Backseat
with the Billionaire
by
Lilah May
Genre:
Adult Billionaire Romance
She
just wants to use him for revenge.
Him.
A
billionaire MMA fighter whose cocky smile and washboard abs make wet
panties drop left and right.
She thinks she wants him for
one amazing night out and end it.
Boy, did she think
wrong.
He's about to teach her how much more she really
wants.
LISA
Finding out your husband's
cheating is hard.
Finding out it’s with a college girl is
even harder.
The easy part? Retribution: beating him blue
with a baseball bat and kicking him to the curb.
But it's
still not enough.
So when Bobby Carter, fresh out
of college, blows back into town with all the intensity of a
hurricane, I decide I’m not done.
Bobby’s everything my
ex-husband is not. Sexy, aggressive, and intense.
Like
melt me into a puddle intense.
Who cares if I used to
babysit him?
He’s a grown man, now. And I
mean, FULLY grown.
All I wanted was a night
out with him, but one taste and I’m addicted.
BOBBY
When
Lisa Howard finally gets rid of her cheating husband, I want to take
her right then and there.
I got rid of that abusive bastard
and built a billion dollar empire all for her.
Nothing
could satisfy my ravenous hunger but taking a bite of that sweet
little thing.
So when she offers herself up to me for
one night, I'm not about to refuse.
She's nothing like the
sorority bimbos at Northfield U.
She is a real woman.
Sexy,
mature, and an ass so fine I would give up my billions just for
a taste.
But I know a taste won’t be enough and
one night too short for all the dirty things I want to do to her and
that deliciously curvy body.
She’ll be mine,
but not just for tonight. Forever.
This is a
full-length, standalone, steamy 18+ romance. No cheating or
cliffhangers, and definitely a wonderful Happily Ever After
guaranteed.
LISA
I
had no clue what I’d do.
It’s
the kind of situation you never plan
for,
never expect to have to plan for. And
even
if you try, even if you think you know
what
you’ll do or how you’ll act, you find
out
that the truth is:
You
really don’t know yourself at all.
I
wait, sitting in that old ratty armchair of
his.
The orange one that was now stained
brown.
The one he refused to throw out no
matter
how much it reeked of alcohol and
cigarettes.
The
pictures are still on the coffee table. I
looked
them over carefully, in some twisted
morbid
curiosity. The girl couldn’t be a day
over
18 and she seemed to be enjoying
herself,
but in some fake, exaggerated way
like
she was in a porn video or she learned
how
to act when getting fucked from a porn
video.
And of course, it was missionary, the
boring
bastard.
I’m
not thinking about anything, not
planning,
not scheming. I’m not even angry.
For
the first time in a long while, my head is
completely
clear. Like some weird
meditation,
all I do is sit and wait.
He
strolls through the front door,
whistling
a tune. The balls on him. Relaxed
and
casual, as if he didn’t just come back
from
fucking his teenage whore.
He
looks at me once but doesn’t look
twice.
Even though, across my lap is a silver
aluminum
baseball bat. The same bat that
we’ve
kept by the front door for our
protection,
for just in case.
Just
in case of a robbery. Just in case of a
home
invasion. Just in case my scumbag
husband
decides to cheat on me.
All
those years, it sat unused. Until today.
I
don’t know what was the last straw. The
whistling,
the nonchalant way he ignored me
or
maybe it was that shit-eating grin he had
plastered
on his smug face.
But
one second I’m sitting in the living
room
and the next, I’m tackling him like a
football
linebacker. Head down, shoulders
square,
straight into his unsuspecting back.
He
pitches forward, quite comically,
crashing
to the ground in a heap. All
accompanied
by a satisfactory crunch.
And
as I stood over him, something dark
and
violent emerged, something that wasn’t
so
clean and pure. Something that I kept
buried
and hidden for years as the perfect
housewife,
the perfect stay at home mom.
The
funny thing is, he didn’t think I
would
do it. The whole time, the asshole
looked
up at me and just laughed, smirking
in
my face. That is, until the first swing of the
bat
came down on him.
And
goddamn, if it didn’t feel amazing.
For
me. Not for him.
I
can still picture that deliciously
depraved
moment when that cheesy smile of
his
gave way to a look of pain and confusion.
Ohhh,
god! This was it! That utterly
satisfying
feeling.
Like
the good fuck he was never able to
give
me.
As
I kept raining down blow after blow,
his
disbelief quickly turned into one of
horror,
crying for me to stop. But I didn’t. It
only
added to my wonderful, cathartic
experience.
And I savored every single
wince,
every little whimper, feeding off his
pain.
Finally,
he could feel what I felt. All the
abuse,
all the suffocating agony from living
under
his oppressive rule. Finally, I could
give
it all back to him.
Let
me give you a piece of advice: it’s
unhealthy
to repress that much shit. So don’t.
Unless
one day, you might end up beating
your
douchebag husband half to death.
After
a good solid minute of getting his
ass
beat, he finally snatches an opportunity to
escape.
As I take a breather, he scrambles
towards
the front door, running out onto the
lawn.
But
he doesn’t get far.
He’s
not getting away. Not today.
Cause
right now, there’s a fucking animal
inside
me.
I
chase him down and knocking him to
the
grass, continuing my assault with the bat.
I
can’t seem to stop myself. Not that I want to.
One
part of me is filled with wrathful
vengeance
and the other looks on a spectator,
as
if I’m watching a horror movie.
I
really like horror movies.
Suddenly,
big fat hairy arms wrap around
my
waist, pulling me away from Donald.
Donald
my husband: The liar. The
cheater.
The piece of shit.
God,
I fucking hate him.
Wrapped
up in those thick arms, I
struggle
helplessly, flailing like a bug on it’s
back.
The man who’s gathered me up in a
massive
bearhug is Robert Carter, our nextdoor
neighbor,
with his wife Patty kneeling
next
to the crying Donald.
Crying.
Literally. Big crocodile tears.
What
a disgusting faker, trying to squeeze
sympathy
out of our neighbors.
I
didn’t hit him all that hard. I think.
Hi
everyone! I'm Lilah May (well, you already know that).
I
write steamy romance that will touch your heart (and your body <3 all="" in="" right="" span="" the="" ways.="">
Ok,
maybe it sounds a little corny but it's true!
I
make sure my books are full of hot and dirty scenes but still has
that oh so important warm sentimental love.
Anywho,
I'm just a girl with too many dirty thoughts going through her head
and I thought I'd share them with all of you!
Though
I have to warn you: be prepared!
These
stunning alpha male heroes I write about are straight out of my
fantasies: impossibly sexy, crazy dominant, and 110% guaranteed to
make your knees weak.
So
you better sit down, grab a towel and leave all your inhibitions at
the door (along with your panties) because my books will make you
melt and squirm with HEA love!
Side
note: I like my cookies chewy and I've learned way too late in my
life that I can microwave them for ten seconds to make them chewy
again. I don't hate on crunchy, though. Cookies are cookies lol.
Oh,
and also I'm a nurse so when I get my hands on a real good book,
things can get incredibly dangerous! (That's a joke for all you
stuffy wet blankets. I would never risk my patients. I love them!)
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