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Stories From The 6 Train:2

By:Alexis Angel


"Brittney, can you hear me?"

I hear Walter's voice coming in through my tiny earpiece, which is hidden underneath my long hair. The sound is low, but the quality is good.

"Loud and clear," I say.

"Are you at Ethan’s computer?"

"Yes, but now what? I don't have the password for this machine, you know. It's locked."

"Okay, I'm going to walk you through this," Walter says. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I don't hear anyone coming, so it's now or never," I say, looking tensely over my shoulder.

"The first thing you need to do is shut the computer down."

"What? Why? Doesn't that seem counterproductive to be turning this thing off?"

"Just trust me, okay?" Walter says. "I know what I'm talking about."

"Okay, it's off."

"Good, now reboot it in Safe Mode," Walter instructs. "You need to do this so that you can effectively login as an administrator to the machine."

"You're speaking another language … but sure," I say. "Okay, done. Now what?"

"Now, you'll need to reset the password."

"The password for which account?"

"For the account that's locked," Walter says. "If we're going to gain access to the Illicit Escape software and plans, we'll need to change the administrator password so that we can unlock it all."

"Since when did you get so high-tech on me Walter?" I joke.

"Just here to help, darling. We've got to move quickly."

"Okay, that's done; now what?" I ask. I'm acutely aware of noise now coming from down the hall and I wait a few extra seconds before making any noise in case anyone walks in. After those moments are up, it seems like the coast is clear, so we resume.

"And for the record," I say, "I've given this account a password that no one is ever going to fucking crack. I think there's enough letters, numbers, and symbols for it to be its own equation."

"Nice work," Walter laughs. "Okay, now we'll need to shut this machine off."

"Again?" I ask.

"Yes, shut it off and reboot," Walter says. "When you're turning it back on, you need to immediately hold the F8 key."

"Why is that?" I ask. "Is something about to melt down on me? You'd at least warn me if that was the case, right?"

"Very funny," Walter says. "No, you need to do this so that you can be taken to an advanced menu."

"And what exactly am I looking for on that menu?" I ask.

"You're looking for the advanced boot options."

"Got it!" I say. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. It already feels like an eternity to just get to this point, and all I want to do is get the hell out of here.

"Okay, now insert the USB stick and start downloading all of the data from the I.E. folders."

"It's downloading," I say, clicking them all and pressing the download option. "But it's taking forever Walter! You'd think the connection speeds would be faster in a high-tech company like this. You even said this was one of the most high-tech buildings you'd ever been in." I'm tapping my feet against the floor with nervous energy. I can practically feel the minutes going by, and with every passing minute, the likelihood of someone finding me increases.

My thoughts go back to what Walter and Simon have both told me separately.

There’s no stealing bits of data. It’s either steal the physical prototype or steal all the files.

Because overtime they upgrade the software to fix bugs or whatever, all of the old data becomes useless. They rewrite a whole new operating system. It’s a failsafe to make sure that old data doesn’t get lost or misplaced and a new product reverse engineered.

It also means I have at most 24 hours to get this to Simon once it finishes downloading.

If it finishes downloading that is.

50 percent—75 percent—92 percent—shit, it's stalled on 92 percent.

"Walter, it's frozen on 92 percent!"

"Calm down. Give it a minute."

"We don't have any extra fucking minutes!" Now I'm really stressed. If this data doesn't load—and soon—I'm fucked. I check back at the status bar.

"Oh good—Walter it's done; it's at 100 percent! I'm ejecting the USB stick; we did it."

I pop out the USB drive, and it slips out of my fingers and onto the floor. Shit. I look around, trying to find it. Just great. Where the hell is it? I get down on my knees and search for it, and I finally find it, nestled behind the leg of a chair. As soon as I have it in my hands, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing in here?"

It's Cheryl. Shit.

"I—uh—I just—"

Then I hear Walter in my ear. "Tell her you were looking for an earring that you lost; she'll believe that," he says.

