Screwing The Billionaire - A Standalone Alpha Billionaire Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #1)

by Alexa Davis

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked without looking up.

  "Go back to the SEAL team and figure out what I missed," I shrugged.

  "What?" she said looking up shocked. "You can't do that!"

  "The hell I can't," I said shoving more food into my mouth and staring straight at her.

  "But you were seriously injured," she replied staring at me. "Are they going to let you go back?"

  "Lady, there are tons of us who have been hurt far worse and gone back to serve," I said as I kept chewing. "My injuries are minor compared to what some have suffered."

  "You seem so blasé about it," she said frowning.

  "Nope, just practical," I shrugged looking out over the balcony onto 13th Street. "I mean, it's not like there's anything keeping me here now, is there?"

  "What about TriCorp?" she asked. "Aren't you going to try and keep it going while they look for a new CEO?"

  "Huh?" I said genuinely surprised by what she was saying.

  "I would have thought they'd have come and told you that they arrested Julian this morning," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

  "Arrested Julian?" I said.

  "Eva gave him up as the one who'd masterminded the kidnapping and the attempt to steal the hard drive," she said. "Her lawyer got the State to take the death penalty off the table for Butch Wilson's death if she'd turn over Julian."

  "Jesus, all of these secrets," I said shaking my head.

  "Secrets are what kill us," she replied as she took a big swig of her beer.

  "Who the hell are you to judge people for keeping secrets?" I demanded to know. "You're the one hiding the secret boyfriend!"

  "Boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about?" she said looking completely confused.

  "Don't play act with me, Echo!" I yelled as I shot up out of my chair and began pacing the balcony. "You and Mando are an item and you've been using me for — I don't know what!"

  "What? Me and Mando?" she said with a look of genuine surprise. "We're not a couple! God, he's like my brother!"

  "But he said..." I began.

  "What did he say?" she demanded. "Tell me, and I'll skin him alive! What did he say?"

  "He said..." I began again and then stopped.

  "Yeah, I'm sure he did," she said as she rolled her eyes. "He's way too overprotective of me and Cece, and we both feel smothered by him sometimes. I'm sure he was trying to put the fear of God into you so that you wouldn't take advantage of my innocence or something."

  "But you kissed him and told him I'm totally safe," I said trying to recall everything that had gone on.

  "I was teasing him about his protectiveness," she said. "But that was it."

  "Crap," I said as I ran a hand through my hair and then I remembered, "But he said watch out for our girl."

  "He says that to every guy one of us dates," she chuckled as she shook her head. "It's like some kind of big brother insurance policy against bad things."

  "And it works well..." I said trailing off. "So the night on the couch and the day you came to see me after I got shot and then the other day when I was back in the hospital..."

  "Yeah, I wondered why you kept pushing me away," she said as she stood up and moved toward me. She lowered her voice as she reached out and ran a finger down my arm, "Because quite frankly, you've been driving me crazy since you arrived, Mr. Navy Seal."

  The next thing I knew, she reached up and wound her arms around my neck pulling me down so she could kiss me hard and deep.

  "Oh God," I groaned as I wrapped my arms around her and pressed her body against mine, then winced as I felt the tug on my stitches.

  "Oh no! I'm sorry!" she said as she pulled away.

  "No, no," I shook my head. "We just have to go slow, take it easy."

  "I can do that," she grinned as she took my hand and led me into the apartment and up the stairs where she proceeded to gently pull off my shirt and shorts before shedding her own.

  "Uh, that's was quick," I said.

  "Do you have any idea how long I've been wanting to do that?" she asked as she pulled me down on the bed and carefully pushed me back against the pillows. I could feel her hands lightly roaming my body and felt the results of her ministrations immediately.

  "No idea," I said as she straddled my hips and leaned forward to kiss me.

  "A long time," she whispered into my lips as she kissed me again and ran her fingers though my hair. I groaned as she pinned the arm on my injured side to the bed with her knee and reached up with the other hand to stroke her cheek before slipping my fingers into her long thick hair and holding her head so I could kiss her more deeply.

