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

by Michelle Love

  ‘You are the most beautiful woman in the world.’ He growled, and she chuckled.

  ‘You’re biased. But I love you for it.’

  ‘Tell me…’

  ‘I love the way your hips feel when they’re slamming into me, your cock ramming me so hard I can’t grasp any coherent thought except god I want you. I love the way you taste; I love going down on you, filling my mouth with your incredible cock, sucking you dry until you’re helpless under my touch.’

  Sam smiled then, his eyes sleepy with arousal. ‘I’m helpless whenever you’re in the room, clothes or not.’

  Isa grinned. ’Right back at cha, big boy. I love the size of you, not just your cock but you. The way your shoulders are almost as wide as I am tall, your solid chest, your arms. I feel so safe in your arms, so loved, so…where I belong. Your gorgeous face, your smile, your sense of humor. Samuel Levy, you were made from my dreams.’

  He felt his cock thicken ever more and he began to move, to glide in and out of her again. Isa smiled up at him wickedly.

  ‘And I love it when you nail me to the fucking floor.’

  They both laughed, as with a growing frenzy, he did just that for the rest of the night.

  He frowned. The girl – who he’d named Isabel Two – was still unconscious. Maybe he’d been too heavy with his beating this time. But when he’d got back to the motel, she had been screaming for help, hoping against hope that anyone would hear her in this remote, rundown cockroach hellhole.

  He’d tied her too well to the chair, the duct tape made her hands swell and grow purplish. He’d stripped her to her underwear, made her bathe and wash out her clothes. He had no desire to fuck her, was, in fact, growing tired of her. She may have looked like Isabel but there the resemblance ended. This girl was whiny, ill-educated, shallow. He sighed. He’d get no pleasure from killing her; the most he could hope for was to gag her and keep up the pretense that she was Isabel.

  The girl moaned, and he looked up to see her head as it rolled around for a few seconds before she looked up, her eyes heavy with the drugs he’d given her, the concussion from when he’d slapped her so viciously on hearing her cries for help.

  He hadn’t gagged her again yet, wanted to amuse himself with her, and so now he sat in front of the chair, a slight smirk on his face. She focused on him, tears springing up into her eyes.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

  He shifted his weight, pretended to consider her question. ‘Well, Isabel Two, it’s not really you I’m doing this to. It’s your namesake. You just happen to be the vessel I’m going to use to communicate my desires to her.’

  The girl looked confused. ‘My name is Sadie, not Isabel, and what the fuck are you talking about?’

  He grinned widely. ‘I’m going to use your body to illustrate how I’m going to kill her.’

  The girl quelled. ‘Why?’

  ‘To scare her. To make her cower in fear. To torture her. Don’t worry…’ and he brought his knife out to show her and she whimpered with fear. He ran the tip of it from her throat down her body till it rested in her navel. ‘It won’t be long now. I’m afraid it will be painful but that can’t be helped.’

  ‘You’re a sick fuck.’ She spat the words out at him, and he felt a flood of rage pulse through him. He stood and shoved a rag into her mouth, winding a strip of duct tape around her head to keep it in place.

  ‘Maybe so,’ he growled at her, ‘but at least I’ll be remembered.’

  The girl choked on the rag, and he wondered if he should let her suffocate, ease her death. No, that wouldn’t do. He had to get her to the island and kill her there. It would be harder to move a dead body, and besides, he wanted the spectacle, the horror of the massacre.

  He wanted the blood.

  Isa stroked the paint onto the canvas, enjoying the sight of the bright pop of color. Sam watched her, fascinated. She smiled up at him as they sat in her studio, the windows flung open, the doors wide, the sensual sounds of the oceans drifting into the room. The heat was drowsy, sultry in the late afternoon. Isa was working on a small canvas she balanced on her lap, one hand in Sam’s, the other holding the paintbrush.

  ‘Can you work okay like that?’

  She nodded, smiling. ‘I’m just dabbling. I’d rather have my hand in yours than not.’

  He leaned over to kiss her. ‘I could watch you paint all day.’

