My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories)

by M. J. Bradley

  He didn’t hear her. He was staring down at his knuckles, opening and closing his hand and wincing in pain. After a while he spoke: “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes — thank you. Why did you do that?”

  “Those jerks make me sick,” he said. “They think because it’s the first week of college they can do whatever they want — well, they can’t.”

  They were silent for the rest of the trip and soon they were at Molly’s accommodation. The guy paid and she stood awkwardly outside the taxi — she didn’t want to part with him just yet. The night was cold and she didn’t want to be alone. She spoke impulsively, without thinking: “Do you want to stay for a little while?”

  He tilted his head at her and then smiled — that oddly familiar smile. It was like seeing a picture you’re sure you’ve seen before but not knowing where. “Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

  He got out of the taxi and they went up to her room. Some accommodation blocks made people sign in guests by their names, but she was in one of the lower-end ones — she hadn’t got her first choice — so she didn’t have to do that. She told herself that when they got to the room she would ask him his name, but something happened and she forget all about that.

  She was standing with her back to the window, savoring the feeling of the cold glass on skin, moonlight streaming in around her body, when the boy walked over and kissed her on the lips. He kissed her softly and slowly, and she melted in his arms — she wanted him to kiss her, she realized. She had wanted him to kiss her the entire time they’d been in the taxi.

  She moaned and grabbed the back of his head and suddenly his name didn’t matter anymore. They kissed for a long time, just standing next to that window. He didn’t push for anything else and she didn’t care about anything else — the kiss was all that mattered. After a while she slid her hand down his body and rubbed him over his trousers. He was hard and got even harder as she rubbed him. She did it clumsily — she was still drunk — but he took in a deep breath and pulled her close to him, and together they fell onto the bed.

  He pulled her on top of him and she parted her legs, putting her knees either side of his waist. She pushed her crotch down onto his and rocked back and forth, his rock-hard cock rubbing her clit through her underwear. It tingled and ached and, without thinking, she grabbed his hair back, jerked his head back, baring his neck, and bit his neck.

  He reached up and grabbed her neck and moaned out in pain. She was about to stop but then he spoke: “Harder — bite me harder. Bite me as hard as you can.”

  She sunk her teeth in deeper, not understanding why she was doing it. He moaned louder and thrust up, fast and hard, massaging her clit with his hard cock. She found his lips and they kissed, saliva and blood mixing together. She swirled her tongue around in his mouth, and he reached up and tried to undo her bra. He was clumsy — he was drunk too, she reminded herself — so she did it herself and then pulled her top over her head.

  His eyes went wide at the sight of her breasts and he reached up and grabbed them, and massaged them forcefully. His touch sizzled on her skin and crept up and down her body. She shivered and grabbed his arm and moved it faster and faster. She was wet now — she stood up and took off her underwear and skirt and then climbed back on top of him. He was still clothed but she didn’t care. She was too drunk and horny to care about anything.

  She rocked back and forth on top of him and then reached down and rubbed her pussy, sliding her fingers either side of her clit and brushing it softly. He grabbed her waist as she did this and stared at her pussy with wide, hungry eyes.

  “You want to watch me, don’t you?” she said — she didn’t know where that came from, but when she said it she didn’t care. She wanted him to watch her too.

  “Yes,” he moaned. “Oh — yes.”

  “On one condition,” she said, climbing off of him and lying on the bed.

  “Anything,” he said.

  “You have to sit on that chair over there and touch yourself.”

  He sprang to his feet and took off his trousers and underwear. His cock was hard — it wasn’t overly big, but it was big enough. He sat down on the swivel chair and stared at her intently. She trailed her fingers down her body and found her pussy — it was hot and wet and ached longingly. She slid a finger inside of herself and moaned out. She found her sweet-spot and wiggled her fingers around and her body contorted on the bed.

  “Take off your top,” she moaned.

  He pulled his top off over his head — big, well-defined muscles covered his body and she felt an almost-irresistible urge to jump up and touch them. She didn’t, though — she wanted to do this. She kept massaging her sweet-spot and used her other hand to rub her clit, and pleasure washed over her. She moaned out and did it faster and harder and slid another finger inside of herself.

  “Rub yourself,” Molly moaned. “Rub yourself for me.”

  He nodded and reached down and rubbed his cock, grabbing it hard and jerking it up and down. He moaned out and stared at her fixedly, and she arched her back and stared into his eyes. He didn’t stare back — he was too busy staring at her body — but she didn’t care. She liked watching him watch her.

  She was pumping her arm now — pounding her fingers in and out of herself. She moved them around and pushed hard on the front wall of her vagina, putting pressure on her sweet-spot — then she came. It was quick and unexpected and she bit her lip and electric-like energy pulsed through her body. She stared into the boy’s eyes and saw how wide they were and wanted more than anything in that moment to be pleasuring him.

