The British Billionaire Bachelor

by Maggie Carpenter

  One of his great joys was dressing women in clothes he found titillating and alluring, and there was something mysteriously magical about buying the clothes themselves. He had long since given up trying to figure out what that magical something was. It turned him on and that was the bottom line. While other men couldn’t abide shopping with their wives or girlfriends, Simon found it exhilarating.

  As he walked towards the bedroom door he was filled with a hot expectancy. What had she chosen? What color would it be? Would she have followed his instructions to the letter? How would he punish her if she hadn’t?

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

  Belle was standing exactly as he had requested, her bare feet almost invisible, so thick was the carpet in which they rested. A soft aroma of lime touched his nostrils. He recognized it instantly, the bath gel provided by the hotel, she’d taken a bubble bath. Smiling at the thought, he made a mental note to share that experience with her very soon.

  The light in the room was dim, too dim, and he moved past her to switch on the lamp by the bed. As the illumination fell upon her, he could now easily discern the color of the negligee hovering around her body. It was not what he expected. He had assumed she would have chosen a garment that was red or pink, considering she had been instructed to buy a lipstick and have her nails painted to match. He stared in delicious disbelief.

  The shimmering, glossy, satiny, silk fabric that gently encased her curves, was turquoise green. It reminded him of the warm tranquil waters of the Mediterranean, and the manner in which the unique fabric reflected the light underscored the image. Walking behind her he stopped inches away, tracing his fingers down her arms. He felt her shiver a tremble of excitement.

  “Not a word sweet girl,” he whispered, brushing his lips across her neck, then lightly touched her bottom, moving the fabric softly over her luscious cheeks.

  Again the shivering tremble, this time accompanied by a gasp. His cock protested the confinement of his trousers, but he wasn’t yet ready to undress. For some time he fondled her robust behind, slithering the liquid fabric up and down, back and forth, until her soft sighs had become an urgent panting, and only then did he place his hands upon her shoulders to gently rotate her to face him. Gazing at her lips, to his wonder he saw the same color as the negligee. Pearlescent aqua! Lifting one of her hands he studied her nails, perfection. Not only was she beautiful and smart, she was fun. Brilliantly so!

  “I love what you’ve chosen,” he said tenderly, leaning in to kiss her. Her lips were moist and smooth and he tasted peppermint, then realized it was spearmint, probably the only lip gloss she could find with such a color. The sweet surprise sent an added zing through his cock.

  “Don’t move. Keep those eyes closed,” he whispered, his hot breath sending yet another chill through her body. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Moving quietly away, he spotted the riding crops laying innocently on the bed, along with the white envelope he had given her. Silently he picked it up and entered the bathroom to start the shower. As he waited for the water to reach the right temperature, he peered inside. Inside he found receipts, and what was obviously the money left after her purchases. Disrobing he shook his head. Not only was she an independent spirit, she had a deep integrity worthy of respect and admiration.

  When Belle heard the sound of the shower she let out a long, deep sigh. Every nerve in her body was alive and prickling, as if a bolt of electricity had sparkled down her spine. She could feel the heavy dew between her legs and longed to touch herself. Her taut nipples were brushing against the soft, sleek fabric, tingling with each tiny movement. When he had run his hand across her backside she had almost fainted, her legs had felt weak, and how she had managed to stay still and not fall against him she simply did not know.

  Did I hold my breath that whole time? she asked herself. From the moment he had grazed his fingertips down her arm she was aware only of his touch, and her involuntary gasps.

  How much longer can I stand here? I feel so weak...

  She realized she could no longer hear the shower running, and a new sizzle flashed through her sex. Straining to listen, she could hear the sound of him toweling off, then silence, then his soft footfalls as he walked towards her. Moments later she felt him behind her; something was touching her eyes; a mask; a blindfold; something.

  “Relax, you’re much too tense,” he whispered, tying the black silk cloth behind her head, blocking out even the faintest hint of light. “Breathe. Lean against me and breathe.”

