Taken: By Her Billionaire Benefactor (Billionaire Benefactor 3) (2 page)

James began to climb the stairs, ahead of her. As he passed her on the narrow stairwell, he brushed past her – uncomfortably closely – and Anna couldn't help but feel his strong muscled frame press her into the wall.

She knew she shouldn't feel anything for another man, but there was something about this James that stirred something deep inside her, if she didn't know any better she would think she was attracted to him. But surely her master hadn't meant that – no matter how much he asked her to trust him.

James had taken the lead now, and led her up the stairs, somehow having taken her hand in his during the delicate dance they had just performed with one another.

It almost seemed like he had been in her house before, the way he turned towards the bathroom nonchalantly.

"Why don't you go and run a bath", he said. "Just before you do that, could you show me where your bedroom is?"

He said it kindly, with a gentleness in his voice that spoke to the depth of his character. Anna knew that he understood just how much inner turmoil she was experiencing, and moreover that not only did he know what she was feeling, but he had the empathy to adapt to it.

Even more surprising, was the fact that he had asked.

After all, it wasn't too hard to find the bathroom or the bedroom in Anna's flat – there were only two rooms at the top of the stairs in this cramped apartment, and she knew that James could see the wide-open door that led to the bathroom. Nevertheless, he was certainly polite.

"It's over there", she said with more confidence in her voice now, and pointed to her bedroom. For a brief moment she thought she should apologise for the mess, but steeled herself against it.

There was no reason why she should keep apologising, after all this was her house – small was – and he was the guest here.

"Thanks. Once you've run the bath, lie back and relax a few minutes. I've got a few things that I need to set up here". He wandered off, opened her bedroom door, and closed it behind him. The last thing Anna saw as he disappeared behind the thin wooden structure was a small black briefcase. How on Earth had she not seen it before, she wondered?

Putting act out of her mind, she began to draw the bath – a hot one. Whatever was about to happen, at least the searing heat of the water would take her mind off it for a few minutes. The sound of the water falling from the tap and hitting the porcelain tub was soothing, and within seconds Anna was whisked away to a daydream.

In it, she was sitting on a small yacht with her master, a yacht with a dark navy blue hull, and red facings. She was lying back on the cushioned lounge area watching the sunlight sparkling off the waves. Well – she was half watching that.

In the main, she was watching her master strip out of his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his tightfitting designer underwear. He was standing on the edge of the yacht, drinking in the sun. She saw it glistening off his well-defined – but not too large – muscles, watched him as he stretched, raising his palms together and causing the heavily muscled and defined back to ripple in response. And then, without warning, he squatted down and dived into the water, like a graceful cat springing from his perch.

The splash that he made as she entered was what brought her out of her daydream, and back to reality.

The door clicked, and James – whoever he was – entered.

Startled out of her daydream, Anna snapped her head round – "what are you doing?"

"Do you trust your master, Anna?"

"Well – yes, but…"

"Then by extension, you can trust me. I have been asked to… Prepare you."

It was hard to tell whether Anna's skin was redder at the embarrassment of being seen naked in the bath tub by an unknown stranger, or because of the heat of the steaming bath water. Whatever the reason, her usually pale, soft skin was flushed with burning heat – and it was immediately obvious to anyone who looked.

She tried in vain to cover her private parts with her hands, leaving her large breasts to float gently on the surface of the water, her nipples stiff with the embarrassment – and excitement – of the situation.

"what is it I need to do?", Anna asked nervously, still not entirely prepared to submit herself fully to whatever plan this man had.

"You needn't do anything, don't worry I will take care of it all".

The paucity of information in his reply didn't exactly settle Anna's nerves.

"I will need you to come into your bedroom. You can tell yourself down, but please avoid drying your mound".

Had he really said that? Was she supposed to follow him half naked into her OWN BEDROOM and then let him do whatever he wanted?

Anna's imagination was running wild, flailing about in the attempts to understand what was about to happen. But the conscious part of her brain seemed to be on autopilot, and she raised herself out of the water, full breasts hanging now like plump fruit on the vine as she stepped out of the tub; droplets of water running freely down her body and sparkling as they reflected in the light.

Her nipples were still stiff, and a strange, almost sexual tension was running through her body now, which was itself as tight as the strings on a violin. She felt the air brush her skin, the faint tingle as the cool breeze danced across her innermost parts.

She followed him, mute, down the corridor, a towel tied around her head and another draped across her shoulders to keep her warm in the surprising chill of the summer air. But on her bottom half, there was nothing, as ordered.

When she entered her own bedroom, she was shocked at how tidy it suddenly appeared. Whatever else this man was, he was clearly a domestic God!

