Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (22 page)

“Take me,” she begged him. “Please, please take me now. I need you
inside me.”

He thrust himself into her, and she cried his name, her fingers digging
into her shoulders. He pushed her up against the wall of the hot tub as he
pounded himself into her, giving her what she so desperately wanted. She
couldn’t even remember what Marcy’s hands and mouth had felt like on her; all
she knew was him. Her legs clamped around his waist like a vice, as if she
could fuse the two of them together, and never, ever let go.

They came at the same moment, and their simultaneous climax was the
most glorious thing she’d ever experienced. Their cries echoed off the walls as
they trembled in each other’s arms, both of them in that spectacular place off
the edge of pleasure and into ecstasy. She stayed there for a very long time
before finally floating back down to reality.

“Thank you, Master,” she sighed dreamily, still cradling her into his
arms.

He lifted his head. “You’re welcome. But I’m nowhere near done with you
yet.”

“You’re not?” Pleasure hummed through her, and she realized she was
already ready for another round. Would she always be this insatiable around
him?

“We’ve still got six hours until the existing contract is up. I plan to
take full advantage.”

Katherine giggled. “You know I’ll still be around afterwards, right?”

He smiled. “Yes. But I’ll take any excuse to hog you to myself that I
can get. Why don’t we start with a movie?”

“We never end up finishing them,” she pointed out as she climbed out of
the tub after him. “You always end up getting me on the floor.”

Mark grinned. “Exactly.”

About The
Author

Adriana Hunter has been writing fiction ever since she was
old enough to hold a pen. Today, she writes erotic romance with many of them featuring
curvy heroines and the gorgeous alpha males who love them.

Preview all of Adriana’s books!

http://www.amazon.com/AdrianaHunter/e/B0074JNOQ2

New
Release: Taming The Alpha
When you’re the Alpha Male there are certain
things that are expected of you, and finding a suitable mate is at the top of
the list. For Jax, a powerful and dangerous werewolf, that’s not so easy
because the one woman he’s deeply attracted to is a girl that will never be
accepted by the pack. A woman that he can’t seem to get out of his head.
A
first for him.

Beautiful, curvy Nikki Avery hates her job at the local strip club, but she’s
struggling just to get by. Her dream of ever finding a decent guy worth loving
shattered as night after night she stands before a crowd of drunken men, their
jeers and catcalls burning a hole in her heart. To make things worse, there’s a
killer on the loose, stalking the dancers, waiting to attack.
But when a handsome stranger appears at the club, his dangerous, feral presence
commanding attention, the sexual charge between them is so strong that she can
barely breathe, Nikki finds herself swept into a world she never dreamed
existed. A world where nothing is as it seems and once she enters, there is no
turning back.

Connect with Adriana!

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THE PRETEND BOYFRIEND

By Artemis Hunt

1

Samantha Fox takes two steps at a time up the stairs of the
nineteenth century Gothic building that hosts Dan’s Café. She is late. She
doesn’t like being late because she equates lateness with rudeness.
My time
is precious, and so is yours.

She flies into the seating area with its cozy tables and
chairs, her shoes clacking noisily upon the black-and-white checkered linoleum.
Spotting Cassie, her best friend sitting alone at a table, she almost trips
over a pair of shopping bags by a chair at another table. She manages to rescue
herself by grabbing onto the back of the chair.

“Hey, watch it, will you?” says the woman with the pixie
hairdo seated there, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry, so sorry.” Sam picks herself up and half-clambers,
half-limps to the amused Cassie. “Oh,” she groans, “I’m such a klutz.”

“You always were a klutz. It’s part of your charm.” Cassie
pulls her coffee mug away discreetly from Sam as the latter sits, juddering the
table and sploshing coffee over the rim.

“Yeah, it’s charming when I was fourteen. And even then,
not really.” Sam shudders. “Remember how we were when we were in middle school?
I wore braces and I kept getting my lunch stuck in my buck teeth.”

