Single Dad Billionaire

by B. B. Hamel

  “Yes,” I whisper. “As soon as you’re home. I’m so bored without you.”

  “I’m sure you are.” He pauses again and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. “I’ll see you soon, pet. Sleep tight.”

  He hangs up suddenly and I’m left staring at the phone, not sure what just happened.

  I tried to be sexy for him and he just hangs up on me. Like he wasn’t interested in it at all. I hang the phone up and collapse back into bed, sighing.

  Maybe I suck at this. If I can’t figure out what he wants and soon, I’m going to screw it all up, and I can’t afford that.

  This is my last attempt. It’s all or nothing for me right now, and I can’t give up. One bad phone call won’t change anything.

  I’m going to make this man happy whether he wants me to or not.

  7

  Ethan

  I have to force myself to go to my last meeting, even though it’s one of the most important meetings of the day.

  All I want to do is go home to Aria. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. I slept in my office again last night and because of some stupid emergency, I couldn’t make it home all day. I called her briefly last night, and again this afternoon, but that was it.

  She sounds bored. I have to admit, I figured it might take a little longer for her to get sick of her little vacation. Maybe I’ll have to punish her for letting me know that she’s bored.

  Then again, I want her to be herself, so that can’t fly. I’ll punish her still, but it’ll have to be for some other reason.

  I smile to myself, imagining how I’ll punish her as I walk into the restaurant. This last meeting is with Richard Taylor, one of the most notorious businessmen in the city. He’s a real estate guy, and I want to buy out one of his buildings to use as my new corporate headquarters once all this merger stuff goes through. But he’s hard to work with and has an awful reputation for being involved with some shady ventures.

  I spot Richard sitting in a booth table toward the back. I walk directly toward him. It’s interesting how being a good businessperson very often means you’re a bad regular person. The sort of thing business demands from you usually means you’re a hard person to be around in normal circumstances.

  Richard Taylor is no exception to this rule. As I approach, he frowns and checks his watch, almost as if I’m late. I’m not, of course, but he’ll make me feel like I am just because he showed up early.

  “Ethan,” he says, standing, and we shake hands.

  “Richard. Good to see you.”

  “You too. Sit down, have a drink.”

  “Nothing for me tonight,” I say, waving off the waitress as she approaches. “I have to get home.”

  He laughs at me. “You go home? I feel like I haven’t been home in days.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m making it a point to sleep in my own bed tonight,” I say, smiling at him.

  He nods and for a second, I wonder if my little theory about businessmen extends to myself.

  Am I just as bad as Richard is? I like to think I’m not. My employees respect me, maybe even like me. I’m generous with benefits and raises and I never yell. I pride myself on being a good boss, because I absolutely hate bad bosses.

  But I’m still at the top of my game, and my personal life definitely suffers for it. I can see myself in men like Richard, or at least part of myself. Still, I’m not like him, and won’t let myself become like him.

  I have my pet at home to help keep me sane.

  “Well then, down to business so you can get home,” he says, and I know it’s a backhanded insult.

  I choose to ignore it. Instead, I take out a contract we’ve been discussing and we dive back in, talking about the intricacies of the deal.

  Richard is a hard negotiator, but I know he needs to sell. He took the recession hard a few years ago, and some of his assets are currently losing him a lot of money. This building happens to be one of those assets. I have the capital and the ability to turn it back into a worthwhile place, but Richard has to meet me in the middle first.

  He’s playing hardball, though. He doesn’t want to budge an inch on any of his demands, especially not on price, and every concession I get comes at the cost of two more concessions from my side. It’s infuriating and exhausting to keep arguing about petty details, but that’s what Richard seems to want to do.

  We go at it for an hour before I’m finally finished for the night. Richard is on his second martini when I lean back, shaking my head.

  “Let’s stop here for the night,” I say to him.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, grinning. “I feel like we’re just making progress.”

  “We’ll resume tomorrow,” I say, though I want to punch him in the face.

  “Sure, fine. Whatever you want,” he says. “Make a meeting with my secretary.”

  I know that means I probably won’t see him for another week. Richard tosses some bills on the table, clearly overpaying for his drinks but doing it to show off. I don’t really understand that, since we both know I’m worth more than he is, but it doesn’t matter. We stand and walk toward the exit together.

  “You and I, Ethan, we’re warriors,” he says to me as we’re walking out.

  “How’s that?” I ask him.

  “This business is all a fight. And you have to be a warrior to win it. I think you know that.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But it’s not all cutthroat.”

  “It is,” he says seriously. “It’s a war, a constant battle. You have to kill your enemies, Ethan.”

  “I don’t like doing business that way.”

  “Then you’ll lose.” He grins at me, like he’s making a joke, but I know he isn’t.

  We stop at the front door. “Okay, Richard,” I say. “Have a good night. My secretary will be in touch.”

