His Property (Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Hannah Ford

  I headed for the walk-in closet that was off the bathroom hallway, shocked to find that it was filled with clothes.

  Beautiful clothes, all of them in shades of cream and gold and black, jeans and skirts and dresses, all with designer names, all of them in sizes two and four. I ran my hand over the fabrics.

  “What are you doing?” a voice demanded from behind me, and I startled and dropped the red silk scarf I was holding, the sheer fabric making its way lazily to the floor.

  Liam was in the doorway, dressed in a black suit and grey shirt, his tie metallic. His hair was slightly damp and was combed back from his face. He was freshly shaven, and the faint scent of his woodsy cologne lingered in the air.

  “Don’t you knock?” I asked brattily.

  “Not in my own house.” He nodded toward the clothes. “I see you found the closet.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Who are these for? All the other women you’ve kidnapped?”

  “I told you I don’t like that word, Emery.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t like being shoved into the back of a van in the middle of the night, so we can’t get everything we want now, can we?”

  “The clothes are for guests.”

  I gaped at him. “You have all these clothes for guests?” I wasn’t that into fashion, but my best friend Maddie was. She subscribed to practically every single fashion magazine – Elle, Vogue, INStyle – and cut out pages with the looks she was hoping to duplicate. We’d spent countless hours at little shops in Brooklyn, poking around so she could replicate a $4000.00 look for $100.00. I might not have known much about fashion, but I knew about prices – and there must have been at least $200,000 dollars worth of clothes in this closet.

  “Yes.” Liam adjusted one of his silver cufflinks. “Get dressed. We’re going to be late.”

  I became suddenly aware of the fact that I was in nothing but a towel, and I pulled it closer around me. Liam noticed the gesture, and he looked up in sharp disapproval.

  He thrust his broad shoulders back, and his eyes turned to steel. “Drop the towel.”

  “What?”

  “Drop. The. Towel.” He gaze was leveled at me, his tone unflinchingly stern.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Emery,” he said and took a step toward me, “part of this arrangement is that I have access to your body whenever I demand it.” The tip of his finger slid over the top of my towel, making me shiver. “When I come into the room and you immediately try to cover yourself, it makes it obvious that you don’t understand that. That you have a lot of work to do when it comes to learning to submit.” His voice was mesmerizing, low and melodic, and his touch was making my head spin. I was simultaneously excited and repulsed by the things he was saying.

  His hand loosened the towel just a tiny bit from around my breasts, but he didn’t pull the fabric down.

  Instead, he took a step back.

  But it wasn’t over.

  He wasn’t going to make it easy by just pulling my towel off -- he was going to make me do it myself.

  I stared at him and stuck my chin in the air, defiant. “Screw you,” I said.

  “You already did,” he said cockily. He pushed his shoulders back and pulled himself to his full height. “Drop the towel, Emery,” he commanded. “Or I will get the whip.”

  The whip.

  Humiliation burned my body as I dropped the towel to the floor and stood there in front of him, naked. I closed my eyes, wishing I could leave my body, could leave myself.

  I felt him moving back toward me and sensed him leaning down, until he was pressing his lips to the spot right under my ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. His palm slid down my stomach and his fingers slipped over the slit of my pussy. His finger slid inside of me and I gasped.

  “You want to fuck me again, don’t you, baby?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Really? Because your pussy’s dripping wet.” His thumb grazed my clit. “And your clit is throbbing for it.”

  I took a step back from him. The ache between my legs was intense and I felt sore and raw there.

  Liam didn’t step toward me. Instead, he just grinned. “Get dressed.”

  My face burned. He turned and walked out of the room before I could tell him that nothing in the closet would fit me.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  I flicked through the clothes in the closet until I finally found a baggy black sweater dress shoved way in the back. The dress was designed to be long and slouchy, but it clung to my curves.

  I put on the bra I’d been wearing the night before, but the panties I’d been wearing were ruined – and every pair of panties in the closet was a tiny thong that wouldn’t have even fit over my thigh. So I had to go without.

  When I got back into the bedroom, the door was open.

  Liam was waiting in the hallway, by the elevator.

  “Interesting choice,” he said when he saw me, his lips curving into a sexy little grin as his gaze ran up my body.

  The embarrassment I’d felt at not being able to fit in the clothes he’d picked out for his size four conquests was instantly obliterated by the anger I felt at his assumption that I’d chosen something too small for me on purpose.

  “Nothing would fit me, asshole,” I said, marching by him into the elevator.

  “You shouldn’t call names.”

  “You shouldn’t kidnap people.”

  “You know, there’s that word again,” he said as the elevator began to move. “Kidnap.”

  “It’s what you did.”

  “I told you, Emery. You can leave whenever you want.”

  “Then why did you say you’d catch me if I ran?”

  “Semantics,” he said.

  We stepped off the elevator into the garage, and I felt the bile rise in my throat as I looked at the black SUV, the one that had brought me here. Had it only been a few hours ago? It felt like I’d been here forever.