“I remember that awful Brian Morton. He was such a bully.
Remember how he used to draw funny caricatures of you with your braces all over
the lockers? He called you ‘Jaws’.”

“I’m going to expunge that dirty memory forever from my
temporal lobes.” Sam runs a careless hand through her mess of hair. “I’m sorry
I’m late anyway. My boss wanted me to go over the Killeney account for the
seventeenth time. She’s such an anal retentive like you wouldn’t believe.”

“All work and no play makes Sammy a tight ass like she
never wants to be. You’re on track for it, you know.” Cassie signals a passing
waiter. “Can we have the menu, please, like yesterday?”

“I have to. I’ve got no one else but me. If I want to live
the American dream and get that American dream apartment in Soho, I’m going to
have to put my nose on the grindstone for it.”

“Or you could marry someone rich and get the American dream
handed to you on a china plate, which is probably made in Taiwan.” Cassie
arches her eyebrows meaningfully.

“I’m never getting married.”

“You know it’s not true.”

“It’s true. I’m twenty-seven and I’ve been in three failed
relationships. I’ve gotten majorly dumped three times, and the third is by a
man who decided he was gay after dating me for two months. That’s got to be a
record. Anyway, it isn’t PC to want a man to get those things for you. The only
person you can rely upon – ”

“ – is you,” they chorus together.

“Hey, you’re finishing my sentences,” Sam complains.

“Only because you’ve said it like a gazillion times.”

“I have not.”

“You have too.”

“I’m not a nag.” At that moment, the strains of Usher
stream from Sam’s monogrammed Coach purse. She groans. “If it’s the office, I’m
going to scream.”

“Then don’t get it.”

But Sam has already dived into her purse to fish out her
Samsung Galaxy Ace. She holds the cellphone up and makes a face at the display.

“It’s Lori, would you believe? She never calls me unless
she wants money or to crow over me for not having a guy.”

“Lori, your slutty gangbang fest of a sister?”

“Ssssssh. She does not too have gangbangs.”

Sam picks up the phone and says into it, “Don’t tell me… Mom’s got a new boyfriend.”

Cassie crosses her eyes. Sam shoots her an evil look.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. What? Oh? Shit, no fucking way! You mean
you are really going to get married? But you’re only twenty-two!”

Cassie mouths incredulously: For real? Slut Lori is gonna
get married?

“Twenty-two is not over the hill. How can you even think
that? You’re barely out of college. Uh huh. Well, look at me. I’ve twenty-seven
and I’m not married.” Pause. “Twenty-seven is not geriatric and prostate
problems are only for men, for crying out loud.”

Cassie stifles a giggle.

Sam mouths back: If you’re gonna make fun of me, I’ll kill
you.

“The engagement party is this weekend? Thanks for telling
me three days in advance.” Pause. “Well, I’m your sister, I think I deserve to
know a little earlier if that’s OK with you.” Pause. “Uh huh. Don’t you think
you’re rushing things a bit? You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Cassie makes a blowing sound.

Sam mouths: Shut up.

“No, for the last time, I’m not going through menopause,
Lori. Why do you always have to exaggerate everything to put me down? Well,
yeah, Mom always did love you best but that doesn’t give you a right … no,
no, don’t even go there. I do too have boyfriends!”

Cassie bares her teeth.

“Well, I do have a boyfriend. We are practically getting
married. Oh yes.” Sam nods to convince herself. “Bring him to your engagement
party this weekend? Well, no, he can’t. He’s going to Tokyo. He’s a
high-powered executive and he jet-sets to places like Tokyo every other week.”

Cassie mock-palms her own face.

“What do you mean I’m lying? I do so not lie. I don’t have
to prove anything to you. So what if I come to your party alone? It doesn’t
mean I’m a frigid old maid. Puh-leez. OK, OK, OK, I’m coming this weekend. Yes,
alone because my rich boyfriend is in Tokyo. Yeah, text me the details and
spare me the snark. Goodbye.”

