Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter Six: His Place

"Well maybe that's a little drastic," I said, "but I agree."

 Three small cars parked on the hill, a battered blue four door with a gaping hole for a fender, a yellow bug, and a sleek, white sports car that clung low to the road. Nico shifted me over his shoulder, fishing his keys from his pocket. “You can’t stand for that, Dimitri. How long has this been going on?” He slid me into the passenger's seat, cursing under his breath. When he caught my eyes, his expression was that of concern. It hurt my heart.

“I don’t want to talk about it, if that’s alright.” The interior smelled of leather and polish and was all black, embossed and hand stitched. I sunk into the passenger seat as Nico rummaged through the glove compartment. He pulled out a first aid kit and was already lifting my arms and sealing my wounds with gauze and cold paste before I could remind him that I healed about as fast as any other werewolf.

“So you’re an alpha?” His eyes smoldered into mine.

I laid my head on the dash. I hated disappointing him.

“They’re your pack,” he added, layering pressure to a pad soaking blood. “They know when you’re at your weakest. You can’t let them hurt you like that. If they won’t take responsibility, you have to.”

I blinked hard, pinpricks of light searing my eyelids. “I know. I’m a terrible alpha, and my dad—” I drew a short, shallow breath and corked my outburst while I still had the chance. Nico hadn’t asked for my problems and I didn’t intend to share them. “It’s a lot.” Tears burned my eyes. Though I held them shut, I felt a hot drip down my cheeks.

“Hey, Dimitri, hey. It’s okay. I’m sorry.” He lifted my chin with his fingertips, and it was a sweet, gentle gesture I’d begun, in the short time I’d known him, to love. I let my eyes flutter open as he quirked me one of his dazzling smiles. This one sympathetic. “How about I show you my office? You said you wanted that.”

I nodded, blinking back tears with a squeak of a laugh. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

He traced my bottom lip with a fingertip. It made me want to taste him all over again as his dark eyes glimmered down at me with such tenderness that when he shifted away from me to turn the key and drive, a knot grew in my belly. “I’d do anything for you.”

Not like I’d done anything to deserve a promise like that.

The car purred, low and silky, and once it was thrown into Drive snowy hills flew by. Silence stretched between us, but it was comfortable. Nico was no longer a stranger, and the quiet felt reflective and companionable. “Tell me about yourself,” I said, drumming my fingers in my lap.

He was open. With his eyes glittering and his hands drumming the wheel, I learned he was terrible at video games and once played a racing game for twelve hours straight and never beat his beta one round. I learned he loved the smell of coffee, but preferred bright, toxic green energy fizz that came in cans to keep him awake. His favorite drink was bourbon. He hated snow and spent many Saturdays passed out in front of two star comedies with a bottle of Mountain Dew and a box of greasy pizza. It was has guilty secret.

They were such small things to learn, but they made him feel closer, warmer. Not a sexy, protective stranger, but a person. A person with quirks and flaws. He smiled when he spoke, laughed, that deep, sweet, musical sound. His fingers danced on the steering wheel, and once, he darted a kiss to my ear. I unwound around him.

“Nico,” I said as the roads grew slimmer and the hills fell away. The Asim-Peiffer building already housed an uncomfortable amount of intense memories, and I wanted to push away the panic of last night as long as I could. “How about you show me your home first?”

I lifted my head and caught a glint of his smile. Perfect teeth. It made a knot tense in my stomach. “It’s a bit of a commute,” he said, nodding at the stretch of cracked road wound ahead. The city was built on a slope so that it sat in the basin where the old rivers used to empty into. The buildings, silvery towers, glistened in the noon sun, dark windows sheeted with ice and stacked with hard-packed layers of snow. I’d finally caught my breath, leaning into Nico’s hard arm he’d flung across the headrest, “but I think the human in me loves this city. The sights. The smells. You get the picture.”

