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

by Cerys du Lys

I found it, pushed the button, and the gates began to open. As soon as I picked up my bag, the gates began to close again. I dashed towards the button and pushed it once more, but before the gates even opened an inch, they started closing again.

  Off to the side I saw Jeremy, remote in one hand, phone in the other. He was doing something with his phone while making sure the gates remained closed. I tossed my bag onto the ground and stomped over to him.

  "What do you think you're doing?" I asked.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he replied.

  "I'm leaving."

  "Why?"

  "Because," I said. "I don't belong here, Jeremy. I shouldn't stay here. Asher's better off without me. I don't deserve any of this. This isn't..."

  Asher stumbled out of the house. He wasn't in any serious pain, nor did he have any serious injury, but I knew he was more than a little out of it after what had happened only an hour or so ago. He sprinted across the grass, along the driveway, towards where Jeremy and I stood.

  "What's going on?" Asher asked.

  "She's leaving," Jeremy said. "Apparently. I don't know."

  "That's right," I said. "I'm going home."

  "Why?" Asher asked. He looked so upset. Why was he upset?

  "I can't do this, Asher. I just can't do it." I was crying. Why was I crying? "I want you to be happy, but I can't do it! I need to leave before I change my mind. Please tell Jeremy to open the gate for me."

  Asher grabbed me. He bent down and swooped me into his arms and I kicked my legs and flailed my hands.

  "Let me down!" I screamed. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

  "If you don't stop moving so much, not only will I drop you, but yes, I'll hurt myself."

  Because he was an idiot and wouldn't listen to reason, I stopped moving. Why did he have to do this? It didn't change anything. I bawled, tears streaming down my face, completely and utterly lost in my depression. This shouldn't happen. It just shouldn't.

  He carried me inside, all pretense of following the paramedic's orders gone. He carried me through the hallways, to places I didn't even know existed. I hadn't spent a lot of time in his main house and it was all so foreign to me, so fancy. Pictures on the walls and elegant carpets under our feet. Expensive vases on fancy tables sitting in front of windows as pure decoration and nothing more; no flowers, just vases. Asher carried me through his house until we reached one large set of doors, then he kicked them open and marched inside. Only then did he put me down.

  "I don't understand why you did that," I said. "I wish you hadn't."

  He went back to the doors and closed them, pulling on the ornate, gilded handles. Clicking a latch shut, he locked us inside.

  "Look," he said.

  I looked, for all the good it would do me.

  He'd brought me to a library. It was nothing like the one in his guest home, and yet something like it, too. Entirely different, but still very much comfortable and cozy. A hearth off to the side, large enough for four people to lounge in front of it, lay waiting for winter and a cozy fire, with people sitting in front of it and toasting marshmallows. The bookcases were different, extravagant, with rolling ladders perched on the sides like something out of classic literature. Mahogany tables cluttered with books and candelabras with half-used candles, and writing pads and old-fashioned quills, plus new pens and a few pencils.

  Plus books; a million books. Hidden in a corner was an ancient-looking card catalog, with a desk and a reference computer next to it. Did Asher really have a computer just to keep track of all of his books? Probably, yes, and it did seem useful.

  The library in his main house was massive, a two-story affair with an open center. I glanced up for a moment and saw catwalks on the second "floor" of the library, with stairs leading up to them, going all the way around the perimeter of the room. More shelves up there, more books, more everything. It seemed so magical and I thought for a second that I'd fallen asleep on the couch in his guest home and dreamed all of this.

  In the center of the library I saw a small dais with a broken book placed reverently atop it. A glass dome covered and protected the book. It was a copy of Dante's Inferno, the one I'd ruined the first day Asher and I ever met.

  "You can't leave," Asher said.

  "Why not?" I asked, somehow managing to push aside my tears. "There's no point for me to stay," I said. "Every reason I initially came here for is gone now, so I think it's best for me to go."

  "No," Asher said. "I want to hire you."

  "Hire me for what? I don't want to be your assistant anymore, Asher. I don't want to do that. And even if I did, I can do it from my own home. I can go into work like everyone else. I don't need to live here."

