Making Her Mine: A Secret Billionaire Romance

by Mia Mills

  His thighs slapped against my own, creating loud noises that echo the room. He grunts seductively with each thrust he makes, ensuring that he’s hitting all the right spots to make me feel incredibly good.

  Without any warning, he starts to come inside my pussy before I can even climax. I whine at him as he pulls out.

  “Please…Don’t stop Sean…Please…” I beg him.

  He kisses me softly and nods. “Don’t worry. I won’t stop yet.”

  My eyes go wide as I feel my asshole stretch further than it had ever done before as Sean slides his cock into my ass with the dildo still inside. I scream and breathe heavily as a wave of adrenaline starts to kick into my bloodstream.

  I get drunk with pain and pleasure as he starts to mercilessly pound my ass. The dildo eventually slips out, but I don’t notice it anymore as the intensity of the thrusts increase. I squirt uncontrollably, unable to control my body any longer.

  He doesn’t stop with my climax and further increases the stimulus by rubbing my bare clit with his thumb. I scream his name, louder and louder before I feel myself crumble before him.

  With one last cry, my body shakes harder than ever, back arched upwards, and practically piss by how much cum I squirt out. He feels his own climax coming.

  “Mariah!!!” He screams before coming inside my asshole, filling me completely.

  He pulls out quickly and continues to come on my face before collapsing on the bed with me. We both pant together in a tight embrace, completely tired and spent.

  I whisper a small “I love you” before sleep takes over.

  Chapter 29

  Mariah

  First, it is the blinding light, and then the lick of warmth on my cheek as the sun’s rays fall upon my face to rouse me from my slumber. The smell of hot chocolate wafts through the air as my consciousness slowly pulls me back to reality.

  The soft sheets desperately pull me back to the void, but nature seems to resist. The sun, the chocolate smell, and now the chirping of the birds outside the window all contribute to the effort of keeping me awake.

  The urge to keep sleeping finally leaves my system. My eyes flutter open, unfocused and unsure of the environment around me. I turn to look towards the ceiling. The spacious rustic, cabin-style room with the mountain scenery can only be one place.

  Right…I’m in Sean’s suite.

  The memories of last night’s sexual exploits start to flow into my mind. I smile as I recall how wild he was, no longer holding back his need. He was the tiger, and I was the sheep.

  I feel my head throbbing. Exactly, how long was I sleeping?

  My eyes look at the clock that I can hear ticking somewhere close. My lazy arm reaches towards the bedside table. I finally fish out the clock and read the dial before groaning a bit.

  Holy shit — It’s already past noon.

  I’ve been sleeping for a good eight hours.

  I sit up carefully, still feeling the damage that spurted from pleasure to my lower regions. I wince. Sean definitely did a number on my body last night.

  Now, the smell of honey, eggs, and dairy fills the air. I can tell Sean is cooking. There’s a sizzle before more of the delicious scent wafts around. The addition of the cinnamon aroma makes me excited.

  “Sean? Honey? Are you making French Toast?”

  I hear a gasp and then heavy steps running up the wooden staircase. I see Sean with the biggest and brightest smile on his face.

  “Oh, darling! I’m glad you’re awake. And yes. I’m making French Toast. It’ll be done in a few minutes.” He says.

  “That’s fine, babe. I’ll come now in a bit.” I mumble.

  A smile paints my pale face. It is a comforting feeling to know that my partner is still in the suite and did not trot off on their own.

  As he made his way down to return to his cooking, I outstretch my body, hearing a few bubbles pop from my back. By now, I don’t even mind being naked on the sheets.

  “Thank God for the fireplace!” I muttered under my breath, pulling up the covers to go over my naked frame. “I might actually catch a cold if it weren’t for the added heat.”

  I eye around the room. My clothes are already folded and placed on the end of the bed. The sheets are messy. Spots scatter around what used to be pristine white sheets, now sullied after the intense sexual ministrations of our late night conquests.

  Immediately, my hand starts to feel around my face. For the first time, I note, I drooled all over my mouth and chin and, by extension, the poor goose-feathered pillow.