“Uh-huh.” He corkscrewed a strand of my sandy hair around his finger, and I instinctively relaxed. The air here smelt of car exhaust and rubber, but it crackled with a buzz of passersby. Nico, it seemed, loved what overwhelmed me. And it was something I enjoyed learning more about. It was like we were going about everything backwards, screwing first and dating later, but it was that very screwing that made me want to learn about him. I knew every part of his body. Now I wanted to know every part of him.

I moved my tongue over my lips, tasted them. They were hard and chapped. “But as much as I love this city, it’s my home that’s my favorite part.”

As if in punctuation of the thought, he pulled his sports car into an alley beside an old tenement building that stood out against the rest of the city. The far side of the building was all glass, sleek and dark like the rest of the downtown that glowed alongside it. But but it was the side closest to us that took my breath away. It was all ancient brick, its mortar muddied and its face chipped.

I left the car and entered the cave of a back alley, my breath a short curl of smoke in the frigid winter air.

“Used to be a tenement. Wanted to keep some of the structure and a similar floor plan.”

Nico ran his fingers across the brick. He lit up, his eyes like glowing coals in his lean face. “When I was a kid, this place was rotting, almost condemned. Should have been. I used to climb to the top floor and sit in the rafters. Didn't want to get involved the kids downstairs.” He crinkled his nose, and I could just imagine him as a teenager, balanced on cracked wooden beams, his legs kicking while he watched the children below in palpable disgust.

“You were a loner?” A chill had set through my tee and I shivered. I needed to start wearing jackets.

Nico stretched, running his hands over the fire escape’s rusting rails, and offered me a sheepish smile. “I had books.”

“But you’re an alpha.”

“And what’s wrong with an alpha being a loner?”

I ran my lip along my teeth and said nothing, glancing down at my reflection in a pothole puddle. Framed against chunks of black ice, I looked dirty and small. Nico ran his fingers across the back of my neck, and it was such a small, gentle gesture it made me shiver. “I always thought…” I began, sucking in a breath, but I didn’t want to think about it, so I ran my fingers across my new scars and angled my head toward a crisp blue sky. “I dunno.” I shrugged.

He laid his arm across my back. “Let’s get you inside. You’re cold.”

I raised an eyebrow, though I knew he couldn’t see my face. I’d almost forgotten the sub-freezing temperatures. One of these days, I decided, I was going to catch hypothermia or fall over frozen-through. “The fire escape?”

Nico tilted his head downward, his eyes full of glimmers. The air smelt of smoke and snow. “Is that okay?” A smile played across his lips, and seeing it brought a stab of lust to me. It wasn’t that I needed him, I don’t think, I just liked him. Against me. Inside me.

In way of response, I tossed my head over my shoulder and jogged up the stairs. They were wiry and thin, iron slats held together by twisted rust-covered rods. My breath sang out of me in short, white puffs. Nico caught up quickly, with a few short strides that sent the stairs clanging against the brick-siding.

“Top floor,” he said just as searing pain rode up my legs. The structure stretched up into what amounted to forever. Panting, I stumbled the last two steps, turned toward the escape’s makeshift balcony. Wind wooshed against my ears, my eyes trained on the lacey drapes flapping inside the many dull windows of the sagging structure besides us. “Odd place for a billionaire,” I said, arms crossed over the rails.

Nico’s back moved against mine, throwing a shadow over me I didn’t mind to fill. Hands resting atop mine, teasing my senses with his scent and heat. “Didn’t I say something about not being one for lambskins and decoupage?”

“Something like that,” I said as he took my hand in his. I let him lead me away from the precipice and the chill air, partly because I liked the warmth of his thick palm wrapped around my smaller one, partly because I wanted to watch this strange, loner alpha do his alpha thing. My teeth had begun to chatter, and he pulled me against him to share that warmth. I drew in his scent, fingers spidering up the small of his back. Watching him flick the key from his pocket and turn it in the lock brought a smoldering pit back to my belly. He promised to show me his bed. Damn did I want to see it.

