The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (2 page)

With one arm, he
wrenched me towards him and pulled my pantyhose even lower, towards my ankles,
forcing me to spread my legs so that my crotch was pressed hard against his
business suit.  His hands sought the buttons of my blouse, undoing them.  When
I tried to stop him, he frowned at me and then ripped the whole thing off.  The
buttons that had remained done flew into the air and scattered around his
private meeting room.

The idea struck
me, some out of context thought, that I should clean those up for him, but then
my mind snapped back to the reality of the situation.  I was laying on his
table, legs spread around his hips, wearing only my bra and partially wearing
my pantyhose.  A quick glance to the side showed my blouse, skirt and heels
scattered on the floor, much like the loose pages of his expensive book.

"Remove
your bra," he said.

I hesitated.  He
sounded so fierce, but the look on his face was one of calm confidence, like he
never expected me to defy him, never expected anything but obedience.

"Mr.
Landseer," I said, voice wavering, coming out as more of a squeak. 
"You're married."

"Remove
your bra," he repeated.

I sat up enough
so I could reach my hands behind my back.  My stomach tightened and when I moved
I felt the zipper of his pants pressing against my wet, exposed pussy.  He
watched me, relished in seeing me dispose of one of my last articles of
clothing.  I don't know why, but once I unsnapped my bra and pulled my arms
through the straps, I tossed it to the floor haphazardly, letting it join the
mess with my other clothing.

"You
deserve punishment," he said.  "Do you not?"

I nodded fast,
heart quickening.  Shivers from the cold passed through my body.  Or, that's
what I wanted to think at the time, but his presence had me hot and flustered. 
There was no possible way I was cold right now with my body quivering in a heat
of excitement.  Here I was, some unknown women from the cleaning staff, and a
temp for the day at that, almost entirely naked on billionaire CEO Asher
Landseer's private office table.

In the blink of
an eye his hand cupped my sex.  His fingers pressed against my pubic mound,
forcing me to acknowledge their presence, and I arched my back and let out an
unintentional moan.

"How do I
punish you when you're clearly enjoying this?" he asked.  "Shall I
remove this distraction first so we can begin your punishment?"

"Sir?"
I asked.  My breath felt like a fog, escaping my lips and covering my face in a
warm, wet haze.  Everything was a blur, like I was looking through an unfocused
camera lens.

He never
answered, didn't bother to respond with his ideas.  Instead, he snaked his
thumb lower, spread my moist folds with his finger, and then pressed inside of
me.  My hips bucked upwards instinctively and I gasped, caught off guard.  My
fucking God, I thought, is he going to take me right here?

And, if he did,
would I let him?  Would I moan for him, accept his hard erect cock inside me? 
Some part of me despised the idea, disliked the treatment, but only a small
part.  A larger part wondered at him, wanted him to take me on his meeting
table.  Wanted him to...

He was married. 
I couldn't, I...

Asher's thumb
bent and he pressed against the pleasure spot inside my intimate tunnel.  My
body betrayed my intentions, ignored the thoughts of his wife, his marriage,
and the wrongness of this, and bent to his will.  He wrapped his other fingers
around my pussy, treating me like just another object, something he owned. 
With his middle finger he teased at my clit, pushing me higher towards the
precipice of pleasure.

My eyes rolled
into the back of my head and my body tightened, muscles clamping down for the
long haul.  There was no long term for this, though.  Asher knew what he was
doing, and he did it well.  His fingers expertly toyed with my sex and encased
my crotch.  It felt so strange, so different.  I was exposed to the cool,
office building air, but his hand radiated a warming heat that spread from my
aroused slit to the rest of my body.

And then his
fingers brought another kind of heat.  A tingling sensation raced through me,
the blissful beginnings of an impending orgasm.  My pussy clamped down on his
thumb, holding it in me, spasming around his intrusion, and the rest of my body
soon followed suit.  I squirmed in the throes of ecstasy, not even caring that
I was openly displayed on his meeting room table.  It was private, anyways,
with the glass wall only showing through to his personal office.  That
shouldn't have made a difference, shouldn't have made the situation alright,
but my mind wasn't thinking rationally at the moment.