  The side of her mouth jerked up in a grin. ‘I’ll paint pictures on your body and ride you at the same time.’

  Sam laughed aloud. ‘Such a dirty girl. I’m clearly a bad influence.’

  ‘Only you.’

  He nodded, in mock-shame. Isa touched the tip of her paintbrush to his nose.

  ‘So…let’s talk about our, um, histories.’

  He knew what she meant immediately. ‘You first.’

  Isa nodded. ‘Okay then, although there’s not much to tell. Cashed in my v-card at college to a guy whose name I can’t remember. I admit,’ and she grinned sheepishly, ‘I was hammered at the time, so I can’t tell you what it was like.’

  Sam grimaced. ‘I’m okay with not knowing.’

  She sniggered. ‘After that, I’ve only really had two other boyfriends. Leo, who I met at a coffee house on one of the San Juan islands. He’s a sweet guy, an investment banker, so we really didn’t have much in common. We were really like friends with benefits and one day we just decided to end things. All very amicable and we still email occasionally.’ She shot Sam a look under her lashes, to see if he would react to that, but he just smiled. Isa gave a little sigh of relief. ‘He’s married now, with about seventeen kids.’

  Sam laughed, nodded. ‘I’ll bet. So the other one must be…Karl?’

  There was an edge to his voice now, and Isa squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t get hung up on Karl. I think I told you he’s a graphic artist, yes?’

  Sam gave a tight nod, his mouth a hard line, but said nothing. Isa sighed.

  ‘We met in an art supplies store. Again, we didn’t date for that long, but he got attached. My heart wasn’t it in it, so I ended things. The trouble was, I picked the worse day to do it, and he got physical. Just once, mind, but once is enough. He was devastated, could not apologize enough. Not that it’s any kind of excuse, but it’s a big leap from a one-time offender who was drunk the day he was dumped, to a psychotic stalker. It’s not Karl.’

  ‘You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself as well as me.’

  Isa considered. ‘I don’t think so. I keep going over in my head all the possibilities of it being Karl – and no, I won’t believe it’s him until I’m proved wrong. Or not.’

  She could feel Sam studying her, and met his gaze steadily. Finally, he gave a brief nod, and she relaxed.

  ‘Anyways…’ She hinted and laughed as he rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, your turn, spill.’

  Sam’s hand tightened on hers. ‘I never really formed any big attachments, too busy building my portfolio, dealing with my dad’s affairs when he died, getting Cal through college.’

  She flicked water at him. ‘Avoiding.’

  ‘Am not. Okay. My college sweetheart was Mary-Lou…’

  ‘You’re kidding me with that name.’

  Sam laughed. ‘You caught me. Okay, in college I dated a bit, never really getting too heavily involved as I say. I suppose the longest I dated someone was Jeanne for a couple of months. She was very political, incredibly driven, not much of a sense of humor.’

  ‘Good in bed?’

  ‘Not answering that.’

  ‘So yes, then.’ She grinned at him to let him know she was joking.

  He smirked but ignored her. ‘Anyway, we broke up when she went off to…somewhere to protest something, I don’t know…’

  ‘Hurry it up.’

  ‘Impatient wench. I dated Britt for a while, she’s a photographer, then Lauren. No-one special. No-one like you. You are the only woman I’ve ever loved.’

  Tingles of pleasure made her face glow, and sh
e grinned. ‘Glad to hear it. ‘

  He took the brush and canvas from her and put them carefully on the workbench, then pulled her onto his lap. ‘You,’ he said, nibbling her ear lobe, trailing kisses down her neck, ‘…are my entire reason for being.’

  Isa leaned into him, shutting her eyes, not wanting to ruin the moment, ask him the question that had been nagging at her for weeks. ‘No other artists then? Seems like, in your business, it’s a target-rich environment.’

  ‘One or two, maybe, no-one special.’ But she caught his hesitation, and her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Casey Hamilton?’

  Again he hesitated. ‘Who?’

  Isa sighed and pushed away from him. There was confusion in his eyes, and she gave him a weak smile, not meeting his eyes.

