The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (12 page)

"I don't
know," I squeaked.  My voice cracked as I tried to speak normally.

"I don't
know, either!  I do know one thing, though."  His eyes glimmered and he
stared at me with vicious passion.  "You're going to clean it all up. 
Now."

I stood immediately,
hurried to the stairs.  My God, Asher was scary like this.  Scary and... I
thought back to my episode in the bathtub.  Probably a bad thing to think about
right now.  I ran to move past him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me to
him.  He squeezed me hard around my waist, his fingers tickling and digging
into my sides.  I started to laugh, but then a prick of pain sunk in and I
opened my mouth, gasping.

He kissed me
hard.  His mouth covered mine, some voracious, wild thing, and he kissed me. 
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, and he eased his tongue into my
mouth and toyed with mine.  I paused, confused, but only for a moment before I
engaged him in this wild, unforeseen passion.  I kissed him, licked him, wanted
to press my lips against every part of his face.  My hands clung to his body
and his coat and his belt.  Before I knew it, he pulled me up against him,
grabbed my thighs, lifted me up, and coaxed me into wrapping my legs around his
waist.

He carried me to
the ottoman as he kissed and touched and teased me with reckless abandon. 
Without a care or a thought in the world, he dropped to his knees and tossed me
onto the ottoman.  My back hit the leather cushions with a thud while my head
landed on the seat of the chair behind me.  I gasped, surprised, and Asher used
my momentary shock to loosen himself from me.

He pulled and
tugged on the buttons of my chemise blouse, undoing all of them.  Moving the
fabric to the side, he licked and caressed my stomach with his tongue and
lips.  His hands grabbed, greedy, at my skirt and he ripped down the zipper in
the back then wrenched the skirt off with one hasty tug.  Sliding one hand
beneath my bra, he groped and squeezed at my breast.  I squirmed on the
ottoman, wriggling in his grasp, reluctant and trying to get free.

Or, my body
acted reluctant, but I didn't want to go anywhere.  I whispered shy
encouragement to him, over and over.  "Yes.  Asher.  I'm so sorry. 
Please."

He pulled aside
my panties and licked a ragged line down my stomach towards my belly button,
lower to my hips.  His tongue left a wet trail across the fabric of my
underwear as he bit and nibbled at the cloth.  Then lower still, until he
pressed his mouth against my slick folds.  He sucked and licked at the lips
between my legs, kissing them with the same fervid passion he'd used on my
mouth.  My feet pressed against the library floor and I pushed up and towards
him with my hips.  I placed my fingers in his hair, holding onto him, but he
moved my hands away and made me grab onto the sides of the ottoman instead.

"You dirty
slut," he said, his voice a growl.  I looked down at him and he watched my
expression with heated awareness.  "Why do you keep getting distracted
when I order you to do something?  First in my office, and now in my
home?"

"Asher,"
I whimpered.  "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to.  I can't help it. 
I..."

"What?"
he asked.  "Say it."  He lowered his face and licked around my clit,
then stuffed two fingers inside me while somehow expecting me to speak.

"I..."

He pushed harder
into me, frantically licked me into a frenzy.  "Say it!" he roared
into my pussy.

"I
masturbated in your bathtub," I yelped.

He paused,
completely caught off guard.  His finger stopped moving, buried deep inside me,
and his tongue lay still on top of the sensitive flesh of my clit.  I whimpered
and writhed, wanting him so desperately to give me more.

"You
masturbated in my bathtub?" he asked.

"Yes,"
I whispered.  "The jets and I was and... Asher, please?"

He grinned and
added another finger next to the other two pressed hard inside me.  His tongue
explored every inch of space between my legs.  I screamed out his name and
tried to press my knees hard together, but he held one of my legs against the
ottoman to stop me.  My other leg twitched and spasmed, unsure what to do, and
then I lost all control of anything.  My body quivered, moving up and down,
trapped between Asher's strength and the chair and the ottoman, trembling under
his touch.

