Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels

by Priscilla West

  He moans, leaning back to enjoy the sensation of my tongue flicking and licking his head. “You are a good girl.”

  “If you’d care to disrobe a little further, I can make sure all my goodness shows.”

  “You first.” I can’t believe I’m doing this but I rise and go to the corner of the room where a coat rack and towel holder are stationed and begin removing my clothes for the second time in one day. Mark also removes his clothes and returns to the chair erect and ready for me to continue.

  I kneel down then slide my tongue up his thigh until I arrive at a position where I can take his balls into my mouth one at a time. Licking, lapping and sucking them while his pleasure echoes off the deck. The salty, musky taste of him fills my mouth.

  I run my tongue up the bottom of his shaft and rise up to take as much of him as I can in my mouth, my head bobbing back and forth on his cock, wanting to fulfill all his needs. The pulsing member in my mouth jumps and moves as my tongue and lips do their work. Just when I think he is ready to explode, he puts his hand on my head and pushes it back.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek. He stands and walks over the stairs leading into the jacuzzi. I follow but he puts his hand up to stop me. Reaching down, he picks up a rope anchored to a pool float and begins untying it from the end. It’s a typical nautical rope and I can’t imagine why on earth he would stop the best darn blowjob on the planet—if I do say so myself—to fuss with his pool cleaner. He also takes a small orange tag on a plastic band from the cleaner as well.

  He comes back and tells me to face the city. I see his reflection as he moves slowly behind me, his cock teasing my slit from behind. He reaches around with one hand and rubs my sore pussy. The pain almost makes me protest, but the growing wetness urges me to let him continue. I’ll rest tomorrow.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he whispers seductively in my ear.

  “I’ve already been through this.” I laugh, hoping he thinks it’s funny. He slaps my naked rear playfully.

  “Yes, I recall.”

  I put both hands behind me hoping I will feel his magic fingers pulsing against my clit again very soon. Instead he holds my wrists together pulling my arms tight and places the plastic orange tag from the pool float around them, locking them in place. I begin to shake as I realize he is immobilizing my arms.

  “Mark? What are you doing?”

  “Trust and submission, Julia.” It’s the only answer he gives me. As beautiful as the city lights are, I close my eyes and pray I can live up to whatever his expectation will be.

  Mark walks back over to the stairs and picks up the rope. I feel him behind me once more kissing my neck and nibbling my ear. His breath in my ear and his body so close nearly lead me to pass out. He pulls on my arms then I feel the rope going around them, about an inch above my elbows. He begins looping and spinning the rope around my two arms, binding them together, and securing the rope.

  “Did your mom teaching you knitting too?” I ask, trying to diffuse my fear with humor.

  “I doubt my mother ever knew anything about this,” he responds but gives me a few more kisses to let me know it is okay to joke. He pulls and tightens the rope until my arms are locked together in an inescapable bond. Guiding me by the shoulders, he spins me around. My fingertips are tingling and I can’t tell if this is nerves or lack of blood. He rubs himself against my naked body, leaning over to kiss each of my breasts passionately, stoking the fire below.

  “This is called an elbow hold.” I can tell by his tone of voice that I need to listen very carefully. “It’s a popular form of arm bondage. The rope is tied above your elbows which pins your arms behind you. Unfortunately there’s a drawback to the beautiful submissive position. If I don’t release your arms within twenty minutes, the lack of circulation will become dangerous, cutting off necessary blood flow from your hands and arms first and then damaging other parts.”

  “Oh…” I say, letting it all sink in.

  “Don’t worry. I have an excellent sense of time.” He leans down and begins nuzzling and sucking my breasts some more. My arousal is working wonders to quell the fear I feel at this moment. His hands touch and probe my pussy and I stand there overwhelmed by the sensations.

  “Is this really trust, Mark?”

  “No. This is submission, Julia,” he replies politely openly admiring my shape. He takes a deep breath. “This is trust.”

  He pushes me into the pool.

  I feel weightless for a second and then the water goes over my head. My legs are flailing, trying to get me back up above water. My shoulders are jerking but my arms can’t move. Oh my god. He’s drowning me! I splash and kick hard, my head finally going above the surface. I try to scream for help but gurgling water comes out of my mouth and I feel my body going back down to the deep well in the center of this pool.

  Then strong hands are around my waist and I am floating toward Mark who must have jumped in the water after me. He pulls me above the surface and holds me as I get some air in my lungs.

  “What the fuck?”I scream. I lean over and struggle, wanting to slap him, but with my arms tied behind me, all I can do is shoulder butt him a bit. He holds onto me tightly as I flail and jabber. “Fucking bastard, I could have drowned!”

  “Shhh,” he consoles me again. “You’re not going to drown. Not as long as I am holding you up.”

  I stop long enough to clear my eyes and take in the situation. He’s standing on the underwater ledge holding me with powerful arms as I float in the deep center. He’s right. As long as he holds me, I’m fine. But if he lets me go, I’ll sink.

  Mark kisses me again, our wet lips meeting together and forming a seal that momentarily takes my breath.

  “Now, we really must do something about your language, young lady.” I feel him adjust his grip so he is holding me from the bottom. “I won’t have you speaking so coarsely. It’s rude and shows that you’re out of control.”

