The Billionaire’s Pet (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) Read online

  I pulled my knees up around his phantom body and the imitation of sex, the familiar touch of my hand between my legs as the thought of Jacob set off my brewing orgasm. Pleasure flowed through my body, erasing the stress of the day, the fear, the uncertainty, and the sheer exhaustion of worry. The physical release of the fantasy combined with the reality of being in Jacob's home washed me clean. I dried my wet fingers on the robe, suddenly too tired to even think about getting up. Pulling the thick duvet over me, I rolled over and let sleep take me under.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  I woke from a dreamless sleep to an itchy tickle between my shoulder blades. Sprawled on my stomach, the robe twisted out of place, I was acutely aware that I was not alone in the dark room. I had no idea what time it was, but I felt like I'd been asleep for hours. The blinds in the guest room were closed, the heavy drapes still drawn as I'd left them before my nap. Weak, gray light leaked in around the edges, suggesting it was either early evening, or I'd slept straight through until morning. I didn't feel rested enough to have slept all night, so it must have been option number one.

  If I rolled over, I knew I would see him. Jacob. Watching me sleep. My stomach turned with anticipation and dread. This was the beginning. The interview in his office, and the blow job, had been nothing more than an appetizer. Now it was real. I was in his home, and he was waiting for me to wake up and begin serving him. With a deep breath for courage, I rolled over, searching for his tall form in the dark room.

  He stood at the end of the bed facing me, his hands tucked into his pockets. I didn't need to see his face clearly to feel the weight of his silver gaze. Tension strung tight in the room. Whatever was going to happen next, it was safe to say Jacob was not as relaxed as his stance implied. Ignoring the flutters in my stomach, I pushed free of the duvet and sat up, reaching for the light on the nightstand.

  "Leave it off," he said. "Come with me."

  I rolled out of the bed and followed him through the dark room, tightening the belt on my robe as I walked, aware it was a futile gesture since he was probably about to order me to strip naked. Jacob led me down the long hall, back into the main living space of the penthouse. When we reached the comfortable sitting area in front of his flat screen TV, he gestured at the couch for me to sit down. I followed his direction, not sure exactly what he wanted and not ready to piss him off. Jacob took a seat in a leather armchair facing the couch. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and studied me, a faint smirk on his face.

  "Sleep well?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said, uncertain what he wanted.

  "Good." Jacob nodded, the smirk blooming into a full smile. "Did I remember to tell you that there are cameras in every room of the penthouse?"

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Cameras? In every room? The only reason he would bother to mention them now was if he'd been watching me. And if he'd been watching me, he'd seen what I'd done. Seen me touching myself. Watched me make myself come. As fast as my face had paled, I flushed a deep, hot red. I wasn't a child. I'd made myself come before, but never for an audience. Especially not one I didn't know was there.

  "No, you didn't tell me." Despite my raging embarrassment, I did what I always did when I was confused. I straightened my spine, cleared all expression from my face, and gave Jacob a cool smile. "I'll keep it in mind for the future."

  "Did I also forget to tell you that you belong to me?"

  "No, I understood that," I said.

  "Then I must have neglected to inform you that I don't just own your body. I own everything about you. Including your pleasure. So when you made yourself come without my permission, you stole from me."

  "Jacob," I began.

  "Quiet." He sat forward in the chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, eyes intent on my face. "Stand up. Take off the robe."

  It didn't occur to me to disobey. His voice had a physical presence, heavy and solid, demanding complete obedience. You would think, after the life I'd lived with the Jordan family, I would balk at being told what to do. Oddly, coming from Jacob, the orders were a relief. After so much confusion and fear, there was something freeing about knowing exactly what I should do.

  Wobbling just a little, I came to my feet, my hands working the knot of the belt. I'd tied it tight as I'd walked down the hall, and it took me a minute to loosen the fabric. As soon as I had it free, I shrugged the thick terrycloth robe off my shoulders, leaving me naked to Jacob's hot gaze. Even as my cheeks flamed, my nipples hardened into two tight points. I was wet. Again. Or still. It was hard to tell, but standing in front of Jacob bare ass naked was definitely a turn-on. The grin melted from his face, leaving only a serious, set expression.