He never
stopped, merely watched me climax.  I clamped my eyes shut and squeezed my
fingers into the sides of the ottoman, holding on for dear life.  His tongue,
my God!  Inside me, his fingers curled up, pressing against me, finding my
g-spot and delivering me into exquisite pleasure.  I wanted him so very badly, wanted
to grab him and pull him up and undo his pants and wrap my legs around him,
squeeze him forward and into me, but I couldn't think well enough to manage
anything like that.  Asher plied my body, pulling my orgasm out of me, never
relenting.

My breathing
stopped and a rush of ecstasy soared through me.  I clenched against his
fingers inside me and soaked the leather cushions beneath me with my arousal. 
Too much, so much, I let out a heavy sigh and collapsed on the chair and
ottoman while Asher slowed his pace and let me relax. 

When I thought I
was done, when I thought everything was over, he picked me up and put me on my
feet.  I stood, knees shaking.  Asher stepped away and inspected me once I had
some semblance of a proper standing position.  The front of my panties were
still pushed to the side, wet from his tongue and my climax, and the right side
of my bra was out of place from when he'd shoved his hand under it to snatch at
my breast.

"Go,"
he said.

"What?"
I asked.

"Go!  Go
clean.  Pick up the mess you left upstairs.  The crust of bread on the basement
stairs, too.  And fold the blankets and put them back where you found
them."

I went.  I ran. 
I could barely feel my legs, but I managed my way up the stairs, nearly naked
in only my bra and panties.  I took the tissue from the trash in the bedroom
and tucked it into the waistband of my underwear, then picked up the towel from
the bathroom floor and hung it on one of the shower doors to dry.  I smoothed
out the corner of the sheets and fixed them back into place.  Back downstairs,
on the first floor, I tossed the tissue from my panties into the trash barrel
in the kitchenette, then stumbled down the basement stairs and grabbed the
crust from the steps, then back up the stairs to put it with the tissue.

To the library
again, where I folded the blankets and put them on the chair.  Asher lay on the
couch now, reclining and reading
The Time Traveler's Wife
.  He tossed a
cursory glance towards me before sitting up and staring my way. 

"Are you
done?" he asked.

I shook my head,
no.  Rushing towards my discarded clothes, I searched through them until I
found the piece of paper with the pages he'd bookmarked.  He laughed as I
pulled the paper from the sleeve of my chemise blouse and handed it to him
without a word.

"You wrote
down all the pages?" he asked.

"Yes,"
I said, unsure and shy all of a sudden.  "I didn't want to lose your
place.  I..."

"Jessika,"
he said.  "We can't do this."

"I know,
but..."

He looped his
fingers into my panties and pulled me towards him.  Dropping his book onto the
floor, careless, with no regard to where he'd left off, he shoved his other
hand between my legs.  Two fingers inside me, as easily as that, with his thumb
curved up towards my stomach.  I shrieked, surprised, almost folding my knees
and falling to the floor, but he held me up and pulled me onto the couch with
him.  Laying me down, fingers still in me, he stared at me as I squirmed
against him.  My body, his touch, it all felt so wonderfully perfect.

I wanted him to
take me again, to bring me to climax, but he slipped his fingers out of me as
easily as he'd slid them in and left me in a needy mess on the couch.

"Jessika,
no more," he said, smiling.

"I'm... I'm
sorry," I said.  I lifted myself off the couch and sat alongside him.

"I can't
cheat on my wife," he said.  "We have, and I did, but it's not as
simple as that anymore.  We can't do this again.  Do you have a
boyfriend?"

"No,"
I answered.  "I understand, though.  I do, it's just..."

"You're
curious," Asher said.  "Curiouser and curiouser," he recited a
line from the Wonderland book on his library table.  "Do you think that's
cliché?  I find myself falling deeper down the rabbit hole, wanting to know
more about you, but I'm afraid it's going to be the death of me.  Off with my
head."

"We can
paint the roses red?" I offered.

Asher stared at
me, blinking.  All of a sudden he laughed and kissed my forehead.  "I'm
sure it's not that easy."

