His Secret Muse: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by May, Linnea

  It is him.

  The steps stop behind me. He comes to a halt at the foot of the mattress and stands there for a moment.

  My body lost tension during the long time I was left alone, but it is back now. My muscles tense up, and I hollow my back to give him the best view possible.

  I know he is assessing me. But for the first time, it does not make me shy and cause me to feel uncomfortable. Instead, I feel proud.

  I wish I could see him, or at least hear his voice.

  Neither of those two options establish themselves, but I do get to feel him. I flinch in surprise when I feel his hands on me as he softly places his palms on my butt cheeks. His hands feel warm against my skin, and even this light touch sends a slight burn up my spine. But it is nowhere near as bad as it was right after the spanking.

  He starts to massage my ass in slow, circling motions, and the sweet ache increases just enough to make me moan with pleasure. His touch is so sensual, so erotic. I can picture his face as he looks down at me, and the thought alone causes my heart rate to accelerate.

  He climbs on the mattress behind me and places himself between my legs just as he did before he left me.

  Oh God, I hope he does not do this to me again.

  I am reluctant to give in to the pleasure his massage causes, but it gets harder, especially when his hands wander lower and closer to my center. His thumbs practically touch my folds now while he continues his sensual massage of my sore skin.

  I catch myself leaning into him again, hollowing my back to the limit to get his hands closer to where they had been before he deserted me in a painfully horny state.

  It is almost as if we are picking up right where we left off, despite the hours that must have passed in between.

  My breathing gets more erratic, and my motions more demanding. I am yearning for him and so ready for whatever he is willing to give me now.

  Luckily, he is generous this time.

  He lifts one hand from my behind and uses it to assess my core. My wetness becomes obvious not only to him.

  I moan loudly when he continues his massage at my most sensitive spot.

  He starts fingering me while his other hand continues to massage my behind, sending sweet flashes of pain through my spine that add to my arousal.

  Even through my own heavy breathing, I hear him panting just as loudly. He loves what he is seeing. Hearing him this excited drives me crazy. I yank on the rope around my wrists and ankles like a captured animal. If anything, I am a bitch in heat, desperate for him to do more, to come closer and give me what I crave.

  There is a moment of shock when he withdraws his hands once again.

  But instead of leaving, he replaces them with the tip of his cock.

  I decide that I have been patient long enough and won’t accept his teasing this time. Instead of waiting for him to slide into me, I instantly lean back and take him in. All of him in one deep and long-awaited thrust.

  He joins my groaning as I do it, but he still refuses to move. So, I start moving back and forth, fucking his rock hard cock as if I was the one in charge, the one using him.

  In a way, it feels as if that is exactly what is happening. It doesn’t matter that I am the one who is still tied up and the one who spent hours left by herself, waiting for his return.

  Right now, I am taking what I want. What I need.

  It feels so fucking satisfying.

  He lets me be in charge for a while. I don’t know where his hands are, but they are nowhere near my body, and he is hardly moving at all while I keep moving back and forth, taking his cock as I want it.

  It is rare for me to come this close to climaxing without touching myself or have him touch me. But right now I am. The deep shoves of his massive cock almost send me over the edge.

  Of course, he cannot leave me in charge like that for long. His hands soon grab my hips as he takes over and increases the speed of his thrusts. He slams into me with the same desperation that has taken over me.

  I lift my head as far as I can and yank at the ties around my ankles with such force that they bite deep into my skin.

  He fucks me with such brute force that it hurts. His pelvis slams against the bruised skin of my ass while his massive erection spreads me to the limit.

  I am going to come, soon. The urge is disturbed only by the fear that he might stop at any moment like he did before.

  But he doesn’t. He decides when I am allowed to come.

  Apparently, this is it.

  His motions slow down a little, but only because he leans over to touch me and help me reach my climax.

  It is only a matter of seconds. As soon as his skilled fingers touch my swollen clit, I feel an intense shiver of pleasure spread throughout my body.

  I cry out loudly when my orgasm finally takes over. It is overwhelmingly intense. I almost fear that the strong contractions of my muscles might hurt him.

  But, of course, they do the exact opposite to him. Just after the first few waves of my climax roll over me, I feel him finding his release inside of me.

  His motions slow down to a steady succession of especially deep shoves while he is coming, seemingly just as hard as I am. The perfection of our synchronized rhythm is mind-blowing.

  I am close to tears, again.

  How can this be so perfect?

  That must have been the most intense orgasm of my life. Once again, he has shown to be the perfect companion through all of it.

  The man who shatters me, just to pick up the pieces and put them back together to build a better version of myself.

  He collapses over me after our joint orgasm. Both of us are panting and sweating.

  The more my tension and arousal recede the more I am aware of our surrounding. The swishing sound of the plants in the wind and the chilly air that embraces our heated bodies. It has cooled down a lot, and I am beginning to feel cold.

