I Married a Billionaire

by Melanie Marchande

  Just when I thought he couldn't kiss me any deeper, he found a way. When he finally pulled back, we were both panting, and I thought back to the night in my empty apartment and I was suddenly very afraid.

  But he only smiled and took my hand, pulling me into the bedroom.

  He stopped at the foot of the bed to kiss me again. I couldn't remember the last time I'd just kissed someone for such a long time - or maybe it had just been a few minutes, I couldn't tell anymore. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the dining room seemed, by turns, to be going very very fast, and then very very slow.

  When he finally stopped, again, my lips felt bruised. Every breath seemed to short, like I'd never catch it and completely fill my lungs again.

  His mouth quirked up into a half-smile.

  "Relax," he said. "Breathe."

  Was it that obvious?

  I tried, but it wasn't easy. My heart felt like it was trying to escape from my ribcage. Every part of my body was tingling, aching for his touch. All I felt was urgency and need.

  "I can't," I whimpered, hating how pathetic I sounded.

  "Yes, you can," he said, gently. "Focus on your desire. Be with it. And just breathe."

  I closed my eyes. Finally, I felt myself begin to un-tense my muscles. I refocused on the throbbing feeling in my core instead of trying to shrink away from its intensity. When I opened my eyes again, I was finally able to take a long, deep breath.

  "There you are," Daniel said, smiling, brushing his fingers against my flushed chest. "It's very important, in moments like this, to remember how to breathe."

  Just the light touch of his fingertips on my skin was enough to make me part my lips and exhale with pleasure. I'd never felt anything like this before. When he reached down and raised my shirt up over my head, the mere slide of the fabric against my skin was enough to make me shudder.

  I'd never imagined it could feel like this. I must have been a ball of tension and nerves every other time I'd had sex, because this was unprecedented. I'd never realized. As simple as it was, I'd never tried to just breathe before.

  He seemed inordinately pleased with himself, judging by the expression on his face. I almost wanted to laugh, but at the same time, I didn't.

  "It's deceptively simple, I know," he said. "You've never heard that before?"

  "What? To just breathe?" I gasped as he rested his hand on my breast, pressing against the taut nipple. "No. I guess not."

  He brushed my hair behind my ear. "Stick with me," he said. "I'll teach you all sorts of things."

  "That’s very magnanimous of you."

  "Oh," he breathed, inches away from my lips. "It'll be my pleasure."

  He kissed me again, just a brush of his mouth, strangely chaste. Then, he reached behind my back and unfastened my bra. He pulled it off and tossed it aside.

  His eyes raked over my body and I almost felt it like a physical touch. Finally, his fingers settled on the button of my shorts, and undid it.

  They fell to the floor. I stepped out of them, feeling strangely without shame, standing there in the middle of an obscenely expensive hotel room in my panties.

  "Don't forget to breathe," he said, teasingly, kneeling down slowly on the carpet. I had to concentrate, as his own hot breath tickled skin. It brushed across my lower stomach, my hipbones, and lower -

  His fingers slid under the fabric of my panties and pulled them down, slowly.

  His face was inches from my sex. I was losing focus. Breathe. Just breathe.

  He leaned closer and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on my hip.

  I moaned a little. I knew exactly what I wanted him to do, but at the same time, I was afraid if he really did it, I'd scream, or collapse, or both. My knees already felt weak. When his tongue flicked out and traced the crease between my thigh and my mound, mere inches from where I most wanted it, I shivered and heard myself begging.

  "Please," I whispered.

  He looked up at me and smiled.

  "All you had to do was ask."

  At the first lap of his tongue, I pitched forward, grabbing his shoulder for support. He held on to my hips and pulled back. "Shhh, shhh," he said. "I've got you. Just breathe."

  I kept leaning on him, taking long, shuddering breaths like he'd told me to. When I was able to let go of his shoulder and stand on my own again, he leaned in and continued his ministrations.