"I just...
I'd like to be close to you, Asher," I said, candidly.

He nodded. 
"I think it's alright to be close," he said.

"But, your
wife?"

"Yes, I
have a wife, Jessika, and I have obligations towards her."

"I won't
tell her," I said.

"It's not
about telling her.  It's about trust.  If I don't tell her, then what do I do? 
She might never find out, but I'll always know, and..."

"I
know," I said.  "I'm sorry."

"Will you
do it, still?" he asked, looking at me softly.  "The surrogacy and
everything we talked about?"

"Your wife
and... I don't think she'll agree to that."

"She's
returning from her trip tomorrow.  We have plans for dinner tomorrow night.  I
think it's best if you join us, too.  We can discuss everything and..."

I frowned. 
"Asher..."

"Jessika,"
he said firmly.  "I know what happened and we both know we can't go any
further, but that doesn't mean..."

"I think it
does actually mean quite a lot," I interrupted.

"I'm
ordering you to attend dinner with me and my wife," he said.  He attempted
to sound firm and confident, but I thought I heard a faint trace of
uncertainty.

It slipped out
of my mouth.  I never meant to say it.  "What if I get distracted
beforehand?"

He stared at me,
silent, and then he burst into laughter.  "How distracted?"

"Asher, I'm
really distracted right now," I said, teasing.

"Go,"
he said.  "Put on your clothes.  Get dressed.  I'm going to yell at
Jeremy, but then I'll come back.  We can talk about things."

I nodded.

"
Talk
,"
he repeated, his tone solid and firm.  "Talk and nothing more.  What kind
of pizza do you like?"

"What?" 
The question was so out of the blue that I didn't know what to make of it.

"I'll order
pizza.  We can eat and talk and get to know each other.  We can watch a
movie?" he offered.

"Asher..." 
I paused, stared, grabbed my skirt from the floor and squeezed it between my
hands.  "Yes, I'd like that.  I like mushrooms.  And ham.  I usually ask
if they can go light on the cheese.  Anything else is fine, too.  I'm not
picky."

"Not
picky?"  He asked, sounding unconvinced.  Grinning, he stood up. 
"Alright.  I'll be right back."

He left me in
his library basement, disheveled and half-clothed.  I relished the idea of
sitting with him, eating pizza like a couple and watching a movie.  Talking. 
Leaning my head against his shoulder while he put his arm around me.

I needed to
refrain from that, though.  I needed to pull back and stop this right now. 
Asher accepted me, gave me a second chance, and though he'd acted in a fit of
passion again, I didn't think we could do this anymore.  Especially with his
wife returning.

Some fluke, he
might say.  I'd apologize profusely to her, beg her to accept, and somehow
Asher had decided he would weave in a request for me acting as her surrogate. 
Egg donation, pregnancy, their child in my womb.  Except it would be partly my
child, too, wouldn't it?  Not exactly, but somewhat.  My egg and his seed, but
it was for her, his wife.  Beatrice.

Could I handle
that, though?  Could I do any of this?  I'd agreed so quickly, and I didn't
have any real reasons for it.

That was in the
long term, though.  Thinking shorter, could I even manage to survive dinner
with them tomorrow?  Asher, yes, perhaps, but I pictured Beatrice, some cool,
calm woman screaming at me and demanding I leave, threatening Asher with
divorce, or more.  I had no right to ask if he had a prenuptial agreement with
her, but if he didn't I could very well be his downfall.

And then what
would Asher think of me?

There was no
reason to worry about it right now, I told myself.  Tomorrow, dinner, I had
plenty of time until then to think of what I was going to do and say.

I
sat on the
couch waiting for Asher to return, feeling calmer than I had in months.  Years,
maybe?  I didn't know for sure and couldn't have said why—since I felt like I
should be anxious—but I felt wonderful.  Asher, the man I'd met only a couple
days ago, the CEO of Landseer Enterprises, was off ordering us pizza. 

