Big Bad Royal: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m married,” she said, and my heart sank. “Back in Greece, I’m married. Less than a year before I was taken. We were on our honeymoon. We had to go late because of his job. We were on a cruise. We stopped and I was taken. I was brought here…for this.”

  I nodded. “I can get you back to your husband, but I’m going to have to do this. I have to make sure these men, the men who brought you here, can’t find you. Or us.”

  She nodded. She looked as though she had more to say, and I was sure I did too, but neither of us spoke. I filled a backpack I had bought at the local grocery store with my guns and ammo. I took a bit of money and then faced her once more.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” I said. “Don’t answer the door.”

  She stood, letting the sheet fall away, coming to me nude. She wrapped her arms around me and we kissed. “Be safe,” she said, and I nodded. “Come back to me.” I nodded again, and then it was time to leave.

  I drove through the night back to the city. Mr. Black was first on my list. I knew where he would be; he owned a strip club in Brighton Beach, and he spent most nights there. I parked a block away and took time to prepare myself. I slid a handgun into the back of my waistband and pulled the backpack on. I had two larger guns in there, a shotgun fully loaded with extra shells and a submachine gun with three extra clips. I climbed out of my car and took a deep breath.

  A fat bouncer named Reuben was working the door. He worked for the club but not for Mr. Black. He wasn’t a criminal, even if I was sure he was aware of what sort of man Mr. Black was. If he knew I was in trouble with my old boss, he didn’t show it.

  “Peter, what’s up?” the fat man asked.

  “Hey, Reuben,” I said and shook his hand as I stepped by.

  “Boss man is upstairs if you need him,” he said, and I nodded.

  The inside of the club was pounding music and pink and blue lights. A skinny brunette with giant tits was dancing on the main stage, a ring of horny men sitting around it, flashing green bills as she came near. I passed by the bar, where Samantha, a good-looking blonde who tended, gave me a smile and a wave. I managed to smile back.

  Near the back of the club was a set of metal stairs, which led up to a second-floor office. I started up the steps and reached for the door handle. Just before I could open the door, someone pulled it open from the other side, and I found myself face to face with Vlad. His eyes widened in shock. Time seemed to slow down.

  “You idiot,” the man said to me. He had a gun on the inside of his jacket; I could see the handle sticking out a bit. He didn’t go for it, though.

  “Get out of here,” I said, giving him a stern warning. I liked Vlad, and he was just a lowlife grunt like me. Or at least, like I used to be. Standing on those stairs, I felt different. I wasn’t the man I had been just a week before. But my beef wasn’t with Vlad. He wasn’t the one in charge. I didn’t want to kill him, not if I didn’t have to.

  “He’s going to kill you, kid,” Vlad said to me, shaking his head. He looked at me, and I saw concern in his eyes.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I snarled. “Now get out. Don’t come back tonight.”

  Vlad seemed to weigh his choices. Finally, he nodded and put his hand on my shoulder as he passed. I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding and opened the door.

  Mr. Black’s office was large and open, with some couches and chairs at one end and his desk at the far end. I had my gun out of my pants before I stepped all the way through the door. One man stood beside the door. He was a grunt, like me, but I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me, so I beat him to the punch. I pressed the barrel of my handgun to his side and pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening and the man fell. The music was so loud downstairs that I was sure no one in the club had heard anything.

  Mr. Black was at his desk, his cell phone to his ear. He looked across the room and his eyes widened. Another man sat on a couch nearby, reading a magazine, an automatic rifle lying across his lap. He tossed the magazine aside and went to swing the rifle toward me, but I aimed and fired, and my bullet took him in the head. He slumped to the side, dead.

  “This is not wise,” Mr. Black said as I stalked toward him, my handgun trained at his head.

  “Keep your hands up,” I said. I knew he had a shotgun in a special slot constructed on the bottom part of his desk. He held his hands up.

  “So you fell for a woman. No harm, no foul. Bring her back; I can make it right.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t make that right. It isn’t right. I respected you. I thought you were better.”

  Mr. Black laughed. “You knew exactly what I was. You are a fool if you think I wouldn’t do anything I could to make a bit more money.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  “Worth what?”

  “Your life.”

  Mr. Black laughed. “Come now, boy, we both know you won’t kill me.”

  “I want to know who set it up. Who got you into it?”

  Mr. Black shook his head.

  “I won’t tell you a thing,” he said. I was standing next to him now, and I put my gun against his leg. “Idle threats,” he said. I pulled the trigger.

  He yelled out, reaching down and covering the ragged hole I had just blown into his thigh.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “David Ramos,” Mr. Black said. I knew the name. I put my gun to my old boss’s head and ended his wretched life.

