The Billionaire's Bodyguard: Complete Collection

by Jade, Catalina

  “It appears that you won’t need much priming, Michael,” Alastair said. “Still… I do have plans.” He flicked his thumb over Mike’s nipple, eliciting a groan. “That’s it,” he said. “More of those noises, and less of that dull questioning and protesting.” Another flick, this one harder, and Mike gave up trying to keep quiet and let himself moan aloud with a mix of pleasure and frustration. Another flick, and then Alastair’s hot mouth closed around one of his nipples, and god, he hadn’t realized he was so sensitive there. And Alastair’s hand slid lower, over his belly that twitched with the tension. His strong, cool touch skirted Mike’s hard, needy cock, circling over his hipbone and then weighing his balls. The touch, smooth and firm, so close to where Mike so badly wanted to be touched but not quite there, made him nearly sob. He dug his heels into the bed, arching his aching cock against empty air.

  “I don’t—” he said “—know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

  “Nothing,” Alastair said, lifting his mouth from Mike’s chest, sounding mildly surprised. “That’s the point of tying you. I control everything and you take what I want to give you.” He stroked the fingers of his other hand through Mike’s hair—petting him, Mike realized, like some prized animal. “And you don’t need to worry about what you might do or not do, what you might want or might want, because you are not deciding and I am not asking you. I will do what I want. That’s the arrangement. And you will enjoy it.”

  Mike felt a thrill of pleasure just at those words. It wasn’t a promise, it was a command: you will enjoy it. And already his body was so primed for Alastair’s commands that it was obeying, his nipples hard, his skin enflamed, his cock leaking precum.

  Alastair straightened, and slipped his robe off. Mike couldn’t stop himself from staring. Alastair was fair, icy-fair, with pale skin completely unblemished, his body hair the same pale gold as the hair on his head. His chest was lean but muscled, his hips narrow… and his cock, hard and standing out from his body, big and flushed dark with blood.

  Alastair knelt on the bed again and slapped Mike’s hip (and again Mike couldn’t help but think that it was the same way he might touch a favorite hunting dog or winning racehorse, casually proprietary), and said, “Roll over.”

  This is it, Mike thought as he complied, twisting the tie as he flipped over, he’s actually going to do it. Alastair’s hand stroked along the back of his thigh, sliding up to squeeze his ass, then down to tease the sensitive skin at the inside of his knee.

  The twist of fear deep inside his belly at the idea of being penetrated, taken, fucked just seemed to fuel his excitement, as though fear and desire were twined deeply together. And behind it all was a terrible arousal at the sheer thought of not being in control, of submitting. He’d never thought that was part of his psyche, but….

  A tremendous capacity for loyalty, Alastair had said of him, months before when he’d been promoted. And he’d been right. God, Mike hadn’t realized at the time exactly how much he’d been right. He couldn’t stop himself from a wry chuckle.

  “Something amusing, Michael?” Alastair asked mildly.

  Shit, Michael thought, his heart thumping in sudden fear. He knew better than to try to lie. “I was just thinking,” he said, his voice thick, “about what you said about loyalty. When you hired me. That I had a capacity for it. I just realized how right you’d been.”

  “Mm,” Alastair said, but he sounded pleased by the answer, and Mike relaxed a little. “I am often right,” he said. “And I always get what I want, Michael.” He slid his hands under Mike’s hips, coaxing him up. “On your knees and elbows. You can rest against your arms if you need to brace yourself.”

  Another shock of fear/arousal bolted through Mike, making him gasp aloud. “I’ve never—”

  “I know,” Alastair said. “You mentioned. But I know what I’m doing.” His fingers slid down Mike’s spine, sending electric ripples of pleasure in their wake, tightening Mike’s nipples and making his cock twitch and drip, down over his tailbone and between his cheeks until he shuddered all over at the feeling of soft, cool fingertips against his asshole. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, you know,” Alastair said conversationally, rubbing lightly over Mike’s entrance. “How you would look bent over for me. I have been terribly impatient, but I have learned in my life that sometimes the secret to getting what you want is timing.”

