Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (97 page)

It took him a few seconds to register what I had done
and what I was doing, but once he did he merely stared. This wasn’t quite
the reaction I wanted, nor did I know what to do next, so I fiddled with the
last button and waited for him to speak.

“Jessika…” His voice trailed off.

“I…” I said. What did I want?
What was this? “I thought we could start the modeling early?”

Stupid! Dumb! Who said that? What I
really thought was that once I’d opened my chemise blouse he might forget the
promise we’d made. Who would see us? We were in complete privacy
now, and while it was only a short ride to his house, as far as I knew, it was
enough. Nothing serious, nothing more than this, but I desperately wanted
him to want me. Irrational, yes, and impossible. I knew that, and
still…

“Oh!” he said, breathing out a sigh of
relief. “Yes. That makes sense. Of course.”

Of course? “So, maybe, should I remove
this?” I asked. Without waiting, I slipped out of my shirt and
tossed it onto the seat next to me. Turning to face him, I inched closer
on the smooth leather. “What else is there?” I asked.
“If these are sexy pictures, I should remove my skirt, too, right?”

Asher was breathing heavily. I watched him, his
chest rising and falling. He swallowed hard and I could see it start at
the top of his throat by his Adam’s apple, slowly trailing downwards towards
his shirt-clad collarbone.

“This isn’t for Playboy,” Asher said with a
hint of amusement. “If those are the types of pictures you want me
to take, I can, but it’s not necessary.”

I unzipped the back of my skirt and scooted out of it,
letting it drop to the floor. “Do you really think I’m sexy?” I
asked him.

“What?” he said.

I was having second thoughts then. A bad time
for it, seeing as I was down to my bra and panties, with the useless addition
of high heels, but the thoughts remained. “I just… Asher… I
don’t think I’m sexy. I really don’t. I don’t think I can do this
properly. The pictures aren’t going to come out any good, no matter
what. And then what? You’re not going to keep them, are you?
I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

Swiftly, surely, he moved close to me. My bare
thigh touched the rough cloth of his pants and he lifted his hand up to grab my
chin. Making me look at him, though I wouldn’t have looked anywhere else,
he leaned forward until our lips almost touched.

“Jessika,” he said to me. “You
are beautiful. You are sexy and amazing and I think every picture I’ve
ever taken will pale in comparison to the ones I’ll take of you. But, if
you really don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you. I want
to, though. I want to do this. I want you,” he said, and my
heart skipped a beat as he paused, “to want this, too.”

He held my chin in his hands, keeping me facing
him. I wanted to look away, to turn my eyes down, to hide from him, but
he forced me to bare his scrutiny. His cool, blue eyes never wavered,
never stopped looking into mine, and I didn’t know if I could stand it much
longer. His lips, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath
tickling along my mouth and down, down, towards my throat. So intimate
and soft, yet demanding and confident all at once.

“Asher…” I said. I didn’t know what
else I would say, but I wanted to feel his name quiver against my lips, to
taste it.

“I would love to keep the pictures,” he
said. “I would like to keep them so I can see them every day and
know that we have made beautiful art together, but they are your pictures and if
you want me to dispose of them afterwards then I can.”

“No!” I said hastily. What was I
saying no to? “I don’t know. What do I do?”

He moved away. So close, and now so far. I
had him for myself, but now I had nothing. He pressed his back against the
car door and stared at me long and hard. I sat there, feeling helpless
under his gaze, not knowing what to do or why I’d started doing this in the
first place.

And then his hands were on me. Without warning,
without asking, he eased my back onto the seat. It was large enough to
fit the both of us, even with me reclining, my upper body prone. I looked
at him, watched him, as he guided me downwards, cradling my shoulders so I
wouldn’t fall. I let him move me and place me as he wanted, all the while
feeling a thrill of pleasure race through my skin at each of his touches.
My heart beat fast, faster.

When he’d finished laying me down, he moved towards my
legs. One he placed against the back of the seat, pulling my foot towards
his crotch. He put my toes in between his legs and pressed them further
so that I could feel the warmth of his rear heating the top of my high
heels. The other leg he pressed towards me so that my heel pressed as
close to my crotch as I could bring it.

“Put your arms up,” Asher said.
“Pretend you’re grabbing your hair, but just reach for it. Barely
touch it with your fingertips.”

“What?” I asked. I was so drunk,
caught up in the heady pleasure of his touches, that I couldn’t understand a
word he said.

He repeated himself, then grinned and showed me an
inkling of what to do.

I did it. I did exactly as he said, and followed
his instructions as completely as I could. My arms bent, elbows pointed
straight up, and my fingers touched my blond hair by my forehead. Asher
looked on, directing me this way and that until he had me in as perfect an
arrangement as he wanted.

“Arch your back,” he said. His hands
reached for my hips and his thumbs pressed into my abdomen by my pubic
bone. Excitement fluttered through my stomach and towards my crotch and
without realizing it my body moved on its own, exactly as he wanted. My
back arched, body attempting to press closer to him, hoping beyond hope that he
might move his fingers lower, into my panties, and…

“Perfect,” Asher said. “This is an
exquisite position. In the car, getting a good picture would be
difficult, but this position is wonderful. You would make a great model,
Jessika. You follow instructions well.”

His praise, his kind words, the fact that he made me
feel sexy beyond belief when I didn’t think I was anything more than average;
it turned me on so much. I needed to refrain myself, though. If I
did, he would touch me more, I knew it. He would show me poses, shape me
as he liked, touch his fingers to my stomach and my legs and my…

His hand caressed the middle of my thigh, easing
towards the waistband of my panties. He brushed his fingers along the
laced cotton cloth of my underwear, then pressed his hand towards the center of
my body. His hand glided across my cotton-covered pussy towards my other
thigh, then up that leg to my knee.

