07BarteredPainThe BillionairesWifeARE

Bartered Pain: The Billionaire's Wife

by

Ava Lore

Part VII

The Delegate's Dining Room at the
United Nations. That's where I was standing.

Floor to ceiling windows surrounded
us. The sun had come out from behind the clouds this morning, cascading warmth
through the glass and filling the room with light.

“This place is huge,” I said.

Next to me, Anton pursed his lips.
“I suppose,” he mused. “Perhaps we'll be able to fit everyone in here. I still
think Gotham Hall would be better. It has more capacity.”

“I agree,” my mother said.
“Absolutely all our friends and acquaintances will be invited. We want to make
it the social event of the holiday season, and that means we need the most room
possible. Right, Jonathan?” She turned to my father expectantly.

My father nodded. His face looked a
little gray at the thought of spending all the money he probably didn't even
have yet on a wedding. The freeing up of his credit would happen at the end of
the month, presumably, but until then he was betting on my mother's infamous
inability to make a decision and stick with it. It's why she had at least two
hundred pairs of shoes with 'back-ups' in a different color.

I sighed. Already I was longing for
the intense intimacy of our Las Vegas elopement. It had been frantic and
unplanned and I had been utterly alone with Anton and two paid witnesses, but
at least I hadn't had to make ten thousand decisions I couldn't possibly care
about. Now we were scoping out reception and wedding areas, and I just wanted
to throw myself through a window.

It'd been a week since Anton had
showed me the softer side of himself—the strong, powerful man I could lean on,
rather than the predator who stalked me and longed only to possess my body—and
each night had been strangely sweet. The only things I'd unpacked in 'my'
bedroom were my clothes and makeup. My books were still boxed, my kitchen
utensils were useless, and my bedding... well, I had yet to spend a night in my
own bed, so it seemed rather pointless to take them out.

In our day-to-day lives, however,
it seemed like he was incapable of releasing his mask, at least in front of
other people. He blandly agreed with my mother no matter what she said, and the
rest of the time he was lost in la-la business land, no doubt wrapping up the
particulars of acquiring my father's company. I didn't mind it, really. Our
nights were enough for me at the moment. And when our nights bled into our
days... Well, that was just a bonus.

As though he read my mind, a sudden
jolt of electricity seared through my nipples and I gasped. Warmth flooded
between my legs. Pain and pleasure were beginning to mix in my head, and my
body certainly didn't seem to mind it. I shot Anton a glare from the corner of
my eye, but he just smiled serenely at me. This was his way of showing concern
about my dysfunctional relationship with my parents: I could either endure
punishment when I thought about speaking up but didn't, or I could just speak
up, tell them to go away, and be left in peace.

“It's not that simple,” I'd tried
to tell him this morning when we'd dressed. “These are my parents. I can't just
tell them to fuck off. My mom will be crushed if I don't have a wedding. And
what if I tell her to fuck off and then
she dies?
What about that?”

He'd paused in the process of
placing the electric shock nipple clamps on my breasts, and I immediately felt
bad. He was probably thinking about his own dead parents.
Great. Good going,
Felicia.

“What you do with your life is up
to you,” he said finally. “You should talk to your mother about her illness.”

“I
can't,”
I told him. “I—
ooh,
god—I, uh, I'm not supposed to know anything about it.” I rolled my eyes,
trying to ignore the way Anton ran his thumb over my nipple, calling it to
attention so he could get a better grip with the clamp. “Although I don't know
how much longer I can play dumb. She goes to a 'doctor's appointment' every
single day. At some point she's gotta know that I'm going to catch on...
right?”

He said nothing, merely put the
nipple clamp in place and stared down at me with what I could have sworn was
concern. Then he lifted the remote control for the electric clamps and gave me
a zap that made my knees weak and my pussy melt. “Oh,” I breathed, and he
reached out and caught me, swiping his tongue over my ear and nibbling at my
earlobe before pushing me away.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We have a
lot to do today.”

Mouth dry, I nodded and complied
with his command.

Now, in the UN Dining room, I was
getting hornier by the second as Anton slipped his arm around me and rubbed
small, seductive circles over my hip with his thumb as my mother chattered on
and on about who was getting invited and who had incurred her wrath enough to
be officially snubbed and how she was going to let those people know just how
snubbed they were.

Shut up, mom,
I thought,
then immediately felt guilty about it. But my god, she was killing my mood.
Please,
please be quiet.

Another shock lanced through my
breasts and I hissed through my teeth. The sound was loud enough to cut through
my mother's list of people she felt obligated to invite to the reception, but
that weren't special enough to go to the wedding. She gave me a sharp look.

“Are you all right, Felicia?” she
asked.

Licking my lips, I nodded. “Yeah,”
I said. “I just, uh, I just have a headache—ah!”

Electricity crackled over my
nipples and my legs buckled.

Anton put a hand out to steady me
as my mother started forward, concern writ large on her face. I didn't want to
worry her, not in her condition.

“Anton,” I said, “ could you help
me find somewhere to, uh, sit down for a bit? Or a place to splash water on my
face?”

The arm around me tensed, and I
knew he was thinking the same thing I was. “Of course, dear,” he said, his
voice rumbling against my arm. To everyone else, he sounded perfectly normal,
but I could hear the tiny note of hoarseness threaded through his words.

