Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 1]

by Naughty Aphrodite

  Didier put his hand on my head, and his other on Nicole’s.

  “Get on your knees and apologize,” he said, pushing us to the floor. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

  I looked up, my face full of anger, red with humiliation. I bit my tongue. “We’re sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For trying to steal from you,” Nicole said.

  He held out the Pink Jupiter. “Kiss it,” he demanded.

  Nicole leaned forward, kissed the diamond. Didier’s hand moved across to mine, and reluctantly, I knelt down and kissed it.

  “Good,” Didier spoke. “Now, I understand that you’re both guilty here. However, it was truly Nicole who was the most insidious and deceitful in her efforts to betray me. I want her punished…by you.” he grinned, pointing to me.

  I looked up at Didier. “What do you want me to do?”

  Didier examined me for a moment, then he introduced his plan. “We’ll punish her together. Make her truly sorry for what she’s done. Take off your belt.”

  I rose to my feet, taking the belt out and wrapping it over on itself.

  “Now punish her,” Didier ordered.

  I looked down at Nicole. “Bend over,” I instructed.

  A hint of smile appeared on her face. She knew what was coming and I could understand from her expression that she was already aroused by the thought of it. She then obliged, bending down so her face was almost level with Didier’s cock. He stepped closer, tearing her clothes away, exposing her pussy and ass, and then readied the belt.

  She yelped in pain as I flogged her with the leather strap.

  “And again,” Didier ordered, his cock rising and becoming stiff. Admittedly, mine grew harder too.

  I brought the belt down again against Nicole’s ass, as she gasped in pain.

  “Harder!” Didier demanded.

  I flogged her once more, hitting her so hard that her squeal turned into a long protracted moan.

  “Now, you remember that little story you made up when you found me in this vault?” Didier asked, his erection almost pulsating, “Well, let’s act it out.”

  I watched as Didier slid his cock into Nicole’s mouth and began slowly fucking her in the mouth. A huge pang of jealousy hit my stomach, tying it up in knots. But I couldn’t deny the stirring in my cock as I watched her tongue hungrily lapping at Didier’s penis, and her ass rising in the air, inviting me to fuck her from behind. Her pussy was becoming wetter as Didier continued to penetrate her mouth, pushing deeper and deeper into her throat. I looked down at her ass, pink with the lashings of my belt.

  I removed my shoes and pants, my cock hard as a rock. I slowly teased Nicole’s clit with the tip of my penis, mixing it with the moisture of her pussy and using it to rub her. She moaned as Didier continued to fuck her mouth. I grabbed her ass roughly, pulling her toward me and sliding my cock slowly into her pussy. I could feel her vagina quivering with ecstasy as I penetrated her deeper and deeper. Steadily thrusting, building up speed, until I could feel the inside of her pussy squeezing tightly against my cock, her moans becoming louder and louder. Her legs began to buckle underneath me; so I grabbed her by the thighs, raising her up into the air.

  Didier, watching me do this, grabbed Nicole by the arms and lifted her into the air. We passed her back and forth, as she squirmed and moaned with pleasure; her wetness dripping from her pussy, and onto the floor of the vault below.

  “Make her taste herself,” Didier ordered.

  We lowered her to the ground, her legs and stomach still quivering.

  “Turn around,” I requested.

  She did so, kneeling in front of me, gripping my manhood and licking it all over, from balls to tip, before taking the whole thing in her mouth and sucking it hard.

  “Slap her with it,” Didier requested.

  I withdrew my cock from her mouth and slapped her hard across the face with it. She moaned in surprise, her face red and eyes dripping.

  I reached down and grabbed my belt, looping it around her neck and pulling her head down hard on my cock. I looked across at Didier, who grinned broadly as I did this.

  “Get on all fours,” I ordered, forcing Nicole’s head to the ground.

  I pulled the belt like a leash, forcing her to crawl across the ground toward Didier.

  “I’ve brought you a present,” I said, handing him the belt, “Do with her what you will.”

  Didier took the belt from her neck, then grabbed her arms, forcing her head to the floor and putting her arms behind her back. He then began expertly wrapping the belt around her wrists, before flipping her onto her back and squatting over her face. Didier groaned loudly as Nicole began licking his cock, balls, and ass. He gripped her legs, pulling them back to expose her pussy.

  “Fuck her until she squirts,” he demanded from me.

  I looked down at Nicole, lying on her back with her arms tied and her legs pinned up. Her pussy was wetter than I’d ever seen it. I kneeled to her and began to fuck her, pushing my cock deeply against her g-spot. I listened to her moans becoming louder; watching her pussy flapping wildly, and her legs beginning to spasm.

  Didier began to penetrate her in the throat, each thrust spurring me to fuck Nicole harder, faster, deeper; until an eruption of wetness shot from her pussy, soaking my pubic hair and leaving a puddle of moisture on the floor below.

