Chapter Two

He spent the night thinking about you, already desperate to see you again. After spending hours finding out what little he could about you online, he'd found himself in a cold shower, stroking his cock to thoughts of you.

It was insane.

He felt insane.

No one had ever had such a profound effect on him in such a short time and Billy wasn't sure what to do with himself. There was something so fragile about you, but the way that you'd kissed him, the way that you'd moaned and writhed against him, screamed of the same eager desperation that he often felt. You were just like him — you just didn't seem to know it yet.

The next morning, he texted you, asking how you would be spending your day. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to get you used to talking to him and answering his questions, even over the phone. You would be at your studio, no doubt losing yourself in your work.

He'd noticed the far away look in your eyes as he'd walked you from the coffee shop, the way you seemed to want to exist in a world of your own. Normally such a thing would have him rolling his eyes, but you didn't seem to belong in the harsh reality of everyday life.

After another cold shower and some intimate time with his hand, Billy decided that he needed to see you. And he couldn't wait until dinner.

So, he came up with a plan.

You stumbled and almost fell over when you rounded the corner to find him waiting outside your studio — you would have landed flat on your face if he hadn't stepped forward and caught you.

He made sure you were steady on your feet but he didn't step away, nor did he take his hand off your arm.

"What are —" you started and stopped, confused. "Were we... I didn't think we were meeting until later..."

Billy smiled, his heart practically skipping in his chest. Something about seeing you so flustered had him wanting — no, not wanting, needing — to take of you, needing to step up and take control.

"I know, but something from yesterday was bothering me," he glanced over his shoulder towards the door to your studio and the Anvil employee who stood there. When he looked back at you, he noticed your confusion had deepened. "Your studio... it's not very secure. In a neighbourhood like this, you need more than a motion sensor alarm. And, since security is my business, I thought I'd sort it out for you. If that's alright with you?"

He watched as you thought over the offer, weighing it up, and eyeing him as if you thought it might be a test.

"I don't know if I can afford it..." you said softly, cautiously.

"It won't cost you a thing," he said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'd just feel better knowing that you're safe when you're here working."

"Oh..." again you paused, taking a few seconds to think things over. "Okay."

He smiled widely, glad that you were already letting him take care of you without question. His hand slipped down to find yours and he led you to your studio door. You unlocked it and he followed you inside.

"Can you set up cameras and make sure the locks are secure?" He said to his man.

You stood quietly beside him for the conversation that followed. Billy's security expert started to explain what he was going to do and what would be the best way to get the job done, and Billy trusted him implicitly. Anvil only hired the best of the best, after all.

It wasn't until his attention returned to you that Billy noticed you'd retreated into your thoughts, no doubt overthinking what was happening and what you might owe him because of it. He didn't want that. He didn't want you to think you’d ever owe him anything. That wasn't what this was about.

"Don't worry about it," he said, drawing your attention back to him. "I did offer to compensate you — just think of this as part of that."

You nodded and glanced towards the back room where you'd showed him one of the paintings you'd been touching up. The back room where he'd been sorely tempted to fuck you against the wall last night.

The thought alone caused his cock to twitch.

(Would you let him, he wondered. Would you let him fuck you, knowing there was someone in the next room?)

It was too tempting. You were too tempting.

"Have you had breakfast?" He asked.

Your eyes widened a fraction at the question, giving him his answer long before you shook your head. You looked sheepish, embarrassed even, that you hadn't eaten. Billy got the impression that it was something that happened often.

Well, not anymore.

He gave your hand a gentle tug back towards the door. "C'mon, I'll take you for something to eat."

You followed him without question. Billy made a point of explaining to you that his guy was highly trained and that he'd have everything sorted for you before you got back from breakfast, so you didn't need to worry about anything. You nodded, still not questioning, just accepting everything Billy was doing for you.

It was exactly what he wanted.

"Do you normally skip breakfast?" He asked as you walked together, hand in hand.

"Sometimes, if I'm in a rush..."

No, that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

"From now on, I want you to have breakfast every morning," he said. Your gaze dropped to the pavement and you started to chew at the inside of your cheek, thoughtfully silent. When you didn't say anything, he continued; "if you forget breakfast for any reason, I want you to call me, okay?"

The question was left to hang between you and, when you didn't look up or answer him, Billy stepped in front of you. His free hand cupped your cheek and urged you to look at him. The same look of embarrassment was all over your face, and he hated seeing it.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I just... I don't want to promise you something and then disappoint you," you said, voice small and quiet. "Sometimes I forget things or I lose track of time, and people get upset about it... and I don't want you to think I'm doing it deliberately."

He considered your words for a few seconds, wanting to ask a dozen questions but knowing things needed to happen at your pace.

"Okay, how about this; from now on, I'll take you for breakfast every morning?"

There was a flicker of shock on your face, then your lips parted and you looked ready to tell him that he didn't need to do that. But you stopped yourself, clearly remembering your arrangement.

"Okay," you finally said.

He didn't give you time to keep thinking about it — he was starting to realise just how much you tended to overthink and worry needlessly — he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you and letting your body melt against his. You relaxed almost instantly, wrapping your am around his waist, content to remain in his embrace until the blaring of a car horn pulled you back to the moment.

The kiss broke but he held you against him, wanting you to know that he wanted you near. It was clear you needed reassurance, that you needed to know that he didn't see you as a burden.

His thumb tenderly ran across your lips and you smiled for him. It was all the sign Billy needed that he was doing the right thing.

He lingered for a few more moments, then he turned and resumed walking. A couple of minutes later you were sitting in the coffee shop where you'd first met, hot coffees and bagels in front of you.

This time you shrugged off your coat and he finally got a good look at you. You looked utterly adorable in your denim overalls, already splattered with paint — nothing like the women he normally ended up with. Maybe that was why he was drawn to you. You were something new, different, and you didn't want the same things that they had wanted from him

It took you a few minutes of silence to work up the nerve to ask the question that had been playing on your mind.

"Why does it bother you so much that I skipped breakfast?" You asked with genuine curiosity.

He took a breath and swallowed his mouthful of bagel.

"I don't like the thought of anyone going hungry," he answered, shrugging. He saved you the trouble of asking why. "I grew up in foster care and, some days, there wasn't really enough food to go around..."

