Claimed By The Billionaire Husband

The small half-circle lines around them deepened, and the corners of his mouth lifted. He averted his gaze and fixed his gaze on the man performing. After the reading was finished, Sarah leaped back on stage. For a time, we stood close, listening-or appearing to listen, in my case, since all I could hear was my heart racing quickly."It's Story Brothel time!" she exclaimed with delight. I swore she occasionally mistakenly believed she was a carnival barker or circus emcee rather than an aspiring librarian. I put my glass down on the bar and purred, "Let's find our cabana." He had also completed his.

He made a palm gesture. "You first."

I guided him into the lounge and the patio with a deliberate swing in my back and a small hip shake. After the oppressive air conditioning inside, the warm, humid Florida winter air felt like a welcoming blanket on my skin. I found the precise cabana I was looking for. It had gauzy crimson curtains hanging over a white, square mattress with white pillows, and it was adjacent to a large potted palm tree. The tempo had shifted to a rapid rap-Bhangra-Indian blend, reflecting my hypersexual mood, even if the music was calmer outside. Are you cool with this? I asked, as though inviting a stranger to lie on a bed and listen to erotica were perfectly usual. I was speaking at a half-octave above normal. The act of reading my smut out loud was new to me.

He grinned and nodded before moving ahead of me to open the curtain. I sat on the edge and delicately placed my purse next to a pillow, trying to be a lady and not throw myself inside. He shocked me by kneeling at my feet and carefully removing my shoes by placing one strong hand on my heel and another on my leg as I moved to take them off. He smiled without looking me in the eyes, and I felt a chill go up my spine.

Okay. A drop of sweat slithered between my breasts. It seemed like I had sat too close to a campfire because my legs were burning. As he stood, I muttered, "Thank you." I knew I was in a submissive position as I gazed up at him. I could blow him away without having to go very far if he unzipped his pants. Just in time to prevent me from laughing out of pure anxiety, he took a step back. In a matter of minutes, this had escalated from light flirtation to intense tension. How could I possibly read to him on the couch bed without throwing myself on top of him?

As I curled my feet between my legs and turned to give him space, I told myself to maintain some degree of control. I tucked my naked legs beneath myself instead of lying back on the pillows, like a 1950s girl at a picnic.

Keep your cool. Remain composed. Take a breath.

After a moment, he let the curtain drop. I briefly believed that he had turned and left. I observed him remove his suit jacket and carefully put it over a neighboring chair through the almost transparent curtain. I took a short intake when he undid the rest of his tie, removing it from his collar and putting it equally across the chair. I hoped he would continue.

Rather, he followed my instructions exactly, sitting on the edge, taking off his shoes, and entering the cabana. He eased himself onto his back, placed his fingers under the back of his head, stretched his arms above into a diamond, and rested one ankle over the other. I was a little taken aback by how familiar and intimate his movements felt. It was almost as though we had already done this. As though it were typical, even though it wasn't.

I pictured myself straddling him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his belt, and leaning in to kiss him while he slid his hands up my skirt and squeezed my ass. His physique appeared even larger, firmer, and more appetizing sprawled out in front of me."I'm prepared," he declared. I agree. I smiled while searching for my e-reader in my luggage. I paused to appreciate his aroma once more after catching a whiff. When I pressed a button to cause the screen to flicker, he inquired, "Do you write on your tablet?"No, I record everything on my PC and then store a backup on the cloud." I thought of stretching out beside him while I positioned my skirt so that my knees showed through the cotton of my dress. Jesus! What was I thinking? I recently met this man. Even though I was usually flirtatious, this was daring for me. I took a big breath and smelled his enticing aroma once more. Thus, the title of this tale is "Consume Me."He rolled up and rested on the elbow nearest me, saying, "Wait." I wanted to reach out and brush my hands over his short, silver-accented hair, but his chest was inches from my knees.

Pulling a phone from his pocket, he placed it between us. Then he extracted his wallet from his back pocket. He took out a twenty while he was once more lying on his back. Ten minutes. He divided the money between the two of us, saying, "Half for charity and half for you." I took it up. Thank you. It's like a literary lap dance, I suppose. He raised an eyebrow and grinned as I tucked the money into my bag. He cast his gaze at his phone. The stopwatch is being set by me. Ten minutes."You're quite accurate," I remarked.

He looked up. It's a strength of mine, as well as one of my shortcomings.

I began reading while he reclined."Talk a bit louder," Dominic cut in. I obeyed.

My story wasn't particularly spicy in the first few pages. It served as the preamble to the story, which was about a woman who enjoyed rough sex but couldn't find a man who was interested in fulfilling her desires. My character, Arianna, liked to be roughed up a little, pushed around, and manhandled; she wasn't particularly interested in rape or BDSM scenes. It was difficult, and to be honest, I was still working on a first draft and wasn't sure if I had accurately described her or if I had rushed the introduction of her to Trent, the story's protagonist.

