“Ace, should you be up?”
He nodded and set down the tray, “I have a lot to talk to you about.”
He sighed and looked at her honestly, “Christie, I’ve left fighting once and for all.’
Even though she assumed that was the case, Christie’s heart still lifted with happiness at his words. He was out of the club. No more danger lurking at the shadows, no more worrying and wondering whether or not Ace would be getting hurt.
She smiled and he smiled back at her, but the expression quickly turned serious.
“I don’t have a lot of money. All of this is owned by them.” He sighed, “I’ll be kicked out of here soon. But that’s okay. I’m studying. I’ll find work. I’ll be okay.”
He looked at Christie for a long moment, and she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach, “I know I haven’t been there for you. I said I didn’t want to have a kid and didn’t want to be with you.” He took a deep breath.
“I hope you will forgive me, Christie. But just know that everything I did I did to keep you safe.” His eyes met hers and she thought her heart was going to stop, “I care about you and I care about this baby. I don’t want to leave you all alone.”
He frowned, “Look, what I’m saying is…I don't want to just help out with the money. I want all of it.”
He looked almost awkward and Christie thought that her heart was going to burst. It was everything that she had dreamt about and longed for, and then some. He wanted to be part of the family. Finally, he wanted to be with her.
He was safe now, and free to get another job; whatever job he wanted. Christie didn’t care about the money. She just wanted him with her, safe and sound, and her wishes were coming true. She covered her face and tried not to cry, but it was impossible. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Ace frowned in concern, “Hey, no I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Christie shook her head and gave a shaky laugh. She was not upset at all. She was elated in every sense of the word.
“I want all of it. I don’t care about the money.” She whispered. As the words sunk in, Ace beamed. Christie leaned over and pressed her lips against his, feeling him kiss her back with passion and desire.
She held him in her arms and felt his strong hand circle around her back and then around her waist. His lips were on her neck, kissing and sucking her sensitive skin and making her moan with desire.
Everything was going to be okay now. She had gotten through it and Ace was there to stay. His hands found her leg, and his fingers brushed the skin on her thighs stroking softly.
Ace smiled and kissed her, his clothes falling to the floor as his hands brushed up her sides and along the curves of her breasts, coming to rest on the warm spot across her midriff.
She blushed and thought that she might be overcome with happiness. Ace kissed her, hard and deep. Then, Christie gave in without a care in the world. He gently parted her thighs and she felt the strength of his girth, large and full, press and push against the heat between her legs.
When he slid in, she felt the sensitive nerve endings in her body tingle and shudder like she had never been touched before. Christie bit her lip and moaned, spreading her legs a little more.
When Ace pushed in deeper, she gasped. His fingers found her breasts, playing with the soft skin and teasing her tipples, tweaking and stroking, squeezing and pulling in ways that were driving Christie wild.
“Ace…” She gasped his name and felt him shudder against her. His thrusts pushed deeper and she held him tighter, feeling the delicious friction between them. She wanted him, she needed him. This man was encompassing her whole world, stripping away her soul and spirit and leaving her naked and raw, only to fill her and heal her in the most magnificent way.
When Christie finally climaxed, rolling her hips, moaning and holding on tightly, she felt waves and waves of pleasure crash over her. She moaned his name and held onto him. She felt the torn pieces of her heart mend together, feeling whole again in his arms.
Ace climaxed soon after with a groan, gasping Christie’s name and holding her as he thrust inside her, consummating their love as they lay there, entwined in each other’s arms. It was perfect. It was everything that Christie could have hoped for. Sure, it was messy and it had started out all wrong, with a broken heart and a bad boy who wouldn’t let her in, but now they were there together and starting a family.
When Ace finally caught his breath and rolled over, his eyes fell on Christie. Christie swallowed and the words she had been longing to say finally spilled out, “I love you, Ace.”
Ace leaned in, bushing his lips with hers, kissing her lips so sweet and soft and tender, and he whispered the words that he had been holding back for so long. “I love you too. I love you both.”
And when Ace’s lips pressed against hers, Christie felt like she could die happy right then and there because everything was more than perfect now.
Tyler’s Plaything
a Billionaire Romance
By: Natasha Spencer
Tyler's Plaything, a Billionaire Romance
© November 2017 – All rights reserved
By Natasha Spencer,
Published by Passionate Publishing Inc.
This is a work of fiction. All names and characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
This book is for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Warning
This book is intended for adult readers, 18+ years old. Please close this e-book if you are not comfortable reading adult content.
Chapter One
It was 10pm on a Friday night and Tyler Preston was more than ready for a drink. He’d been cooped up in the offices of Preston Insurance Inc. for the past five hours; a ‘quick’ meeting that was only supposed to last a half hour or so taking much longer than expected.
Tyler had never wanted to take over the family business. He was more interested in partying, getting drunk, fast cars, yachts and women. He knew he was a walking billionaire playboy stereotype, but he didn’t give a damn. He was young, rich, and living the dream. He didn’t have a care in the world. Well, until his father got murdered.
