Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Read online

  I bite my lip. I want to believe him. I really do, but my self-doubt nags at me, asking why a man like him would possibly choose to look at me when there are so many beautiful half-naked women around. I’ve done my best to keep in shape after having Dean, but my hips are definitely more full than they were before, and I even have a few stretch marks now that I’m sure none of these women have. “So if I can’t look at the men and you don’t look at the women, why do we come here?”

  “To show you off, for one,” he says. “Every man here would kill for a chance with you, but they won’t get it. You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it. There are also some unique experiences we can find here that would be difficult to find elsewhere.”

  I try and fail not to smile stupidly at the thought of being shown off. I’ve never thought of myself as the kind of woman a man would show off. I probably would’ve thought the idea was insulting if anyone else had suggested it, but like everything else with Damian, it feels different coming from him.

  “Come,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

  I follow him to a room lit by blue flames, which cast the two dozen or so people inside in a transfixing, icy glow. It’s only once we’re inside that I see what’s happening on stage. I instinctively take a step back, like I’ve just walked in on something private that I shouldn’t be seeing, but Damian’s reassuring hand on my back and the other people watching, tell me I’m not intruding.

  A woman on stage is lying face down on something that looks a little bit like a massage table, if it had been modified by a middle-age torturer. Her legs are splayed out, held by what look to be adjustable leg cushions and straps. Her arms are free, but another leather strap holds her down by the shoulders. A man with a black hood over his face from the nose up is kneeling between her legs, eating her out. Two more men stand on either side of her, completely naked except for black masks. She grips their cocks in her hands and masturbates them as her head slowly rolls from side to side with her moans.

  The jealous part of me is relieved that Damian can’t really see much of her naked body.

  “Back here,” says Damian, who leads me to the corner of the room, where I can still see what is happening on stage but we’re out of the immediate view of spectators. “You like to watch, don’t you? I saw the way your eyes were drawn to the stage.”

  I open my mouth to speak but snap it closed again, unable to decide what I should say.

  He shakes his head. “No, Kitten. You’re trying to figure out what I want to hear. Remember, there’s one thing and one thing alone I care about here. Your pleasure. If my Kitten likes to watch, she can.”

  “You said I couldn’t look into another man’s eyes.”

  “I did. Because that would tell other doms here that you were receptive to their advances.”

  “I don’t… I don’t think I like to watch,” I say. “I’d rather…”

  “You would rather?” he prompts, eyebrow raising.

  “I’d rather see you,” I say. “I mean, it’s hot to be here with you, while they…” I clear my throat.

  Damian smirks. “You don’t need to say anymore, I understand.”

  I relax a little, thinking it’s good that he understands, because even I don’t. It’s not that I want anything to do with the men on stage--or the woman, for that matter. It’s that being in such a sexually charged atmosphere is putting my own desires into overdrive. It feels dirty here, and not in a bad way.

  Damian leans so close I think he’s going to take me into his arms, but he puts his lips right next to my ear so I can hear the rasp of his whispered voice. “I’m going to make you cum right here, Kitten. Right in front of all these people.”

  A dirty thrill runs through me. A second later, my stomach turns over when the fear comes. What if someone turns around and sees us? What if they decide we’re the show they want to watch?

  Damian’s hand meanders from my hip to my thigh, where it reverses its downward direction and moves up, this time sliding under the hem of my dress. Everywhere his touch roams leaves a fiery trail of ecstasy. I’ve secretly dreamt of having his hands on me like this again for so long now. Whether I realized it or not, I knew something like this would happen when I agreed to come here with him. Honestly, I knew so long as I kept agreeing to see Damian and give him chances to prove I can trust him, it was only a matter of time before I’d end up sleeping with him again.

  Being around Damian is like stepping into a river with a powerful current. I can only fight the current so long before I’m swept along with it. The only way to fight it is to get out of the water all together. And I’m starting to think I’d rather drown in it than get out.

  “Oh God,” I gasp.

  His hand finds my panties, which are embarrassingly soaked already.

  “You’re so wet, Kitten. Tell me, did the show get you wet? Or was it something else.”

  “It was you. Only you.”

  “Liar,” he says. His finger does something I can’t even begin to describe against me--something between a quick vibrating buzz and a wonderful circular motion.

  The sensation is so overwhelmingly pleasurable that a moan spills out before I can bite it back. It’s so loud I think someone must have heard. I scan the crowd Damian has his back to with nervous eyes. One woman has her head turned toward us now. She winks when I notice her before turning her chair to face us.

  “Someone is watching us,” I whisper.

  “Good. That was your punishment for lying to me. Displease me, and I’ll make sure you’re noisy enough to draw more eyes on us.”

  My heartbeat grows even more rapid. I expected to be mortified at the idea of someone watching, but knowing the woman is watching us makes me imagine everything from a new, even more exciting perspective. I picture how we must look with Damian pinning me to the wall, my dress hiked up and his hand stroking my soaked panties.

