His Absolute Authority: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #3)

by du Lys, Cerys

  His Absolute Authority: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #3)

  Cerys du Lys

  Published by Cerys du Lys, 2014.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  HIS ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY: A SCANDALOUS BILLIONAIRE LOVE STORY (JESSIKA, #3)

  First edition. November 19, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Cerys du Lys.

  Written by Cerys du Lys.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Foreword

  His Absolute Authority

  Bonus Scene

  A Note from Cerys

  Sample (Sweet)

  Sample (Spice)

  Other Writing by Cerys du Lys

  About the Author

  Afterwords

  Foreword

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  Previous books in the Jessika's Love Story series:

  His Absolute Arrangement

  His Absolute Insistence

  Books in the Elise's Love Story series, the concurrent series that follows alongside this one, involving Elise and Lucent's side of the story:

  His Absolute Assignment

  His Absolute Betrayal

  His Absolute Authority

  I looked through my closet at all my old clothes. They brought back so many memories. I didn't know if every memory was a good memory, but I started thinking of things that I hadn't thought about in forever.

  Before I met Asher, I'd struggled to make ends meet. I worked day to day at a temp agency downtown, doing odd jobs here and there. Mostly secretarial work, to be honest. I was good at typing and answering phones. Or, I used to be. I supposed I was still technically good at both things, but I didn't do either of them under the same pretext anymore. Typing to write stories and books was an entirely different kind of skill compared to writing up office notes or typing copy from a printout. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to type fast for creative writing, but it wasn't absolutely necessary, either. Sometimes it worked better if I just paused and sat there and thought about what I wanted to write next.

  I preferred being able to choose, but sometimes it was a lot harder, too. I remembered having to type up pages and pages of notes that one of my temp job bosses gave me. It was mindless and simple. Type, type, type, flip to the next page, type type type, flip, type. Not all that much to it, to be honest.

  Creating stories was something else entirely, though. I liked to languish on words and choose them specifically for their meaning and the sounds they made in my mind. A person in one of my stories might stand, or they could rise to their feet, or perhaps they jumped up. It was all the same sort of thing, but depending on the situation, sometimes one way sounded better than the other. Sometimes the words surrounding other words, surrounding even more words, made the story flow nicely, or seem like poetry, or gave it simplicity, or any number of things.

  That was kind of like my life right now. I was in my old apartment with Asher, staring at my old clothes, in my old closet. It was a simple place, and the clothes were plain. We'd made love earlier, and we were both naked now, which made everything even simpler still.

  Except... well, on the floor, discarded, was one of my nicer outfits. The clothes I usually wore now were probably more expensive than anything I used to own. If I totaled up the price of everything on the floor, it very well might have cost more than everything in my closet all together. And there were a lot of clothes in my closet.

  The apartment was simple and the closet and clothes were simple, and in a lot of ways I felt simple, too. Everything surrounding me was a lot simpler, except my life was anything but simple right now.

  Asher was a billionaire. He owned his own company, Landseer Enterprises, and it was large. We went to work every day in some massive tower named after him. I supposed it wasn't strictly named after him, but his last name was the same as his company's name, so it stood to reason that it kind of was.

  We usually lived in a mansion, which was nice in its own way. It was kind of too big for anyone, but there were always a lot of people there. It had the most beautiful library, too, which I loved. I liked our bedroom, because in a way it was smaller than every other room; though that wasn't saying much, because it was still huge. It was nice to just sit in there and relax and pretend that it was an apartment in the city instead of a room in a mansion. We had our own private bathroom directly attached, so I could stay in our bedroom, sit on the bed and watch TV, or use my laptop, and not have to worry about becoming lost in all of the excess space surrounding us.

  Sometimes I preferred going to the guest house for that reason. Maybe that sounds stupid, but I still didn't really understand why we needed so much space. I never told Asher that, because it wasn't really my right to. It was his home and he'd owned it and lived in it long before he knew me. I loved looking at it and sometimes I liked wandering through the mansion, but it just never seemed like a home. It looked too large, and too clean and pristine. There were art portraits hanging on the walls, and expensive vases on pedestals near many of the windows, with a library that looked like it belonged in a public city building instead of a private home.

  It was...

  "How about this?" Asher asked. He placed a hand on my hip while reaching over my shoulder with his other hand. His chin rested near my neck and we stood there, him behind me, cheek to cheek.

  My skin grew warm at his touch and I leaned back against him, feeling our naked bodies pressing together. I wanted to be closer to him. I didn't feel quite at home in the Landseer mansion, but I felt wonderful when I was next to Asher, no matter where we were.

  He pulled out a soft white t-shirt. By all accounts, it looked incredibly plain.

  "That?" I asked, taking it from him. "It's just a white t-shirt."

  "It looks comfortable," he said.

  "I'm sure it is, but..." I started to glance over my shoulder towards my discarded clothes on the floor, but Asher's head was that way. When I turned to look, my lips brushed against his and I inadvertently caressed the edge of his cheek with a kiss.

