Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(159)

Asher stopped. He got off of me, rose to his feet, and paced on the carpet around the couch, fretting. I lay there, legs splayed wide and on perverse display, my babydoll bunched up with one of my breasts slipping out of the top. My visible nipple was hard as a rock and poking straight up and at Asher.

“Get off the couch,” he said, as quick as that. “On your knees.”

“What?” I asked.

He repeated himself. “Off the couch. On your knees. Put your hands behind your head.”

Odd, that, but I scrambled to do it. I lunged off the couch and landed by his feet. Kneeling, sitting on my heels, I put my hands behind my head and looked up at him.

He grabbed my chin between his fingers and inspected me, turning my head side to side, this way and that.

“How do you feel right now?” he asked me.

I scrunched up my brow. “What do you want me to say?” I asked.

“Tell me the truth. Tell me how you feel.”

“Asher, I’m really horny,” I said. Shy, confused, I added, “I don’t mean to be and I’m sorry if…”

He smiled. “Shh. No, that’s good.”

I wanted to say more, was just about to, but his hand reached down and grabbed my breast. He squeezed it in his hand and I moaned aloud, excited. His fingers grabbed the curves of my breast, then inwards to my nipple. Pressing my nipple between his index finger and thumb, he tweaked it lightly, then twisted it around. Not hard at first, just a little, then harder, harder, until I rocked forward, almost rose from my knees, and…

“Stay on your knees,” he said, his tone calm.

“I…” I gasped.

“Shh,” he said. “Jessika, stay on your knees. Don’t get up.”

I buckled down and remained kneeling. He twisted my nipple harder now, but slowly, gently. So sensitive and soft, just a little nub of flesh. Pleasant at first touch, but ever-so-slowly becoming streaked with pain. I couldn’t think, had no idea what he was doing, but I stayed kneeling because I didn’t want him to stop.

Or, it wasn’t that I didn’t want him to stop, per se, but I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I didn’t want him to regret this, to regret kissing me, touching me. I saw him before, saw the look in his eyes, heard the disappointment in his voice. When we slept together, somewhat on accident after he took pictures of me, he seemed distraught. Unsure what to do, not sure why he’d done it, and I didn’t want him to feel that way again.

So, if this was what I needed to do, if this was how I could keep Asher from feeling guilty, I would do it. His fingers squeezed slightly, twisting my nipple further, but I remained steadfast on the floor. My knees quivered and I imagined something else entirely. Asher’s mouth around my breast, tongue caressing my nipple, soft, luxurious.

Everything stopped and I realized his hand wasn’t on my breast anymore. I looked up at him, smiling. He smiled back.

“Very good,” he said.

“Thanks, but…” A thought came to me. “Is this some kind of bondage thing, Asher? I really don’t understand that stuff, to be honest.”

“I don’t think it is,” he said. “I don’t know. Do you want me to tie you up?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to tie me up?” I asked, coy.

We had no rope. He used his belt. “Put your hands behind your back,” he said. “Tight together.”

I did as he asked.

“Stand.”

I stood.

He circled his belt around my body, trapping my arms behind my back. Tightening the belt until I couldn’t move my arms, he twisted it around so that the buckle was behind me, then he latched the belt buckle and admired his work.

“Can you move your arms?” he asked.

I tried to move them, to wriggle them free. I thought I could if I had enough time, but as it was I was rather firmly stuck. “Not really. Not much,” I said. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

I paused, regretting what I needed to say. “Asher… we probably shouldn’t do this. Beatrice, and…”

“We had an argument,” he said. “I… I know that’s not a good reason for anything, but she’s so difficult. You were there tonight. She listens to me, but… she doesn’t. There is never a compromise with Beatrice. It’s always a battle and she never gives in. I… I just want…”

“What do you want?” I asked. “What do you feel?”

He grinned. “A turnabout, hm? I don’t think I can say. You won’t like it.”

“Try me,” I said, defiant. I lifted my chin and stared at him.



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