The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (20 page)

"Shh.  Put
on pajamas and let me in.  If you need, there's something that might fit you in
the closet.  Jeremy bought a lot and..."

"You want
me to wear woman's pajamas?" he asked, laughing.

"There's
not much of a difference," I said, giggling.  The giggling!  I don't know
why.  I couldn't help it.  "Maybe in the look, but they should be baggy
enough.  And a baggy t-shirt.  I think there might be one."

"I'm not
going to..."

"Please?"
I asked.  "I want to come in.  I don't want to do anything.  I just want
to see you."

A moment passed,
than another.  I looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping somehow he saw them
in the tiny TV screen.

"Fine,"
he said.  "Just give me a second.  I need to clean up first."

Asher reached
over towards the TV on his bedside table and pushed some buttons.  The screen
on my end turned blank, nothing more than a consistent black.

Asher wasn't
sure why he was doing this, and he was fairly positive he shouldn't, but some
part of him wanted to do it anyways.  It was wrong, horribly so, and he was
skirting a fine line with what he did and what he'd done, but he did it
anyways.

Jessika came to
his room, the master bedroom in his guest home.  He let her in.  She looked at
him and laughed.

"I'll have
you know," he said, grinning, "this is all the rage in the men's
fashion world."

"Is
it?" she asked.

He nodded. 
"Yes."

Jeremy hadn't
left him with many choices.  Yes, Jessika had innumerable options amongst the
clothes his driver had bought for her, but Asher had few.  Granted, they were
women's clothes, so he couldn't expect much out of it, but he thought he'd made
a few good choices.  A pair of pink pajama pants with smiley faces on them and
a plain white t-shirt.  The shirt was somewhat tight, but his only other
options included even tighter shirts, or ones with emasculating colors.  Or,
more emasculating than his already pink pants, which weren't helping his case.

"You look
nice," Jessika said.  She entered the bedroom without asking and closed
the door behind her.

He watched her
walk in, still wearing the barely concealing babydoll.  She sashayed over to
the bed, the lingerie's skirt swishing after her, revealing a glimpse of the
delicious lower curves of her rear.  Asher stared after her, openly ogled her. 
Then she turned around and caught him looking and grinned.

"I'm
sorry," he said.  He averted his eyes, raised them upwards, but that
didn't help much, either.  With her facing him, he had a direct view of her
delightfully pert breasts beneath the flimsy, see-thru material at the top of
the babydoll.  "Jessika, I really really don't think this is a good
idea."

"I
know," she said, looking down.  Shy, affected.  "I'm sorry, too.  I
would have changed, but everything was in here."

"Oh,"
he said.  "Do you want to change now?  If..."

"I'll get
under the blankets," she said.  "Can you come, too?  Can we..."

Her hesitation,
her demure demeanor, Asher longed for it.  He wanted to reassure her, to
console her, to give her everything she wanted and more.  And he wanted to take
it in, drink her emotions in one condensed shot like an extra smooth fine
brandy.  He wanted all of her, completely and absolutely.

And he knew this
wasn't possible.  A lark, some lust, a fit of whim and caprice.  But still,
what did she want, what was she asking of him?  He knew he should deny her,
return to his main house with his wife, do anything but remain here.

"Can we
sleep together?" she asked.  "In the same bed.  Just sleeping.  I
won't... I mean, I know that..."

Asher sighed. 
He was smitten.  "Yes," he said.  "That's alright.  I
understand."

I laid in bed
next to Asher, thinking.  Breath slow and steady, shallow, I didn't want to
ruin anything by overthinking everything.  What was this and what had we done? 
All of a sudden, out of nowhere, it hit me like nothing else ever had.  So
strange and different, but enticing and exhilarating, too.  I didn't know why,
but I wanted so much more.  His belt, and his touch, his fingers tantalizing
and agonizing all at once, twisting my nipple but demanding I remain in place. 
His palm slapping my butt while I lay draped over his lap.  Our mutual
masturbation, watching each other on a TV screen while we confessed our taboo
longings and desires.

Why was Asher
here?  What happened?  I didn't know, so I asked.

"Is
everything alright?  Is... with..."  I gulped, unsure if I could say her
name now; if I should say her name.  "Beatrice?"

