Free Dance with the Billionaire by Charlotte Eve

that easily.”
    “I look forward to it,” I call back, as I head out the door, amazed that I’ve gotten away with this for the second night in a row. 

 

     
     
    I’m sitting in the bedroom, playing with a mountain of expensive shoes, and guess what? A life of luxury is not half as fun and fulfilling as I thought it would be. I’m even, dare I say it, kind of ... bored .
    Dylan is off at work, again, and I’ve been left to play Paris Hilton here at the mansion all day. I think I must have tried on almost every dress in the closet, and now I’m onto the shoes.
    As I pull on a pair of stilettos so huge they might as well be stilts, just to see if I can even stand up in them, I find myself wondering if we’re due for a repeat of last night when he gets home from work, and if so, what tricks I’m gonna have to pull this time .
    Last night was pretty easy, but when we first talked about the agreement, he also suggested he was into some pretty dark stuff – all that talk of me being his , ‘to do with as he pleased’. I just know I’m not gonna get away with my current antics for too much longer. I mean, I can’t just pull out the same old dry humping routine again tonight now, can I?
    I need time to think. But a nervous glance up at the clock tells me it’s almost time for him to get home. Fuck. I should have spent my day scheming and plotting, not playing dress-up like some silly kid.
    And just then there’s a knock on the door to my room.
    I’m expecting it to be James, with tonight’s instructions on what to wear.
    “Come in,” I call.
    I look up at the door; it’s not James. It’s Dylan himself.
    “Oh my God, it’s you,” I say, hurriedly pulling those stupid stilettos from my feet in embarrassment. “I, um, wasn’t expecting you yet ..” 
    “Well don’t be too surprised,” he shoots back. “This is my house after all. I trust you’ve had a relaxing day?”
    “Relaxing?” I repeat. And I can’t believe what I’m about to say, because despite all this amazing luxury, am I actually about to ... complain ?  “That sure is one way to put it. Honestly, Dylan? This is great and all. Your beautiful house. Sitting by your amazing pool. Playing dress-up with thousands of dollars worth of amazing clothes. But in all honesty, I’m used to a little more life than this. Apart from James at breakfast, I haven’t spoken to another soul all day. You took away my cellphone, remember? I want some action.”
    “I’ll give you whatever you want ,” he says suggestively. “Like I said last night, I enjoy satisfying a woman. So? Let’s do it. Anything you want.”
    “Really?” I say.
    He nods.
    “Okay then,” I say, getting to my feet. “What I really want is to go out dancing ...”
     
    §
     
    The club he takes me to – more of a grill and bar with a little dance floor in the back – is not my usual scene. It’s kind of quiet, the music’s kind of cheesy, and the clientele is just as snobby as I’d imagined they might be at a Rhode Island nightspot like this. But even so, I don’t care. Because I’m dancing. I’m moving my body in time to the beat ... and so is Dylan.
    God damn it, I didn’t expect it from a guy who seems to live most of his life in a suit, but this kid is a surprisingly good dancer!
    He moves with me, his body echoing mine, and even better: he knows when to take the lead. We’re dancing close, his body pressing against me. And wow. He’s radiating heat; that now-familiar intensity that I’m finding harder and harder to resist. I haven’t had this good a time dancing with anyone in ages – well, with a guy anyway. And I start to wonder what it would be like to actually fuck him – to really fuck him, to feel him inside of me, to feel that hot thick cock of his deep inside me ...
    I mean, really. What exactly have I got to lose? It’d be fun – he’s obviously experienced, a guy who dances this well just has to fuck well too. And like I said, a hundred