Her Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend (Her Billionaire #1)

Chapter THIRTY-ONE

(Charlotte)

Matt’s birthday party brought a flood of yachts across the horizon. I stood on the bedroom balcony and watched a steady stream of speedboats bringing more and more guests to the island.

“It’s going to be crowded,” I mused. “What time does this thing start?”

“Five,” he said, bracing his hands on the railing on either side of me and leaning in to whisper in my ear, “And it goes until question marks.”

I turned in his arms and gave his shoulder a playful slap. “You did not put question marks on your invitation.”

“You caught me. I’m too classy for question marks.” He kissed my forehead, and I had the strangest urge to stand on my tiptoes and kiss him right back, on his gorgeous lips. But I restrained myself.

That was a girlfriend kind of thing to do. And I wasn’t that.

I turned back to my view of the pier. “If we don’t get ready, we’ll be late to your party. There are probably already naked people feeling each other up in your birthday cake.”

“I’ve been reliably informed that my birthday cake isn’t a real cake,” he warned.

“I assume some sexy girl is going to pop out of it.” I paused. “Or a sexy guy, since you’re into both. But a girl is traditional.”

“We’ll see,” is all he said, and I had the feeling that his fake cake had been elaborately planned out by him. I couldn’t imagine Matt, at least, the Matt I knew, having any kind of party he hadn’t controlled from the ground up.

After all, he was in the business of making people’s fantasies come true. He used that line often enough. There was no way it didn’t also apply to him.

He only proved my point by saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought that, because it’s my birthday, you’d wear a little something special for me.”

And of course, I would wear something special for him. I would have jumped out of the damn cake, myself, if he’d asked. That desire to please him was starting to frighten me a little.

It didn’t make me frightened of him. In fact, everything he’d done since the moment we’d first hooked up had reinforced my impression of him as a safe harbor, a secure vault for all my most secret desires and twisted fantasies. And it was that security that terrified me. I couldn’t make him one more person for me to rely on.

But I smiled and said, “Depends on what you want me to wear.”

He took me by the hands and led me into the bedroom. “I liked your wrapping so much when you were delivered, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”

It wasn’t the same ribbon as before; this was a pale pink, and I wouldn’t be tied up in it. There were already two huge bows, one adorning the front of a strapless bra in the same shade, the other attached to a steel butt plug, like the red ribbon had been.

“Let me go do my makeup,” I said, arching a brow. “And then you can help me get dressed.”

He followed me to the bathroom, where I playfully ignored him and set to work on my face. I slathered on some moisturizer, then tapped primer over my eyelids while he watched, faint amusement twisting his lips.

“I just realized you haven’t been wearing makeup most of this trip,” he said, tilting his head as I rummaged for an eyeshadow brush.

I shook my head. “No, I have not. You didn’t notice because of my natural beauty.”

“That’s true.” He stepped up behind me, one arm slinking around my waist. He palmed my breast over my satin nightgown, then slipped his hand inside.

I arched my back, pushing into his hand. I liked the way his hand looked on my body. I liked the way we looked together.

I would miss that when I left.

I force aside my pang of sadness. This evening was about partying in the most degenerate ways possible. “What should I expect tonight?”

He kissed his way down the side of my neck, sending a shiver through me. “You should expect all that pretty makeup to get ruined.”

“I have very good setting spray,” I shot back, and squirmed out of his grasp. “But seriously. I’m your present, right? You get to use me however you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” he interjected.

“But,” I went on with a roll of my eyes, “It’s only fair that I know what I’m walking into.”

“You’re right.” He gave my shoulders a squeeze and stepped back. “You were at the castle before, so you know more or less what you can expect. Except this time, with balloons. And people fawning all over me.”

“People fawn all over you, regardless.” I paused. “Balloons are a fetish for some people”

“That party is the second Thursday of every month,” he clarified. “But I’m not going to stop you if you want to indulge.”

“Hard pass.” I hated balloons. Carefully patting shimmering eyeshadow over my lid, I asked, “What do you want me to do, while I’m there?”

“Be my arm candy.” He stated it so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t even be annoyed by it. “Let me show you off. And share you, maybe.”

“Sharing is caring,” I quipped by way of confirmation. “So, stay at your side, make you look gorgeous—”

“You’ll look gorgeous. I’m afraid of how I’ll look in comparison.”

“Ha ha.” I blinked at my work in the mirror, then moved on to the other eye. “So, it’s like a date.”

“Exactly. You’re my date for the evening.” After a long silence, he added, softer, “I want you to come home with me tonight.”

