A Bad Boy Billionaire: Forbidden Alpha Male Romance Read online

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  A Bad Boy Billionaire

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  Nikki the Sitter

  Curvy and Curious

  Heidi Hunter

  A BAD BOY BILLIONAIRE

  by Heidi Hunter

  Copyright © 2015 Heidi Hunter

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  A Bad Boy Billionaire

  Tammy and the One Percent

  Life is strange sometimes. You don't have to agree with me on that, of course, but if you stop and think about it for a while, there's a good chance you're going to agree with me when you work it out in your mind. I had money, resources and hope and yet I wasn't happy. Lack of sex also wasn't a problem. Once I had the money in place, the sex came naturally. No matter how much I had, I never felt fulfilled or complete. Every woman wanted something from me. Not all of them wanted money. Some wanted companionship. Some wanted me to act like their father. Some just wanted someone to laugh at so they could feel better about themselves.

  I guess that wanting something is at the heart of any relationship. The best ones are give and take, but lately I've been doing more giving than taking. I'm not the only rich billionaire on the planet. I know this to be a fact. I meet with the others in a sort of support group every winter somewhere near the equator. I don't want to give out the location lest the Occupy crowd find us and demand justice for the 99%. It's not my fault a combination of talent, persistence and luck paid off for me. The world is what you make of it and I made it into something that made me money. Lots of money.

  The feeling of security that money can provide was nice at first, but as I accumulated more and more wealth, I realized that it is, indeed, a “mo' money, mo' problems” kind of world. Listing those lyrics may give away my age, but I really don't care anymore. I know the rest of the 1% are not going to like that this collection of words is being published – especially as an ebook – but I feel the need to tell my story. Perhaps the telling of my tale is more about therapy for me than to give you peace of mind or contentment, but you might find that you can glean a lesson or two.

  I should tell you right off that I'm not a prude. Sex is one of the most amazing things about being a human – that build up and eventual release and during the span of time it takes to get from point A to point B you can lose your sense of being. Soon after I made my first billion, I went on a sex bender, trying to experience as many women as I could. The money made this easy. Too easy. I was safe, of course. I didn't want any offspring at that time. Starting with that thought or memory is not a good idea, so let's get back to the sex.

  Sexual intercourse is, of course, primarily based around the need to populate the planet with other humans. And yet beyond that, the feelings cause some men and women to go to great lengths in order to never leave the boundaries of pleasure. This is certainly fun for a while, but over time the act becomes routine and mundane. You find yourself needing more and more kink in order to achieve the same feelings – just like a drug addict. This is what happened to me.

  As I said, after that first billion was built up and working toward building even more, I took some time off to travel the world and meet all types of women. Of everyone I met in the first six months of my sex adventures around the planet, Tammy was the one who stands out the most. I can never see her again or even contact her, but that is probably for the best. The last I heard she was in the Bermuda region selling hula skirts or something. She always had a con going.

  I first met Tammy in Miami in the late 1980s. This was before cellphones were popular. I had one for all the cars I owned, but most people had to still call from their home, a payphone or see someone in person to actually communicate. Because of this, she really had to work hard to get in touch with me after hearing about me. She was tenacious, a very desirable quality in a woman. Now, I realize she had too much tenacity, but at the time she turned me on with how hard she worked to find me.

  And when she did find me, I didn't give her instant satisfaction. I talked to her, took her out for a drink, then said I had to leave and gave her a hundred dollar bill for a cab ride home. Walking to my waiting limo, I felt on top of the world and knew that rushing out on her after all the word she had put into finding me would just cause her to want me even more. And I was right. She frantically showed up at one of my office buildings looking for me. I happened to be there at the time, which was strange, and another reason I took her so seriously in the beginning.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked her point blank in the lobby as I was walking out to lunch.

  “I just wanted to see you and you never gave me your phone number the other day.”

  “You ever think maybe I didn't want you to call me?” I smiled and winked. “I'm just kidding. I've been busy. I'm a man of industry and business, remember?”

  “I know, it's just...”

  “It's okay. You got time for lunch? We can talk some more and maybe you can get my number.”

  Her face lit up and I knew I had her hooked. We took my limo to a swanky place uptown, somewhere she had never been before and would never visit without tagging along with a person like me. I picked the location because I knew it would make her feel out of place. She was accustomed to living with men who made hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, not men like me who made hundreds of millions. Lunch went well, all things considered. I had her laughing and fed her like a queen, showing her money meant nothing to me anymore.

  “So you going to give me your phone number?” she asked as we drank coffee after lunch.

  “I'll give you a phone number. Whether or not it's the easiest one to get in touch with me is another matter entirely.”

