Unjust Billionaire: A dom romance (Bossy Billionaire Book 2)

by Savannah May

  “I believe my words were you would work out well, rather than we would,” he snapped.

  “Yes, of course. That's what I should have said.”

  I was mistaken and his intentions were not that I was to surrender to his needs. He had some other plan and it was a deep defeat that I'd failed to entice him. I might have managed to retain the contract and secure my position as designer for the new winery but my inner self had been piqued with interest to discover more about the elusive Mr Valentine.

  My body felt ravaged with missing him even though he'd never touched me with so much as one fingertip. That longing was driven by that very fact- I wanted his hands on me more than anything. A caress, a brush, a brutal squeeze- my body was howling with the deep longing for any connection with him.

  We swept through two massive black doors into a large empty space that looked out across a stunning landscape of vineyards undulating toward the horizon.

  “This area will become the new winery- tasting rooms and event salon. You've seen the brief.”

  “Yes sir, a beautiful space to work with. I'm looking forward to it.”

  “I saw your design.”

  “May I ask, why you selected me for this job out of all the well-known designers who bid on the contract.”

  “Ms Cannon, I am a very busy man and I cannot tolerate distractions. More than that, I can't have a woman on my estate who refuses to bow to my will. After heavy vetting we discovered that you have the commitment for this type of work and are willing to submit.”

  “We?” I whispered.

  What did he mean I'd been vetted for the job? Did he mean other than for my talent as an interior designer? And who was the 'we' that had assisted in that vetting?

  “Had I been able to meet with you personally I would have known instantly that you were suitable for the job but as I had no time to fly into New York, others agreed to run the necessary tests.”

  Others? What others? I had never met with anyone for any sort of interview. The contract had been awarded based on the floor plan design I'd submitted along with hundreds of designers from all around the world. I was bursting to ask but he was too formidable.

  His rough tone with me, his aristocratic bearing at my presumptuous responses inhibited me. I'd been tested before he gave me the job and now I was being tested again – for something that seemed to have nothing to do with my abilities to decorate a space.

  I followed as he strode across the expansive space to another door, half-hobbling behind him in the tight leather bandage dress and struggling to keep up in the shoes he put me in.

  That was his plan all along, to have me reduced to a Geisha unable to keep up or get far away. Not that I had anywhere to go. We were far out in the countryside and I had no car. I was almost a prisoner in Jay Valentine's castle on the hill.

  When he threw open the towering double doors on the opposite wall, I gasped hard before I caught myself enough to repress my shock. The room was a chamber of secrets, filled with contraptions and equipment that might have been mistaken for Pilates apparatus on a brief first glance.

  It didn't take close inspection to realize that Mr Valentine was a man of particular desires indeed, far more complex than the spanking and bondage games Josh had introduced me to. I should walk away now, except I wouldn't get very far.

  “Do I have to tell you to step inside?” he asked, watching my breath come in shallow gasps.

  Trills of desire skittered through my body, a mixture of fear and intense desire to discover. He was testing me, that much I was sure of. Usually he wouldn't make such a polite request.

  “Consider carefully before you respond.” His gruff voice was soft and caressing.

  “Safe?” I whispered.

  “I don't play safe.”

  I inhaled as hard as the constriction in my throat allowed, the oxygen tight in my upper chest as though pushed out by my heart. Josh and I always had a safe word, a secure scenario to fall back on. If I wanted to stop I could. If I wanted to let him know it was too much, I could, simply by uttering the safe word we'd agreed on. Valentine was not allowing me that exit route.

  6

  It seemed as though I was to be totally alone and at Jay Valentine’s mercy. I wanted this job, I needed it but that had disappeared from my conscious decision making. What I really wanted was Valentine. I looked up at him, his eyes smashing into me and felt as though I'd known him forever.

  It was stupid but it was like we'd been through lifetimes together. He was hugely dominating, almost breathtaking in his power. Actually he scared the crap out of me and at the same time I knew if he took me on, he'd take great care of me.