Sam clicks off.

“Oooh, can you believe that witch? She’s been such a putz
to me since the day she was born and dropped her dirty diaper on my head. Now
all I have to do is find some hunky guy photos to put on my cellphone display
by this weekend, and that’ll fend her off for another week. Or two.”

“Sam, you told Lori the guy is your fucking boyfriend.
That’s huge.”

“So what if I told her that? We’ll be breaking up by next
Monday. That’ll be an angle in line with my life story, seeing the way I seem
to be fucking up all my relationships. Hey, where’s my coffee?”

“You didn’t order it.”

“Damn, I knew something was missing in my life.”

Cassie smiles and grasps one of Sam’s hands. “Hey, kiddo.
You don’t need a man to complete your life. That’s what you’ve been saying all
this time to me, remember?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam signals the waiter. “One black
Americano, please. No sugar.” She turns back to Cassie. “But now and then …
it’s kinda nice to have a pretend boyfriend. You know, the kind you can borrow
for a weekend party or some office function or some high school reunion. And
return him on Monday to wherever he came from.”

Cassie laughs. “Hell, you’d probably have to pay for that.
He’s called an escort. A discreet term for gigolo.”

“Well, sure, and he doesn’t even have to bang me.”

“Girl, sex has gotta be the best part about a hiring a
gigolo.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then what is? The scintillating conversation? The recount
of experiences past shared?”

The waiter comes back with the coffee. He’s has a brown mop
for hair and dimples. He says, flashing a grin, “One black Americano, no sugar.
Would that be all, Miss?”

Cassie says, “You’re kinda cute. You don’t happen to have
anything on this weekend, do you?”

“Excuse me?” The waiter raises a quizzical brow.

“Um, she was just kidding.” Sam shoots her best friend a
glare. As the waiter knowingly walks away, she hisses, “Don’t embarrass me.”

“Honey, you’re gonna be plenty embarrassed this weekend
when your sister discovers you don’t really have a boyfriend, hot photos
downloaded from Fotolia notwithstanding.”

Sam sighs and she grips her coffee mug. “I know.”

2

“Take it,” Brian Morton says to his best friend, Caleb.

“I can’t take your money.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “There’s plenty of it where it came
from.”

“Brian, I know your family owns Morton Enterprise Ltd., but
this is my Mom we’re talking about. I can’t take your money to pay off her
mortgage.”

“If you don’t, the bank is going to foreclose and she’d be
out in the streets. You’ll be forced to take her into your apartment and she’s
gonna seriously cramp your sex life.”

“Or the lack of it.” Caleb bends over mutinously with his
cue to aim a ball into the right hand corner pocket of the pool table. He
misses. “Damn.”

Brian looks up to see a redhead at the bar eyeing him. Her
eyes roam appreciatively up and down his leather jacket clad body. So what’s
new? He gets looks like that from women and quite a few men all the time. With
his striking features and six-foot-two frame, he cuts quite a figure in the
smoky barfly crowd.

He blows the top of his cue and strides to the other side
of the table.

“Think of it as a loan,” he says. “You can pay me back… with interest.”

The white ball strikes a green ball and the latter rolls
into the middle pocket.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Cut it out, Brian. I’m not taking your money and that’s final.
I don’t need you to bail me out every time I’ve got a problem.”

Brian shoots a yellow ball into a pocket. “I didn’t hear
you complaining when I bailed you out from jail when you were caught with that
underage hooker.”

“I thought she was nineteen! And I paid you back so that
doesn’t count.”

The redhead at the bar is tweezing her hair. She licks her
sultry lower lip. Brian grins as he bends over to sink yet another ball. At the
doorway is another woman who is clearly making her intentions known to him. She’s
a ballsy blonde type who looks like she can give amazing head.

Brian flashes her a predatory smile.
Later, babe.

Caleb is too drowned in his own money woes to notice. “I
could work overtime. I could get a new job.”

