Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

  “Guess someone’s hungry,” chuckled the Pretty Boy.

  I looked up at him with a mouth full of pasta. “What? I love food! Don’t hate me for it.”

  Lovello chuckled harder at the way the words muffled around the food in my mouth.

  Chewing and swallowing everything before I spoke next, I asked, “Do you have any idea how many calories I burn per day with all those workout classes?”

  “No idea.” He shook his head, still smiling.

  “Three times as much as I eat. So this is nothing, it will all be gone with my next class.”

  “I believe you, beauts. Because that body of yours…” he trailed off, eying my bare legs.

  “Let’s not talk about my body, please.”

  Lovello shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

  “You’re really asking me that question when I just made it clear to you that I desire to know nothing about you and prefer it if we not talk?”

  He laughed, taking a drink of his lemonade. “Believe it or not, I’ve never done this before. So…”

  “Never done what?”

  “Take a girl out with the aim of trying to get to know her.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “Okay, instead of taking them straight to my pad like most bachelors do, I ask them out to dinner because that kinda put them in the mood I want them to be in — and it’s also a deterrent against talk that I treated them like ‘a piece of meat’. Usually, once we order, I always find an excuse to leave the table and I don’t return until I know she’s finished eating. So, yes, I try to get to know them, but only in a Biblical sense. I feed them some fancy and expensive meat before they feed me theirs.”

  He’d said earlier that he had never seen me laugh: if only he knew the incalculable times I had to fight my laughs from manifesting. The man was something else. “So what do you do in all that time you’re away from the table?”

  He shrugged. “Head to whatever restaurant or lounge is next door and find some other girl to mess around with. You know, the girl I meet next door will be tomorrow night’s date.”

  “And when you’re back at the table the girl doesn’t ask where you’ve been for the entire dinner or even sulk? You leaving doesn’t affect you getting to know her?”

  “I’m a businessman. I was out on an emergency business call or taking a smoke.”

  “You smoke?”

  “No.”

  Another laugh stifled. “Seriously, are you that bored with life? To do shit like that?”

  “Not life. The women. I’m bored with them. They’re all the same. That’s why I ‘do shit like that’,” he deadpanned.

  Knowing that I couldn’t whip him on the back as much as I wanted to, leaving behind fiery red welts, I shook my head. “Change of subject, please.”

  He nodded, but only continued to eat and said nothing further.

  As much as I claimed I preferred the silence, I seriously couldn’t bear it when he was quiet. “So, you said yesterday was your birthday?”

  “I thought you said you had no interest in knowing anything about me.”

  “I know what I said,” I snapped. “But the silence is more overwhelming than your annoying voice.”

  Pretty Boy Nelson chewed the last of his sandwich, wiped his mouth then sat back and grinned at me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  “Fine, ass, you don’t have to answer the damn question.” I was vastly irritated.

  “Yes. Yesterday was my birthday. August 10th,” he softly answered.

  “So now you’re two years less than thirty?”

  “Yes. You?”

  As if he didn’t already know. “Five years less.”

  “When is your birthday?”

  “February 30th.”

  Lovello threw his hands up. “I swear to God, Axia…”

  “What, never had to labor for a lay before?”

  “No. Never. And you’re not a lay.”

  “Ha! You didn’t have to tell me that, Pretty Boy. I thought I made myself clear earlier. There’s nothing you could ever do to get between my legs.”

  Lovello stared at me with serious eyes, not a trace of a smile or flirt. To match his stare, I shifted in the seat to face him. I couldn’t decipher his mood, whether he was irritated or contemplative, so I held his stare, trying to guage him. He slid closer to me, eating up the space between us while I pretended not to be intimidated. But then he leaned into me, forcing me to lean back. When he saw that, he continued leaning in while I continued reclining, fearing he might try to kiss me. He was close enough to let his nose brush against mine, and thrills surged through my body at the contact.

