A Night with The Billionaire

Three

Isabella's phone vibrated for the seventh time on the counter, displaying Cynthia's name on the caller ID. Cynthia must have gone insane, worrying about where Isabella was after the party.

It had only been three hours since Isabella left, never having told Cynthia what exactly happened. But she found herself drowning in the same vodka tonic she had consumed last time.

"One more," Isabella said, looking up at the bartender, who hesitated for a moment before moving to get her another glass.

She swallowed it down before scanning the dance floor, where people poured their souls into dancing. The flickering lights didn't bother her; her heart suffered much worse.

"Vodka martini," someone sat beside her, clearing his throat. Isabella turned her head back to the counter, playing with the empty glass in her hand. She needed more. Her heart still hurt.

"Another one?" she heard him speak, and she glanced in his direction. Nicholas Carter was there. She muttered between heavy breaths, "Please tell me this is only a coincidence." Nicholas raised the corner of his lips, chuckling, and swallowed his drink.

Isabella's eyes pierced through him, tracing every part of his beautiful face. She wondered why he was there. She should be leaving now, but her body seemed to crave his presence, his warmth—the same warmth she felt when they were intimate.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered, raising his lips and forming a smile. Isabella wondered what he meant by that. Nicholas was more complicated than her body's reaction toward him.

Isabella hated feeling the need for his touch, his warm breath—she tried to stop herself from thinking about it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, hoping to rid herself of the desire for him. She had sworn to herself that they wouldn't cross paths again after she left his hotel room last time.

But fate seemed to have different plans as he showed up before her now. It felt as if he had never stopped giving her wet dreams for the past three weeks. She didn't even know much about him besides his name.

"I'm done here," Isabella said, tightly gripping the edge of the counter to maintain her balance. She could feel his gaze on her, but she dared not to look in his direction. Otherwise, she might surrender herself to him. He was dangerous, a sinful temptation she could barely resist.

With a sigh of relief, Isabella grabbed her phone and pouch. However, her luck ran out as her heels tripped, causing her to lose her balance. Before she could brace herself for the impact, Nicholas's strong arms wrapped around her waist.

His deep emerald eyes locked with hers, flickering with different emotions—lust, surprise, and confusion. With shallow breaths, Isabella could hardly move.

Nicholas gulped, not breaking his gaze. Isabella did the same, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes, despite the ache in her body from his touch. A small voice in the back of her head begged her to kiss him, to wrap her hands around his neck.

But before that could happen, the bartender's voice interrupted them. "Sir, here's your third glass of vodka martini."

Disappointment flashed in Isabella's eyes as Nicholas released his grip on her waist. She barely breathed, pulling herself together and feeling remorse for her actions.

Isabella quickly placed some money on the counter, trying to regain her composure. She wobbled out of the scene, not daring to look back at Nicholas.

She cursed herself, wondering how he had such power over her, making her aroused with a simple touch. Her belly ached, but the desire to be with him tortured her even more. She felt like a drug addict longing for fulfillment.

As she exited the bar, Isabella scanned the surroundings, searching for a cab. Fortunately, she spotted one approaching. She thought her night would finally be over.

"Cabs aren't safe; I'll take you home," Isabella heard Nicholas's voice behind her, causing a warm sensation to wash over her body. She turned around to find him leaning against the wall, looking incredibly attractive with both hands in his pockets.

"No, thanks, but I can manage on my own—"

"She's not going; I'll get her home," Nicholas interrupted, walking past her and giving the driver his money.

Isabella watched him turn around and approach her. Her brows furrowed as he extended his hand, his gaze fixed on her tear-streaked face.

"I'm not going with you," she muttered, choosing a different direction. However, Nicholas followed behind her, chuckling.

Isabella scolded herself, knowing now wasn't the time for weakness. She needed to pull herself together.

"There's no other way; either you'll end up in your bed tonight, or you'll end up in mine," he said, enjoying the situation. One more move and Isabella would surrender herself to him.

"You'll be the end of me; leave me alone," she hissed, making sure her legs continued working on the pathway.

Nicholas grabbed her hand, and she flinched from the electric feeling that surged through her veins. He pulled her closer to him, lifting her flushed face.

Swallowing hard, Isabella caught a whiff of his addicting breath—a mix of mint and the vodka he drank. It weakened her thighs and intensified her craving for his touch.

"Please..." Isabella knew she had messed up. Her voice sounded desperate, hoarse, and pleading. But she didn't care; she wanted him inside her again. That feeling drove her crazy.

And she knew he felt the same, even if he didn't say it out loud. His eyes were filled with lust, and his body ached just as hers did. Both of them wanted to be together once more.

"Get in the car, now..." he mumbled, taking deep breaths to control himself.

Isabella's wobbly legs moved as he pulled her along, leading her to his car. Nicholas opened the door, and she slid inside, panting, and parting her lips from the overwhelming sensations.

