Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set

by Black, Stasia

  His mouth breaks away from mine and I whine, but it’s cut off by a sharp gasp when his hot lips sucker on to my left nipple, suckling and then nipping again with those damnable teeth of his. My back arches and I cry out at the same time a wave of wet heat gushes from my sex. Oh thank goodness he didn’t tie down my ankles. Twisting and writhing my legs together is the only relief I can find because he’s straddling my stomach when all I need is something for friction between my legs.

  Although I can’t deny that feeling his smooth, velvety hardness against my stomach isn’t also a huge turn-on. Again I hate the blindfold. I want to look at it more. I want to touch it. My face flames, but gods, I want to— I want to lick it. I want to do every wicked thing to Logan’s body.

  Logan! Holy shit, it’s Logan on top of me. It hits me all over again and I squirm even harder as a new wave of heat hits.

  How many afternoons did I daydream about what it would be like to kiss Logan Wulfe? I had such a huge crush on him. It was the one indulgence I allowed myself. I thought it was harmless because there was no way he could like me back—dorky, nobody little me. No boys ever liked me like that. I was too bookish, far too nerdy, not pretty like the other girls who knew how to do their hair or what to wear, and I never knew what to talk about. I never knew what movies were popular or what was on TV.

  But Logan, he was one person I could actually talk to. And he was so handsome. Girls liked him. They liked both him and Adam. But Logan spent time with me. We’d talk for hours sometimes in the lab while we waited for lab results. I was so much younger than him, I knew he probably thought of me as a dorky kid sister, just nineteen while he was in his late twenties.

  But now to find out he liked me, too. Liked me, liked me.

  And now he has his hands on my—

  He slips a hand down between my thighs and—

  My back arches off the bed and I cum hard. Fucking hard. Logan. Logan. Oh fuck, this is Logan. Logan wants me. Logan called me his. He said no one else could have me.

  The orgasm keeps going and he rolls my clit. “That’s right, baby, keep calling my name.”

  Oh shit, was I saying all that out loud? But screw it. I’m finally with Logan. Logan’s about to be my first.

  “Logan,” I scream even louder, lifting my legs up to get as much contact with his body as I can. “Please, please,” I’m begging even before the orgasm comes all the way down. “Please, Logan. I want it all. I want you inside me. Please, I dreamed about this. I want to be with you. I want you to do it. To make me yours. Please, Logan.”

  “Oh fuck, Daphne.” He presses his forehead to my breasts. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” I hear the vulnerability in his voice, the dominant man sounding suddenly conflicted. “I’m not sure if this is right, if you know what—”

  Damn him. “I know what I want. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I want.” He’s stripped me bare in so many more ways than one. So for once in my life, I’m going to ask for exactly what I want. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me with your huge cock. I want you—”

  “Oh,” I cry out as he shifts and impales me.

  “Like this,” he breathes out, voice dark. All I can do is nod and focus on all the foreign sensations flooding my body and mind.

  “Your sweet little cunt is gripping me like a vise,” he hisses, “and I’m barely an inch inside.”

  There’s more to go? This isn’t it?

  Maybe panic flashed on my face or something because he’s immediately soothing. “Shh, you’re all right baby. You can take me. Let yourself go. Give yourself over to me.” His voice deepens with command. “Stop thinking. Give the thinking over to me.”

  I nod fervently. Yes, that’s what I want right now. I want him but I don’t want to have to make decisions. I’m so tired of making decisions. I want him to lead and I want to follow because oh, I know it’s so good to follow where he can take me.

  “That’s good,” he croons, shifting his hips and pressing relentlessly further inside me. I cry out in surprise at the invasion, widening my legs and cradling them around his hips. Finally, a touch he’ll allow. I wrap my legs around him and lock my ankles around his back.

  As if this drives him crazy, he grunts low and his hips piston forward, shoving the last several inches in. My chest arches up at the intrusion, thrusting our chests together, my hard, pebbled nipples rubbing against the bristling hairs that dust his chest.