  Looking up into the darkened gray of his eyes, I somehow forgot the mechanics of breathing and, unconsciously, brought my right leg up to the couch. My body was sizzling from head to sole, and I knew at that moment that, if he kissed me, it would be my undoing. I wouldn’t have the strength to fight back. The man simply knew how to weaken me, not that I showed it. As long as he didn’t kiss me, I’d do just fine. He didn’t stop leaning in until I was laying supine on the seat and his hands were palm-flat on either side of my head. Dear God … Why wasn’t I fighting or pushing him way? Had I forgotten completely how to control myself?

  Lovello brought his tempting peach-colored lips mere inches away from mine and I knew, I knew he would kiss me …

  Or not.

  Instead of blessing me with a kiss from those sexy lips, he brought them to my ear and whispered, “I hope you remember those words when I have you in my bed screaming and thrashing about. When I have you impaled … toes curling, back arching, hard thrusting, mewls and pleas for more … more … more of me. My mission, Axia, is to tame you. I’m going to teach you how to submit. How to smile. How to live.” He gently bit my earlobe and I struggled to remain stoic and not whimper. “I will get through to you. I will get you in my bed. I will get between your legs.”

  Pretty Boy Nelson tilted his head and looked down at our position. I was on my back, one leg bent up in the seat and the other hung to the floor. And, yes, Lovello was right there between them. “Er, scratch the latter. I’m already between your legs.”

  Unable to maintain my stoic stance any longer, I wordlessly pushed at his chest but that only made him chuckle. “Calm down, Cruella.”

  He pressed a swift kiss to my cheek and abruptly stood up and grabbed my wrist before I could do or say anything. “I know your first inclination will be to hit me or tell me something nasty and then bolt. See? I’m getting to know you. I won’t keep you any longer because I know at this very moment you hate my guts. Let me take you back to work. We don’t have to talk.”

  Silently angered that he was starting to calculate me too well, I did the smartest thing and kept quiet. That way, he’d never know if he was right or wrong and would only be more confused.

  As he held my hand and led me off the balcony, glancing at me charily every two seconds, obviously not knowing what to make of my reaction, I warred with myself, wondering where my control was when I needed it. How could I have let him weaken me so easily? I was less mad at the fact that he’d played me so well into that position, and more mad at the fact that I’d wanted so desperately for his lips to touch mine.

  Mierda …

  IV

  Timo glared up at me through his small dark eyes, his fluffy brown and black fur vibrating in anticipation. The dog food rained down in his bowl, and his head was in the bowl before I even had time to remove the food bag. Gazing down at my beloved Yorkshire terrier, I became saddened that I had to do without him throughout the day. I used to take him to the gym with me, but that had turned out to a messy idea, because half the time I didn’t know where he’d run off to. So I started leaving him at home.

  Timo possessed enough obedience to stay at home without destroying the house, plus he had his own little lair where he could run wild and do as he plea
sed. Sometimes I left him with Ally, my next door neighbor’s teenage daughter. She loved Timo as if he were her own and often took him on the weekends. He didn’t bark a lot and was always happy to see me when I came home, giddy as hell. I was sure to leave at least three full bowls of food and water before I left in the mornings, but by the time I’d get home, everything would be devoured and he’d be clawing at my leg vibrating for more. Sometimes I just looked at his tiny little frame and wondered where it all went.

  The doorbell rang, disrupting my special dog hour with Timo. The clock on the opposite wall told me it was a few minutes after eight, and I couldn’t imagine who’d be visiting me without even calling first. Tired, frustrated from an undermining day of Lovello, and wretchedly hungry, I really couldn’t afford a guest right now. I trudged to the door anyway and wrenched it open, revealing the crouched figure of my college boyfriend, Zane Zekiel. Dressed in all-black with a red leash around his neck, Zane was on his knees at my doorway, head bowed, waiting patiently for me to take up the leash and tug him in.

  Resting my head against the side of the door, I sighed. “Zane, I’ve told you, I don’t do this anymore. Why would you tempt me like this?”

