Holiday Romance
Billionaire Erotica
By Ebony Young
Still Smoking
Angie was in many ways a typical twenty-something who'd hit success early. Bright, bubbly, not as hot as she would have liked, but maturing nicely. She had a degree in business that she was putting to good use, a savings account in the black, two dogs and a car she fully owned. The only part she didn't quite fit was that although she was fresh out of university, most of her friends were not. And it was starting to grate on her. A lot of her friends were starting to get married and settle. She was feeling the pull. Especially when they went on and on about the joys of married life. But, on the other hand, when she caught a glimpse into their home lives, she knew it just wasn't for her. The young kids running around and ruining her friends' lovely home décor, the sulking and fat husbands, the tedious lives they led in their neighbourhood... She didn't want to settle like that. Not yet. Maybe some day she would feel the pull to settle with a cuddly man, have his babies and let her pristine house get a bit uglier and homelier. But now? She still had so much life ahead of her! Out of university only a single year, she already had what she considered a promising career that would provide her with wealth and social credit for decades to come. She was still smoking and growing into her more mature curves. She was still approached by men on the regular. She had so much more life to live before she settled down.
Haiti
And she wasn't exactly wasting it. After a couple of years working hard at university and her waitressing job she had realized she had spent way too much time studying and working over the previous years. She had worked right out of high school to pay for university, worked hard through university as a student and a waitress and it was just too much. Was that really how she wanted to live her life? No, she wanted to party it up. She came to realize that her older friends were leading her a bit. They had had their fun years ago and were perfectly happy to calm down and focus on their work and earnings. But she was throwing away her youth by following them. She needed to make the most of her twenties. She discussed it with her closest friends and they agreed that she had become far too comfortable for her age. After realizing how much life she was throwing into it, she'd been more relaxed. She would go out to clubs, take her holidays off and go on holiday. Make the most of things.
This year's holiday was Haiti. She would get plenty of time to unwind, forget about work and have fun. She'd booked a stay in a smaller, cheaper hotel a bit of a walk from the beach and planned on making it to the beach every day and the various touristy clubs every night. It would only be a week and a half, but it sounded pretty good. She'd been once before with her friends and was looking forward to the freedoms of being there on her own.
When she first arrived it was midday and the sun was high and hot. She remembered to walk to the hotel, as she knew from last time that the local taxi drivers would always add a surcharge for “blan” people, but an extra surcharge for “blan” Americans fresh off the plane. At least if she dressed up like a European tourist and left her big bags behind her when she went out she would be charged a little less everywhere.
The hotel managers tried to convince her to upgrade her hotel room the second she arrived. Why was everything haggling when she went anywhere South of the border? She had already paid for her room and she was perfectly happy with a one bed room near the top of the building. All they really wanted to do was double the fee and she knew it. After a lot of headache, she finally persuaded them, between their rough English and her broken Creole, to take her to the room she'd paid for. She left her bag on the bed, tucked some notes into her sock and threw some coins into her pocket and set off on her adventure. She was wearing loose shorts, a strappy white top and sunglasses and she already felt too warm. The next morning would definitely be spent soaking in the water or the rock pools down the coast.
Haiti was a marvellous place to go on holiday. The atmosphere was great, the air always had a rich smell of fusion cuisine and fried goods and the sun was hot and heavy on her bare shoulders, back and chest. She knew the locals would be staring at the pale girl in clean, brand-name clothes and celebrity sunglasses, but she didn't really mind. At least she wasn't like the other tourists she saw wandering around, in Hawaiian shirts, fanny packs and piles of papers. That wasn't her style. She was a fashionably minimalist sort of a tourist.
She spent the day wandering the streets, eating random candies and alternating drinking coffee from vendors to help fight jet lag and antacids to help her digestive system adapt to the local food and water. Before she realized it, it had got quite late, the sun was on its way down and the restaurants were lighting up every bit of neon they had. She decided to go for dinner somewhere that was advertising pizza before heading back to the hotel.
Dangerous Grounds
As she walked back the way she came, looking for the pizza place, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She froze, remembering all the stories of what happened to lonely American girls in Cuba, Brazil and Haiti. She was about to cry.
“Blan, what are you doing in these parts?” The strongly accented voice had no anger, the hand didn't grip her or pull her. She turned around to face a swarthy young man with thick black hair and a bare torso, his eyebrow wrinkled with concern. “You know you shouldn't be in these parts at night, right?”
She just stared at him. She didn't really know what parts were and weren't safe for a “blan”, she just knew she wasn't in any danger now.
He shook his head. “Let's get you someplace safe. Where is your hotel?” He raised an eyebrow. His English was so perfect even though his accent was very strong. She managed to stammer the name of the hotel and he shook his head again. “How did you wander so far? These parts aren't safe for a tourist girl like you.”
Before she could protest he took her hand and guided her. At first she was nervous about it. After all, a strange man was leading her around... maybe he was as dangerous as the people he claimed to be protecting her against? But something about him made her trust him. Soon they were on a main street.