And a movie!  I
wondered what movies he might have.  Did he watch classics, like
Casablanca
,
or did he prefer newer movies?  Comedies?  Action films?  Or, dare I think it, romance? 
The latter was, perhaps, awkward wishful thinking.  I didn't actually care what
kinds of movies he liked, or what in particular we watched, but I enjoyed the
idea of sitting in his guest home and watching a movie with him.  By ourselves,
alone, with pizza, like some kind of casual date.

Of course it
wasn't a date, but some small part of me had classified it as that.  He had a
wife, told me multiple times he needed to be faithful to her, but why?  I
didn't want to ruin his marriage, not by a long shot, but I wanted him to be
happy.  She left for weeks at a time from what he mentioned, and when she was
here she rarely spent time with him from what I knew, so it wasn't a very
expressive marriage.  Convenience and association, and since they both came from
well-to-do families it made sense, but that didn't mean marriage needed to be
that way.

There was love
and passion.  Fervid desire and anticipation.  There was emotion, like
butterflies caressing your skin and sinking into your stomach, making you feel
weak in the knees and oh so wonderful.  I knew Asher was fully capable of these
feelings and of making someone else feel them, too.  He'd shown me passion
aplenty in his office when I first met him.  Just last night he'd shown me even
more, too.  He had love and desires and excitement bottled up inside of him,
begging to get out, but he had no way to release them.

I wanted all of
him.  He was rich, yes, but that wasn't what was important to me.  I wanted his
affection and his love, his release and his happiness.  Maybe that was why I
accepted his request to act as an egg donor and surrogate mother for his
infertile wife.  It was an awful, horrible, horrendous idea, and I knew in the
end I would come to regret it if—or more like, when—the entire ordeal was
over and Asher and I parted ways, but I felt like I needed to do it anyways. 
For him, for his happiness, and for a brief glimpse of happiness for myself,
too.

Asher was kind. 
He was aloof and dominant and sometimes too aggressive.  I don't think he knew
exactly what he wanted in his life, even if he had precise control over
everything regarding his career and his finances.  He was quiet and isolated
and the sort of person who preferred curling up in his private library with a
good book over attending fancy parties and showing himself off to the general
public.  He was a lot of things that a lot of people probably wouldn't like,
but he was everything that I wanted.

I desired him
beyond belief.  His touch, himself, his warmth and his body pressing against me
as he whispered words of adoration into my ear.

Unfortunately it
was not to be.  I knew this, and he'd said it, and despite the fact that we'd
gone against it and I'd made him feel terrible about cheating on his wife, I
knew it couldn't happen again.  I understood that and I told myself to let it
go, but some part of me refused to accept it.  A passing fancy, something stuck
into my head that would come loose over time, dislodge, and vanish as quickly
as it appeared.  Whim, pure fantasy, and nothing more.

That's what I
told myself, but I didn't believe that, either.

"Jeremy,"
Asher said, seeing his driver hastily walking through the main house foyer and
heading to the front door.  "A word?"

Jeremy paused,
looking as if he needed to decide whether he was going to keep going or listen
to the man who paid his salary.  "Hey, Asher," he said, reluctant. 
"Is everything alright?"

"No,"
Asher said.  "Not particularly.  There's an annoying, ridiculously
stubborn, absolutely infuriating woman in my guest home, and I'm not sure why
she's still there."

"Oh,"
Jeremy said, face turning red.  "Right.  I don't know?"

"I think
you do," Asher said.

"You, uh...
did she...?"

Asher fully
suspected Jeremy knew exactly why Jessika was still in his guest house.  He'd
asked the man to drive her home early that morning, and was surprised to hear
she'd refused to leave.  Except, why would she do that?  Jessika didn't seem
the sort to take risks like that; not unless she knew it would pay off.  True,
he didn't know her
that
well, but from what he did know she was
respectful with a slight feisty streak.

Except, how
feisty?  Enough to refuse to leave, and enough to go around his guest home and
mess the place up.  Not a huge mess, nothing more than superficial dirtiness,
but still.  And, my God, she'd admitted to masturbating in his bathtub while he
was away.  Granted, he'd been easing away her aroused distraction at the time,
pulling her clothes off and pushing her panties to the side so he could...

