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

by Nikki Chase

  Whatever the future brings, I’m ready.

  After the Happily Ever After . . .

  A Short Story

  Megan

  I hate my job.

  And it’s not just because of the regular problems like low pay (although they pay me peanuts), over-packed schedule (although I feel like I work from the time I wake up and don’t stop until I go to bed), or demanding boss (although my editor expects perfection from underpaid writers).

  Ugh. I hate my job even more now.

  It’s a huge improvement over what I used to do, though, so maybe I’m just whining.

  At the beginning of my writing career, I used to work at this magazine that wanted me to dig up dirt on Ethan and that was how we met. Of course, then I learned what an amazing person Ethan was, and I fell for him. Obviously, I didn’t want to write an exposé about him anymore.

  But the magazine still ended up publishing an article about our relationship using the information I’d already sent them—without my permission.

  I know, I know. It’s hypocritical to criticize them for doing something I once would’ve gladly done to get ahead in my career.

  But I had reasons to hate Ethan at the time, however misguided. I was carrying out a personal vendetta against someone I thought was a monster. I wanted to stop him from hurting anyone else.

  Joke’s on me because I fell in love with him instead. And now, after four years of our “fake marriage,” we’re still going strong.

  On the other hand, the career I used to care about so much . . . I don’t like it as much anymore, even though I write serious articles for a serious publication now. As wise people say, the only constant in life is change.

  And that’s why I’m wondering if it’s time for another change. A big one. The kind that would turn our lives upside down.

  “We still have time, right?” Ethan asks as he pops his head through the doorway.

  Sitting at the vanity table, I twist to look at Ethan.

  Time for the kind of change I’m thinking about? Yeah, I guess we have plenty.

  I’m about to open my mouth when I realize there’s no way Ethan could’ve read my mind. He’s my husband and my soulmate; he’s my best friend, and nobody knows me better than he does. But he’s no mind reader.

  “For what?” I ask.

  Ethan frowns, concern flashing in his eyes. “Do you even remember what you’re getting ready for?”

  I stare at the brush and compact powder in my hands. That’s right, I’m not about to attend yet another B-rated movie premiere and interview a bunch of “stars” whose names I’ve never heard. Lately, I’ve been zoning out at random times.

  “Yeah, of course, I remember. I was just testing you,” I lie, grinning. I can’t talk to Ethan about what I’m thinking about. It’s not the kind of thing to bring up casually.

  “Liar,” Ethan says as he enters our bedroom and walks toward me.

  Does he know? My heartbeat speeds up as he approaches, even though he can’t possibly know. I haven’t told a soul.

  I glance at him in the mirror while I squeeze some glue onto a strip of false lashes. I’m afraid if I look directly at him, he’ll know what’s on my mind.

  “You’re lying.” Ethan comes up from behind me and wraps his strong, muscular arms around my shoulders. He kisses my temple. “You work too much, Megs. You haven’t been paying attention to anything else.”

  I let out a silent, surreptitious sigh. That’s a relief. He thinks I’ve been thinking about work.

  “I know,” I say, wiggling free from Ethan’s warm arms and leaning forward, closer to the mirror, so I can put on the lashes. “I’m sorry. Kerry just keeps dumping more and more work on me.”

  “It’s the weekend. You should take it easy. Otherwise, you will burn out,” he says.

  “I know.”

  I recognize the signs, and it’s already starting to happen. There are days when it’s a struggle to even get out of bed in the morning, just because I know what I must face at the office.

  At the same time, even when I can afford to take time off, my mind’s always plagued by deadlines, word counts, and interview notes. Then, I end up working anyway. Ethan always has to drag me, kicking and screaming, away from my desk in my home office if he wants me to spend time with him and Penny, although it’s not like she spends much time at home these days.

  “I love watching you like this,” Ethan says when I take another glance at him. He smiles as he takes a seat on our bed.

  “I’m just glad you’re not one of those guys who yell at their wives when they’re getting ready.” I can’t help but return his smile, despite the heavy thoughts swimming in my head. Ethan always makes me feel better when I get home from work, no matter what time it is.

  “Oh, no,” Ethan says. “I learned a long time ago that when a lady is taking her time making herself look good, the right thing to do is to let her be. Maybe watch her for a while. Doing anything else would just lead to trouble.”

  I laugh. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Okay, but firstly, this is just an example,” Ethan says. “This is not you and me. Just so we’re clear I’m not trying to covertly rush you.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  “Let’s say a man, who’s not me, tries to rush his wife, who’s not you. She’s taking a long time to get ready and he starts yelling at her.”

  “Okay,” I say as I brush some powder all over my face to set my make-up.

  “So, she gets annoyed and yells back at him. Then, they really start to tear into each other, blaming each other for being late. Maybe she starts complaining about the things he said, not for what the words themselves meant but for the way he said them.”

  “That sounds plausible.”

  “Right?” Ethan asks. “It happens all the time. Then, because of that argument, they’re late. And their argument only grows more heated.”

  “Luckily for us, I’m ready now.”

  “You’re still wearing sweatpants,” he points out.

