A Billionaire's Heart (Erotic Romance Bundle)

by Dalia Daudelin

  Victor looked at her sideways. "Fine, name the bet."

  "One request. The winner gets to make any request of the loser," she said, leaning over so her husband got a good shot down the top of her dress. "And the loser can't refuse."

  It was a tempting offer, she knew. There had been plenty of things that he'd been wanting her to do, but he hadn't asked, so she hadn't brought it up either. He licked his lips unconsciously as he considered. Then he put his hand out. "Deal."

  Melody shook his hand, then held out her hand for the last ball. Finally, she could start being serious. She was pretty sure she could do it in one—but hey, if he wanted to get adventurous in the bedroom, she wasn't going to stop him. But if this worked…

  She took a deep breath in and tried to calm her nerves. It had been a few months, but as she reached out into her mind for the motion, it came as easily as if she'd been practicing every day for the past month. She took a few steps back from the booth, holding the ball low behind her back. Closed her eyes for a moment, to steady herself.

  Then the motion began, hard and fast, a wide swinging arc that ended underarm. It moved through the stall like a bullet, and though she was several feet clear of the attendant and he reacted several seconds late, he stepped back to avoid it. The bottles made a loud clatter like bowling pins as they smacked together against the back wall.

  Melody smiled and turned towards her husband. Just like she'd always done it. She held out her hand to accept her winnings.

  Victor smiled and shook his head, reaching into his pocket. He peeled a bill off the fold, and held it up. "I should've known that you had something up your sleeve the minute you started raising the stakes."

  "I was the ace pitcher for my college softball team." Melody finally let the calm exterior she had been trying to maintain slip. "You knew that."

  "I guess I just underestimated you," he answered, pulling his wife into his arms and pressing a chaste kiss on her lips.

  "Now," she said, kissing him back, "about that favor."

  "Oh, you're cashing that in now? Here I thought I was going to be cleaning the whole house, or painting the living room."

  "Oh, no. You'll like this one."

  Melody looked around. There were dozens of people walking up and down the row of stalls, but as far as she could tell nobody was watching them right now. She grabbed Victor's hand and pulled him behind the tent. There was a short wall, she knew, and in front of it a thick wall of foliage.

  She checked both ways again, and once she was satisfied that nobody would see, she took him through the bushes, giggling the whole way. It was like they were teenagers again, sneaking and skulking around to see how far they could go without getting caught.

  "What's this all about?"

  "You have to give me a baby, right here."

  "A baby? Honey…"

  "Nope! No refusals, you know the rules." She hoped he wouldn't test it; she wanted him to say yes, but more than that she wanted him to accept without her forcing him.

  His brows knitted together in concern, and she went up on her toes to press a kiss onto his lips, more forceful than the ones they'd shared in the street.

  "Please?"

  He smiled, finally. "You're serious?"

  "I've never been more serious before in my life."

  "You've been planning this, haven't you?"

  "Well…" Melody looked bashful. "I had a plan, but this wasn't it."

  "Oh?"

  "It just came to me when I saw the bottles."

  "Clever girl," he teased. He stepped closer to her, backing her up against the concrete wall. His hand went to her stomach, feeling the taut skin under her shirt and moving up to feel her breasts. "I guess you win."

  Melody reached up and wrapped her arms around Victor's neck, bringing their lips together again. This time it was neither sweet nor forceful. The knowledge of what they were about to do making them both relaxed. It would happen, eventually, but they would both rather do it right.

  His lips were soft on hers, his hands rubbing through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her nipples were hard, sensitive to every movement of the cloth between them. They'd had sex before, she thought. But somehow this time was different, whether it was the location or their mutual purpose she didn't know. She could feel a familiar warmth, a hot pool of arousal, building up in her core.

