Boxed Set: Rocked by a Billionaire – Vol. 1-3 (4 page)

“Do you like to walk around, Liz?”

Evidently, he always knew how to take me by surprise. Or could he read my mind?

“Yes, I like Paris during the evening, it's different than the chaos during the day. The people change, the three-piece suits are replaced by lovers enjoying the night. I like that kind of ambiance. The buildings all lit up. The commotion in the restaurants. The queues in front of the theatres. Yes, I like all of that,” I said, turning to face him.

“Me too,” he responded, smiling.

I smiled too, completely relaxed. He seemed so friendly all of a sudden. I was dying to snuggle up into his arms, let him caress my hair, smell the cologne on his neck...Basically, do what all the lovers do. But we weren't lovers, right?

The car skimmed along the sides of the river, then stopped. Sacha opened my door, but this time he didn't press me against the car. He gave me his arm, like a gentleman, and led me to a boat docked on the quay. A boat? I was ready for everything but that. Sacha let me walk in front of him to cross the pontoon. Luckily my sheath dress was slit to mid-thigh, so I could climb over the step at the entrance. A porter or a butler – I'm not sure what to call him – offered me his hand as I put one foot on the luxurious teak deck of the small boat. Sacha joined me, we crossed the bridge and went down into a cabin with four glass walls. There were many tables, but only one was set. White tablecloth, silver cutlery, crystal glasses, there was luxury in every detail of the furnishings. The perfect romantic dinner, dim lights, candles and a bouquet of red roses on the table...Sacha wasn't the kind to take you out to a pizzeria, not by a long shot!

We were served perfectly cooked lobster, a pat of pink veal garnished with truffles and baby vegetables on the side, an incredibly smooth frozen soufflé with strawberries....all with an exceptional Champagne. As we nibbled at our food, the boat sailed down the Seine. I sailed through a fairy-tale land, where Prince Charming had jade eyes and the princess a fiery mane.

After dessert, we went back to the teak deck. It was cool, but I felt warm (maybe it was the Champagne) and refused the jacket my host offered me. We had already passed by many of the most beautiful monuments of Paris (the Louvre, the Grand Palais, the Eiffel Tower) and we were approaching the impressive Notre Dame Cathedral. Sacha insisted that I act as the guide, but I was convinced he already knew Paris almost as well as I did. Nevertheless, as I adored Paris and had a rather good knowledge of its history, I jumped into a passionate diatribe on the darkest moments of the city, sprinkling my narrative with funny anecdotes. I told him about my favourite neighbourhoods, Ile Saint Louis, for example, as well as the overrated areas that I didn't like. I felt Sacha gazing more and more intensely at me, his hand lightly travelling along my back, igniting a wave of chills as it went along. Suddenly, he excused himself and left to talk with the maitre d'. A few minutes later, the boat stopped and we got off. We were right in the middle of Ile Saint Louis.

“Show me your favourite neighbourhood...I want to soak myself in what you love.”

This man was too charming!

He took me by the hand and we climbed down an old stone staircase to reach a tiny alleyway. The neighbourhood was almost deserted and there was very little light. It felt like we were on a film set. We didn't talk. We walked along slowly, completely in the moment, his powerful and warm hand around mine, when it started to rain. At first just drizzling, the drops soon transformed into a huge storm. We started to get soaked and ran to find shelter, which we soon found on a porch. Both out of breath from running, we slid under the sober peristyle. I didn't have the time to catch my breath before he took my face in his two hands. I could barely see his but I felt his lips, just perfect, then his teeth biting my lower then upper lip and finally my entire mouth. And then he pulled away all of a sudden. I was wedged into the corner of the porch, prone to all of his desires. He sprinkled my face with kisses, then my eyes, the forehead, chin, while I tried to kiss every part of him that came near me. Then he pressed up against me with a strength that forced me to step back further into the corner. I felt his erection against my crotch through the fabric of my dress. I could almost feel the heat of his sex, it was so boiling. My heart dropped down into my pussy, where it beat wildly.

