Billionaires and Bad Boys: The Complete 7-Book Box Set

by Nikki Chase

I continue to tease her everywhere except where she wants me. If she wants to come, it’s going to happen with my cock inside her. I want to feel her muscles gripping me hard and pulsing around me.

  I get up and lightly slap her pussy, making a wet smacking sound as she cries out with surprise. But she doesn’t protest. Instead, her pussy muscles start to tense and loosen rhythmically. She loves that pain as much as I love inflicting it on her.

  “Face down,” I say as I push down on her back until her cheek is right on top of the leather seat. My fingers play with her pussy, caressing it while the pain is still fresh and stinging.

  Ali’s completely vulnerable in this position. She can’t move much with her legs underneath her. If she so much as tries to get up, I can stop her with just one hand on her back. I can do what I want with her pussy and her ass.

  It takes a lot of trust for her to get into this position and stay in this position. She’s facing the side, and she can’t see me even if she tries. She’s letting me do whatever I want to her, and that knowledge makes my cock pulse with lust.

  This is it. I can’t hold myself back anymore.

  I press the head of my cock against her opening. I watch with amusement as she grabs the leather of the couch, preparing herself for what she knows is coming. Her heavy breaths stop.

  I push myself inside her, inch by inch, my cock disappearing into her. It’s wet and warm inside. It’s a fucking tight fit.

  I grab her hips with both hands as I slide deeper and deeper, pulling her back against me, mounting her like we’re animals. When I bottom out, I stay still for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being completely enveloped by her pussy.

  “You feel so good inside me,” Ali says, her breathing heavy and irregular.

  “I’m going to make you feel so good nobody else will ever satisfy you,” I say as I thrust in and out of her as slowly as I can, enjoying the way her pussy is gripping onto my cock and the way she pushes her ass back whenever I pull out of her.

  I lower myself over her back and grab a fistful of her hair. I push her down until she’s lying almost flat on the couch, with her ass in the air. I bite the back of her neck as I fuck her harder and harder, my hands on her head, my whole body covering her, overpowering her.

  We may have started out with the intention to make love, but this is fucking. Primal and animalistic. Her moans and my grunts fill my apartment as we rut, my cock claiming her again and again. I fuck her furiously, as if I can erase the years of pain she’s endured with my body and replace it with pure carnal pleasure.

  As the pressure builds up, I get on my knees and pull Ali back by her hips against me, driving myself into her as hard and fast as I can. Her moans turn into screams.

  Then, suddenly, she’s quiet. I can only tell she’s coming because her body is shaking uncontrollably, and her pussy is grabbing onto my cock. Her face grows red and finally she opens her mouth to let out a big exhalation.

  Her body continues to shake and convulse for me, my hard thrusts prolonging her climax. My balls are boiling. I’m so close.

  She’s no longer screaming or moaning now; she’s just holding on as the waves of her orgasm overtake her. Her muscles are squeezing me so hard they’re pushing me out. I pull her back, drive my cock deeper inside her, and hold it there for a few seconds, enjoying the vibrations of her climax.

  Finally, with one last hard slam, I empty myself deep inside her. I grab her hips so tight my knuckles are turning white.

  I collapse on top of Ali’s prostrate body. With my cock still hard and buried inside her pussy, I stroke her hair and whisper, “You’re mine.”

  Ali

  “Seth, I have big news for you. Guess what? I’m married!” I giggle and end the call.

  Seth will be so curious it’ll annoy him when he listens to the voicemail. But it’s his own fault for not picking up my phone call.

  It’s been a while since I talked to Seth, and I just want to tell someone that things are better than they have ever been.

  When I was a little girl, my mom told me never to say something like that, because I’d be reminding fate that I’m due for some hardship in my life. It invites bad luck, she said.

  But then as I was growing up, I never said those words at all, and I still ended up being some criminal’s captive.

  Besides, things have been perfect for a couple of weeks now, and I’m feeling more and more secure in my happiness. Literally everything in my life is falling into place.

