A Wife for the Billionaire

Helen was Chad's mother. She was overbearing and we tried to avoid her as much as we could. She believed in love as well, and she always gave us an earful whenever we ran into her.

I remember how ecstatic she had been when Chad fell in love with Zara. Rumor even has it that she was secretly planning a wedding before the break up. And since then we have avoided her.

The joke about Aaron dealing with her vanished as soon as the elevator started descending.

I was once again overwhelmed by the duties that were waiting for me. I still had to interview over 20 applicants. And by 2pm, I had a board meeting scheduled. A board meeting that will undeniably leave me weary. Dealing with the Elders was always a draining experience and I can't deal with any of these events with my current state of mind.

The urge to get high came once more, and I pushed it away. As much as I could handle it, but I doubt I would stop at the required dose. With how stressed I am, I fear I might allow myself to drift into oblivion.

The Elders have been looking for something to hold on to. Anything to prove that I was unworthy of being the CEO of the Wellington Empire. And I hated those pricks enough that I would never give them a reason or an incentive to foster their suspicions.

Suffice to say, smoking was not an option. I need not only be clear headed for my interview and meeting, but relaxed as well.

And there's only one activity that could help me with that. Even before I discovered this fact, I have always known about how climax or release can leave one in a relaxed and contented state. Especially after I first tried it when I was just twelve.

But I'm not talking about masturbating, at least not by myself. Why would I go through the stress of doing that, when there are a myriad of girls and ladies who perform magic with their tongues?

I NEED YOU AT FALLING STARS HOTEL, ASAP.

I read the text again and decided that 'need' was kinda a strong word. In fact, the whole thing reeked of desperation and I truly can't have the bitch thinking that Richard Wellington needed her.

Deleting the whole thing. I typed;

GET YOUR ASS TO FALLING STARS HOTEL NOW!

Beaming at how like me the second text sounded, I tapped on the send button.

In less than 5 seconds, I got a reply.

ALREADY ON MY WAY. BE THERE IN TEN.

As Lanke and I exited the elevator, I ordered him to get me a room and wait in the car afterwards.

Normally, Falling Stars Hotel was always occupied, with a wait-list if any room was vacant. But when your last name is Wellington, nothing is impossible.

"Right this way, Sir" the petite staff said, failing to hide the surprise on her face, as she tried not to stare too hard.

I followed her a bit hastily for fear of running into Lindsey again, through the gold carved door on the left side of the lobby. It opened to a gold painted hallway with marble floors of the same hue. Doors lined both sides of the hall and she led me to the one with the tag 'GX7', handing me the key card, she squeaked,

"I hope the comfort of our Gold Express Room is to your satisfaction, Mr Wellington!"

Tossing her minted notes of $100, I said as she scrambled for the notes,

"That's for your silence and stealthiness in bringing my guest here"

"Kind and charming. Exactly how I pictured you would be." she beamed.

Had I not been in a disheveled state already, I would've gotten her ass fired. Just to show her that I wasn't any of those things. I hated my name in the same sentence as kind, I love being feared and I don't care how cruel and odd that sounds.

"I doubt you would still think that when I make sure you're not only fired, but no place would ever hire you again, if a whiff of any of these crosses those doors." I intoned. My voice, extra harsh.

A wicked satisfied grin stretched my face, as I felt her tense and her smile disappeared. Raising an eyebrow when she didn't offer a response, she stuttered,

"My… I'm sorry – my lips are sealed… Sir" she demonstrated by imitating zipping her lips.

"Good. Now get out of my sight"

She didn't have to be told twice. If not for the sake of disturbing customers behind those doors, I know she would've run out instead.

I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a jot of satisfaction as I watched her scurry out of the hall, without even offering me another glance.

I have occasionally been to the Falling Stars Hotel, but I have never been to this part of it. But there again, I have never lounged in the hotel.

Sliding the key card, I was impressed by the sight that welcomed me. And I'm rarely impressed.

The lavish suite was designed to resemble a luxurious train car, hence the name, with rich, velvety gold accents and dark wood paneling that evoked the opulence of a bygone era. Plush, cream-colored furnishings and lavish textiles adorned the spacious room, complete with a sprawling king-size bed, a lavish living area, and a sleek, marble-lined bathroom.

As I walked in, I was greeted by a stunning gold-leaf ceiling and a breathtaking chandelier, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the room. The walls were adorned with exquisite artwork and ornate mirrors, that added to the sense of grandeur. Every detail, from the crystal glassware to the 24-karat gold fixtures, exuded refinement and glamor.

It even boasted of a balcony. On the left side of the room was a glass door curtained by gold embroidered flowy silks. On the lintel, written in gold cursive writing was "Pièce de Résistance".

Cool morning breeze swept at me as I threw the glass doors ajar. Standing on marble floors just like those in the hallway, I was offered a breathtaking view of the city from such a low angle, and the bustle and hustle of traffic were surprisingly muffled.

Seven minutes later, as I sat on the extra soft king-sized bed, sipping a cup of whiskey. A chime like the tooting of a train, but somehow melodic and less noisy, rang through the room.

