Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3) Page 9

  “Pralines?”

  Though she didn’t check, she knew the heat of his gaze was on her. “Are you certain you’re not already pregnant?”

  “I’ll have you know, Mr. Sterling, that I can eat sweets and gumbo and jambalaya with the best of them, cravings or no cravings.”

  “You should be fun when you are expecting.”

  Again, something leaped inside her. No doubt, he’d be a great dad.

  “I’d like to do a little Christmas shopping.”

  “You?” Using her palm, she pressed away so she could look at him. “Did you just say you want to go shopping?”

  “For Jeanine.”

  His assistant. Of course. Since she had the best gift ever for Skyler, Hope needed something for Tony, her fashion-forward associate. Perhaps a fluorescent tie with jazz instruments on it? Prestige’s new assistant also needed a present. Prim and proper, with her pencil skirts, sensible pumps, ever-present glasses and a bun, Miriam ran the office with an efficiency no one realized they’d been lacking.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  With reluctance, she nodded. Hope hated to move, but she was ready to take a bath, preferably with Rafe, and then go to sleep. Unless he wanted sex, which of course he would. It stunned her to realize how much she wanted that too. She would have thought that she was too sore, but she realized she always wanted his possession.

  He scooted her off his lap before standing. “Do you dare go back to the Parthenon dressed as you are?”

  She gasped. “In pasties and a thong?”

  “You have a coat downstairs.”

  Could she do that? Walk through the club without her dress? Knowing she might regret it if she didn’t try, she nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

  A slow grin sauntered across his face, and that was all the reward she needed. Rafe packed her dress, the water, and the blanket into the bag, then picked it up. “Please walk in front of me. I want to look at your ass.”

  Her heartbeat that had returned to normal soared once again as she stood. Hope squared her chin, hoping that she’d become confident if she pretended she was.

  “After you.”

  She walked down the hallway toward the stairs. Her thong was wedged tight between her buttocks, and she refused to stop to adjust it. The hot-pink bows on her pasties glowed in the dimness. As with the scene, no one paid any attention to her or her state of undress. Each minute she was here was easier than the last.

  She walked down the stairs with more confidence than she’d walked up them, despite the fact that she was almost naked.

  In the reception area, he claimed her coat.

  “You’ve made me a very happy man,” he said, helping her into the garment.

  During the drive home, she turned on the seat warmer and thought of nothing as she stared out the window.

  Once they were in the cottage, he drew her a bath, then removed her pasties before allowing her to take off her underwear and sink into the massive oversize tub. As she’d hoped, he joined her, soaping her and holding her until all tension drained from her body.

  “I’d like to visit again,” she said.

  “My sub’s wish is always my command. New Year’s Day, perhaps?”

  From their condominium, it was a six- or seven-hour drive, depending on whether they stopped at her favorite restaurant in Breaux Bridge on the edge of the Atchafalaya Basin. And if the corporate jet was available, the trip was much faster.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Anything specific you might like to try out?”

  “I’ve been thinking about a plaid skirt.”

  His cock thickened and nudged against her.

  “I take it you’re picturing me in knee-high socks, Sir?”

  He groaned. “Fuck, Hope.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She grinned. “Let’s.”

  They hurried out of the tub, leaving behind puddles of water and dropping a towel to mop it up as best as possible. He gave her left flank a sharp slap to send her scurrying toward the bed. There, he placed her on top of him. He toyed with her body as she rode him. Because her nipples had been covered for most of their time at the club, she appreciated the attention he gave them.

  After he had ensured her pleasure, he came, then held her tight. As she started to fall asleep, he made promises of what he intended to do to her body the next day, starting with an over-the-knee spanking with a ruler in preparation for their upcoming schoolroom scene. “I’m not sure whether to be terrified or excited.”

  “Both,” he told her. “You know, there is a club in Houston, as well. We can go there anytime. So, Hope? If I were you? I’d lean toward terrified.”