  On some levels, I couldn't believe what I was getting away with by talking to her in this manner. But I did realize my wealth and position of power held sway over her. It was at that first lunch that I thought I really had control over her. I know now how wrong I was at the time, but the feeling was a good one while it lasted. I didn't use the knowledge to hurt her in anyway. Still, I had fun. I have to admit that. I plopped another hundred on the table.

  “Cab fare for you,” I said, then quickly moved on. “I have a few hours on Saturday if you can make it to my house.”

  “Yes! I can,” she said, excitedly.

  “Good. I have to go now. See you then.”

  As I walked away without giving her my address, I wondered when it would hit her. I would pay a million dollars to see the expression on her face. Or maybe she realized I hadn't given it to her and wanted to show she had what it takes to find me. This was probably another early mistake I made with her, one that cost me any chance of having a real relationship with her.

  I have to admit I was surprised when she showed up at the gate on Saturday afternoon. I wasn't sure how she had located me among my many properties, but she had managed to do so. I felt obligated to show her a good time. As the gate opened and her small, two-door car made its way down my long driveway, I walked out front to greet her. I usually sent the staff home on the weekends so I could have my castle to myself for at least a couple days a week.

  “You made it,” I said after she got out of the car and walked over. I marveled at the way she looked. Her long and curled red hair was bright and was a good contrast to her pale white skin. She was wearing a loose
fitting top that covered a bikini beneath. If one thing could be said about Tammy, it was that she took care of her body. From muscle tone to skin tone to shaving her nether regions neatly, she was always on top of her game.

  “You didn't think I would find you, did you?” She walked up and gave me a hug, putting me a little off guard. She appeared to have a new sense of swagger to her, something I found attractive on a deep and primal level.

  “To be honest, I didn't. But you're here, so I will have to find something to keep you entertained. Shall we go inside?”

  She wrapped her arm in mine as I led her inside my West Coast castle. The layout was actually based on a genuine Scottish fortification, but with all the modern amenities only the 1% can afford. She tried to hide being overwhelmed, but even millionaire friends of mine were hard pressed not to be impressed by what I had constructed. As I gave her the customary tour, I pointed out that the normal staff was gone for the weekend. I played up the fact I was a terrific boss and not an asshole like most of the rest of the one percenters.

  “Nice place you have here, Darrell,” she said as we were nearing the end of the tour. We were stopped on a landing on the way to the third floor, a place I rarely took visitors.

  “Thanks, my dear. The only wing left to show you is the master suite. Not many people get that tour, I'm afraid. And I'm not sure if you're on the small list of people who get to see where I lay my head to sleep when I'm in this part of the world.”

  “Oh, I'm on the list,” she replied.

  “Really, now. And you know this how?”

  “Well, I wrote my name on there when you weren't looking.”

  I looked at her without saying a word. I wanted her to wonder what I was thinking, wanted her to hope she had my approval. As the silence built up and became a real, physical thing in the air between us, I could sense her break, just a little. She was stronger than she had been on our first two lunches, but I wasn't sure if this was just a facade, some other layer to her personality. When she moved forward quickly and kissed me forcefully on the mouth, I had my answer.

  I reached around and placed my hand in the small of her back, pulling her closer to me. She was a good four inches shorter than me, but at six foot and four inches without shoes, I wasn't what most would call a short man. Still, her body pressed against mine as I continued the kiss. And then I stopped. I pulled back. I let go of her and stepped back. Looking into her eyes, I wanted her to read my mind and know what I wanted next. Most women would get it wrong. Would she?

  “I don't know what came over me just then. Do you mind if we go back downstairs and talk about this for a little bit at least? I have these feelings for you and I need to sort them out.”

  I smiled. She was one of the few women with the right answer. “Not a problem at all. In fact, I think I would prefer to slow things down so we can get to know each other a little better.” I wondered what she thought of my pretend rich-person voice and if I would ever be able to talk normally around her. Only time would tell. She passed the next stage and was one step closer to my heart, my true source of riches.

  I took her hand in mine as we walked back down to the ground floor. I led her to the back patio, a place overflowing with green plants and perfectly manicured gardens in the distance. We sat in wicker chairs as the sun began to set on the horizon, blasting the sky with yellows and oranges and purples, truly the colors of love.

  “Are you going to explain that little move you made upstairs?” I asked after we were settled and drinking an expensive bottle of white wine.

  “I just thought it would make you happy. I went with the moment.”

  “You thought it would make me happy? You don't even know me!” I laughed a little then added, “Yet.”

  “I want to get to know you.”

  “And most guys you go after want that sort of thing right away?”

  “Well, yes, to be honest.” She adjusted her red bikini top slightly. I couldn't resist taking a quick peek at her cleavage. “That's what most men want.”

  “Take a look around, my dear, does it seem to you that I'm like most men?”

  “I knew it. You're gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that in my mind, it's just my luck that when I find someone I really like...”

