The Billionaire Bad Boy Club: A Bad Boy BDSM Holiday Romance

by Michelle Love

  He nodded in approval. “Then there is nothing to worry about. They should be out of your hair soon, so just relax and continue with business as you always do.” He stood to leave.

  “I will. Thanks, Billard.” I gave him another handshake then walked him to the door.

  Once again, I was in my office alone. In silence, feeling uneasy and angry. I hated those cowards. They were always up my ass about something and it was starting to piss me off. The only thing I needed at that time was an outlet. In due time I would have exactly that. I went to the small wet-bar in the corner of my office and grabbed a shot of bourbon.

  My anger was getting the best of me and it was getting harder and harder to sustain self-control. I didn’t know how long it would last until I would lose it all. In times like that, I would always make a phone call, have a woman sent up and ease my tension, using her body.

  With Natasha in my head, I could think of no one I wanted to come help me but her. And I knew she wouldn’t come to me. She wouldn’t come in silence, bend over my desk and let me relieve this anger, using her, then telling her to go.

  Not Natasha!

  She’d have to argue with me first then I’d grow even angrier. I’d have to seduce her instead of merely ordering her. That’s exactly why I needed her to sign the damn bond and start learning what it was I needed from her.

  Not her sassy mouth, or her tenacious attitude. I just needed her sexy ass and perfect body to take me to another place for a little while. Ease my tensions and allow me to explode into her, with no arguments.

  And I hoped very soon that would be a thing she understood and learned to fit in where I needed her to. With the internship, her office would be connected to mine so I could call her in whenever I needed her expert advice.

  I would only accept this advice in the form of sex. No words, no ideas. Just her body, letting my body do to it whatever the hell it took to make the anger go away for a while.

  My blood boiled too easily from what my father told me. He told me all the time I had little self-control and let my anger rule me too often. As if he was anywhere near perfect!

  My father was so far from perfect. Yet he felt no shame in letting me know, I was not the man he’d hoped I’d be. My mother’s genes were to blame, he’d tell me.

  He actually told me, more than once, that he wished he’d used a condom to fuck my mother. Then he’d have been rid of her after only a few months.

  It was she who took the blame for messing up her birth control practices. She claimed to have taken her pills like clockwork, but she managed to get knocked-up anyway. According to the practices of the BBC, if that happens between a member and one of his slaves, he has to take that responsibility if he’s to stay in good standing with the club.

  It is the man’s duty to make sure all precautions are being taken in the birth control department. So my father married my pregnant mother and never let her forget that was the only reason he made her his wife.

  Becoming his wife meant life changed for her, drastically. No more parties at the club. She had to stay at home. Her role as his sex slave was over. Now she was his wife and that meant more respect had to be shown to her as such.

  It was an act for my father. He did not respect women. He looked at them as necessities who fulfill the role of helping men ease their tensions so they can go on to make better business decisions.

  Everything led back to business in that man’s eyes. Even children. I was groomed from the very beginning to be a major part of his company. I was sent to the best schools. I had the best tutors in all subjects, including sexual education.

  I learned from the best how to make our bodies work together to create the most satisfaction for both people. I also learned to keep emotions out of it. Sex is sex. Love is love. When the two combine, power is lost.

  Intentions of losing my power were far from my mind at that time. Lust filled me for Natasha. That was only because her body made mine climax harder than anyone else’s ever had.

  Her mere presence stirred a need in me I’d never experienced before. Our bond would be purely sexual. No emotions would be involved. Not if I had anything to do with it!

  Chapter 7

  NATASHA

  Deep in sleep, I could feel the vibration of my phone underneath me. I lifted my head up, groggily, blowing out a deep breath as I looked to see who was interrupting my sleep.

  It was an unknown number, so I pressed the ignore button. But the asshole on the other end didn’t give a flying rat’s ass about my rest as the phone rang again.

