His Needs (Billionaire Blind Date Book 2)

by Jacinda Chance

  “Great. Say, my office, noonish. Don’t forget your designs.” He laughed—a deep, throaty sound that made me wish I’d met him earlier under different circumstances.

  When I got to the office, Chris had ordered burgers and fries complete with iced teas and pulled a chair up to his desk for me to sit on the end, closer to him than sitting across from it.

  “Food before work okay?” he asked. “I think better on a full stomach.”

  “Thank you.” I sat and dug into my burger, which was delicious. That must have shown on my face, because he nodded.

  “32nd Street Grill. Looks like a dump, so a lot of people who work in the area won’t go there. But it’s clean, and has the best food.”

  We talked about the merits of a good burger, and then I brought up the general tone of my design concepts—technology, movement, progress—and how I’d tried to translate those into the symbolism. Chris nodded politely and said a few words, but then changed the subject back to food, asking what types of wine I liked, and finally asking if I liked horror movies.

  I did, and I said so, and only then realized my mistake.

  “I know a little place about a half an hour away that’s showing a horror film festival Saturday. I know it’s short notice, but I didn’t find out about it until yesterday. The Exorcist, The Omen, and a couple other classics. I’d love it if you’d come with me.”

  I paused with a fry halfway to my mouth. If that invitation had come just a couple weeks earlier, I’d have jumped at it and then perhaps Chris would have been the one taking me to the wedding the following Saturday. Of course, I would never have met Chris, if not for Grant, so such thoughts were ridiculous.

  Still, part of me wanted to say yes, even though it would have felt like cheating. Which was ridiculous. I wasn’t really engaged. And Grant had made it painfully clear that he was only interested in me for the sex. There was to be no relationship.

  “I’m flattered, I really am,” I said, regretting so much that I couldn’t say yes. “I met Aten because my . . . fiancé is going to buy one of his companies.”

  “Oh.” Chris straightened in his chair. “You don’t have a ring . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry you didn’t know. I guess I should have told you, but—”

  “But why would you, right?” He laughed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m engaged.” Chris shrugged. “It’s okay. Can’t blame a guy for trying?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I’d have loved to go . . . under different circumstances.”

  Chris nodded. “I’m sorry this was so awkward. I really do want to see your designs, but my main motivation for a lunch meeting was . . . to ask you out.”

  I put my hand over his. “I really am flattered. And this is probably the best burger I’ve ever had.”

  We both laughed. He seemed at ease, so once we finished eating, we went over my designs as professionals, and by the time I was gathering my things to leave the office, Chris was chipper again. Though I was full of mixed emotions.

  How long before Grant got tired of fucking me? Right after the wedding? Was I totally blowing my chance at someone who would see me as more than a piece of ass?

  Maybe when it was all said and done, I could explain the truth to Chris. No, what was I thinking? I could simply say that I was no longer engaged, which was kind of true, right? It would be necessary to make the break-up seem legit because of Hollis anyway.

  You’re getting ahead of yourself, Sophie. Far, far ahead.

  As if to remind me where my priorities lay, my phone buzzed. Grant. I was packing up, and Chris had left the office for coffee, so I took a deep breath.

  “Congratulations,” he said when I answered. “I understand Aten Hollis hired you after all.”

  “He did. Thank you again for the recommendation.” I held the phone between my ear and shoulder while I packed my messenger bag.

  “You could have thanked me when he hired you. I wouldn’t have minded a text or a phone call with that bit of news.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I was grateful, but I didn’t want to bother you. And I didn’t even think about it last night.” It wasn’t like we had actual conversation.

  “What are you doing right now?” His voice went deeper, breathier.

  “I’m actually just leaving Holliscorp.”

  “I see. You’ll be ready at eight?”

  “Yes, Grant. I promise I’ll be ready at eight. But that dress—”

  “Have you tried it on yet?”

  “I don’t have to try it on to know that it’s too small. I can’t wear that.”

  “More I can’ts . . . I thought you might have learned better by now. As soon as you get home, put the dress on and call me back.”

  “It’s—”

  The line clicked and disconnected.

  “Everything okay?” Chris stepped back into his office with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Yep! Just getting out of your hair.”

  “Great work again, Sophie. I can’t wait to see what you do with the design we settled on. Feel free to email me your in-progress work if you want my input.”

  “I will. Thank you, Chris. For lunch and . . . everything.” I smiled and shook his hand. He was pleased to get one of my new cards, especially when I said it was the first one I’d given away. I headed out of the building.

  And if Grant thought I was going to race home just to follow his orders, he was in for a disappointment.

  Eight

  I didn’t hurry home. I went into a couple of shops, bought a few toiletry items on my list, and stopped for a bubble tea and a scone at one of my favorite cafes. I spent at least a few hours out and about—a few hours I might not have spent out if not for the desire to avoid going home and jumping at Grant’s command.

  I felt a little childish. I could have gone home and simply not called him. But I worried that if I did go right home, the urge to do as he said . . . to please him . . . might be too much.

  Better to prevent that, at least for a while.

