My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories)

by M. J. Bradley

  Why would he be angry? He didn’t know this girl, not really. She was just a girl from some half-remembered memories. Perhaps it was just the night they had shared that was making him like this. Perhaps if he could just find another girl he would feel better. The thought made him faintly queasy. He didn’t want another girl — he wanted Molly. He couldn’t explain it. There was something indiscernible about her that made her precious in his eyes. He had to get her. He didn’t know why or how or when or where but he had to — it was that simple.

  No — he wasn’t angry. So why did he just bump into that boy? He had just been walking along, and had seem him and purposefully bumped into him. The boy was big — bigger than Jason was, with big arms that barely fit into his tight-fitting t-shirt.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the boy said.

  “Fuck you,” Jason spat, without thinking.

  The boy squared his shoulders — his muscles rippled under the thin fabric of his t-shirt — and stared Jason in the eyes. “Do yourself a favor,” he said, “and walk away.”

  Jason was standing with his back to the river, next to a low wall that partitioned the area. That wall had been crumbling and falling apart ever since Jason had moved to college a year ago — he was in his second year. He had seen it every day for the past three hundred and sixty five days, give or take a few. He knew it — he knew that the bricks were heavy and loose and could easily be dislodged.

  That was what he did.

  Keeping his eyes on the boy, who was staring at him with a slightly amused expression on his face, he slipped his hand behind him and grabbed a brick. He was careful and the boy didn’t see — his eyes were locked on Jason’s, unmoving and unblinking and unflinching. Finally the brick was in his hand — it was jagged and heavy.

  He took a step forward. “Your mother’s a whore,” he said. “I did her good last night — she just bent over like a dog and took it, barking and shit.”

  The boy’s lower-lip quivered and his clenched fists shook and he jumped forward, drawing his muscular arm back for a punch. Slam — the brick connected with the incoming fist. Jason thought he could feel the bones break, and the boy fell back and screamed, momentarily paralyzed as he clutched his broken hand. Jason jumped on him and threw him to the ground.

  He didn’t know what came over him. He just hit him, over and over again, in the face and arms and stomach and legs — he hit him anywhere and everywhere, wherever his blows happened to land. The boy struggled through the first few to fight back but then just lay there and stared up at him in shock and agony. Jason’s mind was red — blood-red and misty and full of nothing but pure, perplexing hatred. Finally he was done — he fell back and his chest heaved and his fists felt like they’d just been stood on by an elephants.

  What the hell had he done? The boy was just lying there, a broken mess of blood and bruises and sobs. He wanted to apologies, but he couldn’t — a man was coming, from the other side of the river. He had seen the whole thing and was crossing the bridge now. Jason looked around and saw that he wasn’t the only one — two more men were zoning in on him. He didn’t have time to think about what he had done. He had to get out of here. He could think about it later.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, as he sprinted away from the scene.

  #

  Chapter 5

  “You got your job back?” Molly said, astounded and delighted.

  “Yes,” Dad said — he didn’t sound too happy, but he didn’t sound annoyed anymore, either.

  “How did that happen?”

  “No idea — the man just called me up and said I’ve got it back. He also gave me a pay-rise, which I thought was strange. But I’m not going to complain. Anyway, how are things with you?”

  Molly turned around and looked at Damien — six days had passed since they’d had sex and they hadn’t left the bedroom except to eat and use the bathroom. Her whole body was aching and her head was full of love. She felt guilty about ignoring college work, but Damien was too fascinating, too enthralling, too amazing. She just wanted to be with him, and only him, forever. She had dreamt of moving away with him and spending their whole life in bed, hugging and kissing and making love. It would be perfect. Her values were skewed and she didn’t feel like the same girl she’d been less than a week ago. She didn’t know if she was in love — she had never been in love before — but she felt like she was falling in love, or was about to fall in love, or could easily fall in love.

  She lied: “I’m fine — college is fine. Everything is fine.”

  Dad sighed. “Good. Your mother is out but she sends her love. Keep in touch.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He hung up. Molly walked over to the bed and lay in Damien’s arms. Over the past few days she had seen a different side to him — he was loving and attentive and caring. She loved — she admired all that greatly. She nestled her head into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her and she felt safe.

  “Who was that?” he asked.

  “My dad — he’s got his job back.”

  Molly wasn’t sure but she thought she could feel and hear Damien’s heartbeat speed up. It had been thumping in her ear, a dull, regular, monotonous rhythm — now it pounded loudly and quickly. He was nervous, she guessed — about what, she had no clue. His breathing got quicker and then, after a few minutes of odd, confusing silence, became normal. His heartbeat slowed down. She didn’t think too much of it. He was strange — he had been strange ever since she’d met him.

  “That’s good,” he said. “A man shouldn’t be without his work.”

  “Yeah,” Molly said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  There was another long silence. The window was open and a light breeze blew in and blood-red sunlight blossomed across the ceiling, mixing with the wine-red drapes and the money-green flowers that stood either side of the door.

