Billionaire's Vegas Triplet Babies (A Billionaire's Baby Romance)

by Ella Brooke

  Table of Contents

  Billionaire’s Vegas Triplet Babies

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Billionaire’s Vegas Triplet Babies:

  A Billionaire’s Baby Romance

  By Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke

  All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2018 Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke

  This story is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended.

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  Chapter One

  Ryker

  “I think I hate your outfit.” My fingers fumbled with the long, blue satin glove covering Savannah’s right arm. It came off with a tug and some acrobatics, but it wasn’t as simple as I’d have liked. Nothing ever was. “I mean, the costume is sexy as hell onstage, but getting off the gloves, the fishnets…”

  “The wings?” she asked, yanking off the straps on her back and letting the large collection of feathers slide to the sofa in her dressing room. “Not exactly your cup of tea?”

  She was teasing me, and I knew it. Knew that she wanted to make this as slow a process as possible, but that wasn’t going to happen. While I was far from a minute man, and had the prowess that left women from Los Angeles to New York begging for more, I also hadn’t seen my lover in a week. Being stuck in skull-numbingly boring meetings in Palo Alto meant that I was more than ready to fuck Savannah into the nearest wall. Right now, I’d take what I wanted. What I needed. After I was satiated—and only then—would I be ready to tease and worship her body the way a goddess like her deserved. Currently, though, I was this close to tearing through the laces at the back of her bustier.

  Again, as a costume, her Green Fairy getup couldn’t make a man harder. Totally calculated by The Bacchanal to make men pant for her. However, as something one could peel right off, it utterly failed.

  Savannah laughed, a sound that filled my heart and my soul, one that also went straight to my damn cock, made it twitch at attention. “You’re going to tear everything, and I don’t own it!”

  “Don’t care.” I reached up and stroked her cheek, my fingers trailing over the mole at the left corner of her lip. Her own signature beauty mark, much like Cindy Crawford, but Savannah Riley with her curvy body, doe brown eyes, and wavy, dark hair put any model then or now to shame. And she was all mine. I kissed her lips and continued. “I’ll cut Alan the biggest check he’s ever seen. If your stage manager is so upset about everything, I’ll buy you a hundred Green Fairy costumes. Damn, I might pay him just to get you some extra outfits that are for private shows only for me.”

  She grinned and licked her lips, her tongue tracing patterns over the bright emerald lipstick that glimmered there. My cock strained against the fabric of my slacks. Fuck, did I want her. “I don’t know if I want Alan in on those looks.” With speed that almost had to have been witchcraft, she pulled away from me and slipped out of the rest of her outfit.

  It was everything I could have wanted: the woman I loved, standing before me in all her glory, with the swell of her breasts and her flushed, pink nipples erect before me. That gorgeous thatch of dark curls over her hot little pussy…all of that was beckoning to me.

  Striding over to her, I reached down and let my fingers trace a pattern over the lips of her cunt. She bucked her hips closer toward me and mewled like the cat in heat she was. It only encouraged me further.

  “You love this, don’t you?”

  “God, yes! Don’t stop, Ryker. Never stop.” Savannah’s breath came in ragged gasps, and her body trembled under my fingers. I slid a forefinger from caressing her pussy lips and then shoved it deep down inside the depths of her hot little cunt. “Jesus!”

  “I love when I make you blaspheme, siren.”

  She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Just never make it stop, Ryker. Need you. Need to come so badly.”

  I chuckled, a low and growling sound working its way through my throat. “In time. I want you so badly too.” My cock was so hard that it would have felt like granite by then. “I want to shove my dick so deep in your pussy that I’ll never come back out, that you won’t know where I stop and you begin. That we’re one.”

  I thrusted my forefinger faster inside her and added my middle finger as well, expanding her, getting her wet and ready for me.

  “Oh Ryker!”

  “But,” I added, my fingers probing her more deeply. “I have promised myself…as much as I’ve missed you…that we can take today slowly. I want to pound into your hot, tight cunt right now, but I also have always prided myself on bringing you pleasure.” I pressed my thumb against her clit and started rubbing tightly against it in a circle. She moaned and leaned against me. “I can make you come a million ways, sweetheart, without rutting around first.”

  She grinned, emerald lips pulled tight over sparkling white teeth. “But I love to feel you inside me too.” Her hands trailed over the front of my slacks and cupped my balls through the fabric. “I love everything about you.”

  I thrusted a third finger inside of her and with the thumb of my other hand increased the pressure on her clit, pressing down in wild, rapid circles. “And I love how you feel, all your juices slick on my fingers. So wet and ready and all just for me.”

  “Please, almost there, Ryker.”

  “I know.” And I meant that. I could feel her inner muscles starting to quiver around my digits, her personal nectar sloshing over me as I pressed further and harder into her. “Now, come for me, darlin.’”

  She rolled her head back and screamed, her voice a loud shout that probably let half the cast of the review know exactly what she was doing. Who she was doing. “God, yes!”

