Hard Liquor: Runaway Billionaires: Arthur Duet #2

by Blair Babylon

  Staying In

  AFTER Gen had given her statement to the police about the guy who had grabbed her that morning, she went back to Arthur’s penthouse apartment.

  The elevator rose six floors, the lights blinking under the keycard slot. Pippa had stuck her card in there so Gen wouldn’t have to root around her purse for hers.

  When the doors gracefully parted, Gen stepped out onto the thick carpet in the narrow entryway.

  Pippa stayed in the elevator.

  Gen set her purse on the little table with, once again, yet more fresh flowers in the vase, dark red dahlias and delicate Queen Anne’s Lace, today. She asked Pippa, “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “Lord Severn gave everyone the night off.” Pippa pushed a button in the elevator, and the doors slid together. “Good night, Ms. Ward.”

  So Arthur must have something special planned for the evening.

  Awesome.

  Maybe they were going out.

  Gen hurried to her bedroom, showered, and did her hair and makeup. She’d gotten good at quickly twisting up her hair and slapping on full makeup.

  When she was toweling off, she stood before her crammed-full closet, stumped. The plethora of dresses mocked her.

  She had no clue what to wear.

  That’s how crazy-busy she had been with work and all the cases and, especially, Arthur’s insane, convoluted whackjob of a case. Even checking Mr. Fothergill’s app had been too much for her.

  So many brand-new dresses stuffed her closet, cocktail-length, formals, ball gowns, some in-between.

  When she opened the closet door, sequins in every color glittered. The light from behind her glistened on the jewel tones and deep black fabrics.

  So many dresses. Gen couldn’t imagine any situation where she would ever wear any of these dresses again.

  What a waste.

  Ruckus trotted out of her closet, his white paws flashing.

  She asked him, “What are you doing in there?”

  He yawned and rolled over on his back for a belly rub.

  She obliged the dog and grabbed her phone.

  Mr. Fothergill’s app had a big, black box through the night.

  That was no damn help. Old Foggy Bottom, as some of the other staff called him, usually noted the level of formality that she would need to wear, assuming Graham hadn’t laid a dress on her bed.

  Gen flipped her robe around herself and went off in search of Arthur so she could ask him what the dress code for the evening was.

  He wasn’t in the rest of the apartment, so she tapped on his bedroom door. It seemed almost funny that a few weeks ago, she would have been afraid of walking in there or even standing in front of the door to his bedroom, waiting.

  Arthur opened the door. He was wearing suit trousers and a white dress shirt, but his collar was unbuttoned. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Gen was around him so much that sometimes she forgot how muscular he was. Those business suits hid a lot.

  Arthur looked Gen up and down, from her twisted-up hair, over her bathrobe, and to her pink-pedicured toes. “Perfect.”

  “No, really. Where are we going tonight? What should I wear?”

  “We’re staying in. Dinner and a movie, remember?”

  She certainly remembered the last time they had watched a movie. “But I’m not dressed.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “But I’m not wearing anything at all under this robe,” she clarified.

  “Now you’re catching on.”

  “Wait. Nothing?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh.

  She asked, “Shoes?”

  “No.” Arthur leaned on his door jamb. “Dinner will be delivered in a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the dining room.”

  “What, we’re not going to your secret sex room of pain and punishment?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “That room down past mine, the one with the locked door.”

  He laughed. “That’s not a sex dungeon. Dining room, five minutes.”

  Gen went back to her room to finish touching up. Lipstick might be good. Guys dug lipstick.

  In the dining room, which was a long, narrow area that opened to the main living room and balcony, Arthur was unpacking several bags of food. The long table, which could have seated twelve people, had just one place set at one end. Four wine glasses surrounded the china plate and gleaming silverware.

  Gen wasn’t sure what was going on. “Should I have grabbed some food before I got home?”

  Arthur said, “No. You’ll sit at my feet.”

  “Are you serious?” she blurted.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Are you arguing?”

  Oops. “Nope. Not arguing. Just making sure I understood.”

  Gen glanced around. She hadn’t heard anyone moving around the apartment, but that didn’t mean no one was there. “Pippa mentioned that you gave everyone the night off.”

  Arthur chuckled. “Yes, we’re alone.”

  “And no one can see through those windows?” She gestured at the floor to ceiling glass that separated the living room from the balcony and the cold night air.

  “Absolutely sure. Some very smart friends of mine made sure of it. You’ll sit on that side,” he gestured, “on the floor.”

  She walked around his chair and started to crouch to sit down.

  Arthur continued to unpack the food. “Take off the robe.”

  Gen glanced around. “You’re sure no one’s here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gen pulled on the ends of the bow at her waist and started to shrug it off.

  “Slower,” he said.

  Okay, then.

  Gen held the ends of the belt for a second before she let them drop. The robe parted down the middle, baring her belly button, the inner swells of her boobs, and the chub of her tummy.

  Arthur stopped opening the boxes, sat down in the chair at the head of the table, and leaned back, watching her.

  Gen shrugged the robe off of one of her shoulders and let gravity pull it down, but she held it close over her breasts and body.

