The White Billionaire: The Complete Collection (Books 1-4)

by Lena Skye

  THE WHITE BILLIONAIRE:

  COMPLETE

  COLLECTION

  BOOKS 1-4

  An Interracial BWWM Romance By..

  LENA SKYE

  Summary

  Money, lies, betrayal, misunderstandings and much more. Dating a billionaire is never easy.

  Camille is a young, ambitious African American woman who lands herself a new job as personal assistant to young Billionaire, Kyle Kane. Kyle is the sexiest white guy that Camille has ever seen and concentrating at work is not going to be easy with such a dreamboat around.

  However, things get very interesting when Kyle suggests that her job as personal assistant is set to be much more “PERSONAL” then she first imagined....

  Copyright Notice

  Lena Skye

  The Complete White Billionaire Collection © 2014, Lena Skye

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Contents

  #1 Dating The White Billionaire

  #2 The Secret Of The White Billionaire

  #3 Submitting To The White Billionaire

  #4 The White Billionaire's Baby

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  **

  #Book1

  DATING THE

  WHITE BILLIONAIRE

  #Chapter1

  “I’m classy, sexy, street smart, and I’m definitely not to be fucked with.” -

  Camille

  **

  “Facebook is the devil!”

  I tell myself over and over again to log off but I never comply. I keep torturing myself with looking at photos of my friends. They seem so damned happy, disgustingly so. I mean seriously, I get that you’re in a relationship but why do you have the need to plaster pictures of you and your boyfriend kissing all over the internet? A part of me knows that I’m being a jealous bitch but I really don’t care. I’m so damned annoyed with my life right now.

  Deciding to stop feeling sorry for myself I head to the bathroom to begin primping for my night out with my friends. My apartment feels so empty without Marcus here to share it with me. I know that I should be happy that he’s gone but we’ve been together on and off since I was 12. Now that I’m 24, I just feel so damned lost. I didn’t finish school, I have a crappy job, and a bunch of loser ex-boyfriends along with it. I guess I’m just lucky that I didn’t turn out like my sister, because I would have 3 kids joining me in my personal misery.

  Marcus wasn’t much of a man but he has always been comfortable. Even though we dated other people from time to time, I always knew that I could count on him. So imagine my surprise when he said that he was done with me for good. He got that skank Charity pregnant and now they want to play house with each other. It still hurts that he could do that to me especially as we were supposed to have been together during that time which means he cheated. I always thought that he was better than that, now I know different.

  I still can’t believe that he did that to me, after all that I’ve done for him.

  Marcus is no angel, not by a long shot and I’m not either. We both grew up on the west side of Chicago and it was no picnic. He was a foster child and I always kind of wished that I was one. It’s a terrible thing to say but my mom sucks, and I feel like I may have been better off not knowing her at all. That way I could make up stories about how great she was in my head and how she was a young mother that couldn’t take care of me. I spent the majority of my childhood taking care of that woman and now I just refuse to do it anymore. I stopped calling her mom when I was 9, she is simply Lauren to me.

  Because I have a mother that’s incapable of thinking of anyone but herself, I resorted to holding drugs for Marcus and in return he would share his funds. I’ve gotten him connections that he could only dream of, I’ve charmed some of the biggest drug pushers in Chicago, and it was all for him. Everyone who is anyone in the drug game knows who “Camille” is. I’m classy, sexy, street smart, and I’m definitely not to be fucked with.

  You wouldn’t see any evidence of that if you looked at me today, because at this moment, I look an absolute hot mess. My weave is completely out of order and that’s only because I haven’t combed it in days. It’s a shame that I’ve spend so much money to look fabulous, only to sit around and feel sorry for myself. Luckily I’ve purchased great hair and so it won’t take long to get the snags out of my 18” inch tresses.

  An hour later the buzzer to my apartment rings and I know that it’s Sandy and Cynthia. I buzz them in and they storm inside of my apartment.

  “Girl! You aren’t ready yet? You were supposed to start hours ago,” Sandy said dramatically.

  I smacked my lips “Whatever, I told you that I would meet you there. You decided that you wanted to come pick me up and –”

  “Well that’s because you were going to flake on us, just like you have for the last 2 months.” Cynthia interjected.

  I give both of them the stink eye and walk back to the bathroom to finish my makeup. Sandy and Cynthia help themselves to the contents in my refrigerator. I sigh as I look into the mirror, I’m determined to have a good time and to not ruin our girl’s night. I apply lipstick to my full lips, mascara to my almond shaped eyes, and give myself a last look over. My high cheek bones, covered in my flawless milk chocolate complexion look great. I smile in the mirror because I’m back to my old self.