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her backwards, and she released, leaning into him, sucking the air in long deep breaths.

  “That’s much better,” he murmured. “You’re feeling weak, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she stammered. “How–how did you know?”

  “Shhh...it’s my job to know,” he replied, and sweeping her up into his arms, he laid her gently on the bed

  “Oh thank you,” she mumbled, sinking into the mattress.

  “No more talking. I want you to feel. Just feel.”

  She moaned in gratitude, then again with prurient pleasure, as his hands began to move the sensuous fabric across her skin. Never had she felt such succulence. Like a thick, slippery liquid, it caressed and covered her, his hands using the luscious material to issue waves of intense sensual sensation, sending her deeper into the mesmerizing erotic state he was creating.

  Gently he rolled her over, repeating the magical movement across her back, running his hands over her curves, slithering the mystical material between her legs, barely touching, generating ripples of need. For how long the ardent attention continued she knew not. Time had no meaning; there was only him, and the growing heat radiating through her being.

  “Tell me how you feel?”

  His voice was a low, hoarse whisper, calling her back from the depths.

  “I can’t,” she managed. “Soooo much.”

  Simon slithered the slip up and over her round, proud bottom, letting it fall in folds around her waist, and gently pushed her thighs just inches apart. Picking up the smallest of the crops, he laid the tongue against her swollen sex and began lightly tapping. She groaned, lifting her pelvis to offer herself, silently begging for more.

  Touching the crop on the inside of each thigh, the command was instantly understood and obeyed, her legs spreading themselves wider, opening invitingly. He continued the tapping, moving from inner thigh to her glistening sex, back to her inner thigh, offering no pattern or potential for anticipating the next tantalizing touch of the spicy leather tip.

  The tapping increased, not in speed, but in the intensity of its touch, and her moans grew in kind. Her hips continued to lift, as though having their own life, searching out their own wanton need, and when her groans of pleasure reached the pitch he found satisfying, he dropped the crop, and taking her by the waist, flipped her over, on to her back.

  “Sweet Belle,” he whispered, lowering his head to lay his lips upon hers.

  Hungrily her mouth pressed back, then her heavy arms rose, encircling his neck, pulling him urgently into her. He allowed her the moment as her tongue greedily slipped between his teeth, then gently withdrawing, he pushed her head back on the pillows, and moved to the end of the bed near her feet.

  The aquamarine toenail polish appeared iridescent in the soft light, and smiling again at her innovative thinking, he lifted a foot and began to caress and massage. Well-versed in the art of reflexology, Simon was aware of specific pressure points that would enhance her libidinous hunger. His expert fingers pressed and rubbed, and it was her moans of pleasure through which he gauged the state of her need. Alternating her feet, he wove his wizardry until she was squirming, unable to stay silent a minute longer.

  “Oh Simon, please, please, I’m begging you, please...” she cried in a breathless, yearning voice.

  “Please what?” he teased, placing her foot back on the bed and moving to her side.

  “Please make love to m
e...please,” she begged.

  His throbbing member had becoming increasingly demanding, and as much as he wanted to slide into her open, hot, ready pussy, he wasn’t quite finished.

  “Remember I told you in the limo you needed a lesson in patience?” he asked, softly.

  “Yes. I get it. I do. Really...” she whined.

  “That doesn’t sound particularly patient,” he replied, his voice dropping. “Just a little more of the lesson. Spread your legs for me, nice and wide,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing her neck.

  Instantly her legs split apart, and Simon stood up and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a small, battery operated, three-headed vibrator, positioning one of the knobs next to her clit, the other two resting just below, touching the sensitive valley between her lips and thighs.

  “Give me your hand,” he ordered.

  Wrapping her turquoise fingertips around the naughty toy, he pressed it against her sex.