The billionaire’s home was small. It was the first thing I noticed once I’d stepped inside, Nico’s hand squeezing mine. It was also untidy, all exposed brick that reeked of cooking grease. Barer than my bakery, too, except for a steel clock with silver blades for hands that hung crookedly from the back wall and an armless black pad of a couch that looked at best to cost eighty dollars. “Where does all that money go?” I asked, running my hands through my hair, which had gone stiff and stringy.

Nico’s face pinkens as he steps past me. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I… Well, I mean not in decor, that’s for sure. “ But this I take in all over the span of seconds. It’s the books my eyes linger over. Some, stacked up in neat rows ten tomes high, others flung open, dogeared, cracked at the spine while they lay in pitiful pilies across his couch and floor. They only leave little patches of floor to step on, and most of those are layered in dust kitties and gray fluff. Another sniff told of a musty, thrift-shop smell, almost strong as the meat smell. I shook my head, brow pinched between my fingers. “Can’t you afford bookshelves?”

“I don’t have the time to buy ‘em.” I’d opened my mouth to remind him he could always hire a kid to run to Ikea for him, or better yet, an interior designer, when he held up a hand. “Besides,” he added, tucking a tendril of hair behind his ear. “I like it. It’s creative.”

“No, it’s dirty.”

“Like my mind.” He smiled, tipping his head back as if he were laughing. It threw his curls against the nape of his neck and a small grin played across my lips. I had to admit, I liked his silly, stupid sense of humor. “C’mon, Dimitri. Do you want to get something to eat?”

I nodded. All things considered, I was starved.

Ten minutes later, we were skulking through a galley kitchen that was draped in shadow, chatting over cornflakes and the world’s thickest coffee that went down the throat like chowder. We stood against cream cabinets, elbows bent back against the cork counter. Our arms brushed, and though his proximity brought a warm crawl to my skin, it was comfortable. Near him, I could breathe.

“Can’t believe you don’t keep any butter in this place,” I grumbled, stabbing my spoon into a cornflake lump that smelled stale. Nico slurped his coffee, a single eyebrow raised.

“Dimitri, I’ll run out and buy some right now if that’ll make you feel better.”

“No flour either, or sugar, or…”

He set the mug on the counter and popped two mints into his mouth from an open drawer that was just as disorganized as the rest of his home. Loose change, sugar packets, peppermints, and bottle caps. I scraped the last of the cereal off the bottom of the bowl, chewed, and picked up one of the candies. “I don’t bake is all.” He ran a hand through my hair, and I’d just pushed my bowl into the grubby green sink when that same hand slid down the back of my shirt. I was tingling with tension, and the soft lingering touches of his fingertips on my skin only drew the heat out of my core and down my spine as he trailed pressure down it. I bit into the candy and crushed it on my tongue. “I…”

“This isn’t what you want to talk about, is it?” I said, blinking up at a patched ceiling of as he traced the lines of my tattoo. I glanced sideways, and his face was a flushed shade of pink, so I knew that “dirty mind” of his was churning. His dark lashes batted his cheekbone, a wicked grin curving his lip. My stomach clenched at the sight.

“No,” he conceded with a quick nod. “Are you familiar with b**m?”

“Yup.” I popped the ’p,’ swiping my tongue over my teeth. I savored the last of the peppermint, a touch spicy, a touch sweet. As I propped myself up on the counter, I studied the side of his face, the sharpness of his lean features, the delicate curve of his nose. His lashes were longer and blacker than I’d first noticed. When I drew in a breath, I smelt candy and grease and his scent and his sweat. He swiveled his head so his eyes met mine, his fingertips tracing warm patterns into my skin.

“You into it?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and offered him another nod.

He tipped his head to the side, dark eyes raking over my body. I enjoyed it when he checked me out. Liked it when he smiled at me, how his tongue darted over his lips. I stepped away from the counter, my feet thumping as they met the ground. I let my hips slide up against his, my arms meet at the nape of his neck, my fingers intertwine in his thick, dark curls. Smooth skin brushed my fingerpads, warm against my touch. I didn’t know why I wanted to be so near him when my own survival instincts told me I needed to get away.

