How to Seduce a Billionaire

by Portia Da Costa

  But golden John Smith, a gin-drinking man of forty-something, with laughter lines and a look of beautiful world-weariness … well, he was ‘good’ enough. Her belly trembled and silky fluid pooled in her sex, shocking and quick.

  Now was the moment to stop being a fake, if she could. Maybe explain, and then perhaps even go on with a new game? And yet she could barely speak. He wasn’t speaking either, just looking at her with those eyes that seemed to see all. With a little tilt of his head, he told her not to explain or question or break the spell.

  But just when she thought she might break down and scream from the tension, he did speak.

  ‘Toys aren’t always necessary, Bettie. You of all people should know that.’

  Had she blown it? Maybe … maybe not. Schooling herself not to falter, she shrugged and moved towards him. When she reached the bed, she dropped her rather inadequate stash of condoms on the side table and said, ‘Of course … you’re so right. And I love to improvise, don’t you?’

  Slowly, he sat up, and swivelled around, letting his legs swing down and his feet settle on the floor. ‘Good girl … good girl …’ He reached out and laid a hand on her hip, fingers curving, just touching the slope of her bottom cheek. The touch became a squeeze, the tips of his four fingers digging into her flesh, not cruelly but with assertion, owning her.

  With his other hand, he drew her nearer, right in between his spread thighs. She was looking down at him but it was as if he were looking down at her, from a great and dominant height. Her heart tripped again, knowing he could give her what she wanted.

  But what was his price? Could she afford to pay?

  He squeezed her bottom harder, as if assessing the resilience of her flesh, his fingertips closer to her pussy now, pushing the cloth of her skirt into the edge of her cleft. With a will of its own, her body started moving, rocking, pushing against his hold. Her sex was heavy, agitated, in need of some attention, and yet they’d barely done anything thus far. She lifted her hands to put them on his shoulders and draw the two of them closer.

  ‘Uh oh.’ The slightest tilt of the head, and a narrowing of his eyes was all the command she needed. She let her hands drop … while his free hand rose to her breast, fingers grazing her nipple. Her bra was underwired, but not padded so there was little to dull his touch. With finger and thumb, he took hold of her nipple and pinched it lightly through her clothing, smiling when she let out a gasp, sensation shooting from the contact to her swollen folds, and her clit.

  Squeeze. Pinch. Squeeze. Pinch. Nothing like the sex she was used to, but wonderful. Odd. Infinitely arousing. The wetness between her labia welled again, slippery and almost alarming, saturating the thin strip of cloth between her legs.

  ‘I’m going to make you come,’ said John in a strangely normal voice, ‘and I mean a real one, no faking. I think you can do it for me. You seem like an honest girl, and I think you like the way I’m touching you … even if it is business.’

  Lizzie swallowed. For a moment there she’d forgotten she was supposed to be a professional. She’d just been a lucky girl with a really hot man who probably wouldn’t have to do all that much to get her off.

  ‘Will you be honest for me?’ His blue eyes were like the whole world, and unable to get away from. ‘Will you give me what I want? What I’ve paid for?’

  ‘Yes, I think I can do that. Shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  Finger and thumb closed hard on her nipple. It really hurt and she let out a moan from the pain and from other sensations. ‘Honesty, remember?’ His tongue, soft and pink slid along his lower lip and she had to hold in a moan at the sight of that too.

  She nodded, unable to speak, the pressure on the tip of her breast consuming her. How could this be happening? It hurt but it was next to nothing really.

  Then he released her. ‘Take off your cardigan and your dress, nothing else.’

  Shaking, but hoping he couldn’t detect the fine tremors, Lizzie shucked off her cardigan and dropped it on the floor beside her, then she reached behind her, for her zip.

  ‘Let me.’ John turned her like a big doll, whizzed the zip down, and then turned her back again, leaving her to slip the dress off. He put out a hand, though, to steady her, as she stepped out of it.

  She hadn’t really been planning to seduce anyone tonight, so she hadn’t put on her fanciest underwear, just a nice but fairly unfussy set, a plain white bra and panties with a little edge of rosy pink lace.

  ‘Nice. Prim. I like it,’ said John with a pleased smile. Lizzie almost fainted when he hitched himself a little sideways on the bed, reached down and casually adjusted himself in his trousers. As his hand slid away, she could see he was huge, madly erect.