I walked to the door and there was my guest, Cassie Sams.

Cassie was the girl I met in Australia. I had gone for the commissioning of our Sydney branch. I met her at the Sydney Opera House. I had been bored at the number being played, and my date, Erica Wood, couldn't care less. She was so enraptured by the concert that I ached to punch the admiration off her face.

Cassie Sams sat behind us, and she noticed my frustration. I remember her intoxicating rosy perfume, as she leaned in and whispered to my ear.

"I couldn't help, but notice that you are finding this less enjoyable as I am. Why don't you meet me outside in five, and we can do something about the boredom."

I have always loved girls who were observant, wild and unafraid. I love taming them, so five minutes after she left, I pecked Erica who hardly noticed and left.

I wasn't surprised when I realized seconds later that Cassie knew who I was. So she had modeled for one of our collections three years ago.

Neither did I protest when she led me towards the Green room. It was void of performers and there she gave me the best blowjob I've ever had.

Ever since that moment which really hasn't been that long, just a few months ago. I have kept the angelic opera singer close, treating her to luxury so that she would always be available at my beck and call.

We've fucked a couple times, but I mostly keep her for the wonders she could do with her tongue and mouth. Maybe the magic was because she's an opera singer, but those red lips were a ticket to heavenly bliss.

Basking under the glow of the gold lights and surroundings, her blond curls shone like pure gold, her skin glowed and her jade eyes sparkled.

Even in something as simple as black Nike hoodie, blue high waist jean shorts, and white sneaks, she was beautiful.

Her choice of attire showed that she had come directly from wherever she had been and its simplicity offered discretion. Even if we exited at the same time, no one would believe the gentleman in suit was ever with such a simple girl.

"Hello handsome" she said, by way of greeting in that singsong voice of hers, as I led her inside.

"I was a bit surprised by your text. It sounded urgent so I didn't bother going back to my hotel room to change. So, what do you need this time?" She pruned tugging at her hoodie.

I liked the fact that she understood what we had, or should I say what I kept her for. Many with a promising career like her would find it wrength to be in the service of a man. But I'm not any man, I am Richard fucking Wellington and it's an honor to be in my servitude.

"What you are wearing is fine, I like it. It's simple and sly." I said draining my glass to dregs in one gulp. "Stop, you don't need to take it off, I don't intend for our meeting to last long. I just need your mouth"

"Where?" She asked as she stalked towards me, licking her lips.

Already feeling the effects of her gaze and words, I sat back on the bed, propping myself with my arms and huskily murmured,

"You know exactly where"

With a lot of restraint, I watched her take off her hoodie revealing red swollen cleavage threatening to burst out of her black lacy bra. Then slowly she squatted between my spread legs, unbuckled my Armani brown belt, lazily pulled my pants inches below revealing a rod eager to be free from the white Calvin Klein brief.

I felt myself tense as she ran her tongue again and again on the bulge. The wetness, making my rod almost transparent.

She was aware of the effect she had on me and she reveled in it. It was part of our agreement to let her do as she pleased so long as I'm also pleased in the process. And she hated it when my hands tried to aid.

"Not for long" I thought as she slowly pulled my brief, freeing the beast.

"Fuck yeah" The words escaped my lips as she caressed my tip with her tongue. Round and round she went, a playful glint on her eyes.

I bit on my lower lip as another moan almost escaped my lips. My fingers gripped the duvet as she tickled my dick hole with her tongue.

Already I was quivering with desire. Something was building in me, as she teased and tickled. And she was yet to begin.

Throwing my head back, I yelled "Fuck!" as she finally took me whole.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

She went, her mouth and tongue bringing me ever closer to finish.

"Faster! Faster!" I called.

Her right hand closed around my shaft, stroking and thrusting it into her mouth in swift motions.

I was close. I could feel it. "Go–" and she stopped. My supposed release screeched to a halt. And "God!", as I wanted to yell, died on my lips in mid pronunciation.

I opened my eyes to find her smiling, as she tickled my balls.

"Why the hell did you stop?! Couldn't you fucking tell that I was close?"

"But I wasn't and besides, blue balls before a release makes it worth so much more. Don't ask me how I know, just trust me" and she took me again slurping slower this time.

I was beyond pissed. Apparently, she seemed to have taken my familiarity for granted. What gave her the right to stop when I didn't tell her?

It dawned on me that the line between casual and what she wanted, has blurred. As if on cue, I remembered Chad and the state he was reduced to by a girl.

As my anger simmered, my hands flew to head, sinking into the soft gold curls and I pounded into her mouth.

Drool oozed from her mouth as I thrust faster and faster. She coughed again and again, turning deep red as I felt my shaft ridge the edge of her throat. But I didn't stop, she had to be taught a lesson. She had to be reminded of her place.

Her folded palms frantically pounded on my laps, and I never gave her the chance to form words.

Just as I felt her slipping away to unconsciousness, I came with enough force that I flooded her mouth and every muscle in my body, tautened.