Prologue

Mia

My hands shook as I picked up the crimson lipstick from the marble benchtop. I wasn’t really partial to such a loud color. The bright, rouge shade made me feel uncomfortable. It made me feel like I was laid bare on stage, the center of attention, people leering at me, which I didn’t like. I was more of a natural color type girl. Nude pink was my favorite, followed by a peachy orange. These colors I would describe as both beautiful and innocent. Yet I was neither beautiful nor innocent.

Touching the scarlet color to my lower lip, I gazed at myself as my heart continued to beat too fast for my liking. Within the mirror and staring back at me was a young woman I barely recognized. Slim, oval face with high cheekbones, eyes the color of walnuts with a hint of gold radiating around the rim of the iris, straight but not prominent nose, and lips a little bit on the plump side as the dominating feature, she was plain. Her hair was a rich raven black that sometimes sparkled a hue of blue in the brightness of the sun. She was of medium height and slim build. Overall, she wasn’t model material.

According to me, she wasn’t at all beautiful. She was just another girl amongst the crowd. You wouldn’t even notice her at all in the crowd. She was that invisible. That average. Yet she was noticed by James Maxwell, a business multibillionaire with too much money to throw around and too much power and influence.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.

“Slow down.” The words shakily escaped my colorless lips. “Just calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”

Instead of alleviating the tremor within my chest and along my throat, it was exacerbated. My stomach couldn’t stop flipping either.

“Shit!” the profanity flew out of my mouth before I could inhale another lungful of oxygen.

I dropped the lipstick in frustration and raked my fingers through my curls. After a few more deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly, I managed to calm myself and raised my face to the mirror once again.

Picking up the lipstick, I chanted, “Everything is going to be all right, Mia. He’s going to like you for what you’re going to offer him tonight. It’s his birthday.”

This was my redemption, I supposed, for disobeying him. For rebelliously, cunningly, secretly, but stupidly cutting my very long curls. He liked the length of my previous tresses, which reached all the way down to my waist. He liked to run his fingers through the soft strands. He liked it brushing and caressing his naked skin as he made me ride him, his fully erect shaft deep inside me.

I knew how much he adored my hair, yet I had underhandedly cut it simply to spite him. I wanted to show him he couldn’t really control all of me. I think a part of me had secretly wanted to rile him up, to displease him just to see how far he’d go. Well, I’d learned that the hard way, hadn’t I?

I finally managed to calm my nerves and carefully applied the lipstick. After patting my lips with a Kleenex and then reapplying for a matte finish, I stepped back and noticed how red my lips were compared to my pale face. I very nearly looked like a geisha with my dark hair and milky white skin. Except of course without the kimono.

I blinked, thinking of rubbing some of the color off. With the sound of the clock ticking indicating another minute had just past, however, I changed my mind. Instead, I turned my attention to my attire.

Tonight I wore the pink lacey panties and James’s favorite pale-blue work shirt. It was his favorite simply because I’d worn it by accident after he’d finished having his way with me for the third time that night three weeks ago. I’d wanted to leave immediately and be in my own room. Not that I didn’t like him ravishing me and having his hardened rod inside me; it was just that I was exhausted and wanted to be by myself after the long foreplay and hard, deep thrusting. I unthinkingly grabbed his shirt and donned it for decency’s sake. After all, I hadn’t wanted to walk naked across the hall of the mansion. My thin dress and underwear had all been lovingly ripped to pieces. I hadn’t wanted Ms. Lane, the housekeeper, to see me without a stitch of clothing.

“Is my shirt your robe now?” he’d asked, his dark brows rising mockingly.

I held my head high and said haughtily, “It is.”

I didn’t even get to exit before he roughly grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back onto the bed. A fourth round of rough sex ensued, me with nothing on but his pale-blue shirt as he thrust into me.

The thought of that night brought a delicious shiver down my spine, and my core heated and tightened knowingly. Jesus! I was turned on by just the memory. As if it were calling to me, I glanced at the lacey panties and felt a delicious twist of sensation coursing there.

That particular type of panty was one of the many he’d bought for me to wear on our nights of amour. Lacey, see-through, and way too sexy compared to my normal briefs I’d usually wear for comfort.

Apart from the shirt and panties, there was nothing on me. That was how he liked me. Actually, no, he preferred me without a stitch on and writhing beneath him as he devoured me. The panties and his work shirt came next.

I left the shirt unbuttoned halfway, showing a good portion of my chest and cleavage. After raking my fingers through my bob a second time, I hurried out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where James sat near the head of the bed, patiently awaiting my return.

Oh, he knew I’d return. He knew I couldn’t just leave him even if I tried. He knew I couldn’t leave him even if I wanted to. I was chained to him—for another five years at the least, until such time when the debt was all paid, to his satisfaction of course.

