Billionaire's Pet 3 by Christa Wick Page A

if he hadn’t wanted to cuddle on the bed with Katelyn tucked in the circle of his arms, his nose pressed against her thick, fragrant tresses and his fingers leisurely stroking her yielding flesh.
    Releasing the canvas, Griffin rubbed roughly at his cheek. Giving her his bedroom to use had been his first mistake. He knew already that, when Katelyn left, he would have to switch rooms, maybe even throw out the bed and set fire to the sheets that had encased her willing body.
    At Griffin’s command, Philip and Claire would quietly erase evidence of Katelyn’s stay. Not once would they comment on his display of weakness, but they would know one of Griffin’s pets had finally burrowed under his skin.
    Hell, they likely knew already — he had brought her to stay at the estate overnight. His past lovers only came for business events — formal balls, the company’s egg hunts at Easter and the executive Christmas party. The women never stayed the night. If he fucked them after the guests were gone, it was bent over his desk, the grand piano or the billiard table and strapped down as often as not. Before his cum had time to dry on their thighs, he packed them in the back of the limo for Philip to chauffer home.
    Striding past the easel, Griffin dropped heavily onto the divan he had repositioned for Katelyn’s sitting. He pressed one of the silk pillows across his face to block the room even as his mind continued to race its perimeter in search of an escape.
    He couldn’t paint Katelyn and he couldn’t play with her as planned. He needed to send her home with a check for the agreed upon sum and return to the work he had neglected the last few days or rent a very experienced submissive to relieve his frustrations.
    He snorted and pulled the pillow tighter to his face. He would need to rent an entire dungeon of submissives to fuck Katelyn out of his system. With a dozen women plugged, gagged, bound and blindfolded, he might find one he could look at for an hour or two without seeing Katelyn’s face.
    Dragging himself into a sitting position, Griffin tossed the pillow aside and fished his cellphone from his pocket. He would call Martinique, a female dominant and half-owner of his favorite club. She would round up some lovelies, get their signatures, pay them and have them blindfolded and lubed before his arrival. While he played in one of the club’s private dungeons, he would have Philip return Katelyn home.
    He would never lay eyes on her again, even if he had to pay her to move to another part of the world.
    Half-finished dialing Martinique’s number, a timid knock at the library door stopped him cold. Only two people knocked on that door — Philip and Claire.
    Sometimes more like twins than husband and wife, they had the same crisp triple-knock no matter what reception they expected when he answered.
    The knock came again, a little bolder and more confident.
    He growled inwardly. It could only be Katelyn. She would have used her cane to walk the distance from the far side of the house, but how did she know where to find him?
    He considered waiting, frozen and mute, for her to give up. She couldn’t stand there forever, her hurt ankle wouldn’t allow it. But how long would she wait?
    Knowing deep down she would remain outside his door until she further damaged her foot, he rose with a sigh. He unlocked the door and opened it enough to see her but with no space for Katelyn to step inside. His gaze passed over her body, starting with the careful position of her right foot. From there, his eyes moved up. A silk robe colored a light cream covered her body. Lustrous brown hair cascaded down one shoulder. The long, likely painful, walk had flushed her cheeks and lips a dark red while leaving the rest of her skin pale and bloodless.
    Seeing the subtle strain on her face, he wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the divan. That would make matters far worse than they already were. Instead, he glared at her, his voice taking on