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The desk scratches across the tile as Croix pounds into me from behind. Apparently, he's decided to take his frustration about the reporter out on my pussy. I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm rather enjoying myself. Having sex in his office is fun and exciting. I'm being as loud as I want. There's a story for them.
Sex at The Billionaires Club Before it Even Opens
That should spark some outrage. I'm pretty sure that the men and women marching outside of the building are easily outraged by a lot of things. Don't they have jobs or something better to do?
“I couldn't wait until after work to be inside of you,” Croix tells me seconds before the canister of pens on his desk falls over the side.
“Does confrontation make you horny?” I tease, my mouth somewhere between a smile and an O.
“Everything makes me horny when it comes to you. All I've been able to think about is how beautiful you looked when you came all over my dick last night.”
That's all I've been able to think about too, except for the opposite. When Croix lost himself inside of me, his cock pulsed so deliciously that I had a second orgasm. The feeling of him spreading me while he sprayed his seed into the condom was too much for me to bear.
“Sex with you is amazing,” I whisper, readjusting my grip on the table.
“You're the amazing one,” he growls, rotating his hips to hit all of my most sensitive inner parts.
“Oh Jesus,” I breath, closing my eyes to brace myself for an orgasm that's just under the surface.
“As soon as I fill your cunt, I'm going to lick it clean. You need to get on birth control so we can do this without a condom.”
While the idea is appealing, I much prefer the bagging it method. Either Derrick was extra fertile, or my body is immune to the pill. I ended up getting pregnant one of the first times we had sex despite being on birth control. I lost the baby fairly early on. The fact that he wasn't there to support me after the miscarriage was one of the first signs that I should have gotten far, far away from him. Ever since then, I've been a big supporter of condoms. I don't have sex without one no matter what.
“We'll see about that,” I mumble, not wanting to launch into a conversation about it mid-sex.
“I'd love to see my come dripping out of your pussy.”
“I'd love to feel it.” It's not a lie. The fantasy is incredibly hot, but that's all it is to me.
***
“So what are you going to do if the same thing that happened with Derrick happens with Croix?” Cindy asks as she presses some low-carb dough down onto parchment paper.
“Croix is nothing like Derrick,” I say defensively. The fact that she'd even compare the two pisses me off. It's hard for me to keep in mind that she doesn't personally know either one of them. She only knows what I've told her about them.
“No need to get snippy with me. I just worry about you.”
“I know.” I deflate.
“You said yourself that he might have to volunteer at The Billionaires Club. That's no kind of relationship for you.”
I've been thinking about that ever since Croix said he wanted more of me. Does more of me extend to beyond when The Billionaires Club opens, or will I have to shelve my feelings at that point for the sake of allowing him to do his job? The thought of him fucking other women kills me, but I knew it was the most likely outcome when I slept with him the first time. I know that I realistically can't keep him—that he can't belong to me and just me.
“At least, I won't have to worry about him firing me,” I say bitterly.
At the end of the day, that should be all that matters. Men are easily replaceable. Good jobs are not. The thought of losing my position as assistant director of The Billionaires Club devastates me far more than the thought of losing Croix.
I need to separate my emotions from work, somehow. They can't be a package deal. Because if I become too involved with Croix, I know that if I lose him to The Billionaires Club, I'll lose my job to jealousy.
***
“We have eight men signed up to volunteer and at least a dozen more prospectives. If they all sign-up, you won't have to whore yourself,” I say playfully before shoving a forkful of pasta into my mouth. The joke is a precursor to the serious conversation that I want to have with him. Ever since Cindy brought up that history might repeat itself, I've been unsettled.
“Whore myself?” Croix huffs before taking a drink of water. “You're starting to sound like the picketers.”
I cock my head to the side. “Oh, come on, you welcomed me to the sex club the first day I came to work. My joke is hardly out of line.”
“I know.” He smirks. “I think everyone knows what that place really is.”
“That's why they're fighting so hard to shut it down.”
“There's no harm in two consenting adults having sex. It's not like the money goes in the pockets of the billionaires.”
“I know,” I sigh, twirling my fork in my spaghetti. “We walk a fine line.” In all things. Lover and boss. Prostitution ring and charity. Everything feels so precarious.
