The Billionaire's Payment (BBW Erotic Romance) Page 2

  I had come willingly, but I had come with a plan. Unbeknown to my parents I have the key to a safety deposit box and a diamond choker that the Sultan of Brunei had given to my grandmother at the premiere of her most critically acclaimed movie. My grandfather’s nose had been put completely out of joint and he had threatened to toss the choker into a bin. My grandmother had kept it in a separate safety deposit box to appease him, but the day after my eighteenth birthday she had taken me to the holding company and shown me the exquisite piece of jewellery. She’d fastened it around her throat and caressed it lovingly. It had sunk into the folds of her lined neck, but I could have imagined her as a younger woman and how regal she must have looked in it. Then she surprised me by placing it around my neck. She and I always had played a game where she was queen and I was a princess, so I raised my chin and acted like I was royalty. She nodded in approval, took it off and carefully re-mounted it onto its black velvet rest. When she handed me the key and told me it was mine, I was stunned. I started to protest, but she’d hushed me saying that on her death my mother could have every other piece of jewellery she owned, but not that one.

  If I sold it I could repay the money my father owed Jared and have enough left over for the next stage of my plan. I had come to reason with Jared, to explain matters to him and ask for his help. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I would take one look at him, throw my carefully thought-out plan through the window and thank God that my father had stolen his money!

  Jared had become more and more elusive as his wealth had increased, until frustrated paparazzi had dubbed him ‘The Phantom Billionaire’. He travelled around the world only in his private plane, didn’t socialize and rarely ate in public—reputedly poaching world-class chefs from top restaurants and dining in rather than out. There had been a rumour circulating that he had suffered severe facial injuries when a truck had ploughed into his limousine on the M25 motorway a few years prior. My father had told me that the accident had occurred, but Jared had suffered only a few superficial cuts and bruises.

  I hadn’t known what to expect. I knew that he was eleven years older and that he was tall, sandy haired and blue eyed. I’d known nothing else.

  What I found when I had lifted my eyes to meet his was a man in the very prime of his life—a real life prince who looked almost exactly like the drawing of the prince who had kissed Sleeping Beauty awake in the fairytale.

  For the last five years I have felt removed from life, experiencing it at a distance, shielding myself from pleasure, fearing the pain that too often accompanied it.

  I often felt as though I’m asleep.

  And now like Sleeping Beauty, I’d found a prince to awaken me.

  ***

  She re-entered the room naked but for the sari draped across one shoulder and trailing behind her. Looking nervous, she stood a few metres away, her eyes not meeting his gaze. Through the material Jared could see that her breasts were every bit as magnificent as he had hoped.

  “Let the sari go, sweetheart.” He was surprised at the huskiness of his voice.

  Taking a deep breath, which pressed her nipples tantalizingly against the material for a brief second, she let go the end of the garment and let it slip to the floor. With a touch of defiance, she raised her head and gazed back at him.

  Jared had prepared himself for the sight of her naked breasts. The material of the sari was almost translucent and the sides of them had peeped out tantalizingly, but naked they were simply magnificent. Proudly defying every law of gravity, they sat on her ribcage, firm and tip tilted, like offerings to the gods. Her nipples weren’t dark as he’d expected, but a beautiful tawny colour.

  He forced his eyes downward to her stomach where a simple heart-shaped ruby lay nestled in the small hollow of her navel. Pierced navels were commonplace. He didn’t have a preference one way or the other, but the thought of her navel, the very source of life, hidden beneath the jewel made him want to move it aside and bury his tongue deeply into the slight indentation.

  She tried to cross her legs to conceal her jet black pubic curls from him, but she was only partially successful. He hadn’t seen pubic hair on a woman in years—not in the flesh anyway—and he found the sight oddly arousing. He liked the women he slept with to be cleanly shaven, always worried that there could be little creatures living happily in any damp, moist, hairy environment. He had even on occasion shaved a woman who hadn’t been cropped close enough for his liking, but he loved old porn movies and got fiercely aroused by a woman with a full thatch of pubic hair. The sight of Shakira’s silky black hairs made the blood rush to his cock with such a fury, it left him light headed.

  Yet, though his sudden erection was painful, he surprisingly didn’t feel the need to attack her like a rabid beast.

  He wanted to press sweet, soft kisses against her trembling wide mouth and reassure her that all would be well…strange because he rarely kissed women. He appreciated them going down on him, but didn’t appreciate the thought that they had gone down on other men before him.

  He wanted to make gentle, tender love to her…even stranger because he always fucked women. Fucked them hard as they screamed his name and told him how brilliant a lover he was, how big and sweet and hard his cock was, and how tasty his cum…all in anticipation of the expensive trinket he would later give them.

  She was awakening needs in him that were alien.

  It was worrying and exhilarating.

  “Come here to me,” he commanded softly. He could have gone to her and swept her off her feet, but he wanted her to feel some measure of control, to consciously bridge the gap between them.

  She walked slowly over to him, her breasts and hips swaying rhythmically with each step. All at once he understood why men in ancient times worshipped Rubenesque women. The movement of her hips was as old as time itself—and far sexier to him than the practised sashaying walk of supermodels on catwalks. Her hips looked capable of bearing his children naturally and effortlessly. The thought made him want to plant his seed deep inside her and watch it grow from the outside.

