Busted By the Billionaire (Billionaire Erotic Romance) Read online

  Busted By the Billionaire

  Copyright Sylvia Waters 2013

  The right of Sylvia Waters to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  The cover picture for this ebook was provided via Creative Commons Attribution License by Lies Thru a Lens on Flickr.

  http://www.flickr.com/photos/danrocha/

  If you enjoy this story, feel free to check out more of my works at my Amazon Authors page here.

  Chapter 1

  The bus ride home was dreary, the seats as hard as rock to a bony back and smelt worse than they felt. Resting her forehead against the window, her tan skin left an oval of fog on the glass. The juddering of the bus in between stops made her head tremor on the clear pane. Coming to a halt outside of a travel shop, Alison’s eyes wandered to a picture pasted on display. Despite having dog eared corners and printed by a computer printer in dire need of ink replacing, the image struck a chord in her chest. Desperate sprays of color painted a picture of white sands and pristine blue waters, a palm tree drooped to one side on the edge of the picture. Alison’s gaze did not stray from this picture until the journey had resumed and the print was no longer visible. Having lived a frugal life for the past two years, she had almost saved enough disposable income to afford the luxury of a holiday. An extravagance she aimed to indulge in sooner, rather than later. By the time her next birthday arrived, she calculated, white sand and blue seas would be a reality, instead of a low quality picture gummed to a shop window.

  She trudged from the bus, avoiding forming puddles as she walked. A black cat darted past her to the opposite sidewalk, looking back at her from a safe distance. Home was a flat a short walk from here but the rain felt like it lengthened the trip tenfold.

  Alison was cooking her evening meal inside her cramped apartment kitchen. Dinner was plain long grain white rice with the cheapest chicken breast in the store. Three rooms, a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom made up her living arrangements. Far from ideal, she could not imagine living anywhere else anytime soon. Filling her steel kettle, she flicked its switch to begin the boiling process for her mealtime cup of tea. A phone began ringing in her bedroom. Turning the gas down on the stove, she whistled as she walked to the noisy black handset.

  “Hey it’s me” It was Craig, her best friend for as long as she could remember. In fact her first memory, involved falling off a parks swing, Craig sped to her assistance in an instant.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I know you’ve been wanting money,” A crackling began on the other receiver, he was eating some sort of crisp “So I thought I would let you know.” The second section sounding much more muffled than the former.

  “Let me know what?”

  “I’ve had a tip off about a horse race tonight. A guy I know, real honest bloke knows something dodgy about a race.” Another chomp and chew after this sentence. Despite being so close, she could not deny he got involved in things that seemed to disagree with the law.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” Alison asked the crunching on the other end of the line,

  “I think so, I’m throwing about twenty grand on and you know I wouldn’t screw you over.” His heart was in the right place but Craig got mixed up in some questionable activities. He had mentioned two tip offs to Alison, both being shock victories for the horses Craig pinpointed. She placed money on the second race but not the first.

  “Okay, thanks, which horse and what time?”

  “Cowboy Billionaire at 7:45, I’ll see you there if you decide you have some guts.” He teased as he began chuckling,

  Alison had strong views against gambling and animals mistreated but that beach photograph had burned into her retina and made a real impact.

  “See you there.” She hung up the phone, butterflies had hatched in her stomach as soon as she returned the handset in anticipation of what she was about to do. Grabbing her keys from the coffee table placed a foot away from her bed, she strolled to the kitchen. Killing the gas on the oven and eyeing the kettle, her cup of tea would have to wait.

  Arriving at her bank with ten minutes until closing time, a nervous looking teller served her, stood behind the acrylic glass with a hint of bafflement on his face.

  “Yes, all of it please.” Alison repeated,

  The boy began counting out twenty dollar notes, licking his thumb for resistance every fourth bill. Stuffing the stacks of bills into her leather handbag, she paced out of the bank, more butterflies growing inside the pit of her gut.

  Her hand trembled as she handed over three coins for the bus, a pittance compared to the innards of her bag. She made the reverse journey from her earlier ride, making a deliberate point of sitting by a window on the side of the holiday shop. Again she stared at that picture. Horizontal lines plagued the picture, produced by pitiable ink provisions inside the printer. Soon she would be in that scene, with no lines to ruin the setting.

  The bus rumbled and shook its way into the city, gunning its engine up a slight incline, hitting breakneck speeds of twenty five, thirty tops. Every bump and pothole in the road hit her stomach like a heavyweights blow. She rubbed her clammy hands on her jacket only for them to begin perspiring again the moment she stopped. Doubts crossed her mind, unsure if gambling her holiday fund a good idea or not. Her trust in Craig blurred her common sense, she had no reason to doubt him and he placed on a lot more money than her. If Craig was confident, she was confident.

