Owned by the Billionaire

By: Lacy Dae



He had refused to let me go. We'd argued, but he'd taken advantage of a contractual loophole. Until my hymen was broken, I was technically still a virgin. I paused, slowing my frantic scrubbing, as I recalled the moment I had finally recognized my buyer. Miles Sinclaire. A reclusive billionaire, he hadn't been seen much in public since his brutal divorce. Not a man you'd think would need to pay for sex. And apparently, he hadn't. I'd been a gift from his ex-wife. That can't be good.

I jerked, startled from my tangled thoughts, as the bathroom door opened. Footsteps approached, and then the shower curtain was thrust aside. I squeaked and clutched myself as cold air swept in around my wet form. Miles stood there, his dark hair streaked with silver, rugged crows-feet bracketing his cold eyes. The playful warmth he'd shown at our last meeting seemed to have evaporated, and he scowled down at me.

"Sophia. Get out and get dressed."

Avoiding his gaze, I nodded and began to ease my way across the shower, keeping my back to the wall. He snorted and stood back, crossing his arms as his eyes swept down my naked body, a faint sneer twisting his lips. I blushed hotly, and slid my hands down to cover my breasts and mound.

"Stop. Remove your hands." The barked command stung, and I inhaled sharply, before grudgingly lowering my hands. My sullen glare didn't seem to faze him. "You didn't shave!" He was apparently affronted by this brazen rudeness.

Confused, I stammered. "Wh-what? I shaved my legs!"

Silently, he pointed at the juncture of my thighs. Reflexively, I looked down, past my tits and flat belly, but I already knew what he seeing. My pubic hair had been tidily trimmed into a short soft bush. I flushed and looked away, embarrassed to be discussing something so intimate with this near-stranger, even after the sordid events of the previous night. "I... um... I don't shave down there. Not all the way, anyways, I just do the bikini line." His frown deepened, but I went on, suddenly irritated by his unspoken criticism. "Look, it's my pussy, and I don't have to shave it if I don't want to!"

He reared back at this bit of defiance, and a tense silence fell between us. I held my breath and met his eyes, lifting my chin. A familiar hot gleam had replaced the icy chill in their chocolate depths. As the pause lengthened and nothing happened, I took a breath and dropped my gaze. Watching my footing on the slick tiles, I stepped out the tub and reached for the plush towels. He was so close that I could feel his warmth on my chilled skin, but I carefully avoided touching him.

As soon as my feet were flat on the floor, he lunged. I yelped as his hard hands fell onto on my damp shoulders, shoving my back against the wall. He leaned into me, pinning me into place with his weight, until his lips brushed my throat. The silky fabric of his shirt slid against my bare breasts, and I shivered as my nipples hardened reflexively. My hands came up to grip his biceps, weakly pushing him away even as hot pulses surged through my traitorous pussy.

Ignoring my feeble struggles, he whispered in my ear. "Your pussy belongs to me, actually." He pulled back a bit, his fingers tightening painfully on my shoulders. His knee slid between my legs, pressing upwards and lifting me onto my toes. I whimpered as the rough material of his slacks ground against the tender folds of my bare twat. He dropped a hand between our bodies, his fingers yanking painfully on my pubic hair. "I'm going to shave your cunt smooth. Are you going to stop me?" With a quick jerk, he plucked a few hairs from my mound, the sharp pain making my eyes water. Gasping, I shook my head. "Use your words, darling." Another jerk, and I yelped from the sting.

"N-no, I won't stop you. You can shave my pussy." His eyebrows lowered ominously, and I babbled on. "I mean, will you please shave my pussy? Sir?"

A slow smile crossed his face. He lifted the hand that had hurt me, brushing gentle fingers against my cheek and chin to wipe away the spilled tears. I trembled, once more torn between an overwhelming desire for his tender touch, and fear of his cruelty. He soothed me, lowering me back down onto my feet and running warm hands down my arms. "Very good, darling." I smiled back, tentatively. "Now, make yourself a nice spot on the floor and lie down."

He released me, and turned away. With shaking hands, I pulled the soft towels from the rack and spread them onto the floor, avoiding my damp footsteps. I watched out of the corner of my eyes as Miles pulled open a few drawers, clearly searching for something. He turned and gave me a pointed look, and I quickly laid down on the floor, flat on my back with my knees pressed tightly together.

A few moments passed as I stared at the ceiling, periodic shudders rippling through me from cold and nerves. I could hear drawers opening and closed, and then a pleased sigh. Approaching footsteps warned me, and I trembled as his hand closed on my knee. Miles knelt beside me, shaking his head ruefully. "You need to open your legs, darling."

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