The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (13 page)

Flirting, admiring
me, playful banter.  I drank it all in, absolutely adored it, and yet I knew it
made him uncomfortable(and for good reason).  "Right," I said,
laughing, rolling my eyes.  "There is no way I look anything like Amanda
Seyfried."

"Maybe not,
but I think so," he said.  He changed the subject.  "How was the
pizza?  Alright?"

"Phenomenal!"
I said.  "I really liked it."

The credits of
the movie finished and Asher clicked some buttons on the remote to switch the
projector off.  We sat there, talking, telling each other a million little
things about ourselves.  What did I like to do when I had a day off?  Where did
he like to go, what was his favorite place in the city?  What did I think of
the restaurant the other day?  What kind of music did he like to listen to? 
Did I like coffee?  He knew a great, quiet coffee shop in a quaint town
nearby.  Maybe we could go there sometime; they had local author readings,
poetry, and trivia events.

Evening settled
into dusk, which turned into night.  The tinted windows looked pitch black, the
darkness outside wearing away their usefulness.  Asher had dimmed the lights
when he started the movie(another one of his secret switches), and his guest
home transformed into a quiet, relaxing place.  It was almost as if it were anywhere
else, as if we weren't sitting on a couch at his multi-million dollar estate
and instead were somewhere far off and regular.

We dozed,
talking, but responding less and less often.  I leaned against him, my eyes
closed, never wanting this night to end but knowing I'd fall asleep soon.  And,
without warning, it happened.

I awoke in the
dead of night.  Asher must have stayed awake longer than me, since the lights
were dimmed even lower now, almost non-existent.  I could see enough of the
living room to notice he'd covered us with blankets and changed into a
sweatshirt and pajama pants.  On the coffee table, folded and in a pile, he'd
left me a pair of nightclothes, too.  I stretched, gently pushed the blankets
off of me, and stood up.  I needed to use the bathroom, so I figured I'd change
into the pajamas while I was at it.

They must be his
wife's, but they fit me pretty well.  Or, had he bought them for me
specifically?  I couldn't imagine anyone ordering a pair of pajamas for
delivery in the middle of the night, but then again I never could have imagined
spending the night with someone like Asher Landseer before now, either.  I
thought about that, wondering, as I made my way back to the living room and the
blankets.  I suppose I could have went upstairs to one of the beds, but I liked
the idea of sleeping with Asher.  Just close, right?  Nothing more than that,
nothing more than what we'd already done.

I slipped under
the blankets, careful not to disturb him, and eased towards him again.  He lay
on his back on the couch, but the seat cushions were big enough that if I
wanted to I could inch up and lay next to him.  A tight fit if I did that, but
not too bad.  Or, at least, I wouldn't fall off the couch unless we both moved
around a lot in our sleep.

I didn't go that
far, but I leaned against his feet, resting my upper body against the back of
the couch.  My arm fidgeted, pulling the blankets over me.  In the dark, I
couldn't see much, and my hand moved beneath the blankets, trying to figure out
where one of them stopped and the other began.  It wasn't that easy, though. 
While we slept, our blankets must have gotten mixed up a bit.  I had a part of
his and he had a part of mine and...

My hand brushed
against his thigh accidentally.  Upwards, I pulled at his pajamas bottoms,
thinking they were a part of the blanket.  Nothing happened, so I pulled a
little more, but was careful in case I woke him.  When I realized what I had a
hold of, which was definitely not the blankets, I blushed.  Whoops!  And then,
when I realized there was something else beneath my hand, I blushed even more.

A fact of life,
I knew, and nothing he could control in his sleep, but Asher was hard and ready
beneath the blankets.  The side of my hand pressed against his crotch and his
manhood when I'd tried to pull the blankets(or his pants) away.  He must have
felt it, would wake up and look at me and... but no, he remained asleep.  I
pulled my hand away then, brought it above the blankets and put it in my lap. 
Bad hand, I thought to it.  Don't do bad things like that.

Asher continued
to lay there, oblivious.  On his back, with his legs spread slightly, blanket
covering most of his body.  The side of my thigh touched against the soles of
his feet.  I should go to sleep, I told myself.  Yes, definitely, except I
suddenly didn't want to.  I suddenly wanted to do something that I knew I
should definitely not do.

