HIS (A Billionaire Romance Novel) (9 page)

The sounds I made weren’t even human. His roar of power and triumph made my clit ache once again. When he had slowly, finally filled my tight hole, when his soft pubic hair nestled against my ass, I felt the telltale throb of an orgasm threatening to overcome him.

I was crazed with desire, and all I could do was rock my body back and forth onto his dick, spurring him toward ecstasy just as he had done to me only moments before.

Tyler pushed my ass cheeks apart, watching his dick squeeze in and out of me. It didn’t take much to set him off, and when I clamped down as hard as I could, he burst inside me with a shudder and a low, guttural groan. His dick spat rope after rope of jizz into my ass, thick and creamy and almost instantly dripping out of me. I panted and fell forward onto the bed, hiding my face in a pillow as I sobbed and shook and moaned.

Tyler pulled out of me, and I curled up onto my side to come to terms with what I’d just experienced. I imagined he would leave me there trembling, but to my surprise he lay behind me and draped an arm over my waist, pulling me to him until he could rest his chin on the slope of my shoulder.

He ran his fingers through my hair, stroking it away from my face. “Shh. It’s all right, Valerie. It’s okay.”

I didn’t know why I was crying, or why he was being kind to me. I couldn’t reconcile my anger and dread with the pleasure and torture he’d inflicted upon me. I didn’t understand any of what was happening to me, but when I turned to face him, he told me everything I needed to know.

“You were right,” he said. “Regardless of how you came to me, you always had my best interests in mind. I overreacted when Mitchell called me and let it slip that he’d put you on my trail.” There was a brief pause before he mustered his last words. “I’m sorry.”

Maybe Tyler and I had only just officially met. Maybe we were only a few days into whatever this was. But in that time, I’d learned enough about him to know that those words didn’t come easily to him. I wondered if he’d ever said them at all.

“I’m sorry, too,” I replied. My voice had stopped shaking and my breathing had evened out. “I shouldn’t have hit you. It was wrong, and it won’t happen again.” I touched his cheek where I’d struck him. “Not ever.”

Tyler put his hand on mine. He smiled thinly. “I shouldn’t have implied you were a whore, either. You don’t deserve that. You…” He paused again, as though having trouble getting the words out. I wondered if it was his stutter. “You’re a good person, Valerie. Good people make mistakes sometimes. If we both really mean what we say, then this isn’t anything we can’t work through.”

He was talking like we were a couple. I arched a brow. It seemed a little early for that.

And yet at the same time, I knew exactly what he meant. I knew that the explosion between us might have caused some collateral damage, but that we’d rebuild. It felt strange admitting it, even to myself, but I was sure that whatever was happening between Tyler and me, it wasn’t going to end any time soon.

“So, where do we go from here?” I asked him, laying my head against his pillow. The sex, the fight—it had been so emotionally draining, and physically as well.

Tyler smiled. “Well, you’re not off the hook completely. In fact, if you expect me to trust you again, I think you’re going to have to earn it this time around.” He lightly pinched one of the welts he’d left across my ass. “Although I’d say what we just did was a pretty good start.”

I smiled, too. “And what about my mission? What about your return to Cumberland & Cross?”

Tyler kissed my forehead. “Well, I’d say that’s just another thing you and I can work out in my play room.”

I could tell that he was mostly kidding about that last part, but one thing was clear: I filled a hole for Tyler, a space inside him he’d never thought anyone would fit. I—or what I did for him—completed him in some way, and that meant that I had power over him.

Still, the question remained: what was I going to do with it?

And so, three weeks passed.

I said before that Tyler made me suffer. He made me beg and grovel. He made me say and do things no sane human being ever would. We spent a lot of time in his tower of pleasure, and yet it was the time we spent outside of it that seemed to matter more.

He requested my presence at all hours. Sometimes it was to binge watch a series on Netflix, and sometimes it was to discuss his demons. We talked a lot about Jackie and the specifics of what she’d put him through, and I tried my best not to fly into a blind fury at the very mention of her name once I knew.

