The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (16 page)

I didn't really
want to go along with it, but what could I do?  I wasn't a home-wrecker and I
refused to become one.  I was, of course, rationalizing this right now, too. 
Asher didn't want to tell his wife about his infidelity and I didn't want to
tell Asher that I wanted him to strip me down, drag me to the shower, and have
slippery wet, soapy sex with me, so it seemed we were on even ground.

I was, perhaps,
a horrible person, but I tried not to think about it.

He helped me do
that with what he said next.  "Dinner will be soon.  Beatrice is
freshening up.  I asked Jeremy to find some clothes for you, so they should be
in the closet in the master bedroom upstairs.  I don't know what he bought, but
I told him to find a good assortment so you'd have a few choices."

"Asher..."
I started to say.

He stopped me by
placing a finger on my lips.  "Shh.  I'm going to shower and change for
dinner.  Whatever you want to wear will be fine.  Come to the front door of the
main house once you're ready.  I'll tell Jeremy to wait for you and he can show
you to the dining room."

Asher lifted my
hand up and before I knew it he kissed the back of it.  His lips, soft and
supple, pressed against my knuckles and I nearly melted.  So small, nothing of
any real meaning.  His fingers holding mine, touching lightly against my palm. 
Slight moisture from his lips leaving an imprint on my skin.  Then he hugged me
tight and I hugged him back, squeezing.  I didn't want to let go of him, but he
managed to escape my embrace and walk away.  To the door, opening it, outside,
and...

"I'll see
you soon," he said.

I said nothing
as he left.  I didn't know what to say, but I really didn't want him to leave. 
Even if nothing happened, I would have liked him to stay and wait and while I
changed into new clothes he could sit on the bed, or the couch, or downstairs
in the library and then we could go to dinner together.

It was silly,
really.  Reluctant to leave the kitchen, but knowing I had to, I went upstairs
to the master bedroom.  Heading to the closet to see what Jeremy had bought(and
expecting a couple of outfits), I was overwhelmed.  Completely empty before,
save for a bunch of hangers, the closet was now utterly filled with clothes. 
Dresses, pants, blouses, pajamas, nightgowns, shoes lining the floor.  Even a
few fancy woman's peacoats tucked off to the side on sturdy wooden hangers.

This was just
for dinner, so probably nothing fancy, right?  I grabbed a pair of jeans and a
nice looking t-shirt.  Plus, my God, I belatedly noticed a note on the back of
the walk-in closet door.  "More in the dresser," it said.  Going to
the dresser I found pantyhose and socks and stockings and underwear, and...

I stared in one
drawer, blinking.  What.  Jeremy left another note atop a pair of frilly, lacy
red panties.  Panties in as much as they would definitely cover me, except they
were so lacy and small that they wouldn't actually hide anything.  Though
obviously I'd wear them with pants, and... they had a matching bra?  Yes, I
found out as I followed more of the note's directions.  The bra hid a bit more,
but barely, and it was one of those that would enhance my assets, as it were.

"Wear
these," Jeremy had written on the note.  "Asher loves red."

"You're a
troublemaker," I said aloud, even though Jeremy obviously couldn't hear
me.  "I will wear them, but not because of that.  I'll do it because I
feel like it, and nothing more."

Nothing more? 
Yes.  That's what I told myself.

I cleaned up and
put on the lingerie, then the jeans, the shirt, and a pair of casual heels that
matched the pants.  There were regular shoes, but I liked the idea of having a
little bit of style.  The panties and bra were a part of that, yes, but no one
could see those.  And sitting at the table, no one would really see the heels,
but they made me feel better.  Sexier and more confident.

And then the
time came.  I went downstairs, to the guest house door, opened it, out, and
started the short walk to the front door of the main house.  Outside, Jeremy
was leaning against the wall, toying with his phone. 

He tapped some
keys, gritted his teeth, tapped some more, then said, "Dammit!"

"What?"
I asked, approaching him.

"Oh,
nothing.  Pacman.  I lost.  Not that I'm very good in the first place, but I
was doing pretty good right there."

I rolled my
eyes.  "Aren't you supposed to be waiting for me?  Was playing games a
part of that?" I said, playful.

"Pft.  You
took so long that I needed to find something to do."  He looked me over,
spied the heels.  "So... did you?"

