Chapter Three

You woke with a dull ache between your thighs.

True to his word, Billy had spent most of the night inside you. The pair of your had alternated between dozing and fucking, neither seeming able to get enough of the other. You finally drifted off after the fourth round and didn't wake again until daylight started to filter through the windows.

His arms were still around you — that was the first thing you noticed after the ache. You'd spent the last few hours sleeping soundly in his arms, held tight, safe.

With your head on his chest, you could see the marks you'd left on his body. Red crescents where you'd gripped him too hard and scratches from his shoulders running down, over his pecks. You could vividly remember riding him, how he'd let you set the pace to begin with before gripping your hips and starting to thrust upwards.

Your thighs trembled at the thought, and part of you wanted it again. You wanted to wake him up by sinking down on his cock and —

Too much.

You already wanted too much.

Needy. Ridiculous.

You'd known him less than 48 hours and you'd already fucked him, already come on his fingers and tongue. And he'd been so sweet, so kind... far sweeter and kinder than you deserved.

What if he woke up and decided that he didn't want you anymore? What if you'd already given him everything he wanted?

Your heart started to race and your chest tightened. You didn't want this to be over yet. You didn't want him to send you away.

An all too familiar panic started to build inside of you, made all the worse by the fact you knew you were risking him seeing it. Even if he wasn't thinking about ditching you already, he’d start if he saw you spiralling.

Slowly, cautiously, you slipped out of his arms and glanced around the room, looking for somewhere to hide until it all went away. The bathroom. The door had been left ajar and you quickly crept towards it. You didn't look back as you heard him give a sleepy mutter and shift beneath the sheets.

The door gave a quiet click as you closed and locked it behind you and dropped to your knees. A towelling robe hung on the wall next to the door and, without much thought, you pulled it towards you and buried your face in it as you struggled to draw breath. It smelled like him; clean but musky, manly. You focused on the scent, on how good it had felt to spend the night wrapped up in him.

He'd asked you to stay. No, he'd told you that he wanted you to stay.

You were getting yourself worked up over things that hadn't happened, things that might never happen. You had your arrangement, there were still things that he wanted from you, and if he wasn't at least a little committed to that then why had he gone through the effort of installing free security for you at your studio?

Five minutes passed and the panic finally started to recede. The whole time you had kept your face pressed against his bathrobe, and you lamented having to let it go as you forced yourself back to your feet.

You went and flushed the toilet before leaving, hoping it would excuse your absence if he'd even noticed it, then you slipped back into the bedroom.

Your legs shook beneath you, exhausted from the panic attack and the long night that had preceded it.

Billy didn't stir until you climbed back onto the bed. His arm snaked around your waist, but he tensed when you let out a sigh of discomfort.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice rough and sleepy.

"Yeah, just a little sore."

His eyes blinked open and he looked at you. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

He sounded genuinely worried, and it soothed some of the lingering doubt inside of you — he wouldn't worry if he wanted you gone.

"No, I'm fine," you said, still perched on the edge of the bed. "I've just never... I mean, not that many times in one night..."

Embarrassment burned through you. While you were happy enough to engage in the acts, talking about them always made you feel a certain sort of way.

Billy let out a tired laugh and pulled you closer, tugging you down onto the bed and into his embrace. You went willingly and ended up beside him, noses touching as your head dropped to the pillow.

"You look tired," he said, ghosting his fingers over your cheek, "did you get any sleep?"

The exhaustion on your face was no doubt from your little bout of anxiety, but you couldn't tell him that. So, you just draped your arm over him and snuggled closer.

"Can I stay a little while longer?" You asked.

If he cared that you hadn't answered his question, Billy didn't let it show. Instead he pressed his lips to yours and kissed you softly. "You can stay as long as you want, sweetheart."

You pressed closer, tangling your legs with his and nuzzling your face against his neck. He held you tight and you soon fell asleep again, safe in the knowledge that you were still wanted in his bed. His fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare back was the last thing you remembered before drifting off.

When your eyes opened again, the bed was empty on his side but you weren't alone.

You blinked, catching him slipping from the bathroom into what you could only assume was a walk-in wardrobe. Sitting, you pulled the sheet up to cover yourself, and waited.