“I wanted to get dinner.” She summoned the courage to say as he continued leading her towards the area her hotel had been in.
He stopped. “There is a good pizza place here on the main road. Nice area, so you won't be bothered by any bad people.”
“Can we go there then?”
He glanced at her. “We?”
She blushed. “Well, you were taking me back to the hotel. So I should repay you for being so kind.”
He grinned. “If you insist.”
He showed her to the pizzeria. His name was Marco, she learned, and he worked as a fisherman, although he wanted to study and own his own shop in the future. He knew that some tourist girls fell into the wrong hands in that area and became quite worried when he saw her on her own. They each had a pizza and a soft drink of dubious colouration as they talked about their lives.
He accompanied her back to the hotel. They bought a bottle of vodka and she invited him upstairs for a drink.
They didn't need the alcohol, though. They were young and beautiful and had the sort of chemistry Angie had only dreamed of. After a couple of small shots they were in each other's arms and he was stripping her upper body completely bare, fondling and kissing her breasts as her fingers wove through his hair. He insisted on eating her to orgasm before having sex. The act itself wasn't as rough or as varied as she was used to and it seemed a little vanilla to her, but the passion made up for it. She fell asleep with her head on his chest.
The next morning he was still there, watching TV on low volume as she slept. She rubbed her eyes and he smiled at her.
“Good morning.”
She smiled back. “Good morning. Last night was great.”
“It was good for me too.”
She looked around, trying to find the kettle to make a coffee. Apparently such a cheap hotel didn't offer complementary coffee, but she needed a boost. “Do you want a coffee?”
&n
bsp; He looked at her as though she was a bit crazy before nodding. “Yeah, I will have a coffee.”
She quickly slipped into last night's clothes and wandered to the nearest Starbucks with her wallet. There, of all people, she saw someone she thought she would never see. She had to double take. In a Starbucks in Haiti was a man she had never met, who she had seen once or twice, but who everyone knew. The owner of their company. He was in his forties with silvering hair and a clean-shaven face. He looked like he used to be well built, but had grown a little tubby lately. She was used to seeing him in a sharp suit, but he looked fairly relaxed in khaki shorts and a pale yellow shirt. Could it actually be him?
She walked up. “Excuse me sir, you might think I'm crazy, but are you Adam Jones?”
“Yes, I am.” He grinned. “I didn't think I'd be found here, let alone by one of our secretaries. Don't tell on me, will you?”
He recognized her? She blushed. “I won't. I was just wondering what a wealthy man like you would be doing here.” It all felt so cheesy, but she couldn't help herself.
“I'm actually on my way to Hawaii in a few nights. I just wanted a break and I like stopping here, in Cuba or in Peru to ground myself.”
She nodded. “I get it.” She didn't. “Anyway, I'm shocked you recognized me.”
“You're a very pretty girl, anyone would remember a face like that.”
She blushed again. It felt strange, but right.
“How about you come with me to Hawaii? You look like the sort of girl who would like that far more than this place.”
So out of the blue? Then, it clicked. She'd heard about this before. Read about it. Wealthy business owners and heirs would sometimes find a girl who took their fancy and pay anything to spend time with her. Of course, she had to repay, but... This man's net worth was in billions. He was the sort of person who could “stop by” Haiti before going to Hawaii the same way normal people would stop by a quaint little café on their way to a book store.
“So, how about it?”
She nodded. “Sure. I'll go get my bags.”
“Good girl, I'll be here.”
The Trip
She left, trying not to look too rushed before darting back to the hotel. Her mind raced. What if he was making fun of her? What if he wouldn't be there? She just had to trust him, just had to go with it this once.
Marco was still in bed. He laughed. “Where's the coffee?”
She shook her head. “Work cropped up. I'm sorry but I have to go.”
He looked disappointed. “That's a pity. Can I have your Skype?”
She thought it over. She may never talk to him again. But, on the other hand... “Sure.” She scribbled it down on a piece of paper before finishing packing her bags.
“Come back to Haiti soon, blanc. I like you.” He grinned as he finished getting dressed and left.
What is she thinking? What can she do? What if he was lying?
But he wasn't. Adam waited for her there and invited her up to his hotel room. In front of her, he booked her Hawaii ticket and showed her it matched his. “You are coming to Hawaii. It's not a joke and I'm not leading you on.” He smiled kindly, knowing full well that he didn't need to be so generous. Once he was done, he went to run a bath. She looked around. Compared to her room, his was stunning. The best a hotel in Haiti could offer. Huge queen sized bed, silk bedding, en-suite, mini bar, coffee machine, water bottles and a view over the beaches where she could watch the fishing boats bobbing in the distance.
He returned, leaving the water running, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “The view isn't bad, is it Angela?”
“It's lovely.” She sighed.
