Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

I rocked against her, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. There were no hard thrusts, only slow, deep strokes, and when our eyes met, it was like I could feel everything she was feeling. The two of us moved together now like we did every time we sparred, more of a dance than anything else. My orgasm was building inside me, a slow sort of burn rather than the usual explosion.

  “So close,” she breathed, her nails digging into my back.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel her muscles quivering, feel her body taut with need. And then she was there, tipping over the edge, and I was falling too.

  But I wasn't scared this time, because I knew she'd catch me, that I'd catch her. Nothing was perfect, and love was rarely easy, but I had no doubt that the two of us could make it.

  I kept my body curled around hers as we came down and our breathing slowed. I brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her temple.

  “You know,” she said, breaking the silence. “It's a good thing you apologized.”

  “Oh really?” I asked, nuzzling her ear. “Why's that?”

  “Because I'm pretty sure your dad was going to try to adopt me.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, he really does like you.” I pulled her closer. “But that's too bad. You're mine.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes, I am. And you're mine.”

  Yes, I certainly was.

  Don’t miss Tyrell’s story, The Champ. Turn the page to read it now.

  The Champ

  M. S. Parker

  Chapter One

  Tyrell

  Sweat stung my eyes as I watched Gregson bounce on the balls of his feet. He'd taken the offensive early, and I had the aches to prove it. The man hit like...well, like a professional fighter. My jaw throbbed and I knew that if I hadn’t been wearing a mouth guard, I would've lost a couple teeth.

  We were in the middle of the second round and Gregson didn't show any signs of tiring. He did, however, look worse than I did. Or, at least, I thought he did. Left eye swollen, lip split, and I was willing to bet his ear was ringing too. I hadn't been aiming for it, but he'd turned at the last second.

  He took a step toward me and I feinted a blow. He almost tripped as he jumped back and I knew he was more tired than he appeared. That was good.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of voluptuous girlfriend in a barely-there top, and almost rolled my eyes. Why in the world would he have her here dressed like that? Distraction, plain and simple.

  I spun around and swept my foot under his. He tried to dodge it, but his right foot was just a fraction too slow. The crowd roared as he hit the mat, but I didn't acknowledge the praise. I wasn't done yet.

  I pinned him down, focusing all of my attention and energy on keeping him in place until the ref could call the match. Seconds stretched out to eternity and then it was over. I'd won.

  The relief came first, then the adrenaline rush when it hit me. I was on my way to the title fight. I could be the best in the world.

  The thought was almost overwhelming as I let myself bask in the praise of the crowd. I didn't do this for fame, but I couldn't deny liking the acknowledgement of all I'd accomplished, of how far I'd come.

  And I definitely didn't mind the perks. Especially when the perks happened to be a set of raven-haired beauties waiting by the locker room door in the hopes that I'd take them back to my place and let them congratulate me there.

  * * *

  I shook my head to clear away the memories of the fight even though that night with those gorgeous women had been something to remember. Now, I was on vacation, and that meant I didn't want to spend my time thinking about the last fight I'd won on my quest to be the best fighter in the FFC. It'd been a good one, and normally, I would've returned to New York City and spent my time training to keep in top shape while I waited.

  Except I hadn't wanted to go home yet. I didn't have any family, and there sure as hell wasn't a girlfriend.

  I scowled and turned my head, looking for one of the hotel's many employees whose sole job was to walk around on the private beach and make sure the guests didn't need anything.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Smoak?” The young man who'd been serving me drinks all day appeared almost instantly.

  “Can I get another Painkiller?”

  “Of course.” He flashed a winning smile before trotting off.

  I'd always been conscientious about spending money, especially before I started earning enough from fights to quit my outside job. The habit had stayed with me, even when my income changed, so when I decided to detour to Hawaii instead of going back to New York, I had enough money to do it in style. That meant first-class seats all the way, the best hotel in Oahu, and no expense spared for alcohol. While I always managed to keep from getting drunk, I also stayed pretty well buzzed the entire time, so no hangover.

  The best part about drinking pretty much constantly from the moment I checked in is that it had done exactly what I'd wanted it to do.

  Kept Sara Carr off my mind.

  It wasn't that I was in love with her or anything like that. No, my problem was that she'd ended our first date by saying she wasn’t ready for a relationship. What she should have said was that she wasn’t ready for a relationship with me. I wasn't mad at her, but I couldn't deny that it'd hurt when I realized she'd wanted Dorian Forbes all along. A former fighter and the current CEO of Forbes Fighting Corporation, he was a billionaire and a good guy. I'd always liked him. And I didn't actually mind seeing him and Sara together.

  I just didn't like the fact that she hadn't come straight out and told me that she wanted him, not me. I didn't like deceit.

  So I'd come to Hawaii to give myself some time before I had to see the two of them together.

  Alcohol and sex had definitely managed to put things in perspective. Now, I was pretty much drinking and fucking only because I enjoyed it, not because I was trying to forget or move on.

  I felt a little guilty for not having trained at all during the time I'd been here, but since the next fight wasn’t scheduled yet, I decided a bit of R&R was well deserved. I'd have plenty of time to get back into fighting shape once I decided to go back home. I just hoped I'd know what I wanted to do after the championship fight by the time I got back to New York.

