Big Bad Royal: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  Jennifer sat on her couch, her heart pounding. She couldn’t believe what the biker had been thinking. Even worse, she didn’t know why her loins had begun to stir when he’d kissed her. She wanted him. She always had. But…she wasn’t ready. He was a bad boy. He would be rough with her. She didn’t need that. She needed Ryan.

  When she got Jaxson to school, she called Ryan. He agreed to come over on his lunch break. She told him why she had been distant, what had happened. He held her. She kissed him. They made love. Afterward they lay together. He had been gentle, caring, sweet and tender. It had been what she’d needed, but it made her realize Ryan wasn’t the man she needed. Why couldn’t he look and act like Rocky but make love to her like he did? Couldn’t a good guy be a little bad? Or a bad guy be a little tender? Was that too much to ask for?

  Ryan went back to work, and Jennifer knew she was going to break up with him. She needed a man who could keep her safe. She knew Ryan couldn’t. Sex had been the furthest thing from her mind as of late, but safety had been forefront in her mind. Somehow the two were mixing.

  Jennifer didn’t like confrontation, something she had picked up by dating assholes. They were short tempered, and confrontation always led to fights, so she almost called Ryan when she knew he would be home from work. But she felt as though she owed the man more, so she went to see him after dropping Jaxson off with Barbara.

  “Hey, hon,” Ryan said when he opened the door, but he must have seen something in her face, because he sighed. “Uh-oh.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Go check in the mirror,” Ryan said glumly.

  “Listen, it’s not going to work.”

  “This afternoon…” Ryan said, but he trailed off, his words hanging in the air between them.

  “I know,” Jennifer said. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever dated,” she added. “That’s no joke. I’m being serious.”

  “Then why would it not work?”

  “Maybe I’m not good enough,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re too good.”

  “I’m too good to date?”

  Jennifer sighed. “This is hard, all right, Ryan? Thank you for everything. You’re really something else, in a good way. You’re different than any man I’ve known.”

  “I can give you time,” Ryan said. “I know what happened, and this afternoon, maybe we shouldn’t have, but you started it. I would wait; I will wait.”

  “I don’t think you could keep me safe from that monster,” Jennifer finally said truthfully. “Maybe I need a monster of my own.”

  And with that, she left the man, his mouth hanging open behind her, as though he were about to say something else. She didn’t give him the chance.

  5

  Finally, almost three weeks after she had been raped on the bar floor, Jennifer returned to Chuck’s. Brittany was behind the bar when she got there, and Andre was in the kitchen. He hugged her when he saw her.

  “If I would have been here,” he started, but Jennifer smiled and shook her head.

  “I know,” she said. “How’s the baby?”

  Andre grinned. His wife had given birth less than two weeks before. “Fit as a fiddle,” he said. “You got to come by and see him, all right?”

  “I will,” Jennifer said, and she went out behind the bar. Brittany gave her a hug too, but the younger woman didn’t know what to say, so she stayed quiet. Rose was at the bar, and she slid a shot across to Jennifer.

  “On me, kiddo,” she said, and Jennifer took it, slamming the empty glass down on the bar when she was done. Her throat burned, but she started to laugh.

  That night Rocky came in with a couple of his biker club pals. He paid Jennifer no mind, and she thought it would stay that way, but just after midnight he approached the bar and leaned against it.

  “Can I talk to you?” he said.

  “I’m a little busy.”

  “No you ain’t. Come talk to me,” he said, and he reached for her hand.

  “Out back,” she said with a sigh, not taking his hand, and then she disappeared into the kitchen, heading for the back door. Rocky went out the front and walked around the building.

  “What?” Jennifer asked when she saw him. She was leaning against the wall next to the back door.

  “I wanted to say sorry,” the biker said. “I was being an asshole.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m trying to apologize,” Rocky said, and she softened.

  “All right,” Jennifer said. “I do appreciate what you did for me.”

  “I would do anything for you,” Rocky said, and then he laughed. “Good lord, I sound like that dork you’re dating.”