He laughed. “There are better views. You'll see a few soon. And I'm seeing one right now.” So cheesy, yet she couldn't resist as he took her face in his hand and kissed her. She expected it to be a sloppy, smelly, stereotypical-drunk-pervert kiss, but it wasn't. He smelled of good cologne, his breath was fresh and sharp and his kiss was a combination of tender lip motions and gentle nibbles with his sharp teeth. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him back passionately. He wrapped his arm further around her waist, slipped his other hand under her buttocks and lifted her onto the bed with ease. He may be getting tubby, but he was still a strong man. She couldn't help but start getting undressed for him as he leaned over her and kissed, sucked and chewed her neck.
Soon she was naked beneath him and he was completely clothed, towering over her, the bulge in his trousers pressing against her thigh. She needed this. She needed him. And he wanted her so badly...
He unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, pressing it against her thigh as he looked her in the eye. “Do you want it?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“I want it. I want you to fuck me.”
“Beg me.” He grinned and grabbed a condom from the bedside table, opening it as he watched her and waited.
“Please, please Adam, fuck me. Please fuck me rough and hard.”
His grin grew wider as he slid the condom over his hard member and pushed her thigh down, spreading her legs. He pounded her roughly, unforgivingly, relentlessly. Suddenly she felt ashamed. She tried to look to one side, but he'd always turn her head back so she was looking him in the eye. She blushed as the eye contact turned her on even more. She wanted to come, but her body betrayed her and stayed quiet. He finished first and kissed her before getting off her.
“I'm sorry that was a bit short. Think of it as a taster.” He smiled. “Let's have a bath.”
She took the extended hand and silently allowed herself to be led into the bathroom. The bath was enormous and the water was just right. She slid into the tub as he poured a few essential oils into the water before joining her.
“How do you feel about this?” He inquired as he poured her a glass of wine.
“I'm happy.” She smiled.
He nodded sternly. “Good. You are aware of what else may happen?”
“I think so.”
“Will you do everything I tell you to?”
“Of course.” She replied.
“Excellent. You're far too pretty, far too bright to just be an office girl, a secretary. You'll have a much more exciting life with me.”
That she would. She could already imagine it. Sleeping late in a five star hotel room, getting up and eating her fill of the best foods she could imagine, swimming in pools and the ocean at fabulous destinations worldwide. And at night... Well, she would be sleeping with someone anyway. Why not make it a billionaire?
“We can just stay in this room until tomorrow morning, if you like.” He smiled. “Get dinner on room service and spend some more quality time together.”
She nodded. “Sounds good.”
They made love a further three times and he kept his promise of making sure it was better for her. A part of her couldn't shake the shame at being an out-and-out golddigger. She had always been so sure she wasn't one of those girls. But she couldn't help it. He was wealthy, powerful, not unattractive and he liked her. She had heard horror stories of wealthy men using young women only to discard them once they were done, but she felt safe for herself. She still had at least a decade where she would be hot enough for him. Perhaps in that time she would be able to convince him to treat her kindly, to leave her with a settlement or even to marry her. If not that, she could always try and save every penny she could get so that she would be retiring once he decided he didn't want her. After all, a relationship based on looks and money just couldn't last.
Although she was starting to hope it would. After all, it would be perfect.
The next morning they boarded the flight to Hawaii. They sat first class though, suddenly feeling far more conscious of her figure, she rejected the meal and simply enjoyed the roomier seating.
“I'd have thought you'd have a private jet.” She laughed.
“I do. I just wouldn't bring it to Haiti for the life of me.” He grinned.
“Are we going
back to America in it, then?”
He shrugged. “If you like.”
If she was going to be a golddigger, she may as well enjoy it. After all, neither of them was under any illusion.
“Of course, it depends how well you do.”
She was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“You'll see...”
The hotel in Hawaii was at least a thousand times as luxurious as the one in Haiti. Adam didn't give her much time to enjoy it, though, or even see the room. They left their bags with the bell boy and Adam practically dragged her out.
“If you're going to be seen on holiday with me, we need to sort you out.” He somehow managed to sound furious and look pleasant at once. “Your nails are a mess and your clothes are not exactly what I need.”
She was hurried into a spa first, where the staff greeted Adam by name. How often did he do this? How many girls had been through all this for him? She felt wary and excited at once. Her hair was cut, her nails were cleaned and painted and her feet were softened to a point where she wondered if she'd be able to walk shoeless again.
Next he took her to a dressmaker, where she was fitted for several slightly more elegant, slightly trendier, slightly shorter dresses than she was used to. Adam insisted on green for almost everything. She was starting to feel like a Barbie doll, but if he was buying her nice things and it made him happy, would it hurt?
Finally he took her to a small boutique and she was set to task finding some decent shoes and swimwear for the week.
Once she was dressed he seemed satisfied and they went for lunch. As they sat in a private booth and she picked at her salad, he placed his hand over hers.
“Now that you're properly dressed, I have someone I would like you to meet.”
Her eyes met his. “Someone?”
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