  I sighed and swallowed half my drink in one go. I'd always been a fairly easy-going person. Hard-working, yes, but never one of those people who were so driven by success that they missed out on life. What I'd never been before was restless. And that was pretty much the only word I could think of at the moment to describe how I felt.

  A pair of attractive women walked by and my eyes followed them. After my first night here, I hadn't gone back to my room alone, and I hadn't slept with the same woman twice. Usually, I hooked up with a woman every once in a while when I felt the need or found someone I liked for a casual fling. Here, I was taking a vacation from my regular life. A string of one-night stands seemed like just the way to go.

  The taller of the two women glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. Definitely an invitation.

  I pushed myself to my feet. She was strawberry blonde with fair skin and long, slender legs. Her friend was attractive too, but that smile told me the blonde was going to be far more fun.

  * * *

  Her name was Shannon, and she'd just graduated college. She was here with her cousin – the other girl – and all she was looking for was a bit of fun with no strings attached.

  In other words, she was perfect.

  I'd barely shut the door behind me before she had her top off. Her breasts were firm, the nipples hard little points. As her bikini bottoms joined the top, she'd gone to her knees in front of me.

  Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue talented, and I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the sensations as she brought me from half-hard to a full erection. When I felt myself starting to lose control, I stepped back. She looked up at me, dark eyes through even darker lashes. I jerked my chin toward the bed and she climbed up
on it, staying on her hands and knees as she wiggled her ass at me.

  I pulled a condom from the nightstand and tossed it on the bed next to her. That was one firm ass. And there were no tan lines. I knelt next to the bed and grabbed her hips, pulling her toward the edge. She let out a startled squeal that made us both laugh. Then I was using my thumbs to hold her open as I ran my tongue between her legs. I didn't really enjoy performing oral sex, but I didn't dislike it either. What I was committed to, however, was making sure that all of it was good for her.

  After she came once, I stood up and reached for the condom. Shannon's arms had given out during her climax, and now she pushed herself back up. She whimpered as I teased her entrance with the tip of my cock.

  “Fuck me.” She pushed back against me. “Please.”

  I slid into her, keeping it nice and slow, both to give her time to adjust and to provide some pleasant torture. She moaned and cursed, making me smile as I worked my way into her. I liked responsive women. Some guys might've gotten off on the ones who were completely pliable, but not me. I wanted someone who enjoyed what they were doing, what was being done to them. I liked being able to make them feel good.

  I gave her a moment after I was completely inside. I wasn't egotistical, but I knew I was...well-endowed. Considering I was six and a half feet tall, I was actually just well-proportioned, but that still meant I was well above average in the size department. Most women needed a few seconds.

  When she rocked back against me, I knew she was ready. I started slow at first, rotating my hips until she cried out, and I knew I'd found that sweet spot. Then I moved faster, harder, making sure I pressed against her g-spot on every other stroke, enough to move her toward climax, but not so much that she'd get too sensitive too fast. One of the things I loved about fighting was the same as what I loved about sex. The dance-like quality that came with finding the right combination of movements to accomplish the goal.

  Shannon had one hand underneath her, and I felt her fingertips brush against my cock as she played with her clit. Her body tightened, and I reached down to pull her hand away. She shot a dirty look over her shoulder but then smiled when I reached down to tangle my hand in her hair. I yanked her up onto her knees, her back pressed against my chest. I released her hair and wrapped one arm around her breasts until my hand cupped her left one. My fingers twisted and tugged on her nipple while my other hand went between her legs, searching.

  “Yes!” She practically screamed the word when I found what I was looking for.

  I drove up into her harder than before, raising her off her knees only to have her drop back down. I was getting closer, but I held off, wanting her to come one more time before I did. I pressed my mouth against her ear, traced the outside edge with my tongue, and then took her earlobe between my teeth. I bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock her into giving up that last bit of control she'd been hanging onto.

  She swore as she came, her body stiffening. My fingers stayed on her clit, keeping just enough pressure to draw out her climax. My other hand went to her hip, holding her as I began to slam into her. She slumped over, her muscles limp, limbs boneless. I squeezed my eyes closed as I pulled her against me, pushing my cock as far into her as it could go.

  I came in a rush, hips jerking against her in quick, disjointed movements. For a few blissful moments, everything faded away and I didn't have to think, only feel and be.

  I wasn't sure at what point I fell asleep, only that I'd managed to get us both somewhat cleaned up first, and then we'd crawled under the covers. I didn't mind that she stayed. Sometimes they did, sometimes they left as soon as we were done. I couldn't deny that it was nice to have a warm body in bed, someone to hold on to while I slept. As long as she didn't get clinging once the sun came up.

  She was still there when my phone woke me the next morning. I considered ignoring it, but when I glanced at the screen, I saw that it wasn't my trainer. It was Dorian Forbes, the big boss. I'd talked to him when I'd first left for Hawaii, but not since. If he was calling instead of Paul, it was probably important.

