The Billionaire Brute

by Hart, Romi

  “I don’t know how I feel about you, Byron.”

  “Oh…” Another beat of awkward, strained silence.

  “But God! You make me feel so much. And…sometimes what I feel for you is so strong, so overpowering, I don’t know how to handle it.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. I try to convince myself that this is just a sexual relationship, nothing more. But then…you talk about Christmas. You meet my mother. You seem like the boyfriend I want.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “I don’t know. No. I was afraid of this.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of our sessions or whatever you call it, becoming too intense. Making me feel things that I’ve never felt before. Making me want things that I’m not sure I want.”

  “But we’ve had really good sessions,” I say with a smile, which she mirrors.

  “Yes. I like what we do. And maybe you can handle it better than I can.”

  Tell me you love me. Right now. I stare into Laura’s eyes. She stares back as if saying something. A moment passes.

  “I do like you,” she says calmly. “I like what we do. I love the fact that you met my mother and behaved. And dealt with her silly antics.”

  “Then we’re good. So, stop worrying about it.”

  I reach over and squeeze her wrist, making sure she sees me smile.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says.

  “I get it. And I promise not to hurt you.”

  “I just don’t know…if I can ever be close to someone again.”

  “Oh really?”

  “I think when you reach a certain age, you just stop believing in perfection. Or in anything too long or guaranteed, you know?”

  “Hmm. So I’m the idealistic young guy who believes too much? Too easy? Hasn’t suffered enough?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you think. Maybe you picture yourself with a more mature guy, an older guy who’s suffered. A guy who is cynical and guarded like you are? The whole, heart-on-your-sleeve thing that I do is too much of an emotional burden. Am I smart enough for you, doc?”

  “You are…very smart. Part of why I find you so intimidating. And fascinating.”

  I start to breathe faster. An angry spike comes over me I want to argue, to shame her, to make her cry, maybe then she’ll realize that I’m falling in love with her. And that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

  But I hold back. I bite my tongue, and instead, let my anger absorb back into my hardening cock.

  “Drop me off at home. And then spend the night.”

  She looks at me and smiles.

  “I want you. I can’t get enough of you. I don’t want any rules or expectations. I just want you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

  “You know I can’t resist you,” she says with a sly, shy smile. The thought makes me perk up and feel a jolt all over.

  “Then don’t resist me. Come home and sleep with me.”

  She giggles and shifts her head to the side, suggesting it’s not such a bad idea.

  “I didn’t say fuck me, I said sleep with me. Us, in bed together. Holding each other close. I want to spend the night in between your tits. I want to be your body-pillow.

  “But I wanna fuck too,” she says softly and in a whiny voice.

  “Maybe. If you’re a good girl.”

  “I’m a bad girl, I know,” she says wistfully. “But when I’m with you, you always make me feel like a good girl.”

  Laura did spend the night and just like she promised, she fucked me good…for hours, just the way I like it. First, we fucked rough and ready, right on the floor of the hallway. Then again in the bed. Then again in the whirlpool tub.

  And even then, I was insatiable for her. I literally spent the night snuggled in between her tits, falling asleep right on her tummy. It felt marvelous. I slept so nicely, listening to her hum and moan all through the night, sighing into my chest. Her hair, rubbing against my neck and chest and tickling my skin. It felt like the rest of my life. It felt divine and precious.

  She had to go to work the next morning and I let her leave, though I kissed her lips all the way to her car and even stole a kiss when she rolled down her window.

  I started the day energized. Not much to do today, as far as business and errands go. But I did think such a great night called for a celebration, an active day!

  I decided to go see my own parents and perhaps, maybe, share the news of my new “serious” relationship. They probably wouldn’t even believe me if I told them. They would think I’m fooling myself or falling in love with the first girl I met who wasn’t a gold digger.

  But bring it on, today I feel invincible!

  My parents and I ate at a steakhouse earlier today. They seemed in good spirits. Just as I thought about calling it a day and returning home, I said what the hell, and invited them for a stroll downtown. My favorite chocolate shop is here. Maybe Laura might appreciate an old-fashioned romantic gesture.

  “So how is your love life?” Caitlynn asks.

  “Good, actually,” I say with a smile.

  “Oh now? Do I detect a smile? A knowing smile?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “Oh! Do tell.”

  “He’s a smart kid,” my father says. “He could have any woman he wants.”

  “Who is she? Is it that girl I heard linked with you, on the news?”

  “On the news?”

  “Yes,” Dad continues. “The tabloids said something about you dating a woman named Rosey something?”

  “Rosey?” I say, confused. “No, I don’t recall meeting a Rosey.”

  “Then who? Don’t keep us in suspense!” she says, playfully slapping my arm.

  “Well…now that you mention it. There is someone I’m interested in.”

  “Ah, delightful,” Dad says. “I trust it’s something serious. God knows your mother doesn’t need to hear about a young man’s mistakes.”

  “It is serious,” I say with a smile. “Maybe for the first time in my life.”

  “Tell us already!”

