TRAINWRECK 1: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Inspired by a True Event Read online

  Holding my foot in his palms, his tongue continued its journey up my long, naked leg. The sensation was ticklish, yet strangely erotic. Arching my back, I squirmed. When he reached the top, his hands gripped my thighs, and with a firm yank, he spread my legs apart. Oh, God. Was the icing on the cake coming? My body stiffened in anticipation.

  Hiking my dress up as high as it would go, he buried his face in my pussy. I could feel his rough stubble rub against my inner thighs as he sucked and nibbled my sensitive cleft. Then, his tongue took over. It figure skated across the surface of the fiery folds, performing all kinds of tricks from spins to figure eights until it landed on my aching clit, licking and flicking. I was falling apart, every bone in my body turning to jelly. His ever-so fit tongue stroked furiously as the pressure between my legs mounted. I wanted to scream! Squeezing my eyes shut, I bit down on my lips—Oh, please let me come!—and finally a hot burst of ecstasy gave me the relief I’d been craving.

  Shuddering from the release, my head thrust back, I could only hope people weren’t staring at me. That famous line from the movie When Harry Met Sally flashed into my head: “I want what she’s having.” Yes, my golden-haired sex god had given me yet another delicious and enviable orgasm. And then I jolted again as he pressed something hard and cold against my flaming folds. The spoon! The shock of the sensation intensified the fire between my legs. Oh my God! I was coming again!

  For a few moments, I think I lost consciousness or was transported to another planet.

  “My princess…”

  At the sound of his voice, I returned to reality. As I snapped open my eyes and began to recover, my Trainman re-emerged from under the table, holding the spoon in his hand.

  He winked at me. “Did you enjoy your prize?”

  I gulped as I watched him put the spoon to his luscious lips and languidly lick my glistening sex off it. His tongue rolled around the surface as if he were savoring the last bit of creamy sweet frosting.

  “Mmm,” he moaned. “I hope you’re still up for dessert. Seriously, the crème brûlée here is orgasmically good.”

  Jesus. What was it with this man? I’d had enough orgasms to last a lifetime. Well, at least, for the next twenty-four hours. The thought of another creamy, mind-blowing dessert was almost anti-climactic, no pun intended.

  “Sure,” I stuttered, my pussy still buzzing.

  His lush, shimmering lips twisted into another wicked dimpled smile. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  I tried not to read too much into his words. While we waited for the dessert to arrive, I silently stared at his beautiful face, realizing that I knew so little about this man who had robbed me of my virginity and made me explode with unparalleled bliss more than once.

  “What do you do?” I asked, finding the strength and courage to interrogate him.

  “I’m a businessman.”

  “So, you were on a business trip to Philadelphia today?”

  “No, my company is based there. I commute back and forth every day.”

  That was a big distance to travel twice a day, but obviously his employer made the round-trip worthwhile. He was obviously wealthy. Very wealthy.

  “Why don’t you live in Philly?”

  “Because I love Manhattan.” He quickly changed the subject. To me. His voice was flirtatious. “And what do you do?”

  “I work for—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Ari jumped up from his seat.

  My eyes followed him as his long legs strode to the front of the restaurant. And then my heart leaped into my throat.

  The gorgeous redhead! And she was in Ari’s arms.

  My emotions skipped over jealousy and sprinted straight to rage. How could he do this to me? And so shamelessly right in front of me?

  Without putting on my other shoe, I sprung up from the table and hobbled over to them. If people were staring at me, I was oblivious. The redhead gave me the once-over, the expression on her face suspicious and patronizing. As if I were in a league below her and didn’t belong here.

  Ari’s face, however, brightened. “Saarah—”

  “Don’t ‘Saarah’ me.” In a swift, heated move, I yanked off my other Jimmy Choo and flung it at him. “You can keep your damn shoes! And eat your precious dessert all by yourself.”

  I stormed out of the restaurant, pretty sure I would not be returning to The Palm any time soon. Make that ever. With tears pouring down my face, I headed west on Forty-Fifth Street. I hadn’t brought along my wallet, so I was going to have to walk home barefoot. Fortunately, the night was still warm.