  "Do you need me to—"

  Victor cut her off with his lips, taking her hand and guiding it down to the zipper in the front of his shorts. She used her palm to press against the straining hardness, feeling his hips moving forward to try to get more stimulation. He had tried to refuse, she saw, but it was concern for her, rather than a lack of arousal.

  How sweet of him. She smiled into the kiss, and pulled away from him, dropping to her knees. The cool dirt felt good on her skin, but she didn't have time to pay attention to that. Leaning over to make sure that nobody was watching them, she undid his pants and pulled her husband's boxers down until her prize was revealed.

  She took it in her hand and felt it, the fleshy softness that covered the hardness underneath. She gave an experimental pump, feeling Victor's hips twitch as he tried to control himself. Above her, she heard Victor let out a harsh breath. She gave another pump, and he purred out his approval.

  "That's it, hon. Just like that."

  Melody smiled and opened her mouth. Her husband let out a long breath as she engulfed his length. His hand moved to her head tentatively. When she didn't try to stop him, he ran his fingers through her hair and guided her deeper onto his cock.

  She smiled as she felt him twitch. He wanted to move so badly, wanted to cum so badly. Too bad, she thought. He had better things to do with that cum. She had better uses for it.

  Bobbing her head gently, Mel enjoyed the sounds of aroused approval from her husband, standing above her. If he were any louder, then anyone walking by might hear. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to quiet down, or keep doing it.

  After a moment she pulled off, and Victor let out a breath he had been holding. "Oh, that was good," he told her.

  "Can't have you enjoying it too much before we get to the main event, can we?"

  He let a smile cross his face, and swatted his wife's bottom. "No, I guess not. But how are we going to do that?"

  In answer, Melody turned away from him and leaned against the wall, raising the hem of her dress until it sat on top of her waist, revealing her bare pussy. She turned to look back and smiled. "I don't know, can you think of anything?"

  Victor didn't answer. He was already too busy moving up behind her, probing her folds with his finger. She didn't need him to get her ready, though. Everything had come together, and she was already more than ready to go. She wanted nothing more than for him to fuck her silly, right now.

  Even still, he teased her. He lined up behind her, pressing himself against her folds, tempting her with what he knew she wanted. She pushed back against him, trying to take the decision out of his hands, but he moved away from her. She wasn't about to win, no matter how badly she wanted it.

  "Say please," he said softly.

  "Please," she whispered, just loud enough that she knew he could hear.

  "What was that?"

  "Please," she whispered again.

  "I can't hear you." Melody knew he was lying, but needed him to fuck her. If she wanted to get him inside her, she would have to play his game.

  "Please," she said, a little louder. But it still wasn't loud enough. She repeated it again, almost at her normal speaking volume.

  "Please what?"

  "Please fuck me," she said, but she faltered on the end. She tried again, louder still. "Please fuck me!"

  The sound of her own voice surprised her. If anyone was listening, anyone at all, they would have heard that. Melody hoped, against all hope, that nobody had been. But her husband started moving again, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her folds. Probing, nearly entering, and then withdrawing again.

  She needed it, she k
new. It wasn't just the pregnancy. She needed to be fucked, right now. By her husband.

  "Please," she said again, unbidden. Victor stopped at her entrance, already teasing her by putting his head into her waiting, aroused pussy.

  "Okay," he said softly, taking a grip of her hips. Then he started to push in for real, and Melody let out a low moan before she realized what she was doing. He'd teased her until she was nearly mad, and now he was in control. She bit her lip and tried to hold still as he pulled out of her.

  Then he thrust back in, a delicious friction that Melody couldn't deny. He took her hard and fast, using her hips as handles to pull her on and off of his cock. Before long, Melody didn't care who heard. There was no future, no past. Nobody who heard would be able to do anything to her, because everything that mattered was happening right here and now. With a loud groan, she felt Victor push into her hard and explode inside her.

  The spreading warmth through her, the need to be a mother, and the delicious pleasure of fucking in such a public place all came together and pushed her over the edge, over an edge she didn't know had existed. As they stood together, behind the bushes, she smiled and stood up as he withdrew from her. She pulled her skirt back down and turned around.

