Love In Handcuffs: The Secret Billionaire (Part One) (BDSM And Domination Erotic Romance Novelette) Read online

  Love In Handcuffs: The Secret Billionaire (Part One) (BDSM And Domination Erotic Romance Novelette)

  Title Page

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Love In Handcuffs: The Secret Billionaire

  Part One

  Ashley Spector

  Copyright 2013 by Ashley Spector

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  Published by Forbidden Fruit Press

  Smashwords Edition

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  ***

  A taste of things to come:

  The man’s lips moved down from mine, and he began kissing and nipping at my neck. I tilted my head back, running my fingers through his hair; I could hear myself moaning and realized that, whether or not I was destined to be arrested and taken to prison, I was fully committed to letting this man do whatever he wanted to me in this moment. He began unbuttoning my blouse, and I felt the cool air of the room against my skin, contrasting with his warm touch. “Oh!” I cried out, as his lips moved down from my neck slowly. The mysterious man pulled my blouse down, tossing it aside and immediately attacking my bra. He freed one of my breasts, bringing my nipple up to his lips and sucking and licking it until I was moaning out loud over and over. It occurred to me that I was having sex with a completely unknown man—but after everything that had already happened to me, I couldn’t think of any good reason not to. In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that this man was definitely not a federal agent; whatever he was, whatever the handcuffs were for, I was fairly certain that I wouldn’t be getting arrested by him, at least not in the next hour or so.

  ***

  Chapter One

  I was staring up at the sky, watching the ocean birds that followed the ship; gulls, mostly, shrieking and calling to each other, their sharp eyes seeking scraps from the passengers who stupidly thought they were beautiful and friendly. Some of the more cautious mothers warned their children not to feed the birds, fearing their little darlings would get their eyes pecked out. Part of me could appreciate the beauty of the birds’ flight, but another part was envious of their existence. As long as there was a ship to follow, they didn’t have to work particularly hard for their food. And when there wasn’t a ship, they could fly; catch their food on the wing. The power of flight was particularly attractive to me, even though, in theory at least, I was free from working for the foreseeable future.

  I lit another cigarette and leaned against the railing, trying to force myself to breathe normally. Smoking normally helped, but I couldn’t let myself feel calm. I wouldn’t feel calm again until weeks after the cruise ship landed in Cancun and I debarked, ready and willing for my new life. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; feel the clammy sweat on my hands. An idiotic factoid from some commercial for deodorant about stress sweat smelling worse than regular sweat filled my mind and I forced myself to take another drag of the cigarette and exhale. I was not stressed, I told myself repeatedly. I was just fine. I was getting out of the rat race, signing up for an adventure. Telling myself I wasn’t stressed didn’t really help my fluttering heart or the feeling that I was underwater, the pressure mounting on top of me. I realized I was holding my breath and made myself inhale and exhale again. The smoke helped somewhat—it focused my attention on my lungs.

  I glanced over at the on-deck bar, past the jolly chattering crowd of sunbathers already burning themselves to a crisp in the tropical sun. A fruity, intense cocktail would help, I thought. Something thoroughly touristy, neon-colored with enough alcohol to knock me off my feet in one glass. I told myself that I would finish my cigarette and go to the bar, make eyes at the bartender so he would make it extra strong. My degree itself might have been useless, but I had learned one thing well in college: how to make friends with bartenders. A good tip, a little patience, a smile and a thank you, and they were happy to make your drink as strongly as you wanted—sometimes they even cut you deals if you remembered their name. I knew the drink would be absurdly expensive, but I could indulge a little bit. Once we landed in Cancun and I made my way beyond the more pricy tourist areas, I’d have more than enough to live comfortably. I could even afford to live in style.

  I could feel someone’s eyes on me. I tried not to look around; looking around me furtively every time a man checked out my ass or boobs would only make me appear suspicious. I took another few drags of my cigarette and flicked the butt out over the rail into the ocean. I turned away from the rail, letting my eyes sweep over the crowd. In such a quick glance, I couldn’t find out who was looking at me. My legs were feeling weak, and it was only with an effort that I made myself stand still instead of fidgeting. I checked my hair, smoothing a few loose strands back from my face. I was dressed to the nines for the cruise; an all-new wardrobe to mix in with the crowd. It was high-end, but not ostentatious. I wanted to look as much as possible like a relatively well-to-do American while I was on the ship. I certainly didn’t need to look either nouveau riche or struggling. I knew better, too, than to try anything overboard in terms of disguising myself. I had tinted my naturally bright blonde hair slightly darker and redder, changed up my normal style a little bit. It would be a dicey few days on the cruise ship, but I would manage. I needed to remain calm, to fly under the radar, and once I was in Mexico I would more or less disappear completely. The sooner the better.

