BARRED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Billionaires & Bohemians Book 2)

by Linnea May

  "I bet you can do the splits," I interrupt her, leaning forward. "Oh, the possibilities..."

  She straightens up, her eyes wide open, cheeks flushed and mouth half opened. What a cute little doll she is. I bet she's already wet, trying to make sense of the tingling sensation between her legs. She doesn't say a word, she doesn't move, she doesn't walk away - she just stares at me, waiting for more.

  And more she will get.

  Chapter IV

  Sara

  It all comes back to me as he starts talking. How he bought me a drink and led me back to the VIP area of the club. But we didn't spend much time in there. I remember him forcing me to drink water and forbidding me to finish the vodka cranberry drink he'd just bought me. I remember feeling dizzy and confused, but it wasn't only because of the alcohol. It was because of the things that beautiful man said to me, the way he looked at me, the way he adored and craved me more than anyone ever had before.

  Him! A guy like him!

  I remember him sweet talking me into coming with him, and the way he wrapped his arms around me when he pulled me in for a kiss. That kiss robbed me of my sanity and my vision dimmed to black as a lazy, oscillating beat filled the club. I remember grabbing my phone because I couldn't find Olivia or any of the others. I sent her a text to let her know that I was okay. Still, it was probably her calling a few minutes ago when my phone rang. It's the first time that I didn't come home at night because I went home with a guy I had just met at a club instead.

  Did I just have my first one-night stand?

  I think I did.

  I remember getting into a car. It wasn't a cab, but he wasn't driving either.

  Does he have his own driver?

  How rich is this guy?

  Judging by this bedroom, he must be quite well off. Everything, including the sheets I'm wrapped in, has a feel of unobtrusive wealth. The interior is rather simplistic and cool, very masculine, but if he decorated the place himself, he definitely has great taste.

  "We fucked, didn't we?" I ask bluntly. "That's why you think it's silly that I try to hide myself from you."

  A satisfied and confident smile appears on his face as he nods.

  "I did get a good view of that stunning body of yours last night," he says. "And I had my hands on you, and inside you."

  I blush, forcing myself to remember any of this. But I can't. It scares the hell out of me that I can't remember any of the things he's telling me right now, but I do believe him. I can feel it, the sweet soreness between my legs, the tender ache a good fuck leaves behind. It's been a while since I last had sex, and from the feel of it, he was anything but gentle with me.

  Oh, how I wish I could remember.

  I lower my eyes, ashamed of myself - and angry. How could I get so drunk? I'm not even mad at myself for making such a rash decision and going home with him, but for not remembering the things we did once we got here. I - presumably – had great sex with the sexiest guy alive, and I can't remember any of it! How stupid.

  "And I fucked you," he adds, observing my face while I wish I could just vanish into thin air. "Those pink lips were wrapped around my cock within minutes of us getting back here. You were so eager, so hungry for my cock. Such a perfect little slut."

  I press my palms against my face in an attempt to hide from my shame.

  "You really don't remember?" he asks.

  I shake my head, trying to hold back the tears of shame. I'm working on stage, I have a career that constantly asks me to put myself out there, to work hard and to fail on a regular basis. I've stumbled and fallen on stage, I've forgotten parts of choreography in the middle of a performance, I've misjudged jumps, and destroyed very significant parts of my dance while hundreds of people were watching me.

  Yet I don't think I've ever felt as embarrassed as I do right now.

  "That's a pity," he comments. "We had quite a lot of fun, until you passed out..."

  I lift my face up to meet his and stare at him in horror. "I passed out?"

  He chuckles. "Why so horrified, baby girl?"

  I gulp. "Where are my clothes?"

  "They're here, don't worry," he says, winking at me. "You don't want to go for round two?"

  I frown at him.

  "My head is killing me," I say. "And I feel sick."

  "I'm not surprised, with the amount you drank," he says. "But I'm not letting you out of here without putting some food in you."

