The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One)

by Cerys du Lys

  Once I arrived at the doorway to Beatrice Landseer's room, I paused. Did it open as easily on the inside as it did when I entered the tunnels from the guest home? And where exactly would I come into her room? What if someone was there cleaning the room and I burst inside? If they saw me, if...

  I glanced at a console in the walls. "No motion detected," it said.

  Oh, well, that was easy. I tried the handle of the door and it opened just like that. On the other side was a panel that slid away when I touched it. I knew Asher liked this kind of thing, the whole high tech science fiction fantasy feel, but it just seemed so strange. Was I stepping onto a spaceship somewhere or was it Beatrice's room?

  It was Beatrice's room. Her walk-in closet to be specific. The panel moved out of place at the back of her closet beside a huge rack of shoes and shelves full of folded towels. I snuck through the closet—the massive closet that was about as long as two of my bathrooms combined—and made my way to the door. I opened it an inch and peeked outside, listening for anyone on the other end, but there was no one.

  So, now what?

  I stepped into the room and looked around. It was extravagant and excessive, but I expected that. Beatrice owned an old-fashioned four-poster bed that stood high off the ground on stilted legs. The bed had a curtain around it with a canopy above it, and a mirror built into the top so anyone laying on it could look at themselves by looking up. Then she had a private bathroom, currently darkened but with more than a hint of a myriad of feminine luxuries peeking through. A double sink and wall-sized mirror with counters covered in premium skincare products.

  The desk with her laptop laying on it was near to the window. Dressers and bureaus sat against one wall, with a sofa against the opposite one, and a wall-mounted TV situated so that she could watch it from the bed or the sofa. Beatrice's room alone was about twice the size of my entire apartment, give or take a regular sized closet or two.

  I stopped gaping and convinced myself to check out the laptop. This was probably my best option, right? Except I wasn't some kind of genius computer hacker. I knew spreadsheets and word processing programs and email and the internet, but...

  Oh well, I didn't come here for nothing. I lifted the screen and pressed the power button. The laptop wasn't fully shut off, just in sleep mode, and it powered up fast. No password protection, either, just straight to the main screen. Beatrice had left a website up with a description of a hotel in California: the Solage Calistoga.

  Adara King studio, I read. She'd selected a twelve day block for her vacation, and then clicked off every single enhancement available. Some of them looked really nice, actually. But, honestly, a prelude to romance on every day? That was nine-hundred dollars extra! Also, I wasn't entirely convinced about the necessity of both chocolate chip sandwiches and a chocolate fondue included in the room.

  Six-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-two dollars.

  I stared at the number. I think I made that much in five months after taxes if I was lucky. Beatrice wanted to spend that much in twelve days. I kind of would have loved to spend that much in twelve days, too, except, well...

  Snap out of it, Jessika! I mentally reprimanded myself and forced myself to look away for a second. When I turned back, I minimized the web browser and scanned through the laptop's desktop icons. Beatrice was a minimalist, it seemed, and she had little more than the necessary programs. Not that this meant too much, since maybe she kept everything hidden in folders?

  I clicked through My Computer, the Local C: Drive, Users, Beatrice's folder, and then to her documents.

  There wasn't much there. She had basic files, but little else. The only thing of some interest was logs of her AOL Instant Messenger conversations, but even that was so wildly random and confusing that I couldn't make much sense of it. I clicked one to check it out, just in case, and saw mostly business-like conversations. Besides having no idea who these people were from their screen names, it didn't look very useful anyways.

  I closed that and went back to the Local Drive to see if there was something I'd missed. No sooner than I did, I heard someone at the door. The voice was muffled and it sounded like they were talking on the phone. Passing by, I hoped? Or...

  The doorknob wiggled.

  "Hold on a moment. I have a lot of bags from shopping. Let me put you down so I can open my door. Just give me a second."

  It was Beatrice. I stood in her room, at her desk, spying on her computer right before she was about to walk in.

