The Billionaire's Sexy Little Secret: An Erotic Novella by Lara Simon Page A
Authors: Lara Simon
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and collectable Ferraris , Lamborghinis, Bentleys and Aston Martins.
Ned patted on a few dots of the best French cologne, then stood back and took a look at himself in the full-length bathroom mirror. He was nearly fifty, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was getting more handsome as the years went by. His thick dark hair now had the perfect amount of salt-and-pepper grey around his ears, just enough to get people to respect him, but not enough for them to pity him as an old man. His blue eyes sat well under his strong brow and his chiseled chin gave him the appearance of power and self-confidence. His body was in the best shape of his life. The hours spent playing tennis, skiing and sailing his yacht, as well as the three times a week with the best personal trainer in Miami had paid off. He was lean and tan, his chest muscles rippling under the dusting of hair on his torso. His clothes, like everything else, were the best. He sent a private jet to Italy and had it bring back the best tailor money could buy, who measured him and cut his suits on the spot. His shoes were made of the finest leather, his ties of the finest silk.
Ned’s driver Angelo was waiting for him in the town car when he came downstairs, and handed him a glass with a finger of expensive scotch. “Mr. Demilla,” said Angelo as he opened the car door.
“Angelo,” Ned nodded. Angelo had been with him for almost twelve years. Ned’s entire staff was loyal, efficient and most importantly discreet, and he paid generously for their service. As the car raced across Miami to Mieko’s beach-side apartment, Ned reflected on his life. Not bad for a farm boy from Nebraska, he’d thought to himself. After college Ned had moved to Miami, where he set up shop as an investment broker. His charm and relentless work ethic eventually landed him some of the richest people in Miami as clients, and his savvy with the markets and knack for seeing investment trends had made these rich clients even richer. Because rich people like nothing more than to brag about making money, Ned was soon the most sought-after investment advisor in the county. He eventually set up his own investment firm, teaching younger men how to profit from the markets as he did. When Ned had made, in his own mind, enough money to move on to a different field, he’d sold the firm and begun a new career as an investor. He was sick of watching other people get rich from his ideas and insights and was now ready to do it himself. He was 39 years old.
Soon enough, Ned’s fortune was valued upwards of a billion dollars. He owned pieces of many businesses, from retail to construction and international, he always looked for the next-best idea, the next big thing that could make him that next enormous check. That search for the best undiscovered idea was easily the biggest rush of his life—he was completely addicted. As the car pulled to a stop Ned had just drained his first glass of scotch. The alcohol was warming him up from the inside-out and as he saw the incredibly sexy Mieko emerging from her apartment building wearing a tight and tiny red dress, Ned felt himself getting hard. His life was good, very good indeed.
At dinner Ned began to seriously woo Mieko with a $400 bottle of Dom Perignon accompanied by the very best caviar money could buy. A little old-school, Ned realized, but it still always seemed to do the trick. Women were always impressed when he ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. They were even more impressed when he ordered something that wasn’t even on the menu. A special creation from a five-star chef, made just for him. During dinner Mieko leaned over from her lobster and began to rub Ned’s crotch, and he knew that sex with Mieko was going to be his dessert.
Ned and Mieko were both a little buzzed by the time they got back to her apartment building. He’d ordered them some after-dinner shots of Louis IIV, topping out the bill at more than three-thousand dollars.
Ned patted on a few dots of the best French cologne, then stood back and took a look at himself in the full-length bathroom mirror. He was nearly fifty, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was getting more handsome as the years went by. His thick dark hair now had the perfect amount of salt-and-pepper grey around his ears, just enough to get people to respect him, but not enough for them to pity him as an old man. His blue eyes sat well under his strong brow and his chiseled chin gave him the appearance of power and self-confidence. His body was in the best shape of his life. The hours spent playing tennis, skiing and sailing his yacht, as well as the three times a week with the best personal trainer in Miami had paid off. He was lean and tan, his chest muscles rippling under the dusting of hair on his torso. His clothes, like everything else, were the best. He sent a private jet to Italy and had it bring back the best tailor money could buy, who measured him and cut his suits on the spot. His shoes were made of the finest leather, his ties of the finest silk.
Ned’s driver Angelo was waiting for him in the town car when he came downstairs, and handed him a glass with a finger of expensive scotch. “Mr. Demilla,” said Angelo as he opened the car door.
“Angelo,” Ned nodded. Angelo had been with him for almost twelve years. Ned’s entire staff was loyal, efficient and most importantly discreet, and he paid generously for their service. As the car raced across Miami to Mieko’s beach-side apartment, Ned reflected on his life. Not bad for a farm boy from Nebraska, he’d thought to himself. After college Ned had moved to Miami, where he set up shop as an investment broker. His charm and relentless work ethic eventually landed him some of the richest people in Miami as clients, and his savvy with the markets and knack for seeing investment trends had made these rich clients even richer. Because rich people like nothing more than to brag about making money, Ned was soon the most sought-after investment advisor in the county. He eventually set up his own investment firm, teaching younger men how to profit from the markets as he did. When Ned had made, in his own mind, enough money to move on to a different field, he’d sold the firm and begun a new career as an investor. He was sick of watching other people get rich from his ideas and insights and was now ready to do it himself. He was 39 years old.
Soon enough, Ned’s fortune was valued upwards of a billion dollars. He owned pieces of many businesses, from retail to construction and international, he always looked for the next-best idea, the next big thing that could make him that next enormous check. That search for the best undiscovered idea was easily the biggest rush of his life—he was completely addicted. As the car pulled to a stop Ned had just drained his first glass of scotch. The alcohol was warming him up from the inside-out and as he saw the incredibly sexy Mieko emerging from her apartment building wearing a tight and tiny red dress, Ned felt himself getting hard. His life was good, very good indeed.
At dinner Ned began to seriously woo Mieko with a $400 bottle of Dom Perignon accompanied by the very best caviar money could buy. A little old-school, Ned realized, but it still always seemed to do the trick. Women were always impressed when he ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. They were even more impressed when he ordered something that wasn’t even on the menu. A special creation from a five-star chef, made just for him. During dinner Mieko leaned over from her lobster and began to rub Ned’s crotch, and he knew that sex with Mieko was going to be his dessert.
Ned and Mieko were both a little buzzed by the time they got back to her apartment building. He’d ordered them some after-dinner shots of Louis IIV, topping out the bill at more than three-thousand dollars.
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