  I arrived home just before five, and despite the slight urge to put the dress on and dial Grant, I decided I would see him in three hours anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t call him at all, or I’d wait until seven or seven-thirty. Just to show him that I didn’t jump when he snapped.

  Around six, I had some crackers and cheese before taking a shower. When I got out and slipped my robe on, I could hear my buzzer going off. I pressed the button, and the single word Sophie sent a chill through me.

  Grant was at the door, sounding none too pleased.

  “You said eight . . . I’ve just showered.” Despite my tone, my explanations, I buzzed him up and unlocked my front door. He knocked this time, but then tried the knob and stepped in.

  “I’m not late, Grant. Eight o’clock.”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “I . . . forgot.” What was wrong with me? I should have just told him that I decided not to call, because of the way he thought he could demand it. The words wouldn’t come out, though, not with him standing there just inside my doorway, peering at me with his dark eyes slightly squinted, nostrils flared.

  “You forgot.” It wasn’t a question. He stalked toward me and reached out to take one end of my robe’s tie in his hands. “If by forgot you mean you thought you’d defy me . . . I believe it.”

  Defy? Children defied their parents. People defied authority figures. Grant had no authority over me, so the choice of words was unsettling.

  Finally, my tongue listened to my brain. “I don’t have to do something just because you tell me to.” I lifted my chin and tried to appear, well, defiant.

  “No, you don’t.” Grant tugged on the strip of terrycloth, untying the bow that held my robe together. “It’s absolutely your choice. But with every choice comes a consequence.” His fingers touched my stomach just below my navel and dragged up my body until he pressed his hand flat between my breasts.

  “Are you pr
epared to face those consequences now?”

  All I had to say was no. Just say it firmly. No games. Just no. Instead, my mouth betrayed me again and asked, “What consequences?”

  “I think you’re prepared,” he said, half-smiling. “I think you defied me because you wanted me to discipline you.”

  Discipline. Spanking. Heat began coiling between my legs. I’d thought it was a ridiculous idea the night before, letting someone smack me, but it had only made me hotter, made me ache more.

  “I didn’t want that.” I sniffed. “I didn’t even consider that.”

  Grant full-on smiled now. “Oh.” His hand dropped, and fingers probed between my legs, making me gasp. “So hot and slick already. I think you’re kidding yourself.”

  Grant’s hands gripped my hips and pushed the robe open further. His hands slid up my sides to my breasts where he pinched both nipples and tugged on them, licking his lips. “Mmmhmm,” he said.

  And then he walked past me into my bedroom.

  I stood frozen in place, unsure what to expect, but I heard hangers clicking and sliding, so I pulled my robe closed and tied the tie as I hurried in to see what he was doing. The box with the dress and accessories lay on my bed where he’d tossed it from my closet. And Grant was rifling through my hanging clothes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Finding you something to wear. You don’t want to wear what I bought you? Let’s find something more appropriate, shall we?”

  I swallowed hard. “I can find some—”

  “This.” Grant pulled out a dress I had specifically purchased after a classmate’s father died a couple of years earlier. It was a comfortable black dress with long sleeves that hung past my knees. Tasteful and reserved for an event that required it.

  “That was for a funeral.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain it.

  Grant threw it on the bed and pulled the dress he’d bought out of the box. It almost looked like a scarf or tiny shawl for the other dress. He lay them side by side, stepped to the end of the bed, and crossed his arms.

  “Which are you, Sophie?” He gestured toward the funeral dress with a nod of his head. “The woman who will choose that dress likes to hide. She covers herself up from people’s eyes, so they can’t see who she really is. She goes on blind dates with boring men she barely knows to keep from being nagged at weddings.”

  My mouth fell open. Grant had said a lot about that, but this felt like an insult more than anything.

  “She’s closed off and covered up, trying to get through life without notice. But the woman who chooses the dress I bought her, that woman wants to be carefree. She knows she looks good and wants to show it off. She’s confident. She doesn’t need to cover up or hide.”

  Grant took my wrist and pulled me to the edge of the bed. “And that woman? She wants to feel free almost as badly as she wants to please me.”

  He pressed behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Grant kissed my neck, sucking lightly with a gentle scrape of teeth. “Which woman do you really want to be, Sophie? Pick a dress.”

  I tilted my head, eager for more of his lips on my skin. His hand squeezed my breast through the robe, and his hard body against my back made me want to reach for the barely-there dress. Despite myself, I did want to please him. I wanted his approval.

  But I shouldn’t want it, should I? His words still stung, and though I knew it wasn’t the choice he was looking for—and I knew there would likely be some sort of consequence—I leaned over enough to grab the long-sleeved dress.

  I wasn’t sure what Grant’s initial reaction might be, but I didn’t expect him to chuckle against my neck and grip my wrist. “Oh, Sophie, lucky for you, I know better than that.”

  He pulled the dress from my hand and tossed it away, then pulled my robe open with both hands and cupped my bare breasts, pinching my nipples with a twist that made me gasp. Then I was pressed forward to bend over the edge of the bed while his hands pulled both of my arms behind me. The tie of my robe was pulled free with a whoosh and wrapped around my wrists, securing them behind my lower back.

  “Sweet, innocent Sophie, it’s so clear to me that what you think you want and what you need aren’t the same thing at all.”