"Did I
what?" I asked.  I knew what he meant(the underwear), but I wasn't about
to dignify his absurd question with an answer.

"Come
on," he said, nodding deliberately at my chest.  "Did you?"

"Excuse me,
but are you flirting with me?" I asked, feigning contempt.

He laughed. 
"Right.  You did, then.  Let's go."

He walked to the
door and opened it for me, gesturing for me to go inside.  I followed and went,
but not quietly.

"I did
not!" I said.  "How would you know, anyways?"

"I can tell
by the way you're acting.  And walking around.  I can just tell."

"No you
can't," I said, turning my nose up at him.  "You're just guessing and
hoping that I'll tell you."

"If you say
so."

"I do say
so.  Now stop harassing me."

"Ooohhhh." 
His eyes twinkled and he grinned.  "Miss Bigshot now, eh?  Nice clothes,
lacy, see-thru panties, fancy high heels."

I pushed him
lightly.  "Shut up."

He laughed. 
"Anyways, it's this way.  Come on."

He brought me to
a room the size of a basketball court.  Inside, taking up most of the space,
was a huge dining hall table.  It looked like something that belonged in a
castle, preferably owned by royalty but a major duke and duchess would do,
too.  Dark mahogany legs peeked out from beneath a cream-colored, silken
tablecloth.  I gaped at it in awe.

I stopped
moving.  Jeremy poked me in the shoulder a few times to prod me on, but I was
still somewhat in shock.  Giving up on social etiquette, he grabbed my arm and
pulled me onwards to my spot at the table.  Despite it being so large and
taking up most of the room, only a few places were set at the far end of the
table.  Jeremy pulled out my chair, dumped me in it, pushed it in, and then
grumbled.

"You're a
huge pain, you know that," he said.

"Shh,"
I said.  "I'm admiring the table."

"Right. 
Well, I'm leaving."

I must have
looked like an idiot, but I didn't care.  I pulled at the table cloth, toying
with it between my fingers.  It felt so smooth and delicate, but strong, too. 
At my parent's house, whenever we had Thanksgiving, they put out a previously
fancy tablecloth, but it was nothing like this.  Tattered around the edges and
with faded remnants of past spills soaked into it, it made the rickety table
look nicer, but almost anything would.  This table probably didn't need a
tablecloth to look nice, but it looked extravagant and amazing with one.

A woman entered
the dining hall from a door on the opposite wall from where Jeremy and I came
in.  She wore a velvety formal dress with a dark chiffon overlay and looked
ready to attend a ball.  Her high heels tapped a martial cadence across the
buffed wood floor as she made her way towards the table and me.  She stared at
me for a moment before clearing her throat loudly.

I thought she
meant to say something, perhaps introduce herself, but she didn't.  A man came
out of nowhere, rushed to the chair in front of her, and pulled it out.  She
flashed him a fake smile, lowered herself into the chair, and allowed him to
push it in behind her.

"You,"
she said once seated, "are, I assume, Jessika.  I have heard about you
from Asher."

"Yes,"
I said.  "Everything you heard was good, I hope."

I laughed.  She
didn't.

"I am
Beatrice," she said, giving me a strange look, presumably for laughing. 
"Asher's wife.  I've heard what I need to know about you, though I don't
care much about hearing more.  You understand our situation, and that is
enough.  Asher desires children, to which I can't begrudge him that. 
Unfortunately I can't provide him with any, as you should be well aware.  I am
reluctant to acquiesce to any formal agreement between you, him, and I without
first discussing the matter in more detail, though."

As she sat
there, talking, I noticed something odd.  Nothing about her in particular,
besides her favored formality for this particular situation, nor about her
clothes, that seemed far more proper than necessary for a casual dinner, but
there was a smell.  Not a bad smell, not at all.  Actually a very nice one. 
Feminine and sweet, thick like chilled caramel, with a faint hint of oranges
and cinnamon, vanilla and... something else.  I thought I recognized it, but I
wasn't sure from where.

"You aren't
dull, are you?  I mean that in a nice way, so please don't take offense.  You
do have intelligence, correct?"

A perfume shop,
I guessed.  Or something like that.  I must have smelled it when I walked
through some store that was showing off a new type of perfume.  Likely one that
was too expensive for me, especially if Beatrice was the one wearing it, so I
probably hadn't given it any further thought until just now.  That made sense.