  Liam saw me looking at the car, and he gestured to a different one. This one was also black, but it was small and sleek with some kind of Italian symbol on the back. “This one,” he said.

  He opened the door for me and I slid into the passenger seat.

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re working?” I asked as he guided the car out onto the streets of New York. Visions of him locking me in some closet while he held serious conference calls danced through my head, and the idea was so surreal and absurd I almost laughed out loud.

  “I’d like you to accompany me to an office event.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “It’s a brunch.”

  “No, not ‘what’ like, ‘what is the event,’ but ‘what’ like ‘what, are you fucking crazy?’”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  “I can’t go with you to a brunch.”

  “Why not?”

  “What will you tell people about who I am?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  I knew I should tell him no, but confusion swirled inside of me. The truth was, I liked the idea of being with him while he was at work, liked the idea that I was going to accompany him to one of his work events, which, to me, sounded very much like a date. And I hated that I liked it.

  Liam was rolling the car to a stop on Fifth Avenue, in front of the Prada store. The store was closed this early, its shining front locked, waiting patiently for all the tourists and rich New Yorkers who would be here later.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “You’ll need something appropriate to wear.”

  “What, your employees frown upon mini-dresses?” I asked. My tone was flippant, but my breath was coming in short gasps, and it felt like a rubber band was tightening around my chest.

  Liam reached out and took my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine. “Emery,” he said. “Breathe.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I didn’t know why I was apologizing to this man, this monster. “It’s just very o
verwhelming.”

  “Don’t be overwhelmed,” he said. “It’s very simple.” He reached across the seat and pulled me toward him. “You stay with me for seven days, give me what I want, and I will pay your father’s debt.”

  “Oh, that simple, huh?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged, as if he believed it really was.

  “And I have to do anything you want?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  Don’t make me get the whip.

  Liam checked his watch. “We’re going to be late for our appointment.”

  “What appointment?”

  “We have an appointment inside for seven o’clock.”

  I pulled on the bottom of my dress self-consciously. The stupid thing barely covered my ass. Who actually fit into something like this? It felt like a dress made for a Barbie doll.

  Liam leaned over and put his hand on my leg, let it wander up my thigh. “You look sexy as fuck,” he said. “But what you’re wearing isn’t quite appropriate for a business brunch.”

  “I don’t have money for Prada.”

  “You don’t have to worry about money, Emery.” He leaned in even closer to me and his breath tickled the side of my neck. He kissed me there, softly, but I could feel the intensity behind it, the promise of something more. “You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with me.” His mouth traveled to my ear. “Seven days, baby. It will be over before you know it.”

  His voice was a gruff whisper and the ache between my legs intensified as I imagined the things he was going to make me do. I remembered how it had felt to have his hand slap my ass last night, and warmth flooded my core.

  I disentangled myself from him and moved back to my side of the car.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  He grinned. The car was still running, and he reached over and turned off the engine, then got out and walked over to my side. He opened the door.

  “If you think I’m getting out, you’re wrong,” I said.

  “Fine.” Liam opened the door wider, calling my bluff. “Then go ahead.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead. If you want to leave so badly, then go. You’re free. Go to the subway and get out of here.”

  I hesitated. Everything inside of me was telling me it was insane to want to stay, that he’d done things to me that should have repulsed me. But something else was drawing me to him -- the way he’d touched my scars, the way he’d looked at me, the feel of his body on top of mine.

  “What’s it going to be?” he demanded.

  “If I stay,” I said slowly, hating the self-satisfied look that crossed his strong features. “Can there be limits?”

  He cocked his head and set his chin on top of the open car door. “We can discuss it inside.”

  I turned my head and looked across the sidewalk toward the storefront.

  Prada.

  I usually didn’t care about clothes, but there was something alluring about the mannequins in the window, all of them dressed to the nines. And if I really wanted to stick it to Liam, this would be the way to do it. I could pick out tons of expensive outfits, all of them in a size too big for him to recycle in his stupid closet of twos and fours.

  I stepped out of the car. “I’ll go in with you,” I said. “But if I decide not to do this, I still get to keep the clothes.”

  “Let me know if you need anything,” the saleswoman said fifteen minutes later. She was a tall slim woman with a shiny bob, her red suit perfectly matched to her red lipstick. She’d greeted us at the door with mimosas and a rack full of clothes, all of them beautiful, all of them in my size. They were definitely the largest size in the store, but whatever.

  She left Liam and I alone in the dressing room, a huge octagonal space carpeted in shades of beige.

  “I want them all,” I said, running my hands over the elegant fabrics.

  “Then you have to try them on for me.” Liam was sitting in the corner of the dressing room on a chair, his phone in his hand, scrolling through emails. Every so often a look of annoyance would cross his face as he read an email and typed a quick reply. He must have been a real pain in the ass to work for, and I pitied whoever was showing up at the office this morning to find an email from him.