Trent had a straightforward philosophy: he touched women without hesitation or shyness. Women constantly desired more because he treated them as though he owned them.

Dominic's ability to laugh appropriately and smile passionately in other situations was encouraging. Perhaps my narrative wasn't as horrible as I thought. I looked up every couple of paragraphs. He would frequently be staring directly at the cabana's ceiling, seemingly able to watch my story play out on an invisible screen. On other occasions, he turned his head to face me and gazed at me with that ravenous expression.

I adored the hungry expression. He slowly rolled up his sleeves to show off his incredibly strong forearms after taking his time untying his cufflinks and placing the sterling silver knot links in his pocket. I had to restart the paragraph because I got lost.

Why was every man in Arianna's life required to be so courteous? Why did they all handle her as if she were a delicate porcelain object? Mostly in bed, she wanted a man to be a man. She desired for him to dominate, snarl, and restrain her. He didn't need to inquire what she needed because he already knew, so he could take her as he pleased. She also desired a partner who was assertive outside of bed. Not so much that he would control her daily life or career-that was the last thing she wanted. However, she yearned for a partner who would make dinner reservations, be daring and make unexpected plans, hold doors open for her, and avoid the same old dull talks.

Where would you want to dine?

I'm not sure. Where would you want to dine? I don't mind being wherever.

She had had enough of that, fuck. Where were the actual decision-making men?

Dominic guffawed hard at that. His phone chirped at that very moment, and he tapped it to silence."Your time is up, sir," I smiled and said. I really enjoyed that. Your writing style is excellent. incredibly talkative. Actually, I'm quite amazed."Did you anticipate Dreck?

He shrugged. "I had no idea what to anticipate. Perhaps something akin to Penthouse Forum? But you're okay. Without the sex, that was sensual. You have the ideal voice for reading aloud as well. Your voice is lovely.

I leaned in his direction, trying to smell him again, my face flushed from the compliment. "I'm grateful. However, I missed the truly erotic part. "Normally, what do you read?"Some history, non-fiction. I also enjoy reading literature. Whoa. Typically, the men I encounter at these gatherings have a preference for either science fiction or military fiction. At the University of Florida, I majored in creative writing.

I raised my eyebrows. "You were? I was as well. We were probably separated by a few years. He brought up the year he graduated.

I mentally calculated the answer. He was probably seven or eight years older than me, as I had assumed. "Do you write?"

He gave a headshake. "No longer. It's been years since. Following college, I started working for my family's business. I attempted writing at night, but I was unable to manage both after exhausting workdays.""What do you do?" That inquiry usually made me cringe since it seemed so phony. However, he had mentioned it, and I was curious about him. And I wanted to savor his voice. He had a fast cadence and a crisp pronunciation of each syllable, creating an enticing baritone buzz. I am now responsible for the Florida state bird. Construction cranes, you know?"You're a builder, then? "Of what?"

With a shrug, he unfastened his shirt's second button, which was located just below the neck. I watched without blinking at him as he moved slowly and sensuously, perhaps only to feel more at ease. Government buildings, business jobs, and condominiums. We have numerous projects, both large and small. I just got back from Brazil because we're building a high-end skyscraper in São Paulo. These days, that is my primary project.

He was therefore as loaded as he appeared. Despite my fondness for well-dressed males in suits, I didn't typically pursue wealthy men. I just liked the way it looked. So far this evening, the only thing that turned me off was the specifics of Dominic's wealth. Money didn't impress me, perhaps because I grew up in a trailer park in central Florida. But I was intimidated by it. A great deal. Not knowing what else to say, I said, "Nice."

His hand was on his phone, and I watched in wonder as his index finger moved slowly in a circular manner across the glass screen. I'd want to hear more about your tale, Isabella.

A small wave of pleasure ran through me as he said my name. I didn't want to discuss my past, though. His laughter cut him off, "Um, I'm from a county just west of here-" "No, I was referring to your fiction. However, I also want to hear about you. In fact, I'm not sure which I'd prefer to hear more of-your true narrative or your fictional one."

I grinned because I was at a loss for words. This was exactly what it meant to back myself into a corner. Since I disliked disclosing personal information about myself, I wasn't very interested in talking about myself. I had stopped reading in front of an extremely sultry scene. I felt self-conscious as I struggled to find the right words to say after he revealed to me what he did for a job. The faux black leather on the corner of my tablet cover had torn at the edge, so I fidgeted with it. I felt something melt inside of me when he said, "Please?" I resisted the urge to touch his face, to trace his lips, to open them and feel his tongue on my finger.

My courage came back. You'll pay for it," I smiled. It was more comfortable to flirt. He reached into his wallet once more and produced a $100 bill. I pondered whether I could sit in this cabana for fifty minutes without coming into contact with him after he put it on the bed. or kissing him. Go through it.