Bound to the Billionaire

by Natalie Dae

  About the Author

  Justine Elyot is a UK-based writer of erotic romance and erotica. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies from Black Lace, Cleis Press, Xcite and Constable & Robinson. Her first full-length book, On Demand, was published by Black Lace in 2009.

  Email: justineelyot@gmail.com

  Justine loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Justine Elyot

  Competitive Nature

  Honeytrapped

  Food of Love: Highly Strung

  Food of Love: Musical Beds

  Master Me: A Very Personal Trainer

  Seeing Stars: The Sevarian Way

  Subspace: The Science of Submission

  Bollywood: Bollywood Superstar

  Mi Amore: Sempre

  Stiff Upper Lip: England’s Dreaming

  PLAY TO HIM

  Wendi Zwaduk

  Dedication

  C—thanks for asking, loved writing this

  RE—thanks for letting me revisit your world

  E—thanks for editing, you rock

  JPZ—I’ll play to you anytime

  Chapter One

  “You’re going on another date with him?” Kayla wrapped a lock of Rhiannon’s hair around the barrel of the curling iron. “I didn’t think he dated anyone twice.”

  “This is our third date, but who’s counting? And, really, what’s a date? We’re not going anywhere special. I’m just playing music for his customers. Nothing exciting.” Rhiannon stared at her reflection in the mirror. Talk about scoring the best stylist in the business. She trusted Kayla to make her look beautiful before each show. Rhiannon pursed her lips and pinched her cheeks. The fat curls accentuated the sunken qualities of her face. She frowned. At twenty-seven, she already looked old. The black liner made the blue in her eyes pop and contrasted with her ivory skin well and paired with the inky colour of her hair nicely, but she worried everything looked too dark and moody. She shrugged. She played moody music, why not look the part? “Do you think I should ramp up the liner?” She squinted. “It’s too light, isn’t it?”

  “You’re nervous for a not-really date, that’s a very-much-so date.”

  “I’m not nervous.” What a liar. Rhiannon rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. Hell yes, she was nervous. Sebastian Chastain, billionaire playboy and owner of Rock Hard Toys and Gear, didn’t give second engagements. Unless the woman really tickled his fancy, he rarely offered a first chance for a play date. He’d signed a contract with her to play whenever he wanted and she’d agreed.

  She shivered. Tingles radiated over her back from the memories of his whip spread over her skin. Her pussy creamed and she clenched her knees together. Besides, there was a chance the concert wouldn’t lead to more.

  “Whatever.” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Your hair is done. Thoughts?”

  Not bad. Rhiannon twisted the cascade of curls on the top of her head. “I like it.” The updo would keep her hair out of the way during the session with Sebastian. “Thank you.”

  “Cool.” The stylist gathered her brushes and the bottles of hairspray. “Good luck. Maybe this guy will be the one who gets you to settle down.”

  “Settle down? Kayla, I don’t want to be tied down to a family and responsibilities. I want to be free and figure out who I am.”

  “And not be lonely.” Kayla winked and strolled out of the room.

  That word. Lonely. Rhiannon frowned at her reflection and sighed. She’d been without the affection from a man for so long. But she had a reason for keeping things separate. She stood and turned away from her image. Sebastian, though detached in the emotions category, gave her the kink she needed. And he was stable. He understood her boundaries.

  She dropped her robe, then pulled the skimpy thong up her legs. The scrap of fabric showed off her best asset, her legs. Oh, what the hell. Rhiannon appraised herself in the mirror once more. The scars weren’t visible to the naked eye, but she knew where they were and winced. Most guys didn’t understand her need to be dominated. Of those who did, she had managed to find the two who took what she wanted to the extremes.

  Except Sebastian. He understood everything about her.

  Head held high, she squared her shoulders. He accepted her and knew what the word no meant. Now, if she could keep her heart in check, she’d be fine.

  Behind her, her phone rang. She glanced at the ID. Sebastian Chastain. A ripple of excitement travelled straight up her spine. She grinned and pressed the buttons to answer the call. “Sebastian.”

  “Are you ready to perform tonight?”

  “Yes.” She cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder and rummaged through the closet for her corset. “I’m looking forward to playing. I haven’t had a decent venue since I split from Razrs Edge. This is my shot to show everyone I can still work an audience.”

  “Very good.”

  Rhiannon frowned. Very good? She gritted her teeth. He liked to use open-ended answers with her so often. “I’ll be ready.”

  “The car is coming for you in an hour.”

  “An hour?” she squeaked. Sure, she didn’t mind him taking care of her, but the quick turnaround time? Shit.

  “The audience won’t wait.”

  “I know.” She held the corset against her chest. “I’ll be ready.”

  “Beautiful.” Before she could answer him, he clicked off the line.

  Strange, exotic man… Give him a billion dollars and he thinks he owns the world. She tossed the phone onto the chair. “Kayla? Can you lend me a hand?”

  Footsteps thumped on the floor. “Sure.” Kayla stopped in the doorway. “Corset and dress?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s get you beautiful for Mr No Second Dates.”