  He spun me towards him, both his hands on my hips now, holding me close. We were tight together, and naked. My breasts pushed against his chest and my stomach touched his. His fingers pulled me closer to him. I leaned back slightly, relishing his touch and our closeness. I looked up at him, loving him. I had the white t-shirt in my hands, but I dropped it to the floor and wrapped my arms around him.

  He bent down slightly and offered me a kiss. I accepted it gladly, and offered him one in return. Soft and sweet, we stood there, our lips and bodies coming together.

  "Why didn't you bring any of this?" he asked. "You could have packed it when you moved in with me."

  "I know," I said. I didn't know how to explain it to him, but I wanted to try. "Asher, it's all just... it's nothing, you know? It's just a bunch of cheap clothes. I think that t-shirt cost me less than five dollars somewhere. It's a plain white t-shirt. They sell them almost everywhere. All my old clothes are like that. There's nothing special here. I think the most I ever spent on something was thirty dollars on a nicer pair of jeans or a good skirt and blouse for job interviews."

  Asher shrugged a
nd squeezed me tight. "It doesn't matter how much you spend," he said. "If it's yours and you want to keep it, then don't feel like you have to hide it from me. I'm sure I've got plenty of cheap clothes at home, too."

  I had to laugh at that. "I don't think so," I said.

  "No?" he asked.

  "I know you don't look at the price tags of almost anything, but I do. We go shopping together, remember? Yes, your suits and business clothes are obviously more expensive, but your casual clothes aren't exactly cheap. I saw you buy a pair of sweatpants for over a hundred dollars once. For sweatpants, Asher. They were nice sweatpants, but that's a bit much, you know?"

  He smirked at me. "Is it?"

  "You're just teasing me now. You have to know that's not exactly normal."

  "Maybe," he said. "Fine, I admit that I don't bother looking at the price tags of things like that. I wouldn't mind, though. If you want to go bargain shopping sometime, we can."

  "You want to go bargain shopping?" I asked.

  "It could be fun?" he said. "We could see how much we could buy with, say... two hundred? Cash, so that we don't spend more than that. If we go over, we'll have to put something back."

  "Two hundred dollars each or total?" I asked.

  "Which is better?"

  "You're asking me? Shouldn't you know this?"

  He grinned at me, laughing. "I've never gone bargain shopping before!"

  "What? You've never gone bargain shopping? How is that possible?"

  "Well..." He was about to explain, but I stopped him.

  "Fine, I understand how it's possible, but that's so strange. It's fun to shop like that."

  "You'll take me, then?"

  "Maybe." I turned to look towards my closet again. "I'll need to get you some clothes for it, though. I have plenty, but you'll need an outfit first."

  "You need a special outfit to go bargain shopping? I didn't think it'd be that difficult."

  "Asher, you can't just walk into a bargain store wearing a bunch of nice clothes. That defeats the point. Also, I think it'd be rude. People might think you're making fun of them."

  "Uh...?"

  I rolled my eyes at him. Really? He didn't understand? "Have you ever heard of an ugly sweater party?" I asked.

  "Those parties that happen around Christmas time?" he answered.

  "Yes, exactly. You go to the party wearing the ugliest sweater you can find. Except, you know what? For every ugly sweater, there's someone who thought it looked nice. I know there's a thing where some companies intentionally make ugly sweaters, but that's not how it's supposed to work. You're supposed to find one that wasn't supposed to be ugly, except then sometimes it gets mean."

  "How is that mean?" he asked.

  "I don't expect you to understand, Mr. Landseer, billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises, but..."

  His eyes sparkled, amused. "Yes, go on, Mrs. Landseer, trophy wife of the billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises..."

  "I'm going to ignore that you said that," I said, laughing at him, then kissing him quick. "The thing is that if you go into a store and you're looking around for an ugly sweater that isn't supposed to be ugly, it's mean because someone must have liked that sweater. So you're kind of making fun of them, you know? By saying that the sweater they like is ugly, and you're wearing it to a funny party as a joke."

  "I can understand that," he said. "They might think some of my clothes are ugly, too, though? I wouldn't get upset if they did."

  "I'm almost completely certain no one will ever find your expensive suits ugly, Asher. Or your hundred dollar sweatpants."

  "Should I buy uglier sweatpants?" he asked. "I'm not sure how to do this."

  "No. I like them. I like how they hang off your waist a little, like maybe they're about to fall off. When I see you in them I just want to tug them down a little more, and..."

  I reached down, re-enacting my thoughts, except neither of us wore clothes. I tapped my fingernails on his hipbone, then slowly raked my nails lower as if I were pulling his pants down his thighs. My fingers may or may not have inadvertently crept rather close to the middle of Asher's legs. His cock may or may not have jumped at my touch and tapped against the edge of my hand.

  "Don't go getting excited now," I said, smirking.

  "I'll get excited all I want," he said. "We're trying to get you pregnant, remember?"

  "Oh, is that it? That's the only reason you're going to get excited?"

