The Billionaire's Revenge
Prologue – June
Eleanor’s lust pulsed through her body as she stood on the VIP balcony at the Greenwich Village music club, staring at the wild rock-god on stage. The atmosphere in this dark, hot, and seedy venue overflowed with hormones and passion – and the thousand-strong crowd were as entranced as Eleanor by the sexually-charged young man on stage, lost in his sprawling guitar solo – on his knees, submitting to no one but his music.
Eleanor hadn’t believed Matthew when he’d told her about Joseph last week, so he’d dragged her along tonight to show off his latest find. And what a visual treat he was. His music was full of grit, passion, and raw emotion – as if someone had cut open the soul of rock and roll and it was pouring out into the world to save humanity… His wide vocal range and primal lyrics dripped with promises of lust-fuelled nights; it was impossible not to be captivated.
He’d torn his shirt off hours ago, meaning his sweat-drenched muscular body was now covered in nothing but low-slung leather trousers. He was physically incredible – six-foot tall with a masculine toned chest, broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and lush kissable lips… and even from up here, Eleanor could tell that his sparkling eyes were full of mischievousness. Eleanor prided herself on being civilised, but standing here watching him made her what to grope his tight toned buttocks – which swayed alluringly as he turned his back on the crowd, continuing his guitar solo. But there something else about him other than his good looks and musical talent – something exceptional. Star quality. He was charismatic and wild – the sort of man who could get away with anything, and probably did. As Eleanor continued to watch, he let go his guitar, threw a cheeky grin to the pulsing crowd, then cupped his genitals in his hand and jiggled them, making the women in the audience scream with desperate longing. Eleanor’s body quivered. There was an edginess to him – a dangerous excitement. He was like a razorblade smothered with honey, and every woman in this room was dying to lick his sweet exterior, regardless of whether or not they got cut.
Eleanor found it impossible to stand still as the drummer and bassist enhanced his primal music with their dark and dirty backbeats. She swayed her hips and tapped her feet, unable to look away as Joseph dropped his guitar to the stage and left it to ring out an ear-splitting squeal of electric feedback through the ancient sound system. His head fell back as he danced sensuously – spinning in his bare feet and clapping out a rhythm; losing himself in a hypnotic trance. He stretched out his arms as if he was being crucified by the music, and another surge of lust swirled between Eleanor’s thighs as she caught sight of the most sculpted shoulders she’d ever seen. He oozed confidence and charisma – owning the soul of every person in here tonight. Right now, Eleanor realised, she’d do anything for him.
Even though the place was heaving – and despite the thousand-strong crowd between them – Eleanor felt as if he was fucking her. But probably every other woman in the room felt that too. It was the Joseph Quinlan effect. His sweat-covered body shone with perfection, and his handsome face smiled coolly with wild abandonment.
As the music climaxed, Joseph stamped his feet and whirled his arms, restraining himself – getting ready for the big finale. Eleanor’s body prickled with exhilaration. He was like the embodiment of an overwhelming orgasm – and she fully intended to have a long hard think about him in the shower later. He was cocky, thrilling, and rebellious… everything her mother had warned her against. A smile crept onto her face as she suppressed a desire to steal a car, kidnap Joseph at gunpoint, and drive them both across the Mexican border. He’d probably relish such a thrill, knowing him. Not that she did know him. But she sure would like to…
The fans were going crazy now. Eleanor could see them bouncing up and down, cheering, groaning, and worshipping the rock-god who was whipping them up into a frenzy. Eleanor gripped the handrail in front of her as the cymbals crashed and the music climaxed. Her mind swirled like a waterfall and she laughed out loud – was she actually going to orgasm here? Her heart thrashed in her chest and her breathing quickened. Joseph Quinlan was driving her towards the ultimate expression of ecstasy, and he hadn’t even touched her. Her pussy contracted and–
Matthew draped his arm around her shoulders. “Enjoying it, honey?”
“Yeah.” She ripped her eyes away from Joseph. “He’s on form tonight, isn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s always like this,” Matthew said, grinning. “And let me tell you something: I’m going to tame that kid. I’ll temper all that sexual energy, package it up, and sell it to decent folk – just you wait and see. And when I do, he’s going to make us very, very rich...”