Oddly enough, the sight of him now still caused a shiver of trepidation along my spine. Perhaps it was because of that first time he’d taken me that hadn’t gone the way I’d imagined or hoped it would. What had I expected? A romantic wooing? Slow first kiss? Gentle caressing? James wasn’t my boyfriend. Perhaps it was because our relationship was so unlike any others I’d known. To put it bluntly, I was simply his paramour. I was nothing to him. Nothing.

He cocked his head to one side as he watched me, an amused smile playing on his lips. In his arms was Sammy, his samoyed breed. He was stroking the dog now, slow and gentle but firm. Just the way he caressed me. Slow and gentle—firm.

My stomach flipped as he watched me. There was something in his eyes that always affected me in the oddest way. Now, like always, I felt lightheaded and just that little bit breathless.

I came toward him and stopped a few feet away. It looked like he was in no hurry to ravish me tonight. He was still stroking Sammy and paid no heed to my attempt at seduction. Well, I knew nothing of seduction, of course, and standing here like a statue definitely didn’t count.

It eventually became awkward, and I hesitated. I was about to turn back when he said, “Unbutton the shirt.” His eyes were still on the canine as though he were talking to it. “You know how much I like it with the buttons undone.”

In that short instant, my temper rose. I was never good with people telling me what to do, particularly this billionaire. I had to admit also that my temper had never been this short before I’d met him either. Many told me I’d always been an even-tempered girl, even during the storm of my adolescence years.

I managed to calm down, reminding myself that patronizing him would be no use, as it would only amuse him further. He basked in the knowledge that his words managed to rile me up and my face flamed red with what he called a particular radiance, which he’d explained to me happened when “I fuck you long and slow.”

Refusing to think of those particular words, I looked down at myself and then slowly undid the remaining four buttons. Once done, I glanced up and saw James watching me. He was always watching me as if he were fascinated by me.

He bent down and released the dog. Sammy took the opportunity and ran to me, wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out at me with adoration. I bent down to stroke the furry animal—no doubt that particular billionaire opposite me was enjoying a good view of my breasts as I did so. After I patted him a couple more times, Sammy was finally satisfied and rushed with his short legs to the opposite side of the room. He made himself comfortable in his bed by the fireplace as I returned my undivided attention to my patron.

“Come here,” the aforementioned patron commanded softly.

My legs stiffened for a brief second and then slowly moved in accordance to the demand. I came to stand before him, between his knees. His gaze lazily drifted from my face to my chest and then lower to my breasts. It was as if he were caressing me with his eyes, slowly and intensely. I felt my nipples engorged into tightened buds, so sensitive even my breaths became short.

He gently fingered the material of the shirt. I felt like he was stroking my skin, and my core twisted and tensed with anticipation. I held my breath as he lightly brushed his hand along the line of the frills of my panties. His fingers trailed lower to the underside. There, he applied just that little bit more pressure, allowing himself to feel the lips of my pussy.

I gasped. My whole body trembled in response to his light touches. He raised his head to look at me, his Prussian blue eyes twinkling and a smile spread across his handsome face.

“You’re already wet,” he said with amusement.

I blushed and quickly shoved away his hand. Even if my body screamed how much it wanted him, I personally refused to admit the obvious.

He laughed and said, “Is that how you treat the birthday boy, Mia?”

I blinked and replied, “No.”

“Then how do you treat a birthday boy?”

He was looking at me now with that amusement in his eyes again, which both irritated and enthralled me at the same time.

“Be nice to him?” I pretended ignorance.

“Yes.” He grinned. “And give him cake… with cream. A lot of cream.”

The way he spoke those words made me swallow hard. I felt my core twisting and burning with need. I involuntarily rested my hands on his powerful shoulders for support because I knew I’d fall if I didn’t.

James wrapped one arm around the small of my waist and pulled me close. He touched his lips against my right nipple, lightly and gently, just a brush against my skin. That little action caused me to melt into him. My knees buckled and I leaned farther against him.

When he opened his lips and popped my nipple into his warm mouth, I was almost done for. I clutched to him as he sucked and then grazed and nibbled the sensitive bud. As he did so, I closed my eyes and could only feel the glorious sensation bursting within me. He did the same to the left one, and by the time he was done, I was shaking and my breasts and nipples were hard and glistening wet as pink pebbles beneath running water.

It was then he pulled me onto the bed and made me lie below him. I followed him without resistance, and then he was kissing my lips. When he urged me to open my mouth for him, I obliged. He plunged in his tongue, exploring me, making me breathless and out of sorts. I was quivering by the time he finished ravishing my mouth. He didn’t let me go there either. He continued his little kisses down my throat and lower and lower south. As he licked and kissed and tasted me with his warm lips and hot tongue, I closed my eyes and once again remember that first time I met him three weeks ago.