Worthy of the Billionaire's Attention - Krista Lakes Page 0,3

iron gates guarded his home. I buzzed the intercom to gain access. The noise of the buzz startled me with its volume, but the gates unlocked and swung open silently and I made my way up the drive. I parked near the front door, the yard quiet. Sweat was forming on my back, I could feel it condensing on the duct tape running down my spine. Deep breath and a knock that I hoped sounded confident.

Mr. King opened the door and ushered me into a lavish interior. I marveled in awe at the crystal chandeliers, the heavy wooden furniture, the expensive artwork hanging on the walls. There was classical music playing softly somewhere in the house, but other than that the building was quiet. I didn't see a single servant or housekeeper. He maintained his silence as he guided me up the main stairs and to a small room at the end of one of the halls.

There was nothing in it but a single plastic folding chair in the center of the room with a heavy wooden box behind the chair’s right shoulder, and a couple more wooden trunks in the corner. The room was dark except for the light in the entryway leaking onto the chair. It gave the room a grayed out appearance with the black of the chair looking ominous. I looked around curiously, tilting my head to look into the small room without leaving the light of the entryway. His jacket was tossed carelessly by the door but he still had his tie on.

“This room reminds me of my apartment when I first started out after college. Please take off your shoes and jacket.” He spoke quietly and deliberately. I slipped off my shoes and folded my business suit jacket neatly on top of them. I stared at the chair, thinking of the amazing things we had done with a similar chair years ago.

“Sit down” he commanded. I instantly moved and sat on the plastic folding chair. He walked around me slowly, appraising what he saw. He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head instead of untying it. It dropped to the floor as he walked, and he stepped on it as he undid his shirt cuffs and collar. I perched on the edge of the chair, my knees pushed together to keep from knocking and my feet pointed up on my toes. I was concentrating on maintaining my posture, the tape pulling at the small hairs on my back, the sweat loosening the edges of the tape. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the sweat.

He pulled out two clothespins from his pocket as he walked in front of me, then set them on the box behind me. They were the cheap kind that my mother used when she dried sheets outside when I was a kid; I wondered what he was going to do with them. He rummaged in one of the boxes in the corner, bringing out some twine, scissors, and what looked like an egg, and he set them down behind me with the clothes pins. I kept looking obediently straight ahead.

“Put your hands behind you, Claire,” he asked, politely but with a tone that made it clear that it was an order. My hands flew back, hooking my elbows around the cheap plastic chair back. I felt a rough twine wrap my wrists and tie them to the bars of the chair as he kneeled behind me. I tested the knots, finding that he had left the twine loose enough to rub against my skin but that I couldn’t break free. He leaned in and kissed my neck where the collar to my shirt ended. He stood and caressed the nape of my neck, tickling the small hairs that escaped my ponytail. A shiver ran through me, and he chuckled before grabbing my ponytail and forcing my head back.

I gasped, part with pain and part with pleasure. “You like that? Good.” He kissed my forehead gently and let my hair go. My heart was fluttering in my chest with excitement and a little apprehension. I rubbed my thighs together as I felt invisible strings of lust tightening through my body. He stood in front of me, the light from the entry silhouetting his figure and shadowing his face from me. He reached out and undid the top button of my shirt, then ripped the remaining buttons open. My breasts heaved in their white bra, exposed as he tucked the two sides of