The Nanny (A Billionaire Romance)

by Naomi Niles

  A sigh of gratitude pushed from my lungs as he filled me, finally satisfying the carnal need I had to be fucked by him. Floating freely in the air, suspended by the soft straps of the swing, I marveled at the sensation as he began to thrust. Deeper and harder and faster and stronger. His massive dick plowed into me, making my tits bounce and my legs pump in the air.

  My orgasm came quickly and powerfully, making me scream out in passion. The sound of my voice echoed off the walls of his enclosed sex room, but I was so overcome by pleasure, I couldn't quiet them.

  As the waves of my orgasm began to ebb, Tate moved around behind me. He reached up and pulled on the straps of the swing holding my upper body. Suddenly, without warning, I fell forward towards the ground, pivoting at the waist. I was terrified that my face would smack against the hard floor, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I screamed out in terror.

  Suddenly, I pulled up short. I was no longer falling forward, but I hadn't hit the ground, either. The straps of the swing wound around my waist still held me suspended in the air, along with the ones wound around my thighs and ankles.

  I opened my eyes to see my face was a foot above the ground. I stretched my arms above my head, and I could touch the floor, bracing myself against it. The lower half of my body was now above me, with my ass high in the air, and my legs bent forward as if I were sitting upside down in a chair.

  Tate was behind me, caressing my clit with his fingers.

  "Did you like that?" he asked me.

  "You scared me," I confessed.

  "Good. Fear makes the muscles tight. All the muscles." He slid his fingers up inside my pussy, making it clear exactly which muscles he was talking about, and I moaned with pleasure at the feel. He was right. I did feel tighter down there, making me even sensitive to his touch.

  "I like to fuck a woman when she is in fear. It heightens the pleasure and makes the orgasms even more powerful. Can I fuck you while you're in fear?" His voice was a husky growl, almost animalistic.

  "Yes," I whispered. I was unsure what he had in mind, but I was intrigued, and I trusted him completely. Tate wouldn't hurt me. Nothing he'd done to me so far had been dangerous or painful. Sure he had startled me, but it had been thrilling and perfectly safe.

  Besides, he had been right. My pussy did feel tighter when he caressed it with his finger, and I longed to see what it would feel like to be fucked by him with adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  "Good. I was hoping you'd say that." He walked around behind me so I could no longer see him.

  Feeling nervous, I giggled and said, "You don't need my permission. After all, I couldn't stop you even if I didn't want you to."

  "That's true." Suddenly, he pulled a hood over my face. I gasped in surprise in terror. It was black, and I couldn't see a thing except for some rays of light at the center. It was hard to breathe, and although I wanted to scream, I was afraid to use up my oxygen.

  I reached up to pull the hood off my head, but Tate grabbed my arms by the wrists and yanked them painfully behind me. I felt him latch something hard onto my tender wrists, binding them together behind my back, and I guessed correctly that they were handcuffs.

  Suspended upside down, blinded by the suffocating mask, my hands bound behind me, my ass in the air, and my legs bound in the straps of the swing, I was truly helpless. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard, I thought it might burst, but there was another emotion, too: arousal. My nipples tingled and my pussy pulsed. I could feel Tate standing beside me and yearned for him to fuck me, now more than ever.

  He put his hands on the hood and moved it around, adjusting it on my head. I quickly discovered the rays of light were coming from two eye holes and as he adjusted the mask, he fit the eyeholes over my face so that at long last I was no longer blind. I could see him standing before me, with an evil grin on his face.

  "Are you afraid?" he asked me, and I nodded my head.

  "Yes." My voice was muffled through the cloth of the hood.

  "Good. You should be. You're mine, and I can do things to you now; whatever I want." He went behind me, out of my limited field of vision. He gripped my hips, and I abruptly felt him enter my wet slot from behind. He slammed into me hard, ramming me deeply with forceful thrusts, as if trying to punish me.

