Billionaire Bed Warmer Novels & Stories

I just know he’s the kajillionaire who started Dell computers. But then everything clicked. Connor Templeton… …youngest son of the Templeton family, one of the wealthiest dynasties in America… …a billionaire in his own right who had actually made more money after he split from the family business… …and owner of the Dubai Hotel, where we happened to be staying. I began to freak out. I had just slept with one of the richest men in America. No, scratch that. I had just slept with one of the richest men in the world.

It smelled like him and everywhere she looked, the dark wood walls, the antique furniture, a memory sprung into her mind. She and the billionaire had some good times in the room. Playing the game I can get you off with just my… Cuddling and talking the night away in his large, old four-posted bed. Grayson telling her about each and every piece of his weapons collections with passion in his eyes. Please God don’t let this room become a shrine, she pleaded. Not unlike the shrine he had to Adam up in the loft.

Now, in broad daylight, she could see how incredibly handsome he was. Also, how his bedroom was enormous and astonishing. She didn't understand much of furnitures, but she could tell that the wood was very expensive and luxurious. The sink in the bathroom was made of white marble and the bed had the most comfortable mattress she had ever slept on. She couldn't believe he was that rich, and at the same time, so nice. Rich men weren't normally that pleasant to hang out with.

"No need to be in a hurry to kill these two. They will die anyway, let them flex their muscles a bit after all they are the Pillari. What do you expect from the richest Billionaires in Santa Dabia?" He wiped the spittle off his mask and paced around the room. "Lovely bed feels so mushy and comfy. I now understand sleeping on a Billionaire's bed. Oh, look at that beautiful design on the wall. What! Do you have a gold hand washer? Fuck look at diamonds jewelry lying on the dresser fuck I can't understand rich people…" He went on and on complimenting everything that came to sight as Sarah and I held onto each other.

The door opens, and in that moment, I’m sure the president and I pretty much have different definitions of “sizable.” There’s a king-sized bed at the center of the room, a gorgeously lacquered cabinet that is an interesting fusion of Japan and West, a small closet by the wall and a couple of plush armchairs. The faint sound of water running comes from the bathroom. That door has also been left open. I walk towards it. The bathroom is huge. It has a tub and a separate shower stall. Fully stocked with body wash and shampoo. Towels are there, too. My breath hitches. This is like a luxurious hotel room. How can this exist in his office?

He was practically shaking. “I don't have any daughter. Stay away from me,” he said. “Oh, but you do have a daughter. Me! Your beloved son, Henry, is gone. Caroline too has passed away. I'm the only family you have left. I take care of you, don't I?” Big Margaret said. A nurse came to their seat and administered drugs to the old man. Big Margaret feigned a smile and thanked her. When the nurse left, she continued speaking. “Even the medications you’re taking, who do you think pays for them? Do you have any idea how much they cost?”

And here I am in bed with some strange hot man whose name I don’t even know. “Oh my God. I need to get dressed. Where are my clothes?" I looked at him in question. “Neatly pressed and perfumed, and perfumed waiting for you in the closet. Would you like some tea while we are playing Butler-landlady?” He replied sarcastically. I ignored him and started to get up but stopped when I realized that I couldn’t leave the bed without one of us ending up naked. “Close your eyes.” “What?” he asked, stunned.

He walked out of the room to his bedroom. Blake doesn't sleep with women in his bed. He cherishes his bedroom as that is his personal space. While in his room, he walked inside the bathroom to take a shower. After which he came back wearing his black sweatpants. He went to bed and pulled the covers to cover himself. Embracing the soft fluffy feel of his bed as he drifted to sleep. Blake Parker is a cold-hearted billionaire. He is the richest billionaire in the whole of New York City. He has no respect for anyone, especially women. He detests them. On the other hand, women love him and they would do anything just to gain his attention.

These weren't my sheets, I wasn't in my bed either. My lashes fluttered open, and the room came into focus slowly, like a cruel joke. I caught sight of the white marble floors, the crystal chandeliers, and modern art that screamed money. The bed beneath me was enormous, draped in sheets that probably cost more than my rent. My rent, my apartment, my life, none of it, absolutely nothing matched any of this.

I haven't even bought winter clothes yet! Dozens of voice messages overlapped as well, venting or laughing. To Cyrus, it was obvious most people hadn't taken the sudden cold seriously. Some even treated it as a novelty. He yawned, tossed the phone aside, and decided he'd had enough of their noise. In his bedroom, he slid beneath a velvet duvet atop the high-end mattress he'd "relocated" from the Volmart warehouse. Rumor had it the same luxury model belonged to a famous actress, worth 600,000 dollars.