The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (38 page)

"A
pleasure," he said, offering me a curt bow.  "And you are?"

"What
are you doing here?"

"I
just told you..."

"I
don't understand.  I..."  My brain overloaded, forgetting how to function.

"We're
surrounded by storefronts and office buildings, that, if you hadn't noticed,
shut down for the day hours ago.  This was the only, and nearest, place with a
light on, and the door was open.  There's nowhere else."

"We're
trapped?" I asked.

He
nodded.  "Quite."

"You're
Lucent Storme," I muttered again.

I
realized then that I was sitting on a bean bag in the children's section of the
library, a book beneath my breasts, propping them up for prime viewing
pleasure, with my skirt... with my skirt...

I
jumped up and away from him, bouncing to my feet.  Pulling my skirt back down
to my knees from its previous lascivious spot hiked high up my thigh, I tried
to present myself with some appropriate appearance.

Lucent
merely smirked at me.  "You know who I am, but who, might I ask, are
you?"

"Elise,"
I murmured, affectedly shy all of a sudden.  "Elise Tanner."

"A
pleasure, Miss Tanner," he said, holding out his hand.

I
took it, thinking he meant to shake my hand by way of introduction, but instead
he grasped my fingertips and brought the back of my hand to his lips, kissing
me lightly.

I
froze, staring at him in shock.  His hand felt so warm and soft, almost sharp,
like I shouldn't touch it for fear of hurting myself.  And his kiss on the back
of my hand sent a sting running through my skin, a jolt like a static electric
shock.

Which
it probably was, I told myself.  Calm down, Elise!  The carpets in the library
were thick and anyone walking through them could inadvertently shock someone if
they dragged their feet just a little bit.  This made perfect sense except for
the fact that Lucent wore shoes, which no doubt had rubber soles.

I
pulled my hand away fast as if he were the burner atop a stove and I'd touched
him while hot.  While he was hot or I was hot?  Was I hot?  He was staring at
my breasts, but I thought he was a dream, so did that count?  What the hell?  I
didn't even want him to think I was hot!  This wasn't about that!  Ugh.  Snap
out of it, Elise.

In
all honesty, I still didn't like Lucent Storme, and this was my first time
meeting him, but I doubted that'd change much.

"So,"
I said.  "We're stuck here, I guess."

"Yes,"
Lucent said.  "It seems so.  You work here, I assume?"

I
nodded.  "I'm the only one here right now."

He
grinned.  What was that look in his eyes?  I remembered the rumors of a darker
sexuality, but... no, that wasn't true, was it?  Would he force himself on me,
right here and now?  What could I do if he did?  We were trapped in a library,
snow surrounding us.  Isolated and alone.  Together.

"Give
me a tour," he said.  "I've never been here, but I like the looks of
it."

"What?"
I stammered.

"You
work here, don't you?  Give me a tour."

"I'm
not a tour guide," I said, meek.

"And?"

"I
don't give tours.  I'm a librarian.  I work at the front counter and help
people find books."

"Then
let's pretend I've asked for every book and you're going to show them to
me," he said.  "Except skip the part about the books and give me a
tour."

"Are
you always this demanding?" I asked, the words slipping out of my mouth,
surprising me.

"You
have no idea," he said with a smirk.

I
gave Lucent Storme a tour.  I was giving one to him.  I didn't give tours!  Rob
gave the elementary school kids a tour once a year or so, but that was it.  We
didn't have tour guides.  It was a nice library, but not that nice. Not the
kind of place with a gift shop or anything.  Nowhere near as fancy as some
libraries out there.

Still,
I brought Lucent Storme on a tour and he admired everything with a certain
sense of indignance.  Outwardly, he appeared interested and curious, but I
doubted it.  He hummed, staring at things, listening to me talk about this and
that.  Occasionally he asked a question, but otherwise he treated me like hired
help.

And
this still made no sense to me.  Lucent Storme, upper class businessman, the
Director of Public Relations for the entirety of Landseer Enterprises.  He had
money.  More money than me and more money than I'd make in a lifetime,
probably.  I should be swooning at his feet, I thought, acting like some
smitten little girl.  That's likely what he intended for me, but no, I
wouldn't.

I
wasn't smitten, first off.  I didn't even like him.  Yes, he was handsome, and,
yes, I found myself staring at his jawline more than once, wondering what it'd
be like to kiss him there, but that was normal.  People did these things.  If I
saw an attractive man, I could admire him without fawning over him, couldn't I?

