How (Not) To Be Seduced By Billionaires (Books 1-3)(13)

He inhaled sharply.

Unsure whether he believed me or not, I turned around and twisted the  knob, intent on showing him the truth, but Constantijin suddenly said my  name. And then he was twisting me around, his kiss forcing me against  the wall.

Constantijin gripped my hair with one hand, using it to twist my head to  the side so his tongue could penetrate my mouth further. I moaned when  he started sucking on my tongue, my arms going around his neck on its  own volition.         

     



 

Pleasure unfurled inside my body like a long-lost dream. I couldn't help  closing my eyes at the sheer ecstasy of being back in his arms and  having him kiss me again. When he ground his erection against my body, I  arched into him, wishing I could do more to mold my body into his.

"I thought you were fucking someone else," he said.

"I thought you wanted to fuck Arian," I muttered back between drugging kisses.

He lifted his head sharply at that. "I don't cheat."

"Me neither," I admitted and let out a moan when he bit my ear before letting his tongue swirl inside, licking the inner lobe.

"Never lie to me again."

"Never," I promised, meaning it, and was rewarded with a quick hard kiss.

"Say you're mine," he growled as he nuzzled my neck, his hands trailing  down to cup my buttocks so he could grind his cock more fiercely against  mine.

I was. I already was. But was he mine, too? He was too mercurial for my  sanity. I needed something more concrete  –  something more emotionally  symbolic  –  before I could give myself to him.

I so badly wanted to ask if he was mine as well, but my perverse sense  of pride didn't let me. Instead, I said, "I still need time." Rather, he  still needed time.

He slowly pulled away, and his English was thickly accented and  accusatory when he spoke. "It feels like you are making me go through  hoops like I'm some puppet you are testing, training."

"I'm not," I protested instantly, looking at him straight in the eye, willing him to see how sincere I was.

Constantijin didn't speak, his arms falling to his sides as he let me go  completely. I wanted to weep. I felt like I had gambled  –  and lost.

"It is how you make me feel and I don't like it."

Why was he so distrustful and cynical? Couldn't he see how badly I  wanted him? Or was this all a ploy  –  a masterful one befitting  Netherlands' #1 playboy?

Only a few feet separated us, but suddenly it felt like we stood at  different ends of the world. "You are playing with me." He said it as if  he was waiting for me to deny it.

I wanted to, but I didn't. He had to figure that out for himself. "If that's how you feel then there's nothing I can do."





Lesson #7



Never go to Vegas with your billionaire.

It's called Sin City for a reason.

Your hymen is totally at risk.



"Why do you always eat so late?" A grouchy voice asked as I wallowed in  self-pity with my vanilla latte and giant slice of cheesecake. It was my  sixth day of existing without Constantijin and if I had to be honest  –

I wasn't doing well. At all.

He haunted me worse than any ghost could. He wasn't under my bed but  next to me. He wasn't inside my closet but with me in the shower. He was  in the worst places possible, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I  had a feeling I'd sell my soul if I knew there was a cure for this.  Surely  –  surely these feelings weren't the kind that Walter and Carole  shared? It was too...too sexual, too obsessive  –  too everything that was  not romantic.

Thank God we had a three-day weekend coming up, with Friday a statewide  holiday. I badly needed a break. Luckily, George had invited me along to  enjoy an all-expense paid trip to Vegas he had won from a gay social  networking site.

"I'm talking to you," the grouchy voice continued.

I looked up with bleary eyes and almost spit out my latte. Oh God, it was her.

Glenda lowered herself on the seat across me, glowering. "That's all you're eating for lunch?"

Actually, I just lost my appetite. Cheeks flushed and mentally cringing  at what she might think of me after what she had seen, I stammered, "I'm  not that hungry---"

She rolled her eyes and  –  with her boyishly cut gray hair  –  I could  imagine for a moment what Alyx would look like when she reached middle  age. "Because of that boy?"

