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

  Just when I was beginning to wonder exactly what he was up to, Jacob’s hands stopped between my breasts. He lifted the chain and tugged. A bolt of sharp, pained pleasure shot straight between my legs. He tugged the chain again, and my head dropped back as my pussy clenched around his cock. Another pull on the chain, and I thrust my hips at him, trying to take more when I was already full, restless and needy all over again.

  Only a few hours as Jacob's pet, and I was getting quite an education. I'd never really understood the connection between pain and pleasure. I always thought it was fiction, one of the many things you read about that isn't real. Now I knew, not only was it real, but I was one of those women for whom pain could be a turn-on. Not with just anyone, but I trusted Jacob. I wasn't exactly sure why, but as much as there were things about him that scared me a little, I knew I was safe with him.

  "Are you ready to come again?" Jacob asked, pulling on the chain with his right hand and then his left, sending flares of exquisite need through my body. I couldn't answer with words. I was beyond language. The only thing I wanted as much as another orgasm was to feel Jacob let go. I needed it. To feel him come inside my body, to know that I was giving him at least a fraction of the pleasure he was giving me.

  My legs were still wrapped around him, though they'd fallen loose after I came. In answer to his question, I pinned him between my thighs and used all my strength to work my pussy back and forth on his cock. Jacob growled. Dropping the chains, he took a clamp in each hand, slid down the rings, and released my nipples. Agony swelled in my breasts as the blood rushed back into my tortured flesh. As quickly as it hit, the pain faded to be replaced by a pleasure so sweet, it was almost an orgasm in itself.

  I gasped a sob as Jacob slipped his hands beneath my knees and pulled my legs from around him. He leaned over me, pressing my knees back, opening me obscenely wide. This morning, being this exposed to anyone would have shocked me unconscious. Not now. Now, all I knew was the need. Jacob hammered into me, fucking me hard, harder than I'd ever been fucked before. At his groan of release, my own orgasm tore free, along with a keening cry. He collapsed over me, his hard chest pressing my breasts flat, as my arms came tight around him. I held on, gasping and sobbing as my orgasm took me under, then slowly eased into a glow of sated pleasure.

  We stayed like that, pressed together, collapsed on the table, until we'd both gotten our breath back. Then, before I could think about what might be next, Jacob was moving, sliding out of my sore pussy and walking away with a firm, "Don't move," tossed over his shoulder.

  Good. Because I wasn't sure I could move. At least, not yet. I drifted, eyes half-open, every muscle in my body relaxed. Not only had I never had sex like that before, but I'd never even imagined sex like that.

  My every secret masturbatory fantasy seemed pale and dull beside what Jacob had just done to me. I wasn't doing this, being Jacob's pet, for the orgasms. I knew our arrangement wasn't about me. The only way I would get to come like that was if it did something for Jacob. But as long as I got that every once in a while, I was going to be more than okay with the situation.

  He was back before I'd really gotten my head in gear, carrying something in his hand. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me down with a firm hand, moving between my still-open legs. Warm, gentle heat on my tender parts. He was cleaning me, sliding the washcloth up my inner thighs and along my pussy. In the back of my mind, I was embarrassed. I'd gotten so wet, I'd leaked down my legs. I didn't even know my body could do that. I was naked, sprawled on his dining room table, and Jacob stood between my legs, fully dressed.

  When he was done, he set the washcloth off to the side and carefully helped me off the table. I was unsteady on my feet, my head still stuck in the clouds. As soon as I had my balance, he stepped away. Suddenly, the whole scene was surreal. I was stark naked, and he was fully clothed, his suit and tie straightened with precision.

  Only minutes before, my uncertainty and embarrassment had been held at bay by need and pleasure and want. Now, it all came flooding back, and I stared at the carpet beneath my bare feet, unable to meet Jacob's eyes.

  "I have work to do," he said. "You can take those things back to your room with you." He gestured at the bags on the other end of the table. "I won't see you in the morning. I leave early. I have meetings all day. Plan dinner for seven."