"Show
me this room," he said.

I
stared at him.  He kept demanding things of me, not even asking.  "That's
the lounge," I said.  "It's for people who work here."

"Show
it to me."

"Look,
Lucent..."  I don't know why I called him by his first name.  I shouldn't
have called him by his first name.  He glared at me with fiery eyes that could
melt a path through the snow outside in an instant.

"Mr.
Storme," I said, correcting myself.  "You don't work here.  That room
is for employees only."

"Miss
Tanner," he said.  "We're the only two in here, and it's possible
we'll be stuck here for awhile, so I would appreciate it if you showed me this
room."

"I
hope we're not stuck here for awhile," I muttered.  "I don't think I
can deal with you for that long."

"What?"
he asked, his expression smoldering.

"I'm
not going to," I said.  I needed to put my foot down and show him he
couldn't boss me around.  "It's not allowed."

Lucent
ignored me, walked past me, and traipsed into the employee lounge.  Finding a
switch on the inside wall, he flipped it and surveyed his surroundings.

"Was
that so difficult?" he asked, turning about face and staring at me.  He
sounded angry, looked angry.  Why was he angry?

I
should be angry!  "You're a visitor," I said, exasperated.  "We
have rules here."

"Extenuating
circumstances call for drastic measures," he said.  "Also, I don't
see what the huff is about.  The room contains a table, some chairs, a sink, a
refrigerator, a microwave, and a television."

"Thanks
for keeping track of inventory," I said.

He
gave me a stern glare, his dark eyes gleam-ing like nightmares personified. 
"I am going to turn on the TV," he said, his voice measured. 
"Is that alright, Miss Tanner?"

"I
don't care anymore," I said.  "Can you please call me Elise?"

"Elise,"
he said, tasting my name; not calling me it, but saying it.  The way he said it
made me feel dirty and sexual and debased all at once.  Maybe I should've let
him continue calling me Miss Tanner.

Lucent
flipped on the TV with a push of the power button, then switched to the local
news station.  The news reporters warned everyone of a snow emergency and
cautioned people to stay inside.  The governor had called a statewide emergency
ban on road travel, too, and urged companies to allow their employees to work
from home this weekend if they could.

He
frowned at the TV, looking petulant and naughty, like some boy in need of a
spanking.  I found myself staring at his backside and wondering what it looked
like without pants.  And maybe without anything else, either?  Did he keep in
shape?  He looked fit, but it was hard to tell with the suit on.

Not
that I should care, really.  If I wasn't fit, why should I expect him to be?  I
was thin enough, but not by any real effort on my part.  I should go to the gym
or run, but I had school and I didn't want to, and...

Lucent
turned around and saw me staring at his lower half while I daydreamed and made
excuses in my head for not exercising more often.

"Like
what you see?" he asked.

I
snapped my head up, looking him in the eyes for a second before averting my
gaze.  "Sorry," I said.

He
stepped forward and took my chin in his hand, tilting my head up so he could
look at me.  Our eyes connected, gazing into one another.  He furrowed his
brow, considering me.

I
jerked my head away and slapped at his hand.  "What are you doing?"

"Nothing,"
he said.  "I thought I saw something."

"What?"

"Nothing."

And
that was that.  He refused to elaborate.

~*~

(You
can find the rest of this story here:
His Absolute Obsession
)

P
lease
enjoy this sample from the medieval fantasy erotic romance, "Spark of
Hope," the first in
the Monster Within
series, by Cerys du Lys

~*~

Solace was a
cook and a scullion maid, a seamstress and a servant.  She waited on tables at
the local inn when they let her, and she went out and picked herbs to sell to
anyone who would buy them.  She knew the very basics of alchemy and herbalism
and could mix up medicine to cure most basic ailments.  She liked animals and
the woods and reading, though not in any particular order  She was a little
strange, but not too much, and overall her life would have been wonderful
except for one thing.

Everyone hated
Solace.

When she cooked,
even if she tested what she made and did her best to ensure it tasted nice,
everyone complained about the flavor.  She could never seem to clean as good as
anyone else, no matter how hard she tried.  Her sewing was impeccable, without
a stitch out of place, but most everyone always criticized her about this or
that and no one offered her more than a copper coin for any of the work she
did.

Men tripped her
when she waited on their tables at the local tavern or made lewd comments about
her and told her she was only good for one thing.  Except, of course, they
added that she wasn't good enough for them no matter what, but they had a horse
in the stables she could spread her legs for if she liked.