  He kept his head down. “Please, Axia. I need it. I’ve been bad.”

  “But I’m not your Domme. I haven’t been for years.” Though he did come to me occasionally, whenever he missed me, and I him. “Where’s Tatiana?”

  “Like you, she’s retired.”

  Oh great, I sighed again, this is just what I don’t need. “Zane, get up. I can’t talk to you when you’re like that. It’s too … tempting.”

  “Pull me in, my heart. Please.”

  “You didn’t obey, Zane.”

  He chuckled slightly but he still didn’t look up at me. “You know it wasn’t a command, so don’t say that. Please, pull me in.”

  Out of frustration, I grabbed the leash and pulled him in, slamming the door behind us.

  “Zane, stop. Stand up and talk to me. You know I can’t do this.”

  He obeyed this time, rising to his feet and giving me a reminder that he was a whole foot taller than me. With chocolate-dark skin and gold-flecked hazel-brown eyes, hazels that were so captivating it was hard to look away from them, Zane had wide shoulders and a build that was fat-free. No joke. He was a man of muscles. Not bulky, hulk-like muscles, but muscles that were befitting to his proportion, taut and hard. Tall, dark, damned good-looking and muscled.

  Now a professional basketball player, Zane Zekiel used to be the most popular guy back in school, and I was the pretty half-Hispanic girl by his side. He was the first man for me, the man who changed me into me. When I’d first met him he was, outwardly, the guy who had the whole leadership, tough-guy thing going for him. Captain of the basketball team, head of the popular clique on campus, parents that were moneyed, and basically everyone wanted to be his friend.

  After dating for five months, he felt he could invest his trust into me and reveal what he was really like. Zane was a guy who liked to be punished, whipped, battered. He gained some sick pleasure from pain. Zane wanted to be ruled, and he wanted me to rule him. At that time, I was young, never heard of this kind of depraved thing before, and was scared out of my wits because I couldn’t understand it.

  But he’d coaxed me, told me he would train me and there was nothing to fear, that I would fall in love with it when I saw the power it gave me. He’d told me he knew I had it in me because he’d watched me for months and saw how dictatorial and unbendable I was, that he knew he’d found the right girl, finally.

  Because I’d loved him to pieces with every grain of dust that made up my body, and would’ve done anything he wanted me to, I’d succumbed. I hadn’t fallen in love with his sick world, though. I merely did it for him. Because he wanted it, and I wanted him.

  Two years later, Zane broke up with me for an older woman, Tatiana, who he claimed was “more experienced and severe” in that area. That had served to make me grow vile and cold, and addicted to punishing. He was the center of my world, I’d loved him beyond measure and he’d broken my heart. Still, he refused to stay out of my life. He didn’t want to be with me, but he didn’t want to be without me.

  None of my subsequent Subs stayed with me for more than three months, leaving with complaints that I was ruthless and loveless, that Dommes were to show affection to their Subs. What they didn’t seem to realize was that I wasn’t a genuine Domme, that I didn’t care for it. I was just angry as hell and needed an outlet to release my never-dying wrath.

  On occasion, Zane would appear at my door like this and I’d always be happy to see him, ready to play. And when I was ruthlessly punitive, he’d only smile in satisfaction afterward and comment on how much better I was getting at it. The man was blind to the fact that I was just still bloody angry. No, I wasn’t a Domme. I was just an irate woman with a whip in my hand.

  “What do you want, Zane?”

  “My heart, I know you’re trying to walk away from this, but I really need you right now. I need you.”

  “Why do you want to be punished?”

  He hung his head. “I’ve been slipping up too much on the court. I’ve been benched for two whole games.” He lifted his head and pressed his palm to his chest. “Me! Zane Zekiel! It’s just total bullshit.”

  “So why do you think you’re slipping up?”

  His broad shoulders jerked in a shrug. “I dunno. Maybe it’s because Tatiana quit at it. You quit at it. And I just haven’t had a good hiding in a while. You know I can’t just trust anyone, or else I’ll face the media. It’s bothering me that I’m gonna have to go through the whole process of finding someone trustworthy again. I just don’t have the time for that right now. My days are spent training, flying or gaming. You know how it is in reg-season.”