  “...And who is rich and powerful,” I added.

  “Well, that too.”

  “But not gay.” I took another drink of wine then stood up and walked over to her. “Would a gay guy do this?”

  I knelt next to her wicker lounger and put my hands on her knees, moving them apart ever so slightly. I bent down and kissed her knees gently, just brushing her skin with my lips still moist from the wine. She let out a sigh which I used as a sign to continue. I guided my hand up her thigh, higher and higher until I reached my prize. I stroked her gently through the fabric, letting her know how close I was to her special spot. She reached out and ran her hands through my thick black hair, trying to pull me closer to her. I resisted then stood up, looking down at her.

  “Time for you to go, Tammy,” I said, simply, knowing it would drive her crazy to be rejected again. She had gotten closer, a little closer, but I wanted to call in a specialist and have a good night with no feelings or emotions tied to the sex.

  Before I could stop her, she pulled down my swim trunks, revealing myself to her. “I want to taste you,” she said seductively.

  “Don't start something you can't finish,” I said. I tried my hardest to stay soft, but when she took off her top and exposed her breasts, I began to lose the battle. When she placed her lips on me, I lost the war and expanded in her mouth as her hands roamed over my ass, pulling me closer to her.

  I looked out over the manicured lawn as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon. The darkening made the light from the tiki torches more dramatic with flickering shadows as her head bobbed up and down on my cock. She wasn't half bad. I just knew I was ready for a genuine relationship yet and that she was … “Ugh!” with a grunt and a final thrust, I shot my seed into her mouth.

  She didn't move away, cleaning me up with her tongue, lapping like the creamy mixture was honey or chocolate. I didn't know which sweets she preferred. I didn't know a lot about her. I wanted to know more. That was the important thing. As she looked up at me with a satisfied smile on her face, I knew there was something special about her – something that went beyond her being a master at the oral arts.

  As with most of my relationships in the early years of my being a member of the one percent, Tammy became obsessed with my money. I was fine letting her spend as much as she wanted, sure she would tire of the practice like I had, like everyone in the one percent eventually, but she went the other route. She began to hate my wealth. I didn't flaunt it or cause harm on the world, but she resented the fact I was so rich, that I was unable or unwilling to cut her in on what I had. Fucking women.

  If I knew then what I know now things may have played out differently, but I wanted to tell you about Tammy to give you a taste of what those early years were like as I was swept up in a frenzy of lust. I don't regret those crazy years, but I'm not so sure I would repeat them all the same way. Maybe I will end up talking about it more in a future entry if I decide to continue. A lot of people are going to get upset that this is being published, but I have to say what needs to be said to the rest of the world, to everyone outside the inner circle of the movers and shakers in the world.

  Peace out, homie.

  Occupy This Moment in Time

  Occupy this space in time. That's what I plan to do now. Sounds simple when you write it out, but what does it really mean? Certainly not being part of the 99%, the mundane rather than profane. Professional? Occasionally. When needed. As one at the very top, I have to create identities like in Ender's Game. You know. That one scene. Come to me. Cum with me.

  Let's see. I have no way of knowing in what order you're going to read this post-post-modern and obsessively released (early and often) novel, so I need to pay careful attention to what
I'm telling you. At this point you may or may not know more about me. Such is real life. Such is the novel. Sometimes. Maybe I'm channeling Hemingway or Chandler tonight. And no, I'm not talking about the actor. Rather, I want to skip ahead, like a rock over the water of the lake in the aforementioned Card novel. Cum first, then me.

  Dirty? Erotic? The curves of her hips and the way her lips spoke to me. And, just now, remembering then quickly forgetting. Deep in the passage of text. I do not object. Abject reality. The thought was a review about 50 Shades of Grey. Some of them are quite funny. And yet she sells. The particular one I noted was one with an UPDATE:: with a breakdown of phrases used over and over and over again. I fall prey to, but I have to stop – as any good writer should – to wonder about why the novel grew wings and flew to the top of the list.

  Listen up. Hear me moan – with words. Because of vowels and consonants I can construct around the C word of one of my compatriots. One outside the timeline and no, not Hemingway or Chandler but maybe my namesake. I hide and consume the crumbs on the plate. I wanted to fuck her. So bad. Magic orgasm fingers to make her cum with just a touch, just a look. And “Oh my” and gush, lush and a lack of trust. Only light spanking please.

  But for real, I wanted to sleep next to her, but like Thompson said love without sex is as bad as sex without love. Or maybe I've messed his quote up. Fucked it up. On the edge. I hover at the spot just before the event horizon of the black hole in the center of the Milky Way. And I love the way her pink hole opens up like a flower at my touch. I thrust in, retreat, replenish and take another inch or two of ground. Inside her. I explode like the sun. Such fun.