  “Hello,” I yelled into the phone, annoyed. I was not a happy camper when it came to my sleep.

  “That is no way to talk to your master, now is it, Natasha.” His low husky tone gave me pause. My heart fluttered at just the sound of his voice. “Are you there?” he asked.

  I swallowed, slowly. “Yes, I’m here,” I said softly. “I didn’t know it was you calling. I wouldn’t have yelled. I am sorry about that, Nic.” Then I freaked that I had called him something he hadn’t told me too and waited to get told not to ever call him that again.

  “Nic?” he said with an odd sound to his deep voice. “Okay, I’ll allow that. Dinner is at 8 so you have an hour before my driver picks you up. Be prompt, I don’t like to wait.” And then he just hung up. No, goodbye. No, I miss you. Nothing sweet at all!

  “And fuck you too,” I said as the phone was still up to my ear as I sat dumbfounded by his abrupt rudeness. He was giving me whiplash with the constant change in his mood.

  I mean I knew rich people had attitudes out of this world but damn, he took the whole damn cake!

  I had never been around someone with such an absurd manner. Maybe his parents didn’t raise his bratty ass right on how to treat people. But I wasn’t in the profession of teaching an old dog new tricks. Not that Nicholai Grimm was old in the least.

  He was young. One of the youngest billionaires at the BBC. There were a few others but most were old as salt.

  It was his demeanor that made him seem older than he was. He had a way about him as if he’d been groomed by another old asshole. His father came to mind.

  I had to wonder about his life. The man wanted no type of a real relationship. He liked sex and sex only. Women obviously were put on this Earth to serve one purpose in his narrowed vision. Make men happy. Poof! End of subject!

  And there I was, climbing my tired ass out of my comfy little bed to climb into a shower to go eat with this pompous ass. And for what reason did I have to jump for him?

  None!

  Absolutely nothing was making me do any of it. The internship paid so little, it amounted to a hill of beans. It was the experience you grew rich from, not actual paper money. He’d yet to buy me anything more than naughty things. I had no jewels, no cash in my bra the way Dani said I would.

  A pat on the ass, a hundred in your bra, was her lie to get me to go with her to that damn club. BBC shouldn’t be the code for anything to get into that place. It should be BDSM and plenty of it.

  It was upscale, that was for sure. But it still had all the makings of the shadiest clubs where people practiced that stuff. That stuff that I let him do to me. I let him shackle my ass. I let him spank my ass. And I suppose I let him brand me.

  My foggy memory of that happening kind of rekindled a memory of him slapping that on me without asking me a damn thing!

  Yet there I was, shampooing my hair and shaving my body all up, in hopes he would feed me then fuck me into oblivion. I found myself wondering if that was how whores felt.

  Had I been turned into a whore, merely by the man’s emotionless fucking? Had I become a woman I would think little of? And would I continue down that path?

  I knew that road was not for me. I knew it all along. But the promise of getting to feel him slam into me with that raw power he had was something I couldn’t stop wanting. Fuck, I needed it!

  After the shower, I got out and did very little to myself. I figured we’d probably eat, fuck like
animals then he’d send me home in his car. Why get too fancy?

  I had pulled on a robe and was about to start the process of drying my hair when the doorbell rang. With frustration, I slapped the wall in anger. “I’m coming,” I yelled as the doorbell sounded once again.

  If he was there already, I was going to give him what for. That man was all about being punctual. If that was him ringing my bell, he was early.

  Passing through my bedroom I looked outside to see a black Tahoe parked at the curb. I checked the time on the clock on the bedside table and it read 7:15. He was early, very early!

  As I looked through the peephole, Dani’s bedroom door swung open. “It’s for me, Tasha.” She rushed to the door trying to zip her red cocktail dress. “Can you zip me?” She stopped in front of me. “Hold on please,” she yelled at the person on the other side of the door.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I have another party tonight so I won’t be in until late. Don’t wait up for me.” She turned around with a red lipstick stained smile. “I can’t believe you got branded your first night there and I can’t find a rich man to keep me after three years of going to these things.”

