by Lane Masters
The Billionaire’s Playroom: An Erotic Dominance Story
By
Lane Masters
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All Romance Edition
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Copyright 2012 by Lane Masters
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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 articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Check out read more about Lane Masters and follow her blog at http://SeductiveStories.net.
Or check her out on Facebook!
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Breathtaking desire. Irresistible risk. Consuming passion.
Allison finds herself stranded on the road, caught between the oncoming force of a lightning storm and the open door of billionaire Craig Westford. Which is more dangerous—the man or the storm? The man. Definitely the man.
For this man can awaken unfamiliar feelings inside of her--cravings she never knew she had, passion she has never experienced. Fleeing the storm, she is caught in the Billionaire’s Playroom. And she has no desire to escape.
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“Damn it!” Allison cursed as she slammed her hand against her thigh. She glared as she gazed down into the open hood of the rental car. Climbing out of the dead car and opening its hood had been completely futile--the jumbled innards of the vehicle were a complete mystery to her. All she knew was that the damn rental car had died in the middle of God knows where, and now Allison, a sports blogger for a local website, would not get to Atlanta tonight. Thank God the interview she had scheduled for tomorrow was in the late afternoon. Hopefully, she would make it there by then.
Allison gazed around her. She hadn’t seen a house for miles, and the edges of the road were lined with the thick trees and scrub typical of North Florida. But worst of all, were the clouds threatening ahead of her. She had known a storm was coming, had expected to drive through it all night long. She had not expected to have to wait out the thunderstorm sitting in a dead car. There was no way she was going to walk for help through a summer, Florida lightning storm.
She managed to slam the car door just as the first gumdrop sized splatters of rain began to fall. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and she could see the lightning coming.
Florida. Lightning capital of the United States. One of the first things that she had learned upon moving to the state was to get indoors when the notorious summer storms flashed across the skies. The interior of the car would be just as safe, right?
Allison watched the electric strikes in the sky in front of her, violent shards of light ripping through the clouds. The storm was coming closer, and there was nothing she could do but wait it out. She sighed. It had been a miserable day. First, she had been an hour late getting on the road because her dog, Mojo, had managed to get out of the fence. She had succeeded in chasing him down and gotten him to the kennel where he was boarding, but by then rush hour traffic had hit. And rush hour traffic headed out of Jacksonville, Florida was hell on earth.
Allison hated the monotony of the interstate and had opted to take the back roads headed north. She preferred the variety of the scenery and the absence of 18-wheelers and vacation traffic. But there were a few significant drawbacks, and being stuck in the middle of nowhere was one of them.
Hell’s fire, she couldn’t even use her phone to call for roadside assistance. Anxiously, she glanced around, as if that would make her cell phone magically transport from her house to her hand. Nope. Still no cell phone.
She hadn’t discovered that her cell phone was missing until she was a couple of hours out of town. After several minutes of frantic searching, scrabbling through her purse and then pulling over to search through the luggage in the trunk, she distinctly remembered tossing it down on the bed as she grabbed for her shoes to go search for Mojo. In her rush to finally get out the door, she had forgotten to go back and pick it up again.
So now she couldn’t call for help, couldn’t call a friend to come pick her up, couldn’t even call her boss and let him know she was going to be late. And the lightning was inching closer with every moment.
Allison’s attention was yanked away from the approaching storm by the rumble of a car pulling up alongside of her. With one glance, she took in the surprising sight of a brand-new Maserati sports car-- not exactly the vehicle she would have expected to see on this deserted road. It was a shiny black, with glowing chrome, and tinted windows. It’s sleek, dark form took her breath away, every inch of it exuding luxury and expense. It instantly cast an aura of wealth around the man behind its wheel.
Allison couldn’t control the expression of surprise on her face when she finally drew her eyes away from the hot car and looked at the driver. He was smoking just as much as the car was. Black hair feathered away from his brow, as dark, piercing eyes searched hers. High cheekbones whispered of Native American ancestors, but the dusky shade of a 5 o’clock shadow at his square, strong jaw gave away his European blood. For some strange reason, he looked familiar, but she knew she had never met anyone who could afford a car like this.
He cracked his car window, lowering it just enough to speak out, and leaned over the passenger seat toward her. Of course, with her own car as dead as a doorknob, rolling down her own window was not an option. She hesitated. He was a total stranger. How many times had she heard horror stories about meeting total strangers on a dark road?
But then a lightning bolt struck a tree somewhere up ahead, and the sudden crash made her jump sky high. Which was more dangerous? The man or the storm? She glanced back at the man, taking in his piercing gaze and smoldering good looks. Definitely the man. But at least he looked friendly.
She cracked her door open, so that she could hear what he was saying, squinting her eyes through the raindrops that blew in.