  Mike couldn’t see him, head braced on his forearms as Alastair had suggested, so he didn’t know what was coming until the first hot breath on his ass. He isn’t, he thought, shocked, and then there was the hot, wet of Alastair’s tongue, gliding over his asshole, tasting him from his perineum all the way up to his tailbone.

  He jerked, he couldn’t help it, pulling against the tie that bound his hands and bit into his wrists, arching his hips—and even he couldn’t tell whether he was trying to move into or away from that shocking, wonderful, hot wet feeling. Nerves he hadn’t even known he had sparked to life. He moaned aloud and shuddered, trying to hold still and not quite succeeding. Alastair’s hands kept him in place, and there was nowhere to go, nothing to do but relax into it.

  He couldn’t say how long Alastair rimmed him. By the end, when Alastair finally moved away, he was harder than he’d ever remembered being in his life, and his throat was already raw from his harsh breaths.

  “I think I’d better stop,” Alastair said. “Wouldn’t want you to come yet.”

  Mike couldn’t reply, could only gasp and struggle to get his breath back. He hissed when he felt Alastair’s fingers return. They were slick and cool—with lube, he assumed—and the contrast between that and Alastair’s hot tongue made his knees shake.

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend stick her finger up your ass?” Alastair asked. The contrast between his smooth, cultured voice and the crude words made Mike shudder.

  “N-no,” he said.

  “Have you ever done it? Fingered yourself?”

  “No,” he said, which was the truth. He’d never seen the appeal… at least, not until now. “Never.”

  “Good,” Alastair said. “I like the idea of being the first.” And then, without any more preamble, he slid one long finger into Mike.

  It felt at once strange and amazing, the pressure somewhere no one else had ever been before. His body arched, as if trying at once to squirm away from the intruding finger and push back to take it deeper. Alastair made a soft noise, almost a purr, rocking his finger in and out, and then added another. Cold lube contrasted with the slight burn as two fingers stretched him, working him open.

  Holy mother of god, Mike thought, and couldn’t hold back a soft moan.

  “You like that, Michael?” Alastair asked lazily.

  Honesty was the only way he could go: “It isn’t like anything else I’ve ever felt,” he said, voice rough.

  “Oh, but we’ve barely even gotten started,” Alastair said, and crooked his fingers.

  Sparks flashed behind Mike’s closed eyes, and he heard himself whine, a shameless, needy noise. He spread his legs wider. He could almost hear Alastair’s smirk, and he didn’t care, as long as that amazing feeling didn’t stop.

  “We can’t have you coming yet,” he said, pulling his fingers out. Mike groaned at the loss of sensation. “Not before I get a chance to fuck you.” There was a brief wet sound. Alastair lubing himself up, Mike realized.

  “Oh god,” Mike said. “Yes.” He shuddered, feeling the blunt, hot head of Alastair’s cock pushing against his entrance.

  Alastair leaned over him, chest against his back. “Say it again,” he murmured, hot in Mike’s ear.

  “Yes,” Mike said.

  “Tell me,” Alastair said, not moving, just the constant maddening pressure of his cock against Mike’s hole. “Say it out loud.”

  Mike shuddered all over, exhaled on a moan, and felt himself, finally, fully give in. Fully submit. “Please,” he said. “Please, sir, fuck me.”

  “Good boy,” Alastair said again, and pushed fu
lly in.

  He wasn’t slow and he wasn’t gentle, and it hurt at first, a burning pain—a burning pain that blurred together with a pleasure that seared and shocked him. His first cry was half pain, half pleasure. Alastair pulled out and thrust in again and this time the burn receded behind the pleasure as he hit deep. Sparks of sensation skittered through Mike, making him arch, making him clench and shudder. With the third thrust, all pain had transmuted itself into deep ripples of ecstasy, rolling out from deep inside him.

  “So tight, Michael,” Alastair said. Mike could only moan in response. “And no one’s ever fucked you like this but me.”

  “No,” Mike gritted out between his teeth, trying to hang onto a shred of control. His bound hands fisted in the sheets.

