Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3 (6 page)

"I’m parting your lips with one hand and with the other I’m stroking your clitoris…"

"Daniel… Again…"

"I’m putting one finger into your dripping crack...now two…"

"I can feel you there… Bury yourself in me...Deeper… I’m going to…"

"Yes, Julia! Like that, carry on…"

"Oh Daniel…"

"Oh Julia…"

Wednesday was my day off, so Tom and I decided to meet at the hotel bar for lunch. He was already there by the time I arrived. He handed me a wicker basket and asked me if I'd like to go for a little picnic in Central Park, which sounded like a fantastic idea. I listened to Tom talk while sitting in the shade, under a tree. I could've listened to him for hours. Not only because he was a gifted storyteller, but also because I didn't really feel like talking. We had a lovely afternoon together.

On the way back, we decided to stop by an art gallery that had just opened a few steps away from the hotel. As we were standing outside, I thought I recognised one of Daniel's employees through the window. I chased the idea away, I couldn't believe it, my mind must've been playing tricks on me: there's no way he would have followed me.

When we got back to the hotel, Tom got a call. One of his friends was throwing a party, so he decided to go and make an appearance and asked me if I'd like to come along. In the end I decided I'd rather go home and spend a quiet evening prolonging the calm and tranquil feeling the day had left me with, before getting an early night.

When I got back to my room, I went straight to bed. My arms crossed behind my head, my eyes glued to the ceiling, I lazily daydreamed and fell asleep peacefully. But in the middle of the night, I woke up, agitated. I was lying naked on my stomach, my head buried in the pillow. My body felt heavy and immobile, my mind clouded. I half-consciously felt the sheet lift as Daniel slid in next to me, his skin against mine, his kisses, his languorous caresses, the weight of his body against my thighs, the words “take me”, his sex vigorously thrusting in me, the cries that were escaping from my mouth, “harder, harder”. Suddenly, I woke up in a feverish somersault. I'd been having an erotic dream. The feeling of incredible excitement in a sleeping body, of reaching orgasm simply through a dream, was both strange and divine.

The next morning I woke up early and got to my desk before I had to start my shift. My stomach was in knots. My mind was troubled. Daniel should be coming back today. When he finally arrived, my wide grin disappeared upon seeing his stormy expression. He was walking briskly. Planted in front of the counter, he pretended to ignore me and talked to Tom.

“Tom, is that your name?” he asked aggressively.

“Mr. Wietermann,” Tom responded, timidly.

“My key, please.”

He brusquely took the key and turned around. I was burning. I couldn't say anything in front of Tom. Daniel stopped and came back. This time, he gave me an accusing and rancorous look.

“I want to talk to you.”

“I'm listening,” I said, trying to keep my composure.

“Not here.”

I led him into a service room and closed the door.

“Shit, what's come over you?”

“I wanted to ask you the same thing, Julia. What did you do all day yesterday with Tom?”
Was Daniel Wietermann jealous? Jealous of Tom? Him?

“So that was your employee who I saw. For the love of god, you had someone watching me!” I said, outraged.

“Ray had to make sure that nothing happened to you while I was gone, especially after the little trick you played on me last Tuesday.”

“But who do you think you are?”
A predator or a protector? Was Daniel trying to hold on to me?

“You still haven't answered my question. Is this Tom your boyfriend? Since when?”
Did Daniel consider us 'together'?

“Listen, Daniel, this interrogation is ridiculous.”

During this virulent exchange, interspersed with silences full of things left unsaid and glances that said a lot, the tension between us took on a whole new dimension.

"I have several appointments and then a business dinner today,” he explained nervously, trying to deflect our respective impulses. “But tomorrow, we can spend the weekend in my house on Long Island. If you'd like,” he said, calmly, after a long silence.

“I suppose you can 'arrange things with Mr. Guttierez?'” I asked, with an ironic smirk.

“Be ready at nine am,” he said with a slight grin that was a mix of surrender and amusement.
I nodded in agreement.

Before leaving the room, Daniel murmured in my ear:

“I'm not joking, Julia. I can't bear to see you with another man. I want you for my own. For me only.”
I stood for a moment in the room full of the sensual scent that Daniel left in his wake. I was rattled by desire, I needed to get myself together.

Friday, July twentieth, nine AM. Daniel opened the door of a white MBW Z4 convertible. We left the city. The road raced by the window, as we drove in silence, and soon the Long Island house appeared in the distance, isolated, looking over the beach as if it were a painting by Edward Hopper. Candice and Ray were already there. Daniel exchanged a few words with them and I saw them leave.

As soon as we passed through the door, our visit to the gigantic house transformed into a sexual treasure hunt. The owner of this place was taking me on a tour. From room to room, Daniel wielded his erotic power over me. We were starving, thirsty, insatiable.

Right there, he devoured my mouth. The fire of his kisses spilt into my veins.
Over there, he tore off my clothes and used his tongue to work miracles that made me feel as if I was sinking into the wall he'd pressed me up against.
In the living room, he made me kneel down on the rug. A willing victim, I let him spank me until it stung.
In the banquet room, he took me on the long marble table. My burning bum was on the cold and hard stone, like a sizzling hot poker plunged into water.
In the staircase, the steps dug into my flesh under Daniel's thrusts.

In the gigantic shower, we tried to soothe our marked, exhausted, panting bodies covered in sweat. But under the massaging effect of the water, surrounded by hot vapour, our bodies wanted more. Hands against the dripping wall, legs spread, I felt Daniel's torso against my back. He pulled his left arm around my waist and his right hand passed in between my legs, caressing my sex. When he felt my excitement start to peak, he slid his thumb into my anus while continuing, with the rest of his hand, to pleasure my sex. The deafening roar of the water, the steam that blurred every image, the fatigue of my muscles, the sulphur-like fragrance in the air, the heat of Daniel's skin against mine all contributed to my lack of resistance, my appetite for new sensations, my desire to explore, to trustingly surrender to his expert hands.

