Taking his Risk (Year of the Billionaire Part 2) (6 page)

Then there was the job situation. When we got back to New York and reality, I very much needed the helping hand that Tristan had offered me. He could open doors
that would be impenetrable to me.

"Raina?"

His voice--that unnervingly velvet sound--shook me back into the here and now. Dinner was over and it was time to see what Tristan meant by 'adventure' for tonight. I gave him the sexiest smile I could conjure and told myself to suck it up and be a big girl. This was a situation that couldn't be changed in an instant. I was on
his
boat, in a foreign country and the only possessions I had arrived with had disappeared along the way.

"I'm ready for my adventure, Mr. King."

***

Tristan told me to go to the second stateroom on the right, and put on the items I found there. He pulled me to him before he let me go in the hallway. Raw need ripped through me
when I saw the intense cloud of desire gather like a storm behind his eyes. He brought his mouth against mine and bruised my lips with his. As he claimed my mouth with his I felt an edgy passion much like the first time we had kissed in his garden. His tongue searched my mouth and erased all thoughts but those that focused on how much I needed him inside me.

"You have to trust me, Raina," he breathed hotly into my ear as if he knew all the questions that had been coursing through my doubting brain just minutes earlier. "Everything will be clearer to you if you jus
t let go. You did so well today . . ."

It pleased me so much to hear him tell me how well I had done. It was irrational, really, because I hadn't done anything much at all. All I did was walk
naked in the sun with the man I . . . was so . . . taken with. If I understood anything at all about the man, it was that he derived great pleasure in seeing me loose inhibition completely. My letting go of 'shouldn't' made him happy.

I opened the do
or to the stateroom. The first thing I noticed was a triangular wedge in the middle of the turned down bed. Even with my limited experience it wasn't hard to figure out that I'd soon be draped over the cushion, assuming a 'position'.

I
found a gorgeous corset on the bed. It was ivory lace trimmed with rose colored ribbons. There was a pair of lace top ivory hose--the kind that stay up by themselves--and a pair of impossibly high ivory satin pumps. I didn't need to check the soles; I knew they'd be red.

It was a struggle to get the corset on. I couldn’t fasten the dozens of hooks and eyes behind me so I put it on backwards and twisted it around to the front when I had it all hooked up. I was out of breath by the time I got it situated right because of the effort involved. The fact that it cinched my waist in almost painfully tight didn't help. There were bones running all down my torso and had I thought about it, the stockings and shoes should have gone on first. Bending over was almost impossible.

The wall behind the head of the bed was all mirrored and I took a good look at myself. The bra part of the corset was designed to push my breasts up, but not cover them. My nipples poked out over the lace and ribbons; I was already aroused just contemplating what was in store for my body. The corset did a fine job of making my shape into an hourglass. The rear view was equally erotic as the garment ended just above the swell of my ass.

I noticed some things on the nightstand. There was a silver hairbrush, which I put to use at once. I took every tangle out of my hair. It seemed to have absorbed the sunlight from our day; golden highlights shone in the soft light of the room. I saw a pearl necklace that I assumed was to be part of my costume and fastened it around my neck. It was made of a dozen strands that hugged my neck like a collar. The matching earrings cascaded all the way to my shoulders. I used the mother-of-pearl hair pin to pull
my hair into a loose up-do and loved the elegance it lent to the whole look.

There was nothing else left to put on. I opened the nightstand drawer. Maybe I would have been better off not knowing what was in there. When I heard the door handle turn, I quickly closed the drawer and sat down on the armchair beside the bed. Trying my best to appear poised and elegant, I watched as Tristan's big frame filled the doorway. He was backlit from the hall and his face was in shadow.
He wore a loose pair of drawstring pants and nothing else. I could make out the contours of his hips through the semi sheer dark fabric.