"Can you still buckle your seatbelt?" he asked as he got in, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

She bit her lips, moistening them, and shook her head. "N-No..."

"f**k. You're torturing me, woman, you know that?" he whispered, closing the distance between them and buckling her seatbelt.

"You're making me, so don't blame—"

He kissed her hungrily, their lips crashing together in a rough and passionate embrace. Isabella's eyes widened at first, but then closed as his hands explored her back, pressing against her toned muscles.

Her hands traced his neck down to his chest, savoring the sensation. Somehow, he managed to lift her as he settled into her seat, placing her in his lap. His hands rested on her thighs, teasing and exploring.

Soft moans escaped her parted lips as he nibbled her earlobe, trailing down her neck and collarbone while his fingers explored her wetness.

"Oh, shit..." Isabella cursed with pleasure, widening her legs, and allowing him to remove her black lace underwear. But he stopped abruptly, putting some distance between them.

He looked at her with lustful eyes as she stared back, confused. "You never let him touch you. Can you swear that?" Nicholas mumbled, gripping his hands on her thighs.

Her lips parted as he slowly ran his finger near her intimate area, causing her to ache, but he was teasing her. She was panting, biting her lips, and blinking her foggy eyes. "I don't know whom you're talking about, please...I need you inside."

"Tell me you're not allowing yourself to be touched by other men—not even your ex-boyfriend." He whispered in her ear, his warm breath touching her skin.

Her legs shivered as he slowly played with her sensitive area, teasing her further. His well-defined jaw clenched as he waited for her response.

"N-No... not even—ahh...oh no..." Her moan escaped her as she arched her body when he inserted two fingers inside her. His other hand massaged her sensitive spot, causing her to lose her senses and succumb to pleasure.

"You're over him, aren't you?" He asked, watching her eyes roll back. Her lips were dry, parted, and trembling. "Say it."

"Y-Yes...yes," she moaned again. His eyes filled with satisfaction as he witnessed her losing herself.

Sweat and the pounding of her heart mingled as an overwhelming sensation coursed through her veins. Nicholas' fingers thrust faster and deeper, intensifying the pleasure she had never experienced before. She braced her right hand on the window as she arched her body, moaning loudly and matching her movements to his rhythm.

She rolled her eyes as much as she could when a wave of pleasure washed over her, followed by the release of warm fluids as he withdrew his fingers.

Her body slumped onto his lap, her face resting on his chest as she panted and closed her eyes. She felt his hand move, reaching for something. However, she remained still, her heart pounding in her chest. Satisfaction overwhelmed her entire being as she contemplated what she had done.

"Yes, I'll see her tomorrow morning—what, no. Tell her to visit me tomorrow; that's final." He spoke on the phone. Her? Did he mean his girlfriend? Oh no. What had she gotten herself into?

Despite her weakened knees, she attempted to move away from him. But his hands firmly held her back as he continued his conversation. "Stay," he ordered, his voice filled with authority.

Fear overpowered lust as her mind started to process the situation. He couldn't be someone else's husband, right? But that wasn't the point. Who was this Nicholas Carter she was involved with?

"I'm busy now, and I have more important matters to attend to. Tell her to wait for me or let her leave," were his final words before ending the call. He tossed his phone on the table and looked at her, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Suddenly, her throat went dry. She couldn't find the words to ease the tension and awkwardness.

Now she understood. She had made a grave mistake. He wasn't just an ordinary Nicholas Carter she could fool around with. "Do you realize what you've gotten yourself into?" he asked, his tone serious as she swallowed hard.

She tried to move away from him, but his grip on her waist tightened. "I have no idea either, but whatever it is, I hope I didn't get involved with a married man," she whispered, barely audible.

The corner of his lips curled up as he chuckled, though there was a trace of amusement in his eyes. It was not a good sign to feel at ease.

"So, you're saying you didn't intend to sleep with the Duke of Florence?" he replied with a smirk, the amusement fading as he observed her face drain of color.

"F-Fuck...I need to leave...now," she whispered, desperately trying to free herself from his grasp.

But he was stronger than she had anticipated... and more dangerous than she could have imagined. s**t, she had heard rumors that he enjoyed slitting the throats of those who disobeyed him.

"There's no escaping, sweetheart. Not so easily," he lifted her face, his darkened expression causing her heart to skip a beat. This wasn't the ending she had expected—why had he let her go the last time?

"But... I, I need to go. Cynthia—my friend, she must be so worried now," her voice quivered.

The fact that she was sitting on a Duke's lap reduced her chances of survival. She had made a terrible mistake and was now destined to face whatever consequences awaited her.

"You're not going anywhere; you should have known that when you moaned my name countless times at Hotel de Lux," he uttered stoically, sending a chill down her spine.

Looking up at him, breathless and wide-eyed, she realized the gravity of her situation. "And you should know that no one escapes me... unless I allow it."

God help me, for I f****d up big time.