Bartered Surrender: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 9 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) Page 3

  For a long moment I sat impaled upon him and shuddered. He overwhelmed me, flooded my senses until I couldn't think any more. “Anton,” I said at last. “Anton, please. Please, just fuck me. I can't take it.”

  He didn't need a second invitation. As soon as the words were out of my mouth he had me flipped over on my back, hiking my legs up over his shoulders as he grabbed the sheets and wound them around my upper body, trapping me as though I were in a straightjacket. I shrieked as he pulled out and thrust his cock deep into my pussy, pushing hard. Fireworks exploded in my head, and I caught fire like a barren field too long without rain. “Fuck!” I cried. “Oh, Anton, please, please, please—”

  “Felicia,” he grunted, his iron control fraying at the edges, a sure sign I was getting to him. I moaned and writhed, bucking against him as he pounded into me. My pussy gripped his cock, the tight waves of my release already building inside my belly. I needed him to come in me. I had to have him, all of him, I had to be his again.

  “Fill me up,” I begged. “Fill me up. I need you.”

  “Jesus,” he said, a prayer or a curse, it didn't matter, only that he shuddered with pleasure, rocking back on his heels and bringing my legs together as he pumped his hips, his cock sliding in and out of my slick pussy. Reaching down he snaked a finger between my thighs and rubbed my clit, quick and sharp, and I came with a howl. My back arched and I rolled where I lay, my entire being rocked with the strength of my release.

  His cock pumped in and out of my pussy as I came, his fingers digging into my flesh. His teeth found my calf and he bit me, drawing my pleasure out until I thought I would die.

  “Come in me,” I said. “Please.”

  He dragged his fingers over my clit again and my body locked down on his cock, and then he came, pumping hard into me, filling me up. It leaked out of my pussy, the scent filling my nose, filling my head, and when he was spent he withdrew and went down on me, licking up his own cum, painting it onto my thighs and pussy lips and clit with his own tongue.

  We fucked long and hard. Anton made me come over and over, until I was so exhausted I fell asleep.

  I awoke to him kissing me in the dark, the night having descended. Sleepily I responded, enjoying the hedonistic feel of his skin against mine. He stopped kissing me for a moment.

  “Your work of art was a success,” he murmured. “Just so you know.”

  I grinned at him. “I know that. I'm here, aren't I? That means it worked.”

  Running a hand over my face, he returned the smile. “I guess it did,” he said. “But everyone is talking about it. I checked while you were asleep. You'll have the run of every gallery in the city after today.”

  I flushed with pride. “You think so?”

  “The pictures are everywhere. I don't think there's a single person who doesn't like it. Though some did have something to say about where you put it...”

  A giggle escaped me. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

  “Call?”

  “Oh, please.”

  “You're right. It was... a grand gesture. And I must say you make a magnificent tiger.”

  I blinked, then leaned back, frowning at him. “You mean I sculpt a good tiger?” I asked him.

  “No, I mean you look wonderful as a tiger.”

  For a long moment, I was utterly speechless. “What are you talking about?”

  In the dim light I could practically feel the puzzlement radiating from him. “You said the sculpture was us, remember? Was that wrong?”

  “Noooo,” I said slowly. “But I'm not the tiger. You are.”

  Surprise touched his features. “Me?” he said. “I thought I was the rabbit.”

  An extremely ugly snort burst out of me. “Oh yeah? How could you possibly be the rabbit?”

  He shook his head. “There's so much to you. I thought...” For the first time, I saw a blush tinge his cheeks. It must have been a powerful one for me to see in the dark. He was embarrassed. “I thought you wanted me to free you. From...” He shrugged. “From all those things in your past that keeps you weighed down. Your parents. Your distrust. Your fears... Didn't you?”

  If I hadn't known just how thick he was when it came to understanding people already, I would have slapped him. “No, you idiot, I want to free you.”

  “I'm the tiger?” He looked astonished. “That's how you see me?”

  “Of course.”

  “But... I'm so...” He swallowed hard. His hands began to move, smoothing over my back, up and down my arms, warm and sweet and shivery. “I'm a coward. When it comes to you, I'm a coward.”

  I smiled and closed my eyes. “You don't have to be afraid,” I said. “Don't be afraid of me. I'm only a rabbit. The worst I'll do is hump your foot to death.”

  “Which one?”

  “The right.”

  “That's only my second favorite foot,” he said. “It's probably worth it to keep you around.” He kissed me and I laughed into his mouth, and then we were tangled together again, striving and straining, and we fucked like rabbits, fucked like tigers, made love like wild things until at last we fell asleep, entwined in the early gray light as the world turned toward a new day.

  One Month Later

  My shoes were hurting. My back was cramping. My legs were exhausted. My head ached. And I couldn't breath. My wedding corset? Had been great when we got married and then immediately retired to the limo to screw our brains out. When you have to stand around at a reception afterward, smiling and nodding at a bunch of people whose names have passed you like ships in the night? Not ideal.