  I nodded, not sure how to respond to his suddenly brisk and businesslike tone.

  "Sleep well." And with that, he was gone. I stood where I was, frozen, wishing desperately for clothes. Where had I left my robe? The living room. In front of the TV. Where Jacob had spanked me. Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. Jacob was in his office. The coast was clear. I scuttled to the living room, snatched up the white robe, and slipped it on, pulling the belt a fraction too tightly. It was a flimsy defense, but I felt immeasurably better, less vulnerable, than I had when I was naked.

  Re-entering the dining room, I scanned the table. Our wine glasses sat, half-full, on either side of the box of cake. Remembering what Jacob had done with that cake sent a flush through my body. Thoughts and emotions tumbled in my head. Smug satisfaction warred with shame and anxiety. Could I really do this? Reduce my entire life to being nothing more than a sexual pet?

  I remembered my epiphany in Jacob's office. All I had was right now. And right now, I was safe, my mother was protected, and I'd just had the most intense, amazing sexual experience of my life. I wasn't going to worry. I was going to live in the moment.

  And in this moment, I had wine, decadent chocolate cake, and shopping bags to explore. So much better than the way I'd started my day, running through the predawn woods, cold and terrified. I carried Jacob's wine glass and the cake into the kitchen. Cutting myself a generous slice of the cake, I returned the white box to the refrigerator and rinsed Jacob's wine glass. Then, balancing my plate of cake and my wine glass in one hand, I scooped up the handles of the shopping bags on the table and carried my booty to my new room.

  I ate the cake and finished my wine while sorting through the selection of clothes that Jacob, or probably his assistant, had purchased for me. The sizes were close enough, and everything was casual rather than tailored, so I could make them work, at least, for now. Casual they might have been, but they were also luxurious and expensive.

  A luscious, slouchy cashmere cardigan in a soft violet with a matching camisole and stretchy lounging pants. Another matching camisole/pant set with a pullover hoodie in feather-light pink merino wool with a pocket in the front. Cute, comfortable, and I knew, expensive. There were a few more outfits like that, two long silk nightgowns, one ivory and one black, along with some necessities. Panties but no bra, basic toiletries, and a few essentials like eyeliner & mascara.

  Thinking ahead, and aware I couldn't go back to Big John's, I'd chucked a few things into my purse when I fled my home that morning. I'll admit to a certain degree of vanity when I say that my makeup bag was one of the things I'd taken with me. I'd had no idea where I was going to end up, but wherever it was, I'd had no intention of looking washed out and tired when I got there.

  Buzzing a little from the wine and exhausted from my dinner with Jacob, as well as all the sleepless nights in the past few months, I put my new clothes away in the walk-in closet, pulled on the ivory silk nightgown, and fell into bed without washing my face and brushing my teeth. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I drifted into a dreamless sleep feeling safe and protected.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  I slept late. There was no clock on my bedside table, but I knew it when I woke up. I had that sticky, sludgy feeling you get when you sleep too long after too much wine, worse because I hadn't brushed my teeth or washed my face before bed. Sliding from beneath the heavy duvet, I stumbled into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. I didn't have to wash my hair again. Long and thick, it took forever to dry, so I didn't wash it every day, but the rest of me needed more than a quick rinse. After a few mi
nutes of standing beneath the spray of steaming hot water, I felt like a new woman.

  Teeth brushed, light makeup, and my hair in a messy bun, I put on the camisole and stretchy pants that went with the violet cashmere cardigan and ventured out of my room. The penthouse was silent. When I got to the kitchen, the clock over the stove told me that it was ten thirty-seven. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept that late. My first order of business? Finding coffee. Since I couldn't leave the building, I hoped Jacob kept coffee in his kitchen. The coffeemaker on the counter indicated he did, but it took me a few minutes of searching to find the filters and the canister of ground coffee in his well-hidden pantry. With coffee brewing, I turned to study the items on the kitchen island—a note, an envelope, a brown box, and a small white shopping bag.