  Before I can make a move to get out of the oh-so-comfortable bed, Sean arrives with a fresh batch of molten pleasure, the kind that has whipped cream, toasted marshmallows, and a long wafer with chocolate syrup on top. It is a most delectable piece of art in a mug.

  “Presenting Sean’s world famous hot chocolate,” he says as he sits beside me, a laugh promptly leaving his lips.

  I look over at him before taking the mug with delicacy. The last thing I want is a monumental accident involving a naked woman and hot liquid substances.

  “You’re surely confident I will like this. How certain are you that I’m fond of chocolate?” I inquire.

  He only stops to look at me, quite confused and perhaps partially worried. I take a sip to ease his anxiousness quite a bit. And, my God, it really surprises me how expert the crafting of this well-loved beverage is.

  He may actually be telling the truth — it’s worth calling world famous.

  “So? How is it?” He asks.

  “Frankly? This is amazing!” I compliment the rich drink, “It’s rich and creamy. The marshmallows give it that extra kick. You could actually give other beverage companies a run for their money if you sell this.”

  He chuckles before replying, “I can but…I’d rather share it only with the people that matter to me the most.”

  Once again, his speech makes the tip of my cheeks tint with the hint of red as the blood starts to climb up to my brain. With a loving kiss, I lean on his shoulder and sigh in contentment.

  This has been the best Christmas of my life. Yet.

  “Thank you, Sean…For sharing all of this with me. Thank you for loving me as much,” I tell him.

  I can never honestly tell him how much I love him. No words will ever be enough.

  His lips touch the tip of my head. “Don’t thank me for it. I fell in love with a very independent, headstrong, and beautiful woman. If anything, I have you to thank for teaching and proving to me that there is genuine love out there. We just need to be open to it.”

  Sean takes his finger and tilts up my head by the chin to face him. In a moment of pure happiness and contentment, we lock our lips for a good few moments.

  The time starts to slow, and I can’t tell how long is it before we finally break the kiss.

  “I love you, Maya…” He whispers softly into my ear.

  “I love you too, Sean…” I whisper back.

  For a moment, there is silence. It is just me, in his arms, drinking the beverage he carefully made and sharing it with him from time to time.

  A bit of a breeze starts to blow inside of the room, making him tremble from the chill. I take one more sip of my chocolate before he clears his throat.

  “Blasted winter chill. I can’t take this anymore,” he complains.

  I laugh at him and pat his face, thoroughly amused at his frosty frustration. “And what are you going to do about it, sweetheart?”

  Sean looks at me with the biggest smirk. “Well, I’m thinking…I can’t wait for us to go somewhere…”

  “Somewhere?” I repeat.

  “Tropical.”

  Bossy Brothers

  An MFM Hollywood Billionaire Romance

  By Mia Mills

  Copyright 2018 by Orion Press Group

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actua
l events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.

  Willow

  “Hi there, Willow!” Alexa greets me as she waves her hand. “I’ll take 12 oranges and 6 apples please!”

  “Hello!” I reply as my face lights up. I only see my best friend whenever she buys fruit from my little fruit stand. “Sure thing, let me just pack them for you!” I bend over the fruit stand to reach for the paper bags.

  “Here’s my payment…and oh! Keep the change.” She winks as she whispers it.

  “You know what, Willow? I have something for you here,” Alexa mutters as she gives me a magazine when I hand her the bag of fruits.

  “Mom got that free mag from her monthly subscription and I figured you’d be interested,” she explains. “Remember when we would hang out? You used to love to strut and model and acted like a crazy person. I saw some listings for aspiring models, but I’m not exactly sure what they’re looking for. You should give it a shot!” she excitedly tells me.

  Alexa has that sincerity whenever we talk. But of course, she’s my best friend. I smile.

  “Willow! What do you think you’re doing?” I hear Aunt Matilda calling from inside the house, and I immediately roll up the magazine to tuck in my pants and hide it under my shirt.