He smiled at you as he reemerged, dressed in pants and a crisp white shirt. "Good morning."

"I'm sorry," were the first words to tumble out of your mouth. "Did I oversleep?"

Was he going to be late to work because of you? Were you overstaying your welcome? Was he trying to —

"Hey, no," he said firmly, coming to sit on the side of the bed. He reached for you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. "Don't apologise. I wanted you to get more sleep. I'm in control now, remember? You don't have to worry about things like that anymore."

You nodded, your spiral of dread stopping just as quickly as it had started.

"I only got up because breakfast will be here soon," he continued.

Breakfast. That was right, you were going to have breakfast together every morning from now on. You found yourself smiling at the thought, glad that he'd meant it.

"Should I — I mean, do you want me to get dressed?" You asked, glancing around the room, not sure where your dress was.

"I don't think I ever want you to get dressed again," he joked. But, he pulled away from you to duck back into the wardrobe and reappeared a moment later with a large hoodie. It was dropped on the bed beside you, along with a pair of his boxers — a not-so subtle reminder that he had ripped your panties and claimed them for himself last night.

You eagerly took the clothes. Not because you felt overly conscious about being naked in front of him, but because he'd been kind enough to offer and because the hoodie looked warmer than the dress you'd worn last night. As you pulled the hoodie on, you were delighted to find that it wasn't exactly clean. It smelled of him. That same masculine scent that you'd found on his bathrobe.

"What's that smile for?" He asked.

You hadn't even realised that you were smiling. It was strange just how easily little things with him could make you smile.

"It smells nice," you answered, slipping out of bed and pulling on the boxers, even though the hoodie was more than long enough to cover your decency. "I like the way you smell."

His gaze darkened and, for a split-second, it almost seemed predatory, like he was considering pouncing. But he didn't. He offered you his hand and you quickly took it, letting him lead you out of the bedroom.

"You didn't get the tour last night. Let me show you around," he said.

Billy didn't wait for your answer before leading you out into the living area of his penthouse. You hadn't noticed the large wrap around sofa, or the windows that looked out over Central Park. He pulled you along, briefly showing you the bathroom (you wouldn't need it, he told you; you'd always use his ensuite) and the spare room (another room you'd have no use for).

The last door led to an office, with an ornate desk and another large sofa — not that they caught your eyes. No, it was the full bookshelves running along the walls. You remained at his side, gripping his hand despite the desire to move closer and take in every single book.

He must have seen the look on your face because he asked; "do you like it?"

"I love it," you answered.

"Good. Some days I like to work from home, and I was hoping you'd keep me company..." Not a question, but not quite a command either.

"I'd like that."

Again, he looked at you like he wanted nothing more than to throw you down on the sofa and fuck you. He'd told you that he liked sex and that he wanted a lot, but it was only now that you were starting to believe him.

Unfortunately a buzzing sound pulled him back to the moment.

You were whisked back out into the living area, left by the sofa while he dealt with the delivery guy, then you were beckoned over to the table that stood between the living room and the open plan kitchen area. Before he'd even unpacked breakfast your senses were assaulted by the sweet scent of waffles and pancakes.

Your stomach gave an audible growl and Billy's smile became a grin.

"You must've worked up an appetite last night," he joked.

Soon enough you were sat across from each other and, from time to time, you'd catch Billy looking at you, watching you eat. It was strange but you kept eating because you knew it was making him happy, and you wanted him to be happy. (You wanted him to be happy with you.) Most mornings you didn't have much of an appetite, or when you did it was easily forgotten in your rush to get one with your day and pushed aside by every other thought in your head.

But now, with him? You wanted to take your time and enjoy your food. You wanted to clear the plate so he didn't have to worry about you.

He poured you a second glass of juice when you drained the first and you eagerly took it.

It wasn't so much that you felt like you needed him to look after you, but you liked that he was and you were starting to see how good being with him could be.

"Can you stay over again tonight?" Billy asked as you helped him clear the table. He noticed your hesitation and your heart dropped when his smile faltered. "What?"

"Garfield — my cat, I left him alone last night..." You hated feeling like you were saying no to him and under any other circumstances you would have agreed to stay every night that he asked. But Garfield was yours, he was your responsibility, and it wasn't fair to abandon him.

