Hot Sugar: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “I, uh…” I swallow hard before continuing, “I don’t want to wait.”

  “You don’t want to wait for what?” She scrunches her nose, confused.

  “To have a baby,” I clarify.

  “So, you want to have one soon?” She asks, her eyebrows rising in shock.

  “Carrie, I don’t want to scare you –” I try to explain my reasoning but she kisses me before I can finish my sentence.

  “I want to have your babies, Mason,” she whispers on my lips as she kneels to either side of my legs, her hips lowering until my manhood is pressed against her tight cunt.

  “You do?” I smile, my hands on her hips now, as she wiggles from side to side, teasing me with her opening.

  “I do,” she moans as she slides down my length, gripping me with her greedy pussy before rising up and falling onto me again.

  Carrie curves to me, and knowing no other man will ever have her is even sexier than knowing no one has had her before. I’ve taught her every trick she knows, including how to ride like a pro.

  Moving up and down, while twirling her hips in a circle, she pushes her breasts into my face, offering herself to me.

  Sucking her hard, while she moans my name, a little semen escapes me from how turned on I am. She can feel me losing control, and seizes the opportunity, increasing her pace until I tug at her nipple with my teeth and she comes on the spot.

  Before she can stop me, I lift her up, sitting her on the edge of the tub and burying my face between her legs to taste her pleasure.

  “Oh God!” She yells when my tongue slides inside her quivering cunt, still reeling from her orgasm.

  Her fingers are gripping my hair while her pelvis shamelessly shoves her snatch into my face, desperate and needy. I love when she loses it for me, and I know I’m only seconds from coming, so I bend her over and slide my cock into her brown star.

  “Ahhh!” She cries when I dig out her back door. She’s so warm and tight, her back arches further with each thrust.

  “Oh yeah, baby! Give it to me!” I holler. She loves it so much, and her pleasure turns me on every time.

  “Fuck me, Mason! Fuck me hard!” She cries.

  Gripping her hips tightly, I slam into her as hard as I can, her tight ass expanding to make room for my thick cock. The way she screams, you’d think it was the first time I fucked her ass, but she begged for it so much, you’d think she wouldn’t still be so tight.

  “I’m gonna come! Fuck my pussy, baby!” She yells.

  Going from one hole to the other is so hot, and sliding in her pussy feels like another world, she’s so wet and juicy, I almost come on the spot.

  “Fuck, you got some good pussy,” I groan, gripping a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so her ass bounces every time I plunge my cock deep inside her.

  “Mason! I love you, baby!” She cries, and I know she’s second from climaxing.

  “Are you going to be my wife, Carrie?” I growl, my abdomen tense with the need to explode.

  “Yes!” She moans, poking her ass as her back arches further. Raising my hand in the air, I slap her wet ass hard, her cheek reddening instantly as she howls loudly.

  “Shit,” I groan, my hips rocking faster as I watch my cock disappear inside of her. She’s creaming all over me while the water splashes onto the floor.

  “Give me your baby,” she moans and I lose control. Call me crazy, but it was the sexiest thing I ever heard in my life.

  Moaning like a dog in heat, I come so hard, my body doubles over hers, humping her soft ass until I’ve released every drop of semen. Carrie’s pussy milks me perfectly as she has her own orgasm, our bodies panting in unison.

  When I finally gain my composure, I stand from the tub and carry her weak body to the bed. Climbing in beside her, she cuddles into my side, throwing her thigh across my abs, her body fitting with mine like two matching puzzle pieces.

  “That was amazing,” she sighs, her head resting on my chest.

  “Yes, it was,” I lean back, taking a deep breath.

  Our sex is incredible, and has been since the first time I felt her. The way she moves for me, and moans when I’m deep inside her just drives me crazy.

  “What if you did put a baby in me?” She looks up at me, excitement laced in her beautiful eyes.

  “You think I could have?” I squint in disbelief.

  “Yes,” she murmurs. “Yes absolutely.”

  And with another delighted sigh, the girl relaxes.

  “I love you,” she says. The words are never just words with her. I can feel everything she ever says, and today especially, she is in love with me.

  “I’m in love with you Carrie,” I one up her, leaning down to kiss her slowly. In the most romantic city in the world, I’ve asked the love of my life to be mine forever, it doesn’t get much better than that.

  Palming her ass with one hand, and the other resting in her hair, I sit and watch her eyelids droop as she drifts off to sleep in my arms. Watching her rest has become my favorite pastime. Her breathing slows and she looks even more like an angel as a shadow of a smile covers her face.

  I’ve never felt richer than I do with Carrie, because for the first time, I have something that money can’t buy. Everything about her is genuine and exclusive. There’s no doubt in my mind that she loves me with all of her heart, and just knowing there’s a chance she could be carrying my child makes my heart swell with joy.

  If the rest of my life can feel a fraction of how remarkable I feel in this moment, then I’ve set myself up for a major win. Carrie’s happiness makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world, so I’m going to spend every waking minute I have left making her smile.