My thinking
didn't help me to sway Beatrice against thinking I was an idiot.

"Well?"
she asked.

"Oh, I'm
sorry.  I was distracted, I..."

"This isn't
a point in your favor," she said.  "Does ADD run in your
family?"

"Um,
no."

"Do you
have a history of debilitating diseases?" she asked.

"I
graduated with a BA in English Language and Literature," I said, trying to
ignore her.  "I received good grades."

"Not a very
valuable degree," she said, speaking more to herself than me.  "I'm
not a fan of creative sorts.  Asher loves novels, but I don't see the point. 
You don't gain much from them."

"I
disagree," I said.  "You can..."

"What?"
she interrupted.

"I mean no
offense, but I politely disagree that you don't gain much from them."

"It
wasn't," she said, "a point of contention.  There is no disagreement,
but merely absolute facts.  Fortunately Asher has good enough sense to manage
his business life admirably, so he can afford to waste
some
time with frivolous
entertainment like reading fiction, but..."

"Beatrice,"
Asher said from behind me.  He walked into the dining hall wearing a pair of
khaki slacks and a casual, button-down shirt.  "Jessika is our guest. 
Let's try to at least give her a little time to get comfortable before
bombarding her with questions."

"Asher!"
Beatrice said.  She lit up, smiling, except I felt like it wasn't real.  Some
ruse, a falsity, fake smile, fake happiness.  "Come, give me a kiss.  I've
missed you."

He walked over
to her side of the table, smiling.  He didn't look happy, either, but not
necessarily faking it.  Just distracted?  Confused?  I wasn't sure.

He kissed her on
the cheek and she pulled him in closer.  Their lips touched and I watched it. 
Nothing more, no passion, but lingering, still kissing, right in front of me. 
I realized I was grinding my teeth and furrowing my brow.  Before they stopped,
before they could see me, I forced myself to loosen my jaw and relax my
eyebrows.

"I'm glad
you could come, Jessika," Asher said after he stepped away from Beatrice. 
He sat at the head of the table, between me and her and to my right.  "I'm
sure Beatrice and I both have a lot of questions for you, but let's enjoy
ourselves first.  I think that's best."  To Beatrice, he added, "I've
been getting to know Jessika over the past few days, and I really think you'll
like her."

"Is she
another of your pet projects?" Beatrice asked, acting like I wasn't even
in the room.  "I understand you want to help people, Asher.  I really do. 
But you aren't actually helping them.  By doing this and giving them things,
you're making them reliant on you.  If you give a man a fish, he eats for a
day, and if you..."

He interrupted
her rather firmly.  "Thankfully we're not having fish for dinner."

"Asher,"
Beatrice said, frowning at him.

"We can
talk about this later," he said.

I sat there,
feeling more awkward and uncomfortable than I could remember ever feeling while
waiting for dinner to be served.  I'd accompanied a friend to her weird uncle's
birthday party once and sat at the table while listening to a horrible
retelling of the time he'd taken Viagra and hadn't been able to orgasm.  Even
with porn and baby oil, he'd said, and lots of masturbation after a couple
hours of having sex with my friend's aunt.  And then, subsequently, he needed
to go to the hospital, where he'd embarrassed multiple nurses and baffled the
doctors.  He sounded so proud of this story, but for me it was one of the most
awkward moments of my life.

Or it was, until
now, with Asher's wife in their home.  Not the same kind of awkwardness, but I
really didn't enjoy her formal, cold, and callous way of treating me like a
peasant.

"So,"
Asher said.  "How was everyone's day?"

"Exhausting,"
Beatrice said immediately.  "The flight was horrendous.  They ran out of
hot towels in first class and I had a headache the entire way."

"Mine was
alright," I added quietly.

This wasn't
going well.  Why was I here?  I should leave, I thought.  What could anyone do
if I did?  Yes, I would say, I need to go.  I apologize, but I don't think I
can do this.  I would say that, stand up, excuse myself, and then leave.

Except, just as
soon as I'd almost convinced myself of actually doing it, Asher looked at me. 
He smiled, genuine.  No unhappiness, no distraction.  Not confused in the
least.  He looked at me while Beatrice talked about her trip and the sights
she'd seen and what her friends thought of this and that.  He smiled at me with
what seemed like unadulterated interest and excitement.  With his eyes twinkling
at me, I couldn't help but smile back at him.