Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(124)

Then he pulled me up off the seat. His finger popped out of my mouth and his hand reached behind my back, pulling me forward. His other hand grabbed my rear and he lifted me into his lap. I sat there with one knee pressed against the crotch of his pants, that foot dangling below the front of the seat, and my other leg bent and pressing against his hip, my shin touching warm leather. He pulled me closer, his hand cupping my rear and squeezing hard while his other hand reached around towards the clasp of my bra, pressing me forward so my chest rubbed against his shirt.

“Put one arm around my neck,” he said.

As fast as possible, I did as he asked. My hand cupped the back of his neck, my arm resting on his shoulder. “Yes,” I said.

“Your other hand,” he said, breathing heavily. “Touch my upper arm. By my bicep.”

I did. I squeezed his arm tight, pulled myself forward. I needed and wanted him so badly. I ground my crotch against his thigh, up and down, blazing a trail for my pleasure. Asher squeezed my ass harder, pulling me closer so that I couldn’t grind against him as easily, but oh, oh I tried. Back and forth, rubbing, desperately desiring him.

The car came to a stop. No interruptions, though. Jeremy, the driver, parked the car, turned it off, opened the door, stepped out, closed the door, then left. I waited, pausing, thinking Asher and I would be interrupted at any moment and having no idea how to explain this to anyone, but none of that happened.

I breathed in and out quietly then looked at him, a faint smirk on my face. I’d won, hadn’t I? We were alone now, completely alone, and he had me in a compromising position. So easy, he could do with me what he wanted and I would never object and no one would ever know.#p#分页标题#e#

Except he didn’t. He looked at me, smiling. “You’re a wonderful model, but you move too much, Jessika. Also,” he added, “I wish I could take a picture of you in this position, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.”

I looked down. I couldn’t see everything, but… my fucking god, this was erotic!

I didn’t have a perfect body, far from it, but I did try to keep in shape. My soft stomach looked so flat like this as he held onto my rear with one hand and made me arch my back with the other. My thighs were curvy and seductive, one of them curled against the side of his body while the other pressed into his crotch. And my arms, my chest; we looked like a couple in the midst of intimacy. Now we should get intimate, I thought. I was no photographer, but we should take advantage of this opportunity presented to us, right?

Asher lifted me off his lap and dumped me on the seat. With a pleasant smile, he opened the door to the car and let himself out. I sat there, staring at him, dumbfounded. Was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” I said. Yes, yes, I was coming. I looked around, found my clothes, and scrambled to put them back on.

“No need,” he said. “We’re in a garage. No one is around. It’ll be easier to resume modeling if you remain like that. Those are the kind of pictures you want, right?”

Did I? To be honest, I didn’t even want pictures at all. I wanted him to undress me, touch me, explore me with his fingers so I could leave a lasting impression in his mind. I wanted him to picture me, us, all of it together, but I didn’t necessarily want him to take pictures of me. I didn’t not want him to, but…

“Yes,” I said. Clutching my clothes against my chest, I slid across the seat towards the open car door and the garage.

Just as Asher said, no one was here. Jeremy left to who knew where, and besides that the garage was dim and empty. A smaller building that could fit three cars at the most, with smooth concrete floors and a pair of fluorescent lights overhead. My high heels clicked on the floor when I first stepped out of the car. Asher offered me his hand to help me stand and I took it with a smile.

He pulled me towards him, leading me to the doorway into the house. His guest house, he said. When we entered, it looked exactly, and nothing, like I imagined.

A guest house, in my mind, was a smaller affair. Perhaps a main room with a kitchen to the side, then stairs leading up to a bedroom or two. Modest, and simple, for the comfort of guests. Asher’s guest house was far more extravagant than that. I expected this, figured it would be that way, but it still came as somewhat of a surprise.

The first floor, the door we entered through, was a large, wide open living room-styled area. The walls were close to nonexistent(at least in a typical sense), with windows that went from floor to ceiling, save for a few scant inches of actual solid wall at the very tops and bottoms. In front of us, built into the only regular wall, was a fireplace. Unlit now, but upon seeing me staring at it, Asher flicked a switch on the wall and the hearth flared to life. Gas-powered flames roared up out of a heap of faux-logs, dancing back and forth behind shaded glass.