Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (98 page)

Did I? To be honest, I didn’t even want pictures
at all. I wanted him to undress me, touch me, explore me with his fingers
so I could leave a lasting impression in his mind. I wanted him to
picture me, us, all of it together, but I didn’t necessarily want him to take
pictures of me. I didn’t
not
want him to, but…

“Yes,” I said. Clutching my clothes
against my chest, I slid across the seat towards the open car door and the
garage.

Just as Asher said, no one was here. Jeremy left
to who knew where, and besides that the garage was dim and empty. A
smaller building that could fit three cars at the most, with smooth concrete
floors and a pair of fluorescent lights overhead. My high heels clicked
on the floor when I first stepped out of the car. Asher offered me his
hand to help me stand and I took it with a smile.

He pulled me towards him, leading me to the doorway
into the house. His guest house, he said. When we entered, it
looked exactly, and nothing, like I imagined.

A guest house, in my mind, was a smaller affair.
Perhaps a main room with a kitchen to the side, then stairs leading up to a
bedroom or two. Modest, and simple, for the comfort of guests.
Asher’s guest house was far more extravagant than that. I expected this,
figured it would be that way, but it still came as somewhat of a surprise.

The first floor, the door we entered through, was a
large, wide open living room-styled area. The walls were close to
nonexistent(at least in a typical sense), with windows that went from floor to
ceiling, save for a few scant inches of actual solid wall at the very tops and
bottoms. In front of us, built into the only regular wall, was a
fireplace. Unlit now, but upon seeing me staring at it, Asher flicked a
switch on the wall and the hearth flared to life. Gas-powered flames
roared up out of a heap of faux-logs, dancing back and forth behind shaded
glass.

In front of the hearth was a sofa. Or, somewhat
of a sofa. I had a couch back at my apartment, but this thing was about
four times as big. It curled into a “U” shape at the ends,
making the middle of the living room into more of an intimate gathering place
for a small group of people. Then the kitchen, to the sides, with a small
dining area past that. And stairs, of course, that must lead to bedrooms
on the second floor, but would we go that far?

Could we go that far? I really wanted to know
how to arrive at that answer.

Before I knew what was going on, Asher picked me
up. He held me in his arms, one hand behind my shoulders with the other
under the crook of my knees, and carried me towards his sofa. Dropping me
onto it, he held up a finger and told me to wait.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“I’m going to get my camera.”

I nodded, dumbstruck, staring at him,
open-mouthed. When he left, I continued staring, but managed to turn my
attention towards the fireplace.

We weren’t in the city anymore. I could tell as
much by looking through the glass walls. Asher’s guest house had a
magnificent view, with a hill sloping downwards and the clear horizon directly
in front of me. Looking lower towards the bottom of the hill, I saw the
city in the distance. Not too far, but far enough to look small. I
lived there, I knew, but from this vantage point it looked like an entirely
different place. Unrecognizable. It wasn’t late enough for it, not
yet, but with sun crawling downwards from its peak, in a few more hours, if I
stayed here until then, I imagined I’d have the most beautiful view of the
sunset.

Asher returned with his camera, holding it up for me
to see. It was a newer model, but that was all I knew from looking at
it. Fancy, probably, because I doubted he would spare any cost on
something he enjoyed. If I could afford to, I’d do the same. I’d
buy books, a huge library, sit in there for hours at a time, reading.
Curling into a chair while wearing a bathrobe and sipping at a cup of hot
cocoa, and…

“Shall we get started?” Asher asked.

I turned shy again. I’d just modeled for him in
his car, sort of, and now I didn’t know how to do it. I technically knew,
of course, but now he was actually going to snap pictures, so it wasn’t at all
the same. I tried explaining that to him.

“I don’t know how,” I said, my voice timid.

Asher smiled at me. “Just do exactly as I
say,” he said.

I nodded, scared. I would do this.

“Lean back on the sofa,” he said.
“Put your elbows down so you’re resting on them. Lift both your legs
and rest them on the back of the sofa.”

I did as he asked, but I didn’t think this was
sexy. I wasn’t doing it right, I knew that, but I also didn’t know how to
do it right, either.

Asher stepped forward. He showed me where to put
my elbows, and he ran his fingers along my chest towards my stomach. He
meant to show me how he wanted my body to curve, I thought, but his touch
distracted me. Moving one of my feet, he set it close to where I’d
originally rested it on the sofa’s back, but he bent my other leg so my knee
was closer to my stomach, albeit a foot or so higher. As a finishing
touch, he placed his hand on my chin and made me face him.

“Give me your sexiest look,” he said.
Before I could complain, he added, “Don’t think about it, Jessika.
Close your eyes, look down, part your lips. Think of something. It
can be anything, but think of something that makes you smolder inside.”

I did it. I closed my eyes and parted my lips
and let my mind wander. I thought of him and his office and his private
meeting room table. I thought of his fingers slipping inside me, so
smooth and easy, and my body melting as he manipulated me with his hands.
I thought of the restaurant, The Simple Path, and his foot pressing against my
panty-covered crotch, teasing my arousal-slick folds. The car, his lap,
my body grinding and pressing against him, wanting him.

Click. Click. Click.

He took pictures, but I was so far out of it and lost
in my imagination that I didn’t realize it at first. I leaned back,
moving my elbows, but still the camera clicked away. Different spots,
different angles. Asher moved my feet downwards onto the couch and I
spread them slightly. He came in closer, took pictures of different
areas, at different angles, but I kept my eyes closed the entire time.

“Wonderful,” he said. “You’re
beautiful, Jessika.”