He allowed me to
ride through my pleasure, grinning at my squirming self, before removing his
hand from my crotch.  I lay on his table, a hot mess, completely breathless.

"Up,"
Asher said.  "Now that your distraction is eliminated, I expect you to
accept punishment."

I scrambled off
his table, fell to my knees, and looked up at him.  This man, Asher Landseer,
had just brought me to climax like it was nothing, and was staring at me as if
he'd done nothing in particular.  Another day at the job, another...

"Now,"
he said.  "Having finished my business meeting early, I find myself with
some free time.  I came back to my office, intending to read, but then you
destroyed my book."

"I can repay..."
I started to say.

"The cost
isn't the issue," he said.  "That—"  He frowned and looked
softer for a moment, as if he were remembering something.  "That book was
special to me."

I gulped.  I'd
never meant to destroy the book in the first place, and I understood a rich man
would own expensive things, but now that I knew it was more than that, I felt
horrible.  I wanted to apologize, to hug and console him, but...

"Do you
like
Dante's Inferno
?" he asked, all of a sudden.

"Yes,"
I said, the answer squeaking out of me.

"What?  Be
confident in your answer."

"Yes,"
I repeated myself, though I didn't think I sounded any less timid.  I rose to
my feet, standing before him.

"Why?"
he asked.

Huh?  "Why
what?"

"Why do you
like it?"

"The—" 
Was this conversation really happening?  I stood there, mostly naked, talking
to a young, billionaire CEO about why I liked a certain piece of literature.  I
would never be able to understand this, no matter how long I lived.

But, maybe that
was the point.  I'm not sure.  I did feel a little better talking with him like
this, though.  Like if I could show him that I understood the book and tell him
why I liked it, he might forgive me just a little bit for what happened.  And
then I could forgive him for... and...

"I enjoy
the symbolism," I told him sincerely.  "I think it's nice that the
story starts off in the depths of Hell, with
Inferno
, but by the end of
Divine
Comedy
there's some redemption and Dante brings us to Heaven with
Paradiso
. 
The rhyme scheme is also incredibly impressive.  And the fact that he retained
such a strict format through 14,233 lines?  I find that amazing."

"Indeed,"
Asher said.  I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face, but it
was gone before I knew it.  Had I imagined it?  Yes, possibly, but...

"I enjoy
that line," he said in a passing conversational tone.

I looked at him,
confused. 

He frowned and
shook his head, though it seemed more teasing than chastising.  "One ought
to fear those things only that have power of doing harm.  The others not, for
they are not dreadful," he said, reciting one of the parts of the poem
he'd read aloud before, the one on the page that he'd tossed aside before...

My God, I
thought.  I was really just on his table, I was really just naked, and... I
looked down at myself, confirming my nudity.  Somehow just now realizing it, or
realizing it again, I tightened my legs and fidgeted, trying to cover my body
with my arms.

"Stop,"
he said, a command.  I dropped my hands, dumbstruck.  "The best
punishments are those that make you reflect and that make you uncomfortable. 
Part of yours shall be to finish cleaning my office as you are."

I stared at
him.  "Are you serious?"

"I never
repeat myself," he said.  "Never."

I did not give
in, ever.  I wasn't the type for it.  I always questioned everything, and
expected no less from anyone else.  Why should I mindlessly move through life
like a drone?

This is how I
always thought, but then why was I now stepping around his office, feather
duster in hand and actively dusting while wearing only my pantyhose which I'd
pulled back up after he'd finger fucked me to an orgasm?  Wearing almost
nothing felt nice, though, oddly.  Freeing.  The cool air became a little less
cool as I grew accustomed to it, and I relished in the sexiness of my body.

This man, Asher
Landseer, the married CEO of a billion dollar corporation, had wanted me. 
While I cleaned his office, I tried to catch his attention, bending over this
way and that, arching my back and pressing out my breasts in hopes he would look
at me.  But it didn't work?

