How to Seduce a Billionaire

by Portia Da Costa

  Her mouth quirked. She bit her lip. Then grinned broadly.

  Bingo! As usual, she was up for it, and he couldn’t wait. He wanted to bundle her into a limousine straight away and rush her to his apartment. Then fuck her furiously in front of the sliding mirrored doors in his dressing room. Or maybe when the image of the room reflected back from the windows, at night. Perhaps, for a tease, they could perform without him telling her they were one way glass and nobody could look in on them.

  Are you an exhibitionist, Jess? Lord knows you’ve got plenty to be proud of.

  ‘Yikes, the prices!’ she exclaimed, clearly avoiding the issue for the moment. ‘I thought the colourist works were expensive, but at least they’re by noted artists. This is ridiculous … I’ve never even heard of this sculptor.’

  Ellis took a look at the ticket. Not desperately expensive by his standards, but he didn’t like it enough to consider buying. ‘Let’s look at some of the drawings,’ he said, leading her away. A display of coloured drawings along one wall had caught his eye. They were relatively small, but something about the arrangement of the bodies in the nearest one spoke to him much more excitingly than the contorted looking bronze.

  The suite of drawings had one major theme. BDSM. Ellis leant in close, to see the detail. The style was almost naive, nowhere near as accomplished and vibrant as Jess’s work. But the artistic spanking enthusiast’s enjoyment of his or her subject was obvious and joyous. Whoever they were, they very clearly had an intimate experience of the games they portrayed.

  Buxom babes with rounded bottoms lay across the laps of stern looking gentlemen, mostly dressed in black. Pink splodges to match those adorning Jess’s elegant cheekbones were in evidence on these shapely backsides, and when they twisted around, to look at the target zone, the expressions on the spanked women’s faces were wide-eyed, full of feigned horror and undisguised excitement.

  Some of the drawings were heavier in content, whips and chains and leather collars abounding, but they all had an unabashed aura of strangely wholesome enjoyment.

  The spankers were loving it.

  The spanked were loving it.

  The artist was loving it.

  I’m loving it myself, thought Ellis, with an inner smile. His fingers flexed, recalling the divine firmness of Jess’s bottom when he’d caressed it. She was a goddess of slim but curvy perfection in that department.

  Would she like to try all that? He cast a sly sideways glance at her. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything she didn’t want to do. There was no pleasure for either of them in that. But she was curious, and she’d expressed an interest in ‘experimentation’, so who was he to deny her any experience? He was supposed to be tutoring her, after all.

  Jesus, it was difficult to view images like these with such a beautiful and desirable woman as Jess beside him. A woman he’d be bedding sooner rather than later. Surreptitiously, he adjusted the fall of his jacket, in an attempt to disguise the sudden, fierce erection he was sporting. Hiding his hard-ons in pubic was an occupational hazard with Jess around.

  The expression on her face was intent, almost avid, although not awestruck in the presence of greatness as she’d been in the Courtauld Gallery. Was it the artist’s style she was scrutinising so closely? Or the subject matter? The latter, he suspected. He nearly moaned out loud when the pink tip of her tongue dabbed at her lower lip. Was she trying to goad him into embarrassing himself, the gorgeous minx? It almost seemed that way.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ he said at last, to break his own inner tension. ‘I don’t think the artist is anywhere near as talented as you. If you chose to draw this kind of subject matter, you could clean up here at these prices.’

  The sketches were indeed priced with a great deal of chutzpah, based more on their sprightly content than on the skill involved.

  Jess frowned, and yet Ellis could see her turning thoughts over.

  My God, woman, you’re amazing! You’re almost considering it, aren’t you?

  But was it the idea of selling erotic art … or playing the games the drawings depicted?

  Both, he hoped, as she turned to him with a grin. ‘If I were to draw it, I’d have to understand it, wouldn’t I?’ Her eyes twinkled.

  Ellis’s cock lurched. Desire, and a pounding excitement thrilled through him. She wanted to play. She was a goddess; inexperienced yet seductive and sensual to her artistic fingertips.

  ‘You would indeed.’

