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Dirty After Dark (A Billionaire Boss Romance), страница 1


Dirty After Dark (A Billionaire Boss Romance)

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Dirty After Dark (A Billionaire Boss Romance)

  Table of Contents



  Want even more bad boys?

  Also by Anne Connor



  Dirty After Dark

  A Billionaire Boss Romance

  Anne Connor


  Want even more bad boys?

  Also by Anne Connor


  1. Ryan

  2. Sara

  3. Ryan

  4. Sara

  5. Sara

  6. Ryan

  7. Sara

  8. Ryan

  9. Sara

  10. Ryan

  11. Sara

  12. Ryan

  13. Sara

  14. Ryan

  15. Sara

  16. Ryan

  17. Sara

  18. Ryan

  19. Sara

  20. Ryan

  21. Sara

  22. Ryan

  23. Ryan

  24. Sara

  25. Ryan

  26. Sara

  27. Ryan


  Also by Anne Connor

  Want even more bad boys?

  Copyright © 2017 by Anne Connor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

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  Also by Anne Connor

  The Super (A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance)

  He's rich. Arrogant. Dirty-talking. And the new superintendent of my building.


  I'm just a girl from Brooklyn, and I've worked hard for what I have. With my dream job and my first apartment, I don't have time to be messing around with the cocky know-it-all who just landed in my building.

  Too bad I can't get him out of my head.

  They call me the bad boy of commercial real estate, and it's a title I've earned. I'm used to getting what I want.


  Heiresses. Supermodels. Even a professional ballerina or two. Hell, half of New York City has been tangled up in my sheets.

  But Molly is different. She isn't like every rich girl in this city. Which makes me want her even more.

  When my life completely implodes, I go into hiding by taking a gig as a building superintendent. Crazy, right? I could buy and sell this building without even lifting a finger. I've always been good with my hands.

  It turns out that I might have to do something even crazier to win her over.

  **The Super is a full-length stand-alone novel with a guaranteed HEA!**



  I push her up against the door and pin her hands behind her back. She smiles and gasps, the sweet, luscious sound escaping from her plump lips as I slip my key into the door and we tumble into my studio.

  “I can’t believe I finally got to meet the man with the voice,” she says seductively, spinning me around and pushing me into the chair in front of the controls.

  “I’m not anonymous,” I reply as my ass hits the chair. She drops down to her knees in front of me and yanks my zipper down quickly, her fingers looping over and tugging at the waistband of my jeans. “You could have met me anytime, baby.”

  “There was something kind of sexy about the illusion, though. The man with no face. I had no idea what you looked like, but I loved your voice,” she cooes. She shoves a hand into my pants and pulls out my cock, stroking my full length from base to tip, making my head fall back and my eyes widen. I watch as her lips wrap around my rock-hard shaft.


  “Do you like what you see?” I look down at her, her mouth working on me hard and fast, her eyes peering up through thick, dark lashes.

  She moves her mouth away and flips her hair over one shoulder, grabbing me with her hand again. I’ve never been this hard before. It might be the studio, the fact that I run this place; it might be the fact that anyone could walk in on us.

  Or it might be that the girl on her knees has a delectable mouth and knows exactly how to use it.

  “Yes, Ryan Hart,” she gasps. “I like it very much. You’re so fucking hot. You don’t belong on the radio.”

  She’s right. I’ve seen myself in the mirror, and I know what I look like. Even more importantly, I’ve seen how I turn heads and take down numbers. And when girls find out that I’m the man playing their favorite songs on the campus radio station late at night and into the small hours of the morning as the clock ticks past midnight, they’re ready to drop to their knees and beg me to keep them up late.

  “Shit.” I lace my hands through her hair as she puts her lips around my cock again, taking me deep back into her throat, moving my hands down to her silky white top and pulling it up over her breasts. They’re magnificent, and I can’t help but take them into my hands and dip my fingers down into her bra, feeling the pebbled flesh of her perky pink nipples.

  Her mouth crashes down on my cock before she pulls it up with a long slurp.

  “Fuck,” she says. “You keep that up and I’ll be too distracted to get you off.”

  “Baby, that’s not possible. Now put your mouth back on it.” She smiles shyly, but she’s a bad girl and she loves being spoken to like this. She loves my commands; she can’t get enough. Neither can I. “I’m going to come, baby. Keep going.”

  My cock expands and like a rocket I’m lost, spinning in bliss. She takes all of me and when I’m done she gets up from the floor, smiling.

  She collapses into the chair next to me and I roll over to the mini-fridge tucked into the corner of the studio to grab us a couple of beers. This space might not be much, but it’s mine, and I rule the campus from this small corner of the student affairs building.