  "Another thing I may not have explained adequately," he said. "Is that when you disobey me, you will be punished."

  My throat suddenly bone dry, I had no idea what to say to that. I couldn't say 'no'. Besides, my body was thinking something more like 'yes, please'.

  "Come here."

  I crossed the room to Jacob slowly, not sure if I hung back out of apprehension or to build my growing sense of anticipation. From the way he was sitting, knees together on the edge of the chair, I had the feeling I was about to get an old-fashioned spanking. I didn't have the time to wonder how I felt about that. Seconds after his command, I stood before him.

  When he took my hand and pulled me down, draping me over his knees, I gave him no resistance. His legs were hard muscle under my stomach, my breasts pressed to the side of his thigh. His hand on my back made me jump, and I heard a chuckle from above me. Long fingers smoothed over my spine, spreading tingles of heat. Without warning, he dipped two fingers between my legs, going straight for my wet pussy.

  "Fuck, you're soaked. Is this from before or now?"

  "Both," I said. Jacob drove his fingers deep inside, twisting them, stretching me. I'd been right. If his fingers were almost too much to take, his cock really was going to feel like getting fucked for the first time. Just as I was getting used to his fingers inside me, he slid them out, raised his hand, and smacked his palm against my ass.

  I squealed. The sound was high-pitched and embarrassing, but I couldn't have stopped it. The first smack was followed by a second, and a third in rapid succession. His skin against mine stung, then burned, my tender flesh unused to such abuse. He didn't count, didn't ask me to keep count. He just smacked my ass over and over, moving his hand from one side to the other, first low, then high, so that he always had a fresh target.

  My emotions tangled in my chest as I tried to process what was happening. This was supposed to be a punishment. And in a way, it was. God knew, it hurt like hell. But I'd felt pain before, and this was no regular pain. This pain was alive. Strongest in the reddened skin of my ass, it spread through my body, somehow both sensitizing and numbing all my nerves. After the first few shocking spanks, my brain relaxed. Every strike hurt, but once I got used to it, with each touch of his palm to my skin, I felt a surge of desire between my legs.

  I squirmed against him, not sure if I wanted to get closer or get away from his relentless punishment. One of my nipples scraped the upholstery of the chair, sending a desperate flare of pleasure through my body. A tiny, panicked voice in the back of my brain was begging, 'please, stop', 'please, let me go', but I kept my mouth shut. Partly because this was the deal that I'd made. Jacob owned me. If he wanted to spank me for masturbating, that was his right. I'd given it to him willingly, and it was a far better deal than what I would have gotten from my father-in-law. But the real reason I didn't ask him to stop? It was because every time he smacked me, it made me want him more. The pain tangled with need, tangled with pictures in my head of Jacob pushing me to the floor, coming down on top of me, and fucking my brains out.

  After an undetermined amount of time, he stopped. One arm lay tight across my back, pinning me in place. With his other hand, the hand he'd used to spank me, he rubbed light, soothing circles across the sore skin of my
ass. I froze, waiting. Was he done? Was that it? The punishment had short-circuited something in my brain. That tiny part of me that hadn't liked it was relieved. But the rest of me was mystified at how I'd given myself over to him. If I'd been wet before, now I was dripping. Every time my thighs rubbed together, I felt trails of moisture running down toward my knees. It was insane. I'd never, ever in my life been this wet. Been this desperate.

  In a way, it wasn't that hard to understand. I'd always had a crush on Jacob, had fantasies about him for years, and I'd spent those years in a loveless and somewhat scary marriage. I wasn't confused about being attracted to Jacob. There'd been a time or two, at a boring party after too much champagne, when just watching Jacob got me a little wet. But the spanking part—I didn't know what to make of that.

