by Lexi Jordan
Enthralled by a Billionaire
Lexi Jordan
Published by Forbidden Lust
Copyright © 2015
Emma stood in front of the Art building with a double mocha latte rattling in her hand. The first day of school set the pace for the entire year. Her freshman year of high school had been a disaster all because she made a poor first impression on the new kids she met. She'd worn old clothes handed down from her brother. Her hair had been in a plain pony tail and she hadn't bothered with make-up. The girls from neighboring middle schools shunned her on the first day, and the few friends she'd had in middle school followed their lead. Freshman year was incredibly lonely for her. The following summer she got a part time job so she could buy some name-brand clothes. She spent the summer flipping through fashion magazines, learning how to do make-up and studying the lives of celebrities she couldn't have cared less about and it worked. Sophomore year she was accepted into the pack, and while she was never popular, she at least wasn't unpopular.
College was a new start and Emma was determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past. She and Reggie, her stylist and personal shopper, picked out her entire wardrobe for school. She decided on a style of simple, comfortable clothes that were tasteful and expensive. For her first day she wore a pleated skirt, with a matching jacket and wedged sandals. She had Casey, her make-up artist, teach her how to airbrush on her foundation. Never again would people judge Emma for not having much money, Dylan had seen to that.
Emma braced herself and entered the air-conditioned building. She had no trouble finding her class—a studio on the top floor. At the head of the room was the teacher’s desk and the rest of the room was filled with easels set up in a half moon facing the desk. Long tables ran along the wall under the large windows where light poured in.
A man that Emma recognized as Clay Forrester, the famous artist and teacher of the most important class she'd ever take, rose from his desk and walked towards her extending his hand, "Ms. Cobb? I'm Clay Forrester, it's a pleasure to..."
Emma's wedged sandal scuffed across the linoleum floor. Such a small thing, not even a trip really. She regained her balance almost immediately, but that small jerk was enough. The contents of her cup knocked off the no-spill top and went flying through the air, leaving a brown strip down the face and chest of her idol.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry." Emma dropped the cup and began rubbing her double mocha latte up and down Mr. Forrester's chest as if her hand could somehow soak up the mess she'd made.
Mr. Forrester took a step back, shaking off what liquid he could. "It's fine Ms. Cobb. I'll just go borrow something to wear." He turned to the class which was a mixture of people trying to hide their laughing and those who laughed without trying to hide it. "I'll be right back. Why don't you take a seat Ms. Cobb."
Emma picked the stool in the furthest corner of the room. She wanted nothing more than to curl up and vanish. A dark haired girl with purple highlights, goth makeup, and an eyebrow piercing leaned over to her and said, "Wow Princess, I bet this is the worst day of your life."
While not the worst, it definitely had reached the top ten. "Princess?"
"Yeah, did your dad discover oil or something in his backyard?"
Emma's brow furrowed. "No, my father's a farmer."
"Yeah, right. More like CEO of Monsanto. Who do you think you're fooling? I can tell you're a freshmen because you have that new freshman smell, yet you're in one of the most advanced classes at the University. The rest of us had to present a portfolio and interview to be in this class, but Clay doesn't know you, which means you didn't have to interview. What happened? Did Daddy write a fat check and get you in here?"
While the rest of her classes were in the 100s, this one was 478, Emma assumed it had something with it not being a general studies class like Math or English, she had no clue the kind of strings Dylan had pulled for her.
"I told you already. My father's a farmer. I'm independently wealthy." With the million dollars Dylan had given her, this statement was true enough. Plus, she didn't like the way this girl looked at her. Her eyes glimmered with judgment.
"Independently wealth, huh? Well, good to know."
Mr. Forrester came back to class wearing a campus T-shirt that looked completely out of place on him. He gave a speech about how art was about revealing one's soul and good art was about revealing those parts we’re ashamed of. "For your first assignment, I want you to paint anything you want, in any style you want. But what you choose should tell me and everyone else in the room about who you are."
Emma stared at the blank canvas in front of her. She looked around the room and everyone was hard at work. Most of the paintings were dark, gloomy, troubling. Emma figured she should paint something dark too. That she should blend in and hopefully everyone would soon forget she wasn't there because of her merit and had doused a legend in sugary coffee.
But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't paint anything light either. All she could think about was how everyone else in that room had fought and earned their right to be there and hers was just handed to her. Not because of who she was, but because of who she was sleeping with. Time ticked by and Emma just sat in the back of the room staring at her blank canvas. Two and a half hours had passed and class was almost over.
Mr. Forrester walked around and examined people's paintings. For some paintings he just nodded, other paintings he offered suggestions, and others he asked questions. When he reached Goth Girl, he asked, “And what did you create today Ms. Silvetti.”
Goth Girl growled. “I asked you to call me Violet. I’m my own realized person, not the property of my parents.”
“Forgive me, Violet.” He took in her painting of a cloudy, starless night and a little girl with dead eyes holding a bloody knife and asked, "Is this really the part of yourself you hide from the world, or the part of yourself you use to disguise the parts you hide?" Violet opened her mouth to answer, but he held up a hand and said, "No, just think about it.”