"Okay, then how about I stay at your place with you and Garfield?"

"You want to stay at my apartment?"

"Sure. Why not?" He shrugged.

"It's not as nice as here," you said.

Billy turned to face you, and before you knew it, he'd lifted you off your feet and placed your down on the kitchen counter. He stood between your legs, body against yours, his lips inches from yours.

"I'm sure I've stayed in worse places," he said, closing the distances and letting his lips brush against yours. "Besides, I didn't get my fill of you last night."

Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers grasping the fabric of his expensive shirt. You didn't pull him closer, but you held him tight enough that he couldn't pull away. The heat of his hand on your thigh was almost enough to make you squirm but you managed to stay still, letting him have complete control.

"Okay, you can stay over," you said.

He rewarded you with a kiss, deep and slow. And you — you melted for him, wrapping your legs around his waist and closing what little space had existed between you. You lost track of time, just enjoying being kissed, feeling like the centre of his universe.

"I'd fuck you right here and now if I didn't have to be at the office soon," he murmured against your lips. Despite his words, he kissed you again, and you felt his cock twitch and start to harden.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, breathing slowly, trying to get himself under control.

You released your grip on him and slowly lowered your legs but still decided to quietly ask; "do you need me to help?"

Billy gave you a confused look, not getting your meaning until you pointedly dropped your gaze to his crotch. Then he caught your meaning. He urged you to lift your head and smiled at you. "I'll be fine, but I appreciate the offer."

His stare lingered a few seconds longer and you wished he'd tell you what he was thinking. He didn't. He stepped back and helped you down off the counter and swatted your ass playfully.

"Go get dressed and I'll drop you at home on my way to the office."

You did as you were told, finding your dress neatly folded atop a set of drawers in his room. You kept his boxers on, not fancying the drive back to Brooklyn with nothing under your dress — you were sure he wouldn't mind you borrowing them for a little while anyway.

In the car you were pulled into Billy's side and you almost fell asleep wrapped up in his warmth. The driver didn't need reminding of your address or the route to take and, when he pulled up outside your building, he waited instead of getting out of the car, giving you time to say your goodbyes.

"I want you to do something for me today," Billy said, and you looked at him, ready to promise him anything he wanted. "I want you to send me a picture of your lunch."

"My lunch?" You said, staring blankly.

"Your lunch," he repeated. "I want you to get yourself something nice to eat and I want you to remember to have a drink too. Can you do that?"

You weren't sure why he wanted it, but it wasn't like he was asking you to do anything ridiculous or dangerous, so you nodded.

"Good. I just want you to take care of yourself," he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He pulled away and got out of the car, offering you his hand and helping you up. After a hug and another kiss, Billy insisted on walking you to your apartment door and finally left you once you slipped inside.

Garfield was curled on the sofa and gave an unhappy meow when he saw you — no doubt annoyed that his breakfast was late. It was the first thing you took care of, apologising while you got his biscuits and caved to his demand for wet food.

"We're going to have a guest tonight, so you better be good," you told him.

Garfield, of course, ignored you as he ate. But you didn't have time to dwell on it. Your late start to the day meant that you were already behind and because Billy wanted to see you again later (something that still didn't feel entirely real to you) it meant you wouldn't be able to work late. You rushed a shower and changed your clothes before heading out again, straight to your studio.

You quickly lost yourself in your work, slowly but surely removing the top layer of varnish from the fire damaged painting to get to the paint beneath. It was a painstaking process, and minutes quickly turned to hours.

But that was how things were when you were working, when you had something delicate to focus on — you lost track of time and yourself.

It wasn't until your phone buzzed that you realised you'd been at it for four hours.

Did you have lunch yet?

It was from Billy. Your stomach dropped and your chest instantly started to tighten. You'd told him you'd have lunch, that you'd try to look after yourself, and you hadn't so much as had a cup of coffee since breakfast.

He was going to think that you'd lied to him, that your word counted for nothing. Worse, he might think that you weren't going to let him take control and that you wouldn't submit. It had only been a couple of days and you were already fucking things up. Even staring at your phone, you were breaking a promise to him; you'd told him that you'd always answer his questions...

But how could you tell him that you — a grown adult — hadn't been able to follow a simple instruction?

