The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) by Cerys du Lys Page B

blinking.
    "You've
heard the requirements.  Do you agree or not?"
    "I..." 
I couldn't do that!  I was... well, not yet, but I could become drunk if the
waiter kept bringing us more sake.  And, sexy?  How was I supposed to be sexy? 
I knew a thing or two about it, and I understood the general premise, but I
highly doubted I could look as appealing as the women in some of the
photographs I'd seen before.  Not to mention I didn't even know exactly what
kind of photography he did.  He said it was intimate and female, but that was
vague enough to be almost anything.
    "Do you
agree or not?" he asked, repeating himself.
    "Fine,"
I said.  "I'll do it."
    "Good,"
he said with a wicked grin.  Picking up his chopsticks, he grabbed a piece of
vegetable tempura; one of the fried sweet potatoes.  "Excellent choice on
the tempura, by the way.  These are delicious.  I haven't had them in
forever."

His Absolute
Instructions
    I never thought
I was sexy.  That isn't to say I thought I was unattractive, but there's a
difference between sexiness and an acceptable look.  Everyone has something
nice about their personal appearance, but that doesn't mean they have that je
ne sais quoi sexual appeal.
    I dressed as
nicely as I could, though, wearing nice looking skirts and blouses.  Maybe I
bought my clothes at Macy's or J.C. Penney, but they looked good.  Probably not
as fashionable as women in Asher Landseer's tier, but I could buy ten full
outfits with what they paid for a single blouse.  I owned shelves full of body
scrubs, soaps, facial cleansers, and a ton of other woman's essentials for my
early morning routine when I was getting ready for the day.  I loved to take
baths, used rose, sandalwood, and green tea scented shampoo, and splurged on
the more expensive conditioners.
    I looked nice; I
liked how I looked.  Blonde, average weight, a little bit of a tan from the
tanning machines at the gym where I shared a membership with a friend.  I kept
in shape, ate as well as I could, and cared about my appearance.  Cosmetics,
styling my hair, making sure my clothes were fresh and clean and without
wrinkles.
    Still, that
didn't make me sexy.  I was sure men found me attractive enough, and I'd had
boyfriends in the past.  Sex, compliments, and everything that went along with
relationships.
    But...
    When Asher
Landseer, the billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises asked to take sexy photos
of me, I balked.
    It was a
requirement, he said.  Not a requirement of his choosing, either, but mine.  At
least it was mine in a way.  I could say no, I could disagree, but if I wanted
him to agree to what I'd asked of him, then I needed to accept his requirement.
    A small part of
me wanted to run away right then.  What was I getting myself into?  He'd
invited me to a restaurant to discuss something and that was it.  Granted, he
wanted to discuss me possibly becoming an egg donor and surrogate mother for
him and his wife, so the situation was already awkward, but this just made it
worse.
    He teased me,
tormented me, except I thought he didn't mean it in a bad way.  An accident,
like someone who was unsure how to proceed.  Thinking back to what I'd done, I
felt the same.  Why did I curl my toes, let them trace towards his crotch and
his stiffening manhood hidden beneath his pants.  He'd offered me a calf
massage and nothing more, and I was the one who took it further.  Asher was the
one who elevated it, almost getting me off with his foot, but then it stopped.
    And started. 
And stopped.
    Sitting in our
private booth at The Simple Path, a luxurious Japanese restaurant, I answered
him.
    "Fine,"
I said.  "I'll do it."
    "Good,"
he said with a deliciously deviant grin on his face.
    I wanted to kiss
him so badly, but he reached for a piece of battered and fried sweet potato
from our vegetable tempura plate.  Why was I sitting next to him now?  I'd
started across the table, less intimate, and now here I was, sitting elbow to
elbow with