Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (8 page)

“Yes,” I tell her, wanting to believe it myself. “Yes, I trust him.”

Chapter 9

Tom Petty was wrong. The waiting isn’t the hardest part—the boredom is. I spend my time hanging around my apartment waiting for something to do. Half the time, I feel like Mark is stringing me along and I want to run out and do something, anything, to get my magazine back. Then I remember what happened the last time I went running out with a head full of steam. The other half of the time I find myself reflecting on the different ways Mark has used my body, and reliving the pleasure of it all. At all times, I’m waiting for the phone to ring. But when it finally does, I almost miss it.

After carrying my silent electronic leash around with me all day, the one time I set my phone on the table and go to the bathroom, it rings. Panicked, I nearly fall off the toilet seat, and end up jogging to the phone with my pants around my ankles and my underpants at my knees. Standing in the kitchen, I find it an appropriate way to look when I realize it’s Mark on the line.

“Come to me,” he says, his voice causing my clit to swell and tingle.

“Excuse me? Mark? What did you just say?” I ask just to be sure I’m not hallucinating this whole event. I hear his heavy sigh, and realize that’s the sound he makes when I disappoint him.

“When I want you, I will tell you to come,” he explains slowly. “But, we’ll have to work on that. In the meantime, I need you to come to my apartment. I haven’t found anything definitive on Blake yet, but I have some promising leads, I think.”

“Really? What? Did he fire me without cause? Did he take out a loan on the magazine’s assets without approval? Tell me!” I’m so excited to hear there may be a weak link in Blake’s carefully planned coup.

“Not on the phone, Julia,” Mark replies in a tone meant to show me exactly how dumb I can be sometimes. “Come to me.”

“What’s the address?” I ask, realizing I have no idea exactly where his building is and only a vague memory of how I got there the first time.

“You were here before,” he responds with another sigh. “255 West 94th Street, 27th Floor. Don’t park here. Blake doesn’t live in the city, but Kenneth is only a few blocks away and Valerie lives in Central Park West. Park at the public on 96th and Broadway. Walk over to my building, go to the service elevator and tell the bellhop your name is Lucy Conway. He will send you to me.”

The words Blake used still sting me and I find myself rebelling against his directions and fake name, “Lucy Conway? Who’s she? Your current company whore?”

Mark kept the edge in his voice to let me know he was displeased, but answered patiently and clearly. “No, we don’t have one of those. Lucy Conway was my former cleaning lady who quit when she got married several years ago. I never took her name off my visitor list, so you can use it without raising suspicion.”

“Oh, so I’m coming over to clean your apartment?” I snap, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mark replies giving me a deep-voiced chuckle that sends chills up my spine. “You’re going to do so much more than that.”

His plan works perfectly. The bellman doesn’t even look twice at me. He just checks his list, puts me in the elevator and sends me up. My hands shake with anticipation of seeing Mark again and hopefully getting another look at his beautiful place. I am so excited I nearly fall out of the elevator when the doors open.

“Easy now, Lucy,” Mark says with a smile. His earlier edge seems to have been replaced with confident cheer. Some light jazz is playing in the background and he hands me a wine glass full of something white. I don’t bother to ask what it is—I just take it and drink. That makes him smile and nod. “Everything okay getting here?”

“Yes. I was worried I was overdressed. You know—for a poor housemaid.”

“Clearly.” Mark laughs. “You’ve never had to pay for a cleaning service. There’s nothing poor about it!”

“So, what is there to tell me?” I’m so ready to hear good news. All the way over I tried to imagine what Mark was going to say and prepared for it to give me a good night’s sleep for a change.

“I do have something important to tell you. It’s something that has the potential to give you back your magazine or cost me my company. It’s not a game, and it’s not something we can handle without discipline and planning. So if I’m going to tell you, you cannot go start World War Three in our employee lounge. If I tell you, I need to trust you. And, to trust you—I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Mark,” I say, looking directly in his eyes. “I made some mistakes and I’m sorry but I do trust you.”

Mark looks at me for a second, as if he is trying to read my thoughts. He smiles politely, stands up and looks me over from top to bottom.