  She shivered, and the sensation was delicious.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Merry Christmas, Ms. Malloy.”

  Hope groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. She was still tired from their trip to New Orleans. They’d walked so much two days before that her blisters had blisters. And her ass still hurt from the introduction to his wooden ruler.

  Her future husband was an imaginative Dom, but his biggest failing was being a chipper morning person.

  He plucked off the pillow, and she scowled. “You’d better have coffee.”

  “Do I look like a man with a death wish?”

  She cracked open one eye. He stood there, naked, with a hard-on and with a cup of coffee in hand. She wasn’t sure whether it was the gift or the sight of his toned and rigid body, but she opened both of her eyes.

  He set down the cup while he fluffed two pillows behind her. Finally, finally, he handed her the magic elixir that would wake her up.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip before she trusted herself to speak again. “What time is it?” On the weekends, he considered six sleeping in.

  “Ten.”

  “Ten?” she yelped, glancing around for a clock. She hadn’t slept that late in years.

  “You’ve got time,” he said. “We’re not expected at Celeste’s until one.”

  They’d spent Christmas Eve with his mother and his sister, and Hope had enjoyed herself so much that she hadn’t been anxious to leave.

  “But I did want some private time with you before we leave.”

  “I’m not sure how much more of your private time I can endure, Mr. Sterling.”

  “We could ride our mountain bikes.”

  She scooted as far away from him as possible. “Not on your life. Have you seen my ass? Look!” She put the coffee on the nightstand and rolled over onto her tummy. She pulled up the T-shirt she’d borrowed from him to sleep in. “Look!”

  He smoothed his hands over her buttocks. “Sorry, darling. There are no bruises.”

  “What?”

  “None. Want me to take a picture with your cell phone so you can see?”

  She angled her head to get a better view, but without a mirror, it was hopeless.

  “Your skin is alabaster. Primed for a Christmas flogging.”

  “Aren’t spankings for birthdays?”

  “And holidays from now on.”

  Just then, her terror of a cat tore into the room with a loud cry, jumped onto the bed, then took another leap onto the middle of Hope’s buttocks, claws extended.

  “Someone else has missed you,” he said. “Come here, Samantha.” With charming tenderness, he scooped up the feline.

  Everyone else in the world called the cat by her nickname, the Colonel, earned for her dictatorial and dismissive ways. Hope flipped over to stare at the two of them. Even though he was cradling the animal, the fur on her spine lifted and she let out another yowling scream. Rafe placed her down, and she raced out of the room and down the hall. It sounded as if she had skidded into the guest room.

  “What the hell has gotten into her?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a guilty, pathetic shrug. “It could be the catnip.”

  “Catnip? You gave her catnip? We have rules about that, Rafe.” Stunned, she stared at him. “What were you thinking?”

  “It was her Chri
stmas present.”

  He got my naughty cat a gift? What had she done to deserve this man? But did it have to be something that would make the animal act even worse? Shaking her head, Hope grabbed her coffee. It could be a long morning. “I’m glad we’re going out.”

  Another crash rang out, and he winced. “Why don’t you relax and enjoy your coffee?”

  “You’re in charge of the Colonel.”

  “That’s fine. I’m practicing my nurturing skills for the twins.”

  “No twins!” She let her head fall back on the pillow. “And no matter how many children, you will be leaving the gift giving to me.”

  “Spoilsport.” He kissed her forehead, then closed the door on his way out of the room. Even though she was sealed off, the thunder of tiny feet meant the cat was still racing through the condo, and Rafe belted out a Christmas tune, charmingly off-key.

  She wrapped her hands around the cup and stared into the depths. Was this morning’s madness a glimpse at their future? Crazy mornings and inspections of her ass? She grinned. Good Lord, she hoped so.

  Humming along with his tune, she climbed from the bed and then attempted to tame her wild, mussed hair before searching out a refill on her coffee.