  They kissed again, holding each other close in the privacy of the trees. Then, to their surprise, as they stepped out, the owner of the stall they had hidden behind smiled and winked at them. He smashed the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking beneath the heel of his shoe and went back through the flap, not a word said.

  Melody's face blanched, and then went beet red. She needed her husband to guide her back to the car; she couldn't show her face, so she certainly couldn't see well enough to navigate the way back to the car!

  Melody tapped her foot nervously. She'd waited until her period was supposed to come. Waited four days after that. Nothing—a good sign. But now, it seemed like waiting five minutes was a monumental struggle, where two weeks had been easy. She checked her watch again. Surely it would be okay if she checked now?

  She closed her eyes. No, it was only another minute. Then she could be sure.

  A minute dragged by, and finally she pushed the door to the bathroom back open and picked up the strip that she'd left flat on the side of the tub.

  Two pink lines.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Victor.

  "Babe?" She could hardly contain her own excitement. "I have some good news."

  My Sexy Tutor

  Tutoring and Seducing the Billionaire

  Michael Meadows

  I remember when I was still at university, sitting in on classes. It was great, I'll tell you. Even being a TA through grad school, I really liked it; the hours were long, sure. And I never really wanted to explain the same thing four, maybe five times to a kid who seemed not to be listening right up until I was ready to move on. But there was so much that made up for it. It was all worth it, if you ask me. All of it.

  But I didn't get a position right away, and that was where the trouble started, I guess.

  Instead, I wandered the streets at all hours, times when respectable people would at work, plastering seemingly the whole city with flyers: Tutor, college prep, Masters in Education; specializing in mathematics.

  Of course I had my number on it, but I'm past needing to give it out now, so don't hope that you can hire me, even if you were needing some college preparation in pre-Calculus. I'd just as soon avoid the calls.

  I was stapling my flyer to what seemed like every cork board I could place my eyes on; if someone would let me, I'd put it up. Even in places you wouldn't think it was necessary, really, like bars. I was desperate.

  So you can imagine how I felt when my phone finally rang with a number that wasn't my parents. The voice on the other end was positively ancient; he had an odd way of speaking that seemed all too reasonable, until I tried to find a place to get a word in edgewise, and I realized that it wasn't happening.

  “Yes, is this Miss Jan Rice?”

  “Speaking.”

  “I'm calling representing a certain estate, they require tutoring for their son. He's just gotten out of high school, and he'll be attending Yale in the fall. His, ah...maths are not his strong suit, you see.” He paused, just a second, and as I opened my mouth to reply he continued. “I'll have a text message sent to you with the address; would it be possible to have you come the next several weeks, to make sure that all goes well in September? We'd be happy to pay for transportation costs, of course, and the fee is negotiable. Does that sound good? Wonderful.”

  He hadn't waited for me to respond, but I guess he took my lack of a loud, intrusive refusal as acceptance. I swallowed before responding.

  “Tomorrow, yes? At what time?”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, as I heard a page turning quietly in the background. “Would eleven o'clock be sufficient? Lunch will be served at one, so don't be too concerned about bringing a lunch with you. You're not allergic to anything that we should inform the cooks of, are you?”

  “What?” I asked, incredulous. Had he said the cooks? “Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

  “Very good.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow, miss Rice. Good day.”

  I hung up the phone and fell back into my chair. I'd never dealt before with someone so obviously wealthy. Perhaps the dean of the College of Education had been well-to-do, but I know he didn't have a staff on hand.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  I arrived at ten fifty, of course. I definitely didn't want to mess with a Yale student's academic career, or with someone who lived in the neighborhood of the address that had beeped onto my phone a few seconds after I'd hung up.

