Master Class: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (+ Bonus Book 'Silent Daughter 1') (18 page)

She is soaking wet.

I knew it.

Liz instinctively pushes her legs together, trying to prevent my intrusion, but I yank her head backward and force her legs apart by spreading my fingers between her thighs.

"I said understand?" I press.

She lets out a helpless moan as I force my middle finger inside of her, pushing it in as deeply as possible while my palm presses against her folds. She is confined in my grip, unable to move, and showing no signs of fight. If anything, she is paralyzed, staring up at me with disbelief.

"Yes," she finally breathes. "I... understand."

"Good girl," I praise her, and she clenches around me.

Fucking hell, she needs this as much as I do. Maybe even more.

She will be mine, and the first step to accomplishing that is to make her understand that I am the one who is in control.

I let another finger slide inside her while my thumb searches for her clit.

"No," she gasps as she understands what I am about to do.

"Oh, yes," I object. "You are going to come on my fingers like a good little slut. Right now, right here."

She shakes her head, but her eyes roll back into her head as my thumb starts circling her swollen clit. Even I am surprised at how close she is already.

"No," she repeats, hardly a whisper. "No, no, no..."

I increase the pressure on her clit and move my fingers inside her, forcefully pushing in and out while she clenches around me. She starts shaking uncontrollably, closing her eyes and breaking a sweat as she tries to prevent the inevitable.

I decide to give the final push, the release she so desperately craves and fears, and bend my fingers inside of her, soon finding that most sensitive spot right beneath her mound.

Her eyes open wide in disbelief when I find it, pushing against that certain spot close to her entrance while my thumb still works her clit.

"Don't fight it," I urge her, pressing her closer to myself and tilting her head back so far, that her face grimaces in pain.

That sends her over the edge. Her breathing turns so desperate and fast for a few moments that I anticipate her to pass out. But she remains conscious. Instead, her eyes roll back into her head, and she lets out a loud moan of relief while her muscles clench around my fingers as she finds her release, handing over control for the brief moment that her climax lasts.

It's only the beginning.

I
had fixed
my hair and my dress, but my cheeks were probably still flushed when I made my way back to the house. He stayed behind for a few minutes, so we were not seen coming back together. I fled up to the bathroom and kept my distance for the rest of the evening, which was easy enough. I am good at not talking to people, after all.

Still, every time I remember that day, my pulse starts racing, sending heat and color of embarrassment up to my face. It's almost as if a telltale alarm goes off every time I think about him.

Even now while I am sitting in the most inappropriate company for these thoughts, I cannot help but remember that fateful afternoon.

It has been five days since then, and I am reminded of it because my sister and her fiancé have stopped by for dinner. They are talking about wedding plans with my parents while I stare down at my plate, invisible as always, but dancing on the inside as my thoughts wander back to the forest.

The way he looked at me, talked to me... touched me. I almost exploded when he grabbed me and his hand forced its way underneath my dress. No one—no one—has ever claimed me like that.

And I have never been this ready for anyone to do so.

My cheeks must be turning to dark shades of red as I remember the shame of the extent of my arousal. I didn't have to fake anything. I have had my first orgasm with a man—and just by his touch, fully clothed, his fingers between my legs, working his magic.

It was amazing. Forbidden, so filthy and dark. If my family knew about this....

I wake up from my daydreaming when I hear someone mention his name.

"... with Mr. Clark." I hear the end of Pete’s sentence.

I look up from my plate, glad that no seems to notice my sudden interest in the conversation.

"Yes, your father mentioned that he might be a good mentor for you," my dad says, speaking to Pete. "I had a few words with him before he left. Nice fellow, very polite and knowledgeable."

Pete nods. "Yes, he's not much older than me, but boy does that man know his business!"

"I don't like him," Sandria interjects.

Both my dad and Pete turn towards her, raising their eyebrows in question.

"Why is that, darling?" Pete wants to know.

Darling
. God, what a wuss.

Sandria scrunches her nose like the perfect aristocratic lady she wants to be.

"I don't know," she says. "He just rubs me the wrong way. He is kind of... creepy."

"I see what you're saying," my mother agrees. "One cannot know if he is to be trusted."

My father and Pete exchange a quick look and shrug shoulders.

"He is a bit intense," my father admits. "But I don't see anything wrong with him."

"He is very professional," Pete adds. "I think I could learn a lot from him."

"So, you're meeting up with him?" I ask, to everyone's surprise.

All eyes turn to me. I haven't spoken the entire evening—I hardly ever do.

"That's what he just said," Sandria replies, rolling her eyes at me.

"Yeah, I'm having lunch with him next week," Pete says, politely as always.

Guess who's having lunch with him before that
.

