Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (111 page)

“Love me,” I said before desire overtook me.

The evening took its toll on me and I relented to
it. Worked up and ready, my orgasm descended upon me like a charging
elephant. Thick and heavy, stampeding, pleasure dug into my body.
Starting at my core, focused around my clit, my climax dove hard and
deep. “I’m…” I said. “Asher, I’m…”

I couldn’t put the words together, didn’t know what to
say to tell him. Instead, I let my body do it for me, writhing and
spasming on the bed. My babydoll flipped and fluttered around me, caught
up in the frantic actions of my orgasm. I twisted on the bed, rubbing my
fingers around my clit, coaxing my pleasure onwards and further.

“I’m going to,” Asher said to me—just to
me—through the TV. “Jessika,” he said, “I’m going to cum.”

So dirty and natural, but erotically explicit,
too. Cum. I watched him on the TV, my mind working in slow motion,
staring at him while I pleasured myself. Asher’s cock jerked in his hand
and he let out a primal grunt as he began to climax. A hot, thick stream
of cum shot up, straight up, then crashed back down, landing on his bare
thigh. Then another, not as strong but just as good, hitting his hand
while he stroked himself. And finally a bit more, a tiny amount, barely
visible but oh so wonderful.

Asher slumped onto the bed, defeated and sated.
My own orgasm dwindled down, a happy heat, and I gazed into the TV with
absolute affection. He lay there on the bed, exhausted. His chest
rose and fell with each breath he took and he lifted his shirt up to his chin
then rested his hand on his revealed chest. His cock slipped downwards,
softening, finding a home right between his thighs. He looked so quiet
and defenseless and I wanted to go to him.

“Asher,” I said to the TV, to him.
“Let me in your room.”

“Jessika,” he said, his voice a hoarse
whisper. “I can’t. We can’t do…”

“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?”