Roleplaying with the billionaire

“You made it to my bedroom, little one,” Ryan Cole growled as we got into the undeniably huge master bedroom in the penthouse.

Made it indeed.

“First, I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me ‘little one’ and just refer to me as Marie,” I said. 

“And second?” He asked, his eyebrow coming up. 

“And what's it with making it to your bedroom? The arrangement demands that I sleep here anyway.”

He walked off from me, stopped at the vanity and started taking off his cufflinks. 

I stood there watching him, not exactly sure what I was supposed to be doing while I was still in the insanely expensive wedding dress. 

“Little one sounds like something really…medieval,” I muttered. 

He walked back to me. 

“Let's get you out of that dress, little one.”

There. He said it again. 

But I was going to be a good actress who was paid well enough to do her job, and I'll just pretend he didn't coin that nauseous pet name for me. 

“Fine, help me out of it,” I offered. 

He came closer, looming over me, his scent filling my lungs.

Holy fuck. 

How did I ever think I was going to survive playing this role without throwing every tiny bit of my fucking pride into the ditch?

The man was incredibly handsome. He was sexy in that dark way that made him mysterious. 

I'm twenty four and not naive. So when I say he's actually mysterious, he is.

He started undoing the zip of my dress and I felt my nipples hardening from the slightest contact his hand made with my skin.

Dear god. I hope he doesn't notice how foolishly my body reacts to his slightest touch.

“The lawyer did interpret the contract to you, Little one.”

“Stop calling me that, for real.”

“And as it stands,” he went on like I hadn't just spoken to him, “it seems I may not be exercising any restraints where pleasuring you and getting pleasured myself, is concerned.”

He stopped at the base of my waist, his hand lingering there for longer than was necessary. 

“Uhmm…”

Okay, no words, Marie. 

He literally just told me he'd be exercising his authority over my body, like the contract stipulated. 

That did something to me. It made my clitoris do a backflip. 

Okay, maybe the clit doesn't do actual backflips. But damn. 

“What I'm saying..” he breathed into my ear in that deep rumbling voice of his, “is that I'm not lying next to your supple body without putting a dick inside you, Little one.”

I felt shivers. Literal ones. But he took his hand off me at that point.

Moment of truth: I wanted to fuck Ryan Cole. Badly. I had been curious to know what his dick would actually look like.

And more shamefully, I wanted to put his dick in my mouth when I finally saw and handled it. 

But I didn't want him to do nasty things to me while he was still being the arrogant douchebag billionaire he was. 

I wanted him to want me enough. Not just regard me like some girl he paid to sleep with. 

Well, he did pay me, but not like his whore. You get me?

“Ryan…”

“Husband,” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“I'm your husband now. For as long as the contract lasts. So you should refer to me appropriately.”

“You really must be stuck in the medieval times, ‘husband.’ No one actually refers to their husbands as ‘husband’ anymore.”

He shrugged. 

“Then call me anything but my name. You can call me other pet names.”

“Ryan I can't think of anything, maybe…” 

“Let me get you out of this dress, Little one.” He went on. “We must consummate our wedding on this same night if your body can tolerate all night of lovemaking.”

My clitoris did that backflip again. But this time my legs came together and clamped shut.

Because every minute of being in the same room with him was getting me really wild. 

He started to help me out of the dress like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

I was about to get in bed with a man that I had not even shared a kiss with. Yet. 

“I can tolerate whatever you want me to, if you say it nicely,” I said in a small voice.