  Arthur crossed his legs and watched her. His silvery eyes didn’t waver.

  She let the robe fall off her other shoulder, still holding it closed.

  Arthur’s eyes heated as he watched her, and he rubbed one fingertip on the wooden arm of the chair.

  Gen lowered the robe inch by inch, the fluffy fabric stroking her skin over her breasts and back as it dropped.

  Arthur watched every second, his eyes growing hotter as she lowered the robe.

  The robe fell around her ankles.

  She crossed her arms in front of her, covering her boobs and her crotch as much as she could without looking like she was cringing.

  Arthur said, “Hands at your sides. Face me.”

  Gen moved her arms back and turned. All her flab was hanging out, from her floppy boobies to her pouchy tummy to her cankles. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  Arthur said, “Beautiful.” His voice sounded breathy.

  She looked up.

  He was smiling at her, a secret, intense smile as if he liked what he saw. Damn, with his silvery eyes hot with passion like that, sex vibes rolled off of him.

  Confusion clouded her head.

  Arthur said, “Kick it away.” His voice was lower in his throat, even more masculine than usual.

  Gen did. The fluffy robe scooted away from her bare feet.

  “Excellent. Now, sit.”

  She lowered herself to her knees, then leaned over to rest on her hip.

  “We’ll work on your stance later.” He leaned forward and busied himself with the food.

  Gen couldn’t see above the table, but she heard Arthur clinking silverware on a plate and things moving around. He reached down toward her, holding a bite of something between his fingers.

  She started to take it from him, grabbing it between her fingers, but Arthur
pulled it back. “No, pet.”

  Wow, the kinky was strong with this one tonight.

  She craned her head to the side, trying to figure out how to get her mouth around there. The position was more awkward than when he had been feeding her strawberries.

  Finally, she just opened her lips wider and delicately took the bite between her teeth like a prissy lap dog. She chewed the meat, and it released beefy juices into her mouth.

  Oh, Lord. Prime rib. He knew what she liked.

  Feeding her might be some kinky power thing for Arthur, but he had ordered what she liked from the restaurant.

  The next bite he fed her was potato, and it was crisp and brown.

  He held the wine glass for her, and she sipped. The red wine was light and sweet for red, which again, was what she liked. Arthur preferred drier wines.

  Within a few bites, she got better at letting him feed her, and she began sucking the food from his fingers, even licking his fingertips while they were in her mouth.

  Arthur cleared his throat and shifted in the chair.

  Good.

  She wanted to see that reaction of his again, so she licked his fingers, even nipped his wrist. She leaned on her arms and arched her back as she reached for the food, sticking her butt and boobs out. Arthur kept shifting in his seat, and once, after a really nice lick on his palm followed by sucking his whole thumb into her mouth, he growled in his throat.

  Dang. She wondered just how riled up she could make him just by playing with his hand.

  She got really good at drinking the wine from the cup in his hand. By the end, her head was a little buzzed. Not drunk. Not stupid. Just buzzing happily.

  Supper went faster than she had expected, and by the end of it, she had become an expert at food-based fingertip foreplay.

  Also, she was full.

  Arthur wiped his hands on a napkin and smiled down at her. “Good, pet.”

  He stood and held his hand down to help her up. Gen tucked her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet.

  Without her usual high heels on, Arthur was over four inches taller than she was, and standing in front of him made her feel naked and small.

  But this was Arthur, who had never done anything to hurt her, who knew more about her than Lee and Rose did these days, so being naked and small around him felt good.

  He said, “If we did submission training, that sort of thing would be common.”

  “I think I liked it,” she admitted, looking up at him.

  Arthur asked, “Did you?”

  “Maybe.” Gen smiled at him. “Would every night be like that?”

  “Some people do it that way. I think of it as a special occasion, usually before something interesting.”

  “It would kind of take forever. You can’t send your staff out of the apartment every night, either.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t send my staff away,” he mused, looking out over the city lights.

  So housekeepers and Mr. Royston Fothergill would be traipsing through while she was sitting on the floor naked, mouth-fucking Arthur’s fingers.

  Gen crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, dude. I would so not be down with that.”

  He laughed. “Have you given any more thought as to whether you would want to engage in dedicated submission training?”

  “I’ve been kind of busy at work, you see. There’s this case where this crazy nobleman keeps running around and making my job harder.”

  He laughed and touched her lips, shushing her. “We don’t talk about work during submission training. You don’t even think about work during submission training.”

  Submission training sounded awesome. “What else would we do during submission training?”

  Arthur stepped toward her and ran his hands from her shoulders down to her elbows. “It varies.”

  “Like what?”

  He trailed his fingers over her waist and settled his hands on her hips, holding her body. “Put yourself in my hands and find out.”

  Too much. Too much. “Amber.”

  Arthur dropped his hands and stepped backward. “What happened?”

  She had started shaking, which was stupid. It was like a burp of fear had belched itself into her lungs. “Before we go any farther, I want to know what might happen tonight, if we did just one night.”

