Taking his Risk (Year of the Billionaire Part 2) (3 page)

There was nothing but his voice and the quivering, reaching desire of our bodies. I gripped his shoulders hard and bore up against him. He was still moving in a languid rhythm but the way his cock was hitting me drove me closer and closer to orgasm. When I came, it was with a series of long, long spasms that went on forever. The pleasure diffused through my body. Instead of being sharp, it was encompassing, everything in me seemed engulfed with pure, crystalline pleasure. It ended with small shuddering sobs. I felt the tears behind the sash, wetting the edges. He pulled the satin blindfold away and kissed my eyelids.

"The sacred tears of Raina. You gave them to me."

I sniffed a little sniff and smiled into his handsome face. "A gift gladly given. Oh, Tristan, such pleasure . . ."

He shifted his weight sligh
tly and started to move again.

"It's your turn now," I told him
as I angled my hips so that he could fill me with his full length, deeply, up to the very mouth of my womb. I held the backs of my knees open and urged him with my body and my words to come.

"Now, fuck me hard. I want it hard and I want to feel you take what's yours."

"Oh, baby, that's it . . . tell me."

"Hard, Tristan, slam your beautiful cock
into me . . . into my cunt." I watched his face as I spoke. Saying the forbidden words brought him to the tipping point. I could see it in the contortion of his face as he threw his head back and held himself deep within me. He moved only slightly as he emptied himself into me. My body had just been so, so well satisfied and now I had the other, equally beautiful pleasure of having his satisfaction poured into me.

He stayed on top of me for a moment or two. My arms slowly relaxed away from their tight grip on his shoulders and my legs slipped away from his waist. His cock shrunk into satisfied slumber and soon we joined it, twined around each other as the jet moved closer to its mystery destination.

Two

The pilot must have relaxed the rules (or been ordered to) because I awoke
in bed to the sound and feeling of the plane landing. Tristan awoke also and told me just to sleep on if I wanted to.

"It was only a six hour flight
. Get your beauty rest. We can stay on the plane as long as you like."

It didn't take a lot of persuading for me to snuggle back against him and enjoy the sensation. It was the first time we had actually
slept
together. No matter what adventure he had planned for us, nothing was nearly as compelling at that moment as resting in the shelter of his arms. I turned onto my side and let the comfort of his body spooning against me lull me into a dreamless sleep.

He was gone when I woke up the next time. I shimmied over to his side of the bed and buried my face into his pillow. I could smell the faintest trace of him lingering there.

My robe was once again draped over the foot of the bed with the sash threaded through the loops at the waist. I smiled as I tied the satin belt around me recalling the role it had played in our bed the night before.

I found Tristan in the dining area of the plane when I emerged from
the master suite. He was also back in his robe and was tending to the table. He had set our places and there was a silver coffee service waiting on the counter.

"Normally, I'd have a steward to take care of all this," he said sweeping his hand at the table, "but I wanted us to have complete privacy, at least until we
began
our little vacation. Then, all bets are off."

"Are you going to tell me where we are?" The window screens had been raised but when I looked out all I saw was the inside of a hanger. Nothing there gave me a clue as to where we had landed after our six hour flight.

"
Béziers Cap d'Agde
Airport is our precise location," he pronounced--as if that meant something to me. I had to have him repeat the name a couple of times before it stuck. He said it with a perfect French accent that nearly made me slide off my feet.

"Great. Am I safe in assuming we're somewhere in France?"

"
Oui
."

So far so good. I had been to France on my college backpack tour. Mostly I remembered the museums in Paris, the train ride to
Arles
and
Avignon
and expensive damn everything. It was going to be an entirely new experience to see the country from a different perspective.

"We're going to have breakfast and then we'll be on our way. Because out there," He pointed outside, "it's already lunch time." He motioned for me to sit down at the table. I poured myself a cup of coffee that smelled faintly of chocolate and almonds and doused it with a healthy dose of sugar and thick cream.

"I figured you for a 'coffee as dessert' kind of girl."

"Too true. Coffee is only a vehicle to deliver the sweet and the fat."

"You never drank coffee at all at the theater."

"How observant. You're right, I don't drink it at night. Keeps me up." I continued to be amazed and flattered that Tristan made note of the smallest details about me. Right down to the fact that I'd be the type to dig a girlie flavored coffee.

"The bakery delivered these this morning." There was a basket of warm breads--
pain du chocolate
, small salted hard rolls, and something with whole apricots that looked outstanding. "And you'll never taste better butter than this." Dipping his finger into the clay ramekin, he brought the buttered tip to my mouth and I licked it off. He was right, it was so far ahead of any butter I'd ever tasted that it shouldn't have borne the same name. His finger lingered on my lips and traced around the sensitive edges. I gave a small sigh of pleasure, both for the taste and for the touch.

He picked up one of the hard rolls and broke it in two. He slathered butter on one half for me and on the other for himself. He served us omelets with ham and cheese and
hot fruit compote made with cherries, figs and hazelnuts.

"I have a feeling that food is going to be a key element in this trip. Am I right?"

"My darling, there is no point in eating swill when you can eat ambrosia." He took a mouthful of omelet and tasted it carefully. "This, for example, is pre-prepared airplane food. It was made yesterday and reheated this morning. If you were flying commercial, it would taste like over salted shit. However, made with real Emmental, Iberian ham and Amish farmed eggs it's actually worth eating. My chef takes special care not to over season, but you'll find the fresh herbs add far more flavor." He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Did you know that your sense of taste is diminished at high altitudes?"

