My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories)

by M. J. Bradley

  She wanted to stop him, but her body was awake under his touch — it was the only time it was awake, she thought. It was the only time she was alive. She moved her hips back and forth, thrusting them into his waist, and he moved with her, as one body. He scratched her back, passionately, and she moaned out, moving her tongue around in his mouth. She wanted this, she realized, shame and lust intermingling within her. Her pussy was hot and wet and aching — she wanted him inside of her, now.

  She pushed forward, still kissing him, and he walked backwards, leading them blindly to the bed. He fell onto the bed and she climbed on top of him, putting her knees either side of him and gyrating up and down. A memory came flooding back to her — her and Jason, on this very same bed, doing something similar. She pushed it away — she didn’t need to think about that now. Jason had undoubtedly forgotten her — it was for the best that she forgotten him, too.

  She leaned down and kissed his neck, savoring the smell, the salty sweat, and he undid her bra in his typically casual way. He pulled her t-shirt over her head and took her bra off. He rubbed her breasts, palming the flesh and tweaking her nipples — she moaned out, energy buzzing through her. She still marveled at that — she was convinced his touch really was electric. It felt so amazing.

  He leaned up and she craned her back, sitting straight-backed atop him, giving him full access to her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth and the other between two fingers, twisting one nipple lightly and moving his tongue around the other. She grabbed his head and bit her lip — she didn’t remember, couldn’t remember ever being angry at this man. She moved her hips as he touched her, and could feel his cock, rock-hard, pressing at her through his trousers.

  She slid down onto the bed, lying next to him, and rubbed his cock. He moaned out softly — stifled by her nipple in his mouth — and moved his hand to her pussy, rubbing over the top of the fabric of her pants. She moved her legs, contorting and gyrating. He pressed his middle finger down hard on her clit, moving it side to side, and then he abruptly shoved his hand down her trousers. She was wet, and when he slid his finger into her it was hot and intense — and all she knew for a few precious seconds was the feeling, aching and pulsing and burning. He wiggled it around, moving it around her sweet-spot, and then he pulled it out and rubbed his wet fingers all over clit, flicking it back and forth. She bit down and tried not to scream — still, a small whimper escaped her lips.

  “I want this,” Damien whispered in her ear. “I want you.”

  “Don’t talk,” she heard herself say. “Don’t say a goddamn word.”

  He looked at her with hurt eyes — but she didn’t care. She wanted his body — she didn’t want him. She didn’t even feel bad — she just felt horny. She kissed him to stop him from looking at her, and he seemed to forget the insult, breathing deeply and pushing their faces together. He was still rubbing her clit, and each wet motion made her breathe faster, moan louder. He was good at this. She had to give him that — he was really, really good at this.

  She opened her eyes and saw that he had his open, too — those beautiful green-blue eyes, the eyes she had found so mesmerizing the first time she saw him. She broke off the kiss and tugged at his suit. He knew what it meant, and tore it off in seconds, showing his rippling abs and solid chest muscles. She ran her hand down his torso, grabbing fistfuls of hard muscle and feeling a thrill run through her — he was so strong, so powerful. He tensed under her touch, making her ever hornier.

  She reached down and undid his belt, pulling it off and then shoving her hand down his trousers. She grabbed his cock hard — harder than she normally would. She wondered if that had anything to do with how angry she was, but let the thought drift away. So what if it did? He deserved it. He moaned out — a raspy moan, half-pleasure, half-pain — and rubbed her clit faster. She closed her eyes and jerked her hand up and down, and all she knew was his hard cock and her wet, burning clit. Her hand stopped moving — she hadn’t meant it to. It just did. Then she let go of his cock and leaned into his chest and bit down, hard — then she came. Her whole body shuddered, and he slid his finger inside of her, rubbing her clit with his thumb and massaging her sweet-spot as everything released. She was still angry — she was, or was she? In that moment — with Damien touching her, and her whole body consumed by pleasure — she wasn’t so sure.

  She opened her eyes and looked at his face, his gorgeous, strong face, and let any anger she had been feeling float away — she was still angry, but she didn’t have to be angry right now, did she? She could be angry later — after. Or was that horrible? She looked down — Damien was taking his trousers off, and his huge cock was hard and alluring. She didn’t care. She would work out how she felt after. There was no need to bother herself with that now.

  She wriggled down the bed towards his cock, and took it in her mouth. She grabbed his balls, cupping them and rubbing them, as she bobbed her head up and down, licking around his tip and shaft. He let his head fall back and moaned out. She thought he was going to talk, and was about to stop and tell him to be quiet — but he didn’t. He just moaned, his deep rasp filling the room. That urged her on — her body tingled at pleasuring him, at knowing that it was her that was making him feel like this.

  She craned her neck to the side and licked up at down the side of his cock, rubbing the other side with her hand, and he moaned out even louder. She kept doing that, going up and down his considerable length, until her neck got tired — then she jerked his cock up and down, fast and hard. Part of her wanted him to come now — part of her wanted this to all be over. This was so confusing. But a bigger part of her wanted to go all the way. That was the part she listened to.