“I've decided that I'm going to keep my picture in the lineup, but I'm not actually going to volunteer.” Croix wipes his mouth with his napkin before pushing his empty plate away. We drove a short distance down the street to have lunch at this little hole in the wall Italian place. The food is surprisingly good for as shabby as the building looks on the outside.
“That's false advertising.” I point to him with my fork before eating the noodles wrapped around it.
He lets out a short laugh. “I thought you'd be happy about that news.”
I am happy. Extremely happy. But I also remember the backlash that Derrick got when he faked profiles for Club Diamond. I don't want the same thing to happen at The Billionaires Club.
“I don't see how you'll get away with it. I'm sure that more than a few clients will be clamoring to get into your pants.”
“You forget that the billionaires pick their girls, not the other way around.”
“Oh, I haven't forgotten.” It's one of the things I wish I could change about The Billionaires Club. It would be a lot more appealing to clients if they got to select the men they were paired with. Considering that the billionaires are volunteers, though, they basically reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Allowing them to choose which clients they work with makes the idea of volunteering more appealing to them.
“There's only one girl who I chose,” Croix pierces into me with his gaze, “and she's sitting right across from me.”
***
I thought the day was taking a turn for the better. Croix had given me what I wanted, that he wasn't going to volunteer at The Billionaires Club. Even better, he invited me over to dinner at his beach house. Dare I say it, it's actually beginning to feel like we're dating.
I stand on the deck with my hand on my full belly and my floral maxi dress whipping in the wind. Croix steps up behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder as he reaches around me to offer me a glass of wine. I take it from him and smile. It's been a while since I felt this content.
“You have a beautiful view.” I stare out across the horizon at the setting sun. Only a shred of it rests on top of the waves.
“I've always liked it out here. If it wasn't for all of the hurricanes, I might have made it my permanent residence.” Croix turns me around to face him and presses his forehead against mine. The gesture is sweet, but his expression is serious.
“What's wrong?” I ask, pulling away from him gently.
“Derrick Wight called today.”
“Oh,” I try not to sound affected by it.
“He told me he wants to come in and have a look around The Billionaires Club. He's thinking about signing up.”
My heart leaps to my throat with the nausea that the thought of seeing Derrick causes. “Did he say when he'll be coming?”
“No. I just wanted you to be prepared for when he does show up.”
***
“So what exactly will happen if Derrick joins The Billionaires Club? I mean, will you have to interact with him?” Cindy asks as she passes me a sheet to fold.
It's laundry day, and since Cindy insists on conserving water, we do our laundry together. Once it comes out of the dryer, she separates my clothes from hers, and we sit in the living room folding.
“I'm sure I will. I'll have to work with him to schedule his client sessions. That means I'll know exactly who he's fucking and when he's fucking them.” I scowl.
“Ouch. That's got to sting.”
I wish it didn't. I wish that I was completely over Derrick, but the truth is that I'm not. I've never been dumped by someone I loved before. I loved him. He didn't love me. That's probably what hurts the most.
“It doesn't matter anymore.” I shake my head. “I just don't want what happened between Derrick and me to get in the way of what's going on between Croix and me.”
“And what is that exactly?” she hums. I can tell by her skeptical expression that she doubts our relationship is going in any other direction than the one where I end up getting hurt.
“I don't know, but it feels like more than just sex.” I allow a soft smile to tug at the corners of my lips. “He invited me over to dinner last night, and we watched the sunset. It was kind of romantic.”
“Can he cook?”
“No, but his personal chef can.” I laugh.
Everything we had last night was prepared by Margot Vass. He had her sneak away before I arrived, but he didn't hide the fact that he hadn't cooked our meal himself.
“Well, you missed out on a really good baked salmon recipe I came up with. I made two of them, but I ended up eating yours when you sent me that text that you had already eaten.”
“I think I can forgive you.” I scrunch my nose at her playfully.
“Is Croix worried about Derrick volunteering there?” she pushes the subject back towards The Billionaires Club.
“I'm not sure.” I narrow my brow in thought. “He did look a bit concerned, but it's hard to get a good read on him sometimes.”
“Promise me you won't let Derrick draw you back in. From what you told me, being with him was hell on wheels.”
I sigh, wanting to be strong but knowing that seeing Derrick will have some effect on me, no matter how much I want to pretend that I no longer give a shit about him. “Trust me, I wouldn't go back to him. He didn't just burn that bridge. He blew it up and pissed on the ashes.”