  They had a gate, which would have been a shock if I hadn't looked the address up on the internet before driving out. I saw a box outside, and pressed the only button on it. A voice crackled through:

  “Yes? Who is it?”

  “Jan Rice? I was contacted by a mister...” It occurred to me that I couldn't remember if he'd told me his name. It seemed as if he hadn't, but that was odd.

  “Oh, yeah,” the voice buzzed. “The math tutor, right? Come on in.”

  A loud BUZZ went off and the gate started to swing open as I climbed back into the car and drove up the drive. It circled around into what would have passed for a parking lot most places, with a half-dozen spaces or more and a closed garage door that could have held who-knows-how-many cars.

  I climbed out and only looked foolish for a moment before a young man wearing a dark sport coat came out to meet me.

  “This way, ma'am.”

  This was so much more than I had expected. I wondered idly if royalty had such incredible servants in this day and age; the mansion, for it couldn't be called anything else, loomed over us both, neatly trimmed hedges rimming the ground floor.

  The man stepped forward and opened a heavy-looking wooden door, and I stepped inside. He offered to take my jacket, and not knowing what else to do, I accepted. The boy, hardly eighteen himself, walked off with it into the bowels of the massive house. Even the foyer dwarfed many of the lecture halls I'd spent my time in for the past few years, and I was beginning to become almost phobic about it when another man in similar clothes stepped forward.

  This one was older, and had an air about him of someone who knew what he was doing. His back was straighter, his gaze surer, and at the same time, he seemed just as compliant, ready to serve at a moment's notice. He smiled warmly.

  “You'll have to forgive the young master, miss. It is a bit early, after all. If you'll follow me, I can get you some refreshments, if you'd like?”

  I followed him, but just before we passed through a door, the man turned, as if he'd heard a sort of dog whistle, and looked eagle-eyed up at the top of the stairs that led from the second floor down into this cavernous room.

  At the top stood a bleary-eyed young man, as young as the one who had just taken my jacket. He looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed, and he was
gorgeous. His hair was just a little bit long, and it hung in his face in a bed-head that was more natural, and more attractive, than anything I could have managed myself with hours. His shoulders were broad and his limbs long, his face long and gaunt. His skin was bronzed with an unnatural sort of tan that served to enhance his darkly beautiful looks. He looked down at me.

  “Is this the new tutor, James?”

  “Yes, Master Tomas. This is the tutor.” His face darkened just slightly. “Please, do try not to run this one off. Your father's people are having more and more trouble finding new ones.”

  He stepped down the stairs and looked me over. I had been feeling under-dressed since I had stepped out of the car, and now with this beautiful young man looking me over, the feeling was amplified a hundred-fold.

  He sucked air through his teeth and looked back at the butler I had nearly followed from the room.

  “I'll try not to, James. This one's got a nice rack, and that's good to have around.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I what? He couldn't have just said that, I thought, until I felt a hand squeeze my ass. “And a nice ass, too.”

  I pulled away and stared at the boy. Who on earth did he think he was? The butler reached over with a gloved hand and grabbed the boy's ear, hard. Though he looked lean and muscular, he doubled over in pain when the older man yanked.

  “You'll watch your manners when a lady is present, Master Tomas. Don't think that your father will allow this sort of behavior, because I know to a certainty that he absolutely will not.” He had a fury in his eyes that I hadn't believed him capable of. Those eyes turned to me. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. We'll see that you are paid double for the trouble we've caused you, and if you'd like, then we can have you escorted at all times to keep the young master from acting like some sort of... ruffian.”

  I blinked. I looked at the eighteen year old who was yowling in pain before me, and I shrunk back, unsure of what to do.

  “Uh,” I started, not wanting to push my luck, “Sure, that would be fine?”

  The butler let go of the beautiful-looking young man and strode out of the room. For a brief moment, I was left alone with the young master who I'd be tutoring for, if the agent was to be believed, several weeks. He seemed to wilt when the butler left, retreating into himself.