Billionaires in Paris: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (8 page)

Do you know how long it took me to realize that? To accept that it’s okay to love it?

See? Even now I have to come to terms that this is something I want. Isn’t that why he’s asking me?

“I do.” My fingers dig into the bed. It’s as much me grabbing purchase as it is me channeling my sudden, coursing energy. “Can I?”

“Of course.” So much can be read into his touch. The way he massages my skin. The way he strokes my thighs. The way he almost bruises my flesh. He’s itching to spank me, and I’m itching to let him. However, we don’t spank around here unless we have a damn good reason. If I’m being the impish brat, it’s to keep me in line. If I’m acting naïve and innocent, it’s to, well, keep me in line!

When I’ve got a lot that I need to unload, it’s to spank the negativity out of me.

Is that a weird way to put it? I don’t know how else to explain it. When I confess to what’s bringing me down, the strike of his hand against my flesh doesn’t feel dangerous or hateful at all. It rarely even feels like it’s coming from
him.
I confess, and he banishes the thought from my head until I’m blissfully unaware of anything bothering me.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, my love. I’m here to help, and to make you feel good.”

I say the first thing to appear in my mind. “I’m so tired.”

We both know I don’t mean physically.

To anyone who has never been spanked the way a Dom spanks you, let me say that there is no bracing for it, although you may know that it’s coming. It’s not
just
a spank. It’s a carefully timed and practiced strike that is meant to make you bite down on your lip and lurch forward. Except, if you’re like Ian, you don’t
want
me to lurch forward. Part of my discipline is taking what he bestows upon me and using it to become stronger.

I can’t stop the sound flying from my mouth, but I can withstand the sting exploding in my middle. It’s screaming through every neuron. It’s terrifying my ears. It’s reddening my skin and making me wet. When I am done confessing and Ian is satisfied with how I’ve taken this, he’ll reward me.

That’s what I tell myself to stay patient. You cannot truly have any idea how much I want to skip right to the reward!

“What else?”

His voice echoes in the back of my head. Strong. Protective. Self-assured. Everything I need him to be right now. “My mother.”

That’s all I need to say.
Smack!
Every thought of my mother escapes my brain, replaced by my growing need for the man caressing my pinking skin. He rubs his erection against my ass. A quick reminder of what I get when this is over.

“These things come in threes. What’s the last thing you want to confess?”

I hadn’t planned on anything else. The stress of my mother is enough to make me need this scene. (If she knew that, she would never speak to me again.)

An image of Martin appears in my head. Not the one you’re thinking of. I’m not thinking of him in the café this morning. I’m thinking of a very, very different time.

It was our one month anniversary. He knelt in my bedroom, rubbing his cheek against my leg and begging me to get him hard. Martin had an amazing ability to hold back an erection until told to have one. I’ve never met another man like that.

I’ll spare you the details of the whips and cock rings we used that night. Of the way he licked my skin and feasted upon my pussy with a glint in his eye that pleaded to have his talents recognized. We ended up not being in love, but he knew how to be exactly what I wanted in the bedroom. In another life. When the only way I could relate to men was how they served
me.

“Martin,” I whisper.

Ian hesitates. When he spanks me a final time, it’s so hard, so intense that I cry out in nothing but exquisite pain. A flash of light erupts in front of me. Gone. You’re gone, Martin. Take your fantasies of being treated like a sex toy and spending hours earning your reward at my feet. I don’t need them anymore.

Even though…

Martin may be gone, but another man has taken his place.

My head drops to the bed and I sob, loudly, shoulders jerking and hair almost falling in front of my face. Ian steadies me. We share a large exhale, purged of those feelings.

“Turn to me, Katie.”

That edge in his voice is nothing but a command. Turn to him. Lavish him with attention. Serve him. Make him feel like the king of this Parisian palace. Blow him, take him, do whatever he wants. There’s nothing we haven’t done. There are fewer things I haven’t enjoyed.

I turn. Of course I do, because I am his obedient sub he has carefully trained. My body and heart call to him to the point I’ll do anything he commands.
Anything.

“Look at me.”

My head slowly lifts, anticipating a heavy gaze that will fill me with more desire. Instead, I’m met with wild hazel eyes that change between brown and green in an instant.

Both of his hands clutch my face.

“Do you love me?”

It’s a question, and yet it’s a demand.
Tell me you love me. Tell me I’m the only man you could possibly want. Tell me this is what you want.

“I love you.” Gingerly I sit back on my toes, careful to not irritate my spanked flesh. “Would I do this with you if I didn’t love you?”

His gentle touch to my forehead lulls me into a half stupor. “I love you,” he tells me. “No one loves you as much as I do. Do you know how I know that?”

“No. How?”

“Because like you would do anything for me, I would do anything for you. You only have to say it.”

“Right now I need you to free me, sir.”

I can’t believe how fiercely he kisses me. Just like there was no way to brace against him spanking me, there’s no way to brace against the power infused in his body. So hungry. So passionate. So… I’m about to completely lose my mind and enter the perfect headspace. The one where I eagerly pleasure him and do whatever he commands. The two go hand-in-hand.

“How badly do you want to submit?”

“As badly as you want me to.”

Everything comes undone. Not only my hair, or the straps of my negligee down my arm, but the aura around us that makes Ian and me better than the animals. Every day we play a role in society. We have to meet the expectations of our stations. He’s the only son and heir of a multi-billion dollar fortune. Likewise, I’m the only daughter of my family’s. We carry the weight of those expectations on us, knowing that no matter what our parents say, we have to perform. They’re counting on us. Our families, the thousands of employees, the residents we serve, and the lives we don’t even know we touch on a daily basis. To falter is to knock down a house of cards.