Asher didn't
reply at first.  Maybe he was sleeping, I thought.  Maybe he needed to now.  To
dream away everything and forget it had ever happened.  I understood why he
would want to do that, even if it made me sad to think about it.  This, us, we
couldn't continue.

"We had an
argument," he said after awhile, after I didn't think he was going to say
anything.  "We never sleep in the same room, either.  She doesn't feel
comfortable with it.  She says she gets anxious that she'll upset me or move
too much, and..."

"And?"

"I don't
know how truthful this is, but one time she said she worried that she'd toss
around so much and I'd wake up with my face in her arm pit.  Or, she likes to
switch positions in bed a lot, so sometimes she puts her head by the foot of
the bed, so I might wake up with her feet in my face.  She hates the idea of
that.  She hates that I might smell some part of her that isn't pristine and
perfect.  She says it's awful and embarrassing."

I scrunched up
my brow.  "Really?  Seriously?"

"Like I
said, I don't know how truthful that is.  Sometimes I think it might be an
excuse.  Either way, we don't sleep in the same room or the same bed very
often.  Our rooms are close, though.  In the same hallway."

"I don't
mean to judge, but I think that's silly," I said.

Asher chuckled. 
"I do, too, but what am I supposed to do?  Beatrice is different.  I
can't—"

And he paused,
no doubt imagining the things we'd done that night, most of which I doubted he
could, or would, ever do with her.  "You can't spank her," I said,
matter-of-factly.

"No, not
particularly.  I don't really have an urge to spank most people, though.  I
hope you realize this."

"You want
to spank me," I said, being silly.

"It's
because you have a nice butt," Asher said, simple as that.  He sounded as
if this were a dreadful thing, sorrowful, though completely necessary. 
"It is the bane of all women with nice butts, to be spanked by those with
a heavy hand."

"And I'm
naughty," I added.

"Yes, that
too," he agreed.  "Bad, bad Jessika."

"I'm
sorry," I said.  "I won't do it again.  I just can't help
myself."

He turned to me
then, looked at me.  Rolling from his back to his side, he gazed at me in the
dim light of the bathroom's nightlight.  "I like you," he said. 
"I like spending time with you.  This doesn't mean that... you know?  We
can't have an affair.  I can't cheat on my wife."

"No,"
I said.  "I know."

"But I
don't think that... if... I'm rationalizing here, but I think this is alright. 
If we talk, that's fine.  And maybe the spanking is alright.  I don't know. 
It... that's a fine line.  If we're close and careful, but nothing too far.  No
sex, and..."

I nodded,
listening, and gave him all my attention.  "Can we cuddle?" I asked.

I didn't wait
for him to reply.  Instead, I nuzzled closer.  I eased him back onto the bed,
from his side to laying down.  Putting my head on his shoulder and my arm
across his chest, I pressed my nose against his cheek.

"Maybe,"
he said.

"It's just
cuddling, Asher.  It's nothing serious."

"Right.  I
have nothing against the cuddling."

I sighed,
content.  This was wonderful and perfect and even if we never had sex, I liked
that we could be close.  Cuddling, sleeping in the same bed, talking.  Small,
inconsequential pillow talk, fun and flighty.  And...

"Jessika,"
he said.  "One thing, quickly.  No middle of the night blowjobs anymore,
please."

My eyes widened
and I stared at him in horror.  "I thought you were sleeping!"

"Well, I
was
sleeping, but it was difficult to remain sleeping for fairly obvious
reasons."

"I'm so
sorry," I murmured, the words running together into one jumbled mess.

He laughed. 
"It's alright," he said.  "I mean, it's not exactly alright, but
it's kind of a fantasy, you know?  I think every guy thinks about that.  It's
exciting to think about getting a blowjob in your sleep.  Maybe waking up to
it?  Half asleep and drowsy with your dreams and reality mixing together. 
It..."

"Did you
like it?" I asked; a whisper.  "I won't do it again, I swear, but did
you like it?"

He patted my
head and brushed my hair between his fingers.  "It was exciting," he
said.  "I shouldn't say this, but I thought about it when, you know,
tonight.  The TV thing.  Honestly, I'm just—I don't know why I'm saying
this—but last night, that was indescribable.  It was really amazing."