  I went back out to my car quickly. There was a chance no one would find Mr. Black or his two dead stooges until the end of the night when someone would go see why he hadn’t come out yet. That was if Vlad didn’t attempt to return sooner. I climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  I knew David Ramos. He lived in New York and had his fingers in every illicit thing you could think of up and down the East Coast. He was a big man, muscular and strong with a thick neck and biceps as big as my thigh. I didn’t care. I was going to kill him.

  I had to do some digging to find him, though. I hit up some old friends, guys in the business who worked for other bosses. I found out I was on everyone’s lips. Mr. Black had put it out to find me and kill me. Ramos was backing him up. Ramos was the man in charge of the slavery ring, and he’d been embarrassed in front of the other bosses. He wanted me dead as much as Mr. Black had.

  It took some doing, but as the sun was rising, I had him. I had tracked him down to a high-rise building in the center of Times Square. It would be tough; I knew that much. Ramos would have ten men, twenty even, protecting him. My boss had been big time, but Ramos made him look ridiculous. I got into an elevator on the ground floor and headed for the penthouse apartment. It was a long ride, and I prepared for what I was about to do. There was a chance I wouldn’t make it. I might fail. There was a chance, but I felt good about my odds. I had rage and anger on my side. I had Chloe. The elevator stopped, the doors slid open with a ding, and I thought of her as I lifted my shotgun.

  4

  I had told Chloe I would be a couple of days, but I returned to her almost twenty-four hours after I had left. She was in the living room, wearing one of my T-shirts and boy shorts that hugged her ass. I came in, my shirt splattered with blood, most of it not my own. I had a busted lip and a bullet had grazed my arm, but I had given way worse than I had gotten.

  The young woman came to me as soon as I unlocked and opened the door, and she wrapped her arms around me. I thought she would speak, or I thought I would, but she pressed her lips to mine and I kissed her back instead, wincing as pain shot through my busted lip but not willing to stop our kiss.

  My arms went around her, and when she was sure I was in a position to support her weight, she lifted her feet from the floor and wrapped her legs around my waist. Her panty-clad crotch was pressed against my own, and immediately my dick began to pulse and grow rigid.

  I thought about ca
rrying her up the wooden stairs to the bedroom, but we never got that far. The cabin was cozy, two small floors, but it was private enough, so I just took two steps to the couch before turning and sitting so that she was on my lap. She giggled as we kissed and wriggled a bit, grinding against my manhood.

  My fingers pulled her shirt up and over her head, and I buried my face in her breasts, as she was wearing no bra. My lips found a nipple, my tongue flicking it back and forth before my teeth nibbled softly. She groaned and moaned, her head tilted back.

  She climbed off me and lowered herself to her knees before me. Her fingers were slow, her movements delicate as she unbuttoned my pants and pulled them off, along with my shoes and socks. She left me in my boxer briefs for a moment, my cock hard and evident. She planted kisses on my inner thigh and then switched to the other.

  Finally, she gave my boy some attention, reaching a slender hand up the leg of my underwear and gripping my dick. She amused herself by sliding my cock out through the same leg of my boxer briefs, and then she took me into her mouth.

  Chloe gave the best head in the world. I had already gotten to know that. She was perfect. She built to the right speed, applied the right pressure with her hand. She gripped me at the base of my cock and held me where she wanted me, her lips and tongue and mouth handling the rest. When I could take no more, I forced her to stop and moved her to the couch.

  I reached up and pulled her panties off. She was nude now, and she smiled as she watched me look up and down her body. I loved every inch of it. I sent my fingertips up and down, from her toes to her forehead. Then I used my hands to part her legs and buried my face in her pussy. She smelled great and tasted better. I lapped at her pink slit, and she gave me plenty to lap up, her pussy wet and warm.

  My cock was aching to be inside her, so I didn’t make him wait any longer. I got up off my knees and then positioned her so she was facing away from me, knees on the cushion of the couch, arms on the back. I slid into her tight pussy, pushing until I had nothing left to give and then pulling back.

  “No one has had my ass,” she whispered, looking at me over her shoulder. I didn’t need to be told twice. I pulled my slick cock from her and then spread her ass cheeks with both hands. Her butthole was tight, and I rubbed the head of my cock against it until she opened up and I could slide in. If her pussy was tight, her asshole was like nothing I had ever felt. She groaned and bent her head forward, burying her face in the back of the couch. I knew she was in pain, but she reached between her legs and began rubbing her own clit, and I knew she was enjoying it as well.

  She came right before I did, biting into the couch cushion and screaming. I had my hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them, groping them, leaving red lines on her tanned flesh. She must have known I was about to come, because she called to me once more, turning her head over her shoulder.

  “Come in my pussy,” she moaned. “Please.”

  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.”