  Suddenly, Didier withdrew his cock from her mouth and began to masturbate furiously as Nicole tongued his balls. A stream of cum shot on her face and tits, as Nicole’s eager tongue snaked across Didier’s penis, licking up every drop she could.

  Watching Nicole’s hungry mouth caused me to withdraw my cock from her pussy; cum shooting from my cock, all over her pussy, stomach, and breasts. Suddenly, the belt which bound her hands burst free, and Nicole lay on her back, rubbing her fingers in the cum and then putting them in her mouth, sucking them clean. Didier and I watched in silence, panting and grinning at her.

  “Well,” Didier said, “it’s safe to say that I won’t be turning you over to the police.” He grinned, standing over me and Nicole, who lay red-faced and breathless on the floor.

  “In fact,” he proposed, “how’d you like to move into the mansion permanently?”

  Nicole and I looked at one another, smiling.

  “I think it’s only appropriate that I have my personal assistant and my head of security on hand at all times.”

  Nicole brushed my sweaty hair away from the forehead and nodded at me. Suddenly, our future glittered brighter than any diamond in the world.

  THE END

  Billionaire’s Confession

  Chapter 1

  Leah Branson hated nightclubs.

  Everything about them from the sticky, dirt filled floors to the smell of alcohol and urine made her skin crawl. That was not to mention the loud music, drunk patrons, and seemingly compulsory grinding dancing.

  She’d never set foot in a bar of her own free will.

  Until tonight.

  Leah sat in her small, used Toyota Corolla staring at the neon sign for the Palm Spring’s Night Club entrance.

  “It’s an assignment,” she told herself. “You’ve been asking for a real assignment for weeks. Even if this isn’t the one you wanted, it’s still a story.”

  Despite this self-exhortation, she couldn’t seem to force herself out of the seat. Leah also could not force herself to be nearly as excited about this assignment as she knew she should have been.

  Ever since she’d taken the “temporary” job at the St Augustine Gazette as an advice columnist, she’d dreamed of having a true assignment. To prove herself as a real reporter.

  She’d been pitching ideas to her editor, Mr. Ben Haynes for months. It wasn’t until she turned in an idea centering on the Gulf Coast tourist town’s annual celebrity charity golf tournament that he took any notice.

  When Hayes called her into his office one day before, she’d been ecstatic. Her joy seemed confirmed when he told her that he was assi
gning her a story.

  The excitement was soon tampered, however, when he said that the story she would be writing was not the one she had suggested. Instead, she would be interviewing billionaire, Brent Watt, who had strolled into the town he’d grown up in after ten years of being away and signed up for the Charity Tournament. Most likely to get cheap publicity for his company.

  But her editor insisted there was more to it than that.

  “He skipped town when he was eighteen,” Ben Hayes had told her. “Even when he and his brother created the biggest social media app since Facebook he never once came back to his hometown. Not even when his dad died. Now he suddenly comes back.”

  “Someone has to know why he left,” Leah said. “Why do I have to talk to him to get that story?”

  “There’ve been rumors about his dad being an alcoholic and abusive but neither he nor his brother has said anything to prove it. I want you to get a quote from him confirming those rumors. Get me that story and you’ll be off the advice column.”

  It certainly was not the story she wanted to write about. But the promise of becoming a real reporter and not an advice columnist was too good to pass up.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself out of the car and moved towards the club’s entrance.

  Apparently, word of Brent Watt’s reemergence in his hometown of St. Augustine had gotten out. Dozens of amateur photographers surrounded the building’s entrance with the cameras on their phones poised and ready.

  Leah elbowed her way past out-of-town paparazzi and huge masses of celebrity seekers just to get to the front doors. Eventually, she reached the entrance to find a tall, black and broad-shouldered bouncer standing behind a velvet rope.

  Taking another deep breath and pulling herself up to her full height, she strode confidently up to him.

  “Hi. I’m Leah Branson. Mr. Watt should be expecting me.”

  A suspicious look came to his face as he glanced at Leah, clearly taking in her button-down shirt and long black slacks, the skepticism deepened when he looked up at her thick brown hair pulled tightly back into a knot on top of her head. She knew she didn’t look like someone who had been invited to a private party at a club.

  Perhaps it was her outfit that caused him to take longer than she knew he should have to look over her ID and let her into the club.

  Eventually, he did remove the velvet rope at the entrance to let her pass through. When she moved towards the entrance doors, she saw an average sized man with a slight pot belly, black hair slicked over with gel and a wide grin move towards her.

  “Brian said you’d be here about half an hour ago,” the slick-haired man said ushering her through the doors. As soon as she entered, she was immediately inundated with all the things she hated about clubs. Loud music, masses of sweating bodies and the strong stench of alcohol.

  “My name’s Marcus Folsom, by the way,” he said loudly as the doors to the outside world closed and they were immediately overtaken by loud, throbbing club music. “I’m Brent Watt’s agent. I hope our bouncer didn’t keep you out here too long.”

