Love Unbound (A Steamy Billionaire Romance) Read online

  I hold her and I can tell she's trying to hold back too. She sobs a little against me. Maybe she feels something of what's going on in me. That's even more fucking dangerous. But I can't let her go. Not now.

  I had in mind to chain her up to make her squirm tonight to make her see how much I can control her but it's as if the tables have turned and she controls me. I gather her up from the desk and kiss her and by some unspoken agreement we don't say a word as I carry her to bed and lie with her all night. I think neither of us will sleep a wink but somehow after I see her lying there, her breathing calm and regular and I know she's asleep, sleep overtakes me too—the best night's rest I've had in a long time. It doesn't compute, but it happened.

  CHAPTER 28

  Victoria

  When I wake my mind goes right back to how we were on the big desk in the library and I blush even though I'm alone in the big bed. I'm a little tender between my legs and on my behind but nothing awful. I hear Ash in the kitchen rattling cups. It must be his turn to wrestle with a coffee machine though I can only imagine him pressing one button and a perfect dark-colored brew coming out of the contraption. He has this way about him as if his whole path in life is much smoother than mine.

  He brings a tray in with coffee, orange juice and fresh croissants, bread, butter and jam.

  “Breakfast is served. Would madam like anything else?”

  “I need to pee.”

  He laughs. “Lower the tone. Why don't you?” he says. “I'll wait.”

  I could probably do with a shower too. He looks so fresh in his sweat pants and a white T-shirt that hugs his muscles but never mind, I want that breakfast. I could eat a horse.

  I pick up my robe, but he grabs onto it. “No need to cover up with me,” he says. “I've seen it all—in close up.”

  I redden and he laughs, whacking my behind as a make my way past him to the bathroom.

  The breakfast is delicious—everything is so fresh. I lick sticky jam off my fingers and dry them on my napkin.

  “It's a novelty,” he says, “to see a girl who likes her food. Just wait until you're an actress. You'll turn into a stick insect before my eyes and I'll not be able to take you to bed for fear of a stray elbow poking my eyes out.”

  I give him a slap.

  “What was that for?”

  “For insinuating I'm fat.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “You thought it.”

  “Didn't.”

  “Did.”

  “I can see there's only one way to shut you up and show you what I think of your body.”

  I love his way of silencing me—it's hours before I have my shower and we are out on the terrace again.

  ***

  “We should do some work while we're here,” he says, lazily after we lie for half an hour in the sun under a big parasol, him reaching out now and again to touch my hand or run his fingers over my nipple or around the leg of my bikini bottoms. “I wanted to prepare you for your audition.”

  “It seems like you were preparing me for something else for a moment there.” I smile. “I'd like you to help me though. I don't want to let you down.”

  “You won't. They are going to love you, but there's no harm in having the edge. The more prepared you are, the better.”

  “What kind of dancing is involved?”

  “Nothing as complicated as your act with the ribbons. The movie is set in one of those stage schools where the teachers do a bit of everything. The school is a bit run down so there's not a different teacher for every type of dance—the part I'm putting you forward for is a teacher in ballroom, Latin American and tap and sometimes she has to fill in for ballet with the younger kids.”

  “I know the type of school in the states but is it set here or there?”

  “In the states. There's a bigger potential audience but less competition for parts here—not everyone gets the accent. It's not a huge production—it's just something the director wanted to do and he roped in Helemgard to produce it as he's a friend but I have a feeling it will be a success.”

  “Why do it at Applewood? Wouldn't it be easier in America?”

  “The director likes it here. He has an English wife. He wanted to spend some time with her in Kent this summer. I think they have a house there.”

  “You multi-house owning types,” I tease, “it must be hard for you to decide where to stay next.”

  “Sometimes that's true,” he says, more seriously than I expect. “Sometimes I feel like I have no fixed abode just like a vagrant.”

  “Not quite like a vagrant.” I look around—nothing could be further from the truth, living in the height of luxury as we are.

  “No,” he says looking a bit ashamed. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I've seen homelessness first hand and it's nothing like this at all.”

  “You've been homeless?”

  “Only when my brother and I weren't sure what would happen to us before Mike took us in, but even then we weren't completely penniless or friendless so it's not the same at all. I mean I've seen it first hand with some of the charity stuff the company does. Once you’ve seen some of what goes on with your own eyes, you never forget it.”

  I don't ask any more because it seems like he wants to change the subject. He gives me some lines to learn and then teases me with his finger again so I can't concentrate. If he carries on like this I'm not going to learn anything at all.

  After an hour or so, he has some lunch brought out to us—salad and fruit in bowls—very light and delicious.

  “I didn't have you down as a salad eating guy,” I say after we've eaten our fill. “All the guys I know eat pizza or pie and chips in the pub and grow beer bellies by the time they are forty.”

  He laughs. “After we do a bit more work, I thought we'd have a siesta. I don't want you falling asleep on me.”

  “Isn't that the whole point of a siesta?”

  “Not this one.”

  I look at him and my insides melt like ice cubes on a hot engine but I nod anyway. He wants me again. The guy is insatiable but I can't say I'm averse to going inside out of the hot sun to do whatever he wants. It's going to be hot in quite a different way indoors. I'm pretty sure of that by now.

