Very Bad Billionaires (37 page)

It seemed my stranger wasn’t a stranger any longer and the look in his eyes told me he had plans for me that didn’t involve discussing software.  I was suddenly in way over my head.

ANDREW

If I admitted to knowing who Rebecca Radley was before I seduced her in the bar of a mediocre hotel, would you think badly of me?  Would you think I abused my position?  Would you think I acted unprofessionally? 

Do you think I would give a shit if you answered yes?

Rebecca Radley was a small fish in a very big pool but by chance I’d seen her photo on LinkedIn, and a very nice head shot it was too.  You might be asking what a man in my position was doing on social media.  Let’s just say that it can be a useful tool for checking out your staff and I like to stay as hands on in that regard as possible.  People are my thing.  Reading them is how I became successful in my own right. The lovely Rebecca came up as a contact of one of my most loyal employees, but it was something about her glossy hair and far away eyes that made me take notice. 

Attraction is a funny thing.  Women can be beautiful and still do nothing for me.  They can be stereotypically sexy and I will still pass them over.  They can look innocent and it won’t interest me, have a sassy attitude and I’ll be looking elsewhere.  I get bored easily and am as fickle as April weather. 

So, you may ask, what inspired me to go after little Miss Radley?  She wasn’t model beautiful or wealthy or educated to genius status.  She didn’t look like my mother – god forbid!  She just had that special little
something
that rocks my boat.  It’s a personal thing.  I like long dark hair, I like mysterious eyes that have depth and sadness, I like small features (button noses and dainty chins) and I like a woman with poise.  The tiny photo of Rebecca on my screen had been enough for me to take interest.  I’d left it open while I worked late in my office, pausing to glance up every so often, testing whether my initial interest had been a fluke.  But each time I sought out her image my cock jerked. 

My cock is a demanding thing.  Sometimes I wonder how much of my decisions are driven by my head and how many by the throbbing thing in my boxers.  He knows what he likes and seeks it out and I end up along for the ride!  A couple of weeks passed, and he was still twitching whenever I thought about Rebecca.  In passing, my employee Roger had mentioned he was expecting a visitor from the UK and I saw my chance.  The days before she arrived I was distracted and I liked the feeling.  I was prepared to take a chance.  Well, a whole lot of chances really.  I knew where she was staying but didn’t know that she would be in the bar. I just hoped that she would need a drink after a long flight.  I didn’t know whether she would recognise me but realised almost immediately that she had no idea who I was.  I didn’t know if I would like her as much in person as I liked her picture but it turned out she was a whole lot of perfect wrapped in a demure little bow.

Fuck!  I’m getting hard just remembering the way she shimmied out of her little pink thong in a bar surrounded by people at my behest.  It was damp when she rested it in my palm and I knew then that I would have her.  If a man can make a woman wet without touching her, they have a pretty good chance of getting in her panties and up inside her cunt. I still have the lacy little number as a memento of our evening together.  Do you think that’s perverse? 

You guessed it…I don’t give a shit!

The journey up to her room was pure torture.  I could feel Rebecca’s surrender before we even got into the elevator in the way she let me grope her ass in the open, where anyone could see.  As we walked down the corridor she almost melted into a runny pool of desire.  And inside her hotel room she learnt what I liked so quickly it was almost too perfect.  She only tried to lead things once when her hands latched onto my belt buckled but one hint that it wasn’t what I wanted was enough to get her to comply.  I could feel how much she loved it.  She was buzzing, trembling.  I loved being her anonymous lay.  I could tell that she wasn’t accustomed to having sex with people she didn’t know.  It was in her eyes; that hesitation before she slipped her room key across the table.

When I got her naked I couldn’t stop looking at her pussy and the way it flushed and flutter beneath my gaze.  It came to life; clit stirring for attention, her dainty labia going from light to dark-rose pink, but it was watching her hole leak for me that made me harder than a rock.  The smell of her – musky and sweet – and the taste drove me fucking wild.  And when I pushed my cock into the tight, hot heat of her I felt like I might explode out of my own skin.  Even though she was lightly restrained, she bucked against me like a woman possessed, body convulsing as she grabbed and scraped for her own pleasure. 