"I was just looking for an earring that I must've dropped," I say.

Cheryl raises one skeptical eyebrow. "You dropped an earring? Here, in Ethan’s office?”

"That's right," I say. "Well, I'm not sure if it was in here, per say. It could be somewhere else, but I just wanted to make sure."

"And why would it be in here?" Cheryl asks. "Or maybe the better question is, why would you have ever needed to be in here? To say the earring might be here is to imply you've spent time here. Only our developers come in here."

"Oh I—uh—I was taking a tour of the place the other day," I say.

"In here?"

“Well, Ethan and I…” I trail off.

Cheryl looks at me. “Ethan and you, what?”

I roll my eyes as if asking her if she really needs me to spell out the fact that we were fucking.

“Right,” Cheryl says after a minute. “You fucked him.”

“Or he fucked me, you know?” I say, giving her some sass. “It was kind of mutual.”

“Do you always sleep with your clients?” Cheryl asks me.

“It’s been my philosophy to get to know someone since high school,” I tell her sweetly as she raises her eyebrows at me. Fuck her. Interrogating me and shit.

"Did you just so happen to develop that philosophy at … say … Man Chasers LLC?" she asks.

When she says this I'm floored. How did she know that? And I'm sure that shock is written all over my face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on Brittney," she says. "Do you think I don't know? I know all about your business."

"This has nothing to do with my business," I say. There's no use lying and trying to tell her that Man Chaser's LLC doesn't exist. She obviously knows all about it. I have to just go with it.

"I hope not," she says.

"Being an actress for Illicit Entertainment has nothing to do with my previous work," I say, confirming my stance.

"For your sake, I hope you're right," Cheryl says. Her gaze has intensified. "Because if you try to pull something here, you'll regret it. That much I can promise."

I've honestly never heard this tone from Cheryl before and it catches me off guard. Our encounters, up till this point, have been cordial.

I mean, I'm now in a hard place. I'm standing here—just moments from being caught, and I have stolen data on a USB drive hidden inside of my thong. I hid it there right when Cheryl came in. This is an act that can land me in jail.

"This has gotten blown way out of proportion," I say. "I was just searching for an earring. I promise."

Cheryl doesn't say anything further, and instead gives me one last icy stare before turning on her heels and walking back out the door. I also leave. My heart is pounding, and I need to get as far away from this place as possible.

"Well that was close," I hear Walter say in my earpiece. He heard that entire conversation, but I nearly forgot he was there.

I whisper back, in a tone that's barely audible so that no one else can hear me, "Yeah, too fucking close for comfort."

I find my things—my change of clothes, and my purse. I pull my cell phone from my purse to check and see if I have any messages, and as I'm scrolling through, a new text message chimes in.

It's from Simon and reads, "DO U HAVE IT YET?"

First off, I hate it when people type in all caps. Do you know what I mean? It's literally one of my biggest pet peeves—in texts, emails, you name it. It's like they're yelling. I'm not a fucking kid; calm down.

So reading Simon's text instantly irritates me on one hand, and on the other hand, it reminds of the stakes. If I don't get this data to Simon quickly, I'm jeopardizing my life.

Just as I'm about to reply, a second text message chimes in. This time, it's from Ethan. It reads: "I'd like to finish what we started in my office. Want to meet up again?"

I'm instantly torn. If I'm honest, I'd love for nothing more than to be back in Ethan's arms, slowly peeling our clothes off and fucking each other until we can't fuck any more. The minute his text chimed in, my pulse quickened in excitement. It was like getting an extra dose of endorphins.

Shit. What am I even saying? And what am I going to do? Am I falling for Ethan?

I've never had these feelings with other men—it was only when Ethan came into my life …

I look at both texts. Do I tell Simon I have the data he's been looking for? If I tell him, he'll demand the USB right now. And if I hand that data to him, it's over.

But if I don’t hand this data over now, then the assignment continues.

This data becomes obsolete in the next few days as they update the software. Whats in my hand becomes junk.

