Taking his Risk (Year of the Billionaire Part 2)

by Falls, K. C.

  All around me, as Tristan had forewarned, there were human beings in every shape and size imaginable. There were many who were well past their prime. There were plenty who needed to drop ten pounds, or fifty. There was a smattering of skinny kids not yet in school and a fair number of young people, like us, slim and shapely. There were lots of smiles and I swear no one even looked at my chest.

  Nakedness is a great equalizer. It took all of fifteen minutes for me to accept that no one was the least bit impressed or shocked by my appearance one way or the other. I quickly shed the bottom half of my suit as Tristan went to get an umbrella and a couple of lounge chairs from the rental kiosk. He returned to find me coating myself with lotion oblivious to anything but the best angle for our chairs.

  "Feels great, doesn't it?" he asked me when we were settled into our spot. We spent the rest of the afternoon people watching. I guess it was my newness to it all, but I couldn't help but size up the genitals of the people walking by. It's hard to describe how something can be very sexual and utterly not at the same time. I saw more penises and pussies in a few hours than I might ever see again for the rest of my life. Without staring rudely, it was still possible to take in the endless variation in human anatomy. I suppose if our society covered hands as a rule, I'd have been noticing hands.

  "I now realize that you are as well endowed as I thought you were."

  "Was there ever any doubt?" Tristan looked down at his cock in mock dismay. "I thought you worshipped the mighty King's sword!"

  "That goes without saying, of course. It's just that I've never had the chance to compare . . . so many all at once."

  "One thing you'll notice right away is that a man's penis size is inversely related to the size of his gut. The bigger the belly, the smaller the dick."

  I had to suppress my giggles from that moment on every time a fat man walked by. Maybe it was an optical illusion, but he was absolutely right about the correlation.

  We played "spot the fake tits". Tristan assured me that he had firsthand experience with both kinds and could almost always spot store-bought boobs. There were some nicely done sets of knockers, I have to admit. But he told me to watch what happened when a fake set went vertical versus the real thing. It didn't take me long to become an expert. Another dead giveaway was an unnaturally pert bosom on a lady who should have been sagging. Not that I blamed the old gals.

  It humbled me to see how age takes its toll on the flesh. I watched the older men, some still in very good shape and glanced over at the Adonis beside me. Tristan had his eyes closed. His body was nicely tanned, except for the pale pair of skin shorts his nakedness wore. I watched the rise and fall of his hard chest, the golden hair glistening with suntan lotion, pectoral muscles untouched by gravity, skin unblemished by the spots of age. His long, lean legs were comfortably parted, his cock flaccid against his thigh, a flat abdomen above it. He was all youth and all prime.

  A lump rose in my throat when I realized that I still wanted to know him when his posture was a little less straight, when his muscles showed a lifetime of use, when his golden snatch of hair was streaked with gray. I knew I could feel about him then just as I did at that moment. Even in my mind, I didn't dare put a name to it. It was too scary to admit, even to myself, that I was falling in love with a man who had told me repeatedly that there could be no expectations. Love is nothing but expectations and on a very grand scale.

  When Tristan opened his eyes, I think I surprised him by suggesting we take a walk. I wanted to distract myself from too many heavy thoughts. Naked window shopping seemed to be as good a distraction as any.

  "Wasn't I right when I told you the whole 'naked in public' thing would fade fast?"

  "You were absolutely right. It actually feels more innocent to be this way than if everyone had bathing suits on."

  "That's because a bathing suit only reminds you that there's something hidden. With this kind of naturism, you quickly realize that we're all just variations of the same theme."

  I couldn't help but suppress some giggles as we strolled down the cobbled streets. We had nothing on but flip-flops and sun glasses. We carried a couple of towels to sit on and a small bag with our essentials.

  We passed a Laundromat where several couples chatted and folded towels and sheets--not many dirty socks or underwear generated in Cap d'Agde. We wandered through a wine shop and a market where we picked up some fresh fruit. In the course of a few short hours I had become completely at ease. Tristan was right, it felt free and good and wholesome.

