The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (5 page)

My fucking God,
I thought.  What kinds of buttons was I pushing, and then what kinds was he
pushing back?  Never would I have expected this to happen.  In fact, I was
quite certain it wouldn't.  I don't know why I started it in the first place,
but now that he'd continued it I had no idea where to go from there.

And, this time
wasn't a punishment, was it?  It could be, I told myself.  Who knew?  His toes
tweaked at my panties, moving the fabric against the arousal of my slick folds,
making me squirm in his grasp.  In an attempt to pull myself away, to
reciprocate and return his action, I guided my foot up and down his crotch
again.

He was going to
get me off with his foot and I couldn't even understand how.  It was so
strange, entirely new, but I wanted it so badly.  I writhed in the chair,
grinding my pelvis against his foot, silently pleading with him with my eyes. 

Just as things
were getting good, someone knocked on the wooden sliding door.  "I've
brought the lover's special to start, and the rest will be available
shortly," our waiter said.

Disheveled and
completely undone as a person, I somehow managed to return to my sitting
position.  Asher did the same, though much more elegantly than I could have
ever imagined.  Once we were both sitting somewhat normally, Asher opened the
sliding door and smiled at the waiter.

The man glanced
at us oddly.  My hair, I realized.  Asher wouldn't have to worry about much,
except maybe a crease in his suit coat, but when he'd pulled on my leg and made
me fall backwards, he'd mussed up my hair.  I struggled to fix it while the
waiter and his assistant placed plates, the lover's special, and various
saucers of sauces on our table.

"Let me
know if you need anything else," the waiter said with a nod.  Then he
left.

Asher promptly
closed the door again.

"Jessika,"
he said, hesitating.

"Yes?"
I asked.  No more innocence this time.  I really didn't know what he wanted,
but I was so pent up, orgasm lost, and I desperately wanted to continue where
we'd left off.

"I—"
he said, still hesitating.  "I know you know I'm married, and I don't want
you to get the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea
about what?" I said.  And, what an idiotic thing to say?  Obviously I knew
what he meant!  I was fooling around with a married man in a private alcove in
a luxury restaurant, then asking him what he meant when he said I shouldn't get
the wrong idea?  He probably thought I was stupid.

"You do...
things... to me," he said.

"Hm?"

"I expected
to come here and talk business with you.  A friendly meeting, though.  Not
strictly business, mind you, but... the question I asked you about yesterday? 
Lunch, too, of course, but the main reason we're here is because of what I asked
you before, about the favor for my wife and I.  I've discussed it briefly with
her and she's not completely opposed to the idea, and I talked with one of my
financial advisers about the technicalities.  He said to see if you would do it
for no cost, since he assumes you might, considering the nature of my proposal
and who I am.  I would never do that, though.  I'll compensate you quite
generously if you agree, but I want you to know there's no pressure if you
disagree, too."

"Asher?"
I said.  "Let's just eat first, alright?"

"I'm not
trying to be so formal," he said.  And with a laugh, he added, "Some
romantic part of me wanted to say that you can give me your decision once we're
done.  Meaning, you choose when we finish by stating your decision, and we can
stay and have a nice time before that, doing whatever you like."

"Romantic?"
I asked, teasing.  "Like this lover's special?  You are married, aren't
you?"

He grinned and
shook his head in grief.  "Romantic as in romanticized.  And the lover's
special is just a sushi platter for two.  It's not my fault they named it
that."

"Yeah, I
know."  I felt silly, but I grinned back at him.  What was I, some silly
schoolgirl with a crush?  This was beyond me, he was beyond me, and I didn't
know how to deal with it.  But... "Is everything alright with your
wife?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

Asher frowned,
but only for a moment.  "She's away," he said, carefully.  "She
prefers it.  The city is too stuffy for her sometimes.  She needs to go to
different places to feel more comfortable.  That's how she's always been."

"Do you
miss her?"

He smiled. 
"You know?  Sometimes I do, yes.  But for better or for worse, right?  I
want her to be happy, too."

