All Chapters of Naughty Nikki: A Billionaire Romance: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I have to pass through the bedroom in order to reach the sitting area. I purposely divert my gaze from the enormous bed, having no need to spark my memory of being chained to the posts. Though, to be honest, there’s no prudish vibe ribboning through me. I did what I did, and it’s done.Yes, there’s a tinge of shame that hovers around the fringes of my morality, but having just confessed to Jameson why I resorted to the auction and how desperately I need the money, I allow myself a reprieve from my questionable ethics. The only thing pertinent for me to focus on is completing this incredibly unanticipated and highly naughty experience, paying off the loan and moving on with my life.Granted, “moving on” will likely require me to find a new job. Luckily, the amount I scored this evening provides an additional safety net while I search for my next place of employment.Interestingly, this is where I get tripped up.I’m not so wrapped around the axle regarding what I just participated in a

He still has an arm around me. The other hand skims down mine to my wrist and he gently raises my hand from the apex of my legs. His head is bent, his chin nearly resting on my shoulder. He crosses my arm over my chest, lifting it up toward his mouth. He glides my cream-coated fingers over his lips, flicks his tongue along the bottom one and lets out a primal groan.More sparks fly. I could literally die a thousand deaths with every sexy movement, every sensuous sound, every second of anticipation that holds me in suspense.He lowers my hand to skim over one breast, my fingertips grazing a still-taut nipple, as he whispers, “I like that you’re comfortable pleasuring yourself in front of me.”“I’m not exactly in front of you,” I quietly remind him.He chuckles. Low and deep. So rich and intimate.The resonance echoes enticingly in my pussy and my inner muscles contract once again. This time, there’s nothing filling the void and that makes me restless.I’m tempted to wiggle in his embra

“I’m not really all that familiar with BDSM,” is the first thing I tell him, my gaze still on the crop.I’m not exactly wary of the toy, mind you. I’m mostly curious as to why we’re traveling this path. In my limited experience and snippets of knowledge, I’m aware that there’s a relationship between a dominant force and a submissive one. I figure it has to be developed over time.Time is neither a luxury for us, nor part of the agenda.So perhaps it’s just the titillation of us temporarily delving into these roles that arouses Jameson tonight. Another fantasy to explore while the opportunity exists.As he returns to the bed, he grips one end of the crop and lightly smacks the short, narrow, bendy leather strip against the palm of his hand. That end looks rather flimsy and makes a mere wisping sound as it connects with his skin, indicating this isn’t quite a hardcore or “official” accoutrement that one might find, say, in a dungeon or an adult playroom, where people are quite serious a

I’m not sure how to respond. Mostly because I know what my answer is. And it’s neither a sane nor a sensible one.I want more of him. That is the plain and simple truth.Hell, I can take this ball to the end zone and declare I want all of him.But if I confess this aloud, I’ll find myself in an even more vulnerable and compromising position than what I’m currently in.Without doubt, I now possess a raging need for this man that goes well beyond the infatuation I’ve had since the day I’d met him. I’ve only had a taste of what he has to offer, and it has me burning for so much more.Which is why his comment is as poignant as it is alarming.He’s absolutely right. And the reality of our twisted fate this evening leaves me with a glaring, two-fold concern.The first is that… If we get in any deeper with each other, I’m not sure I’ll be able to overcome my secret, buried infatuation. It will stare me in the face, every single fucking day. There will be no hiding from it, as I’ve done these

I’m still pondering the million-dollar question as I step off the subway, ascend the stairs with a rush of morning commuters and make my way toward Lexington Avenue. The air is brisk, a crisp snap of winter accented by light flurries. My hair is in its tight bun, with a few curled strands loose at my temples to frame my face. I’m able to pull the big hood of my full-length black coat over my head, in lieu of using a cumbersome umbrella.The strap of my laptop bag is slung over one shoulder, even though I didn’t get a jumpstart on the communications I was planning to draft this weekend, to get ahead of my To-Do list. From the moment I’d left the office on Friday until right this very second, there was absolutely no way in hell I could even begin to form mock conceptualizations in my head. My thoughts had been solely on the auction. Then Jameson. Also… My sister.I’m still incapable of latching onto business as I permit all sorts of sexy fantasies of Jameson to ran rampant through my mi