Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (92 page)

“You destroyed my book,” he said, his voice
full of anger and passion. “Everything is a mess. Pages
scattered on the floor and the binding undone. I believe it’s only fair
that I do the same to you.”

At the time, I had no idea what he meant. I only
knew that there was a strong and powerful man standing before me who commanded
attention.

No longer fully wearing my pantyhose, my smooth,
arousal-slick folds grew cool, exposed to the chill, central air-conditioned
air. Asher paid that no mind, though. He flipped me around, grabbed
at my skirt with one hand, unzipped the back with the other, then pulled the
entire thing off of me. Tossing it to the ground, he did much the same to
my heels, and then flipped me over once more.

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…