  It was a dark, disagreeable evening at the race track. Craig already stood outside the entrance by the time she stepped from the bus, they grinned at one another before linking arms and walking in together. Punters dotted the side of the track wearing creased macs, shoulders up to the ears to protect their necks from the bracing cold. The butterflies had mated and given birth to a whole family inside her stomach, her mind dreamt of chicken and rice back at home.

  They stood side by side but conversation was at a bare minimum. Craig was quiet but not showing any other signs of nervousness. He rubbed her pimpled shoulders as she shivered, attempting to generate some heat. It did nothing but she appreciated it nonetheless. Checking the clock hung to the side of the stand, one race separated Alison and enough cash to throw onto her bed and roll in, screaming at the ceiling.

  “The horses for the seven forty-five race are coming out now and the race will begin soon.” A small spark of bustling ignited around the stands, hopeful people reacting to the tannoy announcement. Cowboy Billionaire strutted from the hidden stables, a proud jet black stallion. His coat sparkled with rain drops like diamonds. His jacket was a deep purple and was sat on by a jockey wearing a matching outfit. He patted the steed before rubbing its ears a few times.

  “And they’re off.” The voice bellowed over the loudspeaker welded above my head. The bang and roar from the sparse audience startled Alison, making her instinctively grab for Craig’s arm and hold it close to her. He did not flinch.

  “A good start from 25/1 outsider Cowboy Billionaire, flying out of the traps like a cork.” Her grip on his forearm tightened, those cold shaking fingers grasped firm.

  “C
owboy Billionaire out in first place as we come round the first bend but a strong start from the favourite, Crack shot as well.” I could not quite believe this was real, I did not envision this happening today, on that restricted ride home.

  “Cowboy Billionaire still in the lead as they approached the final corner, Crack shot just behind and gaining speed.” Skin tingling from adrenaline saturating her blood, Alison held her breath, heart rate beating as fast as Cowboy Billionaires hooves against the mud. Going round the concluding turn, that fine stallion’s muscles rippled, rain bouncing off its black coat. He was going to do it. Cowboy Billionaire was going to win.

  Things seem to happen in slow motion at this point. Craig later blamed an unevenness in the ground, although he was known the blame the horses frail joints. He did not know why it happened, but it did. Cowboy Billionaires crumpled like a train derailing from its tracks, its front left leg buckling from some invisible force. Crack shot glided past, crossing over the finishing line, the jockey raising his arms and pumping the air with his fist.

  “Can you believe that? Cowboy Billionaire looked certain to win but for that late stumble. Crack shot wins it! Unbelievable.”

  Craig now shrugged off the grip on his arm, turning to kiss Alison’s blonde curls he stormed off, leaving her alone. She stood there for a minute, slipping her numb hands into denim pockets. Two men ran onto the racetrack and assisted Cowboy Billionaire up. He walked gingerly, limping when weight pressed on that leg and holding it in the air when he was stationary. Nothing had broken apart from Alison’s dreams.

  In hysterics she flitted to the booths, demanding to speak to someone in power. An unfazed, very bored looking scruff man replied in a drawl,

  “If we returned money to every person that lost we wouldn’t be in business very long.” Pounding the booth with the base of her fists, she heard a door being snatched open from down a corridor.

  “What is going on?” A towering, black skinned gentlemen in a sharply pressed blue suit appeared. Alison recognised him from a picture in a news article she read some months back. He had begun erecting a mansion in the area; the quoted price in the paper was extortionate. This was a man with a wallet great enough to equal his stature.

  “This woman lost a bet and wants a refund.” The monotonous voice from inside the booth answered. The man looked her up and down, tears or raindrops sliding down her cheeks.

  “I’m the owner here. Come to my office and we’ll sort this out. You’re disturbing people.” He spun on his heel with Alison following behind into that office.

  Chapter 2

  From first impressions, the office looked an almost perfect square. Chipped cream paint covered the walls and needing redecorating. The carpet was so battered it was as hard as concrete and the scent of cigarettes hung in the air. A desk sat dead centre in the room, the wooden top hidden by mounds of paper strewn across it. A computer monitor dominated the other half of the table. Behind the desk was an oversized, black leather executive chair, this is where the racecourse owner sat at present.

  He tongued the inside of his lip while eyeing me,

  “Can you explain to me the problem?” His voice drawled,

  “I…”

  “Let me guess. You put a bet on, lost and now feel like a dumbass?” Flicking open a box of cigarettes, he pulled one out, placing it between those lips and lit. He offered me one but I shook my head. He took a long drag before reclining and blowing it at the ceiling.

  “What do you think I’m gonna do about that, eh?” He sucked on the cigarette again,

  “I don’t know.” I whispered, feeling like a naughty child sent to the headmaster’s office,

  “Obviously you want your money back.” His voice was slow and oozed like syrup, with a slight southern twang.