He watched as your gaze softened, but it wasn't pity on your face as he expected but a sad sort of sympathy. It was almost as if you understood.

"Okay," you said softly. "I'll try not to skip breakfast anymore."

Billy smiled and sat back, nursing his coffee. "Since we're talking about the past, can I ask you a question?"

You hesitated but then nodded. "Sure."

"When you said people get upset with you —"

"I didn't mean upset-upset," you interrupted, immediately flustered. "I don't upset people that much, they just get a little... annoyed with me sometimes."

"It's okay," he said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his. "I just wanted to know if it happens a lot; people getting... annoyed with you?"

Again, you were quiet for a long, drawn out moment. "Not so much anymore. I'm always so busy with work, I don't really have time to see people. And... they were mostly my ex's friends anyway..."

He gave your hand a squeeze.

"And they got upset with you for forgetting things and losing track of time?" He asked, and you nodded. "Well, that isn't going to happen anymore. I don't want you to worry about things like that with me. But, I do have one rule I need you to follow. When I call you, I need you to always answer. And if I ask you a question, I need you to be honest."

"That's two things," you said, smiling at him.

"You're right, it is," Billy laughed. "I need you to follow those two rules then, okay?"

You agreed and seemed almost relieved at the prospect of it. He could already tell that you were the sort of person who liked to live with their head in the clouds, and he hated that anyone had tried to pull you back down to earth. There was just something fragile about you, and Billy wanted nothing more than to protect it.

"While we're here, why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself?" He asked, gently trying to coax you out of yourself. "You came to New York for college, right? What made you stay?"

"I, uh..." you trailed off a beat but he didn't pressure you to continue. "I didn't have anywhere else to go?"

"No home? No family?"

"No, they... they died..."

"I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

You shot him a confused look. "It's not that. I just know most people don't like hearing about things like that..."

That spark of irritation filled him again — who had been filling your head with this bullshit?

"When it comes to things like that, it doesn't matter what other people like," he said, barely managing to keep his tone neutral. "If you want to talk about it, then I'll listen."

You didn't say anything. Instead you fixed him with a questioning look, like you were trying to figure something out.

"What?" He asked.

"I just didn't expect you to be like this..."

"What were you expecting?"

"I thought you'd only be interested in sex," you admitted.

"Is that why you agreed to this?"

It was hard to keep himself from smirking. Despite your shy nature and reluctance to talk about certain parts of yourself, you clearly weren't embarrassed at the thought of sex. And that was good.

"I don't know," you answered with a shrug. "I liked the sound of the rest of it too, and I don't want you to think that I just want... that, but..."

You fell silent, but Billy knew exactly what you were trying to say. "It's okay. I enjoy sex and I probably wouldn't be entirely comfortable with someone who didn't. And I meant what I said last night, it's okay if you want that. I'll never judge you for wanting."

"So, tonight, after dinner, are we..." you trailed off again, glancing around the coffee shop, seeming worried someone might overhear.

"If you want to," he said. You shot him a confused look. "When it comes to sex, that's the only choice I'll never make for you. When we fuck, I want it to be because you want it as much as I do." He gave your hand another reassuring squeeze before letting you go. "Finish your breakfast, sweetheart."

And you did. You must have been hungry because you barely looked up as you ate.

He returned you to your studio once the work was completed, and let you for the day. At least, he left you in a physical sense.

The second he got to his office across town, he accessed the camera feed from your studio and watched as you worked. You had a spring in your step, seeming more settled. Happy, even. Selfishly, Billy hoped it was because of him.

He didn't speak to you again until later that day when you texted to ask him what to wear for dinner — either because you couldn't decide or because you were already embracing having him to make your choices for you. What followed was an hour of messages sent back and forth, with you taking photos of yourself in various outfits, until he saw you in a blue silk dress.

It sat half way up your thighs, accentuating the curve of your hips, and the corset style bodice pushed up your breasts in a way that had Billy's cock straining in his pants.

That one, he told you.

The picture didn't do it justice.

He collected you from your apartment, pausing before knocking on the door, overhearing you talking to someone. Your cat, he realised. When you opened the door, your eyes raked over his body, while he did the same to you. It was an effort to keep himself from walking you back into your apartment and fucking you against the first hard surface he came across.

You let him take your hand in his and lead you outside to where his driver was waiting.

Your face lit up when you saw the cosy little Italian restaurant he'd picked, and Billy smiled at the way you closed your eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly cooked food.

At the table, you stared at the menu and, again, he saw that spark of uncertainty in you.

He gave you a few minutes but, when you didn't look up to tell him what you wanted, Billy asked; "would you like me to choose for you?"

You flashed an embarrassed look, running your teeth over your lower lip before nodding.

"Do you like carbonara?" He asked, and you nodded. "Then you can have carbonara."

Your waiter appeared and Billy rattled off your orders, taking the liberty to add a starter and a bottle of wine of the both of you — you were busy looking around the restaurant and taking in the frescoes on the walls to even notice. When you were alone again, Billy's full attention returned to you.

"Well," he said, "what do you think of my world?"

"It's nice. I like it," you said.

"Good. I want you to be comfortable," he continued. "What's that smile for?"

Your gaze dropped to the table, that shyness he was coming to adore taking hold again. "It's just... nice. You're nice..."

"I'm glad you think so."

You stared at him for a long moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything you'd like. I want us to be able to talk to each other."

"Am I the first person you've done this with? The ad, I mean..."

He regarded you for a beat, wondering where the question came from and how best to soothe whatever concerns you might have.

"Yes, you are," Billy confirmed. "I've had... issues with dating in the past. A lot of women have wanted to get close to me but they've also wanted me to change. I'm not interested in changing, so I posted the ad and hoped I'd find someone like you..."

You gave a nod, accepting his answer with no further questions.

Over the course of the meal you got to know each other, sharing little snippets of your past with him and, in return, Billy told you about himself.

You'd studied art history at NYU, then gone on to study art conversation at The Institute of Fine Arts. It took every ounce of self-restraint he could muster to not say anything when you explained that you'd followed your ex to New York, even though you'd had your heart set on Yale. Billy didn't push, but he noticed an awkward tension fill your body every time you mentioned your last boyfriend. It was something he'd unravel, but not tonight.

But you did reveal something that made him sit a little straighter — it had been over two years since you'd last had sex.

