Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  "You want to go to bed?" Dan's voice was low and rumbled pleasantly in his wife's ears. It promised of the things to come, of the night they would have together. Igniting feelings she had been forcing herself to put in the back of her mind for years.

  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips, moving to straddle his lap. They sat there like that, kissing and holding each other, for a few minutes. Carrie's phone started to beep, and she looked over. Time to go, she thought. She let out a laugh and flicked the alert away.

  "I love you, Mr. Walker."

  "I love you, too, Mrs. Walker."

  "Take me to bed, babe."

  Dan's arms wrapped around her and lifted her up, and he stood. Like she weighed nothing. Carrie pressed her face into Dan's shoulder and kissed the crook of his neck. He started moving, careful not to bump her into anything, and pushed the bedroom door open. The room was large, and the bed, Carrie saw, was covered in rose pedals.

  "Did you…?"

  Dan smiled and kissed his wife. "You're not the only one who can plan, you know."

  As he laid her down, Carrie's heart pounded in her chest. This was it, she thought. The moment of truth. It all seemed so scary, now that she was here. It was becoming real, right before her eyes.

  Dan leaned over her and kissed her lips again, then turned to flip the light switch on. From behind him, Carrie's voice was soft and sultry.

  "Hey, Mr. Walker." Dan turned to see his wife pull her tee shirt over her head, watched her reach behind and unclasp her bra. Her hands came up to stop it from falling. Careful not to show more than she wanted to. "How long are you going to stand there?"

  A wicked smile spread across Dan's face. In the blink of an eye Carrie was on her back, unsure of what had happened, as her husband explored his new wife's body with his hands, his mouth, his eyes. Her bra came off, letting her breasts spill free.

  He took her lips in his, a violent kiss that left Carrie breathless. Her heart was beating harder than ever before, and her stomach doing flips. "Dan?"

  He stopped. His own breathing came hard and ragged, and she could feel his hardness against her leg, but in his eyes he looked worried. "Is everything okay?"

  "I love you."

  "I love you too." He pressed a chaste kiss against her lips, and his exploration slowed.

  "I didn't say stop," she teased.

  His teeth sunk, almost as if on-command, into the flesh of her neck, sparking a delightful pleasure that went straight to her pussy. The electric shock of pleasure fired again when his fingertips traced over her nipples, exciting them to stiffness.

  "Can I—"

  "Fuck me," Carrie cut off. The word felt strange in her mouth. She and Dan never used harsh language, not with each other. But now it felt right. "Fuck me, Danny, and put a baby in me."

  Dan's bite loosened, and then his mouth came free, and he took another kiss from his bride. "Your wish is my command."

  His jeans came unbuttoned in a quick motion of his hand and he pushed them down, swinging them away into a pile in the corner. She could feel the hardness between them, could feel the heat coming off of it. She wanted it. The feeling of physical need was like a hunger, driving her wild.

  He pressed against her entrance, probing her folds with a thumb as he lined up with his cock. He touched her clit like the buzzer in Operation, sending a buzz of pleasure shooting up and down her spine, stronger than any feeling of pleasure she'd felt before on her own. Then, while she recovered from the shocking pleasure, he pressed into her, taking her in one firm motion.

  Carrie reached up, hooking her hand around her husband's neck and pulled him in for another kiss as he pulled back out, then thrust in again. Then she let the feeling of pleasure over her. She wanted to spend every day like this, on her back as the man she loved, who she'd decided to spend the rest of her life with, gave her pleasure that she hadn't been able to imagine before this moment.

  Dan's voice, husky and forceful, broke through the veil of pleasure that Carrie had surrounded herself with. "I'm going to cum, babe," he groaned. "Cum with me."

  She was going to, she knew. She let out an appreciative moan and wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing him deeper into her with her heels. "In me—please. I need it."

  Dan leaned down to kiss her. She could hear his breathing, how strained it was. He needed it, too. Needed it as much as she did, or more.

  "Cum for me," she whispered into his ear.

