My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories)

by M. J. Bradley

  “Quickly,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I have a car waiting.”

  My Billionaire

  Book 2

  M.J. Bradley

  Chapter 1

  Jason watched in confusion and horror as Molly walked away with the mysterious man — the man who had come out nowhere and then talked to her for a couple of moments and then made her disappear. Who the hell was he, and why the hell was Molly going away with him? That was what Jason kept wondering, over and over again. The man had seemed good-looking and tall, with a suit and the facial hair that girls seemed to like, but he was far too old for her.

  He sped up now and tried to catch her eye — she was facing the other way, already disappearing into the car park. She got into a car with tinted windows and sped off. Jason ran forward, towards the car, stretching his arms out as if he could stop it — then the car sped off down the road with a screech and was gone. Jason sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He looked to the side. A bird watched from a tree, its eyes intently focused on the scene as if savoring Jason’s pain. He picked up a stone and threw it at it and it flew away.

  He was in great pain. He couldn’t explain it. He barely knew Molly. He didn’t know her at all — really. She was just a girl who he had kissed once when he was a little kid and drunkenly done things with — that was all. So why did he feel so terrible? He had no explanation other than that which he assumed was universal — he had liked Molly and thought that something could happen between them, and the death of that hope was what hurt, not the actuality of losing her. He couldn’t lose her, could he? He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. This was silliness.

  He collapsed. He felt his lips lift into a smile — he had literally just collapsed. He was on the floor, with cold concrete scraping his back. He stared up at the clouds, a dozen different white, fluffy animals floating past, mocking him. His heart was beating horribly fast and his mouth was dry and all he wanted to do was cry — what was happening to him? A couple of passersby glanced at him curiously and then carried on walking. One man — old with a crooked back with a war medal pinned to his chest — shuffled over and flicked a coin at him.

  “We’ve all been there, son,’ he said, and then hobbled away.

  Jason held the coin close and felt that there was something important about it. That man had fought — Jason didn’t know where or who — but he had fought. And now Jason would fight. He would fight for her. He didn’t know why but he felt happy about that. There had been some kind of connection between them — he was sure. It wasn’t impossible to recapture that, was it? They had spent an amazing night together and he had felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone — and he thought that she had felt the same. Otherwise why would she have let him do all those things? No — girls didn’t let guys do things like that unless they really liked them. She really liked him. She must have. She was just confused. Yes — that was it. She was just confused and once he got a chance to talk to her everything would be okay.

  He rose to his feet and dropped the coin in his pocket. He would treasure this coin as he would treasure Molly.

  #

  Chapter 2

  Molly looked out of the window as the world whizzed by. The car was moving fast and the engine growled and vibrated underneath her. Damien sat opposite, and the driver had his own compartment behind a black divider — they were in their own little world, with only the blurry buildings and each other to occupy them.

  Now that she was in the car she wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing. She had arranged to meet Jason — she had made an agreement that she would meet him and go on a date with him and given him the impression that she was looking forward to it. So why was she here? She tried to think back and discern the specific moment when she had decided that she was going to come. She couldn’t. There was no specific moment. It was something else — some inexplicable energy that buzzed around Damien.

  Even just sitting there now, he looked amazing. His hair fell carelessly to his shoulders and his beard was dark and strong, and he sat not straight-backed but assertively — like someone who is capable of great things but does not like to boast about it. She thought back to what had happened in the supermarket and a shiver went up her back — she would like to do that again. She would like to do that and other things again and again. She would like to disappear with Damien onto a private island and spend the — she shook her head and sighed. What was she doing? This was madness.

  She decided to talk to him. Maybe that would break the spell — maybe he was just a pretty face and once she heard him speak for any long period of time she would immediately go off him. “How did you know where I was?” she said.

  He leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist, like a statue from ancient Greece — his lips were trembling and his blue-green eyes had small, almost-imperceptible tears forming in the corners. Finally he spoke: “Finding someone is not hard if one knows the right people and has money.”

  “You have money?”

  He nodded. “Lots.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but this will put it into perspective: I could buy everything you own a million times and still have pocket money left.”

  Molly was taken aback by that. It wasn’t just the insulting way in which he answered — his answer reminded her of something, something someone had said to her. She had the hardest time trying to figure out where she had heard that exact phrase before. She couldn’t. Was it one of her flatmates? Did she hear it on television? She sighed and dropped it. There was no point trying to remember something you couldn’t remember — it was like trying to catch a specific snowflake in a snowstorm.

  “That’s a very confident answer,” she said, trying and failing to keep the sting out of her voice.

  He smiled. “Confidence and wealth go hand in hand.”

