The CEO Billionaire Collection

I laid back on the plush white sheets, a stark contrast to the sinewy, taut perfection that was Alex Newsome. My eyes had hungrily traced the contours of his muscles, each one defined to the point of artistic mastery—a Michelangelo's David brought to life. His was like brushed steel under the soft lights, and I was momentarily lost in the landscape of his physical prowess. Broad shoulders tapered down to a chiseled torso, muscles rippling with every movement. His body was a testament to discipline and raw, masculine allure.

"God, you're gorgeous," he said, his voice husky as his eyes roamed over me. It was a tone that was both approving and filled with undeniable desire—a tone that had made my heart race.

His hands—those large, skillful hands—traced a path along my body, igniting a fire with every touch. His lips followed, tender yet demanding, leaving a trail of scorching kisses that made me gasp. When he finally reached my most intimate place, his touch was both teasing and deliberate. I arched my back, completely surrendered to the sensations he invoked.

And then his fingers, oh, his fingers—they danced and twisted in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through my entire being. I spiraled, caught in a whirlwind of desire and sensation, every touch amplifying the hunger within. His mouth joined in the symphony, his movements both tender and confident. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he did it with a mastery that was exhilarating and overwhelming.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of his tongue tip against my clit, letting the pleasure wash over me. His fingers moved in and out, the twin feelings almost too much to bear, my walls gripping his touch and making me want more of him inside. 

I felt the crescendo building, that sweet, maddening tension coiling tighter and tighter. Every brush, every kiss, every caress was meticulously calculated to draw out the pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Alex," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, lost in the sea of sensation. His name was a plea, an acknowledgment of the exquisite torture he subjected me to.

He looked up, his steel-blue eyes meeting mine. There was a hint of a sardonic smile playing on his lips, but it was the heat in his gaze that captivated me. It felt like he peered straight into my soul, seeing every desire, every hidden fantasy. And in that moment, I knew he wouldn't stop until he explored every inch of me, both body and mind.

His movements became more insistent, more focused. I was close, so close. The world narrowed down to just his touch, his presence enveloping me in a bubble of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and exactly what I needed.

With a final, skillful stroke, he sent me over the edge, and I was catapulted into a universe of ecstasy. It was a release that shattered all my defenses, leaving me breathless, quivering, and completely his.

In the aftermath, I was left panting, my body still humming from the high. Alex's gaze was tender now, a soft contrast to the intense passion of moments ago. He pulled me into his arms, and I nestled against his chest, feeling both utterly satisfied and inexplicably hungry for more.

Laying beneath the silk sheets, a playful smile curled my lips. "So, Mr. Alex Newsome," I started, tracing my fingers along the lines of his chest, "how many times had you brought a woman up to some penthouse, giving her the whole Vegas show?"

His brows quirked with amusement, "Implying I had a routine? Come on, Ellie, give me some credit. I'm an original."

I snorted with a grin, rolling my eyes a bit. "Oh, I didn't doubt your... originality," I said, emphasizing the last word as I let my hand wander just a little. "But this charm? It had to be rehearsed."

He chuckled, leaning in closer. His voice whispered against my ear, "Maybe it's just natural talent."

My hand wandered further, taking hold of his long, thick manhood. I began to stroke him slowly, a tight expression taking hold for a moment on his face. 

I arched an eyebrow, studying him. Despite our passionate escapade, there was a nagging thought in my head. Was this all a performance? Was I just another girl in a string of Vegas flings for him?

But before I could get too lost in my doubts, he leaned back and his gaze sharpened, catching that distant look in my eyes. "You're overthinking again," he observed.

I huffed, feigning innocence, "Me? Never."

He smirked, "Want to know a surefire way to get you back in the moment?"

The tease in his eyes drew a laugh from me, "Do tell."

With that, he swooped down, capturing my lips in another searing kiss. It was electric, a jolt straight to my core. And just like that, I was snapped right back into the here and now.

Pulling back, our eyes locked in a heated gaze, the weighty topic of protection came up. Before he could ask, I said, "I'm on the pill."

A sigh of relief escaped him. "Good. Because I need you. Now."

His urgency was palpable. I smirked, giving him a challenging look, "Oh, do you?"

Without answering, he leaned over, moving atop me. His body melded perfectly with mine, and the world blurred into nothing but sensations. Every doubt, every insecurity faded away as he moved inside, our connection deepening. The only truth that mattered then was the passion we shared, raw and uninhibited.

I locked eyes with his hardness as he moved over top of me, my pussy clenching at the sight of the impossibly gorgeous manhood placed right at my wet, waiting entrance. 

“You ready?” he asked. His words come out almost like a challenge. 

I answered him with one of my own. 

My eyes locked onto his, my hand taking hold of him once more and guiding him between my lips. Slowly, I drew him inside, his warm thickness stretching me out.

“Oh… oh my… God.”

He felt so good as he pushed into me, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure coursing through my body as I struggled to accommodate his size. He moved slowly, entering me carefully, gently, as if he knew he was a lot to take. It wasn’t long before he bottomed me out, all of his inches gone between my thighs.

“How does that feel?” he asked. I could sense he knew that he was packing more than most women had likely handled. It was sure my biggest – not that I had a ton of experience with them.

“Perfect.”