  He shook his head to clear it and slid his hands up her goose-bumped arms to warm them as she finally drew close enough for him to touch her.

  “Don’t be afraid of me, sweetheart. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  He would, of course, when he took her virginity, but he would try to do so as painlessly as possible.

  She raised her chin and gazed up at him, her eyes so trusting his heart clenched. He knew that whatever happened he couldn’t seduce her against her will.

  What the hell’s wrong with me? Annoyed with the tender feelings she created inside him, Jared sought to regain control of himself and the situation. Cupping her breasts, he held her gaze as he thumbed her nipples. The only other times breasts had overfilled his large hands like this, they had been implants which had moved unnaturally and separated from the breast tissue when moulded. Hers were beautifully solid masses and moulded to perfection, the nipples peaking magnificently at his touch.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, her eyes softened and then closed in ecstasy as he applied a firmer touch.

  “Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  She obeyed him instantly, her eyes looking dazed as though she was high on drugs or alcohol as he continued to tease her nipples.

  “Have you let another man touch these?” His hands tightened on her flesh at the thought.

  She was his!

  “No,” she denied, her dazed eyes meeting his squarely.

  God, it was such a rush to watch her come undone by the simple touch of his fingers.

  “You like this?” He pressed them a little more firmly.

  “Yes-ss,” she moaned

  “And this?” He bent and took a nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue and teeth.

  “Oh. Oh. Yes. Please, don’t stop!”

  Her hand came up to cradle his head as he pulled the nipple deeper into his mouth and sucked on it. Her moans gre
w louder as he pulled and nipped. He must be the first man to ever touch her breasts—unless she had the world’s most sensitive nipples. He had never seen a woman react so strongly to a little nipple sucking and teasing. She pressed her hips against his, seeking with an instinct that was engrained on strands of her DNA, the part of him that would give her even more pleasure. The part that would make her soar and then finally end her torment.

  Luckily Jared had such a part.

  Swinging her up in his arms he marched out of his office, down the corridor and into his bedroom. He needed to be comfortable for all he wanted to do to her.

  She started when he bent and laid her against the softness of the high-count Egyptian cotton sheet on the bed.

  “Relax, sweetheart. We need to be comfortable so I can pleasure you. I will give you so much you’ll forget your own name,” he promised. Quickly stripping down to his boxers, he lay down beside her and kissed her closed lips softly. “Just tell me if I do anything that hurts.

  She parted her lips as he drew away and Jared immediately accepted the invitation, plunging his tongue into her mouth as he brought his hand up to cover her left breast.

  “You have the sexiest breasts I’ve ever seen,” he groaned as he broke the kiss to watch as her nipple responded readily to his handling. He plucked it as he did his guitar strings late at night when no one could hear him. “So beautiful and so responsive.” He could probably make her come by just playing with her nipples, he thought, and wet his fingers. Then he increased the pressure until she was gasping. “Tell me what you’re feeling, sweetheart. Tell me if you want more or less…harder or softer.”

  That was all the warning he gave her before he bent his head and fastened his lips tight on her right nipple.

  “Oh God, Jared, that feels so good!”

  He synchronized the tweaking of his fingers and the tugging of his lips, knowing that it would feel to her that she had a pair of lips on each nipple. He almost smiled when he increased the intensity and she lifted her hips off the bed and began circling them. Rather than let up, Jared turned up the intensity a notch and involuntarily she lifted her hands to the junction of her thighs. He watched avidly waiting to see her plunge one or two of her slim fingers into her pussy and soothe the ache he was creating there. Instead her hand hovered above her groin for a few moments, before she started to clench and unclench her fist.

  Has she never played with herself before?

  Jared was already convinced that she was a virgin. Her responses all indicated that she hadn’t been with a man before. But surely she had pleasured herself? Surely she had stuck one or several fingers into her pussy and made herself come?

  “Finger yourself,” he instructed, abandoning her nipple only to say the words and reattaching his lips. Perhaps she was too shy to do it in his presence.

  “Finger myself?”

  The uncertainty in her voice raised the hair at Jared’s nape. He swung his gaze around to confirm what his senses were trying to tell him but his head didn’t believe.

  “You haven’t touched yourself before?”

  “Only to wash,” she replied, a blush staining her cheeks.

  Jared had thought his erection was fuller than it had ever been before—full enough to burst the skin—but it got even harder at the thought that Shakira was not only virginal, she was untouched by hands, even her own.

  Just like Nyla had been.

  Nyla, his girlfriend for most of his three years at university.

  Nyla, whom he hadn’t thought of since.

  The hurt had been too deep when she had chosen to deny their love rather than face her family with the truth. Yet, he’d never doubted that she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her. She had demonstrated that love by giving him the only virginity she could—her anal virginity—while keeping herself intact for the fellow Pakistani husband her parents had chosen for her.

