His Secret Muse: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (7 page)

Another one follows. Left. Then right again. Left, left. Right, right.

The pain grows with every single one, each stroke burning into my skin like a hot iron. My abused skin feels like it is set on fire, and he still keeps adding more, only making it bearable by slightly changing the locations he hits.

I am panting and breaking a sweat while my body tries to process the pain.

But I don't run.

I don't avoid his hits, and I don't yell at him to stop. I am determined to take this, to show him that I can take it and that I am perfectly capable of handling this. Of handling him.

Just as I am beginning to doubt my own strength, he finally stops. He doesn't say a word and just stands behind me quietly. I can feel his eyes on me - and I hear him breathing almost as heavily as myself.

The pain on my behind slowly changes, now that my skin is finally given a rest. The burning sensation that felt like a knife cutting into my ass cheeks is slowly turning into a warm throbbing, painful at first, but growing more and more bearable. Enjoyable even.

My hands are clawing into the fabric of the backrest. Tears are dropping down on them left and right. I am sobbing.

I don't care what he thinks. I don't care if he believes me to be too weak for this, or if he thinks that I am pathetic.

It might be too much after all. Not the pain per se, but what is happening to me now.

Why am I crying?

The feeling is overwhelming. I am not used to confronting such strong emotions. I feel drugged. It is as if he put me on a weird high. I am dizzy, confused - and terribly aroused.

I don't dare to look at him and remain in my position until I feel his hand on my left shoulder. I flinch, but his touch his soft.

"Come. Up," he whispers.

I keep my face low while I climb down from the sofa, taking the helping hand that he offers to me.

I fear that he will make me stand in front of him again. Naked, helpless, exposed and crying like a baby.

But instead he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me.

I sigh with relief as his warmth and wonderful smell embrace me.

"Good girl," he whispers. "You did very good."

He lifts my head up by placing his index finger below my chin. I must look terrible. The few make up items that I possess and use are of the cheaper kind and certainly not waterproof. My mascara must be running down my face in ugly black streaks.

He gently wipes away another tear on my cheeks with his thumb and smiles down at me.

I am still shaking and feel incredibly dizzy. My ass cheeks are still burning, reminding me of the intense pain he has put me through just a few moments before.

"That was for the glass," he explains. "And for forgetting to reply. And for that bratty attitude. All in one. You took it well. You did great, Renee."

I want to say something, but my voice has left me. Nothing but throaty croaks escape my lips as I try to reply. My vertigo only increases, so much, that I am beginning to wonder if he put anything in my drink. Or the food?

His eyes fixate on mine again, observing every breath I take with great attention. I don't even dare to blink.

"Perfect," he whispers. "You have no idea how beautiful you look right now."

"Thank you," I breathe. "Thank you, Sir."

I am still shaking, and I am beginning to understand what caused it. I am literally shaken from the brutal spanking - and he only used his hand. I cannot even imagine what it must feel like if he decided to use something else. A belt, for example.

But there is something else that causes my body to shiver as if I was cold, which I am not.

I am dizzy with arousal. My center throbs with anticipation. I need release. I need him. I seriously need him to fuck me.

And I fear that he is not going to do it until I ask him to.

He wants me to beg for it.

His arms are still wrapped around me, his dark eyes on mine. Waiting.

I know he is less shocked at my current state than I am. He wanted me to be where I am right now. I know what he wants me to do next.

I am reluctant to go along with it. I hate to be predictable.

But in the end, I am mostly harming myself.

"Fuck me," I whisper.

My voice is so low that even I can hardly hear myself speak. So, I am not surprised at all when I hear him say: "Louder. What do you want?"

I close my eyes. "I want you to fuck me, please. Sir."

"Is that what you want, huh," he says.

His grip around me tightens. He pulls me against his body, deliberately pushing his hips forward so that I can feel it. I can feel his hard erection poking against my lower belly through the fabric of his pants.

Fuck, he feels enormous.

"Yes," I hiss. "Please, fuck me."

"Well, we'll see about that," he says. "But you're right, you deserve something."

Before I get a chance to ask what this something might be, he lifts his arms and gently pushes me backward towards the couch behind me.

"Sit down," he orders. "If you can."

He winks at me, suggesting that my behind might still hurt too much to be able to sit down on it. I know it will sting a little, but this thought is not what makes me hesitate as I try to process his command.

And again he is reading my mind.

"I don't care if you leave a wet spot and drool all over it," he adds. "It's mine."

I blush. Geez, why does he have to be so... direct?

"Yes, Sir," I whisper and sit down on the sofa as he told me to.

He places himself in front of me so that his crotch is directly in front of my face.

My eyes widen with excitement when he unzips his slacks. With one quick move, he has moved his boxer briefs aside, and his erection springs free only inches from my nose.