  “Don’t worry, he didn’t keep me,” Leah admitted. “I just had some stuff I had to finish up at work.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said, his eyes, like the bouncers glanced over her conservative outfit. Leah felt her cheeks grow warm with a hint of embarrassment. She wondered if she should, at least, unbutton a couple of the upper buttons on her shirt. That way she could at least show some skin.

  Immediately, she threw the impulse aside. If the billionaire playboy’s agent couldn’t handle a woman who didn’t dress like she wanted to get laid, he would just have to learn to live with it.

  They walked into the club’s main room where the throbbing music grew even louder.

  This was probably the fanciest nightclub in the small tourist town of St. Augustine. Unlike in the bars Leah’s father had frequented when she was a girl, the floors were not sticky and the smell of urine didn’t permeate the place.

  “Don’t worry,” Marcus called over the loud music. “We’ll be in a private room in the back for the interview. I’ve just got to grab Brent. He’s still at the bar.”

  Leah followed Marcus’ indicating hand towards the long, gleaming silver bar at the back of the dance floor. When she did, her eyes immediately landed on the tall, rugged form of Brent Watt.

  His longish black hair fell elegantly into his tan face as he leaned over to smile at the busty blonde on the bar stool next to him. The long hand that reached out to touch the blonde’s shoulder matched his long legs and slender though muscular torso exactly.

  His bright, warm smile widened as he leaned down to whisper something in the blonde’s ear. Even over the music, the girl’s annoying and obviously forced laugh could be heard ringing through the club. Leah saw, rather than heard, Brent chuckle with the girl beside him. His laugh, which looked much more genuine reached his blue eyes and made them sparkle.

  When she and Marcus moved closer to the bar, those bright blue eyes turned and looked straight at Leah.

  Leah’s cheeks grew warm for the second time that night and she felt her stomach perform a slight flip. She’d seen pictures of Brent Watt before, of course. As the CEO of the biggest tech company since Facebook, he was on the cover of many a business and pop culture magazines. She’d always known he was very good looking. But now that she was seeing him in person, she couldn’t help but think that the pictures didn’t do him any justice at all.

  “Brent,” Marcus said as they reached the bar, casually ignoring the busty blonde who was still giggling. “This is Leah Branson. The reporter I told you about.”

  “Reporter, huh?” Brent asked looking Leah up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you certainly look the part.”

  At those words, all the tingling and stomach flipping Leah had felt upon seeing Brent Watt disappeared entirely. She was getting really sick of people in this club making disparaging comments about her outfit.

  “Good,” She told him fiercely, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s what I was going for. Now, if you can tear yourself away from your…friend…I’d like to get to the interview I was promised.”

  At this, Brent raised an eyebrow and his mouth curved upward into a smirk, almost as though he was impressed.

  “Ok then,” he said. “You two go ahead. I’ll just take care of this tab and I’ll be right in.”

  “Come on Brent, that won’t take long,” Marcus said with a slight chuckle. “We don’t mind waiting out here for you.”

  Marcus didn’t check with Leah to see what she thought of this plan. If he had, she would have told him that she would much rather retreat into a private room than spend another second listening to this pounding music.

  But, Marcus’ feet seemed firmly planted and he stared down Brent as though expecting a fight. Brent rolled his eyes.

  “Sorry Brent,” Marcus said half apologetically. “Your brother told me not to take any chances.”

  With another roll of his eyes, Brent turned his back on them and irritably motioned the bartender over.

  “When you mentioned his brother, I assume you mean Jordan Watt. Brent’s business partner,” Leah said to Marcus as soon as Brent’s back was turned.

  “Well, he doesn’t have another one, so, yes,” Marcus answered. “There’ve been some…incidents involving Brent, alcohol and a few female companions. They’ve been a PR nightmare for the company. So, his brother’s asked me to keep an eye on him.”

  Leah suppressed a triumphant smile. That little tidbit was certainly interesting. Jordan Watt ordering a third party to babysit his brother was exactly the kind of thing her editor would love to hear about.

  As though sensing Leah’s triumphant expression, Marcus’ face fell as he turned back to her.

  “Of course, that’s strictly off the record,” he said hurriedly.

  Leah nodded feeling only slightly crestfallen. She knew she would have to play nice with Brent and his agent this evening. Otherwise,
the interview would never happen at all.

  It wasn’t long before Brent tore himself away from his female companion and followed Leah and Marcus into a room behind the bar.

  This room was much brighter and the decorations were, thankfully, more subdued than the dark, strobe light filled club outside. Leah couldn’t help but feel thankful when Marcus closed the door and she realized that the pulsing music could no longer be heard.

  “So,” Brent said looking Leah up and down again as the three of them sat at a black stained table in the middle of the room. “You’re Leah Branson of the St. Augustine Gazette? I’ve gotta say, you’re not quite what I expected.”