“I stay here every night,” I reminded him, only paying half-attention.

“I know.” He seemed to have trouble finding the right words. “You’re free to do whatever you want while you’re here.”

“I know.” I rummaged through my makeup bag for my eyeliner.

“But tonight…”

“Be with you?” I supplied. “Don’t run off to a lube orgy?”

I thought he might correct me on the schedule of events again, but he gave a relieved sigh. “Exactly.”

“You didn’t think I was going to abandon you at your birthday party, did you?” Of course, maybe I shouldn’t have assumed he would want me clinging to him all night. “On the other hand, you have all these friends coming—”

“And you’re the only one I want to spend the evening with.”

I slicked a line of black above my lashes and tried to ignore the longing that was apparent in his voice. “Your other friends have traveled a long way for you to ignore them.”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to ignore them. But they don’t need me to have fun here.”

“And you?” I asked, finishing the other eye and turning to face him. “You need me to have fun here?”

“I think so. I think you might be a requirement.”

My stomach dropped and I turned away so he couldn’t see the panic that I knew would show on my face. This is going too far. Any minute now, you’re going to disappoint him.

“I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” he said, backing toward the door. “Take your time.”

I did take my time, partially because it was difficult to do one’s makeup with shaking hands, partially because I needed to think. This was supposed to be a fun, sexy time. No strings. But the threads were there, brushing at the edges of whatever we had, trying to close up a seam and stitch us together. I needed scissors.

But what was the harm in going to his birthday party as his younger, attractive arm candy? I didn’t get shown off much and it was flattering to think someone would want to, even if it felt date-like. It didn’t mean we were dating.

I finished up my face and used a shade of lip gloss close to the color of the ribbon on my “outfit.” Then I pulled my nightgown over my head and stood naked in front of the mirror, trying not to criticize the new freckles on my shoulders and chest brought out by the Caribbean sun.

The appropriate hairstyle, I assumed, was a ponytail Matt could grab onto. Not a sloppy, quick one like I’d been wearing; I used my brush and hairspray to make a sleek, high ponytail worthy of a music video. I even wrapped a piece of my hair around to hide the elastic band. I surveyed the results of my efforts, deemed myself worthy of being arm candy, and went to the bedroom.

Matt was getting dressed; a sharp black tuxedo jacket lay across the bed, and he stood with his back to me, buttoning the sleeves of his white shirt. I cleared my throat, and he turned, stopped, and looked me up and down without a word. Finally, he grinned and said one word: “Perfect.”

I went to the bed and picked up the plug, toying with the huge bow attached to it. “I never thought of these as a fashion accessory before.”

“Fashion accessory, safeguard, same thing,” he said cheerfully, and went to the bedside table.

“Safeguard?”

He nodded, taking a bottle of lube from the drawer. “Against accidental penetration. You said you weren’t ready for it at the orgy, but someone tried.”

“And was very respectful when I declined,” I made sure to add. “What about non-accidental penetration?”

His eyebrows rose.

“It is your birthday. And I said I wanted to try it.” I swung the plug by its ribbon. “Will this be enough to get me ready?”

“Hardly,” he said, his throat moving as he swallowed. “But if you really wanted to—”

“Give you my ass for your birthday?” A little thrill of horny bravery went through me. “Isn’t that a good enough present?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We could always cancel—”

I laughed. “Shut up. I’m giving you something to look forward to.”

Rounding the bed, he caught me up in his arms, both hands squeezing my ass cheeks firmly. “Well, let me just say, I can’t wait to unwrap this.”

I stepped back and leaned over the bed. “Help me get dressed?”

With a low growl, he loomed over my back, and for a heartbeat I wondered whether he planned to take his present right now. In that moment, I wouldn’t have cared about any kind of gentle easing into it.

Instead, he pressed shivery kisses down the length of my spine, dropping to his knees behind me. My cunt clenched in anticipation as he spread me, and I was so sure his tongue was going to sweep over my slit that when the wet warmth brushed over my other hole, I jerked up in shock.

His muffled laugh made me giggle in embarrassment. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—”

He lifted his head. “Hasn’t anyone ever done that before?”

“A rim job? Of course,” I scoffed. “Hello, have we met? Of course I’ve had someone’s tongue in my ass before.”

“But not mine,” he said with confidence, and dove his face between my cheeks.

I squealed at the sensation; it was so filthy and wrong, but that titillation was only a small part of what made it feel so fucking good. He swirled circles over every sensitive ridge, coaxed me to relax with flat swipes of his tongue. And when he poked the tip of it inside, my eyes rolled back in my head and I moaned.

