Making Him Want It 2 -- Callie's Secret: Conning the Billionaire (4 page)

It was my turn to smile gamely, and then I held up my other hand.  “You’re choice, since this is your plane.”  I cleared my throat and worked to make my voice a little more girlish.  I might be being bad, but I still needed to stay a little in character.

I held up the dildo, and then I held up item number two.

Hi
s
smile had evaporated, but then he closed his eyes, grimaced, but then shot me with one of his million watt smiles.  He nodded playfully to item number two.

Since his little
Y
ou’ll be
g
for me to…
speech I’d been planning on showing him what it felt like to get fucked up the ass.  But I had given him the choice, and he’d chosen wisely.  What was some sore flesh compared to getting your anal cherry popped?

I tossed the double dong back in the bedside table and came back with what was behind curtain number two: the paddle.

I know
…
I should’ve gone for the cat-o-nines.  I could
have
inflicted a lot more damage with that instrument, and it was such a more elegant
toy to play with—and Hello Kitty would have approved.  But I’d never used a paddle before, and this one was hand crafted, sturdy, and though it was thin, it had some heft to it.  And it was pretty: oriental carvings in the handle, a silk string tassel on the end, and mother of pearl inlay around the perimeter of the flat business end.

How could I resist?

As I came back to Gabriel I felt a little bad.  His beautiful cock had deflated somewhat, and was now only a semi hard seven inches dangling between his legs.  I guess the prospect of having his not-so-little drawer of carnal delights used on him instead wasn’t that
good of an aphrodisiac
.

Undaunted I circled around him,
tapping my fingernails against the highly polished wood of the paddle.  A little thrill ran through me as I remembered how much he’d enjoyed both times he’d smack my ass. 

I swung around unexpectedly and walloped the right cheek of his impossibl
y
beautiful bottom.
  His entire body jerked, his hard muscles clenching impressively, his arms pulling down hard on the handcuffs
—
his legs turn
ed
stiff and jerk
ed
apart a bit.

I suddenly wondered if he had a pair of ankle restraints in his drawer of delights.  I would have liked to see those wonderfully well developed leg muscles strain against some leg irons, like his splendid arms and shoulders were doing with the chains and handcuffs.

I swung the paddle and made rather loud contact with his other cheek.  His reaction was a little less animated, but I could tell he wasn’t enjoying this at all.

At least that’s what I thought, until I circle
d
him again and found his ample endowment tumescent and twitching, rising from hi
s
hips like the mast of a ship.

I took the paddle and gently stroked it down the length of Gabriel’s manhood.  It
jounced
and jerked, and I saw discomfort in his expression.  But when he looked up into my eyes, I saw raw need blazing in his eyes.  Whatever he personally, logically thought about being the bottom in this scenario, deep down it seemed
that
part of him wanted to be dominate
d
. 

At least for now.
 

Well, whatever the billionaire wants…

I ran the paddle over more of his supple flesh: over his belly and chest, up over his neck and then down his back.  And then back to his now rubicund bottom.  The tight, perfect
orbs of his ass were mottled with flaming red, like the cheeks of young Russian ice skaters after a competition.  So very adorable.

I laid into him a few fast times, this time staying to just one cheek.  His body stiffened, and he cursed under his breath, but he didn’t ask me to stop.  The butt cheek in question was crimson red now, and looked sore to the touch.

I circled him again, this time gliding the wood of the paddle over his flesh the entire trip.  His body stiffened as the paddle swept over his flesh.  His cock was jumping madly, like a puppy begging for a treat.  I stopped when the paddle was up under his cock and balls again.  His balls were heavy with his seed, and I don’t think I’ve seen a harder erection.

I stood there, staring into his eyes, not moving a muscle.  He wasn’t looking at me, but I could see he was squirming.  He wanted me to keep going, but it was killing him that I wasn’t.  And I knew that he didn’t want to submit.  Not that he wasn’t already submitting in a way.  No, what he didn’t want to do, and it was etched oh so plainly on his face, was to have to ask me to keep going.

That would be too humiliating.  To have to fess up to and ask for the shameful thing that you’ve secretly pined for.  That kind of humiliation was hard for most to endure, not to mention request.

But we had hours—I presumed, since he still hadn’t told me where the hell we were going!—and we had the privacy and the accessories for hours more of “fun and games.”

He clamped his eyes shut and I saw his body tremble as his jaw tightened.  “Please…” he rasped through gritted teeth.

I stood still as a statue and waited for him to open his eyes and look at me.  And finally, with a haughty exhale of his breath, he did.  His blue, blue eyes were not only angry and beseeching at the same time…they were bloodshot, as if he had been crying.

That alone tore at my heart a little

Steady…this is just a part…just a con-job.  Don’t go buying into your own grift!

But there it was, just looking into the desperate need and sorrow that filled his eyes made me want to throw my arms around him and promise nothing was ever going to hurt him again.  Which was utter bullshit!  Only a masochist would ever promise that sort of thing, or even try to up hold it.

I swallowed all this silently and came back to the task at hand.  I stood there with the implement of Gabriel’s pleasure held up under his turgid length, and waited for him to cave.  He stared into my eyes for well over a minute before his gaze wavered and he licked his lips. 

“Please,” he said meeting my gaze.  “Please do that again.”

I raised my free hand and stroked the side of his face.  He closed his eyes and his shame flared on his face in scarlet to match the marks on his rear. 

I moved again to behind him and caressed the teak wood over his inflamed flesh.  The muscles of his legs jerked and contracted, and the muscular dimples of his
glutes stood out.