  Lunch was Salad Nicoise, crusty country bread and a local white wine. It was simple and perfect. The café was right on the edge of the beach, the breeze was gentle and warm and the children's laughter seemed to punctuate the purity of this Eden before the fall.

  We dozed next to each other on the lounge chairs after lunch. Before I drifted off, I remembered how I had wished to do exactly this--take a nap by Tristan's side. I hadn't expected it to happen, and certainly not on a naturist beach on the Mediterranean Sea.

  When we woke, we called Kwan. Even with the sunscreen, there were parts of us that were in danger of getting just a wee too much sun for one day.

  Back on King's Risk, we slipped into the hot tub up on the upper deck. The sun was starting to set and the warm water felt wonderful against my slightly sunburned skin. Tristan had planned dinner aboard as he said that we had probably had the best food the Cap had to offer the night before.

  "You seem to have enjoyed your day."

  I slid closer to him and played with his foot under the swirling water. "I feel very sensuous. Very much in touch with myself and nature."

  "I'd like to be very much in touch with you," he said as he ran his hand down across my chest and tickled just once between my legs. I felt the instant awakening he summoned so easily stir inside me. "I'd love to fuck you right now."

  Straddling him, I felt his cock bobbing beneath my folds. I put my hands on his incredibly broad shoulders, massaging the muscles under my hands. "I won't stop you . . ." He took one of my hands and wrapped it around his erection. I stroked him between my legs under the warm water.

  "Feel how you stiffen me so quickly?"

  I moved to take him inside of me. I was so wet all it would take was for me to lower myself down onto him. But he raised my hips with his big hands at the sides of my ass and sat me beside him again.

  "I think not. A little tension is good for you."

  "You're a horrible tease, you know that?"

  "I have something special in mind for you tonight. I think after our adventure today, you're ready for more tonight," he smiled at me, but there was a shadow of darkness to his eyes that I hadn't seen in days. Something was going on inside--deep, where I couldn't touch. Where I wasn't allowed to go.

  Five

  Conversation at dinner was light. Deliberately and uncomfortably light, at least for me. I'd been denied a real emotional connection from the very beginning--ordered in no uncertain terms not to analyze or succumb to expectations. So, my psyche did what came naturally. I filled in all the blanks for myself. I interpreted every silence, every word, every touch and every action trying to get some sense of how Tristan actually felt about me. I came up with bits and pieces I couldn't connect. He was like a jigsaw puzzle and I couldn't find any straight edges to start with. I only had unrelated middle bits, none of which fit together.

  He was willing to pay almost any amount of attention to my physical well being, whether that took the form of luxury surroundings, fantastic gifts, amazing food and drink or sex better than I could have even half imagined. He seemed genuinely concerned about my safety and my parents' as well. He lavished compliments on me and reacted to my touch in ways that told me he desired me with a primal passion I had never before experienced.

  And yet. Neither one of us had ever expressed anything emotional that wasn't connected to sex. For my part, it was a conscious and difficult effort. I wanted to talk about . . . us. I wanted to ask all about Elsa and even a
bout the little-boy Tristan and his lost momma. But under 'the rules' that I had agreed to more than once, those kinds of things fell under the 'analysis' and 'expectation' categories and were off limits.

  I sipped my wine in silence, wondering--no, analyzing--where the relationship was going to go. Had I been foolish in thinking that I could enter into this kind of unwritten contract? Every time he fucked me I became more attached. I couldn't help it.

  He had entwined his life with mine. First, by his rescue of my father and all that came after. How was I supposed to refuse that? More to the point, how was I supposed to put the brakes on it now? Sorry, Dad, Mom, but I've decided to throw you under the bus because I just can't handle this deal with Tristan. Good luck.

  Then there was the job situation. When we got back to New York and reality, I very much needed the helping hand that Tristan had offered me. He could open doors that would be impenetrable to me.

  "Raina?"