  “You’re inside me,” I whisper in amazement. “Logan, you’re inside me.”

  “The first and the last,” he says darkly before grabbing my face and crushing his lips to mine. And then, like he has to imprint his words on my body like a solemn vow that needs a ceremony to seal them, he begins to piston in and out of me.

  I don’t know how to describe it. It’s uncomfortable at first but not exactly painful. He’s so large. I cherish it. I’ve never felt more feminine. But not delicate. He’s not treating me like some little delicate piece of glass to put up on a shelf for fear of breaking.

  No, I’m a woman now. Raw. A woman to be fucked. And that’s what he’s doing. He’s fucking me and…and making love to me at the same time, I think. Or maybe I’m over-romanticizing it. Maybe I’m—

  “I must not be fucking you hard enough if your brain is still working so hard in there,” he says low. “I guess I’ll need to do more to distract you.”

  Oh, shit. “No, Logan, I’m here with you, I swear. This is just all so—”

  But he’s already pulling that amazing log between his legs out of me. I clench at the loss and feel like crying. No, I didn’t mean to ruin it. Please, I want to beg, I’ll do better next time.

  Logan only flips me over on the bed, though. “Hands and knees.”

  “Are you going to…punish me?” I ask, breathless. I think back to the spankings he’s given me here and there. The playtime with the roses and thorns. Do I want this to be that? But then I remember. I finally remember and my whole body relaxes.

  I’ve given up the decision making. Oh thank the heavens. It’s all too exhausting. How have I even kept it up all these years?

  Logan must feel the wave of relief in me and know what it means because he immediately slides a hand down my shank, rubbing my ass sweetly before landing a sharp smack, then soothing the hot sting with his hand. “That’s my good girl. Give yourself over to me. No more thinking. For this little while, turn off that beautiful mind of yours.”

  Then he leans over me from behind and his breath is hot on my ear, causing wisps of hair to tuft with each word. “I take that back. You’re allowed to think about two things and only these two things. You may think of me. And you may think of your pleasure. But that is all. Am I understood?”

  I nod.

  “Out loud.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Another smack of my ass. “Good girl.”

  And he’s right there, hard and hot and thick at my entrance again. I gasp as he shoves back in with no preamble. As if, now that he’s taken my virginity, he can just take me whenever he wants. Now that I’m his by rights.

  Oh gods, why does that thought thrill me? Him. I’m allowed to think about him. So I do. I imagine him on his knees behind me, his hands grasping my hips for leverage as he thrusts in and out. I bet his ass looks spectacular, muscular and powerful as he thrusts in—oh, he’s going deeper than ever. I didn’t know he could go so deep. Did he just nudge my cervix that time?

  I thrash on the bed and bury my face in the pillow but Logan’s not having that. He puts his hand at my throat and pulls me back up. “No. Straight up on all fours.”

  The gesture is so commanding and he leaves his hand there on my neck, long, thick fingers applying the slightest pressure at my pulse point. Holding my life in his hands.

  My hips buck back against his length that’s impaling me. I’ve never— I didn’t even know it could be like this. On TV and in the movies, the few I’ve seen, they never— />
  “Ohhh,” I cry out as Logan shifts his angle of entry slightly and hits the most amazing spot inside me.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he says, his voice more growling and guttural than I’ve ever heard it. “I will fuck and defile you and you will love every fucking second of it.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, clenching around him and bucking back with all my inexpert enthusiasm. Oh, oh, it feels so good, better with every filthy word that comes out of his mouth. I’m not pure here. I’m not perfect. I can be dirty and real and pornographic and celebrate every messy, glorious moment of being fucked.

  He shifts his hand from my throat so that his thumb is in front of my mouth. “Suck it. Suck it like you want to suck my cock.”

  Even though his cock is impaled inside me, it’s his words and suggestions that trigger a fresh flood of wetness. I eagerly suck his thumb into my mouth and he starts to thrust into me even more fervently.