  He kisses my neck while his hand slips inside my panties, finding the bare skin of my pussy. He moves his hand expertly, touching me in places no man ever bothered to take the time to. His fingers move slowly down my mound, sending chills pulsing through me and making even more heat blossom in my core. His fingers eventually find my entrance and he’s able to slide one finger in with ease. Even the single digit feels absolutely amazing as he curls it back and puts breathtakingly wonderful pressure on a place inside me I thought for sure was a myth.

  My body bends forward involuntarily. I’m gasping into his chest now, fingers clawing into his back. “It feels so good,” I moan.

  “That’s your g-spott,” he says. “and I’m just getting started.”

  He somehow has the dexterity to use his thumb to circle my clit while he works a second finger into my entrance, still pumping into me and dragging his fingers along that spot that’s making me delirious with pleasure. He seems to have a natural sense for how close I am to orgasm, because just when I near the edge he shifts his movements and attention just enough to keep me from climaxing.

  He works a third finger inside me, still using his thumb on my clit with unbelievable skill. He pumps his hand inside me now with some kind of twisting motion that feels incredible, and when he starts to splay his fingers out every time he pulls back, my legs shake and threaten to give out.

  “Oh fuck,” I gasp, surprising myself. I’m not normally much of a cusser, but I’m too far along the wave of pleasure to care about manners or appearances anymore. I’m moaning louder with every thrust of his hand and movement of his thumb. I know my voice must be drawing more eyes. Right now, the idea only turns me on more. I distantly know I’ll probably be mortified later, but I can’t make myself stop.

  I peek past Damian toward the crowd and see more than half of them are watching us with interest, and some of them are even kissing or touching each other as they watch.

  I don’t think Damian wanted me to cum yet, but the sight of so many people getting off on watching us combined with his fingers inside me is too much. I spasm, feeling my walls squeeze and
contract around his fingers. “Oh God, Damian,” I gasp, squeezing onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me from being blasted away by the force of my orgasm.

  When the last tremors of my pleasure have passed, he bends to pull my panties back up, then takes me by the waist and leads me toward the exit of the room with a proud expression on his face. He looks toward the crowd and licks his fingers clean.

  I nearly have another orgasm just from the sight of it. He catches the look on my face and chuckles. “You were perfect, Kitten. Absolutely perfect.”

  “You weren’t so bad yourself,” I say.

  “Sir,” he corrects with surprising sternness.

  “Sir,” I say, lowering my head. Even though this is in many ways just a game--I don’t want to disappoint him. It doesn’t feel like a game when his hand is on my back and the pulsing music of this place hums in my chest. When I think I’m pleasing him, everything feels right.

  “What now?” I ask. “Sir,” I add hastily.

  “It’s time for some privacy.”

  He takes me down a long hallway full of doorways. I can’t help thinking back to the corridor in the airport with the conference rooms. It’s like we’re walking through a darkened shadow of that memory now. I only hope this time doesn’t end like the last.

  He uses a key on a door at the end of the hall, opening up a space like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s dark, and the faint shape of countless devices and tools stand in shadow. Fear stabs through me. “Damian,” I say, stepping back toward the door. “Yellow. This is…”

  He flicks a lighter, bringing the flame alive on a candle near the door. “You’re scared. I know, Kitten. I’d be worried if you weren’t, frankly. We don’t need to use any of this tonight if you’re not ready. We can just sit in here and talk, let you get used to seeing all of this.”

  “Have you used everything in here?” I ask, looking around as my eyes adjust to the darkness and I can see the countless devices and tools, not to mention furniture that I can’t even begin to guess the use of.

  He chuckles. “No. I’ll be honest with you. A hundred percent honest. I’ve always been drawn to… this,” he says, motioning around the room. “Sex never brought me any real pleasure. I thought something might be wrong with me. I eventually stumbled upon the world of BDSM. It felt right, but I never wanted a submissive for myself,” he says, pulling a leather paddle from the wall and running his thumb over it thoughtfully. “I never made it past the initial phases with any women. None of them were right. Until you.”

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I still don’t understand. Why me?”

  He moves close and breathes in deeply through his nose. “Because you infatuate me. Your smell, your beauty, the aura of innocence that clings to you like armor. I want it all for myself, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want you. I want to be part of your life, part of your son’s life. I don’t even care if you never want to use a room like this. I just want you.”

  I put my arms around him and nuzzle my face into his chest. I can’t believe how good it feels to be held by him, to be close to him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I say. “Before we can go any farther with this, before… I just need to tell you.” The words tumble out of me faster than I can stop, but I know I’m doing the right thing. He needs to know.

  10

  Damian

  That day…” she pauses briefly looking unsure, but forges on. “You got me pregnant.

  My stomach clenches so tightly I nearly double over. Pregnant? My mind is already racing to conclusions--to the one conclusion I want to believe so badly it hurts. Is Dean mine?

  “Dean?” I ask breathlessly. I feel tears prick at my eyes but I hold them back.

  She nods, watching me carefully. I realize she’s scared. My kitten is scared that I’ll be mad. “Yes.”

  “Does he know?” I ask.

  “No,” she says. Her eyes fill with tears.