Had he needed to
do that?  In his mind, he rationalized their behavior.  Jessika was something
else entirely, and he needed to prove to her that he wasn't a pushover.  She
was no ordinary woman, no matter what she thought of herself.  But, had he
wanted to do what he did?  That was a dangerous question and best left
unanswered.

He wanted so
much and he knew he couldn't have it.  Why dwell on the unattainable?

"I'm sorry
about the hassle," Jeremy said.  He was apologizing now, and Asher
realized he must have been at it for awhile.  "The thing is, she didn't
want to leave, and I might have told her that you probably wouldn't force the
issue.  I don't remember the exact details.  And..."

"It's
fine," Asher said, grinning.  "I just wanted to harass you. 
Actually, I was about to order pizza for her and I.  Can you go pick it
up?"

"Oh,"
Jeremy said, standing there with his mouth open, looking like a hooked fish.

After a moment's
pause, Asher said, "Well?"

"Yes.  Um,
yeah?  You sure?  Is everything... good?  What kind of pizza are you
getting?"

"Ham and
mushrooms, light on the cheese.  Also another with chicken, feta cheese,
tomatoes, and onions."

"Oh. 
George's place?"

"The
Arcadia, yes."

"Sure, I
can go.  I don't have anything else to do.  Was just going to..."

"For
someone who has nothing to do, you sure looked like you were in a hurry to
leave before," Asher observed.

Jeremy stumbled
for something to say.  Yes, Asher decided, he'd definitely influenced Jessika's
decision to stay.  Asher wondered whether he should reprimand him or thank him.

Probably both.

I lazed on the
couch in Asher's guest home.  My head resting on an overstuffed pillow, I gazed
up at the ceiling.  I felt giddy, like a school girl, like my crush had invited
me to his house to study for an upcoming test and once I got there he told me
that his parents would be away for the weekend.  The point of going was, of
course, the studying, but there was always that allure, hiding, of something
more.  A kiss, a peck, a touch of hands as we took a break and watched a movie
and both grabbed for the same piece of popcorn from the snack bowl.  Anything,
just the smallest, most simplest of things, transformed into so much more.

"Comfortable?"
Asher asked.  He intruded on my daydream, waltzing into his home and joining me
in the open living room.

"Yes,"
I said.  I sat up and patted the seat beside me on the couch.  "Do you
want to be comfortable, too?"

He smiled and
sat next to me.  Not too close, but close enough.  I sat and stared at him with
my hands in my lap, realizing I had a silly smile on my face but not knowing
any way to get rid of it.  I couldn't have stopped smiling right now if I
tried, so I just let it be.

"The pizza
will be here soon," he said.  "Jeremy is picking it up.  The
Arcadia.  Have you heard of it?"

I shook my head,
no.

"It's very
good.  A classier place, but they don't skimp or make it cheap.  There, pizza
is pizza, with tons of toppings and a crust you can sink your teeth into.  Not
like those fancy places that give you something the size of a tea saucer and
charge you five times what Domino's does."  He paused for a second, then
added, "Not that I'm annoyed about that or anything..."

"I take it
you've had some bad pizza?" I asked, laughing.

"I prefer
not to talk about it," Asher said.  He lowered his eyes, feigning shy
indignance.  Asher was anything but shy, though.  He looked up soon after,
glanced at me, making eye contact, and flashed me a bright smile.

"I was
thinking," he said.  "Have you seen
The Goonies
?  I haven't
seen it since I was a kid and I'd love to watch it again.  It's a great
movie."

"Is that
the one with the pirates?"

"Kind
of," he said.  "Not really, but sort of.  There's a pirate's
treasure, and a mafia crime family.  Traps and adventure and a little romance
and friends coming together to accomplish something big, and..."