He turned so I moved with him, my back to the kitchen doorway. It was a dance, his breathing steady against my rapid pulls of stuffy air, his heartbeat calm against my chest. I was thinking of the packmates rampaging around my bakery, shaking at the memories of my own reaction. My fear. My passivity. “Is that what you want?” I asked, to keep my thoughts focused on the sultry man before me who had his arm squeezing my waist and his mouth inches from mine.

“If you do, too.” He lifted my chin with his fingertips, dark eyes peering desperately into my own. I dropped and arm from the back of his neck and ran it down his shirt, rolling the polished buttons in my fingertips. The smile fell from his face. “Sub or dom?” he asked, his tone breathless as his long fingers reached for my waist.

“Sub.” I let my breath fall against his chest, let him pull me against his body. I felt the dampness of his shirt, the heat of his savory flesh as he hooked his thumbs into my elastic waistband, exposing my hips to him as he dragged me closer.

He raised a hand and traced my jaw with his fingertips. Tingles crawled down the base of my neck. “I see. Do you want to…”

“Yes, Master.” I licked my lips, my head held up squarely so my eyes met his. The thought of s*x with Nico that way felt dangerous. His teeth near my throat. That final mark. My hands trailed up his shirt, brushing his hot neck. I closed my eyes. Calling Nico ‘Master’ was a turn-on, simply put.

The man laughed. It was a low, heady sound that made me ache. “Safe words?”

“Red and yellow.” My eyes fell to the bulge in his pants, and I assumed he was as turned-on as I was. His fingers twisted in my hair and tugged so sharply I was forced to meet his eyes. Delicious pain shot up my scalp. I suppressed a smile as his dark eyes seared into mine, flashing him a blank expression to urge him on.

“Kneel.” He dropped my hair and I scrambled onto my knees, my eyes lowered to his scuffed Oxfords. Looking at his ankles made me want to suck and bite them down to the pads of his toes. “Tell me what you want, Dimitri.”

“I…” I thought back to our first kiss in my van, the first thought that entered my mind when his lips met mine. “...I want you to strip me down and f**k me until I scream, Master.”

Heat rose into my face. I wanted him to control me. Even if only in s*x, the thought made my stomach clench. I wanted freedom, and yet all the same I wanted not to think, for him to save me and pleasure me so long as I obeyed him.

He knelt in front of me, lifting my ruddied face. I liked how his fingertips dipping into my flesh and pressing into my chin.“Don’t be ashamed.”

I frowned up at him. I wasn’t ashamed of being a sub. I was ashamed that I wanted to be his sub. But I wouldn’t say as much. Then, I smoothed out of my facial expression so it went as blank as it would if I was one of those models who pretended s*x was this grim thing. “I’m not ashamed, Master.”

He brings his hand up and over my eyes. “You always look like you’re about to laugh.” His voice doesn’t change. He doesn’t become scary all at once, like I guess I  His nose draws down the side of my neck and panting, I’m forced to arch the back of my head to give him flesh to muzzle. The flat parts of his teeth score against the side of my neck, and my heart is slamming in my chest. For a second, I forget we’re playing and squirm back against the cabinets. He presses his hand to my back, caging me in his fingertips. I draw in a sharp breath, and then his head lowers and he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. The fabric draws the most of the sting out of the bite, and I can’t help it, all the tension released so quickly; I start to laugh. Even with his teeth sunk into my flesh and his hand over my eyes, he isn’t the man I thought he was. His lips move to my ear.

“Trust me,” he says.

I nod, all the breath whooshing out of me in a gasp.

“I’ve been waiting for my mate for so long.” He nips my ear and tugs it so sharply when he lets go, I’m gasping. “I want to tie you to my bed so tightly you’d never get away no matter how much you struggle.” He runs his thumb down the side of my face, stroking the soft skin. I’m shivering against him; my eyes are still covered, so I can only see darkness and smell the hint of olive on his fingertips from his fingertips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I whimper. My voice is hoarse, but he’s making his case pretty appealing. Mostly because I’m a kinky little s**t. “You’d have to catch me first."