  ‘Come, let’s get something to eat.’

  She walked in front of him to the kitchen, trying not to let the lump in her chest overwhelm her, cause hot tears to flood down her cheeks. He was lying to her; she believed it with all heart. Sam knew Casey Hamilton; she would bet her life on it, and intimately too; it was the only way she could explain the other woman’s behavior and Sam’s complete denial. So why did he deny it? She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe he was still seeing her. She ignored the ripping pain that thought conjured. Isa gritted her teeth. If he wouldn’t tell her then, she knew who to talk to about it. She knew who would help her figure this out.

  Casey Hamilton smirked at she looked at the caller i.d. on her phone. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

  ‘Careful with your tone, Casey.’

  She sighed. ‘Look, I’m sick of this. Tell me what you want, or I’ll go to them, tell them everything.’

  There was silence. ‘And risk a bullet in the head?’

  She laughed, a mirthless sound. ‘I thought you were going to cut my throat, you sick animal?’

  ‘You don’t deserve a slow death.’

  She shivered. ‘Look, what…?’

  ‘It’s time.’

  She let out a long hiss of breath. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good girl. You’ll get your money soon enough.’

  She could hear he was about to hang up. ‘Wait?’

  ‘What is it, Cassandra?’

  The way he said her name sent a thrill through her. ‘When you kill her…when you stab that bitch to death…. will it be slow? Will it be painful?’ Her voice had dropped to a seductive purr.

  He gave a low chuckle. ‘It will be unimaginable.’

  There was a tension between them for the rest of the afternoon, and now, as they cleared their plates from a light supper, Sam put his hand on her bare back.

  ‘What is it, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet since we talked.’

  She shook her head. She had argued with herself all afternoon but now she was tired, and she didn’t want that idiotic woman coming between them, ruining their idyllic time on this island. ‘It’s nothing, just thinking about…stuff.’ She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. ‘Let’s go sit out on the beach.’

  He held her hand as they walked to the ocean’s edge, sitting, so the water lapped at their bare feet. He settled her in the crook of his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder. They in companionable silence for a while.

  She felt his lips press against her temple and sighed. ‘I wish we didn’t have to go home.’ The thought slipped out before she could stop it. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

  ‘We can stay as long as you want.’

  ‘I know but, realistically, we have to go back and sort out this mess. Find this idiot who’s threatening me. Us. Because, Sam…’ and she pulled away so she could look into his eyes. ‘The pregnancy, however, unplanned, well, it did happen, could happen again, and when, and if we’re ready to bring our child into this world, I don’t want this hanging over us. Even without children, I won’t feel we can move on; I’ll always be looking over my shoulder.’

  Sam nodded. ‘I agree and we will, I’ll use every resource at my disposal to find him, I promise. It just may mean you – us – taking more precautions. Restrictions.’

  She blew out her cheeks. ‘As much as I hate to admit, I know you’re right. I just couldn’t bear it if I was carrying your child and something happened. That’s worse than dying.’

  Sam shuddered, and she regretted her words. ‘Sorry, baby.’

  There was a long silence where Sam just took her left hand, traced a line around where a wedding ring would go. ‘We never discussed… you want kids?’

  She smiled, leaned over to kiss him. ‘Yours? Yes, of course. At the same time, if you’re not keen, then…’

  ‘I do. I want to have children with you.’

  She felt tears spring into her eyes – god, she was so emotional lately. ‘Then we will. Just not yet.’

  He smiled and hugged her. ‘Deal. Let’s just enjoy what we have now?’

  She felt his phone vibrate in his shirt pocket. ‘Thought you turned that off, big guy?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. ‘Shit.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nine-one-one from Cal. I have to call him back.’ His smile was apologetic.

  She scrambled to her feet, held out her hand. ‘Let’s go back to the house; I can give you some privacy there.’

  She left him in the living room and went back to her studio, shutting the door behind her. The day had left her feeling oddly bruised. Maybe it was the thought of going back to Seattle. She hated feeling like this, she loved her home city with a passion, thought it the greatest place in the world. Except maybe this island, she considered with a grin. She could really get used to the solitude and safety of this place. She marveled how much her life had changed in such a short time. Ten years from virtually homeless to a luxury island. She chuckled to herself. Don’t get too smug.