  “Yeah. I mean I’m done with my make-up. Changing into my costume will take two minutes, max.” I get up from my chair and open the door to our walk-in wardrobe.

  “Of course.” Ethan nods and follows me. “See, it’s better to keep my mouth shut because obviously, you have a system I’m completely clueless about.”

  I laugh again as I pull out my favorite red dress and put it on. I could wear my little black dress too, but I already wear it so often, to press release events and gala dinners.

  I usually need to blend in when I attend something for work. But tonight, I dress to impress.

  There will be a ton of beautiful, important, high-profile people at this early Christmas party. But I’m used to dealing with VIPs so that’s not what’s gotten me so stoked for this party.

  No, I’m excited because I’m not going to this event as a reporter tonight. I’m going as myself—the hosts’ neighbor. This is a social call.

  “Ready?” Ethan asks, looking smart and dapper in his khakis and blue button-down shirt. He’s so tall his head almost touches the top of the doorframe he’s leaning on. And he’s so gorgeous I can’t wait to show him off.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Ethan

  Megan looks smoking hot in the red dress she bought specifically for this party.

  The color contrasts with her blue eyes, making them stand out. And with her glossy blonde hair put up, her slender neck takes center stage.

  But let’s face it, with that banging body, my wife would look good in a potato sack.

  I can’t stop staring at her long, graceful neck. I want to wrap my hand around it and nibble on her smooth skin until her breath grows ragged.

  In fact, I think that’s what I'll do.

  “Ready?” I ask as I lean against the doorframe of our walk-in wardrobe.

  Megan pulls her attention from the full-length mirror. With her big doe eyes looking straight at me, her lips form a dazzling little smile that tells me
she likes what she sees, too.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Megan says as she sashays toward me, her hips swaying tantalizingly with every step she takes.

  The corners of my lips pull up. She has no idea what dirty thoughts are running through my head.

  She probably thinks I actually want to go to the party just because she dropped names of people I know. In reality, I’ve been dreading it. Both Megan and I work so much we get little time to spend together.

  Now, on a rare day off, we have to socialize with our neighbors? In what world is that a good use of our time? I can think of a few things that would be better. Much, much better . . .

  “Who said anything about going anywhere?” I ask, grabbing Megan’s waist as she’s about to walk past me. Her dress shows off her slender midsection beautifully and my hands have been itching to peel the fabric off her body ever since she put it on.

  “Ethan, we’ve talked about this,” Megan protests. “I thought you agreed we're going to the party.”

  “Sure, we’re going to the party. But there’s something—” I put my hand on the back of her skull “—well, a few things, actually . . . that I want to do first.”

  “You'll mess up my hair,” she says, although she doesn’t resist when I pull her closer.

  “You don’t really care about your hair, kitten, and we both know it. Here, I’ll show you,” I say.

  Despite her innocent act, Megan can always be persuaded to indulge in a little adult fun. Her body’s so responsive her breathing has already grown heavier as I grab her hair in my fist.

  I know she loves it when I take control. She loves it more than some party hairstyle.

  Megan’s eyes flutter shut as I softly rub my nose against her. Her lips part, but no more protest comes out from her mouth.

  "We'll just be . . . fashionably late." I press my lips against her full, soft, deliciously red ones and hear her sigh. I feel her hot breath. Her head tilts sideways, letting me kiss her more deeply.

  After four years together, I still haven’t tired of the taste of her lips. Her readiness to give into my advances makes my cock twitch in my pants.

  I run my hand over her dress, tracing the curve of her hips. She gasps as I kiss her more and more intently until she’s pressed right against the wall. Grabbing the back of her thigh and pulling it up, I yank her close.

  Megan wraps her leg around my waist, pushing herself against my cock, urging me on.

  “Can you feel what you’re doing to me, kitten?” I ask as I press my hard-on against her.

  “Yeah,” she says, her breath hitched. She’s lost her balance and she’s leaning back against the wall.

  She knits her eyebrows in concentration as she looks up at me, although she’s obviously finding it hard to even focus her vision on me. Her beautiful baby blues have clouded over.

  I slip my hand under her dress. As I run my fingers up her thigh, she sighs in defeat, her muscles relaxing and melting under my touch.

  Funny, she’s no longer saying anything at all about the party. That means I win. And I didn't even have to raise my voice or make a single complaint. I smirk as I hook my thumb into the waist of her lace panties.

  “You probably don’t need this anymore, do you?” I don’t wait for her answer before I pull her panties down, letting her foot drop to the floor.

  “Ethan, this is not a good time . . .” Megan says unconvincingly.

  Her lips may be moving, but the rest of her body stays still as a statue, except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her hand rests on the top of my head as I drop my knees to the carpeted floor.

  “Any time’s a good time for me to show you exactly what you do to me, kitten.” I flip her dress up and trail kisses up her thighs.

  Megan doesn’t say another word, but her moans urge me on, and the way her tight little body trembles under my lips makes me go wild with lust.

  When I reach the top of her legs, I take her petals into my mouth and lick her from the hood of her clit to her wet opening.

  Like a starved man, I take my fill of the sweet nectar dripping out of her. I can never get enough of this woman.

