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“I guess the thing that I do which others tend to run away from is marketing.”
“Kissing people’s asses? Of course people would rather avoid that.”
“Come on! I’m not that bad. I schmooze, yes, but I don’t kiss ass. I’m too rich for that,” I banter.
She giggles, writhing on top of me, which is seriously waking up my cock.
She asks, “What is it like to be a billionaire?”
“What do you think?”
“It’s like a fantasy. You roll in money, and you kiss people’s asses to get more.”
“One last time. I don’t kiss people’s asses, Isabelle.”
“All right, all right.” She lifts herself up. Her hair falls gracefully, teasing my cheeks. “I can’t even think about a life like yours.”
“Look at this.” I point at our surroundings. “Do you see a fantasy here?”
“Hm… no. I’m in it.”
“We’re billionaires, but we’re humans first and foremost. I breathe, I eat, I have a house. I work. I—”
“Fuck,” she completes my sentence.
I shake with laughter. “Yeah. I do. So this is my life.”
With you in it.
I shift myself up, nudging her so she’s under me again. “Now, it’s my turn to get to know you better.”
“Huh?”
“What’syourfantasy?” I challenge her.
“Clayton Hartley. First, it was the oyster entrée. Now this question. Should I remind you this is only our first date?”
“I’m the bold kind.” She doesn’t know it, but fulfilling a woman’s fantasy is a shortcut to a man’s success.
Following her lack of response, I brush her neck with a finger, up to her chin, then tease her lower lip. “Come on, what’s your fantasy?”
“You.”
I appraise the fire in her eyes. She’s not lying, but it’s more than justme. It’s what she wants me to do to her or what she wants to do to me.
“Me what?” I probe.
“Not telling.”
“You’re not that cruel, are you? Keeping me hanging?”
“I can be,” she utters. “Perhaps I’ll send it in a letter. When you least expect it.”
“You are cruel.”
“It’s called maintaining the suspense.”
She runs her fingers through her mane as her tongue sweeps her lower lip.