I swung the paddle again, landing blows with loud smacks, making Gabriel grunt and swear, but still he didn’t say stop, or no, or anything to get me to stop.

His hips began to pull forward, away from my blows, and every razor sharp muscle in his body tensed as he pulled hard on the handcuffs.  It was beautiful to behold, and filled me with a fleeting sense of satisfaction.  I was causing his pleasure, and his pain.  I was pushing him farther into this sexual fantasy than he’d ever gone…and in the opposite direction than he’d ever gone as well.

“Stop!” he hollered in a strangled voice.  He was breathing hard, and he was up on the balls of his feet, his hips pitch forward as far as his body would go.  “Stop before I…”

“Stop before you what?” I said, stepping in close, so close my lips g
r
az
ed
his earlobe with every word.  “Before you come
?
  Before you shoot your load like some schoolboy?”

His eyes were furious, burning with real hatred.  That meant I’d hit the nail right on the head. 

I smiled at him…I just couldn’t help myself.

I bent over and retrieved my “key” from where I’d dropped it after I’d picked the lock of the handcuffs.  I held it up for Gabriel’s inspection and he laughed ruefully.

“A hairpin?  Really, those things actually work?”

I popped up on my toes and made quick work of his bonds, and then stepped back as he pulled the handcuffs off his wrists.

“Only if you know how to make it work,” I replied.

Gabriel stood there, splendidly hard with the most hellish gleam in his eyes.  He was rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had dug into them.  I had matching marks on my wrists, and it took everything in me not to rub them the same way he was.

A split second later he rushed at me, grabbing me up in his sweat slicked arms and dumping us both on the bed.  His lips bruised mine as his teeth nipped and bit at me.  His hands were forceful and everywhere it seemed.  And before I knew it he’d secured another condom over his manhood and was pushing down into me, pinning me against the soft confines of the king-sized mattress.

I wrapped my arms and legs about him, trying to pull him against me, trying to get as much of him to touch every inch of me.  I was on the verge of screaming out my frustration when he looked down upon me, his frosty eyes boring into me as much as his sex was.  The look in those eyes was smoldering and real…and it wasn’t just lust.

I gulped and felt a reflection of that look alight on my own face.

I closed my eyes and felt tears well up in my eyes.  I couldn’t even think
about the
words
that were suddenly blazing in my h
ead.
  I wouldn’t think them.  They weren’t real. Fucking was real.  Laughing, crying, yelling and screaming and fighting were real.

Love was not…

Abruptly Gabriel’s body stopped, and his hand took hold of my face just under my jaw.  “Look at me,” he said gently.

I didn’t want to, but my eyes obey
ed
his request and opened of their own volition.

His eyes were jittery, looking me over and over again until his gaze finally settled on my own, and he leaned down and kissed my lips ever so softly.

“I’m in love with you, Callie Thornton.” He just stared into my eyes, leaving that statement to linger like a sudden silence in a symphony. 

Don’t even think I’m going to say it back you pompous ass!  I’m not some drooling, fawning school girl that’s going to—

“I-I…” No!  I am not— “I love you too.”

He captured my mouth with his and started pounding himself in and out of me with a demented conviction.
I gasped and felt hot tears streak down the sides of my face, my lower body tightening, readying for another great release.  But my heart, that was pounding at a critical pace, and every beat was steeped with both joy and sorrow.

He said he loved me…and I loved him—either that or I was better at this than I thought and was even
conning myself.  Either way, when the truth came out, when I used what I’d learned to take what we wanted away from him, he would hate me.

And that certain knowledge broke my heart.

The voice woke me up.  It was deep and dark, and sounded a little like Darth Vader.

“We’re about an hour out from
Marco Polo, Mr. Sinclair.”

I groaned, feeling absurdly tired.  I wanted to go back to sleep…for another week.

Mr. Sinclair?

I froze as I heard Gabriel’s voice answer Darth.  “Thank you Claude.  We’ll take breakfast in thirty minutes.”

“Very good, sir.”

It all came back to me.  Our carnal date at the symphony the night before.  Then handcuffs and chains…and a paddle.  I felt my head spin as I remembered that we were on an enormous private jet traveling to a destination unknown…at least, unknown to me.

I opened my eyes and watched as a stunningly naked Gabriel stepped into and pulled up a pair of black dress slacks.  I felt myself cringe—a body as beautiful as his should never be covered up.  I was still waxing poetically about his creamy epidermis when he turned and looked at me.  I sighed as he pulled a blue button down shirt on over his brawny shoulders.

Too bad the lights were so dim.  I’m sure his eyes would look amazing with that shirt on.

“The shower’s all yours, Miss Thornton.”  There was something almost sarcastic about how he said my name.

“We could conserve water if we shower together,” I said, and then felt myself blush.

He cocked his head and smiled.  But his eyes were questioning.

“You are endlessly surprising me.”

“Surprising you?” I leaned up off the bed on my elbow.  “You’re taking me to somewhere called Marco Polo.  I find that in itself pretty surprising.”

He waved off my inquiry.  “It’s an airport.”

I made an oblivious face, but I knew where Marco Polo Airport was: Venice Italy. 

I felt a shudder.  I’d always wanted to go to
Venice
…even though technically I’d already been.  I’d flown in under the cover of night, was shuttled to a villa just off a quiet little canal where Woody Allen was said to live from time to time…or so said the boat driver in broken English.

I’d left that night, after
slitting the throat of a former general and current diplomat from Germany.  So I’d never really seen any of the much vaunted Italian
Mecca
.  Just some brackish water, the inside of a luxury hotel,
German blood,
and then more pitch black water.