  His voice--that unnervingly velvet sound--shook me back into the here and now. Dinner was over and it was time to see what Tristan meant by 'adventure' for tonight. I gave him the sexiest smile I could conjure and told myself to suck it up and be a big girl. This was a situation that couldn't be changed in an instant. I was on his boat, in a foreign country and the only possessions I had arrived with had disappeared along the way.

  "I'm ready for my adventure, Mr. King."

  ***

  Tristan told me to go to the second stateroom on the right, and put on the items I found there. He pulled me to him before he let me go in the hallway. Raw need ripped through me when I saw the intense cloud of desire gather like a storm behind his eyes. He brought his mouth against mine and bruised my lips with his. As he claimed my mouth with his I felt an edgy passion much like the first time we had kissed in his garden. His tongue searched my mouth and erased all thoughts but those that focused on how much I needed him inside me.

  "You have to trust me, Raina," he breathed hotly into my ear as if he knew all the questions that had been coursing through my doubting brain just minutes earlier. "Everything will be clearer to you if you just let go. You did so well today . . ."

  It pleased me so much to hear him tell me how well I had done. It was irrational, really, because I hadn't done anything much at all. All I did was walk naked in the sun with the man I . . . was so . . . taken with. If I understood anything at all about the man, it was that he derived great pleasure in seeing me loose inhibition completely. My letting go of 'shouldn't' made him happy.

  I opened the door to the stateroom. The first thing I noticed was a triangular wedge in the middle of the turned down bed. Even with my limited experience it wasn't hard to figure out that I'd soon be draped over the cushion, assuming a 'position'.

  I found a gorgeous corset on the bed. It was ivory lace trimmed with rose colored ribbons. There was a pair of lace top ivory hose--the kind that stay up by themselves--and a pair of impossibly high ivory satin pumps. I didn't need to check the soles; I knew they'd be red.

  It was a struggle to get the corset on. I couldn’t fasten the dozens of hooks and eyes behind me so I put it on backwards and twisted it around to the front when I had it all hooked up. I was out of breath by the time I got it situated right because of the effort involved. The fact that it cinched my waist in almost painfully tight didn't help. There were bones running all down my torso and had I thought about it, the stockings and shoes should have gone on first. Bending over was almost impossible.

  The wall behind the head of the bed was all mirrored and I took a good look at myself. The bra part of the corset was designed to push my breasts up, but not cover them. My nipples poked out over the lace and ribbons; I was already aroused just contemplating what was in store for my body. The corset did a fine job of making my shape into an hourglass. The rear view was equally erotic as the garment ended just above the swell of my ass.

  I noticed some things on the nightstand. There was a silver hairbrush, which I put to use at once. I took every tangle out of my hair. It seemed to have absorbed the sunlight from our day; golden highlights shone in the soft light of the room. I saw a pearl necklace that I assumed was to be part of my costume and fastened it around my neck. It was made of a dozen strands that hugged my neck like a collar. The matching earrings cascaded all the way to my shoulders. I used the mother-of-pearl hair pin to pull my hair into a loose up-do and loved the elegance it lent to the whole look.

  There was nothing else left to put on. I opened the nightstand drawer. Maybe I would have been better off not knowing what was in there. When I heard the door handle turn, I quickly closed the drawer and sat down on the armchair beside the bed. Trying my best to appear poised and elegant, I watched as Tristan's big frame filled the doorway. He was backlit from the hall and his face was in shadow. He wore a loose pair of drawstring pants and nothing else. I could make out the contours of his hips through the semi sheer dark fabric.

  "You are a portrait of perfection, as I knew you would be." He covered the distance to the chair in a few strides. He took my hands in his and drew me up to stand in front of him. "You see, today you were innocently naked in the sun. Now, with just a few small things . . ." He ran his hand across my nipples and tweaked them to an even tighter peak. "you've become a courtesan."

  Desperate to play his game well, I replied "Here to serve your every need." I reached up to stroke the bulge at his groin but he roughly swatted my hand away.

  "Rules for tonight," he growled. I knew how well he could role play; I'd seen him on stage in front of hundreds of people. I waited. "You don't speak. You don't ask until I tell you to ask. You don't initiate. You take my commands."