My eyes widen with excitement at the sight of it. It is as big as I suspected, straight and erect with considerable girth. The tip glistens with precum.

I look up at him, unsure if I am allowed to act on my own behalf.

He nods. "Good girl. You may play with it."

I smile and wrap my right hand around him. My fingertips barely touch as they reach around it, and my hands aren't really that small to begin with.

We both moan when I take him between my lips, gently licking and sucking at his wet tip.

I did this.

This man, Cedric Crow, the famous and stupidly rich writer that so many women admire and lust after is rock hard because of me. I never thought that a blowjob could ever make me feel this powerful. 

I take him in deeper, sucking and craving his cock as if I would starve without it. His deep moans spur me on to give him my best. I have always enjoyed giving blowjobs, and I know that I am not bad at them, especially when I am in a state of crazy arousal as I am right now.

I want him to be where I am. Dizzy, craving, desperate for more.

I succeed.

He suddenly withdraws himself, leaving me with saliva running down my cheeks as I look up at him.

"Turn around," he orders, pushing me by the shoulder.

I quickly do as I am bidden and hear him rip a plastic package, probably of a condom that he produced from god knows where.

He is quick. I gasp as he enters me from behind with one deep shove, just moments after I turned my back to him. He feels amazing, but big, so freakishly big. I know that the position doesn't help matters, since doggy style does make every man feel a lot bigger than missionary would. But I don't think anyone has ever stretched me as much as he is right now.

He grabs me by the hair at the back of my head and pushes my face down into the cushions. My moans are suffocated when he starts fucking me, truly fucking me. His thrusts are just as brutal and merciless as his spanking.

He keeps me pinned down. I am unable to move while my ass is sticking up in the air, and he adds thrust after thrust, pushing inside me with such force that the stretching sensation of his cock is unfurling through my entire body.

I am so tense and ready after all this build-up that I can feel my orgasm approach with eerie certainty.

I flinch and cry out when he leans over and starts playing with my clit without continuing his sweet, sweet shoves inside me.

"No, no!" I protest. "I'm gonna come-"

"Good," he pants. "I want you to. Now!"

I explode on command. My vision blurs as my climax takes over, finally giving me the release I craved so much.

My muscles clench around his hard cock as waves of pleasure run through my body. The tensions are so strong and violent that I know he can feel it, too.

It drives him over the edge. While I am still in the midst of mind blowing throbs of sheer bliss, I can feel him tense up inside me.

He moans loudly as he joins my climax and finds his release deep inside me.

"You might not believe it," I whisper. "But I am usually not like this."

I am still naked, wrapped in a soft blanket that he produced from a box next to the seating area. We sit on the same sofa that provided the stage for our first play together, me leaning against his strong upper body while he has his right arm wrapped around my shoulder.

"I do believe you," Cedric says.

Unlike me, he is still completely dressed, which is not surprising since all he had to do was to zip up his pants after we were done.

I hope that I will get to see him naked the next time.

But just as that thought pops up in my head, another one follows. An unpleasant notion.

Will there even be a next time?

I don't like the idea of being just one of many one-night stands that he might pick up along the road. After all, with him being who he is, he could have a pick of any girl. It is all the more surprising that he would choose someone like me.

Then again, most men like variety. Maybe I was just the type of women he was in the mood for this week.

My face darkens as I quietly dive into the idea of being just one of many. A random pick that will soon be forgotten.

"It is what I like about you," he whispers.

I need a moment to remember what we were talking about.

Oh yeah, about me not being the crybaby I have been tonight.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I told you," he replies. "That sarcastic smile. Your 'above all'-attitude. I know you are not easy to impress. I know you don't enjoy what most people like. You need more."

He pauses, maybe to give me an opportunity to speak. But once again, I am dumbfounded. I snuggle up in his arm and lean my head against his shoulder.

"All I can hope is to be the one who can give it to you," he says.

"Oh, you did!" I breathe.

I can feel him shaking his head.

"No, we haven't even started yet, Renee," he whispers. "You have no idea."

My heart had just calmed down, but is right back at it now, pounding so loudly that I am sure he can literally hear it beating against my rib cage.

"Does that mean you want to see me again?" I dare to ask.

I close my eyes preparing for a devastating reply. In moments like this one, I have often preferred to take a pessimistic stance instead of having my hopes crushed without warning.

But Cedric aims to please.

"Of course!" he exclaims. "Silly girl."

He removes his arm and pushes me away from his embrace, holding me by the shoulders. His eyes search for mine, flickering with indignation.

"I don't think you understand how rare you are," he says. "I have been looking for someone like you for a very long time."

I furl my eyebrows with disbelief.

