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2022-10-13 18:58:15
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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Smile
As a child, my pretend play always involved someone being captured and tied up. Held indefinitely against her will, she was rarely rescued. If she did get free, the bad guy always found her and tied her up again. I liked being tied up. It gave me more freedom, if that’s possible, to be myself. To be erotic and sexy. I liked the intense feeling of spanking, whipping, paddling, and caning. In fact, I preferred that kind of pain to any mental pain and angst, real or imagined. Yes, the world was a crazy place. But I had finally found a way to fit into it. I had never intended to date my client. Rule number one was that I don’t date clients. Ever. Only now could I explain my inability to stick to that rule: I may not have been the one in control.After last night, Richard left me to think things over. Alone. He went to another part of the house—perhaps to his vampire coffin in the basement, I thought with a smile—and I opened up my laptop for answers. Overnight, I’d looked up similar cont
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife The door
Almost two weeks after Travis attacked me, I dreamed about tombstoning. Determined to dive, I made my way forward in a densely overgrown forest. I could barely make out leaves and branches in the dark. I had to get to the cliff before dawn and the sky was lightening. Time was running out. Branches and brush scraped my arms and legs. I climbed as quickly as I could. Yet the faster I moved, the heavier my arms became. My legs grew stiff, and my feet stuck to the ground. Slowly, slowly, I pushed the last branch aside to reveal the cliff’s edge. On the horizon, black water met dark orange sky. I crawled toward the edge, aware that I was not alone. Children’s voices—screams—came from nearby. I looked behind me and side to side. No, the voices were coming from below. Lying on my belly, I peered over the cliff and looked down. Three young girls stood on a ledge ten or twenty feet below. The youngest who was about twelve screamed. She seemed terrified. The other two consoled her, and I judg
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife The sea
ONE YEAR AGO:From heights of sixty to eighty feet, it takes up to three and a half seconds to hit the water. In that brief moment of time, a thousand thoughts, images, or feelings rush through my mind. Sometimes during the fall, I’d worry I’d forgotten how. The air would rush past my body, but I’d keep my eye on the landing—growing closer each fraction of a second—as I’d tuck and somersault or straighten into an arrow. With three seconds to freefall, you enter at such a force that if any part of your body is out of line, it will break. But I’d trained for this. My body knew exactly what to do. When I hit the water, profound silence—as near to death as I could imagine—allowed me to forget what I’d done.I had a suitcase packed and ready under the defense table in the courtroom. The prosecutor Aaron Stroheim and I gave our closing speeches, and the jurors filed out to deliberate. They didn’t take long to come up with a verdict, my case was solid. My client was acquitted. As soon as th
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Dark
The orange Chicago skyline glowed like fires burning in the distance. The sun hadn’t yet gone down on the sizzling summer evening. In Richard Mackenzie’s Lake Forest mansion, I closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains of the luxurious first-floor bedroom windows then lit two candles. I dabbed on tinted lip-gloss and stripped off every bit of clothing, then fastened tightly around my neck the diamond-studded collar that Richard, my lover, had given me weeks ago. Earlier, I’d printed out the document written by Richard: the Elements of Submission contract which described the relationship I was about to dive into with him. I’d taken two days to read it. Two days to read my lover. The contract outlined consensual sex play between a dominant and submissive. It listed sadistic pleasures to be given or received, including the acts of piercing and tattooing, caning, and nipple torture. Invasive devices—gags and anal plugs—were among the toys listed in the contract. Richard asked me to check off
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Deep
Not a deep sleeper like me, Richard didn’t stay in bed long. He eased under the covers and curled around me in the middle of the night, then he was up again at the crack of dawn. My bedroom at his mansion was just for me. He had another somewhere upstairs—I hadn’t seen it yet—where he did private things, collected his thoughts, and dressed in his beautifully cut suits and jackets, dark jewel-toned shirts with cufflinks, and high-priced Italian leather shoes. Used to living alone, I didn’t mind the privacy. I slid my arms and legs into a pair of black-satin pajamas. I splashed water on my face and gave my long oak-brown hair a brush. Then I dabbed on lip gloss and went to the kitchen in search of coffee.Grant, Richard’s cook, and casual butler was preparing a meal that filled the house with tempting aromas. He stopped what he was doing to smile at me. With a style all his own, he wore a black apron over orange slacks and a red button-up shirt with a bowtie. “I made a fresh pot of co