I’ll never be able to look Ethan in the face again… I think for a moment and click on Simon's text, and I begin typing:

"I'm still working on it."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell Simon the truth. Not yet.

I need more time to figure out what's happening. My heart's telling me one thing, and my head's telling me another.


You ever had those moments when you just look back on shit and know that you’re fucking happy?

Like you can feel that yes, you are in fact really happy.

Well, as I leave work, that’s the kind of feeling I'm having. As in even navigating from the heart of Times Square isn’t enough to sour my fucking mood. I mean, you’re talking to the guy who usually has his car come and pick him up so he doesn’t have to walk past the teeming throngs of idiots who think this is some sort of holy fucking shrine to come visit and stand in the middle of the sidewalk as they take pictures of overpriced fucking food carts.

Yeah, that wasn’t me tonight.

Tonight I waved to the security guy outside of Illicit Entertainment and walked with a brisk step uptown up 7th Avenue.

Want to know the really best part about One57? The corner gourmet grocery store that sits right as you walk into the lobby. Seriously, I mean I’m talking fucking grocery store right underneath my apartment.

I pause and pick up some vegetables and a few steaks.


Don’t give me that look. I can cook. Did you really think there was nothing I couldn’t do? I went to fucking UCLA and made myself a billionaire fucking smut lord. I can do any fucking thing I set my mind to.

It’s true, I usually eat out. Or I have my chef prepare my meals. But given the opportunity to, you’d be surprised what I can whip together.

Like today. I’m going to grill some steak and then slice them real thin, and maybe sauté some vegetables and some couscous on the side. I ordered a cake for dessert, but it should be a perfect dinner for two.

That’s right. I said two.

As in Brittney is coming over for dinner.

I know, I know. You’re either squealing in delight because you think she’s going to come over and we’re going to have dinner together, and then fucking cuddle, and then make sweet tender love. Or you’re rolling your eyes and wondering how I went from being the baddest motherfucking CEO in the country to some sort of fucking pussy.

Well, it’s neither.

Sure, I totally acknowledge that Brittney is coming over, and I’m excited to see her. It’s been a long fucking day. And she’s fucking gorgeous. Those tits. So fucking perky. That cute as a button face. That slender body. Oh my God, that ass. I want to rub my cock between those ass cheeks and then cum all over that tight fucking ass.

Try it. Have some guy you know cum on the small of your back. I fucking guarantee you that you will love it, babe.

And don’t look away or wonder who I’m talking to. I’m talking to you. If you have the opportunity to get someone to cum on the small of your back, then do it. Because literally every single girl I’ve ever done that to has cooed and told me the feeling of warm, thick, jizz right there in a sensitive spot has been one of the most pleasurable fucking experiences that they’ve ever felt.

I get out of the elevator and walk to my door. My apartment is the only one on this floor and as usual, it's fucking immaculate. The building has a maid service that usually comes in and cleans once a day—or more—if I need them.

Anyways, what was I even talking about? I was so focused on cumming on ass cheeks. Oh, right. Brittney.

Yeah, she’s coming over for some dinner. Yeah, I’m probably going to fuck the shit out of her. But something about her, I really want to make dinner.

There’s a ring on the doorbell and I open the door. The attendant from the downstairs gourmet food store has all my groceries and I let him in. He proceeds to the kitchen to unpack my purchases.

I mean, sure, I rarely invite girls over to cook dinner for them.

Okay, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked dinner for one girl before. There was one time I invited three girls over and I made some food and fed them while they took turns sucking my cock, individually and then all together. But that was work. We were fucking rehearsing, okay?

I’ve invited girls for a drink before. One, maybe two glasses of wine before the dress is on the fucking floor and I’m ripping the panties.

But dinner?


This is going to be a first for me.

The attendant comes out after loading my kitchen up and nods to me. I tip him as he leaves and pour myself a scotch.

All of a sudden, I’m thinking whether I should just take Brittney to dinner instead. Maybe I’m not ready to cook this girl dinner.

