Submitting to the Billionaire: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 9

  I stop behind her. I am standing so close I can smell her. Flowers, mixed in with heady excitement and a touch of fear. I bend down until I am so close to her, my breath ghosts her neck. Her breathing becomes more pronounced. Steeling herself she turns to look at me. The look in my eyes causes her pupils to enlarge with sudden panic. She quickly drops her head. I run a finger along her pale cheek. She has beautiful skin. Smooth and cool.

  “It’s time, little butterfly.”

  “Time for what?” she whispers, her body trembling.

  “Time to pay the debt.”

  She swallows the lump in her throat. “This is … difficult for me.” She stumbles into silence, her cheeks taut with tension.

  Awww … I’ve got a shy one. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it easy for you.”

  “I won’t let you humiliate me,” she vows. The defiance brings color up her creamy throat and into her face. I like that. I like it that she won’t just roll over and play dead. Nevertheless, I can’t be satisfied with anything except complete submission. I need that. From her I want absolute obedience. Total control.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “What?” Her face shoots up, shocked.

  “Disrobe for me, beautiful Star.”

  “What, here?” she cries.

  “Uh … huh”

  “Can’t we do this in a bedroom?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be doing a lot of that there too,” I mock.

  She stares at me. Her face is flushed. The usual suspects: champagne, embarrassment, and pure sexual arousal.

  “Well?”

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “I’d like to finish my coffee first.”

  I smile. “It’s already cold.”

  “What if someone outside sees me?”

  “They can consider it an unexpected perk of the job.”

  “You are a bastard.”

  I walk away from her and sit on an armchair. “Relax, little butterfly. There’s no one out there, traipsing about in the dark, just hoping to get a glimpse of your delectable body.”

  “This is cruel.”

  I shrug. Cruel. She has no idea.

  Her bright blue eyes accuse me, but she stands up.

  “Get on the coffee table and face me,” I instruct.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Her knuckles show white as she clenches her hands into fists. I watch the emotions play across her face. Her mouth is a straight line when she climbs on the low table, but she is a little wobbly on her feet, and that little unintended show of vulnerability makes my cock jump. I’m going to enjoy riding this sweet filly. She fiddles with the clasp at the back of her neck, and for a few second holds on to it, and stares at me with hostile eyes.

  I raise a careless eyebrow. The gesture is calculated to annoy her. I like it when she is raging and glorious.

  With a glare of fury, she lets the material fall. It slips down her breasts, skims her waist and belly, and gets caught at her hips. She pushes it down roughly. She is being deliberately unsexy.

  She has no idea that it is her reluctance that is the major turn on. I’ve had willing pussy too often. She tries to kick off the material pooling at her ankles, and nearly loses her balance. Her arms flail as she straightens herself.

  Weirdly, my heart jumps into my throat. The thought of her tumbling down and hurting herself fills me with a strange dread. It’s been a long time since I cared about the wellbeing of another human being.

  Her underwear is plain white. I should have expected it.

  “Lose the underwear.”

  Her fingers slip beneath her panties’ rim. The gesture is instinctively slow and sensuous. Worthy of a first-class stripper. She was completely wasted on that fool. Then, she remembers to be outraged, and pushes the cotton briefs unceremoniously down her legs. She stands before me naked, her palms covering the triangle between her legs.

  I watch her intently. Saying nothing.

  Slowly, her hands move away and hang by her sides. Her pussy is freshly shaved. The sight of her deliciously sexy body on full view makes my blood pound. God, I want to take her right now.

  “You shave your pussy?”

  She looks at me defiantly. “Nigel likes it.”

  She wants to anger me, but she has no idea how much fury pours into me. It almost makes me want to hire someone to smash every bone in his body. I keep my jaw straight and eyes cold.

  “Figures,” I murmur mildly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands furiously.

  “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

  “As a matter of fact I don’t. You better spell it out.’

  “Babies and little girls have no hair, Star.”

  “How dare you?” she rages. “It’s a personal preference.”

  “It’s my preference that you no longer shave while you are here. I want you to be natural.”

  “Fine,” she says tightly.

  My blood throbs with a mix of anger and lust. A dangerous combination. “Now sit down, open your legs, and show me your little cunt.”

  I see the flash of anger, and how much she wants to refuse, but she sits down, and parts her legs. At the sight of the pink slit I inhale sharply.

  “Wider.”

  Her thighs move further apart, and I see how wet she is. That makes me smile. I stand and walk up to her.

  “Lie on your back,” I order.

  “Why?” Her voice is shaky.

  “Just do it.” For a moment, she freezes like a deer in headlights. Then she swallows her anxiety, and lies back as naked as the day she was born.

  I stand over her and look down at her naked body on the dark wood. White and all mine. In the yellow light her skin is creamy and flawless. I gaze at her chest, at the rose tipped peaks. There is a bruise at the side of her right breast. A love bite. The sick asshole left a love bite for me to find. Silly man. There will be nothing for him to find by the time I am finished with her.

  Her full lips are pursed and her hands are lightly placed across her abdomen. In the silence of the room her deliberately slow, deep breathing betrays her attempt to remain calm and in control.