She tried to
ignore them, she really did.  She wanted to be happy.  Solace put on a front,
smiling and humming to herself whenever anyone else was around, because she
wanted to show them that she was just like anyone else.  She wouldn't get angry
or be upset or disappoint anyone or give them any reason to dislike her.

But still, they
hated her. 

They hated her
when she was younger and when she grew up.  When she was fourteen, a traveling
man came into town and treated her nicely for the first time in her life, but
only for a little while.  In the evening when the man rented a room at the inn,
she helped him and tended to his needs, cleaning his dusty clothes and doing a
bit of mending in exchange for a warm place to stay that night.  Later, he left
for an hour to take a walk around town.  When he returned he looked at her with
a blank expression on his face and asked her to leave.

She still
remembered it, his eyes lacking focus and his mouth slightly agape, not staring
at her but through her.  "Leave," he said.  "Please, I don't
want any trouble."

He did give her
a silver coin, though.  She kept it with her all this time, even now, seven
years later.  For some reason it seemed too precious to spend, as if it was
something of a keepsake, a special memory.  She begged and pleaded with the
blacksmith to poke a hole through it(which he did in exchange for a week of
hard labor).  Then she scrounged and saved up for two weeks, performing arduous
tasks for a fraction of their worth, so she could buy a leather cord from the
tanner.  It would have only taken her one week, but the man refused to sell
anything to her for less than double its regular cost.

It didn't matter,
though.  Solace owned a necklace now, made from fine leather with the silver
coin as a pendant.  She wore it with her everywhere and refused to part with
it.  People offered her this or that in attempts to get her to sell it, but she
refused them.  Some even acted nice as a ruse, asking politely if they could
see it, but she said no.

After that, some
acted not so nice and she'd gained more than a few bruises, but it never went
too far.

One man was nice
to her after that, though.  Nice enough, at least.  He let her into the church
basement, down to their library, where he let her borrow books in exchange for
performing secretarial duties.  She organized shelves and helped him rewrite
sections if needed, or she delivered letters he needed sent.  He paid her
fairly, too, except the church didn't have much money to spare.  Still, instead
of coins, he let her sleep in the stables at night and borrow books, and he
offered her dinner if the church had food to spare.  When it was too cold, he
sometimes snuck her into the library where she could huddle in the corner
beneath blankets and hope no one came in and saw her.  Mostly no one ever did,
but if necessary she snuck through one of the basement windows and spent the
night in the chill, wintry outdoors.

And that was
enough.  A little kindness was enough for Solace, for always.  Just a bit to
let her know that at least one person didn't absolutely despise her.  With that
knowledge, she survived until the next day, over and over, and even if someone
spat on her and called her rude names, she continued to smile and hum to
herself.

~*~

(You can find
the rest of this story here:
Spark
of Hope: The Monster Within
)

P
lease
enjoy this sample from the erotic fairytale, "Hunted by the Beast,"
the first in a fantasy series re-imagining of the classic Beauty and the Beast,
by Cerys du Lys

~*~

Michael pulled
Danya through the woods behind his family's estate.  "Come on, Danya! 
Hurry, hurry up."

She rolled her
eyes and laughed while they ran through the woods in the middle of the night. 
"Where are we going?"

"It's a
place.  It's back here.  You'll love it."

She had no doubt
in her mind that he meant to seduce her.  Not only was he drunk from his
family's party, but whenever he looked at her he had a hard time staring at
anything but her breasts.  He stopped now and did just that, his head teetering
on his neck as the stink of alcohol from his breath washed over her.  He leered
at her chest, smirking.

"This can't
be it," she said.  "This isn't anywhere!  It's the middle of the
woods."

"Danya,"
he said, releasing her hand and turning to face her.  "Is it true?"

"Is what
true?" she asked, acting coy.

"There's
rumors, you know, in town?  Your father always says it, too.  When he's away
and your sisters are busy, the days you watch his shop are always the ones he
makes the most money."

"I'm good
at sales?" she offered.

"Good at
sales, or good at fucking in the backroom?"

She slapped him
across the face, but not hard, nowhere near enough to hurt.  He didn't move
away from her.  In fact, he moved closer, his eyes looking into hers and his
lips inching towards her own.  It was, perhaps, the first time he'd looked at
her face all night.

"Come
on," he said.  "I won't tell anyone.  Just give me a sample or
something?  Maybe I'll come by the shop one day when you're watching it and pay
for your full services.  What do you think?"

