Boxed Set: A Possessive Billionaire - Vol. 1-3: His, Body and Soul (5 page)

Just when I’ve given up on waiting, a taxi appears along the sidewalk next to me, as if by magic. It’s 7:00 pm, I’ve finished studying for the day and am rushing home.

“Emma!”

My lord, he looks so tired and sad! However, he’s smiling at me. I can’t hold a grudge against him for his silence, I can only smile back.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, thanks.”

He smiles at me again, now more honestly.

“How about we go for dinner?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Great, I’ll come by your place at 9:00 pm. And…Emma?”

“Yes?”

“You have a black dress, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

Of course? Why did I say that? Yes, I have a black dress. The same one I’ve had since I was fifteen years old. It’d be better to just call it a sheath. A grey, outdated sheath. When he sees me like that, I’m sure he won’t want to go to dinner anymore.

Luckily, today I have matching underwear. And a black garter belt that I finally decided to buy to hold up my new stockings.

When he knocks on my door, I’m ready, squeezed in my dress.

“Emma, good god. It’s even worse than I thought it would be!”

He collapses onto my bed and studies me while laughing.

“What is this tragedy? I’ll bet that you’ve had it since high school, right?”

“No.”

I look at my feet. I knew it. I’m humiliated and furious. I’m going to kick him out. I look at him with the sourest look I can manage. He’s still beaming.

“Stop, you’re scaring me. Look, I brought you something.”

He hands me a Dior bag. I open it, still furious. Inside, a black cocktail dress. It’s incredibly light, I worry that I’m going to rip it. My mouth drops open. I want to say that it’s gorgeous, but what does this really mean? What does he think I am?

“Try it on, I wasn’t sure about the size…”

“But I…This is a gift?”

“Yes. But if you don’t like it, you can always give it back to me after dinner. Take this horror off.”

He looks at me. Candidly. He must think that I’m going to take off my dress in front of him, just like that. I blush. He must have understood because he pretends to look through the window. I quickly remove my old dress. Let’s see how this jewel fits.

“Um, Emma…”

He’s looking at me again, worried. I turn beet red.

“Your underwear.”

“What about them? They’re not good enough either?”

“No, just take them off. I can see them through your dress.”

I’m incredibly irritated, but I do it quickly. A moment later, I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is perfect. It’s exactly my size. I smile at Charles and smile at myself in the mirror, too. He comes behind me. With a confident gesture, he undoes my ponytail and arranges my hair around my shoulders. He seems to be thinking.

“You don’t have any jewelry?”

No. He thinks and then, as if moved by an invisible energy, disappears from my room, leaving the door open. He comes back a few seconds later with a jewelry box in his hands.

“Emma, here are Lady MacAllister’s diamonds.”

My facial expression betrays my ignorance.

“Of course you don’t know who she is. She was a 19th century Scottish noblewoman. She was known for her moral depravity, her obscene fortune and her unbridled hunger for jewelry. I found this unique piece a few days ago and I immediately fell in love. I should have sold it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, this object fascinates me.”

He opens the jewelry box. I’ve never seen anything like it. Three rows of small diamonds, cut by a green band. The desire to touch it is stronger than me.

“They’re emeralds.”

I let him place the necklace around my neck in a religious silence. I look at us in the mirror. We’re beautiful, that can’t be denied. I really want to kiss him. I turn around, rise up on my tiptoes and offer him my lips, which he takes with pleasure. I feel like I’m about to fall over, but he takes my face in his hands and purrs at me:

“Emma, we’re going to be late. At least wait for dessert…”

One minute later, we’re sitting in the back of a black sedan. Paris is ours. I’m used to taking the subway everywhere, so I watch the city go by from a completely new perspective. It’s fascinating, I almost forget about Charles. I’m sad to see the ride come to an end as we pull up to a stylish place along the Seine. A butler waits for us as we get out onto the sidewalk. I’ve never experienced anything like this, it’s as if we’re all alone in the restaurant. Actually it’s a private room, a table for just us two with a view of the river. The decoration is carefully chosen and everything is chiaroscuro. Dark red velvet, chandeliers, a centenary floor with warm oriental carpets spread out all over…despite the luxury, the place is warm. Like a cozy alcove. Someone is playing the piano somewhere, but they’re hidden from sight. It’s a romantic sonata, I’d guess either Chopin or Liszt. Something sweet and passionate, which perfectly matches the rest of the place. I look and I listen, as if I’m at a museum. When a young lady reverently brings the menu, I’ve almost forgotten that we’re in a restaurant. I could stay for hours like this, without talking, watching the lights of the city play across the Seine and the light of the candles in Charles’ eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

I let Charles decide what we’ll eat. I’m ready to be surprised. Once again, he orders, but this time I’m not listening. I look at him, so perfectly at ease in his natural environment. The young lady soon returns with two wine glasses and small, mysterious ramekins, whose contents she announces pompously. Obviously I don’t understand anything she says. Charles notices my expression and winks at me.