But then, I think of her wide, innocent but sexy looking eyes. How they look, looking up at me. Shit, everything about her face is fucking beautiful. Even her neck is sexy. I just want to fucking kiss it and nibble on it until she’s squirmy.

Her body is out of this world.


There is something fucking wrong here. But one thing I know is not wrong at all.

Making her dinner. It feels like the most right thing in the world.

I start preparing the food. It’s not that hard, really. Chopping vegetables isn’t that big of a deal when you can ask the chef at the store to pre chop it for you so it’s ready. The meat is already marinated and ready to go so I get those ready. The couscous is set to boil.

I put the vegetables on a pan with some olive oil and I turn on the stove.

I have another scotch and think back to how I would have probably fucking kicked myself in the nuts if I ever go back in time and tell myself what I’m doing now.

But fuck it, I have bigger plans.

Bigger goals.

I’d tell you what they are but my doorbell rings again.

That’s odd. It’s a bit early for Brittney to be coming already.

I’m still wearing the apron I put on while cooking and I go to the door.

Yes, I was wearing an apron, okay? I just didn’t fucking tell you because…I mean, it’s not important, is it? I still got the abs underneath. I still got the fucking cock.

And no, I am not fucking taking off the apron to open the door. Not even if it’s…


She raises her eyebrows at me as she sees me holding a cooking spoon with an apron.

“Do I even want to know what kind of weird sex game you’ve got going on?” Cheryl asks as she walks in. I turn around to give her room and she looks around as she comes inside.

She sniffs the air. “What’s that smell?” Cheryl asks me, turning to me and narrowing her eyes.

I shrug.

“Are you cooking?” she asks me.

“So what if I fucking am?” I snap back to her.

Cheryl smiles. “I’m just asking Ethan, it’s okay,” she tells me and takes a step over. “Expecting guests?”

I nod as I close the door and head to the kitchen. I need my scotch.

“Who?” Cheryl asks, as she follows me.

“Just someone I know,” I reply, not sure how to answer.

Okay, I’m going to be honest with you, okay?

It’s not that I don’t know how to say Brittney is coming over.

It’s that I’m not sure why all of a sudden it’s that I don’t want to say Brittney is coming over. I’m a bit worried about…what?

But Cheryl must fucking read my mind or something.

“Is it someone you work with perhaps, hmm?” Cheryl asks, taking a step closer to me. “Someone maybe you hired to be the face for Illicit Entertainment?”

I look toward Cheryl.

“You have Brittney coming over, don’t you?” Cheryl asks me, her eyes narrowing. “You’re cooking dinner for that woman.”

“Does it matter?” I ask with a sigh and turn to face Cheryl. I’m not sure if what I’m doing is the best course of action, but I’m sure as fuck not embarrassed about it. But enough is enough.

“Do you know anything about that woman, Ethan?” Cheryl asks me sharply. “Do you know anything about what you look like when you’re around her?”

I stare at Cheryl as she continues.

“She’s changing you right in front of my eyes,” Cheryl says. “You used to be an asshole, now look at yourself. Cooking dinner.”

“I can still take care of things that need to be done,” I tell Cheryl and take off my apron and grab my glass of scotch and walk out of the kitchen.

Fuck, did you just hear what that sounded like? Did I just fucking say take off my apron?

And I’m supposed to be the bad boy? Jesus fucking Christ.

“You can’t walk away from this Ethan,” Cheryl says, following me out. “There are thousands of employees who depend on your leadership, and if you’re placing it in danger by falling for that woman it’s my job to look out for you…and them,” Cheryl tells me as she follows me out.

“I’m not walking away from it, Cheryl,” I tell her coldly as I go toward the door, open it, and turn to her. “I’m showing you out so I can enjoy my evening in peace.”

Cheryl looks at me and pauses. Finally she sighs.