  But she is not.

  I am.

  I trail my fingers slowly down her chest brushing across each breast. I feel her heartbeat rise as my fingers make their way down to her belly button and stomach. I let my hand drop lower and nudge apart her legs. She tightens her muscles against my hand.

  “Poor vagina. It’s been waiting for a real man’s touch.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” she snaps, but her voice is shaky.

  “Pretend all you want, but we both know the truth, little butterfly.”

  Her breath hitches as I draw my finger between her pussy lips.

  I stick my honeyed finger in my mouth and suck it slowly whilst I keep my eyes on her shocked expression. She tastes like ripe peaches washed in rainwater. So fucking sweet.

  She scowls at her body’s betrayal.

  I sit on the table alongside her. Then I reach down and fist my hand in her hair. She gasps with surprise. After the passion, the anger will set in again, but now, now she is mine to play with. My fingers slip down her body. Pinching her nipples making her moan. Moving lower. Feather light touches. My hand parts her thighs. For a second she fights me. I can force my way in, but not tonight.

  That is for another time.

  I bend my head and swoop down on her nipple. I suck it until her thighs fall open. My finger enters her and her mouth opens at the sudden intrusion. I move my hand from her hair to clamp on her mouth. Her eyes widen, and she tries to eject my hand. I strengthen my grip and watch her glare intensify as she loses the battle. My finger moves in and out of her. I feel cruel. She makes me feel things I don’t want to feel. I cannot allow her to have so much power over me.

  I add a second finger. I pump them hard and furiously. I never let up as she writhes against me, twisting on the table top. She screams as she brea
ks apart. It is violent. As I knew it would be when I clamped my hand over her mouth. Her body jerks and clenches, and she gushes uncontrollably. Her fluid drenches my hand and spills on the table.

  Her eyes stare at me with shock.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Star

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dOwHzCHfgA

  Died in your arms tonight

  I think I am dying. It is the only way I can describe the sensation. Everything starts leaving me. There is nothing left in the world but me on that table with his hand sealing my mouth shut, my legs wide open, and the friction of his long fingers working me. Forceful, fast, possessive. Then even that goes and I disintegrate and become one with pure pleasure. Waves and waves of it.

  But it doesn’t last. I don’t die. I come back. To voiceless sobbing and acute embarrassment. His fingers are still inside me, and I’ve squirted all over his fine furniture.

  I look up into his cold eyes and I think they will mock me, but they don’t. His eyes are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. I feel breathless. I am transfixed by his eyes. I feel as if I’m being sucked into them. The water is cold but it is impossible to resist. It pulls me deeper and deeper.

  Slowly, he takes his hand away from my mouth and I inhale a shuddering breath. His head swoops down. To my shock, I feel him swirl his tongue in the folds of my sex. The strokes are luxurious, gentle, lazy, sure. My skin starts to feel like it is on fire.

  He says something, but it is a guttural rumble to my ears.

  He eats me out, taking his time, sucking, licking, biting, until another orgasm tears through me. I gasp for breath, panting like a stranded fish. He holds me through it all, watching me with those cold, cold eyes. I stare back helplessly.

  I’ve never felt this way before.

  Then he stands up, fully clothed, completely in control, and looks down on me. Naked, used, my legs wide open, my sex completely exposed. His eyes rove my body. I can’t name the expression on his face. It looks like triumph, satisfaction, and just plain lust.

  In this moment, there is nothing more I want than him inside me. There was an aching void inside me, and I wanted him to fill it.

  “Get dressed and go to your room,” he says, his voice harsh.

  As I stare at him wide-eyed he turns around and walks out of the room with long strides, as if he can’t bear to be with me for another second. For a while, I am too confused and stunned to move. Then I quickly get dressed, and slip out of the room. The hallway is deserted and silent.

  I run up the sweeping stairs and go into my room. My phone is buzzing on the dresser. I pick it up. There are seventeen messages from Nigel. I stare at them. Each one is more desperate than the earlier one.

  Call me

  Please call me.

  I’m really worried here. Where are you?

  Star. I’m going to call the police if you don’t call me soon.

  Fucking hell. Call me.

  Star. I’m going mad here.

  Oh God. I can’t do this for a month.

  Star. Call me. Please. I’m dying here.

  Are you there?

  Call me as soon as you see this.

  There are more messages, but I don’t click into them. I dial his number, and he picks up on the first ring.

  “Star,” he cries desperately.

  “Yeah,” I say guiltily. I never thought of him once while I was with Nikolai. Not once.

  “Are you all right?”

  I take a deep breath. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “Where have you been? I’ve been going crazy here.”

  “I was having dinner. I told you.”

  “Dinner? You’ve been MIA for more than two hours.”

  “Have I?” My head feels fuzzy. I can’t think.

  “For fucks sake, Star. What’s the matter with you? You are acting like you don’t care.”

  “I do care. Very much. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” My voice sounds strange. I wanted the other man inside me.

  “Star, I love you. I can’t do this anymore. I want you to come back.”

  I feel that flash of anger. “Yeah, and what happens to my dad?”

