His Beautiful Revenge: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  “I’m still here. I’m just looking at you. Looking at how beautiful you are …”

  Desire curled in her belly as she submitted to him. “Open your legs, beautiful …wider …as wide as they’ll go. That’s it …let me see your beautiful pussy …Christ …”

  She heard him reach for something in their drawer, then his fingers were on her and a warm sensation began to build on her clit. Oil. Sensual, silky, slippery oil which warmed her flesh as Tom caressed it onto her. She drew in a deep breath.

  “That’s it. Just relax …”

  She felt his long finger slip inside of her, then another, and she ground her sex against him. “Keep still …” He was in charge. Tom slipped another, then another inside her, his thumb strumming a regular rhythm over her clit. The feeling was incredible, his fingers inside her.

  “I can feel your heartbeat through the walls of your cunt, baby,” Tom murmured into her ear and she shivered, the sensation of being helpless in his arms so erotic that she came quickly, over and over until she was almost weeping.

  Tom pushed the blindfold from her eyes and untied her hands. “Lay back, darling. Let me love you.”

  She did as she was told, her eyes soft with love. Tom stroked her body gently, his lips against hers.

  “I want to do something for you,” she whispered against his mouth, and his lips curved up in a smile.

  “You are …just keep looking at me. Keep eye contact …”

  His eyes, so intense, seemed to darken from green to brown in the low light of the evening, and Bay felt a connection being forged between them even deeper than ever. Tom’s cock slid into her so gently this time and together they rocked slowly on and on into the mellowest of climaxes.

  Exhausted, they fell asleep just after midnight, unaware of anything else in the world apart from the two of them.

  Kym walked into work early—six hours too early—and Cal, who lived above the bar, came to investigate the strange noises downstairs. He found Kym scrubbing at the wooden floors, a big bucket of sudsy water beside her.

  “I admire your work ethic, girl, but this is taking it a little far.”

  His smile faded when he saw the strain on her face. “What is it? What’s up?”

  Kym clambered slowly to her feet, dropping the scrubbing brush into the water. “I did something last night and I can’t figure out whether it was the biggest mistake of my life or the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Cal steered her into a chair and went to grab the coffee pot. “Hold your horses. We need sustenance for this.”

  Over coffee and eggs, Kym told him everything: who she was and what had happened. She told him about calling Bay, then hesitated. Cal’s eyes were wide.

  “Don’t leave me hanging …what happened next?”

  Kym stirred too much sugar into her coffee, then looked up, meeting Cal’s gaze. “Roman came over.”

  Understanding blossomed in Cal’s eyes. “Got it.” He was silent for a moment. “I gotta say …not the most unexpected turn of events.”

  Kym blinked. “What?”

  Cal snickered. “You and Roman …that’s been obvious since he got here. Girl, that dude is in love with you.”

  Kym laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? No, no, Cal, he really isn’t that I can guarantee.” She sipped her now cool coffee and grimaced.

  “You over-sugared.”

  “No shit. Look, I think he has someone—someone here in NoLa. That’s where he’s staying, and he hasn’t offered anything. It was just sex.” Mind-blowing, life changing sex, yes, but … “Just sex.”

  “Bull crap.”

  Kym sighed. “Anyway, I’m trying to figure out my life and I don’t want this to complicate things between us.”

  “Oops, too late.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  Cal refilled their coffee, fetching a new cup for Kym. “Kymberly, listen. Fuck consequences, fuck the past, fuck Stu, and fuck your parents. Haven’t you learned from your friend—Bay, is it?—she almost died, but she didn’t. Now she’s willing to carry on with the band you formed. What the hell are you doing here? Go back and claim the life you wanted.”

  “I can’t. I can’t face her, or Tom, or Pete. Especially now that this thing has happened with Roman.”

  Cal gave a frustrated hiss. “God, you are infuriating. Listen to me. You have a chance to make a living at what you love. You’ve clearly fallen for the man who can help you get back there. Doesn’t this tell you something?”