  There she goes again, raging like a bull. I sigh.

  “Sorry, we were just talking. I mean, Alexa was just buying fruits from your stand, isn’t it great?” I call out to her.

  “Seriously? It’s past 6—the sun is setting! Shouldn’t you be closing by now?” Matilda turns to Alexa and plasters a fake grin. “Young lady have you paid for the fruits?” she asks while raising her brow, keeping her grin.

  “Yes, Mrs. Anderson,” Alexa says nervously and turns to me with an awkward look. “Bye, Willow. Laters!” She smiles and walks away, clasping the bag of fruits.

  “Pick up your pace! Move it! We’re closing!” Matilda screams as she marches inside the house. I roll my eyes and close the fruit stand.

  Aunt Matilda has always been a bitch, bossing me around like she owns me. I miss Dad, I think to myself. He was my best friend and he’d never let Matilda treat me like she does now. How I wish she was the one who got in that accident.

  “Willow! If you’re not done in 5 minutes, you’re not having any dinner!” Matilda shouts from inside.

  “Yes, be there in a sec!” I reply to her as I empty the garbage and put aside the cleaning tools. I sigh again. I step inside the house, not surprised we’re eating leftover porridge for dinner. What I’d do to get out of this hell hole.

  “Wash the dishes! Don’t make me do the dirty work!” Aunt Matilda scolds me as she stands up from her seat. “I’m going to sleep, make sure everything is tidy before you go to bed!” she adds.

  “Sure…” I exhale heavily. I stand after I finish my meal and collect the dishes from the table, bringing them to the sink to wash.

  I’m never do this again, you witch! You will no longer see me; I will be away from here forever you’ll see! I think to myself. I dry the dishes, wipe the sink clean, and wash my hands. I bring my exhausted self-up the steps to my room.

  Finally, some peace and quiet, I tell myself, letting a small sigh. I close the door shut behind me and pull the magazine I folded.

  This is my ticket. I don’t care what lies in the path I’m taking. I just know I have to pull myself out of this hole. I don’t care whatever shitty, small-time gig I might fall into, I’m that desperate to leave. I pack my bag and grab my spare money stashed away underneath my bed.

  No need to wait. I’m leaving tonight. I bounce up and stand in front of my mirror and strut like the models in the magazine.

  I try to smile, try to give myself a boost of confidence. I slide my arms into my bag’s strap and sneak out of my room, peeking behind my door to check if Matilda is fast asleep. I tiptoe carefully down the stairs and swiftly open the door, avoiding its annoying creak.

  I successfully leave the house without waking Aunt Matilda and saying goodbye. Not that she deserves to be told goodbye.

  I sure as hell I won’t miss her, but I can’t say the same for her. She’ll definitely miss having someone to slave around. But as of now, that’s no longer me.

  * * *

  Twenty-six hours and four stop-overs later, and I’ve finally arrived in LA. The long, tiring bus trip made my legs numb, but my determination hasn’t softened. I stand in front of the studio shown in the magazine’s listing. They’re currently holding the auditions for a small print ad. I take a deep breath and step right in as I open the door.

  “Well, aren’t you pretty?” a man comments as I step in front of the camera when my turn comes. “Mm-hmm. Tall, check. Porcelain skin, check. Stunning brown almond eyes, check. They’re kinda sleepy but sexy!” the short man exclaims as he makes notes of my features in a binder.

  “I’m Marco, the photographer for Vixens, and well, this is my little studio.” He opens his arms widely, introducing me to the low-ceilinged space. “Welcome! Okay, now that you’re all set, let’s do some headshots.”

  I strike a pose, showing him the fruits of my intensive twenty-six hour study of magazines and print ads. I flash my greatest smile, I touch my lips as I glide and bite my finger, I turn my back and look at the camera over my shoulder, I twirl—and I am definitely having fun. I know I’m doing well and I am totally slaying this audition.

  “Braaahvooow!” Marco hails. “Perfect dahlin’, that’s perfect! Last one...that’s a wrap!” He claps his hands as I finish my try-out.

