Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 13: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Thirteen

“Mast… Mr Haswell. Is something wrong? Have I … have I done something wrong?”

He almost jerks back to reality and smiles at me. “No, not at all, Elizabeth. I just have a lot to think about right now. I’m sorry. It’s not very gracious of me to sit in silence. And also, here …” he takes my hand before continuing, “… here, in this place, in this setting, it is ‘Richard.’”

Relief washes over me. “I was beginning to worry that I had upset you, Richard.”

He leans close and kisses me on the forehead, cupping my face in his hands. “No, I am simply distracted. Please, do enjoy your meal. Is your fish good?”

“Yes, very.” In fact, the fish is divine, with tender white flakes in a buttery sauce, piquant with capers and lemon, and served with tiny, bite-size vegetables, crisp and fresh, that taste as though they were still on the plant five minutes ago. The restaurant deserves its reputation and is a world away from the takeout pizza I was living on only a short time ago.

Later, Ross drives the car to my apartment to drop me off.

Richard almost growls when he sees where we are. “I don’t like you living here, Elizabeth. It’s not safe. I can understand why you lived here … in your previous life … you couldn’t afford any better then, but it’s different now. Why haven’t you moved somewhere else?”

“Oh, I will. I have somewhere picked out, in fact. But I’m waiting for my first paycheck to come through. Then, trust me,” I laugh. “I’ll be out of here. They won’t see me for dust.”

“Of course, yes. That’s good. Good night, Elizabeth.” He kisses me as I step out of the car.

I turn the key in the lock, I look back. The car is still there and Ross

“He’s made it clear that if I don’t stay long enough

someone will take the trouble to watch out for me. “That’s great. Good night,

*****

apartment, my good mood evaporates into a feeling of let-down. Why? I’ve had a wonderful evening, have been wined and dined, had sex that left me wanting to scrape the top of my head off the ceiling.

bed, I admit to myself that I’m lonely for him. I would like to be curled

not the deal we have. This is not a relationship. I am not his girlfriend or even a fuck buddy. I am an employee, simply one with some very good terms written into the agreement we made. I will have all the good things in life,

complain. It is the chance of a lifetime. Nonetheless, I wish

sleep, finding myself thinking of my Master, of his face as he commands me with deep, deep blue eyes gazing at my breasts, my sex. I think of the obvious pleasure he takes in bringing me to crashing orgasms, of his beautiful body, lean and tanned in those linen shirts and tight black jeans that he

but I am beginning to wish that he might, just

Oh, God. Don’t let me fall in love with him.

and I sigh deeply as I open my legs, raising my knees, and parting my

as he commands me to spread myself open, stretch my pussy lips open to his inspection, to pleasure myself, to bring myself to climax, to fuck myself so that he can watch and enjoy, and to take me when he wishes, his fingers

intense with desire, brilliant in lust, looking at me as he instructs me in

sweet and hot from within, under the power he

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