  God, what I wanted to do was flop backwards onto the bed and just splay myself open to him. The voice. The fucking voice. I nodded, accepting whatever he had planned for me. All I really hoped was that it would end with his cock buried to the hilt in my body.

  He put his hands on my shoulders and firmly pushed me onto my knees in front of him. Loosening the string on his pants, he dropped them to his feet and kicked them aside. His cock was half erect and growing harder in front of my face.

  "Suck. Suck it hard." He took my head between his hands and brought my mouth toward his groin. I reached up to take him in my hand but he pulled my hand away. He reached down and took my other wrist and pinned both of my arms behind my head. With one hand he restrained me and with the other he brought my chin forward as he entered my mouth.

  He was hot and swollen. At first he guided my head with the hand holding my wrists at the back of my head. The taste of him . . . the smell of his musky male flesh infused my senses. I could feel the slick of my desire slide down my thighs as I pursed my lips around him. When he drew back I heard the pop and smack as the seal of my mouth broke. It was the undeniable sound of sucking, hard and needy sucking, like a hungry animal at a teat.

  He began to thrust deeper into me, moving from side to side, poking his cock against my cheeks. His free hand cupped my cheek, feeling the slide of his glans inside my cheek. I stretched my lips over my teeth and tightened my mouth around his shaft, trying to give him as much sensation as I could deliver.

  "God, yes, you're good. Such sweet service for my cock." He moaned as I pulled harder, pressing my tongue against the veined underside of his member and flicking it back and forth when I found the edge of his crown. He plunged deeper into me and hit the back of my throat. I felt the tears of my gag response at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't want to stop. I swallowed back the sensation and tried to open my throat. I wanted to give him my everything, even as my reflexes rebelled. He pulled away from me. I knew he had sensed that I was trying to do something my body wasn't quite prepared to do.

  "Another time, we'll practice. The porn stars make it look a lot easier than it is." He led me over to the bed and positioned me across the wedge, face down. He turned my face toward the door and placed my hands above my head. "Leave your hands and your head exactly as I've placed them. When I want you to m
ove, I'll tell you. Otherwise, we'll just call this 'voluntary' restraint."

  For a few moments, he didn't touch me at all. He stood at my blind side but I could feel his eyes covering every inch of my flesh. My knees were on the bed and my ass was stuck up into the air. My nipples strained into the bedcovers, knotted in heat. Tristan's hand parted my knees as wide as they would go against the support. I was utterly vulnerable and oddly excited because of it.

  The sound of the drawer opening riveted my attention. I waited in an agony of anticipation for what he would draw from the assortment of toys and instruments I had barely glimpsed. Tristan ran his hands down my thighs, his thumbs massaging strong circles into the taut ribbons of muscle there. When he reached the top, he drew the moisture from the folds of my sex up into the crack of my ass. Wickedly, I hoped he would go there again, claim my dark intimacy as he had before.

  I felt him tickle my very exposed ass with something. Even though I wasn't blindfolded, it was impossible to see exactly what he was doing in the position I was in. It could have been a feather, it could have been the streamers of the small cat-o-nine tail I had spied in the drawer. The answer came in the form of a stinging little smack on one of my ass cheeks. I squeaked, more in surprise than in pain.

  "This is all about sensation, my queen. Trust me. I don't do pain. Not in any real sense, and only to elevate your arousal. Do you understand?"

  I nodded. There wasn't much choice about the trust, anyway. We were alone on a boat halfway around the world from anything I knew. If Tristan wanted to hurt me, it wasn't the physical kind that was my biggest danger.

  My flesh became hot under the slaps of the little flogger. There was a lingering sting, a lot like the feeling I used to get when one of my fellow lifeguards snapped a wet towel on my thighs. When the tickling of the strings returned, it made goose bumps rise on my backside. If I had to say why I found it arousing, it would be because of the element of surprise. That and the fact that I knew this game was turning Tristan on--big time.