  I lifted my hand to touch his chest and immediately thought better of it. He would never allow me to touch him and I wanted to with starvation craving.

  “Why me?”

  Again I came close to asking, but stopped myself this time. Questions were not permitted. It crossed my thoughts to walk away. Get my things, wherever they might be, somehow find transport back to the airport and a plane back home. Except I had no home. No Job. No life. My boyfriend had probably already replaced me.

  “You enjoyed the experience of removing your clothes for me and the power that gave you over a stranger. You discovered the construct created by clothes covering the vulnerability of our nakedness. Now decide whether you want that feeling to develop,” Jay said his eyes plundering into me, delving down to my core and sparking between my thighs.

  A shiver of desire whispered down my legs. It was depraved on my part but I wanted Valentine like a wanderer in the Sahara wants water. Every cell sucked into itself with ferocious need. Having him inside me, filling me, sawing across my inner walls with that frisson of friction. I yearned for him.

  Gathering all my courage, mixed with wanton abandon of feverish desire, I stepped into the room and waited while he closed the door and locked it. Trying desperately not to quiver as he approached and took my hands in his and failing when he tied them securely into rope stirrups around the wrists.

  He hauled the contraption forward so I was bent over. Moving behind me, his breath whispered across my neck as he leaned down to pull up the long zipper up the back of the hobble skirt.

  Slowly, one by one, the metal teeth opened to expose the backs of my knees, thighs, then grazed over the rounded hump of my ass crack. When it ended at my coccyx, the two leather wings splayed over the sides of my naked red-hot butt. Valentine's ragged breath grazed by skin as he stared down at the red welts across my cheeks, the cool air making them smart afresh.

  With a heavy tremble as Valentine trailed his fingers along the length of my slit, I waited with shuddering breath as he bent and pulled one ankle into a shackle, then the other. I was thrust forward with arms and legs stretched wide, back arched so my naked pussy was spread, exposed to him.

  The thrill of being on display quaked along my thighs and Valentine moved back slowly, without a word, to the front of the scaffold holding me captive. With agonizing indolence he slowly dragged a zipper across my nipple until it gaped wide enough that my breast fell free.

  Then the other tumbled forth so that now my mounds hung from the leather truss of the dress, encircled by the rough brass teeth of the zip. Their heavy naked weight made my sex ache and juices flooded down my livid inner thighs.

  I couldn't repress the yearning in my cavern for him to ram into me and stretch me wider, open me up to him. The biting urge along my clit to feel his fingertips raven across it was unrelenting. Instead he smoothed my hair, pulling it back as he wrapped a swathe of soft dark fabric around my eyes and plunged me into darkness.

  Being locked in my personal world ignited each of my senses. My inner core became my sixth sense, delirious with hunger and on the biting edge of sensation. I felt everything with heated awareness. I waited, ravenous for his abrasive probe, but only the tingle of air curled over me. The manacles around my ankles dug deep into the tendons as I squirmed my thighs, to relieve the avid longing in my center.
My sex pulsated in mimic climax as it reached out to be plundered.

  The slap across my soaked vulva sounded like a whip cracking the air and I moaned as the pain shattered through me. Seconds later the agony kindled a flame of hunger in my pussy. I wanted more. I wanted his heavy palm spanking my stretched glistening clit.

  “Very well, Ms Cannon. Your first day on the job may be the most vigorous of many to come.” I was ready and willing for many, many days in Valentine's dungeon if only he would hurry up and relieve my avid fascination for him.

  “Let's hope it won't be your last,” he continued. “I shall leave you now to consider my proposition and we'll meet again tomorrow.”

  What? Noooo. Every pore howled in resistance to being abandoned so abruptly. This was worse punishment than another spanking on my ravaged cheeks. The chafing need for release provoked a scream of anguish at the sound of his departure and the weight of the door falling back into its bolt.

