Romance: The Billionaire Alpha Collection Page 5

  “You love how I’m in charge of what’s happening to you. Say it.” His adept digits smooth over and around the spongy pad inside, sending shockwaves throughout my core.

  I can’t speak; I only want to feel.

  “Say thank you for taking away the burden. With such good manners, you must be dying to say thank you.”

  I can’t, I won’t admit how right he is.

  “Ah...” I sigh again.

  I can’t help myself.

  I grind down and clench my muscles around the fingers, so greedy for the strong sensations they stimulate.

  “Thank... thank you.”

  Bryce grins, silencing my voice with a kiss while expertly finger-fucking me almost to the brink of release.

  “Such a good girl, for me. But it’s not time for you to cum.” He stops the motion and withdraws. “Not yet.”

  “Why?” I beg. “What are you doing to me?”

  I loathe myself for needing him inside me so desperately, and he licks his fingers again.

  “Good girls are patient. And pleasure is more rewarding once desire is layered.”

  I’m so frustrated.

  “What? Layered?” I exhale and writhe as my juices leak over the bed.

  “The release of layers of need is far more worthwhile than a quickie, don’t you think? I know you think you’re frigid, but from what I’ve seen...” He tilts his head and strokes my hair. “You’re wrong.”

  I want to cry and cum and laugh. He sees me in ways no one else has, even myself.

  “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “It’s simple. You shouldn’t be ashamed to enjoy being controlled like this, because...” He strokes a strand of hair out of my face. “It is either in your nature or it’s not. I’m thrilled to say, submission certainly is in yours.”

  “No.” A growl works its way up from my stomach. “You’re wrong.” I can’t be the kind of weak-willed woman who needs a bloody man to lead me in everything. “Dead wrong.”

  His gaze covers my face at a steady pace.

  “The longer you struggle with your identity, the longer it will take for your release. You’re a willful submissive, a rare combination, and you’re beautiful.”

  I want to slap him and kiss him; he is infuriating.

  He replaces his jacket and leaves me alone to think over all he’s done and said, but I am frustrated and confused about everything.

  Alone again.

  Chapter 10

  The din of classical music and voices comes from way beyond my room after several doorbell chimes, and I wonder what’s going on.

  A party?

  He’s having a party while I’m tied up in here?

  What the hell?

  Bryce returns much sooner this time, saying, “I must be quick.”

  By leaving me to stew quite literally in my own juices, he’d left me with a headache.

  Thankfully, perhaps because he notices my need or the hope shining in my eyes, or because this is his plan all along, he wastes no time.

  His jacket and this time his trousers, too, both fly through the air and I pant with hope he will finally be inside me.

  I don’t care if this situation is weird, or if he’s weird, or if wanting him makes me weird, or weak, or even a submissive—I want him.

  “Your shirt too?” I say.

  What can I say?

  I want to see all of him.

  He glares, breathless with his own enthusiasm. “Don’t speak. I can’t take long.”

  Bryce climbs up on the bed.

  Working up from the base, he kisses my legs quickly from my feet until he reaches my glorious wetness.

  He says, “So pretty, so deprived,” slipping a finger deep inside me, and I clench down on it. He kneads my swollen clit with his thumb at the same time as his finger rubs my G-spot.

  Incredible. “Ah,” I moan, rotating my hips as the warmth of arousal throbs from each pleasure point, still so sensitive from earlier.

  Soon, he switches his thumb for his greedy tongue, and I think I might cum over his face.

  His tongue circles and flicks my clit, punctuating these movements with a suckling action while maintaining the perfect thrusts of up to three inserted fingers.

  “I’m going to cum, oh yes.” He quickens his movements, and his suckling deepens. “Yeah, ah...”

  I have the first virginal orgasm of my life, and the first orgasm in far too long.

  The release is astounding.

  My body feels free.

  Yes…

  I am free.

  My mind is empty.

  He climbs off the bed and redresses.

  As he does, I’m distracted by the rhythmic waves of pleasure inside me, and the increasing volume coming from somewhere else in the house.

  Without a word, Bryce leaves me again.

  This time, in his hurry he leaves the door slightly ajar.

  I hear voices, laughter, and Bryce giving someone orders to clean something up.

  A spillage.

  I don’t care.

  I just wish he would come back to me.

  Chapter 11

  A few minutes later, he does return.

  “I forgot to give you more water.”

  He holds my head up and pops the straw in my mouth.

  When he demands me to “Suck it for me,” I choke and spit the water out, shocked by the connotation.

  I admit it made me snigger, too.

  “Watch the tux.” He wipes the water I sprayed onto his jacket, and I see him trying not to laugh.

  “Sorry, but come on,” I say. “Didn’t you mean me to laugh? You know what you said...”

  “No. Drink the water.” He tries again, popping the straw in my mouth and leaning over me with a softer expression. “And without spitting it at me this time.”

  I swallow several gulps, but it’s not as refreshing at room temperature. “Enough, thanks.”

  He replaces the bottle on the bedside table and offers me another of his rare smiles, though this one is more in his eyes than on his mouth.

  I want too much for him to kiss me, to feel his tongue wrap around mine.