“Have a good weekend, Tyler.” Michael smiled as he put on his jacket, ready to leave the overheated and stuffy conference room.
“Yeah, you too,” Tyler sighed wearily.
He definitely wasn’t cut out for the business life, unlike the slightly grey haired, older gentleman he now began to walk down the corridor towards the elevator with. Michael East was probably in his fifties, maybe his late forties. Tyler couldn’t tell. Either way, he’d been working alongside his father, Trent Preston, for as long as Tyler could remember. He was the most trusted employee of PII, as well as a close family friend, and now, Tyler was trusting him to take on the running of the majority of the business. That was what the late night meeting had been about, and why it was so imperative that Tyler had to be there. Now he’d got the formalities out the way though, he was hoping to avoid having to be present in the office for as long as possible. That was why he had Michael. Michael would take care of things.
“Doing anything fun?” the man asked as they stepped into the elevator together.
Tyler checked his image in the mirror and fixed his hair back a bit. “Gonna go get a few cocktails, get drunk, party. The usual.” He was fairly sure he caught sight of Michael rolling his eyes through the glass. So, the old man didn’t approve of his lifestyle, so what. His father had always allowed him to do what he wanted, and he was going to continue in that tradition for as long as possible.
“If you ever need to talk to me…Tyler…” Michael began carefully, his voice low, taking a step towards him.
Tyler frowned slightly and put his hands cockily back in his pockets, where they usually were, thumbs tucked in, fingers flailing out and drumming lightly on his thighs.
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“I know it’s not easy,” he continued softly. “To lose a parent…”
The doors pinged open on the ground floor. It was a relief to Tyler. Escape. Escape from the boring, stuffy office, and escape from Michael’s awkward conversation. Sure, the man meant well, but he just couldn’t handle that kind of chat right now.
“Have a good weekend, Michael,” he called out cheerfully as he walked out, heading straight for the automatic double doors that led him out onto the busy, bustling streets of downtown New York City, and leaving Michael to sigh quietly and sign them both out at reception before heading to his car in the underground parking lot.
Tyler didn’t bother with his car. Although he’d arrived in it and parked it up, he was planning to have more than a few drinks that night, and would be getting a cab home. He’d come to collect it in the morning.
Freedom. He smiled to himself and breathed in the sights and sounds of the city he loved, breaking out into a brisk walk and heading straight for the nightlife.
He took out his phone and checked it for messages as he walked, texting a couple of people to see whether they were coming out that night. Tyler didn’t have any ‘close’ friends, as such. Rather, he had an entire network of people he knew and interacted with. On any evening, he could be hanging out with one of around fifty young people his own age. He considered them acquaintances, not friends. He never got too close to anyone, not close enough to let them in. He was mistrustful that way. He’d learnt from experience. He was rich and always had been, and with that brought a certain amount of problems – such as the type of people who only hung out with him for his money, expecting him to pay for everything and never ever giving anything back; hangers on. Then, there were the other rich young people. Most of them were self-absorbed and arrogant – a bit like Tyler – which meant they were fun to spend time with in short doses, to flash the cash around and buy lavish bottles of champagne, but there was never anything going deeper beneath the surface. He couldn’t remember the last intelligent conversation he had with someone. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to have fun. Screw meaningful. He wanted to get drunk, and he was pretty good at doing that.
Tyler sometimes felt as though he’d visited every single bar in the city, but somehow, he always managed to find one he’d never been in before, and tonight was one of those nights. As he passed by a classy looking cocktail bar on his right, he was fairly sure he’d never seen it before. Perhaps it was new; perhaps he’d just overlooked it in an alcoholic haze; either way, it was a lively and happening place, and he wanted in.
Tyler wasn’t fussy about the type of bars and clubs he attended. Sure, he liked the expensive ones that were full of rich kids and where you could easily blow a thousand in a night, but he equally enjoyed the dirty dive bars where he could pretend to be someone he wasn’t, slip off his Rolex watch in the bathroom and leave it in his pocket, mess up his hair and just act like a regular bum. As long as somewhere had a good atmosphere, played some half decent music, and served alcohol, he was happy. And thankfully, there were a lot of those places in New York.
This place was busy, which he liked. It was obviously popular, a good sign that the cocktails were either reasonably priced or excellently made. Predictably considering the size of his wallet, Tyler didn’t care about price. He’d just as happily pay twenty bucks for a cocktail as he would five.
The music was a mix of soul and R&B, and the clientele were from all backgrounds and walks of life. Tyler liked that. It was one of the things he enjoyed about the city; the eclectic nature of the population and the welcoming vibe that he experienced in most places.
He didn’t care that he was there alone, and that none of his acquaintances had replied to his messages about whether they were coming out. Some of his best ever nights out had been when he was out on his own. That way, there was no one to tie him down, no one he felt he had to talk to or hang out with. He answered only to himself. He could mix, mingle, talk to anyone and everyone, make new acquaintances.