  My heart was pounding with fear, and my pussy was tight and so very wet. My breathing turned to rapid panting, made difficult by the suffocating mask. I was coming. It was the most incredible orgasm of my life, powerful and all-consuming.

  Tate's hands slid up my body, gripping my ribcage, then fondling my breasts. He gave each of my nipples a painful pinch, making me cry out into the mask. The pain sent waves of intense pleasure shocking through my body, and still he was pounding into me, slamming his cock into my raw pussy like a ramrod.

  Then, suddenly, his hands slid up to my neck. They closed over my throat and began to squeeze. I was terrified and thrilled. Erotic asphyxiation – I'd heard of this kinky taboo, but I'd never experienced it.

  Tate's hands closed tighter and tighter around my throat, cutting off my air supply and making it even harder for me to breathe. If he kept this up, it would soon be impossible. I realized I was in real danger of being strangled to death, and no one would ever know. My body would never be found hidden in this little sex dungeon. I would have disappeared just like the nanny before Rose, strangled to death just like Rose may have been.

  This was crazy talk. Rose may not have even have been strangled. Tate said the police thought she died of blunt force trauma, and that would leave blood. Rose's body had been found in Tate's bedroom, right outside this secret dungeon, and there were no traces of blood, at all.

  I closed my eyes, concentrating on the moment I was in. Tate's hands kept squeezing my throat, his cock was pounding into my slick cunt, and wave after wave of the most incredible orgasm was crashing over me, threatening to drown me. This moment was surreal, and I could hardly believe it was really happening to me.

  I opened my eyes, peering through the two holes in the hood that covered my face. Staring down at the gray cement floor of the sex dungeon, my eyes suddenly focused on something surprising. Could I really be seeing what I think I am? With my body moving in the swing form the force of Tate's thrusts, it was hard to focus. I had to wait for it come back into view, but when it did, I saw that I had not been mistaken.

  Blood. There were three very tiny drops of blood splattered on the cement floor beneath the swing. They were so small, I hadn’t noticed them before, but I saw them now, and there could be no mistake.

  Tate's hands continued to close even tighter over my throat, cutting off my scream of terror just as it rose from my lips. Rose had died in there, and Tate was the killer. I would be next, and no one would ever know.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Rachelle

  I woke up the next morning lying naked in my bed, unsure if what had happened had been a dream. My pussy was still wet, and my limbs were sore. I rubbed my wrists and saw a faint bruise where I'd strained against the handcuffs, and I knew it had all been real.

  Getting slowly out of bed, I climbed into the shower and turned on the hot spray, letting the water wash away the fluids of last night. How had it all happened?

  I remembered going to Tate Holland's bedroom suite, still wearing the dress and stockings I wore for my job as nanny to his daughter. He had invited me there, but I had been feeling nervous. It was the first time I'd ever been to his private bedroom. All the other times we'd had sex had been in his home office, but this was supposed to be a celebration.

  Police Detective Mitch Miller had conducted a forensics investigation of fiber samples from Tate's bedroom carpet, trying to determine where Rose Landon had been murdered, and the results had come up inconclusive. This had been good news for Tate, and he told me Detective Miller would be certain to drop the case against him soon.

  The sex swing I had ended up in turned out to be even more incredible than I had dreamed. When Tate set me on the seat and secured the straps ar
ound my waist, arms, and legs, I'd been a little wary, but the moment I felt his mouth and hands on my body, all my reservations melted away.

  The things Tate did to me on that swing were pure physical pleasure. I'd never come as hard in my life as when he was fucking me from behind while I was suspended in the air. My orgasm was so powerful, I thought I had gone to heaven.

  Then, he put that hood over my head, terrifying me, and yet increasing the pleasure I felt. Tate had been right when he said fear served to enhance sexual pleasure to greater heights. When he put his hands around my throat while fucking me from behind as I was hanging upside down in the swing, things got even more intense.