  "I'm going to get excited," he said, "because I want to toss you on the bed and fuck you hard, Jessika."

  I breathed in fast, lost in his words. Mmm, Asher wanted to be rough and rugged, did he? Two could play at that game, except...

  "We can't," I said, pulling myself away from the edge of lust-induced insanity. "Asher, we need to hurry. We've got to take a shower and get dressed before Elise gets here. We don't have a lot of time."

  "I'm sure we have plenty of time," he said. "At least twenty minutes."

  "You realize we've already had sex twice within the past couple of hours?"

  "Once an hour sounds good, don't you think?"

  "How can you even...?" I didn't finish that sentence or that thought, though. Yes, well, I didn't know how he could even be hard again, but he most certainly was. His cock was growing harder every second, too. I shifted in front of him until I had his erection trapped between my legs. We stood like that and I stared up at him, triumphant.

  "Are you denying me sex, Jessika?" he asked. He tried to sound angry, but he gave himself away with a silly smile.

  "Are you going to force yourself on me, my loving husband?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "You can't, though. We need to take a shower and get dressed."

  "You're making this difficult," he said.

  "I'm making it hard?" I offered, squirming side to side and shifting his cock between my thighs.

  He pulled his hips back, then pushed forward, sliding in and out between my legs. "This isn't quite what I had in mind when we started this," he said.

  I laughed and hopped up to kiss him, then jumped away. His shaft bounced up and down, smacking softly against my stomach, before bouncing in the open air, waiting for something he wasn't going to get right now.

  "I'll wear that shirt you picked out, and... these," I said. I snatched a pair of baby blue sweatpants off a hanger in my closet.

  "What's in there?" Asher asked. He pointed to a shoebox on a shelf in the back of my closet. "Do you keep shoes on shelves?"

  I looked down, because, no, I didn't keep shoes on shelves... all of my old shoes were lined up on the closet floor. I was sure that some people probably kept shoes on shelves, but that's not why that shoebox was there.

  "Um, it's nothing," I said fast. Likely too fast.

  "Oh?" Asher asked, suspicious. "Nothing, is it?"

  Before I could stop him, he slipped past me and grabbed the shoebox. I tried to steal it away from him, but he evaded me and held it high above his head.

  "Asher!" I said. "I think this is an invasion of privacy!"

  He shook the box, teasing me.

  "Don't shake that! There's..."

  The box started to vibrate. Well... ugh. Really now? Really, Asher?

  He stared at me, curious and confused, then he popped open the top of the box and peeked inside.

  It was my sex toy box. With all my sex toys. They were kept in good condition, and still looked nice despite having been in the closet of my apartment for over a year. I hadn't used them in awhile. Honestly, I didn't really need sex toys when I had Asher. Sometimes we were a bit insatiable together. I didn't know if this was a good or a bad thing.

  "Yes," I said, standing tall. "Yes, Asher, those are my sex toys."

  He pulled out the vibrating one, grabbing it by the handle. The soft, phallic shaft was whirling and vibrating in little circles, with pleasure beads spinning behind a translucent piece circling the base. Splitting off from the handle was another attachment that popped up and vibrated on its own. It had two
little prongs like rabbit ears. It was one of my favorite toys, too. Or it used to be. Maybe it still was? I did really like it. I kind of missed it in a strange way. I mean, we didn't need it, but...

  "Interesting..." he said.

  I didn't like the way he said that, nor did I appreciate the sinister glint in his eyes.

  "You can put it back now," I said. "You can turn it off and put it back in my shoebox and put it back on my shelf."

  "I'll go start the shower," he said, ignoring me. Or, he partly ignored me. He put the shoebox back, but he kept my toy with him.

  And then he left. He just walked out of my bedroom, holding it! The audacity of... of him. Of Asher. My husband. Really? We were in a hurry! At least he wasn't trying to pin me down and use it on me, I supposed. Maybe he was just curious? What would it be like if he did pin me down and use it on me? Hm...

  I sighed and grabbed my t-shirt off the floor, adding it to the sweatpants in my hands, then followed Asher to the bathroom.

  ***

  Asher had started the shower without me. He stood outside it, staring in, waiting. Water cascaded in an arc, from the showerhead to the mat in the tub, splashing softly before sliding into the drain. This was all well and good and looked and sounded exactly how a shower should sound, except Asher wasn't in the shower.

  "Are you getting in?" I asked. I bent at the waist and placed my clothes on top of the toilet lid, then bumped him with my hips.

  In reply, Asher smacked my butt. I jumped up, startled, and stared at him, mouth agape, but he just laughed. Belatedly, I realized he still had my vibrator held in one of his hands.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, giving him a look; that look.

  "Spanking you," he said. "Also, I'm waiting for the shower to warm up."

  "Oh," I said. Both of those were answers, yes. Not quite what I had in mind, though. "Sorry. It's like that. It should be warm in a minute."

  He nodded.

  "And what are you doing with that?" I asked, tapping the vibrator in his hand.