by Tia Siren
That evening Aisha left work before her boss, and she took a cab home and showered and changed. She didn’t know what to wear, but she settled on a dress, a deep blood red color with a slit to her thigh, despite the cold weather. She could stand to be cold if it knocked Anthony off his feet. Red heels and makeup went on after, and then she was going down to the street to catch a cab, but she was surprised by a limousine waiting by the sidewalk. The driver stood by the rear passenger door.
“Aisha?” he asked, and the young woman nodded.
“Mr. Conner is anxious to see you,” the driver added as he opened the door and the way his eyes swept up and down her body rather blatantly let Aisha know she had indeed chosen the right dress. She got into the limousine and couldn’t help but smile when she saw a dozen roses waiting for her. She took the bouquet in her hands and sniffed it. Then she saw the bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and poured herself a glass.
The limo moved slowly through the city and finally pulled into an underground parking garage under a massive and sleek looking skyscraper. The driver opened her door and offered his hand. She took it and got out.
“Right into there,” the man said, pointing to an elevator that sat across from a bank of them. “The code is five, three, two, three.”
Aisha didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, and she didn’t have any idea why there was a single elevator across from the rest of them. There was a sign next to it which said private, and as she stepped inside, she wondered if Anthony was so rich he really owned his own elevator. There was just one button inside the elevator, and she pressed it. When she did so, a small screen above the button woke, shining a soft blue. It was a touch screen, and it showed a set of numbers, zero through nine. She typed in the code the driver had told her, and the door shut, and the elevator moved up.
It rose for a long while, and Aisha found herself wondering what floor her boss lived on. Finally, the elevator stopped, and with a ding the door opened. Aisha found herself in a long hallway, lit by lights that ran down either side of the hall. At the end of the hall was a door, and as Aisha made her way towards it, it opened, and she saw Anthony standing in the doorway.
“Wow,” he said, and she would have said the same. He was dressed in a tailored suit, which wasn’t rare for him, but there was just something about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
When she reached him they embraced and kissed, and then he gave her a tour.
His apartment was massive, mostly open space. One corner had a kitchen, one corner was a walled off bath, with a stone shower with glass walls and a hot tub caddy corner to it. In the middle of the floor space was a living room and in another corner his bedroom. She could have fit four of her apartments in his, and maybe with some space left over.
The dining room was open most of the rest of the apartment, with a long table made of dark wood. Candles burned on the table, and the rest of the apartment was dimly lit. Two places had been set, one at the end of the table and then at the chair directly to the left of that. She sat there, with Anthony pulling her chair out for her, and then he sat at the end of the table. An older woman, named Mary, came out from the kitchen and began serving them. She was Anthony’s private cook, and she found herself wondering if she worked there every day, or only for special occasions. Something told her it was every day.
Mary was a hell of a cook, and the meal was one of the best Aisha ever had. After dinner, she was full and a bit drunk since they had made their way through a couple of bottles of wine. Mary was excused after clearing the table, and she left through the front door.
“You have a cook,” Aisha laughed.
“In fairness, she doesn’t usually serve me like that. I paid her extra.”
Aisha laughed. “I don’t even understand this lifestyle,” she said.
“I work hard for it,” Anthony said somewhat defensively.
“I’m not making fun of you,” Aisha said, touching her hand upon his. “It’s amazing.”
Anthony leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. “You’re amazing.”
Aisha smiled, and they kissed some more.
Soon they were rising from the table, their hands exploring each others body, and her dress, so carefully picked out was lifted over her head, and dropped to the floor. She wore no underwear, a fact that Anthony appreciated with a grunt as he groped at her breasts with both hands. They kissed and fondled as they made their way to his king sized bed in the corner of the apartment. He pushed her back on the bed and began unbuttoning his own shirt, but Aisha sat up and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. She bit her lip and grinned up at her lover. Her fingers went to his zipper, pulling it down and then she slid a hand inside his fly, pulling his already engorged cock out through the flap, without taking off his pants.
She gripped him tightly and began jerking him, sliding her hand back and forth over his member.
“Suck my cock,” he said in the dim light, his voice husky and breathless.
“Shut the fuck up,” Aisha said, and then she pushed him away and stood in front of him. She pulled his ruined shirt from his shoulders after undoing his tie. “Turn around,” she demanded, and he did so. She was completely in charge, and he wasn’t fighting her on that point. She took his tie and slipped it over his head, resting it across his eyes before tightening it so it would stay and function as a blindfold. She reached down and undid the button on his pants, and then bent slowly, planting kisses down his back while she lowered them. When he was nude she guided him to lie on the bed, and after he did, he reached for her, but she stepped away.
“Hold on,” she said. “Jerk your own cock for once.”
She turned and made her way back to the dining room, taking the purse that she had brought from it’ place on the back of the chair where she had sat. When she returned to the bedroom, she stood for a moment and watched him. Anthony had a hold on his hard cock, and he was pleasuring himself, moving his hand slowly along his member.