She sighed.  So,
perhaps she'd fucked one of the errand boys in the back of her father's shop. 
What was she supposed to do?  The guy needed money or he wouldn't deliver the
goods her father had ordered, and her father hadn't left her anything to pay
him with.  Her father was like that now, ever since he'd lost a majority of his
fortune because of a mishap with cargo ships a long time ago; always promising
to repay people and pay his bills and this and that, but he never had the
money.

And she'd given
one man a blowjob when he said he needed extra incentive to purchase one of
their exquisite lamps.  But he tipped really well and paid at least double what
it was worth.  Danya pocketed some of it and paid their landlady discretely so
she would give them a little more time before throwing them out on the street. 
Her father was perpetually behind on the rent.

Everything else
was her own doing, though!  Or, more like she didn't do anything sexual to make
the money.  Maybe she flirted, flaunted her body, gave some of the women tips
on how to heat up their sex lives, but that was it.  Mostly that was it.  She
couldn't remember everything now, but she didn't sleep with the customers too
often.  And when she did she rarely enjoyed it much.  It was business, another
aspect of it, and if her father couldn't keep their finances in check then she
didn't want to suffer for it.  This was as good a way to solidify her stability
as any other, right?

Michael loomed
over her, pressing her against the rough bark of a tall pine tree.  He put a
clumsy hand on one of her breasts, squeezing it through the sheer fabric of her
sundress.  Pressing close to her, he rubbed his crotch against hers.

All in all, it wasn't
very exciting, but what was she going to do?  She was a little drunk herself,
though not too much, and was stuck out in the middle of the woods with him. 
She'd hoped he wanted to talk to her about something, maybe dreams and how his
family could help hers with their troubles.  Something nice, possibly romantic,
or at least pleasant.  Michael did have one of the richest families in Belfast,
and his father was known as a considerate gentleman.

Michael, as far
as this was going right now, was not so proper.  He fondled her breast while he
searched deeper and lower for something else to occupy his other hand.  Right
now he had a grasp on the tree behind him, but when he focused through his
drunken state she had no doubts he'd find her dress and pull it up and go
searching beneath her panties.  He had his mouth latched onto her neck,
sucking.

"Michael,"
she said, trying to sound soft and seductive.  "Michael, stop for a
moment."

He stopped with
his mouth, but not with his hands.  "I want to fuck you so bad,
Danya."

"I know, I
know, but—"

He grew tired of
groping her through her dress and wrenched the top of it down so he could see
her bare skin.  Her firm, large breasts wobbled and swayed in the open air.

"Fuck,
you've got a nice rack," he said.  To add to his comment, he pinched one
of her nipples.

"Michael,
look.  I'll give you a handjob, alright?  How about that?"

Before she could
say more, he had his pants unbuckled and lowered to his knees.  His throbbing
erection bounced to attention in front of her.  Drunk, she thought, but not too
drunk to stay hard or want to get laid.

She knelt in
front of him and cupped his balls in her hand.  He glanced down at her and bent
over, grabbing for one of her breasts.  If she wanted to stop this she needed
to go fast.  And, anyways, maybe he'd talk to her afterwards about her family's
issues?  Maybe this was like negotiations?  Not the kind she really wanted, but
whatever worked, right?

She spit on her
hand, foregoing ladylike etiquette, and grabbed the base of his cock.  With one
hand she squeezed his balls and with the other she stroked him.  Slow at first,
to spread her makeshift lube, but then she went faster.  Michael groaned,
barely able to stand.  If it weren't for the tree at her back and his hands
braced against it for balance, she thought he would have fallen as soon as she
first grabbed him.

That smell!  The
smell of rutting beasts!  Of animals fucking on the ground with wild abandon
without a care in the world.  Oh, he knew that smell.  He knew it so well it
hurt.  It always made him, what was the word?  He hardly spoke to others now,
so sometimes the more difficult words eluded him.  Not sick, no.  Angry?  Not
that, either.  Upset.  Yes, a little.  Something more, too, though.

He looked up and
saw a sliver of the moon.  A guttural howl escaped his mouth and echoed through
the forest air.

He wanted to
find the source of the smell.  One part of it, the male's musk, he was
indifferent to, but the female had a sweet, undeniably delicate aroma.  His
cock, long past the point of arousal and now blazingly hard and exuding strong
heat, bobbed in the air as he ran fast through the woods to find the mating
pair.

~*~

(You can find
the rest of this story here:
Hunted
by the Beast
)