Bound by Duty: Servicing the Billionaire Part 2 (A BDSM Erotic Romance)

by Adriana Rossi

  Bound by Duty: Servicing the Billionaire

  Published by Adriana Rossi

  Copyright 2012 Adriana Rossi

  Discover other titles by Adriana Rossi at Author Central

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  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical reviews.

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  The door to Mr. White’s town car swung open for them, revealing the leather upholstery interior. The driver holding the door open seemed unperturbed by her half-dressed appearance and the bite wounds on her neck. Apparently, he was desensitized to Mr. White’s behavior.

  Mary wrapped her blouse around her chest ever tighter and climbed into the vehicle. She collapsed onto the seat, her bare skin sticking unpleasantly to the leather. Her body was still throbbing from the freakish sex session she had received on the staircase and her neck ached. She didn’t know how she felt about the whole thing. Sure, it had been one of the hottest moments of her life—but what would happen now? Would things be awkward at work? Mary squirmed in her seat.

  Mr. White entered the vehicle, taking the seat opposite her. The hungry look in his gaze was never satiated. Mary wrapped her ruined blouse around her breasts, feeling suddenly vulnerable in a car alone with Mr. White. A flicker of annoyance passed over his face.

  “I prefer you without the blouse, Miss Kramar.”

  “No,” Mary muttered.

  He clenched his fist on his knee. “I don’t like that word.”

  I bet you don’t, she thought.

  “I can hear your thoughts, Miss Kramar. We’re going to have to work on changing your attitude.”

  Fear sliced through her nerves. “How is that possible?” The idea of monsters living in secret around the world was absurd, and yet Mary found herself considering the idea. What if?

  The engine roared to life and pulled out of the parking space. Suddenly, Mary felt uneasy. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To my home.”

  “You said you would take me home,” she accused.

  “And I will—when I am sure that you are ready.”

  The air was suddenly thin. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

  He laughed—a wonderful sound that made Mary feel warm. “Good gracious, no. I am just acting in your best interest.”

  Frightened, she grabbed the door handle and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Please,” he huffed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

  It was true. I loved it. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it again. There were too many things at stake. Her reputation at work would fall apart if anyone found out. “I’m done for day, Mr. White. Please just take me home.”

  He leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of her head. “Don’t be afraid,” he began in a soothing voice. “I’m not going to hurt you—much.”

  With that, he peeled away the blouse Mary was wearing, pulling it down her shoulders. Mary felt a jolt of electricity as his fingers brushed her skin. Warmth flooded her genitals as his brief touch reminded her of the incredible fuck fest she had received. She knew that she would be unable to refuse his advances. Her body betrayed her, and if not, he would take her anyways—just like he took everything else.

  He tore off her blouse and ripped it at the seams, tossing it on the floor. Fully exposed, Mary covered her breasts with her hands but Mr. White smacked them away. He bent his mouth to her chest and Mary gasped as she felt his tongue making slow circles on her nipple. His hands wrapped around the curve of her tits and massaged them. His mouth closed on her nipple and sucked hard.

  “Mr. White,” she gasped. Mary ran her fingers through his thick hair, mussing it up completely as his tongue set off sensitive nerves that zapped across her body.

  He sucked so hard that he made a loud popping sound when he released her nipple. It was red and raw. Mr. White looked up at her, his tiny fangs protruding from his lips.

  “Tell me that you don’t want this.”

  “I—I want it.”

  “That’s right,” he growled and gave her tits a little slap. Mr. White sat next to her and pulled off his tie. He reached over and slipped the tie over her head so that the tie was nestled between her breasts. Then he tightened it around her neck and held the tie like a leash. He yanked the leash, making her fall across his lap, face first.

  She lay awkwardly over his knees, her breasts pressing uncomfortably into his thighs. She felt him flip her skirt over her back and excitement bubbled in her stomach as he hooked his fingers under her panties and pulled them off her legs.

  His right hand spread over her exposed bottom and kneaded her ass with his knuckles. His hand slipped between the crease and down her wet slit. He slid his hands up and down, enveloping his hand with her arousal.

  “Look at you,” he mocked. “Wet and ready for me. You’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

  Mary was distracted by his antics and was not paying attention to what he said. “I—uh—”

  His hand slid away from between her thighs and came down hard on her ass. Mary shrieked in alarm as her flesh burned.

  “I asked you a question,” Mr. White’s authoritative voice boomed above her. “Are you a slut?”

  “Ow!” she screamed as his hand smacked her ass a second time. She clenched her buttocks together, and the warm burn spread deep inside her pussy. “Yes, I’m a slut!”

  “I know you are.”

  Another blow made her yelp, reddening the spots he’d hit before. The shock reverberated up the tight, eager channel that was ready for him.

  The fun ended when the car stopped with a lurch. Moments later, the driver stepped out of the vehicle. Mr. White flipped her skirt back over her bottom as the door opened. Mary sat up awkwardly and pulled her panties back on. She searched for her blouse but remembered that Mr. White had destroyed it.