  But he puts me through my paces with those lines first as if he's deliberately holding back and making me wait after putting the idea in my head. In any case, it's great to have his help. I'm starting to feel I can get into the character of the woman being stalked as I read the part of the script we have. I can't afford to make a mess of the audition.

  “Let's just go through it once more then we'll go in.” He turns to the first page again and starts his lines. When we're through he smiles. “Perfect! You're really getting this” and I can't help feeling good about his words.

  We go inside then. I wonder whether Gaston or his wife are in the house. They are pretty good at making themselves scarce when we are around but who knows.

  Suddenly I'm nervous and wonder how seriously Ash is into his games. When we were reading I was able to stay calm but I'm anything but calm now. I'm not light-headed with dinner and champagne as I have been before. Do I even want to try if it's more than a few ropes and chains? I'm such a lightweight when it comes to anything like this. I might not be able to cope if he's into some of the kinkier stuff. I've seen glimpses of all kinds of things taking a wrong turn on the web and I haven't worked in Soho the last two years without having seen it all. But hell, I don't want to look like a serial killer tied up in a padded jail cell while he lords it over me. That's not my idea of a good time. Is it his? Please don't let it be his.

  CHAPTER 29

  Ash

  A shadow has crossed Victoria's face. “You're thinking about something distasteful like a fox ate your pet rabbit and spat it out.”

  She shakes her head.

  “You're not happy, then. You want to stay outside in the sun? You used to be a lioness in a former life and you need to go to Africa not Antibes?”

>   She laughs. “Nothing like that. I'm just worried what you have in mind next.”

  “Don't look at me like that. I thought we were just going in for a hug and then sleep for an hour before dinner but if you insist on something else, I'm not one to refuse you. I know you can't resist me.” I smile at her and kiss her cheek.

  “What do you want to do?” she asks.

  “I want to make you a bikini. Out of rope.”

  “Like a macramé plant pot holder—full of holes?”

  “Probably, if that involves knots and rope but much sexier. I was taught to tie ropes by a Japanese master.”

  She looks skeptical. “Whatever floats your boat. I'm all yours.”

  She has no idea what that will do for her—or for me, no idea how hard and shiny her breasts will become, how they will swell up a little within the coils of rope, how her normally sensitive nipples will grow and harden and respond to the slightest whisper of breath on their surface, how my tongue will set off a huge reaction through her body. It's not dangerous in any way but it's fucking dangerous to my peace of mind to think of her like that.

  If she likes that and we get as far as making the rest, she'll see how it feels to be bound tightly around the waist and between her legs, feeling the pressure from knots strategically placed around her clit to drive her wild as she moves about.

  “I thought you liked this bikini.” She runs her fingers over the chain linking the bra cups.

  I kiss her. “Not as much as the body in it. Take it off.” If I'm not careful my cock will burst through my swim shorts.

  She looks at me, no argument this time, and unhooks the top of her bikini letting her breasts out of it. That sight will never get old. And then she loops her fingers through the chains at the sides of the bikini bottoms and pushes them off too. She steps out of them, her eyes on me.

  I run my hands over her breasts and ass. For a moment I almost discard the rope idea but I want to see her bound up. I've never seen a woman bound properly in rope since the class in Japan over a year ago. I'd never remember what to do if I hadn't seen it over and over in my mind.

  I lead her to the library again, my heart in my throat. I want to see her pale skin against the dark leather of the couches, and it's on the cool side of the house protected from the sun. I'm sure things are going to get heated enough without the warmth of the sun heating the room.

  She smiles when I open the door and she sees the old partner's desk the scene of so much pleasure yesterday.

  “Kneel on the couch,” I say. “Face me and raise your arms.”

  She thinks it's a funny game and smiles tantalizingly at me as I open one of the cupboards and take out a long thirty foot length of black rope made from soft cotton strands, my heart beating out of my chest. I wrap the cord around her ribcage just under her breasts and take it over her shoulders and wrap it around her several more times, forming a bra harness, knotting it so that the two long ends hang loose ready for circling her breasts. She gasps as I take her breast in my hands and wrap the cord around it, not so tight it's painful, just enough so she will feel the effects and then I do the same with the other and secure the ends.

  She looks so fucking beautiful in that soft black rope, her breasts jutting out, slightly pink.

  “Don't worry,” I say. “It won't harm you. I haven't tied it tight, so you can stay like this for hours without any ill effects at all. But do you feel that?” I give her nipples the lightest touch and she physically squirms beneath my fingers.

  “Your breasts are so hard, so beautiful” and I lightly kiss her nipples which sets her squirming all over again.

  “Too much pleasure?” I ask.

  “Almost but I'm okay,” she says. “You're very surprising, Mr. Lynch.”

  “Not shocking?”

  “No. Surprising.”

  “I'm going to make the other half of your bikini now. You'll have to stay still. Do you think you can manage that?”

  “I think so.”

  “Even if I do this?” I lick at her nipples.

  “No, not if you do that.”

  “I'll only do that if I want to see you move then.”