"But don't
do it again," I said.

"No,"
he said.  "Seriously, it was really good, but don't do it again."

A pause, minutes
of nighttime passing us by.  "Asher," I said, reserved.  I felt
awkward, but I needed to ask him this.  If he was open with me, I felt like I
should be able to do the same with him.

"Yes?"

"If
Beatrice agrees with the child, the surrogacy and everything, do you think
that—and I understand if you don't like this idea, but I just want to ask
it—would it be alright if I visited sometimes?  I wouldn't tell the child or
act like a mother or anything, but I'd like it if I could come visit.  Just to
see."

He kissed my
forehead.  A light, simple kiss.  "I think that's alright," he said. 
"You could probably babysit if you wanted.  During the days, or after
school.  Now that I think about it, it'd be easier.  If you want to, that is. 
I'd pay for your services, of course.  Please don't take offense to that.  I'm
not trying to cheapen it or anything, but I feel like if you did that then I'd
like to pay you.  Even if it was something simple, like letting you
stay..."

He trailed off,
but only for a moment.

"This is an
idea, and purely logical and unemotional.  I want to preface it with that. 
But, if you stayed in the guest house, everything would be easier.  You can do
whatever you like, and I could hire another babysitter if you want to have an
ordinary job.  I'm all for woman's independence.  You don't even have to do
this if you don't want to.  If you like, since it would make it easier for
breastfeeding and everything like that, you could stay in the guest house,
though.  A live in nanny of sorts.  I mean that in the most empowering of
ways."  He sighed, defeated.  "I sound like a horrible chauvinist,
don't I?"

"No,"
I said, kissing his cheek.  "You sound like a caring, thoughtful person. 
You sound like you're thinking about what's best for your child and you're
offering someone something very nice and wonderful, even though that someone
only asked you for a simple request that you didn't even have to agree with. 
You're offering a choice, and women's independence is all about choices,
right?"

"So you're
saying I'm a great example of a feminist?" he asked, teasing.

"I don't
know if I'd go that far, but I don't think you're a misogynist or a chauvinist
by any stretch."

"Oh, good. 
I was worried for a second."

We lay in
silence, thinking.  About each other, maybe, or not that at all.  I thought
about Asher, at least, and I imagined at least a little part of him thought
about me.  Dazing, dreaming, closing my eyes, I cuddled with him and imagined
possibilities.

When I woke up
in the morning, Asher was gone.  I yawned, stretching, and looked towards the
bathroom, thinking I might see him there shaving, showering, or something. 
But, no, he was gone.  Downstairs, perhaps?  Making breakfast?  Any moment now,
after a knock on the door, he would swoop in while carrying a tray of food. 
Eggs, bacon, sausage, diced fruit with toast, pancakes?

"Jessika?"
someone called out from downstairs.  It wasn't Asher.

"I'm up
here," I yelled.

"Alright. 
Are you decent?  Asher asked me to stop by."

"Yes.  It's
fine."

I waited in bed,
pulling the covers up high to cover all but my face, while Jeremy bounded up
the stairs.  Outside the door, he knocked.

"Come
in," I said.

He entered, saw
me laying in bed, and paused.  "Oh.  Were you sleeping?"

"I just
woke up.  Why?"

"Uh, no
reason in particular.  It's almost noon, that's all."

"What,"
I said, panicking.  A clock, a clock, I looked for one, but apparently Asher
never found it necessary to provide his guest house with a clock on the bedside
table.  "Is it really?" I asked, nearly forgetting myself and almost
tossing off the blankets in a hurry to get up, showing Jeremy my babydoll-clad
body.

"Well, it's
nine.  Close enough."

I fell onto the
bed, relieved and exasperated.  "Nine!  Nine isn't noon, Jeremy.  Noon is
three hours away.  Don't do that to me."

"Hey,
look," he said.  "Everyone wakes up pretty early here, so nine is
practically noon.  Asher left ages ago and he asked me to come by.  He's going
to talk with Beatrice a little more, but he's almost positive she'll agree to
his little deal, so he wants to make sure you're ready.  Nice guy, huh?"

"Ready for
what?" I asked.  "I don't understand."

"Are you
serious?" he asked.