The Billionaire's Curvy Conquest - Complete (5 page)

My breath caught in my throat at his handsome appearance. He was dressed casually, at least for him, in a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck and sleeves, and crisp khaki pants. On his feet were leather slippers. His dark hair was slightly mussed and his strong jaw was covered with his sexy, signature stubble.

“You’re late, Miss James,” he said, his low, baritone voice causing shivers to crawl up my spine. His eyes looked me up and down, no doubt checking to see if my appearance met his expectations. An easy smile formed on his lips, which told me I had passed his initial inspection.

“I know, Mr. Reed,” I responded obediently. “I’m terribly sorry, sir.”

“Your tardiness is becoming a habit, Miss James. I fear my punishments aren’t working.”

“Oh, but they are!” I exclaimed, trying to hide my smile. “I’m less than a half hour late. With just a bit more...ah...discipline, I can do better.”

Mr. Reed nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. I believe disciplinary action is in order. But first, I would like to see how well you followed my instructions.” I started to unbutton the coat, but he put his hand up to stop me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“There’s a very particular way in which I would like you to remove your outerwear so I may inspect what’s underneath. How many buttons does the garment have?”

I had to count them before answering. “Ten.”

“Very well. Release the top two buttons before lifting the first food cover and telling me what you find.”

I wondered what he was up to, but did as he asked, undoing the first two buttons of my coat before stepping forward and lifting the lid from the first dish. I leaned over and inhaled the contents of the soup tureen. My salivary glands kicked into overdrive. “Lobster bisque?”

Mr. Reed nodded. “Flown in from Maine. Taste it.”

“Aren’t you going to join me?” I asked.

“I’ve already eaten,” Mr. Reed said. “Besides, I’d rather feast my eyes on you.”

The heat in his eyes made me blush as I picked up the spoon, dipped it into the bisque and swallowed a mouthful of heaven. “It’s delicious!”

I wanted to gobble up the rest of the soup, but thought that might be a mood-killer. So I took a few more dainty tastes before looking at my boss for his next directive.

“Release two more buttons and lift the next cover,” he said.

My fingers slid the next two buttons through their corresponding holes. With four buttons undone, my large, lace-covered breasts were now exposed. Mr. Reed nodded in approval, his lips curving up ever-so-slightly.

I stepped up to the next cover, which took me closer to Mr. Reed, and lifted the lid from the dish. What was underneath was much less appetizing than the bisque. “Caviar?”

“Not just any caviar.
Beluga
Caviar.”

In theory, Beluga Caviar sounded decadent. In reality, it looked disgusting. I spooned a few of the little round fish eggs onto a cracker and took a bite. Swallowing it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and my face scrunched up in disgust.

Mr. Reed laughed. “Caviar is an acquired taste.”

“I don’t think it’s one that I’ll be acquiring anytime soon. That was terrible!”

“Let’s move on, then,” Mr. Reed said. “I believe you know what to do.”

I quickly popped the next two buttons, which opened my coat past my waist and down to my round belly, and moved on to the third dish. I squealed in delight when I lifted the lid and saw the tiny cheeseburger nestled on a miniature bun. “Please tell me this is Kobe beef,” I said.

Mr. Reed raised one thick eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask, Miss James?”

I grinned before taking a big bite of the little cheeseburger. The tender beef melting in my mouth was nearly orgasmic. My eyes closed as I slipped the rest of the burger between my lips. I wasn’t about to leave any of it behind!

“As you can see, there’s one dish left,” Mr. Reed said. “Two more buttons, Miss James.”

I undid the buttons that exposed my barely-covered mound and fleshy thighs and stepped toward the final dish. I was now close enough to reach out and touch Mr. Reed.

I lifted the final lid. I had a pretty good idea what would be underneath, but my eyes still lit up like a kid at Christmas. Centered on the plate was a fat, ripe strawberry dipped in dark chocolate and decorated with a thin, white chocolate swirl.

“Someone’s been reading
Personal Pain, Personal Pleasure
again,” I said, picking up the strawberry and taking a bite off the end. The taste of the juicy, slightly tangy fruit mixed with sweet chocolate was nothing less than spectacular.

