Wicked Billionaire - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,51

encourages people to push themselves to the limits of their sexual existences. Within The Wicked Horse, we technically shouldn’t be leaving anything on the table.

Clearly, we both had been.

Last night with Declan had been intimate. Yes, it was hard, fast fucking with filthy words, slaps to my ass, and domineering ways, but… I felt closer to him when it was all said and done, which was something I hadn’t felt before.

To complicate matters, there was no pushing me out of his bed when we were done. He actually rolled off the mattress, left the room, and returned with bottles of iced water for us. We talked for a while—mainly about what I’d heard at the board meeting—and then we had sex again. This time, he’d pulled me on top of him and made me ride him until we both achieved that miraculous high of simultaneous orgasms. After which, we collapsed next to each other. In the quiet moments after when our pulses and breathing returned to normal, I had fallen asleep.

I woke up this morning with him inside me. I have no clue how he managed to get me stimulated or got a condom on, but I was wet and pulsing when I opened my eyes, Declan behind me. He thrust in and out slowly, building me up higher until, once again, we peaked together.

Some things have definitely changed.

And some things are the same.

Today at the board meeting, Declan was in full business mode. Not once did he give me a glance, other than at lunch break—which was served in the conference room—to ask if I would check his voice mail.

And, honestly, he was brilliant. His father might be in charge of the Blackwood Empire, but Declan is respected and commands attention. He’s going to make an excellent leader one day, assuming that’s what he wants. I often wonder what his actual goals are, given he wants to branch out and build his own boutique resort with a sex-club theme.

At the end of the meeting, I’d been grateful for this experience. I was also exhausted, hoping to relax by myself with a glass of wine back in the suite. After all, Declan was eating dinner at his parents’ by his father’s command.

What threw me for a loop was when we left the Blackwood headquarters and Declan informed me I’d be joining him for dinner. He didn’t make a big deal, merely stated it would be a formal business affair so we were appropriately dressed. Because Declan doesn’t seem overly close to his family, I decided not to think twice about the invitation, choosing to consider it more of a polite offer by my boss.

Regardless, I’m a bit nervous and twitchy feeling as I sit down with one of the wealthiest families in America. I have no clue of the difference between the dinner fork and salad fork, and I hope it doesn’t reflect poorly on Declan.

“Relax,” he murmurs as he guides me up the walkway to the double front doors. In an attempt to ease my mind, he points to the beautifully manicured hedges to the left and right of the walkway, some trimmed into intricately shaped topiaries. “The grounds are this home’s best feature. There are several reflecting pools and fountains throughout, as well as a gorgeous iron pavilion in the back I’ll show you if we have time after dinner.”

“It’s so beautiful,” I gush as we reach the porch. Declan rings the doorbell, and I’m stunned he doesn’t just walk in. This is, after all, his parents’ home.

As if knowing what I might be thinking, he winks.

The door swings open, and I’m not surprised to see what I assume to be a butler. He’s not the stereotypical older white male, but probably in about his mid-thirties and impeccably dressed in a black waistcoat, light gray silk cravat, and matching pants with a darker gray stripe down the sides.

“Mr. Blackwood,” the man says. “It’s good to see you. May I take your things?”

“Thank you,” Declan says, shrugging out of his coat. I do the same, handing it as well as my purse over. It’s glaring he doesn’t address the man by name, which leads me to believe he doesn’t know who this is. Despite his station in life, I’ve always known Declan to call every employee by their name.

“I see you’ve brought a guest,” the man says with a smile toward me. “I’ll have another place set at the table.”

My eyes snap to Declan, my eyebrows rising in question.