Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  She looks at me for a second. “Okay,” she says.

  I watch as she slowly slides it off her body until she’s standing in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of black underwear.

  Her body is gorgeous. Her breasts are full and her hips are perfectly curvy. I want to order her to turn around so that I can take a look at her beautiful ass, but I hold back.

  Because I know what I want. I know how I’m going to punish her. I stare at her body and I can see the blush on her cheeks. She’s a little embarrassed to be standing in front of me like this, letting me stare at her, and I like that.

  I think I have something else that she’ll like.

  “Do you want to get on the bed?” I ask her softly. “Face down,” I add.

  She watches me for a second then nods. “Okay,” she says.

  I watch as she climbs onto the bed and stays there on all fours, looking back at me over her shoulder.

  I give her a look then head into the closet to get her punishment.

  8

  Aria

  I’m practically shaking when he comes back from the closet holding three long strips of black silk. He smiles at me and walks slowly toward me, and I can feel my heart hammering hard in my chest. I don’t know what he’s going to do with those long silk ropes, but I want to find out.

  “Flat on your stomach,” he says to me simply. I pause then obey. He walks down toward my feet, sliding his fingers along my skin. He touches my lower back, my ass, and slides down my legs until he stops at my feet.

  He lifts my legs up, keeping my ankles crossed, and then expertly wraps the silk around and between them.

  “If you want me to stop, say the word ‘building’. Do you understand?” he asks.

  I nod. “I understand.”

  He pulls the silk tight. “Too hard?” he asks.

  “No,” I say. I can’t move my feet as he takes the other end of the rope and ties it to the footboard.

  I try to move my ankles but I’m bound tightly. He smiles and runs his fingers back up along my body as he moves up toward my head.

  A chill runs down my spine as his fingers touch my back. I gasp slightly and look away from him, hiding my excitement. I’m dripping wet already, just from his fingertips brushing along my skin. He runs his fingers down my right arm, stopping at my wrist.

  “What are your boundaries?” he asks me as he wraps the silk around my wrist, expertly looping it and tying it there.

  “Boundaries?” I ask him, not sure what he means.

  “What won’t you do? Things you don’t like. Pain, for example.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t really have boundaries yet.”

  He smiles. “Good.” He pulls the silk then ties it to the headboard. “Too tight?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, testing it. The bond is firm but not cutting off circulation. He walks around the bed then runs his fingers along my skin, from my lower back up along my left arm, ending at my left wrist, and repeats the procedure.

  “This is your punishment,” he says as he works. “You’ll be tied and bound to this bed. Not too tight, not too uncomfortable, but you won’t be able to move. I’ll be able to do anything I want with you.”

  A thrill runs through my stomach and as he finishes tying my left wrist to the headboard, I feel a moment of panic. I test my bonds and sure enough, I can’t move at all. I’m totally at his mercy.

  But I remember what he said about the safe word. All I need to do is say “building” and he’ll stop. I trust him, for whatever reason, although the fear of him taking advantage of me makes this whole experience that much more arousing.

  I turn my head and watch him. I’m flat on my stomach, ankles crossed, arms flat on the bed and above me. I can touch the headboard with my fingers, but I’m not being stretched or pulled out of position. It’s actually comfortable if I don’t move.

  He stands there, admiring me, and then runs his fingers along my back again. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, excitement coursing through me.

  He stops, his fingers lingering over the cleft under my ass. I can feel his fingers inches from my pussy and I know he can feel the heat radiating from there. If he moves slightly further, he’ll feel how dripping wet I am.

  Instead, he pulls back his hand and spanks me.

  I let out a soft gasp, surprised. He smiles at me. “Sorry, did that hurt?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, “you just surprised me.”

  “Good.” He spanks me again, this time harder. I gasp, and it actually does hurt. “What about that?” he asks.

  “That hurt a little bit,” I say.

  “Perfect.” He spanks me again and again. It stings, but it’s dulled by the intensity of the moment. I’m completely at this man’s mercy and he’s spanking me like a disobedient child.

  “This is part of your punishment,” he says. “I’m going to spank you until I can see my palm prints in red on both of your perfect white ass cheeks.”

  “Ethan,” I groan. “Please. Go easy on me.”

  He smiles, and I can tell that he likes that. “I am going easy on you, my pet. Don’t worry.”

  He spanks me again and again, making me groan. I try to squirm but I can’t move, can’t get away. It hurts, but not very much. In fact, it’s just the right amount of pain, cutting through the insane sexual chemistry I’m feeling. I want him to take me so badly, but each new spank is intensely erotic in a way I’ve never felt before.

  He finishes on the one side then goes around the bed and repeats the procedure.

  “I love the feeling of this ass under my palm,” he says. “I like that you’re willing to lay there, moaning and taking it. You’re my pet and you know it, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I gasp, losing myself in the game. “I’m your little pet. And I shouldn’t disobey you.”

  “That’s right. This is what happens when you do. I’ll tie you up nice and tight then spank your ass.”

  “Ethan,” I gasp when he hits me harder, one last time.