He moved my hands towards my panties, placing my
fingers along the sides of my pubis, underneath the fabric of my
underwear. Click. Click. With my eyes still closed, because I
wanted to keep them that way, he asked me to stand and do more poses for
him. My thumb pulled at the side of my panties waistband in some
provocative display of near removal, and he captured pictures of that,
too. From the front, and behind, the sides.

He led me towards the fire, then had me sit on the
plush, shaggy rug in front of it. I opened my eyes then, looking at him.

“Am I really sexy?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said sincerely. “You
are.”

I laid down on the rug, feeling calm and more
relaxed. Staring at him, I posed of my own accord now. I bent my
knees up and spread my legs and he took pictures of my stomach and my crotch
and my breasts. I tugged at my panties, moving them to make the pictures
more erotic and teasing. He took pictures of everything I did.

And then I pulled my panties more, lifting my rear and
slipping them up my legs, to my knees, and then down. I let the image of
my bare pussy sink in, noting the clicks of the camera becoming less and less,
more sporadic. I kicked away my underwear, watching it land at the side
of the hearth.

“Jessika…” he said. “We
can’t…”

“Shh.” I didn’t want to ruin this, but
I needed it so badly. “Keep taking pictures.”

He waited, paused, and then continued. I spread
my lower lips with my fingers and he clicked away with the camera. I
doubted he had this in mind when we started, and I knew I sure didn’t, but it
seemed so right. He moved closer, closer.

“You’re so sexy,” he said. “Yes,
like that. That’s wonderful. Amazing.”

While he captured my lower body in his erotic
pictures, I kicked off my high heels and undid my bra, tossing it as close to
my panties as possible. The rest of my clothes lay in a forgotten pile on
his sofa.

He moved closer, then closer. I inched towards
him, slowly, careful. As he took pictures of my calves and feet, I lifted
my upper body off the floor and reached for his pants. He stopped taking
pictures then.

He nearly dropped the camera, but caught it before he
did and then placed it on the floor next to him. Grabbing my hands away
from his pants, he stared at me. “We can’t,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” I said simply.
“I want you to take pictures.”

Asher furrowed his brow, confused. “I don’t
understand.”

“Let me show you?” I pleaded with him
with my eyes.

He hesitated, then said, “Alright.”

He watched me carefully as I unbuckled his belt and
pulled it away. Next I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them.
Asher stared, carefully, as if I were teaching him some new form of
photography. The final step was inside his boxers. I snaked my hand
through the front of his underwear and pulled out his manhood. He stayed
there, on his knees, completely still.

When I freed him from his boxers, he was fully
erect. His shaft bobbed up and down in front of me, thick and long and
wonderfully delicious looking. I wanted him so very very much, and yet I
didn’t know what to say to make him mine. I just hoped that maybe I could
convince him to want to make me his instead. It seemed easier that way.

“Closer,” I said. “Right
here.” I spread my legs wide apart and patted a spot on the rug
between them.

Asher moved forwards, slow and steady.
“Jessika…”

“Don’t forget the camera,” I added.

Confused and cautious, he picked up the camera while
inching towards me.

When he was close enough, I carefully touched the
sides of his cock with my fingers. I lifted my lower body up with my legs
and guided him towards my slick folds. He started to back away.
“No,” I said, more calmly than I felt. “Watch. Just
look.”

That convinced him somehow. I don’t know how or
why, but he stopped moving away. I angled him towards me, his erection
pressing against my slit, and inched closer to him so that he barely penetrated
me.

The contradictions flaring through my brain were impossibly
difficult to deal with. I wanted to sheath him inside me, press him all
the way in, but I knew if I did this would end faster than it started.
Instead, forcing myself to endure this erotic teasing, I looked at him and
nodded.

“Take pictures,” I said. “Is it a
nice shot?”

Asher swallowed. He looked as if his throat were
suddenly dry and he wanted to get up and get a glass of water, but he didn’t
move away from me. Camera in hand, he aimed it downwards towards where he
and I connected. Click.

He moved to different angles, up, down, a bit to the
side. Click. Click. Click.

“These are very sexy pictures,” he
said. “Hold still. Don’t move.”

I wouldn’t have moved, but he didn’t give me a chance
not to, either. Thrusting forward, only an inch or so, he buried a little
more of his shaft inside me. I gasped and my hips bucked as I accepted
him in me. Click. Click. Click.

He held the camera in one hand now, inched forward
more. His cock slid into me, tantalizingly slow. Further.
Click. In. Click.

He was fully in me now, all of the way.
Click. I’d closed my eyes and I hadn’t heard a click in awhile. My
inner walls clenched against his throbbing erection, squeezing him hard, but I
tried to lay there, calm and professional.

I opened my eyes and looked up. Asher loomed
over me, still wearing his shirt. His pants were undone only enough to
unleash his cock, but with that inside me, invisible to the outside eye, he
looked fully clothed. I, on the other hand, wore nothing.

I looked at him and he looked at me. Something
was missing, and it took me awhile to figure out what. The camera; he’d
placed it off to the side. He stared at me for a moment after my
realization, and then he began.

His hips rolled back as he moved his erection out of
me. I thought this was it, he was done and we would cease our illicit
coupling immediately, but then he pressed back in. Watching me the entire
time, looking for a reaction, when I didn’t complain or say anything, Asher
took it a step further.

He moved out faster this time, then back in.
Out, then in. After a few goes at it, he thrust into me hard, pressing me
roughly against the carpet.

I wrapped my arms around his back and my legs around
his waist, pulling him further into me. “Asher,” I whispered
into his ear. “Asher, I want you.”

“Jessika, we can’t do this,” he said, almost
a growl. Despite his words, he slammed his cock hard into me.
“This isn’t right.”