  He pushed into her with one last powerful, long thrust, and let out a long groan. Carrie could feel the warmth spreading through her body, starting deep inside her. Her mind went blank and she drifted on a cloud, holding her husband, her lover, close.

  "I love you," she purred.

  He made another few experimental thrusts inside her, thrusts that set her fire burning all over again. He took a hungry mouthful of her breast, moving his hand to rub her in the place where they met once again. It would only be a matter of time, she realized. It may have been the first time, but it wasn't the last. No, it wasn't even the last time tonight.

  She sat down in the bathroom after they got home. She didn't want to tell her husband yet, of course. He would be excited—overjoyed. But the first month or so was the most volatile, and she knew he would be crushed if she told him too soon.

  She'd known that she would be fertile during the trip, though she hadn't told him. For both of them, they left it up to God to decide what would happen. Carrie knew the choice God had made for her when she'd missed her period. She smiled to herself, wiping the tears of happiness out of her eyes, and set the test down beside herself. Her life, the life that she looked forward to for over a year now, was beginning. And inside her, another life was beginning, too.

  Impulse

  From Single Mom to a Billionaire's Toy

  Dalia Daudelin

  “Ohmygosh I am so sorry!”

  My apron, once perfectly clean and white, is now quickly staining an awful red-purple. The glass of wine that is not shattered on the stone floor threatens to slip into my shoes and make me suffer for its untimely demise. The errant hand that drunkenly tipped it over is trying to dab the red off of her dress, and then my apron. There's no chance of her succeeding.

  “No, don't be!” I say, trying to sound cheerful through gritted teeth. I try to smile, but it's more of a twitch. “I'll be right back with a fresh glass for you. Remind me of the year?”

  Dashing back into the kitchen, my mind screams at me. I want to stand up for myself! I want to tell that rich bitch out there what I think of her antics every time she comes in!

  But then I consider how much money her dress cost, and the idea of that being garnished from my already pathetic wages... Oh, I feel sick.

  The nausea is even worse when I think of my daughter back at home. Amanda, being watched by my saintly mother, growing up in anyone's arms but my own because I have school loans and hospital bills to pay off. Thank God that Dad died before he could see me struggling like this, before he could see me move back in with Mom.

  Today hasn't been the worst day of my life, but it's certainly not the best. I woke up late and so I didn't have time to straighten my wild hair. I had to settle for a flimsy hair tie and a sloppy bun, but glancing in a mirror as I pass by proves that I look as frazzled as I feel.

  Then, my first customer demanded to see the manager because one of my untamed hairs fell into her steak. It didn't really. It was her own hair, but no one believed me!

  And now this. Now I need a new apron, and I know my manager is going to dock my pay for it. I grab one from the hooks as I pass into the wine cellar to pour the clumsy woman a new glass. By the time I take it back out to her, the bus boy has swept up the broken glass and once the woman is nursing her new glass I'm seating a new customer in record time.

  This one, a man, is alone. “Will you be joined by anyone tonight, sir?” I ask, brushing my hair out of my face. I think I feel a zit forming on my forehead.

  “Yes, in a few minutes, b
ut I suspect she won't be staying long. Just bring out two glasses of water and one menu, for me. Thank you, dear.”

  He's older, maybe 50, but his hair is all black and there's barely a wrinkle on his face. What signs there are of his age simply make him look interesting, not old. He has the face of someone who belongs on TV. The restaurant I work in is near DC, so he could be a politician, maybe. Now wouldn't that be something?

  Ah, what am I doing, getting flustered over someone I'll never be able to talk to. He probably barely even sees me as a human being. Let's get real, everyone who eats at La Coste is rich and snobby and looks down at me no matter what I do. I knew that when I got hired.

  The only thing that keeps me going, that keeps me working here, are the tips and Amanda's beautiful face. I know she needs new school shoes for gym, and she'll be turning 10 soon.