In turn, he told you about his time as a Marine, and how he'd come to start his company with his best friend Frank when they'd finally come home. You listened with rapt attention, asking little questions about the places he'd seen and telling him how much you wanted to be able to travel.

Conversation flowed easily — perhaps helped by the wine — and he quickly started to learn when to take control, steering you away when the weight of things threatened to drag you down and ruin the mood. And you let him. No, more than that, you seemed to genuinely appreciate it.

Billy didn't stop to think before ordering dessert and a coffee for you at the end of the meal, and you didn't even blink. The more he let you just exist in the moment, the happier you seemed to be.

And, by the time you were finished with your food and the bill was paid, you were comfortable enough to take his hand in yours before he even had to offer.

In the back of his car, he pulled you against his side, warming you as you shivered and daring to press a kiss to your forehead.

"So, do you want to go home or come back to my place?" He asked.

You eyed the privacy partition that separated the pair of you from the driver. "I want to go wherever you're going."

After another tender kiss pressed to your temple, Billy tapped the intercom and told the driver to take you back to his apartment. The car started to move, and you leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. When your hands balled into loose fists on your lap, Billy reached for one and gently eased your fingers open.

"What's wrong?" He asked. You stayed silent. "Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you nervous?"

"No, it's just... I don't want to disappoint you," you said. "I had a really nice time tonight, and I don't want to ruin it."

"How do you think you're going to ruin it?"

"I don't know if I'll be any good at the... y'know submission..."

He ran his thumb over your knuckles, once again finding himself overwhelmed by the need to make sure you were comfortable.

"We're not doing that tonight — and it's something I'll walk you through. I don't expect you to know anything," he said as softly as he could.

"So, we're not..." you felt silent for a moment. "I thought we were going to have sex..."

"We are. If that's what you want, but tonight it'll just be that; just us getting to know each other better," Billy explained. Your thighs pressed together and it was all the sign he needed that you wanted him. He angled his head so he could whisper in your ear. "If you let me, I'll spend all night inside you."

"All night?" The word left you in a shaky exhale.

"All night," Billy repeated. "You're all I've been able to think about; I want to know how you taste and how loud you'll moan for me when I make you come. I want to know how wet your cunt gets and how good it'll feel wrapped around my cock."

You squirmed beside him, thighs now clamped together. It was exactly what he wanted; you needy and desperate, too lost in thoughts of him to think or worry about anything else.

"I bet you're wet right now, aren't you?" He asked.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

"Aren't you?" He repeated in a firmer tone — a little nudge to remind you of the agreement you'd made to always honestly answer his questions.

"Yes," you said softly. "I've been wet all day."

He took a slow breath, resisting the urge to reach between your thighs and check for himself. As much as he wanted to touch you, Billy was desperate to taste you, and for the first orgasm he gave you to be on his tongue.

"You're perfect," he muttered, letting his lips brush against your ear. "I'm glad you answered my ad, sweetheart."

"I'm glad too," you said, your fingers gripping his tight.

Billy couldn't help himself, couldn't silence the part of him that always wanted more, so he pressed a kiss behind your ear and started trailing his lips down your neck. A soft sound escaped you and your hold on his hand tightened.

"You look so good in this dress, but I can't wait to see you out of it," he murmured between kisses. "I'm going to enjoy learning every single inch of your body and —"

The car came to a stop and Billy heard the driver's door open and close. He pulled away from you, not wanting to cause you any embarrassment — though your hooded and glassy eyes all but gave you away.

Billy helped you out of the car and bid his driver goodnight. From there, he was on autopilot, leading you through the foyer and into the elevator, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You followed eagerly, quiet but stuck to his side.

When the lift doors opened to reveal his penthouse, he only gave you a few seconds to get your bearings before he was on you. His lips met yours in a starved kiss, the last strands of his sanity snapping and fraying. Your lips parted for his tongue and your hands gripped his waist as he led you towards his bedroom.

"You've no idea how much I want you," he groaned into the kiss. "The ways I want you... the things I'm going to do to you..."

You showed neither reluctance nor restraint, even as he reached behind you and started to tug the zipper of your dress down. You just pressed closer, losing yourself in the kiss and in him.

"Please," you breathed against his lips.

Your dress fell and, finally, Billy pulled back — not because he wanted things to stop but because he wanted to see you.

"Fuck," he muttered, taking in the sight of your red lace lingerie set. "Perfect."

He claimed your lips again, smiling and helping you start to relieve him of his clothes. First his jacket dropped, then his shirt, and finally his pants.

You were given a moment to look him over, to see him as he'd seen you, and nothing prepared him for what followed. Billy's heart stuttered when you saw the scars on his chest and your expression softened. You dared to reach for him, ghosting your fingers over the faded line on his shoulder. He blinked as you pressed a kiss to the scar.

Billy wasn't sure what came over him, but he took your face in his hands and stared into your eyes. Nothing made sense. You didn't make sense. How could you be so soft and perfect? How did you make him feel lost and found all at once?

He hardly knew you but, already, Billy couldn't imagine going back to not having you in his life.

"Tell me you want this," he said. "I need to hear you say it."

"I want this," you answered without hesitation. "I want you."

Another blur of motion ensued. You were led back, onto the bed, your bra removed, and legs spread wide enough for Billy to kneel between them. You were completely still as he drank in the sight of you, and didn't even flinch as he tore your panties from your body.

"These are mine now," he said.

You didn't argue. You just watched as he lowered himself to trail kisses along the inside of your thighs, slowly creeping upwards. Billy listened as your breath hitched, and smirked against your skin when he felt you tremble.

He paused when he reached the apex of your thighs, letting you feel his hot breath against arousal slick skin.

Then, he spread you wide with his fingers and swiped his tongue from your dripping entrance to your throbbing clit. One stroke was enough to have your back bowing off the bed, two had you moaning, and three had you whining his name. You made the sweetest noises he'd ever heard, something caught between shock and pleasure, like your body hadn't expected it to feel so good.

You'd already been wet for him but, after a couple more greedy swipes of his tongue, you were soaked.

Fingers tangled in his hair as you tried to anchor yourself.

The tip of his tongue pressed against your entrance, slipping inside you and causing your hips to jerk. You gasped and moaned, every muscle in your body tensed. Billy knew that you were already on the brink of an orgasm, and that you were denying yourself. That was the last thing he wanted.

