The Billionaire's Unwanted Bride
- Genre: Romance
- Status: Completed
- Language: English
- Author: Eaglewoman20
The music is loud, and girls are swaying their hips to the sounds. The atmosphere of the clubhouse is a mixture of happiness, freedom, excitement, and tension...sexual tension. Everyone seems to be happy except me. I want to be drunk in my sorrows. I can see my best friend watching in pity.
“I hate him, Pam. I hate him,” I cry as I gulp down the remaining content of the alcohol.
“Babe, let it go already. Let’s enjoy this night,” she places her hand on my shoulder to pacify me, but I am inconsolable.
Tears are already streaming down my eyes. Pamela sighs when she sees my tears. I know she is already tired of telling me everything will be fine.
She wants to enjoy the party, but having me around is ruining everything for her. She must feel it is a big mistake bringing me here in the first place. I know she brought the idea of a party just to cheer me up, but I am pathetic.
“I will deal with him when next we see,” I burp and wipe my tears with the back of my palm.
“I won’t bear his kids anymore. I won’t...” I said and belch again.
“I told you to forget about him already, didn’t I?” I can sense her irritation.
I am shocked at the tone she is using with me. I just want to talk about Cameron all night, so I can eventually forget about him by tomorrow.
Why can’t she just understand?
“Are you shouting at me, Pam?” I point my index finger at her chest in question. Pam shakes her head and pulls me to her body.
“I just want you to hear me because of the loud music,” she whispers in my ears, defending herself and rocking my body to hers like a baby. She wipes my remaining tears with her thumb.
“It’s ok, baby. You know I love you, don’t you?”
I nod and disengage from the hug. I am beginning to feel pressed, so I stand up abruptly and sway a little. Pam stands up to help me so I won’t fall.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to pee,” I answer.
“Let me go with you,” Pam suggests.
“No,” I laugh out loud. “I’ll be right back.” I move away from her hold.
“Yep,” I reply before staggering away to the bathroom. I know my friend will use the little time to her advantage before I am back as I see a guy throw a wink in her direction.
My eyes are becoming smaller, and I am finding it difficult to locate the washroom. I realize how drunk I am. I rub my eyes with the back of my right hand so I can see clearer. I see the washroom is a few distances away.
“Fuck you, Cameron. I hate you,” I cry as I put my two hands on the walls to guide me to the tiny corridor leading to the washroom.
My legs are shaking as I walk, and I am trying to get my balance. I almost fall down in frustration.
When I stand upright in tiredness, the door to the washroom is in front of me. I push the door open with my left leg and enter.
I am about to zip down my skirt to make it easier for me to urinate quickly after entering the first toilet when a guy comes out of the second one. He is also zipping his trousers up.
He looks shocked when he sees me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“What are you doing here?” He demands too.
I am peering at him and wondering why he is in the female washroom instead of the male.
“You seem drunk,” he mocks and strides to the mirror to wash his hand. I feel hurt by his statement.
“How dare you call me a drunk?” I follow him angrily.
I was drinking so I could forget my sorrow of how Cameron dumped me for a party girl. Drinking isn’t really help me forget, and here I am in a washroom with a man who is calling me a drunk.
The man appears to be taken aback by my shout. He veers around and folds his arms. “Aren’t you drunk?”
“Of course not,” I burp.
He chuckles lightly and turns back to finish washing his hands so he can go out.
“Pervert,” I insult him. “I know you are in here because you want to catch a glimpse of the panties of all the girls that come in here.”
“Will you shut the hell up?” He barks at me in annoyance. His eyes suddenly become red, and I quiver in fear. I am scared of the tone of authority. He glares at me for a while before walking toward me.
He is a few steps away from me when I begin to walk backward, seeing the dangerous look on his face.
When my back hit the wall, I open my eyes wide, with my heart hammering hard. I watch his face; his crystal blue eyes, the long pointed nose, the pink lips, the mustache, and his wavy black hair. He looks handsome and dangerous.
I like men like this, which is why I fell hard for Cameron.
The man’s breath fans my neck, pulling me out of my reverie, and I shudder. He moves his mouth close to my ears and whispers.
“I am a pervert, aren’t I?”
I am becoming sober. I shake my head nervously.
When he didn’t say anything else, I gulp and look up toward the door to see what is written above it. I gasp softly when it dawns on her that I am in the wrong washroom, I am in the male toilet.
“You just called me a pervert, didn’t you?” I shake my head again as my eyes shift back to him.
He straightens his tie and leans back with a satisfied grin on my face. “I can get any woman I want with my charms,” he leans forward to whisper in my ears. “You are inclusive. I know I am handsome, so stop ogling me.”
He walks graciously to the door. Before he can go out, I begin to feel sober, and I stop him.
“I wasn’t staring at you. Besides, you aren’t handsome to me. My boyfriend is way more handsome. You don’t need to feel so confident about getting any girl you want, me exclusive.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the pounding of my heart. I don’t want him to think I find him attractive, he is too confident in his looks, and I hate to admit my emotions to men like him.
“Really?” He smirks.
He saunters back to where I am standing.
“If your boyfriend is more handsome, you won’t be looking at me that way. Besides, what are you doing here all alone and wasted?” He folds his arm in front of me. He seems to be fond of doing that.
“Who told you I am here alone?” I laugh, pretending to be happy.
“If you are with your boyfriend, you won’t be this drunk,” he states.
I fall silent. I don’t know how to reply to him. I am suddenly speechless.
I move away from his view and ask. “Are you a psychologist?” He only smiled.
I turn to go into the toilet to urinate, and I can feel his eyes on me.
I am in the same spot, waiting for her. My imagination is already running wild. I am seeing this as an avenue to get laid, to fulfill one of my fantasies of having sex in the washroom. I also want to prove to the girl that I can indeed get any girl I want, my charms are always at work.
I came to the party with the sole aim of getting laid and relaxing for the night after two whole weeks of working nonstop.
When she comes out of the toilet, she sees me standing in the same position.
She is about to say something when I say.
“How about I kiss you just to prove that you aren’t attracted to me?”
“What?!” She exclaims and scoffs. “Do I look like some cheap slut to you?”
“No. You look decent, but I just want to be sure you aren’t attracted to me as you claimed.”
I can see she lied. She finds me attractive. I know I am the most handsome man she has ever seen in her entire life. But she doesn’t want me to know that.
She has not recovered from the shock of my question when I place my hand on her waist, and the next minute, my lips are on hers.
She gasped as I kissed her softly. Her eyes are wide open in surprise, and I can hear her heart beating twice its normal rate. My eyes are also open because I want to see her expression.
I can sense her thoughts. She can’t believe she is kissing another man just a day after breaking up with her first boyfriend. She feels she is cheating on him.
She has never kissed anyone else but her first boyfriend. Kissing another man who is me feels different. I know all of this from her expression.
I am gentle with her. When I bite her lower lips, she releases a moan and closes her eyes to enjoy the moment, forgetting the fact that she is trying to hide her emotions from the man standing before her.
I close my eyes, too, and trail my hand down her thigh, I raise her left leg. She gasps again.
Still kissing her, I carried her with the left leg to the slab, placing her back to the large mirror. I didn’t stop kissing her as I found my way out of my trousers and shorts.
I guided her out of her dress, too, and stop kissing her.
“Should I go...”
She nods in anticipation, breathing hard.
When I enter her, I know it is time to let go of the past and start getting the sexual desires and fantasies I have been depriving of myself for many years.
The last time I had sex was two years ago.