When he reached Emma, he cocked his head to the side, "Did you not understand the assignment, Ms. Cobb?"
"No. I understood. The more I thought about it, the more I realized there was nothing I could paint. I'm just starting out. I'm not sure who I am yet, a prude or a perv, brilliant or ordinary, a princess or a peasant. So I can't tell you what I'm made of because I don't know myself."
"Very interesting, Ms. Cobb."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, you're so deep. I bet you're a cutter." Violet raised her voice an octave higher. "I'm so lost and confused." She batted her eyes. "I don't know who I am. My rich daddy hasn't told me who I'm to marry yet."
While most of the class laughed, Mr. Forrester was not impressed. "Ms. Silvetti, please leave my classroom, and don't come back until you've learned how to treat your classmates with respect."
Violet snatched up her bag and stomped from the room with a huff, slamming the door behind her. The rest of the class quieted down and straightened in their seats. Mr. Forrester assigned some reading and dismissed the class.
Emma couldn't have imagined her day coming to a more tragic start. She didn't want to go to the rest of her classes. All she really wanted to do was curl up next to Dylan and forget about this whole college thing. Was that who she was? No. She resolved herself to do better the rest of the day, she wouldn’t lay her hands on another spillable drink except at lunch time and she'd do her best to seem competent, not whiney or spoiled, in the rest of her classes. A task made much easier with the loss of Violet. There would be no one standing there and mocking her anymore.
Dylan had been working a lot lately. She knew he wouldn't be there when she got home, and all she wanted was for him
to make her forget. The way he did with every glance, every kiss. He made the world seem insignificant. Part of the reason he'd been working so much was because how far behind he fell when she first moved in. She promised herself she wouldn't disturb him, but she couldn't help herself. What was wrong with a little text? It wouldn't even take minute to read. She pulled out her phone and messaged him, "Missing you so much."
He texted back, "How's school?"
"Dreadful. I can't wait for it to be over."
"Want me to take a long lunch and meet you at campus?"
As much as she wanted to let him work, she also wanted to see him. A lunch date would make her feel better and help her get through the rest of the day. "Sure. My next class ends at 1."
"See you then."
Emma hugged the phone to her chest. She was so glad to have Dylan.
She headed off to her next class. Intro to Philosophy went by uneventfully and Emma spent most of the class watching the clock. After class, Emma headed to the parking lot near the quad and spotted Dylan's car right away, a luxury sedan with tinted windows that he usually used when he was driving himself instead of Jamal driving.
Emma opened the door and climbed in. She leaned over the divider and kissed Dylan.
"So, what do you want for lunch?"
Emma was so wound up, the last thing she wanted to do was sit at some expensive restaurant pretending to be prim and proper. "Anything with a drive-thru, I don't want to get out the car."
Dylan quirked a brow but then said, "If that's what you want."
Thirty minutes later they were parked on top of a cliff overlooking the city eating burgers and drinking milkshakes. Emma relayed the entire Art room saga, noticing his frown from the corner of her eye when she got to the part about not being anything yet.
"I'm sorry. I asked Clay to let you in the class because I thought you'd enjoy it. If it's making you feel that bad, you should just drop it."
Emma shook her head. "You don't get it. I can't drop it. People like me don't get chances like that. And if I just toss it away, it seems downright ungrateful, don't it?"
They had finished their food. Dylan reached over and pulled Emma into his lap. "I don't know. I just want you to be happy. What would make you happy?"
"If I could make it through the rest of the day without making a damn fool of myself."
"Your problem is you're overthinking everything. You're too worried and that's what's tripping you up. What you need is a distraction. Something to focus on so you can relax and enjoy school."
Emma rubbed her thighs together as heat built between them. "And what kind of distraction would you suggest?"
Dylan cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her. "Give me a minute I'm sure I can come up with something."
Dylan’s kisses were heavenly. The passion in his eyes, the skill of his hands and the clean scent of his aftershave all worked together to send Emma into a tizzy.
She undid his belt and pants with one hand. She’d gotten quite good at undressing him. By the time she’d worked her hand into his boxers to grasp him, he was already hard for her. She pulled his cock out, and then slid off his lap so she could run her tongue teasingly across the tip. With his seat all the way back, she fit easily between his legs. Dylan let out a small sound which Emma could only describe as a whimper. His hips thrust, shoving his engorged member in her face. She gave him another teasing lick and then grinned at him.
Dylan slid his fingers under her layers of chestnut curls, running them across her scalp in a way that felt too good for words. Then he made a fist, grabbing her hair at the base. The other hand he wrapped around his cock and made sure it found its way into her wide open mouth.
She ran her tongue along his length as his pushed deeper down her throat. She had no trouble taking all of him and eagerly slurped and sucked as he fucked her face. Her French manicured nails dug into his thighs as her head bobbed on his cock. His muted cries of pleasure, which came out more like hissing than groaning, made her pussy ache for what her mouth had.