  “Ethan . . .” she sighs. She strokes my hair and lets her delicate fingers get tangled in it.

  My cock strains against the fabric of my dress pants. I smirk at the thought of us arriving at the party after this. We’re both going to show up with bed heads, and I couldn’t care less.

  The bulge in my pants might a problem . . . but with Megan moaning and pushing her hips toward me, offering herself to me, how am I supposed to control myself?

  Ah, fuck it. Fuck control.

  Megan’s eyes snap open as I get up to my feet and unzip my pants. “Ethan, I really think we . . .”

  “Stop thinking, kitten,” I tell her sternly.

  She bites down on her bottom lip as I push two fingers inside her. Her pussy stretches to accommodate me, molding itself to the shape of my fingers. I groan as I think about her muscles gripping my cock just as tightly.

  “Good.” I give her an approving smile as I wrap my free hand around her neck.

  Megan tilts her head up, letting me tighten my hold. Her eyes fog up with unbridled desire. She’s lost this battle, and she knows it.

  “You’re wet, kitten. You can say what you want, but we both know you want this, too.” I pull my fingers out of her pussy and take her hand, wrapping it around my rock-hard cock. “See how hard you make me?”

  Megan nods. Her delicate fingers tighten around me, and I twitch under her touch.

  She must’ve noticed it. Her lips widen into a small, secret smile. She tries to hide it by stabbing her bottom lip with her teeth, but it’s too late; I’ve seen it.

  My dirty little minx.

  Heat spreads across my chest as my breathing grows heavy. Megan grabs my shaft firmly—she knows that’s just the way I like it—and slowly shuttles her hand up and down my length, stoking the flames of my arousal.

  “That’s enough of the teasing, kitten. It’s time for something more.” My voice comes out low and hoarse as I grab the crook of her knee and pull her flush against me.

  She gasps, but she doesn’t resist. Instead, she opens herself up, spreading her legs for me. Her hand jacks me off harder and faster, showing me what she wants, even if she doesn’t admit it with her words. But I want to hear it.

  “Tell me what you want,” I order.

  “I want . . . I want you to fuck me,” she says, pleading with her big blue eyes.

  I can’t help but smile. I love it when she’s so turned on she forgets her reservations, her schedules, her parties, her whatevers . . . I love it when I have her sole, undivided focus, just like this.

  “Guide me in, then,” I say.

  As Megan wraps her leg around my waist and pushes her hips forward, her face flushes red with desire. Her lips are parted, her eyes are half-lidded, and her pussy . . . Fuck, her pussy is wet and so ready for me.

  I push inside her and tell her, “Look at me when I fuck you.”

  Megan opens her eyes, but they’re cloudy and unfocused. She lets out a moan and wraps her arms around me as I bury my whole length inside her.

  I fuck her slowly, pulling myself all the way out of her before I thrust back into her wet, warm pussy.

  The stiletto heel of her pump presses against my ass. She’s trying to pull me deeper, begging me to fuck her harder.

  I know she’s desperate for release. But she’ll have to wait.

  Abruptly, I pull myself out of her and zip my pants back up.

  Megan, still leaning back against the wall, stares at me with eyes big as saucers. “What . . . Why . . .”

  I suppress the urge to smile. I love getting her all worked up like this. And I love it even more when I can keep her on the edge.

  “You wanted to go to the party, right?” I casually check my watch. “We'll be late if we don’t get moving soon.”

  Megan

  “I . . . We can make it quick . . .” I try to bar
gain.

  “It’s almost seven. Didn’t you want to arrive early?” Ethan asks with an annoyingly innocent facial expression.

  I want to push Ethan onto the bed and make him fuck me until we’re done. I get the feeling he won’t object to that.

  But he’s right. We’re almost late. And I don't actually want to be "fashionably late."

  That’s something he must’ve known, which means he must’ve planned to leave me hanging. Maybe it wasn’t from the get-go . . .

  But from the time he entered me, he probably intended to stop before I reach my peak. This wouldn’t be the first time he's done that.

  I can’t deny that it works. I’m dripping wet now, and I’d do almost anything to get my release. Anything. I’d even miss the party.

  And in a strange way, I’m glad he’s not making me skip it. I'm glad for this little interruption.

  It used to be that we were a self-sufficient little unit—Ethan, me, and Penny. But now that Penny’s sixteen, she’s got her own life that doesn’t concern us at all.

  Instead of spending our Saturday nights watching a movie together and our Sunday mornings going to McDonalds’ for breakfast, these days, we’re apart for most of the weekend.

  Penny’s out with her friends while Ethan and I continue our little traditions without her.

  Maybe we should find some other things to do. Some better things to do. After all, we didn’t get much time to be alone, just the two of us, when Penny was younger and was home all the time.

  But I can’t think of anything more fun than spending time together as a family.

  Don’t get me wrong; I love Ethan and Penny. We work so well as a family that my mom decided to leave her long-term jerk of a partner after watching us and realizing what healthy relationships should look like.

  But maybe it’s time for a change.

  That’s why I’ve been looking forward to this party. We’ll get to meet other people our own age and maybe make new friends.