"No," I mumbled as I tucked into the omelet with new found respect, "I didn't."

"Sadly, yes. Your delicate flavor, for example, was way too subdued when I dined on you last night." He flashed me his devil grin.

I
flushed at the reminder. My body came to life so easily at his every suggestion. The things he said to me! Other men might mention 'good sex' or 'fantastic climax' but Tristan chose to recall my taste in his mouth.

We finished our omelets and he picked up
my fruit cup and silently fed me. He held my eyes as the sweet tart taste filled my mouth. "Oh, god, that's too good," I told him. He seemed to get a big kick out of feeding me. I didn't mind at all. It was very sexy to have a man take such interest in my pleasure. He appeared determined to explore every sensual outlet I had. I was game.

***

I chose to wear pale peach shorts, pretty cream colored sandals and a cotton sleeveless sweater with a peach, rose and aqua weave. The sweater had a matching cardigan that I looped over my shoulders. The underwear I had to choose from stunned me. I wound up just choosing a random set, in white. Everything fit perfectly and felt like a billion bucks.

I twirled in the full length mirror.
Very Berkshire Hills
.
Very sophisticated. Very grown up
. I chose to twist my hair into a loose chignon at the base of my neck rather than leave it free. That added to the classy look.

There was a car waiting for us right outside the hanger. I was not surprised to see Kwan waiting to open the door for us to climb in.

"Hi Kwan," I smiled. "Were you on board the flight?" I wondered where Tristan had hidden his bodyguard.

"Ah, Miss Raina. Good morning." He gave me a big grin. After our fashion expedition, the coldness I felt in the beginning had completely disappeared. "Actually, I was the co-pilot. I told you I wear many hats."

"You are very talented. I wanted to thank you for helping set up my parents' security. My mother really took a shine to you. I think it made a big difference in how comfortable she felt with the whole thing."

"She and your father are in excellent hands. I know the two guys protecting them. I'd trust them with my life. We ins
talled a state-of-the-art alarm system. And you mother told me you'd approve of the street level window bars."

"I've been asking them to do that for years."

"You should know that I am in frequent contact with the house. So, no worries."

I felt ashamed that I had not, in fact, been at all worried. I'd been so distracted and entertained by my mystery trip with my dream man that my poor parents' plight had more or less vanished from my mind. Now it was back.

Tristan must have seen the look of concern cross my face. "We have everything under control. Kwan's security is impeccable and Archie is moving right along in gathering the evidence we need to put the thugs behind bars for a very long time."

"But the men who want to 'make an example'--your words, Tristan--out of my father are still out there. And now my
parents are back in Park Slope . . ." I guess I kind of whined the last words. I saw Tristan shoot Kwan a look I was glad wasn't meant for me as he guided me into the back of the car.

"We can't make a move until everything is in place. Please try to trust me, Raina." He patted my knee paternalistically. I half expected him to say 'there, there'. Funny how even under that circumstance the warmth of his hand went right to my core.

The car I climbed into had only two white leather reclining seats in the back. Kwan took his place in the fully enclosed chauffer's compartment in front of us. I looked up to see the top above our heads open noiselessly to the clear blue sky.

Once again, my curiosity got the better of me. The car was like nothing I had ever seen. Even the Maserati 'Batmobile' back in the Hills was
at least recognizable as a sort of sedan. This vehicle was specifically designed for a chauffeur and one or two passengers. It reminded me of a space age hansom cab. "Tristan, what the hell are we riding in?"

"
Maybach Landaulet
," he answered, obviously way too pleased that I had asked. "Very limited production. It's just the perfect car for the South of France."

We zipped along
through a fairly modern town, at least by French standards. Soon the Mediterranean came into view and we hugged the coast passing white sand beach after white sand beach.

"This is the
town of
Agde
. I brought you here because it is probably the world's largest naturist place in the world. At the height of the season, there are almost 40,000 naked people in the naturist village part of
Cap d'Agde
. It isn't a place to linger long, but once in a while it makes for an interesting experience."

I was at a loss. I wondered what was expected of me.

"I thought it would be good for you to discover how liberating it can be to enjoy the sun, a meal or a drink, even a little shopping wearing nothing but your beautiful skin," Tristan said matter-of-factly as if he were proposing we take a pleasant hike or a dip in a pretty lake.

We arrived at a marina and
Kwan pulled up beside a yacht. King's Risk looked huge to me. It was easily the largest private boat I'd ever seen in person.

"I can't stand the actual hotels here at
Cap d'Agde
. About the only thing I can say about them is that they're clean. So, we'll stay on King's Risk. I keep her exclusively in the Med. She's a sweet little boat--perfect for a small sea like the Mediterranean."

"Little boat?"

"This boat isn't even considered a mega-yacht. She's only a hundred and twenty feet. I've never been much of a boat person, really. If we get a wild hair to sail around the world in style, there's always charter."

Did he know what it did to my insides when he threw out a casual 'we' like that?  Everything else receded while my brain took a time out to sing
'he said we! he said we! he said we!'.

We got out of the car
and I was welcomed aboard the boat by Captain Shane, a nice looking guy from Palm Beach, Florida. The steward, Carlos, escorted us to a deck space encircled by leather cushioned seats. There was a bucket of champagne and glasses waiting for us there. Carlos popped the cork and left us.

I cleared my throat. "So, uhm, we're here to 'experience' a nude beach?"