Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I?
"I'm not going to argue with that," Alana says, her eyes not leaving mine. "But of course, we're not all the exact same carbon copies of each other," she adds.
A derisive laugh escapes me before I can stop myself. "I can't imagine how anyone could possibly be a moral or ethical person as a billionaire."
Watching my date stand abruptly and toss cash onto the table leaves me feeling both ashamed of my behavior and relieved that this is over.
Alana then spits out, "I didn't realize Mair set me up with such a pompous ass."
She storms off towards the exit, pauses, then stomps back to the table. I can't help but notice how she still looks incredibly stunning even with an angry fire behind her eyes.
"Oh, and I hope you enjoy the new literature wing that you've been going on and on about all evening because it's my awful money paying for it," Alana hisses before sweeping off through the restaurant, leaving my sight.
I stare at my plate of food, actually dumbfounded about what just transpired. I could spend the rest of the night listing ways billionaires have ruined this country, and Alana is part of that. But gnawing at the back of my head is the fact that she's the one who is paying for the magnificent wing for my students.
I'm sure all of that must cost a pretty penny.
An angry cloud follows me back up Ravenhart Mountain. When I walk inside my cozy cabin, I kick off my boots, grab my laptop and slump into the recliner. I do an internet search for Alana Fairchild, and my results are filled with her philanthropic work. Not a single negative story pops up. In fact, all I see is that ever since her father passed away, she has really gone gung-ho with giving her wealth out to as many charities and organizations as possible.
Resting my head against the recliner, I release a long breath.
"Shit," I mutter.
Closing the laptop, I stand and head to the bathroom. My body is tense after that encounter with Alana, and I need to relax. After washing up under the hot water, I squirt some body-wash into my hand and begin to stroke my length. What I need is a release to help this tension dissolve. My initial fantasy of my favorite curvy redheaded actress morphs quickly into picturing the voluptuous billionaire with dark eyes.
She had worn a form-fitting purple dress tonight, and I can't stop from fantasizing about her getting up from the dinner table at Mare Pacificum, walking over to straddle me, and lifting the hem to reveal she's not wearing anything underneath. My strokes quicken as I imagine her taking out my ready cock from my pants and helping it slide into her as she rides me right there in the restaurant. I rip open her dress bodice, revealing a lacy bra and her ample cleavage that I bury my face into.
Stroking even faster with my thumb against the head, I picture tearing off her bra and consuming each nipple in my hungry mouth as she moans out in the crowded restaurant, riding me with wild abandon. Picturing Alana coming on my cock, yelling out my name, my entire body explodes under the shower stream, and my climax crashes through me, melting away my stress and tension.
I remain in the shower for several more minutes, with my heart rate slowly recovering, and disappointment over how I handled my date weighing on my mind.
During our last September staff meeting, Dean Atwater announces he has five tickets for the masquerade ball atRavenhart Mountain Perch Lodge and Hearth in a few weeks. It's a fundraiser for the school, and Murphy and Mair usually buy tickets for some of the staff to attend. This time they have an odd number instead of their usual even amount.
Leonardo grabs a pair for him and Dana, plus Destry, one of the math professors, grabs one for him and his wife. Murphy looks over at me and says, "Here, you take the last one."
"The solo ticket?" I ask, horror dripping through my veins.
"Yes, it'll be fun," Leonardo pipes in.
"Yeah, right."
"Grump," he quips, handing me the ticket and walking away before I can argue any further.
5
Alana
My campus walk-through with Mair ends near her husband's office.
"Okay. Let's put a pin in the literature wing subject," she says, turning to me.
"What now?" I ask, knowing perfectly well she's about to bring up Lorne Morrison again. She's been pushing me to give him another chance ever since that disastrous blind date.
"Look, I know I keep bringing this up, but please consider giving Lorne another shot. He's definitely the gruff mountain man type, but I promise there's a softer side underneath all that."
"No," I say, unable to swallow my laugh. "I'm sorry, but it's not a good match, Mair. He thinks I'm the scum of the Earth."
"He doesn't think you're the scum of the Earth!"