  “Use it as you wish. When you reach your climax you must pull it away immediately,” he ordered firmly. “I shall be very upset with you if you don’t. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whimpered. “I will. I promise.”

  He pressed the button on the side of the tiny machine, setting it on low, and immediately the promising hum filled the room. Her fingers moved, taking a firmer hold, and Simon stroked himself as he watched. She was groaning, her lilting utterances growing in pitch and volume as she moved the tantalizing toy, eliciting from it all the pleasure she could.

  “Oooohhh,” she suddenly cried, yanking the vibrator away from her sex. Immediately he reached forward and pushed the button, shutting it down.

  “Oh Simon,” she panted. “Oh–oh–I–uh...”

  “Ssshh,” he warned. “Now you must count out loud to ten. Slowly!”

  “Oooh, Sir,” she whimpered. “One–two–“and panting heavily, squirming with need, she spoke the numbers. It was tantalizing torture, and when she finally spoke the number ten, she was sure she would explode the moment the machine touched her again.

  “Are you ready for more?”

  “Oooh, yes, Sir,” she moaned.

  Simon adjusted the speed, pushing it up to medium, then turned it on.

  “The same rules apply,” he decreed. “Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed, thinking there was no way she would be able to obey him.

  The hum that echoed through the air was higher pitched. When she brought the hedonistic machine against her she let out a rapturous squeal, and it was just a few seconds before she was crying out, urgently pulling it away for the second time. Removing it from her hand he switched it off, placing it on the bed in easy reach, then taking hold of her ankles he gently turned her over. Clutching her hips he pulled her towards him, bringing her up on her knees.

  The amatory material had slithered back across her ass, and he paused, fondling and caressing her cheeks with the sultry silken satin one more time. She panted and moaned in response, then let out a low guttural sound as he slithered it up, moving it off her, exposing her cheeks.

  Gazing down at her swollen, glistening, open crevice, he quickly slipped a condom over his urgent member. Placing his thumbs on each of her lips he spread her apart, then rested himself at her entrance.

  “Do you want me, Belle?” he growled.

  “Oh, yes, yes,” she pleaded. “Please, Sir.”

  He answered her by slowly pushing forward, his cock like a hungry serpent slithering under a bush. Once buried, he paused, relishing the feel, then reached down and picked up the vibrator, placing the speed on high. Holding it against her sex he pushed the on switch, triggering a passionate wail.

  “You may come as you wish,” he declared. “Take the toy in your hand and ride it.”

  Hastily her hand came up between her legs, anxiously grasping the tiny, tantalizing machine, moaning and panting as her fingers wrapped around it.

  Gripping her hips, he planted his knees firmly inside hers, ensuring her legs remained well separated, then held himself still, savoring the scintillating vibrations surging through her cunt directly on to his cock.

  Belle had never been in such a state, had never known such a state even existed. She knew at any moment she would succumb to the overwhelming, spine-tingling sensations that were prickling and sparking every part of her body.

  His cock began to move ever-so-slightly, and the control of his knees on the inside of hers, forcing her legs wide apart, fueled the building energy. She was standing on the precipice, the buildup so high she couldn’t imagine surviving the eruption. It caused her to hesitate, moving the vibrator away ever so slightly.

  Abruptly his hand cupped hers, pressing it back against her. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t make a sound. A gigantic wave was over her head about to crash...

  The cry she heard came from somewhere far away. As the spasms swirled through her, thousands of flashbulbs lit up her brain, her high-pitched squeals keeping tempo with each of them. She could hear him groaning, low, husky groans of shuddering pleasure, fanning the flames of her ongoing orgasm.

  When the bulbs finally stopped flashing, and the shrill squeals had waned to a whimper, and he had slipped from her, and she was finally wrapped in his arms, she thought fleetingly that she had just crossed some kind of line, that there would be no escape from the spell he had cast on her, the wizardry he had woven.

  She was his.