You knew that you needed to move, that you could go get lunch and fix this before it became an issue, but you were frozen. Spiralling again.

A hand scrubbed at your cheek as the first tear fell. Twice in one day — this had to be a new low for you.

You weren't even sure why you were getting so upset. Sure, he was nice and the sex had been amazing, but you didn't know him well enough to feel any particular way about him... right?

Wrong.

The fact was you did feel something. There was no real name for it, and it felt somewhat nebulous, but it was there. You'd slept so soundly in his arms, and you'd believed him when he told you that he wanted you to stay. When he looked at you, you felt seen in a way you never had before — but maybe that just made it worse? Maybe you were reading into things that weren't there, seeing what you wanted to see.

Your phone buzzed again and, despite your panic, you reached for it.

Everything okay?

Did he somehow know? Had he realised that you were taking so long replying because you'd forgotten to eat?

The phone started to ring.

You thought about declining the call, blocking his number, and locking the studio door. You could hide out until he forgot that you existed. You could —

The phone kept ringing and, despite all your worries, you knew you couldn't just ignore him.

"H-hello?" The word came out as an awkward gasp.

"Is everything okay, sweetheart?"

His voice was soft, soothing, even though he had no idea what was going on.

"Yeah, I... left my phone on the other side of the studio," you said, hating that you were lying to him so early in your relationship.

"Oh," he said, then paused for a beat. "I was worried when you didn't answer my messages. Did you have lunch yet?"

"I —" you thought about telling another lie but you couldn't bring yourself to do it, "— no. I... I lost track of time."

You hoped beyond hope that he couldn't hear the ragged, fraught undertone in your voice as you forced yourself to take slow and measured breaths.

"I decided to finish early. I'll come and meet you. How about we meet in the coffee shop in fifteen minutes?" It sounded more like an order than a question and you didn't want to refuse him.

It took ten minutes for you to pull yourself back together, to check your make-up in the little bathroom and calm yourself down, but you managed to make it to the coffee shop just in time to see his driver pulling up. The driver got out and opened Billy's door. Before you could even think of what to say, Billy was in front of you, pulling you against his chest and holding you tight.

You sank against him, slipping your arms around his waist.

At least a minute passed before his hold loosened and he took a slight step back to look at you.

"You still look tired," he said, cupping your cheek. "Why don't I just take you home and order food?"

Part of you knew that you should protest, that you should tell him you were fine, but the thought of going home with him and relaxing was just too appealing.

You must have nodded because a moment later, he was guiding you into the car. The next thing you knew, his arm was around you and your head was on his shoulder, and the car was winding through traffic.

"Sorry," you murmured.

"What are you sorry for?" Billy asked.

You were silent for a few seconds. "For losing track of time and not getting lunch."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let out a slow breath. "No, I'm sorry. I asked for too much too soon."

"No, you —"

"You told me you had trouble keeping track of time and I didn't listen," he said quietly but firmly. "You shouldn't feel bad about me asking you for something you're not ready for."

He made it sound like he'd asked you for something far more difficult than just eating lunch, and you weren't sure if he was trying to comfort you or he just thought you were that useless. You stiffened a little and he must have noticed

"It's something we can work on," he continued, clearly trying to reassure you.

"But what if I keep messing up?" You weren't sure you wanted an answer. Some part of you suspected that you already knew it. He'd give up on you. Things would end the moment he realised you weren't capable of being what he wanted.

"There are ways I could... incentivise you. Or, if that doesn't work, there's always punishment?"

You lifted your head enough to see the smile on his lips and glint in his eye. The word punishment should have worried you but, judging by the look on his face, you and he had very different ideas about what it meant.

"Punishment?" You asked.

Billy only hummed and didn't elaborate. "We'll talk about it more later."

While you had plenty of questions you wanted to ask, you ignored them in favour of snuggling against his side for the rest of the journey.

You let him help you out of the car and lead you up to your little fourth floor apartment. The moment you set foot inside you heard the heavy padding of paws on the hardwood floor, followed by a low meow from Garfield. To your surprise, Billy dropped to one knee and held out a hand for the cat.

Garfield gave a sniff, then decided to rub himself against Billy's leg, leaving orange and white hairs all over Billy's pants.