“Stop,” she said, and he did. Aisha opened her purse and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. They weren’t fuzzy, they weren't pink, they were steel and cold, and she slipped one locking hoop on each wrist in turn, and then attached the other end of each pair to his headboard. He wouldn’t have been able to move if he wanted to.
“This is surprising,” Anthony grinned, and Aisha didn’t say anything. Instead, she climbed onto the bed and shifted, so she was kneeling over his face. Her pussy was moist and warm, and when she lowered herself onto his lips, he began lapping at her wet slit, happily and eagerly. She was facing his feet, and she leaned forward, pressing her large breasts against the bottom of his toned stomach as she brought herself level with his cock. She held herself up a bit with one hand, and gripped his throbbing member with the other, and then took him into her mouth.
She teased him, feeling empowered by having him cuffed to his bed. Her tongue traced tiny circles around the head of his cock, and she left his shaft to her hand. He tried to arch his hips up, to force his cock deep within her mouth, but she didn’t let him. He was tonguing her with skill that came from age and experience, and she came suddenly after ten minutes, his tongue buried inside her, his chin rubbing against her clit as he probed her pussy.
When she was done, she climbed off of him, and then, without speaking, she left the bed. She went out to the kitchen, wanting to torture him, wanting to make him want her even more. She filled a glass with water from the tap and drank it slowly. She heard him calling for her, but she ignored him. When she finally returned his cock was still hard, angry and red and yearning and he was pumping his hips up and forth in a display of desire gone unfulfilled.
“You came back,” he said.
“I guess I should make you come,” she said. She climbed on top of him, facing him, and used her hand to guide him inside of her. Aisha controlled the pace, rocking slowly on top of him. She bent forward, kissed him. When she moved up, so her brown nipple rubbed his lips he parted them and sucke
d on her.
It was long and slow and tender, but finally, he was coming, grunting aloud and thrusting upward as his cock dumped his load in her tight pussy. She waited until his dick had stopped jumping and thrusting, and then she pulled herself off of him, and laid down beside him.
“Are you going to uncuff me?” he panted.
“Maybe,” Aisha said with a wicked grin.
“At least take the blindfold off,” her boss pleaded.
“I will. Eventually.”
“You’re evil,” Anthony said.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
Aisha left him blindfolded because she felt like an idiot bringing all of this up, after only a month or so of dating. But still, it had been weighing on her mind of late, and she didn’t want just to let it go.
“Are you ashamed to be dating me?”
“What? No. Why would you ask that?” Anthony asked.
“I’m your secretary. I just… I noticed we only go out during lunch when it would be normal for us to go out. And you’ve never introduced me to any of your friends.”
“You haven’t introduced me to any of yours.”
Aisha laughed. “I don’t have any here. If you want to fly to Michigan, I will.”
“I introduced you to Mary tonight,” Anthony argued.
“She’s your cook.”
“Well look, I was going to ask you… I always take some time off around now, and I spend a week at this cabin in Colorado. Great place. I like to ski. Do you ski?”
“I’ve never tried,” Aisha said truthfully.
“Well, I can teach you. Will you come with me?”
Aisha grinned and reached over, using one finger to pull the blindfold down. “Okay,” she said when he looked to her.
4
Three weeks after he asked her to go, Aisha was boarding a private plane, on her way to Colorado. After landing at the Denver airport, they were driven three hours away to a remote and snow-covered mountain. There was a small town at the foot of the small jagged peak, and up the side, a bit was Anthony’s private cabin. It wasn’t a cabin like Aisha had ever seen. It was huge, with two stories and a wrap around porch, all made of logs. The inside was furnished as extravagantly as the outside would make it seem. They spent days on the mountain, skiing, and when Aisha didn’t take to that, sledding. Their meals were prepared by Mary, who was staying down in the nearby town, but came up every morning and cooked a quick lunch and a more substantial dinner.
On their fourth night, after steamy sex, when they both lay panting and shining in the soft moonlight, Anthony looked over to her. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“You think I’m hiding you.”
“I don’t,” Aisha said, but that was a lie.
“I just… I didn’t want people to know… I thought that’s what you wanted. You’re good at your job, and you can make it on your own merits. That’s what I thought you wanted.”
“I do,” Aisha said, and then she sighed. “But I really like you. I don’t want to be your secret.”
Anthony smiled. “Then you won’t be.”
Aisha had something else weighing on her mind, and she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “I’m pregnant,” she said.
Anthony looked at her for a long while, without speaking. When he did his voice was tight, and didn’t betray a single thought. “It’s mine?”
A fury rose up in Aisha. “Of course it is!” she snapped, and then she rose from the bed, still nude and sweaty.
“I’m sorry, I was just making sure!”
“How many women are you fucking besides me?”
“No one!” Anthony claimed, holding his hands up. “It came out wrong.”
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Aisha said, and she left the bedroom. That night it was awkward and tense, and neither she nor Anthony seemed keen on arguing further, so they stayed quiet. In the morning Aisha rose first, going downstairs and making coffee. She had just poured herself a big mug when there was a pounding on the cabin's door.