I suppress a treacherous smile as I think about the upcoming date that Mr. Clark and I arranged.

After he had forced that overwhelming orgasm out of me, he held me for a few moments, giving me time to come to my senses. As soon as I regained my ability to think clearly, I freed myself from his grip and fixed my dress and hair while lowering my head in shame. He looked at me and laughed, calling me a good girl again, which I hated and loved at the same time.

When he asked whether I was interested to see him again—alone—I didn't hesitate to say yes.

"There's more where that came from," he promised. I instantly felt light headed again, flashing him a coy smile as I replied: "I sure hope so."

He took out a tiny notebook and a pen from his suit's inside pocket and insisted that I gave him my number.

"Full name and number," he ordered.

I obliged, obedient like a well-trained puppy and only afterward wondered about that specific request. I figured that it was just him being overly formal, "professional" as Pete called it, but it still strikes me as odd.

Just as odd as his other requests while we arranged to see each other again.

"I want to take you out to the lake," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you trying to scare me?" I asked, half-jokingly.

He smiled. "Does it scare you?"

"A stranger who just assaulted me, forcing me to come on his fingers while hiding in the forest on my family's estate, now says that he wants to 'take me to the lake'?" I said. "Some people would consider that scary."

He laughed. "I just want to take you out on my boat. It's beautiful out there this time of year with the leaves changing colors on the riverside."

He stepped forward, placing his hand on my cheek. "Plus, we can be sure we’re completely alone out there."

He planted a kiss on my lips, modest and loving, very different from the one before.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired.

I nodded though I wasn’t sure I did. I knew that I was curious, and that was enough for me right then.

He asked me to bring a change of warm clothes because it "might get cold and wet out there" and he thought it best for me to tell no one that I am meeting up with him.

I instantly agreed to that last part. I had no intentions of letting anyone know that I would be going out on a lunch date with Leonard Clark, the man whom my mother and sister found to be "creepy."

The man who has nothing but distant business relations to our family. No name, no background. A man my mother would never approve of.

I love that.

And I love secrets, especially when it is something I am keeping from my loveless family. They don't care about what I do all day. My father is busy with work, and my mother has her own things going on, especially now that she is so heavily involved in Sandria's wedding preparations. They wouldn't even notice if I was gone for the entire weekend if it wasn't for dinner. Being absent from the dinner table was frowned upon, even if no one ever spoke to me or wanted me to speak.

I hate being back here and I hate that I have nowhere else to go at the moment. An afternoon out of the house, distracting myself with the pleasure that the enticing Mr. Clark promises to provide me with sounds almost too good to be true.

I am counting every hour until Friday when I will see him.

Out on his boat.

W
e agreed
to meet at the pier where my little yacht is anchored. In truth, it is not mine, I am only leasing it. After all, I haven't been around in these parts for long, and I have no intentions of sticking around. When I learned that there is a giant lake close to the suburban area that I would call home for a while, I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of it.

It paid off today.

Liz took a cab to the train station close to the pier just like I told her to. I keep out of sight as she pays the driver and steps out of the car. As far as he is concerned, I want him to think that she is here to get on a train.

It comes in handy that she didn't know the area and was glad to be picked up at the train station.

I was surprised to hear that her family never owned any boats or spent time at the lake. It is a bit far from their estate, but not too far to completely ignore its existence. Plus, yachts and sailing boats seem to be such a typical pastime for families like hers.

But she insisted that they have never spent time here and have very little connection to the people here, which is all the better for my plan.

I arranged for us to meet up around noon because I know that there is no one around at this time, especially on a Friday. The station is pretty much deserted around this time because there are no trains leaving or arriving for another hour.

It is best if no one sees her boarding that boat with me or even meeting me at the station. If someone did, I would fuck up my entire plan for today.

I wait until the cab is out of sight and check the surroundings before I show myself to her. She casts me a shy smile as she walks towards me, barely able to maintain eye contact.

"Hello, Liz," I greet her, lifting her delicate hand up to my lips and planting a kiss on the back of it.

She blushes. Silly little girl.

"Hello, Mr. Clark."

"Leonard," I correct her.

She looks completely different than she did when I first laid eyes on her. She is wearing an unobtrusive dress with thick, black pantyhose underneath and a dark red coat over it. Her slim legs end in almost knee-high boots, and she has a giant, dark green scarf wrapped around her dainty neck.

Her long hair is pulled up into a loose bun, and she is wearing far less makeup than she did last week, but still has her eyes circled with black eyeliner and thick mascara that makes her eyelashes appear about twice as long and dense as I assume they would naturally be.

I will know soon enough.

She took my words of warning to heart and is carrying a bag over her shoulder that would easily be big enough for an overnight bag.