He moved upwards, his lips closing around your clit and sucking.

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, hips bucking and grinding against his face. He'd never heard a more desperate sound in all his life, and he knew that he'd never get sick of it.

But, even as you came, he didn't stop.

Billy slid a finger into your trembling cunt and began to draw it in and out of you while his tongue lavished your clit with attention.

He didn't emerge from your legs until you were shaking and crying out his name, and his desire to taste you had finally been sated. You could barely lift your head to watch as he finally slipped out of his boxers.

Shockwaves were still coursing through your body when he crawled over you, taking a moment to run lips and tongue over your stomach and breasts. He couldn't remember ever wanting someone as much as he wanted you in that moment, his cock throbbed, nudging against you, already leaking.

Two years. It had been two years since you'd last been fucked.

"Are you on birth control?" He hated asking, but he needed to. It was for your safety and comfort.

You shook your head, worried that he was going to change his mind. Billy silenced your concerns by reaching into his bedside table and pulling out a full pack of condoms. He sheathed himself with a practiced ease and pressed a fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Are you ready?" He asked, letting you feel the crown of his cock at your entrance.

All you could manage was a nod.

His hips rocked forwards and —

Billy bit back a gasp as he notched inside you, your walls snug and warm around him. Just the tip was enough to have your hips lifting off the bed and a moan spilling from you.

He moved slowly, working his way inside of you with measured thrusts, not wanting to cause you any discomfort. When he was about half way inside you, Billy paused and tenderly kissed you.

"You okay?" He asked. You nodded. "I need you to use your words."

"Y-yeah," you said, breathlessly. "It just... you're... big... but I like it..."

There was no stopping the grin that pulled on his lips, even if it was tinged with some other emotion, a fondness that he didn't want to think about when he was inside you. But, he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached down to pull up one of your legs, hitching it against his thigh as he sank deeper. You moaned and gasped, and it wasn't long until you'd taken every inch of him.

Then he started to move, slowly drawing his hips back and pushing forward again, letting you adjust until you finally broke.

"Harder..." you begged.

And Billy obliged. He fucked you, easily pulling an orgasm from you, then another. You writhed and moaned beneath him, fingernails biting into the skin of his back. His name punctuated every single breath you took until you were practically screaming it.

Then your third orgasm hit, and your walls clenched so tight around him that it pulled Billy over the edge too.

He lingered inside of you until he was spent and your orgasm had subsided, then he dealt with the condom, and dropped onto the bed beside you.

The calm silence lasted all of five minutes before you spoke.

"Do you want me to leave now?" You asked.

"What? No. No, I don't want you to leave." Fuck, he needed to kill whoever had made you this way.

"You want me to stay the night?"

"Of course I do," he said, draping his arm across your body. "I'll always want you to stay after sex. And, anyway, I said I was going to spend all night inside of you, didn't I?"

Something in the smile you gave him threatened to break Billy because, for the life of him, he couldn't understand anyone not wanting to keep you around. When you shifted closer and relaxed on the pillow beside him, Billy made a point of pulling you against him and holding you tight.

You fell asleep with your head on his chest and, for the first hour after you drifted off, Billy laid awake, just watching you.

A/N : So, yeah, my poor little rescue pup is still unwell, but we're getting there with him. I'm hoping that by next week he'll be better, but he's been a brave boy and he seems to be settling in quite well. That said, my hours at work go up next month because of Christmas, but I'm hoping I can get back to weekly posting. If not, I'll post another update. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! (Also I don't know why both chapters have been Billy PoV but I've been having fun with it)

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!

If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @bartonsparrow25 @shwnirwin

Whatever You Want

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Billy and reader have a very dom/sub relationship that extends beyond the bedroom, smut, and a little bit of breeding kink

You could pinpoint the exact moment the evening had taken a turn for the worse.

Maria Castle had asked you about children. More precisely, she'd asked if you thought Billy would make a good father and if the pair of you had ever discussed the future. Frank Castle, almost choked on his beer and Billy's eyes had fixed on you.

All you'd been able to do was stare blankly at her, unable to find the words to explain your relationship with Billy without making things weird. Thankfully, Frank had spoken up and redirected the conversation, reminding his wife that you and Billy had only been together for six months.

But, over dinner, you saw why Maria had asked.

Frank Jr sat across from Billy, smirking and talking to him like he was the most amazing guy in the world. While Lisa Castle sat beside Billy, vying for his attention. Both of the kids were enamoured with him. And Billy...

He looked so happy, joking and playing up for the kids.

Maria asked you about your work and you mostly shrugged it off, telling her that it was kind of boring just because you'd seen in the past the way people would lose interest the moment you started to speak in-depth about art restoration. You quickly turned the conversation back on her and listened as she told you about her work, and how she'd first met Frank.

After a little while, you were allowed to sit quietly and Billy did the talking for you. That was how things usually were between the two of you; Billy controlled the situation and you were able to relax. You sank against his side as he told his friends how the two of you had met, tailoring the story in a way that suited him and what he wanted his friends to know.

He didn't mention the ad he'd placed online, looking for a woman who was willing to be controlled, who was willing to submit to him not just in the bedroom but out of it, and let him determine every aspect of their life. He didn't mention that out of the fifty women who applied, you were the one he'd chosen.

They wouldn't understand.

Some days you still weren't sure you understood. Every time Billy had asked you why you'd answered the ad, all you could do was offer a shy shrug.

What else were you going to do? Continue falling into bad relationships with men who'd take advantage of how amenable you could be?

Billy wasn't like that. You gave him control and he gave you freedom. He didn't take any more than he needed to and what he gave — you'd never had anyone look after you or care for you the way that he did. But, still, from time to time he would push you out of your comfort zone. Like tonight.

Things between you were serious now, and he had wanted you to meet his friends. You weren't sure if it was for him or them, but when he'd told you it was happening, you'd had no real choice but to agree. And, you were glad you hadn't had a choice. Mostly.

That moment with Maria continued to nag at you, constantly lurking in the back of your mind. Especially when the kids were sent to bed. Frank Jr reached across the table and bumped Billy's fist, and Lisa threw her arms around his neck. And Billy grinned at the attention.

