Billionaires in Paris: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (18 page)

I’m not disappointed.

“Look at you.” I could have five more orgasms and still have the ability to step on his cum-covered muscles. “You think I’m done with you yet? You’re lucky I’m giving you a breather. I’m not convinced you’re the perfect man for me yet. You’ll get one more chance. Understand?”

I do love a good ultimatum and the way it gets his ass in gear. I was already disappointed by him miscalculating how many flogs he could take before he had no choice but to come. Six, Ian! One more and you would’ve been perfect. I’m disappointed, but not angry. There will hopefully be plenty of opportunities in the future to train
him
like he trained me. First thing on that list will be to get him so acquainted with his body that he’ll know exactly how many cock strokes he can take before he bursts.

Oh… he said five, didn’t he? Oh well! He needs to swallow a whole bottle full of his medicine, anyway!

“On the bed.”

Weary, Ian gets to his feet, his softening cock still a thing of beauty as he obeys. A thousand muscles work to pull him onto the bed. Good. He’s on his back. He
better
not fall asleep.

Even if he does fall asleep, at least I have the vision of a lifetime. My boyfriend – the handsome and presumably alpha Ian Mathers – is passing out from what I’ve done to him in a role reversal that better repeat itself sooner rather than later.
This
is what I’ve been fantasizing about for the past year. Ever since we started hooking up, my mouth has watered at the thought of truly making this delectable specimen
all mine.

To know he has wanted this all day? That he woke up knowing this is what we would be doing tonight? No wonder I’m still horny as hell and hoping he didn’t come so hard he won’t be able to get it back up!

“You’ve been a good sport, I’ll give you that.” I sit next to him, wiping away his hair from his sweaty brow. At least he’s not asleep. “Don’t worry. I’ve never met a man who did everything perfectly his first real time. Like I said, you were really close. Yet like you would never go easy on me anymore, I couldn’t go easy on you.”

I slowly stroke his cock. It’s warm, somewhat rigid, and really, really wet. That’s all him. That’s a problem.

“You take it easy for a few minutes. I’m going to take care of you.” And me. Let’s not forget me here.

I’ve been in Paris for about three days, and I think I’ve had my mouth on his cock as many times. What can I say? I’ve got an oral fixation that needs quenching when I’m around handsome men with sizable dicks. There’s nothing like filling my mouth and teasing my throat with a man’s musky cock. Doesn’t matter if he’s been itching to fuck my throat or if he needs me to clean him up after a rough round of play. I’m hard pressed to never do it. Some Dommes don’t like giving out the head candy too often because it makes their subs lazy. Those Dommes want their subs to always work for their rewards. I never felt that way, even if that was a parameter for a scene. If I want my man to love going down on me, I better be generous too!

Every inch of his cock is a drug to my senses. The strange sensation of a man trapped between rigidity and softening. The taste of his seed running down his shaft. The tickles of his hair against my lips. This infuriating scent that gets me so damn aroused. Get hard again, damn it! I have every intention of impaling myself on this thing as soon as it’s ready. Except I know Ian’s physiology pretty well by now. I’ll be lucky if he’s ready in ten minutes.

To my surprise, he is.

I pull up his blindfold for us to share a moment. His eyes are fogged over, but he’s still with me. “How do you feel? Ready for round two?”

He caresses my hairline. On any normal night, I would lean into his hand, but tonight I must remain firm.

“Kiss me and taste your cum on my lips.”

I taste myself on him too, you know.

That’s the best part. How, no matter what roles we play or who is calling the shots and carrying the crops, in the end we are one. The feelings become the same. I know, because even though Ian is beneath me as I climb on top of him and ease my body onto his cock, all I can think about is going to that place where nothing matters or exists anymore. Nobody but us, anyway.

In the end, that’s how I’ve known we are truly meant to be together. No other man has ever made me feel so connected to him, whether I’m Top or bottom.

I pull my shirt over my head. The only piece of clothing still between us is my bra, but I don’t think Ian minds. His mouth drops open as I ride his cock, my hands pulling his above his head. Otherwise he’ll try to grab me, and I don’t need his help tonight.

Myself. That’s the only person I need up here. The bed creaks and groans, but so do I. Groan, that is. My body has been aching for his cock, and now here it is, inside of me, stroking my inner walls and brushing against my core. Sometimes I sit still and grind against him, the head of his cock teasing my G-spot as it comes so close to that ultimate pleasure. Other times I ride as hard as I can, sweat pouring down my body, soaking my bra, and making our bodies so slick that I have no choice but to dig my fingers into his flesh. He’s sweaty too. It glistens with the seed I left there earlier. We all know what I did to his back.

Funny thing about multiple orgasms. (Maybe other women can identify?) The first one sometimes takes some work. Then the second one smacks you in the face so quickly that you get whiplash. The third will either come quickly or take its damn time. By the fourth one, your body is so finely tuned that you can practically control it. Want to come again? Come again! Want to hold off? Hold off! Right now, I’m holding off on a fourth orgasm. I want this one to be so damn good that I won’t be able to get a fifth.

At the same time, I want to claim what’s rightfully mine.

“I want you.” I pant between breaths, but my words come out fine. Ian’s hands flex in need of holding me. No. Not yet. “Are you going to give yourself to me?”

My body stills so I can hear him. Grind, grind, grind. His cock slips in and out of me because I’m so wet. Not all the way out, but enough to make me moan when it slips all the way back in.
Fuck,
I want him lodged in there. If I come, it’s going to be with every muscle inside of me clamped down on the long length of his cock.

“Yes.” His voice is clearer than I anticipated. “Whenever you want it.”