  He stops and steps back. He admires my ass, smiling huge. “Perfect,” he says.

  I squirm against the ropes again, wanting him to put his hands back on me. He kneels down at the side of the bed and runs his fingers through my hair.

  “You want more, don’t you?” he asks softly.

  I nod my head, mouth hanging open, and I realize that it’s true. I’m not acting anymore. I want him to touch me. I want his fingers between my legs, his hard cock between my lips.

  “Not tonight,” he says, standing.

  “What?” I ask, surprised.

  “No, not tonight. You don’t deserve it tonight.” He turns and starts walking to the door.

  “Wait,” I say. “Ethan. Please.”

  He pauses. I can’t see him, but I know he’s nearby. I try to turn my head, but I can’t roll over.

  “Please, what?” he asks.

  I pause, biting my lip. What do I want, exactly? Do I really want him to touch me? Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. I could just play along with these games, letting him spoil me. I don’t know what he really wants, and I don’t want to push him away. I don’t want to be greedy. I’m afraid that if I tell him how badly I want to feel him press his body against me, sinking his cock deep between my legs, that I’ll ruin the moment. I don’t want to risk that.

  “Don’t leave me,” I say instead, hedging my bet.

  I can hear the grin in his voice. “You want me to untie you?”

  “Maybe,” I say. “What do you want?”

  He pauses and I wish I could see his face. Then he walks back over to me and unties my ankles then my wrists, one after the other.

  I sit up on my side, watching him. He puts the silk away in the dresser by the side of the bed then crosses his arms.

  “Enough for tonight,” he says. “Dinner is on the cart.” He nods at the cart parked over by the table.

  “Okay,” I say,
suddenly afraid. Did I do something wrong? I don’t want to displease him, and I definitely don’t want this to be over.

  He walks over to me and takes my chin, tilting my head up toward him, and he slowly moves down toward me. I feel a thrill, thinking he’s going to kiss me, but instead he presses his lips against my ear.

  “You did well, my pet,” he whispers. “We’ll finish another night.” He moves away and leaves the room before I can say anything.

  I hear the door shut and I collapse back onto the bed, practically panting with pent-up desire.

  I can’t believe how much I want it. I’ve never felt this way before, ever. Oh sure, I’ve wanted sex before, but not like this. I feel like I’m hanging from a cliff, barely held up by ropes, and all I want is for him to let me fall. It’s dangerous and thrilling and exhilarating.

  And I didn’t expect to feel this way. It doesn’t hurt that he’s so damn attractive, but it’s more than that. It’s the way he teases me, taking me a little further but backing off, never giving me what I want. I know he’s in control, even if I don’t want him to be.

  Part of me wanted to tear those ropes off and take him, pull him into the bed with me, beg him to make me feel good. I knew that would ruin everything, but still, I wanted it. I wanted it so badly I can barely think.

  I have to lay there for a while, maybe a half hour, trying to get myself together. Eventually, I calm down enough to change my clothes and eat the food. It’s good, though it’s cold.

  As I go to bed that night, I keep thinking about him, about Ethan and his control. I want to understand it and get past it. I want him to make me feel good.

  I want to be his spoiled little pet.

  9

  Ethan

  I couldn’t get the image of Aria tied up to the bed out of my mind all the next day.

  I wanted to fuck her. I can’t say it any other way. I wanted to slide my thick cock deep inside of her pussy, keeping her tied up like that, but I couldn’t let myself. Not yet, at least.

  She liked it. I could tell she liked it. As soon as I put my hand near her pussy I could feel her heat and practically taste her dripping cunt. She was squirming for it the whole time, and not once did I think I was pushing her too far. It was a simple little spanking, but I could tell she’s never been bound up like that before.

  I don’t normally do that with women. It’s true, I have a thing for control, but I don’t show that to the average woman that I bring home. Normally I just get them off and get myself off and that’s enough. But with Aria, I know I need something more. I know she needs it, too.

  I keep picturing her perfect round ass as I spank it over and over. I keep getting hard at my desk as I imagine my red palm prints on her perfect, smooth white ass. It drives me fucking crazy, and I crave release, but I know that won’t help anything.

  Although there’s more work to be done, around eight that night I have to go home. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep pretending like the only thing I want to do is be at home with Aria. I call the car, say goodnight to the few people still working late, and head back through the city.

  As I watch the houses flash by, I can’t help but think about how I don’t really know her, not yet at least. I feel like I know her, but I don’t really. I don’t know where she came from and even if her real name is Aria. I suspect it might be, but I’m only just guessing. She doesn’t seem like she’s very good at acting, as evidenced by her little slipups toward the end of our session, but I can’t be sure.

  I decide that I’m going to play a different sort of game tonight. Maybe not exactly a game, more like something normal. Once the car pulls up, I head right inside.

  Jenkins meets me in the kitchen. “Home early tonight, sir,” he says.

  “Yes, I am. How’s Aria?”

  “She’s well,” Jenkins says. “Wanted more movies today. And requested some skin lotion.”

  I grin at that. “Send dinner up to her room. For both of us. Please.”

  “Of course.” Jenkins turns and walks off.