  I felt her moving lower as we kissed until she stopped and quickly grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer, laughing as she did it.

  "Safety first, Seal," she whispered as she kissed me and then moved aside so she could roll it onto my rock hard erection. Before I knew it, she had swung her leg over my hips and was guiding me to her opening as she moaned softly pressing down and then rising up teasing both of us before she sank down and took me in one swift stroke. She smiled at me as she said, "Take it easy, and let me do the work."

  "Oh God," I groaned as I felt her heat around me.

  "Mmm hmmm," she leaned forward and kissed me as she began moving her hips in a slow rocking motion. The movement nearly drove me over the edge until she slowed a bit and kissed me harder. She speeded up and slowed down over and over until both of us were groaning with the need for release. Then she pushed herself up and braced her hands on the wall above my head as she began rocking hard and fast. I could feel her muscles tensing and releasing as she drove us both closer and closer to the edge.

  I knew I shouldn't do it, but I couldn't stop myself. I planted my feet and thrust up hard and deep and felt it set off her orgasm as she moaned. The pulsing of her muscles set off my own release as I groaned and thrust up into her one more time holding it there as I exploded inside of her.

  In the few minutes it took for us to catch our breath, Echo laid across my chest with her face buried in my shoulder. I could feel the wound in my side stretching and while I hoped that I hadn't opened it yet again, I knew that if I had, it would have been completely worth it.

  "My hand," I whispered into her hair a few minutes later. "Can't feel it."

  "Oh God, I'm sorry!" she cried as she quickly moved her knee and slid off of me to the side. She sat up and looked at my injured side, gasped and grabbed a towel from a drawer under the bed. "You're bleeding, but not too badly. Does it hurt?"

  "I can't feel anything," I said.

  "Oh shit! Do I need to call an ambulance?" she asked as the worry turned to fear.

  "No, it's a good thing," I said. "I can't feel anything but my incredibly happy friend down there."

  "You jerk," she said swatting me lightly with a pillow. "You had me worried!"

  "I'm fine, seriously," I said as I lifted the towel and showed her that there was no blood only a little bit of clear fluid leaking out of the incision site. "I'm good. No, better than good. I'm great."

  "I'm great, too," she smiled as she laid her hand on my cheek and then lay down beside me in the space I made with my good arm. "This is the best ever."

  "Indeed it is," I smiled as I turned and kissed the top of her head.

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  "Hey, hey, hey! No running in the house!" I yelled as I heard the sound of pounding feet run through the kitchen toward the back door.

  "We're not running!" came the protesting voices in unison. "We're marching, Mom!"

  "Okay, well, running or marching, I want some peace and quiet in this house!" I called back trying to swallow my laughter. "Because if you wake your sister, you're going to be responsible for her. Do you hear me?"

  "Aye aye, ma'am!" came the reply from two small voices.

  "They are your sons," I smiled as I looked up over where Ryan sat at the table reviewing paperwork that had been delivered that morning.r />
  "Well, I can't say I'm sorry to hear that, Dr. Powell," he grinned. "What's for dinner?"

  "I don't know, what did you pick up at the grocery store on your way home?" I asked sweetly.

  "I was supposed to pick something up?" he looked up at me genuinely confused.

  "I've been in the lab coding SAI 02 for three straight days," I sighed. "You knew you were responsible for dinner!"

  "I suddenly miss those days when we lived next door to Nemo's and I could just call your boyfriend and order dinner," he said with a wistful grin.

  "You are a pill," I laughed as I moved around the island and leaned down to hug him as he sat scanning papers. "What's that?"

  "Same thing as usual, just going over the TriCorp books making sure that you're not squirreling away money so you can dump me and move to your own private island," he said turning to kiss my cheek.

  "Yes, because that's what I'd definitely want to do if I squirreled away a lot of money," I said returning his kiss. "But if possible, could you direct a little more money toward the SAI 03 project? The lab team needs some supplies and I can't get the supply manager to release them."