  “Her name is Laura. You met her. Remember?”

  My mother’s smile goes from 70 mph to 30 and then to fucking zero. She nods and looks at my father, who furls his brow.

  “Umm…yeah! Laura Katt. She’s amazing. I mean, anytime we meet we just…”

  “WHAT?” Dad says. “FUCK?”

  His temper rises and his face turns red. “Yeah no kidding, Byron. I know all about what you do with those girls. I told you not to mention such things in front of your mother.”

  “But…but…no, it’s not like that. Laura is different.”

  “Oh?” mother says, nodding and interested.

  “Yes! She’s different. She understands me.”

  “I’m sure she does understand you very well, since you’re paying her for therapy,” Dad says. “Not to mention paying her for good, easy snatch. Isn’t that right?”

  “What?! Dad…seriously. In front of mom.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that!” he growls back. “Don’t you dare tell me that old trout is your serious love interest. A woman like that doesn’t suit you.”

  “For your information, she suits me perfectly.”

  “I’m not talking about her oral skills, boy,” he says with fire in his eyes. “Women that old certainly have the experience needed to seduce a young man. No offense, dear.”

  My mom gives dad a dirty look.

  “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand idly, while you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “I’m not marrying her, dad. We’re just-?”

  “I know. You’re just fucking her. A little MILF-action, huh? Some big tit cougar training?”

  I shake my head in terrified shock. Dad’s anger keeps rising, even as his mouth forms an evil little grin. “Fine. But don’t ever, EVER, bring her home to us again. She is banned from this house.”

  “Alfr
ed!” mom says. “Just leave him alone.”

  “Thank you, mom! I promise you, it’s not just…”

  “Honey, what your dad is trying to say is, she’s trailer trash.”

  I shut up and stare in disbelief.

  “The age difference is uh…disturbing. But the real problem is that she’s, you know, poor. She has no assets. Nothing to speak of. You’re too good for her.”

  “She has a house. She has -”

  “A dog has a house,” mother laughs. “What, does she have two children she wants you to support too?”

  “No. She doesn’t.”

  “Women like that have kids just to land a rich man,” dad says, still grumbling.

  “You haven’t given her a chance,” I say, a little miffed, but still reeling from the shock.

  “A girl like that-a fucking whore. She’d probably suck my dick if I slipped a hundred in her bra.”

  “Alfred, really!”

  “Mom…dad…”

  “What your father is trying to say,” mom continues, “is that if you marry her, you will have nothing. You will be cut off from your inheritance.”

  “WHAT?”

  “No prenup either,” dad warns. “If you marry her, at all, you will bring disgrace on this family. You will lose everything. My son will not marry trailer trash. I’d sooner kill the old whore myself.”

  “God’s sake, Alfred! Calm down. Byron is NOT going to marry her. He’s going to rethink his decision and get back to us. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  “I…uh…” I shake off the shock of it all and grit my teeth. “You know what? I don’t need the inheritance. I have my own investments.”

  “WITH MY MONEY,” dad snarls. “All of those investments stay with the company. Not you. You marry that cunt, you better plan on moving in with her and getting a job in a grocery store. Because I will personally make sure you have nothing to your name. You hear me, Byron?”

  “Yeah, I hear you all right.”

  “Good. Don’t contact us again until you have something of INTEREST to say. Your mother…she has a heart condition. She can’t bear DISAPPOINTMENT, you know.”

  My parents walk ahead, too pissed off to accompany me on my lonely stroll. I guess chocolates are out of the question now…

  For once, Laura is contacting me via messenger. It’s been days since we last saw each other. She probably senses something happened or that I’ve been stressing about something. The truth is I’ve been much too distraught to answer her lately.

  I don’t even know where to begin, or what to tell her exactly. How do I tell the girl I thought I was falling in love with that my family hates her? Despises her. And all because she’s too “old”, too “poor” for their tastes?!

  Christ! Laura’s whole attraction to me is probably based on my profile, my billionaire fortune. What am I without power, money and confidence? Just a goddamn boy she would never give the time of day. Like she said in the beginning when we first met, we have nothing in common. Right? Just sex and my money.

  I don’t know what to say to her. I know I have to reassure her with something, but what? Laura was so good to me, of course, I know that. She taught me so many things-how to be grateful, about how important family is. She even got me thinking about investing in causes, charity and volunteer work. Stuff I always wanted to do, to help the poor. She wanted that for me. She wanted to make me a good person.

  But now, how do I tell her that I’m not the person that she wanted after all? Yeah, right…I’ll walk up to her and tell her the truth; my parents cut me off and I’m just a guy without a job now. Want to move in together? God! Her mother will hate me. Laura will lose interest in me.

  She probably would fuck me one last time, so I have that going for me…

  But not much else.

  Who am I kidding? No woman ever marries a guy like me, unless I’m rich and successful. But I don’t know how to figure this one out. How can I make my parents accept Laura…see the beauty of who she is? How important she is to me?

  Maybe I can show them or convince them.

