Billionaires, Billionaires, Billionaires, and more Billionaires: Billionaire Bundle

by Flora Ferrari

  “Why?”

  Because no one ever has. Not really.

  “Because…”

  “Because you don’t think you’re deserving of it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then I’m just going to have to spend the next fifty years making sure you believe it.” He kisses me again, and I feel all my reservations drifting away.

  I love him.

  I’ve loved him since I was six years old.

  I never stopped, even when I hated him.

  “Yes,” I whisper against his lips.

  I can feel the smile in his kiss. “Good. I’ll have the driver help me with these bags.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re coming home with me. And I’m never going to let you go again.”

  His hand cups my cheek, then his fingers push demandingly into the hair at my temples, as his mouth finds mine again. His other hand grips my ass, pulling me tight against him, so close that I can feel his throbbing cock against my stomach.

  I place my hand on his chest, and try to catch my breath. “I can’t just come home with you.”

  “You can and you will. You’re mine now.”

  I shudder at the promise in those words.

  His mouth moves lower, caressing my jaw.

  Every kiss, touch, and lick sends tiny explosions of pleasure through my body. Burning need rages through me, stealing the strength from my knees, until I’m jelly in his hands.

  “I don’t want to wait until we get back to my place,” he growls against my lips as he lifts me.

  “Then don’t.”

  He carries me down the hall towards my bedroom.

  Laying me on the bed, he strips off his shirt, then smirks as he begins undressing me. The feel of his large hand sliding across my naked skin is almost too much.

  Intoxicating.

  Erotic.

  The ache between my thighs builds and I wiggle as he quickly undresses me and I him.

  “Please,” I beg. My clit is pulsing, demanding attention, demanding his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

  He teases me with his mouth, moving down until his teeth rake across one nipple.

  Hot, wicked sensations race across my skin.

  “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss against my clit, then swipes his tongue across the sensitive bud.

  “You,” I gasp, pulling at his hair, demanding that he give me all of himself.

  He crawls up, kissing my stomach, my breasts, his knees pushing my legs further apart, the heavy crest of his cock pressed snug against my entrance.

  I wiggle and arch under him, begging for his cock.

  He grunts again, a satisfied sound, then thrusts deep inside of me, filling me completely.

  Pleasure and pain whip through me and I gasp, holding onto him as my body adjusts, stretching to accommodate his size.

  His gaze is on me, and there’s emotion there.

  Lust.

  Love.

  Possessiveness.

  It makes my heart beat wildly in my chest.

  Can I really be this lucky? Part of me wonders if it isn’t just a dream. That I’ll wake up to find him gone.

  But as he starts to move, slowly, each long, delicious thrust making the ache in my body more and more intense, I can’t deny the realness to the connection between us.

  My pussy clenches around him, as he pumps in and out, filling every inch of me.

  “Harrison,” I moan, my pussy clenching around his hard length as he pushes deeper. Each thrust more forceful than the last.

  He sucks my nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue as he smacks against me, riding me harder and faster until we’re both damp with perspiration.

  I lock my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing the friction of his skin against mine. He thrusts hard one last time and it’s enough to throw me over the edge.

  The climax rips through my body like an explosion, and I cry out with his name on my lips as my pussy spasms around his cock.

  His body tenses and jerks as he comes hard inside of me.

  “Mine,” he growls against my mouth before taking my lips with a sweet, almost torturous kiss.

  I am his. Fully and completely. I always have been. And now, I always will be.

  Epilogue

  Brynne

  One Year Later…

  “Mommy, look at this.” Penny jumps on the couch beside me, showing off her report card. “I got three A + and the rest are all As.”

  “That’s amazing.” I give her a tight squeeze. “You’re so smart.”

  She grins at me, then rests her head on my protruding belly, and whispers, “Cause I have the best Mommy and Daddy in the world. And you will too.”

  I smile when the baby responds with a sharp kick. He always seems to respond to her.

  Penny giggles, then hops off the couch when Harrison comes into the room. She gives him a quick hug, then races out of the room with her friend Emily.

  “How are you feeling?” Harrison asks, helping me stand, and resting his hand on my stomach.

  “Like I’m ready to explode.”

  He chuckles, and pulls me into his arms, then kisses me. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I just wish I was able to finish off the year. I hate that the kids have to have a substitute.”

  “They’ll be fine. It’s you I worry about. You and our son.”

  The past year has been a whirlwind of events. Harrison insisted we get married almost immediately. It was a small ceremony, one that wasn’t covered by the media until after the event.

  As expected, the gossip columnists were all over it. And for a few months, our pictures were plastered on every magazine and newspaper. And once baby Harrison Redmond IV is born, I’m sure they’ll be flocking for more pictures again. But right now, everything is perfect.

