Forcing The Billionaire

Chapter 8

Hurt

I study my face in the mirror. I add a bit of highlighter to my cheekbone. With an eyeliner, contour, and red lipstick, these will make my face look uplifted. When satisfied, I smile seductively.

“It would be impossible for him to reject me,” I whisper to myself as I scrutinize my overall look. I am wearing a black shiny leather tube dress paired with knee-high lace-up sandals. I have a slender body, but I believe I have the curves placed in the right places. They may not be as big as most women my age, but it fits my frame.

I pick up my clutch and car keys resting on the side table of my room. Before I completely forget, I hook my black fitted jacket on my left arm, so in case I get cold later, I have something to run to.

Gracing the spiral high stares of the mansion, my eyes roam to its whole place. I’ve been living here since the day I was born, and I have no plans of giving this up to the bank.

Our mansion has a touch of Spanish style—just like how our ancestral house was made. My great grandfather is a pure blooded Irish while my great grandmother is half Latin and half Filipina.

My eyes narrowed and my fingers clench when I remember the reason why I need to do what I have been planning to do tonight.

We own a chain of fast food restaurants here in the Philippines. We were at the top in our field. Businesses in our line of industry were frightened to go against us. But since my parents divorced and my father got addicted to gambling, everything turned upside down. The once L. Corporation that is leading the industry is now slowly falling down—barely standing on their own.

We are always at the top. Being born in this kind of world, it is not new to me to witness how people wish for you to fail. And my so-called ‘friends’ are not the exception. People in the business world understand how painful it is to stand in a state of bankruptcy, but at the same time, they are waiting for it to happen to them.

If only my grandparents are still alive, there is still a chance to save our company. They could have stopped my father from his gambling addiction. I know I have a part of it. When my mother left us, casinos has been my father’s enjoyment. However, even before that happen, our company is already struggling. Investors are pulling out one by one and our franchisees were not even generating income.

“Like what you are seeing?” I smirk. I made sure that the way I pronounced every single word is full of seductiveness.

Hyko’s eyes once again travel down to the wholeness of my body and then back to my face. I gulp. He takes a sip on his glass while his eyes are glued to my face.

There is something in his stares that made me uncomfortable. Still, I tried to maintain a seductive smile even though I feel like I was being splashed by cold water when I saw nothing in his eyes. He languidly tilts his head while swirling the glass in his hand.

One side of his lips rose for a grin. “I’ve seen and touched better bodies, Ms. Levrinne…” his stares crawl from my face down to my body. “There’s nothing special to see here,” he coldly utters and drinks the remaining alcohol in his glass.

WHAT THE HELL?!

Small strands of my hair stand on my back and nape. I feel a cold shiver down my spine.

Hyko walks back to the couch and sit comfortably. He spread his free hand on the back rest of the couch while the other keeps swirling his glass of whiskey.

“Get out Ms. Levrinne, before I call the security.”

He looks so uninterested as if my presence in his office annoys him. A pang of pain hit my chest. I never felt so unwanted before. I am used to boys flocking over me. I was never rejected.

This is the first time I asked for someone’s help; the first time I needed someone.

I used to be independent and detached from people. If I just know I needed him, I should have listened to my mother.

I look at the guys in front of me. He is still staring intently at me. Suddenly, a word slips out of my mouth—something I never thought I’ll say.

“P-Please?”

I don’t remember myself pleading for someone or something. I am used to people begging me and things going my way. And now that none of these are happening, I am forced to do things I never thought I would do.

F*ck! I look so f*cking desperate. In 22 years of existence, I never felt this low!

Slowly, I walk toward him. I notice that he was a bit surprised by my sudden move, but soon composed himself and focus on his drink.

I sit beside him—enough to feel the heat from his body.

He ignores my presence and takes a sip from his drink. I place my hand on his thigh without removing my eyes from his to see his reaction.

“Hyko…” I caress his right thigh up and down and occasionally squeeze it.

He is looking in front and did not bother turning his head in my direction, but I see how his brows furrow and the lump in his throat moves.

I continue what I’m doing. I lean forward and plant a soft kiss on the side of his neck. I notice that my red lipstick left a stain on it.

I thought he will stop me, but not hearing a word of restrain and refusal from him lit up the candle of my hope.

I continue giving him kisses. The once soft kiss turns into wild continuous kisses. He did not stop me. He did not tell me to continue either, so I act in my own prerogative.