  Beautiful enough for him to want to unwrap her, and ravage her body in his perfect mix of pain and pleasure, then send her on her merry way. Something about her had him coming back for more. Now if she just could figure out what that something was, she’d be set and able to walk away for good.

  * * * *

  Sebastian folded his arms and stared out over the darkened Cleveland skyline. A line of buildings stretched to the heavens. Fat raindrops pelted the towering windows and a clap of thunder split the air. The stadium lights glittered off to the south and the traffic speeding down Prospect blurred under the unrelenting rain. He glanced at the statues guarding the cathedral on his right. Looking at the white twinkle light-draped trees lining the road did little to take his mind off his troubles. He adjusted his watch on his wrist. Only ten o’clock. He had the whole night in front of him and an hour to think.

  Of all the women he had played with, Rhiannon Dubois stuck in his mind. The songstress responded to his touch and the longer they played, the more relaxed she became. A vision of her wrapped in his rope, with clips dangling from her nipples, came to mind. He groaned and palmed his crotch. Soon he’d have those sweet lips of hers wrapped around his cock. Then he’d show her how much she meant to him. The contract meant nothing. He’d rather have her love than a piece of paper granting her submission.

  Her music played on the high-dollar sound system and enveloped him in a calm he sought long and hard for. He closed his eyes and gave in to the daydream. In the mental picture, he covered her bottom with fingers of red from his flogger. Rhiannon’s sighs filled his brain. He dug his fingers into his thigh. The sooner the concert ended and their play began, the happier he’d be.

  “Mr Chastain?”

  Jerked from his daydream, Sebastian opened his eyes and sat down in his chair. The supple leather groaned under his body. The rich dark wood panelling kept the outside noise to a minimum. All the money in the world, the best decorators and an office fit for royalty didn’t mean shit if he had no one to share them with. Soon, if he played his cards right, he’d be able to share them with Rhiannon. He measured his breaths to keep the hard-on at bay. Thankfully he had his back to his secret
ary. “Yes, Annabelle.” He swivelled around, making sure to cover his deflating erection. “What do you need?”

  Her severe blonde bob curled around her heart-shaped face. Clad in a tight business suit and minimal jewellery, Annabelle could’ve been a secretary for any business, not one selling sex toys. She crooked one brow and clasped her small hands together. “I have the products for the new line. Do you want them delivered here or to your home?”

  Sebastian rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands. The new line. Rock Hard’s elite class of toys and gear, loaded down with studs and slick glass—perfect for the discerning customer. Who was he kidding? He’d created items for a specific use. With Rhiannon. He’d release the line to the general public eventually, but only once he had tested all the items and earned her approval. “I’d like them sent to the fourth floor. I want to look them over later.”

  “I see.” She smiled. “They’ll be there within the half-hour.”

  “Is Rhiannon in the building?” He needed to know. Other women didn’t affect him like Rhiannon. She had wormed under his skin and caused him to break his self-imposed rules. He never played with a partner a second time. Except her. They had played two times and still he hadn’t had enough. Preposterous. But she stayed in his mind. She might agree to being his mistress or even a casual girlfriend. But he didn’t want casual. He wanted it all.

  “Miss Dubois arrived a couple of moments ago. We’ve installed her in the green rooms outside of the auditorium. She’s convinced there will be a larger audience. Did you explain the circumstances of this concert?”

  He wanted to be annoyed with Annabelle. She’d served him well for more than five years and he hadn’t given Rhiannon all the details. “She knows.”

  “Very well.” Annabelle nodded, then left the room.

  He glanced at his watch. Time to deal with Rhiannon. He pocketed the pouch and the set of handcuffs. “Perfect for later,” he murmured to himself.

  Five minutes later, he stood in the auditorium of the Rock Hard building. He’d wanted the sumptuous room built for in-house presentations. A hundred rows of seats stretched to the back of the space. Thick maroon sound panels ensured every person in the room could hear the speech, or, in the case of Rhiannon, her acoustic show. He snorted. The show wasn’t going to be a screaming, huge audience. Once he’d sorted things out with Rhiannon, he’d go through with the huge celebratory concert. Right now the concert would be exactly what he planned—a concert for one. If he had his ultimate way, she’d be his main model for the bondage gear. Unlike the other women he had working as models, he refused to buy Rhiannon. He wanted her to pose out of her own volition—and to please him. Holy hell, she affected him like no other. It stood to reason the woman who enjoyed his brand of kink would be the woman to tie him down.

  The door opened to his left and Rhiannon strolled into the auditorium, her high-heeled boots clicking on the tiled floor. “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed and she bowed her head. “Sir.”

  “Kitten.”

  She folded her hands.

  Sebastian drank in the sight of her. Her inky hair cascaded from the top of her head in thick curls. He yearned to remove the pins holding the curls in place and run his fingers through the locks. Knee-high black boots and fishnet stockings accentuated her lanky legs. He loved the feel of those legs twined around him as he pounded into her tight pussy. A leather skirt barely covered her assets. Soon, he’d divest her of the clothing and worship her lithe body the way she deserved. He suppressed a groan. She pleased him more than he realised.

  “I wish to give you something before you play.” He palmed his pants pocket. “A gift.”

  Rhiannon glanced at him, then averted her gaze.