  The note read:

  * * *

  Abigail,

  You have a laptop and a phone. In the envelope is a credit card under my name. As discussed, use it to purchase anything you need, within reason.

  DO NOT use either the laptop or the phone to contact anyone but me. Both have been equipped with monitoring software and will report unacceptable activity to both myself and my security team. This is for your safety. Do not take it lightly.

  Rachel will be by later today with a doctor. He will give you a brief exam and draw blood for some tests. Cooperate with him. I'll provide the results of my own tests.

  You are free to use any room in the penthouse with the exception of my office. I have a service that comes to clean, so don't bother with that.

  In the envelope, along with the card, is my account information for a grocery store that delivers. Plan whatever menu you prefer to cook. Stock what you need and instruct them to deliver the groceries to my office. Rachel will bring them up to you. DO NOT open the door for anyone but me or Rachel.

  Jacob

  * * *

  I wouldn't have expected a love note, not from Jacob. It sounded exactly like him—clear, to the point, and bossy. So he was going to spy on me? He said it was for my safety. I guess I'd see if the spying would continue after the danger from Big John was gone. And the doctor? I didn't have to think too hard to figure that out. I was on the pill, and John and I hadn't been using condoms. Before he died, sex had been infrequent, but it probably wasn't a secret that by that time, he'd been nailing half the women in town.

  In John's world, fidelity was for wives. The husband's job was to screw anything that moved, as often as possible. I doubted Jacob would want to use condoms with me, and he was smart to verify that I was clean. I'd had a checkup recently and had asked the doctor for the same tests that Jacob's doctor would likely run. By some miracle of fate, if John had picked anything up, he hadn't passed it to me. But telling Jacob that, admitting what my marriage really was, would be more humiliating than just letting his doctor do what he had to do. It meant something that he wasn't going to make me ask for his own results.

  But hey, I had a computer and a phone. And carte blanche at what was probably a pretty nice grocery store. On top of that, aside from the doctor's visit, I didn't have a single obligation all day except to plan dinner. Fortunately for me, not only did I like to cook, but I kept all my favorite recipes in an online database I could access from anywhere. At the time, I'd done it for convenience. Now, it was comforting to know that I hadn't lost one of the few good parts of my marriage when I left home.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee, added a little cream and sugar, and set off to explore Jacob's penthouse. I'd already seen the kitchen, the living room with its comfortable couches and big TV, and of course, the dining room and my bedroom. But down the long hall where my room was located were a few doors I hadn't opened.

  I walked through the living room first. Though I'd been in it the night before, I hadn't exactly been paying attention. His flat screen hung on the wall, framed like a painting over the gas fireplace. On either side of the fireplace, he had built-in shelves with cabinets on the lower half. A quick look revealed stereo equipment, a DVD player and some other black boxes I couldn't identify.

  A set of heavy double doors were set into the wall to the right of the fireplace. I was betting that was Jacob's office. It was tempting to peek, but I thought better of it, remembering the cameras. I couldn't say that I hadn't enjoyed my punishment the night before, but I had a feeling that had been a gentle introduction. I wasn't ready to push the boundaries of what Jacob considered 'punishment'. Anyway, there was more penthouse to explore.

  Down the hall that led to my bedroom, I found more closed doors. The first was a powder room, its custom porcelain sink set into a repurposed antique chest. Above it hung a gilt-framed mirror. I've been in some nice bathrooms before, but not many that had chandeliers. This one was perfectly sized for the small room, but the glittering crystal reflecting the gilt of the mirror frame made me feel as if I were in an English manor house and not a penthouse apartment in the middle of the city.

  The next door was my bedroom. Nothing new to see there. On the opposite side of the hallway, I discovered a game room, complete with a pool table, wet bar, poker table, and a screen that covered most of the far wall of the room, framed on either side by red velvet curtains. In front of the screen, Jacob had a semicircle of movie theater seats in black leather that looked so soft and comfortable I thought you could sit there all day. This was a serious man cave.