  “Put on your clothes! It’s time for us to go,” Sandy said as she shoved my spandex black dress into my hands. “And what are you gonna do about a job? Kiesha had to hire someone else because you’ve been a no call no show for 3 days.”

  I give a nonchalant shrug, even though my stomach drops. I don’t know why I decided not to call the restaurant to give a crappy excuse. But the truth is that I just couldn’t pull myself out of the bed and I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I hated being a waitress but I needed that job. I know that I can call and try to weasel my way back in but I just don’t want to. I stand up straight and fake the confidence that I wish I had.

  “Well, I’m going job hunting on Monday, and I’m sure that I’ll find something. I mean, who can resist hiring all of this,” I grin and spin around.

  “Alright, I sure hope so because I would hate for you to lose your new apartment. This place is nice, you’re making me want to move to the south suburbs too.”

  “I won’t let that happen.” I
say, “Now let me get dressed so that I can find me a new man!”

  ***

  Sleep is evading me, it’s 4 in the morning and my friends are sleeping, Sandy and Cynthia are on my sectional couch passed out. Even though they’re here with me, I feel so damn lonely…and horny.

  Alcohol and dancing always gets me revved up, I’m not sure if tonight was such a good idea. Don’t get me wrong, it was great spending time with my girls but now I feel like I’m plummeting from my high.

  I miss Marcus so much.

  He knows my body inside and out, that man can effortlessly send my body into multiple orgasms. He has a huge dick and a hurricane tongue. I feel my pussy begin to throb as I imagine my ex’s tongue lapping at my damp folds. He always pays special attention to the lips and completely ignores my clitoris in the beginning. A few minutes in and I’m writhing against his face, trying to push him further in but he has a lot of self control. Then he darts his tongue and probes inside.

  I open my legs and begin to massage my warm mound with the palm of my hand through my panties. I raise my hips and take myself to ecstasy as I envision him in between my thighs. As I recover from my orgasm, my mind drifts to why I need to forget Marcus.

  I’ve been trying to change my life but I’ve been a mess without him. It seems like all I date is losers, and that is why I’m by myself now. I would rather be alone than allow myself to get caught up in a life of scheming, drugs, and death. I’ve seen enough horror to last me a lifetime and that kind of lifestyle doesn’t have a happy ending. That’s probably why he left me; he says he was tired of me “acting brand new”. I wouldn’t allow him to keep his drugs at my new apartment or to bring guns here and he would get pretty upset.

  I would love to find someone else but few men exude the raw power that Marcus had. Maybe I just need to find a regular guy that I can settle down with. But that just seems so boring; I like a man with spunk.

  On Monday morning I’m going to get online and start job hunting. I can’t sit around feeling sorry for myself because I’ll end up homeless. The shelter life is not for me; God knows I’ve lived in enough of them with my mom. There are just certain places that I will never allow myself to be in again. I’m grateful that I was taken care of but I hate that part of my life.

  I finally drift back to sleep with thoughts of the past firmly at the forefront.

  #Chapter2

  “Stay Put?!? Dogs Stay Put!” - Camille

  **

  I’ve come to the realization that my resume sucks!

  I don’t have any real job skills because I’ve spent most of my time hustling, making, and creating connections for Marcus. I only worked my job as a waitress for about 6 months and I can only hope that any job that’s interested in me doesn’t call my previous employer. I don’t even know why I’m bothering, I should just call my old job back and grovel to Keisha. I bet that bitch would love to hear me beg and I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

  I search on Craigslist and take a look at the administrative section. One post immediately stands out to me which is looking for a personal assistant. That’s a job that I can do easily, anyone would be lucky to have me on their team. I’m going to make sure I write a killer cover letter because ultimately that is what’s going to get me through the door. What I lack in credentials, I make up in skill. If I could charm Diesel the biggest drug distributor on the West side then the people in corporate America are nothing. I find about 10 other jobs to apply to and call it day.

  I contemplate watching some television but I think that I’ve watched enough of it to last me all year. I’ve been mindlessly staring at my flat screen for weeks and eating. I’ve been eating a lot, and I’ve gained a few pounds. I have had enough Oreo cookies to last me a lifetime.

  Luckily for me, my weight goes straight to my ass, and my thighs, so men never complain. I plan on losing these extra pounds that I’ve gained because I love being a perfect 150 pounds because it looks great on my 5’7 curvy frame.

  I get prepared to hit the gym so that I can work on whipping my body into shape and I notice that I have an email. My heart starts racing when I see that it’s a reply from the personal assisting job.