No, it wasn’t just the taboo nature of the act itself. It was the fact that he was performing it, touching the most forbidden part of me, proving that he truly desired all of me. Every last inch.

He slid two fingers into my clutching pussy and pumped them in strong, slow thrusts. I slipped my hand beneath me to seek out my clit, adding electricity to the cold sparks of ticklish pleasure he was giving me with his mouth and tongue.

“It’s so fucking good,” I babbled, my middle finger flicking fast over my straining bud and humping against the bed. He held my hips still with one hand against the small of my back, pinning me into helplessness. My toes clenched in the carpet, my muscles tense as my finger, his fingers, his tongue drove me to an aching fullness that grew and grew and finally burst, my legs trembling.

He sat back, fingers still pumping in my dripping cunt. When my hand stilled, he ordered, “Keep going.”

It was too sensitive, too much, and I knew we were far from finished when he stood and went back to the bedside table. He returned with a small, velvety smooth vibrating bullet. “Hands.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but he gripped my elbow and pulled my hand away from my clit. For a split second, I was grateful. Then, he slid the vibrator beneath me, between my labia, trapping it between my sensitized flesh and the bed.

He turned it on.

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered, pressing my forehead into the duvet.

“Hands,” he said again, and I held them out. He maneuvered one behind my back, then the other, and held them there with one hand closed over both my wrists.

“What about tying me up?” I suggested.

A breath hissed between his teeth. “When we have more time. This will have to do, for now.”

A cold stream of way, way too much lube trickled down my crack, over my vulva, to pool beneath me on the duvet. The bottle sputtered; he’d used the whole thing.

His fingers returned to my pussy, now pillowy and tight from my orgasm, and that only seemed to inspire him to be rougher, plunging and twisting as I squealed. The vibration of the bullet intensified, and I realized he operated a wireless control.

The fingers in my cunt withdrew, brushing upward through the globs of lube, coating them. They pressed against my ass. Not one, but two, and they both pushed inside. I gasped at the intrusion.

“I hope that’s not too much,” he warned. “The plug is much, much bigger.”

I could see it. It was right in front of my eyes and yes, it was much bigger than the one I’d worn when I’d arrived. At its widest point, it was so big I wouldn’t have been able to close my thumb and index finger around it.

Logical apprehension broke through my horny fog. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

He leaned over me again, his lips close to my ear. “We’ll have to make it fit, won’t we?”

Oh, yes, we will. He dragged his tongue down my spine and dropped to his knees again, fingers working deeper and deeper, scissoring open and closed, stretching me in every direction. And still, I felt the resistance that would be painful later. I wanted that pain, reveled in the cold sweat already breaking out over my skin at the unnatural-feeling intrusion. Make me bad, I begged him silently. Make your princess a dirty girl.

He withdrew his fingers, and I held my breath at the familiar feeling that brought a blush to my face. Then, I felt the cold tip of the plug.

The vibration on my clit was relentless, and pinned as I was, I couldn’t escape it. The thrill of being restrained intoxicated me. I gasped for breath, everything but basic functions in my brain shutting down as I raced toward another climax. “When we have more time,” he’d promised, he would tie me up. He would bind me and force me to experience this kind of pleasure. And I would be at his mercy.

I would always be at his mercy.

He pushed the tip of the plug deeper, twisting and withdrawing, never all the way, going a little farther every time. When I tensed, nearly ready to tip over the edge, he gave my butt a light smack and ordered, “Relax.”

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do that and come at the same time, and that was probably why he’d issued the order in the first place. I breathed, forced myself to unclench from the toes up, convinced I wouldn’t reach my climax, after all. I did, though, and without tensing up my muscles, the pleasure went on longer and longer, building without me having to strive for it, crashing down on me in waves that seemed never-ending.

All the while, he worked the plug deeper, stretched me further, until a sting of pain pulled me from my orgasmic haze and the widest part of the toy popped inside. I let out an involuntary grunt of surprise, and he laughed.

“I told you that you could take it all.” His smirk was audible. He released my hands and I pushed myself up, panting, desperate to get away from the vibrator. I got to my feet and he steadied me with his hands on my shoulders. After a long moment surveying my face, he said, “Wow. That setting spray is good.”

I gave him a little shove. “You just ate ass. Go brush your teeth.”

He laughed but did as I’d commanded while I put on the rest of my birthday costume. Picking up the bra, I shook my head and said under my breath, “Matt, you are the only man I would wear something this ridiculous for.”