  I coil another piece of rope tightly around her waist. And then put some knots in it and pass it between her legs, tying it front and back adjusting it so that the rope bisects her pussy lips and the knots play on the sensitive flesh between her legs, just skirting the edge of her clit.

  “Now I'd like to see you move,” I say, and I take one rock hard nipple in my mouth, sucking and biting gently, and to my delight, she comes almost instantly, squealing out her pleasure in the cool dark air of the library.

  I hold her while she comes down from that.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are to me at this moment? But I think we’ll need to cover up the ropes before we go out for dinner.”

  “Like this? I can't go out like this.” Her eyes are wide.

  “Oh I think you can. I'll find you a loose dress where the ropes won't show.”

  “I'm not sure I can bear anything rubbing against me.”

  “The point is to keep the pleasure going until we return. I'll be suffering just as much as you—more I expect, because you just came.”

  She looks as if she might beg to be released, but then she thinks about it and doesn't say a word.

  I find the perfect dress in her closet. I might have chosen it specifically for this night if I had done the shopping. It's a black silk dress, loose but with a smocking design on the bodice. I can just imagine what that stitching will do over her breasts. I slip it on over her head.

  Thigh high stockings provide the perfect framework for the rope underneath the dress. It’s long. She doesn't need panties. She's panting as I roll the stocking up her legs.

  “If you squirm too much. I'll have to spank you again,” I threaten. I wonder if she'll make sure she squirms or not.

  I call Gaston for the car. We need a place with a lot of people, somewhere where she can't hide. I know the perfect place at the edge of the harbor overlooking the yachts.

  “Here?” she says, when we arrive. “It's very busy.”

  “I want to watch the yachts. I'm thinking of buying one. I love all those old sailing traditions.”

  “Yes. I can imagine,” she says. “All those knots...”

  CHAPTER 30

  Victoria

  We eat but I can't concentrate on the food. He can't take his eyes off me as if he's looking for every subtle change in my reaction, every sigh. When I try to get more comfortable it has the opposite effect. The dress caresses the taut skin of my breasts and nipples every time I lift my hand to take a sip of wine or raise the fork to my mouth and that sets off a chain reaction to my clit already under assault from the knots between my legs. It's exquisite torture. How did I not know this was even a thing?

  There's a breeze from the harbor now and I'm glad. I'm already burning up with the whole situation and I need to keep my cool otherwise I might come completely undone at the restaurant.

  “How did you find out about such things?”

  “There was a book that caught my eye in the shop of an art gallery I have a share in. Shortly after that I had a business trip to Japan and asked around and extended my stay to learn the basics, then went back a couple of times to learn more but I've never had the chance to try it since then. I've never found anyone I wanted to tie up like you.”

  The look in his eyes makes me feel as special as his words. I glow inside as if I needed anything else to heat me up.

  Walking from the restaurant to the car, I have to hold tightly onto Ash—the four inch black Louboutin heels he gave me to wear give me a kind of catwalk sway as I walk and swaying is the last thing I need right now. Did he know that when he gave me those red-soled shoes to wear tonight? I suspect he did.

  I have no idea why I’m putting up with this exquisite torture. It's exciting—that's true—but I don't think I would do it for anyone else but Ash. It's all about pleasing the man who wanted me t
o do this. Making me wet for him. And making him hard for me.

  Back in the car I'm not even sure what I ate or drank—it was delicious but I hardly registered anything beyond the sensations running through me under my dress and the way Ash looked at me with a mixture of savage need and tenderness. In the car, I touch him over his pants. He is solid. He groans at my touch. I'm pleased I'm not the only one suffering.

  I wonder if Gaston thinks we are on drugs or something. I feel high on a couple of glasses of champagne.

  Back in the villa, Ash wastes no time, nor do I want him to. We're just through the front door when he gets a penknife out of his pocket and lifts my dress to slice through the rope around my waist. He plunges into me without preamble. I need it too. I am so ready, so wet, waiting so much for that moment. But the movement of his fucking sets up such a sensation in my bound breasts that I come almost instantly and I feel my inner muscles pulse on him in a wave of heat and lust and he comes soon after, deep in my belly. Neither of us can hold back.

  He can't stop kissing me then, holding me, my breasts throbbing so much I want the ropes off, but then again I don't want it to end. I don't want any of this to end.

  CHAPTER 31

  Ash

  I unbind her and Victoria has another orgasm as the blood returns to normal in her breasts.

  “Are they sore?” I didn't want to hurt her. I deliberately didn't tie the rope too tight.

  “Tender, pleasurable not quite pain but almost. I don't know how else to describe it.” She smiles.

  I hold her. I never want to let her go but it's Sunday night. We have to go back tomorrow. I can't remember enjoying a weekend as much—ever. But I know it can't last. Can anything last? Can we?

  On Monday morning when we get back to Heathrow, I leave Victoria at her apartment and go back to work, back to reality. Cameron is still in love but he's working, thank the fuck for that. A couple of stars have been in the news but he's dealing with it. He always does. Brows will be mopped and tempers soothed unless it's a good time to show a little temper for some judicious press coverage.