His Absolute Arrangement: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #1) (5 page)

He plied me with his fingers, digging them into my rear.  Further, more, scrunching up my skirt until he was touching my panties directly, then he slipped his fingers beneath them and held my bare ass.  Lower, touching me, down my legs, between my thighs, his fingers crept across my skin until his fingertips touched against the back of my slit near my ass, staying there, holding me.

We kissed, harsh, hard.  I bucked my hips towards him, wanting and needing him.  I tried, oh, I tried.  He could take me now.  I wanted to unbutton his pants and slip out his cock and lower my eyes, shy and nervous, as he drove himself into me.  Our arousal, mixed, my slick need coating his hard erection and giving him ample access to delve deep between my folds.

The elevator dinged our arrival.  Asher transformed from a harsh, seductive lover into a formal businessman in the span of a quarter of a second.  Before the door to the elevator opened, we were standing in the corner of the car again, no longer entwined, no longer wrapped up, careless lovers.  My skirt was down again, covering my thighs and the tops of my knees.  His pants were fine, though tented in the front.  The only sign of our near-tryst was my messed up, tousled hair.  I thought that if anyone dared so much as look at us funny when we left the elevator, let alone comment on our slightly disheveled appearance, they'd soon have to deal with a job performance review from Asher Landseer, himself, and it probably wouldn't be very friendly.

This floor of Landseer Tower was quiet right now, though.  Mostly occupied by the higher ups of Landseer Enterprises, we didn't have to deal with the gawking stares of Asher's employees.  Everyone was busy, or somewhere else, or they wouldn't have cared.  I glanced to the side and saw Lucent's office, but the door was closed so I didn't know if he was there.

Asher led me to his office.  We didn't walk as quickly, nor as hurried as before, but our pace was anything but slow or relaxed.  Determined, purposeful, and onwards; we went.

He opened his door and gestured for me to go inside.  On shaky, but mostly steady legs, I went.  He came in after me, closing and locking the door behind us.  We stood there, quiet, just the two of us.

"What happened?" Asher asked.  "I want to make sure you're fine.  Why didn't you come to me first?  Who do you think did it?"

"Asher, I... I don't know.  I'm not sure what happened.  I'm fine, though.  I didn't want to bother you.  I wanted to handle it on my own.  I don't want anyone to think that I'm incapable or incompetent, or..."

I didn't want anyone to think I was a whore, either.  Or a homewrecker.  Or a slut.

I could see why people did, though.  Asher and I, our elevator escapades, none of that helped matters.  No one knew about that, of course, but still.  I remembered it.  I remembered what they said.

Landseer Tower is home to more than just the day to day affairs of Landseer Enterprises.  Asher Landseer, himself, has been overseeing an affair of his own in his corporate building with the as yet unknown Jessika Fevrier.

People didn't make out in elevators.  They didn't cling to one another like that.  They didn't almost fuck, the man's fingers pressed against the woman's sex, begging to dig in deeper.  They didn't straddle one another, pushed against the wall of the elevator, lost in reckless and wild abandon.  They didn't...

"You're not," he said.  "Jessika, I understand how difficult this is for you.  I've dealt with being in the spotlight for most of my life and I've heard all sorts of criticism and spiteful comments.  I don't think it should be that way, but sometimes I forget how hard it can be to brush those things off, too.  You don't have to deal with someone forcing their way into your office and going through your belongings, though.  You don't deserve that.  No one deserves that."

I didn't want to tell him this, but the words came out before I could stop myself.  "There's more.  They... they wrote something on my computer.  They typed in whore.  It was in bold.  Not just once.  So many times.  I don't know how many.  Pages full.  More than one.  Asher, I... I'm not.  I don't mean to be, if I am.  I just, I love you.  Asher, I love you so much and I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to be a homewrecker or a whore or a slut or any of it.  Except, then, on the elevator... I wanted to.  I didn't care.  I felt so comfortable and safe then and I was lost before and helpless and I..."

"Shh," he said, whispering into my ear and hugging me tight.  "Jessika, it's alright.  You aren't.  You're not any of those things.  I don't know why someone would write that, but it's not true."

"Asher, we've done so much.  I can't say it's not true, because maybe it is.  I don't think you can say it, either."  I glanced to the side of his office, gazing at the glass door to his private meeting room.  "Don't you remember?" I asked, almost pleading with him.  "The first time we met, you..."