  To the closet! Right. Except, no, it was too far away. I wouldn't make it in time before she walked into the room. The bathroom seemed like an equally bad choice because I had nowhere to hide in there. And what if she wanted to use it? Well, she'd see me, obviously.

  In a fit of complete nonsense and randomness, I bolted for the bed, crouched down low just as Beatrice opened the door, and rolled underneath it. Thank God she didn't keep anything under there. That was probably beneath her, I assumed. Only normal people stowed totes of their belongings under their beds, and Beatrice wouldn't stoop to their standards.

  I saw her high heels and the lower half of her calves walk into the room. She hurried, placing her bags by her desk. I realized belatedly that I hadn't closed her laptop. She walked over to it, paused for a second, and I was positive she'd realize something was up and start scanning the room for an intruder.

  "Yes, I left it up. I wanted to make reservations soon. Solomon, I love this place. We can get the prelude to romance package for every single day of our stay! Isn't that wonderful? There's fresh rose petals scattered throughout the room, with lavender massage oil and an aromatherapy candle. We'll have massages during the day, too, but I think we can find some use for the massage oil and candles after dark, don't you?"

  Well, this wasn't what I had in mind, but it worked out somewhat. Here I was, in Beatrice Landseer's room, while she talked on the phone about her future sexcapades with Solomon Royce. Unfortunately I didn't have my phone, or I could have tried recording some of this. Still, maybe she'd mention something better? I had no idea what, but I held out hope.

  "I ordered the chocolate fondue, too. I'd rather use it for unconventional purposes, though. Do you think you can handle it, Solomon?" Beatrice clicked her laptop shut and sauntered over to the bed. "I want to melt it and drizzle it all over you."

  She sat on the edge of the bed, then lifted her legs up and rolled onto it. I lay hidden beneath her, feeling the weight of her body pushing down slightly against me.

  "Are you alone in your office? Yes? Good. Lock your door. I don't want any interruptions."

  Beatrice presumably waited until he did that. The sexy talk kind of squicked me out, and I didn't quite feel comfortable with it, but there wasn't much I could do, now was there?

  "I'm going to drizzle chocolate fondue all over your cock," Beatrice said into the phone, sultry and seductive. "I'm going to smear it all over you and then lick it off. I'm going to make you cum like that and then I'm going to smear a strawberry in a mix of chocolate and your cream and I'm going to make you eat it."

  He must have said something back, though I couldn't hear what it was.

  "Let me get my vibrator," she said.

  Like some giddy schoolgirl, Beatrice jumped off the bed. She knelt down right beside me and I panicked. Oh God, was her vibrator under the bed? Maybe, probably, and that's where I kept mine, in a shoebox. Fuck.

  Thankfully her sex toy wasn't completely under the bed, but just under the mattress. She lifted it up and grabbed it and I prayed to every major religion(though I don't know why any of them would care) to help me out here.

  "How hard is your cock?" Beatrice asked after she'd jumped back on the bed.

  I saw her panties hit the floor next to me, casually tossed aside by their owner.

  "Make it harder," she said. "Harder."

  "Oooh, you bad boy. You had a new assistant the other day? Did you fuck her? I love hearing about it. Tell me."

  I didn't want to listen, but I had n
o choice. Also, I kind of did want to listen in a morbidly fascinated sort of way. It wasn't that I wanted to usually, but when put in the position of having no alternative, it suddenly became interesting.

  And apparently they were talking about me.

  "You did not? You threw her on the couch in your office? My God, then what?"

  I slipped! He didn't throw me on his couch! I slipped!

  "How wet were her panties? Did you take them all the way off or did you push them aside and finger her hard? No. I don't believe it. You're entire fist?"

  This—what the fuck—I was kind of pissed. Besides the obvious annoyance of being stuck in Beatrice's room, hiding under the bed, now I had Solomon completely lying about everything that happened in his office that day. We didn't have sex! We didn't even do anything of the sort, even though it was obvious he'd wanted to.