“Splendid, luxurious marvels in small pretentious ramekins,” he says, mocking the server once she leaves. I burst out laughing. I had no idea he could be this funny.

“This wine…”

“I remembered how much you like it…”

We clink glasses, looking into each other’s eyes. The night is off to a delicious start, I get the feeling that it’s not the right time to talk about the ‘nature’ of our relationship. The sad expression he had earlier in the evening has vanished. He’s a big talker with a huge laugh. He tells me about Paris, its old stones, its little stories. The crowd he hangs out with is really amusing. I try to match his stories by talking about my father and his love for dinosaurs. He laughs. He has a dimple in the corner of his lip that captivates me.

The server comes back from time to time to take our dishes and replace them with other marvels, launching into descriptions that always go over my head. Charles finds this wildly amusing and reformulates it all imaginatively:

“Spleen of defeated princess with unicorn blood,” “Fried Edelweiss with tears of Trappist monk,” “Pickled dodo feathers”…I have no idea what I’m eating. In any case, it’s exquisite. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so refined…and with such good company.

“I really want to hear you moan in this place.”

“Pardon?”

I clear my throat, and Charles comes to sit next to me.

“You heard me,” he said, before sliding his tongue into my mouth. I melt…before coming back to my senses.

“But we’re in a public place…and the server, don’t even think about it!”

“It’s pretty deserted for a public place...And for our first meal, I ordered a very elaborate dessert that will take twenty minutes to make…Oops, my napkin.”

He suddenly bends over and I feel his lips on my right ankle.

Since he’s not going too far, I figure it’s not that risky. He just wants to play with my nerves, I think. His kisses circle my ankle and start edging up my calf. I remain stoic and try to think about something else, but a shiver quickly runs through my body and I remember that I’m not wearing underwear. It’s hot. I feel like my heart isn’t beating inside of my chest anymore, but in my lower stomach. I want to tell him to stop. Or beg him to continue. He’s in the middle of my thigh. I find it hard to breathe. I need to do something, to put an end to all of this. I start to open my mouth when he suddenly decides to change legs. Back to the ankle. It’s torture, but I can handle it so far, so I stop myself from protesting. Right now, he’s at the limit between the delicate silk stocking and my skin. He hovers around this limit. He goes around with little kisses, then slides his tongue underneath the fabric. It’s unbearable. I forget about the server, I do what he wants me to, I moan how he wants me to. I open my legs a little to invite him to continue…his tongue slides along my thigh and gently goes higher. I moan while his face comes close to my wet intimate parts. Suddenly, he lifts his head, shows me his napkin and sits back down.

“I found my napkin. But I thought I heard you moaning, did something happen?”

I don’t know what to say. I’m furious, and frustrated. The server arrives right when I think I’m going to jump up and scratch him.

“Delicious frustration on a velvet couch,” he says, winking, before digging in to his dessert

I’m not hungry anymore. How can you have an appetite when these kinds of things happen? When I think that I was almost ready to sleep with him in the middle of the restaurant…his dimples make me forget my brutal disappointment for a moment. Seeing him really enjoy his dessert helps me to finally swallow it down. I know that he’s doing this all on purpose. He takes his time, tasting each bite. He savors his victory. I can’t calm down, it’s as if each movement that I make releases waves of desire inside of me. He looks at me intensely, I feel like he’s eating me with his eyes. And then suddenly, he holds out his hand.

“Let’s go.”

A young man materializes out of nowhere with our things and the car appears as soon as we’re outside. I don’t think I saw him pay. Everything’s happening like in a dream.

And again, we’re alone in the back of the car. I’m not sure what to do, but I know what I want. I place my hand on his thigh and gently slide it up, making my intentions very clear. Despite his erection, which reassures me and excites me even more, Charles grabs my hand and puts it back on my knee, like he would have done with a schoolgirl.

“Not here, we’re not alone!”

He’s right, I almost forgot about the chauffeur. But I’m sure he’s more amused by the situation than concerned about his discrete employee. I’ve had enough of being rejected, I won’t try anything else tonight, I’m too humiliated.

It’s strange to come home together like this. We live under the same roof and yet despite the recent events, we’re still strangers. Even if we know each other better, he continues to speak to me in formal French…maybe it’s a game?

