Unjust Billionaire: A dom romance (Bossy Billionaire Book 2) Read online

  As we stood gazing each other down and sizing each other up for the prolonged battle we were plainly about to engage in, I contracted in a wince of shuddering. I had to grab the wall as I half doubled over, clutching my stomach. The jolt was soon followed by waves of gripping pleasure emanating from my core, small clutches of orgasmic ecstasy rolling up through every cell.

  Fuck, I was standing in a hall on the verge of coming in front of my new nemesis. As the captivating ripples dispersed along my limbs, I stretched my gaze up and saw Delilah watching me closely with an amused almost-grin.

  What the fuck? The plug in my pussy was sending climactic pulses through me but were they delivered automatically or was someone in control of them? I hoped to all the goddesses that if my edging was being controlled, Delilah was not the one doing the dominating.

  “Are you sure you're required to dine there? The red room is reserved for business meetings and – special occasions.”

  “Well, I guess we can call this both business and special because Mr Valentine told me to meet him there as soon as possible, so if you wouldn't mind pointing me in the right direction.”

  The assistant's face contorted momentarily and I could tell madam Delilah had zero inclination to show me the way. Still doubting me, she led me along the corridor until we turned right into a double wide hall littered with Aubusson silk rugs and golden swags of silk drapery like a row of ballgowns lining the walls.

  Delilah strutted fast through her domain, forcing me to totter along at a trot to keep up. I must have looked like a geisha teetering along behind a stunning, almost space-age, madam to her next tea ceremony. Another pair of Valentine’s juxtaposition, living ones this time. She finally threw open the door on a circular antechamber furnished with dark black furniture and lacquered walls the color of dried blood.

  I hesitated, checking what I was about to walk into and almost face-planted as she pushed me through the door, then pulled it firmly shut behind me. Overcome with a momentary bout of dizziness, trapped in the round space, I blundered through the thick density of black velvet drapes that separated the antechamber, into the dining lounge.

  8

  I was in a room as enormous as the others on the ground floor. I still hadn’t yet been shown up to my private quarters and a twinge of doubt puckered in my mind. Perhaps I wasn’t going to be given any and I would live out my contract in the dungeon room.

  Where I had envisioned a deep scarlet, this red was opalescent burgundy, lit low by massive brass candelabra. Jay Valentine and Marc Chapelle were seated alone at one end of a long black table. The two men looked up in surprise when I entered and I thought my employer must have forgotten his order to appear before him, even though it had been made barely half an hour earlier.

  “Ms Cannon, you finally made it.”

  Valentine rose from his seat and came toward me, walked right past while I locked gaze with Marc Chapelle, the older man who had plundered my pussy so delectably on the flight from New York. A deep throb between my thighs as he approached. I ought to feel bad at being involved with three different men but I couldn’t push myself into it. Now with the plug thing inside me, its cold hard smoothness prevented all sense of stimulation while at the same time heightened it.

  I couldn’t understand the many paradoxes of emotion rushing through me since I'd arrived at Valentine Winery. No wonder I was yo-yoing up and down. The repression of my senses brought my lust to a higher level but being bounced around between three such different characters had stretched my limits of endurance.

  “Did you lose yourself?” Chapelle inquired in his low French accent that was like a smooch in my ear.

  “Just a little,” I said.

  My voice cracked, partly from exhaustion, part exhilaration. And then Valentine was behind me, so close to my back that I shivered deep inside my leather carcass, his hot breath curling around my neck. I shuddered as his fingertips grazed across the sensitive sides where trails of kisses always brought me to the edge, then jumped back at a constriction of a tight metal band.

  He locked a choker around my throat and the restraint went into place with a satisfying finality. I reached my fingers to feel the thick metallic collar with barely a hair of ease to prevent me asphyxiating.

  “Join us.”

  He brought his large hand to the small of my back, an electrifying touch- the first he'd ever given me, and the briefest. He pressed me toward my seat at the table then slid up across my ribs and off my outer skin.