His expert fingers slid up the slit of the sheath dress and quickly found their way to my thighs. They didn't linger there but continued moving towards my butt. I instinctively lifted a leg around his waist so that he could cup my butt in his hand. His fingers meddled with the fabric of my knickers, followed the curve of my pelvis, then dived into my intimacy until they found their way into my deep warmth, already lubricated. I tilted my head back, moaning, offering him my neck for his kisses. He brushed my hair back with his other hand, pinched my earlobe between his teeth then brought my head back towards him. I moaned again, his kisses headed towards my mouth. Our tongues met, his finger rubbed my hard and swollen clitoris. His penis, as hard as my clitoris, rubbed against me till it hit my thigh with each thrust of his finger. I was going to whimper, mentally praying for him to take me right there when his finger suddenly left my clitoris and his mouth moved away from my own.

“I really want to fuck you Ms. Liz Lanvin. But not now. Not here.”

He took me by the hand and led me back to the boat

I shivered as we headed back to the boat, but instead of getting on board, the chauffeur-driven car was waiting for us on the quay. How could he have planned everything that way? Sacha gave me his jacket, as it wasn't nearly as soaked as my stole, and this time I accepted it. In the back seat, he pulled me close towards me and gently caressed my hair for the entire trip. This soft gesture contrasted drastically with the sexual vitality that had emanated from him on the porch just a few minutes earlier. I was thrown off guard, but all I wanted was to let this amazing man take me away. When we arrived in one of the chicest squares in Paris and the car stopped in front of a luxurious hotel, I didn't even ask him why he wasn't taking me back to mine. I had absolutely no desire to go back home.

Sacha didn't have a simple hotel room. It was more like a little apartment, with a parlour. For goodness sake, he was even richer than I'd thought he was! Or else very concerned about his comfort. Everything here oozed elegance: the expensive materials, the delicate fabrics and colours, the perfectly chosen lighting fixtures. A basket full of exotic fruit was sitting on the coffee table. On the side, a bottle of Champagne chilled in a silver bucket.

“The bathroom's just over there. Take a shower, you're numb from the cold, you'll find a robe on the bed. I'll give your clothes to the concierge, he'll take care of them.”

I did as he told me to do and went to the other room. A pink and gold robe was laid out for me on the bed, as well as matching slippers. It was like being at a spa! So either he knew I was going to come here, or else he always had a robe on his bed in case he brought somebody back? No, that didn't suit his character. He knew I would come. Everything had been premeditated, anticipated, planned by him. He'd thought about all of the tiniest details. And me, then? Was I really that predictable? Did he think that he already had me eating out of his hand? Hmm, maybe I did eat out of his hand! The desire I felt for him even then, carried everything along with it, my mind included. I got undressed and went into the shower. The boiling hot water slid down my shoulders and then down the small of my back, I lathered up the hotel soap and started to gently wash myself. I went over every part of my body that had been explored by Sacha, trying to recreate the sensations I had felt earlier. I washed my hair, the only way to give it some semblance of order after the rain.

When I got out of the bathroom, wrapped in my robe, I saw that my things had disappeared, including my underwear. I tied the belt of my dressing gown a little tighter and went back to the parlour.

Sacha was sitting in an armchair, also showered and in a robe (there was another bathroom?) He'd lowered the lights and the room was dim. I could almost taste the flavour of his skin on my lips. He'd also poured two glasses of Champagne. He welcomed me with a smile and invited me to sit in the armchair next to him. Before I could even take a sip, he asked:

“Are you a virgin, Liz?”

“No!” I cried, almost horrified (that he dared to ask me that question or that he thought he could deflower me?) “I...I...I haven't had a lot of friends, I mean boyfriends, but...no....I'm not...uh...not...”

“A virgin!” he cut in, laughing. “It's not a big word! How many men have you been with?”

“Um, what's with all the questions, is this an interrogation or what?” I turned purple, deeply hurt. What kind of game was he playing?

“Listen, Liz. I'm not an ordinary man. I like you very much, but I need to know exactly who you are before going further. You'll find out soon enough, if you decide to stay with me, that the type of relationship I'm proposing to you is a little...special. Don't be offended. I don't even know where I'm going...”

What was he babbling on about? Why was he trying to blur the issue?

“Maybe I need to know how many other women you...um...you...have slept with!” I said, in an attempt to challange him.

“You want to know?”

The idea of even just one other woman enjoying his body filled me with jealousy, I changed my mind:

“No!”