  This time I was able to keep my balance, although every muscle in my body twitched and shivered at the exquisite feeling of him. Because I was focusing so closely on not falling over, the sensations somehow hit me more slowly, crawling through my nerves instead of slamming into me, the way pleasure normally did. I was filled with a delicious ache. I let my head fall back, my eyes closing as I let out a long, shaky moan.

  My fingers rested against the top of his head, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hummed against my swollen flesh. Rather than an ever-rising, unstoppable build towards climax, I was feeling something different. Deeper. The feelings ebbed and flowed, but even the ebbs made my toes curl into the carpet with pure bliss.

  He picked up his pace, slightly, which I hadn't even realized I wanted; but as soon as he did, I moaned again, rocking forward. But this time I kept my balance. I managed to keep my feet flat on the floor, taking in the pleasure instead of letting it overcome me. I felt like I was glowing from the inside.

  When I came, it was something that rose up from deep inside of me, stronger than anything I'd ever felt before. But I never lost myself in it. I stood strong in it, like a sailor tied to the mast of a ship, letting the feelings wash over me until I couldn't hold them all inside any longer.

  Then, I screamed.

  When he stood up, wiping his face with one hand, I was still upright, somehow. Still standing. My legs ached, but at the same time, I couldn't remember ever feeling this good.

  With a sudden movement, he picked me up, bridal-style, and carried me over to the bed, dropping me on the mattress with a devilish grin. I fell, laughing, in a heap.

  "Now," he said, looming over me on the mattress, like I'd dreamed of so many times. "Wasn't that a good time?"

  I nodded, biting my lip. "Want me to return the favor?"

  His eyebrow quirked. "What do you think?"

  I laughed, reaching down to cup the straining hardness under his jeans. "Yes? No? Maybe?"

  He rolled off of me and stretched out on his back, giving me full access. As much as I wanted to undress him slowly, to drink in every inch of him, I also felt compelled to focus on the part of him that seemed to need my attention most urgently. I unzipped his jeans and yanked them out of the way, dragging his underwear down with them. My breath caught a little in my throat.

  But at the same time, my mouth was watering.

  I leaned down and licked the whole length of him, finally taking everything I could fit into my mouth and caressing him with my tongue. He sighed and arched his back, his eyes half-closing. I wondered if he'd imagined this. Of course he had. How many times, I wondered? Was it his favorite fantasy? In his imagination, how did he like me best?

  I bobbed my head up and down, trying to keep my eyes on his, watching every little twitch of every muscle in his face. I didn't want to miss a moment of this.

  He warned me before it was over - very gentlemanly - but I didn't mind taking it all in. He was my husband, after all.

  We lay silently together for a while after that, with nothing but the sound of each other's heartbeats. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure if it was wise to say anything at all. I certainly didn't plan to get back from the honeymoon and pretend this never happened, but I had a sneaking suspicion he might expect me to. Or worse - he'd want to be friends with benefits throughout the duration of our marriage, only to end everything after the divorce?

  Wait - was that a bad thing?

  Wasn't that exactly what I'd expected, when I let myself give in to this? Okay, so maybe I'd wished we could ever be a real couple. I was finally willing to admit that to myself.
But I'd known it was never going to happen. I'd gone into this understanding that the best possible outcome involved the very thing I was now afraid of.

  I could have Daniel for one year, or I could have him for less. Those were the only possible options.

  The knowledge of this weighed heavily on my mind while we ate our room service dinner, quietly, in front of the T.V. I wondered if Daniel was thinking similar thoughts - trying to figure out how he was going to cut me loose without causing too much of a fuss.

  No, that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, but it was all I could think.

  I lay awake for a long time that night. Even though I was far enough on my own side of the bed that I barely knew he was there; but at the same time, I was acutely aware that he was really inches away from me. I finally fell asleep after what felt like hours of staring into the unfamiliar darkness of the room.

  I felt groggy and discontented the next morning, but I hoped that my first day of "astronaut training" would at least be enough to keep my mind off of all the things I didn't want to think about.

