Dance with the Billionaire Read Online Free Page B

sharp jab to the senses that the neat vodka gives me.
    “So?” I say, watching as he takes the velvet armchair facing me, reclining comfortably, spreading his legs wide apart, black eyes burning. “This better offer ? What is it?”
    “The deal,” he says, “is this.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes from mine for a second. “You will come and stay with me for a week. During that time, you will be mine, to do with as I please. And in return, I’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars.”
    Is this guy fucking serious?!
    “Woah, woah, woah Richard Gere,” I blurt out. “What do you think this is? Pretty Woman?”
    But I’m the only one laughing. I think he is fucking serious.
    “If that’s where you get your ideas about rich guys from,” he says with a sarcastic shake of his head, “then you’ve got even more to learn than I thought. This is no fairy-tale romance, and I am certainly no Richard Gere. You intrigue me, and I want to see more of what you can do. But you need to understand, this isn’t going to be some kind of sanitized Hollywood bullshit, either . We are not going to ‘make love’, Julia Tate. We are going to fuck. ”
    As he says the word, I feel a chill run down my spine, and I press my knees even tighter together. My heart’s booming as I lift the glass to my lips and drain it, feeling the clear liquid burn my throat. And despite myself, I can feel another sweet ache, too, right there between my legs. 
    “I’ll need to think about it,” I say, steadily as I can.
    “I’ll give you the weekend,” he replies, standing and taking my glass. “If you decide to do this, I’ll see you at my office on Monday, 3pm. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some business to attend to.”

   

     
     
    I stumble out onto the street. What just happened in his apartment feels so unreal I wonder if maybe I imagined it. But as I begin to walk towards the nearest subway station, I remember all over again that I’m not wearing any panties.
    No. That definitely just happened.
    I can still hear his words echoing around my head: We are not going to ‘make love’, Julia Tate. We are going to fuck.
    And I have to admit to myself that something about it turned me on. Maybe it’s his confidence. The very thing that gets me so mad, that makes me want to throw my fucking drink in his face? Well, maybe, just maybe, it gets me hot, too.
    But even so, I can’t do that. I can’t be ‘his’ for a week – to do with as he pleases.
    Because that’s just prostitution, isn’t it? Plain and simple.
    And on top of that, I don’t want to lose my virginity to some guy who thinks he can buy me like that.
    But then I find myself thinking again about why I’m still a virgin in the first place. This goes way back ...
    You never met a couple more mismatched than my mom and my dad. They had nothing in common, but they didn’t have that fiery opposites-attract passion either. It was just arguing all the time, fighting almost every night. And I mean fighting. Crying, screaming, slamming doors, smashing plates; that kind of fighting. They split up when I was really young – just before my fifth birthday. I don’t remember much, but I do remember feeling so relieved that all the shouting was finally over.
    I guess you could kinda say it was all my fault. You see, the only reason they got married in the first place was because my dad had got my mom knocked up.
    So when I got a little older, I vowed to myself never to get trapped like that. I was never gonna give up my virginity until I knew that the guy was really special, and surprise surprise, I’m twenty-one years old and that guy still hasn’t come along yet.
    But don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m inexperienced. I may not have had sex , but I’ve done practically everything else. I’ve just drawn the line somewhere. And I’m not going to cross it for anyone ... anyone except The One.
    So you see, it’s not