  Belle stirred from a deep, restful sleep, happily haunted by images and feelings from the night before. When they had recovered and risen from their post-orgasmic, heavenly nap, Simon had ordered them in a late supper, and dressed in cozy robes they had dined happily, cloaked in a warm, comfortable closeness. Blinking her eyes open she cast her gaze across the bed, reaching out to hold him, but to her dismay his side of the bed was empty.

  Sitting up she glanced at the clock. It was late, almost 9:15. There was no sound coming from the bathroom, and moving quietly across to the door that led to the living room, she cracked it open and peered in. It was empty but for a tray sitting on the table offering fruit and muffins, and two separate thermos’s. She assumed one was tea and the other coffee.

  Feeling simultaneously happy to be there, and glum that he wasn’t, she ambled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, trying to switch her focus to the day ahead. She had to call Harriett Steinberg and confirm their meeting at the house; she needed to swing by her office and go through all the paperwork; and a call to the escrow officer was necessary to verify that everything was moving along as it should.

  The hot, waterfall shower splashed across her body and she sighed contentedly. She was in love. It wasn’t the extraordinary sex, it wasn’t his enormous wealth, it wasn’t his debonair style. It was something indefinable. He had touched her heart in a way no other man had. Her body was already aching for him and the suite seemed empty without him. She missed seeing his tall, muscular body sauntering around, and she wanted to stare into those eyes; the eyes that–when locking on to hers–offered no escape.

  How can you possibly be in love? her voice of reason asked, you barely know him.

  I don’t know, she answered herself. It’s an indescribable feeling, and it just is.

  Stepping from the shower she toweled off, and donning the robe walked through the suite into her own room to dress. To her delight she found an envelope sitting on the bed, and grinning happily, she ripped it open.

  Good Morning Sleepyhead–

  In meetings around the city most of the day. Sorry can’t see you tonight. Text me if you need me, otherwise I’ll be in touch when I can. Keep the room key. Come and go as you please. See you tomorrow.

  Simon

  A pain, a strange pain, an empty pain, engulfed the pit of her stomach. Sinking on to the bed she did her best not to overreact or read anything into his words. He was a busy man, an international businessman! Of course he had things to do other than be with her 24/7. Of course he had meetings and... />
  But last night–he didn’t mention anything about being busy like this. He didn’t tell me I wouldn’t see him at all today–or tonight. Is he tired of me already?

  Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself. He’s given you the room key!

  Trying not to give into her fears, she stood up and dressed quickly. Snatching up her bag she stuffed the note inside, walked past the breakfast obviously left for her, and hurried down the walkway. Halfway to the parking lot she stopped.

  It might not look right that she’d not eaten any of the food he’d arranged for her, or even had coffee or tea. It might look as if she had done exactly what she was doing, running away like a scared, hurt rabbit.

  Turning on her heel, she made her way back and let herself in, and sitting down at the table poured the cure-all, a cup of tea. It was exactly what she needed. The hot, comforting drink and a delicious banana nut muffin calmed her down and settled her nerves, and it had given her time to think. She retrieved the note from her bag and under his message she wrote:

  Thank you for the breakfast. This sleepyhead needed it, though she needed a hug to start her day as well. Will be busy dealing with the documents for the house today and meeting Harriett Steinberg to inspect the repairs. Hope everything goes well with all your busy work. Look forward to talking to you when you’re able.

  See you tomorrow,

  Belle xxx

  Inserting the folded paper back in the envelope, she crossed out her name and wrote his in its place, then studied her surroundings, trying to find the best place to leave it. He was always on the phone, so resting it carefully against the telephone on the side table next to the couch, she felt confident he would see it upon his return. Feeling much better, she picked up her bag and headed out into her day.

  Across town, in the heart of Beverly Hills, Simon was standing in the foyer of an office building with Joseph Cardinelli and a commercial real estate broker, Robert Logan. Though the building was a definite possibility, Simon wanted to see more.