I was no psychologist, but it seemed like his father’s passing had acted as some sort of trigger or catalyst for Tyler’s breakdown. Jackie and her demands hadn’t helped, but even before she’d reared her ugly head again, Tyler’s self-control had been slipping.

“You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to keep this…
thing
a secret,” he said, and I knew he was referring to his stutter. He didn’t like to give it a name—at least, not out loud—almost as if he thought that doing so would give it more power. “It was always a source of shame for my family, and that made it a source of shame for me. And because it’s tied to an anxiety disorder, some people in the corporate world might see it as a weakness if they found out. Something they could exploit. The board of directors wouldn’t be very happy about that. They’d much prefer a CEO who’s bulletproof.”

“You’re only human,” I reminded him, though I suspected that deep down, he knew. “And maybe it’s this sense of shame that’s causing your anxiety. What if you tried thinking about your stutter less, or at least thinking less
of
it? If you don’t see it as some kind of insurmountable monster, maybe it won’t have so much power over you.”

“That’s smart,” Tyler replied. “In theory. But what happens when I address the board and something goes wrong? What happens when I start stammering in front of everyone and can’t get a word out edgewise?” He shook his head. “Nobody would respect me after that. I know if I were in their position, I sure wouldn’t.”

I frowned. “That’s awfully cruel.”

Tyler snorted. “It’s the truth. The business world is a lot different from the world outside, Val.” He’d taken to calling me that in the last few days, and honestly, I didn’t mind. “Sure, maybe people like you care. Maybe there’s a push to stop applying a social stigma to mental illness. But that kind of culture just doesn’t exist where corporations are concerned. There, you’re running with a pack of wolves, except the moment you slow down or show any signs of weakness, suddenly you’re the wounded deer. You become their prey, and it can happen,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that.”

I had tried to convince him it would all be okay, but what could I really say? He knew business far better than I did, and the temperaments of those involved. Even I’d seen a flash of what it was like when Mitchell Darling threatened my job. I couldn’t imagine living with the knowledge that everyone was out to get you all the time. It was undoubtedly stressful, and it likely didn’t help Tyler’s anxiety problem at all.

Just before I gave up, I said, “Then maybe you need to find some way to defeat it. Assign it the face of your greatest enemy—maybe a competing company or firm—and then go back to work to do battle.”

Tyler had looked at me then. “And if I lose?”

I’d had no words of comfort to offer him. For Tyler, failure could mean losing everything. But not fighting at all meant he’d already lost.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I didn’t envy him one bit.

Mitchell and I had been texting at fairly regular intervals. He treated my seduction of Tyler Cross like he treated any other business venture, and he expected progress reports and frequent updates. For the most part, I was able to keep him at bay. I wanted to focus my attention on Tyler and helping him get better, and to do that, I had to let him dominate me. That wasn’t exactly something I could tell Mitchell, so I didn’t.

I kept my arrangement with Tyler as vague as possible. I knew it couldn’t last forever, and almost a month into my assignment, I got the text I’d been dreading.

Last chance.

Now Mitchell was being vague, too. I sighed, looking at Tyler across the table.

“It’s him,” I said.

Tyler rolled his eyes and set down his fork. “Ignore him. We’re eating.”

Orwin Manor had once possessed a fine cooking staff. There’d been little need to keep all of them on in more recent years, but Tyler never forgot the stories his grandmother told of swanky dinner parties catered by the finest chef money could buy. Our time together had inspired him to take new chances, to branch out and let a few more people into his life, and the result was the magnificent feast we were dining on tonight.

I glanced at the vast array of food spread out on the long table between us. I’d expected the staff Tyler had hired for the evening would bring out each course to us, but he had a different idea. Our soups and salads and entrees were all plated and served to us, but the rest of the food was beautifully arranged in stunning stoneware platters and bowls that contrasted with the dark wood of the table. Apparently, Tyler regarded food as a very sensory, and even sensual experience. I’d been intrigued by the idea of exploring that later, but now Mitchell was killing the mood.