  “You’re whining like a damn bitch. Start using non-disclosure agreements and contracts. It’s simple.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. But I need you now, Axia. Please, it’s just punishment as ususual, no sex, I promise. Don’t make me beg. I cleared a lot of important things just to fly here to see you. So you must know how much I need you.”

  “Zane, do you care about me at all?”

  “You know I do. I’ve never been out of your life. I love you and I always will.”

  “No, you don’t! You’ve messed me up as person, big time. And I’m trying to change and here you are trying to haul me back into your fucked-up lifestyle.”

  Zane smiled at me, which only made me angrier. “God, I’ve missed you yelling at me in that sexy accent.”

  “Did you hear what I just said?!”

  His smile widened. “Hmm, Miss Blacksille, I’m not sure I did. I’ve been distracted…”

  Enraged, I picked up his leash and yanked hard until he was on his knees. Glowering down at him, I snarled, “You’re in my house and you will listen when I speak!”

  He blinked and his eyes immediately went passive. “Yes, Mistress “

  Oh hell … “Zane, we’re not playing!”

  He frowned. “We’re not?”

  Beyond frustrated, I was instantly reminded of a certain irritating plague. Just then I realized that I’d fallen for another one of Zane’s tricks. He knew what he was doing. He knew that the only way to get his way tonight was to get me irate. And I’ve stepped right into it. Now it was too late to step out, because I was doubly enraged by the memories of today’s events when I was completely undermined by a certain pretty boy. I remember how I’d wanted to whip his ass when he’d spoken ill about women.

  Zane saw and knew I’d bought into his trick, because he visibly relaxed, patiently awaiting orders.

  “I’ve been cleaning out The Room. So there’s not many implements left. We’ll have to improvise.” The leash fell from my hands. “Get inside and assume in center.”

  Zane started crawling on all fours towards The Room. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I lashed in that voice I reserved for playtime.
/>   “Sorry. I mean: Yes, Mistress”

  Mollified, I hopped over a balled-up and snoring Timo and headed to my bedroom. I stripped bare then got dressed in a black leather corset, tiny leather shorts and leather thigh-highs. I coiled my ponytail in a tight bun, then retrieved my favorite whip hidden in my closet.

  When I entered The Room, Zane had stripped down to his boxers, his red leash still around his neck. He was kneeling, head bowed, in the middle of the room, his taut dark-chocolate skin looking amazing under the dim glow of red light, with his massive angel wings tattoo spreaded across his back.

  The tile floors echoed the soft click of my heels as I slowly walked towards him, poised and ready to inflict pain. I circled his huge, masculine figure and cracked my whip. Damn, I’ve missed that sound.

  “So, Zane Zekiel,” I began in my smooth and seductive playtime voice. “I hear you’ve been a bad boy…”

  A week later, I was ruffling about in my bedroom packing a suitcase to make it in time to the airport for my flight to L.A. I’d scarcely agreed to doing the cover shoot with Prime Size magazine when they rallied back with an immediate date. I hadn’t been a bitch about it, however. In fact, I’ve been perfectly relaxed and content since, one: giving Zane an amazing hiding. And two: Pretty Plague Nelson kept his word and ended his pursuit.

  The annoyance, disruption and distraction were gone and I was back to my usual self again: in control and focused. It would be raw dishonesty and sinful prevarication if I said I hadn’t thought about him, though. In my thoughts, he’d been there. In my dreams, there he was. In my fantasies, oh sweet leather whips, he was there! Naked, tethered, and red as a rose from my lashings.

  But those were the only places he was allowed to be. Being in my life for real was not an option. He held a certain power over me that no one else had ever had, and he read me too well. Around him, I had to be sharp and alert, shield perpetually in position. For he was too damn good at seducing and I was too damn bad at resisting.