  I took a step and was brought up short. Looking behind I saw the halter was attached to a chain with a heavy weight on its other end and that had reeled me back in. Very tentatively I moved forward to the outstretched chair, the two men staring at me with eyes that gouged right through the casing of leather around my body. I sat in the chair he pulled out for me, at his right side, opposite Chapelle.

  The choke-chain weighed just enough to restrain me and remind me I was not master of my own movements. It reached exactly as far as the chair being proffered me and pulled me up in its halt. Had I wanted to reach out towards my boss, the chain would have pulled me back hard. Valentine was absolutely determined to run no risk of being touched.

  He poured me a glass of Vals, his signature champagne, and the cold bubbles immediately effervesced though my parched body, making me giddy.

  What the hell was going on here? Was I to be Valentine's pet as well as design his winery, or was I some sort of prisoner in his castle? All I could be sure of was that this was no game, as I'd been playing with Josh back in New York the past couple of months. Valentine was playing seriously hard and not at all safe.

  And yet I felt incredibly secure and almost- pampered. The two men looked at me with something like adoration and admiration, as well as desire in waiting. It was me, not Delilah or any of the other 'crew' she'd mentioned, who was seated at the table to dine with them. And it had obviously displeased her enormously that I’d been selected.

  A white-gloved manservant appeared to serve us a first course of oysters on the half shell with a delicious spicy liquor, made from a light Sauvignon grape, if I had to guess. I had attended some wine-tasting seminars before coming out to Napa. I remember Josh had been pissed at that – saying there was no need to ingratiate myself so much with the boss.

  Whatever the two men wanted of me, it seemed I had so far passed whatever tests they were putting me through. And strangely enough, I was eager to pass them. I wished now that I had opened the slits covering my breasts and dined with them exposed to their admiring gaze.

  As I raised the last sliver of wet flesh from the half shell to my lips, another invigorating shudder waylaid me so that I almost dropped the ivory handled silver fork. I reached out to grip the chair at my left side and rode the waves of arousal, trying not to gasp and pant. As they diminished, my body kicked back with a series of intense pulses that made my heart pound its way up through my breastbone.

  With a sensation of bubbles rising to my head, the climactic pulse wore off and glorious warm bliss infused my skin. Once it dissipated, I saw how Valentine and Chapelle watched me fascinated, before immediately returning to their business conversation. How many more rides to the brink would I have to endure before being allowed relief?

  The serving man returned with a platter of small, sweet lobster tails and perfect fillet mignon. His blithe look of non-awareness at the dog collar and chain restraining one of the guests said he was a very well-trained servant. He brought the crystal decanter of red wine to the table and poured for the men. Jay Valentine lifted it to pour my glass himself.

  As dinner wore on, the feeling of exhilaration began to crumble when neither of the men addressed a single word to me or noticed me again. They continued with their talk of vats and sugar content while I was ignored as though I was a pet at the table.

  I wondered whether that was part of the test – to see whether my sexual appetite was voracious enough to continue through endless with-holding. It was only when the plates had been
removed and the massive candelabra remained on the table with the glasses for port, that Jay Valentine remembered my existence.

  “Climb up onto the table,” he commanded in a smooth but commanding tone.

  With no idea how I was supposed to 'climb' in the tight skirt that forced my thighs together, bound as no Victorian bustle ever had, I stood and placed my ass on the edge so as to swing my legs around. I was seated on the wide surface with legs outstretched in front, wondering whether either of them would unzip the huge fastening preventing me from opening my legs, when I realized the chain around my neck would not extend far enough for me to stand on the table.

  “Lie down,” Valentine barked, glaring ferociously until I did as I was told with more haste.

  As soon as I was on my back, Valentine pulled back the zippers across each breast, the teeth grazing across the peaks so that I gasped as my nipples popped up hard. He cupped each mound to wrestle the flesh from its slashed opening. My breasts pointed erect to the ceiling, which I now noticed was painted with a fresco of copulating satyrs and maidens.