  Zeke and I are closer and happier than we’ve ever been.

  It really feels like the apartment is my home, now that I have my dresses hanging in the wardrobe, my favorite shampoo in the shower, and my toothbrush on the vanity.

  Even though Zeke keeps the apartment clean, thanks to people he hires, nothing about the way he stores things makes sense. That's why I’ve been doing some organizing, so now it's easier to find stuff without having to rifle through hundreds of other things.

  We’ve been going to business dinners together, and I think I make a good impression on his clients and their partners.

  In fact, I just got an invite to go on a spa day with Daisy, the young wife of Caine Foster, whose family owns the resort where Zeke and I got married. And right now I’m actually coming home from having lunch with Danny, the partner of Zeke's main business supplier.

  I grew up watching my mom move in similar circles of high-society figures, and I feel right at home in my new environment. I was born to do this.

  That said, I still don't know if there's any particular business client I should charm. So I’ve just been on my best behavior, which is probably the best route to go anyway.

  I’ve even been looking at college brochures. I’m thinking of going back to law school. It's been a while since I was a student, but I think this is a great time to get back into it.

  Of course I’ll take a semester’s break when the baby comes. But after that, I should be able to start taking classes. Maybe I can hire a nanny, or maybe Zeke will turn out to be an involved dad. One can dream.

  A smile spreads across my cheeks as I think about the future.

  Zeke, me, and a baby. Just the three of us, living as a family. We’ll probably have to child-proof the apartment because it's so full of sharp edges and open sockets. But other than that, I’m ready to be a mom, especially with Zeke by my side.

  Thinking back, I don't know how I ever thought I’d give birth to a baby and raise the child on my own. Now that I've started reading up on parenting, I realize how much work is required. I feel like there's a lot to do right now, when I have Zeke. If I were to do it in my own, it would be overwhelming.

  I fish my keys out of my bag, grinning when my fingers graze a carton package that I can’t wait to tear open. Impatiently, I turn the key and push on the door.

  It’s quiet inside. The only sounds I hear are the sharp staccatos of my high heels on the marble floor and the regular ticking of the clock.

  It's mid-afternoon, which means that Zeke is probably still at work.

  I wonder how long it would take for me to get pregnant.

  I mean, Zeke and I have been busy. We've done it in every single room and corner in this big apartment. We’ve been doing it multiple times a day, too.

  I hear a honeymoon period like this won't last, but I hope it does. I’ve never been this satisfied in my life—emotionally, mentally, socially, and of course, sexually.

  I grab the package in my bag and throw the bag onto the leather couch—one of our favorite spots, for just hanging out and…other things.

  I should probably wait until Zeke comes home, but I’m too excited.

  Reading the instructions on the back of the package, I enter the downstairs bathroom. I’ve drunk a lot of water so I could do this as soon as I got home.

  I open both the carton and the plastic packaging, then pull out a white, hard-plastic stick with a cap at the end. I pull on the cap, and it comes off easily.

  Okay. So, the rest of this shou
ld be just as easy, right? All I have to do is pee onto the end of the stick. And then I’ll know.

  But… Oh god… That means I’ll have to hold a stick that has pee at the end of it, probably warm and dripping.

  Toughen up, I tell myself. If I’m gonna be a mom, I can’t let a little pee scare me.

  It takes longer than I thought it would to arrange myself on the toilet seat and direct the, uh, stream to the end of the stick.

  Then, faintly, I hear footsteps outside.

  It’s probably just one of the cleaners—I can never remember their names because the cleaning company sends a different person every time.

  But I wonder if it’s Zeke. Something about those footsteps sounds familiar.

  How cool would it be if I find out I’m pregnant, and he happens to be here by pure coincidence? Wouldn’t that make for a cute story?

  “Zeke?” I call out, pricking my ears up to pick up any sounds from outside the door.