  I decide to write a letter. Not to dad, since he took it the hardest, but to mom. Maybe she’ll understand. I can appeal to her and get her on my side.

  Well, that didn’t really go as I planned. Mother wrote me the most manipulative response imaginable, pretty much saying that if I marry that “trailer trash” that I’ll literally kill her. She will die of heartbreak.

  “We are so proud of you and the man you’ve become. Dad is proud of you too, you know, he just gets emotional sometimes. While we do wish you would reconsider your choice of girlfriend, we do love you very much. You know I can’t take much anxiety at my age anymore, Byron. I can’t afford all the drama of you marrying someone that’s wrong for you and then depending on me to fix things. We can’t do that. You have to grow up and take responsibility for yourself. If you love me, you’ll let her go, my son.”

  Laura is still writing to me asking me if I’d dropped dead or something. Maybe I did, in a way. I can’t imagine a more terrifying scenario to deal with. Choosing between the only woman I’ve ever really wanted to live with, and between my parents who gave me everything I have – and am – in life!

  “Sorry, kiddo!” I reply mockingly. “I’ve just been dealing with some emotional distress lately. I haven’t been up to talking. I hope you understand.”

  * * *

  I do understand and I’m sorry. I do want to tell you something right now, even though you’ll probably laugh. But I think therapy might be good for you. NOT with me, for obvious reasons. But with a therapist, you respect and can confide in. Maybe an objective party can help you sort out some of these issues?

  * * *

  If anything, Laura did teach me about the importance of therapy, that’s for sure. I mean her approach was more Freudian, I suppose, in the sense that she fucked me so hard that I ejaculated all my ego along with my sperm!

  Ah dammit, no jokes right now. I feel terrible. I can’t even tell Laura what’s bothering me. But I have to tell somebody or else I’m going to implode. I write to Laura again, agreeing to the idea. Maybe she can help me out too…with just one favor.

  * * *

  NO Byron, I am not going to refer you to Bill! Bill was the other guy I was dating, and he is NOT an objective party! Lol

  * * *

  “Why? I trust that Bill would give me good advice. It won’t change how I feel about you. But at least it will be sincere. And maybe Bill will walk the fine line between therapy and discipline that I need. I’ve met Bill. I somewhat respect him as a man.”

  * * *

  No, silly! Lol, I can’t believe you’re serious. I will refer you to a qualified therapist who specializes in cases like yours.

  * * *

  “Nah don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough for me, darling. Wonderful, amazing things my therapist could never do for me. Seriously, I used to see a therapist a long time ago and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. We actually developed a friendship. Maybe I’ll sit down with him for a few hours…”

  * * *

  Lol OK then. I really do hope therapy helps you. I believe it will. It’s really such a relief to just unload on a person and tell them what you really think. It’s cathartic. It’s what so many of us need when we’re stressed.

  I miss you. Call me sometime.

  “And that’s the story, doctor. I’m here right now, contemplating my future, hiding secrets from everybody and with hardly anyone to trust.”

  “Well that’s for certain,” Dr. Hart says. “The fact that you wanted to confide in Laura’s ex-boyfriend Bill, is a fascinating detail. It speaks to your lack of real friendships in life.” Dr. Hart is about the age of my father and a very articulate man. He has shades of grey in his hair and a few wrinkles, but he still has such a strong vibrant quality to his voice. I hope I can sound like him one day.

  “Yeah, no argument there. I mean, I have lots of acquaintances, people that owe me, tons of people to
get a drink with or invest in a new idea. LOTS of people that enjoy me giving them money for small favors. But people that talk to me just to talk? I don’t think I’ve ever had that. Maybe that’s why I get along with Laura so well…”

  “Well, Byron, from what you tell me, you do jump into relationships rather quickly. Remember, I also chatted with you when you were a teenager. Your father brought you to meet me, saying you should give therapy a try.”

  “Oh my god! I forgot all about that. Oh God, that was so long ago.”

  “I was disappointed that you never came back,” Dr. Hart says with a smile.

  “Yeah well, that’s me. Mr. Disappointment to everyone who knows me.”

  “So what does your instinct say, Byron? What should you do about your moral conundrum?”

  “My heart says, it screams, that I should be with Laura. She’s what I want. I won her over, and I want to keep her near me.”

  “Well…” he makes an uneasy face.

  “What?”

  “The problem, Byron, appears to be that you hold a very selfish and immature attitude about love.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “Do you want me to just listen or to give you advice?”

  “Please, tell me. Hold nothing back.”

  “Laura is probably mistrustful of you because she realizes you don’t love her. You’ve never really loved her.”

  “But I did. I mean, I thought I was falling for…”

  “Let’s analyze the statement you just made to me. You said, ‘She is what I wanted. I won her over…I want to keep her.’”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “All these statements are sexist and misogynistic, Byron. That’s not real love.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You said she is what you want. You didn’t say you were in love with her. You do have a strong sexual attraction to her. But from what you describe, your sexual behaviors are sadomasochistic in nature.”

  “Sado what?”