  “Do you want to be punished before we even play?” He dug in his pocket for the pouch.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’ll punish you later. You want it too much.” Pride welled in his heart. “Look at me, Kitten. I want to see your face when I give you this present.”

  Rhiannon arched her back, presenting her chest. She clasped her hands behind her back, just as he expected when they engaged in a scene. So well trained.

  “I’d like you to speak with me as well.” He touched her chin, then emptied the contents of the pouch into his hand. “This is for you.” The diamonds and emeralds sparkled on the bracelet. “It’s platinum. Which wrist?”

  She stared at the jewellery. “Sebastian.”

  “Yes? Which wrist, Kitten?”

  “I can’t accept the bracelet.” She backed away from him, breaking the mood of the moment.

  “Why?” Annoyance crept into his voice. “I wanted to give you a token of my affection for you. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Affection?” she spat. “We never said anything about affection.”

  “Do you think I give these out all over town?” Sebastian growled. She hadn’t told him something. Yes, he allowed her to be detached when they played, but not for much longer. Either they talked or he’d lose his heart forever. “You’re special to me and I wanted you to have something beautiful.”

  She dipped her head and offered her left wrist. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Was that so hard?” He closed the clasp and arranged the bracelet on her arm. “The colours look beautiful against your skin.” Sebastian kissed her hand. “It’s an original.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She caressed the chain. “When do I play?”

  “That’s the other thing.” He curled his fingers under her chin. “The concert isn’t for a large crowd like I suggested.”

  “People bailed?” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “So much for a comeback.”

  “The crowds aren’t here because I didn’t want to share you.”

  She stared up at him from behind her lashes. “I’m playing just for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Two

  A solo concert for a solo audience. Rhiannon twiddled with the bracelet. Things were getting too complicated, too fast. Where was the lack of strings he usually worked with? In the space of five minutes she had gone from being a play toy to being the object of affection.

  Sebastian escorted her to the stage, then swatted her butt. “There’s a good Kitten. Play for me.”

  Rhiannon focused on Sebastian for a moment. He hardly looked his thirty-six years. From his place in the front row, he folded his hands and rested one ankle on his knee. His steely blue gaze followed her every move and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Even in the dim light, his lightly tanned skin glowed. From his mussed mahogany hair to his perfectly sculpted legs, the man personified sex and, heaven help her, she wanted him more than she should.

  “Kitten.”

  If he wanted to hear her music, then she’d play. Every nerve ending came alive when she held her guitar. Nothing compared to performing—nothing except being with Sebastian. He’d never asked to hear her music before. Sharing something so personal, yet public, intrigued her. The songs were like extensions of her soul. He wanted to get closer? To understand her? As much as she didn’t expect the need to fill her, down to her soul she couldn’t imagine not sharing the most important part of what made her who she was—her music.

  She skipped the normal introduction she gave when playing for a larger audience and broke right into her first song. The absence of the crowd noise unnerved her throughout the first song. She ignored the rush of fear and launched into her songs. Each strum of the guitar was like being zapped by a bolt of lightning. Almost like sex with Sebastian. Her pussy quivered and she swayed to the beat to rub her thighs together. She imagined his hands on her body as she played, him strumming her. Emotions poured out of her through the words of each song. The joy of a new relationship, the anguish of leaving a lover and the despair at not knowing where to turn with her life. The more she sang, the stronger she felt. She rocked to the song and the rhythm of the blossoming orgasm. The exposure was the liberation she craved outside the bedroom. The words weren’t mere poetry set to a tun
e, but the contents of her soul bared to the man she couldn’t live without.

  She ripped her gaze from him for a moment. Her thoughts turned from sex to love. Did she love him? More than she cared to admit, but she couldn’t tell him—not yet. But he unleashed something inside her. Yes, Sebastian was seeing the private side of her, but the intimate connection freed her. He nodded his head on the downbeat, occasionally singing along. The smile never left his face.

  Rhiannon broke into the indie rock-inspired lullaby she’d written for Sebastian. What she couldn’t say to his face, she could impart through the song. The overwhelming feelings of love and desire tumbled in her belly, driving her performance. Maybe he didn’t know the song was for him, but she had the chance to play it for him.

  At the end of her set, ten songs in all, she bowed then clasped her hands together on her guitar. She wobbled on her feet, drained not only from standing for over an hour but the crash brought on after the rush of performing.

  “I’m not sure if I should encourage you to drive safe and have a good night or what. I’m not used to such small audiences,” she puffed.

  “I’m not driving anywhere and I’d planned to have a great night, so I’d say you did very well. The lullaby was new, wasn’t it?”

  “Just something I toyed around with.” He’d noticed. The song had come out of their second session. When they’d made love, the tune had played in her head. On the way home afterward, she had hummed it into the recorder on her phone. She’d added words the next day.

  “Gorgeous tune.” He held out his hand. “And now the encore.”

  “I didn’t practice any other songs.”

  “Upstairs in my quarters.”

  Ooh! He wanted her to honour the contract. She placed her guitar in the holder, then strode across the stage to where he stood. Time to cut loose and have fun. Attempting to hide her excitement, she clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head.