The Billionaire's Sexy Little Secret: An Erotic Novella

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission. The author does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Chapter 1

“Keep going! Keep going! Come on, David, I’m so close!” Cried Marisa as she encouraged her husband to continue with their love making. “Just a few more minutes!” But it was too late—Marisa felt David’s body become firm and saw him flex his toes and she knew it was over too soon…again. “Dammit,” she cursed to herself under her breath. This was the third time this week that David had blown it, literally, too soon, leaving Marisa frustrated. She was trying to be patient with him, he’d always been known to be a little, um, sensitive, but lately after she’d lost
most
of her baby weight he’d been so turned on by her that he could barely slide it inside before he blew his load. Not that Marisa should be angry about it, she reminded herself. It’s not like it was that bad of a situation to have your husband be attracted to you— in fact, she knew lots of women who had the exact opposite problem. It was just hard for her to get excited about going to bed with a man who couldn’t even control himself for long enough to get his wife off. Especially now with the six-month-old, Marisa didn’t have all the time in the world to spend in the bedroom waiting for David to get hard again. Plus, he was usually so tired after he came that even if she could get him hard
again;
he fucked her with such a lack of gusto and effort that she couldn’t get into it anyways.

She waited a second for David to get up and leave the room to go wash off and
lay
on her back, flipping on the switch of her vibrator.
Marisa
didn’t want to throw her battery-p
owered last resort in his face-- h
e already felt
so
bad about
himself
after he’d lost his job three months ago. Marisa had been working overtime teaching at the community college, but the money was really tight and she was worried that if David didn’t find work soon, they would lose their modest home and everything they’d worked for together for the last six years.
Marisa cleared the stressful thoughts from her mind and started to relax as she rubbed the vibrator over her hardened clit in tight little circles. It was working—she began to moan and felt
the familiar
rush of
warm
wetness in her pussy. But r
ight as she felt she was going to orgasm, Marisa heard the baby begin to cry in his room. “UGH,” she sighed, flinging the vibrator across the room in frustration. “This SUCKS!”

“I’ll get him,” said David from the bathroom, but it was too late. Marisa pulled on her sweatpants and a t-shirt and went to get little Michael out of his bed to feed him a snack and put on some cartoons—so much for her Saturday afternoon break.

Chapter 2

Across town Ned Demilla was getting ready for his Saturday evening date. Tonight he had arranged a private dinner for himself and Mieko, a young Japanese-American model that he’d met last week at a $40,000 a plate fundraiser for a children’s hospital. Mieko had been there with another man, and Ned had been so attracted to her with her long legs, sleek black hair and perfect skin, that not only had he donated an extra 100K to the charity event to get them to set up an extra seat next to him for Mieko, he’d organized a very exclusive escort from a very exclusive escort service to come and sit with Mieko’s original date. It was a win-win, that’s how Ned liked to do business, and so far it had worked for him.

He looked around his Miami home and felt pretty damn good about himself. It wasn’t so much of a home, but more of an estate—with the vast gardens, the three pools, the tennis courts, putting green and heli-pad, Ned couldn’t really ask for anything more. The inside of the home was exquisitely decorated by the best interior design professional in Miami. Not one piece of the furniture in the thirty-three room home had cost less than ten thousand dollars. The walls were adorned with Picassos and Dalis, Renoirs and Cassats. The twelve-car garage was outfitted with the best of the best: custom-made and collectable
Ferraris
, Lamborghinis,
Bentleys
and Aston Martins.

Ned patted on a few dots of the best French cologne, then stood back and took a look at himself in the full-length bathroom mirror. He was nearly fifty, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was getting more handsome as the years went by. His thick dark hair now had the perfect amount of salt-and-pepper grey around his ears, just enough to get people to respect him, but not enough for them to pity him as an old man. His blue eyes sat well under his strong brow and his chiseled chin gave him the appearance of power and self-confidence. His body was in the best shape of his life. The hours spent playing tennis, skiing and sailing his yacht, as well as the three times a week with the best personal trainer in Miami had paid off. He was lean and tan, his chest muscles rippling under the dusting of hair on his torso. His clothes, like everything else, were the best. He sent a private jet to Italy and had it bring back the best tailor money could buy, who measured him and cut his suits on the spot. His shoes were made of the finest leather, his ties of the finest silk.

Ned’s driver Angelo was waiting for him in the town car when he came downstairs, and handed him a glass with a finger of expensive scotch. “Mr. Demilla,” said Angelo as he opened the car door.

“Angelo,” Ned nodded. Angelo had been with him for almost twelve years. Ned’s entire staff was loyal, efficient and most importantly discreet, and he paid generously for their service. As the car raced across Miami to Mieko’s beach-side apartment, Ned reflected on his life. Not bad for a farm boy from Nebraska, he’d thought to himself. After college Ned had moved to Miami, where he set up shop as an investment broker. His charm and relentless work ethic eventually landed him some of the richest people in Miami as clients, and his savvy with the markets and knack for seeing investment trends had made these rich clients even richer. Because rich people like nothing more than to brag about making money, Ned was soon the most sought-after investment advisor in the county. He eventually set up his own investment firm, teaching younger men how to profit from the markets as he did. When Ned had made, in his own mind, enough money to move on to a different field, he’d sold the firm and begun a new career as an investor. He was sick of watching other people get rich from his ideas and insights and was now ready to do it himself. He was 39 years old.

