Tied to the Billionaire(8)

His eyes bored into her, pinning her like a captured butterfly. His voice rang with authority. Still, she discerned a touch of uncertainty in his expression and demeanour. Did he really doubt her?

“Yes, sir, I will. I’m yours to command.” The words rolled off her tongue, familiar and satisfying, as if she used them daily.

“You’re sure?” His gaze was relentless but she met it bravely, glad to have someone at last know who she really was.

“I’m completely certain, sir.” There was a delirious freedom in that confession. Her clit pulsed and she thought for an instant she’d fly off into climax from that alone.

His hand strayed to the buttons of his trousers and her gaze couldn’t help but follow the movement. In the space of a few heartbeats he had freed his erect penis from his clothing. It was as solid and sturdy as the rest of his muscular form, pale, veined and topped by a ruddy helmet that was slick with evidence of his excitement. Saliva filled her mouth at the sight. Her * filled with moisture, too, hungry to feel that hardness deep inside.

He took a step towards her, brushing the smooth cap over her parted lips. “Open your mouth, whore.”

Olivia needed no encouragement. His rampant cock drew her like a magnet draws iron. Leaning forward, a bit ungainly because of her bonds, she opened wide and engulfed him, halfway to the root. His moan sent shudders of delight through her body. She swirled her tongue over the stretched skin of the head then sucked him deeper, wanting to swallow him whole. He tasted of salt and sweat, a masculine flavour that made her more ravenous than ever.

She pulled back slightly, made a tight ‘O’ of her lips, then bobbed, running her mouth up and down over the taut, silky skin.

“You’re a clever little slut,” Andrew muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ll wager this isn’t your first time eating a man’s prick.” He wound his fingers into her hair and held her head still. “Open!” Jerking his hips, he drove his cock down her throat with bruising force.

The onslaught stole her breath. Before she could adjust, he pulled back then thrust again. She choked as his cock slammed into her palate and would have squirmed away had he had not held her head fast.

As he pistoned in and out of her mouth, he tugged at her chestnut locks, positioning her like some inanimate doll in order to increase his pleasure. The pins loosened and her hair tumbled down her back, tangling in the ropes that secured her arms. A few strands caught in her mouth, where they were soon soaked with saliva and his copious pre-cum.

He continued, relentless, until her lips grew sore and her jaw ached, but she never considered asking him to stop. His thrusts became ragged. Tiny contractions rippled along his cock as he approached his peak. Her own arousal increased in synchrony, though she had no stimulation other than the taste and the smell of him, the slide of his hardness over her tongue.

She knew he was close, yet his final explosion surprised her. He swelled for an instant against her tongue, impossibly hard, and bitter fluid flooded her mouth. She gulped it down, to show him how eager a slut she could be, but he pulled his cock from her lips, spattering her cheeks and tangled hair with fresh dollops of spunk. The bright shame of it brought her still closer to the edge.

He released his grip on her hair. She leant forward, off balance, to press her lips against his softening organ. She hoped he could read the reverence in her gesture, that he would see how grateful she was for his use of her, how very glad she was to be herself at last.

Andrew gave a satisfied chuckle. “Well done, Olivia. I believe you have a natural aptitude for this sort of game.” Crouching in front of her, he kissed her bruised lips. He tasted like milk tea and tobacco, simultaneously sweet and harsh. She’d never get enough of his flavour. His tongue wormed its way into her mouth, agile and demanding. Can he taste his own jism? she wondered as she opened herself to his explorations. The filthy notion ramped her excitement higher still.

Down on one knee now, still plundering her mouth, he clutched her to his chest. He fingered the ropes behind her back, the bonds that marked her as his slave. His closeness dizzied her. Could I climax from just his kiss?

Between her splayed thighs, her clitoris beat like a second heart. Fast as thought, he sank his hand into her drenched cleft, thumbing the bead at her centre, curling his fingers to stroke her inner walls, still kissing her all the while. Come for me, Olivia. She could have sworn she heard his voice, though his lips were locked on hers.

It didn’t matter. His fingers commanded her, and she obeyed. Pleasure welled and broke like the waves on the rocks below the Cliff Walk. She shook in his arms, helpless to resist, as he coaxed another climax from her heated flesh.

And still he kissed her, hard, insistent, drinking the nectar of her surrender as though he’d never get his fill.



Chapter Five





“Are you related in any way to the Baltimore Alcotts?” Catherine MacIntyre inquired, dabbing her lips with her damask napkin. “Robert Alcott was a major investor in Alasdair’s first railway, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but there’s no connection.” Olivia’s fair skin was flushed, though whether with excitement, embarrassment, or a mixture, Andrew couldn’t decide. She certainly looked ravishing in the burgundy velvet gown he’d chosen for her, despite the fact that it was off the rack. The newly electrified sconces kindled red-gold sparks in the nut-brown curls piled above her forehead. Teardrop pearls dangled from her earlobes. A matching choker circled her throat and drew the eye to her flawless décolletage.