  He withdraws himself and quickly starts to untie my ankles. I stretch my feet and toes as soon as I am freed and sink down on my stomach with an audible sigh of relief. Only now do I realize how sore my entire body is.

  He moves over to my wrists and frees them of the constraints as well, making it possible for me to stretch my arms. For a while, he just lets me lay there, on my stomach, with all fours stretched, slowly regaining my strength.

  “You are perfect,” he whispers, finally breaking the silence. “Close your eyes, beautiful.”

  I do as I am told, and he removes the blindfold from my eyes. As the thick, black fabric disappears, I instantly notice that it is not completely dark outside anymore.

  I slowly open my eyes and try to adjust to the faint light that hits them.

  It is morning. Early morning. He has left me here for almost the entire night.

  “Come,” Cedric whispers and touches me by the shoulders to help me get up.

  I hiss when I am reminded of the bruises on my behind as I sit down on it.

  A smirk flees across his face. He doesn’t say anything but produces a soft blanket in light colors that he wraps around me.

  I look up at him, still a little dizzy in my post-orgasm daze.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He smiles and leans forward to kiss me. Just now I realize that he is naked as well.

  I reach forward and caress his buff chest while he engages in a soft and loving kiss. He is so incredibly handsome, so perfectly built.

  I am still left in disbelief that a man like him could fall for someone as ordinary as me.

  “Come,” he repeats after our kiss ends.

  He gets up from the mattress and extends his hand to help me get up.

  “Careful there,” he adds when I stagger like a new born fawn as I get back on my feet.

  My body is sore and numb. Standing, let alone walking takes a lot of effort for me.

  I wrap myself in the soft blanket and drowsily look around while I follow him across the roof. It is not as light outside as I had first thought after he removed the blind
fold, but the night is definitely in retreat. So far, there is only a faint shimmering of yellow and orange at the horizon. The sun is not yet to be seen, but it should show up any moment now.

  Cedric leads me to another area of the rooftop terrace. The one that is facing east, directly towards the impending sunrise.

  I gasp when I see where he is leading me.

  There is a hot tub!

  That is definitely new. I have been on this rooftop many times and have never seen this before. Granted, I have only been up here during the night, but still, this was hard to miss.

  “Do you like it?” he wants to know.

  I stand next to him with my mouth open, staring at the beautiful wellness area ahead of me. Just like every single area on this terrace, the hot tub is surrounded by plants and separated from everything else by an unobtrusive wooden barrier.

  “I love it,” I breathe. “This is incredible.”

  He smiles and pats me on the shoulder before he goes over to a little table to fetch a glass of orange juice for me.

  “Here,” he says as he hands the glass over to me. “Drink this before you get in. You need a little sugar in you.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I whisper, smiling up at him.

  Just like everything that Cedric surrounds himself with, the juice is extraordinary good. It seems to be freshly squeezed and tastes divine.

  He doesn’t even have to tell me to finish it. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until now. I greedily empty the glass and hand it over to him with a shy smile.

  “Good girl,” he says and gives me a kiss on the forehead. “Are you hungry?”

  I shake my head. “Not that much. We just had dinner, remember?”

  I wink at him.

  He shakes his head, displaying an amused grin.

  “You little brat,” he says. “Get in the tub before I spank you silly again.”

  I giggle and remove the blanket from myself, placing it on one of the lounge chairs that are next to the hot tub.

  The water is perfect. Warm, bubbling and with a subtle flowery smell.

  I sigh deeply as I sink into the warm bliss, facing the eastern horizon where the sun is slowly starting to show.

  Cedric climbs in next to me and puts his arm around me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks without looking at me. We both face the rising sun, cuddled closely next to each other while the warm water bubbles around us.

  “Perfect,” I breathe. “This is beautiful.”

  “How is your ass feeling?”

  I cast him a quick look from the side.

  “Fine,” I lie. It does tingle and burn a little since coming into contact with the warm water, but not as bad as I had expected.

  “And in general,” he goes on. “How are you feeling? Did you enjoy last night? Was it too much?”

  I turn around to look at him. He looks concerned.

  “No,” I whisper. “No, it wasn’t too much.”

  “It was a harsh punishment,” he says.

  I nod. “Yes, it was. But it was deserved.”

  He doesn’t reply anything to that, and we both sit in silence for a while and turn our eyes back to the sun.

  It has been some time since I last watched the sun rise, especially during summer. I had almost forgotten how fast its light travels across the horizon.

  “It was not only deserved,” I add. “It was needed.”

  He turns around to me again, and I look up to meet his eyes.

  “Needed?” he chases up.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “It was one of the most challenging things I have ever experienced.”

  I pause, trying to find the right words. His facial expression suggests that he wants me to keep going.

  “It was tough, and I have to admit, I was scared at some times,” I continue. “But I was determined to make it through, and I did.”

  “You did,” he agrees. “How does that make you feel?”

  “Proud,” I say, smiling like a girl who is expressing her feelings in front of her crush for the first time.

