A Bad Boy Billionaire: Forbidden Alpha Male Romance

by Heidi Hunter

  The next day, I wanted to cum again, so I called Sarah, who was a little older. She worked at one of the few remaining bookstores in the world. Actual paper books. I should be careful lest my audience of readers begin to realize who I am or what I'm capable of doing – with words. Always with words. The medium doesn't matter as much as the content. Sarah would understand that and gave a good blowjob as well. She also appreciated good head, letting me go down on her as she instructed me about every nook and cranny she wanted me to reach.

  I was on the back patio by the pool when she arrived. Sitting on a lounger, I heard birds chirping in the distance and then she was there in front of me. She didn't waste any time and stripped down to a bikini.

  “What's up, old man?”

  “Bored and horny,” I said, honestly. I liked her directness. American women don't fuck around.

  “I'm on the rag, but I can blow you and you can owe me one, a long double orgasm for me like you did last time.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, I would appreciate that. Smoke a joint first?

  “Of course.”

  I sat up and retrieved a good sized joint. I lit it up, took a quick, short puff and passed it to her. We rested on the lounge chairs, laying back and soaking up the last of the sun without any conversation. Halfway through, she got up and knelt beside me. Without a word, she pulled down my shorts and started to examine me closely with precision.

  “You need to shave down here more,” she said, then looked up at me.

  “Yeah...” I said dreamily then took another puff of the joint.

  She grabbed me with one hand at the base and took me in her mouth, rolling her tongue around as I hardened. She deftly used her fingers, tongue and lips and even her nose and cheek. I closed my eyes and felt as if I was flying through the air. All that mattered, all that existed was her and me and then I came, feeling her pumping me as I shot load after load across my chest.

  I sighed deeply. “I needed that.”

  “I could tell. Save me some of that?”

  “Of course.” I handed her what was left of the joint that had gone out. As she struggled to light it, I pulled out another and lit it, took a hit, then passed it to her. She rolled her eyes, but accepted it and tried to catch up to me. She had too far to go in a single night.

  “What's wrong?” I asked, knowing something was not quite right. She was too quiet.

  “Oh, I had an unexpected bill come up.”

  I nodded, knowingly. This was a game we played. While upfront about half of the facts, she left some out which resulted in something not quite true and not quite a lie. American women love to have their cake and eat it too.

  “I can help some if you want,” I offered.

  “No, I couldn't let you do that. You've done so much already.”

  “It's no big thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Just don't go around telling all the women it's no big thing. They might get the wrong idea.”

  Her smile, the one I loved watching, reappeared. She was innocent and happy. Christmas morning had arrived and Santa Claus was real. This was the true American dream for many women and men. I had to leave the country soon and travel the world. To get my bearings and make it to one billion, I wanted to experience more than Sarah could offer me.

  “You can fuck me in the ass if you want?” she said suddenly, standing up and sticking it in my direction.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Well, you're not that big and since I'm bleeding I can still please you.”

  “You already pleased me.”

  “I know, but I want to make sure you're happy.”

  “What's with everyone wanting to know if I'm really happy. I'm fucking rich! Why wouldn't I be?”

  “You don't look happy. And what do you mean everyone? Was that whore here again?” She glared at me suddenly.

  “I'll send the money to your account. Can you let yourself out? I'll give you a call soon,” I said, not wanting to get into it with her.

  She shook her head, but she left, not saying a word. I would hear from her again. I always heard from American women again. That was the problem. I wanted something different, another perspective on life. Most of the women I had been meeting were all the same. Their ages made them different in some ways and they all had their own personalities and traits, but beneath everything when you crawled under the covers with them at the end of the night to try to sleep without nightmares they were all the same to me.

  Take Samantha. She was a Tomboy all the way, even wearing her hair cropped close to her skill. She wore jeans and work shirts and had a bit of a swagger. But at the end of the day, after all the kinky sex, she wanted the same – security, to know there was something more than the allure of money and wealth. I didn't know what to tell these women to make them happy. I tried telling them the truth at first, but most didn't like this. And those who were okay with it didn't like the little lies I had to tell to keep sane at the end of the day.

  Did I fuck people over to get my money? You bet. The higher up the ladder you go, the less feelings you need to have to be able to survive. Up here it's vicious and a long stream of women did nothing to quell the feelings of emptiness that wouldn't go away no matter how much money I spent. And yet, once I had the initial formula completed, the initial scripts running, the rest took care of itself to an extent. As long as I kept myself together and thinking clearly I would be able to keep moving forward.

  Even at that point in my life I knew the likes of Gates and Branson were in my sights. And all the others. They had thought too small because they were from the old generation. I was born into a magical period in the timeline. I had been in the right place at the right time over and over again. And now I had Samantha kissing me and I had to take care of her. I put the thoughts out of my mind and ran my hand through her dark red hair, curly and hanging down below her shoulders.