  She’d told him that they would never see each other again after they parted the final day of their last semester, but he hadn’t believed her. He couldn’t forget her that easily, so how could she possibly forget him? He’d waited for her to call, knowing that he couldn’t risk calling her and getting her into trouble with her very strict parents. He had broken down and called, after a week spent with friends who were celebrating the end of university life and too drunk to notice that he was present in body and not in spirit, only to discover that her mobile phone had been disconnected. He’d immediately jumped into his car and blazed around to the address she had reluctantly given to him when he had insisted on having it. He’d had a hard time convincing the burly gay man who had opened the door that he had come to see his girlfriend and not the man’s good-looking, boyish lover.

  Nyla had obviously sensed his relentlessness even at that age and known that he would try to follow or contact her despite her begging him not to. At the time it had felt that she had carelessly and needlessly ripped both of their hearts to shreds for familial obligation. Older and wiser now, Jared understood the monumental sacrifice he’d been asking her to make. She would have been ostracized by her family…even killed, if the media was to be believed. They both could have been.

  They looked nothing alike and yet Shakira reminded him so much of his former girlfriend.

  I hope you’re happy wherever you are.

  With those silent words Jared let go of the final remnants of pain of losing Nyla.

  Because now, for the first time since he’d lost her, he’d found someone who made his protective instincts war with his raging lust. No other woman had done that since Nyla. He fucked them ruthlessly and dispassionately, and gave them expensive gifts instead of affection. That didn’t stop them from trying to heal the hurt they sensed in him.

  He secretly laughed at their efforts to thaw his frozen heart.

  No woman was strong enough to break through the thick layers of ice, he’d thought.

  Then Shakira walked through the door and he felt the drip as it started to melt.

  Chapter Four

  I don’t know what just happened. One minute Jared was sucking hard on my right nipple and tugging the left with his fingers. Now he was looking at me as though I had two heads. It was probably a good thing that he stopped playing with my nipples because it felt like there was a string or some kind of nerve running from my nipples to between my legs. Every time he pulled I felt myself getting wetter and wetter. I was beginning to get worried that I would wet his sheets and they looked expensive.

  Should I have lied and said I touched myself?

  “Let’s have a shower together.” He got off the bed and reached out a hand to me.

  “But I—”

  Oh God, did I have a smell? I’d made sure that I’d had a bath less than an hour before I left the house. And had sneakily used my mother’s Chanel No5 as she hadn’t been in the house.

  “You smell gorgeous.” Jared came closer and placed a kiss on my neck. “But I want to smell and taste the real you.”

  “Oh.” Relieved I gave him my hand and let him pull me to my feet.

  His bathroom was like something out of a Hollywood movie with a large, sunken bath that could probably hold six people and a double shower unit.

  “The steam room, sauna and Jacuzzi are through there.” He pointed to the door on the left. “We’ll try out them tomorrow,” he promised.

  A Jacuzzi! My grandparents had had a beautiful Jacuzzi in their Hampstead home and I used to spend hours in it. Heaven!

  “I just need to trim you.”

  “No!” I held my head and backed away from him. My mother had convinced me to cut it à la Audrey Hepburn for my eighteenth birthday, but it hadn’t suited me. My grandmother had sworn that my mother had done it out of spite because my hair was longer than hers at the time, but I’m not sure if that was true. I had been trying to grow it back ever since. It was now midway down my back.

  “Not the hair on your head, sweetie.” Jared laughed as he grasped my waist and placed me on the cool marble surface ne
xt to the wash basin. He pushed me gently backwards until I was resting on my elbows.

  “Oh.” I felt my face redden as he placed my feet up on the edge and exposed me to his gaze.

  “I love this.” He entwined his fingers in my curls. “But we can both get serious cuts if we’re not careful. I’m going to trim the area between your legs and leave the top as it is.”

  I hadn’t ever trimmed my hair or shaved. My mother wasn’t the kind you asked those sorts of question. But even if she was, my father hadn’t told her about me spending time with Jared. She thought that I had finally kicked my depression and was off to spend the week with a friend from college. She hadn’t even asked which one.

  I gazed around the bathroom as he took out a pair of slightly-curved and very sharp scissors and got to work. The grey bathroom fittings were the exact shade as in the grey and white marble. It was a very masculine bathroom, but I liked it.

  “Now, let’s have that shower.” Jared placed the scissors next to the sink and reached into the cabinet for a body polisher and two clear plastic bottles: one filled with conditioning shampoo and the other shower gel.

  “Shouldn’t I clean that up?” I asked as he started towards the shower, leaving the mess.

  “Ambrose will take care of it,” he said dismissively and pulled me along.

  “Won’t he know it’s pubic—?” The hairs were jet black instead of the dark brown on my head. My face burned at the thought of the man brushing them up, knowing where they had come from.

  “It’s none of his concern.” Jared’s cold authoritative voice sent a shiver through me. I’d almost forgotten who he was.

  He stepped out of his boxers and I couldn’t help the gasp of surprise that escaped me. His penis wasn’t erect and it wasn’t long, but I doubted that I could get the fingers of one hand closed around it.

  “People always go on about length.” He laughed as he opened the shower door and motioned me inside. “But as many women will tell you—girth can be even more satisfying.”