Very Bad Billionaires (8 page)

Her brow furrowed and she cried out, gaze locked on his as he stroked another orgasm from deep within her core. Her body milked his fingers, squeezing him tight with every wave of pleasure. After what seemed like forever, her throbbing slowed and he stood up, letting go of her other leg to run his free hand up her skin.

She twitched and shook beneath him and he knew. She was ready for him.

* * * * *

Bryce had lost her mind. It shattered with the second orgasm, flopping around like her uncontrollable legs, unable to focus on anything but ecstasy. Never in her wildest imagination did she think a man could make her feel like that. As the world reappeared, she felt Alston’s fingers untying the rope and freeing her wrists.

“I’m sorry, it looks like you’ll have some marks.”

She blinked and glanced at the red burns across her skin. “Good. When I look at my wrists, I’ll remember.”

Alston slid up between her legs, his skin hit hers, and she smiled. “You’re naked.”

“Yes. I am.”

Bryce slipped her hands between their bodies, reaching for his erection. Her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft and she groaned in delight. “I want you inside me.”

He brushed her hair away from her face, bending down to kiss her. His lips pressed into hers and she stroked his cock, running her hands up and down, reveling in his bumps and ridges.

Breaking their kiss, he pulled away and met her gaze. “Are you sure?”

“So very sure.”

“Then let me grab a condom, I’ll be right back.”

Bryce reached for him as he pushed himself up, clawing at his bicep until he stilled. “No. I want to feel you. I don’t want a barrier between us.”

“But Bryce…”

“No. I’m on the pill. I can’t get pregnant. Please, I want all of you. At least this once.” All she could think about was how his cock would feel slipping inside her for the first time, stretching her body wide open. No scrap of latex was going to ruin that for her. Not right now.

Alston relaxed and lowered his body, sliding down the bed until his cock lined up with her entrance. Bryce pulled up her legs and ran her fingers over his shoulders. “You’re amazing.”

“So you’ve said. Now fuck me, Alston Hayes. Right now.”

Alston complied with a grin, thrusting his spongy head into her entrance and easing himself inside.
Oh god!
She’d knew it would feel different than the other times, but she didn’t understand how until that moment.

His cock stretched and filled her and she cried out. But his lips were there, kissing away the shock and swallowing her cry with a swipe of his tongue. And then he pumped.

Coating his shaft in her lubrication, sliding out and back in, delving deeper every time. It was unbelievable. The fullness, the satisfaction, the sheer pleasure of having him deep inside her. Damn it to hell, she loved it. Loved him.

He pulled back and she moaned in satisfaction. “Harder, Alston. Fuck me harder.”

Grunting his reply, he thrust his hips, ramming her into the mattress, ramping up her pleasure, coaxing another orgasm from her heated body. As the first waves of pleasure hit, Alston groaned and thrust again. Over and over until they were both slicked with sweat and almost flying. A moan, a thrust, and their bodies released at the same time, her muscles clamping around his shaft, his cum shooting deep, filling her up, sending her higher.

Oh, God
. Everything she’d wanted—all the years she’d spent watching him from afar, wishing she were any other woman—one he could have, fuck, love. And there she was, pinned beneath him. She laughed and he opened his eyes.

“Something funny?”

“I think I’m drunk. Or high. Or maybe just deliriously happy.”

Alston kissed her nose and smiled. “I want you that happy, always.”

“Then you better free up some time on your calendar, because you’ll be spending a lot of it right here, in this bed.”

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

Epilogue

Six Months Later

“The food here is delicious.”

“The view’s not bad, either.”

Bryce laughed and took a sip of wine. “So, do you think the paparazzi got a good shot?”

“Of us kissing outside the restaurant? If it’d gone on any longer, we’d have had to cancel dinner and go straight home. I can hardly think as it is.”

Bryce smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the restaurant’s windows. “If I’d known that, I’d have tried harder.”

Alston shook his head and Bryce nudged his foot under the table. She couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in the last six months. The reporters camped outside the gates. The start of graduate school. The idle student gossip. It had all been tough at first, but after a while they’d stopped being the sordid news of the day. People still talked, snapped their picture, that sort of thing, but the shock had worn off.

Sometimes they were even just a couple in love—a sexy older man and his young fiancé. Still surprising, sure, but nothing to write home about. Bryce wiggled the diamond on her left hand and watched it sparkle in the restaurant’s light. “When do you think we’ll stop being news?”

Alston shrugged. “I don’t know. And I could care less.” He reached across the table and picked up Bryce’s hand. “All I care about is us. The rest of the world can think whatever they want. They don’t matter to me anymore.”

Bryce smiled and gave Alston’s hand a squeeze. “I love you, Alston Hayes.”

“And I love you, Bryce Meadows.” He lifted his glass in a toast and she did the same. “To us. And the happiness we’ve found together.”