But she's
leaving you alone!  That's what I wanted to say.  This handsome, wonderful man,
who went into amazing fits of passion like any woman might dream of, who had
the foresight to request us this closed off room so I might feel more
comfortable in the unknown atmosphere of a ritzy establishment, and who was
quick to offer a massage when my foot ached.  And, yes, he was a bit commanding
at times, perhaps far too much, but my God I wanted him to be so much more
commanding, too.

For better or
for worse?  He wanted to make her happy?  There was nothing in his expression
or his tone that said this, but I felt like he wasn't—but should be—happy. 
And maybe that wasn't her fault.  I wasn't anyone who should be dissecting
their marriage and trying to figure out the flaws in it, since I had no clue
about their relationship, but...

I couldn't do
this.  I was setting myself up for something horrible and wrong and I wouldn't
allow myself to concoct these dreams and emotions of helping this man overcome
his loneliness.  For all I knew, he liked it that way.  Maybe he had more time to
himself.  He was reclusive, right?  That's what every article said about him,
and even if they were similar to tabloids, entertainment gossip, why would
anyone lie about that?

He liked being
alone, and his wife liked to travel, so perhaps they were a match made in
heaven.  I had no right to judge their relationship, or them.

"Would you
pour me some sake?" Asher asked, snapping me back to reality.

I stared at
him.  "Can't you pour it yourself?"

He grinned. 
"I could, but it's Japanese custom for two people eating to pour each
other's drinks.  I'll pour yours if you'll pour mine?"

"Is that
like 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours?'" I asked in a fit of
sassiness.

"Similar,"
he said with a laugh, "but not quite."

I stuck my
tongue out at him.  I don't know why.  It was a silly, girlish thing to do, but
he stuck his tongue out right back at me.  I smiled, then reached for the
ceramic pitcher and poured him a cup of the heated drink.  The warmth of it let
up a slip of steam.  He returned the favor, leaving me with a cup of warm sake
to drink.

I sipped at my
drink, letting the hot, warmth of it trickle down my throat and leave a
pleasant burn.  Asher raised his cup in a toast.  I wasn't used to this, to
toasting, or customs, or anything at all like what he was treating me to, but I
didn't feel as awkward as I'd first felt.  Lifting my cup, I waited for him to
speak.

"To your
answer," he said.  "Whatever it may be.  I hope it leads us both to a
revelation."

I laughed and
tapped my cup against his when he tipped it towards mine.  The sake rippled in
our cups, and when I went to drink, it seemed more like a pond than a cup of
spirits.  Some infinite, endless, bottomless cup, where if I tossed something
into it, that something would never come out again.  But then, what if I tossed
it into me?  I drank the contents of my cup in one large, unladylike gulp.

I guess I'd find
out?  Philosophy wasn't my inherent strong suit, but I loved literature, and
there was a certain amount of depth required to understand much of it, so I
liked to think I had a knack for thought-provoking topics.  Granted, sake was
sake, no matter how I looked at it, but maybe it would change my life some
day?  It already had, in a way.  I would never have gotten as drunk as I had
before, fallen asleep on a park bench with a friend, if it weren't for sake. 
Not a lot of people could say the same.

I don't think a
lot of people would want to, either.

"So,
Jessika," Asher said, conversationally.  With a pair of chopsticks he
found wrapped in a napkin near his plate, he plucked up a few pieces of sushi
from our platter.  "What do you do?"

"I...
what?" I asked, stalling.  To possibly give me more time, I snatched up
some sushi for myself, too.  If need be, I could eat one and use the excuse of
chewing?  Not a very good excuse, as I probably shouldn't put something in my
mouth right as I needed to answer a question, but the option was there.

"You work
for a temp agency, but do you clean offices often?  Are you looking for a more
steady job?  A career?  You strike me as someone who has potential."

I smiled, though
I felt faint.  "You sound like a hiring manager," I said.  I wanted
that to come across as witty and a joke, but my voice cracked when I talked.