Bad, awful
thoughts.  What happened if Asher woke up?  Well, he'd be upset, obviously.  If
I did this, then there was no knowing what he'd do in return.  We'd made
amends, somewhat, and while it involved him bringing me to a rough climax with
his mouth and his hands, he'd made it relatively clear that the act was not to
be reciprocated.  Except, why not?

The more I
thought about it, the more I convinced myself that I should.  Because, really,
if he brought me to orgasm, then he deserved the same, right?  It made sense,
strictly speaking.  Besides the fact that I absolutely relished the idea, and
wanted to do it without a doubt, it had a certain amount of sound logic backing
it.  An eye for an eye, an orgasm for an orgasm?  It was just the right thing
to do.

I carefully
moved aside the blankets.  Not entirely, but enough that I could see where I
was going.  Sneaking across the couch, creeping carefully, I settled in between
Asher's legs.  He remained sleeping the entire time, calm, shallow breathing. 
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at what I had to work with.

Asher was erect,
that much was obvious.  And, to my good fortune, he wore a typical style of
men's pajama pants.  A single button in the center of a loose, slitted opening
in the middle of the pajama pants crotch area gave me all the access I needed
to fulfill my task.  A task, I told myself, over and over.  I shouldn't enjoy
it, because it was something I should do.  Like work, a job.

Except,
honestly?  No, I would enjoy this very much.

I stretched a
finger out, prodding at the button.  With barely any effort, it came loose.  I
slowly put my hand into his pants and pulled out his throbbing shaft, setting
it free from its pajama prison.  Asher's cock greeted me with a hearty hello,
looking happy to see me.  I grinned at the image of that.

Still, I didn't
have a lot of room with how things were currently set up.  I shifted to the
side, trying to ease him into widening his legs a little more.  Careful, inch
by inch, I managed to give myself more room without waking him up.  The cool
air in the room, quite different from the warmth of his core and his pajamas,
seemed to harden his shaft's resolve.  I stared at it, watching it flex and
twitch inadvertently as Asher slept, blissfully unaware.

Careful, barely
anything at all, I touched the sides of his cock.  Immediately it twitched
between my fingers, stretching upwards.  I held it in my hand, feeling the
wicked warmth of him, delighting in it.  He felt radiant, like a blazing
furnace in the middle of winter.  I got a more firm grip on his shaft, holding
it in place so that when he twitched I didn't risk losing him.  My hand stroked
him downwards, towards his pajama pants and the center of his body, then ever
so slowly upwards, to the head of his cock.

This was not
enough, though.  Not nearly enough.  I squeezed closer still, until my head was
just above his crotch.  I admired his manhood as I stroked it, taking in every
twitch and strain.  Whenever he flexed his cock while he slept, I could see the
veins pushing out.  I squeezed them beneath my fingers, stroking him up and
down, slow so as not to wake him.

I lowered my
head and opened my mouth, engulfing his cockhead between my lips.  Immediately
he tensed and I thought this was it.  He was going to wake up, realize what was
going on, and I'd be in horrible trouble.  He'd kick me out of his guest home,
throw me out onto the streets, and who knew what.  Except, no, he tensed, but
nothing more.  His breathing remained calm, though a bit more ragged than
before, not as shallow.

I stroked
downwards and lowered my head at the same time, taking more of him into my
mouth.  He tasted  a little sweet, with a hint of salt, but not too much.  It
was nice and I liked it.  Somewhat like a chocolate covered pretzel, salty and
sweet.  That was the best way I could think to explain it, at least.

My head bobbed
up and down and I took a risk and went a little faster.  From my vantage point
I could see his testicles tightening in his pants.  My free hand snuck into the
unbuttoned slit in the crotch of his pajamas and gently squeezed his balls
between my fingers.  I rolled them around, stroked him, pressed my lips tightly
around his shaft and moved my head up and down.

I heard a
whisper.  "Jessika..."

I froze mid
stroke, lips wrapped around his cock and my hand holding his balls.  Nothing
more, though, just the quiet whisper.  He lay there, unmoving, and I realized
he must be dreaming.  Still asleep, relaxed, but dreaming and faintly
whispering my name.  Did he dream of me?  The idea excited me.