“I can’t ignore him forever,” I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. “And neither can you.” I shot him a look he was very familiar with—the one that reminded him I hadn’t forgotten about the reason I’d come to him in the first place—and retreated to the hall with my phone.

I called Mitchell. I endured only two rings before he picked up.

“Well, Ms. Hartwick, it appears I’ve finally gotten your attention.”

“Mitchell,” I began, “do you recall when you first set me on this task? You knew then that it was a delicate operation, that it required a
woman’s touch.
It’s been less than a month since then, but you seem to have forgotten already.”

“And you seem to have forgotten that this ‘delicate situation’ also requires you to handle it with a semblance of urgency,” Mitchell answered. There was something about his tone I didn’t like, but at the time, I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Allow me to remind you.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I said, but Mitchell cut me off.

“I’ve scheduled a board meeting. At this meeting, the members will vote on whether or not Tyler remains the president of Cumberland & Cross. Should Tyler choose to show up and plead his case, the members
might
vote in his favor. I promise you nothing, except that if he
doesn’t
show up, he will most certainly lose the company to the person who’s next in line.”

“Which would be you,” I said before I could stop myself. My jaw was twitching and I could feel my ears reddening. “I have to say, Mitchell, that President Darling just doesn’t have the same ring to it as President Cross.”

I knew I had crossed a line, but goddammit, so had Mitchell. Why was it acceptable for the people at the top to act like spoiled brats, but unacceptable for those around them to call them on it? Why were our superiors entitled to unprofessionalism while we were held to a standard which required perfection every hour of our working lives? It seemed to me that it ought to be the other way around.

Still, it wasn’t. And when Mitchell spoke next, I was reminded of just how wide the gap between us was.

“As I recall, I offered you half a million dollars to smoke out Mr. Cross. And, if I’m remembering all this correctly, you were
very
concerned that I was implying you should sleep with him, which I assured you I was not. And now, nearly a month later, he’s got his dick so far up your cunt I’m tempted to believe you speaking to me right now is an act of ventriloquism.”

I wish I could say I had a witty comeback planned for just such an occasion. I wish I could say I even sputtered an angry retort. But I didn’t. I’d known Mitchell for years, and he’d never spoken to me that way. I was too shocked to cuss him out, or to do anything other than let a heavy silence fall over us.

After a few moments, Mitchell began again. “Now that that’s settled, do let Mr. Cross know about the meeting, won’t you?”

I was shaking. My fingers were clenched so tightly around the phone I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to unwind them again.

“Yes,” I said, and said nothing more. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice tremble.

And then Mitchell Darling said the two words that sealed his fate: “Good girl.”

I hung up the phone. Then I returned to the dining room where Tyler was waiting for me.

“And what did that bastard want?” he asked, his hands clasped over his food.

I passed by my seat and walked the length of the long, cherry wood table. I set my phone down along the way and used my newly-freed fingers to slowly unbutton my shirt. I locked my gaze with Tyler’s as I shrugged the blouse to the floor and worked next on the clasp holding my bra in place.

Tyler raised an eyebrow at me, but remained silent. Intrigue flashed in his eyes, but as always, he played it cool.

When I reached him, he leaned back in his chair and looked up at me in that distant and disconnected way he always did whenever he was trying to hide his emotions. But his dick gave him away. I could see it bulging and throbbing through the front of his pants.

I let my fury sear through my veins as I discarded my bra. I let it drive me forward, let it give me the confidence I needed to gingerly pluck Tyler’s wine glass from the table and bring it to my lips. I took a long sip of the blood red wine within and then lowered the glass to my chest. Tilting it, I let sanguine rivers spill over my collar bone and down the swells of my full, hardening breasts.

Finally, Tyler broke our stare. His eyes fell to my wine-soaked nipples and his lips parted.

“Drink,” I said as I sat on the edge of the table. I leaned forward, offering my breast to him.

He paused briefly, his gaze darting up to mine. Tyler was used to being in control. It was his life, his fetish. It made him feel safe and secure and able to deal with the many stresses of his life. He needed it to function, and if he couldn’t have it, then he was useless.

I was going to challenge that now. I was going to
change
it.