I told her to dress casual and to bring extra clothes, and she obeyed both. What a good girl.

I am sure she will still give me plenty of reasons to spank her. Spank her like she's never been spanked before. This girl has no idea what's coming for her.

"Ready?" I ask.

She nods. "Of course."

I don't think so, but we will see about that.

"Let me take that," I say and take the bag out of her hands before she has a chance to protest.

"Thank you," she whispers, sounding a bit lost.

I lead the way while she follows me, always half a step behind, as if she knew that that is how it's supposed to be with me. Of course, this would be a lot better with a collar around her neck and a leash in my hands, but that will have to wait until later.

The train station is very close to the pier, within walking distance. I looked up the route I want to walk with her before. Again, we find ourselves in a forest, shielded from the eyes of those who are driving along the road that leads to the train station. It is not the fastest way, but it is the most secluded. Chances are we won't encounter another soul here.

"You really like forests," she comments as we disappear into the shadows of the trees. It's a sunny and cool day.

I nod. "Don't you?"

"I told you—I'm the only person who ever strolls through the forest on our estate," she says.

That tone. She sounds a bit too sullen for my taste. She is quiet and reserved but doesn't appear to be scared or intimidated at all.

I would like to change that.

"You must trust me a lot," I say, observing her from the side. Again, she doesn't give me the satisfaction of a visible reaction.

"Should I not?" she asks without looking at me.

"We hardly know each other," I interject.

She shrugs. "You cannot rape me because we both know that I am willing to fuck you."

She pauses and we both come to a halt. Liz looks up at me, her eyes as green as her scarf. They seem to be especially dark today. With the degree of changes in their color and brightness, I begin to wonder whether she is wearing contact lenses.

"And if you plan to kill me, that would be really stupid," she says in a matter-of-fact voice. "Besides, why would you want to do that?"

She smiles. A beautiful, but somehow solemn smile.

"You just want to fuck me," she says. "And there's nothing wrong with that because I want that, too."

"Hard," she adds.

I chuckle. It's cute how she thinks she is completely in control and aware of all the possible outcomes that this day might lead to. So wonderfully naive.

She blushes with anger and frowns at me. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not laughing at you," I defend myself. "I agree with everything you say, and I am glad you trust me."

I place my arm around her and pull her close in a sudden motion. She gasps in surprise but doesn't resist when I push her slim frame against my side while we continue walking.

I am painfully reminded of why I chose to keep my distance from her before we reach the boat. The way she feels within my grip does something to me. It awakens the monster. My cock instantly rises to attention, agitated by wild thoughts that take a hold of me. Savage, dirty thoughts of what I want to do to her.

What I will do to her. Soon.

My stride grows wider and faster. I need to get her on that boat as quickly as possible. I need to be alone with her. Alone and safe from the eyes of others.

She looks up at me from the side but doesn't say a thing.

Finally, we reach the pier. I place my hand at her back and gently push her forward on the jetty. There are only two boats anchored at the moment.

"The one on the right," I say. She walks ahead as I follow her, scanning my delicious acquisition from behind. I cannot wait to peel her out of those clothes. She is wearing way too much.

The autumn sun is at its peak as we walk along the jetty, blinded by the water reflecting the sunbeams that pierce our eyes like shimmering daggers.

"It's nice," she comments as we step on the boat.

The yacht is rather small with two luxurious sleeping cabins, a hot tub and a sundeck that I am sure I will never use. I plan to be out of here by the time summer returns.

I take Liz's hand to help her get on deck. She looks at me expectantly.

I lead her to the bridge deck, which is equipped with a sitting area in white leather. Just like everything else on this yacht, the design is contemporary and light, featuring taupe on the upper deck and bleached oak on the lower deck, which creates an interesting contrast from inside to outside.

Thanks to the blazing sun, the bridge deck is still warm enough to sit outside even out on the water where it will be much colder.

"Sit," I order her, gesturing towards the sitting area. "Make yourself comfortable while I get us out of here."

She nods and follows my gesture, but stops midway, turning around to me.

"Can't I sit next to you at the helm?" she asks. "I've never been on a yacht like this. It would be interesting to watch."

I look at her, contemplating if this was the right moment to insist on commanding her and expecting full obedience, but decide otherwise.

Not yet.

"Sure," I agree.

She has been visibly tense since we stepped on the yacht, sitting up unnaturally straight next to me as I steer the boat out onto the lake. I plan to put as much distance between us and the riverside as possible.

Coincidentally, this also brings us closer to my house, which has a pier of its own. But she doesn't need to know that right now.

"Where did you tell your family you were going?" I ask.