Some doubt
slipped into my mind.  He hadn't actually said he wanted me.  No lustful words
escaped his lips as he coaxed me to orgasm.  Nothing of the sort, actually.  In
fact, now that I thought about it, he said he was only doing it to remove a
distraction.  But... no... that couldn't be it, could it?  Except, it must be.

The idea sunk
in.  I wasn't some absolutely desirable woman.  I couldn't tempt a billionaire
away from his wife.  This was business, plain and simple.  I'd destroyed his
book and he meant to punish me for it, and that was it.  Well, he'd done a good
job of that.  I felt embarrassed for even thinking I could have garnered his
attention.

I moved through
his office, dusting without trying to be sexy, steaming in my own thoughts,
annoyed.  He thought he was all that?  Oh, I could do better.  Maybe I'd push
his bookcase a little, send the whole thing crashing to the ground, see how he
liked that.  What would he do then?  If one destroyed book equaled one smoldering
climax, what would a whole bookcase involve?  I shuddered thinking about it.

The phone rang. 
I glanced over towards it, catching Asher looking at me out of the corner of
his eye.  Or, no, he wouldn't even be doing that.  If he hadn't glanced at me
before when I was trying to act seductive, he wouldn't now.  I was imagining
things.

He reached for
his phone and answered it.  "Hello?"

I absently
listened to his side of the conversation while dusting, planning on finishing
this and getting out of here.

"Yes? 
No," he said.  "Are you sure?  Is that why...?"

He sounded
confused, lost.  I wanted... dammit!  Despite my frustration with him, I wanted
to go over to him and see if he was alright.  Look at him, smile, become lost
staring into his brilliant blue eyes, reaching a hand up to touch the hint of
stubble growing on his cheek.

"Yes,"
he said to the person on the other end of the phone.  "Yes, I'll talk with
her.  We've discussed this before.  Thank you."

He hung up the
phone and went to sit on his chaise.  Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples
with his fingers and frowned.

I don't know
why, and I shouldn't have done it, but I went over to him and put my hands on
his shoulders.  Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he looked up at me.

"I need a
massage," he said.

"I can if
you'd like?" I offered, my voice meek.  I wanted to impress him, but I
didn't know why.  He was a jerk, and not worthy of my time.  A man with money? 
Ha!  Who cared.  I had... knowledge of Charles Dickens.

"That
wasn't a question," he stated firmly.  "It was an order."

I tensed up,
wanted to grind my fingers into his shoulders and squeeze as hard as I could,
but I didn't.  Instead, I gave him a light massage, erring on the side of
softness, until he
ordered
me to do it harder.  Oh, really?  I intended
to annoy him, to make him angry, but when I dug my fingers into his shoulder
muscles, he only let out a content sigh and relaxed into the chaise.

Honestly?  What
an asshole.

"My wife is
infertile," he said, nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry
to hear that?" I replied.  What do you say to someone when they tell you
that?  And, as unlikely as it was, I would have rather heard him say he was
divorcing her.  Was that a mean thought to think?  Yes, but, then maybe...

"We've
talked about this possibility.  Adoption is one choice.  It's admirable and
respectable, but I'd rather not, and she doesn't want to, either.  I'd like the
child to be at least a part of me, genetically."

Something, I
heard some strange inflection in his voice that made me think about what he'd
just said.  "What about her?" I asked.

He laughed. 
"She's not interested in children at all.  I imagine this will be a boon
to her, not being able to conceive naturally.  She's fine with the idea of it,
but the process bothers her.  If she could, she'd rather have someone else
carry the child to term so she didn't have to."

"It's
possible," I said, shrugging.  My massage grew lighter as our conversation
unfolded and my fingers eased away the kinks in his shoulder.  "There's
egg donations, and you could have one fertilized with... with your..."  I
couldn't bring myself to say "his seed" despite the fact I was
currently standing behind him without any clothes on.  It felt too... dirty?  I
don't know.

"True,"
he said, scrunching up his brow, contemplating the idea.  After a few seconds,
he said, "I don't know your name.  You're the temp they hired for the day,
correct?"