The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (9 page)

Asher finished,
letting out a grunt, pushing himself as far into me as he could while pressing
his body against mine.  His cock twitched inside me, flared, stretching my
pussy, and then his cum surged out of him and into me.  Once, twice, three
thick jets.  Then smaller twitches, a few more, uncountable.  My climax
continued as he unloaded a substantial amount of his cream inside me and I grew
even more hot and excited when I felt it.  He filled me.  I hadn't had sex in
awhile, hadn't expected it for awhile still, but this was so wonderfully
satisfying.

We lay there
together, him on top of me while I squeezed his softening cock inside of me.  I
was finished with my orgasm, but I liked the way he felt in me, so nice and a
perfect fit.  I held him tight, hugged him, kissed his cheek, and...

Asher got up. 
He removed himself from my grip, placed my hands firmly on the ground, and
pulled himself out of me.  Standing, putting his softening erection back in his
pants, he zipped himself up, buttoned his pants, and searched around for his
belt.

"Asher?"
I said, confused.  "It's alright.  Can we lay here for a little
while?"

"No,"
he said.

"Asher..."

"I
shouldn't have done that, Jessika.  I took things too far.  That was extremely
unprofessional of me.  I don't know what I'm going to tell Beatrice.  I don't
know if I can tell her.  This entire day was a bad idea."  He paced
through his guest house living room, looking distraught.

I frantically
tried to think of something to say or do, but I couldn't.  He had a point in
everything he said.  We shouldn't have done this.  I knew it was a bad idea.  A
married man?  Why would I even do that?  Why was I here in the first place? 
What was I doing?

And then I
remembered.

"Yes,"
I said, a whisper, unsure if this was what I should do or not.  "Asher,
I'll do it.  What you asked, your request.  I agree.  Just... please..."

"What?" 
He stopped pacing and looked at me.

"I'll be an
egg donor for your wife," I said, then added, "And a surrogate
mother.  I'll do it."

He smiled,
happy, but only for a second.  Then the reality of what had happened and what
we'd just done came crashing back down on him again.

"I don't
think it's a good idea," he said.  "We can't... we can't do this
again, Jessika, and the temptation will always be there, especially..."

Especially, I
thought, if I were already pregnant with his child.  Through medical means, the
impregnation process, however that would work for the situation he required,
but still.  If I carried his child, even if it was for him and his wife, I knew
it would be easier for both of us to explain away another casual encounter like
this.

Except that
wasn't my reason for agreeing.  I didn't know how to tell him that, couldn't
explain it all myself, but that wasn't what I wanted.  I didn't want anything
casual with him, ever.  I wanted more, anything.  Intimacy and conversation
and... but I'd ruined it in one fell swoop.

"Asher,
please."

"You can
stay in the guest house tonight," he said.  "I'll have Jeremy drive
you home in the morning."

~A
Reverie
Interlude~

Asher and I,
sitting on a park bench.  A quaint tablecloth, with a spread of sandwiches,
potato salad, and sliced, raw vegetables are between us.  I tease him and toss
a slice of cucumber at him.  It clings to the fabric of his fancy dress shirt,
then falls into his lap.  He threatens to throw a spoonful of potato salad at
me and I shriek and laugh and tell him he wouldn't dare.  We're both laughing.

Our daughter,
our beautiful daughter, comes running up.  She was playing on the swings as we
watched over her from the bench.  She politely asks her daddy if she can please
have a baby carrot.  He smiles at her, so sweet and calm, holds up the tray
with the carrots so she can have her pick.

Idyllic. 
Everything nice and wonderful.

And then I woke
up.

Asher left me
after our photography session.  I don't think he expected it to go as far as it
did, and to be honest I never expected it to, either.  When I agreed to join
him for lunch, I didn't expect to come back to his home afterwards and do
anything, let alone become the model for an impromptu photo shoot.  I didn't
expect to take off my clothing and pose in scandalous positions for him, nor
did I expect to concoct some ridiculous idea of seduction and convince him that
it was fine.

In fact, it
wasn't fine.  Because of that, because of what I'd done, I'd lost him forever. 
I'd never had him to begin with, and I knew he was a married man, but I wanted
so desperately to believe in something.  To believe that he had a rocky
marriage of convenience and he wanted me, maybe that he could love me.  Except,
how?

I had known
Asher for two days.  This morning was the start of the third day.  The first
had been a short, though thorough meeting, and the second was our first
somewhat full day together.  This third day was our last, and after that I
would never see him again.  I'd played at a game of temptations and now I was
paying the price for losing.

It was so
wonderful, though!  I could see why Asher enjoyed photography.  Or, I didn't
quite understand it, but I saw how much he got into it.  I hadn't meant to, not
exactly, but I became so swept up in his passion for his hobby that I wanted
and needed more.  In the end, without thinking, both of us had sex on the floor
in front of the fireplace in his guest house.  Why did I think this might lead
to something more?  Honestly, right now I couldn't have answered.