  LIKED WHAT YOU READ?

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  The Black Book

  ~A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance~

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at www.subscribepage.com/cassandradeeromance and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  © 2017 Cassandra Dee

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.

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  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  THE BLACK BOOK: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

  Yeah, I keep a list of the women I’ve slept with.

  I’m not a saint.

  Not by a long shot.

  Because there’s a log of all the women in my bed.

  So many … all the time.

  Blondes, brunettes and redheads.

  Ripe for the picking, begging me for it.

  Until I meet Beth.

  The curvy girl’s different.

  She’s a librarian, shy and innocent.

  Sweet like a plum, the ultimate forbidden fruit.

  And definitely too good for my depraved $hit.

  She says she doesn’t want it.

  But f*ck that.

  Because my book needs a new entry...

  And this female’s gonna be mine.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mason

  This should’ve been one of the best nights of my life, but instead it was boring as shit. The box seats were pretty incredible for sure, floor to ceiling glass aeries high in the sky. There was good food. Beautiful ladies, bouncing from l
ap to lap. An exclusive view of the game on the court below. Nothing I could have imagined when I was a hungry kid desperate to make it big.

  But now I’ve made it bigger than big.

  Gargantuan.

  Billions in cash, rolling like rivers into my bank account.

  And yet I was bored.

  The two teams below were the best of the best, stacked with MVPs and athletes whose paychecks were in the eight figures.

  But that’s nothing.

  Eight figures? Please.

  More like eleven or twelve zeroes on that shit.

  So yeah, I was bored.

  “Hey bad boy,” a girl cooed, wriggling onto my lap. Big boobs, skinny ass, and bright red lipstick. Why do girls do their mouths like that? She could give the Joker a run for his money with that wide ear to ear grin.

  But the female had no idea what I was thinking. The blonde wriggled, tits bouncing like fake, plasticky water balloons. One almost smacked me in the chin.

  But she didn’t even notice.

  “How’s it going?” the girl cooed once more, trailing long red fingernails down my chest. Fuck, they were like razors, almost taking off a button. “Life treating you well?”

  Jonas interrupted from a nearby couch, a similar girl bouncing in his lap.

  “Damn, that one’s hot for you, Mason,” he chuckled, knocking back a fifth of something. My respect for this guy isn’t exactly high. He’s a trust fund kid who managed to quadruple his family’s wealth over the last couple of years. But it’s not talent. It’s always been his dad in charge, whether from behind the scenes or straight up with the money. I mean, look at this fucker. He barely made it out of pre-school with that ridiculous cowlick and dirty fingernails.

  But Jonas is unstoppable.

  “You should let her suck your cock so I can watch,” he grinned lasciviously. “I bet she’d be hot.”

  Please motherfucker. I don’t do girls like this. I like ‘em round and luscious, not the ninety-pound bag of bones currently giggling like a maniac for no reason. Because of course, the woman squealed happily.

  “Oh my god!” she cooed, mock outraged. But that changed in two seconds flat. “What do you think, big boy?” she whispered into my ear, trailing one hand down my broad chest. “I could do it. I think you’d like it.”

  I held back a yawn.

  “No thanks,” was my grunt. “I’m a little tired.”

  “Tired?” she parroted with wide eyes, mouth already in a round “O.” “That’s why you need me. I’ll wake Mr. Happy right up,” she added with a sly smile, licking her lips.

  But I wasn’t into it. I wasn’t into any of these girls in fact. Because yeah, they’re paid to be here. All these girls were aspiring models and actresses who wanted to make a quick buck doing a gig for the Players Club. So yeah, skinny as fuck scarecrows all around, ready to suck dick if the dollars were right.

  And the money’s always right, at least for a crowd like this. A lot of the females left our parties with thousands of dollars in their pockets, showered with cash. And they earned that money for sure, doing all sorts of depraved shit at the request of members. There ain’t nothing moolah can’t buy, not in this town.

  So the female gazed eagerly at me, fingers already lightly skimming my bulge as dollar signs cha-chinged in her eyes.

  But naw. I didn’t want another puppet on my jock. In the beginning, all this stuff with the Players Club was fun, especially when the wealth was new and I felt I had to prove myself. Ten years later though, and it was clear the cash was here to stay. That I was here to stay. But somehow, the scene wasn’t for me anymore. It was for kids and frat boys, dumb idiots who chewed gum with backwards baseball caps, even if they were worth billions. You can’t buy class, that’s for sure.

  But the problem was, what next? What did I want? And sadly, there was no clear answer. Instead, my life was like a gaping chasm, a long string of endless, meaningless days. So here I was again, rubbing elbows with a bunch of rich, horny bachelors, bored as shit and already making to leave after ten minutes.

  A cheer went up from the crowd below. The home team had scored. But in the skybox, barely anyone noticed, rubbing up against a girl or two as they gorged themselves on food, drink, females, drugs, anything and everything at their disposal.