"You don't have to say that, Cedric," I argue. "I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing you again, but-"

"Wouldn't mind?" He repeats, looking insulted.

I smile. "No, I would love it."

"Good girl," he says. "But?"

"But... I mean. Look at you. You are Cedric Crow; you could have anyone," I murmur. "Like, really,
anyone
. I find it hard to believe that you don't tell that same story to a bunch of other women every week."

He frowns at me.

"I find that insulting," he says. "To me and to you. And I will prove to you that you are wrong."

A faint smile flees across my face.

"You know that I am about to acquire a home here," he continues. "In fact, that is the reason that I am back in town. I plan to settle here. It's not like I am going anywhere."

"Yes, but-"

"No, Renee," he interrupts. "You have no choice but to give me a chance."

I cannot believe what I am hearing. Cedric Crow, asking me to give him a chance.

Lesley would rip my head off if she heard this right now. And thousands of women would gladly join her, I am sure.

"Is this going to be your new home?" I randomly ask, gesturing around the sunroom. "Where are we, anyways?"

He shakes his head and wraps his arm around me again. "This is just a place I am renting for now."

"Oh," I say, cuddling up in his embrace.

"I can buy it if you like it?"

I stare up at him with disbelief. "Sorry?"

"This area belongs to a nice penthouse underneath the roof," he explains, shrugging his shoulders. "It's where I am staying right now, but I am not completely sold on it yet."

"So, is that what you have been doing?" I ask. "Staying at different places to get a feel for them?"

He looks at me, surprised and intrigued.

"No, not really," he says. "But it sounds like a great idea."

He looks away dreamily, contemplating the idea.

I raise my eyebrows. Suddenly, I feel utterly ashamed about what happened before. I am not someone to weep easily. In fact, I cannot even remember the last time I cried. Especially heavy sobbing like today. That must have been years ago.

Yet, I feel so... relaxed. My sore behind still burns a little, reminding me of the punishment every time I readjust my seating position.

I love the feeling.

Whatever his intentions may be and whatever this is between us, I know that no one has ever made feel the way he did tonight. Scared, confused, insanely aroused. I want more of it, as much as I can get.

"I wanted to ask you before we did anything, but it somehow got forgotten," Cedric whispers. "Have you ever been with a Dominant before?"

I shake my head. "No. Well, no one who has called himself that."

"But you have been spanked before?" he wants to know.

"Not like that," I admit.

"Did you like it?"

For someone watching us, this would come as an odd question. I can still see myself, on my knees before him, sobbing and crying as he served me the hardest spanking I had ever experienced.

So far.

Did I like it?

"Yes," I reply. "I did."

"I could tell that you would treasure pain like most wouldn't," he whispers. "You are strong, physically and mentally. And you claim you are bored easily. Those are great preconditions for a submissive."

Submissive. No one who has ever met me would use that word to describe me. Sarcastic and ignorant Renee, always standing in the corner and rolling her eyes at the mundane interests and likes of other people.

"You think I am submissive?" I ask.

"No.
A
submissive," he says. "I am pretty sure you don't let people tell you what to do or what to like in everyday life."

"Damn straight," I comment.

He chuckles. "See. That sassy attitude will get you into some sweet trouble when you are with me. There's going to be so much for me to teach you."

"Teach me, huh," I whisper.

"You'll see," he says. "Tonight was only a faint taste of what I have to offer, and a faint taste of what you can endure. You'll be surprised at yourself."

I can hear my pulse again. He is right, the body does have its own way of showing what truly affects us, even if the mind is not willing to admit it.

"It's late," he says. "Do you want to spend the night or have me call Craig to drive you home? Either is fine with me."

"Either is fine?" I reassure.

Is he trying to be polite or does he just not care at all?

"Yes," he confirms. "I know that for some people, sleeping together is a lot more intimate than having sex. I know it is for me."

"Oh," I make.

"But there is a spare room," he adds. "So even if you stayed, we wouldn't have to share a bed."

"Would you prefer that?" I ask.

"Would it hurt you if I did?"

"Um, no," I lie.

"You're lying," he assesses.

"What if I am one of those people as well?" I ask. "You must have considered that option or else you wouldn't have asked."

"I think you are one of those people," he says. "That is why I mentioned it."

He is right. Again.

In general, that is.

But after everything that happened between the two of us tonight, I don't feel that sleeping together would be the most intimate thing we are doing. I feel so comfortable in his strong arms. The idea of falling asleep in his embrace sounded lovely right now.

"You know," I whisper. "I also don't cry in front of people."

"I thought so," he replies.

"And I did that tonight...," I add.

He squeezes me and plants a little kiss on my forehead.

"Yes, I would very much like to spend the night with you as well," he announces. "Together. Same bed."

And that was that.