The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (25 page)

As I was coming
down, indulging in the afterglow, Asher's cock still tucked neatly inside me,
someone knocked on the door.

"Asher?"
a woman asked.  "Are you in there?"

Beatrice.  His
wife.

"Shit,"
he said.  Pulling away from me, he bent down and wrenched his pants up.  His
fingers, seemingly ungainly and thick all of a sudden, barely managed to button
his pants and buckle his belt before Beatrice knocked again.

"Hello? 
I'm coming in."

Beatrice tried
to turn the handle, but the door was locked.  I breathed a sigh of relief,
thankful for the doctor's office doors; they locked automatically whenever
anyone closed them fully, to prevent inopportune entrances during potentially
awkward examinations.  Asher and I might have benefited from this in a less
legitimate way, but it worked out nonetheless.

I hopped up and
grabbed a handful of paper towels from above a hand washing sink and rubbed
them against the fabric of my panties trying to scrub away Asher's seed.

"Sorry,
Beatrice," Asher said.  "These doors lock on their own.  Jessika and
I were just discussing the procedure.  Hold on, let me figure this door
out."

"It's just
a lock," she said.  "How hard can it be?  Let me in."

He looked at me,
his expression full of panic.  I shrugged and flailed my hands to the side, a
sort of "I don't know!" gesture.  Somewhat satisfied with my progress
in cleaning up our mess, I threw the paper towels into a trash basket, fixed my
panties and skirt, and jumped back onto the cushioned table.

"The locks
can be tricky sometimes," I said, overly loud and nervous.  I said it for
Asher's benefit, but as soon as I did I felt like it sounded like something a
bad actor might say.

Asher toyed with
the door handle and the lock.  Confused, he looked at me and whispered, "I
really don't know how to open this.  Help?"

Oh God, oh God,
this was getting worse by the minute.  I rushed over to the door and stared at
the handle.  Asher pulled on it and poked something.  The door handle had a
switch and a button, but neither of them looked ready to do anything but stay
in place.

"Is
everything alright?" our doctor asked from far away down the hall.

"The door
is stuck," Beatrice said.  "What kind of shoddy facility is
this?"

If the doctor
was annoyed, she didn't sound it.  "It's a security measure," she
said.

"Do you
think my husband is going to steal from you?  He makes more in a day than
everyone in this office combined makes in a year."

The doctor
ignored her.  "If you'll allow me, I can unlock the door with this key. 
It's not that we don't trust anyone, but it's the type of door we have.  I told
your husband and Jessika to page me through the in-room intercom system when
they were ready.  There's no need to worry, Mrs. Landseer."

"Hurry,"
Beatrice said.  "Right now."

The doctor put
the key into the keyhole and the button on our side of the door popped out.  A
twist of the handle later and the door opened.  A very angry looking Beatrice
and a slightly irritated looking doctor stood on the other side.

"Well,"
Beatrice said, stomping inside.  "That's a first.  No one has ever
mistaken me for a thief before.  I'm quite surprised to say the least."

I wanted to say
something, primarily to correct her and mention that no one had mistaken her
for a thief, but I suppressed my urge.  This was probably a good time to let
Beatrice think whatever she wanted, because it saved Asher and I the need to
explain anything.  Because, really, I didn't even know how to begin to explain
any of it.

Beatrice sniffed
at the air, wrinkling her nose.  The smell of sex was extremely obvious to me,
and I knew at that moment that she'd figure it out.  Everything, all at once,
no more hiding, and...

"I despise
the smell of hospitals," she said.  "Even here.  Ugh.  It has a
distinct stale smell.  Far too crisp and pervasive, like someone's gone through
the entire room with four different kinds of disinfectant spray."

"You're
welcome to wait in the waiting room, Mrs. Landseer," the doctor said with
a smile.

"I'll
pass."  Beatrice put her nose up at the very thought.  "I would
rather not wait with the huddled masses."

Huddled masses? 
I thought maybe she was being a bit over the top with that one, or maybe it was
a joke?  But, no, Beatrice looked completely serious.  In fact, after she said
it, I could've sworn she peered at me out of the corner of her eye.  Then she
looked away—if she'd even looked at me in the first place—and settled into
one of the chairs in the room.