“You were right before,” he says, holding his hand out to me.

“Before?”

“You are clearly overdressed.” He takes my hand and walks me out of the living room into a spare bedroom. It’s nice with fancy bed-coverings, beautiful headboard, and lovely armoire. Beautiful, but clearly not his bedroom. “Take off all your clothes, fold them neatly, and place them in the chair. Sit on the edge of this bed and I’ll be back in a moment.”

“What are we doing?” I ask hesitantly. What could he possibly have to tell me that requires nudity?

“Trusting,” he replies with a smile and takes our empty glasses out of the room. After he leaves, I disrobe in a hurry and follow his instructions to the letter.

Butterflies fill my stomach as I sit here. However, unlike the unpleasant nervousness of the unknown, this feeling is something I can only describe as delicious. Excitement combined with fear and the desire to please him all combine to create an energy that is irresistible.

As Mark walks into the room, his easy smile lets me know I’ve pleased him. At least so far.

“Good, good girl,” he soothes as he reaches out running his finger down my cheek and then kisses me deeply. I thrill at the touch of his lips on mine. He reaches to his back pocket and pulls out a long, thick silk scarf. Getting very close to my face, Mark looks me in the eye.

“I want you to focus on my smile,” he says as he begins unfolding the long scarf and twisting it between his hands. “It will be the last thing that you see, for a while. Remember it.”

My heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m going to pass out. I look at his gorgeous face reassuring me that everything will be alright. I smile back, wanting his lips against mine again. Then the world goes black as he places the scarf across my eyes. It’s thick enough to keep all light out and it offers not even a corner for me to cheat with. I keep focusing on his smile and the feeling of his closeness to my body.

I feel the rough tip of his finger slide down my cheek, pausing over my nipple and circling it, sending an electric current straight to my brain and lower regions. His hands guide me back until I’m reclining against the headboard propped up by pillows. I feel his weight shift as he gets off the bed.

“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Mark whispers. I obey. His absence from the room gives me a few moments to reflect on this sensation. Not the sensation of being blindfolded, but the sensation of submission. I’ve been the strong one all my life and Dad always taught me the value of self reliance. Yet, giving myself to him in these moments of intimate trust is a feeling unlike anything the pride of standing on my own could produce.

I hear a bowl clink on the bedside table and some other sounds, but can’t make them out. Surely he must know of my excitement, I feel the goose bumps on my arms rising. His large hand holds my chin up and the air is filling with the smell of a cut orange. Sweet and ripe, my mouth waters for the taste of it. I open up instinctively and he squeezes some juice for me to taste. He leans into my ear again. My eyes blind, the energy of his presence is overwhelming.

“You know how you wanted that orange? Mouth open begging for the taste of it? That’s how you should receive my kiss, open and ready for it.”

I nod, feeling the desire for him to be in me growing stronger, my wetness building and my mouth feeling empty without something in it. Then as he shifts again I hear the bowl clink and the sound of his teeth biting something with a distinct crunch. He waves the object under my nose and my eyes begin to water at the bitter acrid smell.

“Habanero pepper,” he says. I keep remembering his smile and focusing on that, praying he doesn’t expect me to take that into my mouth. I never could handle the hot stuff. But he doesn’t. His finger traces its way down my nipple again, still erect from his former touch. He circles it once, and then rubs the pepper around my areola in circles. The heat of the pepper creates a fast and stinging sensation. By the time he is coating my other nipple in the juice of the pepper I am squirming desperately.

I whimper and begin to fidget as the burn increases. My inclination is to pull off the blindfold, push him away and get water, milk, honey, anything to take the rising burn off my chest. But I don’t. I sit on my hands to keep them from moving. I swallow deeply, the pain increasing with the heat.

I hear a glass chime against the dresser then feel an amazing cooling sensation as Mark leans over taking my nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with something cold he took in. Maybe water? Or is it milk? The soothing liquid combined with the sensation of his rough tongue on my raw nipples elates me. I start twitching and trying to get him to notice the other nipple is still on fire. Again, he takes a drink and washes my breast in kisses and tongue laps at my nipples, coating in something soothing. When the pain is gone and I’m breathing normally, he whispers to me once more.