  I gulp back my need. “What’s the noise outside?”

  “Nothing, just another boring party for federal politicians, at my expense.”

  “What?”

  I am in shock.

  He raises his hand. “Don’t worry, they don’t know you’re here. I’ve got to kiss a lot of ass to stay this rich, so you’re my secret entertainment for the night. You’re being paid to get me through the drudgery, Amelia.”

  I remember the cash, realizing I’d forgotten about the reason for being there for a while.

  It makes me feel dirty all over again. “So you’re selling yourself, too?”

  He frowns and shrugs. “Pretty much. Everyone successful person will sell their ass at some point. Fact of life.”

  “Hey, my ass is off limits, yeah?”

  “Today perhaps.” He winks, definitely hinting at seeing me again, which makes me smile, damn it. “But you’re entertainment enough without giving me your ass tonight.”

  “How entertaining can I be lying here like this?” I so want to jump his bones and entertain us both.

  “You’d be surprised by how entertaining you could be in this position, Amelia. In any position. You underestimate yourself.” He checks his watch, smiles, and locks the door.

  Returning to me, he slowly unzips his trousers and pushes his hand beyond the opening. “In fact...”

  More juices ooze from my sex and I know he can see, but I’m so aroused I don’t care.

  In contrast, anticipation dries my mouth so I lick my lips, imagining what he might taste like and what his next move might be.

  I want him to...I gulp when he pulls out his clean, long, sturdy cock. Studying my expression as I feast my eyes on him, he says, “We want the same thing...”

  “We do...?” My breathing deepens as I drag my gaze from his cock to his face. �
�What do you want?”

  “Would you like to savor my meat, Amelia?” He massages his cock back and forth, legs wide. “Such a pretty mouth...perfect to take my meat.”

  Eyes back on the prize, I simply smile, nod my head, and gulp on my own saliva as his cock nears my mouth.

  He straddles me, knee on either side of my head—though he’s careful to move my hair up so he neither kneels on it or soils it—and leans over until his cock sinks deep into my mouth and pokes the back of my throat.

  I wrap my lips around him and suck him like a lollipop.

  “Yes… you’re even sexier with my cock in your mouth.”

  Rolling my tongue around his girth, I long for the freedom of my arms to hold him, of head movement to give him a better blowjob.

  But he seems content to leave it in my mouth while I lick and engulf him.

  “You got me so horny I’m already... Amelia.” He throws back his head. “Ah...”

  The warm, salty juices shoot from inside him, into my mouth, and down my throat.

  “Good girl,” he says, thrusting into my mouth. “Drink it all up.”

  I swallow his seed, trying not to choke or bite down as he continues to give every drop of himself to me.

  When he is drained, he wipes the last drips over my lips like a salty lip-gloss and climbs off.

  “You like my cock, don’t you?” he says while untying my hands.

  “More than I should.” I want much more of him and his cock, but wonder why he is untying me.

  “Good girl.” He leans over me to untie the other hand and as he does, he sneaks a kiss on the tip of my nose.

  Instinct told me to move my mouth up to kiss his, but I miss the chance.

  Instead, he grins. “I think you deserve a little dessert before you go.”

  “Sounds perfect...”

  At last, we’re going to make love.

  With weak arms, I reach for his now flaccid cock, wanting to get to work on making him hard again. He moves to the bottom of the bed to untie my feet before I get a chance.

  “Let the blood circulate. The perfect dress is hung in the other room,” he states.

  “Dress?” I look at mine on the floor.

  “Ah, yours is lovely, but it needs a bra. To wear it in public.”

  “You told me not to wear one.”

  Why does he want me to get dressed?

  More kinky games?

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t expect you to be so...didn’t expect to want you to. Oh, it doesn’t matter. No time to explain.” He checks himself in the dresser mirror. “You can use your own shoes, and um...” Allowing a glimpse at me still naked on the bed, he says, “You should refresh your lipstick.”

  His eyes sparkle in my direction before walking out, leaving me frustrated, naked, with arms wrapped around my breasts and one leg crossed over the other.

  What now?

  Chapter 12

  Within five minutes, Bryce has returned with a red, satin cocktail dress and a tube of red lipstick.

  “Wear this. And this.”

  Jealousy pops in my stomach like a bubble as I wonder who else wore them before me.

  “I’d rather wear my own stuff, thanks.”

  “Why? This is Gucci. The lipstick is Chanel.”

  True, they’re stunning.

  “Whose are they, though? I’m sure someone will be upset if I use them.”

  He frowns. “You think I’m giving you someone else’s dress? Do I look like I deal in other people’s effects?”

  Oh? “They’re new? Even the lipstick?”

  “Well of course they are.” He shakes his head. “Come on, I’ve been away from my guests too long already. Can I trust you to make yourself presentable in five?”

  “Um… I guess so,” I reply in confusion.

  “Excellent. I’ll get someone to set you a space next to me at the table.”

  I stare at him, unsure of how to react to being invited to his posh party.

  “Why are you doing this? Was this part of your plan?”

  He lays the dress and the lipstick on the bed.

  “Not to invite you to my party, no. But you...surprise me. I thought I’d enjoy you, but...”