"You are a portrait of perfection, as I knew you would be." He covered the distance to the chair in a few strides.
He took my hands in his and drew me up to stand in front of him. "You see, today you were innocently naked in the sun. Now, with just a few small things . . ." He ran his hand across my nipples and tweaked them to an even tighter peak. "you've become a courtesan."

Desperate to play his game well, I replied "Here to serve your every need." I reached up to stroke the bulge at his groin but he roughly swatted my hand away.

"Rules for tonight," he growled. I knew how well he could role play; I'd seen him on stage in front of hundreds of people. I waited. "You don't speak. You don't ask until I tell you to ask. You don't initiate. You take my commands."

God, what I wanted to do was flop backwards onto the bed and just splay myself open to him. The voice. The fucking voice. I nodded, accepting whatever he had planned for me. All I really hoped was that it would end with his cock buried to the hilt in my body.

He put his hands on my shoulders and firmly pushed me onto my knees in front of him. Loosening the string on his pants, he dropped them to his feet and kicked them aside. His cock was half erect and growing harder in front of my face.

"Suck. Suck it hard
." He took my head between his hands and brought my mouth toward his groin. I reached up to take him in my hand but he pulled my hand away. He reached down and took my other wrist and pinned both of my arms behind my head. With one hand he restrained me and with the other he brought my chin forward as he entered my mouth.

He was hot and swollen. At first he guided my head with the hand holding my wrists at the ba
ck of my head. The taste of him . . . the smell of his musky male flesh infused my senses. I could feel the slick of my desire slide down my thighs as I pursed my lips around him. When he drew back I heard the pop and smack as the seal of my mouth broke. It was the undeniable sound of sucking, hard and needy sucking, like a hungry animal at a teat.

He began to thrust deeper into me, moving from side to side, poking his cock against my cheeks. His free hand cupped my cheek, feeling the slide of his glans inside my cheek. I stretched my lips over my teeth and tightened my mouth around his shaft, trying to give him as much sensation as I could deliver.

"God, yes, you're good. Such sweet service for my cock." He moaned as I pulled harder, pressing my tongue against the veined underside of his member and flicking it back and forth when I found the edge of his crown. He plunged deeper into me and hit the back of my throat. I felt the tears of my gag response at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't want to stop. I swallowed back the sensation and tried to open my throat. I wanted to give him my everything, even as my reflexes rebelled. He pulled away from me. I knew he had sensed that I was trying to do something my body wasn't quite prepared to do.

"Another time, we'll practice. The porn stars make it look a lot easier than it is."  He led me over to the bed and positioned me across the wedge, face down. He turned my face toward the door
and placed my hands above my head. "Leave your hands and your head exactly as I've placed them. When I want you to move, I'll tell you. Otherwise, we'll just call this 'voluntary' restraint."

For a few moments, he didn't touch me at all. He stood at my blind side but I could feel his eyes covering every inch of my flesh. My knees were on the bed and my ass was stuck up into the air. My nipples strained into the bedcovers, knotted in heat.
Tristan's hand parted my knees as wide as they would go against the support. I was utterly vulnerable and oddly excited because of it.

The sound of the drawer opening riveted my attention. I waited in an agony of anticipation for what he would draw from the assortment of toys and instruments I had barely glimpsed. Tristan ran his hands down my thighs, his thumbs massaging strong circles into the taut ribbons of muscle there. When he reached the top, he drew the moisture from the folds of my
sex up into the crack of my ass. Wickedly, I hoped he would go there again, claim my dark intimacy as he had before.

I felt him tickle my very exposed ass with something. Even though I wasn't blindfolded, it was impossible to see exactly what he was doing in the position I was in. It could have been a feather, it could have been the streamers of the small cat-o-nine tail I had spied in the drawer. The answer came in the form of a stinging little smack on one of my ass cheeks. I squeaked, more in surprise than in pain.

"This is all about sensation, my queen. Trust me. I don't do pain. Not in any real sense, and only to elevate your arousal. Do you understand?"

