Page 25 of Untouchable Billionaire (The Hardcore Novels: Special Editions #1)

* * *

Aurei

* * *

When I pull out of Dogwood Court, I'm flying high as a fucking kite. Meeting her … touching her … thinking for a moment that she might be with someone else, feeling the devastation, then the relief.…

Fuck! It's over for me. She's the one. I have to regroup. Make a new plan. She's not the whore I assumed she was. She's a sweet, southern girl from my hometown who made it big in Vegas. How did I not know her growing up? How did she slip past my radar?

As I turn onto the highway to the farm, I call my sister Ann. She's a couple of years younger than I am. Maybe she knows her.

"Sup, Big Brother?"

"Hey, I have a question for you. Do you know …" I pause, realizing I don't know Seary's first name. "A girl from school. Her last name was Wright."

She asks, "Why?"

I can hear her smirking. "I've just run into her at Dogwood Court, and she's hot as hell. I was wondering if she grew up here and if you know her."

She laughs, "What were you doing at Dogwood Court?"

"I went to rent a place for Dirk Sam and his wife, but after seeing her, I rented the apartment myself."

"What the fuck?" She dies laughing, and I bust out too.

"It sounds nuts, doesn't it?"

"For you, it sounds insane! But to answer your question, no. I didn't know any Wright's in school."

"Okay, thanks." I hang up before she can grill me further.

For the next ten minutes, I plan my move into the apartment.

Mrs. Smith opens the office at 9:00 AM. I'll pack a week's worth of clothes tonight, then swing by in the morning before heading to Rucker to fly, sign the lease and move my clothes in.

Then, tomorrow night, I will spend the night under the same roof as my future bride.

When I turn onto the drive that leads to the farm, I pass the construction crew on their way out. Earl, the general contractor, stops in the road to chat.

"We didn't finish framing the upstairs today. We're a little behind schedule. I know I told you we would finish by the end of the month, but we ran into a problem."

I listen as he recaps what happened. Then, when he's finished, I let him know there's no rush. He has more time.

"That's a relief. We need it."

"I'll catch up with you next week."

"Thanks, man."

"Sure thing."

When I pass the barn, Flicka and Blue are grazing in the pasture. I had intended to ride today, but it's too late now, and I need to pack.

I pull into the garage, hit the remote to lower the door, and walk into my grandparent's old farmhouse.

My phone dings. It's a text update from Beverly.

This is your weekly update as requested. We still do not have a return date for Seary, but we are hopeful it will be soon.

I stare at the text. Yesterday, I would have been annoyed Beverly didn’t have a return date yet. Now, I’m ecstatic. The longer Seary delays her return, the better for me.

Then a horrible thought pops into my head. What if Seary knows Aurelius Moore booked her and has been waiting for her to return instead of getting a refund and just rescheduling when she’s back.

If she identifies me as that dude, I’m fucked. She will assume I’m stalking her and ruin any chance I have with her. Even if I deny it, the odds are astronomical that we would meet the way we did. She won’t believe me. I know I wouldn’t.

I stare at the text, trying to decide whether or not to ask Beverly how much Seary knows, but I don’t want to tip my hand that I’ve met her. Beverly most definitely will assume I’m a stalker.

I could cancel the appointment, but if I do that, I won’t get a heads-up when Seary is planning on leaving Alabama.

I take two beers out of the fridge and walk outside to the patio to ponder my dilemma further.

Playing Seary this way goes against who I am at my core, but I’m not going to destroy her trust before I’ve earned it either. Keeping my identity secret from her, for the time being, is my only option. Besides, it's not like I share who I am with anyone.

I tip the first beer up and drain the bottle.

Fuck. It’s not like I don’t know how to keep secrets. My whole fucking life has been segregated into secrets based on who surrounds me at the time. I toss the empty beer bottle into the trash can.

Just when I thought I would be free of having to keep secrets, the girl of my dreams walks into my life and nails that door shut.

I’ll have to play this just right, or I’ll fuck myself over.

So … I have to maintain my integrity and win her trust while not letting on that I know who she is.

Jesus H. Christ. What if I slip up and call her Seary?

I tip the second beer up and drain half of it.

How do I avoid making that mistake? I rub the bottle with my thumbs as I think about it. Remembering how her hand felt in mine and how her pulse quickened when I stroked it. Then it hits me, and I smirk, knowing I got this now. I’ll just call her ‘Wild Thang.’

I stretch out in the chair and finish off my beer, dreaming of all the ways I will fuck her in the future in the East Wing of my house in Vegas, and wondering when I can convince her to go to Rome with me so I can fuck her in my studio.