It led to
nothing, though.  Asher told me to leave.  I lay on the floor, having slept
there overnight, waiting.  Before he left, he told me that Jeremy would bring
me home in the morning.  It was morning now, but no one had come for me yet. 
When he did, I wasn't sure what I should do.

I was naked
still, laying on his lush carpet.  I'd borrowed a quilted down blanket from the
back of the couch nearby to keep me warm through the night and provide a
moderate amount of cover, but who was I kidding?  If Jeremy walked in right
now, he'd know what happened.  And then what?  Did I want him to know?  Maybe
Asher did this often.  Maybe he seduced women, convinced them of one thing or
another, lured them to his home under the guise of modeling for his photography,
and slept with them.  Then, after, he kicked them out.  It seemed like a
typical thing for a man to do.  It had never happened to me before, but I had
friends who went through similar situations.

But, why?  I
asked myself this question over and over again.  What was wrong?  Why did he
want me gone?  His marriage, yes, but he must have wanted it, too, must have
wanted to sleep with me.  His photography wasn't of the needlessly erotic sort,
at least as far as he mentioned, but the pictures he took of me were racy
enough to show up in any men's magazine.  Though, of course I didn't quite
think I was attractive enough to pull something like that off, but Asher did. 
Or, he said he thought I was.  I needed to remind myself that there was a big
difference between what someone said and what someone actually thought.

I needed to do a
lot of things, and yet in the warm, morning light, a hint of sunshine tingling
across my bare forearm as it peeked out from beneath the blanket, I couldn't
think of any of them.  I wanted to lay there all day and forget everything.  I
wanted to remember last night with Asher, to relive it, to memorize every part
of it so I would never forget.

My body shifted
beneath the blanket, fidgeting.  Everything felt so nice.  The carpet tickling across
my skin and the feel of the quilted blanket caressing across my stomach and the
tops of my thighs and between them and on my breasts.  Without thinking about
it, I let my hand nestle between my legs and tease at my lower lips.  When I
realized what I was doing, I also realized I was aroused.

I wanted to
masturbate so much.  Actually, I wanted Asher to return, apologize, whisper
adorations into my ear and beg for my forgiveness, then take me again right
then and there in his guest house, but I knew that wouldn't happen.  I thought
of it, though.  More and more, how he would touch me, what it would feel like. 
The expression on his face and the love in his eyes.  My body tensing under his
exquisite touch.

Right now my
body tensed under my own touch, but it wasn't quite the same.

Knock, knock,
knock.

Too wrapped up
in my fantasy, I didn't hear the person knocking on the door.  My fantasy
unraveled as I built myself up to a hasty climax and let the feeling of it
drift over me like a light, summer breeze.

Knock, knock,
knock.

The second time
they knocked, I had a delayed reaction.  I lay there, still and calm,
delighting in the wonderful feeling of ignoring all my problems.  But, then,
the knocking.  Someone was at the door.  My God!  I was naked, hidden under a
blanket, with my clothes scattered on the floor.  I panicked and jumped up,
dressing as fast as I could.

What was he
doing?  What had he done?

Asher didn't
know.  Out of all his years of marriage, he hadn't even entertained the thought
of cheating on his wife.  Beatrice wasn't unfaithful to him, either; at least
as far as he knew.  They rarely saw each other now, only in passing for a few
days of the month when she returned from her trips.  This bothered him, but
what was he supposed to do about it?

The answer, he
knew, was not to cheat on his wife.

Should he tell
her?  He had to.  It was the only option, despite the fact that he dreaded it. 
And, then what?  Divorce?  Or not?  Would she care?

He loved
Beatrice and he wanted the best for her.  But, he wasn't in love with her. 
Actually, at the moment, he had no idea what he was.  Loved, in love, loved by
someone, absolutely abhorred by everyone?  They all seemed about the same right
now.

Jessika had him
completely undone in only moments.  He hadn't expected that.  What little he
knew of her, he thought he'd understood, but apparently not.  With only a few
simple actions, a couple of fairly innocent seeming moves, she'd lured him
towards completely giving in to temptation.  Though, in all honesty, he doubted
she did it on purpose.  She'd seemed... confused?

Asher didn't
blame her for anything that happened.  He was a grown adult, a powerful
businessman, and he knew to take responsibility for his actions.  After their
time in the car, driven home by his driver, Jeremy, he knew he needed to be
careful around her.  And, yet, when everything came crashing down, he lost
himself.

But, God, she
was so attractive.  He couldn't place why, but he knew it when he saw it.  The
curve of her hips and the way she squirmed on the carpet in his guest house. 
She seemed so out of place and unresisting, knowing nothing of what she should
do but doing it because he asked it of her.  Her skin, her touch; she felt soft
and delicate and unsure but wanting to try more for his sake.

Beatrice was
none of that.  And, Asher never expected her to be.  It wasn't her and he
didn't want her to be something she wasn't.  He understood that, and thought
he'd accepted it, but with Jessika...