  I bucked at the restraints holding my limbs that only made them tug ferociously at my muscles. Almost no movement was possible under the tight bondage and I finally gave up, hot tears of real frustration pushing out beneath the silk blindfold.

  The wailing and screeching of desire through my core went on for what seemed like eons. My breasts pulsated sensually from the holes made by the open zippers in the leather costume, asking to be licked and tweaked, but denied.

  The cavern between my legs dripped juices of eager lust. It stretched wide open, begging to be destroyed, to no avail. My heart pumped hard to alleviate the agony coursing through my body as I stood alone with my hunger, waiting for my master's return.

  I had no choice but to endure the extreme of my insatiable longing for hours. When the thwarting boiled over into fury, I screamed and begged to be let loose. I'd do whatever he wanted- anything.

  But I knew it was useless. My rebellion only drew his impulse control out longer. He already knew I'd do his bidding and this bondage proved how under his spell I would remain for the entire time I worked at Valentine Winery.

  Eventually- it could have been a week or an hour- I'd lost all sense of time trapped inside my solitary world of erotic darkness- the door clicked open and I almost sobbed with relief. My senses roved, alight with the aura of feeling and every step he took toward me was a caress to my bare skin. I already knew his woody aroma mixed with a hint of masculine musk cologne.

  He ran his palm across my blazing cheek and into the crack, across the puckered hole, further down, reaching into my spread sex. With his forearm buried in my ass crack, I moved from holding my breath to panting hard as his pads reached into my lips and found my hard little nub.

  Searing pleasure racked through my core. His touch made me shudder. When his fingers grazed along the length of my spread slit and massaged my dripping pussy with my own juices, my entire body racked against the shackles in tremors of lust. From neck to toe I was in a delectation of bliss as waves of flowing release pressed outward and upward.

  My delight was distracted by the sudden appearance of a second entity in my sensory world. While expert fingers circled his around my eroticized nub, the other figure was at my head. Not possible. Unless there were two men in the room with shackled, blindfolded me between them. My heart pounded so hard inhalation was almost impossible. On the brink of release, a flood of affection washed through me. But who was it directed at? The handsome older Frenchie who was again easing my fever, or my enigmatic boss?

  Again the aroma of Valentine- I'd never forget it. My pricked up ears heard a zipper lower and the scent of man filled my nostrils as the tip of his cock pulsed at my lips. I parted them and swirled my tongue around the head, just as his hand daggered into my hair, gathering it up to shove my head down, taking his entire shaft up to the hilt.

  Valentine's cock was huge and delicious, thicker and more intrusive than Josh's. The musky taste made me want to lap him up but he allowed no savoring of his blade as he rammed it further back into my throat. I repressed the inside of my windpipe to stop from gagging and allowed him to slam the back of my mouth over and over, his hand forcing my head down to take him deeper.

  With Frenchie enticing my labia, flicking across the triangle point, I moaned onto Valentine's hard blade and his thighs clenched down hard as he released a stream of hot nectar which I swallowed in one like a tequila slammer.

  7

  He held my head tight to his groin, cupping my nose in his nest until he gradually softened. With a tiny stroke across the back of my skull he slipped out of my mouth. Boiling tears suddenly pricked my lids under the blindfold, whether from the emptiness in my mouth or from the tenderness of his brief caress, I wasn't sure.

  When his touch vanished, I noticed that Chapelle's stimulation had ceased and the pounding need between my legs was even more agonizing than earlier. I waved my arms and hips in the bonds to attract attention and was rewarded with a cold thrust into my pussy. An inanimate article bulged inside me and something was strapped along the length of my pounding slit and then tied around my hips.

  “Please be so kind as to join us for dinner in the Red Room,” Valentine murmured into my ear as he inserted the metal plug inside me and its metallic chill silenced my immediate rapture.

  Had my arms not been pinioned high over my head, I would instantly have reached out for him and pressed my aching flesh into his broad chest. By the time I realized my bonds had been unshackled and I reached up to pull down the blindfold, even before my eyes grew accustomed to the exterior vision, I knew both men were gone from the room.