It took me a second to realize just who she was referring to as a boy.  The redness in my cheeks deepened. "Of course not," I lied quickly.

"Bah! Don't bother. I know a smitten girl when I see one." With a shake of her head, Glenda asked, "What happened?"

Do I tell her or not?

It only took me a second to decide. By now, it should be obvious that I  had a tendency to share everything with practically everyone. I  confessed what happened in last week's bridal shower  –  well, the PG  version of it at least  –  and ended with how Constantijin thought I was  playing with him because I wasn't giving in.

"But I'm not," I cried out. The words came out louder and more passionate than I intended and I turned red again.         

     



 

She patted my hand. "Hush, dear. Don't feel bad. You're not the first girl whose heart he's broken."

I said slowly, "If that's supposed to make me feel good---"

"You are not even the first one I caught fooling around with my boy."

I absolutely had no appetite now. "Ma'am---"

She smiled warmly. "Call me Glenda."

I didn't smile back.

She rolled her eyes again. "Oh, you! Stop sulking. You are special,  dear. You might not be the first girl he's hurt  –  certainly you're not  the first girl he's had sex with---"

I had officially lost my appetite for the entire week.

"But dear," she finished triumphantly, "You were the first one who made him celibate."

That got me sitting up in my seat, unable to believe what she just said.  Constantijin was so sexual that what she was saying was impossible.  Every time we met, all he could think about was sex. And fine  –  every  time we met, I thought about it, too, but it was among other things.

Seeing the incredulity in my eyes, she gave me a sharp nod. "I know my  boy. He uses sex as an outlet and these days, he's like a grouchy bear,  snapping at every one." She said explicitly, "That means no sex."

Rubbing my suddenly aching head, I said, "I'm really glad you told me this, but … what should I do then?"

"It depends on what you want from him."

I didn't answer  –  I couldn't, not just yet, not when I was unsure myself if Constantijin was really the man for me.

~~~~

Friday, George and I arrived at our hotel around noon, thanks to an  early flight. The accommodations included in George's prize were at a  new boutique hotel. Small and classy but not as opulent as Caesar's  Palace, it was nonetheless charming, --- a girly hotel even, with its  lavender-and-cornflower-blue décor.

"I'm starving," I told George as he queued up at one of the check-in  counters. "Check us in while I scout for food?" My stomach echoed my  words with a growl.

George grinned. "You and your tummy," he said but waved me away, telling me to leave my luggage with him.

There was a restaurant across the elevators, and before its glass doors  was a small pastry station. I hurried towards it, my mouth watering.  Food never failed to comfort me. They were reliable, unlike Dutch  playboy billion---

Stop it, Yanna. Stop thinking about him!

I refocused on the sweets. Oh, but they looked yummy beyond belief! Eclairs. Cupcakes. Tarts. Macaroons. Truffles---

"Looks good, doesn't it?"

I was not hearing that.

I was just not hearing that.

Heart beating madly, loudly, and erratically, I slowly turned around.

It was Constantijin.

His slight crooked smile didn't quite reach his eyes, which were intense  and wary. Something ached in my heart at that look, making me realize  he found this as nerve-wracking as I did.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," I said back because Constantijin in jeans totally rendered me  speechless with awe. Constantijin in a suit was breathtaking, but in  jeans  –  he was magnificent, every iota of his sexiness magnified by his  tight-fitting shirt and equally tight-fitting denims. One look at him  and you couldn't help but think, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I mentally smacked my head against an imaginary wall. Stop thinking about sex, Yanna.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

I could only shake my head, still tongue-tied. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mind was frozen at those words.

His smile turned into something real, and the sight of it melted the  shell of pain that had surrounded my heart for so many days now. "You  look great." His eyes lingered on the rather low neckline of my summer  dress, and I swallowed, embarrassed but aroused at the same time when I  felt my breasts responding, feeling heavy and aching as my nipples came  to life. Thank God for padding or I was so going to show.