  I'd only been struck a handful of times in my life, those few by my father-in-law, and I had not enjoyed it. I understood that getting hit by Big John was not the same thing as a naked spanking from Jacob. Still, Jacob had draped me over his knees, stark naked, and he'd smacked my ass until it burned with pain. So why had I liked it so much? And there was no question that I had liked it. Even if I tried to pretend I hadn't, my pussy gave me away.

  As if he read my mind, Jacob stopped his soothing strokes and moved his hand between my legs. It was embarrassing that he didn't even need to get close to my pussy to feel my need for him. He traced his fingertips up and down my inner thighs, running them through the slick moisture. I trembled, my lips falling open, ready to beg. Forget that I had come only hours before. It was like that release had never happened.

  As he touched me, skating his fingertips around but never actually on my pussy, I became aware of the hard bar of his cock pressing into my stomach. It was a relief and a promise. He had to fuck me soon, didn't he? I knew better than to think I could take care of this myself. Unless I wanted another punishment, which I was pretty sure I did, just not right now.

  I fought my own body, desperate not to squirm against him. It was silly to try to hang on to dignity in the aftermath of the spanking that had ignited a desperate need to fuck. But I already felt so vulnerable, my brain still spinning, my body glowing with pain and need and an odd, floating peace, that I just didn't want him to know exactly how badly I wanted him. I lost the fight. Without my permission, my hips pressed back into his fingers, searching for contact. I knew it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. I was right there already. A finger, a little pressure on my clit. Just one more touch.

  "Time to get up," he said. His hand left my thighs, and he reached to take my elbows, lifting me carefully to a standing position. I wobbled a little and couldn't help leaning into him. The thump of his heart echoed against my cheek through the cool, fine cotton of his shirt, a comfort next to the exquisite pleasure of my nipples sliding against the same fabric. His arms came around me, holding me for the briefest moment before stepping back. He turned away and headed for the kitchen, saying over his shoulder,

  "Time to eat. Leave the robe."

  CHAPTER SIX

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  When I walked into the kitchen, Jacob was leaning into the oven, looking at two tinfoil pans. He must've brought home takeout. The faint smell of garlic, tomatoes, and spices drifted into the room, and I realized I was starving. I hadn't eaten much that morning, and I'd been so overwhelmed and relieved by the time Jacob brought me to his penthouse that all I'd wanted to do was take a shower and go to sleep. Now I wasn't sure what I wanted more, that food or the orgasm Jacob had denied me. He closed the oven and turned to the counter, picking up a small black box sitting beside his keys.

  "Come here, Abigail," he said.

  I crossed to him, not bothering to conceal my curiosity as I stared at the black box. He opened it to reveal a length of shining silver chain with sparkling pale blue gemstones at either end. As he lifted it, I realized that it was not a necklace, as I'd thought, but something else. The blue stones set off two silver clamps shaped like long Vs with tiny metal teeth at the end.

  A delicate circle of silver wrapped the V of the clamp, and as he lifted it and slid the circle up, I saw that it would control how tightly those teeth would grip. I'd seen pictures of nipple clamps before, but I'd never seen any in person. And definitely none this beautiful. Jacob didn't have to prepare my nipples for the clamps. They were already two tight beads, ready for whatever he wanted to do with them.

  "Have you worn clamps before?" he asked as he placed the first silver clamp against my left nipple. I shook my head.

  "No," I whispered.

  "Given how you responded to the spanking, I think you'll like these."

  I nodded my head, unable to speak. The bite of those tiny silver teeth into my hard nipple sent shockwaves through my hyper-aroused body. He fastened the second clamp, and I swayed on my feet. I hadn't imagined it was possible to feel this much sexual need at one time. Then it occurred to me.

  He was going to make me eat dinner like this. Naked. My nipples clamped, my pussy soaked. I was swamped by confusion. What kind of game was this? I understood the punishment, but I'd felt him. He was rock hard and ready to go. Why didn't he just take me? I belonged to him, after all.

  "Why?" I whispered. Jacob ran his finger down my nose and smiled. I'd always loved his smile, even now when he was being a bastard.

  "Why did I spank you? Why did I clamp you?"

  "No. Why aren't you . . . Why don't you want to—"

  "Why didn't I fuck you?" he asked, his smile growing even wider.