  Her core squeezed against mine, and I shivered with the ecstasy as she did. Both of us crested together, feeling the passion that united us. A quick flurry of weeks that had spiraled into so much more. Oh, so very much more. Savannah collapsed into my arms, and I held her tightly to my chest. My cock was still up and eager, but she’d need time to come back down from an earth-shattering orgasm. I was content to look.

  To stare down into eyes the color of chocolate that had bewitched me body and soul.

  “What?” she asked, her voice a bit slurred with her sleepiness.

  “Hey now,” I teased. “We have the whole night.”

  “And not in my dressing room. Come on, take me to your place and we’ll really get started.”

  Leaning down, I kissed her, my tongue tangling deliciously with hers. “Of course, but I just wanted a minute…just wanted to stare into your eyes.”

  She giggled and licked her emerald lips. “You are becoming quite the romantic, Ryker Eden.”

  I kissed her again and nibbled her bottom lip for good measure. “Who said I wasn’t always?”

  “Maybe, but I knew your playboy reputation when we started up. I think I’m getting under your skin, Mr. Eden.”

  Helping her to her feet, I handed her a change of street clothes from her dresser. I knew she wasn’t going to leave he
r dressing room in the Green Fairy ensemble. I preferred it that way even if Alan wouldn’t have bitched about it to boot. She was mine. Mine to hold and mine to ogle, and I wanted her in jeans and a t-shirt if I could help it, didn’t want anyone else beyond show time to catch a glimpse of my girl.

  My siren.

  Because I was Ryker Eden, CEO and tech god, and that siren was mine.

  Chapter Two

  Ryker

  Four Weeks Earlier

  I half expected my brother to be dressed like some bullshit frat bro with the Ralph Lauren shorts and the pastel polo shirt with the popped collar when I walked through the door to his penthouse at the Hard Rock. He was teasing—at least I thought he was—about checking out the crop of college co-eds coming into Sin City for spring break to gamble for the first time, get a bad tattoo, and maybe hook up for a night with whale gamblers like us. Frankly, I hadn’t had interest in stuff like that for months. For the longest time, I’d been dedicated to my wife and my son. Then, she’d died, and the only way Davis could help me or at least try to was to distract me with every girl in the continental United States and most in Europe.

  But it was all falling flat now.

  He promised this weekend he had a special treat, and he’d started by implying it would be the girls from UNLV and beyond. Like at thirty-four it was what I wanted. Then again, Davis was soon pushing forty and still aced like a drunk frat guy. He just wasn’t dressed like one if that was the itinerary. His wiry body—kept in shape even at his age with tons of PX90 and running—was decked out in a classic Armani suit. His jet black hair, so much like mine, was swept back, and mischief danced in his green eyes.

  The strip. Perfect. Like we haven’t been there a billion times.

  “You know, Ian’s with a sitter, and if we’re just going to the same clubs to get blotto for the billionth time, maybe I want to pass on that,” I admitted. Running a hand through my thick, dark beard, I scrubbed at my chin. “I’d definitely rather be on the sofa curled up with my son and watching a Marvel movie on a loop than out doing the same thing, the same people.”

  “Emphasis on the same people, brother.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Look, you think I don’t know you’re pulling away?”

  “You’d have to be deaf not to get it. Last month it was a sudden ‘live a little’ trip to Monaco. This weekend you talked about drunk sorority girls. Davis, maybe this has nothing to do with me or with trying to ‘help’ me deal with Ian or the company stress or missing Penelope.”

  Davis squeezed my shoulders harder before letting go and striding to the wet bar. He poured himself and me a few fingers of Scotch. His own serving was twice the size of mine, but I didn’t say anything. He’d adjusted in his own way to the success of our company, and maybe getting wild over the last decade hadn’t done him any good, but he’d have to learn moderation on his own. I was drowning enough as it was.

  But still the pain was raw all over my nerves, the days endless without Penelope, and all I wanted was to feel again. The only time I ever felt anything good was with Ian, but my son had to go to elementary school, and I had to learn to find something else that wasn’t just Ian to get through my dreary, soulless days. I’d thought eventually the booze, the gambling, the extreme sports, and the women would be a balm for my soul. But all I felt was empty, like a glass that had spilled out almost every last drop of itself.

  “Anyway, now that you’re done brooding and ruining a perfectly good glass of alcohol—it’s a vintage year, by the way—can we go out and have some fun?”

  “Isn’t that what we always do?”

  “Yes, stop acting the martyr. If you didn’t want to be here and hang out with me, you wouldn’t. Clearly, you want to be here.”

  I sighed and set my glass down. Starting the night out drinking and pre-gaming wasn’t what I wanted either. Something had to change, but I couldn’t be sure what. There was no way to get Penelope back, to make my soul feel alive again. No spark. Maybe I needed to quit trying and throw myself into being a monk and super dad and just do that.

  At least Ian gave my life meaning, helped me smile.

  Davis’s antics were wearing thin on me. Exhausting me.

  And I knew he was trying to help, or at least I thought he was, but endless hedonism was only fun for so long. Maybe he wasn’t growing tired of it, but it cost me every time we went out to put on the fake smirk and schmooze with the endless parade of meaningless blondes and gorgeous brunettes. None of them would ever be who I wanted.

