Bought By The Billionaire

The shower is blissful, and I alternate with hot and cold jets, spraying the water over my breasts and stomach. My pulse is slowing and my breathing is returning to normal. The shampoo and the soap are wonderful, expensively perfumed, and I inhale deeply through the steam.

Stepping out, the towels are huge and fluffy. Only the best in this suite.

Although I have been told to leave my skirt, I do not quite like to step naked into the room. I shake my head. Shy? I have just allowed a man I only met for the first time two hours ago, to tongue-fuck me to orgasm, and now I’m bashful about it?

I dry my hair so that it falls long and loose around my tiny waist, and then step into the lounge wearing a white bathrobe.

He looks up from where he is pouring champagne into two glasses. “Ah, there you are. I thought I might have to come looking for you.”

I suddenly feel awkward again. “My hair takes a long time to dry.”

Now, looking at me admiringly, he comes up close, lifting my long tresses, holding them to his face, and breathing deeply. “Yes, and beautiful hair it is, Elizabeth. By the way, time for a formal introduction. I’m Richard.”

He holds out his hand and, a little confused, I take it. “Nice to meet you, Richard.”

“Sit down.” He gestures to one of the expansive settees, positioned to take in the spectacular view over the city. He passes me a glass. “Sit down,” he repeats. “Let’s talk a little before we move on to other things.”

It is good to know that talking is an option, but … “Other things?” I ask uncertainly.

He smiles that tilt-headed smile of his again. “You didn’t imagine we’d finished, did you? No, not by a long way. The evening is young.”

I hide my confusion in the glass, sipping at the drink.

Richard refills it and sits beside me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you drunk. We’ve already established that I don’t need to, haven’t we?” He looks me full in the eyes and then continues. “Tell me, Elizabeth. Why are you cleaning hotel rooms?”

Why is he asking me?

I shrug. “I need the money. I’ve got to get through college and my parents can’t help much.”

be something like that. Do

question. “No, of course not. It’s lousy work,

are you studying at

“Business studies.”

then, or a beautiful body.” He nods, raising his eyebrows, seeming to be thinking about something. Then he stands, holding out a

hesitate, he wriggles his fingers at me, his eyes pointing to a door. The

he helps me from my seat. He is amazingly sexy. His smooth, tanned skin highlights his dark, but slightly greying hair and deep, deep blue eyes. As I rise, he fixes me with those eyes. I

forward, kissing me on the mouth, soft and full. I lean into the kiss, hungry for more,

and opening it,

wonder how much sleep it sees. A huge room with an entire wall of glass, it overlooks the city far below. A large bed, made up with white silk sheets and pillows, is scattered with rose petals. For a moment, I think the petals are also silk, but then a heady perfume tells me they are real. The corners of the bed are posted

glow of candles, and with a real fire in the hearth. My eyes slide past wardrobes and drawers, a thick fur rug spread out before the fire. I can only look at that bed. This is a room of

you trust me,

him to tie me up, twice. He could have done anything to me, helpless

I want to be your Master, and

to digest what this means, he pushes me forward to the bed. I think he wants me to get onto the bed, but he stops me, and turning me to face him, he starts to untie the belt

“I’m not—”

me speaking, putting a

says, very quietly, looking me in the eyes. “I am your Master now, and I have

I nod my head.

either to ask for more or to ask me to stop. But if you do ask me to stop, everything stops, and you will be going home. I will tell you what to do, and you will obey, or

take off the robe,

looks me over very carefully, his gaze examining me— my breasts, my waist, my sex. He starts to circle me. Involuntarily,

tell you to

stand still again. Now, I feel his hands on my shoulders, from behind, his fingers sliding over my arms, my stomach, my buttocks, and my thighs. Despite my

the bed, Elizabeth.