“Are you okay?” His voice was a deep bass, the kind of deep masculine voice that always made her heart beat just a little bit faster. It matched his rugged good looks completely.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. My car just died.”
“Have you called for help?”
Allison grimaced, hating to admit this to a stranger. “No. I left my phone at home.”
The man glanced at the storm and then back at her again. “Well, I’d loan you my phone to call roadside, but the nearest service station is about 45 minutes from here, and they aren’t exactly going to be thrilled about coming out in the middle of the storm. I hate to tell you this, but the storm is only supposed to get worse over the next several hours. And it will be dark soon.”
Allison nodded, filled with dismay. Would a car really keep her safe from that kind of vicious lightning?
The man looked thoughtful, considering. His four head wrinkled worriedly as he watched the approaching storm. “Look, why don’t you come with me and wait the storm out? My house is only a couple of miles ahead.”
Allison felt a rush of trepidation slip through her veins. She couldn’t imagine getting into a car with a strange man. My God, that was an even bigger rule than “don’t talk to strangers.” Visions of little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf ran through her head.
“I have an idea,” he said, opening the glove box of his car. Allison watched him take a plastic bag out of the glove box and slip someth
ing inside it.
“Here,” he said, reaching his hand out toward her. “My phone’s inside. Go ahead and call someone, let them know where you’re going. My name is Craig Westford. You can even take my picture and text it to a friend so they know who you're with.”
The name ran through Allison’s brain, finally sliding into place. She had heard of this guy, or at least of his family. They owned an enormous company that supplied the entire state with gravel for road construction. But in this area, they were especially famous for their extremely generous scholarship endowments.
She glanced back at him. So, that was why he seemed familiar. Just last week she had seen him on the news, handing a $10,000 check to some high school senior who volunteered at an animal shelter.
Another lightning strike made the decision for her. Quickly, she reached through the crack in the door and took the bag. She pulled the phone out and held it up to the window glass as
Craig watched her. She snapped his picture and texted it to her best friend. Car broke down. Going with Craig Westford. Yes really. :-)
Then, Allison slid from the driver seat, dragging her keys and overnight bag with her. She fumbled for a moment with the passenger door of the Maserati, the torrential rain soaking her before she could get inside. Expensive leather welcomed her as she slid into the seat, the glow of luxury all around. She smiled at the scent of the leather, which had always been a bit of a turn on for her. It brought to her mind images of hard, half-naked cowboys riding wild stallions. For some reason, her mind automatically transitioned to being bent over a saddle and taken just as hard and wild by those same muscular cowboys.
She shook her head. The buttery soft leather was a far cry from the hard, half civilized leather of her fantasy. She ran her hand over the smooth surface, feeling bad about getting the seat so wet, but there was not much she could do about it.
But then she looked at the man beside her on the seat and completely forgot about her soaking wet clothes. Craig Westford had always looked handsome on TV, but he was even better looking in real life.
She caught a whisper of his spicy, masculine scent, and his dark eyes mesmerized her instantly. He was the kind of man who commanded attention, who exuded self-confidence and power.
Allison flushed as his eyes traveled over her, and she suddenly realized that the black tank top she had chosen to wear for her road trip was soaking wet. Thank God she hadn’t worn a white one. She would have looked like she was ready for a wet T-shirt contest in any bar in the country. However, the chill of the rain had caused her nipples to harden, and she knew the hard tips had to be clearly visible even through the black cloth of her shirt and bra.
Oddly enough, Allison realized she didn’t mind his eyes checking her out. Maybe he would like what he saw. The truth was, he was modestly clothed, and she was still checking him out, too.
But then Craig’s expression shifted from intent to a slow grin. “Buckle up, baby. It’s gonna be a wild ride.”
Allison giggled nervously, chiding herself for the schoolgirl sound. Nevertheless, she obediently reached for the seatbelt and strapped it across her body. Then the car took off and a rush of adrenaline whipped through her veins.
She could feel the power as the car sped down the road, racing the wind and the lightning. It was as if the car harnessed the power of the storm, and the energy of the lightning throbbed through the engine. Allison’s heart pounded with the rush, thrilling at the exhilaration in her blood. She had always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, attracted to things that made her heart pound with excitement. She fought the impulse to urge him faster and faster, but it was a close call. All too soon, the car slipped down a long paved driveway, speeding past tall palm trees and twisting oaks. To Allison, who had been raised far from the East Coast, the contrast was striking.
The car took a sharp corner with ease, Allison gasped when she saw the palatial mansion in front of her. The red tile roof and arched entryways bespoke Spanish style influence, and she could tell even from this distance that the light colored walls were made with coquina, appropriate for Florida’s heritage. But the rest of it was completely modern. A long circular driveway led in front of formal double doors, and high walls were dotted with windows framed with balconies. It was enormous.
