Page 447 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Mira

"Some advance notice would have been appreciated." I scowl at the man in the driver’s seat. Of course he’d drive his own car.

He’s too controlling to put his life in someone else’s hands.

A reluctant admiration fills me. He truly is the master of his life.

A position I’d give anything to be in. Right now, I’m at his beck and call though.

When I complained, he reminded me that I signed away my life when I agreed to work for him.

I’m sure he’s doing this to test me, too.

I might look weak, but I have more mettle than he imagines.

Doesn’t mean I’m going to take his springing this trip on me without making my displeasure known.

Not that my questions have brought forward an answer from him.

He focuses on the road in front of us. I glance out the window and notice we’re on King’s Road.

At this time of the night, the high-end boutiques and yummy-mummy cafes are closed.

He turns off the main street, and I notice the sign for Chelsea Pier.

"Are we taking a boat?"

He doesn’t answer. I risk another glance at his profile, then wish I hadn’t.

Illuminated by the lights from the dials on the dash, the gold in his eyes glints like that of a predator.

A beast at the top of the food chain, who is the master of all he surveys.

His hooked nose and square jaw, once again, bring home how much his profile resembles that of the regency heroes I’m so fond of.

Only, he’s wearing a fresh three-piece suit with a new tie.

This one is a dull gold, and the color lends a burnished glow to his skin.

His well-cut jacket accentuates his biceps, and when he turns the wheel into the parking bay in front of the dock, I can’t help but notice his thick fingers, the blunt fingernails, the capable way he steers the vehicle. He was born to rule, to command.

I can’t imagine any woman turning this man down.

How was he before he had his heart broken?

Before he walked away from the priesthood?

How was he with his flock? Was he good at giving advice?

Is that why he prefers not to talk much now?

Or is it only because I don’t know him too well?

Is he different with his friends? Although, from what Summer mentioned earlier, he hasn’t been socializing much with them, either.

The man’s an enigma, a mystery which intrigues me, but which I doubt I’m going to be able to solve anytime soon.

Moonlight glints off the water of the Thames and he pulls to a stop in front of a jetty. He switches off the engine, and except for the ticking of the engine cooling, it’s silent. The lights of the jetty illuminate the wooden boards, and at the far end, I notice a motorboat.

"A little late to be cruising on the Thames, isn’t it?"

"I need to remind you that you signed an NDA, Ms. Young."

"An NDA?"

"A non-disclosure-agreement." His tone carries a touch of boredom, which rubs me the wrong way.

"I know what an NDA is."

"But you didn’t read it before you signed it."

"Of course, I did."

He slowly turns his face in my direction. "Are you lying, Ms. Young?"

"Of course, not."

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a sheaf of papers. "I suggest you read it properly before we leave."

I shoot him a curious look, then take the papers from him. He flips on the interior light, and I take in the letters on the sheets. He’s helpfully highlighted some of the passages, and when I read them—for the first time, I admit—my jaw drops.

"D-d-does…it say a-anal?"

"Not only."

I race my gaze across the page. Ball gag, fellatio, edging, whipping, choking, dominant, submissive. "Double penetration?" I squeak.

"Could be with two dicks or with one real dick and a vibrator."

"Vibrator.” I swallow around the word.

"Surely, you’ve used one before, Ms. Young?"

"Of course." I lie around the ball of nervousness in my throat. "What does this have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you." He takes the sheets from my nerveless fingers and turning, slides them onto the back seat.

"I… I am your assistant."

"And the only other person who has so much access to me."

"O-k-a-y?"

"Other than Tiny, of course."

"Of course. Speaking of, where is he?"

"He gets seasick," he declares.

I blink slowly, "Tiny, your Great Dane, gets sea-sick?"

"I’m dog-sitting him. Also, the mutt can down a bottle of expensive champagne without any problem, but get him on a boat, and he begins to puke. So, I had to leave Tiny home today. Which works in your favor. It means we’ll only spend half the night on the ship."

"The ship?"

He nods toward the windshield. I look through it to the lights I noticed in the distance, but which I now realize is a ship.

"You don’t get seasick, I assume, Ms. Young?"

I shake my head.

"Ever been on a boat?"

"I’m from Brooklyn. Of course, I have.”

"Brooklyn, huh?"

"And what am I doing in London, you ask? It’s the furthest I could get away from my family."

"Don’t get along with them?" His tone is mildly curious.

"My dad’s okay. But I wanted to be on my own. Find out what I like and don’t like, before—"

"Before?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Never mind."

"Never cut off your thoughts like that. If you have something you want to say, do it with confidence."

I blink. I’ve never had anyone tell me that.

With my father, I’ve always minded my words because I don’t want to disappoint him.

With the rest of my family, I’ve preferred to keep my thoughts to myself because I don’t want to upset them.

With my friends growing up, I hid my true sentiments because I wanted to fit in.

It didn’t help I went to a private school where everyone was too busy trying to keep up with the latest trends.

It all seemed so empty, so pointless. I bottled it all up, until one day, I rebelled in spectacular fashion.

For the first time ever, I skipped school to hang out with another girl.

The funny thing is, she wasn’t even my best friend, just someone who always seemed so ‘with it’.

So when she invited me out, I couldn’t refuse.

We were caught smoking pot and chugging down beer in her car.

Looking back, it seems like a relatively innocent escapade.

It’s not like I was caught having sex. But my father was so disappointed.

The worst part? He didn’t scold me. He simply drove me home in silence and told me to go to my room, and that made it so much worse.

I vowed not to ever let him down again. Yet, here I am, an ocean away, in the car that smells of that dark spiciness and ozone with my boss, and I'm about to find out what the sexual acts I read about in the NDA mean in real life.

This…is not what I had in mind when I wanted to claim my freedom.