  Back in the corner beside the wet bar and behind the pool table, I spotted an old school pinball machine. I loved pinball. I hadn't had my hands on one of these in years, but when I was younger, I used to sneak off to the town arcade with one of my cousins and waste quarter after quarter chasing the sounds and lights, trying to rack up as many points as I could. I'd never been very good, but I didn't really care. To my delight, I quickly realized that Jacob had set the machine to work without quarters, and I killed a good half-hour losing myself in the game.

  When I was done, I headed back to the kitchen to pour out my cold coffee and replace it with fresh. Then back to my search. The next door past the man cave turned out to be a workout room. Jacob had said he never had enough time, so it made sense to have a gym at home. I was thrilled. I missed working out.

  I'd never been an athlete, but I'd always been fairly active. In the last few years, John had stopped my going to the gym in town, claiming he didn't like me out in public, sweating in tight clothes. I used to do yoga at home, but as Big John and his business acquaintances started to drop by the house unexpectedly, I wasn't comfortable getting caught alone, in yoga pants, in the middle of downward-facing dog.

  It looked like I could do almost anything here. Jacob had a treadmill, an elliptical, an impressive rack of free weights, and open space with a padded floor and yet another enormous, wall-mounted flat screen TV with a DVD player on top of the cabinet in the corner. Now that I had a laptop and Jacob's credit card, I could order some yoga videos and some workout clothes. Putting aside the way I was earning my keep, I was starting to feel like I could get fragments of my old life back. Or at least fragments of the old me.

  The last stop on my self-guided tour was the doorway at the far end of the hall. I opened it slowly, aware this could only be Jacob's bedroom. He'd said I could explore any room except his office, so his bedroom was fair game. Still, sneaking in felt naughty. I don't know exactly what I expected. I'd already learned that Jacob favored the old over the new, so I didn't think his bedroom would be filled with chrome and black leather. But given his appetites, I guess I thought there'd be something to give him away. Chains attached to his bed? Handcuffs on the dresser? I didn't know.

  The king-size, four-poster bed in warm, polished chestnut with matching dressers and armoire wasn't it. Actually, his bedroom was similar to mine, except larger and with a little more furniture. On the far side of the room, most of the wall was taken up by windows and a panoramic view of the city.

  In front of the window, he had two comfortable looking armchairs with an ottoman and a small table between them. The dresser opposite t
he bed had the expected wall-mounted flat screen above it. For a guy with no time on his hands, Jacob had a lot of TVs. I imagined him lying in bed after a long day of work, catching a few minutes of SportsCenter before passing out for the night. Did he wear pajamas to bed? No, definitely not. My imaginary Jacob was shirtless, and I realized I hadn't seen him fully naked yet.

  I'd seen his cock. I was intimately acquainted with that part of his anatomy. But the night before, in the dining room, he hadn't gotten undressed. In fact, he'd barely pushed his pants down. Maybe that should have made me feel degraded, with me naked and Jacob not bothering to remove his shirt. It didn't. Instead, it made me feel wanted, as if he'd needed me too badly to bother taking his clothes off first.

  Shrugging off the thought—no sense in getting all worked up thinking about naked Jacob when I wouldn't see him for hours—I went back to the kitchen and brought my laptop, the envelope with Jacob's credit card, and my new phone to the kitchen table. The phone was already charged and powered up. The only numbers in the phone were Jacob's—his office and his mobile. Not a surprise. The laptop was. It had been set up with most of the programs I usually used, as well as a new email address. One I was sure someone on Jacob's security team was monitoring.

  It was a little creepy that they were watching me, on the cameras as well as on my laptop and phone, but I'd gone to Jacob for protection, and if he thought this was necessary, I wasn't going to argue. The truth was, Jacob knew my former father-in-law and his business associates far better than I did. It seemed sensible to trust his judgment, at least for now. Just the thought of Big John's reaction to my escape sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I was more than willing to hide myself away until Jacob was sure that Big John had lost interest in me.