“You could also get a personal bank loan, but why get it
when your best friend is willing to lend it to you for a marginal interest
rate?”

“I said no.”

Brian sighs. “Stubborn as an ass, as always.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“Speaking about new jobs, why don’t you just come and work
for me in Vanguard? I need a helluva good accounts manager.”

“Brian, I already told you I don’t take favors from
friends. We have to separate business from personal life, remember? And I’m not
taking that ridiculous salary from you.”

“What? Too low?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re paying me double the market
rate for that sort of job!” Caleb spots the blonde. And the redhead. And a
couple of brunettes on the other side of the bar. “Oh God, not again.”

“It’ll only take a while.”

“That’s what you said the last time. I had to wait for two
hours outside while you finished your blowjob. I was freezing my toes off.”

“That’s because she brought her twin sisters for the ride.
And her stepmom was in the car.”

“You never say no. That’s your problem.”

“I say no plenty of times.”

“Yeah, only because there’re only twenty-four hours in a
day. If it were up to you, you’d be fucking for as long your penis can hold
up.”

“My penis can’t help having a raging libido.”

“Your penis can’t help defining the ‘P’ in promiscuity
either. You’re gonna catch gonorrhea … or something worse.”

“I’m always careful. And you won’t dream of drinking
yesterday’s coffee, would you?” Brian puts down his cue as the blonde steps up
with a smile. He knows that women of all ages find him irresistible and he’s going
to milk it for all it’s worth before he turns thirty. And then, there’s always
Botox.

“Hey,” the blonde says.

Brian glances askew at the redhead and the brunettes, who
are all glowering now.

“Hey,” he says.

Caleb groans audibly.

“Don’t mind him,” Brian says, “he has gas.”

“You wanna get out of here?” the blonde says.

Brian turns to Caleb. “I’ll only be a while,” he deadpans.

Caleb grimaces.

*

In the stockroom of the bar, piled with crates of empty
beer bottles for recycling, Brian pushes the blonde onto an empty crate and
lifts up her dress. She is on her belly and her breasts are spilling out of her
top. She isn’t wearing any panties.

“You came prepared, huh?” Brian says, unbuckling his jeans.

“I’ve seen you around. The girls say you’re an incredible
fuck.”

“Legendary.”

“Modest as well.”

He grins. “It’s a virtue drummed into me by all the people
who tell me I’m an incredible fuck.”

He isn’t wearing any underwear either and his ready cock
springs to attention. The stockroom is dark, and so he feels for her wet pussy
with two of his fingers. She’s open and horny as hell. His black Gucci shirt is
already undone. He slips out a condom from his back pocket and rips the foil
with his teeth.

He positions his cock at her hungry wet hole. He always
pauses for a moment before his entry. Pausing to savor yet another conquest
– easy though it may be.

He rams himself into her pussy hole unapologetically.

“Arrrrh!” she shrieks.

He knows he has a large cock and his first stab is always
received with cries of simultaneous pleasure and pain. As a lover, he has never
been gentle. He has always claimed his sex partners with a ruthless drive to
satisfy both his considerable carnal desires and theirs. His hips –
slender and exuberant from many hours of gym training – possess the
Olympic athlete’s ability to move extremely hard and fast. So hard that he
literally pounds the blonde’s buttocks into the crate.

She groans and writhes with ecstasy. His fucking
intensifies. He has plenty of energy and an ability to last for a long time, if
his schedule warrants. His rhythm is all his own. Like a master violinist who
knows all the strokes – when to go fast, when to go slow, which angles to
hit, when to lift the woman’s buttocks higher – he instinctively
maneuvers his way into each smoldering wet passage.

“Oh God,” she whimpers, “you’re so, so good.”

He’s grunting with each thrust. “I know.”

She’s too winded to laugh but she manages a chortle. “Your
arrogance is astounding.”

“But everyone forgives me anyway because I’m so hot.” He
grins. Caleb’s words hurl back at him:
You’re the most narcissistic,
arrogant best friend a man can ever have.