Firmly he steered me away from my
parents. My mother watched me go, her eyes narrow. My father stood at one of
the windows and stared down at the city. He couldn't have cared less.

Well so what? The heat of Anton's
body was already rolling off him in waves as he guided me toward the entrance
and the two discreet restrooms that stood there behind nondescript doors.

We entered the ladies' room. There
was no one else in the restaurant—too early in the morning—and we had the place
to ourselves. A small lounge greeted us, with a coffee table, a couch and two
chairs against the wall.

I didn't even have a chance to
admire the decor before I was flat on my stomach over the coffee table as Anton
hiked my skirt up over my hips. No panties again. Never again.

Drawing his hand back, he spanked
my exposed pussy and I hissed. I couldn't cry out, not here, not with everyone
so close, but the flood of moisture between my legs was enough to tell Anton
that I wanted exactly what he was going to give me.

Which of course meant he had to
torture me first.

Another electrical charge jolted my
nipples and I twitched and thrashed against the table. The leather of my jacket
creaked and groaned as I twisted. Anton stroked my slit gently with one long
finger, spreading my juices over my pussy lips until my sex was almost
frictionless.

"You are so dirty," he
whispered. "You'd fuck me anywhere."

"Hell yes," I said,
earning another smack on the ass. The flat sound echoed off the walls and I
clenched my teeth together, swallowing a shriek of pleasure. His hands were
rough when he reached down and turned me over so I lay on the table, my thighs
falling open. Eagerly his mouth descended on me, licking, stroking, probing,
nipping. Anyone could walk in that door at any moment. I needed to come, and
quick, or I'd spend the rest of the day frustrated.

"Your fingers," I begged.

He pulled back and lightly spanked
my open pussy, the sensation on my clit sending tremors of desire out through
my limbs. "I'll fuck you how I want," he growled. "And you will
come."

Yes, yes please, I thought. He
resumed stroking my slit with his finger, playing with me, toying with me, and
I writhed beneath his touch, my whole body begging him to give me the quick
rough fuck I knew would take me over the edge.

"Perhaps I should fuck your
ass," he said thoughtfully, and his finger slid down my ass, playing with
the sensitive flesh between my ass cheeks.

No, my pussy, please, I wanted to
say, but I forced myself to bite my lip. My hands had found the edges of the
table and I was holding onto it for dear life.

"Or perhaps your mouth. I
could shoot my load all over your chest."

I whimpered.

"Or maybe I'll just let you
please me with your hands..."

Your cock, I wanted to shriek. Give
me your cock.

"What do you think,
Felicia?" he said softly. "What hole should I fuck?" Reaching
up, he coated my lips with my own juices, and I opened my mouth and sucked his
finger deep inside, tasting my own need on his hands.

He inhaled sharply when I swirled
my tongue over his finger, wrapping deftly around it. "Fellicia," he
said.

He drew his hand back and I lay
there, panting, knowing I had no choice but to let him do to me what he would.
I wanted it that way. I would have done anything he wanted, wherever he wanted,
as long as he stroked me into heaven again.

The buzz of his zipper scraped over
my ears, and he was pulling me off the coffee table, lifting me up until I was
high in his arms and my legs wrapped around his waist. The length of his cock
kissed my slick lips. I needed it. I had to have it.

Anton pushed me up against the
wall, hiking my legs up until my knees met my chest. My ankles hooked over his
shoulders and his hand under my ass held me up. I felt his other hand beneath
us, manipulating his cock, pressing it up and up.

"We shall let fate decide
which hole I fuck," he whispered, and his voice was so rough it seemed
like two wet stones grating over each other. "The first hole I hit is what
I fuck."

Oh god, I thought. Fruitlessly, I
tried to angle my hips, but I was pinned, immobile, like a butterfly. The soft,
wet head of his cock slid perilously close to my puckered entrance before it
glided up and up, and then he was snug against my slick channel, the hand under
me slowly releasing my weight.

I slid down onto his cock with the
ease of long nights of practice, and I closed my eyes.

Each time was the same. Mind
blowing. I couldn't breathe as he filled my body with his, fitting into me,
easing the ache he caused with his very presence. Every time, it was the same.
Each time it was new.

He speared me with his cock until
it was fully engulfed, my clit smashed against the hard muscles of his abs.
Pressing me harder into the wall, he pulled out and pressed in, the smallest of
thrusts, but it sent sparks dancing through me. My toes curled with the
sensation of his stomach scraping over my clit as the head of his cock jutted
over my g-spot on its way to my womb. He set a quick, sharp pace, an urgent
humping sending relentless bursts of pleasure through my pussy, dragging a
fierce fire from my aching clit as he pounded into me. Tiny whines escaped my
throat as I clung to him, helpless beneath his assault, and my body opened
before him, melting around him. I wished it would go on forever. I wished it
would end quickly.

I got my wish. One of them,
anyway. We came together, a fun little party trick we'd been working on that
made a quickie like this so smooth and perfect. My body contracted, pulling him
deeper, and with a visceral grunt he spent himself inside of me, hot cum
squirting into my slick channel.