  When the orgasm passed she got up and walked over to him and dropped to her knees. He stared down at her and licked her lips — his eyes were the only thing she could see clearly in the moonlight, but she was still certain there was something familiar about him. She grabbed his cock hard and squeezed it — there was vein that ran down one side and bulged as she did so — and then jerked it up and down. His head fell back and he moaned out. She took it in her mouth, licking around the tip and rubbing the shaft. She pushed lightly on the back of her head. She didn’t usually like that, but she was drunk now and didn’t care — she forced her head down, deep-throating him.

  She forced her head up and down the length of his cock. She grabbed his legs and forced her head down as far as she could and felt his cock hit the back of her throat. A strange thrill ran through her, and she did it again and again.

  Suddenly she found herself digging her nails into his legs and liked it — she dug them in harder and drew blood and kept digging them in. She took his cock out of her mouth and looked up at her. “Fuck my mouth,” she said. “Fuck my mouth like it’s a pussy.”

  He nodded and grabbed the back of her head and thrust in and out of her. She scratched at his legs, and he moaned out in pleasure and pain. He fucked her face hard, grabbing her hair and pulling it with each thrust. Her whole body was aching to be touched, and her mouth was so full of spit and pre-come — she could barely breathe. She pulled him backwards so that he was standing up and braced herself on his legs, and he fucked her face even harder. She looked up at him, staring at him with wide eyes, and he stared back down at her, grabbing her head and twisting it.

  His cock seemed to get bigger in her mouth, and she sucked on it harder. He was moaning louder now — and twisting her hair harder. She forced her head down on his cock, timing it in unison with his thrusts, choking and gagging and spitting on it. He moaned out loudly and her mouth filled with come, and she swallowed it. He slumped back and breathed heavily and his head immediately began to droop.

  She wasn’t having that. She walked over to the bed and opened her legs and stared over to him. “Lick me,” she said. “Lick me — now.”

  She didn’t know where her confidence came from — perhaps from the drink, she thought — but she liked the feeling of being in control. He sighed and walked over to her and got on his knees. He grabbed her legs and licked around her pussy lazily and half-heartedly. She
reached down and slapped him, hard, across the face. He looked at her, surprised.

  “Do it properly,” she snapped — a shiver ran through her at the dominance in her own voice.

  He smiled and grabbed her thighs hard, and forced his head into her pussy. She bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling. His tongue was like a hot iron-rod, poking and prodding and licking at her, and she savored every stroke.

  “Harder — faster,” she moaned.

  He grabbed her thighs and made his tongue erect and moved his head side to side quickly, flicking her clit back and forth. She closed her eyes and stopped herself from screaming out. The pleasure was unbelievable. She reached down and grabbed his head, pushing it harder into her. He slid his tongue inside of her — it was long and powerful — and wiggled it around. With his hand he found her clit and rubbed it.

  He kept wiggling his tongue around in small, quick circles, and she closed her eyes and imagined Damien — she didn’t mean to. He just popped into her head. She was on her knees, looking back at him. He was topless, and in her reverie he was toned with muscle. His black hair fell down to his shoulders and sweat glistened on his chest, and he shoved himself inside of her. She imagined that the tongue was Damien’s cock, and came within seconds. She squeezed her eyes shut hard and bit her lip and blood filled her mouth. Suddenly everything stopped. She looked down and saw that the boy was moving away.

  “Keep — going,” she moaned.

  “I’m tired,” he said.

  She stared at him in disbelief. Anger boiled up within her that she didn’t understand. “Keep going!” she screamed.

  That made him smile for some reason, and she smiled too — she liked being in control, and she guessed that he liked being controlled. He got on his knees and was about to start licking again. “No,” she said.

  She slid from the bed and got on her knees on the floor. She faced the window and stared out at the stars, and that feeling of insignificance wasn’t there — she felt that this was significant, but she couldn’t say why. She reached back and parted her ass-cheeks. “Finger my ass,” she said. “Finger it hard.”

  He licked his finger and slid it inside of her. It was painful, but behind the pain was pleasure — strange, inexplicable pleasure. He wiggled his finger around and she reached back with one hand and rubbed her clit. He was stretching her asshole, and that combined with the pleasure of her clit made her whole body vibrate. His finger was deep inside of her and the pain should have been unbearable — but it wasn’t. It was amazing, beautiful — it hurt and yet it felt good. She couldn’t explain it.

  “Lick it,” she moaned. “Lick my asshole.”

  She was sobering up a bit now — she wanted to do as much as she could whilst she was still drunk. She was scared that sober this brave, confident girl would disappear and old Molly would take control.

  He leaned forward and licked around her asshole, and his tongue was tingly and warm — and she shuddered as warmth and tingly energy swept over her. He licked around her asshole faster and faster and she kept rubbing her clit, pressing down on it like it was a button, and she came again. She moaned out and he put another finger inside of her. He wiggled them both around and the perplexing pleasure once again took hold of her.

  She was tired now — the alcohol was taking its toll. She wanted to pass out. No — she wouldn’t pass out yet. She had to come once more. She didn’t know why — she just did. She turned over and lay on her back, and stared at him. “Rub your cock against my clit,” she said. “But don’t try to fuck me. Just rub it against my clit — now.”