  For some reason, I feel compelled to bow before turning to leave. Ah, hell, why did I do that? I can hear his chuckles chasing me into the back room. I grab two glasses and start to pour the water when I feel a presence behind me. I turn my head just enough to see my manager out of the corner of my eyes. Fat Pete, as we call him. Behind his back, of course. Never to his fat face. He takes up most of the small hallway where the water pitcher and glasses are.

  “Yes, Peter?” I say, trying to keep my voice pleasant. I don't necessarily fail at it.

  “We need to talk.”

  My heart drops, and at the same time it jumps into my throat. I pour the second glass of water. “About what?”

  “Look, there's no easy way to say this. You don't need to come back after tonight. We've had another complaint that you spilled wine all over a woman and didn't even clean her up.”

  That rotten bitch! I keep pouring. I swallow my pride. “Can we talk about this after my shift?”

  “Sure, but I can't guarantee it will do much to change my mind.” A bead of sweat falls down his disgusting, round face. I smile and nod.

  “Alright, Pete. Thanks.”

  My mind is blank as I carry out the glasses of wine and the menu out to the customer. I round the corner and see that he's sitting with the woman. I stop for just a moment to see if this is a bad time to come over. She's drop-dead gorgeous, silky red hair down to her hips and a body that puts mine to shame. They seem to be talking about something, maybe a little bit heated. I decide to take the water over.

  “Ah, the water! You arrived right on time.” The woman smiles up at me, a cracked, crooked smile. Her eyebrows twitch as she takes the glass right from my hand. Without a second's hesitation, she throws the water into the man's face and stands up. “You're such a fucking pig, Joe. Fuck you.”

  I stand there with my mouth wide open as she storms off. The water is still dripping from his face. He reaches for the napkin, and I leap into action, setting down the remaining glass of water and rushing to help him dry off. “I'm so sorry, let me help you-”

  “Now, what are you sorry about? Did you tell her to do that?” He laughs, taking the napkin from me and pressing it to his face. He's still smiling, shaking his head at some thought. “No, I'm betting you didn't. I knew she was going to throw that water in my face. That's how we met, after all. I watcher her throw a glass of wine in a congressman’s face when he touched her ass, though I can't say I blame him. Anyway,” He looks up at me, his eyes fierce. Something in my chest flutters, that shy sort of feeling that escaped me years ago. “You look like you've had a worse day than me. Why don't you tell me about it? You could sit down.”

  I look at the seat in front of him, then back at him. I shake my head, clutching the serving tray to my chest. “No, I'm not allowed to.”

  “Okay, then when do you get off work?”

  I think for a second. “Are you hitting on me?”

  His laughter fills the whole room. Some of the other patrons stop eating to stare at us. Even the drunken woman watches as this man chats me up. “I suppose I am. Will you answer the question?”

  I'm blown away. Who would hit on me when I'm looking like this? With disgusting hair and black bags under my eyes, and sweat dripping down my forehead? I set my jaw. “Are you making some kind of joke?”

  His eyes widen and he sits back. He must not be used to being challenged. “Not at all!”

  “Well, I'm not allowed to socialize with the patrons, so-”

  “Would it help if I offered to pay you? Maybe... a thousand dollars?”

  A thousand dollars. That could pay for everything that Amanda needs and more! “Well... I just got fired, anyway, so I'd say I get off work whenever you want me to.” I clutch the tray closer to me, using it to shield me from the energy this man is giving off. It's infectious, but I don't want to catch it.

  The thrill on his face reminds me of when Amanda was a child and I brought home ice cream. It was a rare treat then, so she cherished it. “Wonderful! Since this is clearly not an establishment I'd like to give my money to, considering how poorly they treat their waitstaff, what do you say we go shopping and then go to a real restaurant?”

  “Sounds good to me!”

  He jumps up and juts out his elbow. I take his arm, and he leads me to the door. “I'm Joe, by the way. I work with the President.”

  A man with power! How sexy! “I'm Melissa,” I reply, blushing and looking down.

  “I haven't been able to really treat a woman to anything in forever. I've been dating too many heiresses. Where can I take you?”