Soon enough, Ned’s fortune was valued upwards of a billion dollars. He owned pieces of many businesses, from retail to construction and international, he always looked for the next-best idea, the next big thing that could make him that next enormous check. That search for the best undiscovered idea was easily the biggest rush of his life—he was
completely
addicted.
As the car pulled to a stop Ned had just drained his first glass of scotch. The alcohol was warming him up from the inside-out and as he saw the
incredibly
sexy Mieko emerging from her apartment building wearing a tight and tiny red dress, Ned felt himself getting hard. His life was good, very good indeed.

At dinner Ned began to
seriously
woo Mieko with a $400 bottle of Dom Perignon accompanied by the very best caviar money could buy. A little old-school, Ned realized, but it still always seemed to do the trick. Women were always impressed when he ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. They were even more impressed when he ordered something that wasn’t even on the menu. A special creation from a five-star chef, made just for him. During dinner Mieko leaned over from her lobster and began to rub Ned’s crotch, and he knew that sex with Mieko was going to be his dessert.

Ned and Mieko were both a little buzzed by the time they got back to her apartment building. He’d ordered them some after-dinner shots of Louis IIV, topping out the bill at more than three-thousand dollars. He’d let Mieko see the extra thousand he’d thrown in as a tip, and her eyes had widened at his generosity. They got up to her apartment and began to make out. Mieko pushed him over to the couch, a slightly drunken look in her eyes, then unbuttoned his pants as she pushed him down into a sitting position. Ned’s cock was so hard, he could barely control himself as Mieko wrapped her soft, silicone-enhanced lips around his shaft and began to suck. Ned was so turned on that when Mieko stood up and stripped out of her dress, revealing a pair of crotch-less lace panties, Ned nearly blew his load. He sat back on the couch and tried to let his mind wander as Mieko reached in her purse and found the condom. She rolled it onto his cock and parted the lips of her moist pussy as she slid down onto him and began to fuck him. “Oh, fuck,” Ned moaned, and he knew it was over. No matter how much pussy he got, Ned always had the same problem. Within thirty seconds of
Mieko
sitting on his cock, Ned had already filled the condom with his hot sperm.

The look on Mieko’s face said it all. Ned felt awkward, as always, as she slid off of him. He looked
down
at the filled condom
then up to
Mieko’s
disappointed face
and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of her apartment, away from her and never to see her again. He was humiliated. No amount of money
or success
could fix
the one problem that he so longed for a solution for-- his
premature ejaculation.

Chapter 3

“What in the hell is wrong with this milk?” bellowed David from the kitchen.

“What milk?” said Marisa. God, sometimes having a husband was just as bad as having another child.
Even with Michael spending the night with David’s mother, Marisa still had someone to take care of.

“This nasty-ass milk on the counter! I just drank some, what the hell is wrong with it?” Marisa couldn’t help herself, she started to laugh at the agony in David’s voice.

“Um, sweetie?” she asked, barely containing her giggles. “That’s not milk, it’s that all-natural baby formula, the stuff from France that your mom brought home for Michael. Unfortunately, I tried to give him some and he had the same reaction as you. I know it was a gift, so I felt bad throwing it away, but I can’t feed it to him.”

“Oh, God—you can’t feed it to anyone--t’s just…odd tasting. I feel like my mouth is tingling. Are you listening? Marisa?” At this point Marisa broke down into uncontrollable giggling.“ I can hear you laughing!” yelled David, but she could hear him starting to laugh as well. At that point David walked into the bedroom with such a funny look on his face that when he saw Marisa, they both collapsed in a heap on the bed, laughing their asses off in a moment of pure hilarity. It was a nice break from the stress of parenting, money and career worries and all of the other day-to-day things that they
stayed occupied with. After a few seconds the laughing had died down a bit, so David reached over and began to tickle Marisa under her armpits. She feigned pushing him away.

“Stop it, David!” she said, not really meaning it. David wasn’t having any of it—he straddled Marisa and pushed her down on the bed, tickling her mercilessly. Suddenly the look in David’s eyes changed and he ripped her T-shirt up over her bra, pushing his face down to her breasts. He began to kiss the swells of her breasts as his hand wandered down to her pussy. Marisa began to moan and feel herself getting wet as David’s fingers made their way under her yoga pants and he slowly teased her clit and his lips massaged her nipples.

“I want you,” he said, pulling down her pants and underwear. She didn’t even have her pants all the way off when David slid his cock into her. She reached up behind her and grabbed the sheets as David started to fuck her slowly. He was so
incredibly
hard and felt so good to Marisa that she wanted him to keep going until she could come. Just this once, she thought to herself, I need this. David pushed her bra down and grabbed onto her breasts hard as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside of her. Marisa began to feel the waves of pleasure building and heard her breath coming in deep, raspy groans. She was close. Just a few more minutes and she would orgasm. But just then, Marisa felt the sensation that she’d been dreading: David’s body became rigid and his cock began to pulse inside of her and Marisa knew it was over. As David came she tried to be happy with her, but instead she felt herself wanting to cry. David’s orgasm was much more intense than usual, and his dick stayed hard inside of her as he came and came. “Oh GOD,” he cried, fucking her faster and faster. “Oh GOD!”
he cried again.” Now Marisa was starting to get worried.