The question appears to come out of the blue for her. She has been observing the water ahead of us and is startled at hearing my voice.

"Nowhere in particular," she says. "I didn't have to tell them anything. All they want to know is whether I will be around for dinner."

"And will you?" I ask, knowing quite well that she won't.

"No," she says. "I told them I would grab something downtown."

"Is that what you told them?" I interrogate. "That you're going downtown?"

"Yes," she says. "Bookstores, shopping, meeting a friend... things like that. They don't care."

I do. It's important for me to know where her parents think she is.

"Did you tell anybody that you were meeting me?" I continue my questioning.

She chuckles. "What? Do you want to hear if I told any of my girlfriends about you?"

Yes, but for different reasons than she thinks.

"I do."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she says. "But I haven't told anyone about you, or this, or about what happened in the forest at my parents' place."

Good. Very good.

"How come?" I ask.

She sighs. Her eyes wander back to the horizon where there's nothing but water ahead of us. Luckily, there aren't even any other boats or yachts within sight.

Fate seems to be on my side today.

"I don't talk about this kind of thing," she says. "It's none of their business. Besides, I don't have a
Sex and the City
-type gang as friends, who sit around and chat about their sexual exploits all day."

"Too bad," I say. Of course, I couldn't be happier to hear this.

We have reached the area of the lake I intend to cast anchor. For now.

The yacht is now located at the widest part of the lake. Wide enough to be far away from the riverside, but able to set anchor away from the main route that most boats take. I would hate to be interrupted because we're in somebody's way.

I stop the engine, cast the anchor, and prepare everything for our temporary parking while Liz observes me with big eyes.

She looks like a young school girl sitting next to me. The way she is sitting, upright and attentive, while her big eyes follow every single one of my motions. So innocent with that naive aura around her, even though I know she is anything but a virgin. She has a twisted mind—the marks around her ankles proved just that.

My cock twitches at the thought of tying her up the way she has fantasized about and doing things to her that may or may not have been part of those fantasies.

I turn around to her.

She reciprocates my gaze, looking up at me with eyes that are now closer to blue than ever before. We are sitting below the shades that cover the area around the helm, but it is still a lot lighter out here than it was in the forest.

Her eyes seem to reflect the blue sky above us. It seems silly to me that I have ever mistaken them for green.

My plan was to sit out on the deck with her for a while. Have a drink, chat—what a normal couple would do.

But I am not normal.

The beast is raging inside of me, impatient to finally have a taste of her. A real taste.

Keep it together, keep it together
.

You'll have her. All of her.

My fists unwillingly clench as I try to figure out what my next move should be.

She notices it just as she did out on the terrace at the party.

"Why do I make you angry?" she asks. Her voice quivers.

There it is. She is scared.

Deliciously scared.

"Get up," I command her.

She flinches at the sound of my voice. The beast is right there, dancing on the tip of my tongue. I can no longer hide it, and I know I won't be able to have a conversation with her right now.

I need to feed the beast first.

"Get up!" I repeat, louder this time. "I'm not going to say it again."

Her eyes widen with fear and her cheeks blush. She likes this. Her flushed cheeks are just as much of a telltale as her erratic breathing.

She jumps up from her seat and takes two steps away from me.

There's nowhere to run, little girl.

She stares at me, her eyes wide open with that delicious panic. Her breathing has changed to that exquisite rhythm I love so much.

I get up from my seat and dart forward, grabbing her upper arm as I come to a halt in front of her and pulling her so close to me that her delicate body is pressed against mine. She gasps in surprise and stares up at me.

"I know you don't mind," I whisper. "I would like to get a taste of you now. I'm sorry, it can't wait."

Her eyes flicker.

"A taste of me?" she breathes.

"Exactly," I confirm.

I turn around and drag her with me as I make my way downstairs to the lower deck. She stumbles down the narrows stairs behind me, almost falling, before I catch her. I close the door behind us, just in case she turns out to be a screamer after all.

"Undress!" I order her as we stand in the living area of the lower deck.

She takes a quick look around as if she was checking whether we're alone or not. The interior is designed in modern colors similar to the upper deck, but featuring a few darker accents. Behind Liz is a ridiculously large sofa corner all in grey and black.

I take few steps forward, causing her to retreat closer to the sofas behind her.

"I said undress!" I repeat, glaring at her with narrow eyes.

She takes a deep breath. "Here? Now?"

"Yes," I confirm. "And if you don't do it in the next few seconds, I promise you, you'll be in trouble."

She furls her eyebrows. "What about you? Won't you ge—"

I interrupt her by darting forward, grabbing her upper arm again and throwing her towards the sofa.

"When I tell you to do something," I yell as I push her forward. "You fucking do it, understand?"