  At length Damien said, “I need to tell you something.”

  She sat up on the bed and looked at him. He sat up and stared back at her, his blue eye light and his green light dull, and then swiveled his legs and walked to the other side of the room. He was naked — they had just had sex — so he picked up his clothes and began the slow, meticulous process of dressing. When he was finally done he lit a cigarette and stood with his back to her, blowing smoke towards the setting sun. He was trembling, she realized.

  He wanted to walk over to him and hug him and ask him what was wrong, but she knew that that would just anger him. When he was like this he liked to be left alone. She didn’t understand that — she didn’t understand why some guys became so withdrawn and cold so quickly. She thought it might have something to do with pride, but that was a just a guess — as far she knew, it could be anything. If she were to hug him now he would get angry and annoyed. He wanted to be alone — insofar as he could be with her in the room — to work out his feelings. He needed his own space, she figured — they had been living together for six days — so she gave it to him.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what it was he had to say, though — what could it possibly be when they’d been together for six days? Surely if it was important he would have said earlier? Suddenly she felt very self-conscious — what if he had had enough of her? What if he was bored with her? It was plausible. They had spent nearly every second together. She wasn’t getting bored with him, but he could easily have been getting bored with her.

  She swallowed and stared at his back, which was shaking more now, and longed to know what it was that was haunting him so much. He was enigmatic — he was an unsolvable puzzle. She didn’t want to solve him, she thought. His mystery was one of the most alluring things about him, but neither did she want him to shut her out or get bored with her. She wanted to know what was happening inside of him, if only to make sure that he still liked her. If that was selfish, she was selfish — she didn’t care. She just wanted to stay with him forever. God — what was happening to her? When had this happened? She couldn’t pinpoint a specific mom
ent in which she had started to feel like this. She only knew that if she were to leave now she would be much less happy than she had been for the past few days.

  Finally he turned around. A tear slid down his cheek, reflecting the last rays of sunlight as it dropped to the floor. “What is it?” she said.

  “I love you,” he said. “God help me, but I love you. I don’t know how, but I do.”

  She stood up and walked over to him — miraculously not caring about her nakedness — and hugged him. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear: “I love you too.”

  #

  Chapter 6

  The next few weeks passed like a dream — nothing seemed real and yet everything seemed real. They went away. They hadn’t planned it — she had been about to go back to college to catch up on her work — but they had left anyway, at the last minute. They went to a beach house he owned at the other side of the country, where it was hot and they could do whatever they wanted. They spent their days on the beach and their nights in bed — sometimes they spent their days in bed and their nights on the beach. It was always perfect. Molly had never been happier. She hadn’t known that such emotion existed. All she wanted to do was be with Damien, and all he seemed to want to do was be with her, and when she wasn’t with him she felt lost and alone — she liked to think it was the same for him.

  Sometimes she thought of Jacob. The first few times she felt guilty — she had arranged to meet him and left him alone and confused — but she knew that it was no big deal. He would have forgotten her by now — he had probably forgotten her before he got home that day. They didn’t know each other, not really. Perhaps he had been hoping for sex or something else with her — well, she thought, he could easily get that somewhere else. He didn’t need her for that. No — if she had to disappoint Jason to feel what she was feeling now with Damien, she would. She couldn’t feel guilty about it — she couldn’t feel anything at the moment except love and lust.

  Lust — she had expected that to wane, but it hadn’t. They were still having sex two or three times a day. It was never as special as the first time — it never would be — but it was still amazing. Sometimes she thought he had learned how to pleasure a woman at some kind of intensive training camp — he knew exactly what to do and how and when to do it, and he never tired. He could make her come as easily as clicking his fingers, and she loved it.

  It didn’t matter to her that he was older than her — ten years older, she had discovered. She finally had his second name, too — the first time she’d asked him he’d been defensive, but finally he’d given it to her. Damien Michaels — she thought it was a beautiful name. She’d searched his name on the internet and discovered that he was a high-up executive or something important — the website wasn’t too specific — for a large supermarket. Funnily enough it was the same one Dad worked for. She didn’t think much of that — it was a very big company.

  She leaned back in bed and looked out at the beach — it was busy, and full of couples. She smiled — she could count herself among them. Her and Damien were a couple, she thought, and the thought made her happy. She had never had a real boyfriend before, and now she did — not only was he her boyfriend, but he was her rich, beautiful, powerful, older boyfriend. It was almost too good to be true.

  She felt guilty about not telling her family — they deserved to know. She had spoken to her parents on the phone a couple of times over the past few weeks, and she had lied each time and said she was still at college. She had said nothing about Damien. She thought that that was wrong. They had done so much for her — she and her mom had been so close. It wasn’t fair not telling them. She decided then and there — not only would she tell them, but also she would introduce them to Damien. What she had with Damien was real — she never wanted it to end — so it was only right that they meet. They would meet eventually, anyway.

