Magic for the Millionaire

He watched her as she left the ballroom and ascended the stairs. She glanced toward the dance floor, then turned away with the slightest smile on her lips. She’d worked hard to put everything together for the event. He knew she considered herself just another member of his staff. The truth was he’d been looking at her far differently for years.

He hadn’t pursued her, blaming it on the age difference. Not to mention the cliché of her being his personal assistant. As a rule, he didn’t mix business and pleasure. Yet, as of late, he couldn’t stop thinking about her too often. It was a not-so-innocent comment he’d overheard as she’d spoken on the phone. Presumably a girlfriend. The words burned into his brain, much like the scars on his back no one ever saw.

“I prefer it just a little rough, a little less than gentle and frankly, most of the men I know are too…….tame.”

Her voice huskier than most women's laughed and then sighed. That sigh as she’d trailed out of hearing distance flickered across his skin, much like the fire from decades ago. This burn settled into a simmering desire he couldn’t shake even now, when more than a month passed.

With a glance at his watch and another toward the top of the stairs, he knew where she’d gone. The out-of-town event had required they rent a set of suites. Without a doubt, she’d gone to hers to soak in the “sinfully large tub” she’d bragged about to him. He’d almost choked at the mental image that was created. Still, he’d laughed along with her and pushed the thought from his mind. Tonight, it seemed he could not. The charity event still had a few hours until it would end. For all intents and purposes, though, his part was done. He’d made his speech, including a promise to match the evening’s donations dollar for dollar. It made the very impression he’d intended. Just over a million and counting his contribution combined with that of the rich and entitled littering the room was bound to make a difference. They didn’t call him the Magic Man for nothing. When he spoke, money flowed. As it had for most of his adult life. He fought back the bitter laugh that threatened to break free. Had he the same gift as a child, he might not feel such a kinship to the burn center the money was for.

Throwing aside the memories of a meth-addicted mother and the agonizing price he’d paid for that addiction. His focus shifted to her again. She was a damn fine employee and an even better human being. Her compassion for others reminded him of the nurses he’d spent the better part of five years with. Without realizing it, he found he’d made his way to the top of the stairs. The crowd noticed and turned to stare at him. He worked not to flinch, the scars on his face were far harder to hide but he reminded himself all these people saw when they looked at him were connections, money, and the fame that came along with knowing him. Even if they couldn’t look him straight in the eye, their money was spent the same.

He stepped into her room, taken aback by the candles flickering on the dresser. The golden ball gown laid across the sofa; outside the door to the bathroom were the discarded heels, a scrap of lace that might have passed for underwear, and the long white gloves she’d been wearing. Tie coming off, the oppressive strip of cloth almost offensive as he had to take short, shallow breaths. He stuffed it in his pocket and slipped out of his tuxedo jacket.

As he stepped into the bathroom, he ignored the opulence instead, focusing on the woman who tested his limits. She turned toward him and when he would have expected surprise; he saw only a satisfied smile.

“I thought you might come tonight… hoped,”

The satisfaction in her words brushed across his skin, igniting every nerve ending. Somewhere in his steps toward that indulgent tub, he’d stepped out of his shoes and socks. It startled him to realize he didn’t remember doing it, but it didn’t matter as he stood over her. Peaches and cream skin shimmering with water and bath oil begged for his touch. The long golden locks restrained fell loose around her in the water, his own personal siren.

His darker nature forced his hand. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her from the water. The gasp of sound pulled from her throat spoke of pleasure, harboring no fear, needing soothing. “Waited a long damn time for this.”

Her face buried in the hollow of his neck and the scent of her aroused and willing filled his nostrils. Her words vibrated along the column of his throat as she whispered against his skin.

“I’ve wanted this for… too long.” And then her eyes found his again. The need in the brandy colored depths slammed into him, forcing his hand into her hair, his fingers wrapping in the long length and tugging. His mouth surrounded one nipple, biting just enough to force a sigh of pleasure from her.

He offered her no time to recover. His body was too ready, too close to bending her over and taking her against the slick edge of the bathtub. She deserved hours of foreplay, time to get to know him, but his body was having none of it. He left the slightest burn of stubble as he trailed across to another raspberry colored nipple, tasting it with equal roughness. She rewarded him with a brush of her hips against his cloth covered erection. The growl low in his throat was nothing resembling civilized and yet the long, slender fingers making quick work of his shirt never faltered. Only when the fine white cloth hit, the floor did he pull her from the tub. Water hit the floor, along with his slacks and belt. He was cursing words he never used in the presence of a woman as his hands slipped between her thighs. Hot, wet, and gripping his fingers in a clasp, determined to kill him. It was all he could do not to come in the hand she’d wrapped around him.

The bed was too far. Instead, he pressed her back against the wall, a hard thud of her body against drywall shocking him with the sound. He paused, looked at her, and saw her eyes glazed with need and urgency. Grasping her legs, he worked them around his hips. Her fingers bit into his shoulders, his mouth found the skin of her neck and he slid inside her in one breath stealing stroke.

Fire burned through him, rushing through his bloodstream as his teeth bit into the delicate skin of her collarbone and his fingers pushed into the skin of her hips. Hot and wild, she met each thrust with abandon. Skin against skin, he was headless of the marks he left reveled in the way she grew hotter and wetter with every nip of his teeth, pull of the hair, and thrust of his cock inside her. She was chanting his name against his neck, hands moving from his hair to his shoulders, caressing the scars he’d forgotten until now.

The reality of making love to her in the light almost stopped him mid-thrust. He always chose the dark, yet the woman beneath him calling out his name had forced him into the light. She was there, seeing him and asking for more. All but shouting for him to take her even harder, his hips answered, thrusting harder now with the traction of the cool tile.

The orgasm took her. The muscles surrounding his cock tightened unmercifully, coating him anew with her scent and her arms wrapped around him as she said his name again, biting it out on a half scream. Only then did he let the fire consume him. This time the burn washed over him with a pleasure that was all-consuming, stealing any coherency. Holding her to him as he thrust one last time, he locked her to him, determined to never let her go.