine.

  Rafe drank in the scent of her femininity. His cock surged, not from ordinary arousal, but from soul-deep recognition. Her eagerness sought the Dom in him. It took all his restraint not to press his palm against her buttocks.

  Earlier he’d said she’d be thinking of him as she masturbated. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how he’d banish this memory of her—strength and suppleness in one he
ady package.

  He plundered her mouth.

  She offered more until she was panting and desperate, gripping him hard.

  Instead of giving in to the driving need to rip off her clothes and fuck her, he distracted himself by tugging on her hair harder. As he’d requested, her eyes were open. So goddamn trusting. Did she have any idea how close he was to shredding the veneer of civilization that hung between them to claim her, mark her as his?

  He ended the kiss while he still could. Her mouth was swollen, and he couldn’t stop staring at her lips.

  Hope took tiny breaths that didn’t seem to steady her. She held on to him while she lowered her heels to the floor. Then, over a few heartbeats, she dropped her hands.

  “Thank you, Rafe,” he prompted.

  “Are you serious? I’m supposed to thank you?” She continued to look at him and undoubtedly saw his resolve.

  Would she give him what he demanded? “Unless you want me to spank—”

  “Spank?” Her chin was at a full tilt.

  “Spank.” He repeated with emphasis. “Unless you want me to spank your pretty little ass so hard that you can’t sit down after you leave here.”

  “That kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

  “Under normal circumstances,” he agreed without hesitation. “Unless you ask me for it.” Part of him hoped she’d take him up on it. It would be a pleasure to prove she liked the feel of his hand on her bare skin. “I’ll go first.” He softened his tone, letting her glimpse his inner thoughts, a rare confession of his soul. “I enjoyed kissing you. Thank you.”

  “I…” She smoothed the skirt that he wanted to rip off her body.

  “Look at me.”

  She followed his command. Then, with a soft and decidedly insubmissive tone, she said, “Thank you.”

  “Ms. Malloy, as I said, it was my pleasure.”

  Silence hung between them. Her inexperience thrilled him, and he wanted to give her another hundred firsts. Instead, he let her go. The real world—with its complex demands—was waiting. And if he wanted her at his feet, he had a lot of work to do.

  “I’m not certain how much of what you said, and what we just did, is to get me to admit defeat, to quit…” She stiffened her spine.

  “Maybe it started that way.” His father’s behavior had pissed Rafe off, and so had his mother’s ambush, even Hope herself. He’d wanted to shake her as badly as he’d been shaken. As he’d spoken to her, his desires had churned to the surface. Until now—until her—he had been willing to confine his kink to a club. “It didn’t end that way. That I promise you.”

  “I will ask the candidates about their openness to your suggestions.”

  Fuck. She wanted to retreat behind a facade of business, as if their kiss hadn’t changed something. “Requirements. Not suggestions. Requirements. Be clear about that. If I’m to be saddled with a woman that I don’t want until death do us part, there will be none of the hysteria that my family members seem to thrive on. My wife will know her place and her role, and she will meet my expectations. And to be clear, she will ask for my kiss. Like you did.” He opened the door.

  Jeanine was walking toward his office with a cup of coffee, and he waved her off.

  Then, voice so soft that only Hope could hear, he finished. “You have a fourteen-page interview form. I will have something similar for the women you bring to me. It will cover things such as anal play, being shared with others, edging, exhibitionism. Shall I send it to you first?”

  “Please do. It will save some time in your selection process.” She started past him, and he snagged her elbow.

  “And Ms. Malloy? She’ll fucking address me as Sir.” He was unaccountably furious at her rejection. At himself. “And if you come here ever again, so will you.”

  Her hand trembled where she grasped her purse strap. She flicked a glance at his hand before yanking her elbow free and continuing.

  She paused at Jeanine’s desk to say goodbye. Why did that matter so much to him?

  He should have snagged the cup of coffee and returned to his office to call his father, but Rafe continued to watch Hope. Each damnable step made her hips sway, and his still-hard cock throbbed in response.

  At the door leading to the hallway, Hope paused, her hand on the knob. She glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze without blinking. He might have unsettled her, even shocked her. But he hadn’t scared her.

  Round one to the beautiful matchmaker.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Hell and a handbasket. The world shifted beneath Hope’s feet. Who the fuck did he think he was? The Lord of Domination? And why had she responded with such abandon? As she strode down the marble hallway to the elevator, Hope forced herself to keep her chin high. It wasn’t until after she’d pushed the call button and made sure she was alone that she allowed her shoulders to collapse against the wall, right beneath the scripted silver letters bearing Rafe’s last name.