  “Yes, yes,” he hisses out through his teeth like he’s barely managing to contain himself. I’m doing that to him. I’m driving him crazy like that. It’s insane and only sends me higher. Especially when he demands. “Harder. Suck it like you fucking mean it!”

  I clamp down on his thumb and pull on it as hard as I can with my mouth and my tongue, creating a vacuum.

  “Yes, like that. Fuck, your pussy’s just as tight as that. This tight little virgin pussy that you saved just for me. For your true Master. I’m going to reward you for that. I’m going to take you so many places.”

  He plucks his thumb from my mouth. I whine as soon as he’s gone. I want him back. I want his filthy, possessive words back.

  But I didn’t need to worry. Especially since I should have known that he’s not done shocking me tonight. Far from it.

  The finger I just lubricated for him? Suddenly that same finger is probing…at my backside.

  “Logan!” I call out sharply.

  There’s a brief pause, and then, in a low, dangerous voice, “Do you not trust me?”

  Crap. I suck in a deep breath. “Yes. I trust you.”

  “Good.” A smack to my bottom, first my left cheek, then my right.

  Then that thumb is back probing at my most forbidden place. My eyelashes flutter underneath the mask. I’ve never— I mean, obviously I’ve never— Who on earth would think about touching back there, like, sexually?

  Logan’s voice echoes in my head, reminding me of my extreme naiveté. This is obviously something people do. Something Logan does.

  I take another deep breath and then I- I sway my ass ever so slightly back against his touch. I trust him. If this is another new place he wants to take me, I- I want to go. I trust him, and everywhere he’s led me so far has been to extreme pleasure and self-discovery.

  But he’s a horrible tease. He’s slowed his pace in and out of me with that huge, beautiful instrument of his, lazily fucking me now and his finger teases at my back hole. It’s not just the thumb. I can’t see, obviously, but I heard a small snick like a bottle being open, and then his fingers are slippery as they circle my hole.

  “Forbidden little cherry,” he murmurs. “I won’t take you here tonight. But one day, and soon. I will take every virginity you have to offer. There is nothing of yours that won’t be mine, you understand.”

  When I’m silent too long, he prods me, thrusting forward with his hips.

  “Yes, sir,” I yelp as he hits that place inside me that makes bright light erupt behind my eyes. I’m left breathless for a moment. Dear— Was that an orgasm? Did he just carelessly give me a toss-off orgasm? Did he know he was doing it? Then I roll my eyes behind the eye mask. Logan does everything with precision and he knows how to play the female body like an expert harpist.

  His fingers circle and play at the entrance before he pries my cheeks apart. My face flames in embarrassment. How can he be so fascinated with…that part of me. Or is it not about his fascination at all, but simply the fact that he knows it makes me so uncomfortable and he revels in pushing my boundaries? He loves bringing us right here…where I’m forced to crack open a place inside myself I’ve always kept closed. Literally and figuratively.

  He wants all of me.

  Nothing held back.

  And I want it, too. Gods but I want it, too. So, turning off the part of my brain shouting that this is a place that should not be touched, was never meant to be touched by another person—

  Instead I embrace the strangeness of the feeling and lean my ass back into his probing fingers and I relax all of my muscles back there. I let him in.

  And his greedy fingers take what I give, one thick digit slipping inside and making me gasp as he makes it past the initial ring of muscles.

  “Such a good girl,” he croons as he explores my ass. Such a foreign feeling, all the while his cock pumps in and out of me, filling me up. And just when I think I’m so full to bursting—with him, with all the sensations that are building in my body—another finger probes at my ass, wanting to squeeze in beside the first.

  “I can’t,” I whimper. “It’s too much.”

  “I tell you when it’s too much,” he says. “And you can take more.” The heat in his dark voice has me clenching around his length.

  Yes. Yes, I want to take whatever he has to give me. So I nod, but his biting voice is there the next instant. “Out loud.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take what you give.”

  He spanks my ass and I yelp, then my back arches in pleasure. And then his finger is back, as relentless as ever.