Mr. Reed had staged this scene from an essay I had written called
A Taste of Wealth
. When I wrote it, I was a broke college student living on mac and cheese and store brand soda. My essay was a fantasy about the expensive, gourmet foods I would try when I finally had money – and the kind of man I wanted to share those foods with.

What was I thinking putting Beluga Caviar on my fantasy foods list?

“Only certain back issues with essays written by a talented, young English major named Cassie James,” Mr. Reed responded. He watched me lick the chocolate from my lips. I saw his jaw clench and his pupils dilate, signaling his desire. “Release the last two buttons, Miss James, and drop the coat on the floor.”

My previously-nimble fingers suddenly felt slow and thick as I fumbled with the buttons at my knees and calves. When I finally got them undone, I let the coat slide off my shoulders. Now, all that covered my ample curves was the fitted, red lace negligee and the matching crotchless panties, which weren’t doing a very good job of keeping my own desire in check.

“Stunning perfection,” Mr. Reed said after looking me up and down. He motioned for me to come closer and I stepped toward him. His finger brushed across my lower lip, scooping up an errant spec of chocolate, which he brought to his own lips.

“It’s sweet,” he said, his voice husky. “But not as sweet as you, Miss James.” He reached behind the counter and retrieved a sterling silver tray that held a bottle of uncorked champagne and two flutes.

“Dom Perignon?” I asked rhetorically, since I could see the label on the bottle.

Mr. Reed poured champagne into the glasses. “I believe that was part of the young author’s fantasy.” He handed me a glass and picked up the other one, which he raised. “To fine food,” he said, citing the first words of the final line of my essay.

I touched my flute to his. “And delicious companionship,” I replied, completing the line. Our eyes met and we brought our glasses to our lips, drinking deeply while holding each other’s gaze.

When our glasses were empty, Mr. Reed refilled them and stood. “I believe it’s time for your punishment to begin, Miss James,” he said.

He took my free hand in his and led me out of the kitchen and up the long, grand staircase.

I
looked around the stark, dark bedroom looking for some sort of insights into Mr. Reed’s private life. The centerpiece of the room was a king size, four-poster bed. On either side of the bed was a matching nightstand. Against the wall a six-drawer dresser completed the set. The single window was covered by long, velvet drapes.

The room was completely devoid of personality, almost as if it were an upscale hotel room designed for very rich travelers.

“Is this your bedroom?” I asked.

Mr. Reed looked at me with a measured stare and I wondered if my question angered him. “As you can see, there is a bed here, and this room is in my house. But if you’re asking if this is the room I sleep in, the answer is no.”

“Is it the guestroom?” I pressed.

“We can call it that if you’d like,” he said as he walked over to the dresser. “I prefer to call it the playroom.”

I watched as he opened the top drawer and slipped something small and unidentifiable into his pants pocket before pulling out a long silk scarf.

Was the dresser filled with Mr. Reed’s sex toys?

He walked toward me with slow, calculated steps and my heart raced. My body knew exactly what he planned to do with the scarf and responded like Pavlov’s dog.

When he was so close that I could feel his body heat and smell his musky scent, he used the scarf to caress my bare arms. The feel of cool silk on my hot skin gave me goose bumps and my nipples hardened under the red lace.

“Why do you blindfold me?” I asked in a breathy whisper. I’m not sure what prompted me to question him. Maybe being invited to his home made me feel bold.

He brushed his lips across mine. “To increase your pleasure, of course.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected. “I don’t understand.”

He moved behind me and secured the silk scarf over my eyes.

Mr. Reed’s fingertips danced down my arms. He reached around my body and cupped the weight of my full breasts in his hands. I sighed when he squeezed my flesh firmly and pressed himself against my back. I could feel his erection, hard and thick, as it pushed against my ass. When I felt his lips on the side of my neck, my breath caught.

“Without the ability to see, your other senses are heightened,” he said quietly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Touch, taste, smell and even sound become much more acute...much more sensual.”