# # #

Originally a California native, I traded coasts after college—swapping coastal breezes and year-round flip-flops for the summer rainstorms of the Southeast—and never looked back. When I’m not heating up the Southern nights with my erotic romances, I’m reading everything from true crime to historical fiction, with the occasional zombie thrown in.

Connect with me on my
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Alyssa Alpha

Chapter 1

FRANCESCA

That stupid fucker.

That sorry excuse for a man, that insane son-of-a-bitch.

I've known him for all of two minutes and I'm already hell-bent on ripping his throat out the first chance I get.
And I will not be gentle, you can count on that.

Kaiden Hunter is currently sitting across the table from me, laughing that wicked smile of his that might just spoil my entire future with one show of his perfect pearly whites.

Which won't be perfect for much longer if I have anything to do with it.

“So, Fran,” he says with his mouth full of buttered bread.

I freeze instantly, hating the way he shortened my name like I’m some stupid commoner.

“It’s Francesca,” I say through gritted teeth, all the while shooting a murderous look at my friend Emmalee Branson, who is the one who dragged me into this whole thing.

“Oh?” he asks, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “Fran suits you so well, though. Very … homely.”

There’s that wicked grin again, and I’m hating the adjective he used.

Luxurious, expensive, beautiful, stunning … Those are all the things I’m used to, and appreciate being called.

But
homely
?

Fuck no.

“Fran,” he repeats, taking no further notice of my anger. “I hear you’ve shacked up with plenty of dudes over the years, huh? What makes you choose Angus over here?”

My date shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, and again, I am wondering what brought these two together, because they couldn’t be more different.

On one hand you have Angus Lions. Perfect, London-bred, a bit on the short side, but more than makes up for it with his boyish good looks. He’s the Prince Harry of the Upper East Side and every girl I know has nasty, dirty little dreams about him.

Then you have that damned Kaiden Hunter.
Nouveau riche
, shall we call him? His mother is some actress who has one of those rags to riches story, and his father … God only knows. Kaiden may look just fine outside – okay, more than just fine, I won’t be a hypocrite for a change. Towering over me even in my sky high heels, his hair dark and thick, rebelliously shaved at the sides and longer on top, his shoulders broad, his abdomen muscled according to the tabloids I read religiously for a mention of my name.

What they don’t tell you though, is the fact that he is a complete, utter jerk face.

In a matter of ten minutes, this double date has gone straight to hell, and I blame none other than Mr. Hunter. Even though he is my friend’s date, he has made several crude remarks about me, shot me down even after my polite answers, and managed to trip me on the way into the restaurant, breaking my heel in the process. While I hobbled into the restaurant, he laughed it off and pinched my girlfriend’s butt cheek while she laughed nervously.

Classy
.

“I think that’s a bit inappropriate to ask,” I say stuffily, feeling a blush on my cheeks already. But that moron is grinning from ear-to-ear and I have a sudden urge to snap that smirk off his face.

I look at Angus for support and he clears his throat.

“Be a good sport now, Hunter,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always am, Lions,” Kaiden replies, flashing another smile.

“So,” Emmalee interrupts cheerily and I give her a stony look, but she refuses to meet my eye. She was the one to set us up, going on and on about how hot Kaiden is, and when I realized he knew Angus, I had to jump on the bandwagon.

“Have you all decided what you’re having?” she chirps happily.

“I’ll have the
ossobucco
, and I wouldn’t mind you for dessert, doll,” Kaiden replies, smirking, and by Emmalee’s horrified expression, I’m pretty sure his hand has found its way onto her thigh.
Inner
thigh, judging by her dilated pupils.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, while Angus chuckles again and I roll my eyes.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Kaiden asks me sweetly. “You jealous? There’s more than enough room, so you’re definitely free to join us.”

Both he and Angus laugh like he’s just uttered an incredibly hilarious joke, but I’ve finally had enough.

I throw my napkin on the table and get up abruptly. “You may treat girls like that in Europe,” I spit out, trying to make him feel bad for his mother’s Italian heritage, though I’m pretty sure he’s a born-and-bred New Yorker.

“But we have standards in NYC,” I finish stonily, giving him the iciest glare I can manage. This isn’t worth it, not even for Angus Lions.

“Come on, Emmalee, let’s go,” I say decidedly and look at my friend, finding her looking squeamish in her seat.

I’m sure my eyes are shooting daggers after she finally decides to meet my gaze, long seconds after my statement. But instead of compliance, which she usually serves, I can only see apologies.

“Looks like you’re on your own, sugar,” Kaiden says cheerfully and I finally give off a dramatic sigh, purse my lips and try to leave with my head held high.

I realize too late my heel is broken and go down in a flurry, pulling down a whole tablecloth with me, along with all of the cutlery.

Of course.

And because that isn’t good enough, I also manage to end up with my head in Kaiden Hunter’s lap.

Which he seems to be enjoying, given his immediate groan.

