Courted (How Not To Be Seduced By Billionaires: Book 2) (4 page)

Lesson #4

Try not to let yourself be swept away

when your billionaire dances with you.

Remember that the dance will end with the last note of the song.

Courting had always been compared to a mating dance, but between Constantijin and me, it was more like a
war
dance, one battle of the sexes after another. Constantijin’s resistance could be due to his inability to relinquish control. He was the type to like having total control of anything he wanted badly, and for some reason
I
was the one he wanted badly.

            Yet I fought with him, provoked him, and challenged him because if I gave in before I should, it would mean giving
up
on him.

            It was like what Glenda said the other day. With Constantijin out for a meeting, Glenda had invited me to join her for a cup of coffee.

            “You without your top and Constantijin was nothing,” Glenda assured me when I gave her another mumbled apology for the worst threesome in history.

            Her words made me blush. Even this long exposed to Constantijin’s intensely passionate nature, I still couldn’t make myself get used to how
easy
it was for people to talk about sex.

            “I had seen women giving him blow jobs, lap dances on the table, masturbating---”

“I get the picture,” I said hastily, not wanting to hear another word. The mere thought of all the women who had spent more than a second in his arms made me tear up inside. I hated it. I really, really hated it. Oh, Constantijin – why couldn’t you be, like, Netherlands’ #1
pastor
instead of a playboy?

“But you know what the difference is between you and all those other women?”

“Smaller boobs?” I quipped.

She shook her head, her unsmiling expression eerily reminding me of Constantijin’s own serious face.
Eek
. Like boss, like secretary?

“They stayed to finish what they started. You
ran
.”

Oh.

“Constantijin had been very shocked at that. He didn’t know what to make of it. All of them had stuck around. They hadn’t minded I had seen them because there was something they needed more from Constantijin – something they didn’t mind losing their self-respect for.”

I thought about her words hard. “Glenda,” I said finally, “Are you telling me
not
to have sex with him?”

She shrugged.

“Glenda!”

“All I’m saying is that you’re different, and it was what drew him to you.”

            If there was anything I hated in life, it would be this: cryptic advice, an oxymoron of the very worst kind. Why give advice that had to be solved like a freaking puzzle?

            “You’re not helping,” I sighed out.

            “I am. But you’re just too horny for my boss to understand what I’m saying.”

            That had me blushing and laughing at the same time. “Glenda!”

            She patted my hand, a rare smile of such warmth touching her lips. “I’m rooting for you, dear.”

            That was great, actually, especially since Constantijin’s brand of courting was nothing like I had ever imagined. It was beautiful, maddening, and oh so arousing.

Day 1 of Courting

           
A gigantic bouquet waited for me at my table, tall enough for its topmost flowers to surpass the height of my cubicle walls. George squealed as I hurried towards it, ignoring Arian’s envious mutters.

            I opened the card.

Thinking of you every day ---

Dreaming of you every night ---

I can’t wait to fuck you endlessly hard when you become mine.

Oh, dear Lord. How was it that he could be so romantic and utterly crude at the same time? And why were my panties slowly getting wet? I took the card and hugged it to my heart, knowing that I was going to read it over and over tonight until I fall asleep.

Day 5 of Courting

Constantijin flew me out of state in his private jet. He wanted the two of us to enjoy a private dinner, far away from the prying eyes hounding us more and more at work. Arian was the most suspicious. It took every skill of acting I had
not
to give myself away every time I caught her trying to flirt with Constantijin.

            To give him credit, he wasn’t doing anything to encourage her but – couldn’t he be
ruder?

           
The flight was already ten minutes into its journey and I was still stiff in my seat, the proximity of Constantijin driving me crazy. I so badly wanted to kiss him but I knew I wouldn’t – couldn’t. If I did, he would think I was succumbing to his demands.

            But I needed this courtship – I needed to feel secure that he really wanted me – just me. I didn’t think I’d survive if I ever found out he wanted me the same time he wanted other women, too.

            “Yanna.” Constantijin purred out my name, creating goosebumps all over my body.

            I reluctantly faced him.

            He smirked, the sly look in his silvery eyes telling me he knew how much my body ached for him.

            I slapped his face instinctively.

            “Yanna.”

The ominously soft whisper sent me facing the other way, knowing I was in big, big trouble. Would he forgive me if I said
oops
now?

           
“Yanna!” This time it was a furious growl.

            Cringing, I turned to face him again. The terrifying scowl on his face had me protesting, “But you were smirking!”

            “Then tell me to stop,” he gritted out, rubbing his cheek, which still had my hand’s imprint on. It made me gulp. Oh, dear, he was so going to kill me when he saw it.

            “Sorry,” I mumbled.

            “You should be,” he retorted. “You slapped me more times than anyone else in my entire life.”

            My shoulders drooped. “Sorry again.”

            He tipped my chin up, and I trembled, his touch rekindling the desire inside me. When our gazes met, I saw that he was smirking again. The jerk!

            This time, he caught my hand before I could slap him again. And then he was kissing me, his tongue sweeping in and exploring my mouth. All I could do was kiss him back wildly, panting for more. My body strained towards him, wishing there wasn’t a barrier separating our seats.

            Constantijin forced me back to the windows, still imprisoning both my hands behind my back. I whimpered when he sucked on my tongue. I whimpered again when he let go of my lips but only so he could nibble on my collarbone.

            “Constantijin,” I sobbed.

            He released me.

            I blinked rapidly in shock.

            He was smirking again.

            Oh, the effing ass!

Day 15 of Courting

“You have got to stop sending me flowers,” I told him laughingly while I was in my bath and he was in Dubai, meeting with oil sheikhs for the newest real estate project of Kastein, Inc.

            “But I like doing it. I keep thinking how when I have you in my bed, I’d use all those petals to sprinkle all over you, tickle you, use it to caress your clit---” He paused then asked wickedly, “Are you turned on now?”

            “None of your business,” I managed to say.

            He laughed.

            That sound never failed to make my day – or night. Sinking more deeply into my bubble bath, I said again, “I’m serious. Knowing how much you’re spending on me with each bouquet is giving me a headache.”

            I could hear him frowning as he answered, “Is this my fucking courtship or what?”

            Knowing it was never a good thing to have long-distance quarrels, I said quickly, “I sent you a picture message. Did you get it?”

            He didn’t answer, but I could hear the faint sound of his fingers tapping on the screen of his mobile phone.

“
Yanna
.” This time, he sounded more exasperated than angry, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

            I had sent him a picture message of a floral bouquet, with an e-card attached.

You are so cute!

           
Remembering the message made me giggle.

            Constantijin said darkly, “And I am not
cute
.”

            That had me giggling even more.

            “You are playing with me again.”

            “Yes, this time, I am,” I admitted, unable to keep myself from grinning. God, I couldn’t believe I was having this kind of conversation with Constantijin. I mean, what were the odds? He wasn’t much of a caller – and God knew how he hated sending text messages. If he had ever enjoyed a call with another woman before, it would probably have been the hardcore variety of phone sex.

            “You are a bad girl.”

            God, I loved it when his accent thickened and he started talking simplified English. “I learned from a bad man.”

            He sucked in his breath. “I’ve never been this aroused from a mere call.”

            That didn’t make us even, not even close. I had never been aroused – until I met him. Still smiling my insanely smitten smile, I asked softly, “Did you like the picture, though?”