He’s going to come on command? While
inside
me? Now, I won’t pretend I know what it feels like for a man to have his cock buried deep in a woman, but I’m going to guess it’s way more intense than having her hand jack it off. Then again, this is his second orgasm. Ian usually takes a while to build up to it… is he really prepared to promise me that level of obedience?

I lean back, hands grabbing his spread legs. The good man keeps his hands above his head. I’m a bit disappointed, only because this crazy good angle has his cock hitting me right in the G-spot. Oh
fuck
does it feel awesome! Doesn’t look too bad either. I’m gazing down at my body, and his, in awe of a kinky view. I bet he appreciates the sight of his thick cock coming in and out of me almost as much as I do!

“I’m going to come.” If I don’t announce it, I’ll catch myself by too much surprise. “So are you.”

I say this, thinking I’m some hotshot Domme who can command her man to come whenever she damn well pleases. Yet when I look at him, I think of so many things that have nothing to do with me being in control.

Quite the opposite.

Those men I had one-night stands with? I felt their lust, their desire, their needs. I didn’t feel their love. I didn’t feel any
personal
worship. I was their queen, but only for a night. As soon as they woke up, they went off to find another queen. Maybe we met again, but I wasn’t their only one.

With Ian, I truly feel like I’m his one and only. That creates a powerful reaction within me. This isn’t a man who only makes me feel the driving need to dominate him. I’m fully aware of how amazing it is to have him surround and control
me.

We’re called switches because we, well, switch roles. What if it went beyond that? What if it was like a
switch
inside of us that could be flipped at will?

“Come get me,” I gasp, on the edge of my next and final climax. I want to fall off the cliff. Or would it be better to be pushed? “If you even can.”

I’ve seen this change in his eyes before.

From here on out, I will know what we’re truly capable of. No other man could do this with me. That is, no other man could one moment be completely at my whim and the next shoving me down onto the bed while he drives himself into me. Hot sweat slides between us. The heady scent of his cock inside of me, working my whole body from within, has taken over my brain. I don’t want to think now. I don’t want to concentrate on what position I’m in. I don’t want to think about the words falling from my lips.

I want
him
and nothing else.

No matter how many times he begs me to flog him, no matter how good he comes on command… nothing will ever feel as wonderful as Ian pinning me down and slamming his hips against my thighs. It has nothing to do with dominance or submission. Sometimes a girl just wants to get fucked!

Now I’m the one begging. Talk dirty to me, Ian. Tell me what you’re going to do to me. Call me names like I called you names. Get back at me for what I did to you earlier. Make me
scream.

His cock drives right into my G-spot. Once, twice, goodbye, I’m gone.

It’s funny how a few seconds can feel like a few minutes when you’re writhing in ecstasy and you’re becoming one entity with the love of your life. My nails scratch his body. My voice peals. The core of my being is opening… opening… opened. Hair is in my face. Is it mine? Is it his, as his orgasmic grunt echoes in my ear and his cock fills me with heat?

Our lips are together and then apart. Our bodies refuse to part, unless it’s momentarily enough to keep thrusting through this mutual orgasm that has me gasping against his sweaty face because I’m too daft to figure out how to kiss when my whole body is shaking.

He kisses me to make up for it. Ian’s tongue is in my throat. His cock is still inside me. Grunts and groans sneak past his lips and onto mine. When did my bra get torn off? Holy shit, my nipples are so hard! Probably because they keep disappearing beneath Ian’s tongue when he’s not kissing me.

I forbid him from pulling out. I may be on the bottom, and he may have rammed me until we both lost our damned minds, but I’m far from submissive.

“You’re a part of me now,” I whisper into his ear. “I’m never letting you go.”

Ian nestles his face into the crook of my neck, his breath steady. “Good,” he mumbles. “Because I don’t want you to. Ever.”

I swear I’m not crying because I’m a big baby. It’s probably the endorphins releasing in my brain. Or the fact we had an intense scene that I barely had time to prepare for. Or, or…

Time to stop thinking. It’s time to simply enjoy the presence of the only man I could ever see calling my husband.

Chapter 16

IAN

It’s our last night in Paris. Tomorrow morning we hop on a private plane back to America, back to our usual lives.

That’s not so bad. It’s nice to know we don’t have to be somewhere special in order to enjoy one another’s company.

Since the night I completely gave myself to her, things have changed. For the better. I didn’t think our relationship could get even stronger. I thought we had already reached our happy medium. Boy, was I wrong. For the past few nights I’ve wanted nothing but to make love to my woman. That may be a strange thing to call her, but simply saying girlfriend feels so wrong. We are beyond boyfriend and girlfriend. I don’t know what else to call her, though.

So when I say “my woman,” I don’t mean that I own her. Far from that. Kathryn is a woman who could never be owned, if there is such a thing. If anything, I’d sell myself to her first. If it meant we could be together forever? Yes.

Tonight is a bit wary, though. After many frivolous days and nights making love in the city of romance, we’re back at a French restaurant. This time, we’ve come completely clean to one another.

It started with me confessing that I had met with her mother. Obviously, Kathryn was unhappy, and it was the first time since our fateful night she became too upset to talk to me for a few minutes. When the information sank in, however, she came to me and opened up that she had seen her too. By then we both knew that.

For our last night in Paris, we are meeting with Marilyn. Together.

She walks in to find us sitting side-by-side, holding hands beneath the table. My smile does not falter, but Kathryn’s does. Marilyn stares at our display of affection as she sits down.

Kathryn’s mother doesn’t talk much. Instead, my girlfriend and I fill the void with trite talk of Paris and how Marilyn should definitely move here if she’s thinking about it. “A change of pace could be good for you,” Kathryn says during the appetizers. “Maybe the Germans are too intense for you. These French people could help you relax.”

I try not to snort into my champagne. I’m sure Kathryn didn’t mean that in any naughty way, but what can I say? My brain goes where it will!