  I lit another cigarette and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as I glanced around to find who was still watching me. It didn’t feel like the gaze of a woman, whoever it was. I could sense the gaze of a person—I strongly suspected a guy—focusing on my legs in particular. I shifted my weight slightly, leaning forward and resting my weight on my forearms as I smoked my cigarette. I could sense the gaze on me move to my ass. I smirked to myself, forgetting my nerves for a moment. I was somewhat used to men looking at my legs and ass. On the other hand, I thought, what if it wasn’t just some guy? What if he was staring at me for another reason, but just happened to notice my legs and ass? I felt my heart pounding again, felt my breathing quicken. No cop would be staring at you this long I told myself. If there was a cop looking for you, he’d be on you already. Cruise ships had a brig, didn’t they? I realized that a cop would keep watching me for the entire trip. A cop would be looking to see my spending habits, my behavior onboard.

  Even more to the point, a cop would have an easy target in me. I would be pretty easy to blackmail. I bit my lip, forcing myself to take another deep breath in between drags of my cigarette. I looked down at the water. It was so dark, this far from shore; a deep midnight blue, with a tinge of green underneath. The gulls kept up their shrieking cries overhead. Instead of calming me, the water made me more anxious. I looked around quickly, discarding my cigarette and trying to at least keep up the pretense of simple curiosity. I spotted him finally. Standing by the bar. He was tall, in an immaculately tailored suit—I could tell that much even at the distance. Well-groomed, handsome at least as far a
s I could see. He wasn’t fat, like the businessmen I had worked for in the office I had left behind—not the drooling, cop a feel while they leaned over you type. There was an air of authority about him; a confidence and certainty. Feds wore suits. He could easily be a federal agent, scoping me out, keeping an eye on me while he waited to see what my next move was. I knew what my next move would certainly be. The ship was crowded; while I might not be able to avoid him forever, I could at least get out of his sight right now.

  I wove through the people standing around, talking and making friends with fellow cruise-goers. If I made a beeline, I thought, he would be able to track me easily. I stopped to chat with someone for a moment; smiling and pretending to enjoy myself as the hairy-chested man puffed himself up, eyeing my chest and legs. I moved on, making my way slowly but surely away from the man who was watching me. I would get to the other side of the ship, wait a little while, and go back to my cabin until later. Maybe I’d have some of the complimentary champagne that was waiting in my stateroom, take a nice bath. My quarters on board weren’t super-premium—I was still on a budget after all, and I wanted to blend in—but they were nicer than easily half of the others on the cruise.

  I could still feel him watching me. I picked up my pace, though I still pretended I was roaming around, taking in the ship. In reality, I might actually get lost, turned around as I made my way along. The ship was huge, almost a floating city. Maybe I would be better off going inside, meandering through the shopping areas. But it would be crowded down there. As much as the concealment of hundreds of guests would be comforting, I knew myself well enough to realize that I had never tolerated crowds well at the best of times, and I certainly wasn’t in the right state of mind to take them easily now.

  I thought of the $300,000 waiting in my state room. It had seemed so wonderful when I had opened the suitcase after boarding, so beautiful that money. I had bought a book of poetry to while away some of the hours I would be onboard, something to read while I sunbathed. One of the poems in the anthology had been Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and the image of the albatross, hanging around the sailor’s neck constantly, came to mind. The money had been my goal and aim, and I had thought that once I was in Mexico, that money would make everything easy. But right at that moment, with the man following me—possibly a fed, probably a fed—it seemed like the most awful thing in the world. I couldn’t stand the idea of it suddenly. I thought about the drug dealers I’d heard of getting raided; the way they would just flush their dirty goods down the toilet when the cops were on them, getting rid of thousands of dollars rather than going to jail. I would rather throw the money overboard than go to jail. If the fed man didn’t have any evidence of me having the money, maybe he couldn’t arrest me. I rested against the railing, looking out over the ocean. Maybe the man wasn’t a fed. Maybe he was just a creep. I tried to breathe slowly and steadily, but I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I could feel him watching me still—he had followed me, I knew he had. Even if he wasn’t a fed, even if he was just a creep, I didn’t want him coming after me.

  I turned around. The man was right behind me, not even at a distance as he had been before. I gasped, edging back against the railing. “Who are you?” I asked the man. My heart was pounding, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Why are you following me? What kind of creep follows someone he doesn’t even know on a cruise ship?” black dots began to crowd my vision. My legs felt like jelly underneath me, somehow unreal. I swayed and tried to grab onto the railing to hold myself up. I started to close the distance between myself and the mysterious man, wanting to confront him without causing a scene—though I suspected, in the back of my mind, that I was already creating one. The black dots were getting bigger, taking over my field of sight. “What the hell are you doing?” I felt myself reeling again, and before the man could say anything, the black dots merged. I tried to shake my head, but I couldn’t see anything, and the world began to spin. I could feel myself falling, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Just what I needed, I thought vaguely. Everything went completely dark and silent.