Goddamn, she’s perfect! This whole situation is fucking perfect!

Now, to play the hand, I’ve been dealt ... perfectly.

* * *

Siri

* * *

I wake to the sound of birds chirping and my coffee perking. Rolling over, I bury my head under my pillow.

Ugh! I've learned to hate Mondays! My body clock refuses to adjust to normal people's time. I've been a Vegas night owl for too many years. It is not natural to rise this early!

I take a deep breath, come out from under the pillow, and roll on my back to do my stretches.

Why did I take this temp job again?

Because Mama needed you here but didn't actually need you, and you got bored in this fucked up, hellhole you called home growing up.

Stop whining! This is your last week at a "normal" job. The temporary work served its purpose, and you didn't die of boredom here while Mama healed.

As I stretch my legs wide, lean my body over each one, and touch my face to the bed, I'm thankful once again to be able to make a living as a dancer.

Turning my body into a front split, I arch back, grab my foot, and stretch it until I can plant a loud smack on the bottom. Transitioning to a straddle split, I touch my face again, arch my back and look across the room. Then I repeat the process with the other leg.

Next, I crawl to the edge of the bed, put my hands on the floor, and lift my legs until I'm in a handstand. Carefully maintaining my balance, I walk to the opposite wall, lean my legs against it, and knock out fifteen push-ups.

The coffee pot finishes perking on the last one.

Grabbing my iPhone off the nightstand, I go into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of joe. It dings a text from Mama.

Arrived safely. Excited. Boarding the boat. Will check-in when I can. Don't worry. Be safe. Daddy and I love you, Pumpkin!

I love my independent parents! They have so much fun together. I smile and set my phone down. I've always expected to have a love like they have, and I've refused to compromise.

I laugh remembering the first time I explained my philosophy to Piper when she was concerned about my lack of 'love' life.

I snorted, "Love life? The irony of that statement."

She tilted her head, confused, so I was blunt.

"I'm not going to fuck for the sake of fucking."

"Bloody hell! Are you serious?" She was stunned.

"Yeppers," is all I said. There was nothing more to say.

Walking out onto the balcony, I hover over the rim of my mug, sipping the black liquid, and my thoughts drift to Mr. Sexy Moore. The chemical connection is surprising. I've never felt anything so intense before.

I lean on the rail, not hearing the sounds of the morning.

Maybe my hiatus from all the sex in Vegas has made me more tuned in to myself. Maybe there could be more with Moore. I like that thought.

Walking back in, I stop at my stripper pole. "I need to work you this evening."

* * *

Aurei

* * *

I wake with a boner fueled by a dream of fucking my Wild Thang in my customized playroom. Tossing the covers off, I grab my phone off the nightstand and jot down a few notes inspired by the dream for the renovations to add here at the Farm House. I don't want to have to be limited by our location.

The notes include:

Build a customized playroom.

Install stripper poles.

Add a swimming pool.

Install an entertainment system.

Afterward, I turn on the shower, step in and lather up my erection. As I stroke, I let the visions of my dream fuel my fantasy, understanding that jacking off will be a regular necessity. There is no way I will be able to tame the beast while I slowly seduce Seary if I don’t keep him drained.

Fuck! I mean, Wild Thang. I can not call her Seary!

I amp up the speed of my stroke as my balls tighten. Then I close my eyes, lean my head back, and repeat “Wild Thang” over and over as my cum explodes then vanishes down the drain.

When I’m spent, I lean against the wall, letting the water run over my body and rinse away the remaining sexual tension.

* * *

Mrs. Smith walks out the office door as I enter the lobby. When she sees me, she smiles and comes over.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith.” I greet her, then laugh at how happy my voice sounds.

“Hello, Mr. Moore. I have a quick errand to run, but my assistant Lucy has the lease ready.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I nod, then ask, “Mrs. Smith, Ms. Wright wouldn’t happen to be home, would she?”

She smiles, “No, dear. She works.”

“Oh!” I glance away, realizing that means she isn’t intending on returning to Vegas anytime soon. I look back at Mrs. Smith. “I was hoping to see her today.”

“Well, she usually arrives home around 4:15.”

I nod, disappointed. “I’m going to miss her then. I have to be on the flight line at 5:00.”

She smiles, “I’ll let her know you asked about her.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

When I enter the office, a small Asian woman is standing in the doorway of Mrs. Smith’s office, so I introduce myself. “Hello, I’m Aurelius Moore. You must be Lucy.”