  In the living room, the tree was lit, and there was a massive carpeted structure with perches, a woven rope lattice, a scratching post, and tunnels. “What is this?” she asked Rafe.

  He turned from the window. “The jungle gym you brought with you needed to be replaced.”

  There had been nothing wrong with the other one, and she shook her head, and that was before noticing that catnip was scattered everywhere.

  With a sigh, Hope put down her cup.

  Wide-eyed, the Colonel dashed in. Ignoring her Christmas gift, the cat raced up the tree trunk, sending glass ornaments smashing to the floor. With frantic meows, she clawed to the top branch.

  “Samantha, no!” Hope shouted, hurrying forward.

  The star topper wobbled back and forth. Even while Hope was reaching up, it also crashed down and shattered into dozens of shards. How the tree stayed erect when the Colonel launched off it, Hope had no idea.

  In his admirable, calm way, Rafe studied the damage and the feline who stood on her new exercise piece, hackles still raised. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sprinkled the whole package of catnip on that scratching post?”

  “The whole package?” She laughed. “Might not have been one of your more brilliant ideas.”

  “I’ll get the broom and dustpan,” he said.

  It took less than five minutes to right the living room again, and once they were done, the Colonel continued to zig and zag through the condo.

  “She’ll wear herself out,” Rafe said. Then he followed the feline with his gaze. “Right?”

  She hoped so. “Not sure if that will happen before she exhausts us.”

  He poured her a second cup of coffee, and then he joined her on the couch. There was a box beneath the Christmas tree that hadn’t been there when she went to bed last night.

  “Do you mind fetching it?”

  “Is it for me?”

  “So impatient.” He grinned. “Yes.”

  Rafe took her coffee and moved it to a glass table while she retrieved the box. “Open it,” he encouraged when she rejoined him.

  Heart racing, she ripped off the dark-red paper.

  Her breath sucked from her, leaving her limp at the sight of the diamond necklace.

  When they went shopping after the Zeta Society initiation, she’d seen the diamond-encrusted choker in a window display of one of the city’s most exclusive jewelers. At the time, he’d suggested the piece might make a good collar, something she’d love wearing every day. Not only would the piece look classy with business attire, it would be just as stunning with an evening gown. They’d gone inside, and when the owner named the price, she’d refused to try it on.

  Now, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. Along with dozens of tiny diamonds, the teardrop-shaped pendant radiated beauty, refracting the Christmas morning sun. It took her breath away. Her heart thundered. She had to force words past the constriction in her chest. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  “I’d like to ask you to wear my collar full-time.”

  “Oh… I…” She was as giddy as the night he’d proposed, so breathless she couldn’t respond.

  “Merry Christmas, Hope.” His voice held a waver that told her just how important this moment was to him. “Say you accept?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Let’s go back to the bedroom. I want you to watch in the mirror.”

  Cradling the box, she stood.

  “I’ll follow,” he said. When they entered the bedroom, he positioned her in front of a mirror before taking the box from her. “I want you naked.”

  Unlike previous times in her life, she didn’t hesitate in baring herself to him.

  “Gorgeous, in every way.”

  She met his eyes. There was no one she’d rather be with.

  “Please lift your hair.”

  While she did, he lifted the necklace from its beautiful box.

  Standing behind her, he kept her gaze captive in the mirror. “This is no longer a necklace. It’s so much more, a symbol of your submission to me. It represents a transition in our relationship, a greater commitment on our journey together, a heightened level of our understanding and trust. It’s also a promise from me that I will care for you as no other. I will protect you, and I will honor you. Do you accept my collar, Hope?”

  A marriage ceremony couldn’t carry any more weight than this moment. “I do, Sir.”

  The weight of it settled around her neck, and the pendant nestled into the hollow of her throat. She stared at it and him.

  “You’ve made me a very happy man, once again.”

  “Oh, Rafe…Sir…”

  He turned her toward him, and she raised her mouth for his kiss. He took her offering, coaxing at first, then deeper, with demand. She surrendered herself, lost herself.

