A Bad Boy Billionaire: Forbidden Alpha Male Romance (6 page)

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 essence 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.

Somehow we cum at the same time. Maybe she's lying. I know I'm not as I shoot into her mouth again and again then slowly the release subsides and I'm back inside my body. She gets up and runs into the house. I don't follow, enjoying the feelings still reaching the furthest reaches of my mind. Soon she's back with a pitcher of orange juice and some fresh fruit.

I don't remember what to call what she places in my mouth, but the texture and juices feel so good on my tongue then going down. I drink a tall glass and then another. I feel myself coming down slightly, but I know we have at least the morning. Maybe some of the afternoon. At some point I'll have to ask her to leave and return to my 99 billion problems, but for this one moment we are all that exists in the entire cosmos.

“That was a freaky night,” she says.

“I call it a normal Thursday.”

She laughs then goes back to eating. I concentrate on enjoying the tastes as I look at the beauty of her body. She is fit and lean, but she has curves. Her breasts hang down. Her nipples stand up and out as if pouting. I want another taste. I start rubbing a piece of mango across her chest, making sure to test each nipple for sensitivity.

“Already again?”

“Our trip will be ending soon.”

“We can go again.”

“I need to work soon.”

“No you don't!” she insists.

I don't listen as I move in to taste the juice of the fruit on her tits. As I imagined, the tastes merge making both somehow better. Not bitter but not sweet.

“You work too much,” she says, running her fingers through my hair again as I taste her chest.

I lean back. “I don't work enough!” Standing up, I reach down my hand. “I want to go to the woods,” I say suddenly wanting to be enveloped by the forest. She is my nymph.

I help her to her feet and we leave the morning tripper feast and, still naked, walk across the lawn toward the woods in the distance. At the bubbling brook as if from a fairy tale, she sits on a large boulder and begins twirling her hair.