  Asher furrowed his brow. "Jessika, I..."

  "What, Asher?" I asked. "Give me one good reason to stay, because I don't think there are any."

  "I love you," he said, fast; too fast. "I do. I thought you knew that, and..."

  "You don't," I said. "You love the idea of me. You loved that I was willing to give you children, and you love that I... I don't know what you love, but you don't love me."

  "No," he said. He moved towards me but I moved away.

  "Stop," I said.

  He didn't stop. He kept coming and I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to hide. I stood pressed against a bookshelf, trapped, with nowhere to go.

  "Jessika," he said. "I don't care about any of that. I don't care about children, or money. If I lose everything, so be it. I understand that it could happen. I take that risk every single day and I realize that no matter what I do, sometimes it's impossible to succeed. You risk everything, but for what? I enjoy it, my work and my business, but if everything suddenly came crashing down, as it almost did today, I could live without it."

  "I don't understand," I said.

  "I don't want to live without it, but I could," he said. "I couldn't live without you, though. Not now, and not ever. You mean so much to me. I want to know everything about you. I... will you go on a date with me?"

  "You're asking me on a date?" I asked, trying not to laugh, crying as I did. "I think it's a bit late for that."

  "No," he said. "It's never too late. It's always possible. I want to go on a date with you now, and next week. In a month from now. In twenty years. I'd like to ask you out on a date when we're both old, with gray hair and wrinkles. Good wrinkles, though, from smiling too much and laughing."

  "Asher," I said, hesitant. "Please don't do this."

  "I'm doing it," he said. "I need to know your answer. I'm sorry for pressuring you, but I need to know."

  I stood there, quiet, knowing full well I had to deny him and leave. I needed to.

  "Yes," I said, a quiet utterance. Louder, I repeated myself, "Yes." I stepped forward, fell into his arms. We went to the ground slowly, huddled together. "I'm so scared, Asher. I'm so scared. I don't know if I can do this."

  "I know," he said. "I'm scared, too. Please, just give me a chance, though. Please?"

  Through my sobs, I asked, "Will you give me a chance, too?"

  He kissed me, lay me on the soft carpets in the library and pressed his lips to mine. I melted and all emotion abandoned me except for Asher's love and affection. Why had I wanted to leave? I knew full well why, but I was lying to myself about the reason. I didn't want to leave just for Asher, I wanted to leave for me, too. This was so new and unknown and before when it was more of a secret and private it felt different and safer, but now that it was open and public I was afraid.

  We lay on the carpet and cuddled and kissed, and I don't know when exactly it happened, but I fell asleep in Asher's arms, my lips touching his, comfortable and close.

  ...

  Beatrice and Solomon were arrested and went to jail. More of a high profile place than anything, and likely far more comfortable than they deserved, but Asher never wanted them to be in serious trouble in the first place. He couldn't understand what had pushed them so far, but he knew it wasn't up to him to forgive them, either
. They'd entrenched themselves too deeply in illegal activities to dodge federal offenses, and there was nothing more he could do.

  To help out, Asher had paid the exterminator costs for Robert's daughter, too. It seemed like the least he could do for the man after causing such trouble in the back room. The first day after the arrest, Robert was shaken up, but after that he seemed peppy enough about it. Later, the bookstore owner said that all the news coverage and publicity surrounding the shop caused a boom in business. Asher grinned when he heard that.

  He went to visit Beatrice in jail sometimes, too. He knew he shouldn't, but he went anyways. She was actually friendly with him now. Her father never came to visit her, no matter how hard Asher tried to convince him. It only seemed to solidify her point towards him that day in the bookstore. He tried not to think about it.

  And, actually, it was Beatrice's idea for him to take Jessika to the Solage Calistoga. She'd already made the reservations and while he could cancel them easily enough, why waste it? Not that he needed Beatrice's validation, but she said Jessika was nice and that maybe she was wrong. Maybe nice people were fine, and maybe you didn't have to be rude to people all the time in order to throw your weight around and force them to respect you.