  Jennifer laughed and shook her head. “I broke up with him a couple of days ago.”

  “How come?”

  Jennifer paused for a moment, and then she shrugged. “He wasn’t you.”

  Rocky tilted his head to the side and raised a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m an all right guy, you know,” he said. Jennifer laughed.

  “No, you aren’t. How many times have you gone to prison?”

  “I’m an all right guy for having gone to prison a couple of times.”

  “You ever killed a man?”

  “No,” Rocky said. “But the night’s young. I will kill that asshole when I find him. He might be long gone, though; they were heading out when I found him the first time.”

  “Good riddance,” Jennifer said. “Let him go.”

  “What if he comes back?”

  “You better be there to protect me,” she said with a grin. Rocky stepped forward and they kissed.

  He hung around Chuck’s that night and then followed her home on his bike. She asked Barb to keep Jaxson overnight, and then they went into the bedroom.

  “Be gentle,” Jennifer said, as Rocky pulled his shirt over his head. “Can you?”

  “Of course I can,” Rocky said, and then they were kissing again. He broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt up and over her head, and then he was touching her back, his fingers moving up and down her spine, making her skin tingle. His touch was light and soft though his hands were that of a man’s, hard and calloused. She put her hands on his chest, felt his firm muscles there, and a warmth flowed through her crotch, soaking her panties.

  Their kisses were tender and slow; their tongues danced together. Slowly they lay upon the bed, Rocky holding himself over her. She reached down, pulled off his belt, and unzipped his pants. He wriggled out of them, clad then in just his boxer shorts. Her fingers found their way through the flap at the front and wrapped around his member, half hard then, but growing rigid against her palm and fingers.

  He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and Jennifer knew she was with the right man.

  He got her bra off, and his eager lips found her nipples, but she could tell he was taking it slow, being gentle, and it meant so much to her. She smiled with her eyes closed and moaned in his ear. “Fuck me hard,” she said.

  “Thank god,” Rocky said. He ripped her panties down her legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed. His kisses on her breasts became bites, piercing nibbles on and around her nipples that soaked her pussy even more. He had a hand down there, two of his fingers working in and out of her, the pad of his thumb grinding gently against her clit.

  “Fuck me,” she moaned, and he did so. He pushed inside her, working at a furious pace, their skin slapping together, her juices flowing. Her breathing grew labored, and he knew she was about to come, so Rocky leaned back, still fucking her but reaching down and rubbing her clit.

  “Shit!” Jennifer yelled as an orgasm rocked her, his massive cock thudding in and out of her tight pussy as it contracted around him. When she had come, he pulled out of her, standing and bending over to pick her up. He tossed her over his shoulder, her juices leaking from her snatch and running down her legs and onto his arms. They went to the living room like that, and he sat down in a chair next to the TV and he pulled her
into his lap, facing away from him.

  Jennifer braced herself with her hands on the arms of the chair and her feet on the carpet, her legs together as she sat on his cock. It pushed into her tight snatch, and she brought herself back up and then slammed down, riding him at a furious pace. He reached up and pulled her hair, yanking her head back until she screamed. His other hand slapped her ass, big and round and bouncing on his lap.

  “Fuck me,” she screamed, over and over until he pushed her off him and then down to her knees. He stepped in front of her, and she opened her mouth so he could fuck her face. He held her head still, letting his hips control the pace. She was choking; her eyes burned as tears slid down her cheeks.

  “Jerk me off onto your face,” he commanded, and Jennifer was being used once more. But the fact that he had been willing to be gentle, to go slow, it meant she was fine with it. She wanted him to use her for that; a woman should be used in the bedroom, at least sometimes. And sometimes a man should be used. Rocky was a man who was willing to go both ways. One wasn’t better than the other. She gripped him in her hand and jerked him until he came, his thick white come sloshing across her lips, her face, and up into her hair. When he was done, she smiled. She knew it was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

  *****

  THE END

  Billionaire Romance - He’s The Boss

  Carl Johnson screamed as he looked below him and realized how small everyone looked. He was hanging by his ankles from a scaffolding around a half-built apartment block, in down-town Los Angeles.