The pressure is extraordinary, and sometimes even he needs reminding that it’s okay to
let go.

Whatever we want. Whatever feels right. He’s kissing me, and I’m tearing apart his clothes in the hopes that it gets him inside me faster. Do it, Ian! I’m purged of my negative thoughts! I’m yours to heal and build up into a more perfect person. I’m here to not only love you, but to show you that you’re
worth
loving and serving. All I ask in return is that you show me the same thing.

“You’re going to be mine,” he grunts right into my ear. “You’re going to completely give yourself to me.”

I squeal in surprise and delight as he paws my breasts, grazing my nipples and making everything come alive. “Yes, sir,” I whimper. Can he sense my eagerness? I’m desperate to completely escape this world and enter the one where it’s only him and me… and what our bodies can do. These captive shells that force us to act and look certain ways. When we reach the pinnacle of our abilities, such things no longer matter.

“Do you understand?” He’s breaking our kiss, pushing me back down onto my knees, and unzipping his pants. “I am your Master. You belong to
me.
”

“Yes!” I know what he wants. Even if I had never done this before, a woman knows when a man is about to shove his cock down her throat. Nevertheless, I want to hear him say it. I need to hear that voice command me to sexually serve him the moment his musk hits my nose.

“You’re no longer yourself. You are mine. Nothing bothers you. Nothing matters. Your whole existence is to serve and please. Don’t think.
Obey.
”

Can I convey any more how much I want to follow through?

“Suck my cock, Katie.”

Something I’ve done a hundred times already shouldn’t feel this new, but the rush I’m getting as I respond to his command has me acting like the most fervent, most obedient sub to ever come before him. That’s what I want, anyway. If I’m going to be his one and only for the rest of his life, then I better live up to that potential. If he tells me to suck his cock, I don’t
just
whip it out and put my hands and mouth all over it. I turn it into an event that will shatter every perception he’s ever had of me.

Yes, until now.

It helps that my fears and worries have been eradicated, or at least long enough for me to completely give in to my urges. The ones that drive me to lavish Ian with the talents I was born with and the skills I’ve accumulated over the years. There are little differences between giving head as a Domme and as a sub. As a Domme, you always have them on edge. You are controlling their reward, their body’s reactions to how you fuck them with your throat. As a sub, you also have a lot of control. How much do you hold back? How far do you go? Do you go all the way if he hasn’t said? Do you change it? No matter what, you want him to be happy and think
This woman really knows how to make me feel good.

Some would look at me and say I am debasing myself. Acting like sucking his cock is the only important thing in the world. Fuck off. Right now, it
is
the most important thing in the world. He’s sharing a part of himself that he doesn’t give to just anyone. My Dom trusts me to do as he says and to enjoy every minute of it. If I don’t, I find a way to tell him, and in return, I trust that he will respect what I’ve told him.

Guess what. I’m enjoying every minute of it! The feel of his hard cock in my mouth, slipping in and out of my throat the longer I relax my gag. The scent of his masculinity as he becomes more aroused and reaches the edge of climax. The fantastically pornographic sounds of what’s happening between us… not to mention the sounds of my whimpers and the groans of satisfaction falling upon my ears. The sight of him as we make eye contact, mine calling for his attention and his bestowing praise, because I don’t need him to use words. And the taste! That’s the most intoxicating of all. It doesn’t matter how good he feels in my mouth or how erotic his groans are. They mean nothing without the taste overcoming my mouth. I can taste skin, sweat, salt, and the tang of precum dripping on my tongue. It’s all happening so fast that I instinctively prepare to have him come in my throat.

I want him to. I’m working his cock as if my only goal is to get him grab my head and roar.

He does grab my head. It’s impossible to look at him now. It’s impossible to have any control. I’ve given it up. All I can control is my breathing as he slams his cock into my mouth, fucking me with thrusts that are as carefully manipulated as they are harried. He wants to completely let go, but he can’t – otherwise, he might hurt me. The best my Dom can do is hold me still and fuck me as if that’s truly the only thing I exist for.

Like he said, I have no other worries or distractions. This is it. This moment is as much my release as it is his.

Ian abandons me. With a frustrated grunt he pushes me down on the bed. “You almost made me come,” he admonishes. Was I not supposed to? He never said one way or the other. “I’d rather save myself for better things.”

I know he means me. Dear heaven do I know he means me!

He goes to his suitcase. Even though we’re here for almost a week, neither of us are the type to unpack in a hotel room. Doesn’t matter. As I roll over on the bed to watch him go through his things, I can already picture what he’s up to. It’s the same thing that happens when we play out a scene in his condo. When he’s ready to totally control me, he goes to the top drawer in his bureau and peruses.

He picks a solid black tie and a royal purple one. I’m pretty sure I bought the purple one for him some months ago. Know what I also bought for him? The sandalwood cologne he’s wearing. Turns me on every time I get a whiff.

I think he’s going to use those to tie me up, but after they land on the bed behind him, Ian pulls up a stack of shirts in his suitcase and grabs something the TSA would’ve had a field day with had we not flown on a private jet and bypassed that bullshit.

The silky ropes coil on top of me. Ian places a pair of scissors on the nightstand. His furrowed brows are so determined to get him to the next phase of our scene that I want to laugh.

I don’t, though. I pull a rope off me and finger how soft it is. Perfect condition. We’ve used them before, I swear. How could they still be in such great condition, unless he’s buying new ones all the time?

“Lie down.”

He takes his time binding me to the headboard. The softness and elasticity of these ropes allow a lot of movement while still immobilizing me. Once I’m completely at his whim, I shudder, garnering a smile out of his otherwise stoic face.