She pushed against him, trying to sit up and he released her. Panting, he watched her as she pulled off her wet panties and tossed them in the back seat. She straddled him, her back against the wheel as she lowered herself on his hardness. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rode him slowly, pressing their lips together in soft sweet kisses.
He grabbed her hips, pushing her into him, trying to increase her pace. She could tell he wanted more, something harder, faster, but the slower she went, the longer she could enjoy him inside her. The longer she could stay in that wonderful place where no one existed but them. Reality sucked, she wanted to live in bliss.
She buried her face against his neck, inhaling deeply. With her lips fluttering against his neck as she spoke, she whispered, “I love you…Master.”
A moment later, she was on her back, across the car seats with Dylan thrusting into her like a mad bull. “Oww, owww, owww…” She complained with each thrust.
Dylan stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“My ass is on your seatbelt.” Emma wiggled around, but there was no comfort to be found across the front seats of his car.
Dylan opened the driver side door and stepped out of the car. He took Emma’s hand and helped her out. She assumed they were going to get into the back, but instead he lifted her and sat her on the hood of the car.
Before she could think of objecting, his face was already under her skirt. His tongue lapped at her pussy, sending her towards a state of total surrender. As he lifted her thighs higher and higher, his mouth pressed harder and harder against her wetness. She reclined across the car. Her head lolled to the side and she could see half the city sprawled out in front of her ass his tongue sent her spiraling. She thought he was going to fuck her again, but even as the tremble of her thighs and her gasps of pleasure made it obvious she was going to come soon, he didn’t stop. He continued to suck her clit and fuck her with his tongue until she was thrashing against the car hood. Her wetness ran from her pussy, across her ass and pooling on the exterior.
After she stopped shaking, he stood up. He pushed her thighs to her chest bending her in half. She wrapped her arms behind her knees to hold the position he was putting her in. He dragged her to the very edge of the car. This wasn’t the first time he’d fucked her right after making her come. He loved to watch her lose her mind from the intensity of coming again and again without mercy.
Dylan rubbed the head of his cock against her wetness but didn’t go in. Instead his positioned himself at her asshole, while pressing her thighs further apart, forcing her ass higher in the air. Slowly, he pushed inside her ass using her own juices as lube until he was in to the hilt. She loved when he fucked her ass. There was something about it that made her feel dirty. Used. His.
He grabbed her by her ankles, holding her in place as he thrust into her tight ass. She arched her back, her hand finding her swollen numb as he took her on the car. A midday breeze made her shiver. Here they were. Nothing over them but clouds, with trees all around. Anyone could be watching from the bushes. She imagined looking through the eyes of those voyeuristic strangers as they watched her being taken on a car, in public, for anyone to see. With only a glance they’d know, she was his, mind and body. They’d look at the rapture on his face and know she meant the world to him. No one else could make him feel like this. No one else would be willing to do anything to make him this happy.
Emma could tell Dylan was close and so she rubbed her clit faster, determined to come one more time before he finished. “Oh please Master, fill me with your cum.”
Dylan’s eyes flung open and Emma realized what she just said. She couldn’t help it though. With him there was no shame, no pretense. Just passion. Uncontrollable, undeniable passion that threatened to consume them both. He’s movements became erratic, and with one final slam, he let loose, filling her as with jet after jet of his hot seed. At the same time, she reached her peak, her body stiffening, as she called out his name.
Emma clasped her hands together. “Some wet-wipes and a clean pair of panties?”
“Better.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s at the top of my wish list right now.”
Dylan laughed. He pulled a velvet box out of the driver’s compartment.
“Jewelry?” Emma appreciated the thought, but she was never a big jewelry wearer. Even if her collar hadn’t been diamond encrusted, she would still love it.
“Well, it’s something you wear. I told you, that you needed to be distracted so you won’t overthink everything.”
“Yeah…and then we had sex on your car…”
“Oh, that wasn’t the distraction. That was a lunch date.”
Emma rolled her eyes, smiling. “So what’s in the box.”
He opened it and presented her with two small silver balls. “They are called Ben Wa balls.”
“Are they like stress balls?”
“Sorta.”
Dylan took the balls into his hand and reached between her legs.
Her eyes went wide as he pushed the first one inside her. “You have to be kidding! That’s not really where those things go.”
“Trust me. By the end of the day you’ll be so relaxed, you’ll be butter.”
Emma sighed. She only had one more class left and she couldn’t imagine it being much worse than wearing a tampon. A cold, metal tampon… She leaned over the seat to fish her panties out the back and Dylan smacked her bare ass.
She yelped. “What?”
“I’m keeping the panties.”
“But what if these things fall out? They are small, and I’m…slippery and stretched.”
Dylan groaned.
Emma planted her butt in the seat before she learned what it felt like to be fucked with Ben Wa balls inside her. “Fine. No panties. Get me back to campus before I’m late.”
Walking with the Ben Wa balls in was unbearable. They threatened to fall out with each step she took and she was sure people could hear them clinking inside her as she moved. She had no idea why Dylan had assumed this would relax her. She was the opposite of relaxed.