  I want to make her feel better, but despite my best efforts, I feel a swell of something dark and angry inside me. She didn’t tell me. She held this from me for three years--three years of my son’s life I can never get back. My fists clench at my sides and I take an involuntary step back. If I were being rational, I would remember that she didn’t know me nor did she know how to locate me and she didn’t have the means that I did to search for her, but right now I can’t see past my anger.

  “Say something,” she pleads, moving toward me.

  I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Just give me a second. I just need a second.”

  She breaks down now, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rips the door open and running back out into the club.

  I want to chase after her, but my legs won’t move. Nothing will move. I feel only the crushing sense of loss pushing down on me like the weight of a mountain. I missed his first steps, his first words… I missed so much.

  And the first time I saw my own son? I saw him with a knife twisting in my heart because I thought Kylie had been with another man, that she had a child with another man.

  I slam my fist into the wall. Fiery pain bites through me, but I let it run its course, savoring the distraction. “Fuck,” I growl. In my own selfish anger, I just let Kylie walk out into the club alone and unprotected. All other thoughts die in an instant. The mother of my child is out there and some fucking asshole could be trying to put his hands on her right now.

  I rush out into the hall, hurrying down the corridor and barging in every door along the way. Some are locked, but I throw my shoulder into the doors and check anyway, not caring about the angry shouts of protest that follow in my wake.

  “Kylie!” I shout. “Kylie!”

  I reach the lobby and still see no sign of her. Just before I run outside to check the parking lot, I take one last look over my shoulder. I barely catch sight of a tall man in a suit who has Kylie pinned in a corner. His hands aren’t on her, but he’s standing too close. Way too fucking close.

  I’m on him in a second. I yank him around to face me by the shoulder. He’s tall, but not taller than me, and he has to look up slightly to meet my eyes. “She’s spoken for,” I say, moving my eyes to Kylie’s long enough to make sure she hears my message loud and clear. You’re still mine, Kitten. I may need to punish you for holding the truth from me, but you’re still mine.

  The man has defiant eyes and an obnoxiously thick chin. It’s a punchable face if I’ve ever seen one, and all he needs to do is give me an excuse. “Spoken for?” he says in disbelief. “By you?”

  I grip his suit and lift him an inch off the ground before pressing him into the wall. He reaches to pry my hands free but doesn’t have the strength.

  I’m satisfied to see Kylie doesn’t try to stop me. She only watches with her mouth pressed into an angry line. I just don’t know if she’s angry at him or me, but that’s a problem for later. Right now I need to set this fucker straight.

  “Did he touch you?” I ask Kylie.

  “On the shoulder,” she says quietly. “He touched my shoulder to get my attention.”

  My grip tightens and my teeth clench. “You touched my submissive. She’s marked as untouchable. She’s marked as claimed. And you touched her. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Fuck all those rules. My family is worth millions, asshole. I could buy this whole club if I wanted.”

  “It means,” I say, ignoring him. “I could have you banned for life. Or, I could do something much more enjoyable.”

  I pull my arm back and punch him so hard in the face it sends him crumpling to the ground. He writhes and groans.

  “Get up,” I suggest. “Just give me an excuse to hit you again.”

  Some of the members of the club are watching us, but fights aren’t uncommon, especially not here. Many clubs have extremely strict rules enforced by bouncers, but this club has always catered to an almost wild west style of justice. It’s part of the charm, I guess.

  He wisely stays down.

&nbs
p; “Come on,” I say to Kylie. “We need to talk.”

  She looks worried, but falls in beside me as we walk outside. I take her to my car and open the passenger door for her. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I let out a long sigh, searching for the right words. “I won’t apologize for how I reacted,” I say carefully. “But let me make myself perfectly clear. We have a child together. A son,” I add, unable to stop from smiling a little at that. “You’re the mother of my child. There’s nothing I won’t do to make sure you’re mine and mine alone. Nothing. And now we owe it to our son to make this work. Am I angry that you held this from me? Yes. I’m fucking angry. But we’ll talk about that another day when I’ve had the proper amount of time to think of an appropriate punishment for you.”

  She lowers her head, thinking for a long moment before she responds. “But do you understand why I didn’t tell you? I didn’t even know I was pregnant when I left three years ago. I didn’t know how to find you for one thing. And then you came back into my life and I still wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth or if Faleena was.”

  I cringe at the mention of her name. No one has earned the scary level of hatred I hold than that woman. She took more from me than she could ever know with her scheme three years ago, and now the price I paid for her jealousy is even higher.

  “You should have told me when I came to your office,” I say.

  Kylie gives me a exasperated look. “Yeah? Oh hi, Damian! Long time no see. By the way, you knocked me up when you fucked me in that conference room in an airport three years ago. We have a son together.”

  My anger flares at the tone she takes. I’m cupping her chin with my hand before I realize it. “Be careful,” I growl. “I’m already on edge, and you’re pushing me. You don’t want to push me. Not right now.”

  She meets my eyes defiantly. “I don’t? We’re not in the club anymore. I don’t have to be your submissive out here.”