  To my horror he starts sobbing softly.

  “Please don’t cry, Nigel. Please.”

  “I’m sorry. I think I’m just stressed and worried. You sound like you don’t give a shit about us anymore.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Do you love me, Star?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” I feel good saying it. That at least is true. I feel guilty that I enjoyed everything Nikolai did to me and that I wanted more, but that is just a physical thing. I love Nigel. I love him very much.

  “Has he done anything to you yet?”

  “Yes.”

  There is a shocked pause. “You mean he didn’t wait for tonight?”

  I feel a flash of irritation. “No, Nigel. He didn’t wait. Just like you didn’t wait for the night to come when you were first dating me.”

  “You didn’t enjoy it, did you?”

  I’ve never heard him sound so unsure of himself. “Look, Nigel. I don’t want to talk about it, okay. For this to work we can’t talk about what I do with him.”

  “You did enjoy it then,” he pounces.

  “I didn’t say that. I said, I just didn’t want to talk about it. It feels too weird. This is just the arrangement you made.”

  Suddenly the door flies open. I whirl around and see Nikolai standing at the doorway. His face is a mask of such rage I actually take a step back as if struck. I stare at him with my jaw hanging loose. There is a white band around his mouth.

  I know I shouldn’t, I have no reason to feel it, but I suddenly feel as if I’ve done something very wrong. Nigel is saying something, but I don’t hear it. All I see is Nikolai’s blazing eyes. He strides towards me and wrenches the phone from my nerveless fingers. He holds it to his ear and listens to Nigel for a couple of seconds then he opens his mouth and I recoil at the utter contempt in his voice.

  “Don’t you dare call her again while she is in my house. If I catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll break every bone in your miserable body.” His voice is so low and deadly I can hardly believe it is the same man who fed me a piece of lamb.

  Before Nigel can say anything, he flings the phone towards the wall. It smashes on impact and falls down in pieces.

  “Oh, my god,” I wail in horror. “My dad. The hospital needs to be able to contact me. I need my phone.”

  I rush to the wall and crawling around start picking up the pieces. I try to put them together but my hands are shaking so much I can’t.

  “It’s broken.” I look at him with hatred. “You broke my phone. How dare you? How could you do that? First you humiliate me then you break my property. You didn’t have the right to do that. I hate you. You’re nothing but a big bully,” I scream, and tears start running down my face. “I’ve got no phone now. You arrogant asshole.”

  He stares at me, crouched on the floor, tears running down my face.

  A muscle in his jaw ticks furiously. Something flashes into his eyes. Suddenly he looks confused or hurt. But how can that be? Then his jaw tightens.

  “You’ll have a new phone in an hour.” He turns on his heel and walks out.

  I fall on the floor and sob. I wouldn’t normally have reacted so badly, but the incredible emotions of the day must have finally caught up with me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nikolai

  “You’re nothing but a big bully.”

  The words reverberate around in my brain like an echo. I thought I had killed that motherfucker, but it is not dead. The past can never die. It lies down quietly in a dark well of sorrow, and when you least expect, it jumps out at you. After all these years. The scars have outwardly healed, but the ugliness underneath remains as vivid as yesterday. I turn away from her quickly. I don’t want her to see. Not her. I’m already too
exposed. Too vulnerable.

  My hand shakes as I close the door behind me. I hear her crying and I want to go to her, but I won’t. It’s not safe for me.

  The past. There is no escaping it.

  It’s not dead.

  It’s still calling …

  Twenty-six Years Ago …

  “Boys can you come down, please,” our housekeeper, Duscha, calls.

  I turn instantly to my younger brother, Pavel. It is a late autumn afternoon, and we are both in our study room doing our homework. His head is bent over his picture book and his expression is one of intent concentration. It is possible he didn’t even hear Duscha, but any excuse to stop studying works for me.

  “Come on. Let’s go see what she wants,” I say, jumping up.

  My brother looks up from his book. His eyes are green like Mama’s, and his fair hair is long and curly. It makes him look more like a girl than a boy, but Mama can’t bear to cut it because it is so beautiful.

  “Nikolai. Pavel,” Duscha hollers up again.

  We race down one flight of stairs, then another. My legs are stronger and longer than Pavel’s so I get there faster, but I skid to a stop at the end of the hallway. Duscha is standing next to a man and woman I don’t recognize.

  “Come here, little ones,” Duscha calls gently.

  We do as we are told, but warily. There is no smile on Duscha’s usually cheerful, round face. My gaze slides over to the strangers standing next to her.

  The man is wearing a hat and a long, black coat. His face is still and pale. The woman is dressed in a navy suit. She is so perfectly groomed there is not a hair out of place. Mama has the same pair of sturdy shoes as hers, but unlike Mama she has cold blue eyes.

  Duscha nods and says, “Come my little darlings.”

  I take my brother’s hand and we walk towards her, stopping close to her. She crouches, opens her arms out to Pavel, and envelops him in a hug, but keeps her gaze on me.

  “Nikolai, these people work with your father and mother. They have … they have something to tell you both.” Her lower lip is trembling and she looks nervous and sad.