  How long can his arms last? How long until the rope has to come off? He’s giving me a lesson in ladylike behavior while my life hangs in the balance. Maybe he really is crazy. I lean with my feet trying to put them on the ledge he’s braced to–but there’s no room.

  “No cheating,” he chides me a second time. “Blake’s the cheater, not you.”

  I feel his strong legs pushing mine apart until his hips are right up against me. We are facing each other less than an inch apart. I look into his eyes for signs of madness and see only desire–his and mine. One arm lets go for just a second, causing me to gasp, and then returns as I feel him enter my body.

  I want to wrap my arms around him, to cling to him but I can’t, my arms are of no use. So I move my hips for him trying to show that I want him deeper. I need him to hold me up and I need for him to consume me. He grips me tightly in his wet grasp and bends his head to bite and suck at my breasts, the feeling of lust overwhelming all other thoughts in my head.

  I feel his shaft entering me and sliding back and forth. The water splashes around us and my pussy grips and clings to him. My legs finally wrap themselves around him and I hang there as he holds me, fucking me slowly, kissing and sucking me, devouring every part of me.

  The splashing water causes small pulses against my clit, creating a stronger sensation than even his powerful thrusts digging his shaft deep into my body. We go at it like animals clinging to each other for life as we fuck and pleasure one another. My pussy starts pulsing, my mound quaking as I feel myself building to a plateau that I have never been taken to.

  My body begins to jerk under the water, the pleasure rising to my brain much faster than normal. My fingers are growing numb but the whole of my body is consumed in this building, burgeoning, wracking passion and I curl into him, biting his shoulder as the scream tears from my throat. He joins me, this time expressing loudly his release, as he slams and presses into me pounding me in sharp, hard thrusts–his mouth frozen open as his body seizes up to release his passion.

 
I go limp in his arms. For a moment, I worry the twenty minutes has passed and I’m actually dying. Then, I don’t care. I just want the feeling of his arms holding me and his shaft inside me to go on forever.

  He kicks off the ledge and floats on his back over to the stairs of the jacuzzi, carrying me along for the ride. When we are both out of harm’s way, he unties my arms and unstraps my wrists. I look at him straight in the eye for a moment. Silence passes between us for a moment then I wrap my arms around him and hug him as close as I can. He begins kissing and whispering in my ear.

  “I will never let you fall, Julia. I will always hold you.”

  “I know,” I reply and collapse in his embrace.

  Somehow he manages to stand and carry me to the deck chair. He covers me with a blanket and slides in beside me.

