Bought By The Billionaire

After long moments, the layers of silk, gauze and lace encasing me are pulled back and I emerge from my dim white tent, blinking a little in the sudden explosion of light. My Master eases me upright, turns me to face him, lifts me and carries me through to the bedroom, where he deposits me gently on the bed.

As he unknots his tie, stripping off his shirt, he smiles down at me. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t about to ravish you again just yet.”

“Of course not, Master. We’ll give it five minutes or so shall we?”

He chuckles as he lies down next to me, his head cradled in the crook of my neck. “Of course, yes. Foolish of me. Five minutes.”

His arms lock loosely around me. “I Love You, Elizabeth Haswell.”

“And I Love You too, Master.”

*****

“So where are we going?” I am excited. My Master, my new husband, has kept me in the dark as to where we will spend our honeymoon.

“You’ll see.” He sounds, and looks, smug, refusing to say another word on the subject. But, besides smug, he looks wonderful, wearing the plain white linen shirt and black jeans that suit him so well. The white of the shirt sets off his tan and the tightly fitting jeans enhance his…. figure.

I am demurely dressed in a white blouse, navy blue, knee length, skirt, and court shoes.

I try a different angle. “How long will we be away for?”

My billionaire Master has responsibilities and a heavy work schedule. I wonder if our ‘honeymoon’ is destined to be a long weekend only.

The car turns off the main highway. So, we are not going to the airport. Fantasies of sun-kissed beaches and blue seas fade away.

Instead, we follow narrow roads, away from the city entirely, up towards the mountains. After an hour or so, we turn in to a vast gateway, framed with intricate wrought iron rails and stone lions. A long drive curves ahead of us, set within close-clipped lawns. Beech, oak and chestnuts dot the landscape and, way down the hill; is that a lake?

“Oh, it’s lovely Richard? Is this the hotel where we’re staying?”

His smug-ometer is going off the scale. “It’s not a hotel. There’s just us.”

“Just us?”

head towards our driver, whose grin I can see, even though the back of his head. “But

to speak, but the

I think, and graciously designed. Tall windows frame a door set into a deep porch. Half a dozen steps lead up to the entrance. A carriage circle fronts the

cost a

beautiful. I love it. And yes,

My Master steps out, walks around the car and opens my door, proffering his arm. “Would you like to

tears to my eyes, the words still too

to a companion that beckons up a long, curved stairway. To my left, I see a sunlit drawing room. To my right is a dining room, laid out for dinner with candelabras

is a house from

simply stand there,

like it?” My Master has a worried tinge

I not like it Mas…. Richard?” I am conscious of Ross in the background. Whilst we are in public, my husband is ‘Richard’. In private, he is ‘Master’.

a bedroom for us, overlooking the lake.” he says. “But we can always change it, if you

in the room. Sunshine slants over red satin covers, scattered with white rose petals. An ice bucket sits

Master. “Let’s start with a toast shall we.” He pops

We toast. “To us.”

“To us.”

bubbles up my nose. “I feel as if

to mine. “I wanted us

wickedly. “But

working my way through a candy jar. Each sweetie seems better

you want to unpack? Have a bath? Take a walk?” He is being polite, but there is a speculative look in his

might find some other things to do? And

present?” That eyebrow lifts again and his mouth twitches as his blue, blue eyes scan

predictable. He’s not been fooled for a minute. “Why

and down, a glint of humour crinkling his eyes, then, standing back, arms akimbo,

an instruction, and I always

blouse, allowing the slinky fabric to slip to one side, revealing what I am wearing beneath. As the blouse opens, displaying black leather and lace, chrome fittings and buckles, my