Had Maria asked you about children because she knew that Billy wanted them?

Had Billy never mentioned it because he knew your relationship wouldn't last that long?

You didn't spiral very often anymore (ironically, thanks to Billy's control over every aspect of your life) but, when you did, it somehow felt worse than it used to. Being with Billy, the relationship that you had built, it meant so much to you and you weren't sure you knew how to survive without it anymore.

You weren't sure you knew how to survive without him.

Your hand gripped his shirt and you pressed a little closer.

"We're throwing a party for Lisa's birthday next month, you two should come," Maria said, leaning across the table to refill your wine.

"We'll see if we can make it," Billy said.

And, somehow, you heard 'maybe we'll be able to make it, if we're still together, but no promises'.

Because you'd fucked up.

Somehow, you'd fucked everything up.

After another glass of wine, you excused yourself, saying you needed some fresh air. You slipped out the back door and around the side of the Castle's home, pressing yourself back against the side of the house, hoping to disappear into shadows.

(Maybe if you stood out there long enough, he'd just forget you existed...)

You shivered, wishing you'd thought to grab your jacket, but the cold wasn't enough to tempt you back inside. After five minutes had passed, you weren't even sure you could move anymore. All you could do was spiral.

Funnily enough, moments like these were why Billy had chosen you. Moments like this were where he thrived. It made him feel needed and in control whenever he had to pull you out of a spiral, and some part of you longed to tell him what was happening so he'd fix things. But this time it felt too raw, too real — these were his friends, his family, and you were just —

"Hey, I wondered where —" He stopped abruptly the second you looked at him. The lost look in your eyes betrayed you, and before you could think to blink, Billy was in front of you. His hands framed your face, and he asked; "what's wrong."

"I..." the words stuck in your throat, threatening to choke you.

"Tell me," he said, his voice turning lower, more commanding.

It settled something inside of you, taking away any choice you had.

"I fucked things up."

"How?" He asked, keeping that same dominant tone.

"When Maria asked if we'd ever talked about kids," you said. "I didn't answer, and I... I should've said something..."

His expression softened and he asked; "what should you have said?"

It felt like a test, like something you should just know — you were supposed to know him, his wants and needs. How could you be what he wanted you to be if you didn't know?

"I... I don't know," you answered.

"That's the right answer," he said, his thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. "We've never discussed it, and I've never told you what I want."

"What do you want?"

"You."

"That's not an answer, that's —"

He silenced you with a kiss, his body pressing closer and pushing you back against the wall. It wasn't a tender, chaste kiss, and it wasn't some gentle affirmation of his feelings. No, it was raw and claiming, demanding. It was a reminder of how your relationship worked; you didn't need to worry, didn't need to question, because Billy had everything under control.

You softened against him, instantly giving yourself over to him, trusting him completely.

When the kiss broke, his tongue was replaced with his fingers and an instruction to get them wet. You did as you were told, swirling your tongue around them, not even thinking to question what was happening or what he was going to do, because you didn't have to. You were his and he was in control.

His knee nudged your legs apart as his fingers slipped from between your lips. He kissed you again to stifle your gasp as those wet fingers slid beneath your dress and panties, and sank inside you.

Your back instantly arched, the brickwork behind you biting into your shoulders. You quickly lost yourself to his kiss and the stroke of his fingers inside you, letting him own you, letting him make every decision.

The moment he felt you started to get wet for him, Billy pulled back his fingers and started to tug at his pants. He freed his cock and you were lifted up, pushed back against the wall and pulled down onto him.

All the while, his lips stayed against yours, making sure none of your moans or whimpers escaped you. You were noisy, even when he told you not to be — it was the one command of his that you could never quite follow — and he couldn't risk Frank and Maria overhearing.

Your arms wound around his shoulders almost as tightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. Not just because your feet were off the ground, but because he was the only stable and solid thing in your existence, and this was him showing you that he still wanted to keep you. You wanted to show that you still wanted to be kept.

Your shoulders scraped on the bricks with every rough thrust, but you didn't care. All you cared about was him, and his cock buried deep inside you, claiming and owning with every movement.

Before Billy, you hadn't cared about sex — it was something you did because the men you were with expected it. But, with Billy? Even in moments like this when he was laying claim to your body, he made it felt good. He made it feel like you mattered. You did matter. Whatever you did, he wouldn't stop until you came, until your body trembled for him.

He knew what he was doing, how to start with long, deep thrusts, before fucking you harder and faster, shallow drives into the depths of you. He knew how to make pleasure build in you until it exploded out.

And, you did explode for him.

You cried out against his lips, the sound swallowed by him. He kept going, fucking you through your orgasm, letting out a grunt of his own at the way your cunt felt clenched around him. He was still fucking you when your climax petered out, and started to build towards the next.

Finally his lips pulled from yours.

"Would you have a kid if I told you to?" He asked, breathless but firm.

The way the question was phrased meant your answer was instant. "Yes."

There was nothing you wouldn't do if he told you to. You were his to command, his to look after.

"Fuck," he groaned quietly. "You'd let me knock you up?"

"Yes." You weren't even sure why it was a question. That was the agreement, you trusted him to make the right choices.

He stilled, buried deep inside of you, his dark eyes seeming almost black in the gloom.

"I love you," he said.

There was a caution in his voice that you didn't understand, as if some part of him was expecting you to receive the declaration poorly. He hadn't said the words before, but you'd never needed him too. He'd shown you how he felt, over and over. He'd spent the last six months taking care of you, letting you move in with him after only three weeks, making sure you always felt happy and safe.

"I love you, too," you said, trailing your fingers through his hair. "I want whatever you want as long as we're together and you don’t let me go."

It was enough to start him moving again, rougher thrusts betraying his raging emotions. When he didn't reignite the kiss, you had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from crying out his name.

"I want a kid — yours and mine," he grunted. "I’ll never let you go."

Not trusting yourself to answer him, you just nodded.

He started to fuck you with more urgency, chasing his own orgasm, wanting to start trying right away. The fact that he knew what he wanted had every single thought in your head finally falling silent and, instead, you embraced the pleasure that was building again. The moment you felt his cock jerk and pulse inside you, you fell apart again.

Not trusting yourself not to scream out, you captured his lips and kissed him as the pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of him coming inside of you became too much to handle.