  "Cece does a great job of keeping that place in running order, doesn't she?" he grinned. "Give her the paperwork and I'll see if I can't prod her to get what you need a little quicker."

  "You're a good husband," I said as I picked up my phone and tapped the screen. A few minutes later, I said, "Okay, you're off the hook. Dinner's on it's way and should be here in an hour. You do, however, need to get your sons in here to wash up and set the table for six of us. Meanwhile, I will go wake my daughter and get her cleaned and fed so that she can entertain the crowd."

  "Who's coming to dinner?" he asked as he stood up and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest.

  "Who do you think?" I said as I rested my cheek against his chest and breathed in his musky scent. "The supply manager and my old boyfriend, they're bringing food from Nemo's."

  "I miss those old days, but I am eternally grateful that you agreed to create a whole lifetime of new days with me, Echo," Ryan said as he held me close.

  "I am, too, Ryan," I said as I tipped my head up and stood on my toes to kiss him. "I am, too."

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  THE HOT GAMER

  By Alexa Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis

  Chapter One

  Carina Jade Rivers

  I adjusted the headpiece of my costume and smoothed the black latex thigh-highs up my legs. Peeking through the curtains from backstage, I watched Lacey stalk across the stage in her Poison Ivy reimagination. I tried not to roll my eyes. Sure, her outfit was sexy, but “Reimagined”? I scoffed to myself. Draping vines over a green bikini and slapping on a red wig was hardly the stuff of creative genius. I pushed the curtain aside a little more. Then again, she didn’t need much creativity with a push up bra and an all-male panel of judges.

  Lacey did one last pirouette and strutted off the stage like it was a runway. I made one turn in the mirror backstage and breathed. I may not have the expensive augmentation to fall back on, but the plunging neckline of my jacket drew the eye down to the thick leather belt I’d painstakingly built and the attached real utility clips, including one with a genuine retracting cable outfitted with a tiny industrial strength folding grappling hook.

  I’d bribed one of the stage hands to make sure I had a good bit of catwalk to throw it up to, and for fifty bucks and a Mardis Gras bead-worthy flash of breasts, I prayed he followed through. The announcer called my name, and I tossed a long, jet black dreadlock behind my shoulder and stepped out onto the stage. I was no longer C.J. Rivers, model and professional gamer, I was “Widowmaker” and I acted the part.

  I whipped my waist-length hair around as I aimed my foam and cardboard sniper rifle at a spot on the edge of the stage and jerked my shoulder back like I’d pulled the trigger. Instantly, a small spark and a puff of smoke popped where I had aimed. The audience gasped in unison, and my heart felt so big it made my bodice tight. I pretended to fire a few more shots as I swaggered around on stage, giving the judges every angle of my costume design while acting as though I were the super-sniper herself on the job, instead of modeling an outfit.

  With a little prayer that the stage tech was where he was supposed to be, I launched the tiny paracord straight up to the catwalk. It hit something at the top, and I felt a catch in the line. With a deep breath, I pressed the button to retract, and my body jerked up as the stage hand helped the small motor lift me, and I was hoisted smoothly as he pulled the line over the steel rail until I pushed the button again dramatically to show him I wanted to stop. He held me in place and I swung gently on the end of the two hundred-pound test line. The audience went wild. I made eye contact with each of the judges in turn before the stage hand released me slowly and I was lowered back into place, the paracord zipping back into the utility belt.

  It had worked, so all that remained to be seen was if it got me a win, or a disqualification. I crossed my fingers and stood front and center to answer the obligatory questions about my design and execution of the character.

  I waited for the applause and cheers to die down, and the judges finally began questioning me. Still in character, I answered in the heavy French accent the Widowmaker would use and cheers erupted again. The announcer called my name one more time, signaling me to wave and leave the stage. With my rifle still in my hands, I managed a front flip and a round off as I exited stage-right, elated with the absolute cacophony of cheers and stomping from the audience. It no longer mattered if I won or not, I had the crowd, and in the end, that was what made the best and most memorable cosplay models.