She earned her orgasms.

The one on the end of a cold whisky bottle was spectacular but the one when I was buried inside her was like a fucking exorcism. 

I don’t know how I lasted so long but I wanted to make good on my promise to give her something to remember.  There was something so sad about her eyes that drove me to give her the best I had.

After the sex she seemed different; less docile, less compliant and with a determined edge to her voice.  It wasn’t the sex that made me reveal myself the next day.  It was her words
.  You’ll be my dirty little secret.
That was what she said, and fuck me if it wasn’t a direct challenge.  That might have been what she wanted but I’d changed my mind.  The look on her face when I walked into the meeting room was priceless.  I wished I had a camera.  Well, that office has CCTV installed so I guess I’ll have it all on film for my later enjoyment.

I have dirty things on my mind and they all involve Rebecca Radley.  I’m going to get my hands on her little tits again, pinch those nipples until she can’t bear any more.  I’m going to slip my fingers into her panties and probe her most private place until I feel her shivering at my touch.  I want to deny her pleasure and then give it to her until she can’t take it and begs me to stop. 

Rebecca liked getting fucked by a stranger.  Now that she knows who I am, we’ll have to take it up another notch. 

And I know just how to do it.

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Hi!  I’m Holly Stone.  I live, work and write in London.  Writing isn’t my day job but I love creating characters enough to do it in my spare time.  When I’m not working, writing or parenting I’m reading, day dreaming about my next book and
tryi
ng to stretch time like elastic!
I love people and chocolate and stories that grab you by the heart and squeeze. Before I became a mummy I travelled to cool places and studied ancient things and danced in heels and drank gin with orange juice. When my kids are grown I am planning to do all those things again, just wearing longer skirts!

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Unplanned Fairy Tale, Part 1

Misha Carver

Chapter 1 – Jason

“You’re so lucky,” Bob said as he swallowed back his beer. “You don’t have anyone to tell you when to come home. The only one who calls the shots is you.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” I said as I carefully aimed my cue and took my shot. “I’d give anything to have someone sitting there waiting for me when I get home. Instead, all I have is Rufus.”

“At least Rufus doesn’t argue,” Jacob laughed, sitting down his glass of wine while he got ready to take his shot.

“Or make you sleep on the couch,” Bob cut in.

“Have you ever seen how much room that dog takes up on the bed?” I said. “The way he sprawls out there’s barely any room left for me.”

“Look at it this way,” Bob said as he put his arm around my shoulder. “You’ve got the best of both worlds. You aren’t nailed down to any one woman, and you get to keep all of your money to yourself. No woman can take you for half of it if things don’t work out. Stay a bachelor, man. Marriage is hell.”

“Guys, I get where you’re all coming from. But I’ll turn 35 years old this year. I’ve been taking an inventory of my life, and of everything I have. It’s all just possessions. It means nothing if I have no one to share it all with,” I said as I chalked up my cue.

“What’s got into you, man?” Bob said with a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, has the eternal bachelor gone soft on us?” Jacob said as he raised his eyebrow.

“It’s just that I’m realizing that if I died tomorrow, I have no heir to carry on my family name, or to run my business. I have no one to leave anything to. What does it all mean, if you don’t have a legacy to leave behind for someone to inherit?”

“Either I’ve had too much beer, or that’s the deepest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jacob said.

“Have another beer, buddy,” Bob said. “And Jason, maybe you should too. You’re going all flaky on us.”

“No guys, I’m serious. I’m at a point where I want someone to share my life with, and I want an heir to pass it all on to.”

The waitress came around to collect our empty bottles and glasses. I threw her some cash and ordered another round. I loved Friday nights out with the guys. I could relax in freedom in the back of Sparky’s Bar and Poolroom without anyone recognizing me while we solved the world’s problems, or at least our own.