  But Kym wouldn’t be convinced. The bar was full almost from the moment they opened, and when she left in the early hours, Roman wasn’t there to meet her. She couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or upset. Both. Neither.

  “Oh, who the fuck knows?” She said out loud as she walked home. Indeed, she considered, as she let herself into her flat. Not me. I have no idea of what happens from now on. None.

  Not bothering to wash her face or brush her teeth, she tugged a sheet over her and curled in bed, falling asleep quickly. She didn’t even see the note on the nightstand, which had been there since she woke that morning.

  “Tom, there’s a Charlie Clayton to see you.”

  Tom grinned at his assistant, Maggie. “Mags, only you could work in a record company and not know who Charlie Clayton is.”

  “Psh,” she waved her hand dismissively. “They’re all insane. Every musician I’ve ever met.”

  “My woman is a musician.”

  “She’s insane too,” Mags yelled back. “She sleeps with you.”

  Tom laughed. “Haven’t I fired you already today?”

  “Suck it up.” Her tone changed to a silky, professional one as she stepped into the outer office. “Come on through, Mrs. Clayton.”

  Tom steeled himself. The few times he’d met Kym’s parents he had found them less than impressive. As Charlie bore down on him now, he sighed inwardly, then plastered on his best fake smile. He held out his hand to shake hers, but she brushed it aside, throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. Tom, his smile more of a rictus now, managed to disengage and steer her into the seat opposite. He tried not to grin as he felt the relief of the desk between them. Charlie sighed dramatically and looked around.

  “What an office …you kids sure done good for yourselves. Oh, is that Bay?” Charlie grabbed the photo frame before he could stop her. “Oh, look at that darling face …Tomas Meir, why haven’t you dragged my girl down the aisle yet?”

  Tom’s smile was chilly. “What can I do for you, Ms. Clayton?”

  “Charlie, please. We’re family.”

  Tom quashed a sigh. “Charlie, what can I do for you?”

  Charlie looked pleased—mostly with herself. “Well, now, it’s what I can do for you. Now that Kym has left the band—and, it seems, the planet—I know you’ve been searching for a replacement. I’d like to offer my services.”

  Tom gaped at her. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’d like to join The 9th & Pine. As their guitarist and possibly as a second vocalist if Bay wants to take it easy. What do you say?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  Bay’s answer was exactly as Tom predicted. He smiled at his girlfriend as they sat with Pete, Emily, and Dash in the studio later that day. The results of the band’s afternoon of writing and rehearsing were scattered around the room, and not for the first time, Tom wished he was at all musically talented so he could hang with them and watch the process.

  “Seconded,” Pete muttered, raising his eyes to heaven. Bay gave a shudder.

  “Now, hold on just one minute,” Emily started cautiously “No, don’t give me that look. Let’s think this through. Why not give her a shot? I’m not saying the job’s permanent—just a guest spot to see how things go.”

  “Because you don’t know her like I do. Like we do,” Bay countered. “She’s an evil succubus who will destroy any legitimacy we have. Pete and I would be her backup band.”

  “Preach, sister,” said Pete. The usually easy-g
oing and affable drummer looked tired and stressed, and Tom wondered what was going on with him. “Charlie Clayton is just out for herself. She’ll paint it as a favor to us, but it would be a disaster, Emily. Straight up FUBAR.”

  Emily pursed her lips. “I just think …”

  “On the other hand,” Dash interrupted her. “It could be the publicity boost we need. We know Charlie will milk it for all it’s worth—so we do the same. I say do a collaboration with her; Bay, you know better than anyone how effective a showcase that is.”

  Bay sighed, looking to Pete. “I don’t like it,” he said. “And on top of anything else, it would feel like a betrayal.”

  Bay’s face creased with pain. “Yes. We’d never get Kym back.”

  Tom stroked a hand down her back. “Sweetheart,” he glanced at Emily and Dash for support, “I think you need to accept that Kym isn’t coming back. It’s time to move on.”

  Bay looked away from him. Pete squeezed her hand. “Look,” he addressed Emily and Dash. “I get it. We need to find another hook to keep the press interested, but does it really have to be this?”

