Big Bad Rancher: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  Looking back, I wondered if she knew. Up to that point, I hadn’t come in her before. I had always pulled out, plastered her face, or sent stringy white strands of cum over her big tits. But now I pulled my cock out of her ass and shoved forward into her pussy just as my cock jumped and I came. I threw my head back and arched my hips, sending all I had into her. When I pulled out, she stayed like that for a minute, her back to me, on the couch, and I saw a bit of my cum leak from her gushing pussy.

  We went to sleep after that. We woke up in the morning, and we knew things had changed. We kissed, but we didn’t fuck, and we didn’t make love.

  “I’m safe?” she asked me over breakfast, which was simple bowls of cereal.

  I nodded.

  “Are you?”

  “I think so,” I said with a grin.

  “So I can go back?”

  I sighed and nodded.

  “I love you,” she said. “I do.”

  “I know,” I said. “I love you too. But…you don’t belong here. You aren’t mine.”

  Chloe smiled at me. It was sad and sweet and filled with longing. “I am yours. You bought me.”

  Two days later I saw her off at an airport in Boston. She was headed home. I stood for a long time after she had gone, watching the planes land and take off through a large window that overlooked the tarmac. I knew I would never forget my bought bride.

  *****

  THE END

  MAFIA Romance – Owned and Protected

  “I can't do this. I really can't,” Cassy said. The house was full of floral tributes to her late father.

  “You can, Cassy. Be strong for Michael. He really needs you now.”

  Cassy smiled at Judy. “You're the best friend anyone could wish for. Thank you so much for supporting me today.”

  “And you are the best person I have ever known. Come on, let's go.”

  At St. Michael's Church, Pastor Jeffries was waiting for the funeral cortege at the church gate. He hadn't seen Cassy for a while; she didn't come to church as often as her mother and father had. Her late parents, Douglas and Wanda, had showered the church with generous financial donations, and he wondered, now that Cassy was head of the family fortune, whether she would be as generous.

  When the hearse and limousines pulled up, Pastor Jeffries noticed what a fantastically beautiful woman Cassy had turned into. Tall and slender with wonderfully curved hips and a generous bosom, she was more elegant than any woman he had ever seen in his congregation.

  “Cassy,” he said, shaking her hand. “I'm sorry for your loss. It must be very hard to lose your mother and father in quick succession.”

  “It is, but at least they are together again,” she said through the black veil.

  Cassy turned to Judy. “Look how many mourners there are. I hadn't expected this.”

  “Your father was a well-known man, not only in New York but throughout the US. There isn't a single person in this country who hasn't at some time been to a ToysForAll store. How many stores are there? Six hundred?”

  “Six hundred and three.”

  “And you will be just as good as your father at running the business.” Judy held on to her hat as a gust of wind threatened to remove it from her head.

  “I only wish he'd been around for another ten years. I'm only twenty-two. What do I know about business?”

  “You have some great people working for you, people who really respected your father and who will help you.”

  “Michael, are you all right?” Cassy asked. She put her arm around her fifteen-year-old brother.

  “Okay. Two hundred and seventy-three,” he said.

  “What?”

  “People.”

  “Have you counted them all?”

  Michael's head tilted to one side. “Yes.”

  “Wow. I really don't know how you do that,” Cassy said.

  “Because he's clever, aren't you, Michael,” Judy said. Michael didn't answer; he was looking at a plane high above them.

  The service was short and to the point. Cassy hadn't wanted Michael to suffer any longer than necessary.

  “Men, don't like,” Michael said when they were leaving.

  “Which men?” Cassy asked.

  “Men under trees. I don't like.” Michael began to shift from one foot to the other and throw his head around. “Don't like. Go away.”

  Judy caught up to them. She'd been delayed by Pastor Jeffries, who was keen to know whether Cassy would be donating to the fund to repair the church roof. “What's the matter with Michael?” she asked.

  “He doesn't like those men over there.”

  Judy looked at a line of trees that bordered the cemetery. “I agree. They are a shifty-looking bunch. You're right, Michael.”