  Damien walked in holding a couple of baguettes with a smile on his face. She leaned up. “Damien,” she said.

  He looked at her with a look of pure affection — his eyebrows raised and his mouth curled upwards slightly and his cheeks scrunched up. “Yes?”

  She told him her idea. He went quiet and walked into the kitchen, dropping the shopping gruffly on the floor. He came back through, ruffling his hair. “Are you sure you want me to meet them?” he said quietly. He seemed younger somehow, more vulnerable than she had seen him before.

  “Yes,” she said. “I want you to.”

  He sighed. “Then I guess I’m meeting your parents.”

  “Good.”

  #

  Chapter 7

  “This one is pretty — yes, it’s pretty.”

  Jason’s room was dark. He liked that — light just hurt his eyes. There were plates all over, covering his desk and the floor. He needed to clean it, he knew, but he couldn’t be bothered. He had more important things to do. “Yes,” he said, sticking another picture to the noticeboard. “Yes — this one is very pretty.”

  He knew that talking to himself wasn’t normal — some part of him knew, at least — but he liked it. Saying his thoughts aloud made them seem more real, less personal. If he spoke he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts — they were out, free to do as they wished.

  This latest picture was very pretty — he’d gotten it like he’d gotten the others, from her social-networking page. He wished he had some pictures of his own to stick up. Soon — soon he would have some pictures of his own. When he found Molly and won her back he would have some pictures of his own. She was beautiful. She was so very beautiful.

  He stared at collection of pictures and smiled. There were around one-hundred on there — maybe more. There were ones of her all the way from pre-school right up to college. There were none from the past few weeks though — that worried him. Maybe she was still with that man. He didn’t like that. He wanted her all for himself — he didn’t want that man pouring poison in her ears and turning her against him. He just needed to talk to her — if he could just talk to her she’d see that they were better suited for each other. She must know — they had shared that wonderful night together. There was no way she could have forgotten that. No — she had not forgotten that.

  He rooted around his messy room for the coin. It took a long time, and he had to turn on the light, which he hated, but finally he found it. He cradled it to his chest. This was important — this coin was his only link to Molly. He brought it to his lips and kissed it — it was warm, hot even — and then broke down into tears. He cried not from sadness, but from anticipation. Soon he wouldn’t need the coin — soon he would have Molly to kiss. He smiled through his tears. Yes — that would good.

  He leaned forward and looked at his computer screen. His homepage was Molly’s social-networking page now — it saved time. He needed another picture of her — just one more picture and then he’d start trying to find her again. That was what he needed — one picture.

  “Just one more picture,” he said. “Just one more picture.”

  #

  Chapter 8

  Molly felt strange being back at college, but she couldn’t exactly invite her parents to Damien’s house — not yet, anyway. She met Robin as she walked into the hallway — she had told her flatmates that she was going home for a few days. She was nice enough, but it was clear that things had moved on while she’d been away. She’d missed the window of time to turn the acquaintanceship into friendship, and things were a little awkward. She didn’t care. She didn’t need college anymore. She had Damien.

  She tidied her room quickly and waited for Damien to arrive. He’d said he’d needed to do a few things at the house and then he’d come straight here. It felt weird being away from him. She wondered absentmindedly if this was what babies severed of their umbilical cords felt like and smiled. No — that wasn’t how she felt. She didn’t need him like a baby needed a mom. She wanted him like a lover wanted a lover. That was different —
that was better.

  She hadn’t told her parents anything about Damien — she’d just told them that she had a new boyfriend and they might want to meet him. Mom had been excited — Dad had just seemed like he always did, apathetic. She hoped they liked him. She didn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t. Sure — he was older, but apart from that he was rich and trustworthy and handsome.

  She walked over to her window and stared out of it. Damien’s car pulled up — he had driven one of his less fancy ones. She was glad of that — she didn’t want Dad feeling undermined by his wealth. That wouldn’t be good. She walked down and met him at his car. He was wearing a suit as usual, with his hair falling loosely and casually to his shoulders. He tried a smile, but she could tell that something was bothering him.

  “Look,” he said, as he got out of the car. “I have to tell you something — I shouldn’t have left it this long.”

  “What?” Molly said, confused and slightly scared.

  “It’s about your dad.”

  “What about him?”

  “I —”

  “Molly!”

  Molly turned around. Her mom was walking towards her holding a big bag. She gave Damien a curious look but ignored him as she wrapped her arms around her daughter — Molly hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her mom, but now she hugged her closely. She reminded her of home and everything she wasn’t anymore. Damien drew himself up next to them and watched as her dad walked up.

  Dad was staring at the floor, fiddling with his phone, but when he looked up his face dropped. He stared at Damien in disbelief.

  “Molly, what the hell are you doing with Mr. Michaels?”

  “What?” Molly said, her heart thumping almost-painfully in her chest. “You know him?”