  "But-"

  "No, but," he cuts me off. "You need to eat, and drink a lot more water. You must be dehydrated as fuck."

  He stands up and walks around the bed to the dresser, then opens a drawer and rummages around in it. My eyes lazily follow him. I feel terrible on so many levels that I don't even know what's worst. My hangover? The splitting headache? The nausea? The shame?

  He produces something that looks like a morning robe and throws it on the sheets next to me.

  "Wear this for now, if you're shy," he says. "Then come out to the kitchen. I have some breakfast prepared."

  I squint at him in disbelief, as he opens the door and disappears, leaving me by myself.

  Breakfast? I never knew that was part of the plan with one-night stands.

  I clumsily climb out of bed, realizing that I am in fact completely naked, and wrap myself up in the incredibly soft robe he left for me. It's thick and heavier than I expected it to be, and it smells fresh and clean with a hint of fir branches. I hug the robe and take in the scent, wishing I could take it home with me.

  Just as I plan to walk out the door to follow him for breakfast, my phone rings again.

  Chapter V

  Lux

  She enters my apartment, her legs seemingly weak and wobbly, like a baby deer who just made it out of its mother's womb. I'm torn back and forth, unsure whether it was a smart decision to bring her home with me. Even after forcing all that water in her, she's still more drunk than I'd usually be comfortable with.

  But at some point, it was too late. I was hooked as soon as I kissed her. Even with the clumsiness caused by her intoxication, she had a specific bite to her, an eagerness and hunger that's hard for me to resist. Her hand wandered to my crotch while we were kissing, caressing the stiffness she caused. The moan she let out when she realized how hard she'd made me even drowned out the music around us. I grabbed her wrist and took back control, unwilling to let her take over like this. Her eyes flung wide open when I pushed her hand back, my fingers closing around her dainty wrist in an unyielding grip.

  She didn't say anything, and neither did I. I just took her. I pulled her behind me, darting out of the club and towards my car. I always have my driver waiting outside on nights like these, because getting a cab is below me, and I sure as hell won't drive after indulging on hard liquor all night.

  Little Sara stumbles through my living room, her eyes and mouth wide open, as she gapes around, taking in the vastness of the room.

  "You're rich!" she exclaims, as if that hadn't been obvious before. "You're freaking rich!"

  I don't like the way her voice squeals when she says it and I approach her, taking off her coat from behind.

  "And you're fucking beautiful," I whisper in her ear, as I let the coat slip down her shoulders.

  She giggles and shakes her head.

  I put her coat away, and as I walk back to her, ponder what to do next. She's standing in the middle of my living room, folding her hands in front of her belly and trying very hard to maintain balance. My eyes catch her drunken gaze, and she winks at me.

  I think she'll be okay.

  "I've never seen a naked ballerina," I tell her in a soft voice, my hand finding its way to her shoulder, traveling up her neck and to the back of her head, where I grab a fistful of her thick, black hair. She moans when I tilt her head back, so she's forced to look up at me. What an extraordinary face she has, such a cute porcelain doll, with surprisingly light, steel blue eyes that clash with her onyx hair.

  "Who says you will tonight?" she asks, trying
to be cheeky.

  "Oh, I'm pretty sure, I will," I say. "Because you will undress now, in front of me, one item at a time, slowly."

  Her eyes flicker with excitement, and suddenly, she's fully awake and at attention.

  Good.

  "Come," I say, leading her out of the living area to an open staircase that leads up to the second floor of my penthouse. This place is way too big for just me, but I enjoy having all these rooms and the possibilities that come with them. How can anyone live with just one bedroom? Have one bed to fuck and sleep in? That's unappealing to me. It's also the reason why I prefer to take my girls home with me instead of following them to their places.

  Sara will only see one of those bedrooms, and it's not the one I sleep in.

  She obediently follows me up the stairs and her steps sound reassuringly secure.

  I stop in front of the closed bedroom door and turn to her.

  "Undress," I command her.

  Sara looks up at through her dazed, blue eyes, her mouth forming an O as she processes this surprising order.