  Feelings of joy and delight flush my body as I he informs me that he doesn’t want me to wait to come in for the official photo-shoot tomorrow. He wants to do it today.

  It will be my first official photo-shoot with Marco.

  I let that sink in. Eek!

  Marco is accommodating and assuring, telling me that I have a future in this business. I agree one hundred percent. A team of stylists and makeup artists swarm around me, pulling me from one look to the other. A professional art director instructs me on how to pose better and more effectively, and I’m totally rocking the Vixen’s Fall Season, honey.

  Four long hours of preparation and shooting later, the photo-shoot comes to a wrap. Everyone seems happy with the outcome and no one is more surprised than me.

  I slayed my first photo-shoot! I knew I could do it!

  But this day of dreams coming true becomes even better when I see Marco walking towards me, grinning as he hands me my first pay.

  I leave, then walk the streets of LA, taking in the beauty of the city. My eyes start to wander around, looking for a place to crash. This city is a total upgrade from my quaint little town. The beautiful structures of the buildings can’t even compare.

  Right across from where I stand, I see this luminous blinking light. “Vacancy” is posted in neon lights. I cross the street and enter the hotel.

  “I’d like to rent a room, please,” I tell the receptionist who is busy buffing her nails.

  “Fill this out.” She looks up to me in a daze then extends a clipboard with a form as she goes back to her nails.

  I fill it out, handing it to her as soon as I finish. She points at the price written on a shabby chalk board, as if indirectly asking me to pay upfront. I shuffle through my bag and pull out several bills from my wallet. Only then does she hand me the key.

  Now I can finally relax; I toss my bag on the floor and decide to take a shower. There isn’t much for privacy, as the room and the bath are divided only by a mere shower curtain.

  A sudden knock on the door surprises me. I rush to the door and peek through the hole. I cringe at who I see, but I open it anyway.

  “Willow, dahlin’, I booked you two photo-shoots for this week. Be prepared,” Marco explains, letting himself in as he takes his planner out. “Do what I say and you will never run out of gigs. Trust me, I’m a pr...dahlin’.”

  “H-how did you know where to find me?” I ask, surprised.

  “Why wou
ld I want to lose track of my new favorite model?” He looks at me over his glasses and goes back to his planner. “Mm-hmm, that’s it!” He turns and walks out of the room.

  * * *

  It’s a busy week. Two turns into four, and every shoot excites me, but after the fourth one, I wonder if there is truly nothing more to it than this. Sure, I’m having fun. Stylists and makeup artists tell me that I got a bigger contract, but it didn’t sounded like that. I’m still getting paid barely more than minimum wage.

  I need to know, so I walk up to Marco to ask point blank. “Wilma’s are Fifth Avenue designer level, right? The stylist told me this was a bigger contract.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” His brows furrow.

  “Shouldn’t I be getting bigger checks?”

  “What? Shut up! You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” he exclaims, as if I have just mentioned the most outrageous thing ever.

  “I know what I’m talking about, Marco. Our shoots are getting bigger, which means, I should be getting paid bigger!” I explain.

  “You know what? Don’t even bother asking for a raise! This is your last shoot. You just lost your shine, dahlin’!” he screams at me and walks away.

  “What?” Now I furrow my brows.

  I try pulling him to make him turn back. “Marco, what are you say—?”

  He shushes me before I can even finish. He walks out the door, throwing my money on the floor.

  Did that just happen? I ask myself, still in disbelief. I walk back to the place I’m staying, lost in thought. I open my door and lock it as I enter. I want to scream my lungs out. Cry. Break something.

  I plant my face on the bed, yelling as loudly as I can. I throw my pillow overhead and wonder if this was all a really bad idea. Finally, I fall asleep.

  Another sunny morning greets me, but I’m not in the typical happy mood I wake up in since being here. I am so sick and tired of this routine, waking up in a motel room day after day. I sit at the edge of my bed. I am 5’10” and I’m a size 0. I have luminous porcelain skin and I drive to succeed. I can do better than this!