In that moment, I was happy.
Afterward, he carried me to his bed, threw back the covers and draped my exhausted body on top of the soft sheets. He crawled in next to me and held me close, putting my head on his shoulder, his arms holding me tight to his chest. He kissed my hair, and I fell asleep, smiling into the darkness.
***
I awoke to an empty bed, a pile of new, designer clothing I’d never seen before, and a note.
Of course.
I rolled my eyes, wondering what Mr. Drake had written this time. We were supposed to go to work today, after all. But he said he would train you, a little voice inside me whispered. In the office, no less!
I had to leave early to prepare some things at the office. Please help yourself to breakfast and dress in the clothing I laid out for you. A car is waiting to bring you to work.
I raised an eyebrow, then picked up the skirt neatly folded at the end of the bed. The quality was impeccable. The label caught my eye, and I swallowed hard. Gucci? How could I accept this? But then again, I only had my clothes from yesterday, wrinkled up and God-knows-where. Maybe I could wear the clothes he bought today, and return them later?
I shook my head. Who knew it would be so stressful sleeping with a billionaire? I looked back at the note, the last line turning my frown back into a smile.
I can’t wait to see you, Isa.
My whole body tingled with anticipation at the thought of seeing my Mr. Drake, gorgeous and put together in his expensive suit. I can’t wait either, Sir.
Grinning like a schoolgirl with a crush, I began to get ready. After all, it was a work day. I had to look professional.
***
As the elevator doors slid open, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the day ahead. I knew I had transcriptions waiting for me, but beyond that, I had no idea what Mr. Drake had in mind. Would he put me to work, as usual, or would he put me flat on my back?
I grinned at the thought.
My new heels clicked on the marble as I approached my desk. A package sat on my chair, smartly wrapped in silver paper. There was a post-it on top, with instructions written in sharpie.
Come to my office immediately. Bring the box.
I exhaled sharply. Well, then. I suppose I should get in there. Boss’ orders.
But instead of rushing to him, I took my time, setting the box next to me as I logged in to my computer, punched in for the day, then checked my inbox for urgent items. I suppressed a smile, wondering if he was watching me through that camera of his, going slowly crazy waiting for me to come to him.
I placed my purse into my drawer and locked it before finally getting to my feet. I smoothed down the new skirt, feeling strong and capable in my low cut silk blouse, instead of out of place, as I’d feared. Perhaps the clothes do make the woman? Or maybe I was simply adjusting to living at the edge of Mr. Drake’s world.
I rapped on the door.
“About time, Miss Willcox.”
So he was watching. My lips twitched as I pushed the door open.
Mr. Drake was sitting at the edge of his desk, waiting, his body tense, like a snake coiled and ready to strike.
“What took you so long?”
His eyes were intense, but I thought I saw a trace of humor behind them, even though his face was impassive.
“I came as soon as I could, Mr. Drake. After doing my due-diligence for my position, that is.”
He stroked his chin, eying me from head to toe. A moment passed, and I wondered if he was going to punish me. The thought made my pu**y heat.
“Very well, Isabeau. You’re nothing if not thorough. Now, please. Come here, and open that box. I think you’ll like what’s inside.”
I undid the paper carefully, then folded it and set it on his desk. I noticed the approval in his eyes when I looked up. I knew he’d like that. Somehow it just didn’t feel right to rip wrapping paper in front of Mr. Drake. It was sloppy. And he doesn’t tolerate sloppiness.
I raised the lid of the box and my mouth fell open. Inside were two long, black leather gloves, covered in laces and buckles. I didn’t know what to make of them. I lifted one out, my skin humming at the feel of the supple material.
“What are these for?”
Mr. Drake’s eyes burned into mine. “They are bondage opera gloves, little temp. With them, I can restrain you in a myriad of ways. But today, I’ll use them to keep your arms bound behind your back.”
I looked back down at the glove in my hand, tracing the metal eyelets and laces with my fingertip. The thought of being bound by him made my body come alive. I licked my lips.
“Oh.”
“I told you your training would begin today, Isa. Are you still my willing slave?”
He ran a hand over my face, and I trembled at his touch. It felt like time stopped for a moment, and as I looked at him, I knew I wanted this more than anything. To be his. To please him. To let him please me, the little voice inside me said, and I smiled, knowing I was ready for whatever he had to give me.
“Yes, Sir.”
His hand knotted in my hair, and he pulled me close. The twinge of pain made me even hotter. A soft moan escaped my lips as he brought his face just inches from mine.
“You’re going to learn how to perform on your knees today, slave. I’m going to feed you my cock, inch by inch, until you learn how to take it all. Would you like that?”
He yanked my hair, tilting my head up and making me gasp.
“Yes… Sir.”
I’d been fantasizing about tasting him for days now, wondering what he would feel like stretching my lips, what he would taste like on my tongue.
His lips met mine, hot and urgent, and I opened to him, moaning into his mouth. When we broke apart, his breathing was ragged, his pupils dark and dangerous.
“On. Your. Knees.”
I did as he asked, dropping to my knees, my brain buzzing with anticipation. I noticed with a grin that the skirt he bought me had hidden side slits that made the position easy. Nice touch.
"When you come to me in here, I expect you on your knees, ready for my commands. Is that understood?"
I nodded, my own breathing harsh. "Yes, Sir."
I felt myself getting wet for him, my body eager to be used.
"Now, spread your legs apart, Isa, and put your hands behind your back."
I spread my knees wider, sitting back on my heels. I felt wanton and vulnerable like this, open and waiting. Perhaps it was wrong to like that feeling of vulnerability, but something about trusting him like this was so erotic, it banished all thoughts of propriety, my former ideas about sex forgotten.