  “Good,” he says. “I was worried I overdid it. Usually, it is easy for me to read how far I can go. Not with you, though. You are anything but an open book.”

  “Ditto,” I point out, glancing at him from the side.

  He chuckles.

  “Don’t worry, you have been punished but I have not forgotten about our conversation,” he says. “Despite your bratty behavior, I think you deserve some answers.”

  He sinks a little lower into the water and pulls me closer towards him.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We talk until our skin wrinkles, and the sun is high up in the sky. I feel like I could still spend hours in the hot tub, spoiled by his embrace and the warm, bubbly water that pampers my tortured body.

  But I am getting drowsy, and it gets harder even to keep my eyes open while he continues to answer the questions that came to my mind when I was given the chance to ask them.

  I have always wondered why he was so reluctant to talk about his home. Even at the interview on stage it became so obvious that this was a sensitive issue to him. Every time I poked at it in the past, he diverted from the subject or told me to stop asking.

  Not today, though.

  I now understand that is not necessarily this town that lays a shadow over his past. On the contrary, he has always loved the city itself and emphasizes that there are a lot of fond memories connected to it.

  Very few of those memories include his parents, though. Unlike me, he is an only child. And unlike me, he did not grow up in a loving environment. There are a lot of things I could complain about when it comes to my parents. But after hearing his story, I can only feel grateful for having them in my life.

  Cedric’s father was a psychopath who randomly lost control over his emotions. He was a choleric person with a tendency to drink too much. According to Cedric, he never laid a hand on him. But he did hit his mother, often in front of Cedric.

  He left the family around the time Cedric finished elementary school. There had never been a loving bond between him and his father, but as a young boy, he was still devastated to see his father leave. He cried and kept asking his mother when his father would return home, which she took the wrong way.

  Contrary to her son, she was glad that the guy was gone. She took her son’s mourning as betrayal and started projecting all of his father’s bad traits in Cedric. She blamed Cedric for everything bad that had happened to her and compared him to psychotic father more and more with every year that passed.

  Things only worsened when Cedric stopped objecting her and just took her verbal hits defenselessly. Instead of talking back, he started to write.

  I have a lump in my throat when he tells me that part of his upbringing. The image of Cedric as a young boy, his dark, ruffled hair, and big, black eyes, searching for his mother’s love while she unloads all her anger about his father on him. It kills me. I want to hug that little boy and protect him from that unfair violence.

  Then I remember that I can. He may not be a little boy anymore, but the man who has experienced all of this is sitting next to me, holding me in his arms.

  I want to kiss him, caress him, wrap my arms around him or come up with something sweet to say. But he is also my Dominant. I am still not entirely sure what the etiquette suggests in such moments.

  I know for damn sure that he does not want my pity.

  His voice sounds sad and longing, but still steady and in control. He tells the story as if it happened to someone else and shows no sign of vulnerability or hurt.

  About two or three years after his father left, Cedric turned into a young teenage boy who constantly locked himself in his room to write without disturbance. Of course, that unusual behavior only made his mother even more suspicious. If anything, it proved that her son was indeed a psychopath who was plotting her death.

  He never let her read anything he wrote.

>   “Why not?” I want to know.

  He smirks.

  “You know the kind of stuff I write,” he says. “It was not that much different back then. It was the proof she was looking for, and I certainly didn’t want to be the one to give it to her.”

  “Oh,” I say. “But she will know by now, I assume? Did she ever say anything about it since you became successful?”

  He clears his throat and lightly caresses my shoulder with his fingertips.

  “No,” he replies. “I don’t know if she reads it.”

  “You don’t talk to her about it?”

  “I don’t talk to her at all,” he says, turning towards me with a stern face. “I haven’t talked to my mother since I left home for college when I was eighteen years old.”

  “Oh,” I make again. What a sandtrap. “I am sorry.”

  He smiles. “Why would you be sorry?”

  I look up at him and don’t know what to say to that. It was an instinct. He looks sad, and I feel guilty for it because I am the one who made him talk about all of this.

  “There is no need to feel sorry for me,” he adds. “Wouldn’t you agree? I live more than comfortably. My so-called psychotic writing has earned me more money than I can spend. I love what I am doing.”

  He pauses and leans over to me, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek.

  “I have the most beautiful girl in my arms right now,” he whispers, close to my ear. “The most delicate and extraordinary person who ever graced me with her company, and whose submission and loyalty is unmatched.”

  I blush. Can he possibly be serious?

  “Loyalty?” I clarify. It is an honest question because I am not sure what he means by it. But it still feels as if I was fishing for compliments.

  “Yes, loyalty,” he says. “You have never betrayed my trust in you. You are just as discreet as on that first day when you couldn’t care less about that boring writer whose reading your friend dragged you to. Back then it was due to indifference and maybe fear. But even now, you haven’t told a single soul about us, even though I know that it is getting harder for you.”

  He looks at me, but I don’t dare to look back. He might just read how right he is about everything he is saying.