  He was confident. There was no denying that. She wondered if she should be freaked out. No — she knew she should be freaked out. Why wasn’t she? She was scared — a little — but like the last time they had met her fear didn’t stem from self-preservation, but more from self-consciousness. She was terrified he was going to tell her to leave and laugh at her and tell her she was ugly. She wished she wasn’t so self-conscious — she wished she could just enjoy the company of this man — but she wasn’t that sort of person. She was the sort of person who saw significance — no, insignificance — when she looked up at the night sky. She couldn’t wish that away.

  She was, in a weird way, glad that he had chosen when she was about to go on a date to confront her — at least she was dressed passably well. She wore a longish red dress and had done her makeup properly. “Where are we going?” she said.

  “One of my houses,” he said with a flair — somehow the words sounded musical as they flowed out of him. She remembered being told once that rich people’s voices were ‘full of money’ — perhaps that was it.

  “How many houses do you have?”

  He leaned back and scratched his chin. He rolled his eyes up and bobbed his head side to side. “Not sure — over a dozen, I suppose.”

  “Why do you need so many?” she said. She thought it was a bit excessive.

  “I travel a lot.”

  “Why? What do you do?”

  The car was slowing down now — they were no longer whizzing through country roads but navigating the traffic of a busy city. She didn’t even know where they were, she realized then — why wasn’t she scared? Was she brave, delusional, or just stupid? She smiled — it could easily be all three.

  “I work for a multinational corporation — I do various things. I won’t bore you with the details. It is very boring — but it pays very, very well.”

  She laughed and met his eyes, and felt a tingle crawl over her body. His eyes were so beautiful — they were unrealistically beautiful. “Doesn’t it make you feel weird, not enjoying your job?”

  The car sped up and Damien was silent for
a minute, and then the car stopped. She looked out the window. A huge gate guarded a castle-looking building, with pillars and spires and domes and big, grand entrances. He smiled and gestured at the building. “It does — but owning places like this makes it a little easier.”

  She gasped — she hadn’t made the connection. She had been about to ask him why they were at a castle. Were they going sightseeing? No — he owned this. This grand, epic building was his. The car doors were opened by two men in black suits and Molly gave one her hand and was helped out of the car. The wind was cold — night was coming on and there were a few eager stars in the sky.

  Damien took her arm. She let him — she didn’t even think about it. It felt good there, and she shivered — she didn’t know if it was from the air or from his closeness. His arm was hard. She could feel his muscles underneath his suit-sleeve and liked the feel of them. He was strong and powerful, and that made him alluring. He was in charge — no one could tell him what to do. She liked — she respected that.

  “Shall we?” he said.

  “What are we going to do?”

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her neck: “Everything.”

  She swallowed and nodded — she couldn’t speak. There were no words for how much she wanted that — and she didn’t want to freak him out. Maybe he wanted to take it slow — she didn’t think that was likely, but she didn’t want to take the risk. If she just came out with something like ‘I can’t wait to be with you,’ he might’ve got scared and told her to go home. No — she would be casual and go with the flow. There was no point jumping in too eagerly.

  The gate opened automatically. Molly had expected a loud screeching, but there was no sound except the beat of her heart and the chattering of the servants that hovered around them — they spoke quietly, deferentially, but she still caught some words. They were talking about dinner arrangements and household duties. It was nothing interesting — but to hear them speaking like that made Molly oddly excited. Damien had staff. Damien had staff that waited on his every whim and answered only to him. She had never dreamt of such a thing — and he seemed so casual about it. As he walked up the grand pathway he nodded his head at them as he would to an old friend. A gardener called a greeting to him and he smiled and returned the courtesy.

  And this was just one of his properties. He was right — he could easily buy her a million times and have money left over.

  Damien led them into the kitchen — it was beyond magical. Large, magnificent paintings hung from the walls — the walls stretched up to the high ceiling, which was covered with swirling patterns. Pillars were dotted everywhere, reminding Molly of a picture of an ancient Greek building she had seen once. “All this for a room that you eat in?” she said, astonished.

  A man pulled a chair back for her and she sat down — the table was huge and round, but Damien sat right next to her. He took her hand and kissed it, holding it for a minute or more. She moaned out without thinking. She forgot the staff and wanted more than anything for him to keep going. Instead he placed her hand on the table and said, “Do you like it?”

  “Damien, I — it’s amazing.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “You deserve the best.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I want to. You seem interesting. You are beautiful and sexy — I want to see what else there is to you.”

  She drew her shoulders back — she wanted the same, and she wanted to impress him. He smiled at her. “Do you believe me?” he said.

  “About what?”

  “Do you believe that I just want to get to know you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  He leaned into her and kissed her on the lips — tenderly, almost shyly. She closed her eyes and tried — as insipid and childish and silly as it seemed, even to her — to slow down time. She didn’t want this moment to end. She wanted her entire life to be one long kiss with this mysterious man.

  The kiss ended too soon and then he spoke: “I don’t know why, but I really like you. It’s crazy, but when you’re someone like me normality goes out of the window. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “I think you’re amazing,” she said, impulsively, without thinking.