  His eyes went wide and he smiled. He rubbed his cock for a few seconds, slow, meaningful strokes up and down, and then lent forward — propping himself with one arm — and used his hand to move hard cock around her clit. It felt amazing — he was teasingly close to entering her and she loved it. He moved it fast, rubbing it up and down on her clit, and she closed her eyes and ignored everything else but the feeling of his cock against her. She shuddered, paused — everything paused — and then she screamed out loud: “Oh . . . fuck . . . yes.”

  She fell to the side and the boy fell away, breathing heavily. She could ask him his name now, she told herself — but she was too tired. Her eyes were already drooping. Soon she would be asleep. She tried to stay awake, but the alcohol was having too much of an effect on her. The idea of getting up and crawling back into bed made her feel woozy — speaking was out of the question.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, and before she knew it she was asleep.

  #

  She woke to the sun on her face — it was hot and at first she thought Max was licking her. Then she remembered that she wasn’t at home and Max was hundreds of miles away. She couldn’t remember much from last night. She was sore — that much she knew. Snippets came back to her. She remembered being in a club — she remembered getting lost and not being able to find her flatmates. Then there was some sort of fight or something and she was home. Alone? No — there was a boy with her. Of that she was sure.

  She stood up and looked around her room. The light was too bright — she felt like it was burning her face. Her head suddenly started pounding and she fell back and coughed. There was a knock at her door that sounded like a hammer crashing through the wall.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hey,” a voice said. “It’s Robin — sorry about last night. We tried to find you. Did you get back okay? I hope you didn’t have an awful night.”

  “Yeah, I think it was okay.”

  Robin laughed — a high-pitched squeak that penetrated the door. “Okay — we’re having breakfast if you want to come and join us.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Molly said.

  Molly heard Robin’s footsteps as they walked away from her room. She crawled over to her bed and stared up at her ceiling. Who was she with last night? She laid her head on her pillow and stared at the wall, and then turned around and stared at the dresser. She hadn’t noticed before, but there was a note on it. She leaned down and looked at it.

  It read:

  Hi — I hope you don’t mind but I looked in your purse. This is going to seem really odd to you but I think we used to know each other when we were kids. My name’s Jason James. You’re Molly Neil — we used to be “a couple” when we were like eight or something. Anyway, last night was fun. Call me.

  There was a phone number written in scrawled handwriting across the bottom. It was all coming back to her now — all the weird stuff she had done. She felt embarrassed — and shocked. Jason! Could it really be him? She had thought that he’d looked familiar, but how familiar could he possibly have looked? The last time she’d seen him had been over a decade ago.

  She knew he had looked familiar! She actually jumped up with a silly smile on her face. It was amazing. Things like this just didn’t happen — a boy she had known for a few weeks when she was little had now re-entered her life. What was she to make of that? She didn’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that nonsense. It was just one of those curiosities — one of the universe’s random events. If people were made out of stars — and they were, she had read once in a science magazine — then why couldn’t she randomly meet up with one of her childhood boyfriends?

  She thought about calling him, but she was very embarrassed. She had done things with him that she would have never done sober. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. She wasn’t some kind sex-crazed maniac. Could she call him? Did he just want to see her again for sex? She decided that she would phone him later on today and meet up with him and see what happened. There was no harm in that. If he just wanted to do what they’d done last night, she’d explain that she’d only done that because she was drunk. Otherwise they might be able to meet and have a nice time. Either way, it was worth a try.

  She got up and got dressed and went into the kitchen with her flatmates. She felt hopeful and happy — life was good.

  #

  The sun was setting and the world was covered
in a beautiful orange, and Molly made a conscious effort to take it all in. She was standing next to a park, on the corner of a street — where she’d agreed to meet Jason. He said that they could meet here and then he’d take her for a meal. She was looking forward to it — she had never been on a “real date” before, and wondered what it was like to be wined and dined by a man.

  She leaned back against the railing and whistled. She usually hated it when people whistled — but screw it. She was happy. She looked down the road and smiled as Jason came into view. The road was long and she could just see him, but it was definitely him. She turned her body and just watched him walk. She felt an odd connection to him — she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because they had — technically — known each other for years.

  He would be here soon, she thought. They could hold hands and go for a walk after the meal like a proper couple.

  “Molly.”

  For a second she thought it was Jason, but he was too far away. She turned. No — how the hell was he here? He was wearing the same suit he’d been wearing when they’d met. His hair was blowing in the wind and his beard was close-cropped and black, a light sprinkling over his sharp, well-defined features. He stood a few yards off, shaking almost imperceptibly, staring at her intensely.

  Again she felt that odd magnetism towards him, that indescribable desire to be with him — she didn’t know him. He had been rude to her the last time they met. Why did she want to spend more time with him? Why did she want to go with him now?

  “Are you following me?” she said. She tried to sound angry, but it came out just curious.

  “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Why?”

  “I just wanted to see you again. Will you come with me?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Please.”

  She looked back toward Jason. He looked up and saw her and smiled. She wanted to go with Jason — she really did — but she wanted to go with Damien more. She turned and walked towards him now.