This is not what I envisioned when I said I wanted a say in how I live my life… Did I?

He must see the apprehension on my face for he arches an eyebrow. "Scared, Ms. Young."

"Please call me Mira."

"Ms. Young, don’t change the topic."

I blow out a breath. "I’m not sure if I want to do this."

"Do what?"

"This." I stab a thumb over my shoulder to where he tossed the NDA. "Whatever it is."

"You don’t have to take part in anything. You simply need to be with me and take notes when I tell you to."

"Take notes about the s-s-sex acts you mean?"

"About the kink you’re going to witness, yes."

Heat flushes my cheeks. "You said that word simply to get a reaction from me."

He pauses to think, then nods. "You’re right, I did."

"At least, you don’t lie."

"Unlike you."

I set my jaw. "I am being honest when I say I don’t want to witness sexy—huh—kinky stuff."

He stares at me steadily. His features are inscrutable, but there’s a bend in his lips which indicates he’s amused by this conversation.

"There’s nothing funny about this situation."

"Except for the fact you’re curious about said acts. Except, you’ve always wanted to know about kink but never had the courage to find out. Except, you can’t wait to get out of this car and accompany me to the yacht, but you don’t want to admit it."

"I don’t."

"Hmm." He taps his fingers on his wheel. "Slide your fingers into your panties."

"What?" I stare.

"You can, of course, leave the car, and I’ll have someone drive you home and we may never speak of this night."

"And I’ll still have my job?"

"You will."

The expression on his face indicates he expects me to take the easy way out.

The rebel at heart, who’s headed for an arranged marriage, and who’s never had the guts to seize the opportunity when it was presented to her, wants to prove him wrong.

And I was so sure I wanted control of what I would do next. What am I going to do next?

I straighten my legs, then raise my hips to hitch up my skirt.

It takes some wriggling to pull it halfway up, but finally it’s bunched up my thighs.

Good thing I noticed a tear in my stockings earlier and took them off.

Or a bad thing… Depends on your perspective.

I have to admit, it’s with relief I slide my fingers down the front of my panties.

My breath hitches. Fish on a bike, I’m soaking wet.

"Exactly." His voice is calm.

I search for any traces of triumph or satisfaction in his tone, but I only hear a methodical intent in them.

It’s as if he wants to prove a point and knew he wasn’t going to lose.

He baited me, and I walked into his trap.

I could, of course, get out of the car and leave…

but that would mean walking away from his challenge.

I'd be conforming to the image my family created for me. Following through would mean, when presented with the opportunity to create my own experiences, the kind I could draw on later when I was trapped in a marriage I don't want, I’ll have some satisfaction that I embraced my deepest desires. The kind the man next to me seems to bring out in me. The kind I heard gossiped about among my girlfriends, and to which I nodded along, pretending a first-hand knowledge I didn’t have.

The gap in my skillset is one I could fill now.

He's giving me the opportunity to find out how it would be to feel my fingers inside of myself while he watches.

When I still hesitate he stiffens. I sense the change that comes over him.

"You’re a virgin," He declares.

"What? No." I jerk my chin in his direction, then gasp, for he’s staring at me. And his amber eyes glow with a look of such intensity, I’m sure he’s going to reach over and curl his fingers around my neck and pull him to me and—

"Touch your clit," he orders.

I don’t comply.

"You do know where your clit is?"

"Of course, I do." He said it to rile me. He’s trying to manipulate me… And I am going to let him. This time.

I circle the swollen bud between my moist pussy lips, and frissons of electricity zip out from the contact. "Oh," I gasp.

His gaze intensifies. "Run your fingers around it again."

I do. The pin-pricks of sensations deepen. Moisture bathes the area between my legs. My thighs quiver, and my toes curl.

"How does it feel?" he asks without moving his gaze from mine.

"Like…a storm is gathering in the most intimate part of me." Like I’ve never realized what my body was meant to be used for. Like I want to be used by you. Like I want you to close the distance to me and replace my fingers with your thick ones.

The air in the car grows heavy. The tendons of his throat stand out in relief. The muscles of his jaw flex and I realize he’s not as much in control as he’d like to think he is. "Pinch your clit," he snaps.

A tremor of heat zips under my skin. I hold the tiny swollen nub between my thumb and forefinger, and when I bear down, a volley of sparks charges to my extremities.

My nipples tighten. My scalp tingles. I throw my head back and moan.

I hear the sound and realize how needy it is. It also turns me on more.

"Do you want to squeeze your tits?" he asks in that low heavy voice which courses another flurry of butterflies through my veins.

I nod, then begin to remove my fingers from my pussy, when he clicks his tongue. "Did I give you permission to do so?"

I shake my head.

"As a punishment, rub your clit."

The thought of the friction where I need it most is almost too much to bear. "I can’t."

"You can. You will. Do it, Belle."

Wait? He has a nickname for me? A glow ignites deep within.

I replace my fingers with the heel of my hand.

The first stroke sends a surge of sparks spiraling down my legs.

I groan, continue to swipe, and an avalanche of goosebumps covers my skin.

My entire body shudders. My fingers tremble. "I can’t. No more."

"Once more," he commands.

A whimper spills from my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, draw in a breath, another, then brush up against my throbbing clit. This time, flames lick my nerve endings. A trembling begin at my toes, steps up my calves, my thighs, circles my lower belly, my pussy. "I think I’m... I’m going to—"

"You will not come without my permission."

"What?" I open my eyelids, turn to him. "Why?"

He merely jerks his chin. "Bring your fingers to your mouth and suck on them."

My breath hitches, my gaze caught by his fiery eyes, the look in them so insistent, I know I can’t disobey. I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck on them.

"How does it taste?"

"Sweet, complex and tangy, with an underlying saltiness." I hold out my fingers. "Do you want to taste?"