Eleanor’s lust pulsed through her body as she stood on the VIP balcony at the Greenwich Village music club, staring at the wild rock-god on stage. The atmosphere in this dark, hot, and seedy venue overflowed with hormones and passion – and the thousand-strong crowd were as entranced as Eleanor by the sexually-charged young man on stage, lost in his sprawling guitar solo – on his knees, submitting to no one but his music.
Eleanor hadn’t believed Matthew when he’d told her about Joseph last week, so he’d dragged her along tonight to show off his latest find. And what a visual treat he was. His music was full of grit, passion, and raw emotion – as if someone had cut open the soul of rock and roll and it was pouring out into the world to save humanity… His wide vocal range and primal lyrics dripped with promises of lust-fuelled nights; it was impossible not to be captivated.
He’d torn his shirt off hours ago, meaning his sweat-drenched muscular body was now covered in nothing but low-slung leather trousers. He was physically incredible – six-foot tall with a masculine toned chest, broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and lush kissable lips… and even from up here, Eleanor could tell that his sparkling eyes were full of mischievousness. Eleanor prided herself on being civilised, but standing here watching him made her what to grope his tight toned buttocks – which swayed alluringly as he turned his back on the crowd, continuing his guitar solo. But there something else about him other than his good looks and musical talent – something exceptional. Star quality. He was charismatic and wild – the sort of man who could get away with anything, and probably did. As Eleanor continued to watch, he let go his guitar, threw a cheeky grin to the pulsing crowd, then cupped his genitals in his hand and jiggled them, making the women in the audience scream with desperate longing. Eleanor’s body quivered. There was an edginess to him – a dangerous excitement. He was like a razorblade smothered with honey, and every woman in this room was dying to lick his sweet exterior, regardless of whether or not they got cut.
Eleanor found it impossible to stand still as the drummer and bassist enhanced his primal music with their dark and dirty backbeats. She swayed her hips and tapped her feet, unable to look away as Joseph dropped his guitar to the stage and left it to ring out an ear-splitting squeal of electric feedback through the ancient sound system. His head fell back as he danced sensuously – spinning in his bare feet and clapping out a rhythm; losing himself in a hypnotic trance. He stretched out his arms as if he was being crucified by the music, and another surge of lust swirled between Eleanor’s thighs as she caught sight of the most sculpted shoulders she’d ever seen. He oozed confidence and charisma – owning the soul of every person in here tonight. Right now, Eleanor realised, she’d do anything for him.
Even though the place was heaving – and despite the thousand-strong crowd between them – Eleanor felt as if he was fucking her. But probably every other woman in the room felt that too. It was the Joseph Quinlan effect. His sweat-covered body shone with perfection, and his handsome face smiled coolly with wild abandonment.
As the music climaxed, Joseph stamped his feet and whirled his arms, restraining himself – getting ready for the big finale. Eleanor’s body prickled with exhilaration. He was like the embodiment of an overwhelming orgasm – and she fully intended to have a long hard think about him in the shower later. He was cocky, thrilling, and rebellious… everything her mother had warned her against. A smile crept onto her face as she suppressed a desire to steal a car, kidnap Joseph at gunpoint, and drive them both across the Mexican border. He’d probably relish such a thrill, knowing him. Not that she did know him. But she sure would like to…
The fans were going crazy now. Eleanor could see them bouncing up and down, cheering, groaning, and worshipping the rock-god who was whipping them up into a frenzy. Eleanor gripped the handrail in front of her as the cymbals crashed and the music climaxed. Her mind swirled like a waterfall and she laughed out loud – was she actually going to orgasm here? Her heart thrashed in her chest and her breathing quickened. Joseph Quinlan was driving her towards the ultimate expression of ecstasy, and he hadn’t even touched her. Her pussy contracted and–
Matthew draped his arm around her shoulders. “Enjoying it, honey?”
“Yeah.” She ripped her eyes away from Joseph. “He’s on form tonight, isn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s always like this,” Matthew said, grinning. “And let me tell you something: I’m going to tame that kid. I’ll temper all that sexual energy, package it up, and sell it to decent folk – just you wait and see. And when I do, he’s going to make us very, very rich...”