  “He gets like this when he's stressed,” Cassy whispered to Judy. “Dad was so good with him. I only hope I can be.”

  “You're great with him. Autism isn't an easy thing to deal with.”

  *****

  “Tell me how much you want it,” Igor Ivanovich said to the blond woman he was pressing against the wall. He put his hand to the hem of her skirt and began to pull it up. “Tell me, how much do you want my cock?”

  She'd never been with a man like Igor. He turned her on so much that she wasn't able to answer him. She just continued to grind her pelvis against him.

  “Can't answer, huh?” he said. In a flash, he ripped her panties off and put his hand over her vulva. “I can feel how much. You don't have to speak,” he said.

  She came three times when he took her against the wall, and countless times during the longest love-making session she'd ever had, and was ever likely to have.

  When the gray light of morning pierced the thin curtains, Igor got up, showered, and dressed. When he was at the door, she woke.

  “Can I see you again?” she asked.

  “I only fuck women once,” he said.

  When he was gone, she threw the hair-dryer against the mirror and broke both items.

  Dima was waiting in the car outside the hotel. “And? What was she like?” he asked.

  “Useless. Kept complaining she had cramps. I only screwed her for a couple of hours.”

  Dima laughed. His brother was always bragging about his sexual prowess. Dima was jealous of Igor's looks and the fact that women seemed to throw themselves at him. He hardly had to speak to them before they were willing to sleep with him.

  “Here,” Dima said. He passed Igor a Beretta handgun. “Let's go persuade him.”

  “Let's do it,” Igor replied.

  Dima drove out of town to what appeared to be a rich suburb. “Do you get it?” Igor asked.

  “What?”

  “Look at these big houses. Fucking politicians. How the hell do they go from being penniless upstarts to super rich in the space of a few short years?” Igor asked.

  “You already know. Because they are all corrupt bastards. The US is rotten to the core. Everybody knows that.”

  “We are no angels, but we, at least, try to do things honestly,” Igor concluded.

  Dima laughed. “Of course we do. The only difference is, if being honest doesn't work in our favor, we very quickly turn nasty.”

  Dima drove past the gate to the French-style mansion and looked at the huge iron gate. There was just one security guard sitting in a wooden hut. He drove a bit farther and parked next to the high wall that ran around the property. The brothers got out and, with the help of a rope and hook, scaled the wall.

  Mr. and Mrs. Adessi looked like the perfect couple as they lay asleep in bed. The bedroom was spacious and smelled of potpourri. Igor wondered if they’d had sex the previous evening; Mrs. Adessi seemed to be naked, and her nightdress was lying on the floor.

  Dima nodded, and Igor put the barrel of his Beretta into Mr. Adessi's open mouth. He snorted and opened his eyes.

  “What the hell?” he muttered as best he could with the gun in his mouth. Mrs. Adessi woke up and saw Dima standing above her. She screamed and sat up i
n bed, forgetting that she was naked. She quickly grabbed the sheet and pulled it over her breasts.

  Dima took hold of her arm and pulled her from the bed. He placed her face down on the floor and held a gun to her head.

  “Mr. Adessi,” Igor began, “as you are the head of real estate at the city administration, we would like to make a complaint to you.” Adessi looked at him, terror in his eyes. “I think you know why we are here.” Adessi shook his head. “Oh yes, you do. We bid more than anyone for the old post office project. You know that and we know that. Yet you gave the contract not to the highest bidder, or even the second highest, but to some sleazy outfit from Alabama. Funny, that's where you come from.”

  Dima put his foot on Mrs. Adessi's back and pressed. She squealed and tried to break free, but it was useless.

  “We want your guarantee that you will cancel the contract and award it to us. As I said, we won the bidding.” Igor pulled the gun from his mouth and waited for his response.

  “Go to hell. Fucking Russians. Think you own the place. Fuck off back to Moscow.”

  “Not only are you corrupt, you are very rude. Have you ever seen a woman thrown from an upstairs window?” Igor said as he nodded to Dima.