He didn’t refuse me. Maybe it was how tantalizing my breast looked covered in wine. Regardless, Tyler leaned forward and grabbed me around my waist, pulling his chair in at the same time his mouth closed around my pebbled nipple.

I drew in a sharp breath as he sucked down the wine, his tongue flicking and swirling and writhing against my raw nerves. I poured another stream down my chest and he lapped that up as well, his hot tongue scorching my flesh. Then he blew a soft puff of cool breath on the trails he’d left, and my skin prickled into goosebumps.

He was about to suckle my other breast when I raised my knee between us. “No,” I said.

Tyler looked at me like he didn’t understand the word, but he stopped all the same. I watched him as I hiked up my skirt and wriggled free of the panties underneath. Then I dipped my finger into what remained in his glass, and when it was soaked with wine, I lowered it to my slit and pushed it in between.

I bit my lip and rubbed that crimson nectar over my rosebud, over my inner petals, and further still to my chasm’s entrance. I made sure my pussy was slathered in it before I reached out to touch his mouth. Tyler, sensing my need, wrapping his lips around my finger and sampled the flavor of his wine and my desire. They must have made a heady concoction, because he closed his eyes and savored it.

He was responding well so far. But how far could I push him before he needed to assert his dominance again?

There was only one way to find out.

I pulled my finger away from Tyler’s lips and leaned back on my hands on the table, carefully avoiding the food laid out across it. I spread my legs, heels on the edge as I issued my next order.

“Eat.”

Tyler looked me over, starting with my face and ending with my pussy on display before him. I sensed he was probing for a weakness, for some sign that I wasn’t serious in my command or that he might convince me to back down.

But I was adamant. Not with my words, but with my body language. I didn’t look away. I didn’t waver. I made my face a mask the way he always did and waited for him to obey.

Cool. Calm. Collected. That was all I would show him.

I really thought I was capable of it, too—right up until the moment Tyler grabbed my ass, yanked me toward his face, and buried his tongue into my warm, wet slit.

I gasped and immediately shattered the illusion of my composure. I saw a glint in his eye as he spread me with his fingers, staring up at me from below my mound. He lapped hungrily at my nub, tracing it and teasing it with a practiced ease. We’d done this dance before, he and I. And maybe he would always lead.

I tried to take back the reins by squirming out of his grasp. I had planned to make him wait for being a bad boy the way he always denied me pleasure when I was a disobedient little girl. But I didn’t have the strength to fight against his strong grasp, his lashing tongue, his sweltering breath caressing my moist, supple lips, and so all I could do was submit again to Tyler’s indomitable will.

Damn him. And damn me, too—the woman who could not resist him, not even if it would have done him a world of good.

I twisted and moaned, arching against him as he suckled at my folds. Although we’d only just eaten Tyler seemed ravenous, devouring me like I was the most succulent course. I squealed and shuddered as he tortured my clit, his tongue tap-tap-tapping on the bundle of nerves.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked me. There was a smug sort of amusement in his grin. “Is this what Mistress Valerie wants?”

“You’re an ass,” I hissed, only to groan a moment later. “Ah!”

Tyler chuckled, and with one, long lick from my entrance to my clit, he sent me reeling. By the time he’d pushed his fingers inside me, I was lost.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You ought to know by now that submissives have more fun…”

“Then why don’t you take a turn?” I suggested through my teeth, my inner muscles clamping down around his hand as he stroked the sweet spot inside me.

“Now you’re just asking a leopard to change his spots,” Tyler replied, easing me toward a crushing orgasm. “I am what I am, Valerie. There’s no changing me. Accept it, or…”

My breasts heaved with my every breath. “Or what?”

“Or this is the end of the road,” he said.

I bit my lip and writhed as he fingered me, eventually succumbing to the pleasure with a whimper of defeat. If those were the stakes, then we were at an impasse. I needed Tyler to depend less on his need for domination, but I wasn’t about to let him go, either. I suppose he had me right where he wanted me: fit to be tied and all to himself.

But what did that mean for our future, and the future of Cumberland & Cross?