  Oh, yummy.

  He laughed out loud. He’d seen her checking him out. ‘Not too bad, eh?’ He shrugged, still with that golden but vaguely unnerving grin. ‘I guess you see all shapes and sizes.’

  ‘True,’ she replied, wanting to reach out and touch the not too bad item, but knowing instinctively it was forbidden to do so for the moment. ‘And most of them are rather small … but you seem to be OK, though, from where I’m standing.’

  ‘Cheeky minx. I should punish you for that.’ He laid a hand on her thigh, just above the top of her hold-up stocking. He didn’t slap her, though perversely she’d hoped he might, just so she could see what one felt like from him. ‘Maybe I will in a bit.’ He stroked her skin, just at the edge of her panties, then drew back.

  ‘You’re very beautiful, you know,’ he went on, leaning back on his elbows for a moment. ‘I expect you’re very popular. Are you? Do you do well?’

  ‘Not too badly.’ It seemed a bland enough answer, not an exact lie. She had the occasional boyfriend, nothing special. She wasn’t promiscuous, but she had sex now and again.

  John nodded. She wasn’t sure what he meant by it, but she didn’t stop to worry. The way he was lying showed off that gorgeous erection. ‘Do you actually, really like your job, then?’ He glanced down to where she was looking, unashamed.

  ‘Yes, I do. And I often come too. The things you see on the telly. Documentaries and stuff … They all try to tell people that we don’t enjoy it. But some of us do.’ It seemed safer to cover herself. If she didn’t have a real orgasm soon, she might go mad. He’d barely touched her but her clit was aching, aching, aching.

  ‘Show me, then. Pull down the top of your bra. Show me your tits. They look very nice but I’d like to see a bit more of them.’

  Peeling down her straps, Lizzie pushed the cups of her bra down too, easing each breast out and letting it settle on the bunched fabric of the cup. It looked rude and naughty, as if she were presenting two juicy fruits to him on a tray, and it made her just nicely sized breasts look bigger, more opulent.

  ‘Lovely. Now play with your nipples. Make them really come up for me.’

  Tentatively, Lizzie cupped herself, first one breast, then the other. ‘I thought you were going to make me come? I’m doing all the work here.’ A shudder ran down her spine; her nipples were already acutely sensitive, dark and perky.

  ‘Shush. You talk too much. Just do as you’re told.’ The words were soft, almost friendly, but she listened for an undertone, even if there wasn’t one there.

  Closing her eyes, she went about her task, wondering what he was thinking. Touching her breasts made her want to touch herself elsewhere too. It always did. It was putting electricity into a system and getting an overload in a different location. Her clit felt enormous, charged, desperate. As she ran her thumbs across her nipples, tantalising herself, she wanted to pant with excitement.

  And all because this strange man was looking at her. She could feel the weight of his blue stare, even if she couldn’t see him. Were his lips parted just as hers were? Was he hungering just as she did? Did he want a taste of her?

  Swaying her hips, she slid a hand down from her breast to her belly, skirting the edge of her knickers, ready to dive inside.

  ‘No, not there. I
’ll deal with that.’

  Lizzie’s eyes snapped open. John was watching her closely, as she’d expected, his gaze hooded. Gosh, his eyelashes were long. She suddenly noticed them, so surprisingly dark compared to his wheat-gold hair.

  In a swift, shocking move, he sat up again and grasped the errant hand, then its mate, pushing them behind her, and then hooking both of them together behind her back. Her wrists were narrow and easily contained by his bigger hand. He was right up against her now, his breath hot on her breasts.

  Bondage. Was this one of his fancy things? Her heart thrilled. Her pussy quivered. Yes. Yes. Yes. He held her firmly, his arm around her, securing her. She tried not to tremble but it was difficult to avoid it. Difficult to stop herself pressing her body as close to his as she could and trying to get off by rubbing her crotch against whatever part of him she could reach.

  ‘Keep still. Keep very still. No movement unless I say so.’ Inclining forward, he put out his tongue and licked her nipple, long, slowly and lasciviously, once, twice, three times.