  ''It's around a hundred yards to the ground. Don't do it Carl. Don't do it to the poor emergency services. They've got better things to do than scrape pieces of you from the sidewalk,'' Ryan said. ''Now, I'm going to ask you one more time about the contract. Who gets first refusal?''

  Carl closed his eyes and prayed the two enormous men holding him wouldn't suddenly take even more of a dislike to him, and let go. He had a wife, three kids and a new grandchild that he absolutely adored. ''Put me down Ryan, this isn't the way we do business. You're not a murderer.''

  Brave guy, Ryan thought. ''There's a first time for everything Carl. You promised to sell this place to me once it was finished. Now someone has made you a better offer you've gone back on your word. That's not nice.'' Ryan nodded to one of the men, and he let go of Carl's left leg.

  ''Jesus,'' Carl screamed. He was now hanging by his right leg, and the man holding him was beginning to breathe hard. ''Okay, Okay. It's yours; please pull me up.''

  ''Pull him in,'' Ryan ordered. The two men heaved him back over the rail and threw him into the building. Ryan stood over him and noticed he'd wet himself. ''Don't do that again Carl. I hate heights,'' Ryan said.

  The building was still very much a shell, and the only way down was in constructor's lift, down the outside of the building. The door was made of mesh and as they descended the wind whistled around them.

  Down on the sidewalk, Ryan felt in his jacket for his cellphone. It seemed like it was the hundredth text he'd had that morning. Cindy again, he said to himself. When would she leave him alone? He'd made it perfectly clear to her he only wanted to fool around, not get into a long-term relationship. Most women understood what he wanted, but not Cindy. She'd just lost her husband to a heart attack, and maybe he shouldn't have taken her to bed while she was in such a fragile state. He'd seen her across the room at an art exhibition given by one of his clients in San Francisco. Her beauty and vulnerability had turned him on. In her state, she hadn't taken much persuading to come to his hotel room. She'd needed a shoulder to cry on, a man to love her and tell her she would feel better soon. But he didn't want her, and she'd have to be told to stop contacting him.

  ''Where to boss?'' the chauffeur asked. He'd been waiting in the Rolls Royce since dropping Ryan off to do his dirty business with Carl.

  ''The Towers,'' Ryan replied. The Towers referred to Mathewson Towers, a huge office block in LA which Ryan owned. His company occupied the top three floors of the ninety-eight-floor building. The rest was a mix of hotel and offices. 'I've got a radio interview at two,'' he added.

  ''Hi Mr. Jacobson, Kelly Cruz is here, I put her in the board room,'' Steffi said.

  ''Thanks, Steffi. Do I look okay?'' he asked his sixty-year-old secretary?

  ''As handsome as ever,'' she said.

  ''You're a great liar,'' he added. Steffi was his backbone, the woman that organized his days, looked, after all, his correspondence and made sure his thousand dollar suits came back from the dry cleaners on time. But disaster had struck, she'd decided to retire. She was the one employee he knew he couldn't do without. He'd offered her a huge increase in salary, even offered to pay off the tiny bit of mortgage she and her husband still had on their detached house. But tired after years in the stressful environment Ryan adored, she wasn't to be swayed.

  Why the hell he'd agreed to do an interview for a radio show he had no idea, it wasn't his thing. He hated the media. He was a real estate guy, a developer, someone who had to make unpopular decisions in the name of making money. The media was always on his case. He knew what he was; he didn't need telling every day.

  The boardroom was the most luxurious room in the whole building. When Ryan entered the room, he was very pleasantly surprised. Kelly looked just like her photos. When she'd sent an email requesting an interview, Steffi had shown him a photo of her on the Capital Radio website, and he'd immediately said yes to her request.

  ''Kelly, hi, nice to meet you.'' He shook her hand.

  ''Mr. Jacobson, thanks for agreeing to the interview.''