The other major change though, was that he had laid out several soft, thick towels on her bed, and on her bedside table – now cleared of all the usual trinkets that adorned it – was a curious selection of implements. There was what looked like a bowl, steaming with hot water. There was a bar of soap, and on a little stand rested a small, soft – looking brush and what looked like an old men's Razor – the kind you'd have found 100 years ago, with one long straight blade.

The hair on Anna's neck was standing up now, the unusualness of the situation achingly apparent.

"Lie on the bed please, Anna", James said softly, though with the clear intent that his words were followed to the letter.

Without even a hint of protest, Anna laid down as though in a daze. He had something of her own master in him, she thought, the way she compelled obedience without even seeming to try.

Her legs were tight shut though, and her hands rested protectively on her lightly haired mound, as if to deny entry.

She lay back, eyes tightly shut to block out the strangeness of the situation she was in.

"Anna, legs apart".

Shocked by the openness of his command, she obeyed unquestioningly, exposing her lips once more to the assault of the cool air. It tingled gently and as she pulled her hands away, they twitched, almost as though she had a hidden desire to begin probing her wet folds of her own volition.

Anna spread her legs, but astonished at her brazenness pulled the towel swaddling her hair down over her eyes, as if to hide the truth of the situation. It was as though pulling the material across her face, hiding her own body from her sight meant that it was an act happening to someone else.

It also had the slightly unintended consequence of heightening every sensation.

Anna could not see anything but darkness and the odd fibre of the soft white towel exposed by the muted lighting in the room. But the sounds of preparation coming from between her legs and the other end of the bed painted a picture all of their own.

Anna could hear tinkling, the sound of water rippling in a metallic bowl echoed and magnified a thousand times by the giveaway chink of some metallic object coming into contact with it.

She dared to peak, and lifted the material ever so slightly, as though she were a little girl sneaking a look at her parents wrapping the Christmas presents under the tree; even though she had no need to hide. She saw James, this driver who was far more than that, with the brush in his hand, white rivulets of soapy foam tripping down his hands as he plied the brush into the bar of soap cradled in his other large palm.

Their eyes met, as he noticed her looking.

"It's a badger hair brush," James said, answering the unspoken question. "It's from England, all the best ones are. You soak the bristles in hot water and they absorb it, it makes for the softest, most luxurious foam".

Foam – what foam? Oh God, he really was about to shave her wasn't he!

Not wanting to reply, Anna fled back under the towel, what could she possibly say that wouldn't be horrendously embarrassing?

She heard the sound of James towelling his hands dry, then what sounded like him folding the hand towel neatly and placing it to one side.

She jumped in surprise as he placed one of his large, but surprisingly gentle palms on her inner thigh, and it sent a tingle through her entire body, thrilling and shocking her in equal measure.

"Don't worry, Anna. I'm a very careful man".

She didn't doubt it. She was hardly worried that he was about to cut her, it was the sheer unusualness of the situation that was causing her to act like this startled little girl.

"It's… It's fine".

This time it was James' time not to bother replying, instead he made his hands busy and Anna painted herself a picture of what he was doing as he tenderly lifted the badger hair brush, which was loaded with white shaving foam, and gently began to paint her crotch white.

Anna controlled herself this time, but the sensation was glorious. She had never had someone do this before, she had never been the type of girl to go down to the salon and have a Brazilian wax, or even – like this – have it shaved. And if this was anything to go by, she thought, there was no way she would ever be able to do it! It was lucky, so lucky, she thought that the wetness of the shaving cream would be hiding the glistening wetness of her vagina, because otherwise it would be clear to any onlooker – luckily it was only James here – that she was turned on as hell.

She couldn't know, but this was her master's plan all along.

James painted in short, inch long strokes that tickled and teased in equal measure. It felt like he was drawing a feather in little circles around her crotch, every little motion causing Anna to twitch in pleasure, biting down on her lip to avoid giving away just how excited she was.

"Just enjoy it Anna". The voice came out of nowhere, startling her as she realised just how deeply she had been focusing on this experience. She had almost forgotten where she was. James was some kind of artist, the way just by the most ordinary of actions he could turn her on like this.

She felt as though the skin of her thighs must feel a million degrees, that there was no possible way that James couldn't feel the heat leaking from her body through the hand that he was still leaving on her inner thigh, resting uncomfortably close to her most private parts.

If he was looking up, there was no way he could miss how stiff her nipples were, standing at attention in the cool air of her room. Anna squirmed as the brush went to work once more between her legs, presumably filling in some spot that had been missed – although Anna thought James was just doing this for fun now.

She tried pressing her legs together to squeeze any drop of pleasure that she could out of the situation, but was stopped in her tracks by the gentle but firm power of James' hand.

"No, Anna. I'm ready now".

His hand left her inner thigh, and Anna almost ached for its return. She heard the clink of metal on metal as he returned the brush, but pleasurable brush, onto the stand that she had seen when she walked into the room. She heard another clink of metal – she presumed that he must have taken the razor of that same stand.