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife House
Roman, I found out, was also busy. She had finally met a guy and her calendar was full until the following week when he went out of town. We agreed to tell each other everything when we got together then. In the meantime, unproductive summer days grew long and lazy. Empty hours filled with meditative reverie. Most days, Richard drove to Chicago to work and returned home around seven. While I slept, Richard worked in his study. He rarely spent the night in bed with me and was usually gone from the house before I woke in the morning. During the day, I swam in his pool or lay in the sun on his pool-house patio overlooking Lake Michigan. At night, we talked about our childhoods or explored some of the things in the contract. He seemed to have an endless supply of gags and rope with which to tie me. And he proved to be an expert in the art of eliciting and then extending a woman’s orgasm.With Richard’s case closed, I used my leave of absence to figure things out. Was I ready to get back
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Work
With the two-week leave of absence over, Erik drove me to my office at Dorman, Wallace, & Edward’s in Chicago’s West Loop. Perry welcomed me with open arms. She looked happier than I remembered and shot a flirty glance at Domie Dorman, son of the senior partner, as he came by to say hello. I had missed working, though I didn’t miss my clients. Today, that was going to change. When Dorman Sr. knocked on my door with a list of new cases he wanted me to take, some had committed crimes against women. A few had murdered their spouses or companions. I told him I was through representing men who abused women. “From now on, I’ll pick the cases right for me,” I said. Dorman shifted uneasily and seemed to bite his tongue. “Do what’s right for you, Wil.” It was a step in the right direction. Perry brought me up to speed with the two cases we had been working on, and I busied myself with research in my office until around lunchtime when I heard a bold knock on my door.Charlotte—aka Charlie—
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Account
After lunch, I took another look at the charges against Bohdi Michaels. The spelling of his first name was odd. I was familiar with the Hindi name, Bodhi, which meant enlightened one. I double-checked the spelling and meaning with Google before continuing my search. The definition that showed up most often said awakening or enlightenment. Despite the odd spelling, given my desire to change the path of my career, his name was as good a reason as any to research the case. It turned out he was a banker by trade and worked for a Fortune 500 company, Houghton Chambers Investment Bank. He made close to seven figures a year. The solicitation and money laundering charges brought against Michaels were related to the recent police sting involving a prostitution ring at Red Lace Escort Services. The business advertised young women, and others—genderqueer, transsexual, or gay people—for hire as arm-candy for ritzy events and parties. Under the umbrella of Red Lace Escorts LLC, the individuals h
Last Updated : 2022-10-13
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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Leave
The bed was still warm where Richard’s body had lain, but my lover was gone. In bare feet, I padded to the kitchen and found a pile of torn paper on the counter. Our dominant/submissive contract, in pieces. Beside it, a bright pink sticky-note—a love-note with his handwriting—stuck to the black granite counter. As a submissive, you have all the control. Love, Richard.He’d told me that before, and I never grasped the meaning. Yet when I thought of our relationship as a whole, I realized Richard gave me everything I ever needed. He gave me punishment when I asked for it. He gave me space when I—like a child having a temper tantrum—walked away from him. Through it all, he had been there for me in every way I needed. He loved me. And I loved him. Where do we go from here?I pulled up his number on my cell phone and dialed. The call went to voicemail, but I left a message. “Hey. Thanks for stopping by last night.” I didn’t know what to say. “I . . . uh, I wanted to see if you’ll go on a
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Kisses
Natasha sat on the bed and leveled the rifle at me while I got a pair of jeans and a shirt out of my suitcase. He ripped them from my hand and threw them into the closet. “Where is the dress I sent to you? The one you wore at the fundraiser.”I snarled, “I threw it in the trash.” “A shame. Find something else. Something nice!”I held up a sleeveless black dress and he seemed satisfied. I dressed behind the closed bathroom door then put on a pair of black high heels.Natasha’s beady eyes followed me like a coyote seeking fresh prey. “Where is your diamond collar?”I’d left it here the last time I returned to Chicago. The black velvet box sat on top of the dresser still. Natasha saw where my gaze landed and prodded me with the rifle. “Wear it.” I clipped the necklace around my throat as Natasha came to my side to examine the jeweled collar. My shoulder. My hair. His touch sickened me. He clasped his hand around my throat and squeezed. “He marked you with this. He thinks he owns you.