His thrusts turned stuttered and lazy, but he fucked you through your climax and his own. And, when he finally slipped from your trembling cunt, you had to squeeze your thighs together to stop his cum from leaking out.

He gave you a little moment to pull yourself together, then led you back inside, so you could get your things and go home.

Chapter One

Wanted : woman aged 22+ for romantic relationship. Must be willing to submit both in and out of the bedroom, and allow for control over every aspect of life. Daily availability is required, including nights. Financial compensation available for costs incurred and earnings lost over the course of the relationship.

After a slew of short, uninspiring relationships, this was what Billy had been reduced to.

It wasn't what people had meant when they'd told him to try giving online dating a go, but the idea of mindlessly swiping left and right felt far too desperate.

And Billy was not a desperate man.

He had specific desires for a partner. Specific needs he wanted them to meet. Maybe it was a little on the nose, but he didn't want to play games. And he didn't want to end up with yet another woman who got close only to ask him to change.

He didn't want to change, didn't want to soften or give up control.

No. He wanted someone who'd compliment who he already was.

More than that, he wanted to feel important to someone. Useful. As much as he wanted control to satisfy his own urges, he wanted a partner who would benefit from the arrangement.

However, he quickly came to realise exactly what sort of women his ad was likely to attract. Fortunately the application process helped him sort through the slew of messages he received — most were from women who were clearly only interested in the financial aspect of the relationship, while others seemed far too independent for what he wanted.

But then he got your message.

You weren't like the others. You kept your answers short and sweet, telling him what he needed to know without trying to sell yourself to him. Unlike a lot of the others, you seemed genuinely interested in the arrangement, and seemed willing to offer him control. But it was the two photos you attached that sold it; one was a portrait of you, a shy smile on your lips that didn't quite reach your eyes. The other was you sitting in front of a full bookcase, holding a ginger cat.

Your smile was haunting. There was a sadness in it that he wanted to understand, a sorrow that made his chest ache.

He could help you, he decided. He could chase away your demons and, in return, he could feel like he mattered to you.

The very next day, he strode into a little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he'd arranged to meet you. He got there early, wanting to get comfortable and grab a drink first, but it seemed you'd had the same idea.

His breath caught when he saw you, sitting by the window, still bundled up in your thick coat, and nursing a hot mug of coffee.

You didn't look his way, didn't even notice he'd arrived — but, of course you didn't. You still had no idea what he looked like. Your eyes were fixed out the window, watching as the world went by.

Billy ordered himself a drink and two slices of very decadent looking chocolate cake before approaching you.

You didn't look at him until he sat in the armchair opposite you and smiled.

Your eyes widened with a spark of shock, but it was quickly replaced by realisation.

Oh, you were a shy little thing.

He said your name softly as a greeting, then introduced himself. It was hard not to notice the way you looked at him, taking in everything you could in the space of a two second glance. Billy couldn't tell if you were relieved or intimidated by his appearance, but he decided not to ask.

Instead, he pushed a plate your way, offering you a slice of cake.

It was a test — he wanted to see how you'd respond.

You hesitated, confused for a moment, but then you reached for it.

"Thank you," you said.

Just the gentle sound of your voice was enough to send a thrill through his body.

He didn't bother to hide his interest as you broke off a bite of cake with the fork and lifted it to your lips. After you swallowed, you ran your tongue over your lips, licking away the remnants of chocolate frosting. Billy couldn't help but think about your mouth, about how soft your lips looked.

"How is it?" He asked.

"It's really nice," you said, flashing a soft smile. "I... I like chocolate cake."

That you volunteered that piece of information helped set him at ease. It was enough to give him hope that you were comfortable and, despite being still bundled in your coat, weren't about to bolt out the door.

With a subtle glance around the quiet little coffee shop, he decided that you were far enough away from the counter and the other customers that the pair of you could talk without being overheard.

"So, why don't you tell me why you decided to respond to my ad?" He asked casually as he reached for his own slice of cake and started to eat.

You let out a slow breath and looked like you were trying to remember some rehearsed words.

"It just sounded... nice, I guess? I don't want to have to make so many decisions." You answered, shrugging. Billy gave a slight tip of his head, indicating he wanted a little more than that. You took another breath and shifted in your chair, sitting forward. "Do you ever feel like everything is too much, and you wish that someone else would step in and take care of everything for you?"

His gaze softened. You were perfect. Exactly what he was looking for.

"No," he said, smiling at you. "I don't ever feel like that — but that's kind of the point, isn't it?"

"Right," you answered, letting out a little huff of laughter.

"What is it that feels like too much for you?"

"I don't know... I've done everything I was supposed to do; did well in school, went to college, got a good job, but everything still just feels..." you trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

"Difficult?" He offered and you nodded.

"Yeah. I'm —" you hesitated for a beat, "— I'm not very good at being on my own..."

He wanted to ask what you meant by that, but something in your voice told him not to push too much. Whatever it was, it felt heavy. But, if he had anything to do with it, the pair of you had time. He would find out eventually.

"Well, if you'll let me, I want to help with all of that. I like to be in control, and I want to make choices that are right for you. All I need in return is your trust and your willingness to let me," he said.

You were silent for a second but soon nodded. "Okay."

He gave another glance around, making sure your conversation was still private.

"But there's still a physical aspect to things," he continued, dropping his voice. "I need to know that you'll be comfortable with that too."

You bit your lip and his cock throbbed in response. "I am. I like the... physical part of relationships."

Perfect, he thought again. Almost too good to be true.

"Have you ever submitted before? I mean sexually," he asked.

"No, at least... I don't think so. But I'm willing to learn."

Again, he decided not to ask what you meant, filing the comment away for later, for a time when you might be more comfortable with him.

"How many people have you been with?" Billy asked.

If the question made you uncomfortable, you hid it well. "Four. Three men and one woman."

"You're bisexual?" He asked and you nodded, not volunteering any more information. "How long has it been since your last relationship?"

"When I was in college. We moved to New York together but he..." you fell silent for a few seconds and Billy watched as your throat bobbed. "It's not always easy for people to be around me. They get sick of me..."

There was a familiar pain in your voice, something Billy knew all too well. You'd tried to find people who might love you and, instead, you'd found nothing but disappointment.

"What makes you think that?" He asked.