  ‘Oh God … oh God …’

  His mouth was hot and his tongue nimble, flexible. He furled it to a point and dabbed at the very point of her, then lashed hard, flicking the bud. Lizzie imagined she was floating, buoyed up by the simple, focused pleasure, yet tethered by the weight of lust between her thighs.

  ‘Hush … be quiet.’ The words flowed over the skin of her breast. ‘Try not to make any noises. Contain everything inside you.’

  It was hard, so hard … and impossible when he took her nipple between his teeth and tugged on it hard. The pressure was oh so measured, but threatening, and his tongue still worked, right on the very tip.

  Forbidden noises came out of her mouth. Her pelvis wafted in a dance proscribed. A tear formed at the corner of her eye. He dabbed and dabbed at her imprisoned nipple with his tongue, and when she looked down on him, she could see a demon looking back up at her, laughter dark and merry in his eyes.

  He thinks he’s getting the better of me. He thinks he’s getting to a woman who’s supposedly anaesthetised to pleasure, and making her excited.

  Hard suction pulled at her nipple and her hips undulated in reply.

  I don’t know who the hell this woman is, but the bastard’s making me crazy!

  Lizzie had never believed that a woman could get off just from having her breasts played with. And maybe that still was so … But with her tit in John Smith’s mouth she was only a hair’s breadth from it. Maybe if she jerked her hips hard enough, it’d happen. Maybe she’d climax from sheer momentum.

  ‘Stop that,’ he ordered quietly, then with his free palm, he reached around and slapped her hard on the buttock, right next to her immobilised hands. It was like a thunderclap through the cotton of her panties.

  ‘Ow!’

  The pain was fierce and sudden, with strange powers. Her skin burnt, but in her cleft, her clit pulsed and leapt. Had she come? She couldn’t even tell, the signals were so mixed.

  ‘What’s the matter, little escort girl? Are you getting off?’ He mouthed her nipple again, licking, sucking. Her clit jerked again, tightening.

  ‘Could be,’ she gasped, surprised she could still be so bold when her senses were whirling, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Well, let’s make certain then, eh?’ Manhandling her, he turned her a little between his thighs. ‘Arms around my shoulders. Hold on tight.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘This is what I’ve paid you for, Bettie’ His blue eyes flashed. ‘My pleasure is your compliance. That’s the name of the game.’

  She put her hands on him, obeying. The muscles of his neck and shoulders felt strong, unyielding, through the fine cotton of his shirt and the silk of his waistcoat lining, and this close, a wave of his cologne rose up, filling her head like an exotic potion, lime and spices, underscored by just a whiff of a foxier scent, fresh sweat. He was as excited as she, for all his apparent tranquillity, and that made her dizzier than ever. This was all mad, like no sex she’d ever really had before, although right here, right now, she was hard pressed to remember anything she’d done with other men.

  ‘Oh Bettie, Bettie, you’re really rather delightful,’ he crooned, pushing a hand into her knickers from the front, making her pitch over, pressing her face against the side of his. His hair smelt good too, but fainter and with a greener note. He was a pot-pourri of delicious male odours.

  ‘Oh, oh, God.’ Burrowing in with determined fingers, he’d found her clit, and he took possession of it in a hard little rub. Her sex gathered itself, heat massing in her belly she was so ready from all the forays and tantalising gambits he’d put her through.

  ‘If you have an orgasm before I give you permission, I’ll slap your bottom, Bettie.’ His voice was low, barely more than a breath. ‘And if you come again … I’ll slap you again.’

  ‘But why punish me? If you want me to come?’ She could barely speak, but something compelled her to. Maybe just the act of forming words gave her some control. Over herself at least.

  ‘Because it’s my will to do it, Bettie. Because I want you to come, and spanking your bottom makes me hard.’ He twisted his neck, and pressed a kiss against her throat, a long, indecent licking kiss, messy and animal. ‘Surely you understand how we men sometimes are?’

  ‘Yes … yes, of course I do … Men are perverts,’ she panted, bearing down on his relentless fingertip that was rocking now. ‘At least the fun ones mostly are, in my experience.’

  ‘Oh brava! Bravissima! That’s my girl …’ Latching his mouth on to her earlobe in a wicked nip, he circled his finger, working her clit like a bearing, rolling and pushing.

  As his teeth closed tighter, just for an instant, he overcame her. She shouted, something incoherent, orgasming hard in sharp, intense waves, her flesh rippling.

