ENGAGED TO A MARRIED BILLIONAIRE

By Antoine

I'm a businessman.

I'm serious. I'm family-oriented. My wife is beautiful, stunning, elegant, and cold. She's colder than ice. She's colder than a midwinter night spent in a short-sleeved T-shirt out in the middle of nowhere.

However, our life was perfect. We lived in a mansion in the most exclusive part of Portland. We had several of the best cars. We traveled to Europe all the time. Everything we owned was top-of-the-line.

But I traveled to Los Angeles alone. My wife never left the comfort of our mansion, unless she was traveling around the world.

After our little Chris was born, everything stayed the same. The boy had his nanny—who was also the best—with a background that allowed my son to learn from her. He learned general knowledge and how to behave according to certain rules.

When I was home, I would play with him, even though I worked a lot.

In Los Angeles, it was a different story. At first, I stayed in hotels because I found them more comfortable, but I felt lonely since my stays were so long.

I would stay for a whole month, go to Portland for a week, and then come back. I would stay for 15 days, and that's how my life went—between trips and business.

In Los Angeles, I would forget that I was married and stop acting like the family man that everyone in Portland admired. There, I had other friends and a few business partners who were also in similar situations.

I was at a nightclub, but I'm not sure how I ended up there. It wasn't my style; I preferred something more casual, where I could find a sophisticated companion—maybe a model—but where everyone knew it was just for that night and nothing more. There might be two encounters, but never more than twice; I couldn't risk a scandal.

A double life? No, just unfaithful—and with good reason, I thought, because I didn't have what I needed at home, and on top of that, there was the loneliness of Los Angeles.

I was drinking whiskey, watching the dance floor, and listening to rock music. My friend was already flirting with a beautiful brunette with a curvy, spectacular body, but she wasn't my type. Besides, she didn't look any older than 20—I had my son to change his diaper.

That's why I didn't like these places—the girls were too young, and I was there for something else, not to play the boyfriend. I was married and had a beautiful, perfect family.

The music changed and the slow dances began. I was thinking about going back to my hotel: "I'll go to the restroom and then leave," I thought. I hadn't heard from my friend.

I left the bar, and when I turned around, I saw the woman I had always dreamed of. I walked toward her as if I were hypnotized. She was with a group of people on the other side of the room. I guess they were her friends. That woman stood out; she was beautiful, delicate, and sweetly sensual. Her golden hair and coppery-gold skin were perfect, and her mouth was perfect, too.

Wow, what a woman! What a pair of breasts! They weren't big, just average size, but they were firm. They were wearing a tight outfit that made them look delicate, and it looked like they were looking right at me.

I looked up, I told myself.

I was already a meter away from her. I saw her light eyes—as blue as the sky—and discovered a gaze that made me tremble.

I closed the distance between us and took her hand, inviting her to dance.

She was short, and when she stood next to me, she only came up to my mouth because she was wearing high heels. I thought that if she weren't wearing them, she would come up to my shoulders.

The music was perfect; it made us want to dance.

I didn't mean to, but when I had her close, I pulled her against me and thought about brushing our lips together. Then, I felt her mouth and kissed her with a strong, passionate desire that I've never felt before.

I got really excited, and I pulled away so she wouldn't feel my hard penis.

I didn't even know her name, which is usually unimportant. It didn't matter if her name was Lucy, Janet, or anyone else.

But this girl was different. She seemed young. She wasn't what I was used to.

I was ashamed that I couldn't control myself, but the truth was that I wanted to have her right then and there.

I could tell she was surprised by my kiss. At first, she didn't respond, and she didn't reject it either. But I could feel her shaking.

"What's your name?"

I said to Alice, "I asked, 'Alice.'" "And you?" she asked, her voice shaking. She didn't dare look me in the eye.

"My name is Antoine."

I didn't tell her my last name because there were a lot of Prondells, but if she knew anything about wine, I didn't want her to guess.

"You're the best thing I've ever tasted."

I said something to her in a quiet voice.

He looked up, and I lost myself in his eyes.

- How old are you?

If I were a minor, I'd run away.

"I'm 19. What about you?"

She asked me, but she sounded nervous.

"I'm 31."

I'm sure I looked like an old man to her, I thought.

Since when do I care what women think?

This was especially true because I had just met her.

I don't usually flirt because I'm out of practice.

I'm married, and if I want something, I pay for it; if not, women come to me.

I'm not saying this to brag; it's just the way it is. I'm handsome, I'm 1.85 tall, I stay in shape, and most importantly, women can smell money—and I had plenty of it.

I don't have a hard time talking to girls, but it's been a long time since I've been a boyfriend to anyone.

Wait a minute—is he her boyfriend?

What am I thinking?

You are with your friends. Are you going back with them?

My friend's dad is coming to pick us up. He will drop us off at our homes.

He's from her family, which makes it even harder.

I want to see you again.

I'm surprised at how well it's working.

"Well."

She said with a smile.

I looked at his mouth and kissed him again.

I kissed her deeply, and played with her tongue.

I held her against my body again, and once more, I felt my erection.

Am I an animal? What's wrong with me? Just feeling her lips makes me imagine her naked in my bed.

I slowly slid my hand down her back and placed it on her hip (or rather, her butt).

She moved away, feeling uneasy.

I wasn't going to say sorry. I know we're in public—well, on a dark dance floor, with every couple around us just doing their own thing.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

I asked her.

"Let's get a coffee. We can meet anywhere, or I can come to your place."

Am I even listening to myself? Her place? Am I crazy?

We can meet at the corner of Canon Drive and Brighton Way.

I noticed how shy you were.

I smiled. "I've got you," I thought. "You'll be in my bed soon."