  "You're not getting in there with your clothes on," I tell her. "You're only to step inside naked, completely naked."

  "I, er-"

  "I won't negotiate," I interrupt her. "Show me that sexy little body of yours, and I'll promise to take good care of it."

  Sara huffs, and I can tell that she's working on a sassy reply instead of following my orders. She's a feisty one, I knew it.

  But not too feisty to bypass any trouble before we're even getting started. A sense of satisfaction runs down my spine when she lifts her hands and begins to unbutton her blouse, her eyes still fixating on me.

  What a good girl.

  The blouse slides off her bony shoulders, revealing a small chest and the tiniest waist I've ever set my eyes on. She's almost a bit too slim for my taste, but she makes up for it with her fit shape. She's a ballerina, so of course she'll be dainty, but she's not frail or weak in the slightest. When she reaches forward in an attempt to hand her blouse to me, I can see the muscles flex in her arms.

  "I'm not your servant," I say, but I still take the blouse as she gives it to me.

  "Well, I don't want my clothes on the floor," she says, biting her lower lip, as she casts me a sly look.

  "Don't worry, this floor is as clean as it can get," I say, letting her blouse drop to our feet. "I have someone to take care of that, and she's very thorough."

  She glares at me.

  "Why would y – ?"

  "Go ahead," I interrupt her. "Completely naked, I said."

  She groans and rolls her eyes.

  Fuck, this aggravates me. I should grab her by the hair, rip the rest of her clothes off of her body, and put her over my knee right here and now. The thought alone causes my dick to swell.

  I take a deep breath, my hands clenching into fists as I work on restraining myself.

  Despite her opposition, she continues to undress. She does it painfully slowly and with no regard to elegance, which I'm sure she'd excel in as dancer, but not in her current state. I can still see she’s intoxicated when she steps out of her pants and starts to stagger. She learned from her earlier mistake, and complies by dropping her clothes on the floor at her feet. Before she reaches back to unfasten her bra, she casts a look at me, asking for reaffirmation.

  I nod, beckoning her to continue.

  Her breasts are small and perky, just as I expected. I can't wait to suck on her pink nipples and see how much torture she can handle. They're hard and standing erect, the same as my cock that's pushing against its fabric cage.

  She lowers her eyes, evading my gaze when she pulls down her panties, exposing perfectly shaved lips between her muscular thighs. Her whole posture changes now that she's this exposed in front of me. She slouches and tries to cover her private parts with her hands.

  "No reason to be ashamed," I tell her in a soft voice, stepping closer. "You're perfect. Beautiful. Don't try to hide yourself."

  I can tell that she has to suppress the urge to move away from me, but when I lift my hand, touching her face instead of her body, she leans into it and starts to suck on my thumb when I push it between her partly opened lips.

  "Good girl," I praise her.

  Her eyelashes flutter when she looks up at me after I say those words. She likes hearing them, that's for sure. But I wonder how much she's willing to do to get praised like this.

  We'll have to see.

  I keep my hand on her cheek, while she continues to suck on my thumb, and then I reach forward with the other, aiming for the sweet spot between her legs. She flinches when she can feel my fingers on the inside of her upper thigh.

  But she doesn't move away or try to stop me. Instead, she places her feet further apart, spreading her legs for me.

  I like to take my time in the beginning. The first kiss, the first view of her naked body, the first touch, the first taste of her pussy. All those firsts are too enjoyable to be rushed.

  But my cock has other intentions. I'm so freaking hard that it's bordering on painful. I've had too much to drink to display the kind of patience I'd usually prefer to have on a first date - and I'm too turned on by her.

  When I reach her center, I lose it. I carefully part her lips with two fingers, while a third slides between them, my actions rewarded with the most alluring moan escaping her lips.

  She's dripping wet. We have barely done anything, but she's just as ready as I am.

  Fuck this.

