Tied to the Billionaire(7)

Cocktails would be served at seven, Andrew had told her, and dinner at eight. In the meantime, he’d instructed her to await him here, in her current state of undress.

She’d never even considered disobeying.

Fingers entwined upon her lap, she breathed deeply in a struggle to calm her racing heart. Her nipples knotted against the silk, aching for stimulation. Her sex was as moist as the humid summer afternoon, her juices perhaps staining the pale green satin beneath her bare bottom. No matter. Andrew MacIntyre could afford to replace it.

Her entire body hummed with anticipation. He would be here soon, or so he’d promised, and the waiting would be over. She’d wanted this for so very long—long before she’d encountered the masterful young billionaire. They had not spoken openly of what was to come. She hoped she had not misunderstood his intentions. If she had, she’d die of embarrassment—or disappointment.

With her back to the door, she watched the snowy clouds drift and reform into fantastic shapes. Breathe. Relax. Open. She remembered perfectly, despite the years.

The hinges were soundless, but she sensed his presence as soon as he entered, the new aura of power that shimmered in the room. The lock clicked, shielding them from interruption and preventing any possibility of escape. She swallowed hard. The moment of truth had arrived.

He stood before her, silent, and she bowed her head automatically, her eyes on her clasped hands. Still, she knew he was gazing upon her near-nakedness. She felt the weight of his attention like a physical caress.

“Olivia.” With one word, spoken low and sure, he claimed her. Heat rushed to her * and the bed cover grew damper.

“Yes, sir?” It felt easy, natural—as though she’d never stopped.

“On your knees, girl.” She slipped to the rug, boneless and loose already, his to command. Did he find her compliance strange? No matter. She had been right about his desires and that was all that mattered.

“We’ll start slowly, this first time. Don’t be afraid.”

Afraid? The only thing that scared her was the intensity of her own dark desires.

“Crawl to me.”

Eyes on the floor, she made her awkward way towards his mesmerising voice, her heart slamming against her ribs and her sex clenching with want. The smooth wood hurt her knees as she left the carpeted area behind. She ignored—no, welcomed—the pain. The brief chemise left her ass uncovered. Delicious shame washed over her as she realised he could clearly see how wet his orders had made her.

“Stop there and kneel up.” He dragged her sole garment over her head and tossed it away, then circled her body, murmuring further instructions close to her ear. “Cross your hands behind you, at the small of your back. That’s right.” The cord he wrapped around her wrists was cool and smooth, possibly even silk. Perhaps he’d switch to rough hemp when he knew her better. He wound the loops halfway up her forearms, in neat rounds that bit ever so slightly into her skin. “Ah yes! Lovely! Tell me, are the bonds too tight?”

“No, sir, they’re fine.” Should she tell him he could tie her much tighter, if it pleased him?

He skimmed his hands over her shoulders and down to her elbows. His fingers were soft, without the calluses of a working man, and oh, so knowing! Shivers danced up her spine. She straightened her back to present her breasts and parted her thighs as she’d been taught. Oceany musk drifted from her soaked *. Her taut nipples throbbed with her pulse. Her clit beat in time. The three swollen nubs made a triangle of need, with her consciousness staked between them, stretched and fragile. One touch to any point and she’d shatter.

As if in answer to her silent plea, he reached both hands around to cup her rounded flesh. Catching the tips between thumb and forefinger, he rolled them back and forth like marbles. A gasp escaped her and she arched into his palms. Sensation sizzled down to her clit, as if he were exerting the same firm pressure there.

“You are exquisitely responsive.” His praise thrilled her. “But how do you feel about a bit of pain?”

She had no time to consider the question. He gave her a vicious pinch, nails biting into her engorged nipples. Her eyes closed, she let the shock of hurt arc through her and die away. Pleasure followed in its wake, radiating from his fingers down to the hungry gulf between her thighs. He squeezed again, with much greater force. Would he pierce the skin? Imagining her blood staining his fingertips, she came near to swooning.


“Oh, Olivia! I have so many ideas about what to do with you, I can’t decide which to try first.” He nuzzled her neck then nipped her shoulder. As the pain surged then receded, she struggled to remain still, knowing that was what was required.

“If you weren’t bound, I’d have you on your hands and knees, so I could spank your soft, white bottom…but I don’t want to stop to untie you now. That will have to wait until later. And I didn’t bring up my crop—I didn’t know if you could bear it.”

I can bear whatever you care to inflict, Olivia thought, though she wasn’t quite ready to admit this aloud. If he read her as clearly as it seemed, she wouldn’t need to tell him.

She heard his footsteps as he came to stand in front of her. She still didn’t dare to meet his eyes—not until he commanded it.

“Look at me, girl. Today, tonight—for the next forty-eight hours—I will be your master. And you will be my plaything, my slave, my whore.” The words were as thrilling as his touch had been—perhaps more so. They kindled a dark fire in her soul. “Do you consent? Will you serve me?”