Page 76 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
“You tell me,” I went on, “that you’re going to take me home and tie me to your bed, and you’re going to spank me, and then, when I’m all pink and warm for you, when I’m shaking, when I’m moaning and begging you to stop…you’re going to fuck me hard, over and over, until I scream. Until I can’t walk. Until I’m your slave. And while you’re telling me…you’re making me come. I’m sitting at the table, and every man there is watching me, and I’m coming so hard, grabbing the edge of the table, biting my lip and trying to hide it, but I can’t. And you let them all watch me. You let them all see what you’re doing to me.”
It was too much. I broke off, gasping as the wave of pleasure broke over me and dragged me under. I kept my hand moving, because I couldn’t have stopped it, desperate to keep it going, to release the unbearable tension.
I came again and again, one orgasm after the other, climbing up and falling back the tiniest bit only to climb again. And Hemi watched that, too.
Hemi
If a man sets out to play with fire, he may just get burned.
I’d made Hope do it to excite her. And, yes, to dominate her, too, because that excited both of us. Neither of us may have had the best day ever, but this part of it? This part was going to be perfect.
When she’d walked out on me this afternoon, it had taken every bit of self-control I’d had not to go after her, throw her over my shoulder, haul her back into that room, and…yes. To do all those things she’d just said.
But I hadn’t done any of it, had I? She’d drawn the line, and I’d respected her decision. I’d waited until seven to collect her, too, even as my focus grew harder to maintain and my eyes kept straying to the clock. Even as the disciplined part of my brain continued to deal with the disastrous consequences of three weeks away from the office, of a hand missing from the tiller.
I’d waited because, as much as I desired Hope, as much as I needed to take her body physically, Ididrespect her mind, and her will, too. She’d had the nerve to speak up in that meeting today, and what was more, I knew she’d have said the same thing even if she hadn’t been sleeping with me.
Because she thought for herself, and she told the truth. And because she believed in me, and she’d believed in what she’d said. She wouldn’t have agreed with me to be a yes-man, the way so many people did. That had come from her heart, and Hope’s heart was a very pure place.
Her imagination, though…not so much. That had been a very dirty little fantasy indeed, which was the other reason I’d asked her to tell me, besides that telling me had aroused her so much. I’d wanted to know what she imagined, what excited her most. I wanted to hear her secrets, and I wanted her to give them up to me.
Her “no” had meant “no.” Now, I wanted to show her the meaning of “yes.”
At the moment, though, I had a problem. Hope was half-naked, trembling, still stroking herself as if she couldn’t stop, wearing a pair of shoes that made a man’s mind go irresistibly to wrists tied with ribbons, to bound hands dragged overhead and fastened down tight while she arched her back and thrashed from side to side and couldn’t get away.
Or maybe that was just me.
Meanwhile, here I was, as hard as iron, sitting next to a half-naked woman who wanted me to spank her and tie her down and fuck her. All of which I was more than willing to do. But she was hungry, too.
So difficult.
I picked up the phone built into the armrest, pressed a button, and Charles said, “Yes?”
“We’re ready,” I said. “Restaurant.” I couldn’t even remember the name. Hopefully he did. But then, he’d presumably been less distracted than I had.
“Five minutes,” he said, and clicked off.
“Sweetheart,” I told Hope, who’d sat up again, looking horribly self-conscious, “you’ve got five minutes to put yourself back in order.”
“Oh,” she said, patting at her hair, then seeming to realize just how undressed she was. She pulled her dress down and started to fasten it again with hasty hands, as if I hadn’t just watched her, dressed in the sweetest scraps of barely-there lingerie a man could hope to see, pleasuring herself into one toe-curling orgasm after another. “Are we having dinner?Now?”
“Yeh,” I said. “We are, because you’re hungry, and I want to make you happy tonight and give you exactly what you want. But I’m afraid I can’t give you your fantasy, because nobody but me is going to watch you come. Ever.”
“Well,” she said, doing up the tie on her dress and beginning to look wonderfully cross, “that’s kind of the point of a fantasy, isn’t it? And if you didn’t want to know, you shouldn’t have asked.”
I took her hand, which had been shoving at her hair, set it on my thigh, covered it with mine, and held it there. “I wanted to know. I loved hearing. And if you think it’s going to be hard for you to behave yourself during dinner? Imagine howIfeel.”
“What? You just said you didn’t want anybody to know.Isure don’t want them to know. It was afantasy.That doesn’t mean I actually want todoit.”
“Mm. But what’s killing me, you see, is that I’ve got to sit through the entire evening and watch you while I’m feeling like this, knowing what you want me to do, counting the minutes until I get to take you home and make all the rest of it come true.”
And I did. By the end of the evening, Hope’s pretty bottom had been gorgeously pink and thoroughly warmed, she’d been tied to my bed and fucked to a point where she’d feel it tomorrow, and she’d told me she was mine.
She may even have used the word “slave.” I can’t remember.
Hope
I still had something to discuss with Hemi. Last night hadn’t exactly been the time, but the next morning, I knew I couldn’t put it off.