I gasped his name aloud, shivering.
“Asher…”

“That would make a good picture,” he
said. “That area.”

Oh, yes. Yes! That area was
wonderful. I completely agreed with him.

Now his hand moved towards the front of my panties
again, but this time not as low. He tugged at the waistband of my
undergarment and pulled it a little lower, pressing his fingers against the
uppermost part of my pubis. Spreading his fingers so his thumb and pinky
finger reached towards my thighs, he moved his hand upwards across my stomach
and towards my breasts.

“With your back arched,” he said.
“this looks magnificent. You have a very soft stomach. The
slight ‘V’ at the bottom makes the image all the more alluring.”

I arched my back further, trying to make him touch me
more, hoping he would knead his fingers into my sensitive skin. But, he
merely reacted to my movements and moved his fingers away the slightest amount
so that the pressure he applied was always the same.

It was agonizing. I couldn’t stand it.
Here I was in the back seat of his car, like some silly schoolgirl, spread out
and arranged, ready for him to take, and yet there was no “taking”
taking place. Strict, it seemed, and no matter how I squirmed or moved, I
couldn’t sway Asher away from his professionalism.

“Stop squirming,” he commanded.

His hands grabbed my waist and he set me back to where
I was. He held me hard until I stopped moving. But, oh, it was so
difficult. I needed to do it, wanted to please him, and yet the longer he
held me, the more I wanted to move. I wanted to writhe in his grasp and
induce his passions, ruin his austere attitude and see if I could sway him
towards impossible, endless lust.

I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. He waited,
stared at me, held me, and with a quiet whimpering plea as my only means of
complaint, I calmed myself. My lower lip moved out, some ridiculous show
of disappointment, but Asher disregarded it.

I managed to maintain my composure for all of a few seconds
before I lost it again.

To be fair, it wasn’t my fault. Or, not
entirely. Asher shifted his hands from my waist to my bra-clad breasts
and squeezed. My eyes fluttered closed and my hips bucked. The toes
of my foot—the one he’d placed between his crotch—curled and dug into the
leather seat. He squeezed my breasts, massaging them in his hands, toying
with my nipples through the fabric. I let out a gasp that turned into a
moan. Still, despite myself, I tried to maintain the pose he’d set me in.
My arms stayed bent, fingers at my forehead, but this time instead of
pretending to grab my hair, I pulled on it hard.

His hands tickled up the undersides of my arms towards
my elbows, then down towards my wrists. I opened my eyes to look at him
just in time to see his index finger moving closer to my face. Without
knowing why, without being told, I opened my lips slightly and let him put his
finger in my mouth. He pressed his fingertip against my tongue and I
licked and swirled around it in response. My lips closed, puckering,
kissing the sides of his finger, and my tongue went wild.

He watched me intently. My lower body writhed on
the seat of the car and I tried to grind my crotch against his knee, but he
kept moving it away. I attempted to suck his finger in further, to entice
him into something more, but he kept pulling it away. I lifted my head,
leaning forwards, but still he eluded me.

Then he pulled me up off the seat. His finger
popped out of my mouth and his hand reached behind my back, pulling me
forward. His other hand grabbed my rear and he lifted me into his
lap. I sat there with one knee pressed against the crotch of his pants,
that foot dangling below the front of the seat, and my other leg bent and
pressing against his hip, my shin touching warm leather. He pulled me
closer, his hand cupping my rear and squeezing hard while his other hand
reached around towards the clasp of my bra, pressing me forward so my chest
rubbed against his shirt.

“Put one arm around my neck,” he said.

As fast as possible, I did as he asked. My hand
cupped the back of his neck, my arm resting on his shoulder.
“Yes,” I said.

“Your other hand,” he said, breathing
heavily. “Touch my upper arm. By my bicep.”

I did. I squeezed his arm tight, pulled myself
forward. I needed and wanted him so badly. I ground my crotch
against his thigh, up and down, blazing a trail for my pleasure. Asher
squeezed my ass harder, pulling me closer so that I couldn’t grind against him
as easily, but oh, oh I tried. Back and forth, rubbing, desperately
desiring him.

The car came to a stop. No interruptions,
though. Jeremy, the driver, parked the car, turned it off, opened the
door, stepped out, closed the door, then left. I waited, pausing,
thinking Asher and I would be interrupted at any moment and having no idea how
to explain this to anyone, but none of that happened.

I breathed in and out quietly then looked at him, a
faint smirk on my face. I’d won, hadn’t I? We were alone now,
completely alone, and he had me in a compromising position. So easy, he
could do with me what he wanted and I would never object and no one would ever
know.

Except he didn’t. He looked at me,
smiling. “You’re a wonderful model, but you move too much,
Jessika. Also,” he added, “I wish I could take a picture of you
in this position, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.”

I looked down. I couldn’t see everything, but…
my fucking god, this was erotic!

I didn’t have a perfect body, far from it, but I did
try to keep in shape. My soft stomach looked so flat like this as he held
onto my rear with one hand and made me arch my back with the other. My
thighs were curvy and seductive, one of them curled against the side of his
body while the other pressed into his crotch. And my arms, my chest; we
looked like a couple in the midst of intimacy. Now we should get
intimate, I thought. I was no photographer, but we should take advantage
of this opportunity presented to us, right?

Asher lifted me off his lap and dumped me on the
seat. With a pleasant smile, he opened the door to the car and let
himself out. I sat there, staring at him, dumbfounded. Was this
really happening?

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” I said. Yes, yes, I was
coming. I looked around, found my clothes, and scrambled to put them back
on.

“No need,” he said. “We’re in a
garage. No one is around. It’ll be easier to resume modeling if you
remain like that. Those are the kind of pictures you want, right?”