  “Take a day, think about it.” Emily stood to leave. “Sorry, I gotta get back to ‘Frisco; it’s my weekend with Henry.”

  Dash left with her. Pete glanced at the clock. “Want to go to the bar and grab a burger?”

  At Hank’s, Pete disappeared into the kitchen to make them some food and Bay and Tom sat in one of the booths, bottles of beer untouched in front of them. Bay finally told Tom about Kym’s phone call. Tom’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Bay shrugged. “I don’t know …it felt I was betraying her or breaking the spell of finally talking to her. As if … if I told you, then I must have imagined it. Sounds insane now.”

  Tom took a mouthful of beer before he spoke again. “Honey, we shouldn’t have secrets like that.”

  Bay looked at him. “Roman is there with her, wherever there is.”

  “Really?” Tom sounded surprised. “Weird.”

  “Right? She says he isn’t pressuring her to come back, so I’m not sure why he would be there.”

  Tom clearly had no idea either. “Look, getting back to Charlie Clayton—“

  “I loathe her, Tom.” Bay’s voice took on a hard edge. “She has absolutely no regard for her daughter, has neglected her on every turn, and puts her down whenever the opportunity arises. Just, no.”

  Tom held his hands up. “Hey, I hear ya.”

  “We don’t need her. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way, touring, releasing, and appearances. Anything but her. Pete will back me up.”

  “Got it.”

  Bay rubbed her eyes. “Jeez, after food, let’s go home. I need to chill.”

  Tom frowned. “You okay?”

  She started to say yes, then, “I don’t know. I feel like I’m hurtling headlong into something. I don’t know what, but all my control is slipping away. I’m so tired, Tom. The only thing that keeps me going is you and what we do when we’re alone.” She smiled then. “Especially now that we have some new games.”

  Tom laughed softly, but his eyes still registered concern. “Sweetheart …you never did call that psychiatrist, did you?”

  Bay sighed. “I don’t think that’s my problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know. That’s just it. I don’t know.”

  It was a Saturday and the streets of the Quarter were packed with tourists, panhandlers, and street artists. Kym leaned over her balcony and watched them for a while, feeling as distant from the world as ever. It had been five days since she and Roman had sex, and in those five days, her life had seemed emptier than before. She had come to realize just how much a part of her everyday life the tall man had become. Last night, cleaning up her apartment and stripping the bed of the sheets, she’d found his note.

  I’m not running out on you. There’s just something I need to do. If you can wait, I would be very happy. If not, I understand. Can’t say more—not yet. Roman.

  She had begun to wish she never found the note and had not had that little spark of hope ignite in her chest that she was clinging to. Kym had finally admitted something to herself last night—she didn’t want a life without Roman Ford in it. Whether as a lover or a friend, he had gotten under her skin.

  Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it, settling down on the couch in her too-hot living room. She looked at the number. Bay. Her finger hesitated over the “accept” button. Kym steeled herself, then pressed it.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hey,” Bay’s voice was hesitant, “I wasn’t sure whether I should call this number or whether or not you would answer. I saved it from when you called before, but if you want me to delete it …”

  “No. No, I don’t want that, bubba …it’s okay. How are you?”

  “Not great. Missing you …I’m sorry, that’s so manipulative, but it is the truth.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kym’s chest began to ease a little. Bay seemed more nervous than she was. “I miss you too. What’s up?”

  “Just down at the moment, and god, I have something to tell you, and you’ll probably scream at me or curse or cry …”

  Kym drew in a breath. She wasn’t sure anything could touch the hole Roman had left in her soul, but whatever Bay was about to tell her was obviously upsetting her friend. “Just tell me.”

  “Your mom went to Tom—and offered to be our new guitarist.”

  For a moment, Kym was stunned into silence. “You’re kidding?”

  “Wish I was.”

  Another beat then, from out of nowhere, Kym began to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a genuine laugh of amusement that became uncontrollable. Bay joined in and soon they were crying with glee.

  “Fuck, she never changes, does she? I take it you said no?”