  She crawled back up the bed towards him, and whispered in his ear, in a meaner voice than she had intended: “Lick my pussy — now.”

  She didn’t know where that voice had come from, but she liked it. He had always been the one in control — now she was. He nodded shortly, and bit his lip. Was he angry? Good — he should be angry. He’d do what he was told or he wouldn’t get anything at all. “Don’t come back up until you make me come,” she snapped, a chill running over her body at the authority in her voice.

  He kissed down her torso, lingering at her breasts, grabbing one and lightly biting the other, and then trailed his lips across her stomach and came to her pussy. He started to kiss her around her lower-thigh, trying to tease her — she wasn’t in the mood for that. “Get on with it,” she said. She felt a bit mean, but then she remembered what he had done. They shouldn’t even be doing this — if they were going to, she was going to get her own way.

  He grabbed her thighs and stuck his face into her pussy, licking her clit hard. She squeezed her legs around his head, locking it in place, pushing it closer and closer to her. His tongue was hot and moved around her clit skilfully. He slipped a finger inside of her — she craned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. It was getting dark — her parents would be back soon. She swallowed and paused for a moment. She had forgotten all about that. They had to be quick. She thought about stopping . . .

  “Do you want to carry on?” Damien said.

  “Shut up! Keep going, and be quick!”

  He didn’t say anything — he licked her with more purpose, his tongue not moving around her clit anymore, but pressing down on it over and over again. Each time he did so her body pulsed and writhed, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to edge of ecstasy. He slid a finger inside of her, massaging the front wall of her pussy, pushing down on and moving around her sweet-spot as he licked her clit. She stared down at him — all she could see was his hair, falling over her snow-white thighs in careless curls. For some reason that set her off, and she bit down hard — so hard she thought she tasted blood — and shuddered and then was still.

  Her chest was heaving, her breasts moving about with each giant breath. “Fuck me,” she said. “Fuck me now, Damien.”

  She wanted it. She wanted it. She wanted it. That was all she could t
hink — all she was capable of thinking, all she would be capable of thinking — in that moment. Damien positioned himself over her, propping himself up with one arm and guiding himself inside of her. She had gone on the pill a few weeks ago, to make things easier, and to make the sex feel nicer, so he didn’t need to mess around with a condom. He slid into her, and for a moment it was painful — then she opened up to him and her whole body was taken over by preternatural pleasure.

  She let her legs fall to the side and her arms go limp. She didn’t want to do anything — she just wanted to be fucked by him. He thrust into her slowly, leaning down and kissing her neck. She didn’t want that — she wanted him to take her. She pushed him away and grabbed his legs, pulling at them, scratching them. He got the message — he grabbed her arms and held them to the bed, and then thrust in and out of her hard and fast, angling his cock up and hitting her sweet-spot every time.

  She looked at his face — it was contorted in pleasure and concentration — and felt more connected to him than she ever had before. Maybe it was because she knew that this was the last time — she knew that once this precious moment was over, she would never again experience anything like it. She tried to move her arms, like she had a hundred times before, and like a hundred times before she couldn’t — he was too strong, too powerful, and she loved that about him.

  For reasons she didn’t understand she started to move with him, no longer a deadweight but a bouncing lover. He responded to her gyrations and matched her rhythm, and together they moaned out.

  Then there was a bang at the door.

  Damien didn’t seem to notice it — he carried on, thrusting in and out. Molly lifted her head up and listened, putting her finger to Damien’s lips to tell him to be quiet. There it was again — bang, bang, bang. She pushed Damien off her and rolled to the floor scrambling for her clothes. “Get dressed,” she hissed. “That will be my parents. Get dressed. You have to go.”

  He sat on the bed like a dejected puppy, big, watery eyes staring out at her. She pulled her pants on and picked up a random t-shirt and pulled it over the top of her head, and then walked over to the mirror to unruffle her hair — her cheeks were flushed and sweat coated her body. She smoothed her hair down as best she could. When she turned around she saw that Damien still hadn’t dressed. She cursed and picked up his clothes and thrust them into his arms.

  “Get dressed,” she said. “Please — just get dressed, Damien.”

  His mouth moved in a strange way, his lips shifting from side to side, and then he nodded silently and started dressing. Thankfully he was quick for once — usually dressing was a longwinded routine for him. The door was still banging, getting louder and more forceful each time, and Molly thought that soon it might break.

  When Damien was dressed she walked over to the door and took a deep breath. She turned to Damien and said, “Just leave — as soon as I open the door, just leave, okay?”

  “Fine,” he said petulantly.

  She threw open the door. Dad’s face was red and his fist was bloody. “I’ve quit my job!” he shouted at Damien. “I don’t want your bloody charity! Now, get the hell away from my daughter!”

  Damien bowed his head and made his way towards the door. He moved with the casual, lazy grace of a cat, and Molly wished that he would hurry up — Dad was still shaking, and looked like he could hit Damien any minute. When Damien got to the door Dad didn’t move, just stood there, blocking the way.