  He plunges his cock so far inside me, I feel him all the way to my womb, so hot and hard inside me. I clench around him. It’s the best feeling in the universe, being stuffed full of him. How did I live before knowing what this felt like? Before knowing him. Knowing him like this. This intimacy of bodies and mouths and tongues—he kisses and bites down my spine like he’s ravenous for me.

  Logan. My Logan.

  I want to clutch him to my chest. Bury my fingers in his hair. Attach my mouth to his and never let him escape.

  But he has his rules so I hold him tight the only way I can, clenching, unclenching, then squeezing again as tight as I can around his cock and fingers. I want to pleasure him as intensely as he’s— Oh oh— He’s hitting that spot and it’s so— It’s so—

  I cry out my pleasure wantonly, praying I’m driving him even half as crazy as he is me.

  When I finally start to hear him swear, losing control, my pleasure soars higher. It’s working. He’s right here with me.

  “Fuck, so tight. Daphne, everything I ever—”

  He doesn’t finish the thought but his thrusts become even more reckless. “Gotta fuck you. Have to be so.” He punctuates his words with a ruthless thrust. “Deep.” Thrust. “Inside you.” He bottoms out, but that’s not enough for him apparently.

  He pulls the fingers out of my ass so he can grab my hips to start pumping even more furiously.

  “Yes,” I cry. “Logan, yes, just like that. Right there.” On his every inward punch, he’s hitting that spot that lights me up.

  Then, at the last moment when he’s more frantic than ever, he reaches around the opposite hand that was inside me and begins to stroke at my clit.

  “Cum, now,” he orders haggardly, “I command it.”

  And just like that, fireworks explode outward from my stomach, looping down to my sex and then spasming outward to my whole body.

  “Logan,” I scream, and I keep screaming it until my voice is all but gone, I’m limp on the mattress, and Logan, my Logan, is curled on the bed behind me, one strong arm wrapped protectively around my waist so that I’m snuggled into him.

  * * *

  Daphne

  I wake to the scent of roses. Eyes closed, I smile and stretch my arms above my head.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” a voice rumbles above me.

  I open my eyes to find blue ones staring into mine. “Logan,” I whisper. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  “No.” He leans back, giving me r
oom to sit up.

  “Your eyes…” I frown in confusion.

  “Are still blue. I wore contacts.”

  I sit up. “I knew I knew you somehow. I kept getting flashes of deja vu!”

  He chuckles. “Here.” He gently sets something on my face. “This will help you see better.”

  I touch the familiar frames. “My glasses!”

  “I knew you’d eventually uncover the truth. Part of me wanted you to.” He looks almost shy. Vulnerable. The Logan I knew.

  I throw my arms around him, practically tackling him. He chuckles and helps me climb into his lap.

  “I know you.” I gaze into his beautiful eyes. “I will always know you.”

  “No one knows you like I know you,” he says, and a bell tolls, deep within my soul.

  “You told me that before. Years ago.”

  “It’s still true.”

  I repeat now what I told him then. “My father and mother still loved me. They wanted what’s best for me.”

  “Your mother, certainly. But your father…” Logan shook his head. “He was blind to everything he had.”

  “He loved my mother.”

  “Love can blind as much as ambition.”

  “Hmm.” We’ll see about that. In the soft morning light, him with his blue eyes and me in my glasses, I’m seeing more clearly than I ever have. My gaze strays beyond the bed and I gasp.

  My room is filled with roses. Vases and vases full of them, on every surface. Petals sprinkled on the carpet, around the chairs, on the bed.

  “Roses,” I breath.

  “Happy birthday, Daphne. I’m a bit late this year, but…”

  “It was you,” I whisper, staring at the room. “You were the one who left the roses. On the day of the funeral, and every anniversary since.”

  “I knew you were grieving your mother. But I also wanted to celebrate you.”

  “You mean, the rose wasn’t for my mother?” The world tilts. “It was for me?”

  He nods. “Your father and I had fallen out by then, but I couldn’t stay away completely. The day they buried your mother—”