  The footsteps get closer, but there’s still no voice. Yes, this is probably Zeke. A cleaner would’ve identified herself by now. And besides, those steps sound too heavy to be anyone else’s.

  “Zeke?” I repeat.

  “Ali?” Zeke’s voice filters through the door. He’s really home!

  “Zeke? I’m here,” I shout. “In the bathroom!”

  I giggle to myself, realizing how silly this is. Here we are, in our own home, trying to find each other.

  This apartment might be too big for us. I wonder how difficult it would be to find our child as he or she grows up here—there are tons of little nooks and crannies for a kid to hide in.

  “Ali!” Zeke knocks on the door—no, more like pounds on the door.

  Weirdo. Does he really need to make that much noise? He may be a billionaire, a successful businessman, and a sex god in bed, but he can also be such a big clumsy oaf sometimes.

  “Yeah! I’m here!” I yell out. I’m done with the peeing part and I’m pretty proud of myself for not making a mess. I wipe myself and flush.

  “Ali! Are you there?” Zeke continues to beat the poor door like it owes him money.

  I roll my eyes. I’m glad we have more than one bathroom in this apartment. If I have to go through this treatment every single morning as we get ready for the day, we’d be headed to divorce-town in no time.

  “Hold on!” I replace the cap on the test stick and wash my hands. Opening the door, I hold up the stick to let Zeke see. With a big, excited grin, I say, “Guess what I was doing.”

  “Ali, did you move the papers that were in the top dresser drawer in the bedroom?” Zeke asks, completely ignoring my guessing game.

  “Yeah, documents don’t belong in dressers.” Holding the test stick up, I say, “More importantly, in less than two minutes I should get the test result.”

  “Where are the papers right now?” Zeke asks insistently as he grabs both my arms.

  “Zeke, have you been listening to me? I just did a pregnancy test and I’m about to find out the result.”

  “Yeah, well, Joanne needs those papers right now, and the result won’t matter if she doesn’t get them in time. Now, where are those papers?”

  “In the drawer of the desk in your home office,” I hear myself answer, as if in a daze. Zeke lets go of me and I watch his back as he sprints toward the home office. I ask, “Wait, did you say the result of the pregnancy test won’t matter? What does that have to do with Joanne?” I pause, considering the urgency with which Zeke is acting. I ask, “Is she okay?”

  “I hope so,” Zeke answers from the home office as I hear drawers being yanked open.

  “What does the pregnancy test result have to do with Joanne?” I ask again.

  Zeke rushes out of the office, holding a blue folder in his hand.

  “Zeke!” I yell out, tired of being ignored. “Why did you say the pregnancy test result won’t matter?”

  “Not now,” Zeke says as he shoots toward the front door.

  “No, wait,” I say as I catch up with him and grab his wrist. “Why won’t the pregnancy test result matter?”

  “Because we wouldn’t be having this baby if it weren’t for Joanne. Okay?” Zeke removes my hand and opens the door. Before he disappears, he says, “We’ll talk later.”

  And then, without further explanation, he’s gone, leaving me alone in this big, cavernous apartment.

  Ali

  Sitting on the couch, I stare out the big glass window that spans the entire height of this two-story apartment.

  Zeke is right. This is the perfect place to think. It’s quiet, and it feels like I can see the entire city. There are so many different little things I can focus on.

  But he’s wrong about how effective this spot is. Right now, even this sweeping view of San Francisco is not doing the trick. My mind is no clearer than it was when I first sat down, right after Zeke walked out the door.

  How long ago was that? One minute, half an hour, two hours? I have no idea.

  But I know one thing for sure: I’ve made a big mistake.

  I’ve been too naïve. Too trusting.

  I should’ve known better than to get involved with Zeke.

  At that first meeting, he looked so put together, so grown-up, so dependable. All the things he never used to be when he was younger. And I thought he’d changed—for the better.

  But maybe he’s worse now. Maybe time has only magnified his bad bits, while equipping him with the skills he needs to hide his true colors.

