The Billionaire’s Ultimatum: His Absolute Need(26)
Author: Cerys du Lys

I scrunched up my brow. "Really? Seriously?"

"Like I said, I don’t know how truthful that is. Sometimes I think it might be an excuse. Either way, we don’t sleep in the same room or the same bed very often. Our rooms are close, though. In the same hallway."

"I don’t mean to judge, but I think that’s silly," I said.

Asher chuckled. "I do, too, but what am I supposed to do? Beatrice is different. I can’t—"

And he paused, no doubt imagining the things we’d done that night, most of which I doubted he could, or would, ever do with her. "You can’t spank her," I said, matter-of-factly.

"No, not particularly. I don’t really have an urge to spank most people, though. I hope you realize this."

"You want to spank me," I said, being silly.

"It’s because you have a nice butt," Asher said, simple as that. He sounded as if this were a dreadful thing, sorrowful, though completely necessary. "It is the bane of all women with nice butts, to be spanked by those with a heavy hand."

"And I’m naughty," I added.

"Yes, that too," he agreed. "Bad, bad Jessika."

"I’m sorry," I said. "I won’t do it again. I just can’t help myself."

He turned to me then, looked at me. Rolling from his back to his side, he gazed at me in the dim light of the bathroom’s nightlight. "I like you," he said. "I like spending time with you. This doesn’t mean that… you know? We can’t have an affair. I can’t cheat on my wife."

"No," I said. "I know."

"But I don’t think that… if… I’m rationalizing here, but I think this is alright. If we talk, that’s fine. And maybe the spanking is alright. I don’t know. It… that’s a fine line. If we’re close and careful, but nothing too far. No sex, and…"

I nodded, listening, and gave him all my attention. "Can we cuddle?" I asked.

I didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, I nuzzled closer. I eased him back onto the bed, from his side to laying down. Putting my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest, I pressed my nose against his cheek.

"Maybe," he said.

"It’s just cuddling, Asher. It’s nothing serious."

"Right. I have nothing against the cuddling."

I sighed, content. This was wonderful and perfect and even if we never had sex, I liked that we could be close. Cuddling, sleeping in the same bed, talking. Small, inconsequential pillow talk, fun and flighty. And…

"Jessika," he said. "One thing, quickly. No middle of the night blowjobs anymore, please."

My eyes widened and I stared at him in horror. "I thought you were sleeping!"

"Well, I was sleeping, but it was difficult to remain sleeping for fairly obvious reasons."

"I’m so sorry," I murmured, the words running together into one jumbled mess.

He laughed. "It’s alright," he said. "I mean, it’s not exactly alright, but it’s kind of a fantasy, you know? I think every guy thinks about that. It’s exciting to think about getting a blowjob in your sleep. Maybe waking up to it? Half asleep and drowsy with your dreams and reality mixing together. It…"

"Did you like it?" I asked; a whisper. "I won’t do it again, I swear, but did you like it?"

He patted my head and brushed my hair between his fingers. "It was exciting," he said. "I shouldn’t say this, but I thought about it when, you know, tonight. The TV thing. Honestly, I’m just—I don’t know why I’m saying this—but last night, that was indescribable. It was really amazing."

"But don’t do it again," I said.

"No," he said. "Seriously, it was really good, but don’t do it again."

A pause, minutes of nighttime passing us by. "Asher," I said, reserved. I felt awkward, but I needed to ask him this. If he was open with me, I felt like I should be able to do the same with him.

"Yes?"

"If Beatrice agrees with the child, the surrogacy and everything, do you think that—and I understand if you don’t like this idea, but I just want to ask it—would it be alright if I visited sometimes? I wouldn’t tell the child or act like a mother or anything, but I’d like it if I could come visit. Just to see."

He kissed my forehead. A light, simple kiss. "I think that’s alright," he said. "You could probably babysit if you wanted. During the days, or after school. Now that I think about it, it’d be easier. If you want to, that is. I’d pay for your services, of course. Please don’t take offense to that. I’m not trying to cheapen it or anything, but I feel like if you did that then I’d like to pay you. Even if it was something simple, like letting you stay…"

He trailed off, but only for a moment.

"This is an idea, and purely logical and unemotional. I want to preface it with that. But, if you stayed in the guest house, everything would be easier. You can do whatever you like, and I could hire another babysitter if you want to have an ordinary job. I’m all for woman’s independence. You don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to. If you like, since it would make it easier for breastfeeding and everything like that, you could stay in the guest house, though. A live in nanny of sorts. I mean that in the most empowering of ways." He sighed, defeated. "I sound like a horrible chauvinist, don’t I?"

"No," I said, kissing his cheek. "You sound like a caring, thoughtful person. You sound like you’re thinking about what’s best for your child and you’re offering someone something very nice and wonderful, even though that someone only asked you for a simple request that you didn’t even have to agree with. You’re offering a choice, and women’s independence is all about choices, right?"

