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Billionaire Novelist 3 : The Wicked Redhead and the Billionaire Novelist(22)

By:Mimi Strong


Rochelle. I'd forgotten she was even there, and the sound of her voice irritated me.

Smith picked up his shirt from the floor and moved toward the door. "I'm going to hit the hay. I'm not as young as you kids."

I glanced behind me on the bed to see Todd, looking more than a little embarrassed, trying to cover his crotch with a pillow. Every threesome or foursome has an awkward moment, and this was ours.

Todd cleared his throat in the silence, the sound of it like a drop of gravy on a new tablecloth. By the look in Todd's eyes, I guessed he was trying to remember where his clothes were and plotting a mental bee-line for the exit.

Smith continued, "Tori, you and your friends can stay up as late as you want. Ask them if they want to sleep over. We have plenty of towels."

I frowned at him. What was up with the patronizing tone?




 

 

Rochelle tittered and said, "Sure, Dad."

Smith's face froze, as though he was deciding how to take that. My heart practically stopped in that instant, and a wave of guilt washed over me so fiercely, I feared I might vomit.

Then Smith broke into a laugh. "Dad!" He pretended to slap his knee. "Good one, Rachel."

"Rochelle," she said.

He nodded as he walked away. "Right. Have fun, kids."

And then he was gone.

I heard the door to his room close, and I didn't have to hear the click to know it was locked.

When I turned back again, Todd was already out of the bed, slinking toward the bathroom with a soggy condom in hand.

"You guys can stay here tonight if you want," I said to Rochelle.

"I appreciate the offer, but we have a room here. It's a few floors down, but it's probably more our speed, you know?" She winked at me. "I gotta say. You're a lot more fun than I expected. I thought you were all talk, no action."

"People change," I said.

"But how are you? Really? Smith Wittingham seems …  almost like a normal person."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave me that knowing look only an old friend can give you.

"Oh," I said. "He is worth a few billion dollars. That's gotta change a person."

"So, what are you getting out of this arrangement? Is he your sugar daddy?"

I squished my face in disgust. "Do people actually say that? Sugar daddy?"

"What else would you call it? You're young and broke; he's old and rich. Those shoes you were wearing at the concert are probably worth more than my car."

"I'm not using him for his money," I said.

"What kind of jewelry has he given you?"

I heard the sound of the shower turning on, so I resigned myself to at least ten more minutes of post-orgy small talk with Rochelle.

"No jewelry," I said, opening the bed and getting under the covers.

This conversation was horrible enough without me being naked, with my bare tits comparing themselves to Rochelle's bazoombas.

"Get some jewelry, or better yet, cash," she advised. "When the heat cools, you'll be glad to have some assets."

"Don't be so crass."

She picked one of Todd's dark chest hairs off her breast. "Bit late for that after the three-way." She gave me a crooked grin. "How did you meet, anyway?"

"I actually started off doing some typing work for him, and then it sorta turned into dating."

She fluffed the other pillow and crawled into the big bed next to me, but thankfully not touching me. 

"You're living the fantasy, Tori. I really care about Todd. He's sweet, but he's no billionaire."

I propped myself up on my elbow, feeling all the time between us disappear as quickly as our clothes had after the champagne.

"Is Todd being good to you?" I asked.

"He lets me be me."

I raised my eyebrows and swallowed, choosing my words carefully. "He always was good at letting a girl enjoy her freedom."

Concern crossed her face, like clouds blocking the sun. "Why did you guys break up?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"No, he said it was private."

I glanced toward the bathroom door, sending positive thoughts Todd's way. "He's a good guy." I adjusted my pillow and snuggled down, so Rochelle and I were face to face, like two teens at a sleepover. "We kept having the same fights. I made the mistake about telling him about …  the teacher stuff." I gave her a meaningful look and she nodded. Yes, she remembered me telling her about my early sexual experiences.

I continued, "Todd kept bringing that old stuff up. Saying I had to do something about it. But I just wanted to forget."

"Guys don't understand," she said.

The shower turned off, and we stared at each other for a while, not saying anything.