  ‘Know anybody who could give me a bit of instruction?’ She glanced at the nearest sketch, a pretty dark-haired girl with sleek, reddened buttocks, across the lap of a man with a saturnine, rakish look. If Jess herself had drawn it, it would have been the two of them.

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  There was nobody else in the Salon Privé, so he kissed her, his lips brushing hers lightly, when really he wanted to ravish her mouth, and grind his body against hers.

  ‘Shall we get out of here?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  He took her by the hand, and led her away from the provocative art. ‘Can you wait a few more minutes though?’

  ‘Yes … yes, of course.’ She looked puzzled.

  ‘Good girl. I want to buy a couple of these naughty spanking drawings.’ He winked at her. ‘They’re nowhere near as good as your work, but I want to reward the artist for giving us interesting ideas.’

  Jess laughed. ‘Ever the philanthropist. Where are you going to hang them?’ she asked as they passed into the main gallery.

  ‘I’ve no idea …’ He hadn’t either, but he’d think of something. ‘Maybe I’ll establish myself a secret sex room for kinky activities, like the billionaires in the bestsellers do.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past you,’ said Jess, returning his grin as they approached the eager-looking gallery assistant, who clearly already thought of Ellis as the handsome Santa Claus of her commission.

  ‘Could you summon a car please, Jess, while I settle up?’ Ellis asked, turning to her. ‘It’ll save a bit of time …’

  Oh, he loved the heat in Jess’s eyes. The eagerness. The sensuality. She was growing in sexual assurance with every moment that passed. Yet she didn’t flaunt it. Everywhere they’d been today, he’d seen men eyeing her up. Sometimes he was sure she’d noticed, other times not so much. But she didn’t preen or flutter, simply accepting admiration as her right.

  When they were out on the pavement, it was the same. The appreciative glances came her way. It made Ellis smile, so used was he to catching attention himself. Now he was in the shade.

  You can look, but not touch, he said to the massed ranks of Jess’s new admirers, touching her back as a long dark car eased out of traffic to slow in front of them.

  For the moment, she’s mine. Because she permits it. But soon, I’ll have to give her up, because I’m not worthy of her and I can’t give her what she needs.

  She’ll take her pick of you then. Choose a prince from amongst her helpless slaves.

  Watch out, you guys, she’ll eat you alive!

  22

  ‘You’re looking at me very strangely, Mr McKenna.’

  It was true. Ever since they’d got into the car, an unusually quiet Ellis had been looking at her in a way that was both measured, and what she could only describe as impressed. There was desire there too, in his darkened eyes, and yes, in the bulge in his trousers that she’d noticed as his jacket slid aside … but for some reason, he didn’t immediately act on it. Or lunge at her.

  But then, Ellis had far too much class to lunge at a woman. He didn’t need to. Presumably they always fell at his feet with ease, just as she’d done herself, pretty much.

  ‘I’m just thinking about the way men everywhere look at you, Jess.’ He reached out and ran a fingertip along her cotton-clad thigh. ‘Are you aware of the fact that almost every heterosexual male who crosses your path would give his eye teeth to get what I’m getting? Because you’re a goddess.’


  ‘And you’re a nutcase. And you’re imagining things.’

  But was he? She was aware of the looks she got from men now. She’d noticed a change after that first night with Ellis, but had they always looked, and she’d been too blinkered to see it?

  ‘No, I’m dead on the money. You’re gorgeous. The admiration and worship of us poor males is your birth-right.’

  Jess laughed. Whether he was bullshitting her or not, it was good to hear. She wasn’t afraid to admit she enjoyed the flattery.

  But still …

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Okay, so I’m a gorgeous goddess and men are unworthy, but doesn’t that rather fly in the face of what we were just discussing in the Salon Privé?’ Her heart started to thud, and the engine of need turned over, deep in her belly. ‘I’m assuming, if we’re going to play, that you’ll be in charge … the master … the one with the upper hand? Like in the drawings …’ His hand was still moving on her thigh, and she had the sudden flash fantasy of it pulling back sharply, then landing in a slap. ‘Now, it almost sounds as if you want me to be dominant instead.’