  Half-naked, she climbed out of the town car in what seemed to be a fairly small parking structure. There was a myriad of expensive-looking cars, including the rare Audi R8. Mary whirled back to Mr. White. “You brought me to a public place,” she hissed.

  Their voices echoed in the cavernous room. “Don’t be silly, this is merely my parking garage.”

  A red corvette to her left caught her eye. “These are all your cars?”

  He said nothing, but gave her a look that implied she had asked a stupid question.

  Only her embarrassment kept her walking forwards, arms crossed over her chest. Mary imagined herself in the passenger seat of one of his cars as he floored the gas pedal, racing through the busy streets.

  They entered an elevator. The air conditioned air cut through her naked skin like a knife. She shivered, rubbing her arms.

  Her antics had caught Mr. White’s attention. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said, inwardly surprised at the kind gesture. Curious, Mary looked at the hard line of his jaw and wondered.

  He sensed her stare and returned her gaze, his face pinched into an expression that resembled regret. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at work.”

  The elevator lurched upwards as Mary felt her stomach do back flips. Did her ears deceive her, or was he actually apologizing?

  “I lose my temper when I am hungry. I do not feel normal unless I drink human blood. My desire for flesh consumes me and I
’m afraid that I can be quite nasty when I deprived of it.”

  The confession made her blood run cold. “Mr. White—”

  “Matthew, please.”

  “Matthew,” the name rolled off her tongue awkwardly. “I don’t know what you are, but I want—” she sighed. “I want to keep my job.”

  “Good.”

  The door hissed open and Matthew led her into the foyer. Mary marveled at his taste. Various oil paintings hung on the high, steel-colored walls beside lamps attached to the walls. She followed him past the stainless steel kitchen, which was scrubbed so meticulously that it looked like it had never been used. He opened a door into a spacious bedroom which had an adjoining bathroom.

  “Go ahead and take a shower. Inside the closet, you’ll find an arrangement of clothes to wear.”

  He was full of surprises. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

  * * *

  She had fun sampling the wide array of shampoo products and scrubs available in the shower. When she stepped out, the perfumed steam was sucked through a vent automatically. She combed her blonde hair and curled her toes on the heated tiles, rubbing at the bite marks on her neck. A black silk robe with pink flowers caught her eye and she slipped it on, relishing the smooth feel of the fabric on her skin.

  The closet was filled with designer clothes: Michael Kors, Alexander McQueen dresses and Jimmy Choo shoes. All of them were in her size. It was as if he had planned for her to end up in his apartment. A slightly depressing thought seized her mind. What if he had hired her just for sex? Mary had always thought of herself as a prideful woman. How could she live with herself knowing that she was no better than a prostitute?

  But he wasn’t the type to hire prostitutes. Surely, he could have any woman he wanted—any woman at all. And he had chosen her. Her mood brightened as rifled through the clothes. She chose a simple, black cocktail dress. The other choices seemed too extravagant, too good, for her. There was a box of silk scarves that Mary seized at once. She would need something to cover the bite wounds. She chose a colorful, bright blue one that she twisted around her neck in an elegant knot. Mary couldn’t help but try on a few pairs of her favorite designers. She ended up choosing a pair of black, strappy heels.

  She exited the bedroom in a haze of eucalyptus, lemongrass, and citrus smells. Mr. White was nowhere in sight, so she took it upon herself to explore the place. The apartment had a stale scent to it, as if the rooms were rarely occupied. She discovered an antique armoire in what seemed to be the living room. She ran her hands over the wood, wondering what century it was from. Inside were collections of porcelain with delicate floral designs, crystal glasses, and various trinkets with a bone-white hue that she suspected was ivory. Mary was a bit of an art snob, and found herself positively drooling at the artifacts he had collected. She was aching to open the doors and inspect each piece. Her heels brushed something stiff and she noticed a large Persian rug spread on the floor. It was placed under a coffee table that looked like it was made of mahogany.

  “Koa wood, actually.”

  Mary gave a little scream of surprise as she noticed his darkened silhouette hidden among the bookshelves. How long had he been skulking in the shadows? Her heart thumping wildly, she approached Mr. White.

  He had changed out of his suit with one that was freshly ironed and his skin looked faintly pink. He smelled fresh, like rainwater in a forest. The slight notes of oak and cypress tingled Mary’s nose. His eyes raked over her body, sweeping over the curves that the dress hugged tightly. His smoldering gaze rested on her cleavage, which the dress had helped amplify.

  She was beginning to recognize that look. The one that said he wanted nothing more than to tear the dress off her body and fuck her senseless. Mary had half a mind to let him.

  “How about I take you to dinner?” he said finally.

  Is he asking me on a date? “Um, sure.” Her insides leapt with joy.

  She took his proffered arm, and together they descended into the parking lot.

  * * *

  The doors to the Polish Laundry swung open for them, and the soft wail of violins accompanied by the bell-like sounds of piano added warmth to the dimly lit restaurant. The most tantalizing smell wafted from the kitchens and Mary licked her lips unconsciously. She recognized the name of the restaurant. It was considered one of the best restaurants in the world and had three Michelin stars. It was also impossible to get a reservation.