  ''You're the first ever.''

  ''Interview?''

  ''Yes, I don't like the media much.''

  ''Well, I hope you like us,'' she said with a smile.

  She was Ryan's type. A glitzy blonde, dressed in a business suit and heels. ''I'm sure I will.''

  ''Shall we just start? If you want to stop at any time, just hold up your hand, and I'll halt the recording.''

  ''Sure, go right ahead,'' he said taking a looking at her breasts as she reached behind her to pick up the microphone. She put it on the highly polished table and cleared her throat.

  ''Today we're in downtown LA, with real estate mogul Ryan Jacobson. Thank you for agreeing to see us, Mr. Jacobson.''

  ''My pleasure Kelly.'' He took a lot down at her bronzed legs and wondered how she got them so smooth looking.

  ''A lot of people know you as the secretive billionaire businessman. Perhaps you would tell us how you got started.''

  ''Sure. Well, I went to construction college and learned how to build, and then I worked for a real tough guy called Jake Inchmore as a young apprentice. He clipped my ears a few times; I can tell you. I learned a lot from him.''

  ''And when did you start your own business?''

  ''As soon as I knew what I was doing. I was very grateful to Jake for teaching me all he knew. You know, the day I told him I was leaving to set up my own company, I was terrified of what he'd do to me. But he was really supportive and pleased I had some entrepreneurial spirit.''

  ''You certainly do.''

  ''The company you have built has seen a good amount of controversy hasn't it?''

  ''In what way?'' he asked.

  ''Well your core business is buying apartment buildings, doing some refurbishments and increasing the rents drastically. There have been a number of high-profile cases where your company has evicted old people and families with young kids. People who couldn't pay the new rents.''

  ''I knew it. I fucking well knew it. I'm the dumbest businessman in this whole Godforsaken city. I thought you were different; that's why I invited you here. But you're just the same as all the others. Now get the hell out of my office.'' Ryan swiped his arms over the table and knocked the microphone onto the floor.

  ''That's the first and last time, Steffi, never again,''he said as he walked past her desk. ''Bloody media. And don't say I told you so.''

  ''Well I did,'' Steffi said. '
'If she hadn't been so good looking, you would never have agreed to the interview.'' Typical Ryan, she thought. He was a great business man but a sucker for a pretty woman. She couldn't remember the number of times she had a tearful lady on the phone asking after his whereabouts.

  Ryan slumped into his giant leather desk chair and looked through his emails. There was one from Alina telling him she would arrive in LA around eight that evening. She told him she would take a cab to his home and not to bother sending a driver.

  ''Steffi,'' he shouted. Steffi arrived in his office with a note pad. ''Alina's coming this evening. I'll bring her to work in the morning. How long do you think you'll need to handover?''

  ''I think I can teach her all she needs to know in a month. After that, she can have my phone number and call me if she needs to know anything.'' Steffi looked at Ryan and noticed how tired he looked.

  ''You're not overdoing it are you?' she asked.

  ''What makes you say that?''

  ''You look tired.''

  ''I am tired. Tired of people who don't keep promises. This morning we had to hold a guy over the edge of a building and threaten to drop him.''

  Steffi laughed. ''You have a wild imagination, Mr. Jacobson.''

  If only she knew the real truth, he thought. ''I'm going home. If you need me, you know where I am.''

  The Black Rolls Royce drove to Beverley Park and pulled into a gateway. The security guard came out of his hut and opened the gate. As Ryan's car passed, he waved and closed the gate.

  Ryan loved his home. At just thirty-five, he was the youngest resident in the area. At an average price of thirty million dollars, the houses in the immediate area were owned by business people and Hollywood stars.

  Getting out of the Rolls, he pulled out his cell. ''Party time,'' he shouted into in. ''Spread the word. Starts at seven, let's make it a pool party.''

  When he walked into the house, he was greeted by John Frazer, a man he'd hired in London. John was one of the few real butlers the world still possessed. ''John, it's pool party time. Starts at seven, can you organize?''