  Tears kept coming. Past Third. Past Lexington. Past Park. Happy, laughing young couples, taking advantage of the fine weather, passed by me, but they were all just a blur.

  I wanted to get him out of my mind. Erase him forever. But I couldn’t. The inner throbbing just wouldn’t go away. I hated him. I hated her. And I hated myself most of all. How could I be so stupid to fall for this callous man? To give him my body, pure and unadulterated? To trust him? My mother had always told me to wait for someone who really loved you. She made the mistake of not—and had to raise me as a single parent. I should have listened to her words of wisdom. And right now, there was nothing that I wanted more than to talk to my mother. To tell her everything. To hear her consoling words and feel her loving embrace.

  When I got home, I was going to soak my feet, wash him and the street grime away, and then take a pair of scissors to his little black dress and shred it to pieces. I was going to go back to being who I really was. Sarah, plain and tall.

  Ari

  I flew out of the restaurant. What the hell had gotten into her? The evening had gone so well. We seemed to have a lot in common, and I enjoyed opening up to her as she did to me. And my little sexcapade under the table seemed mutually enjoyable—well, that might be a little bit of an understatement. She had totally aroused me. Seriously, I didn’t intend to devour her pussy when my spoon fell under the table, but I simply couldn’t resist. Something about her drove my androgens insane, driving up my testosterone and making me horny as sin. The scent of her was delectable and she was so fucking edible. I fucking loved it when she came all over my face. And there was no doubt in my mind that she loved it as much as I did. But maybe she’d started to have second thoughts about me. Think I was some kind of perv. I couldn’t blame her. My actions today were not for the faint-hearted. Maybe I needed to apologize and start over. Whatever it took, I wanted to have her.

  Clutching her shoes in one hand, I ran through the crowded streets of Manhattan. With the insane Friday night traffic, it made no sense to call for my driver, Andre. Madly, I wove in and out of the throngs of people enjoying the night out, almost knocking over a few. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins and my heart was racing a hundred miles a minute. Where the fuck could she have gone? She couldn’t have gotten far.

  My mind raced along with my pulse. Home. She must be heading home. Where else would she go? She certainly didn’t seem like the clubbing type or someone who would drop in alone at a bar. I knew her address by heart—and stayed on course heading west. I’m sure I was a faster runner than she was, and having lived in Manhattan since my undergraduate days at Columbia, I knew the streets like the back of my hand. If my calculations were right, I might make it to her place before she did.

  Halfway there, my cell phone went off. It couldn’t be her since she didn’t have my number. Without slowing down, I slipped it out of my jeans pocket and then glanced at the caller ID. The name and number were way too familiar. I quickly hit answer and put the device to my ear.

  “Qué paso?” I breathed into the phone, my words rushed.

  “Eet eez another bad dream, Señor Golden.”

  Shit. My breath caught in my throat and I stopped dead in my tracks. I needed to get home as fast as possible.

  Fifteen gut-wrenching minutes later, I was back at my apartment, totally out of breath after running forty city blocks uptown at lightning speed. I felt like I’d
just competed in a 6K race and crossed the finish line.

  “How is he?” I asked Luisa, my treasured nanny and housekeeper who’d been with me since Ben was born.

  Wearing a navy velour robe and slippers, the big-hearted buxom woman, who was cleaning up the kitchen island counter, stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. A warm smile lit up her coffee-skinned face.

  “He eez much better, Señor. I calmed him down with some warm milk and cookies and just put him back to bed. He eez probably still up.”

  I let out a loud sigh of relief. “Gracias, Luisa,” I muttered, already on the way to his room.

  “De nada. El pobrecito!”

  Yes, my poor little boy. Still suffering from nightmares from the fucking bitch.

  A few moments later, I was outside Ben’s room. His door slightly ajar, I pushed it open and lightly stepped inside, afraid to wake him in case he’d fallen asleep. A nightlight lit up the room, something that helped keep the bad dreams at bay and helped him with his fear of the dark.