In one room, with a loose yet short enough rope to keep me immobile, he tied my hands to the frame of the antique bed. He could do what he wanted with me. And through him, I experienced incredible pleasure. My head, my legs, all of my limbs fell to the side. I was nothing, merely existing.
Exhausted, lying next to one another, between fullness and emptiness, between fusion and detachment. I remembered the headline:
Call Mr. Fire!
and I smiled. What an appropriate name!

“Mr. Fire...”
Daniel turned his face towards mine. I looked at his sky blue eyes and continued smiling.

“That fits you very well, like a tailor made suit.”
Now I turned: Daniel was also smiling, amused, surprised. There was something both childish and diabolical in that grin.

Far from the hotel, where Daniel was a guest and I was obliged to be at the service of my customer, things seemed different to me. It was likely that this dynamic, which was normal under my job description, had made me falsify my reactions and affected how I interpreted his reactions, or lack thereof. Free from these conventions, I willingly submitted myself to his sexual domination, and it gave me great pleasure.

When I opened my eyes on Saturday morning, Daniel, wearing a white linen pair of pants and shirt, was looking out the window of the bedroom. He was on the phone.
“Perfect. Thanks, Ray.”
He hung up and turned towards me, beaming.
“Wake up, Julia. Ray's got the boat ready. We're going to take a tour.”
Palace, haute-couture, diamonds, convertible, house and now a boat: all of this luxury was beyond surprise, beyond my comprehension. It was another world.

I jumped out of bed, threw on a bathing suit and a light dress and we dashed out. On the sea, a light breeze softened the blazing sun. I lazed about, lying on a mattress on the front of the boat and, out of the corner of my eye, watched Daniel, shirtless, walking along the side of the boat. He was outrageously seductive. His olive skin looked incredibly healthy and warm.

Along a deserted cove, Daniel anchored the boat. He grabbed my hand and led me into the immense cabin. There, he put his arm around my waist and took possession of my mouth. The contact of our skin, warmed by the sun, made me swoon. I drowned in his kisses. Carried away by our passionate embrace, we fell onto a large sofa covered with soft cushions. Our chests came together, our legs intertwined, we became just one body that swayed to the rhythm of our desire. I hoped it would never end.

All of a sudden I felt Daniel groping around for something. Then he moved aside. He was holding a long, black silk scarf.

“I want to blindfold you.”
He must've be able to read the apprehension in my eyes, because he added:

“Don't be afraid. Much to the contrary. When the other person can't see, you become more daring. It's fear of judgment that prevents us from really letting go. I'm sure you'll like it.”
Daniel tightly knotted the scarf around my eyes. Despite his words, fear washed over me. I had a hard time breathing, I couldn't hear anything, my limbs tensed up. But Daniel's caresses quickly won me over. The feeling of claustrophobia gave way to well-being. A breath of fullness pushed my body and mind to relax. My limbs relaxed, and all of my senses concentrated on the effects that Daniel's caresses had on me. All of my being followed these sensations as they multiplied. Only Daniel's touch made me aware of the limits of my body. I felt like I was floating. I submitted myself completely to him, to his expert hands, to his mouth. I'd never surrendered myself like this before.

“I'm going to take you, Julia. Now. I'm going to dive into you,” he said, putting on a condom.
Penetration felt like a salvation. I surrendered without reserve under the movements of his hips. Daniel swayed over my languid body and I dove into the abyss of pleasure.

“Daniel...” my cry came from far away.
With a moan, my sailor flooded me and his heavy body collapsed onto mine. We stayed in this position for a moment, silent, out of breath. Then he gently undid the knot of the scarf, restoring my sight. I told him:
“You were right, I was more sensitive, more alive.”
But I didn't tell him that I would have loved, with my eyes, to watch him go wild.

After a champagne dinner on the pontoon, we returned to dry land as night fell. We went back to the house, leaving the boat in Ray's capable hands.

Sunday, July twenty-second. Daniel was leaving for France that night. My eyes were brimming with sadness and I was full of apprehension, but I tried not to let anything show. I didn't want to ruin the last hours we had together. I forced myself to seem happy, to pretend like nothing was wrong. I lived and breathed for our torrid embraces. Like someone taking a deep breath before slowly letting it out, I filled myself with these last moments with Daniel Wietermann so that they would live on beyond his departure, for an eternity.

Neither one of us spoke on the way back to the hotel. Daniel had left his enthusiasm and lively mood back on Long Island. Now he was distant, evasive. It was getting harder and harder for me to hold back the pain that was eating me up inside.
We got close to the city. I broke the silence, even daring to ask a question.

“There's something I want to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you go so far out of your way to avoid your wife?”
Daniel's face grew hard.

“I don't want to talk to you about that, Julia,” he said firmly, almost angrily.
What did he have to hide? I'd been mistaken, I'd thought that this weekend had changed things between us. I was naïve to think that I had the right to ask that sort of question.

“Why? You don't trust me? I'm just some woman that you're fucking?”

“Camille is my father.”
With this laconic answer, he shot down my remarks and imposed a silence between us.

I was expecting a face-to-face goodbye, a few nice words, but once we were at the hotel, Daniel, hard, insensitive, left me without a last glance, without an affectionate word. This wasn't the same man I'd just spent three extraordinary days with. No tearful goodbyes, no passionate accolades, no plans for the future, no promises. Daniel left with his luggage and employees and I tried to put on a happy face. But deep down inside of me, I was hurt, lost, destroyed.

As soon as he was out of sight, I ran to take refuge in my room and cry my eyes out. I wrote to Sarah.