  The waves were still rolling when he slapped again, with his fully open hand, right across her bottom cheek.

  ‘Ow! Oh God!’

  John nuzzled her neck, still making magic with his finger, and torment with his hand, more and more slaps. Her body was a maelstrom, her nerves not sure what was happening, pain and pleasure whipping together in a froth. She gripped him hard, holding on, dimly aware that she might be hurting him too with her vice-like hold.

  ‘Oh please … time out,’ she begged after what could have been moments, or much longer.

  The slaps stopped, and he curved his whole hand around her crotch, the gesture vaguely protective … or perhaps possessive?

  ‘Not used to coming when you’re “on duty”?’ His voice was silky and provocative, but good-humoured. ‘It’s nice to know I managed to make you lose it. Seems that I’ve not lost my touch.’ He pressed a kiss to her neck, snaking his arm around her back, supporting her.

  Lizzie blinked, feeling odd, unsorted. She hadn’t expected to feel quite this much with him. It had all started as a lark, a bit of fun, testing herself to see if she could get away with her pretence. She still didn’t know if she’d achieved that, and she wasn’t sure John Smith would give her a straight answer if she found a way to ask him.

  Either way, he’d touched her more than just physically. He’d put heat in her bottom, and confusion in her soul.

  For a few moments, she just let herself be held, trying not to think. She was half draped across the body of a man she barely knew, with several hundred pounds of his money in her bag and on the dresser. His hand was still tucked inside her panties, cradling her pussy, wet with her silk.

  ‘You’re very wet down there, sweetheart,’ he said, as if he’d read her thoughts again. He sounded pleased with himself, which, she supposed he should be if he really believed she was an escort and he’d got her as dripping wet as this. ‘And real, too … not out of a tube.’ He dabbled in her pond.

  ‘It’s not unknown, John. I told you that … Some of us enjoy our profession very much. We make the most of our more attractive clients.’

  ‘Flatterer,’ he said, but she detected a pleased note in hi
s voice. He was a man and only human. They all liked to be praised for their prowess. His hand closed a little tighter on her sex, finger flexing. ‘Do you think you could oblige this attractive client with a fuck now? Nothing fancy this time. Just a bit of doggy style, if you don’t mind.’

  In spite of everything, Lizzie laughed out loud. He was a sexy, possibly very devious character, but she also sensed he was a bit of a caution too, a man with whom one could have good fun without sex ever being involved.

  ‘I’d be glad to,’ she replied, impetuously kissing him on the cheek, wondering if that was right for her role. Straightening up, she moved onto the bed, feeling his hand slide out of her underwear. ‘Like this?’ She went up on her knees on the mattress, close to the edge, reaching around to tug at her knickers and make way for him.

  ‘Delightful … Hold that thought. I’ll be right with you.’

  Over her shoulder, Lizzie watched him boldly, eager to see if his cock was as good as it had felt through his clothes.

  Swiftly, John unbuttoned his washed-slate-blue waistcoat, and then his trousers, but he didn’t remove them. Instead, he fished amongst his shirt-tails and his linen, pushing them aside and freeing his cock without undressing.

  He was a good size, hard and high, ruddy with defined, vigorous veining. He frisked himself two or three times, as if he doubted his erection, but Lizzie had no such doubts. He looked as solid as if he’d been carved from tropical wood.

  ‘OK for you?’ Jiggling himself again, he challenged her with a lift of his dark blond eyebrows.

  ‘Very fair. Very fair indeed.’ She wiggled her bottom enticingly. ‘Much better than I usually get.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ He reached for a condom, and in a few quick, deft movements enrobed himself. A latex coating didn’t diminish the temptation.

  Taking hold of her hips, he moved her closer to the edge of the bed in a brisk, businesslike fashion, then peeled off her panties, tugging them off over her shoes and tossing them away.

  ‘Very fair. Very fair indeed,’ he teased, running his hands greedily over her buttocks and making the slight tingle from where he’d spanked her flare and surge. ‘I’d like to spank you again, but not tonight.’ Reaching between her legs, he played with her labia and her clit, reawakening sensations there too. ‘I just want to be in you for the moment, but another time, well, I’d like to get fancier then, if you’re amenable.’