"He likes you," you said, a little shocked. "He normally doesn't like anyone."

He certainly hadn't liked your ex... but then, Billy was nothing like him.

Or, really, now that you thought about it, it was your ex that had always hated Garfield, not the other way around.

"What do you want for lunch?" Billy asked as he stood back up. "Or do you want me to choose something?"

You told him to choose, eager to show him that you were willing to let him control everything, and that this afternoon had just been a blip. Moving around him, you headed to the kitchen and turned the coffee maker on. You didn't want to stand still even though you felt exhausted but, once you'd grabbed a couple of mugs, you found yourself braced against the counter.

"Food will be here in twenty," Billy said, standing behind you, placing his phone on the counter. "While we're waiting, why don't I show you how I can help you learn to follow instructions?"

Your breath caught, recalling what he'd said about incentives and punishment.

"How?"

"I want to spank you," he said simply.

"You want to..." you couldn't bring yourself to say it.

He brushed your hair away from your neck and pressed his lips to your skin. "I won't hurt you. I just want you to learn that there are consequences to not doing what I ask."

All you managed was a slight nod, but it was enough to have him smiling as he continued trailing kisses along your neck. For at least a minute, he seemed content to just do that, letting you relax in his arms. Then his hands started to pull at the buttons of your overalls.

"I love these cute overalls," he muttered against your neck as the paint-spattered denim slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your ankles. "Everything about you is so... soft, so... delicate..."

You barely noticed the pressure between your shoulder-blades as he bent you over the kitchen counter.

"Just trust me, okay?" He said softly.

It took you a second to understand what he was asking and a second more to register the spank that followed. There was a sharp sting then nothing — more a feeling of heat across your backside than anything.

He counted aloud; one, two, three — all the way up to five. Then he stopped.

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt breathless even though it had all been over in a matter of moments. Still, the dull ache made everything feel clearer. You didn't want to disappoint him ever again.

The warmth of his hand bled through the fabric of your panties as he soothed the rapidly fading ache.

"Can I fuck you?" He asked, sounding as breathless as you felt. "I really want to fuck you right now."

Again, you found yourself nodding, still processing what had just happened but knowing with a certainty that you wanted him, that you didn't want to lose the feeling of connection you had.

You didn't question the condom that he just happened to have in his pocket, or the look on his face as you dared to glance back at him. You just waited, letting him tug your panties down, and parting your legs when prompted. This was not how you'd expected your afternoon to go but, fuck, you wanted it.

A soft moan spilled from you as he slid inside you, one hand on your hip, the other between your shoulders again, bending you over the counter. He paused only briefly once you'd taken all of him, making sure you were comfortable before starting to fuck you.

Deep and hard, faster than last night. It felt like he was proving a point, claiming you, making sure you understood that you were his. And you loved it. Every thought in your mind that wasn't him completely vanished; all your worries, all your anxiety, silenced.

You barely even noticed that you were moaning his name with every rough drive of his hips.

"Mine," he grunted.

There was no doubt left in your mind. You were his. Completely and utterly.

You came quickly, easily. But you didn't care. Not when he kept going, fucking your through one orgasm straight to the next.

"This is what you get when you let me take control," he groaned in your ear. "All you have to do is give in to me and be mine."

You moaned in response, your body trembling at his every move. "I'm yours."

Three days and you were already giving yourself to him. Three days and you already knew you couldn't go back to life without him.

He rewarded you by picking up the pace, letting you feel his want and frustration in every thrust. You came again, fingers scrabbling against the counter top as you desperately fought for something to hold onto. And, as you did, you felt his cock twitch inside you as he reached his own peak.

His breath was hot in your ear as he groaned; "tomorrow we're getting you on birth control so I can fuck you bare..."

A/N : Long story short (again) my new dog is much better now, though being better means he has a lot more energy (in that department he's turning out to be more border collie than beagle) and I've had to start getting him trained. On top of that I had my staff Christmas party and I ended up catching a bad cold that I'm hopefully over now. But, fingers crossed, the rest of the month will be easier and I should be able to get back to a normal-ish posting schedule (I say as I post this at 1am). Anyway hope you enjoy this part, I thought it was time to have readers PoV!

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

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