  In fact, pretty much the opposite of ideal. The Platonic ideal of unideal.

  Haha, I thought to myself. I'm so clever. I really needed air.

  Actually, I really needed to sit down. And I really needed to not be listening to this old guy with the inscrutable accent talk about hedge funds. Or was he talking about actual hedges? I couldn't even tell. Or was that care? I couldn't even care? Yeah. That was probably it.

  With great effort, I drew a breath. The stays of my corset creaked as I struggled to suck air into my lungs, but in the end they held and I had to content myself with taking a light-headed gulp of champagne and smiling politely.

  “Felicia!” My mother bustled up to me and grabbed my arm. “Have you met Mr. and Mrs. Mordon from the Mordon Foundational Trust? I'm sorry, Mr. Steinbeck, but I simply must steal my daughter for a moment.”

  Out of the frying pan and into the suicidally boring fire, as they say. I gave Mr. Steinbeck an apologetic smile as my mother herded me off to meet yet another rich person I couldn't care less about. She, of course, was in heaven, so I couldn't very well throw myself on the floor and have a screaming tantrum like I used to when I was four, but the urge was still very much there. All my friends were busy hobnobbing and trying to suck up to all the rich potential patrons of the arts, Sadie was off somewhere making sure things ran smoothly, and my husband was nowhere to be found. There was no one to rescue me. I could really use a sledgehammer right about now. Smash up the bar, perhaps. Or one of the ice sculptures, even though each of them was a replica of one of my works.

  It was a nice touch. Sadie really outdid herself. But a girl's got her limits, and I was fast approaching mine.

  My mother's hand on my arm propelled me toward a couple in their fifties, laughing about something with another bland couple in their fifties, and I wanted to shoot myself. When I'd envisioned my wedding reception when I was slightly younger, I'd always imagined something like an Irish wake, but without the dead body. Or hell, bring a dead body. As long as it wasn't anyone I, personally, had known.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Mordon!” my mother called. “Let me introduce you to my daughter...”

  One half of the couples turned toward me, all smiles, and I smiled back automatically. Mr. Mordon, a pleasant man who looked like he'd eaten one too many Valium, held out his hand, and I automatically put my white-gloved fingers in his.

  “A pleasure,” he said
, bringing my hand to his lips. My god. What century was this?

  But the second his mouth pressed to my fingertips, a jolt of electricity shot through me.

  I gasped and staggered, the vibrator in my pussy suddenly roaring to life. My knees turned to jelly and I couldn't get enough air. I was going to faint—

  A strong arm circled my shoulders, and I sighed with relief.

  “Pardon me,” Anton said to the startled group, “but I must borrow my wife for a moment.” He guided me away, the vibrator ratcheting up in intensity.

  “It'd better be longer than a moment,” I muttered to him under my breath, and he laughed at me as he gently pointed me through a door onto the balcony. It was cold out here, but there were still fellow revelers. To my immense satisfaction, they all took notice of us and discreetly dispersed, leaving us alone on the small side terrace.

  I sagged into Anton, and he put his arms around me as I moaned. “Jesus,” I panted. “You really know how to keep a girl waiting.”

  “Well, a number of business associates are here,” he said. “I find it a bit crass to mix business and pleasure.”

  “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

  He had the good grace to cough as he produced the vibrator's remote and began adjusting the strength of it, until it pulsed in my slick, tight passage and I started to tremble. “Perhaps that is not entirely it,” he said, though I could hardly hear him over the sound of my heart in my ears. “I'm starting to want to be the only one to see your face as you come.”

  I would have laughed at that, but I was too busy trying to stay conscious. The corset was so tight I thought I could feel my ribs cracking as he drove me higher and higher. My fingers tangled in his fine tuxedo jacket and I clung to him for dear life. The slender, beautiful wedding dress I wore was too narrow, and I had to reach down to hike it up over my hips so I could hook my leg over Anton's. In sexual agony, I rubbed my clit over his hard thigh, the little vibe in my cunt buzzing me straight to heaven. He stood stock still and watched me with satisfaction as I moaned and ground against him.

  “Guys?” The sound of the door opening cut through my pleasure, but I was too far gone to stop. “We're about to do the toasts, so if you could—good shitting God, you two, wait til you're on the honeymoon!”

  In a haze, I turned my head to see Sadie, her cheeks flame red, retreating with her hands over her eyes. “Hurry up out here!” she commanded. “There's only so much alcohol in the world and these rich fucks are going to drink it all if you don't wrap it up!”

  “No... no problem!” I called to her, breathlessly, and then Anton reached up and pinched one nipple through the satin of my wedding dress, and I came for him. He held me tight and I felt him smile against my temple as Sadie ran back inside.

  “I... I thought you wanted to be the only one to see my face...” I panted as I came down from the high.

  He smiled at me, almost insolent. “I said starting.” I poked him in the shoulder and he laughed. “Come, my dear. Our audience awaits.”