  The rhythm of Alastair’s thrusts built and built; Mike thought at first that he would surely come at any moment, and when he didn’t, he thought he might go insane from the tightening spiral of bliss that could find no release. He realized that he was growling, squirming, tossing his head in shameless pleasure. He realized that he didn’t even care. All he wanted was—

  “Please,” he was saying. “Please. Please!”

  “Please what?” Alastair asked. Mike realized with sudden elation that Alastair wasn’t totally unaffected, was himself short of breath.

  “Please,” he said. “I want to come.”

  “Yes,” Alastair said, his voice ragged for the first time. “Come, Michael. Come for me. Submit to me. Show me that you not only have been fucked by me—but that you loved it.” His hand snaked around Mike’s hip, and without slowing his hard, deep thrusts, he stroked Mike’s cock.

  One stroke, two, three, and fire built along Mike’s bones and roared down his spine. He groaned, hard, inarticulate, and came in long spurts that seemed to go on forever. When he came back to himself, he was completely spent, body bowed and shaking with deep breaths.

  Alastair’s pace quickened, and it was only a little longer before he was coming too. No loud groans for him, though; he snarled once, like a wild animal, and then Mike felt him pulse inside.

  They stayed joined together for a long, silent moment. Mike could feel Alastair’s breathing slow, and almost without realizing it matched his own breathing to that pace. Finally Alastair pulled out, and Mike caught his breath at the sensation of loss. Then he felt Alastair’s fingers combing through his hair.

  After a few minutes, Alastair slid off the bed. Mike was too exhausted, too relaxed, too spent to move even to look. He heard a soft slicing noise and felt the pressure loosen from his wrists, and opened his eyes to see that Alastair had cut his tie from around his wrists with a sharp-edged letter opener.

  Alastair set the letter opener on the side table. Even naked, he looked completely confident, even regal. He slid his fingers through Mike’s hair once again.

  The silence stretched out until Mike felt that he had to break it. “So. What now?”

  Alastair’s fingers stilled, and he smiled, his confident feline smile. He got up and reached for his shed robe. “Now is no different before,” he said. “I know what I want, and I will get it.” He slipped his robe on and headed for the door.

  Mike’s stomach tightened, and he pushed himself up on his hands, arms and legs shaking. Was that a dismissal?

  But Alastair paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder, confident, regal, perfectly in control. “And I expect you to be there,” he finished, “when I do.”

  ***

  Bound by the Billionaire

  Mike didn’t know quite what to expect, in the days after he and Alastair first had sex. He wasn’t foolish enough to expect romance, nor did he really want it. (The idea of being romanced by the heir of Waters Industries was both ridiculous and terrifying.)

  But he also knew that it wouldn’t be totally forgotten. If nothing else, Alastair had marked him, and Mike knew that Alastair was possessive about things—and people—that were his. So it wasn’t a question of whether Alastair would claim him again, but simply when and how.

  He had to admit, the thought frightened and excited him.

  But the first day after, Alastair acted completely neutrally toward him. The second day was the same. By the third day, Mike was beginning to wonder whether he’d lost his mind and made the whole thing up… or whether Alastair had been disappointed with him.

  So in some way it was a relief when Alastair cornered him at the beginning of his shift on the fourth day. Cornered him and kissed him, hard. Alastair’s tongue didn’t ask entrance so much as demand it, and Mike arched when he felt Alastair’s hand slide down his back to squeeze his ass.

  “Sir—” Mike began, but was cut off by another kiss—and another touch, down his chest, sliding over his nipple through his dress shirt, down to his hip.

  He took that as invitation, and was rewarded by a moan into his mouth when he caressed Alastair’s waist and thigh. He shivered as Alastair trailed his touch lower, teasing down toward his belt.

  Mike froze when he heard the intercom buzz, and heard Alastair’s secretary’s maddeningly-calm voice. “The gentlemen from Burchhardt Industries are coming up now, sir.”