  “Yeah, lucky me,” I said with words laced with heavy sarcasm. “Have fun.”

  After returning to my bedroom, I went to my closet to find a nice dress to wear that night. My options were limited but I had no time to rummage through my clothes to find something appropriate. Since Dani was gone, I went to her room and found a nice gold colored cocktail dress that had a deep plunge in back. It hugged my curves snuggly, which I loved.

  Not able to wear a bra with the dress, I also opted out of wearing panties since it was too tight and you would see the lines. Although I hated thongs, I knew I would have to compromise and buy a few pairs. If I was going to be going to naughty parties with Nic, it would become a necessity.

  After primping for a while, I pulled my hair up in spiral curls, letting them fall down the left side of my shoulder, my brand was exposed. There wasn’t a need for much makeup except for some gold and black eyeshadow. I applied some lip gloss to give my plump lips a nicer look.

  I put on a pair of gold Zanotti heels Dani had bought me for my birthday last year. My look was complete with a gold clutch which held just my phone, identification, and credit card just in case. Nic had a tendency of pissing me off, if need be, I would take a taxi home.

  It was 8 o’clock sharp when my phone vibrated, I knew it was him. “Hello,” I said into the phone.

  “The car awaits you,” he said, hanging upon me, yet again. Taking a few deep breaths, I walked out to find a black Range Rover waiting with a driver at the back door.

  “Good evening, Ms. Greenwell.” The driver gave me a smile as he opened my door.

  I nodded. “Thank you.” Then got into the truck to find it empty. I shook my head in utter disbelief that he didn’t have the decency to come get me himself. “So rude,” I huffed.

  Instead of being a party pooper, I left well enough alone and just summed it up to this being who he was. The ride was a long one as he took me out of the city, to Manhattan.

  We stopped at a building that had an immaculate lawn and grand fountain. I looked in awe as the architecture was marvelous. I had never dreamt of standing outside of such a building, let alone going into it.

  The door soon opened and the driver handed me a mask and a note. “You must read the note and follow the instructions,” he said, reaching out for my hand. He tied the mask over my eyes for me, putting me back in a position of anonymity, I felt was no longer necessary.

  As I walked into the lobby, there was a bellhop and a receptionist who was dressed in a pantsuit with her brown hair pulled nicely into a tight bun. I opened the note. ‘Go to the counter and let Mary know you are here to see me.’

  I crumpled the note up and did as instructed and went to the desk. “Good evening, Mary. I’m here to see Nicholai.” I gave her a pleasant smile but felt stupid with the mask on.

  “Ms. Greenwell, a pleasure. You must follow the instructions. The elevator is to your left.” She handed me another note.

  “Thank you.” I walked in the direction of the elevators.

  Once I pressed the button, I could see the elevator through the double paned glass. I opened the note. ‘Take the elevator to floor 32, knock three times.’

  I chuckled as I thought about the ridiculous secret knocking. It was just like the party. I was just glad there wasn’t any password or I’d fail, miserably.

  I stepped onto the elevator and rode it to the 32nd floor, as instructed. “Natasha, you better be on your best behavior.” I tried giving myself a pep talk. I knew when I was around him there was no self-control, at least not on my part.

  The doors opened to a small hall with just one door on the entire floor. I walked over to it and knocked three times as the note said to. I fumbled with my fingers as I shifted my weight from one hip to the other.

  Before the door opened, I took a small breath to knock the edge off. It opened swiftly by who I guessed was his personal doorman. “Ms. Greenwell, Mr. Grimm awaits you.” He gave me a smile, stepping aside to let me in.

  I was in a trance as I saw the décor of his home. It was feminine yet it had a bachelor feel to it. I couldn’t see the hard-edged man living in such a place.

  Who was Nicholai Grimm, really?