  Dima pulled Mrs. Adessi up by the hair and took her to the window. He held her with one hand and opened the window with the other. She screamed as he pushed her out of the window and held on to her by the ankles.

  “Last chance, Adessi. She'll make a terrible mess of your driveway,” Igor said.

  “Alfons, help me,” she shrieked. “Please, let them have what they want.”

  Dima let go of her right leg, and she swung to and fro, attached to his strong arm by just her left ankle.

  “All right! Please, pull her inside,” he said.

  “No. Not until you give me the guarantee we came for,” Igor said.

  “I guarantee it. You can have the contract. Just pull her back inside, please.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Adessi. Just remember, we can come back anytime, so please don't change your mind.”

  *****

  “Michael?” Cassy shouted as she walked through the backyard of the large house she and Michael had just inherited. “Michael, where are you? Dinner's ready.” Cassy noticed how lovely the lavender smelled in the border she was walking along. Michael wasn't in the yard; she turned her attention to the house. Michael slept in a room next to Cassy's, but he wasn't there either.

  “Edith, have you seen Michael?' Cassy asked the cook.

  “No. Not for a while.”

  “Strange.” Cassy walked down the driveway and into the street. She looked left and right but saw no sign of him.

  She walked to the store where Mrs. Cheeseborough sold the best apple pie in New York State. “Have you seen Michael?” she asked.

  “No, Cassy. Not today.”

  Cassy walked back to the house and sat down at the dinner table. Perhaps if she relaxed and waited, he would turn up, she thought.

  After two hours Cassy was frantic. It would be dark soon. She called Judy.

  “Judy, Michael's gone missing. I need to speak to your dad.”

  “Okay. Hold on.”

  Cassy heard a rumbling sound as Judy's father picked up the phone. “Hi, Cassy. What's up?”

  “Joe, Michael's gone missing. What should I do?”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “About a couple of hours.”

  “Well as a police officer I can tell you that the police won't do anything until he's been missing for twenty-four hours.”

  “But you know what he's like. He can't look after himself for that long. Jesus, I'm worried sick.”

  A day later Michael still hadn't arrived home, and the police sent an army of officers to look for him.

  “Is he given to walking off on his own?” Detective Jordan asked.

  “Never. He knows he should stay within the boundaries of the house,” Cassy said.

  “Well, my men are looking for him. If he's around the area, we'll find him.”

  *****

  “What the fuck?” Igor said. “Jesus Christ. Who the fuck would do something like that to a kid?”

  “What?” Dima asked.

  “Look, here on TV.”

  Dima listened as the reporter told his audience that the late Douglas Solomon's autistic son had been kidnapped. A ransom note had been sent to Cassy Solomon, along with a severed ear.

  “Albanians,” Dima said. “They're ruthless fuckers. They don't give a shit who they hurt. How much money do they want?”

  “Ten million. How do you know they are Albanians?”

  “They always cut people's ears off.”

  They continued to watch, and after a few minutes there was a press conference with the police and Cassy.

  “Is that Cassy Solomon? Jesus, she's hot. I wouldn't mind a night in the sack with her,” Igor said.

  “Stop thinking about your dick all the time. Can't you see how upset she is?” Dima said.

  “She'd feel a lot better impaled by me. That's for sure.”

  Dima laughed. “You're a disgrace.”

  “I love women. You know that.”

  “Have you ever fucked a woman more than once?” Dima asked.

  Igor had to think. “Er...no. I don't think so. Motherfucker, look!” he exclaimed as the camera panned around the room full of journalists. “Murat Hyka. Did you see him?”

  “No,” Dima said disappointedly.

  “Right under their noses. I'm gonna make a call,” Igor said.

  “Not to the cops. No way.”

  “But that fat Albanian asshole was sitting among the journalists. I bet he's got something to do with it. I hate that bastard. He's a dog. Have you forgotten what he did to us?”

  “No.”