  We're about to step out onto the sidewalk when Fat Pete storms out.

  “Where the fuck do you think you're going?”

  Joe and I turn around. I nearly stammer out some lame response when Joe cocks his head. “I'm taking my new girlfriend out to buy the most expensive dress we can find. Good luck with your business. I'll make sure you get a visit from the health inspector, I'm pretty sure I saw a cockroach on my way out.”

  Joe's car pulls up onto the road. We both get in, my head racing from how quickly my night has turned around.

  “You look shocked.”

  I nod. “No one's ever gone to bat for me like that.”

  “Really? A beautiful woman like you? I find that hard to believe.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, well, believe it.” My phone vibrates, and I realize I'm still wearing my apron. “Whoops.”

  “Leave it on, it makes you look cute. Go ahead and take the call, I need to send an email to the President.”

  Nodding, I pull my ancient phone out as Joe pulls out his high tech phone. I wonder who this guy is. I don't follow politics enough to know. I watch as his manly hands, their veins showing beneath his skin, types out an email that I can't quite read from the angle I'm in. I look down at my phone, which shows that I missed a call from my mom.

  I speed dial her. The phone rings twice before she picks up. “Hello?”

  She sounds worried. “Hey, Mama. What's up?” I blush, embarrassed that I called her Mama in front of this man that I just met.

  “I got a call from your work, and they said you left. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mama, I'm alright.” God damn it, Fat Pete. “They fired me, so I left.”

  She sighs in relief. “They said you left with a man, though.”

  “Yeah, I met someone. Will you be okay if I come home a little late tonight? How's Amanda?” I whisper my daughter's name, hoping I don't scare off this amazing man who's whisked me off into some fantasy land that I never thought I'd be in.

  “We'll be fine, dear, but are you sure you should be going on dates instead of looking for more work?”

  “Mama, it's not a date. Well, I don't think it is.” I glance over at Joe.

  One corner of his mouth has lifted, his eyes squinting. He mouths, “It's a date.” I giggle, my face bright red.

  “I guess it is a date. Listen, Mama, I'll be okay. You know me.”

  “Alright, dear. Do you want me to wait up?”

  “I don't know. Probably not.”

  We say I love you and hang up.

  Joe takes my arm and pulls m
e closer. “She sounds nice.”

  “She is.” His body is warm under his suit jacket. He smells like expensive cologne and the alcohol of aftershave. I want to bury my face into his chest and just meditate on his manliness.

  “Who's Amanda?” He asks, wrapping his arm around me.

  “She's, well, my daughter.”

  He nods. I can't tell what emotion it is that's on his face. “How old is she?”

  “Ten.”

  “No way! You look barely 20!”

  Oh, the flattery! “No, I'm 29. I had her when I was 19.”

  “I've never dated a mother before. I guess you're a...”

  “Don't you dare say it!”

  “You're a MILF!”

  I gently hit his shoulder. “This is our first date, you can't say something like that! And anyway, I barely know you, and my hair is a mess and I'm so gross. I'm definitely not a MILF.”

  His hand, soft and gentle, cups under my chin and forces me to look into his intense eyes. His ambitions and power swirls behind the colors, drawing me in. “I don't do flattery, Melissa. I'm a busy man, I don't have time for it. You may not be looking your best right now, but with the right attention I can see that underneath the dirt you're a diamond waiting to shine. Will you let me show you that tonight?”

  I gulp. I feel like I'm melting into him. I open my mouth and then close it several times, trying and failing to find an answer, and only barely managing to squeak out an, “Okay”.

  “Good. Javier, take us to a dress shop.”

  His driver nods. I barely even noticed him.

  “Now you're going to let me buy you a dress, and you're going to let the women there do your hair and makeup as well. Then, we're going to have dinner. After that, what you do is up to you.”

  “I've never done something like this.”

  “No, I suspect you haven't. Your goal tonight is to never, not even once, say no to me. Not unless you want the night to end then and there.” He tilts my head higher, his eyes falling to my neck. Joe licks his lips. “Do you understand.”