He seizes her breasts and rocks himself so hard against her
that the crate inches forward. And forward. His fingers and thumbs scissor and
tweak her nipples until she’s crying out so loud that he’s certain someone will
walk into the stockroom to see what the commotion is all about.

He makes sure she comes several times before he allows his
own pleasure to spill over. It’s a rule he has. Always make sure the woman is
pleasured before he is. Her screams punctuate the room and the blood is roaring
too furiously in his own ears for him to hear her properly.

Panting, he withdraws his cock and peels off the condom.
The blonde is strewn over the crate like a rag doll, too fatigued to pick
herself up. He zips his pants and buttons up his shirt again, not saying
anything.

She stirs. Her skirt is still hiked up to her waist and her
bare buttocks and pussy glisten with her juices.

“I’ll give you my number,” she says. “Call me and we can do
this again.”

“Thanks but no thanks. I don’t do encores.” He’s aware that
he sounds awfully blunt, but in his experience, it’s kinder to let them down
brutally and fast rather than to prolong something he knows he’s not going to
reciprocate.

She hesitates a long time as she slowly staggers to her
feet to dress. “Yeah, they said that about you too, but I refused to believe
it.” She does not meet his eyes.

He knows what she’s thinking. He’s not clueless. They said
that about you but I refused to believe it … because I thought I’d be the
one to change you … the one that you’d fuck more than once.

He finishes dressing. “I’ve gotta go.”

He turns to the door without saying goodbye. He doesn’t
look back either. There’s no point when you’re never going to see them again.

*

Caleb is no longer in the pool room, but the brunettes are
still at the bar. The short-haired one eyes him speculatively.

“Had a good time?” Sarcasm drips off her tongue.

“Better than the one you had with your friend.” He grins.

She gets down from her barstool and saunters towards him.
She fingers his shirt buttons. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Brian Morton.”

“Oh yeah? All good, I hope.” He slips into his easy smile,
and he can tell that she’s bedazzled. In fact, the eyes of every woman in the
room are on him.

“They say you are best lay this side of Chicago. I haven’t
had the chance to experience it myself. So … if you have enough strength
left in that body of yours, maybe you and I go back to my apartment and –
”

She lets the suggestion linger.

“Maybe later. I’ve got to find my friend.”

He bends down to kiss her full on the lips – a
lavishly sexual kiss that leaves no room in the imagination for what he has in
mind. The brunette gasps when their lips part.

Brian smiles and leaves her standing there by the bar.

“Later,” he promises. He doesn’t miss a beat as he turns to
walk out of the room.

In the next room, a poker game is going on. Spying Caleb,
he goes in.

“What’re doing, Cal?” he asks.

“Sssssh.”

Caleb is at a table of five players. The dealer deals two
cards facedown to each player. Brian sits back to watch. They are playing the
Texas Hold’em variant of poker, with the dealer exposing five community cards
which can be used by the players for the best five card combination utilizing
two of their own cards.

It’s the final round of betting. The fifth community card,
called the river card, has been dealt.

“Raise,” Caleb says, pushing two hundred dollars to the
pile of money in the center of the table.

The man to his left sneaks a look at his two facedown
cards. He grimaces.

“Fold,” he says.

“Fold,” says another man.

Caleb is left playing against a thin black man with a
sparse moustache. The black man has a tic in his left eye, Brian observes. He wonders
how that tic figures in bluffing.

“Call,” the black man says, pushing two hundred dollars as
well into the pile.

“All right, showdown please,” the dealer says.

The black man reveals his cards. The dealer takes them to
arrange them in the best five card combination out of the seven.

“Full house,” he says.

“Damn.” Caleb throws in his cards. The dealer grabs them.

“Two aces.”

Caleb is crestfallen. Brian watches as the black man seizes
the entire pot of money on the table. His mind is churning.

He has just found a way to give Caleb his mother’s mortgage
money.