  He gave her a long look. Contemplative. Almost sly. ‘Now there’s an interesting thought.’ His fingers curved, caressing the inner slope of her thigh now. ‘But yes, I’ve always been the dominant. It’s what comes naturally to me …’ He shrugged. ‘But I’m not saying I wouldn’t ever switch. I just haven’t got around to it yet.’

  And you probably never will. With me. We won’t have the time.

  Jess pushed the sobering thought away. Their time was limited. And the moment was too electric to waste.

  ‘I like the idea of you being dominant,’ she said, meaning it, ‘on a temporary basis, of course. I … I feel safe with you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ellis’s voice was solemn. Her trust wasn’t displaced, she’d never been surer. Then he smiled again. ‘And yes. Just a temporary basis. You’re too strong a woman, Jess Lockhart, for anything other than that.’

  I think I am, Mr McKenna. I think I’m getting there. And I’m going to need all my strength soon. When we part …

  When they entered the apartment, Ellis caught her by the hand. His grip was firm. Not cruel. Not rough. But attention-catching.

  ‘So, how about it? Are you ready to play? To go a bit further, be more daring?’ He drew her to him, right into his personal space … or perhaps he was in hers, already playing?

  He was calling her bluff.

  ‘Do you have to ask?’ She looked him right in the eye, not wavering.

  Ellis beamed. ‘So, do we play now? Or later?’

  Jess’s heart pounded. Now, definitely now.

  ‘Now.’

  Heat flared in his eyes, and she imagined him monitoring her eagerness through the way the blood pounded in her wrist.

  ‘You’ve got the heart of a lion, Ms Lockhart.’ Moving closer, he whispered in her ear, his voice dark and husky. ‘Shall we try little spanking then? Nothing too elaborate … just enough to put a little heat in that fabulous bottom of yours.’

  Should she even speak at all now? Were they already in the zone?

  ‘Yes … I think I’d like to try that.’

  ‘Very well then.’ Ellis released her, the move brisk, and decisive. He was in the zone. ‘I’d like you to prepare yourself. I’d like you to wear a skirt, and no knickers. You can keep that blouse on if you like. It’s pretty.’

  The words almost made Jess sway, dizzy with excitement, and rocked by the stern little edge in Ellis’s smile. His dominant act would be just that, an act, but ever the showman he would play it to the hilt.

  ‘Is there anything else I should do?’ She needed to ask. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

  ‘Just be ready. Do anything you need to. Now, you may go … but don’t take too long.’

  The way Ellis looked at her suggested that it wouldn’t be a good idea to say anything else, so instead, Jess gave a quick little nod, and sped away to the bedroom.

  Not sure what making herself ready for anything entailed, she hurried through the most logical preparations. The soft blue blouse, she kept, but put a prettier bra beneath, with a front clasp. Luckily, she’d brought a blue cotton skirt that looked good with the blouse, and her flashiest shoes, a pair of navy high heels she’d once bought for a party, long ago. They were steeper than her usual choice, but perfect for the moment. She supposed she should’ve had stockings and suspenders for a gig like this, but they were too much of a palaver, and her legs looked perfectly fine with fake tan. Better than fine.

  A bit more makeup seemed a good idea too. A bolder look to show she’d made a proper effort, and that she was still Jess, his goddess, and only temporarily playing a submissive role because she wanted to.

  Just about as ready as she’d ever be to play at spanking, Jess surveyed herself in the mirror.

  Face serene. Clothes cute and flattering. Hair shiny. Legs spectacular! She half imagined going out there, and turning the tables. Telling Ellis that she’d take charge. He wouldn’t complain, even if it wasn’t what he was expecting.

  But you have no idea what to actually do, you silly mare!

  Maybe another time. If there was one. Don’t think of that now …

  Holding her head high, she walked smartly out of the bedroom, heading for the spacious sitting room area.

  There, she suppressed a little gasp. Ellis must have entered his dressing room by the other door, because he too had made his preparations. Gone were the soft linen suit and flowered Paul Smith shirt, and in their place were dark denims and a midnight blue shirt that was unmistakably silk. The effect was pure drama, and a perfect foil for his supermodel looks. He’d done something to his hair too, dampened it and combed it back a little.