  I couldn't stop coming as my orgasm reached unbelievable heights. I’d closed my eyes and wondered if I would pass out from the pleasure. When I opened them again, that's when I saw it: three tiny red specks splattered on the floor beneath the swing. The patch of carpet was slightly different, as if someone had replaced a segment of it with a similar brand. The carpet wasn't what concerned me, however; it was the reddish-brown spots.

  There was no doubt about it; they were definitely blood. I thought they must have been from Rose Landon. The police had said that her cause of death was either blunt trauma or asphyxiation, and here I was being strangled by Tate during sex, in a game of auto-erotic asphyxiation, and the blood on the floor could easily have resulted from blunt trauma.

  I had screamed into the hood that covered my face, but the sound was too muffled for anyone to hear. I was terrified that I was bound in the hands of a murderer, about to suffer the same fate as Rose. Tate had strangled and beaten her, I was sure of it. Pure fear ran through my veins as he fucked me, heightening my orgasm to impossible heights. Every nerve in my body exploded with erotic pleasure as I spasmed in the confines of the swing.

  Tate shuddered and groaned as we climaxed as one. His hands released my throat and pulled the hood from my face, gently wiping the sweat from my brow.

  "Are all right?" he asked. "I wasn't too rough with you, was I?"

  "No," I said honestly, after a moment’s consideration. He hadn't hurt me in any way. I had no bruises or pain; just the fear in my mind of an imagined crime of which I had no proof.

  He released my wrists from the cuffs that bound my hands behind my back and undid the straps of the swing. Setting me gently on a padded chair, he handed me a bottle of cool water.

  "Drink it slowly. It's important to keep hydrated so you don't become sore in the morning." I took the bottle with shaky hands and sipped it carefully.

  Tate smiled down at me and said, "You were incredible. The best sex I've ever had with a nanny. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did."

  "You could have killed me," I dared to say, but Tate chuckled softly.

  "I was monitoring your pulse and breathing very carefully to make sure you could breathe properly. You were never in any danger. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say you had the best orgasm of your life."

  My cheeks flushed. He knew me so well; there was no point in denying it. Blushing, I whispered, "I did."

  "Good. Then my plan to give you a celebration gift worked. I just hope I didn't scare you too badly. I wanted to enhance your sexual experience, but I would never cause you real harm. I hope you know that."

  He was kind, and his hazel green eyes gazed at me with such tenderness, I felt like a fool for ever thinking he could hurt anyone and pushed my lingering doubts aside.

  When my water was finished, he had carried me to my bed and gently tucked me under the covers. He kissed me tenderly on the forehead, and then he was gone. I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep and didn't wake until morning.

  Now, I didn't know what to think. Is he a killer or was I just being paranoid last night? Being kinky didn't make him a criminal, but I'd be a fool to ignore the red flags.

  Tate was such a strange and mysterious man, and he liked having things his own way. Like the contract he'd made me sign, agreeing to have sex with him whenever he wanted. It was no secret he'd had the same arrangement with Rose. He also had the requirement for a dress code that made me easily accessible for whenever he wanted to fuck me.

  Now, he'd taken me to a secret room the police knew nothing about. Rose had been found murdered just a few feet from that secret room, but because there were no traces of blood in his room, they knew she had been killed someplace and moved there. They just couldn't figure out where she had been murdered. The forensic tests of the carpet in his room had been inconclusive, but the patch of carpet under his swing was different and been recently cut out and replaced. Was that because she'd been killed there?

  As kind as Tate was, and as much pleasure as he brought me, I hated to think of him as a murderer, but I couldn't ignore the possibility.

  Tate used to fuck Rose like he fucked me. So, maybe he used to play with her on that same sex swing. If he had, maybe things had gone wrong. Maybe there had been an accident, and he hadn't meant to kill her. Or what if it hadn't been an accident at all, and he was far more twisted and violent than anyone would have thought? Was the blood hers? Had he killed her?

  There was no way for me to know without asking Tate directly, and I refused to do that. What if I was wrong? He would know that I didn't trust him, and it would jeopardize my job.