I nodded. There wasn't much choice about the trust, anyway. We were alone on a boat halfway around the world from anything I knew. If Tristan wanted to hurt me, it wasn'
t the physical kind that was my biggest danger.

My flesh became hot under the slaps of the little flogger. There was a lingering sting, a lot like the feeling I used to get when one of my fellow lifeguards snapped a wet towel on my thighs. When the tickling of the strings returned, it made goose bumps rise on my backside. If I had to say why I found it arousing, it would be because of the element of surprise. That and the
fact that I knew this game was turning Tristan on--big time.

He let me know by his gravelly one word comments. "Gorgeous." "Sweet." "Succulent."

He told me with his body. Interspersed with the tickles and smacks of the cat-o-nine tails was the unmistakable feeling of his cock against my flesh. He stroked it between my thighs and down the crack of my ass. He slapped the hot rigid shaft against my buttocks. He slicked the dewdrops from the head over my skin.

The next feeling was like nothing I had ever felt and if I hadn't 'cheated' and looked in the drawer I would never have guessed.
It was a prickling feeling. It didn't fit in the category of pain. It was neither soft nor hard but rather the sensation of hundreds of tiny pin points rolling in circles on the globes of my ass. I tried to twist my head to confirm what I thought he was using on me.

"Head down!" Tristan ordered. It didn't matter, no contortionist in the world could have twisted enough to get a look. In the drawer I'd seen a small steel object that had a little wheel on the end of a handle. The wheel was covered in tiny spikes. That had to be what was making every nerve on my backside
jump to attention.

"Tell me what you feel," he demanded. His voice was almost hoarse with lust. Without seeing his face, I knew the look it wore. Intense concentration, dark and clouded with the mystery of desire.

"It's like all the nerves are standing on end. Like they're reaching for something," I answered. It wasn't adequate. "I'm sorry, it's almost indescribable. It makes my skin feel . . . firey."

"Does it make you want to be fucked?"

"Everything you do makes me want to be fucked."

"Good answer." I heard the clatter of metal on the floor and a thump. Once again I tried looking back over my shoulder and once again he ordered me to be still. The drawer opened
and closed again behind me.

I felt his lips warm and soft against the cheeks of my ass. He nibbled a little at the fleshy crease where my legs joined my body and nuzzled between my legs, teasing at my swollen, dripping folds with his tongue. I groaned and pressed my pussy back against his face, spreading my thighs as far as I could get them. When he licked a line straight up from my clit to my spine I wanted to beg him to please, just please take me right then and in whatever place he chose. But I had been told not to ask until he told me I could.

I felt a warm drizzle slide down my ass crack and then his finger was at my sphincter, teasing wet circles around the tight band of muscle there. He leaned down closer to my head and purred out an encouraging, "Oh yes, so tight, so willing and tight."

"I am not, in case you wondered, what is commonly called a 'dominant'. I consider myself a sensualist. Everything I do is directed toward your pleasure, because it's your pleasure that ultimately satisfies me." He had something in his hand, maybe a dildo, and he was tracing it up and down the crack between my butt cheeks. When he came to my asshole, he applied just a slight bit of pressure. A maddening, teasing pressure.

"I want you to silence the inner police that tell you this is dirty or that is wrong. Whatever we agree to do . . . whatever brings us pleasure . . . is good and right." I felt him pressing the toy harder against my tight resistance. "Oh yes, there's a beautiful ass . . . someday, I'll have it completely, but tonight we free you a little more . . ." I opened easily when he pressed the smooth tip into me and then I pressed back. The stretching sensation felt . . . actually, fabulous. "Tell me what you feel," he demanded in his dusky voice.

"Stretched and . . .
" I gasped as I was filled completely and felt my sphincter sort of lock down on something. ". . . full." I could barely speak because he was twisting the thing inside my ass, rolling it against the resistance of an utterly sensitive place newly discovered. "God that feels good," I managed to moan into the pillow.