Page 34 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“Practice doesn’t mean aiming for the fucking ground,” she snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. She likes the danger almost as much as I do. It’s part of our dynamic.

Push, pull, fuck.

Michelle hands me a cold water bottle. “Impressive flight, Mr. Maxwell.” Her eyes linger a little too long. Maybe not angling for a ‘performance review’ later, but definitely enjoying the show.

“Drinks are on me,” Luca announces, clapping me on the back. “Nearest place with top-shelf whiskey and zero questions asked.”

An hour later, we’re installed in the private back room of some obscenely expensive faux-rustic lodge upstate. Wood beams, roaring fireplace, leather chairs, and whiskey that costs more per shot than most bottles of Dom Pérignon.

Jen is curled up beside me on the couch, her leg thrown casually over mine. Michelle is perched on the armrest of Luca’s chair, next to his own assistant, Vivian, both of them laughing at something he said. The vibe is celebratory. Expensive.

And completely hollow.

My phone buzzes on the low table. A text from Dom.

Heard you were jumping the quarry again. You trying to make the Forbes Dead List? Call me.

I glance at it and toss the phone back onto the table, screen down. Dom. Good old sensible Dom. Always worrying. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get theneedfor the edge, the silence it brings. He’s happily married now, probably discussing mortgage rates and nursery colors. Different fucking universe.

“Problem?” Luca asks, noticing my expression.

“Nah. Just Dom being Dom.” I take a large gulp of my whiskey. The smooth burn does little to dull the restlessness already creeping back in now that the adrenaline has faded.

“Let’s liven things up,” Luca says, that familiar gleam in his eye. He discreetly produces a little silver vial.

Fucking predictable.

He prepares two quick bumps on the table. Jen doesn’t even blink. Michelle and Vivian look momentarily hesitant, then shrug and lean forward when Luca offers.

I take mine without comment. The familiar jolt hits, sharpening the edges, amplifying the background buzz.

Jen leans in, whispering in my ear, her breath hot. “Need to burn off some energy,boss?”

Her hand slides down my thigh. Hell yeah. After that little near death experience today, I could use the distraction.

“Bathroom break,” I announce, standing up and pulling Jen with me.

Luca grins knowingly. “Don’t use all the hot water.”

In the ridiculously large, slate-tiled bathroom, Jen pushes me against the locked door, her mouth hungry on mine. It’s automatic, practiced. We know the moves. Her hands fumble with my belt buckle.

“Got anything stronger?” she murmurs againstmy lips.

I hesitate for a second, then reach into my pocket. Another little vial. Enough for both of us.

Quick bump off the back of my hand for her, then me. The second wave hits harder, colder.

She rips open my fly. I grab a condom from my wallet and slick it on. She slides down her ridiculously expensive yoga pants, braces herself against the sink, and I slam into her from behind. Hard, fast, impersonal. Just friction and release. She cums quickly, biting back a cry. I follow a few seconds later, emptying myself into the latex, the physical release barely touching the deeper tension coiling inside me.

We clean up quickly, straighten our clothes. Back to normal. Transaction complete.

When we get back to the private back room, Michelle is looking pointedly left out, nursing her drink while Luca scrolls through his phone as Vivian kisses his neck.

Luca looks up, catches my eye, and jerks his chin towards Michelle with a smirk.

His way of saying ‘Don’t leave loose ends.’

Or maybe just ‘Share the wealth.’

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