  But Beatrice loved his fabrications. The vibrator buzzed, lively, and she moaned aloud while Solomon told her more about his fake sexual encounter with a temporary assistant. He told Beatrice about how he shoved my chest into the ground and told me to raise my ass up high so he could fuck me like a bitch in heat. Beatrice commented on everything, asking questions through shallow breaths as the vibrator did its work.

  "Are you stroking yourself?" she asked. "How hard are you now? I'm close. I want to at the same time."

  I silently groaned.

  "Alright, alright! I will. Hurry. Did you cum inside her? Tell me you did. That's so sexy."

  Apparently in Solomon's version of the story, he completely lambasted my cunt with his potent seed. Beatrice went off the deep end, pounding the vibrator inside of her and screaming Solomon's name into the phone, begging him to fuck her.

  Afterwards, she quieted down. The vibrator stopped buzzing and she tossed it off the side of the bed; it landed next to her discarded panties.

  "My God, that was hot," she said. "You should see if you can get her back for another day. The stories you tell me about your usual assistant are growing dull. You need to fire her soon. I'm tired of her. What if this new one is pregnant? Wouldn't that be hilarious. Do you know if she had a boyfriend? I'd laugh."

  I gritted my teeth. How much of a bitch could someone really be?

  "Ah, you have to go. Yes, I understand. No, thank you. That was amazing. You always know how to put me in a good mood. You do have it, right? Yes. Soon. Please. I can't stand this. I want to be done with Asher and move on. Don't just keep it on your desk out in the open. I don't want you to get caught by something stupid like that."

  No, no, something, explanations on Solomon's end.

  "If you're going to keep it under the lamp, make sure your idiot assistant doesn't go cleaning around there. Not that she's useful in the first place, I'm sure. That's a strange place, but as long as it's not noticeable, I'm fine with it."

  The lamp. Solomon's office. I remembered it quite clearly from the time I'd visited. He didn't have much in his office. Mostly a desk, a table to the side with books stacked on it, his couch, a mirror behind that, and a floor lamp next to it. The floor lamp was the kind with a conical base. Presumably hollow in the middle, where he could lift it up and place whatever they were talking about underneath it.

  This, I thought, was it. My in. Except how was I supposed to get into Solomon's office, let alone find whatever it was he wanted kept hidden?

  ...

  "No way," Jeremy said. "No fucking way. Are you serious? Is this real life or what the fuck?"

  Jeremy was so completely stunned after I told him what I did and what happened. I could somewhat understand, since it was a shock to me, too, but he was treating the information in a far more excited way than me. Maybe it lost some of its lustre since I'd lived through it.

  "Alright, hold on. So Beatrice gets off on hearing about Solomon screwing his assistant. This is great. All we have to do is tell Asher, and then you and him can have sex all you want and it'll save his marriage with Beatrice. He can tell her stories about you two going at it and they'll fall in love all over again."

  "Are you being serious?" I asked him. Hands on my hips, glaring at him, and all he did was laugh.

  "Not in the least. I can't even believe that happened. Even if I was in the room listening to it, I don't think I could believe it."

  "It was kind of strange," I said.

  "Strange isn't a strong enough word for it," he said. "It's so ridiculous that I'll believe you. I don't like to take things like this on faith, but I'll do it this one time. Just for you." He pinched my cheek.

  I slapped his hand away, laughing. "It's not funny!"

  "It's pretty funny," he said. "Mostly hilarious."

  "Anyways, so, once you're done laughing at my expense, I think this is good, since now we know something."

  "Yeah. Right. That whatever-it-is that he's hiding under his lamp. Except I don't see how that helps us. What are you going to do? Tell Asher that Solomon's hiding some mystery object under his lamp?"

  I rolled my eyes. "No, we have to go get it."

  "I don't see how we're getting into Solomon's office."

  "I'll go," I said. "I've been there before. I'll dress like I'm an office assistant again and make some excuse to go in there when he's gone. It'll be fast. In and out and then I'll meet up with you and we can go from there."