  “Good. Enjoy being home,” he says. “I’m back to the office.”

  We shake hands and I walk away with a sour taste in my mouth.

  On the car ride back home, I just keep thinking about how that bastard is going to keep pushing me. He’s going to keep making backhanded insults and comments until this deal is finished, just because he can. He knows he has something that I want, and he’s going to push me as far as he can.

  That’s the kind of man he is. He wants to destroy things. But I’m not like that.

  I want to dominate things, but I don’t want to destroy them. That’s how I feel about Aria, my little pet back home.

  I want to dominate her. But I don’t want to break her. Some men, like Richard, might use her up and walk the line. But I don’t want that. I’d rather spoil her, make her feel good until she’s putty in my hands, willing to do anything for me.

  My heart beats fast in my chest as I finally get home and walk inside. Jenkins takes my jacket and my briefcase. “Have Michelle send up dinner,” I say to him. “And bring me a whisky, please.”

  “Of course,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen.

  I pause at the foot of the stairs.

  Aria is up there, waiting for me. I feel a thrill run through my body. She’s up there and she’ll do anything that I tell her to do. No matter what it is, if it’s not hurting her, she’ll do it. Maybe she’ll do it if it does hurt, just a little bit. Maybe she wants it to hurt.

  I can feel my cock already getting hard as I climb the steps. My pet, my Aria, tied up to the bed. I’ll slide my cock down her throat and as I pull it back out, she’ll beg for more.

  I have to pause outside of her door, heart beating hard in my chest, calming myself. I can’t go in there with my hard cock trying to break through my pants.

  Once I’m calm, I knock twice and then open the door. I step inside and find Aria sitting on one of the large, soft white chairs, reading a book. She looks up at me and smiles.

  “Ethan,” she says, and sounds genuinely excited.

  “Hello, my pet,” I say, smiling as she tries to hide the fact that she doesn’t like that nickname. “I’m sorry
I haven’t been able to see you until now.”

  “That’s okay. I’m keeping myself company.”

  I smile at that. “What are you reading?”

  “This?” she shrugs. “Nothing. Trash.”

  I walk over to her and sit down in the chair next to hers. She shows me the cover and I laugh. It’s some trashy romance with a muscular shirtless hunk on the cover by a woman named Willow Winters.

  “What’s it about?” I ask.

  “You know, the usual. Boy meets girl. Boy fucks girl until she can’t stand it.” Aria shrugs.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Sounds like great literature.”

  “It won’t win the Nobel Prize, but it’s good anyway.”

  “Did Jenkins bring that?”

  “He did, actually.”

  “I didn’t know we had that stuff in the house.”

  “Apparently someone here loves their dirty stories.”

  “Do you like dirty stories?” I ask her.

  She blushes slightly. “I guess so.”

  “What do you like about them?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, looking away. I can tell that she’s embarrassed and I love it.

  “Tell me,” I say. “What do you like about them?”

  She pauses for a second, searching for the words. “They’re fantasy,” she says finally. “Bad things happen and people don’t communicate, but the drama makes it really hot, and the endings are always happy.”

  I watch her for a second, smiling at that. It’s interesting that she specifically mentioned the happy endings as something she likes. Maybe she’s looking for her own happily ever after, but doesn’t even realize it yet.

  There’s a knock at the door suddenly. I stand and walk over. Jenkins is standing out in the hall with a cart and my whisky. “Thank you,” I say to him. He nods and heads back to the stairs.

  I take the glass then wheel the cart into the room, shutting the door behind me. As I take a sip and park the cart near the table, Aria stands up and steps toward me.

  “Wait,” I say, looking at her. “What are you wearing?”

  “This?” She looks down at herself. “It’s just a dress.”

  I hadn’t noticed it before, when she was sitting. It’s a black dress that hugs every inch of her body with a cutout right around her breasts, showing just the right amount of cleavage. It’s a gorgeous dress and suits her figure perfectly, but it’s all wrong.

  “Would you wear that if you were just sitting around at home?” I ask her.

  She cocks her head at me, smiling. “No, of course not.”

  “So why were you wearing it?”

  “For you,” she says.

  I sigh, sipping my drink. “I want you to be yourself, Aria.”

  “I can do that, if you want.”

  “No,” I say softly, stepping toward her. I reach out and softly take her hair in my fist. “It’s not about what I want.”

  “Yes, it is,” she says in a small voice.

  “You don’t understand,” I say. “I want to spoil you. I want to make you feel good, but only if you want me to. Now though...”I can tell that she’s upset. “I messed up,” she says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten all dressed up.”

  “We can fix it,” I say gently.

  “How?” she asks.

  I let go of her hair and step back. “Take off the dress,” I say, heart hammering in my chest.

  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 gas
p, 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.