  It was very strange seeing Beatrice like this, but he liked it. They wouldn't get back together—in fact they'd already signed divorce papers and she'd agreed to it readily—but he thought that after she served her time in prison they could become friends. Maybe they were already friends now.

  Jessika visited occasionally, too. Asher left her alone in the room with Beatrice once when Beatrice asked him to. He wandered through the hallways, going to the guest cafeteria. It was a sparse, utilitarian place, but he liked the hot chocolate they served. He ordered two cups(one for Jessika later), sat on a screeching metal chair at an empty table and waited.

  It was a little sad here, but hopeful, too. Dark greys inside, with bars on the windows. Beatrice had her own cell, of course, and most basic commodities, cable television, access to DVDs and books and most other things. Still, it was imprisonment. But when he looked outside, he saw a glimmer of what the prisoners must know. A few birds chirped and flew around the prison grounds and offered a view of happiness.

  ...

  "Alright," Beatrice said, completely serious.

  I listened to her and nodded and I felt somewhat awkward but she'd asked specifically if she could speak with me alone, and then Asher had left, so...

  "I ordered everything. This includes chocolate fondue, but I don't expect you to..."

  "I know," I said. "I heard you that day. I was beneath the bed. Asher told you that, I thought?"

  "Yes. I apologize for that. I enjoyed hearing about Solomon's conquests. I know you two never had sex, but at the time it was exciting to me."

  "Well..." Ugh. Well, what? "I'm not going to tell you about Asher and I, so please don't ask."

  "I don't care if you tell me," Beatrice said, snooty. Asher said she was different, but I really didn't see it. "I just don't want you misusing the fondue. I ordered it for a very specific reason, and if you aren't going to use it for that then I'd prefer if you tossed it out."

  "Alright," I said.

  "Alright what?" she asked.

  "Alright, I'll use it for what you intended or I'll toss it out."

  "You aren't going to tell me which?"

  "No!"

  Beatrice frowned. "I wish you wouldn't be so difficult."

  "Can't we talk about something else?" I asked. "I didn't think I was here to gossip with you."

  "Are you going to still have his children?" she asked, all of a sudden, completely out of nowhere. From what Asher told me, she'd never asked about this before.

  "I... we..." I didn't know what to say. "Yes, but naturally."

  "That's nice," Beatrice said. She smiled, and I think it was the first time I'd ever really seen her looking genuinely happy without a streak of meanness at all. "Well, you can go now. I have things to do. I would like it if you came back and told me about your trip."

  ...

  "Have you thought about becoming a writer?" Asher asked me.

  "Asher, please," I whined. "Not now."

  He grinned and looked me in the eyes. Leaning above me on the bed, he hovered over my face and kissed me delicately on the nose. "I'm going to wait until you answer me."

  Why? Why was he doing this? Or, perhaps a better question, why had I agreed to this? We were at the Solage Calistoga, back at our room, taking a break from our morning fun. For whatever reason(it hadn't seemed terrible at the time), I'd agreed to allow Asher to tie me to the bed. And not with something simple like a silken shirt binding my hands to the headboard, oh no. He'd gone all out, apparently having purchased high quality silk rope from a specialty store. I remember laughing at that, and then laying on the bed, dutiful. I spread my arms up and to my sides, then did the same with my legs, and Asher tied each of my limbs to the bed, leaving me spread eagled with my arms in the shape of a "Y."

  It had seemed amusing at the time. Exciting! Interesting and fun. And it was all of that up until Asher joined me on the bed, kneeling between my open thighs with his cock poised and ready to enter me. But, no, he didn't. He built me up, and then he waited there, just barely pressing the head of his member into my waiting slit. I wanted him to push inside me, but instead he asked me if I ever thought about becoming a writer.

  I pouted at him, my face twisting into something akin to annoyance and desire. "Please, Asher?" I asked. "Just a little? I can't answer you right now. It's so hard to think."

