Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 45

And now, that beautiful body, my Master's body, is all mine.

“Elizabeth?” His brow furrows.

“Master?”

“What are you thinking about?

“Us, Master.”

His shaft still filling me but motionless, his smile blooms again and he stoops to peck a kiss to my lips. Flicking eyes up the bed, “Grip the headboard.”

He releases my wrists, and obediently I curl fingers tightly around the bars. His freed hand glides down over my skin, the nails skittering over, sending a frisson rippling down my length, dancing to my sex. As his palm settles on my breast, he thumbs at the nipple, already raised, but hardening and crinkling under his attentions. It nubs and he takes it between finger and thumb, rolling and squeezing.

The sensation frisks down my length, setting Pussy throbbing about him, gripping and clenching. My Master must feel it, inhaling sharply, eyes crinkling, then showing his teeth in a white and laughing smile. His hold on my nipple tightens, a nip turning to a pinch, then a twist. “I think this evening, I’m going to have you properly restrained and these, clamped. I want to hear you scream a little. Or maybe, a lot.”

As his grip increases, my breath draws in, but Pussy pulses hot and fluid. His belly pressed to mine, the sex flush heats our joined flesh and I moan.

My Master murmurs, “Aren’t we the juicy one, Mrs Haswell…” The pinch tightens and I’m panting against the pressure when abruptly, snapping away his hand, dropping his face, he replaces fingers with mouth and lips.

Drawing the single nipple between tongue-tip and teeth, the sharp enamel edge razors over already sensitised skin. Pain gambols to my overheated core, frisking over my breasts and chest and neck, setting my skin afire and wringing a shudder from my throat.

My Master raises his face. “That’s better,” he comments, as though remarking on the weather. “I was beginning to wonder when I would get some real sound out of you. Let’s try that again.” And dropping his face once more, now to the other breast, he resumes his gentle torment of my other nipple.

But now, he’s moving inside me, angling himself, winding himself inside me. The torture of my nipple is electric now, lightning slashing through me and all the while he thrusts. Gently at first, but with increasing strength. I’m trying to move with him, to match his strokes, but my pelvis shudders, all out of my control. I’m gushing, spilling and…

Bbbbzzzz….

The landline buzzes a demand at us.

“Fuck!” My Master jerks up from his nipple-torment, slamming a palm sidelong, banging down onto the Reject button, and the thing falls silent.

He throws a look full of apology at me then once more, drops his mouth to my breast.

Fifteen seconds later, the phone rings again.

He jolts upright, “Who the hell is that?” Withdrawing from me with a short, slick, sucking sound, he rolls out of the bed and, yanking at the power cable, tugs it free of the socket.

“Rhetorical question, Master?”

He snaps me a look, then huffs a laugh. “Yes. Purely rhetorical, Elizabeth. Whoever it was, I don’t give a flying fuck about hearing what they have to say. Now…” Cock still at attention, he perches a hip beside me… “Where were we…?”

And his mobile trumpets a call.

His eyes roll upward and, stamping across the room, he snatches up the phone. “Yes?” he snarls then, his tone milder, “My apologies, Francis, I didn’t mean to bite your head off, but as you well know...”

The line gabbles at him. I pick up the tone and cadence of Francis, my Master’s PA speaking, but can’t make out the words…

My Master speaks in measured tones, each word very deliberate. “Francis, tell Vandervoort I'm on my honeymoon. Not that he doesn’t already know it, since he attended the wedding yesterday. What the hell does he…?”

The voice gabbles again…

He rocks his hand. “Not exactly. The mayor is involved in some dispute with the police commissioner. I've been asked to mediate.” He grimaces. “This is the downside of wealth.”

?

“Um… Not with you. How d’you mean?”

He inhales, scraping a hand through his hair. “I own a sizeable proportion of the City. I often get dragged into these affairs. Too many people think that being wealthy is the same as being important.”

“Including the mayor and the police commissioner?”

He chuckles. “In fact, just the mayor. Vandervoort is too easily impressed by money. His wife more so. The police commissioner, however, is a man of great common sense. Besides which, I don't fool him. He’s an old friend. Will Stanton and I were at school together. He knows me far too well to be impressed by my bank balance.” He gives me a sharp look. “You’re sure you’re alright me leaving you for a few hours?”

I smile. “Master, it’s fine.”

I ponder how to put my thoughts into words. “It was a few years ago, but there was something I read once, a piece of advice from a mother to her daughter, and it stuck. It was from an old magazine, a 19th Century ladies’ magazine would you believe…” He arches brows, lips quirking… “…but I still think it’s good advice. She said, if you marry a doctor, you can’t complain that he doesn't work the hours of a shoe clerk. But, if you marry a shoe clerk, you can’t complain that he doesn't earn the money of a doctor…”

The pucker on his lips turns to a true smile, eyes crinkling. “And from that, what do you read into our situation?”

“I married you, Master. And I’ve married everything that goes with you.”

He sweeps arms around me, squeezing hard. “Thank you, Elizabeth.” He kisses my forehead, holds my shoulders, looks me in the eye. “I promise I’ll return as soon as I can.”

And with that, he dresses and is gone.

*****