  I trusted him—in some ways, at least.

  I trusted his feelings for me, and I trusted his good intentions toward me.

  So maybe he has made the wrong decisions in the past that hurt me, like when he did the slow fade on me as soon as I moved away for college.

  But we’ve talked about that, and I know now that he was needed here because he had to take care of Joanne. He didn’t know how to break the news to me because I’d never even heard of her.

  Granted, he could’ve done more to help me understand what was going on. But even when I was crying in my dorm room in Yale, I’d always thought he was just clueless and oblivious—not malicious.

  But maybe I’ve been wrong all along. Maybe my feelings for him have clouded my judgment. Maybe, like so many other people, I’m stupid when I’m in love. Blind.

  But I see now just how stupid I’ve been.

  When Zeke asked me to marry him, I thought I was doing it for the money.

  But who am I kidding? I could’ve gotten all the money I needed from Seth.

  Seth would’ve happily paid for my education, if I ever told him I wanted to go back to law school. He has the money and he doesn’t skimp when it comes to spending on people he cares about, especially if it’s for something as important as education.

  But I went behind Seth’s back and ran into Zeke’s arms instead. Seth is like my brother—even though we don’t tell each other everything, he’s usually aware of the big decisions that I make, and vice versa.

  It’s not that I feel guilty about hiding this from Seth. I don’t owe him any explanation. Our relationship has never been like that. We’ve always respected each other’s boundaries.

  It’s more like… The fact that I went through all that trouble to hide the wedding from Seth and everyone I know… That should’ve been a big, flashing sign, telling me that I was making a big mistake.

  I shouldn’t feel the need to hide my good decisions from the people who care about me.

  I thought Zeke cared about me.

  A part of me was even hoping that the whole marriage-and-baby thing was just Zeke’s excuse to get us back together. I mean, why would his business clients care if he has a baby?

  It feels like I’ve been sitting here forever. I keep coming back to the same thoughts, again and again, unable to figure out why I’m really here. What does any of this have to do with Joanne?

  I can see the sky slowly getting darker outside. Instead of the light blue I saw when I first took my seat, it’s now dif
ferent shades of pink and orange. It’s pretty.

  Life could be worse, I guess. I could be lamenting my life in a grey, barren, cell-like room like I used to, instead of in a luxury apartment.

  I have options now. I can make choices. I’m no longer Walter’s captive, and I don’t have to be a captive of my own feelings for Zeke.

  When he told me he loved me, after my tearful confession, I thought we were doing this for real. I thought this was no longer about the agreement. I thought we were doing this for us—not for the money, or whatever it is that Zeke wants from this fake marriage.

  But I’ve been stupid. I never asked him to say all those things explicitly. I just assumed.

  So to be fair to Zeke, I’m the one who wants to change our original agreement. I should’ve been the one to start the discussion, instead of expecting him to just know what I wanted.

  And maybe he does have real feelings for me. But is he ever going to do anything about it? He loved me back then too, when we were a lot younger, but it wasn’t enough for him to make a decision, to commit himself to me. So why do I think he’s going to act any differently now?

  He let our young relationship fall apart because of Joanne back then. And now he’s started things up again because of her too, although I don’t know any of the specifics.

  I’m trying really hard not to hold this against Joanne.

  I still remember how Zeke warned me not to tell her anything about our arrangement, when I was about to visit her at the hospital for the first time. If Joanne is the one Zeke’s trying to fool, then she probably has no idea what’s going on between Zeke and me.

  Still, it hurts that he’d put someone else so clearly above me on his list of priorities. And I can’t help but feel at least a little resentful, even though I know the fault clearly lies with Zeke. He’s the one running around trying to fool everyone.

  Has Zeke been fooling me, though?

  He was straight with me about this being a temporary arrangement—no feelings involved. And yet I assumed he wasn’t telling the truth and believed what I wanted to believe. I only heard what I wanted to hear.