  She had my head in her hands as well and pushed my head to her breasts. I nuzzled them then lifted her shirt off for better access. I started kissing all of her flesh, wanting to taste all of it at once. I took my time and moved an inch at a time across her landscape with my tongue, my lips, a light then deep kiss. Getting closer and closer to her special spot, she took my head in her hands again and guided me. American women love to feel like they're in control, which they are maybe in some ways.

  At the gates of her magical kingdom perfectly sized and shaped for my cock, I stopped and peered into her. Her lips were starting to spread open and I could see her clitoris still partially hidden, waiting to come out to play. I went through the motions at first, getting started, but as she started moving her hips up to make closer contact with my mouth, I started to heat up myself. This allowed me to know before she knew where to go, what to lick, what to press lightly and want to stab with my tongue firmly.

  Right after the waves of her first orgasm subsided, I moved up between her legs and entered her. Looking down into her eyes, I leaned in and kissed her as I worked in and out of her slowly. I wanted to build up the moment for her again. I wanted to make her cum and forget all the ills in the world for just that moment. After kissing her lips, I started sucking her nipples as I continued my thrusts. She was wet, but tight.

  “I love the way you feel inside me,” she said.

  I grunted and tried to get even deeper inside her. “Talk dirty to me.”

  “You're a dirty old man and I just fuck you because you have money.”

  The truth hit me like an electrical shock, but it caused my cock to start spitting as soon as she said the M word. I hadn't lasted long enough to give her another orgasm right away, but I knew we had all night. We could clean up in the shower and I could go down on her again. And she could go down on me again. American women were predictable. I needed something different, but I had to make sure I reached at least a hundred million first. I had to be close.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked after as we lay in bed next to each other.

  “Money.”


  “Typical American man.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked, suddenly upset with her.

  “All you rich people are the same. You're so concerned about making the most money, about getting to the top, you forget to enjoy the journey. It's the trip, not the destination.”

  “That's easy for a dirty hippie like you to say.” I sat up and grabbed my shorts.

  “Hey! I'm not dirty.”

  “You're a hippie.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And sexy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like a dirty minded hippie to me.” I tried to make a joke, hoping to distract her.

  “That's not what you said.”

  “I know. You said I had a small dick earlier.”

  “Well, you do! That was the truth. I'm not a dirty woman.”

  I wanted to enjoy a nice dinner and the scenery, but she didn't stop all night, demanding to know in what particular way I thought she was dirty. When I didn't have an answer, she began belittling me. She cursed me at the end of the night and stormed out. I knew she would probably be back, but I still put her on my security black list. I didn't have time to try to understand American women. I had to see the world to get to the next level. The secret was out there waiting. I just had to find it. Or her.

  99 Billion Problems

  I got 99 billion problems, but love is not one of them. Or maybe it's the biggest problem. I have no children. All I have are my dollars. And I have a lot. I send them out into the world to come back to me with even more whether in this currency or another. The money piles on the money and makes mountains so I purchase rarities and get the volume down at least.

  The people come after the money, my little dollars and big statues. They glance and envy and they're not my enemies – the 99 percent – they are the ones who can truly be happy in this world. They look to my life with jealousy and I long for theirs. The grass is always greener, the gold is always shinier, the precious gems are always more delicious.

  Her nipples feel odd between my lips. Maybe it's the drugs or maybe it's her. I've only known her for a few hours, but a flash of this or that and she was wet between her legs allowing me easy entrance. Thrust and retreat again then again. A sin? I got 99 billion of them. They all cry to me when I try to sleep at night.

  She pushes me over and starts attacking me with her mouth. So much raw passion and pure adventure. I think I'm in Africa, but I'm not sure anymore. The planet seems smaller now as I hop from place to place across the globe like some huge race with no finish line. I will never completely stop running, I imagine.

  Even hidden away on one of my many islands or in one of my many modern caves built to withstand nuclear armageddon. And yet I feel no safer. For what use is living in a world no longer around? Who will keep my warm at night? Who will suck my cock? Who will listen to me rant? Nobody in the world anymore. Pussy is her only hustle, but the way her lips were formed down there demand as much.

  She touches me balls, touches my chest, touches me ears, touches me hardness. A little work and it will spit fury and relax. She uses both hands, kneeling between my legs, her eyes open wide, waiting for the treat, the explosion, the empty genetic treasures within me.

  “I want to be inside you now,” I said.

  “You're inside my mind right now,” she replied.

  Did she have an accent or were the strange sounding words coming from my mouth? As her long black hair flowed down, covering one breast and exposing the other, I didn't care. She let go of me and climbed over it, hovering over it. I reached forward to touch her clit. She didn't flinch, didn't move down onto me. And then, bliss.

  I enter her as she falls with her hair on my chest then looks up and gives me a kiss on the lips, a real one, an open one. And the sun outside is setting as she grinds slowly, not up and down but still stimulating me, making me creep closer to the edge. I grab her breasts – one in each hand – and push her back so I can look in her eyes.

  The windows to her soul have the curtains pulled back as she places her hands on my bare chest for better balance and begins to show she knows how to move her body to and fro. She won't look me in the eyes. She knows the dollars are in the rooms all around us. She can hear them singing to me, singing to her. She knows what they make possible in the world so unbalanced.