The elevator. Now just seeing it takes my breath away. I still feel so full of emotion. But I won’t do anything. I look at him intensely in the eyes until we get to our floor. He remains immobile, unreadable.

“Would you like to see my collection of Japanese prints?” he says, cheerfully.

That’s it! I’ve had enough, I really don’t want to talk about art. What is he trying to prove? That I want to sleep with him? Do I have to ask him, is that it? He can dream on.

“No, I’m tired. Thanks, I had a really nice time.”

“But Emma…I thought you wanted it too.”

My facial expression must have been so surprised that he felt he needed to explain.

“Come look at my collection of Japanese prints, it’s an old-fashioned expression for saying come sleep with me, it’s like ‘have a nightcap’. Sorry, I thought it would make you laugh…So Emma, what do you say, do you want to sleep with me? Maybe you’re too tired?”

Said like that, it’s much clearer to me. And rather flippant. This time, no excuses, if I walk in the door, it’s for sex. I know what’s waiting for me. But actually, I’m not sure what’s waiting for me, and that’s precisely what scares me.

I’m still thinking, but he’s already inside.

“Emma, are you coming?”

I’m in limbo. I don’t know if I should go in or what I’m going to find if I do. Is he lying nude in the middle of the living room or, worse, stretched out on his bed? What does he want from me? Does he want me to take things into my own hands? But what do you do in real life? Everything would have been much simpler if he had slowly kissed me in front of his door, like you see in movies. It seems like in that kind of situation, everything would naturally fall into place in the heat of the moment. But instead of passion, I have to deal with this confusing invitation.

“Emma!”

I enter, come what may. Phew, he’s not naked. He took off his coat and jacket. His feet are bare, he hands me a glass with a smile.

“I didn’t think you’d turn me down for a nightcap. Sorry if I rushed you. Have a seat, please.”

I sit down on the famous chaise lounge. Right on the edge, ready to escape if…if what? I don’t really know. My heart beats wildly. I take a sip of wine. His gentle warmth reassures me a little. I’m not sure what to say. I look at him, fascinated by his body, it’s like a lion’s body. He comes closer to me and gets on his knees. He lifts my dress up to mid-thigh and looks at my legs. His mouth continues depositing kisses along the border of my stockings. I quiver. In one fell swoop, he opens my legs. I suddenly remember that I’m not wearing underwear, and I want to leave.

“Sorry, I can’t, it’s a bad idea…”

“Emma, settle down, please.”

I settle down. With my knees tightly together. It’s ridiculous, I knew what to expect when I came here.

“Relax,” he murmurs while lowering the light. This near-darkness comforts me. I grip tightly onto my glass while he goes back to his diabolic kisses. His tongue comes and goes along my closed thighs while his hands slide underneath my dress looking for my breasts. I feel an incredible warmth rise inside of me. He now holds each of my breasts in his hands. He spreads his fingers and closes them to pinch their nipples. I can’t resist closing my eyes and leaning my head backwards, to better savor this pleasure.

I whimper again, despite myself. My thighs, which I thought were firmly closed, have come undone and the mouth which was keeping a respectful distance has infiltrated my intimacy. The light kisses have been replaced by more daring caresses, with precise tongue strokes so intense I have to moan. I don’t know what to do with my glass. In a moment of absent-mindedness I place it on his neck. I’m terrified. I can’t move anymore. A hand rises from nowhere and suddenly takes the glass and places it on the table. It then takes my hand and places it on his head. I’ve never experienced anything so arousing. Feeling his head move under my hand doubles my sensations. I’m no longer in control, it’s almost despite myself that I spread my legs and set a steadier rhythm with my hand. Suddenly I shudder as a new shiver runs through me. A finger has entered me, then two fingers. I invite them to continue their exploration with an eloquent sigh. I don’t know where I am anymore.

He stops with his caresses and kisses me with an open mouth. His tongue takes mine, almost violently. He’s on his knees. I unbutton his shirt feverishly. My gestures are wild and chaotic, I want to tear off his clothes. He’s soon naked. He looks at me in the eyes with an unbearable intensity. I move my hand towards his erect sex, deciding to give him the pleasure he’s given me, but he sits down next to me on the chaise lounge and takes me by the hips so that I sit on him. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this for hours. I’m not afraid anymore. It’s even more intense than it was in the elevator. I really feel as if I’m possessed, even though I’m the one guiding the rhythm. He looks me in the eyes as if he can taste my pleasure as much as his own. Our kisses are wilder, the rhythm accelerates. He gets up, holding onto me by my hips, pushes me against the wall and takes over. His hips come and go against me forcefully, almost violently. I grip onto him, my nails dig into his skin. There’s nothing else but us and this rhythm, which drives me crazy…