  When we first arrived, Sam welcomed us with a breakfast of genuine astronaut rations - surprisingly edible - and an overview of everything we'd be doing for the day. It started with lighter activities like a mission briefing, fitting into jumpsuits, and our "career assignments." Apparently, "astronaut" wasn't quite the specific term I'd always assumed it to be. Within it, there was a wide range of different skills and specialties. Mathematicians, scientists, engineer - all of them pilots, but from such different walks of life I wondered if any of them had started out wanting to be graphic designers. Maybe my wires had gotten crossed somewhere. Maybe I should have been one of them.

  Then I would have actually made enough money on my own to make this whole thing unnecessary. Then I could have actually done this for real, instead of just pretending.

  By the end of the day, I was tired and overwhelmed. I collapsed in the middle of the massive bed when we returned to the hotel, closing my eyes against the lights. A few minutes later, I felt the mattress dip as Daniel sat down beside me.

  "I was thinking we might go out for dinner," he said. "If you're feeling up to it."

  "Sure," I said, because I had no reason not to. But really, all I wanted was to curl up in bed and be alone for the rest of the night.

  We ended up going out for sushi, at a five-star place of course. I was actually starting to feel comfortable in places like this. I'd grown to realize that no one was actually staring at me, like I'd assumed. As long as I held my head high and acted like I belonged, everything would be just fine.

  Daniel used chopsticks like an old pro. I don't know why that surprised me. When we got back to the hotel, I was feeling in a considerably better mood - whether because of the good sushi or the good sake, I didn't really care. We laughed and joked on the way back to the hotel, tumbling into bed just like a real honeymooning couple. We kissed and undressed each other slowly, and that night I saw him naked for the first time. I let my eyes wander all over him, memorizing every inch of his skin. I didn't know what was going to happen when we got back, but I realized it was foolish not to enjoy this while it lasted.

  I couldn't remember the last time I'd just relaxed in bed with a lover like this; not in any particular hurry, just letting the moments drag themselves out. I remembered to breathe. Long, slow breaths.

  "Where did you learn that thing?" I asked him, letting my nails drag lightly up and down his chest. "About breathing?"

  He smiled. "If you ask me, too many men have a fixed mindset about sex. They believe they're pretty much born instinctively knowing everything they need to know, and if they have to seek any kind of outside knowledge, that's somehow a form of failure. I never bought into that. I fumbled through things when I was a teenager like everyone else, but once I grew up, I wanted to really learn how to do it right. So I did what I'd do for anything else - I took lessons from an expert."

  "A sexpert." I had to admit, it was a smart thing to do - but the idea still made me giggle.

  "Laugh all you want," he said. "But she taught me how to get the most out of every experience. For me and my partners."

  "I'm not laughing at you," I lied. "I just…it's pretty cool. Most guys won't do that, like you said. Unless somebody drags them there."

  "It's silly," he said, as I ran my hand up and down his thigh. "The odd hang-ups people have about trying to improve themselves, sexually. I mean, why not? We take lessons for everything else. Nobody expects that you'll be a prodigy at anything else without some training."

  I got up on my knees and straddled him, carefully, reaching for the condom sitting on the bedside table. "Do you usually tell your partners about your…training?"

  "My work speaks for itself," he said, his breath hitching a little when I grabbed his rapidly hardening manhood by the base and squeezed a little.

  "And so humble, too," I said, rolling the condom down over his velvety-soft skin.

  "To answer your question…" he paused as I sank down onto him, my inner heat enveloping him eagerly. "….no. I don't think…." He exhaled. "….they'd necessarily understand."

  I nodded in agreement before throwing my head back and losing myself in the rhythm of riding him. He couldn't tell any woman he actually cared about, because they might shrink at the idea of a man purposefully taking sex lessons. But with me, it didn't matter. With me, there was no risk.

  With me? Nothing to lose.

  I banished these thoughts from my head, focusing all my efforts on grinding my hips, watching for the particular movements that made his jaw clench and his eyelids flutter. When I purposefully tightened my inner muscles around him, he groaned softly. I'd forgotten how much fun this was, having a man completely at my mercy.