  I pause to put my dick away for the night, zipping it away before I grab two beers for us.

  “Thirsty?” I ask, passing the ice-cold can to her. She she pops it open, taking a long swig. I open mine and do the same, getting up to grab one of my favorite records from the back wall.

  “You guys still use records here?” she asks, her eyes wide. “You really are old-school.”

  “First of all, there’s no you guys. I run the show. It’s just me. Second of all,” I add, taking a seat next to her, “if you were really a listener of the show, you’d know I spin records occasionally. Better sound. Thicker. Richer.”

  “Let me hear it in person.” She crosses one of her long legs over the other, her little denim skirt barely covering her ass. “Prove to me how much better it sounds.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I flip on my on-air switch and prep the record to go onto one of the two turntables I have on my switchboard.

  “Good evening, and welcome to Noise After Dark.” I swell with pride and pass a glance over to Cindy. “This is your weekly radio show for the newest bands on campus and the newest news. Tune in
every Saturday night at eleven. I’m spinning real records of the best classic rock and all the newest shit. So close your eyes and let the music take you away, and between songs, I’ll talk you to sleep or keep you up. Your choice.”

  I put on the record and hit a switch, returning my attention to Cindy.

  “That’s how it’s done?” she asks with a smirk. “Anyone could do that.”

  “Oh?” I chuckle. “Then I should have you as a regular guest on the show. A returning contributor.”

  She smiles and rolls her eyes, pushing her pretty brown hair away from her face, flipping it over her shoulder and biting her bottom lip. She’s effervescent, fresh. “I don’t really do repeats,” she says, taking a small sip of her beer, her eyes trained on mine.

  “I get the sense you’re talking about something different than I am.”

  She could be girlfriend material. It makes zero difference to me that she’s already given me head, before we’ve been on a date, but I also know she’s probably not looking for a date.

  “Yeah, I don’t really do relationships.” She gets up and paces around to the back of her chair, pushing it away and standing on her tiptoes, surveying all the equipment and buttons and levers displayed in front of her. “No time for them. Pre-med.”

  “Gotcha,” I say. “For a second I thought I did something wrong and you wanted to get away from me.”

  A small chuckle escapes from her lips and she shakes her head. “No. No way. Trust me, you’ve done everything exactly right.”

  “Wow,” I say, scrubbing the side of my face with an open palm. “Maybe you’re just easy to please.”

  “Maybe I don’t expect much,” she quips, whipping her glance to me with a smirk.

  “Ouch. See, I knew I would get my heart broken by you,” I say.

  She sits down again and her expression changes. The song ends and I flip another switch, activating a pre-recorded performance from our college’s battle of the bands last weekend.

  “Everything okay, sweetheart?” I take another long sip of my beer and put the can aside. “What did I say now?”

  “Okay. Here’s the truth.” She looks down at her hands, her pretty mouth turned down at the corners. She traces the bottom of her beer can slowly with one finger. “I recently went through a breakup. A bad one.”

  “What happened?” I cross one leg over the other at the ankle and wipe the condensation from my hands on my jeans. The mood in the room’s shifted from the lighthearted post-blowjob banter between two people who’ve met up for some quick fun, to two people discussing something real. All I want to do is hear what’s happened to her. All I want to do is help her ease her pain, if only for a moment. And I realize I’ve done that, with the cheap sex.

  It made her feel better for a moment, gave her a story to go back to her girlfriends with. That’s what she made it seem like; time for some quick sex with a guy who has a name people know, and then back to whatever she was doing before. Whoever she was doing before. But the look on this young woman’s face is telling something me different now, telling a different story.

  She’s still quiet, and the song ends, leaving us alone with blank space between us, growing large inside the small studio. “Tell me what’s wrong,” I offer gently.

  She breathes in deeply, letting out a big sigh, shaking her head and giving me a small smile.

  “If you want to,” I add. I roll my chair toward her and lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees. The pain in her eyes tells me part of her story. She looks up at me as I take her hands in mine.

  “Wow, this is so silly,” she says, sniffling as the next song starts. “You are a complete stranger.”

  “I am not,” I reply optimistically. “You know my name. You’ve even visited me at work.”

  “I’ll tell you. I drove four hours yesterday because it was my boyfriend’s birthday and he said he couldn’t spend any time away from studying for the LSATs. Well, I made him his favorite vegetarian meatballs and his favorite sauce, and like an idiot, I went to surprise him, only to find him with some other girl spread-eagle in his bed.”

  She wipes away the tears appearing at the corners of her eyes before they can have a chance to roll down her cheeks.