  Suddenly there was a ringing. It resounded around the cavernous room, and it took Molly a while to realize that it was coming from her phone. She excused herself and stood just outside the kitchen doors — they opened onto a colorful garden full of flowers and trees and lush grass. “Hello?” she said.

  “Molly — it’s Mom.”

  She sighed — she hadn’t wanted to speak to anyone right now, but a two-hour conversation about washing-up or who did what with who the other night was the last thing she wanted. She loved her mom, but she could be extremely boring when she tried.

  “Oh — um, hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

  The phone speakers were too loud — Mom’s sigh nearly exploded her eardrums. Molly readied herself for some melodrama — something to do with eggs or biscuits or parking spaces — but what she got instead was chest-jolting news. “Your father has lost his job,” she said. “Now — don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll find another one. But I thought it was for the best that you knew.”

  She was shocked — Dad had worked for that company for most of his adult life. He had always been a good employee — he had steadily risen in pay and position over the years and now he was one of the most valuable members of the team. “Why would they fire him?” she said.

  “I’m not sure — do you want to speak to him?”

  She wanted to say no — she didn’t know what to say to Dad at the best of times, let alone when he had just lost his life-long, beloved job. “Okay,” she said — it was the only thing she could say.

  There was a shuffling down the other end of the phone and then a silence. The garden was lit by hulking floodlights, which made the more exotic flowers — the orange and green ones — shimmer oddly and beautifully. Finally her dad came to the phone. “Molly?” he shouted.

  She smiled — what was it with parents and technology? There was no need to shout, she felt like saying. “Yes,” she said. “Um — are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, everything is fine,” he said. “Your mother worries too much.”

  “What happened?” she said.

  “It’s not important.”

  “I want to know — please tell me.”

  He sighed and was quiet for a few moments. Then he said, “You know that man I was telling you about, the one who got me a bit stressed that time just before you left? Well — earlier this week he came into my office and told me that my work wasn’t good enough. He did it there and then, on the spot. Now, everything is okay — I’ve got interviews coming up and I’m sure I’ll get another job. There’s no need to worry yourself. Just focus on your college work.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want to speak to your mother?”

  “No — unless she wants to talk to me for any reason?”

  “No — that was the only reason we called. Is everything okay at college? Working hard?”

  She turned and looked into the dining room — the food was being served now. Damien smiled at her and tapped his watch — his silver, sparkling watch. “Yes,” she said. “Everything is fine and I’m working hard.”

  “Okay. Goodbye.”

  “I love you,” she said — but he had already hung up.

  She put the phone in her pocket and went back into the dining room. She sat down and looked at the meal. To call it lavish would be an understatement. The cutlery was gold and there were half a dozen different types — she assumed that each special fork had a specific use, but she couldn’t guess what that was.

  “What was that about?” Damien said.

  She didn’t know whether or not she should tell him — he didn’t know her dad and wouldn’t ca
re about his job. She thought about it and then, for reasons that she didn’t understand, told him everything — including how stressed out he’d been a few weeks ago. As she spoke Damien trembled and stared at her intensely with his mismatched eyes. He studied her closely like a mortician looking a corpse. When she was done there was an elongated silence, punctuated only by the odd clattering from some other room in the massive house.

  “That’s awful,” he said eventually. “I mean that — no one should lose their job like that.”

  She shrugged and started eating. “He’ll get another one.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure he will.”

  #

  Chapter 3

  The room was big — far bigger than any one man needed. Molly walked into it and tingled all over when she saw the bed. They had eaten too much and drunk too much and now she felt giddy and excited — she was in that wonderful state that comes before full-blown intoxication where life seems hopeful and amazing and precious.

  Damien walked in after her — she couldn’t see him, but she could hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor. She was about to turn around so that she could see him when strong, warm arms wrapped around her from behind. She hugged him closely. She could feel him pressing at her through his trousers, hard and insistent and urgent. She moved her hips, rubbing her bum against his cock. She bit her lip — his cock seemed to get harder and more urgent. She wanted it inside her now, but she wanted him to lead the way. She turned around and looked into his eyes, and he kissed her.

  He grabbed the back of her head and twisted her hair lightly and playfully. She moaned out and reached down to rub his cock — but he stopped her. He whispered in her ear: “You do what I say, when I say. Do you understand?”

  A thrill ran through her and she nodded. “Good,” he said. “Bend over you naughty little slut.”

  She did as she was commanded and bent over — she propped herself up by grabbing the bed-pole. Damien pulled down her tights and underwear quickly. Then he slapped her. It stung and yet felt strangely nice — she wanted him to do it again. He did — he hit her three more times and then everything went silent. Her bum burnt with pain and pleasure — she couldn’t explain why it felt good. It just did. Suddenly she was hit again, with something hard. She looked back and saw that he was holding a belt.