  Christ, what sort of business meetings went on in here? I guess the case could be presented that wine and women had always been close compatriots for lusty male masters. We could use a song right now. To distract me from my trembling hunger if nothing else. I could have lain on my back, lost in unraveling the multiple limbs and lips wrapping around each other in the painting. It was a pictorial manual for every position known to the human body, downgrading the Kama Sutra to a 101 beginners guide by comparison.

  “Bring in the dessert, Manuel,” Valentine told the immaculate manservant.

  He soon returned with a silver tray, bearing a luscious creamy concoction that he carefully spooned onto my nipples. Being carefully not to touch them with the metal, he let the mixture fall onto my engorged point. My core clenched with the images of Valentine and Marc lapping their sweet treats from the tips of my breasts, both suckling the tips and licking them clean in unison. The sticky substance smothering the peaks sent shivers through every cell as I waited patiently to be lapped clean.

  Marc's masculine soft gravel voice filled my ears as he explained his concept for new varietals and length of time in the barrel while I lay silent, straining to hear Valentine's rare response. Untangling the bodies in paint above me and marveling at the new variations I was learning about, that had nothing to do with grapes.

  Another shattering emanation deep inside my pussy shook my naked breasts like two pavilions in an earthquake until the soft creamy substance shivered and dribbled lasciviously down the sides. I bit down to prevent a scream as the convulsions rocked through my core, then lay panting with my bare breasts heaving with the urge to explode.

  “You have done exceptionally well, Ms Cannon,” after an age, Valentine addressed me without turning his head in my direction. “You may go to your room now and I will speak to you in the morning.”

  9

  Shocked at being summarily dismissed, I struggled to raise myself from the board. There were no napkins anywhere with which to wipe away the untouched remains of the dessert.

  As I hobbled towards the door, the manservant Manuel appeared to unlock the chokechain from around my neck, which appeared to be solid gold. He pulled back the heavy velvet drapery for me to exit the dining room, eyes carefully averted. With my bare tits slathered and dripping with cream I hobbled along the passage and up the stairs behind him to be deposited in my quarters.

  If I'd half expected a dungeon, I was disappointed as the room was the pinnacle of silky luxe. Hundreds of thousands of silkworms had toiled their entire lives just to create the piles of dreamy bed linens I would rest on. But in my frustrated state it was impossible to enjoy any of it.

  I rummaged for my phone at the bottom of my Marc Jacobs and saw that Josh had left a message ten minutes ago. That was it? Only one in all the time I’d been here? Misery slushed through my lonely body. Only one message when I had arrived at the winery this morning? I'd got off the flight expecting he'd have called, that there would have been a bunch of ‘miss you’ sexy texts, seeing as this was supposed to have been our goodbye weekend.

  I'd also hoped to see a bunch of missed calls asking why I didn't return his texts. One call, moments ago, almost as an afterthought. I threw myself on the bed, sinking into the plush layers of silk and down, feeling that close to a kicking and screaming tantrum of frustrated expectations.

  But I would not. Jay Valentine would not get the better of me with his control games. I was mad at myself for the powerful attraction carousing through my body every time he was close to me. It drove me to the brink that I couldn't touch him and he'd never laid his hand on me apart from the briefest touch of guidance toward the table that had seared beneath my skin like a flame.

  I pulled up against the pile of silk pillows, all the sweet cream rubbed into my breasts or the silk cover. Good, I hoped it was ruined. Not that the cost of a replacement would be the slightest inconvenience to Valentine. He probably tossed out silk covers with every change of sheets. My mind was ranting, even imagining Jay Valentine had anything at all to do with the purchase or laundering of household bedding.

  I thumbed the phone and pressed Josh's number in New York. It would be 4am there now, but he was often up late when work plagued his mind and a new design withheld itself, torturing the edges of his creativity. Besides, he had called me not that long ago.