  Even worse, what if I was right? That was the one thing I didn't want to know. So, I would take my doubts and bury them deep inside me – and never think of those blood stains again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Tate

  "You wanted to see me?" Rachelle stuck her head in my office door early Friday afternoon. Her pale blonde hair was done up in a neat bun, making a nice change from her usual ponytail. She was wearing a simple black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees and a light blue blouse that perfectly matched the shade of her eyes. A pair of black leather sandals with a low heel and some blue beaded jewelry completed the look of feminine grace.

  "Yes, Rachelle. Please sit down." I waved her in from where I sat working at my desk in my mansion office. I was wearing a light gray suit tailored by Dolce and Gabbana and a blue tie. My dark brown hair was combed back, and my hazel green eyes danced merrily as she came in the door looking beautiful and sexy as always.

  Glancing at my watch, I realized Halle must be down for her afternoon nap. Rachelle used to stop by my office so we could talk during that time of day, but she hadn't for the past couple of days. She also started eating all her meals in the nursery with Halle, instead of down in the dining room with me.

  At first, I wondered if she was avoiding me, but that was ridiculous. We'd had such a good time the other night with my sex swing; why would she suddenly want to avoid me? I told myself she just must be really busy. Halle could be a handful – there was no doubt about that.

  So, this morning when I stopped by the nursery to check on them, I asked Rachelle to come see me when she had the chance. From her welcome appearance, I guessed that time was now.

  "I'll stand, thank you." I was thrown by the inexplicable rejection. My displeasure must have shown on my face, for she quickly added, "Halle isn't fully asleep for her nap yet. She might wake up, and I want to be by the door, so I can hear her."

  "Of course." I smiled. It explained why she was hovering by the exit, but not why she'd been avoiding me.

  Perhaps she hadn't enjoyed the sex swing as much as I’d thought, but that was impossible. I'd felt her climax, not just once or twice that night, but multiple times. Powerful orgasms that had stolen her breath away and made her shudder. No, she had enjoyed herself. She must be stressed about something, but what?

  "How are things going?" I asked her, casually.

  "Good. Halle can spell both her first and last name now and count to twenty." Rachelle lifted her chin with pride as she boasted of her student's accomplishments, and I felt the same emotion swelling in my heart.

  Before Halle had been born, I'd been selfish and self-centered. Now, I felt awed by my daughter's every accomplishment and thought no one had ever bee
n more gifted. It was funny how much she had changed my life. She made me humble and grateful. She was a true blessing. Now I wanted to share my fortunes with others like Rachelle and make her as happy as I was, but I needed to know what was bothering her first before I could fix it.

  Smiling at Rachelle, I said, "That's terrific, but I meant how are things with you?"

  "I'm fine," she said, but her eyes betrayed her, making the lie obvious.

  "Any more trouble with Emma? I had a talk with her, letting her know that she could be replaced if she can't keep from gossiping at work."

  "I know. She wasn't happy that I had told you about what she said, but she hasn't been bothering me. In fact, I never see her anymore. She must have changed her schedule specifically to avoid me."

  I wanted to say something snide then about how Rachelle had been doing the same thing to me, but I refrained.

  "How's your mother?" I asked instead.

  "Good. Her oncologist put her on an aggressive new treatment. It's experimental, but it seems to be working. Her numbers are improving. It just takes a lot out of her, and her nurse, Julie, says she sleeps a lot. It's a relief to know that she'd improving, though, so my time working away from her feels worth it."

  So that isn't it, either. Her gaze wandered to the window, and her breath caught as she stared out at the trees, and I saw her sigh wistfully. She'd been cooped up in the house since her trip to the mall. It must be difficult for a young woman who was used to being so free. Suddenly, I had an idea.

  "I've been thinking about taking Halle out this weekend," I said, trying to seem casual.

  "What about the lockdown?"

  "My security team tells me the paparazzi are no longer hiding out around the house. Apparently, some actress is having an affair with a married actor, and the paparazzi are now chasing them. We should be safe to leave the house again, so I'm lifting the lockdown."