I'd broken his book.  I didn't mean to.  It was an extremely rare copy of
Dante's Inferno
and while browsing through his bookshelves when I shouldn't have been, hired on as a temporary day worker to clean his office while the regular woman was on vacation, I'd broken it.  Asher came in on me after getting out of one of his meetings earlier.  He'd seen me, startled me, I'd dropped it.  The book went crashing to the ground and the spine cracked, cover broke off, pages scattering through the air.

The entire incident was both a blur and one of my most unforgettable memories.  He'd dragged me into his office afterwards, citing a need to punish me, to leave me scattered and in disarray like the pages of his book.  My clothes, tossed aside.  Pantyhose pulled down.  More.  I lay on the table of his meeting room, shivering, but not because I was cold.

It was so wrong right then, so horribly illicit and incorrect.  I knew he was married to someone else when it happened, but I'd seen his image on TV and in magazines more than once, and...  Asher was gloriously handsome.  Yes, he was rich, but my God, he was sexy, too.  Demanding, aloof, confusing, and more.  I shouldn't have.  I shouldn't have done that and I shouldn't have liked it, but what was I supposed to do?

I didn't know.  I was unsure what else I could have done then, and to be honest I didn't know if I even wanted to do anything different.  Asher hadn't been a victim of my feminine charms, and I hadn't been a victim of his commanding wiles; we'd victimized each other.

Punishment, yes, and afterwards he'd made me finish cleaning his office while mostly naked, but before that he told me he needed to rid me of my distraction.  His hand touched me, fingers felt me.  I was shivering, but it was because I was aroused to an intense degree.  Asher rid me of my immediate distraction in the span of a couple of minutes, plying me with his fingers, touching me, pleasuring me.

He fucked me.  With his fingers.  He kept his constrained cock hidden within his pants, but he fingerfucked me so magnificently that when I came, I felt like my entire body was trying to hold his hand.  We were lovers, walking down the boardwalk, holding ice cream with one hand and holding hands with the other, blissful and happy, except so much more than that, too.  My body ached with a need and a longing I didn't even know, and while Asher had sated me then, calmed my distraction, he'd left me wanting more, too.

I didn't think that those thoughts, those feelings, our actions, were the mark of someone who
wasn't
a whore.  A homewrecker.  A slut.  His marriage was loveless, yes.  He rarely saw Beatrice then, and they were divorced now.  But, still, regardless of any of that, did a proper lady just
let
a billionaire CEO spread her legs upon his private meeting room table and let him ravish her with his fingers?

Probably not.  I'd let him do it again, though.

"Jessika," Asher said, firm.  "You aren't a whore.  Yes, perhaps our love life is a little... empowered."

"Empowered?" I asked with a laugh.  "Asher, we just almost made love in the elevator.  I kind of wanted to make love in the elevator."

"Your ovulation cycle," he said, as a point of fact.

"You're going to blame this on my ovulation cycle?" I asked.  "We've just got to have sex anywhere and everywhere for the next week because we're trying to have a baby, is that it?"

He shrugged.  "I'm just trying to say that you aren't a whore.  You're not a homewrecker, either.  You're none of that.  Just because we have an enjoyable sex life it doesn't mean that's a bad thing.  What are we supposed to do?  In, out, completely silent, not enjoying it, until I somehow manage to cum, we're done, and go about the rest of our day?"

"I don't know," I said.  "I think some people do that."

"I'm not going to do that," he said.

"I just think we should calm it down a little," I said.  I had no idea what I was saying or why I was saying this.  Some part of it made sense to me, and another part of me told that part I was insane.

"No," Asher said.

"Asher, please, we—"

He grabbed me about the waist hard and lifted me into the air.  "No."

I beat on his back and he took that moment to slap my ass hard, spanking me.  I gasped.  Before I knew it, he had me flung across his shoulder and he was carrying me to his private meeting room.  Thankfully there was no meeting going on, though there wouldn't have been one, anyways.  Asher rarely used the meeting room for actual meetings.  Privacy, yes, and the occasional special meeting with important persons, and... other things.

We were apparently going to use the meeting room for other things.  He swung the door open and I watched it, wincing as the handle hit against the wall.  The glass door was going to break, I thought.  He was going to break the entire room, throw me on the floor, and fuck me.  That's what he was going to do, wasn't he?