I felt him move around my body until he was standing in front of me again. He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

His let his hands slide down my throat, stopping at the edge of the negligee. He reached below the lace and freed my breasts from their triangle cups, tucking the red fabric underneath their weight. His thumbs strummed over my taut nipples, teasing my flesh while plundering my mouth with his tongue.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, his lips moving against mine.

“Oh yes,” I sighed.

I mewled softly when his lips left mine and closed around my nipple. He sucked the tip into his mouth, and I gasped when his teeth grazed across the hard nub. His mouth moved to my other breast, sucking, licking and nipping until I was nearly panting.

Then his mouth on my breasts was replaced by something else...something that pinched my stiff nipples, making them hypersensitive.

At first, I thought Mr. Reed was pinching my nipples between his thumbs and fingers. But I could hear a slight jangling sound...and could feel his hands roaming over my body.

“W-wh-what are you doing?” I asked when the pinching sensation increased just slightly and pleasurable pain bolted from my breasts, traveling down my belly and pooling between my thighs.

“Applying nipple clamps,” Mr. Reed responded, tightening the clamps on my nipples just a bit more.

I gulped. “Nipple clamps?”

That sounded like some sort of torture device!

Mr. Reed gently tugged on the two clamps and I moaned. They didn’t feel like torture.

“Two small clamps connected by a chain. This is your punishment for being late, Miss James.” He tugged gently on the chain and my knees nearly buckled.

The most exquisite kind of punishment.

“How do the clamps feel?” He tugged on the chain again.

“Ohhh!” I struggled to find the words to describe the sensations flooding my body. “They feel tight...and hot...and sensitive...and painful.”

Tug.

“There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure, Miss James.”

Tug.

“Do the clamps hurt?” he asked.

Tug.

“Or do they hurt
so good
?”

Tug.

I whimpered my response. “So good, sir. So very, very good.”

Mr. Reed dropped the chain and his lips reclaimed mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, causing my clamped nipples to brush against his chest, which sent bolts of white lightning to my core. His arms encircled my waist and he wedged his knee between my thighs until my legs parted.

The rough fabric of his khaki pants brushed across my bare pussy and my fingertips gripped his shirt in response. I felt him smile against my lips.

The real punishment wasn’t the nipple clamps at all. It was Mr. Reed’s relentless teasing. I was already so wet, so ready. All I wanted was his hard cock buried inside of me.

It was torture knowing that he would make me wait.

“I must taste the nectar of your punishment,” he whispered before dropping to his knees and burying his face between my legs. I felt his palms on the insides of my thighs, urging me to open further for him. I gripped his shoulders and inched my stiletto-clad feet further apart.

“OH!” I cried out when his tongue dipped between my pussy lips and flicked over my clit. For once I was grateful that my panties didn’t have a crotch.

He fluttered his tongue on my engorged nub before circling it with his stiff tongue, around and around and around, the perfect rhythm to bring me close to orgasm.

I ground my mound against his mouth, completely lost in the pleasure that was quickly building in my center. As I got closer and closer to the wonderful crest, every muscle in my body tensed.

And then—

Tug.

“OHDEARGOD!”

I screamed as intense waves of pleasure assaulted my body. Behind the silk blindfold, fireworks exploded behind my closed lids. Mr. Reed sucked my clit into his mouth while tugging on the nipple clamp chain, prolonging my earthshattering release.

Just when I thought my legs would give out, I felt Mr. Reed’s arms around me, holding me tight as I rode the final waves of pleasure.

“I want you to ask for it,” he said when I finally stopped quaking. His voice was ragged and his cock was rock hard against my belly. “Beg for it.”

He didn’t have to tell me what
it
was. “I need your cock inside of me, Mr. Reed.”

“Is that the best you can do, Miss James?”

I shook my head. “I want you to fuck me. I
need
you to fuck me. Please, Mr. Reed.
Please.
”

“That’s a little better, Miss James.”

He led me over to the bed and I sat on the edge. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could tell by the sounds he was making that he was undressing.

“You don’t need that,” I said quietly when I heard a familiar ripping sound. “I’m on the pill.”

It was true. I had started taking birth control pills when I was just a teenager. Not to prevent pregnancy so much as to control my terrible cramps. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted him inside me without the barrier of a condom.