  I nodded in response, not sure I trusted myself to speak. Jacob tilted his head to the side and studied me standing before him, fighting not to squirm.

  "Did you think the spanking was the punishment?"

  At that, he turned around, took the foil pans out of the oven, and began to plate our dinner. I stood there dumbfounded, marveling at the depth of his evil. The chain on the clamps swayed, tugging on my nipples, sending jolts of pain and pleasure from my breasts straight to my pussy. For the first time, I felt like a pet.

  Clearly, he enjoyed this—having power over me, playing with me. Making up arbitrary rules about my body and then punishing me for my transgressions. I wished I could say I wasn't enjoying it too, but that would be a lie. This was too new, and all I had to offer, aside from my intense arousal, was confusion. And obedience.

  Fine. I could obey. I had a lot riding on keeping Jacob happy. But that didn't mean I wouldn't be myself at the same time. Trying to ignore the clamoring demands of my body, I checked the kitchen drawers and found silverware and napkins. While Jacob dealt with the food, I set the table. The dining room was tucked beside the entry hall, separated from the rest of the penthouse by glass French doors, currently propped open. The long and rectangular formal dining table, polished to a fierce shine, was surrounded by upholstered chairs that looked comfortable. The type of chairs that invited long, intimate meals. I swallowed. I didn't want a long, intimate meal. I wanted to eat fast and then get fucked. By Jacob.

  My own mind felt foreign, as unlike me as my nudity and the glittering jewelry pinching my nipples. I didn't usually think about sex. I never called it 'fucking', even in my own head. Jacob had done this to me. He made me so hot, so needy that I was devolving into a creature of sheer carnality after less than a day. I was going to set the table, but my head wasn't thinking of domestic skills.

  My head was thinking, eat, then get to come. Please, please, let me come. Or, preferably, come first, then eat. But that wasn't going to happen. With a small sigh, I focused on the task ahead.

  Half of the long table was covered with shopping bags. I took that to mean that Jacob didn't want us to eat opposite one another, the whole of the table between us. That worked for me. I'd always hated when two people sat that way, raising their voices to be heard just for the sake of formality. My parents had done it every evening, sticking me in the middle, translating from one end to the other.

  Setting the napkins and silverware at our places, I turn
ed to get drinks and almost crashed into Jacob. Suddenly, I was acutely aware that I was naked in his dining room and acting like his hostess. He didn't seem the least bit surprised, handing me the warm plates, piled high with what looked like lasagna, before he headed back to the kitchen, asking over his shoulder,

  "Wine or beer? Or a cocktail?"

  "Wine, please." I arranged our plates, folding the napkins in precise triangles. Silly when we were about to use them, but setting an attractive table was one of the frivolous, wifely things John had expected that I'd enjoyed. Fussy, but it could be fun. I waited for Jacob to return before I sat, not sure what he expected of me. He walked back into the room carrying two glasses, a plate of garlic bread, and a wine bottle clamped under his arm.

  "Sit," he said. I did as ordered, watching him open the wine with easy competence. A deep, rich red, the scent of the wine drifted across the table, teasing my nose. I had a feeling Jacob had good taste in wine. Taking a small sip from the glass he handed me, I confirmed my suspicion.

  "Good?" he asked, nodding at the wineglass in my hand.

  "Very." I put the wine down and picked up my fork and knife. My mother always told me, 'A lady is never the first to eat', but I was starving and I didn't think Jacob would mind. I could be about to earn another spanking. I was willing to take the risk for a bite of that cheesy, meaty lasagna. My guess was safe. Jacob smiled at me and picked up his own silverware.

  For the next ten minutes, we barely spoke. I did my best not to shovel food in my mouth. It was hard. The lasagna was perfect, with just the right amount of garlic and extra Parmesan, the sauce almost, but not quite, spicy. Forget about the garlic bread. Light, crispy, buttery—I could have eaten the whole plate on my own. The food was so good that I forgot I was sitting at the table naked, despite the abrasion of the chair on my tender ass.