  “Fuck the 99 percent,” she screams as an orgasm washes over her body, which shakes. I hold her as if a hurricane the force can ruin me. She slows and cuddles on my chest, her hair fanning out, but her hips continue to move. More slowly, but I feel myself building up even more. I flip her over and enter her, staring into those eyes, those eyes, oh my those eyes! I cry out as I cum inside her then collapse to the bed next to her. The sun is down too. I look over in the darkness. She seems restless still, unsatisfied still.

  “Not impressed?” I say.

  “I thought it would be more.”

  “We can go again if you like.”

  “Are you able?”

  “Wonders of modern science. Maybe some head first? Or stop for a drink?”

  “A smoke would be nice.”

  “Outside on the patio?” I sit up on an elbow facing her.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Don't get dressed.” I stand up and open a drawer to retrieve some weed.

  “I wasn't planning on it.” She giggles then, wrapped in a silk white sheet, makes her way outside to the patio by the pool.

  She's lying down on a lounger when I arrive. “Room for two?” I ask.

  She scoots over and I'm next to her. I light the joint and take a long hit, holding the smoke in as long as I can. The best marijuana money can buy is what I use to get high. I've hired a whole gardening crew somewhere in the world to keep me in stock.

  She takes the joint, looking so hot with her Italian and Irish features mixed. We smoke as clouds of smoke rise into the air. In the chair I get hard again just being so close to her. Or maybe it's the pill I took. Or the weed. I told them I wanted a strain to increase blood flow and orgasm control. Maybe they made a breakthrough. Testing would be needed.

  I roll over and get between her legs. As she continues smoking, I go down on her, exploring her every fold and curve as if for the first time. She reaches down and playfully runs her hand through my hair. I'm her pet. I lick. I lap. She opens up, her legs spreading wider. I can't stand it any longer and move up slowly, my cock finding its goal without any help needed.

  I kiss her as I enter her and she moans, dropping the roach to the concrete so she can use both hands to further explore my body. She grabs my ass cheeks and pulls me closer, ever closer. I'm inside of her as far as I can go. I pause then slowly pull out and switch the angle slightly, enough to make the next thrust new and even more pleasurable.

  “Go faster,” she hisses.

  I obey, increasing my pace, still looking into her eyes.

  “Go slower,” she says.

  I obey, slowing down the race, bending my head to kiss her neck.

  What happens next confuses me as time seems to fuse itself to space and matter all around spins and begins to talk to me. I'm inside her thrusting but my mind is elsewhere at the same time. I can perform and ponder at the same time and the good times are killing me.

  I feel her body tensing up as she rises her hips to meet me mid-thrust. This enhances her pleasure and takes her over the edge. Slipping into orgasm, I feel her muscles contract around me, squeeze me more tightly and I have to release as well.

  “Stay inside me,” she says.

  I obey, feeling myself slowly get smaller, softer until I slip out.

  “I wish you could stay inside me forever.”

  “I wouldn't be able to make more dollars that way,” I say, getting off of her and standing up.

  “There's more to life than dollars,” she says naively. At 24 years old, she isn't as well experienced as me.

  I laugh, loudly, then dive into the pool. The water is refreshing. I feel as if I'm diving into the e
ssence of woman and being enveloped. The coolness stops when I pop my head up. Treading water, I call to her. “Come in the pool...” I want to add her name, but I've forgotten it. One of my 99 billion problems.

  “I want to relax here a bit,” she says.

  “Okay, but you're missing out. This is magic water.”

  “It is not,” she says, but I can tell she's taken the bait. She's on the hook.

  “Oh yes it is. You know how rich I am. I have it specially made in a mountain cave according to a recipe from an Alchemist in the Dark Ages.”

  She sits up, enthralled by my story. Soon she slips into the water and swims over to me. I don't think I can perform again, but we bob in the water next to each other, our limbs occasionally touching. I tell her more of the story of the magic water, making it all up as I go.

  The acid keeps us up all night playing in the pool. In the morning, clouds roll in as the sun comes up. We struggle to see the individual rays or beams as the dark gray masses continue to block our view. She kisses me and I kiss her back. Soon I'm on my back looking up at that sky. Then the globes of her ass hover and appear. I look up and see her pussy so close. I reach out with my tongue to make sure it's real. Maybe I hit my head and fell asleep. She moans and I know to continue lapping and licking, occasionally sticking my tongue inside her.

  I feel her breasts on my chest, her nipples pressed against my flesh. My cock is next to her cheek. She licks, teases, tempts me to go further. I keep pleasing her with my mouth as she finally stops teasing and tastes me. The morning sounds of the ocean in the distance sound natural and strange at the same time. I hear her breathing. I hear me breathing.

  Our moans mix together into a chorus. We both forget the rest of the world and concentrate on task at hand. She uses her fingers too, holding me at the base as the blood flows and stays. I'm so hard every slightest brush of her lips or hair sends electricity through me. She's grinding her pussy against my face, using me for more than just my money.