The Billionaire’s Ultimatum: His Absolute Need(18)
Author: Cerys du Lys

I lowered my head and opened my mouth, engulfing his cockhead between my lips. Immediately he tensed and I thought this was it. He was going to wake up, realize what was going on, and I’d be in horrible trouble. He’d kick me out of his guest home, throw me out onto the streets, and who knew what. Except, no, he tensed, but nothing more. His breathing remained calm, though a bit more ragged than before, not as shallow.

I stroked downwards and lowered my head at the same time, taking more of him into my mouth. He tasted a little sweet, with a hint of salt, but not too much. It was nice and I liked it. Somewhat like a chocolate covered pretzel, salty and sweet. That was the best way I could think to explain it, at least.

My head bobbed up and down and I took a risk and went a little faster. From my vantage point I could see his testicles tightening in his pants. My free hand snuck into the unbuttoned slit in the crotch of his pajamas and gently squeezed his balls between my fingers. I rolled them around, stroked him, pressed my lips tightly around his shaft and moved my head up and down.

I heard a whisper. "Jessika…"

I froze mid stroke, lips wrapped around his c*ck and my hand holding his balls. Nothing more, though, just the quiet whisper. He lay there, unmoving, and I realized he must be dreaming. Still asleep, relaxed, but dreaming and faintly whispering my name. Did he dream of me? The idea excited me.

I returned to what I was doing, focusing on him entirely. He tensed and flexed in my grip while his legs twitched slightly every so often. I thought he would surely wake up, but I didn’t care. I would do this thing, finish it off, and then act as if nothing had happened. There were sleep walkers, right? Maybe this is what I did in my sleep. It was a medical problem, I would tell him. He couldn’t hold it against me if I said that, right?

He was close. I could feel it, feel his balls tightening and moving closer to the center of his body. His c*ck tightened even more. His heartbeat pounded through his stiff rod, radiating bright heat. I grew sloppy in my haste. I stroked him quicker, trying to urge him towards cli**x, but still careful so that I didn’t wake him. This was, I reaffirmed, a terrible idea, but a necessity, too. I needed this so badly, and by the looks of it, Asher did, also.

Asher’s c*ck jerked in my hand and in my mouth and in a matter of seconds he came. Strong, urgent jets of cum splashed against the back of my throat. Over and over, nearly nonstop, and he didn’t seem like he was going to soften any time soon. I continued to stroke him. He squirmed on the couch, clearly feeling it, but still in some lucid state of dreaming.

Once he finished his cli**x, I realized I hadn’t quite prepared for this. What exactly was I supposed to do now? Stop, of course, and ease his softening c*ck back into his pants and redo the button, but then what? What did I do with the cum in my mouth? I’d never swallowed before, and I hadn’t even given many men a blowjob either, but I didn’t have much choice now, did I? I could get up, hope I didn’t wake him, and spit it out, or swallow it and lay here like nothing ever happened.

I decided to swallow. Asher was moving around now, somewhat restless, and I thought if I got up he’d realize his dream was a little more than that and he would do something. My random idea that I could play it off as part of a sleeping issue now seemed ridiculous and absurd. Who would ever believe that? Did I really think I could fool anyone with that line? Especially someone like Asher Landseer?

No, probably not, so I swallowed his seed and fixed his pants and scooted up so I lay right next to him. Quiet, nervous, I lay there and waited to see if he would wake up. A minute passed, and another. Maybe more, maybe an hour, but I continued to lay there, thinking I’d give myself away at any moment and he’d punish me(and not in a good way).

He never did, though. He moved, yes, but only to wrap his arm around me in his sleep. No conscious effort to it, I thought, just something he did. I nestled against his chest, smelling him. He smelled faintly of citrus, like a glass of water with a wedge of lemon, and a hint of baby powder. Closing my eyes, I took in his scent, finding it relaxing. His strong arm held me tight. I put my own arm across his stomach and closed my eyes.

…

When I woke up in the morning, Asher was staring at me. He had this strange, curious look in his eyes like he didn’t know what to do with me. I lay there, contented, with his arm wrapped around me and my arm draped over his chest. I yawned and blinked and rubbed my eyes and then I realized where I was and what exactly I was doing.

I startled and went straight to apologizing.

"Oh," I said. "I’m so sorry. Um. It was cold last night and I was tired and a little out of it, so…"

He gave me a lazy smile, scrunching his eyes, scrutinizing me. I don’t think he believed a word I said. "It’s alright. Did you get up to get a snack?" he asked.

"Huh? No. Why?"

"You’ve got something… right… there." He tapped his finger just below my lower lip and wiped it to the side.

I blushed, in a panic. My God! Really now? Not only was this embarrassing, but it was… it was…

"If you were hungry, it’s fine," he said. "I don’t mind. Maybe it was sleep eating? I’ve heard of that before." His tone of voice was completely unconvinced that this was a real thing, but I appreciated him favoring me.

"Yes, that’s it." I scrambled away from him. Falling off the couch, catching myself on the floor and getting to my knees, I crawled away from him and to somewhere relatively more safe. Relative safety being anywhere that I could calm down and pretend he hadn’t spotted some remnants of my illicit midnight escapades.