  It pains me to see her like this. She’s right; we don’t know each other. But the pain in her is making me tense of my chest and tamp down the anger I feel in my gut, because it’s not worth it. He is not worth it.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “It’ll be alright. Really. You are a young woman. You are going to look back on this and not even remember that douchebag’s name.”

  She smiles softly and looks up at me. “I think the fact that he lied to me is the part that hurts the most.”

  “I understand, sweetheart. But I promise you’ll be okay. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t know what a good thing he had. And you should be glad you lost this idiot when you did. It makes room in your life to meet the man who is going to treat you the right way. The way you deserve.”

  “Shit.” She looks up at me, a few tears rolling down her perfect skin, as I move closer, our knees touching. “That’s actually an interesting way to look at it.”

  “Were you together for a long time?”

  “No,” she says, sniffling. I get up to grab a pack of tissues from the supply drawer. “We were only together for a few months.”

  “Be sad.” I hand her a tissue. “Cry it out. Eat a greasy cheeseburger tomorrow at the diner. Have bacon on it. Fuck that guy.”

  “You’re good at this.” She wipes her nose and laughs. “All of my girlfriends focused on him when I told them. All they did was call him names.”

  “But you already know what an asshole this guy is, right? You just needed to know that you’ll be okay.”


  “You’re gonna be okay. But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know he’s an asshole, and you already know it’s gonna be okay. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come around to my way of thinking so quickly. But,” I add, “I am pretty convincing.”

  She takes a sip of her beer and a deep breath and dabs the corners of her eyes.

  “You’re right. I know I’m gonna be okay. But you’re also pretty convincing.”

  “Send your girlfriends to me when they need advice,” I say.

  “Are you going to end up seducing them, too?”

  “Nah,” I say. “I’ve got better ways to use my mouth.” I drop down to the floor and put a hand on each of her knees, spreading her legs open slowly. She looks down to me and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as my hands roam up her legs, to the edge of her tiny skirt. “There’s more than one way for me to make you feel better, sweetheart.”



  “Hey, I’m a long-time listener and first-time caller. My girlfriend and I have been going out for about two years and I have a little bit of a problem. She...well, I don’t know how to say this. She wants a breast reduction. She is pretty well-endowed in that area, and she says it hurts her back and clothes don’t fit her right, and she doesn’t like the attention they draw. But I love them. I love all of her, of course. That goes without saying. But I love her tits, and I really don’t want her to get the surgery. I mean, I want her to be happy, but I’m afraid I’m going to be less attracted to her if she goes through with it. Do you have any thoughts on this? Thanks, man.”

  I tap my bottom lip and consider my answer before adjusting the mic, bringing it down so it’s just in front of my lips. The questions we receive are pre-screened by the interns, and I get a quick run-down of what’s going to be thrown at me, but this question has been bothering me since I found out about it.

  “I don’t know if you’re going to like my answer,” I say, leaning back in my chair and moving the mic with me. I glance over at Kayla, my production manager, sitting there in front of her laptop and sipping an iced latte with whipped cream on top. She looks over the edge of her computer and shrugs. She isn’t going to give me any help, but I don
t need it.

  “Look. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, right? But think about it from her perspective. Imagine if your dick was too big to fit in your pants. No, really imagine in. Imagine that you needed a sling just to carry the thing around. Now, imagine that your girlfriend really loved big dick. Not just big dick in general, but your big dick. You get what I’m saying?”

  I pick up my pen and start flipping it around in my fingers absent-mindedly, leaning forward in my seat and resting my forearms on the desk. Adjusting my mic again, I look out the window at the rolling Hollywood Hills as my thoughts go back to the girl I took home last night. She loved big dick, and she wasn’t shy about telling me how much she loved mine. She licked it like a damn popsicle, and thinking about her bright red lipstick smeared all over my cock is making me hard right now.

  “Listen.” I adjust my boy and grab the mic. “Like I said, you can’t help how you feel. But remember that there's going to be a fucking line of guys waiting for your girlfriend if you dump her over this. Plus, tits are tits. Small, big, and the sexiest thing about a girl is just when she’s comfortable, isn’t it? How comfortable is your girl if she’s got to consider a fucking elective surgery to fix something about her? Something that, I’m sure, is perfectly fine as it is, but something she just wants a little help with?”

  “I agree, Ryan.” Kayla lifts her eyebrows and nods in approval at my answer. “For her sake, I hope she’s listening to this and dumps this jackass for wanting to put his own physical preferences over her health. Hello, ever heard of a padded bra?” She shakes her head and her black bob haircut swishes around her heart-shaped face, all perfect alabaster skin and bright blue eyes and cateye glasses.

  “Good point,” I chime in. “Gift your girlfriend a new padded bra once she has the surgery. Something nice and lacy, you girls like that shit, right?”

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