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Return
He said he’d be there for me when I returned. Since the weekend trip was short, I packed a small bag that included a bathing suit, change of clothes and one sheath dress for dinner the night before my dive. On the late-night two-hour flight from Chicago to Burlington, Vermont, I perused Google’s list of top sights near Lake Champlain. I’d never before been to South Burlington, where American history and museums abounded. My finger hovered over the link to the Church Street Marketplace—an outdoor shopping mall that stretched four blocks. It brought to mind the horrific day Roman was kidnapped. I shut my laptop and lay my head back on the headrest. I envied the woman sleeping across the aisle from me. Her deep breathing sounded peaceful. That kind of contentment felt out of my reach.At seven-thirty last night, Greg had driven me to The Office Bar, where I met with Charlie Reid for a much needed pep-talk. She walked me through a plan to help Bohdi Michaels avoid the twenty-year priso
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The floor
I spent a week in Chicago, visiting Roman and diving into work. I avoided Richard because I needed time to think things through. Richard said he loved me. He’d done everything in his power to help find Roman. Then he donated the one million dollars to the battered women’s shelter.I needed to go to him. I needed to see if he could give me what I wanted.I stepped into the dimly lit Lake Forest house with my agenda at the forefront of my mind. With the FBI team gone, an unusual sense of quiet had settled over the house. Security guards hung around quietly minding their own business, yet ever watchful.The scar on my leg ached. I dropped my things in the bedroom and went to the one place where my dark fantasy could be realized. Where the security guards would not be. The dungeon. In the basement, I pushed open the unlocked door to Richard’s playroom. As if he’d been expecting me, red nightlights on two walls cast long shadows of the X-rack and a coffin-sized cage. My eyes adjusted, an
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Black
A heavy-set man in a black suit opened the tall glass doors of Red Lace Escort Service for us. I recognized him as the man who—weeks earlier—handed me the titanium business card with Bohdi’s number. He pulled back his jacket and showed us his pistol. I followed Richard into the brightly lit office, where two other thugs were waiting. One stood near the office door with his automatic rifle in hand. One had been reclining on the fuchsia loveseat and when we walked in he sat up at attention, pointing his Uzi our way. I had left my Browning with Greg. Curbelo had outfitted us both with bullet-proof vests. The heavy armor made my breathing shallow. I wore the micro-transmitter—a necklace that looked like a tear-drop pendant—because Curbelo was afraid Richard would be frisked.“Ms. Robert,” the heavy man said. “’Dis way.” He pointed to the hall that lead to Angelique’s office but didn’t follow us. I understood now that the organization wanted me to represent Bohdi because they didn’t think
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Overnight
Fy scorched me inside. If Richard knew something about Roman’s disappearance, he’d have hell to pay. Once we arrived at Lake Forest, I flew around the house looking for him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was Grant. The empty black leather desk chair in his office faced the window as if watching for someone to return.Two at a time, I leapt up the stairs and opened the Kendo room door—hushed quiet. I exited quickly. Down the hall to my left, Richard’s stark bedroom. I swung the door wide and let it crash into the wall behind it. Benjamin Kyle stared back at me.“Richard?” I called.No answer. Frustrated and angry, I backed out of the room and right into Jonathan’s arms.“Thena. I—”“What the hell, Richard?” I backed away from him and faced him head on. “This is your fault!” I was furious. I was frightened. I was losing control.“I’m so sorry.” Richard didn’t say a word in his defense. He looked me in the eye. “I’m calling FBI Agent Curbelo now. We need to inform her.” Richard already h
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Removed
I removed my suit jacket before climbing into the air-conditioned Mercedes. Disheartened, I sank into the leather seat and looked at my phone. I called Bohdi Michaels, and he picked up on the second ring.“Ms. Robert?”“I have a question for you.”Greg slid into the driver’s seat and started to put the car in gear. I held up my hand, asking him to wait till I finished. “Go ahead,” Michaels said.“I’ve just visited your psychiatrist—”“Oh, Jesus!”“—I need him as a character witness. So I asked him a few questions.” Bohdi’s reaction made me think he’d really opened up to his doctor. I suddenly worried what might be exposed if I put him on the stand.“Why him?”“Because Dr. Beaman is a respected professional who knows you well. Trust me, it’s a good call.”“Okay,” he softened. “I trust you.”“Slater would need a court order to have your records released. And I can see no reason your medical information would be necessary for this court hearing. But that doesn’t mean Slater won’t call f
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The talent
Sticky sweat glued our bodies together. Satiated and basking in the incandescence, we moved slowly, unwilling to let go. I wanted to lie in his arms until Natasha’s threat and all that surrounded it disappeared. I could love Richard.When finally the source of summer heat sank beneath the horizon, I opened a window and let in a cooling breeze. Our stomachs growled. Richard and I sat up from my bed. His hand on my back. My fingers on his cheek. His lips on my shoulder. I donned panties and a t-shirt—still too hot to wear anything else. Richard slid into his slacks and hung his shirt to smooth the wrinkles. He took a call in the bathroom. When he exited wearing only his slacks, Richard said he checked in with Greg and Erik. The second shift bodyguards had arrived so they could get dinner. They would stand watch in the building lobby and the underground garage.“Let me cook for you,” he said.“I didn’t know you had the talent.”“There is much you still don’t know about me.”Truer words
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Collab
The presence of the security team at Richard’s mansion reminded me of Travis King, the bodyguard who had attacked me, and how even they might be swayed to turn against us by the promise of power . . . or a deeper purse than Richard’s. They made me leery.For the rest of the day I worked in solitude on my laptop from the bedroom. Richard—busy with work and his own investigation—checked on me several times. Richard had a private team of analysts looking for ways to avoid giving Natasha the money. We discussed the limited options which included shipping me off to someplace remote and having the FBI make an arrest during the handoff. He seemed preoccupied but never too distracted to forget to kiss me or rub my shoulders. Every moment brought us closer together.I began to long for more time with him. His woodsy fragrance. His caress. It had been too long since we’d been intimate. With Bohdi Michaels’ trial weeks away, I looked deeper into terrorist groups and specifically the Russian maf