  Celeste had warned that he was formidable and had coached Hope to be unflappable when dealing with him. Though she’d done a good job of presenting a cool exterior, nothing could have prepared her for meeting with the CFO of Sterling Worldwide.

  He stood over six feet tall, was broad-shouldered and lean, showing he worked out as hard as he did everything else. As elegant as his suit had been, it hadn’t concealed the force of his primal nature.

  He’d studied her in a way no other man ever had. His questions had been pointed as he’d probed for her deepest secrets. Even though she had wanted to protect herself, she hadn’t been able to look away from his threatening, turbulent deep-blue eyes.

  The moment his mother and sister left the room, his danger had seared her. “She’ll wear a collar—my collar—and she will know she belongs to me.”

  His voice had been cloaked in the most delicate silk, and his words had struck with a force that had left her speechless. They’d penetrated deep inside her brain, weaving an image until she pictured herself on her knees—waiting for his every command as he claimed what was his.

  Any man speaking in such blunt, sexual terms would have triggered the same sort of feminine reaction from her. No. That was a lie. Every day, she spent time with rich, powerful men who had specific demands. Those words from anyone else would have left her cold. Rafe’s image left her hungry.

  Sex had always been unremarkable. It was required once a relationship progressed to a certain point, but it was a chore.

  In Rafe’s office, however, unfamiliar desire had crawled through her. He’d been right about her pheromones. She’d never been aroused like that. When he’d caressed her throat, his prediction that she would ask for his kiss had become inevitable.

  His mouth had demanded, and his tongue had plundered. Then he’d moved one hand to the small of her back. In that terrifying moment, she would have knelt for him, and part of her had unraveled at the idea that he might redden her ass. Even now she couldn’t stop thinking about how his hand would feel on her naked buttocks. The wicked humiliation of it all…

  When the kiss had ended, she’d been confused. Reality had crashed in on her. When had she become so wanton? Not knowing what else to do, she’d gathered her professional aura around her. The way he grabbed her elbow meant he sensed her withdrawal and had disliked it as much as she had.

  She could have pulled away at any time. Why hadn’t she?

  The bell dinged, jarring her, and she pushed away from the wall. Her bag clutched in her hands, she rode the elevator to the lobby.

  People strode past, some talking on phones, others staring at the screens, with most of them wearing earbuds, lost in a world of music, books, or podcasts. All were going through their day while her insides were in turmoil.

  On the sidewalk outside, she paused.

  Though it was ridiculous, she glanced up at the fifteenth floor and swept her gaze across the windows. Most were still dark. But at the end of the row, a man stood in one, unmoving, framed in glass and steel and power.

  It couldn’
t be Rafe. He was far too busy running his conglomerate to look for her on the street.

  No matter what her mind insisted, her heart had no doubt it was him. She’d had a connection with him that transcended common sense.

  She shook her head and hurried to the parking lot where she’d left her car.

  When she was inside with the doors locked, she exhaled. Her heart thundered as if she’d run down the pavement. And her skin was both hot and chilled. She allowed herself another thirty seconds to pull herself together before slipping her car into drive and navigating Houston’s ever-thickening rush-hour traffic toward her own downtown suite of small offices.

  In her purse, her phone vibrated half a moment before her upbeat marimba ringtone bounced through the passenger compartment, too loud and chipper for her current mood.

  She glanced at the screen on her dash. Celeste Fallon. Curious, Hope connected the call. Her internship at Fallon and Associates during college garnered her a mentor and invaluable experience. The long, dedicated hours were rewarded with an invitation into Celeste’s inner circle.

  As usual, Celeste skipped a greeting. “He didn’t like any of the women.”

  “No.” Even though Hope had spent hours with his mother and sister, searching through pictures and reading biographies of more than a hundred women, Rafe hadn’t given any of them more than a cursory glance. “Is that a good guess? Wait—did you already talk to him?”

  “I know Rafe.”

  “You could have saved me some time.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  Hope scowled. “You could have guided me in the right direction.”

  “Meaning what?”

  Did Celeste know that he was into BDSM? “He has…” Hope stumbled around. How did she repeat what he’d said without revealing his secrets? “He’s seeking a specific set of attributes in a wife.”

  “If you decide to look for a career in PR, see me first.” Celeste’s voice was droll. “You can’t terminate your contract with him.”