  “Hello?” I kept my voice low as I disentangled myself from Shannon. She made a sleepy sound and rolled onto her stomach. I didn't bother with any clothes as I stood and walked out of the bedroom so I wouldn't wake her.

  “Morning.” Dorian's greeting was brisk but not rude. “Are you somewhere you can talk?”

  “Yeah.” I wiped my hand across my face and headed for the kitchen. I needed some caffeine to clear away these cobwebs. Maybe in a shot of something else.

  “Good, because we have the championship fight scheduled.”

  It took a moment for the words to register. “When?”

  “A month from Saturday.”

  Shit.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I could feel a headache coming on. A headache that had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed yesterday.

  “I don't have to tell you what kind of fighter Hollin Pressman is,” Dorian continued.

  No, he didn't. Hollin was three years older than me and six inches shorter, but he was brutal. I had a good fighter's build. Athletic. Broad shoulders, little body fat, enough muscle to pack a punch, but not so much that I couldn't still be light on my feet. Hollin didn't worry about having to move. His upper arms were almost the same size as my thighs. He was one of those guys so thickly muscled that they could never find shirts that fit. And he could take a punch just as hard as he could give one.

  Technically, he was in the FFC, but he'd stopped training in the gym years ago, preferring to use his own personal gym where he wouldn't have to be bothered with all of the paparazzi or other fighters. Those had been his words, not mine, given when he'd been asked by a reporter about his new training regime.

  Rumors had gone around that he'd been taking steroids, but he'd passed all the tests. He was just massive and didn't care about inflicting real damage to his opponents.

  Of course, I'd known all that before I'd set my sights on the championship. Hollin had held the title for three years now, so I'd familiarized myself with him and his fighting style.

  I just hadn't thought I'd have only a month to train after having spent nearly three weeks doing nothing but fucking.

  I only had myself to blame.

  “I have a private plane getting ready for you,” Dorian said. “I know you'll be jet-lagged, so I want you to spend the weekend recuperating, and then I expect to see you at the gym first thing Monday morning.”

  “Sure.” I couldn't think of anything else to say. My brain was still trying to process.

  “I gave the pilot your cell number. He’ll text you when they're almost ready. You'll refuel in LA, but other than that, it'll be a straight flight.”

  Great. More than half a day on a plane, plus a six-hour time difference.

  “Thanks,” I said lamely. Dorian and I had never been close, but after the whole Sara thing, I felt a bit awkward around him, never knowing what to say.

  “You're welcome. I'll see you Monday morning.”

  The call ended and I sighed. When slender arms slid around my waist, I started, then relaxed. I'd completely forgotten about Shannon. Her small breasts pressed against my back, telling me that she was as naked as I was.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Just got my death sentence.”

  “What?” She sounded more curious than startled.

  “I have a fight in a month, and the guy I'm against will probably kill me.”

  She was silent for a moment, then her hands slid down my stomach. I hissed as she wrapped her hand around my cock. “I guess that means you better make the most of it while you're still alive.”

  I turned around and picked her up, carrying her over to the sofa. She was right. I had a bit of time before the flight. Might as well enjoy it.

  Chapter Two

  Cynthia Rose

  I'd been in the city for nearly five years, and there were still aspects of
it that I hadn't gotten used to. Like the sheer volume of people in the streets at five o'clock in the morning. I'd grown up on a farm upstate, so I'd always been used to rising early, but even with four siblings, my parents, and our part-time farmhands, it never seemed crowded.

  Now, I had a tiny apartment all to myself – barely much bigger than the room I'd shared with my sister growing up – but as soon as I stepped outside, I knew I'd be surrounded by people almost constantly until I came home. And even then, I was always aware that there were other people in apartments all around me.

  I didn't hate it, but there were still quite a few occasions where I'd feel claustrophobic and wish I could have a few moments of peace, a few moments where I could step outside and hear the birds, feel a breeze that didn't smell like car exhaust. Be able to close my eyes and appreciate the sun without having to worry about someone telling me to move, or some pickpocket deciding to try to take off with my purse.

  Another part of me loved the city. I loved the opportunities, the ability to always find what I needed no matter the time of day. I loved being able to walk down to the market to pick up something I'd forgotten, or stop at a diner on my way home from work because I didn't feel like cooking. When I'd first moved here for my freshman year at NYU, I'd been awestruck by it all.

  But I still missed home. I always tried to make it home for holidays, but now that I was out of school and working toward establishing myself in a career, I knew my time with my family would take a hit.

  I pushed the thoughts aside and carefully applied just a hint of mascara. I didn't like to wear much make-up, but I had one of those faces that made people think I was twelve instead of twenty-two. I glanced down. My body definitely didn't have the curves of an adolescent, so once I put on a bit of make-up, I tended to look closer to my age.

  I pulled my curls back into a simple ponytail since I knew the early summer heat would have my hair sticking to the back of my neck if I left it down. Fortunately, the sports magazine where I was currently working as a photojournalist didn't have the same sort of dress code as some other magazines might've had, and I was able to get away with a pair of nice dress shorts and a simple blouse. The offices might be chilly thanks to the air conditioning, but I'd already spent the first two weeks of my employment there doing coffee and lunch runs. I had no doubt that today would be more of the same.