The Billion Dollar Sitter (8 page)

He pulled me to my feet
, still on wobbly heels. I questioned why I had to wear such things, but if Tyson commanded it I didn't have it in me to defy him. I didn't want to defy him. I was spun towards the onlookers, who studied me. From the older women with the jealousy Tyson said they had for me, to the men he said wished they could have me. Even to Alejandro, whose focus was locked on my naked form. I found my heart fluttering a bit more with panic at him seeing my body so bare. Seeing me at my most intimate. Tyson's cock rubbed against the flesh of my thighs as he prepared me for what came next.

The bannister was majestic. Polished wood, intricate designs underneath it, but there was enough negative space for it to be easily seen through. Ornate architecture, and it was being used to support my breasts and abdomen as Tyson urged me over it. "Now for the main show, my young beauty. This is why I told you to save your energy this morning."

I leered back at him with want. I still wasn't sure how I felt being paraded around naked in front of all of his peers, nor did I know how I felt being tongue fucked and having sucked cock in front of them. But I knew that all of it, even him bringing me to orgasm once already, only made me burn hotter for him. I wanted more. More. Just so much more of him. I didn't care who saw it, as long as I got it.

Perhaps this was completely by his design. His hands grazed over my shoulder blades, every touch fanning the flames. Those fingers wrapped around my hips, his cock hung against my tender folds. One last look over the crowd, before the sudden surge of his rod forced me to moan in front of them again.

He drove it deep, knowing how wet I was for him. He didn't need to hold back, and perhaps tenderness in this situation wouldn't go with the narrative he sought to present. Hard and fast, he began to find his pace inside me, sparking the lust in me higher. I cried out, my sounds louder than the murmurs of those who watched below.

Stroking my back, my flesh, doing his best to bring everything alive, get every nerve involved into the building and pounding pleasure that was gaining hold of me. Each sudden smack of cock and balls against my ass shook me, building me so much higher.

Tyson himself, though, endured the pleasures my pussy was milking from him. He was enjoying it, but he wasn't about to break. Instead, he was going to make sure I was showing his skill,  his masculinity in bringing me to orgasm. His hands roamed down over my hips and toward my pussy. His pace only relented for a brief moment so that his fingers could find my clit, and tease it as he pounded me so harshly.

Before, his fucking was like a powerful tide, a thick rush of sensation flowing into my body, then rolling out, bringing with it the same ecstasy as when it came in. But as he teased my clit, relentless, without any chance for a breather.  My arms clenched, trying to fight it, knowing that the longer I drew it out, the greater it'd be when I finally got there.

But Tyson would have none of it, finger and cock all he needed to make me crumble into him. Too much for any woman, let alone an inexperienced girl like me, to truly handle.

I came. Again. His assault overwhelming, my moans echoed through the large room, every set of eyes watching as Tyson controlled me, body, mind, and soul. I was his to do what he pleased with, and he wanted me singing his praises in ecstasy. And boy, was I ever happy to do so. My muscles went weak with the flares of pleasure all through them.

The thing is? It didn't stop. Tyson was dedicated, focused, and I didn't feel his usual adept timing filling me with his seed as he had so often in the past week. That sweet hot feeling that I had come to enjoy on top of everything else.

Instead, he kept pounding into me, not caring that my pussy must have been squeezing him like a vice, my body limp and weak, the only movement from me was my back arching from the orgasm. In response, his hands left my clit, grabbed me by the breasts. He pulled my body straight against his, displaying me completely to the billionaires.

Two wasn't going to be enough. He wanted me screaming for him, fucking me into unconsciousness. My sore pussy. though, in spite of all its calls for rest, was right there to embrace the love he was driving into it again and again. Exhaustion quickly submitted to embracing him once more. I urged my hips deeper onto him as he continued, undaunted by anything.

Certain things are only noticed when one is so intimate with another. The silent panting, the sweat on his brow, he wanted me so much at that moment, us managing a light kiss as my neck craned to reach his lips, and him so hungry for me in return. The frantic pace told me his cock was hating him for his desire not to half- ass anything, but with the tide rising for a third time within me, his own rest would be near.

As I hung over the cliff, being hiked up higher and higher for what was sure to be my ecstatic plunge, I gave one last look at those below. They were billionaires, they never knew a want. People always envied them, wishing they had their money, their status. But not me.

I had everything I ever wanted right here in Tyson, every ecstatic penetration into my pussy, the knowledge that he wanted me. I wanted this moment to last forever. Nothing else could compare, not how he used me, and how one powerful thrust was all I needed.

Bliss. It's amazing when one says it couldn't get any better than this only to be proven wrong. My entire body tensed in sheer electricity, muscles rigid, capturing the energy between us to explode in nirvana. Head to toe, I was lost in him again, him doing whatever he knew how to draw out my pleasure.

His hot breath blowing past my ear, the fullness of his cock inside me as his rod began to give me what he sought - what I sought. His seed filled me, rushing toward my unprotected and fertile womb, hopefully delivering everything both of us sought. Anything to be closer to him, anything. I'd be screaming that if I could scream anything coherently in my lust.

Helplessly limp, I would have tumbled right over that bannister to the crowd below if it weren't for his strong arms holding me against him. Resolute, he stood stroking my body, not daring to show a single sign of weakness. He gently guided me to the top of the stairs, granting our onlookers an unimpeded view of everything that had happened.

His cock slipped out of me, and he splayed my pussy lips apart, letting the cocktail of juices from me, and more importantly him, leak out down my thigh. Tyson, though, was quick as his hand forced the cream back into my pussy and then massaged my sex. His eyes beamed at the crowd, and his lips mouthed a simple yet powerful declaration, his body's presence reaffirming the message. That I was his to claim.