  Suddenly, his expression changed. He was refocused. Watching me carefully. His eyes narrowed.

  "You're enjoying this a little too much, aren’t you?"

  Chapter Twelve

  I gaped at him.

  "You're enjoying this a little too much, aren't you?"

  What on earth was that supposed to mean?

  "You're enjoying it too," I said. "…aren’t you?" He obviously was, but I had no idea what he was driving at.

  "Being on top," he said. "Literally and figuratively."

  I stopped moving. "All right," I said. "Did you…did you want to switch positions? Or what?"

  Suddenly, he grabbed onto my hips and flipped us both over. I shrieked a little. Once he was on top of me, he captured my wrists and held them above my head, much like he'd done when we kissed the night before. I melted into it. As much fun as it had been to feel like I was in charge of him, this was better.

  "There we are," he murmured, in between kisses. "That's the Maddy I know."

  "I don't know what you mean," I gasped, as he thrust deep inside of me and sent a jolt of sharp pleasure up my spine.

  "You don’t?" He smiled. "The first time I saw you, I had you pegged for the kind of girl just aching for man to come into her life and order her around." I must have made a face, because he leaned in and chastened me with a quick kiss. "In the bedroom, I mean."

  "I…suppose?" I managed. I certainly wasn't going to argue with him, as long as he was making me feel like this.

  "Of course you are," he said. "I saw how you reacted just now. I felt it. You can't hide the way your body responds to me, Maddy."

  I moaned, wrapping my legs around him tightly. I didn't even care what kind of ridiculousness he was spouting. He was filling me up so perfectly, as if our bodies had been expertly molded together.

  "Say my name," he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine. They were so dark.

  "Daniel," I said.

  He shook his head. For all his posturing, though, he was starting to get a little breathless. "Not that one," he said. "What you used to call me before. When I was your boss."

  "Mr. Thorne," I whimpered. "Oh...Mr. Thorne…"

  It felt surprisingly good to call him that, after all this time, all this force
d intimacy. That was how I thought of him still, sometimes - when I looked at him and remembered - he was my boss. He was my boss, for Christ's sake, a man who'd been essentially a stranger to me until I agreed to marry him. A man who was a stranger still, in many ways, even while he was buried inside me on our honeymoon.

  "Mr. Thorne," I whispered. He was smiling. A ripple of pleasure went through my chest.

  "Are you close?" he intoned, inches from my ear.

  I realized that I was. I nodded.

  "Don't," he said. "Not until I say you can."

  I stared at him. "I can't…I can't stop it."

  "Of course you can." He paused in his movements. "It's simple. If you get too close, just tell me to stop, and I'll stop."

  "But I don't want you to stop," I whined, feeling helpless. Why was he playing games with me?

  "I don't want to stop either," he replied. "But more than that, I want you to gain control of your body. It won't be hard, if you remember what I taught you. Breathe. Be present."

  "Fine." I felt frustrated already, but this was obviously something he got off on. I'd try to play along.

  I took a deep breath, and focused. I realized that by concentrating, I could actually control my responses more than I'd realized. I might not understand why he wanted to do this, but it was interesting to know that I could.

  I started to relax.

  Just then, he slid his hand down to where we were joined.

  I shuddered as he caressed me with his fingers. "So I take it I'm allowed now?" I said, shakily.

  "No," he said, smilingly. But I could see he was beginning to lose his perfect composure. "Not until I say."

  "That's not fair!" I felt like I was seconds away from losing all control.

  "I never said I was going to make it easy on you."

  I glared at him, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open for long. It was like he knew exactly how to touch me. I didn't know how long I could keep this up.

  "I don't understand why you're doing this," I gasped.

  "You don't?" Sweat was beginning to trickle down the sides of his face. I noticed a muscle in his jaw twitch, and I realized he was actually delaying his own pleasure in order to delay mine. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face. What on earth did he get out of this?