  My heart is beating fast and I realize that I’m excited like a little boy as I take the stairs two at a time. I quickly reach her door and stop just short of barging in, gathering myself. I have to get myself under control. I need to be calm and collected when I see her.

  Control is what separates us from the animals. We can control ourselves, force ourselves to be calm and to do things we don’t necessarily want to do. I’m obsessed with control because it proves to me that I’m above the animals, that I’m greater than them.

  Except sometimes, it feels so fucking good to lose myself. All of my worries, my troubles, they drop away and I can embrace the animal inside of me. That’s how I feel when I’m fucking, but when I’m playing these games, it’s a different sort of release.

  I calm my heart rate and finally knock once before walking into her room.

  Aria is sitting on the small couch, curled in a little ball, watching TV. She sits up as soon as I walk into the room and wipes her eyes. “Ethan,” she says.

  I stop dead and blink, surprised. “Are you okay?” I ask, instantly concerned.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she says, laughing lightly.

  “If there’s something wrong, I’ll fix it. If you don’t like our game, we’ll change it.” I take a step toward her.

  She smiles and stands up. “Really Ethan, I’m fine. I was just watching... a movie.” She grabs the remote and turns off the TV.

  “What movie?” I ask, taking a step toward her. I’m curious about what would make her cry.

  “I don’t want to say.”

  “Come on. You read trashy romances. What else can you have to hide?”

  She laughs again. “Okay, fine. It was Love Actually.”

  I grin at her. “Seriously?”

  “It’s good, okay? Gets me every time.”

  “You wimp.”

  “I’m a big sap.” She laughs and sits down on the bed. “You’re here early,” she says, looking at me.

  I sit down on the bed next to her. “I couldn’t stay at work.”

  “Rough day?”

  I shake my head. “I just kept thinking about you.”

  She looks at me, and for a second I see genuine excitement in her eyes. But it quickly passes. “Really?” she asks.

  “Really.” I reach out and put my hand on her leg. She’s wearing yoga pants and a white t-shirt, though her hair is done and she’s wearing makeup. I suspect this is her attempt at compromise. She wants to be herself, but she still needs to play her part. It’s good enough, at least for now.

  “I was hoping you’d have dinner with me,” I say.

  “Of course.”

  “You didn’t eat yet?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve always been a late eater.”

  “Me too.” There’s a knock at the door and I stand, heading over to it. Jenkins is outside with a meal cart. I give him a little thanks nod and take it from him, wheeling it back inside.

  Aria goes to set the table up, but I wave her off. “This way,” I say. I walk over to the back of the room and pull back the curtain. I unlatch the window and pull it open, revealing the balcony.

  She blinks, clearly surprised. “It’s gorgeous out here. I had no clue.”

  “Good. It was meant to be a surprise.” I wheel the cart out onto the balcony and she follows.

  There’s a small table, some chairs, and the view is amazing. It looks out across Old City, at all the historic buildings. The room-length curtains hid this from her view and apparently she didn’t explore her surroundings too much. That tells me a little something about her.

  “It’s really beautiful,” she says again, smiling and looking out at the city lights.

  “I love it out here,” I say. “This is the only room with a balcony like this.”

  “Really? Yours doesn’t have one?”

  “I know. Horrible.”

  She laughs. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, this house is amazing.
”

  “I tried to keep the outside as original as possible, and this was the only original balcony.” I park the cart and begin putting our meal onto the table. There’s a cut of steak and a baked potato for me and what looks like a Caesar salad for her, which I’m guessing is what she asked for at some point. Michelle is very good at learning her guests’ preferences.

  “Sit,” I say, pulling her seat out, and she sits. I pour myself a drink of whisky from the cart and sit down across from her. I sip my drink as she starts eating.

  I take a bite of my steak, but I’m not really hungry. That’s not the purpose of this little meal, anyway.

  “What’s your real name?” I ask her suddenly.

  She looks up at me, surprised. “Aria,” she says.

  I cock my head. “Really? You used your real name?”

  She shrugs. “I didn’t want to have to learn a new one. I figured it’s easier this way.”

  “Pretty name,” I say, and I know she’s not lying.

  “Thanks. One of the nicest things my mother ever gave me.” Her joke sounds rehearsed, like it’s one she’s made many times before, and I smile.

  “Were you and your mother close?” I ask.

  “No,” she says, and goes back to eating.

  Interesting. Her family life is a touchy subject.

  “Can I ask you how you got into this business?”

  She shrugs again. “I’ll tell you. But I don’t think you want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  She puts down her fork and cocks her head at me. “It’ll ruin the fantasy, won’t it?”

  “Not at all,” I say. “You’re the fantasy, Aria. The real you.”

  “You don’t want the real me,” she says, looking down at her plate.

  I lean toward her. “Try me.”

  “I’m not like you, Ethan,” she says. “I don’t have anything.”

  “Having things doesn’t make a person,” I say.

  “I’ve made mistakes.”

  “We all have.” I reach my hand out and put it on hers. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. But I want you to know that I want to know, and I’m not afraid of the answers.”