Tyler loved to talk. He didn’t care who it was or where they were from. He would talk to them and be friendly and chatty, especially when he’d had a few drinks. Especially girls. He definitely had a weakness for the girls, and it was rare that he went on a night out without picking one up. It wasn’t hard for him. If his natural, friendly charm didn’t do it, then he’d just casually slip out the fact that he was a billionaire, drop some hints about yachts and Ferraris and private jets. He didn’t care if that only attracted the money hungry girls; he would spoil them for the night, buy them drinks, take them for expensive food, then have them back at his place and in his bed. If he really liked them, the next morning he’d spend some more money on them, maybe take them out for breakfast, shopping, for a spin in one of his cars or on his yacht. Then, by lunchtime, he’d be bored and drained by their company and feel the desire to be on his own again. He’d make some excuse about needing to do business stuff, and dispatch them on their way, never to be called or contacted again.
Most of the time, the girls didn’t even get that far. The majority of his late night pick-ups ended up getting ejected from the house straight after sex, or first thing in the morning. Ejected is a strong word. He’d let them down gently. “Sorry babe, I really need to get some sleep now and I can’t if you’re in the bed” or, “sorry babe, you’re gonna have to leave, I’ve got a big meeting to prepare for and I need to be alone.”
The girls he liked the best were ones where he didn’t have to use any kind of line to get them to leave. They just slipped out of bed straight after sex, got dressed, and went on their way, sometimes without so much as a goodbye kiss. They were only in it for the heated, quick sex and so was he. Perfect.
That night, as always, Tyler had his eye out for the girls. First of all though, he meandered over to the bar and picked up the menu, glancing through the list of cocktails and choosing one, then he leaned over the counter to attract the attention of the girl serving.
Actually, she was pretty damn hot. Soft, olive colored skin and beautiful luscious looking hair that was tied back over her shoulders, and striking green eyes set off perfectly by her well done but not overstated make up. Her breasts were kind of nice too. Tyler allowed himself a generous look up and down her body, shamelessly checking her out as he placed his order.
“No problem, be right with you,” she said as she smiled back at him, friendly and eager to serve. Just how he liked his women.
He leaned over a bit more so he could gawk at her ass as she walked away. She was wearing the regulation uniform for the bar – a white shirt that was unbuttoned enough for him to see her cleavage, and a black mini skirt that showed off plenty of thigh, with some see-through black tights underneath and a pair of modest heels. She wasn’t slutty or over the top like some waitresses; she was just perfect.
When she returned a few minutes later with his colorful, large cocktail, he grinned at her, flashing her a set of perfect white teeth, then glanced down at her name tag.
“Thanks, Jamia,” he murmured smoothly, tossing over the money for the drink, along with a very generous tip.
She took it, paid for the drink at the computer, then tossed the extra into the tip jar. “It’s Jam-EYE-a,” she corrected him on the mispronunciation of her name. “And thank you. Have a nice evening, sir.”
“Ah please, enough of the sir,” Tyler waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all friends here. My name’s Tyler. Tyler Preston.” And at that, he stretched out his arm to offer her a handshake.
She hesitated, glancing around briefly, then smiled and took it. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.”
“Yeah, you too. In fact, the pleasure is all mine. Nobody wants to meet an asshole like me but…a pretty girl like you? I bet everyone’s clambering over each other to meet you.”
“You certainly know how to turn on the charm,” she granted him, rolling her eyes slightly and then briefly glancing him up and down.
Yeah, he saw that. She totally checked him out.
“Well,” she continued. “As much as I’d love to stand around chatting…I actually have customers to attend to, y’know?” She waved her hand in the direction of the couple of other people who were now waiting to get served, smirking at him a little as she walked away.
“See you later, Jamia!” He called to her, giving a wave and getting her name right this time.
Then he picked up his cocktail and had a sip, turning his body round to face outwards again and watch the rest of the people in the bar, whilst still occasionally shooting a glance back in her direction, keeping an eye on her as she went about her business.
He drank that first cocktail pretty quickly; partly because he’d been desperate for a drink for the past four hours, and partly because he wanted another excuse to talk to that pretty barmaid. Having checked out the rest of the talent in the bar, although there were a few good looking girls, he definitely still liked the look of that Jamia. There was something different about her. She had spark and spunk, a hint of determination and character. She wasn’t just some easy bimbo after a cheap fuck like all the others. He wasn’t sure whether that scared him, or excited him. Maybe a bit of both. Perhaps she’d be a little harder to pick up; he was intrigued by the challenge.
“Same again, please.” He smiled and offered out his old, now empty glass.
“You drank that fast.” She smiled back and took it, turning her back to him as she began to prepare the cocktail.
“Been a long day at work,” he sighed dramatically and loosened off his tie. He probably sounded like he worked hard every day, which was obviously a complete fabrication, but that was the impression he wanted to give.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“About a year now,” she replied, turning back to him and finishing off the final stages of the drink facing him so they could talk easier.
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