Jessika was
something else entirely, and he couldn't deal with her.  Despite everything, no
matter what he felt or thought, he had obligations.  It was morning now and he
needed to attend to business matters, but he would write up a letter of apology
and send her a gift sometime later, then be done with her.  Jeremy would drive
her home after he left, and Asher would never see her again.

It wasn't what
he wanted, but it was what he needed to do.

I sat at the
two-person island table by the kitchenette in Asher Landseer's guest house,
watching Jeremy cook.  He'd said he wasn't anything special in the kitchen, but
after watching him for awhile I disagreed.

"The thing
is," Jeremy said while constantly stirring a pan of eggs, "Asher
probably doesn't know what he wants half the time.  You should see his library
in the main house.  It's full of every kind of book you could imagine, and
whenever I see him in there he's reading something entirely different.  Epic
fantasy novels, classic science fiction, historical romance, mystery thrillers,
action and adventure, and whatever else.  He probably reads more than that,
too.  Who knows what's on his Kindle, Nook, Kobo eReader, and his iPad?  Why's
he need all of those?  I have no idea."

"Maybe he
uses them to categorize his books?" I offered.  "Like, he puts different
genres on each?  Fantasy and science fiction on the Kindle, and Romance on the
Nook, then literary fiction on the Kobo, and everything else on the iPad?"

"Huh." 
Jeremy chuckled and tossed me a smile over his shoulder.  "Maybe.  I never
would have thought of that.  That's not a bad idea, though.  Seems like
something Asher would do."

I smiled; back
at Jeremy and to myself.  It wasn't the same, but I felt like I was getting to
know Asher in some sense.  Through secondhand sources, alternate information,
but I liked it.  I wanted to know more about him and I hoped maybe this would
give me a way to reconcile with him.

All of a sudden,
everything happened at once.  The toaster popped, perfectly browned toast
waiting to be plucked out.  A timer on the miniature rotisserie oven started
beeping, soft but sure.  And Jeremy nodded and said, "Yup," while
glancing at the scrambled eggs in his pan.  He scooped half the eggs onto a
waiting plate, dashed for the fridge, grabbed a container, then a spoon from a
drawer nearby, this, that, and the next thing.

When all was
said and done, I had a plate in front of me consisting of scrambled eggs mixed
with a dollop of some kind of thick cream, a pair of sausages, and two pieces
of buttered toast.

"Wow,"
I said, staring at the food.  "Looks good."

"Pft!" 
Despite his assumed modesty, Jeremy grinned, cocksure.  "Nothing too
fancy."

"What's
this in the eggs?" I asked.

"Ah, a
trade secret.  I can teach you sometime..."  He paused, frowning. 
"Well, I can't actually teach you it sometime, I guess, but it's crème
fraiche.  You can buy it most anywhere, but you have to know where to
look."

I nibbled on the
eggs, using my fork to scoop a bit of them into my mouth.  "What did you
mean?" I asked.

Between a
heaping mouthful of his own scrambled eggs, he managed to say, "Wha?"

"What did
you mean you can't actually teach me it?"

"Ah,
well..."  Jeremy stuffed some toast into his mouth, chewing loudly.  Not,
I thought, because he did this usually, but because he didn't know what to
say.  Honestly?  It was something I probably would have done, too.

"The thing
is," Jeremy said.  "I don't know exactly what went on between you
two.  Business, whatever, who knows?  I can guess, but why bother?  Anyways,
Asher told me to drive you home this morning.  He's off doing business things
right now, whatever that is, and he told me to make sure I bring you home once
he's gone.  Also, he said to ask about things you like, since he wants to send
you a gift basket.  But, and this sounds like a nice thing at first even if
it's not, Asher doesn't typically send gift baskets to people.  He only does it
when he plans to cut ties with someone, as he says.  He didn't
say
that
to me about you, but that's what he does."

I paused
mid-chew, then swallowed the rest of the toast in my mouth without thinking. 
It scraped down my throat, choking me, until I swallowed harder and drank some
of the water from my glass, too.  Eyes watering slightly, I looked at Jeremy,
my expression blank.

"Is that
it, then?" I asked.  "I..."  I didn't know what to think, but it
seemed so definitive and done.  I knew it was going to happen, but it still
hurt to hear it.  "Does he do this often?  Bring women home and then 'cut
ties' with them afterwards?"

"Look,"
Jeremy said.  "No.  No, he doesn't.  And if that's what happened, it's not
my place to pry about it, either.  Asher's a nice guy, though.  From everything
I know about him, I wouldn't think he'd ever do something like that.  So, going
off that, it would be
you
who caused the issue, if you get what I
mean?"

"Me?"
I asked, stunned.  "I didn't do anything!"

But, thinking
back, was I really blameless?  He told me we couldn't go further, we could only
be friendly towards one another, but I disregarded that.  I wanted more,
practically thought I needed more, and... well, the current situation spoke for
itself, really.  I'd pushed too hard, and now I sat here waiting for a man I
barely knew to drive me home.

"I'm not
saying you did do something," Jeremy added after the fact.  "I'm
saying that's what it looks like.  You don't seem the type, though.  Too
soft."