"I think
Jessika and I went over most concerns we might have with the procedure and the
consent papers," Asher said.  "Is there another room where Beatrice
and I can talk while you do the examination, or...?"

The doctor put
on a saccharine sweet smile and shook her head.  Clearly she didn't want to put
up with this.  "Oh, no, you two stay here.  I can take Ms. Fevrier to
another room.  I'll have someone clear out the huddled masses beforehand, so
don't you worry."

With that, the
doctor stepped into the hallway and beckoned for me to follow.  Asher refrained
from laughing, but Beatrice looked completely astounded.

"Did she
really just say that?" Beatrice asked Asher as I walked out of the room
and followed the doctor.  "What kind of place is this, Asher?  I don't
think we should be consorting with these types of people.  They seem
unsafe."

I stifled a
laugh.  "I'm sorry about that," I said.  "I think she's always
like that.  It's probably nothing personal."

"Oh, I'm
sure she is," the doctor said.  "I don't really care.  I don't have
to deal with her."

Asher was,
perhaps, the luckiest man in the world.  Or the unluckiest, depending on how
someone saw it.

Why had he done
what he did with Jessika?  And, especially, why had he done it in the patient
room at the in vitro center?  Impulse, probably, pure and animalistic.  My God,
those panties!  He didn't want to come across as crude, but a woman like
Jessika in panties like that could make even a steadfast priest rescind his
vows.  The lace and frills, a cute and tantalizing facade for the sexiness
beneath.  He was, perhaps, a complete sucker for the illusion of innocence. 
Jessika was anything but that, though.

Or, more
precisely, she was innocent, but not in a usual way.  She was curious and
insightful and interesting.  He loved that about her.  She didn't just want to
know, she needed to know.  And he was fairly certain that she'd done all of
that on purpose.  That didn't forgive him for what he did, but he accepted it
for what it was.  She wanted to know what happened if she tempted him?  Well,
for any other person he could resist temptation, but there was something about
Jessika that ruined his resolve.

It hurt,
though.  Afterwards, talking with Beatrice in the patient room, he felt a
distinct pang of regret.  And arousal.  Just a few minutes earlier he'd taken
Jessika upon the very table on which he now sat.  His imagination created
evidence out of nothing, concocting an obvious wet spot on the table and
convincing him that Beatrice was spending far too much time staring at the
trash can.  He didn't actually think she looked at the trash can more than
once, and only with vague disinterest, but...

"Asher,"
Beatrice said.  "I really think we should find another doctor.  I don't
think this place has the right amount of prestige for our liking."

He sighed. 
"There's no place better.  Doctor Fairheart is one of the best, too.  She
has a very high success rate with this and she knows what she's doing.  I did
my research and she answered my questions satisfactorily when I spoke with her
on the phone the other day.  It was just a fluke with the lock.  It's nothing
to worry about."

"But her
tone
,"
Beatrice said.  "She's so... so... uncouth!"

Asher laughed. 
"I'm sure you'd like her if you got to know her.  Shall I invite her to
dinner?  That might be nice, don't you think?  Jeremy can join us, and Jessika,
of course."

"Ugh. 
Please don't even joke about that.  The next thing you're going to suggest is
we all gather in the living room and watch a movie together while eating
pizza."

"That would
be nice," Asher said, thinking back to when he'd done that exact thing
with Jessika just a few nights past.

"Why can't
you be serious?" Beatrice asked.  She furrowed her brow and glared at
him.  "Maybe I'm overexaggerating a tiny bit, but I still don't know if we
can trust her.  I just wish you'd be more serious, though.  This is a very
serious procedure and a life-changing event.  Do you want to have some child
with severe deformities?  I don't know about you, but I couldn't handle it.  I
just couldn't."

With the
doctor's visit behind me, and Beatrice apparently calmed down enough to have a
normal conversation, the rest of the day passed uneventfully.  I went back with
Jeremy to Asher's guest house.  Beatrice and Asher went to the main house,
presumably to talk or something.  How should I know?  I was glad to be away
from her, since it gave me time to think and it made me less nervous.