  Against my original intentions, I attack her right here in the hallway, reveling in her hearty groans as I start fucking her with one finger first, soon adding another. She squeals and starts to waver, holding on to my shoulder so that she doesn't fall over.

  "Fuck me," she pleads, the slick sounds produced by my fingers plunging into her a telltale sign of her insane arousal.

  I want to say no. I want to tell her that she'll have to be a good little girl and wait. I want her begging and yearning for my cock. I want her on all fours, choking on my cock. I want all of that before I shove my hard length into her dripping wet pussy.

  But I can't.

  Instead, I grab her petite ass and pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, pressing that wet center against my crotch and desperately grinding me, while I open the door to the bedroom.

  She presses her lips on mine and we're kissing wildly when we stumble into the bedroom. I lose my balance just in time to throw her on the bed before I'm collapsing on top of her. Her heavy breathing only fuels my hunger for her. When I hover over her, she reaches for my crotch, but I slap her hands away.

  "No," I bark at her. "Just spread those legs for me, little girl."

  She groans in protest, but complies with my wish. Her flexibility allows for a splendid view as I free my erection, stroking my cock as I watch her lying in front of me, her slim body squirming with need and her legs spread apart, exposing her wet center.

  I reach for the condom I know is in my pants' pocket, and quickly rip open the package, pull it out and slide it over my throbbing cock. I place my hands at the inside of her thighs, spreading her legs even further apart while the tip of my cock teases her entrance. She watches, her eyes widening as she gets a look at the size of dick that's about to fuck her.

  "That's right," I whisper, as the head of my cock moves between her wet folds. "I'm going to stretch your pussy like you've never been stretched before."

  She casts me a fearful look, but lifts her spread legs, egging me on to move further by pushing with her feet at my back.

  "What a hungry little slut," I comment. "Well, if you don't want to wait, neither will I."

  A pained shriek escapes her mouth when I thrust forward, shoving my entire length inside her petite body. She's tight, but so wet that I slide in easily. I lower myself on top of her, my cock buried balls deep inside her pussy.

  She's gasping for air, her entire body spasming and squirming beneath me, as she takes my formidable size like a good girl.

&nb
sp; "I'm going to fuck you silly," I promise her, before I start plunging in and out of her, rocking her entire body as I fuck her with violent force. I know I won't last long. She's too much for me, it's too late, I'm too influenced by those damn drinks we had.

  She's squealing with every shove, her face a perfect picture of pain and pleasure.

  I wish I could fuck her all night, in more positions, tied down, with a toy plugging her perfect little ass adding pleasure, and her skin reddened from a good spanking.

  But neither of us can last this long tonight. Way too soon I can feel her muscles clenching around me as she climaxes with a mind shattering cry, taking me with her over the edge within seconds.

  Chapter VI

  Sara

  I turn around, realizing the sound of my phone is coming from a pile of clothes - my clothes - under which I find my purse after rummaging around for a few moments.

  "Hello?" I answer breathlessly, without first checking the display.

  "Sara!" Olivia shouts out in relief on the other end. "Shit, thank God you're alive!"

  I reflexively squint my eyes in pain and move the phone away from my ear. The sound of her shrill voice felt like someone was drilling right into my head.

  "Yes, I'm okay," I lie. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

  "Where the hell are you?" she interrupts me, clearly distressed.

  I don't know. I don't know where I am.

  "Are you still with that guy?" Olivia asks. "The one you went home with?"

  "Yeah, I'm still with..."

  Another bolt of shock travels through my body when I realize I have no idea what the guy's name is.

  Fuck.

  He must have told me at some point last night, but it slipped my memory just like a lot of other things did.

  "...him," I complete my sentence. "I'm still at his place. I'm okay."

  "You don't sound okay," Olivia argues.

  "Well, I'm hung over," I admit. "Had a bit too much."

  Olivia sighs audibly.

  "Don't blame me for that," she says. "I drank just as much as you did. Not feeling so great myself, but I always underestimate how little you can handle. You need to develop a higher tolerance."