  I don’t know how long we stayed that way–his strength upholding my weakness and my body available to his need. At some point, he suggested we move back inside and we ended up on the couch again. I’m not sure if I walked there or he carried me. I just know he never left my side.

  ~~~

  “Hey, sleepy head. You’ve got a phone call.” Mark’s voice awakens me. I open my eyes and discover I’m still sleeping on the couch. He’s dressed in pajamas and the sun is streaming through the window. I see my clothing folded neatly on the coffee table.

  “What?”

  “Your phone’s been going off for the last hour. Someone’s trying to reach you.” He hands me the phone from my purse before walking into the kitchen. I smell coffee brewing.

  Opening my cell, I notice there are eight missed calls starting from late last night. That doesn’t make any sense. Since I was fired there hasn’t been very much for my phone to do. I press the icon for messages, but only hear half of the first one.

  “Miss Sharp, this is Emily from Glenvale Cancer Treatment Center. I’m your father’s nurse. I need to inform you there has been an emergency.”

  Chapter 11

  “I have to go,” I say to Mark, trembling from the sudden shock. Looking around for my purse, I stop just long enough to see my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I look ghastly. I don’t have time to deal with that now.

  “What’s going on? Where are you going? I need you to keep me informed about what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not on my way to get arrested or anything,” I respond with biting sarcasm. I don’t know what makes me want to treat him so badly. I just know I need to get out of here now. “It’s my father. He’s in ICU. He’s had some sort of crash or stroke or something. I don’t know. They moved him from the Cancer Treatment Center to Mount Sinai. He… well… he’s….”

  “Shhh.” Mark puts his arm around me, knowing I can’t say the words out loud yet. I drink his comfort like warm tea for a moment and then go stiff in his embrace. I can’t let myself be weak. Not now.

  “I’m fine. It’s fine. I just need to get there.”

  “Do you want me to take you? I would be happy to get you some—”

  “No. I don’t need your help. I just need to go!”

  I walk straight out the door, closing it with a bang. I’m so afraid he is going to call down to the doorman or catch me coming out of the parking garage, I actually run to the car. It isn’t until I’m on the highway that I catch my breath and realize I just made a scene for no reason other than my total fear of being vulnerable in front of Mark. After all we have been through–the job, the arrest, the love, the sex–I have displayed every possible emotion in front of that man and still I ran from him. I just had to be the “strong one.”

  “Daddy’s strong girl,” I say out loud, stuck behind a bread truck in a traffic jam. I hate being stuck in this car with nothing but my thoughts. I’m losing Dad. I feel it, and I don’t know what to do about it. It’s never been a secret I was a “Daddy’s girl” and I have always been closer to him than mom. Dad’s so accepting, laid-back, and sure. He always had a plan and knew what to say.

  Mom was the uptight one. Everything had to be perfect, pristine and correct for her. She had everything she loved in life, but there was always that edge of unhappiness or emptiness in her. I never knew why, really. She kept everything to herself. Somehow, I always loved being with Dad, and yet, I realize now–I ended up so much like my mom. I remember swimming lessons. No matter how well I did, or how fast I went, Mom would always suggest I try harder, do better, or beat my last time. Dad would always say “I’m proud of you, honey” and let it go at that.

  My dad, always so proud of me–his strong little girl–and what am I doing while he is slipping away? I’m having sex in a pool while my life’s work crumbles around me and falls into the hands of none other than Valerie James. I don’t know how he would feel about the whole sex thing. Even when I was engaged to Greg and we were living together, my dad pretended I was still a virgin. But I know what he would say if I told him about Valerie James ending up with Lynx and everything I worked so hard to achieve.

  “You started it,” he would say, shaking his head. He says it every time my rivalry with Valerie is the topic of conversation. “You started the fight with her, honey, and one of these days she might just finish it.”

  Slowly the cars in front of me begin to lurch forward. It’s not fast enough for me to make much progress or even need to pay attention to the road, but as we say in New York–at least we’re moving. Oh, Daddy. I think you might be right this time. I think she is going to finish it, and finish me in the process.

  I met Valerie my senior year in college. I was a lead editor on the paper, and won a number of awards for investigative reporting and writing in college competitions. Dr. Louden, my advisor, said the journalism staff voted me “most likely to win a Pulitzer.” Then he told me the worst thing he could have ever said.

  “You’re the most talented journalist we’ve had here since Valerie James, and a close second to her too!”

  Close second? Close second? I wasn’t going to be second to anyone. Of course, it didn’t help that a few months later Valerie was invited to be a guest lecturer for one of our classes. She was the youngest assistant editor at Ladies World and was supposed to be giving us tips on what journalism was like in the “real world.”

  “It’s important to remember when you get out into reality that in college you write what you want to write, out there you must write what the reader wants to read,” she said. Everyone in class could only see her success. I saw challenge.

  “Wouldn’t you call that ‘catering to the masses’?” I asked pointedly.

  “I would call it good business, Miss… um…”

  “Sharp, Julia Sharp, Miss James. You might have read my work, I won the Hearst Journalism Award for Investigative Reporting this year with an exposé on school charter programs.”

  “Nope, can’t say I’ve seen it,” Valerie responded blithely. “But I’m a professional editor now, not a student, so I read what I get paid to read.”

  The class chuckled politely and waited for her to go with the rest of her golden “how to” tips. But her superior attitude and over-use of the word “professional” was like waving the red cape in front of the bull. So, of course, I charged at her.

  “Really? You only do what you get paid to do? That doesn’t sound like journalism to me. It sounds more like prostitution.” The class gasped and Dr. Louden started walking toward the front of the room.

  “Excuse me? Did you just call me a prostitute, Miss Sharp? I will have you know I am both an accomplished writer and editor of a national magazine.”

  “Pffft, Ladies World,” I responded. “That’s not even journalism. Recipes and articles about stars and their pets, self-help tips for depressed housewives and gardening stories? The day’s going to come when a smart women’s magazine that showcases real news comes along and wipes Ladies World off the rack.”

  “I doubt you’ll see that day, Miss Sharp. Because you’ll be working at Walmart which is the only place I can imagine that would hire someone as rude as y
ou,” she said, red in the face and furious. Dr. Louden intervened.

  “I can see we’ve gotten off track. Let’s take a five minute break and when we come back Miss James will talk about portfolios and what today’s publishers are looking for,” he said waving everyone out of the room. I stayed to talk with her more, but Dr. Louden motioned for me to go to his office.

  “We don’t treat one of the most successful alumni of the school like that!” he sneered as he sat behind the desk with me standing there like a chastised child.

  “She works for a bloated, old-school kitchen rag. What could she possibly have that I would even care about?”

  “Oh my dear.” Dr. Louden laughed in a sinister way I’d never heard before. “You may not like her style but she has more connections in this city than you have words in your vocabulary. I hope you like writing for the Oklahoma Shopper Express because when she’s done with you–they’ll be the only place that will take you.”

  Poor Dad. I railed and screamed and carried on about Valerie James every time I was denied a job. I talked about how corrupt the system was, how unfair life could be, how I was being oppressed because I was so much more talented than she had ever been. Every time I got told no, Dad would listen, and nod and say, “You started it.”

  Dr. Louden was wrong about me ending up writing ads at the Oklahoma Shopper Express. Even they wouldn’t hire me. So I did the only thing that I could do. I started the magazine that would wipe Ladies World off the racks. If only Valerie James hadn’t played dirty, Lynx would have been that magazine in only a few more years.

  I finally end up at the hospital and a volunteer guides me to my dad’s room. The nurse catches me right before I enter. She talks to me to mentally prepare me to see Dad in his condition.