  “Mr. White, they won’t let us eat here.”

  “Why not?”

  His thumb stroked her hand in a way that made her cheeks flush. “You need to reserve at least a year in advance. Most people stay on the waitlist for years.”

  Mary stiffened as she felt his hand glide over shoulder.

  “You forget, Miss Kramar. I am not most people.”

  He strode to the host stand with Mary in tow. The hostess recognized Mr. White immediately. Apparently, he dined here often.

  “Mr. White, we’re so glad you have joined us. Your usual table is ready.”

  Flummoxed, Mary followed the gentle tug of Matthew’s hand. They followed the hostess into a private room that was quartered away from the rest of the tables. Surrounding the table were glass walls, which held a fantastic view of the restaurant’s garden. It was lit in effervescent blue light. The soft glow of the candlestick and the violin music filtering inside the room combined to create the most pleasant, beautiful experience Mary had ever had in a restaurant. Mr. White had fabulous taste. Mary watched him mull over the wine list and wondered if she had judged him harshly. In the gentle light of the candles, his features were softened and more relaxed than usual. She found herself mesmerized by the wonderful ambiance, and when the waiter stooped to listen to Mr. White’s order, she hardly noticed.

  Mr. White sat back into his chair and clasped his hands together. He studied her, the slow burn of the candles reflecting his gaze.

  “You look lovely tonight, Mary.”

  The compliment burned her cheeks, and Mary took a sip of water to hide her confusion. “Thank you,” she said finally. “I was impressed with the collection of dresses. How did you know what size I was?”

  The waiter returned and poured two glasses of a deep red Italian wine. Mr. White swirled his glass around and sniffed it before tasting.

  “I know everything about my employees.”

  Does he know my bra size as well? She wondered.

  He looked at her from his wine glass and gave her a knowing grin. Mary tilted her head back and took an unnecessarily large gulp of wine. Heat flushed her skin almost immediately. Mary was small and never had a good tolerance for alcohol.

  The waiter brought the first course on two small plates. It consisted of a tiny heap of arugula salad with a dapple of creamy, yellow dressing.

  “There are twenty courses.”

  Mary stared at the arrangement of silverware around her plate. There seemed to be at least a dozen spoons and forks. Where to begin? Her mother’s voice filtered into her head, “Work your way from outside to inside, hon.” Mary smiled at the memory. She picked at the salad and ate a few leaves. She was surprised to find it quite delicious.

  The rest of the meal continued in silence. While they ate the fifth course, which consisted of homemade perogies with a black truffle glaze on top, Mary watched her boss eat. Mr. White played with his food in an unsatisfied way, taking small bites only to push his plate away in distaste.

  “Are you enjoying your meal, Miss Kramar?”

  “Very much so, thank you, sir.” She hesitated before asking: “Aren’t you?”

  He shrugged in a noncommittal gesture. “Human nourishment has ceased to satisfy me for many decades. Blood is the only sustenance that I require. And sex.” A momentary grin lit up his face. “I do remember in my youth the feeling, how it used to taste,” he trailed off and seemed to look behind her, his eyes unfocused.

  Something stirred in Mary’s heart. Pity? She had no desire to contemplate what or who Mr. White was. He wa
s an unfathomable element in her life. Knowing these secrets gave her a certain power over him, and that made her feel uncomfortable.

  When the meal had finally ended, Mary was rosy-cheeked and stuffed to the brim. She had never eaten so well in her life. The waiter dropped the check on the table and Mr. White slid his credit card over it immediately. Mary wondered how much it was. Probably more than she made every week.

  Mary clutched Mr. White’s arm as they left the restaurant. She was quite drunk and was determined not to stumble. She followed the tug of his arm, mortified that she was intoxicated in front of the CEO of the company.

  The flash of cameras exploded around them. Partially blinded, Mary covered her eyes as they exited the restaurant. Somehow, she entered the town car without incident and glided over the leather seats. This time, Mr. White sat beside her.

  He slid an arm over her shoulder and the other hand spread under her dress, curling around her naked thigh. Her groin was already heated from all the alcohol, and his hand spreading across her sensitive skin made her pussy throb for his attention.

  “You smell delicious with all that wine running through your veins,” he whispered against her ear. He tongued her earlobe for a second. “I bet you taste wonderful right about now. I want to drain you,” he growled.

  He slowly loosened the scarf around her neck, sniffing greedily at the fresh wound on her neck. Mary shuddered, her body responding to his cool touch and aching to be claimed by him.

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, though. Just a little bit. Just a little taste,” he seemed to be convincing himself to do something. “Won’t take too much. Just enough to tide me over.”

  The hand under her dress finally reached her panties. He rubbed the outside of her swollen vagina, his knuckles grinding hard between her lips. Mary spread her legs as wide as the dress would afford her and bit her lip.

  His mouth traveled down her neck and kissed her wound. Mary flinched as his lips brushed her wound, but then his hand was probing around her panties, his fingers dipping into her wetness. Mary sighed as he bit down on her neck, blood spilling from the puncture wounds into his open mouth.