"Because that's what people have told me," you answered, shrugging. You paused for a second, thinking about your next words before continuing. "I've struggled with depression in the past... and my ex told me I was a burden before he walked out..."

Billy grit his teeth, hating the way you seemed to just accept it.

It was strange, he barely knew you but, already, he was starting to feel a fierce desire to protect you from the world.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, continuing to study you as you finished your slice of cake and reached for your mug again.

"I thought you should know. In case you wanted to change your mind..."

No, if anything, knowing you struggled made him want you more. He felt awful for it, but the thought of being able to look after you, and maybe even help you through rough times already had him feeling invested in you.

"You're an art conservator?" He asked, wanting to move the conversation along and show you that he was still interested.

You brightened a little at that. "Yeah."

"What kind of art do you..." he smiled as he struggled for the right word, "conserve?"

"Paintings — people bring me old paintings that either need cleaning or repairing, and I try to make them look like new again," you answered, seeming a lot happier discussing your work than your previous relationships. "I worked for the Guggenheim out of college, but now I'm self employed, and I have my own little studio space a few blocks from here."

"Wow, that's impressive."

"I..." you started and stopped, suddenly looking wary.

"Hmm?" He gently prompted.

"I know the ad said about compensation for lost earnings but I... I'd like to keep working," you said, voice turning small and soft in a way that made Billy's heart stutter. "I usually only work a few hours a day but it helps clear my head, and I set my own schedule so it shouldn't cause any problems. And that way you won't have to compensate me."

"You don't want compensation?" He asked, unable to keep confusion from his tone.

"I don't need it."

You didn't want his money? That meant you just wanted the relationship, just wanted someone to take care of you.

Billy took a moment, considering his options. While he'd initially been prepared to provide for you, to have you at his beck and call at all times, the way you'd lit up when he'd asked about your work left him feeling like he couldn't take that from you. Clearly it meant a lot.

"Okay," he said. "I'm sure we can find a way to make our schedules work."

"Does that mean... you're choosing me?" You asked.

"Choosing you?" It took him a second to understand what you were asking, and Billy's smile widened. "There's no choice to be made. You're the only person who applied that I wanted to meet."

"But why?"

Low self-esteem, he instantly realised. Fuck, every little thing about you had him wanting to bridge the space between you.

"Because you were the only one who sounded interesting," he said, shrugging. "And I like interesting people."

You smiled at that, and Billy loved the sight of it — almost too much, almost enough to wonder if he was going to get in over his head with you. Then, as if feeling some weight in his words, you dropped your chin, hiding your face in your scarf.

"What?" Billy asked, and you shook your head. "What did I say?"

"No one's called me interesting before."

Christ, what sort of people had you been surrounding yourself with?

It was cute, the way you hid from the compliment, trying to hide the smile that caused the bridge of your nose to crinkle. You were cute. And it wasn't what he'd been expecting. You'd managed to catch him entirely off-guard, and the more time he spent with you, the more he knew that you were the right choice.

He sat forward a little, taking another drink of coffee before asking; "does it make you uncomfortable when I compliment you?"

You shook your head. "No. It's... it's nice..."

"But?"

"But you don't really know me and I don't want to disappoint you..."

For a moment, all he could think about was reaching across the table, pulling you onto his lap and holding you tight.

"I don't think you're going to disappoint me," he said, mustering all of his usual confidence. "In fact, I'm sure you won't, because I'm not going to let you."

You lifted your head and fixed him with a confused stare for a few seconds. Then came the moment of clarity, the understanding of what he was telling you — you wouldn't disappoint him because he would be in complete control and making all of your decisions for you.

Your hand trembled a little as you lifted your mug and finished the last of your coffee. And, just like that, the moment was over. He was only supposed to be meeting you for a coffee, to make sure you were right for what he needed, and to ensure you understood what you were getting yourself into.

But, now, face to face with you, Billy didn't want the moment to end.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" He asked.

"I was going to go back to my studio and get some work done."

"You said it's near here?" He asked and you nodded. "Can I walk you back?"

You gave him another smile, and he could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, waiting for him to stand before you got to your feet.

The pair of you left the little coffee shop and Billy followed your lead, walking beside you as you took a left.

"Do you come here for coffee often?" He asked as you walked.

"Sometimes," you shrugged, snuggling into your coat against the wind. "Most days I mean to but then I get caught up in work and don't remember until it's too late..."

He glanced towards you, a comment on the tip of his tongue that he decided not to give voice to. He didn't know you well enough yet but, Billy decided, one of the first things he was going to take control of was making sure you looked after yourself.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, then; "I have a few things I'll need to email you — nothing too important, but I will need you to sign an NDA. It's not about anything between us but my work is sensitive and I need to know that I can trust you with anything you might see or overhear."

"What do you do?"

"I run a private security company."

"Oh."

If you had more questions, you decided not to ask them. You seemed happy to just walk with him, glancing up at the cloudy sky every now and then, as if you were wondering if it was going to rain again.

More than once he had to carefully place a hand on your shoulder, keeping you from colliding with other people and, on one occasion, to stop you from stepping in front of a cyclist. But Billy found that he didn't mind. He liked watching the way your eyes would move skywards, then to him, and back again. It was as if you needed someone like him, someone to keep an eye on you so you could just enjoy the world around you.

He followed as you slipped down a side street and unlocked an old, rusty door. Despite the door and the side street it was in, the studio space was light and modern — clearly it had cost a lot of money, and he had no idea what half of the equipment was for.

You stepped towards a table, waving a hand towards a painting. Billy could barely make out what it was supposed to be; the colours were muted and dirty, and there was a large tear through the canvas.

"This one arrived today. It was in a fire and they only just managed to save it," you explained.

Billy fixed you with a look somewhere between shock and awe. "You can fix this?"

You nodded, still smiling.

"Even the tears and rips?" He asked.

You nodded again.

Then, without warning, you took his hand in yours and pulled him into another room. It was smaller, but just as modern and light. And, in the centre of the room sat an easel with another painting on — this one a portrait of a woman that looked to be at least a couple of hundred years old.

"This one had a hole right here," you said, pointing at the face of the woman.

Billy stepped closer. He couldn't see anything and, for a second, he wondered if you were lying. But then you were holding up your phone, showing him an image of another ruined painting — this painting before you had fixed it.