  He kissed my neck and my breasts, teasing my hardened nipples with the tip of his tongue. His cock never moved, though, not an inch. It remained tightly tucked between my labia, ready to please me but refusing to do so until I submitted to him. Up, he kissed, back to my neck, my lips. I kissed him back in a fever of lust, hoping he'd feel my need and give in to me. He didn't.

  "Just a quick answer," he said. He kissed my nose, then each of my eyelids; I kissed his chin and his cheeks. "Yes or no, that's all."

  I couldn't just answer yes or no. The question required more. "Yes," I said softly, fully intending on continuing to say more.

  He immediately pushed inside of me, but only a few inches. I bucked against his obtrusion and gasped.

  "Yes yes yes, Asher." I let out a lusty sigh and pulled against the rope binding my wrists to the bed. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and pull him deeper into me, but with my current restraints it was impossible.

  "And?" he asked.

  "Are you really doing this?" I asked. "Are you really going to do this? I don't know how you can. You have far more willpower than me."

  "That's a lie," he said. "I just get a lot of pleasure from watching you squirm on the bed. It's beautiful." He leaned down and kissed my ear. "You're beautiful, and if you tell me more I'll go all the way in. That's all you have to do. I love you, Jessika."

  "I love you, too," I murmured. Steeling myself, I tried to fight against my inherent need. Granted, it was very difficult, what with about a third of Asher's cock pressing into me. I felt it, a warmth, a promise of more. His heat mixed with my arousal and, to tease me, every so often he flexed his cock, sending a surge of pleasure and promise through me. If I just stayed still and didn't say anything, maybe I could find a way to get myself off. This was exciting, but different. If I edged my hips just so, barely moved, wiggled my lower body up so that my clit barely brushed against his stomach(though this was far more difficult than it first seemed), and...

  "If you don't answer me soon, I'm going to pull back out," Asher said.

  "No no no," I said. "Yes, I've thought about it, but I'm not good enough, Asher. I do like to write, but I don't know what I would write. How would I do it? There's a lot to it, you know? It's not just writing, but editing and then do I send letters to an agent, or directly to publishing houses? Do I want a big publisher or a smaller one, or do I self-publish, or..."

  Asher thrust into
me. My lower lips kissed around the shaft of his cock like a lost lover. He was so close, yet had seemed so far away—if only for a moment—and now he was back again. Home. With me. Inside me, where I never wanted him to leave. He pressed deep into me, slow and relaxed. I savored it, biting my lower lip. Asher tried to kiss me, to distract me, but I whimpered and refused him, never stopped biting my lip. He kissed me anyways, on my nose and my eyelids, my forehead and my cheeks. He kissed me until he was all the way inside me, settled deep and fully, and then he stopped and watched me.

  "Will you go out?" I asked. "Just once. Out and in. Slow. I answered your question. Please?"

  "Yes," he said.

  Out. What was out? I didn't even know, but it was wonderful. Asher pulled out of me with a slowness I didn't think any other man could possibly possess. So very very slow, the shaft of his cock dragging against my inner walls, teasing and tantalizing me in wonderful ways. The head of his cock flared as he flexed it, pounding inside my pussy like a steady heartbeat. I felt every minuscule piece of his sexual flesh inching out of me.

  Then back in. I quivered beneath him, resisting against my natural inclination to grind my hips up and against him. Instead, I squirmed. I squirmed because it felt nice and fun, and I squirmed because Asher enjoyed watching it. I loved the idea of him finding me sexier from something as small and inconsequential as that.

  "Very good," he said when he was fully back inside of me. It wasn't nearly enough, but I felt satisfied for the moment.

  "Are you going to ask me another question?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, but then he kissed me. I kissed him back, relishing the touch of his lips, reveling in the feeling of fullness brought about by his cock.

  And then someone knocked on the door.

  "I'll be right back," Asher said.

  "No no no no," I begged. "Don't, don't."

  But he did. He left me as easily as that, leaving me laying on the bed, naked and bound. Asher stepped over to the bathroom and grabbed a bathrobe from a hook hanging on the wall, then draped it over his nude form. He tied the cloth belt loose around his waist and fixed himself so that his erection wasn't too obvious.