  Rex, CEO of a shoe company, had one girl bobbing her head on his dick as her friend ate her from behind. He was fully dressed and sitting sprawled in a high-backed chair like a king, dick sticking out the fly of a five thousand dollar suit. Both girls were moaning loud, really putting on a show. Fuck. This was right up Jonas’s alley. Why didn’t he bug Rex and not me?

  I jerked my head toward Rex’s lap.

  “That go in the fuck book?”

  The man could barely answer, eyes rolled back up in his head so that only the whites showed. But as the girl took another deep suck, cheeks hollowing, he gasped, head bolting upright.

  “Naw, I don’t think so,” he managed through clenched teeth, abs and chest tight. “I did this shit last week with twins, it was better then.”

  My head shook.

  “Alright, no fuck book then,” were my careless words.

  Because we keep logs. It’s leftover from the old days, when I still felt the need to prove myself. We record every depraved act, competing amongst ourselves. There’s some messed up shit for sure. Doing a girl and her mom. Doing twins. Triplets. Triplets and their mom. It’s called the fuck book for a reason. Because we fuck girls but we also fuck ‘em in fucked up ways. Keeps things interesting, puts an edge on life.

  But lately, it’s gotten boring. There just aren’t that many variations, you know what I mean? How many times can you bang identical twins? How many times can you do a circus performer who stretches one leg behind her ear while upside down? It was just more of the same.

  And clearly, I wasn’t the only person who felt this way.

  “Our books are shit,” came a clipped voice over by the window. “Nothing new or challenging.”

  I shot a glance at Reginald, a dandy in a tweed suit. The guy was actually interested in the game, bent over towards the stadium with a glass in one hand. He was English by nationality, new to the States but old money all the way.

  And Reg lifted his glass in a toast.

  “We need to do something different,” he said in that hoity-toity uppercrust accent. “Something exciting. Something marvelous.”

  I almost snorted. What guy uses the word “marvelous”? But maybe that’s just how UK people are.

  “So what do you have in mind?” I drawled lazily. “What’s up your alley?”

  Reginald shrugged nonchalantly, turning back towards the glass. His suit was real dapper, complete with a gaily colored handkerchief square peeking from the breast pocket. Really? To a basketball game?

  But Jonas jumped in like an eager puppy, almost wriggling with excitement.

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked, eyes wide and way too bright. “Got any neat ideas?”

  Reg shot him a cool look. Jonas isn’t popular with any of us, and now wasn’t an exception.

  “I’m sure between the twelve of us we can think of something,” Reginald said in that clipped voice. “Why, have any ideas?”

  That was the opening Jonas was waiting for.

  “Yes!” he cried, bolting upright in his seat. “Maybe we could get a girl, tie her to the wall, and take turns beating her. And then after we’re done, I’ll break her free and she’ll act like I’m her savior. Or you can be her rescuer if you want. We can take turns,” he said eagerly. “What do you think?”

  I stared at him. Clearly, the boy had problems. Like real serious problems. Because what was up with that fantasy? I get the sadomasochism part, some people like tying others up and whipping the shit out of them with paddles and whatnot. If all parties are cool with it, then I’m cool with it too.

  But what was up with the “savior” storyline? Why did Jonas need to play the role of a superhero descending from the sky to res
cue a damsel in distress? Jonas was like an insecure teenage boy, desperate to pump himself up and act the big man on campus. Strange. Real strange.

  So I shook my head.

  “Naw, no need to get all Avengers. Not necessary, I’m good.” Pushing the skinny escort off my lap, I ignored her surprised oomph as she landed on a cushion. Brushing off my slacks, I stood. “Listen, if that’s it, then I’m out. It’s been great, but this game hasn’t exactly been holding my interest.”

  But Reg wasn’t done yet. Twirling his moustache like Sherlock Holmes, he raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, maybe that’s it,” the Englishman lilted. “We’ve done everything under the sun already. So let’s do the opposite.”

  I shot him a skeptical look.

  “And what would that be? Grandmothers instead of MILFs? Grand-MILFS? Great-grand-MILFs? I mean, really man. How far does this go?”

  Reg’s pale blue eyes were like glints of ice.

  “A virgin,” he said simply. “Let’s find virgins for our fuck books.”

  Stunned silence for a moment. Virgins? Did those even exist anymore? I thought they were unicorns, mystical and magical, a figment of the imagination. And clearly, other dudes thought the same thing.

  “Are you serious?” someone guffawed. “Where you gonna find one? Junior high? Elementary school? Please brother. You wanna go to jail?”

  There were more stupid comments as well.

  “There ain’t no virgins out there anymore.”

  “My mom’s a virgin.”

  “Your mom? You wanna do her? You think Daddy-O will mind? Or he in on the game as well?”

  Wisecracks flew in the air, making my eyes roll. But still, the idea was interesting, and that was saying a lot. As a forty-five year old billionaire, there isn’t much that can grab my attention anymore. The idea of a fresh, innocent female made my head snap forwards, eyes intent.