I didn't know whether I was worried or aroused.

Asher gently dropped me onto his meeting room table and sat me on the edge of it, standing before me.

"I was upset that day," he said.  "I knew my marriage was a lie, but I wanted to believe there was more.  Beatrice and I hadn't had sex in months, and even when we did, it was exactly like I just said.  In, out, silent, no enjoyment, and then done."

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look indignant.  Pursed lips, pouting slightly, I glared at him.

He smirked and pulled my arms up by the wrists with one hand, groping my breasts with the other.  He held my hands tight, fingers curled around them, strong and commanding.  He squeezed one of my breasts hard with his other hand, his palm and my blouse and bra and breast moving as one.  I opened my mouth to protest, but he kissed me before I could.

"I'm still speaking," he said, leaving me breathless.

I almost felt like I was drooling; our kiss left me wanting more.

"I don't know what I was thinking at the time," he said.  "I was frustrated, and I probably shouldn't have done what I did.  I knew Beatrice was going to see a fertility specialist earlier, and I'd get a call later.  I didn't think I'd get it when you were here, to be completely honest.  I didn't think about any of that.  I went too far, Jessika, but when I saw you on that table, your clothes thrown around this very meeting room, your beautiful glistening pussy right in front of me, I couldn't stop."

"I should have," he continued.  "It wasn't right of me to do that."  He said this, but at the same time he was groping my breasts, going from one to the other, mashing them together and pinching my nipple through the fabric of my blouse and bra.  "I wanted to bury my face between your legs and lap up every ounce of your arousal.  I wanted to touch it and to feel it.  I wanted to give you so much pleasure.  It wasn't right, but I hadn't known anything like that in so long, and the urge was overwhelming."

He lowered his hand unceremoniously and wrenched up my skirt.  I bounced and wobbled on the edge of the table.  Asher let go of my hands, letting me balance myself with my arms, but maybe this wasn't really the best thing for me to do.

Plucking at the waistband of my panties, he pulled them harshly upwards.  The fabric stretched, close to ripping, molding against the contours of my sex.  He pulled harder, more, up, higher, until the crotch of my panties dug into my folds and my slit, rubbing roughly against me.  I gasped at the suddenness of it, almost falling off the table.  My fingers gripped the edge of the table and I somehow managed to keep myself propped up, but I didn't even know how.

"You're always like this, Jessika," he said.  "But just for me.  It's always just for me and I love it.  I have a lot and I know that.  I have so much, and I appreciate all of it.  I never want to be unappreciative, and I never want to act privileged or entitled, but deep inside I want more.  I know I shouldn't.  There's a greed, some insatiable lust, for you and you alone, and it's difficult to control sometimes."

He wrenched my panties up harder, forcing them to grind against my clit, partly buried between my folds.  I let out a moan; part pleasure and a little pain.  Fuck.  Was this... what was this?  I didn't know.  I wasn't sure.

He kissed me.  His lips pressed against mine and he sucked in the moan, the pleasure and the pain, from my mouth.  I choked for air, trying to breathe, lost in sensation.  Asher let me.  I breathed quickly, in, out, but then he kissed me again, and I kissed him back.  We kissed.  He continued holding my panties, stretching them, fitting them to my body like some latex suit.

He spoke directly into my mouth as I tried to kiss him more and more.  "Just with you.  I know that and I've always known that.  I want you, Jessika.  I want you wet.  I want you ready and aroused and waiting, but just for me.  I know you feel the same way.  You aren't a whore.  You wouldn't do this with anyone else.  I wouldn't, either.  I love you."

"Asher, I love you, too," I said.  The words came out hurried and fast and quick, frantic like my pounding heart, but I meant each and every one of them.

"What happened today wasn't your fault," he said.  "This isn't a punishment.  You're distracted, though.  I'm going to help you, like I helped you before, but this time it won't be wrong.  We're married now.  Me and you.  Husband and wife.  I love you so much, Jessika Landseer, and I will continue loving you forever.  You're not a whore or a homewrecker or a slut, but I'm going to have my way with you right here and now in my office, on the conference table where I've welcomed countless other important businessmen, and will continue to do so in the future.  No one will ever know what we've done here except you and I, though.  It's our secret, I promise.  Do you trust me?"