  Damien looked him straight in the eye and smiled. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve been told I have to leave — it will be a great deal easier if you do me the honor of moving aside.”

  “Are you mocking me?” Dad said, his voice quivering. “Molly — is he mocking me?”

  “No,” Molly said quickly. “No — he’s not. He’s going. Just go, Damien. Just go.”

  Molly looked into the hallway. A couple of her flatmates had stuck their heads out of their doors to see what the commotion was about, but now they were back in their rooms. No doubt they were discussing how much of a mess she was — how crazy she was, how much they wished she didn’t live with them.

  Finally Dad moved aside and Damien made his way towards the main door. He stopped at the end of the hallway, the yellow electric light glinting off his mismatched eyes, his back straight, proud, and he smiled — he looked Molly straight in the eyes and smiled that amazing, tantalizing smile. She smiled back, reflexively, until her dad looked at her — then she remembered everything, and her expression dropped.

  She turned to her dad. “I’m sorry,” she said, bursting into tears and falling into his arms. Now that it was all over she felt like it was her fault — like she had somehow made this to happen. Why had she met Damien? If she had just said no to him that day in the supermarket, she wouldn’t have made her dad so angry and she would be doing well at college. Instead, she had made her dad angry, and she was pathetically behind in her studies.

  Her dad took her into his arms clumsily. She had naively thought that this would bring them together. Now she saw how silly that was — if anything it would just increase the distance between them. But still he hugged her.

  “You will not see him again,” Dad said.

  “I know,” she cried — and she believed it, too.

  It was time to get back to reality. It was time to forget Damien.

  #

  Chapter 3

  The next few weeks were hectic. Catching up on college work was extremely difficult — not only had she missed over a month, but she had also missed that month right at the start, so she didn’t even have the basics to work from. It was like starting college afresh, but with everyone else a month ahead of her. All she did was research things — that’s how she kept her mind off Damien — and soon she was nearly caught up. Her tutors were angry with her. She couldn’t blame them. She would be angry at a student if she had pulled the same disappearing stunt that she had.

  Damien was never far from her thoughts in the first week — everywhere she went she thought she saw him, in a moving shadow, when she saw a man in a suit from behind, when she felt the wind on her neck, and turned to see if it was him touching her. But, slowly, he began to drift away. It was painful — it was like someone was pulling out her heart, slowly, bit by bit, taking as long as possible to maximize the pain.

  Now she didn’t know what had come over her. She had loved him — of that she was sure — but she had loved him like no one should ever love. She had devoted herself to him unquestionably, ignoring everything else just to be with him. She should never have done that, she thought — she had just got caught up in the romance of it all, the excitement of his money and power and looks. Now she was back in the real world, the world of course deadlines and exams and college parties.

  She had patched things over with her flatmates — well, she had tried her best to. She would never be one of them, but they were civil to her and invited her out every now and then, and she accepted — it was nice to get out, to let her hair down and forget about everything that had happened.

  She often wondered if she had overreacted. Yes — he had fired her dad, and had done it in the most arrogant, pointless, despicable way, but was that enough to cut him out of her life forever? She still loved him, she thought suddenly — no. She sighed. “You don’t still love him,” she said, staring at her computer screen. She was sitting in her room with the curtains shut and the light turned off, the only light coming from the dull glow of the computer screen. She was browsing her social networking pages mindlessly, procrastinating when she should be doing work — she was going to study soon, she thought. She just needed a little break. Though she had said that twenty minutes ago . . . Just ten more minutes, she told herself — ten more minutes and then back to work.

  Suddenly there was a ding from her computer. It was Jason, messaging her. She smiled absentmindedly — she hadn’t thought about him for a while. He was a nice boy — why had she abandoned him for Damien? If she had just met up with him instea
d, things might have been much better.

  His message read: Hey, I was just wondering if you wanted to get together for a coffee or something sometime. I know that sounds cheesy but I don’t know what else to say!

  She laughed and thought about it for a couple of seconds. Could she get a coffee with a boy now? Was she over Damien? She didn’t know if she was — she would have liked to think she was, but every time she thought of him her heart ached. She had heard people talk of heartache before and had thought nothing of it — she had never been in love. Now she knew what all those songs were droning on about — her heart literally ached.

  She leaned back in the chair and looked around her room — she couldn’t see anything, only darkness, and for some reason that made her feel lonely. She would like to have someone to share the darkness with, someone to protect her from loneliness. Even if it was just for a coffee and nothing more — at least it would be some meaningful human interaction.

  She leaned forward and typed out this message: Hey Jason. Good to hear from you. No, don’t be silly! A coffee sounds nice.

  She waited for him to reply — it was around five minutes before he did. She supposed that made sense — she was hardly going to be his top priority. That he was even talking to her astounded Molly — she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d never said another word to her.

  His reply read: Okay. How about tomorrow? There’s a nice place near mine.

  She agreed and he gave her the address, and they set a time. Then he went offline. She felt good about this — it would be good to see him again. She would be able to talk to him about normal things — not how rich he was or how many companies he owned, but what he had been up to over the past couple of months and how college was going.