I didn't want to
tell him.  I wanted to retain some mystery about myself, safeguard any
potentially disruptive information.  If he knew I had no idea, that I worked as
a temp because there just weren't a lot of "good" jobs requiring an
English Language and Literature degree, would he dislike me for it?

"I..."
I started to say.  He refused to respond, merely sitting and watching me while
he chewed an unagi roll.  "I don't... well, I don't have anything lined up
right now.  I sort of..."

I stumbled,
hoping he might catch me and go with it.  Maybe he would see my anxiety and
relieve me from having to continue?  But, no, no he didn't.  The only thing he
did that was somewhat helpful was pour me another cup of sake.  I sipped at it,
plopped a cucumber roll into my mouth, chewed, and figured out where to go from
there.

"The thing
is," I said, thinking I could soften this if I used the right angle. 
"I graduated with a BA in English and Literature.  It's not the most
lucrative career option, I know, but reading and the English language have
always been my passion.  There's just so much more that you can describe in
English that isn't in any other language.  We have so many words for so many
things, and multiple words for the same things that give entirely different
impressions or contexts, and..."

I drank some
more sake.  I definitely felt like I needed it.  "I don't know what to do
with it, though.  No one tells you when you're in school, but some degrees are
worthless.  I have a degree to have a degree, basically.  I can't really do
anything with it, except get a few jobs that require a general BA with no real
focus.  I could go into a writing related field, but the most surefire one is a
technical writer, and I..."

"You'd
rather clean offices and do menial labor than ruin your passion for the
language by reducing it to a base, technical thing?" he offered.

"Yes,"
I said, letting out a sigh of relief.  No one else had really understood that
before.

And, sure,
technical writing paid decently.  It wasn't a bad job in the least, and I
imagine a lot of people enjoyed it.  But I couldn't make myself do it, no
matter how hard I tried.  If I could hold out hope, give myself a chance
towards something else, then at least my dreams would survive, no matter what
else died.  If not for dreams, what did we have?

"What do
you do, though?" he asked, pointedly.  "You don't want to be a
technical writer, but what do you want?"

"I..." 
I hadn't told anyone this, didn't intend to tell him, but it slipped out. 
"I do book reviews," I said all of a sudden.  "Nothing formal,
but I really enjoy it.  I have a website dedicated to it, kind of like a blog,
and I read books in my spare time and then write up a review.  I can usually
get one done every week, or sometimes if it's a longer book it takes a couple. 
I could do more, but I need to work, too.  I don't think... I don't think it's
a very profitable business, but..."

Asher grinned. 
He held out a sushi roll for me on the end of his chopsticks and instinctively
I opened my mouth to receive it.  Only when he let it go as I held it between
my teeth and let it slip into my mouth did I realize what he'd just done. 
Feeding me like... like a pet?  Or something more, something different?

"The way I
see it," he said, "you obviously need to do something involving what
you love.  Books are a passion, but sometimes you need to make concessions in
life, too.  Have you thought of reviewing something else, or perhaps some other
kind of book?  A more popular genre, perhaps?  Something more recent, like
what's on the Amazon Kindle Best Sellers lists?  What kinds of books do you
prefer?  Not everyone enjoys writing as literary as
Dante's Inferno
, you
know?"  He grinned a wicked grin. 

"Asher, I'm
so terribly sorry about that again.  I really didn't mean to ruin your book.  I
still feel badly."

He waved away my
concern.  Then he scooted further to the side and patted the cushion next to
him.  "Sit here.  It's easier to discuss things if we're closer."

Was that it? 
Yes, it made sense to some extent, but not really.  Still, I went.  I would
have gone no matter what.  I didn't know what it was about him, but I felt like
I should hang on his every word, wait for him to demand something from me, and
then do it as best I could.  And not for any particular reason save for the
fact that he seemed like the type of person who would never lead me astray. 
Why did I think this?  What was it?  I felt guarded and unsure around him, but
I also felt a sense of trustworthiness.

When I went to
sit next to him, moving slowly as if in a dream, he brought out a pen and pad
of paper from his suit coat.  As a random observation, I added, "You're
still wearing your coat."