  Chapter 8

  NICHOLAI

  I loved to see her face and how her eyes lit up when she was at a loss for words. She hadn’t seen me when she walked in as her attention was on the décor.

  I stood, gazing out the window when she arrived. “Would you like a drink,” I asked her as I took a sip of my bourbon.

  She searched around for me, trying to see what direction my voice was coming from until her eyes fell on me. It was becoming more obvious to me, she needed more than just reading glasses.

  I walked over to meet her as she came further into the room. “A glass of wine would be great. Thank you,” she said with a soft tone to her sweet voice.

  So much was sweet about Natasha. She wore a gold dress that wasn’t her style at all. She was pulling it off, don’t get me wrong, but she looked like a woman who would be more at home in elegant clothing. I made a mental note to purchase her some attire that was more fitting for her.

  “You can have a seat,” I said as I made my way to the wine chiller at the full bar in the main living area.

  She was looking around more as I went to the bar. When I walked back toward her with her glass of wine in hand, she took a seat on the white leather love seat. Right in the center of it, which I found a little amusing.

  “Thank you, your house is very nice. I would’ve expected something with a bit of a harder edge to it, like yourself. You know, black leather, perhaps a set of shackles in that corner over there,” she said with a grin and a wink then took a sip of the very expensive wine.

  I untied her mask, taking it off and placing it on her lap. “Well, I’m not into everything everyone else is. But you will soon see that.” I turned on my heels to go back and get the box that held the papers that would cement our deal. “I wanted to see you for both, business and pleasure tonight. We have a bond agreement that needs to be signed and I will run over the rules. Understood?”

  I watched her as she seemed to be weighing things in her mind. I was unsure if she was going to sign the papers I had the BBC drawn up for us.

  The way it made me feel off kilter was startling to me. I had never cared if any one of the subs in the past signed or not. I could easily find another who would.

  Her demeanor was off-putting and had me nearly wringing my damn hands with a nervousness, the likes I had never known.

  I was standing there, with the damn box in one hand and a pen in the other and I didn’t know what the hell to say or what I’d do if she simply refused. That was not like me. Not like me at all!

  NATASHA

  I contemplated a bit before answering because I was unsure of w
hat he was asking of me. “When you say bond agreement and rules, what exactly do you mean? Is it to control my consumption of calories, how I dress, how I style my hair, down to the color of underwear you will allow. Or will you appear out of nowhere to stalk me and say I’ve had too many drinks? What does that really mean?” I chuckled at the thought of him doing such things.

  If he wanted to control my life, then this was the end of any agreement he was after. I would never allow a man to tell me how to dress, what to drink, or anything that wasn’t logical.

  He cleared his throat, setting his bourbon on the bar that he’d walked back to, swirling his finger around the rim, after placing the box and pen back on the bar. “It has nothing to do with any of that. Nothing in the rules is any aspect of control. At least not in that sense.” He gave me an annoyed look. “Come with me.” He held out his hand.

  I sat my own glass down on a coaster on the dark wood coffee table that looked like one very expensive antique. Then went to him and took his extended hand. I marveled at how it felt when our hands clasped. It sent a sensation through me that was nowhere near sexual. It was comforting and very natural. I envisioned holding that hand for years to come, though I knew inside, it would never be that way.

  We went into the dining area and he pulled out a chair. “Sit!” he said with a stern tone that did not go with how he was holding my hand or treating me at all.

  I took a seat and waited for him as he walked away then reappeared with the box from earlier and this time what looked to be a thick stack of papers.

  In my mind, I was already overwhelmed with my homework, now he had paperwork for me to read too. He handed me the papers which had a notebook attached to it, but he kept the box.

  I watched as he made his way back to the living room and found him coming back with our drinks. He sat mine next to me and took his down in one gulp before pouring more from a decanter inside of the china cabinet that was filled with an old style set of plates. The man was into antiques, apparently, and that was interesting to me.