The Billionaire's Command
Page 44

“Would you like it,” I said, “if Will and Yolanda walked through the door right now? Do you want them to see you moaning and hungry for it?”
She shook her head, eyes still closed, but I felt her flutter around me and knew the thought aroused her.
My little Sasha was an exhibitionist. Who knew?
“We’ll do that sometime,” I said. “I’ll take you to my office and fuck you against the window, and if anyone on the street looks up, they’ll be able to see you there, stripped naked and begging like the slut you are…”
All of her muscles shook as she climaxed, her mouth open in a silent scream.
And that was what I wanted, what I had been waiting for, and I slammed against her once more and let go.
12
We separated after we had both caught our breath. Sasha sat up and ran one hand through her hair, smoothing the messy strands back into place.
“That was a dumb idea,” she said.
“Hardly,” I said. “It would only have been dumb if we got caught.” I still had my suit jacket on. The entire encounter had taken less than five minutes.
I felt fucking incredible.
“Oh God, they’ll be back any second,” she said, and hopped off the bed to tug her shorts back on.
I smirked, and took myself off to the bathroom to toss the condom and clean up.
By the time I emerged, Will and Yolanda had returned and were unloading their groceries in the kitchen. Sasha was with them, still suspiciously pink in the cheeks, but I didn’t imagine the others would think anything of it.
I crossed the room and leaned beside Sasha at the end of the counter. “I hope you’re not letting Will cook,” I said to her.
Will turned at the sound of my voice and grinned at me. “It’s the old ball and chain!” he said. “Thought you’d find me passed out in an alleyway?”
“The thought crossed my mind,” I said. “What are we having for dinner? Stale bread and water?”
“Only for you,” he said. “I’m cooking steak for the ladies.”
“Hey now, I don’t eat anything less expensive than fois gras,” Yolanda said, and bumped Will with her hip as she closed the refrigerator.
“Only the best for the fair lady,” he agreed. She smiled at him, and Will seized one of her hands and bent to kiss her knuckles, gallant as a Golden Age movie star.
I glanced at Sasha and raised one of my eyebrows. She looked at me and shrugged.
“Everyone out of my kitchen,” Will announced. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
“I can help chop,” Yolanda said.
“Absolutely not,” Will said. “You’ve been at work all day. Go sit down. Would you like something to drink? I’ll make limeade.”
“Limeade doesn’t go with steak,” I said.
“You’re not getting any,” Will said.
“Right,” I said. “Stale bread and water.” I rolled my eyes and tugged Sasha away from the counter. “Let’s give the man some room to work.”
Will had clearly made himself at home: he took a knife from a drawer, a cutting board from a cabinet, and had a steak sizzling in a cast iron pan within about five minutes. My mouth watered as the scent of roasting meat filled the apartment. I was hungrier than I had realized.
Yolanda spent a few moments sorting mail at the dining table, but then she joined Sasha and me in the living area. She took a seat in the armchair and smiled at me. “He made us an incredible dinner last night,” she said.
“I’m glad he’s making himself useful,” I said. “Yolanda, I can’t thank you enough for taking him in. It isn’t every day that you meet a woman who’s willing to adopt a perfect stranger.”
“Oh, well,” she said, a little flustered. “It’s really no trouble. He’s a nice guy.”
Sasha made a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough, and raised the magazine she was reading until it concealed her face.
“Is there a problem?” I asked her.
“No, nothing,” she said.
“Sasha thinks it’s funny that Will and I are getting along,” Yolanda said.
“I don’t see why,” I said. “He’s very congenial.”
“I know you’re talking about me,” Will called from the kitchen. “Tell her I have a huge dick.”
Yolanda cracked up, one hand over her eyes, and I sighed, refusing to be amused. At least Yolanda didn’t seem offended.
That seemed to set the tone for dinner. Will was in an exuberant mood, talkative and charismatic as he was at his best—which worried me, because the highs were so often followed by lows. He and Yolanda chatted like they had known each other for years, and their conversation veered from the local food movement to the recent Supreme Court decision to a juicy bit of gossip that Yolanda had picked up at work. I was content to eat in silence—the food, as it always was when Will cooked, was delicious—but when they started talking about health care reform, Sasha put her fork down and said, “The two of you have just exceeded the amount of time you’re allowed to spend talking about politics at the dinner table.”
“Aw, but we were just starting to get worked up about it,” Will said.
“House rules,” Sasha said.
“She says it gives her insomnia,” Yolanda said to Will. “All those big ideas rattling around in her tiny brain—”
“That’s not the reason!” Sasha said, laughing, and reached across the table to slap playfully at Yolanda’s arm. “I just don’t like worrying about things I can’t control.”
“Ah, but you can control it,” Will said, holding up one finger. He leaned toward Sasha, and she and Yolanda both leaned toward him, attentive. He drew out the moment dramatically, letting them hang, and then said, “By voting.”
Yolanda laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
“Will, you’re getting ridiculous,” I said.
“And you sound just like our mother,” he said. “Lighten up.”
“No, I agree with Alex,” Sasha said. “Voting isn’t funny. It’s very serious, a civic duty—”
“I’m pretty sure that counts as talking about politics,” Yolanda said. “Leave the dinner table at once!”
I watched Sasha as their cheerful bickering continued. It was strange to see her in this context, happy and relaxed, and squabbling with someone she clearly knew well and trusted. I was being given a glimpse of a different side of her personality. She wasn’t Sassy here; there was no trace of the sleepy-eyed showgirl, the femme fatale. There was no elaborately coiffed wig. She wasn’t wearing any makeup that I could see. Even her body language was different. This was the real Sasha, the woman underneath the facade, and I was taken aback to realize that I wanted to spend more time with her. With the real her, the blood-and-guts, breathing, cursing, obstinate creature that she was.