  I have a family. A real family. One built on love and not lies.

  I wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And I believe him, with all my heart.

  I never thought I could find happiness. I’d always believed I’d live forever under the dark clouds of my past, but Harrison changed everything. And for the first time in my life I’m happy.

  I’m not sure if I’ll go back to teaching once the baby comes. For a time, it was all I wanted. But now I want so much more. I want time with my family. With my husband and baby, and Penelope.

  The girl has become part of my heart. I love her like she’s my own.

  “What are you thinking about?” Harrison asks, resting his forehead against mine.

  “How happy I am.”

  He grins. “I have something that will make you even happier.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I wanted to wait until Penny was here, but I guess I can tell you first. The adoption papers came into day.”

  “They did?” Tears prick the back of my eyes.

  He smiles, and I can see the emotion in his face. “She’s yours. Officially.”

  I hug him hard. “Thank you.”

  He cups my jaw in his palms. “No. Thank you. Thank you for completing our family. For bringing happiness into this house.”

  I’ll never understand how I got so lucky. Or why after so much heartbreak I was finally granted my happily ever after. But I do know that I’ll never waste one day not being grateful for what I have.

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  Teach Me

  Everyone knows professor Cullen. Gorgeously tanned, with a sculpted jaw and piercing blue eyes, he's not what you expect when you think of a professor, that's for sure. Add to the fact that he's a bestselling author AND his books got made into blockbuster films? It's no wonder half the college is in love.

  Not me though. I have to focus on school after all, make a future for myself, because
there isn't anyone out there who will do it for me. I can’t risk a relationship, especially one to my professor.

  But every time we’re alone together, our clothes hit the floor. It turns out my professor’s got other lessons in mind. Like how to please him, and give him whatever he wants. I might be a virgin, but I’m a fast study.

  He could lose his job. I could lose my scholarship. The high stakes should scare us, but it only makes us want it more...

  Teach Me

  Lila Younger

  Copyright

  © 2017 Lila Younger

  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.

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  Leah

  “Aaaaaaaaaaand, for the final question,” the host says, pausing dramatically on stage, “What was the original title for the hit T.V. series, Grey’s Anatomy?”

  I turn in my chair to face my group of friends. It’s Trivia Night at Freddy’s, the unofficial student hangout for those who enjoy cheap beer and even cheaper wings. We make it a habit to come, not only because of that, but because with our busy schedules, it’s hard to find a good time the four of us can hangout. We started out in the dorms as neighbors, and somehow we’ve managed to stick together, despite completely different majors and backgrounds.

  “Alright Sarah, you’re up,” I say to my roommate.

  The blonde tosses her hair over her shoulder.

  “Trick question,” she says, grabbing our paper and pen. “It’s Grey’s Anatomy. They changed it for a little bit, but then decided to stick with the original title.”

  She throws down the pen triumphantly. I pick up the paper and scan the list. It seems like tonight we actually have a decent chance of winning. Freddy’s likes to mix things up- last year they had everything from our school history to countries around the world - but this week was pop culture, something that we were actually good at. At least, everyone but me. Coming from a strict family and homeschooled all the way through 12th grade, I never actually got to watch that much T.V., and especially not something like Grey’s Anatomy. It feels strange to have the tables flipped, my friends knowing more than I do.

  The host calls for everyone to hand in their papers and heads off to tally the results. Freddy’s puts the music back on, a loud catchy pop song that has my other friend Gina singing along. I carefully pour out a half cup of beer for myself out of the pitcher. Sipping the smallest of sips, I grimace inside. I honestly have no idea how people can just swill down this stuff. Then again, I’m years behind on drinking. Whereas my friends have all been to house parties since they were sixteen or younger, I’m on the opposite spectrum. I didn’t even drink during frosh week. Sarah labeled me as a bookworm and nerd right off the bat (which is technically true), and we didn’t even really click until three months in when I found her outside our room passed out and helped her make it to the bathroom to puke.

  My phone buzzes. It’s my mom.

  How’s the studying going honey? She asks. Are you all caught up on your readings? You don’t want to fall behind!

  I’m doing fine, I write back. It’s the start of the year mom, how can I be behind?

  I just want to make sure you’re doing your very best. You know how proud we are of you.

  I know mom. Don’t worry, I’m not going to disappoint you.

  Even though I’ve gotten braver over the past few years, coming out of my shell and actually going out, I still can’t actually come around and tell my parents. Even though I’m at the school on a full ride scholarship, they’re the ones who are paying my rent, and I know that they only want the best for me. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself when I get frustrated that they’re treating me as if I’m 12 instead of 21.

  “Your parents checking in on you?” Natasha leans in to ask.

  “Yeah,” I shout, pocketing my phone. “You know the drill.”