“Have you ever given someone a blow job?” he added, obviously intent on continuing his lewd interrogation. “Swallowed cum? Practiced sodomy? Had several partners at once? Used sex toys? Do you orgasm easily?”

It was like he was reeling off a litany. I turned bright crimson, dazed, unable to say a word. Did he think I was a naïve little girl? I was going to prove him wrong. I downed the contents of my glass, got up and stood in front of him, my legs apart. I undid the belt of my robe and let it fall to the ground, then straddled him, swaying back and forth. He offered no resistance and didn't seem surprised by this sudden burst of initiative either, he even put his hands on my butt as a way of showing his compliance. I kissed his eyelids, his lips, the roots of his hair as his hands slid along my back. I licked his clean, sweet skin, I could have washed his entire body with nothing but my tongue. I went down along his neck, kissed his chest and licked his nipples. I felt him relax, start to let go. I licked and kissed everything I came across, his soft skin, his prominent muscles, his torso emanated as much strength as it did gentleness. My hands paved the way for my mouth, travelling lower and lower. I went back up, looked for his mouth, kissed him passionately, then got down on all fours in front of him. I licked his belly, then my tongue, vigorous, drew circles all along his crotch. I grabbed his balls with one hand and squeezed just hard enough to feel him sink into the armchair. My other hand grabbed his sex, already rock hard. I could feel his member swell every time I stimulated it, from top to bottom and then bottom to top. My tongue went on to conquer his rod, rising and falling, titillating the foreskin, then I gulped down the object of my desire. Sacha grabbed my head to control my rhythm, he couldn't stop himself from trying to stay in charge. Entirely devoted to his pleasure and that alone, I was still incredibly excited. My thrusts accelerated until the final explosion, which I took in my mouth. I swallowed without thinking, and without being disgusted either, it was the first time I had ever done that. I stayed on the ground for a few moments until Sacha picked me up, undid my hair and kissed me so sweetly that I felt stronger than ever. I stayed in his arms for a few moments as he caressed my shoulders. He picked me up, looked me right in the eyes and opened his mouth to say something. I beat him to it:

“Have you ever performed fellatio, yes. Swallowed cum, yes.”

“But wait, I still don't know if you orgasm easily!” he concluded, laughing. “I'll let you have until tomorrow to answer the other questions. It's late, go to sleep.”

“But you? You're not going to sleep?”

“Don't worry about me,” he said, gently. “And get some rest, you need to sleep.”

When I opened my eyes the next morning, it took a few seconds for me to realise that I was in a room – a suite, excuse me – of a luxury hotel. I mechanically groped about the empty space next to me: the bed wasn't messy. Sacha obviously hadn't slept there. I checked the time: 8am. I had time, my first class was at 11am. I listened carefully and thought I could hear voices talking on the other side of the door. He was on the phone. Probably already hard at work. I stretched out and decided the first thing to do given these circumstances was to brush my teeth and take a shower! I slid out of bed. I had fallen asleep naked, a first for me, because I didn't have pyjamas, and I had to admit it was really nice to feel the sheets against my skin. That evening was full of first times!

I found everything a woman without any baggage, such as myself, would need in the bathroom: toothpaste and a miniature toothbrush, different bottles of soaps and lotions, cotton pads, nail file, and the like. I looked through all of these beauty accessories while vigorously brushing my teeth and found a shower cap! I couldn't stop from giggling – a shower cap, it was so old-fashioned! Who wore shower caps these days? At the same time, I didn't have a hairband to pull my hair back and my mane wouldn't do well with a second shampooing in less than 12 hours. Finally I decided to use it. It didn't matter, nobody would see me! I put it on and slipped into the giant Italian-style shower. The water immediately flowed out at just the right temperature from a huge shower head in the middle of the ceiling. I started to sing!

Strangers in the night,

Exchanging glances

Wondering in the night,

What were the chances

We'd be sharing love

Before the night was through

Was it Sacha who made me think of Sinatra? Or the shower cap that made me feel like I was having a 'back to the future' moment, circa 1960? I would've liked to be a movie star, adored, idolized by her fans...no, just one of her fans. I would've wanted Sacha to kiss my feet, my hands, admire me and waltz around the dance floor with me. Were we strangers? Yes and no. Was there love between us? I really had no idea how to answer that one.