The rhythmic beats of the city faded into the background as Alex and I lost ourselves to each other. Every touch, every movement, was like a dance – primal and passionate. It was electrifying, the way he knew exactly where and how to touch me as if he'd read a manual on my body. And when I peaked, it was with such a force that left me breathless, and he was right there with me, losing himself to the same ecstasy.

His cock erupted inside, Alex letting out a hard groan as he released, his muscles tensing with one final push. The orgasm ripped through me as his manhood pulsed, his seed shooting deep, deep inside. I clamped my hands down hard onto his perfect ass, making sure he didn’t budge an inch. When our orgasms passed, he leaned down and kissed me hard before falling to my side, both of us totally spent. 

We collapsed onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, our breathing ragged. The neon lights from the Vegas Strip streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting our naked bodies in a kaleidoscope of colors. Alex reached over to the bedside table, pouring us each a glass of champagne.

Taking a sip, the bubbles tickled my throat, and I couldn't help but giggle. The sensation, combined with the aftermath of our passionate interlude, left me feeling euphoric. But beneath that, there was a small bubble of unease. What now? Did a night like this just end with the sunrise and become a story I'd tell my friends, or was there something more?

Alex tilted his head, observing me closely. "Casino chip for your thoughts?" he asked, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

I paused, mulling over whether I should share my swirling emotions. But instead, I chose the playful route. "I was just wondering," I began with a sly smile, "if you'd ever considered a career as a male escort? Because with skills like that..."

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Too much paperwork."

We shared a soft laugh, the tension dissipating for a moment. But the question remained unspoken, hanging between us like the last note of a song.

Instead of addressing it, we clinked our glasses together, allowing the gentle fizz of the champagne and the mesmerizing lights of the city to lull us. Without words, we gravitated toward each other. He pulled me close, and I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

It was funny, this juxtaposition of the wild energy of Las Vegas outside and the serene intimacy we shared in this room. A night that started with so much unpredictability had somehow become a moment of genuine connection.

As the early rays of dawn started to filter through the room, casting a golden hue over everything, our eyelids grew heavy. The weight of the night, the emotions, the passion, it all culminated in a deep exhaustion.

Alex's fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, lulling me into a relaxed state. "Sleep," he murmured, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

And with that simple command, I did. Nestled in his embrace, I drifted off, feeling safe, content, and utterly blissed.

*

Golden rays of morning sun sneaked their way past the heavy drapes of the opulent penthouse suite, bathing the room in a gentle warmth. It was the kind of morning light that promised a new day full of possibilities. 

My eyelids fluttered open, and I was greeted by the luxury of silky sheets and plush pillows cradling my body. There was a contentment, a post-coital glow, lingering in every fiber of my being. However, when I instinctively reached out to the other side of the massive bed, it was empty and cold.

Mild panic hit me as I scrambled upright, the events of the previous night flooding back in full Technicolor detail. Where was Alex?

Scanning the expansive suite, I spotted a neatly folded piece of paper on the glass coffee table. Padding over, I picked it up and read: "Ellie, last night was unforgettable. Had to attend to some urgent business. Hope we can pick up where we left off. - A"

Despite myself, I felt a smirk curling my lips. Classic Alex. All mysterious and non-committal, but still making a damn effort to leave a handwritten note. At least he hadn't ghosted.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. It was Lila.

Where the hell did you disappear to last night?! she texted. I could imagine her dramatically overdrawn eyebrows knitted together in a mix of worry and annoyance.

I typed back, Wouldn’t you like to know? before adding a wink emoji for good measure. I could almost hear her exasperated groan from across the city.

As I contemplated raiding the mini-bar for a morning mimosa, there was a chime at the door. Drawing on a luxurious robe that probably cost more than my rent, I glided to the entrance. When I opened it, a hotel staff member stood there, a cart laden with an extravagant breakfast spread in tow. The scent of fresh pastries, bacon, and eggs filled the room.

"For Ms. Ellie," he said with a nod.

Before I could ask who sent it, he turned on his heel, leaving me with more food than one person could possibly consume. I could only assume this was another of Alex's gestures. Just as I was about to indulge in some seriously fluffy pancakes dripping with maple syrup, my phone rang.

The name flashing across the screen made my heart sink: Mom. She didn’t call unless it was important. Or unless she wanted to discuss the details of my nonexistent love life. But considering the time, it was more likely to be the former.

I picked up, "Hey, Mom." 

"Ellie, sweetie," she began, her voice fraught with tension, "There's been some complications on the business front. I know you’re on vacation, but I need you back in town as soon as possible." 

Of course. Even in Vegas, I couldn't escape the demanding grasp of family responsibilities. But this sounded serious. 

"What happened?" I asked, but she cut me off. 

"I'll explain when you get here. Please, just hurry." 

Without another word, I was throwing on clothes in a rushed attempt to look somewhat presentable. My dreamy, languorous morning had been violently catapulted into overdrive. As I gave the room one final once-over, the events of the previous night replayed in my head. The chemistry, the passion, the sheer intensity of being with Alex. 

A fluttery sensation swelled in my chest, but I pushed it down. It was just one night in Vegas. Right? Heading out, I threw the room key on the plush bed. My heels clicked determinedly against the marble floor, each step a reminder of the reality waiting outside the bubble of Vegas. 

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, I told myself, even as a small part of me hoped otherwise.