  Alastair broke the kiss to say, ”Thank you, send them in when they get up.” He was still so close that Mike could feel the puffs of breath from Alastair’s words on his lips, and yet Alastair sounded perfectly calm, almost bored.

  Mike gasped and stared.

  Alastair pulled back and gave him a long, cool look. His eyes were like chips of blue glass, impersonal despite their heated kiss. “It’s your fault I’m turned on right now,” he said.

  Mike could think of all kinds of answers to that, like, I wasn’t the one who decided to start groping or you were the one who thought it was a good idea to start feeling up your subordinates. But he had enough of a sense of self-preservation to not say either of those things. He knew that the wise thing was just to say, “Yes, sir.”

  “So I expect you to resolve the problem,” Alastair said. He stepped back and sat down in his leather chair, behind his big mahogany desk. His cool eyes sized up Mike expectantly.

  The door buzzer rang its warning once more.

  “…Sir?” Mike said.

  Alastair’s expression turned exasperated. “I know you aren’t stupid, Michael,” he said. He kicked back in his chair and gestured to the space under his desk. “There’s room under here for you. And….” He pointed meaningfully at the front of his desk, that hid the footwell from the eyes of anyone on the other side. “…If you’re quiet, no one needs to know what’s going on.”

  “The esteemed gentlemen from Burchhardt Industries are here,” came the secretary’s smooth voice in warning, over the intercom. Alastair raised one immaculately-groomed blond eyebrow.

  Without even thinking it all the way through, Mike sank to his knees and shuffled backwards, under the desk. Even as he did it, he thought, shit, shit, this is a bad idea. What if he got caught? What if someone saw him like that, kneeling on the floor with the boss’s dick in his mouth? How could he live it down?

  And yet, at the same time, he could feel his pulse pick up with arousal at the thought. It was easy to tell himself that he had no choice, that nobody defied Alastair Waters and got away with it.

  It was harder to admit to himself that some part of him wanted to do it. Some part of him was so turned on by the idea of sucking Alastair off under his desk that his own cock was hardening rapidly at the thought.

  Mike could just barely hear Alastair’s faint chuckle, which made him flush with both embarrassment and excitement. But he could quite clearly feel Alastair’s cool fingers sifting through his hair, at once soothing and humiliating, as if he were being petted like a dog. And Alastair did nothing to dispel that feeling, when he said, in a low tone, “Good boy.”

  Mike steadied himself with a breath, then used the familiar sound of the office door whisking open to cover the noise as he eased Alastair’s zipper down. It was the first time he’d done any of the undressing; before, Alastai
r had done that himself. It was part of his air of unassailable command.

  Apparently that rule went out the window when it came to blowjobs-under-the-desk.

  “Welcome, gentlemen,” Alastair. Mike spared one panicked moment to wonder if Alastair would be expected to rise to shake hands… but no, that was for lesser men. Alastair received visitors while seated, like a king, instead of like a lesser businessman with a standing handshake. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re here to renegotiate the contract, I understand.”

  The other men spoke, a blur of words that Mike couldn’t quite make out, and didn’t care to. While they spoke, Mike slipped his hands into Alastair’s underwear and eased his growing erection out.

  It was the first chance he’d had to really explore Alastair’s cock. (He pushed aside the fact that, a month before, he wouldn’t have had any interest in inspecting another man’s cock.) It was long and straight, more rosy than dark, uncut. Longer than his own, but maybe not as thick. And hard, god, rock-hard and fire-hot.

  Alastair’s hardness, in his hand, was making his own cock twitch in his pants. He shifted position to accommodate it, as much as he could in the confines under the desk.

  Alastair was talking again. “I appreciate the situation you’re in,” he said, voice smooth as satin, “but still, your counter-terms are impossible. They’re beyond impossible: they’re ridiculous.” Mike listened for a moment, then tuned it out. Instead, he stroked Alastair once, his grip hard and fluid on Alastair’s smooth skin. He could barely—just barely—hear the resulting hitch in Alastair’s voice. Droplets of precum formed at Alastair’s tip, spilling over to moisten his hand. As he stroked from base to tip and back again, that hot fluid smoothed his way.