The yard was studded with palm trees and formal landscaping, a large white fountain occupying the place of honor in the center of the court. But with the torrential rainfall, a fountain was completely unnecessary. Allison did not have long to admire the view. Craig’s strong hand guided the car around the corner, and he pulled smoothly into an enormous garage on the side of the house.
“I hope you don’t mind the less formal entry,” he said. “But if I drop you off at the front door, you’ll be completely wet.” Allison nearly choked at his words, her first irrational thought utterly inappropriate. She hesitated, wondering if she should say the first response that popped into her mind. He looked so…proper. What if he was offended?
To hell with it. She hadn’t gotten where she was in life by being afraid of doing something risky. “That’s okay. I like getting wet.” She let the implication hang heavily in her voice, her eyes sliding to his face. He glanced at her as if weighing her statement, as if wondering if she meant what it sounded like she did. She grinned and winked at him, amused at his surprise. He climbed out of the car wearing a bemused expression, and Allison chuckled as she finally closed the car door.
Like a gentleman, Craig opened the house door for her, and she stepped inside to an informal, tiled foyer. The kitchen was to her left, and a long hall to the right. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” Allison blinked at his words. God, he was so sexy, she would be happy to strip off every inch right in front of him. But he quickly strode through the kitchen, not waiting for her response, and Allison followed closely after.
The sight of the living room took her breath away. A huge, tiled fireplace took up almost the entire side of one half of the room, and a water sculpture, flowing into a small, indoor pool enhanced the other side. In between, were various seating arrangements, obviously set up for formal entertaining.
Craig heard her gasp and glanced back at her. “Yes, I know. It’s a little bit much. My decorator said the fire and water give some sort of symbolic balance to the room.” He rolled his eyes. Allison glanced at him. Only a man would say something like that. The room was stunning.
“You can hang out in here, if you like, and I’ll go find something dry for you to wear.” He gestured to the room around them. “I think my sister left some close last time she was here. You look like you’re probably about her size.” He headed up the long, winding staircase that graced the side of the room, while Allison stood there still admiring the waterfall.
Finally, she turned to the fireplace, with its huge wooden mantel. It was adorned with a number of figurines that appeared to be statues and collectibles from other countries. She walked closer, and was surprised to notice one at the end. About a foot tall, it was a replica of some sort of African fertility God. Although she had never seen one, Allison figure there was not much else it could be. The face of the figurine was long and carved, as if wearing a mask. But what gave it away, was the enormous cock that stood erect, projecting out, from the statue. Although the statue was only a foot high, the dick was big enough for a real, human man.
Allison laughed out loud and shook her head. Apparently, Craig had more of a sense of humor than she would’ve thought. And he had seemed so uptight in the car. She turned away, wondering what else she would be able to find.
However, basic needs came before curiosity, and Allison and realize that after several hours in the car, her only company the radio and a 32 ounce soda, she had to find a bathroom before she did anything else. Her eyes roamed around the room, looking for what might be a bathroom door. She shrugged and then headed for the stairs to ask Craig where it was. She wasn’t going to snoop around the whole downstairs house trying to find a toilet.
> A door near the top of the stairs was open, and Allison quickly found a designer decorated half bathroom, obviously for guests. As she stepped out after using the expensive, lavender soap, she could hear noise coming from a room at the end of the hall. She surmised that was the guest bedroom and Craig was searching in there for clothes for her, and so she headed that direction. “Craig?” She called as she turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
The room was anything but a guest room.
Oh, there was a bed in there all right. But it certainly wasn’t designed for comfortable sleeping. The iron bed was not very large, probably only full-sized, but that wasn’t really what drew her attention. The iron posts were tall, almost like a four-poster bed, but the posts were extremely thick and sturdy looking. At the top of the posts, thick, iron rods connected every side, as if it was a canopy bed.
Most striking of all were the two chains dangling from the rod at the top of the foot of the bed. Chains with leather cuffs hanging on the ends. She blinked in surprise and then glanced down and noticed that matching cuffs were attached at the foot of the bed. No. This bed was certainly not made for sleeping.
Allison glanced around. This room was obviously private. Hell, it should have been locked. But undeniable curiosity filled her. She had heard of things like this, people who pushed boundaries in the bedroom. She had simply never experienced it before. And Allison lived for the thrill of new experiences.
Feeling guilty but unable to resist temptation, Allison stepped into the room, glancing around. This room put the African fertility God statue to shame!
There was a glass cabinet on one wall, and Allison’s jaw dropped when she noticed what was inside. She stepped over to the shiny glass to have a closer look. Arranged inside was an assortment of whips, floggers, and paddles. There was a flogger with long, black leather strands, another with what looked to be red velvet strands, and a third with thick, brown tassels. There was a round paddle, several long, rectangular paddles, and even one with heart shaped cutouts. Along the side, was a variety of handcuffs and other accoutrements that Allison could not even begin to identify.