When she went to the door, she could see a woman standing there in a heavy coat and a fur hat. She looked familiar, and as Aisha pulled the door open, she realized it was the tall white woman who had stormed into Anthony’s office that first week.
“You slut!” the woman said as she came in, and her hand went across Aisha’s face in a stunning slap.
“Stop it, Kathleen,” a voice called, and both women turned to see Anthony coming down the stairs.
“Who is this bitch?” Aisha asked him, ready to fight.
“Bitch?” the white woman asked. “I’m his wife!”
“Hey now!” Anthony said, but Aisha had heard enough. It all made sense now, why he seemed as though he wanted to keep her his little secret. She made the two steps over to where Anthony stood, and the foot of the staircase, and splashed the hot coffee in his face. It wasn’t scalding, but she hoped it at least hurt. Without a word she turned and stormed outside.
There wasn’t anywhere to go but into town, and Aisha was lucky enough to have thought to grab her coat from the hook just inside the door. Her snowboots were on the porch, and she pulled them on, and she was down into the snow as the door opened behind her.
“We’re separated!” Anthony called after her, but Aisha raised a middle finger to him without looking back. She walked down into town, taking half an hour in the snow, tears sliding from her eyes and freezing on her cheeks the whole way. She didn’t know where to go, so she found Mary at the hotel and told the old woman what had happened.
“Did you know he was married?” Aisha asked the cook.
“Yes, but he’s been trying to divorce her for years. She won’t sign.”
That made Aisha feel a bit better, but she was still hurt and shocked that he hadn’t told her. And she was pregnant, with his child, and still no one knew about them, and the whole thing filled her with bitterness and sadness. Mary helped her get home, and she had quit and cleaned out her desk before Anthony got back.
He sent message after message to her, emails, phone calls, but she didn’t speak to him. She found a new job with a smaller firm and had settled in. Two weeks after she started Anthony came to see her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
He just smiled, and then clapped his hands. A group of men came into the office, and they each had an instrument. They began to play a song, and Aisha recognized it as the first song they had ever danced to, laughing and drunk in her apartment one night. Tears stung her face.
“I love you,” Anthony said as he went to her. Everyone heard him. “I want to marry you, and I want to raise this baby together,” he added. He took her hands, and pulled her close, and they started to dance. “I’m working overtime to get my ex out of my life. She’s asking for too much, but you’re worth it. I’ll give it to her. The money, the cars, all of it, nothing matters. I want to be with you. Just you.”
Aisha could hardly speak, so she didn’t even try. She simply closed her eyes and laid her head on Anthony’s chest, and they danced slowly to the music while all of Aisha’s new co-workers looked on. She didn’t care if they saw her, and neither did Anthony.
*****
THE END
The Russian’s Secret Love Child – A BWWM Billionaire Romance
Flashback
“Papa, no more… please!” Anton pleaded as his father swung his leather belt against his soft young face.
“What did I tell you? Ha?” His father yelled, continuing whipping his delicate and frail body.
“I’m sorry. I’m not gonna do it again. Please, stop…..”
“No. You have to learn. And I’m gonna teach you how to discipline yourself….”
Neighbors were filled with terror as they heard him screaming for help. He was the only child, and since his mother died to Malaria, his father had never treated him as his own child. Alcohol became his best buddy.
Anton had
not eaten yet since morning. How could he if no one brought him food to quench his hunger with? His father’s beating seemed to be his only meal of the day.
“Stop. Stop. Please, papa… Stop.” Those were the only words he could utter as the belt penetrated into his flesh, ripping the layers of his skin, exposing every tissue of his muscles.
“Your mother, whom you killed, didn’t tell you to steal! How could you disrespect her?” He asked in a very strong tone, deafening Anton’s fragile ears.
Since Anton’s mother passed away, his father had been hostile to him. Unable to blame anyone, he focused his anger on his son, who knew nothing but to obey every word he spoke in great fear.
But desperation pushed him to disregard his father’s command and follow the craving of his hunger. This morning, when no one was looking, he stole a piece of bread from a small bakery. He was caught. A child like him was inexperienced when it came to crime. It was survival instinct that taught him how to misbehave.
“I’m sorry….” He cried out, eating his own mucus while drinking his own tears.
Finally, his father got tired of beating him up and decided to call it for the day. Tomorrow was another day. It seemed he was his father’s punching bag, an object he used to dissipate his fury and disappointment in life.
The floor was his mattress as he laid resting, feeling the pain of his father’s abomination. Is it my fault that mama died? He thought as tears streamed out of his eyes. He did not seem to feel the cold of the bare floor where dust fell and covered the slippery surface.
“Why? Why Am I so unlucky? It’s not my fault to be born poor.” He cried out.
Those same words he spoke as a child kept on repeating whenever he was alone. The memory of the past kept haunting him down. Deep. Painful. Miserable. Those words described his childhood.
“Enough! Enough…….” He screamed as his hands clenched his hair, trying to get rid of a headache created by the trauma of his father’s beating.
Down to the floor, he laid almost in the same position as he was the night after he stole the piece of bread.