  “Obviously that’s never happening.” He swigged a drink from a glass on his desk,

  “How much did you lose anyway?” Taking another sip before returning to his cigarette,

  “Five thousand.” I answered, his eyebrows raised before he began shaking his head,

  “Five grand?” He roared with laughter,” Five grand? Do you know how much this suit is w… Anyway, bottom line is this. You’re not getting your money back. Now get out.”

  “I could pay you back some other way,” I pleaded with him, as the racecourse owner laughed again.

  “You’re broke and you know it. How could you ever pay me back?” I winked at him and he paused, tonguing the ulcer inside his mouth again. I unbuttoned my coat, letting it drop to the floor. He whistled.

  “Maybe we could come to a compromise.” Striding towards him, I removed my top, dropping it to the ground. Sitting on his groin, I pushed his lips into mine. Something twitched against my thigh. He wriggled, letting his suit jacket slip into the chair behind him. He rose as fast as a bolt, one hand holding me up. His free hand clattered against his desk, swiping away the paper on his desk, they burst like a firework, each piece gliding in a different direction.

  He slammed me onto my back and buried his head deep into my breasts. I started on unbuttoning his shirt as he unclasped my bra.

  He slid his iron pressed trousers from his waist, freeing his manhood and allowing it to flop out, it was the size of my arm. He thrust his thick fingers into my mouth, making me bite down hard on them. Stroking his rod with my soft hands, it jumped and danced in my palm as I rubbed its smooth underside.

  Moaning into his ear, he ripped my underwear off me so fast I felt heat from the friction passing my skin. His jaw clenched as his head lowered towards my womanhood, his palm rubbing the insides of my sleek thighs. His lips puckered and sucked, his tongue flicked and danced with my hardened nub, making the fire inside of me rage as his fingers readied me for him.

  Withdrawing from my grasp, he struck shaft against my warmth, increasing his length with every slap. His hand wrapped behind my head. Now at full mast, he penetrated my walls and filled them, making me gasp and clutch for his arm. The stench of tobacco that masked the room was soon replaced by the smells of hot passion.

  His mouth returned to mine as our moist tongues rubbed against one another as he began driving his hardness deep inside of me. I felt a straying finger drift towards my puckered hole, making me clench my buttocks and squeal.

  He spun me onto my front, my fluids already dripping from my wetness, pounding me doggy style with his engorged flesh. The slapping of his pelvis reverberated off the office walls. He started spanking my cheeks until they were raw and sore and in the heat of the moment, the oversized leather chair toppled into a filing cabinet, creating a mighty clatter. He did not react to the disturbance, his groans occurrence and intensity increased with each slam into my lust.

  Burying further inside of my depths, each pump made me shudder in elation. He leant down, pressing his dark muscular torso into my back as he kissed the nape of my neck. A finger and thumb reached round my side, tweaking and kneading a solid nipple. The desk rumbled with every action, loose metallic sounds from inside the draws clanged together in time with each thrust. The computer monitor rocked in a precarious fashion, convinced it was only a matter of time before it crashed onto the floor.

  It was not long before he flipped me round again. My back which previously caught on the dark wood, now slid smoothly across its surface. His mouth clamped around my areola, the tip of his tongue flicking the nipple into ecstasy. I gritted my teeth and clinched my eyelids shut hard, my legs now quivering of their own accord.

  Spasming with pleasure, he withdrew from my tightness, spewing a fountain of hot seed onto my bare stomach as his face contorted with release. He loomed over me for a short time after this, before righting his chair and slumping down into it and lighting a fresh cigarette.

  “Pass me your betting slip.” He demanded. Caught up in the performance that just ensued, my reason for being here had slipped my mind. I scrambled for my bag, locating the slip through masses of tissues and makeup. Scribbling on the back that I was entitled to a refund, he signed at
the bottom and thrust it back at me.

  “Will this work?” I asked him, surprised by such an anticlimactic resolution. He took a drag and exhaled,

  “It’s my fucking money, of course it will work.” He sat undressed on that chair even up to my departure of that office, I am not sure when he make the decision to redress himself. My hand was touching the icy, gold knob on the door when he spoke,

  “Hey sugar?” I turned to look at him before I left the office, nude with his elbows on the table and another cigarette waiting to be lit between his fingers.

  “Feel free to lose bets here anytime you want.” Winking, he broke out into raucous laughter. I limped from that office with my ticket to freedom. I could still hear laughing at the end of that corridor. I gripped that slip with all the remaining strength in my hand.

  As I approached the booth, a great burden lifted off my chest and I relaxed for the first time that day. I think I shall book a holiday I thought as the youth inside the booth began counting out a stack of money. I will book that holiday today, there is no better time than now.

 

 

  Sylvia Waters, Busted By the Billionaire (Billionaire, Erotic Romance)

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