  “Well, maybe I just get tired of the games. It’s all dull, like a photograph in black and white.”

  Davis snorted and gulped down his Scotch. “You’re wasting a perfectly good vintage with your nattering on. Why don’t we just go to what I have planned? Don’t be negative. After all, I’ve booked us the best seats in the house for the hottest club act in town.”

  “I do not want to see Britney Spears singing hits from 2000,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “The newest attraction in town. Tell me, brother, have you heard of The Bacchanal?”

  Quirking my head at him, I set my glass down. “You know, one of us has to keep the nose to the grindstone at Betting Kings. The app doesn’t run itself.”

  “It practically does now; that’s why we hired a cadre of programmers after the IPO. You could relax more if you wanted.”

  Then I’d have to fill even more time each day. Joy. Not exactly what I wanted in life, not at all. “And yet someone still has to be the CEO and keep it all running smoothly. So, no, I don’t have time to research the newest reviews and stripper clubs—”

  “It’s burlesque.” He smirked as he poured himself another round. “Totally different. The burlesque is all about the fancy outfits, old-timey vibe. Hot girls but with class.”

  “‘Class with a K,’ then?” I asked.

  “Ha, no it’s the art of what you see and, okay, what you don’t see. It’s getting rave ratings everywhere. Like on Yelp? Totally blowing up!”

  I rolled my eyes at a man near forty talking like that. One day, Davis would have to grow up. Fuck, wasn’t that what big brothers were for? I shouldn’t be the one taking care of him all the time, humoring him. But that’s where we were…at least for now.

  “Fine, show me it’s not just another wasted night. We’ll see.”

  “And if you hate it?” he asked.

  “Then maybe…I dunno…maybe it’s time just to settle for the dad lifestyle and you find a new wingman because this isn’t doing anything for me.”

  ***

  The club was a throwback to an earlier time, to the cabarets and vaudeville shows you saw in old movies. It had plush red velvet curtains hung up everywhere, seats made to look old and carved out of fine ebony wood, and even the performers dressed in period costumes that reminded me of the roaring ‘20s. Like I said, Vaudeville. There were tight rope walkers, acrobats, and yes, scantily clad women between scenes, but it wasn’t salacious. Definitely so far a ton of a lot more than you’d see at the average beach or even the biker rallies and get togethers that ringed the outside of the city. But none of it was like something my brother would give a shit about.

  In fact, even if I’d been impressed by the acrobats and had made a note to take Ian to a more G-rated circus offering on the strip soon, Davis had long since tuned out and was playing on his phone. Maybe he’d been expecting a lot more from the rumors. I had no idea. The one part that grinded on me was the emcee, some willowy guy that reminded me of Ichabod Crane and had stupid violet contacts in. He had a slight Irish lilt to his accent and seemed to live for the spotlight, trying desperately to suck it up as if anyone cared about the interstitials between performers.

  Fun, sure. Unexpected way to while away the time, yes. The next level of stripping experience? Far from that.

  And then the house lights went out. A few people gasped at the sudden darkness, and my brother—charming as he was—barked curses under his breath. I paused, waiting for what came next. No poi
nt in starting for the exit and getting caught up in a possible stampede. Then, as I had hoped, a spotlight came on the stage and an old tune, one I couldn’t recognize, filtered through the air.

  A woman slipped through the curtains and stood before us, decked out in tempting fishnets, high heels, a green velvet corset, and huge, white wings. Her dark brown hair was piled high on her head in curls, and her lips glittered green like the rest of her makeup and the sparkles on her bustier. I licked my lips for the first time in what felt like forever, curious about the woman on stage.

  No, not just curious, but turned on.

  I wanted her, and it was probably just the loneliness and the way everyone else was held in thrall by her too as her husky alto serenaded us all. She moved with sensuality that couldn’t be learned or practiced, that felt natural as if she breathed and exuded that sexiness with every fiber of her being. Hell, clearly she did. Then, she beckoned to me in the audience, and I had to start mentally reciting baseball facts to keep my dick from being hard in front of a sold-out audience of over five hundred strangers. For a moment, I hesitated on the edge of the stage, not sure I could keep my self-control.

  Davis shoved at my shoulder. “Come on, dude. Get up!”

  It was enough to get me stumbling to the stage. A chair was there, already waiting for me, and the siren on stage beckoned again, pointed at the chair, and I took the seat there. She reached up and unpinned her curls so that the long strands of her hair fell everywhere, over her shoulders and down her back, flowing almost down to her ass. And God, what an ass it was, firm and apple shaped, like something I could just take a bite out of at any moment. I shifted and sat on my hands before I made a mistake. I’d been to enough clubs of all types to know the rules. Look but don’t touch. Even if this tempting beauty with the silky hair had started circling my chair, was bending and flaunting her rear for me…she wasn’t mine to touch. No matter how much my fingers wanted to reach out and my cock twitched in anticipation.

  She started another song, a quiet, melodic rendition of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” of all things. Oddly, most women wouldn’t try and do something so iconic, but she put a beauty like Marilyn Monroe to shame. God, I’d seen women from California to China, and I’d never seen a woman as gorgeous as she was.