  “I know,” she says, holding up her glass. “Only one more year to freedom, am I right?”

  “Thank God,” I say, and clink my glass. “Let’s make it a good one!”

  My two other friends also hold up their drinks and we all bump glasses. The host announces that we’ve won, and we end up with yet another pitcher to drink. We chat a little about our classes, about Gina’s terrible boss who wouldn’t hire her back for the year and Sarah’s latest jock boyfriend. I don’t have anything interesting to add. I come from a small town, and my summer consisted of me working at the local pool as a lifeguard, and cramming in online classes for my double major. That’s why I love this school so much. When I’m here I feel like I’m allowed to be loud and exciting. I’m allowed to be myself, cliché as it sounds, instead of what my parents want.

  The night rolls on, and as more people get drunk, they start to head out onto the dance floor. We all get up and head over too. Within a few minutes, a few guys are coming over. They look cocky as hell, frat boys dressed in their tight shirts and pre-ripped jeans. Sarah, the flirt in our group, nods, inviting them over. At first it’s fine, but by the end of the third song, they’re definitely putting on the moves. One of them, with shaggy blonde hair, tries to put a hand on my waist. I try to edge closer to Natasha, but he’s not really getting the message at all.

  “I think I’m going to get another drink,” I half-yell in Natasha’s ear.

  “Why?” She asks, glancing over my shoulder. “He’s cute.”

  “Not my type,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Nobody ever is Leah,” she says. “When was the last time you hooked up with someone?”

  I pause and she pounces on it.

  “Yeah, exactly. If you have to think about it, it’s been far too long.”

  “I know, I know. But just not with that guy. I don’t even know who he is!”

  “Sometimes,” Natasha says in a mock serious voice that tells me she is definitely drunk, “those are the best kinds.”

  Which is easy for her to say, since she’s already lost her virginity. But I haven’t, which is another secret that I’ve kept from the people closest to me. I don’t know how the lie even started. I guess maybe they just assumed I’d lost it, just like the rest of them, but I haven’t. It’s only come up once- when Sarah told us about this amazing first time, and we just all groaned and told her that she was lucky. But deep down, I wish that I would be lucky too. I don’t even know what exactly I want out of my first time, just that it wasn’t some drunken fumble in a frat house, over before I could even get into it.

  Then again, I’m not sure if I could. I’ve experimented of course, I know how it all works, but nothing has ever even brought me close to the heights that my friends rave about. Maybe I’m just a defective model or something. But I still hold out hope. I’m not asking for the love of my life, just someone who might be interested in pleasing a girl instead of just themselves.

  Okay, so maybe I’d have more luck finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, considering the caliber of the college boys around here. I glance over the blond frat boy, who’s now bumping up against Gina, while another guy’s grinding from behind. Yeah, definitely don’t want him. Not if I’m just some warm body to insert his dick into.

  “I’ll see you later okay?” I say to Natasha, before I weave my way out of the packed dance floor.

  I turn around to check if frat boy is coming along, but he’s not, thankfully. I push through the crowd of people milling in front of the bar and final
ly I burst out onto the patio. It’s cold tonight, so there aren’t a lot of people out here except for the smokers. I skirt around them, make my way past the fenced in patio to and down the steps to the lower level. I know that this place is used a lot for when there are parties and stuff, so usually it’s closed off. This is one of my favorite places to go though. The whole town is situated on top of a big hill, and Freddy’s has a great view of the valley below us. Lights wink at me, and everything is bathed in the silvery light of the moon. If it wasn’t for the thumping bass vibrating through the ground, it would be peaceful.

  There’s a low rail all along the area, and I lean against it, breathing in the cold, sweet air. Much better than the stuffy dance floor that’s for sure. Suddenly I hear a rustle and I turn around. There’s a man in the shadow, leaning up against one of the wooden posts holding up the patio above us. He steps forward into the moonlight.

  “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say quickly, a bit dismayed that my secret spot isn’t so secret after all.

  “You don’t have to go,” he says, in a dark rich voice like coffee. “This is my favorite spot too.”

  The man’s eyes are dark and sharp, the kind that takes in every last detail. His dark hair is swept back from his face, but ruffled by the wind, as though he’d run his hands through them in frustration. He’s wearing a shirt, but no jacket, and with every movement I can see the outline of his hard body beneath. Dark pants hug his powerful thighs, and he’s got black motorcycle boots on, scuffed, though those are the only things that are. Everything else is pressed, neat, expensive. His perfect lips are curved in a smile, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Everything about him is perfect, and I feel a deep pulse of need make itself known between my legs.

  My heart skips more than a few beats. I have no idea who he is. Not a student, that’s for sure. Faculty? And then it comes to me, just as he introduces himself.

  “Joshua Cullen,” he says smoothly, holding out his hand.