  Arthur said, “If we were going to engage in desensitization therapy, I was going to touch you with my hands as much as you could handle all evening. If you wanted submission training, it would be that and more.”

  Gen wanted the more. “More, how?”

  One side of Arthur’s mouth inched up. “I meant to introduce you to toys tonight.”

  “Toys?”

  “I’ve always been interested in technology, gadgets, computers, code, and so on. I made something special for you a few days ago.”

  “Special?” Dang it. Gen was just repeating what Arthur said.

  He stepped forward and ran his fingers under her jaw line, lifting her chin up. “I have something special just for you.”

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Not today, no. If we were doing formal submission training, I would judge when you were ready to indulge in the more intense aspects, but not yet. You may never be ready for the heavier aspects of this lifestyle. Some people never are. That’s all right, too. That would be my job to determine if you were ever ready and when.”

  “So what are we doing tonight?”

  “Tonight, we’ll watch a movie.”

  “Like the last time we watched a movie?”

  “Something like that, but not an abject repeat. Perhaps another romantic comedy, though.” He walked ahead of her up the steps to the living room area. “Have I answered your questions?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And you’re all right now?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay now. I can’t believe you seriously like chick flicks.”

  “Of course. We’re all looking for love, aren’t we?”

  Gen nearly stumbled up the steps leading to the living room. “You don’t hear guys say that much.”

  “Most men don’t realize that they are.” In the living room, Arthur again summoned the television from the furniture and selected another movie with a cheesy title, Love in the Fast Lane.

  He sat on the couch and started the movie. “At my feet, pet.”

  When she sat down at his feet, still naked as a blind mole rat, the wooden floor was warmer under her bare leg than the marble in the dining room had been. Her shoulder rubbed the smooth fabric of his dress slacks, and she pressed her side against his leg. This time, Gen was less shy about leaning against his leg and massaging his calf up to his knee. His leg was strong under her fingertips, all the way from the meat of his calf to his sinewy runner’s ankles.

  Arthur stroked her hair, but his fingers tangled in the complicated knot that she had twisted up in anticipation of going to yet another charity thing that night. He pulled the pins out of her plaits and twists. The heavy mass fell down her back and unraveled, lessening the strain at her temples.

  Gen hadn’t even realized that she had a hair-ache.

  Arthur ran his fingers through her hair, combing it away from her face, and played with strands, letting them fall through his fingers. He grabbed her hair gently a couple of times, gathering up or wrapping it entirely around his hand and then releasing it.

  Shivers ran down her neck, and she forgot to stroke his legs for a few minutes. Last time, grabbing her hair like that had led to sugared strawberries, his thumb pushing into her mouth, and later, the rich taste of his cock in her throat. Her body heated, wanting him.

  Arthur’s hand left her hair, and he caressed her naked shoulders and down her back. His fingers trailed down her spine, touching the skin over her backbone and shoulder blades. He pressed his hand all along her back almost to her ass and back up.

  Gen’s breath caught as his hand came around her shoulder and cupped under her breast, his thumb running over the nipple before he leaned back.


  Though Gen was sitting on the floor, Arthur bent and explored her body with his hand, running his hand across and down her arm, stroking under her jaw and her ears with his fingertips, and massaging her neck. His warm hand on her skin relaxed her, and she leaned more of her weight against his leg.

  His touch felt so good, massaging her neck and shoulders and stroking her like a cat. Every time she became complacent and closed her eyes, enjoying it a little too platonically, he would slide his fingers around the heavy globes of her breasts and tease her nipple, pinching or rubbing his thumb over it until her skin tightened and she gasped.

  The movie was playing on the television. Gen had no idea what it was about.

  Arthur said, “Climb up here on the couch with me, pet.”

  Gen did what she was told.

  She scrambled onto the couch from her sitting position on the floor, which meant that she clambered up there like a big, ungainly hound.

  Arthur said, “On your hands and knees, facing the television.”

  Okay, this was new.

  Everything about submission training was new. Hey, he wasn’t mashing her up against a wall and or holding her down on a bed. She was game for pretty much anything else he wanted.

  Gen turned around and positioned herself, facing away from him on her hands and knees.

  Her pussy and ass were fully open to him. He could just undo his pants and shove his cock right into her, if he wanted to.

  Just the thought sent a tremble through her, and her pussy warmed. Her muscles squeezed, waiting for him. The pulse started from her clit.

  Gen was facing the television, but again, she sure wasn’t paying attention to whatever the brunette girl and redheaded guy were doing on the screen.

  Talking. They were talking.

  Who the fuck wanted to watch talking?

  Arthur was behind her, and her pussy was open to his hands, his mouth, and his cock.

  Arthur touched the sole of her foot. Gen jumped, not expecting that. He ran his fingers over the soles of her feet, massaging, and tugged at the skin of her toes.

  Gen had been wearing heels at the office all day, as always. Her feet were constantly sore. She would gladly sit there on her hands and knees for hours if he would just keep doing that. The tension in her body was being sucked out through the tips of her toes and the soles of her feet.