“I was gonna buy you a drink first, Princess,” he says softly so only I can hear, and I get up with a flushed face, ready to scream my head off.

Instead, a waiter rushes forward and fusses over me, asking me if I need a doctor.

I ignore it, ignore them all. I step out of my broken heels and set off for the door, barefoot.

It is only when I’m on the street that I remember I forgot my coat and my purse along with my cellphone and wallet.

Breathing deeply, I remind myself who I am.

Francesca DeMarco.

Stunning beauty, heiress to a multi-billion dollar hotel empire.

Long-legged, silky-haired, blue-eyed blonde with a 24-karat smile and a rich Daddy.

No-one fucks with me and gets away with it.

Chapter 2

KAIDEN

I met a girl today.

Fuck, I'm a walking cliché, aren't I?

But this one really is special. And I don't mean the size of her tits, or the tightness of her pussy, or anything else of that matter. I mean her ... all of her.

She's feisty, she's got a big mouth, yet she somehow manages to stay so classy, centered and sophisticated. She's all I imagined my girl would be someday ... if I were the type to get tied down.

But as soon as I meet this girl, I can actually imagine myself doing just that. Being with one person only, because she' that great and it's enough.

My mother Ava Hunter is a movie actress, you see. So when you grow up with five different Daddy figures and your real Dad doesn't give a shit about you in general, you become a different kind of person.

I'm not blaming my Mom for any of this, you have to know. It's just the way I am.

But this ... thinking I could be with one girl, and one girl only, happened for the first time in my entire life. And it's all because of Francesca DeMarco, a gorgeous, long legged, silky haired heiress of NYC.

She's snobby. She's annoying.
She's hot as fuck.

As soon as I saw her, an insane desire to make her mine came over me, something I've never felt before. Sure, I've been attracted to girls - her friend Emmalee is a prime example - but never like this.

So I do what I'm best at.

I make fun of her, mocking her, teasing her.

I take it so far, she actually storms out of the restaurant where we're having lunch.

Great job, Kaiden.

I'm quiet for the rest of the evening, but Emmalee is all over me. I can tell it's superficial, this attraction she feels for me. I don't think I could tell her a thing about myself that she would genuinely care about. She saw the photos, heard the story, and she just wants a piece of me.

Somehow, we end up in my apartment in the early afternoon.

She's insistent, trying to get me to fuck her, I'm sure. But it's like a switch has gone off in my head, and try as I might, I just don't feel attracted to her anymore, Francesca's face swimming in front of me every time I look at Emma.

She finally steps on tiptoes, pressing a passionate kiss against my lips.

Well, what I'm sure
could
turn into a passionate kiss, had I actually opened my mouth.

Emmalee finally moves away and looks up at me, looking more than a little offended. "What's wrong?" she asks, her lips pouting. "Did I do something wrong?"

I sigh heavily. She's definitely one of those girls that worries about every single thing, always thinking about what others think of her. And I want to tell her she shouldn't, want to convince her she's beautiful without other's approval.

"Listen, Emmalee," I say, finally meeting her hurt gaze. "You're a gorgeous girl, you really are." She beams, but I can see the traces of worry already in her eyes.

You could tell this girl she was your queen, and she'd still be doubtful.

I decide honesty is the best policy in this case, so I laugh nervously, scratching my head.

"I seem to have a little crush on your friend," I admit nervously, and her eyes bulge out. "Francesca. I haven't met her before and ... I just, don't know. There's something about her, you know?"

She looks so hurt, all I want to do is pet her like some kind of puppy. But she nods none the less, giving me a brave smile before claiming she really must get going and heading out of the apartment.

Frustrated, I let out a sigh and sit on the edge of my rumpled bed. Francesca is all I can think about, and it's been hours since we had lunch together.

I lie back on the bed, and before I can even think about what I'm doing, my fingers unzip my jeans and I bring out my already hard cock.

Stroking my length, I think of the girl that has occupied my mind for the past few hours.

Her full lips, almost to the point of being too big for her face ... but yet so perfect. That gentle curve of her hips that turns into a beautiful rounded ass, and her oh-so-tiny waist. The sky high heels she wore only accentuated her lean legs. And then there's her glorious, voluminous and incredibly long brown hair.

In a world full of full heads of extensions, her natural locks are a pleasant change. And I can't help but imagine pulling the down as she sucked on my cock.

I groan, stroking myself as I think of her, becoming harder and harder with each stroke. But I'm growing frustrated, knowing I want her hands on me, not my own.

Sure, I could call a girl from my little black book, yet I don't want to. At this point, I'm pretty sure I need Francesca's lips locked on mine ... and possibly some other places, too.

I sit up again as a brilliant idea makes its way into my mind.

I have an interview in about an hour, and it's the perfect opportunity into motion.

Smiling slowly, I begin to make a plan that will bring Francesca DeMarco's perfect ass straight into my bed.