  Then, in the distance, something else crashed.

  Rafe reluctantly ended the kiss with a sigh. “Definitely getting us ready for kids.”

  She grinned.

  “We’ll deal with that later,” he promised, and he left her long enough to close the door. “First, I want to mark you as my sub. Your first duty is to fetch the short flogger and the paddle. We’re going to Christmas dinner with the word princess blazed on your ass and perhaps the backs of your thighs. If I do a good job, you won’t be able to sit down at all.”

  Nerves, adrenaline, excitement crashed through her as her mind slipped into another place, where nothing existed except for Rafe and the world they created.

  “Did you hear me?” He raised one of his eyebrows in his threatening, intimidating way that had more power than ever to arouse her.

  “I did, Sir.” She hurried to the closet. By the time she returned, carrying the toys he’d requested in her outstretched palms, he’d attached long straps to a hook in the ceiling. He secured her wrists with cuffs, then clipped them to the strap above her head. She guessed this position meant he intended to start with a sensual flogging. It wouldn’t be about anything other than her bliss and his pleasure.

  “This morning, as part of your Christmas gift, you may climax as often as you are able.”

  He gave her one more kiss before pinching one of her nipples and toying with her pussy. He teased her, brought her to the brink, then stopped what he was doing…curse him.

  He cut a diabolical grin in her direction. “But because it’s Christmas for both of us, I won’t make it easy for you.”

  “I accept your challenge, Mr. Sterling.”

  He flicked his wrist and caught her with a sexy bite of leather. “In that case, it will be a very merry Christmas for both of us, my sweet, sweet Hope.”

  I hope you loved Rafe and Hope’s journey toward greater trust and commitment. Rafe first met his beautiful matchmaker when he was ambushed by her (and
his mother and sister) in his office. She was hired to find him a bride. And he decides only she will do.

  Billionaire’s Matchmaker

  His mother closed the door behind her with a decisive click, sealing him in with the enemy. Hope was a beautiful, seductive temptress, but the enemy, nonetheless.

  “You’re a matchmaker,” he said.

  “It’s an honorable profession.”

  “Is it? Much like operating an escort service. I hire you. I will end up paying to fuck a woman, one who’s interchangeable with any number of other candidates.”

  “That’s as insulting as it is crass.” She set her chin and didn’t sever the connection of their gazes, meeting the heat of his anger with cool, aloof professionalism.

  He wanted to shake it from her, strip her bare, discover what lay beneath the surface to leave nothing but aching, pulsing honesty between them.

  Either not noticing the tension or ignoring it, she continued. “Throughout history, families arranged marriages all the time. In parts of the world, it still goes on. Today, there’s a bigger need for my services than ever before. I have clients all over the world, from all sorts of backgrounds and of all ages. Often, men in your position don’t have time to meet women in the traditional way. You’re far too busy, important, insulated.”

  “Spare me the sales pitch.” Rafe took his seat and left her standing. It was undoubtedly rude, but justified. “So that’s what’s in here?” He flicked a glance at the pile of folders on his desk. “A money-hungry bride-to-be—I beg your pardon, candidate—who understands what she’s getting herself into?”

  “These women all deserve your respect.”

  “And an expensive engagement ring?” He glanced at the top folder as if it were rabid. “How did you choose these particular women?”

  “In normal circumstances, I meet with a gentleman so I can get a sense about him. Then he fills in a questionnaire. It’s rather detailed. Fourteen pages of likes, dislikes, things that worked in previous relationships. Things that didn’t.”

  “Go on.”

  “Expectations around traditions are important as are roles in the relationship. To some, religion is important. I find out if he wants children. If so, how many? Will he want them raised in a particular religion? Where does he plan to live? In the US or abroad? Will the children attend private school? Boarding school? Will a nanny be hired? A housekeeper? After I’ve reviewed that, I have a second meeting with him for further clarification.”