  “I said ‘fuck, no.’ Jesus, how can you be related to that pair?”

  “I was a foundling.”

  “I’ll say. So, yeah, we vetoed that straight away, but—“

  “But?”

  Bay sighed. “Emily wants us to do a collaboration with her to help with the promo. I’m not keen and neither is Pete, but business-wise …”

  “Business-wise, it does make sense. Do it,” Kym was astonished to find herself saying. “Use her as she tried to use you.”

  “I don’t know. It’s not as if we’re in the same genre …”

  Kym laughed. “Dude, since when did we subscribe to any particular genre? I seem to remember us mashing up a Mary Chapin Carpenter with an Alice in Chains song once. That was the whole point—we’re genre-less.”

  “We,” Bay said softly. “You said ‘we.’ I like that.”

  Kym was silent. “God, Bay …” She felt her throat get tight and took a couple of deep breaths. There was a quiet knock on her door and she looked up, her heart beginning to beat very fast. She knew that knock. “Bay …I have to go.”

  “Okay …can I call you again?”

  Kym hesitated. “Yes. Or I’ll call you. I have to go.”

  ”Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  Kym went to the door and opened it. Roman, in jeans and a t-shirt, stood outside. Kym leaned against her door frame. “Hi.”

  “Kym.”

  An awkward silence, then, “Do you want to come in?”

  “Please.”

  She closed the door behind him and went into the kitchen. “Too early for beer. Can I get you some soda or water or something?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Kym poured two long glasses, grabbing some ice and lemon from the refrigerator. “Let’s go sit on the balcony.” As she passed him, she smelled soap and fresh laundry and a faint trace of cologne. The scent was maddeningly arousing. As they sat, he reached out and touched her arm. Her skin burned where his fingers brushed it.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Just got some stuff going on.”

  “You don’t
have to apologize to me or explain yourself.” Kym laid her head back against the wall of her building. The balcony was small, with only room for a tiny table and two chairs, but she loved it.

  Roman drained half his water. “Kym, I …”

  “We fucked, Roman. That’s all. We’re both adults and we don’t need to make this any more complicated than what it was.”

  Roman inclined his head. “Fair enough.”

  Kym kept her face blank, but her stomach dropped. Damn it, don’t be laid back. Fight for me—I deserve it! But she said nothing.

  “Kym …I’m not an effusive man. Never have been, never will be. Saying that, I don’t want you to think that I …how can I say this …I enjoyed myself a great deal and I hope you did too.”

  That made feel a little better. “I did.”

  “Good.”

  Another silence followed, but Kym relaxed a little. “Roman …I have no idea where my life is going or where I’ll be in a month, two months, or a year. But I do know this …I want to live in the moment. So, whatever your deal is, whether you’re with someone and cheating or you just can’ do long term—that’s really okay with me. I’m not about to take responsibility for you.”

  “I’m not with someone,” Roman said suddenly. “Not in that way. There is someone I care for, but it’s very, very complicated.”

  Kym looked at him, curiosity getting the better of her. “Want to share?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. If it ever got out, there would be consequences I really could not deal with.”

  Kym bit back the questions forming in her mind and just studied him. His features were less angled than his brother Otis’ were; even in his mid-forties, Roman Ford’s face still held on to the vestiges of puppy face. She couldn’t help loving his eyes; they were so dark, so bottomless, and hid so much of his emotions. She tore her gaze away. “That’s your prerogative. Not my business.”

  She stretched her body, then grinned to herself. “It’s so hot.” She stood and walked back into the living room, knowing he was watching her. She stopped and turned to look over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to get in the shower …”

  Without waiting for his reply, she walked into her bathroom and stripped off, stepping under the cool spray. She shampooed her hair and was rinsing off when she felt the door being opened. She smiled to herself as Roman’s hands slid around her soapy body to cup her breasts. She could feel his cock stiffening, rigid against the small of her back. Roman pressed his lips down onto her shoulder and she leaned back into his body. His hands gently molded and massaged her breasts and his thumbs brushing over her nipples, making them pucker and harden.