Learning to Trust (Interviewing the Billionaire) Part 1 (A BDSM Erotic Romance Series)by B.B. Roman
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Marisa is a young, ambitious reporter that has been assigned to interview one of the world's most intriguing men: mysterious billionaire Roland Starland. She quickly learns that he's not going to open up for her unless she opens up for him—and learns to trust him fully. He's a man that lives in a world with many secrets and desires, a world that Marisa will have to dive headfirst into.
Marisa is about to find out just how far she'll go to get a story...and then she'll have to go even further.
This sexy tale of billionaire erotic romance is the first in a three book series. The next two books are coming very soon!
“We both know why you’re here. We’ll never make any progress if you don’t learn to trust. Clearly I trust you because I’ve welcomed you into my home. This is where I hideaway from the world, my most secure place. You must learn to trust, Marisa. You must trust me. Allow me to help you. ”
I suddenly felt turned on, literally as if he had flipped a switch. My nerves were on fire, my heart pounding, my wetness growing between my legs. I remembered touching myself last night and how it felt, like a blockage that had suddenly been cleared—and sleep came over me like a drug after I had done it. It was as if Roland was reading my mind—and inviting me into his world. Whatever that meant. “Okay,” I said, once again under his spell. I tried to come back, fighting it. The whiskey had softened me up, allowed him to penetrate even deeper.
How did he know that I had trust issues? I had never thought about it that way until now. I worked hard for myself—and I was always hesitant to give up any of my efforts without a fight. I had moved from paper to paper, job-to-job, never settling anywhere for very long, never having an incentive to just stay. I always assumed something better was somewhere else and so I went after it. I didn’t even know the definition of complacency, apparently. Satisfaction was not a word in my vocabulary. Was I interviewing him or was he interviewing me?
Roland finished his drink and rose to his feet, his footsteps echoing down the halls with hardwood floors. He once again towered over me, approaching me in slow motion, his robe flowing behind him like a cape. I felt powerless as I sat there waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do, wanting it, whatever it was. He sat down beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me toward him. I could immediately smell his powerful muskiness, the odor causing me to melt into him. I pressed my head against his shoulder: It felt absolutely beautiful. His arm felt hot against me, his touch causing the heat to move around freely inside of me like a convection oven.
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