  A knock at the door. She looked up as Sam opened the door, his face grim and set. It made a spike of icy cold anxiety sting her stomach.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We have to go back to Seattle. An artist is making noise about your work and not in a good way. She says you plagiarized some of her pieces.’

  Isa’s hackles went up. ‘What the fuck?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Quite. But she’s been smart, gone to all the right people to start a rumor. We have to go home now and start damage control or your work, Zoe’s gallery, my reputation, we’ll all be tainted.’

  Isa felt her whole body go still. ‘Who is the artist?’

  She knew even before he said it, the way his eyes flashed with anger, the way his voice took on a low, dangerous tone. She knew.

  ‘Casey Hamilton.’

  The first blow was the always the sweetest, the popping of flesh under the knife, the wide-O of the victim’s mouth as if the searing pain of being stabbed was somehow a surprise.

  Isabel-Two was no different. He killed her slowly, driving the knife deep into her abdomen the way he would stab Isa, enjoying the hot pump of blood on his hands. This girl had no fight in her – he expected Isa would fight back, refuse to die quickly, take every blow, every stab until the very last moment.

  Isabel-Two died too quickly for him to fully imagine what murdering Isabel Flynn would be like.

  But, for now, it was enough.

  Isa slept on the flight home, cradled in Sam’s arms. He could not sleep, too keyed up, angry, ragingly angry if he was honest. Fucking Casey. Damn her all to hell; she wouldn’t ruin Isa’s career. Sam knew, realistically that her claims could be easily dismissed; it wasn’t that which bothered him. It was the revelation of his and Casey’s marriage that would invariably come out in the press. He’d gone to great lengths after the divorce to remove any reference to it online – at great expense. It wasn’t easy to find out they’d been married, but it was possible.

  Why the fuck hadn’t he told Isa right at the start? What the hell had he been thinking? He was nearly forty – did he think she would be surprised by a previous marriage? H
e’d just been thrown by Casey turning up to the gallery that time. He didn’t want her anywhere near Isa, didn’t want to taint this new, all-consuming love with the mistakes of his past. He sighed and felt Isa shift; her lips press to his throat. She smiled up at him sleepily.

  ‘Hey, you.’

  He ran the back of his finger down her cheeks, marveling as always, at her dewy beauty, the love in her eyes. Did he deserve her? Sam swallowed away the question and kissed her.

  ‘You know…there’s a bedroom at the other end of this cabin…’

  She grinned. ‘I like your thinking, sir. Let’s keep our island bubble going for just a little while.’

  He carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. She stretched as he laid her on the bed, grinning and yawning at the same time. She looked so adorable he moved on top of her, caressing her through the light cotton of her summer dress, kissing her mouth, tasting her lips. He moved down the bed, pushing her dress above her waist so he could bury his face in her soft belly, feel it move up and down as she breathed. His fingers twisted into the sides of her panties, tugging them down so he could have kissed down her abdomen and take the tiny nub of her clit into his mouth. Isa shivered and gasped, reached down to stroke his head, her fists clenching and unclenching in his short curls.

  He spread the soft lips of her sex, running his tongue along her slit until it dipping into her sex. He could feel her blossom, swell, moisten at his touch, her soft moans and sighs telling him she was getting unbearably excited. His cock strained against the heavy denim of his jeans, but he wanted to make her come before he fucked her, using his tongue, his hands. God, when she was like this, trembling, her body soft with love, trusting him entirely, he could only see her, think about her.

  ‘Sam…’ She came, her back arching from the bed as she shivered and moaned. He moved up the bed to kiss her as she caught her breath, freed his ramrod cock from his jeans, pushing her legs apart. She nodded, excited and groaned as he plunged into her, his thrusts measured, controlled. Her hands clamped onto his ass, and he felt her spread her legs wider and wider to accommodate him. He kissed her roughly as his strokes became quicker, their eyes locked on each other’s.