  "You think that's a good idea? Solomon's just going to toss you on his couch again and have his way with you, then Beatrice is going to get the full story later. Do you really want to be involved in that?" Jeremy barely kept his smile hidden away, and after half a moment of feigned stoicism he burst into laughter.

  "Look, it's a good plan," I said, glaring at him.

  "Sure. I guess it's as good as any. I doubt it'll work, but I'm in. I have to pick Asher up later anyways, so we can go then."

  "Good. This is good. I think everything's going to work out well," I said.

  I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

  ...

  I dressed in a nice black skirt and semi-formal, wisteria blouse. Jeremy looked me over before we left and nodded his approval.

  "Nice," he said. "Classy."

  "Thanks," I said. "The heels aren't too much?"

  I walked around a bit to show him. They were nice shoes, but I thought maybe they were too tall for typical office use. I vaguely thought of smaller pumps when I pictured secretaries, but I really liked the way these went with the rest of the ensemble.

  Jeremy shrugged. "How should I know? I'm no fashion expert."

  "Well, I think they're good, so I'll keep them. I won't actually be doing any work, so I don't think it matters, anyways."

  "You're the boss."

  And then we left. But not before I convinced Jeremy to share the piece of cheesecake with me that we brought home from The Cheesecake Factory last night.

  "I need something to calm myself down. I'm so nervous."

  The drive was quiet and uneventful. I went over the plan in my head. Up the elevator, down the hall, knock on the door. Wait. If Solomon was there, I would make up some reason for being there. Joel Newgood needed the weekly reports if they were finished. I knew Joel Newgood in passing from when I'd helped Solomon last time, so this was a good excuse. I assumed "weekly reports" would mean something to Solomon Royce, even if I had no idea what they were. I could play dumb in those regards.

  If Solomon wasn't there, but his usual assistant Daphne was, I'd tell her someone was looking for her. Joel Newgood maybe, or someone else. Who knew? I'd make that one up as I went, since I thought I could lie to her easier without a cover story.

  And if no one was there, I'd just go in, find what I needed, and leave. That plan was the easiest.

  I thought over the plans, over and over and over again, perfecting them in my mind. If this, then that. Nothing to it. Everything would go well.

  We arrived in the parking garage and when I went to step out of the car, Jeremy grabbed my arm and stopped me.

  "Hold on," he said. "I'm not sure how I feel about this,
so let's come up with a back up plan."

  "Sure," I said. "Like what?"

  "If you get caught or something. How long do you think it'll take you to get in and out?"

  I tracked it all in my mind, coming up with decent estimates. "About five minutes to get up there, depending on the elevator and if he answers the door. Then maybe five or ten minutes inside? If no one's there, it won't take long, but if I have to make some excuse for why I'm there it'll take a little more time."

  "Let's say twenty minutes, then? If you aren't back here in twenty minutes, I'll figure something out and come get you."

  I laughed. "So you're just going to walk right up and go to Solomon Royce's office? That'll defeat the entire purpose of the plan. He'll know there's something wrong then."

  Jeremy gave me a hard look. "It doesn't matter, Jessika. If something happens to you, Asher's going to blame me for it. I know this was your plan, but we're doing this together, so let's make sure nothing bad happens, alright?"

  I huffed. "Fine. If you say so. Nothing's going to go wrong, anyways."

  Jeremy didn't know what happened last time, though. I'd told him about the phone conversation between Beatrice and Solomon today, but he didn't know the actuality of the situation. He didn't know I'd fallen on the couch and Solomon had walked over, started acting like he was ready and willing to take me right then and there, with or without my consent. I never told him any of that, and I didn't want to tell him it now. If I did, would he let me do this? Probably not.

  So, instead, I reassured him with a pat on his hand and a careful nod. "It's alright," I said before I left the car. "Don't worry about anything." I closed the door and left him in the parking garage.

  My heels clicked across the concrete and I made my way through the dimly lit area to the ground floor elevator. No one else was nearby and the parking garage looked oddly empty. It was just my nerves trying to make up something ominous, I told myself. I pressed the button for the elevator and waited.