“You know that’s not going to be easy, man,” Bob said. “Look at all the women that throw themselves at your feet now, all opportunists. You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who’s not just out to get their hands on your money.”

“What he needs,” Jason said, “is to find someone who’s as successful as he is. It doesn’t matter what field she’s in, as long as she has a similar net worth.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Ask women for their bank statements as a prerequisite for a first date?”

“Well, it might rule a lot of people out,” Jacob said.

“Yeah, but he might also scare a lot of good candidates away that don’t want to share that information so early on. Besides, in the interest of full disclosure, if he’s going to make them share, he should have to do it as well. I doubt that he plans on doing that,” Bob added.

“That’s a good point,” Jacob said. “Aren’t there billionaire dating agencies or something for stinking rich people like you?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “With women whose profiles are nothing but lies. I tried that once. I’m never going back.”

“What about treating it like a job?” Bob asked.

“Are you saying being married to me would be a full-time job?” I laughed.

“No. I’m just saying, what about interviewing people and finding out who you like. Then pick a couple from the pool to date, and find your perfect match from there.”

“It feels too much like a reality show for me,” I said as I curled up my nose at the idea.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to advertise it, like who wants to marry a millionaire...”

“Billionaire, at least get it right,” I chuckled.

“And let’s not forget arrogant,” Jacob added. “Seriously though, it’s not a bad idea. Get women to audition, or rather interview, for the job. You could call them back for second and third interviews. It’s perfect.”

“I don’t know. It sounds sneaky and underhanded.”

“Gold diggers and opportunists are sneaky and underhanded,” Bob reminded me.

“I guess when you put it that way, it’s not that terrible of an idea. Besides, I’m only protecting my assets.”

“Exactly,” Jacob said. “Protect your own ass and make sure you find the perfect woman for the job. Maybe none of them will qualify, or maybe you’ll wind up with a few of them to choose from. You’ll never know until you try.”

“Well, that’s it for me, boys. I have an early morning tomorrow,” I said as I grabbed my sweater off the back of my chair.

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Bob said questioningly.

“Yeah, well, the boss’s work is never done,” I said with a smile. “Have a good one, guys.”

“At least think about it,” Jacob said.

“I will,” I lied. I never intended to give it another thought. Interviewing potential wives was the stupidest idea I’d ever heard of.

***

When I got home I gave my maid the rest of the night off and immediately flopped down on the couch. As I flipped through the television channels, I must have fallen asleep. I woke up the next morning to the sounds of the birds singing, still wearing my clothes from the bar the night before.

I scrambled to get ready to head down to the office. Ratings sweeps had just ended, and we were debating which television shows to cancel and which to renew for another season. I hated working Saturdays, but during sweeps, sometimes it couldn’t be helped, especially during negotiations.

***

When I arrived at the office, my secretary, Julie, greeted me with a hot cup of coffee as she’d done every morning for the past five years. I didn’t know what I’d do without her. She knew exactly what I liked and she always delivered.

“Hey Julie,” I said. “Can I see you in my office for a second?”

“Coming, Mr. Donnelly,” she said.

“I’m going to ask you to do something rather strange,” I said as I folded my hands on my desk.

“Fire away,” she said with her spunky little attitude.

“I want to have a baby, and I’m in the market for a wife. I want you to set up interviews with women for me.”

“So, you want me to be your personal dating service?” she asked with a huge grin on her face.

“Not quite. I just want you to prequalify people before I meet them. I’m trying to steer clear of the gold diggers. I want someone who loves me for me, not for my money.”

“Ah, so no more one-night stands for the lone Jason Donnelly. New York’s most eligible bachelor is about to marry himself off, I take it.”

“Enough of the snide remarks, Julie. I’m counting on you. Just do it,” I said exhausted.

“Consider it done,” she said as she gave me a sly grin and walked out of my office.