  “That woman, what's her name? Cassy. She's in a heap of trouble if Murat Hyka has got anything to do with this.” Igor jumped up from the sofa and stretched his considerable frame. He was well over six feet tall and a solid mass of muscle. “He's got half the police in his pocket. They'll never bring charges.”

  “So why do you care?” Dima said.

  “She's hot, and she looks upset. I want to help her.”

  “You're fucking mad. Would you go to war with Murat Hyka just to get into her panties?”

  Igor looked at his brother. “Yes, I think I would. Come on, Dima, he's a jerk, and so are all the guys who work for him. This is a good chance to eradicate him once and for all.”

  *****

  Cassy badly needed fresh air. She'd been sitting inside with a police liaison officer for four days, and she felt stifled by the atmosphere. Her phone calls were being monitored in case the kidnappers rang.

  Outside, she walked past her parked Mercedes and noticed a piece of paper under the wiper. She picked it up.

  Call me. It's about your brother. Don't involve the cops.

  Te: 0178654218767

  Cassy looked around nervously to make sure nobody had seen her. She walked across the lawn, stood behind a tree, and took out her cell phone.

  “Cassy Solomon. What do you know about my brother?”

  “I think he's being held by a group of Albanians.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Igor Ivanovich. I'm a real estate developer.”

  “And what makes you think he's being held by Albanians?”

  “I saw the press conference. There was a man I know in the audience. He's an Albanian criminal. Did you know that Albania's are well-known for cutting off the ears of their victims?” Cassy felt nauseous as the image of the severed ear came to mind. “If you put those two things together, I think you're talking about an Albanian gang.”

  “So what is this man's name?”

  “You don't need to know. All I can tell you is that the cops will never solve this because he's got all the top cops in his pocket. They all get huge sums of money from him to turn a blind eye to his activities.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?”

/>   “Meet me. I will explain what we are going to do. Okay?”

  “But I don't understand. Why you are doing this? What business is it of yours?” Cassy said.

  “Because I hate the motherfucker. He's the worst person God ever made.”

  “I'm not sure. How do I know you are who you say you are?”

  “Tell you what, why don't we meet at Grand Central in the middle of rush hour? There will be thousands of people around. That way you'll feel safe.”

  *****

  Cassy waited at Chirping Chicken in Grand Central. She'd never seen Igor before, but when he walked into the restaurant, she knew it was him. On the phone he'd spoken with a Russian accent, and the man who came into the restaurant looked Russian. Not only did he look Russian, but he was also extremely good looking. Tall, well built, cropped black hair, a fine-boned Slavic face, and the deepest blue eyes.

  He was even more impressed with Cassy than he had been when he'd seen her on TV. She was wonderfully beautiful, with green eyes, long dark hair, and the softest-looking skin.

  “You know, I shouldn't be here. If the cops knew, they'd probably charge me with something,” she said anxiously.

  “Fuck the cops. They won't help you. They haven't got the balls to fight Murat Hyka.”

  “And you have?” she asked, slightly sarcastically.

  “Yes. My brother and I have got a score to settle with him.”

  “You told me you’re a real estate dealer.”

  “Listen, we buy and sell apartment buildings in New York and London. I came to America when I was eighteen, seeking my fortune. I have done a lot of bad shit, but now we're trying to stay above the law. I'm gonna get your brother back and put an end to this asshole. Okay?”

  “And what do you want in return?” Cassy said.

  “I don't want money. If I bring Michael home to you, I want you. Your debt will be one night with me.”

  Cassy looked at him as if he'd gone mad. “You are joking, right?”

  “No, I'm not. One night for your brother. That's all.”

  “Thanks, but I don't play with my virtue. Now get the hell away from me.”

  When Cassy got home, she rang Judy's dad, who was a sergeant at NYPD. She asked him to do a check on Murat Hyka and Igor Ivanovich. Later, he told her Murat was an Albanian businessman with suspected links to drug trafficking and protection. His information on Igor was that he was a Russian real estate dealer with interests in New York and London. She was surprised to learn his net worth was over three billion dollars. His record was clean, although he had been taken in for questioning a few times regarding threatening behavior toward public officials and bankers.