  “Hi, Daddy!” a little voice shouted out in the semi-dark. He was up.

  “Hi, buddy,” I replied, ambling over to his bed. He was tucked inside it beneath a fluffy comforter, his treasured Green Ranger action figure by his side. I sat down on the edge beside him and ruffled my fingers through his silky hair. “How are you doing?”

  “Better now, Daddy. I had another one of the bad dreams.”

  “The same one?” I asked, still threading his hair.

  He nodded. “Yes. The one with the big ugly green monster that has the big scary teeth. It was coming after me!”

  His recurring dream. His psychologist, Dr. Brenner, had told me the monster symbolized my ex. Green was the color of her eyes and the sharp teeth symbolized the knife she tried to use on him that horrific, unforgettable night. Though Ben had no recollection of the actual events (he’d blocked them out), I relived them every time he told me about the nightmare. The rage. The shrieks. The sobs. The blood. The pain. The sirens. The vivid, traumatic memory played in my head like a scene straight out of a horror movie. How close we had come to the end! Hatred for my ex filled every cell of my being.

  “What’s that in your hand, Daddy?” asked Ben, bringing me back to the moment. I cast my eyes down. I was still clutching Sarah’s heels.

  “A girl’s shoes,” I replied with hesitation.

  He giggled. “What are you doing with a girl’s shoes?”

  “Um, uh, she lost them.”

  “Kind of like Cinderella?”

  “Yeah, kind of like Cinderella.”

  The image of my beautiful princess flashed into my head. The delicious memory of eating her under the table made my cock stir and I could still taste her sweetness on my tongue. Maybe I should call her. Find out what had gotten into her and see if she was okay. This wasn’t the way I thought this night would end. Ben broke again into my thoughts.

  “Girls are silly, Daddy!”

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  I thought about playing that silly spoon game with Sarah. I had never had so much fun with a woman. Ever. I desperately wanted to hear her voice. Say her name on my lips. Find out how she was. Eager to call her, I gave Ben an affectionate noogie.

  “Hey, bud, you better get some sleep. You know what tomorrow is?”

  “My birthday!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

  “That’s right. And I have a big day planned.”

  “Did you get me a scooter?”

  “You’ll see in the morning.”

  Of course, I did. I got him everything he wanted. Though I’d taught him about sharing, kindness, and giving back, I couldn’t help spoiling him. I loved the little guy. More than life itself. He was everything to me. I’d even kill for him. The thought that my ex had almost taken him away from me sent another blast of rage through my veins.

  “Daddy, can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Will you sleep with me tonight so I don’t get scared again?”

  I hesitated and then said “sure.” How could I say no?

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He moved to the side, making room for me in his double bed, which was just big enough for the two of us to sleep together comfortably. On my next breath, I kicked off my shoes and crawled into his bed, still in my jeans and T-shirt. Slipping under the fluffy down comforter, my head next to his on a pillow, I smacked a kiss on top of his head.

  “Night, bud. Sweet dreams and don’t let the bed bugs—”

  “Bite! Night, Daddy!”

  Within a few minutes, he was out like a light. Lying on my back, I turned my head and drank in his sweet face, hoping he wouldn’t wake up again in a cold sweat, screaming and thrashing with terror. His Power Ranger toy was clutched under his arm. And under my arm, were Sarah’s shoes. I guess I wasn’t going to be able to call her. With a sigh, I put one of her shoes to my heart and held it there. Sole to soul. I’d known her for less than twenty-four hours, yet the connection I felt to her both emotionally and physically felt more like a lifetime. I took another peek at my peaceful, sleeping little boy. Both his shrink and mine said it had to happen sometime. But I was scared. A woman had scarred us both once and I could never let that happen again. But Sarah seemed different. The big question was: Was I ready? And was Ben ready to have another woman in his life? And then my heart stuttered. Sarah kept running away from me. Maybe none of this was meant to be. That she wanted no part of me. I couldn’t blame her. I was fucked up. A nice, intelligent, pretty girl like her needed someone better. Someone who wouldn’t treat her like a disposable girl toy. And who wasn’t afraid to love.