There were nods from the onlookers. They had expected a man defeated by grief, and got the symbolic gesture they needed to learn that this was far from the case. He was strong, virile, and had a new woman to claim as his own.

Message received, they started to depart the Knight estate. They looked upon my fragile form, and the man who held me tightly. I breathed heavily as I looked up to him. "Truly?" I said, breath weak.

"Yes," he said. The voice was still low, something between only the two of us.

"Forever?" I caught myself asking, and immediately regretted it.

He said nothing in return, staring off into the distance, lost in his thoughts.

"I'm sorry for asking."

I swallowed. Of course it wasn't. He was a rational man underneath the primal showing he put on. My heart sank, aware that at some level he knew I was just a bandage for the loss of his wife and his dreams of a bigger family. That maybe I couldn't heal such a massive wound, no matter how much I wished I could.

"You are mine, now, and that's what matters."

For now, I would be happy with that. For now, I was in his arms, and cared little for the future. For now, I would dream about the forever I desired becoming reality.

Her Billion Dollar Gamble

The single line taunted me. In spite of what the ovulation predictor told me, in spite of me remembering where I was in my cycle, it was still one, single, solitary line. I ached, at this point, for that second line to appear. I so wanted give him that positive result, bring him joy.

That would give him a high of success, and keep him from realizing the truth of our relationship for a little longer. Keep him in my life
.
Make it so he wouldn't realize his mistake before it was too late.

I tossed the test in the trash, and took a deep breath. I gazed into the mirror.
F
ramed by gold and silver, artistically sculpted, expertly made like everything else in his mansion. Only the absolute best for Tyson Knight, only the best for those who he held closest to him.

The door to the bathroom was closed. Outside, he waited. As he had done every day for the past two weeks.
W
aiting for the good news. Waiting for the news that I carried his child.

I wasn't hired to do this. I thought I just had gotten the most wonderful babysitting contract imaginable. One year for one million dollars to take care of a billionaire's infant son as a live in caretaker. To become the mother that was snatched away from him.

But a mother to Ty wasn't enough for Tyson. I was to be his lover, and bear him other children. In spite of the fact that I was only nineteen, and he was nearing forty, he wanted me. I gave in to his charms, sexually, and allowed Tyson to be the first man I ever slept with.

I loved him. Or so I thought. With his kindness, his sweetness, and his sexual skill, it had been so easy to do. He was a wonderful man, and any woman would have been incredibly lucky to have him.

I ran my hand through my hair in the mirror, my face pouting. He was also a man weighed down by grief. It hadn't even been half a year since he lost his wife, and, knowing how close they were, he wouldn't get over such a loss quickly.

He then discovered me. I could have been his wife's younger sister, or a long lost time-displaced twin. I knew when he looked at me he didn't see Marci. He saw Margaret.

I'm only nineteen-years-old, I'm young.
The butterflies in my belly when I think of him suggest love, but I hear all the stories. I've even seen it happen around me - my best friend got knocked up by the first guy who ever kissed her and she loved him no matter what happened, even when he turned out to be a dick. I thought she was an idiot.

I somehow think I may have been an idiot too, head over heels in something I didn't understand. At least Tyson isn't an asshole. A foolish lovestruck girl, a grief stricken man, it was only a matter of time before we both snapped out of our emotional haze and realized that it wasn't meant for forever.

I psyched myself up. Pounded the counter a little. Time to face Tyson. I spun, turned the knob, and walked through the door. I took a few steps, and I felt a presence behind me.

I didn't need to turn to know whose hands crossed over my abdomen, who leaned over and brushed his beard against my cheek and gave me a sweet kiss that was as comforting as it was enticing. The breath of his voice blew over, tickling my ear. "Do you have good news for me, my young beauty?"

My eyes closed. I shook my head. How many times could I deliver the bad news before he realized our incompatibility? Before I had to move on and live life without his touch, his kindness, his love?

"No matter, Marci."

His hands roamed up my body, tickling my flesh through the dress he had custom ordered for me. His thick hands around my breasts, the breasts he wanted to make swell with milk to feed his son and the other children he wanted me to produce for him. He had shown me off to all of his peers, but he refused to call me his girlfriend, lover, or even a mistress. Just that I was a girl in his service.

Rich people are weird. I knew, I experienced it first hand. Could he just have been lying, playing with me, using me as nothing more than a womb? Was it possible
I was just his breeder, strung along in starstruck stupidity?

"Besides, it's not as if we don't enjoy the process." He turned my head toward him, laying another heavy kiss on my lips. Sucking my breath away, he tongue against mine.

I loved him. So, so much. Ugh, why did he do these things to me
? If I felt nothing for him, I wouldn't have any hopes to get up. I wouldn't have any hopes for him to destroy when he turned me away.

One of his hands left my breasts and traveled down to my valley, tickling my pussy through the fabric. His touch heavy enough to make me feel him, yearn for him. Why did he make it so hard for me to resist him and the things he did to me? I loved it so much, yet I found myself yearning for the time before I met him. When my life was so much simpler.

"I have a business trip planned for this evening," he said, still holding me close, gently fingering me as he spoke. "Araullo wants to meet me to discuss a potential arrangement between our companies."

I swallowed. I knew who he was talking about. Last week, at the ball Tyson had held in his estate. Those who held the money and power in the country had come to his first public event since the tragedy. One of them was,
oh God
.

"Granted, Alejandro has already sent me the terms of the agreement. They are terribly unbalanced in his favor, so I have little reason to accept them."

Alejandro. Sweet Alejandro. The only man who had the remotest chance of making my heart pound as hard as Tyson did. He made me wet down there in ways Tyson didn't. I didn't think I felt love for him like I did Tyson. It was something different entirely. All it did was make me think. Even if the storybook miracle happened, would I be happy living my life with Tyson as the only man I was ever intimate with?