  Nine

  My robe was pushed up and out of the way, and Grant’s hand smoothed its way all over my bare bottom. “I’m going to redden this now, and it might even show when we go to dinner. That suits me fine. How about you?”

  “I—”

  His hand smacked down, cutting me off. I don’t know what I was going to say anyway, except maybe I was uncomfortable wearing something so small. I would feel naked in it. Overexposed.

  “Grant—”

  Another blow, stinging the other cheek. I tried to free my wrists, but couldn’t, they were tied too tightly. If I kept trying to twist my wrists, they’d chafe.

  “Tell me you’re beautiful,” Grant said, followed by another stinging smack. When I said nothing, because I couldn’t make the words come out, three blows rained down on me. “Say it, Sophie. Say I’m beautiful.”

  “I—I’m . . .”

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  I took a deep breath, prepared to blurt it out, when I heard his belt buckle clinking as he undid it followed by the whisper of the belt being pulled through the loops.

  “I . . .”

  The belt strapped across my already tender skin, catching most of the tops of my thighs. It hurt a little more than his hand, but wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated.

  The belt came down on my flesh again and again, punctuated with say it, Sophie. But each time I took a breath, I lost it when my skin was set on fire again with another blow from Grant’s belt. It only took several seconds for the sting to get bad enough I felt a twinge of panic wondering how long this could go on.

  Every slap of the strap caused a fresh burn in my skin, and created a matching heat between my legs. I didn’t understand it, but somehow what he was doing was getting me incredibly hot.

  I flinched with each blow, withdrawing from the sting, and finally got my breathing and my voice to work together.

  “I’m beautiful!”

  “Good girl.” Grant’s fingers slid between my thighs to rub my aching clit and slip into me—my reward for obeying his command. “Say it again.”

  He stroked me in little circles and plunged his fingers deep, alternating, never letting any one thing push me too far, but the pleasure was building. “I—I’m beautiful,” I whispered, finding it harder to say now that I wasn’t being paddled into it.

  “Louder. Say it like you mean it.”

  When I hesitated, the fingers left me and the belt rained down again.

  “I’m beautiful,” I managed, and moaned when those talented fingers returned to my center. “I’m beautiful.”

  “You are,” Grant said. “Even more beautiful now, with your ass reddened. Are you going to put on the dress I bought you?”

  I knew the choice I had—put it on now, or be persuaded to put it on. I didn’t want him to keep spanking me. I couldn’t deny how hot it made me for reasons I did not understand, but I’d had enough for now. I wanted to be able to sit at dinner.

  “Yes . . . I . . . it’s just so short.”

  “And?” His fingers stilled, but stayed pressed against my throbbing clit.

  “I’ll feel naked.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “You’ll feel naked. And nothing bad will happen. And you’ll feel less naked. End of story.”

  His fingers pushed into me. “Except, you’ll have pleased me so much. And I always reward people who please me.”

  I squeezed around his fingers, getting close to losing control, but with one last thrust, he was finished. His hand left my crease and slapped down on my bottom three times hard and fast.

  “Get yourself dressed so we’re not late, and if you’re a good girl at dinner, I’ll show my appreciation afterward.”

&
nbsp; He untied my wrists and helped me stand, a smirk on his face when he turned me to face him. “Maybe then, I’ll let you come. Grant walked out of the bedroom.

  I was torn between wanting to finish right then and there, get myself off to relieve the tension that had built, and crying in the bathroom as I cleaned myself up. Grant kept me on a roller coaster, and my own feelings toward him did the same thing. This was just an arrangement, I told myself—yes, a fun arrangement, but business nonetheless. I shouldn’t get attached to him or care what he thought.

  I was so wet, I had to wash again before I put on the dress. I slipped on the beautiful green pendant, and the very high-heeled shoes, and transferred my essentials into the new clutch.

  I stared in the mirror, turning to see myself from different angles. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see that my thighs were red below the hem of the dress. But the heels enhanced the curve of my legs, and the dress hugged my butt and stopped just beneath it. The pendant hanging between my breasts really did look good with the dress . . . I did look beautiful, even though I felt too exposed. I smoothed the dress over my hips, trying to lengthen it, to no avail.

  If I got too uncomfortable, came up against something I really couldn’t do, I knew I had the option to say forget about the wedding, I’m done. And it would stop. He would respect my decision, I was sure.

  I caught my eyes in the mirror again.

  But I don’t want it to stop.

  Ten

  Grant said nothing when I came out of the bedroom. He simply opened the door for me and led me to the waiting car. He’d driven a black Mercedes instead of come with the limo. The drive was short and silent with Grant concentrating on the road and me not quite knowing what to say.

  I felt uncomfortable in the dress that barely covered my ass when I sat. I was afraid to cross my legs—that’s how short it was.

  Grant said wait and came around to open my door. As the valet drove his car away, Grant took my hand and led me into the restaurant. It wasn’t quite as fancy as Freisa, with about as many booths lining the curved walls as tables scattered through the center of the large room. Long black tablecloths covered the tables, and I looked forward to sitting down, scooting up and at least feeling more covered.