  Damn, that was really quick.

  I open it and its short and to the point, they want me to come in and interview tomorrow. I can’t help but think about how odd it is that everything is moving so quickly. This means that I won’t have much time to prepare for my interview. I respond quickly, my heart still racing, and let them know that I can come in for the interview at 11 a.m.

  Okay, now I definitely have to go to the gym to run some of this nervous energy off!

  I arrive at the gym about an hour later and I spend most of my time on the treadmill. I used to run track in high school, I ran the 400 meter and I loved it. Running requires strategy, stamina, cursing power, and a quick burst of closing kick energy. It always got my blood pumping and I was always nervous before I started but once I hear the starting pistol, I’m like a horse let out of the starting gate. The adrenaline rush that I got from running competitively is unparalleled. It kept me from getting in a lot of trouble, I got to stay away from my mom longer, and I got to keep my body in shape. I didn’t need to be a cheerleader in high school to get attention because my personality and my killer body were all the credentials I needed.

  As I headed to the locker room to clean up I see Rodney. Rodney is your typical muscle head but he’s always so sweet to me, and I know that’s because he wants to fuck me. I refuse to fuck a man from my gym because if our relationship goes sour I don’t want to want to see his face or run into him every day. I tire of men pretty easily and so that’s a highly likely scenario.

  “Hey Camille, how are you doing,” he says as he flashes his pearly whites.

  I mirror his smile, “Hey sexy, how are you doing today?”

  “I’m doing alright, I would be even better if you would let me take you out”

  I roll my eyes, “Now you already know, I don’t mix pleasure with my workouts.”

  “I know, I know. But you can’t blame a brotha for trying,” he says as he looks me up and down and licks his lips.

  Normally, this kind of behavior would repulse me because I’ve always found that look to be creepy. That’s the same way my mom’s boyfriends would look at me and the only person that would keep me safe was Marcus.

  But today, I find it to be pretty sexy.

  I imagine riding Rodney while he’s lying down on the bench press machine. Now that would be a lot of fun, I wonder how big his dick is. I’ve never gotten the opportunity to see a print in his pants; he’s not a show off like the other men in the gym. I can’t even begin to count the amount of men who parade around the gym in basketball shorts with their hard dicks bulging from the fabric. Maybe they are doing that for each other because I think it’s disgusting. I don’t want to have sex with a man and every woman knows what he’s working with.

  “Camille, what’s up? You’re looking at me like you want to eat me up or something. Not that I’m opposed to –.”

  I smack my lips “Boy please, if I wanted to do all of that to you, you would know and you would enjoy it, thoroughly.”

  “Oh well excuse me. Just know that my offer still stands. I wouldn’t be the only person enjoying myself, I know that you would have a really good time too.”

  “Well, the world may never know. Thank you for asking though,” I say as I walk away. I can feel his eyes on my tight round ass.

  I love to flirt; it’s one of my favorite things to do.

  Being hard to get, but seemingly available is what I do best. Men love to have their egos stroked and they love banter even more. No one wants an easy girl with no brain. I’m from the ghetto but I’m smart and that’s what got me as far as it did. While everyone else was drinking beer and hard liquor, I preferred a great bottle of wine. Other girls my age were listening to Rap and I enjoyed country, pop, and jazz. I still love my people, our music, and culture but I’ve always known
that there was more to life.

  I want more for myself but sometimes I have no idea about how to go about getting it. Sure, I can go to school but I feel like that’s not going to do anything but leave me with a bunch of loans. It will also take me forever to get a degree going to school part time. I feel pretty old even though I’m only 24, I don’t know if I’m ready to sit in a classroom with a bunch of 18 year olds.

  As I’m walking to my car I feel my phone buzzing and I see that it’s my mom. I really don’t feel like talking to her and that’s evident because I’ve been dodging her phone calls for the last month. She never calls to just say hello, she always has an ulterior motive. I decide to pick up the phone.

  “Yes mom?”

  “Hey Cam, where are you right now?”

  “Why? What do you want,” I say in an annoyed tone.

  “No need to get an attitude. I just wanted to know. I’ve been calling you for over a month.”

  “I’ve been busy with my own life.”

  “Wow, so it’s like that? This is how you speak to your mother?”

  She can be so damned manipulative. But nevertheless she is my mom and so I soften my tone.

  “Okay mom, what’s up?”

  She sighs and says, “They’re going to turn off my lights if I don’t come up with the money in two weeks. I just got the shut off notice. I was trying to reach you before it got to this point.”