  “Oh, hell no.” Dressing rooms were private for a reason, and it wasn’t just for matters of modesty. Everyone knew that something that looked amazing on a mannequin or a hanger could and would turn out to look like a disaster on your body. Liam’s body was perfection, the kind of body that didn’t know anything about lumps and bumps and Spanx. Not that they made Spanx for men. But still. The women Liam dated definitely didn’t know what Spanx were.

  “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Liam said dryly. He was right, of course. It had only been about an hour ago that he’d made me drop my towel for him. Not to mention what we’d done last night.

  Liam stepped out of his chair in one fluid moment and came up behind me. I watched in the mirror as he brushed my hair back from my neck.

  His hands slid down my arms, skating down the sides of my body, over my hips, until he got to the bottom of the tight dress I was wearing.

  He gripped the bottom, taking the hem and turning it over in his fingers. His knuckles brushed against my skin, and I felt electricity zoom up my spine.

  “Don’t be nervous, baby,” he said. “You’re so fucking sexy, Emery, I need to see you.”

  He began to pull my dress up with excruciating slowness, and I watched in the mirror as the fabric inched up over my thighs.

  He got to my scars, his knuckles brushing over the ugly marks.

  I felt myself stiffening, and I put my hands over his, tightening my grip, words lingering on my lips, words that would ask him to stop. But I couldn’t say them. I was powerless.

  Because the truth was, I wanted him to do this.

  “Relax, baby,” he murmured, burying his face in my neck and kissing my collarbone as I closed my eyes and leaned back against him. My dress was almost to my pussy now, and he pulled it up further as his tongue ran along the side of my neck.

  “Liam,” I said, but my voice sounded breathy and far away, more of a surrender than a protest.

  “Yes, Emery?” he asked, his tone teasing.

  I shook my head, not able to answer him.

  “You’re so smooth, baby girl,” he murmured, as my dress finally exposed my pussy to him. He slid his finger along my mound. “Who have you been waxing for?”

  My eyes met his in the mirror, and I saw the possession and jealousy that burned in his dark irises. He couldn’t actually be jealous at the thought of me being with another man, could he?

  This was so messed up.

  “No one,” I said quickly.

  “Don’t lie to me, Emery.” His finger pushed inside of me with excruciating slowness.

  “I’m not lying,” I said. “It was just… my friend Maddie and I went to the salon. She made me do it for fun.”

  It was true.

  Liam seemed to accept this, but he pushed another finger inside of me, and I gasped. His other hand was on my hip, holding me tight, keeping me from moving away.

  “Pull your dress up and show me your tits.”

  This time, I didn’t even think about protesting. His voice was melodic and mesmerizing, and I reached down and pulled my dress off.

  “Put your hands on the mirror.”

  I did as he said as he reached around and peeled the cups of my bra from my breasts and my big tits popped free, the nipples hard and erect.

  “Your tits are so fucking sexy,” he murmured, taking them in his hands and kneading them as he pushed his body harder into mine. I could feel his erection against my ass, straining through his pants.

  “Tell me I own your body.”

  “You own my body,” I said, and the words were so humiliating that I felt myself brush bright red.

  “What part?”
>
  “Um, all of it.”

  He smacked my bare ass, hard, a punishment for not giving him the answer he wanted. “What. Part.”

  “My pussy.”

  “What about your pussy?”

  “You own my pussy.” I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the humiliation of what he was making me say. From behind me, I heard metal against metal as he unfastened his belt buckle and a whooshing sound as he pulled the belt from its loops.

  He slapped me hard on the ass again, causing me to cry out.

  “Open your eyes,” he said. “You are to watch me while I take what’s mine.”

  I took in a deep shuddering breath and opened my eyes as I felt him begin to push inside of me, and even though he had fucked me hard last night, even though he’d taken my virginity, I was still tight enough that it was uncomfortable at first.

  And yet the pain was pleasure, too.

  “That’s it, baby girl,” he said. “Good girl, let that tight little pussy get used to my dick.”

  His hands on my hips guided me back onto him, and he began to work himself in and out in shallow little increments, taking slight pity on me for a few minutes until his thrusts began to accelerate in their intensity, becoming faster and deeper. I could see myself in the mirror, my tits beginning to sway, his hard, strong body behind me, fucking me.

  I closed my eyes before I remembered it wasn’t allowed.

  “Eyes open,” he commanded, smacking my ass again.

  My eyes flew open.

  “Watch your tits bounce while I fuck you. You’re so fucking sexy, Emery, you were made for this, your curvy little body was made to get me off. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  He was fucking me even faster now, and my pussy was so slick with excitement he was sliding in and out easier, although he still felt huge inside of me.

  I moaned louder and he grinned as he rocked his hips faster, fucking me, taking me, making me submit.

  My hands were still on the mirror, but that must not have been enough for him, because suddenly, he pushed me up against the glass so hard and fast that I couldn’t help but gasp.

  He pulled my hands behind me, and a second later I felt the leather of his belt binding my wrists together.