I listened to
him with rapt attention.  He sounded so into it.  It wasn't the kind of movie
I'd typically like, though I was sure I would have watched it with friends. 
The way Asher talked about it, the glimmer in his eyes and the excitement in
his voice, I really wanted to watch it now, though.  Something about it,
sharing his passion, watching the movie and simultaneously watching him watch
it, seeing him enjoy it; the idea appealed to me.

"I'd love
to watch it," I said.

"Great!" 
He got up, walked towards the fireplace. 

Tapping on one
of the bricks revealed a panel with a bunch of buttons and he pressed a few. 
The large windows surrounding the living room immediately darkened, becoming
tinted(almost like magic) and blocked most of the late afternoon sun.  Then,
something clicked behind and above me.  I craned my neck and looked back to see
a plate opening in the ceiling, with a projector dropping down and arranging
itself so it pointed in front of us.  And, finally, a large, white screen
descended above the fireplace.

The whole thing
looked like some movie theatre set up.  Except, of course, for the fact that I
was still in Asher's living room.  I gaped at the screen, dumbstruck.  I'd
never really imagined anything like this.  It was the kind of thing people
talked about wishing they had, except Asher actually owned it.  He snickered at
my reaction.

Walking with a
swagger back to the couch, he plopped next to me again.  "I have
everything set up," he said.  Leaning forward, he snatched a remote off
the coffee table.  "With this, I can access every DVD in my collection and
play them through the projector.  It's quite useful."

"I
imagine," I said.  I couldn't keep my eyes off the projection screen. 
"This is amazing."

"You think
this is amazing?  Just wait until the pizza arrives."

The movie
ended.  The pizza was as amazing as Asher said, too.  I loved all of it.  Not
just the pizza or the movie, but every time something exciting was about to
happen Asher would tense up.  He'd stare at the screen, entranced, watching. 
Sometimes he'd notice me looking at him and laugh, telling me to watch. 
"A good part is coming up soon," he'd say.

I scooted closer
to him on the couch as the movie progressed, almost touching him, side by side.
 It was a good movie and I liked it.  Cute, silly, with lighthearted parts
sprinkled in with the more serious plot points.  I could tell why he liked it,
and I think I would have loved to read a book about it, to learn more, get a
better feel for the characters.  It was good, though.  The whole evening was
good.  Wonderful and great.

"Who was
your favorite character?" he asked me during the credits.

A Cyndi Lauper
song hummed through the surround sound speakers.  "I liked the little boy
with the gadgets," I said.

Asher laughed. 
"I always wanted to be like him when I was younger.  I used to watch this
movie all the time.  I don't know why, but whenever I saw it was on TV I'd
switch to that channel and watch it, even if it was halfway over already."

I shifted closer
to him on the couch.  Our thighs touched and he looked at me briefly, some
unspoken words between us.  Careful, his eyes seemed to say.  This is alright,
but no more.  Careful.

I leaned back on
the couch, looking towards the ceiling.  My head lolled, rolling to the side,
touching the top of his shoulder.  "I never did anything like that,"
I said.  "I liked to read a book after I saw the movie, though.  If I saw
a movie and liked it and found out it was based on a book, I needed to read the
book after.  I don't know why, since I knew most of what would happen, but it's
still different, too.  Sometimes a lot different."

"Like
what?" he asked.  He put a hand on my thigh by my knee, a friendly
gesture.  My heart raced at his touch.

"It's not
that old, but
The Notebook
was a good one.  I saw the movie and then
read the book.  It's the same story, but they're told very differently.  I
think Nicholas Sparks is a wonderful author."

"Have you
seen
Dear John
?" he asked.

"Yes,"
I said, giving him a funny look.  "Don't tell me you've seen it?  The
powerful Asher Landseer, CEO and billionaire, with a soft spot for dramatic
romances?"

"Amanda
Seyfried," he said, as if this was an excuse.  "That's what I tell
people, anyways.  She
is
beautiful, but I enjoyed the movie, too.  It's
interesting.  Very different from what you'd expect."  Out of the blue, he
glanced at me and added, "You look a little like her, you know?  Your
eyes.  I mean, I'm not trying to..."  He trailed off, realizing what he'd
just said.