"I cleaned it first, then I filled in the holes in the canvas," you explained, practically beaming. "Now I'm retouching the paint to make it look good as new."

A hopeful expectation flickered across your face as you looked at him, and he hoped his face showed how impressed he was.

"It's impressive," he said. "It must take a lot of work — and you must be very talented."

Again, he saw you almost physically shy away from the compliment.

"I enjoy it," you said. "I think it's nice knowing that something so... so damaged can be fixed..."

There was a deeper meaning to the words that caused Billy brows to furrow.

In that moment, he just couldn't stop himself from stepping closer to you, couldn't keep himself from placing a hand on your cheek and kissing you. You instantly melted against him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Perfect, he thought again. Every single thing about you was perfect.

His tongue ran across the seam of your lip and you instantly parted for him, letting him take the lead. As the kiss deepened, you let out the softest little sound he'd ever heard — the sort of sound he wanted to draw from you again and again.

When he pulled back, he noticed that your eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, like you were still lost in the moment. He found himself listening to your breathing; not quite a pant, but not slow and steady either. And, when you did open your eyes and looked at him, he damn near lost his mind.

Billy surged forward again, kissing you with an increased urgency. He pressed so close that you had to step back, over and over, until your back was against the wall. Then you were in his arms, your legs tight around his waist.

You weren't stopping him, he realised.

There wasn't a single part of you that seemed reluctant or uncomfortable. You wanted to be touched and held and kissed. It made his heart race in his chest to know that you wanted as much as he did.

Another sound passed from your lips and into his. It took Billy a second to register that he was hard, and that he was pressed between the apex of your thighs. But, even that didn't seem to dampen the mood. He rocked his hips, slow and measured, pulling a louder sound from you. A moan. It was impossible not to imagine just how loud you could get — how loud he'd be able to make you.

And you'd let him. It was becoming increasingly obvious that you'd let him take this as far as he wanted to. But, as much as Billy wanted to take it all the way, to fuck you right then and there, against the wall, it didn't feel right. That wasn't what this was supposed to be. He wanted you to be more than just a fuck.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, not pulling back or putting you down, but letting the moment wind down.

"Sorry," you murmured, voice so soft that Billy barely heard you over the echoing of his heartbeat in his ears.

"What are you sorry for?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"I got carried away..."

Again, there was that uncomfortable feeling inside of him, that building rage that he didn't know where to place. Who had done this to you? Who had made you feel like you were the problem?

"You didn't," Billy said firmly. "I did. And the only reason I stopped is because I want the first time I have you to be in my bed where I can learn every single inch of your body."

"Oh..." you said between awkward breaths.

When you didn't meet his gaze again, Billy placed a hand on your cheek.

"What?" He asked.

"I just don't want to ruin things by wanting too much..."

A thousand and one thoughts struck all at once, all vying to be spoken. He didn't know you well enough to say that you could never want too much, and he didn't know how things would be between you to tell you he'd never deny you your wants. So, instead of saying anything, he kissed you again. Softly. Almost tenderly. He lingered against your lips until he felt you relax in his arms.

Then, he set you back on your feet and took a step back, smiling at you.

"I want a lot too," he confessed. "All the time. That's part of the reason I posted the ad."

"I don't want you to think I'm too much."

It felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked from the room because... because wasn't that supposed to be Billy's line? His darkest fear, the thing he'd left unsaid for so many years. How many relationships had he allowed to fizzle out because he hadn't been prepared to say those words? How many times had he been too much?

He shook his head and stood a little taller.

"I don't. I won't," he promised, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Trust me."

Trust him to be in control, to know what was best.

You gave a nod and that strange shyness filled you again.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" Billy asked, you shrugged and muttered that you had nothing planned. "Let me take you for dinner."

"Okay."

Simple. No hesitation at all.

"What kind of food do you like?" He asked.

You let out a contemplative hum, then shrugged. "I want you to choose."

Billy smiled at that and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That wasn't a test."

"I know, I just..." you let out a huff of laughter. "There's so much to choose from and if I say Chinese today, maybe tomorrow I'll want pizza instead but you'll be excited for Chinese and I'll have to pretend I don't want pizza..."

He was starting to see why you were happy with someone making all the choices in your life for you; you seemed to place an uncomfortable weight on each and every decision that you had to make, and it was probably exhausting for you.

"Okay, I'll surprise you then," Billy said.

He asked if you were allergic to anything or if there was anything you wouldn't eat, you said no to both. Honestly, you just seemed happy at the thought of going for dinner with him.

After a few minutes, Billy said his goodbyes and promised to see you the following evening. It was sweet, if not a little distressing to see you follow him to the door of the studio, then watch him as he wandered up the side street and out of view.

He knew he was in over his head the moment he made it back to his office and found he couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day. There was just something about you, something fragile — damaged — and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He'd never felt so protective over another person, especially not after only one meeting.

If he'd been a better person, he might have stopped to wonder if it was fair to let you get involved with him. But Billy wasn't a better person. He wasn't even a good person. And, now that he had a taste of you, he knew he couldn't let you go.

Of course, he'd already run a background check on you for any criminal history, but it wasn't long before he took it a step further and started looking at your socials. Facebook looked like it hadn't been touched in years — it wasn't surprising. Instagram and TikTok were mostly filled with photos and videos of your cat. Garfield. You weren't in many of them, but he watched everyone that you were in at least twice.

Even on your own, in front of a camera you still seemed shy, and it just made him want you more. What that want entailed, he wasn't sure, and he had no idea how far he would take things with you. But the moment you emailed him back a signed NDA, Billy Russo had decided that you were his, and you would be his for as long as he wanted you...

A/N : I didn't get time to do my usual sneak peek before posting this, but I think I've managed to get everyone who asked to be specifically tagged for all things Billy (if not, I'm sorry, I'm terrible at remembering where I note these things down -- just yell at me and I'll tag you). This will be another little short thing, probably about 4 parts. I'm hoping to be posting every Friday again as usual but because it's getting to holiday season my work hours are picking up, and I'm also in the process of adopting a rescue dog who I imagine is going to take up a fair bit of my time over the next couple of month (but I'll let people know when to expect updates if I can't manage every week). And, yes, I still owe smutober stuff and I promise I'll get to them all soon! Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this fun little story.

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!

If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18