Would he notice? Had I left any other signs of what I’d done? When I thought I had my blush under control, I turned to look at him. He stretched on the couch, then lowered his legs to the floor and rose to his feet. I surreptitiously glanced at his crotch, hoping to see(or preferably not see) anything amiss. Nothing from what I could tell, except my glance was perhaps a bit less covert than I’d intended.

He lifted one brow, looking at me funny. "Jessika, are you alright? Is something wrong? You’re acting odd."

"No!" I squeaked. "Nothing! I have to use the bathroom. My hairs a mess. I’m sure I look terrible."

An excuse? Yes. I didn’t know if I looked terrible, nor did I care too much, but I figured if I could use the age old excuse to my advantage, one used by many women before me, then I should pull out all the stops and do it.

"You look fine," he said. "Nice, actually. Somewhat glowing. Very refreshed, and…"

I nodded, thanked him, and ran to the bathroom. The upstairs one, far away from anywhere Asher would be. He probably looked at me quizzically and laughed to himself, but I scurried up the stairs as quick as I could so I never saw any of that. The image in my head, the thought of it, that was more than enough to make me feel embarrassed all over again.

I didn’t actually need to use the bathroom, not quite, but I freshened up anyways. When I looked in the mirror, I looked fine, mostly. Some quick touch-ups would fix any obvious hair issues, and I wasn’t so vain that I needed to always wear makeup no matter what. I did look somewhat glowing, though. Probably, I assumed, because of the blushing, but Asher didn’t need to know that, nor the reason behind it.

Relax, Jessika, I told myself. Breathing in and out, some makeshift Zen meditation, I released my pent up worries and took in good energy. That was the idea, at least, though who could say if I did it right. Maybe I should look into that? It seemed useful and thinking about it served as a good distraction while I relaxed into normalness.

When I rejoined Asher downstairs, he was talking on his cell phone.

"Alright," he said. "Yes, of course. No, it won’t be a problem. Why would it? I’m interested to read the reports. I’ll have someone there to take care of things, too. Yes. Yes. Nice talking with you. Have a good day."

He hung up the phone and put it on the kitchen countertop.

"Is everything alright?" I asked.

"Everything," he said, "is great. I’ve just learned that my director of public relations is returning to Landseer Tower today with news and a report. I can only hope its good, but I’m sure he has everything under control."

"He?"

"Solomon," Asher said. "Solomon Royce. He’s done good work for me, though I don’t understand his methods exactly. Always away doing this or that, sparking interest in company holdings, doing press releases, that kind of thing. I couldn’t manage any of it for the life of me, so I’m glad to have him, but sometimes it’s confusing since I don’t understand most of what his reports are about."

"Can’t you ask him?" I’d thought of Asher as something of a genius in the business world and finding out that there were things he didn’t understand was somewhat jarring.

"Oh, I do. It doesn’t help. He gives me explanations and books to read and I’ve read them, but the way he puts so much information in reports and discusses everything in such detail, it’s like I need a translator to understand it. I’d love to be more active in public relations, at least behind the scenes, but Solomon has a hold on it so it doesn’t matter too much."

"Is that a good idea?" I said. "I don’t mean to pry, but…"

He shrugged. "No, I know what you’re getting it. It’s really not a good idea, generally speaking. I should at least have some understanding of that side of my business, but I trust him. I pay him enough, so I shouldn’t have to worry about him leaving the company any time soon, anyways." The last part was apparently a joke. Asher chuckled.

"Alright," I said. I wasn’t a businessperson. I wasn’t even involved in any real business, public relations or not, so I doubted I could judge anything Asher did. But, still, it seemed off to me. Odd.

"Speaking of Solomon," Asher said. "He’s actually returning at a bad time. I always have someone to take care of his needs in his office, but the woman who usually does it is on vacation. I didn’t expect him back so soon. I was wondering if maybe…"

"Are you asking me to do it?"

He smiled, sheepish. Not really an Asher Landseer look. More relaxed and comfortable and endearing. I smiled back, caught off guard.

"If you wouldn’t mind," he said. "I’ll pay you, of course. You can come in with me and Jeremy. I’ll find suitable business attire. It shouldn’t be anything difficult. Sit in his office and wait for him, go deliver papers or pick something up. Like a secretary, except not exactly."

I nodded. "I can do it. I don’t think there will be any problems."

These were, one might say, famous last words.

"Thanks," Asher said, sounding genuine. "What do you want for breakfast? I’ll make it. You can sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

"The breakfast show?" I asked, tittering. My God, was I some crazed school girl? Giggling in front of a grown man? I lowered my eyes, self-conscious.

He strode towards me and put his hand under my chin. Gentle, yet firm, he lifted my face so that I had to look at him. My eyes moved to the side, denying him, but I could only do it for so long. He met my gaze.

"Yes," he said, sounding completely serious. "I shall fry the pans and toast the eggs like you’ve never seen before. In your name, Jessika, for the greater good."

"Stop it!" I said, laughing. I slapped his cheek, playful and light, then turned my eyes down again. "I do like pan fries," I added.