My kisses crawl up on his jaw and to his ears. I bite his earlobe sensually and flick my tongue—still no response from him. My hands crawl a little upward, just enough to not touch his privates.

“I’ll do whatever you want…”

My insides almost scream in joy when I felt a sudden movement from him down there. I am not touching him but I feel him getting hard because his trousers tighten.

I withdraw myself from him. He remains in his position—Casually sitting on his couch; right hand on the back rest of the sofa seat, and left hand holding a glass of drink.

I am sitting on his right side. This time I reach for the buttons of his white sleeveless top and open the first two buttons. Again, he did not even flinch. But his small move of taking another sip of whiskey is making me uncomfortable.

Between us two, he should be the one who looks tensed up, but it is actually the other way around. He does not care about what I am doing beside him. His single small move made me feel so low and dirty.

However, I know what I want. Self-pity should not be on my list right now.

“I can satisfy your desires…”

This time, I stand in front of him. He looks at me directly in my eyes. After half a second of staring deeply at him, I feel like I want to back out.

His eyes are deep and dark. Staring more will only drown you. It’s cold and intimidating—something someone won’t dare to look straight into.

But the desperation in my system is what controls me.

Just when I thought I can make smoothly pull this out, he emptied his glass in one gulp and places it beside him. This time, both of his arms are on the backrest of the sofa.

He left his body unguarded—open to what I’ll do. His arms are spread widely on the sofa seat. It looks like I am very much welcome to him but his atmosphere says otherwise.

I found myself closing our tiny gap. This time, he tilts his head, watching me.

I do not know what I like more: The one when he ignores me, or the one where his full attention is on me.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and remind myself of what I have to do. I could not stare directly into his eyes so I dart my sight on his chest.

I rake my hand on his hair. Without a warning, I sit on his lap. My legs are spreading widely, trying to envelop his massive frame between me. I am not looking at him but I can feel his stare on what I am doing.

My tube dress lift a bit due to my move. I place my arms on his shoulders and hook my hands at the back of his nape.

This is the first time I let myself be this close to him. His warm body should comfort me, but instead, it made me more uncomfortable.

Growing up without my parents’ guidance, I learned how life works. The more you show yourself to others, the more vulnerable you would be. It thought me how to hide my emotions and to act myself out of the situation.

His presence intimidates me but I display a smirk on my face.

“I can do whatever you want me to do… I can be who you want me to be…” I say while playing with his hair.

I slowly grind on top of him. I already felt his bulk down there earlier, but I want to feel more. I may feel low and pity myself, but I am also a human being. I can feel pleasure despite the situation I am in.

He did not say a word, but I felt him grow big. He may look uninterested, but his body language speaks more than his tongue.

“Ohh…” a soft moan escapes my lips when he shifts on his seat, making his bulky manh**d hit my core.

I am wearing a tube dress that falls inches above my knees. Given my position where my legs are spread widely, only a thin cloth of my underwear and his trousers is what separates our privates.

I grip his hair and slightly pull his head closer to me, letting our lips collide.

He is not the first boy I kissed but when our lips touched, I feel like I was a teenager doing her first kiss.

I wasn’t able to move my lips, and he remains stoic n his seat. To save me from embarrassment, my lips crawl down to his neck.

His familiar perfume keeps invading my nose. I won’t be surprised if I’ll smell like him later on.

The embarrassment quickly vanishes and I found myself in the heat of what I am doing. Just when I thought I am doing good with my momentum, suddenly, we hear a ring from someone’s cellphone. It turns out that it was his.

His hand lightly brush my inner thigh when he tried to pull out his phone from his pocket. Without thinking twice, he answered his phone—right in front of me, while I’m riding him.

“Hello? Yes… okay.”

I did not stop kissing his neck. Instead, I do better.

I thought I did a good job when his arms snaked around my waist. However, when I felt him slowly shoving me, my chest tightens.

Even with his gentle move of pushing me away, I feel so ignored. He scoop me with his arm And carried me along with him when he stand. He then put me back on the sofa seat while giving back his attention to his phone.

“Alright, I’ll be there…” He pauses a while, probably listening to what the other line is saying. His left hand is holding the phone in his ears while his free hand is on his waist. He then moves his head sideward to dart his eyes to me.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said with cold eyes that made my heart numb.

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Forcing The Billionaire

by: Joanne Cristel

©2022

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Note: Unedited. English is not the author's first language so expect grammatical errors. Thank you!