  “A/C,” he yelled his nickname for me above the loud music playing beside him. “How's it going in the world of Bacchus?”

  “Lousy to be honest,” I said, not sure whether tears or rage were higher on my emotional menu. I was so glad to hear his voice. I needed some support.

  “What's up girl?”

  “I've had a terrible day of non-stop labor, without actually doing any work and I'm all alone in my misery. I miss you so much.”

  Fuck. I wished I hadn't said it first, but the sentiment fell out before I could muzzle my mouth. And then I had to gasp back a squeak as the electrode in my pussy buzzed and made it tug through a ton of contractions.

  “What are you doing, Sweets?” Josh asked as I opened my legs and tugged the plug out of me. I felt strangely empty with it gone.

  “Just removing a pussy stimulator,” I said, matter of fact, knowing the image would stimulate him equally. “Wow. I think this is real gold, no wonder it's been filling me so heavily.

  “Babe, things don't sound that bad if you're wearing gold accessories.” Josh laughed out loud. “And they can only get better.”

  “I think they might get a whole lot worse.”

  “Well, I don’t know what's going on for real, but if you're really that unhappy you can always leave I guess.”

  It sounded like yet another test- I knew Josh would never want me to give up so easily. We were both aware of the disaster that would wreak on my career and I had a contract that didn't allow me to bail.

  “Do you wanna tell me about it?” he asked. He sounded distracted, not giving my woes his full attention.

  “No. I know you're in front of your drawing board and thinking more about the form on the paper.”

  “I promise I'll turn my back on that torturous minx and give you my entire attention. Shoot. What's going on?”

  “Well, I'm sitting here having finally being shown to my room after the flight, with my skin blistered red from a skintight leather suit and welts across my neck from the brace and chain I just wore to dine in.”

  “Now you're just toying with me,” he laughed. “Trying to get me worked up already, you sexy Nymph.”

  “No actually I'm not, I'm speaking quite literally.” Maybe I shouldn’t have shared all that but he didn’t believe me anyway. Thought I was trying to get him worked up for a down below Facetime.

  “Still sounds like an okay day at the office to me, better than mine.”

  “I should have known you'd think it was cool.”

  “Are you seriously going to tell me, A/C, that you've had no pleasure at al
l since you left? Even with all the E-stim?”

  I opened my mouth to say no but that would have been the biggest lie. I'd been teased to the pinnacle a mile high and then shivered through a barrage of intrusive tugs down my pussy from the plug Valentine controlled. But most of all from- the crazy freaking desire I felt for my boss.

  Guilt wrapped all around me, talking it over with my kind-of boyfriend, because although he wanted me to sleep with other men, had ordered me to do so and tell him all about it, I still felt ashamed of the ravaging hunger I felt to have Jay Valentine ram into me. It was completely insane, the man was absolutely gorgeous but he'd barely spoken more than two sentences to me. All he'd done was order me to go here and there, strip in front of him, bend over. Now his enigmatic silence was making me loopy.

  And I hadn't told Josh how Valentine had ordered me to show him my breasts the minute I arrived and then to raise my skirt and remove the underwear I wasn't even wearing.

  “How was your bare-assed plane ride?” he asked as though reading my thoughts.

  “I-um-” I didn't know what to tell him. Would he be mad and cut me off right at the moment I needed him?

  “I told you to tell me everything,” he said with a dangerous inflection.

  He'd also told me to fuck the men he told me to and then share the details with him. My rebellion on the plane had made me feel independent, but now the break between us seemed irrevocable. He didn't offer to help me get out of my entrapment and return to New York. I felt completely abandoned by a man I'd trusted.

  “It was fine except Valentine made me go straight to his office as soon as I arrived.” That much was true.

  “And?”

  “He ordered me to bend over his desk and I was still wearing that short skirt and so – he saw – the scarlet heat on my ass from your parting gift.”