  Chapter Two

  I woke up in an utterly sumptuous room; everything I could see was solid luxury. The room was easily two or maybe even three times the size of the stateroom I had taken. There was something cold and wet on my forehead, the sheets underneath me were silk. I realized I was gripping them as tightly as possible, wrinkling them, and tried to make my hands relax. At least, I thought, the world wasn’t spinning at a hundred miles an hour—and the dots in my vision had faded away. There was a damask canopy over the four-poster bed I was lying on. I shook my head slowly, trying to take in what had happened. Everything after the moment I was confronting the sharply dressed man—who I still wasn’t sure wasn’t a federal agent—was a blank. How had I ended up here? Where was I in the first place? Obviously, I was not in my room. I felt my heart starting to pound again. I had heard more than one tail about cruise-goers being kidnapped and held for ransom. I reminded myself that a kidnapper that wanted to get a ransom for me would hardly be able to afford such a palatial room, and that it wouldn’t make sense to kidnap me while I was on the boat still. On the other hand, if the man I had confronted was a federal agent, being a wealthy man on a cruise would be a decent cover. And he could hold me here until we made port. I reached up and pulled the wet towel off of my forehead and sat up slowly. I still wasn’t completely steady, but I would have to think fast. I looked around me—there had to be a way out of here. “What the hell is this?” I said out loud—and then cursed myself for speaking. I should’ve just got up and found my way out.

  My regret sharpened when the same man who I’d been confronting—minutes, hours, it could have been days ago, for all I knew—appeared, stepping out of a brightly lit bathroom. Up close, out of the sun, I could see he was actually extremely handsome; bright, cold blue eyes under dark brows, his hair almost black and cut precisely, still in his gorgeous suit. There was a faint smile curving his cupid-bow lips as he came into the room. “You passed out,” he told me, standing close to the bed, but not so close that I felt directly threatened. “I am sorry if I scared you. I told the crew member who started to come to your rescue that you were my wife, suffering from a heat stroke. Considering how on edge you looked, I thought it would be more prudent than someone asking you a dozen questions right as you came to. I brought you back here to my quarters so you could recuperate.” I looked around the room again, more slowly this time. It was utter luxury—crystal, gilt, fine furnishings and expensive upholstery. The rug under his feet looked as though it belonged in a museum. My gaze lit on a pair of handcuffs hanging from a wardrobe, and I remembered my suspicion.

  “I guess you got me fair and square,” I admitted, resisting the temptation to sink back down onto the bed. I suddenly felt exhausted. I should have known I wasn’t cut out for this.

  “Did I, now?” I knew what the next move would be. I might as well just confess now. Maybe he’d let me stay in this nice room, instead of sending me down to the brig. Being young and relatively attractive had to have some perks, right? I could probably at least get him to pity me.

  “My name is Katrina Solly. None of my documentation says that, though, of course. I am going to Mexico with $300,000 that I managed to steal from my employers. I know you probably don’t care why I stole it, but it took me a long time to work up the nerve. I was completely miserable in that stupid job. My boss Larry wouldn’t leave me alone—always finding some excuse to brush up against me, to grope me whenever he could, and his boss—well, let’s just say he was no help either.” I sighed, picking up the towel and wiping my face with it. The room was pleasantly cool, but the towel was cooler; it felt nice against my forehead. I wondered whether or not I should cry, plead him to go easy on me. “It took me three months to accumulate the money, and I don’t even know how they figured it out so soon to tip you off. I guess I must not have been as clever about it as I thought at the time.” I laughed. “Go ahead and tell me my right
s, and all that drama. We might as well get it over with.”

  I finally looked up and saw that the man was closer—he was right next to the bed, watching me intently with those cold blue eyes as the smile grew on his lips. He hadn’t gone for the cuffs, wasn’t even pulling out his badge to show it to me. Instead, he leaned in, and I couldn’t quite make myself shrink back, though in the back of my mind I was screaming at myself to get away while I still could. The man pressed his lips to mine, his hands going to my waist quickly. That was definitely not the reaction I expected. His lips were firm but soft, and as he kissed me, I felt myself starting to respond to him almost immediately. I mean, he was handsome even if he was a fed. I reached up and rested my hands on his broad shoulders, able to feel the fine fabric of his suit, some of the heat of his body. The kiss deepened, and I felt his tongue slip past my lips, invading my mouth and probing into me, playfully batting against my own tongue. I sat up more, caressing his neck. Somehow, even though I was so anxious, I could feel myself getting excited, my pussy already starting to get wet. What’s wrong with me? I wondered. I’m kissing Feds, getting turned on. I shook my head, trying to break away from the kiss. The man apparently had other ideas, lifting me up off of the bed and keeping my lips sealed with his own while his hands wandered all over my body. I heard myself moaning, felt my nipples getting hard as he teased my breasts through my clothes.