"So you’re saying I’m a great example of a feminist?" he asked, teasing.

"I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I don’t think you’re a misogynist or a chauvinist by any stretch."

"Oh, good. I was worried for a second."

We lay in silence, thinking. About each other, maybe, or not that at all. I thought about Asher, at least, and I imagined at least a little part of him thought about me. Dazing, dreaming, closing my eyes, I cuddled with him and imagined possibilities.

…

When I woke up in the morning, Asher was gone. I yawned, stretching, and looked towards the bathroom, thinking I might see him there shaving, showering, or something. But, no, he was gone. Downstairs, perhaps? Making breakfast? Any moment now, after a knock on the door, he would swoop in while carrying a tray of food. Eggs, bacon, sausage, diced fruit with toast, pancakes?

"Jessika?" someone called out from downstairs. It wasn’t Asher.

"I’m up here," I yelled.

"Alright. Are you decent? Asher asked me to stop by."

"Yes. It’s fine."

I waited in bed, pulling the covers up high to cover all but my face, while Jeremy bounded up the stairs. Outside the door, he knocked.

"Come in," I said.

He entered, saw me laying in bed, and paused. "Oh. Were you sleeping?"

"I just woke up. Why?"

"Uh, no reason in particular. It’s almost noon, that’s all."

"What," I said, panicking. A clock, a clock, I looked for one, but apparently Asher never found it necessary to provide his guest house with a clock on the bedside table. "Is it really?" I asked, nearly forgetting myself and almost tossing off the blankets in a hurry to get up, showing Jeremy my babydoll-clad body.

"Well, it’s nine. Close enough."

I fell onto the bed, relieved and exasperated. "Nine! Nine isn’t noon, Jeremy. Noon is three hours away. Don’t do that to me."

"Hey, look," he said. "Everyone wakes up pretty early here, so nine is practically noon. Asher left ages ago and he asked me to come by. He’s going to talk with Beatrice a little more, but he’s almost positive she’ll agree to his little deal, so he wants to make sure you’re ready. Nice guy, huh?"

"Ready for what?" I asked. "I don’t understand."

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Do I look serious?" I thought I looked pretty serious right then.

"It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re huddled up to your chin in comforters," he said.

"Oh. Well, yes, I’m serious."

"Listen," he said. "I don’t know if you’ve thought this through, or if you’re winging it, or whatever, but the whole egg donor thing? Surrogacy? There’s doctors involved, right? And examinations? If you’re staying here during the process, there’s that whole ‘getting your stuff’ thing that people usually do. I mean, you have a home, right? Apartment, house? Something? Maybe you want to feed your cats? Tell your friends? Family? Whatever?"

"Oh," I said. Yes, I knew these things, but no, I hadn’t thought too much about them. Truth be told, I was a fairly quiet person without a cat(or dog), friends that I spoke with but not every day, and family who was just about the same. They probably hadn’t realized I was gone for a few days, let alone bothered to worry about it. Not that they had any reason to worry, anyways.

"So," he said. "You want breakfast? I’m your driver for the day. I’ll bring you around wherever you need to go, help you out, that kind of thing. We have to go to a doctor and have them do a physical, though. Check out the parts, whatever. I don’t know what you women do at the doctor."

"Right," I said. "Yes. I’ll shower and be right down. Um, I’m kind of not wearing proper clothes, so do you mind?" I shooed him away.

"You’re so difficult," he said.

"I’m not difficult!"

"You’re so difficult and ungrateful!" he repeated in a playful tone, rolling his eyes. "What do you want for breakfast? How about French toast?"

"Yum. With strawberries and peanut butter?"

"You’re one weird chick, but sure, you got it. Strangest French toast I’ll ever make."

He left, closing the door behind him. I lounged in bed for awhile longer, letting my body fully wake up. Today was the day and I needed to prepare for it.

Everything, all of it, my arrangement with Asher and the start of a different kind of life. I supposed it wasn’t entirely different, but this was all somewhat sudden. I wanted to do it, though. I felt almost like I needed to, as if there was a driving urge within me to perform up to par.

Except what was I going to tell my parents? Not that they had any real say in the matter, but I didn’t know how to explain this to them. Oh, yes, so, mom? Right, I met a billionaire and he wants me to have his children. Not really in that exact way. It’s for his wife, you see. Except don’t tell Aunt Nell, please? She’s kind of a gossiper. Yes, and…

Ah, well. I had time to think on it still. I’d ask Jeremy to bring me to my apartment first and then see what I needed to gather up. That would take up some time. And maybe I should ask him what to do, too? Jeremy seemed resourceful in those regards.

Everything was going to work out, I thought. Why wouldn’t it?

…

"Do we really have to stop here?" Jeremy asked.

With breakfast finished, my morning preparations done, both of us were driving around the city on the way to my apartment.

"It won’t take long," I said. "That’s my favorite bookstore. I just want to grab a book."

"Right. Because Asher doesn’t own enough books. I totally understand."