  Still clutching her shoes, I let the darkness blanket me and sleep take over my body and mind. Saarah…Saarah…Saarah. I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was under my skin, and as I drifted off, I felt her in my bloodstream awakening my heart.

  Sarah

  A loud knock-knock-knock at my door woke me in the morning just as I had finally gotten to sleep. My night had been restless, haunted by the memory of surrendering myself to a man who was so selfish and hurtful. How could I have been so needy? So stupid? The unwanted throbbing in my heart and between my legs had made it even more difficult to fall asleep. Groggy, I kicked off my covers, slipped on my plaid flannel bathrobe, and staggered to the door. Jo-Jo trailed behind me. I peered through the peephole. Lauren! What was she doing here? I’d never known her to be up before noon on a Saturday or venture east of Fifth Avenue. Her world was confined to the narrow rectangle bordered by Seventy-Ninth Street on the north, Fifty-Seventh Street on the south, Lexington Avenue on the east and Fifth Avenue on the west. Within this realm, was every designer store with Daddy’s credit card on file.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, barging into my apartment. “I’ve left you a hundred messages.”

  Ever since we’d been roommates at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), me, on a full scholarship, and her there thanks to Daddy’s substantial endowment, Lauren had always put her needs and desires above everyone else’s. Though she could be extremely generous and a lot of fun, she was quite demanding. Somehow, I put up with it, and we had remained friends as we both pursued careers in New York City. I was an executive assistant at a mid-size toy company though I aspired to one day be a toy designer. She was a “Brand Ambassador,” as she liked to call her job, to one of the hottest fashion designers in Manhattan, another one of Daddy’s clients. I assumed the “workaholic” was on the job even now, dressed head-to-toe in his clothes—perfectly ripped skinny jeans, a tight graphic tee, and spikey black leather ankle boots that made her a curvaceous 5’8” blonde instead of the petite 5’2” she actually was.

  “You stood me up last night,” she said, heading straight to the kitchen.

  I trailed behind her. Without asking, she pulled out a Diet Coke from the fridge and began drinking it. As we padded back to the living room, I wondered—should I tell her the truth? She was my best friend. In fact, my only friend i
n the city other than Fernando, my pal at work. My other RISD classmates had scattered all over the country, and I was no longer in contact with the small-town Pennsylvania kids I had grown up with.

  “I had a date,” I said glumly.

  Lauren’s turquoise eyes grew wide. “You’re kidding!”

  Part of me wanted to punch her. Like she could have one and I couldn’t.

  “With who?” Her voice sounded snarky, like she was challenging me.

  “Some guy.”

  “Hel-lo-O. Name please.”

  I hesitated; I didn’t really want to talk about it. “Ari Golden.”

  Her mouth fell to the floor. “Ari Golden? The Ari Golden? Get out!”

  Slamming her Diet Coke on the vintage trunk that doubled as a coffee table, Lauren whipped out her iPhone from her monstrous red Birken bag (a Christmas gift from her mother) and hastily typed something.

  “Look at this,” she said, suggesting that I should march over to her. Truthfully, the less I knew about this creep, the better.

  I trudged over to Lauren and peeked at the screen. Ari’s beautiful face filled it. I could feel him staring at me, his piercing blue eyes penetrating my body. Despite my loathing of him, a tingle rippled through me. Damn him for having this effect on me.

  The headline read: New York’s Sexiest Billionaire.

  Lauren scrolled down and started to read aloud. “Ari Golden, Chairman and CEO of Golden International…Estimated Worth: 1.6 Billion Dollars…#40 on the Forbes List…Age: 32…”

  Whoa! He had a limo with a bar, wore expensive clothes, had a predilection for fine wine and dining…but I had no idea he was this rich. Holy shit!

  Lauren continued to scroll down and spout more info. “Charities: Meds Without Borders (Founder)…Pet Peeve: People who invade my privacy…Favorite Saying: Imagine and dreams will come true.