  An hour later, the judges had finally seen all the entrants in the cosplay pageant. The Las Vegas convention center was packed. It seemed like every gamer geek and cosplayer west of Utah had shown up for the first gamer convention of the fall. Grateful I’d secured my room months before, I listened to frustrated Gamercon goers, whose rooms had been double booked, or worse, hadn’t had the foresight to reserve rooms weeks before.

  It was easy to kill time, posing for pictures with fans of the character I was playing, and a hundred others who either knew who I was in the world of modeling, or just wanted their picture taken with a half-naked lavender-skinned chick. I snuck off to the restroom before it was time for the winners to be announced. My wig had held up well even in the barn-like heat caused by too many bodies in an enclosed space, but my make-up was smudged at my hairline on the sides of my face from the sweat that kept beading up there.

  I dabbed at the damp skin with tissues, then blended on some fresh theatre makeup from the fix-it kit stowed in a pouch on the utility belt. A quick glance at the black rubber watch I wore on the underside of my wrist had me scrambling for the main stage with only minutes to spare before they announced the winner of the cosplay contest.

  Lacey scowled at me as we lined up, single file, back stage while waiting to be called out as a group for the presentation of the awards. I shook out my shoulders and bounced on the balls of my feet, earning me another glare from the Poison Ivy pinup girl. I made a face at her and before she could retort, I motioned her forward with the rest of the group. She snapped her mouth shut and spun on her heel, rolling her hips for effect as she walked out on the stage.

  I followed and, as before, stayed in character, gun at the ready, no smile on my face. The crowd welcomed me back onto the stage like I’d just performed another unexpected feat and the red-hot stare from Lacey was worth a dozen awards all on its own.
The third-place prize was given to a guy who had masterfully incorporated leather and gear-works into a Star Wars storm trooper character. My palms were damp and I was grateful I’d gone for the full gloves that would hide my nervous sweat from the world. If he’d only placed third, I couldn’t imagine what chance I had of coming in first, if I wasn’t chased out of the cosplay world for my on-stage antics.

  I was so engrossed with my mental calculations and second guessing, that I completely missed the announcement of second place, until a flushed and grinning girl in a hand-forged metal Iron Man suit almost dropped the trophy she carried while juggling it and her costume helmet. As we waited to hear the final name called, Lacey’s nerves got the better of her hate and she reached out and clenched my hand so tightly in hers I thought my fingers would break against each other.

  “And with no further ado,” the leggy blonde MC continued, “first prize, including a ten-thousand-dollar check and one Bob Mackie consultation and design assistance…” she paused for effect and the crowd responded with stomps and whistles. “…goes to our very own Ms. C.J. Rivers!”

  I froze, shocked, and stood stock-still, unsure of how to disengage myself from the woman still gripping my hand in hers.

  “Carina, come on over,” Jay Maynard, one of the judges and former cosplay artist, called out. One of the scantily clad elvish attendants helped me shake Lacey free and another escorted me to the center front of the platform to receive my prize. My jelly knees almost sent me tumbling, but a strong hand around my upper arm kept me on my feet long enough to accept the small trophy; a golden statue that mimicked an Oscar, if the Oscar had long, elvish ears and a flowing robe. I curtsied and held the statue up in the air, to the uproarious standing, stomping ovation.

  I’d been a player in the world of cosplay ever since I’d started making enough money with my modeling career to pay for the insanely expensive hobby. After a couple of years making the rounds on my own dime, I’d started getting invited to these conventions by the hosts, and paid for my time and photos. Even at the Las Vegas Gamercon, I had made my reservations, dropped the hint that I planned on attending, and been reimbursed at retail for the tickets, which put a few extra dollars back I my pocket. Winning the cosplay pageant only cemented my value to the big game developers and the entire entertainment industry.