I returned to
what I was doing, focusing on him entirely.  He tensed and flexed in my grip
while his legs twitched slightly every so often.  I thought he would surely
wake up, but I didn't care.  I would do this thing, finish it off, and then act
as if nothing had happened.  There were sleep walkers, right?  Maybe this is
what I did in my sleep.  It was a medical problem, I would tell him.  He
couldn't hold it against me if I said that, right?

He was close.  I
could feel it, feel his balls tightening and moving closer to the center of his
body.  His cock tightened even more.  His heartbeat pounded through his stiff
rod, radiating bright heat.  I grew sloppy in my haste.  I stroked him quicker,
trying to urge him towards climax, but still careful so that I didn't wake
him.  This was, I reaffirmed, a terrible idea, but a necessity, too.  I needed
this so badly, and by the looks of it, Asher did, also.

Asher's cock
jerked in my hand and in my mouth and in a matter of seconds he came.  Strong,
urgent jets of cum splashed against the back of my throat.  Over and over,
nearly nonstop, and he didn't seem like he was going to soften any time soon. 
I continued to stroke him.  He squirmed on the couch, clearly feeling it, but
still in some lucid state of dreaming.

Once he finished
his climax, I realized I hadn't quite prepared for this.  What exactly was I
supposed to do now?  Stop, of course, and ease his softening cock back into his
pants and redo the button, but then what?  What did I do with the cum in my
mouth?  I'd never swallowed before, and I hadn't even given many men a blowjob
either, but I didn't have much choice now, did I?  I could get up, hope I
didn't wake him, and spit it out, or swallow it and lay here like nothing ever
happened.

I decided to
swallow.  Asher was moving around now, somewhat restless, and I thought if I
got up he'd realize his dream was a little more than that and he would do
something.  My random idea that I could play it off as part of a sleeping issue
now seemed ridiculous and absurd.  Who would ever believe that?  Did I really
think I could fool anyone with that line?  Especially someone like Asher Landseer?

No, probably
not, so I swallowed his seed and fixed his pants and scooted up so I lay right
next to him.  Quiet, nervous, I lay there and waited to see if he would wake
up.  A minute passed, and another.  Maybe more, maybe an hour, but I continued
to lay there, thinking I'd give myself away at any moment and he'd punish
me(and not in a good way).

He never did,
though.  He moved, yes, but only to wrap his arm around me in his sleep.  No
conscious effort to it, I thought, just something he did.  I nestled against
his chest, smelling him.  He smelled faintly of citrus, like a glass of water
with a wedge of lemon, and a hint of baby powder.  Closing my eyes, I took in
his scent, finding it relaxing.  His strong arm held me tight.  I put my own
arm across his stomach and closed my eyes.

When I woke up
in the morning, Asher was staring at me.  He had this strange, curious look in
his eyes like he didn't know what to do with me.  I lay there, contented, with
his arm wrapped around me and my arm draped over his chest.  I yawned and
blinked and rubbed my eyes and then I realized where I was and what exactly I
was doing.

I startled and
went straight to apologizing.

"Oh,"
I said.  "I'm so sorry.  Um.  It was cold last night and I was tired and a
little out of it, so..."

He gave me a
lazy smile, scrunching his eyes, scrutinizing me.  I don't think he believed a
word I said.  "It's alright.  Did you get up to get a snack?" he
asked.

"Huh?  No. 
Why?"

"You've got
something... right... there."  He tapped his finger just below my lower
lip and wiped it to the side.

I blushed, in a
panic.  My God!  Really now?  Not only was this embarrassing, but it was... it
was...

"If you
were hungry, it's fine," he said.  "I don't mind.  Maybe it was sleep
eating?  I've heard of that before."  His tone of voice was completely
unconvinced that this was a real thing, but I appreciated him favoring me.

"Yes,
that's it."  I scrambled away from him.  Falling off the couch, catching
myself on the floor and getting to my knees, I crawled away from him and to
somewhere relatively more safe.  Relative safety being anywhere that I could
calm down and pretend he hadn't spotted some remnants of my illicit midnight
escapades.