  Every inclination was to reach my own fingers to my exposed breasts and tug on the hard bullets but I was sure this was another test. I knew Valentine was somehow watching me, had probably been observing my excessive emotions throughout the day he'd kept me chained up.

  I had to repress my avarice and wait for his pleasuring. As I pulled down the zip along the ridge of my ass, I discovered that I was content to withhold my release. It was torture but it was sweetly intense. All I wanted was for Valentine to take charge of my climax. Now that I was no longer imprisoned, a certain euphoria came over me and I was as satiated as though I'd thundered through orgasm. I could not wait for another session of surrender with my new boss.

  It crossed my mind to leave my breasts exposed during dinner, they felt so divinely luscious pushing out between the heavy golden zippers. I was amazed at the discovery of just how deep the desire ran through my physical cells. But I had not been told to do so and as I had no idea who I might pass in the halls as I searched for the Red Room.

  I certainly didn't relish the prospect of running into the venerable Delilah with my tits exposed for her perusal. I pressed the flesh mounds back into the recesses of the leather. The scratch of brass across my nipples helped to tamp down my fervent hunger. I left the dungeon to seek out my two new masters, keen to find out what delicious new experiences the night would uncover.

  I wandered the various long passages of Chateau Valentine, hobbled by the thigh-strangling tight leather mermaid skirt that clutched my legs tight down below the knee. The full length heavy brass zipper skimmed along my ass crack all the way to the hem, eliciting thrills of sensation with every pinched step. The screaming high heels, toe points that could kill like a stiletto blade, further impeded my natural confident stride.

  And of course, the plug Valentine had buried inside my pussy was awkward to walk with. The sensation of having it lodged inside me, grinding against my walls, brought my focus constantly back to my begging pussy and the twinges of hunger in my clit.

  Completely lost, not one of the many double doors I peaked behind contained a room that was red. A dining room would naturally be off the main hallway except the vast chateau was beset with so many long halls, each grew bigger and longer. Every door I peeped behind contained a reception room or lounge, grander than the last. And Valentine had a schizophrenic sense of design, where the decor veered from French antique opulence, bordering on the palace at Versailles, to Hollywoo
d chic minimalism.

  One room was a vast wall of windows opening to the view of the vineyards, colored a deep tangerine gold as the last of the sun dropped into the distant ocean. It contained a Mid-Century Modern sunken sofa and a Marcel Wenders knotted rope chair that made me giggle, with illicit thoughts of bondage. A full zinc-topped bar and pool table with blood red baize completed the den.

  Perhaps he had a highly developed sense of juxtaposition, as designers liked to call the offsetting of opposing eras and styles to create what was known in the trade as eye-pop. Did he need a designer to pull his taste into alignment? Or could it be that Jay Valentine didn't really know what it was he really wanted and decided to have everything?

  I pulled my head back from the door and my heart hurled itself into my mouth at the sight of the figure standing to my side. The startle was painful, as the metal and leather I was fastened into like a shroud tugged on my flesh giving new meaning to jumping out of my skin.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The assistant had her arms folded across her ample chest exactly like a vicious nun at convent school. The low scoop neck top exposed the white hills of her breasts. Suddenly I felt guilty from the assumption etched across her beautiful but despicable face. It was like being right back at boarding school where everything I did had been presumed to be bad.

  “I, I'm looking for the dining room,” I stuttered.

  “You are consigned to eat in the worker's quarters with the rest of the crew,” she said, in tones clipped closer than a military hair cut.

  Crew? She made it sound like a film set and I was to eat with the atmosphere- as no-account movie extras are called.

  “Actually I was requested to go to the red room, by our boss,” I replied with a small surge of satisfaction at the momentary fall of her face before she smoothed her visage over again to impassive and unreadable.

  Okay girlfriend, you are plainly declaring open warfare even though I've done nothing to challenge whatever authority you've scooped up for yourself in this household.