"So, sounds
like you had a great time," Jeremy said.

I rolled my eyes
while he grinned at me.  "Why is she like that?"

"Couldn't
say."  Jeremy shrugged.  "I guess she's always been that way?  She's
the kind of rich person that you can tell is a rich person, because she won't
let you think otherwise.  Asher's kind of obvious when he suits up, trying to
look nice for business, but otherwise you probably couldn't tell.  Like when he
plays basketball he just looks regular, you know?  Beatrice never wants to even
consider
being
regular, let alone looking it.  That's just how she
is."

"I guess I
can understand," I said.  "I mean, I don't really understand it, but
maybe if I were rich I'd understand better.  I suppose when you have the money,
you can do whatever you like.  Not that it's right, but why should she care? 
She's rich."

"Right. 
Yeah, that might be it."

I sighed and
fell onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.  "I want some
cheesecake," I said, completely out of the blue.

"Oh
yeah?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes. 
Caramel pecan turtle cheesecake like they have at The Cheesecake Factory
sometimes.  Mmmmm..."

"You want
to go?"

"...with
the chocolate icing swirls on the edge and the lines of caramel drizzled on the
top and..."

"Look,
lady, you want to go get some food or what?  I'm starving over here after
driving some chick around all day and I could go for a bite to eat."

"Did you
just call me a chick?" I asked.

"If the
shoe fits."

"What kind
of shoe does a chick even wear?  Are we talking about a baby chicken or are you
being some chauvinist pig?"  I couldn't help but grin, even though I tried
to say everything as serious as possible.

Jeremy smirked. 
"If you were a chicken, this might be easier.  You could just lay an egg
for Asher and let Beatrice sit on it."

"That
wouldn't be nearly as fun as having sex with him," I blurted out.

Jeremy nearly
died laughing.  "You really need a boyfriend or something.  Pining after a
married billionaire is probably not the best use of your time.  You know it's
never going to work out, right?"

I frowned a
bit.  It was true, but...  "Probably.  I know."

"Ah, well,
they used to say the world was flat, too.  You never know?"  Then, holding
out his hand to help me off the couch, he said, "So, food?"

"Can we
have the cheesecake first?" I asked.  "And then our meal.  Then more
cheesecake, maybe."

Jeremy lifted me
off the couch.  "Are you pregnant already?  Should I get you some pickles
and ice cream, too?"

"Ugh,
no."  I jumped up and ran to the door.  "Actually, do you think they
make pickle cheesecake?  I bet they do somewhere.  I don't want any, but I
think that'd be interesting to try.  At least once, you know?  To say you did
it."

"I think
I'd rather never say I tried pickle cheesecake," Jeremy said as he opened
the door for me.  "Let's stick with the caramel pecan turtle
variety."

Dinner was
nice.  Jeremy and I talked about this and that while we ate.  I relented and
accepted the fact that dessert should come after dinner, but not without a bit
of a fight.  Not much of one, but a little.  It didn't matter too much, since
my Santa Fe salad and grilled chicken and avocado club sandwich more than made
up for the lack of a cheesecake appetizer.  The cheesecake was delicious,
though; I ordered a piece to go.

And then Jeremy
paid for dinner with one of Asher's credit cards.  I felt bad and I wanted to
pay, but I didn't have a lot of spare money at the moment.

"Eh, don't
worry about it," Jeremy said.  "As long as we bring back something
for Asher, he won't mind.  He's a cheesesteak and apple crisp sort of guy, so
I'm sure he'll be happy."

"I
guess," I said.  Still, that didn't make me feel better about it.

We left.  In the
car, Jeremy said, "I feel bad sometimes, too, but that's how Asher likes
it.  I mean, what are we supposed to do?  He gets upset if he finds out that I
paid for something like this on my own.  And then what?  I feel bad all over
again.  It makes him happy to pay for food and stuff like that, so why
not?"

I sighed and
tried not to frown, tried to think of it from Asher's point of view.  "I
suppose.  It
is
nice to treat friends sometimes.  Me and my friends do
that.  We don't go anywhere fancy, though.  To the movies or whatever, that
kind of thing."