  “I do? You did?” Stop blathering. Oh, hang on a minute. “You’ve been gushing about how much you know about me. How did I surprise you?”

  “I did…I do.”

  We laugh together. That feels nice.

  “You’re an open book in many ways, Amelia, but you have a stronger character than I imagined. And yet you’re still fragile and submissive. Intoxicating.”

  “No one has ever...” I step closer to him, wanting so much to make love to him. “You’re a massive surprise, too.”

  He doesn’t take me in his arms like I want him to.

  Instead, he grins. “You’ve no idea.” Clapping his hands, he adds, “Now quickly, please.”

  And once again, he leaves the room.

  I return my eyes to the beautiful dress: a corset top and pencil skirt. True to his word, when I pick it up, the tag falls out and reads $4,500.

  “Oh my!”

  Cautiously, I step into it and although I struggle to zip it up for a minute or two, I manage.

  It feels incredible on.

  I wish Bryce had a full-length mirror so I could see myself the one time I’ll wear a dress like it.

  Even with $100,000 in the bank, I will always have more important things to buy than four-thousand-dollar dresses.

  I match the red curtains and cushions and realize Bryce sure loves red.

  This simple detail arouses me, though I don’t understand why.

  Perhaps because it’s one of the few things I can claim to know about him?

  I take a few tissues from a box on the dresser and wipe my mouth clean, wishing I could brush my teeth.

  The luxurious lipstick glides over my lips so decadently, and the dresser mirror at least enables me to check for smudges or to see if I got any on my teeth.

  I grab my brush from my purse and comb my curly hair out. The dry oils mean it isn’t frizzy, and it forms long waves down my back.

  After I step into my too-high heels, I’m ready.

  “There. Done.”

  For the first time I understand why people spend stupid amounts of money on designer products.

  I felt marvelous, like a debutante.

  Bryce enters the room again, his eyes widening.

  “Wow, stunning. Shame to hide such perfection under fabric, but if we must, let it be satin and silk, yes?”

  “If you must,” I reply.

  He grins and wraps an arm around my waist. “Come, time to share my distraction with the others.”

  Share me with the others?

  Chapter 13

  Bryce sets my nerves on edge saying he wants to share me, but for some reason, I don’t believe he’ll share my body with guests he’s been ignoring most of the evening.

  Still, as he walks me into the dining hall—which is enormous, and features one huge dinner table packed full of guests—my stomach lurches as everyone stops talking to inspect me.

  I find Bryce’s hand and grip it tight.

  He squeezes mine and walks me in, saying to his guests, “Please help my friend to feel welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I wasn’t sure she’d make it here tonight, but I’m delighted to say she surpassed each hurdle and arrived here unscathed.”

  He stares down into my eyes.

  Even in my highest heels, he’s so much taller than me.

  He seems so pleased, even happy, for me to be with him. “Amelia, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Amelia. She is...delectable, is she not?”

  I snigger nervously.

  A wave of celebratory clinking of glasses and jeers fills the room as Bryce takes me to my seat next to him at the head of the table and says, “I’d like to make a toast, if I may.”

  Everyone raises their glasses, including me.

  Bryce stands. “In honor of the women at this table, in particula
r my guest...” He pulls me up by my hand. “Amelia, and strong women everywhere. May you continue to reign supreme over us.” He raises his glass. “But once in a while, I beg you allow your men, who are so often at your feet, to lead you in more than a dance.” He cocks an eyebrow in my direction before looking back at the guests. “You might like it.”

  Everyone laughs but me, because he is right.

  And it’s erotic, confusing, hot...anything but funny.

  I do clink his glass with mine, though, and tell them all “Indeed” before taking a long slug of my champagne.

  His eyes remain focused on mine, and our fingertips touch at our sides.

  A few of the guests whistle while the rest of them follow me in clinking their glasses and toasting women who allow their desperate men, in certain circumstances, to be in control.

  As Bryce and I sit, he threads his fingers through mine.

  With my focus still on him, and his still on me, something clicks inside.

  A kind of understanding.

  A kind of connection.

  No longer is he a sexual predator; he’s a lonely man, perhaps cut off from intimacy by his immense wealth and a desire to control a woman sexually.

  And although that sounds like the beginnings of a rape charge, he turned out to be anything but brutal.

  Fact is, the woman deep down inside me, the woman I had yet to meet, enjoyed being submissive.

  No, she loved it, as he had predicted.

  I whisper, “Thank you, Bryce.”

  “You’re welcome,” he states, almost like he expected the words to fall from my mouth.

  He kisses me chastely...such a soft show of intimacy, especially in public. I even thought I imagined it, until I see my red lipstick is on his mouth.

  I reach up to wipe it off with my napkin, but he catches my hand and whispers in my ear, “Wish you’d been wearing this on your lips when you had my meat in your mouth.”

  My body throbs, and my cheeks burn.

  He wipes his mouth on my napkin, wearing the wickedest grin imaginable before looking up at his guests and laughing casually, as if nothing is happening.

  Feeling like I’d run through a haunted house in a fairground only to turn up in a fairy tale, my head spins.