  From gilded beach bum to dark shadow-god in the wink of an eye.

  ‘You—’

  ‘Shush,’ he said softly. It was just one word in a low voice but it rang with power. ‘There’s no need to speak. Not until I tell you. Do you understand?’

  Jess nodded. She knew she should affect a respectful attitude, looking down submissively, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He made her knees wobble, and desire roll heavy in her belly. Who would have believed that Ellis McKenna could be any more of a lust object than he normally was? But apparently it was possible.

  ‘I won’t do anything heavy, Jess. I’m not a brute or a sadist, or even all that much of a master … but I need to know that what we do is good for you. That you have a way out, do you understand?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘I guess you’ve heard the expression “safe word”, if you’ve read all those naughty books?’

  She gave another nod.

  ‘I thought so. Now tell me what your safe word is. You may speak.’

  Jess nearly cracked a smile. Ellis himself was trying not to grin. It was there in the fine muscles of his face, and that made her feel safer than any word.

  A vision of the Courtauld flashed before her eyes, and the pretty cocotte in her black and white dress. ‘Renoir.’

  ‘Good choice. Renoir it is then.’ He allowed himself the ghost of a smile. ‘Now, come here.’

  She walked towards him like a goddess, her head held high, her eyes clear and confident. If he’d been a real ‘master’, he’d have reprimanded her, but he was just a man playing an erotic game, for diversion, with a beautiful and exceptional woman.

  ‘Stand very still,’ he instructed her when she reached him. He could smell a faint whiff of her light and delectable floral toilette water, and it almost made him sway with desire. Almost made him grab her and hug her and kiss her and sweep her up in his arms, to carry her to bed and simply and delightfully fuck her.

  But, he’d offered her an experience. Something to add to her repertoire, so he’d better deliver on the act that he’d promised her.

  He looked down into her eyes and, for a moment, she looked back, unfazed. But then, like the good submissive of fiction, she lowered her gaze. Respectfully? Well, a fair
approximation of it. She was a damn good actress when she wanted to be. But he’d seen the sweet quirk of her lips just before she’d looked down.

  ‘You’re a very wayward submissive, Ms Lockhart. You don’t seem to have any respect for authority at all. I was going to allow you a glass of champagne before we started, to calm your nerves, but I’m not sure now that you deserve it.’

  Goddamn, the bubbly wasn’t for her, it was for him!

  She didn’t respond, or even move a muscle, standing there, a poem in blue. But he knew somehow that she would love a glass of champagne. In the brief time they’d been together, she’d taken quite a liking to it, and in a cool, melancholy moment, he resolved that when they parted, he would send her a case of whatever marque she preferred, on a regular basis.

  Enough of that. The moment is now. There’s no future … and no past. Just us. Playing.

  ‘However, as I’m feeling magnanimous, I think we will have a little champagne, first, before I start touching you.’

  At the word ‘touching’, she licked her lips, the she-devil, and Ellis fought for self-control. His cock was already like iron, pressing against the unforgiving fabric of his jeans. ‘Stay right where you are,’ he added, striding to the long, polished sideboard, where he’d placed the wine in a glass ice bucket, along with a couple of other items that he’d seen her glance at, noting them.

  He filled a single flute with the pale golden fizz. It was the house champagne of the building, and though he’d always liked it, he wondered now if he’d short-changed Jess. Perhaps he should have ordered up a more luxurious brand for her? Something world famous and sought after? But she wasn’t like that. Celebrity labels meant nothing to her. She had higher values; true quality and worth were what interested her.

  So why is she with me? She doesn’t give a toss about my money, and she knows I’m damaged goods …

  Dismissing the thought, he brought the brimming flute back to where she stood, so slim and elegant. He took one sip himself, and then held it to her lips, cradling the back of her head as he did so. Letting her hands hang graceful and inert at her sides, she took a drink from the glass, a real one with obvious enjoyment, and cracked that tricky little imp of a smile again.