“Feel that heat? That’s the way I want you to feel when I touch you.”

His hand travels down, toying with my belly button then rubbing the top of my mound. The fear of the pepper inside me terrifies me but I have to trust he will not harm me. His touch is comforting and yet inciting me to ache and tingle for him all the more. I move my hips slightly, praying he doesn’t consider me to be violating his instruction. It’s a risk. I don’t want to do anything to stop this feeling.

He leans down, his tongue sliding across the top of my vaginal lips. The sensation charges my entire being with desire. Although the pepper juice has been neutralized, the burning need of my breasts continues. I want to move my arms so badly—to reach out and embrace him as his tongue dodges in and out of my pussy, teasing and drowning me in my own juices. He pulls away and I want to scream. But I don’t. I don’t move at all. I must obey.

I sigh loudly enough for him to hear my longing for his body. His hand rubs my mound, spreading my legs wider. I feel his finger dive in for a moment and then withdraw, leaving me achingly empty. I start to move back and forth, seeking out his finger. Soon I am out of control, humping his hand with tears of need and frustration soaking the blindfold.

I push my hips against the dry air, biting my lip and gasping. The longer my pussy is empty the greater my need grows. I hear a plastic cap open, and then his fingers, coated in some heavenly oil or lube or something, slide into me, filling my need completely. I slam my body down on his hand over and over trying to ease the need created inside me. It’s only after some time that I realize I’ve been humping Mark’s hand like a mad woman. I blush under my blindfold.

“Feel that need? That’s the way your pussy should need my cock,” he says his voice strained with passion of his own.

“It does,” I gasp. Realizing I spoke out of turn, I am terrified he will withdraw from me for doing it. I feel the pressure of his hand, his fingers still wet from my juices pushing me all the way down on my back, as he pulls on my legs, adjusting me perfectly in place. I breathe deeply, in part due to the effort I put into indulging my relief on his fingers, and in part due to the thrill of the promise of him inside me.

I feel his cock hovering over my lower lips as he suspends himself on strong arms. It moves over me back and forth, barely parting me. I keep lifting myself up to him, wanting him, inviting him, needing him until new tears fall beneath the eye covering.

After what seems like an eternity of his teasing, he enters me. The darkness only heightens the pleasure. Not being able to see him, or know what’s coming next, existing on feelings alone—all of this is amplified by my loss of vision. The head of his shaft sits in my opening almost hesitantly, then without warning he pushes all the way into me, spearing me.

“Oh!” I gasp then bite my lower lip. The fast entry is followed by equally fast and hard thrusts, rocking me and pushing my body forward. I reach out slowly with my hands, waiting to see if his voice will command me to stop. It doesn’t, and I wrap my arms around his ass, pulling him as deep as I can, wanting him farther and farther in me. But instead of following my grasping, Mark changes pace, slowing down and moving in long strokes.

A master of control, he changes everything right as I am building to an unforgettable climax and keeps me hovering in frustrated glee at the top of that clinching feeling. A sharp pain shoots through my breast and I realized he has leaned over and taken my nipple in his mouth, sucking fast and hard, sending me into a bucking frenzy underneath him. I pump my hips faster and faster on his cock trying to increase his speed. Finally, as I am about to break, he releases my nipple and pushes me hard against the bed.

Jamming his shaft back into my pussy at full speed, he rams me, harder and harder until I am nothing but a receptacle of his power. I can’t hold on any longer. Letting go of his amazing body, I grip the bed spread and buck wildly underneath him. As I am riding the waves of pleasure, I hear him growl like a wild wolf finishing his prey and his cum releases into my raw swollen channel.

He collapses beside me and starts laughing loudly. Cradling my head against his chest he covers my face with soft kisses. Gently, he removes the blindfold and looks into my eyes; evidence of my tears still fill the corners.

“Mark,” I start to say something but I’m too weak, too spent to do anything but nestle on him and feel the reassuring warmth of his body.