  “Was that double entendre intentional?” I demanded. “I'm not sure I want to come with my mom watching.”

  He laughed again. “Maybe. Do you trust me?”

  I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

  He held out his arm. “Then allow me, Mrs. Waters.”

  The little vibe's buzzing subsided, but not entirely. I sighed at him, exasperated. “With pleasure, Mr. Waters,” I said, placing my hand on his arm.

  “I know,” he said, and together we walked back to our wedding, side by side.

  ~Fin~

  If you enjoyed The Billionaire's Wife, don't miss Sadie's story, The Billionaire's Muse, starting December 21, 2012!

  From His Acquisition: The Billionaire's Muse, Part 1:

  I hung back from the press of people, lingering at the edge of the crowd. The women were all dressed in onyx and ruby and sapphire and emerald dresses, brilliant birds of paradise, while the men stood with them, all black and white and staid and stolid as penguins. I scrutinized the assembled throng and pondered a very important question.

  Which of these men is Batman?

  I hadn't found him yet, because most of the people that attend these terrible 'charity' functions are old and boring because you have to be old and boring to be invited. No one with less than ten million dollars is allowed in, unless you're part of the support staff. Which would be me, I suppose. And usually if you have ten million dollars you are either old and boring or young and that particular sort of country club inbred that just screams I have a trust fund and have never done my own grocery shopping! Except Anton Waters, my employer, who is handsome, rich, sexy, self-made and young. Or I guess his wife and my best friend, Felicia, is my employer, but ever since they were married a second time they've been so joined at the hip they might as well be one person.

  I sighed. Thinking about Felicia reminded me of how much I missed her. I knew her before she married Anton, which is how I landed a job as her personal assistant, though recently it had expanded to include other duties as well. To my deep despair, I seemed to have a talent for this type of thing. Otherwise I'd still be drinking watery piss beer and smoking some dank nugs on my Friday nights rather than organizing a dumb charity auction for a bunch of people whose shoes cost more than whatever they'd spend on 'charity' tonight.

  God. If only.

  I sighed again and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing alcohol jockey. I downed it in two gulps, feeling the alcohol warm me all the way down to my toes, and resumed looking for Batman, my favorite mental pastime at these events.

  I didn't really expect to find him, of course. I know he's got a secret identity.

  I scanned the men. Too old. Too short. Too bald, although I guess Batman does wear a hood, so he could be bald under that outfit. But probably not. Too old. Too old. Too old again. Too thin. Too goofy. Wearing glasses. Wait, doesn't Batman wear glasses? No, that's Superman. Clark Kent. Whatever. Too blind, anyway. Batman would have laser surgery. Too old. Too inbred. Too old. Too...hot? Is that a thing? Wait a minute...

  I pulled up short, my eyes widening. Not twenty feet away stood a tall, sinfully handsome man, dressed to the nines. His sandy hair swept back from his temples in slick, perfect waves, highlighting his fine cheekbones and rich brown eyes. His mouth was a perfect, delicious pout, and the hand that held his flute of champagne was elegant and poised. An artist's hand. And I should know. Before I landed this sweet gig I'd spent most of my waking hours buried in my art, and this guy was making me want to pick up a pencil and sketch him. Naked.

  His deep brown eyes bored into mine. Despite myself I felt my cheeks stain with color under his scrutiny, and his perfect, pouty mouth slowly broke into a suggestive smile.

  Batman is staring at me, I thought. What a creeper.

  Don't miss The Billionaire's Muse—coming soon!

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  About the Author

  Ava Lore was raised by wombats and lives to corrupt the innocent. When she's not writing erotic romance, she spends her time thinking about writing erotic romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox.

  Discover more titles by Ava Lore at Amazon.com.

  You can email Ava Lore at authoravalore@gmail.com, follow her on twitter (@authoravalore) or catch up with her at authoravalore.com. She yearns for your approval and always loves to hear from fans. Want more BBW? More Billionaires? More aliens? More menage? Something entirely different? Let her know!

  Other Titles by Ava Lore

  Maddy Takes a Memo (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)

  Maddy Calls a Meeting (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)

  Maddy Shifts the Paradigm (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)

  Saving Sins (Priest Erotica, Forbidden Romance)

  The Billionaire's Wife (A Reluctan
t BDSM Erotic Romance):

  Bartered Proposal: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 1

  Bartered Seduction: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 2

  Bartered Bride: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 3

  Bartered Desire: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 4

  Bartered Submission: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 5

  Bartered Passion: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 6

  Bartered Pain: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 7

  Bartered Betrayal: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 8

  Her Alien Abductor: Galactic Concubine, Part 1 (Alien Erotica)

  Her Alien Instructor: Galactic Concubine, Part 2 (Alien BDSM Sex Slave Erotica)

  Solstice Sacrifice (Reluctant Virgin Beast Erotica)