“I can only try to keep warning you, Ethan,” she tells me. “You may think you’re following your heart, but you could just as easily be getting played. Don’t forget how you know her in the first place.”

And with that piece of profound advice, Cheryl turns around and walks into the open elevator as the doors close.


I know she’s right. I should probably be a bit more careful.

If only I could stop thinking about Brittney for a moment, I might have a chance to listen to my fucking brain.


"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Walter,” I say from the back seat of the limo as Walter drives me towards Illicit Escape.

We’re weaving our way towards Times Square. It’s been two days since I went over to see Ethan, have dinner at his place, and fuck his brains out.

"Are you forgetting that we have a job to finish here?" he asks. He's looking me straight in the eyes with a serious gaze.

Since I stole the data from Ethan’s office, there have been four software upgrades. The data I had was junk literally 24 hours after I had it. I gave the USB device to Simon yesterday who tried to run it on his computer in his office before throwing it against the wall and then getting up and stomping it.

"I know; I haven't forgotten," I say thinking back to Simon’s frustration yesterday and threats to give Robert a call. "But did you forget the icy tone in Cheryl's voice in his office? She's onto me. She isn't messing around. If she finds out what we've done; I'm in serious trouble. This won't be some little slap on the wrist. I'll do prison time, Walter. I mean, you saw the NDA I signed, right?" I say. By the look in my eyes, he knows I'm serious too, but he then tries to lighten the situation.

"You're being paranoid," Walter says. "That's all. You're letting the stress get to you, darling. This is a big job. I get it. But buck up. This job is nearly done. You've done tougher things in the past. Are you forgetting all of your past clients? I honestly don't know why you're letting this job get to you … more so than anything else you've done. Let's just finish this now."

Those words make my mood sink even lower. The job's almost complete. I know what you’re thinking. How can the job be over if the data I stole is now junk?

I’ll tell you why.

I’m inside.

I’ the face of Illicit Escape.

So what the data I stole has gone bad?

I can try again. And if I don’t succeed, I can maybe try again. And if I still don’t succeed, I can even at the end steal the physical prototype somehow.

Yeah, don’t roll your eyes, hun. What I’m trying to say is that there are options.

I should be happy. Walter's right. I will have made more money than I've made with a single client before, and I'll be safe from Robert. This is just one job of many. You'd think these facts alone would have me finding Simon and throwing the I.E. data straight into the palm of his hand and calling it a day.

But that's not how I'm feeling. That's not exactly what I want to do. Are you following?

This is new territory for me. I've always been able to handle any job. But I may have just met my match. Maybe I bit off more than I can handle with this one. But did I have a choice? Simon basically threatened my life if I didn't take this on.

How can I explain any of this to Walter? He'd just say that I'm overanalyzing things.

He's known me forever. He'd just keep telling me to relax.

He'd also say I'm not thinking clearly. That I need to take a deep breath and steady my thoughts. Get my head screwed back on straight. To stop being a 'negative Nancy' in that off English accent of his.

The car stops outside the Illicit Entertainment offices in Times Square and Walter gets out to open my door.

"Okay, here you are darling," Walter says. We are both standing outside the Illicit Entertainment headquarters. "While you're in your shoot, I'll make my way to Ethan's office and plant the bugs; I have three—one underneath his desk, one behind a wall socket, and one buried in this potted plant here. I added a nice note from you, for a bit of realism. He'll never suspect a thing."

I look at the plant in Walter's arm. It's a potted plant with a pink ribbon around its pot and a card that reads simply, "Love Brittney." Shit. That makes me feel awful.

"Do we really have to plant these bugs?" I ask.

"To get this job done, yes," he says. "I could potentially install a shotgun mic outside of his office window, and it's very good at recording conversations, but given the fact that his office isn't on the ground floor, that wouldn't be practical. In fact, I'm not even sure that's possible."

I nod to Walter. My insides are in knots. Literal knots that make me want to curl up in a ball, or maybe under a rock. I feel sick. How did I end up in this situation?

I feel like one of the worst possible people on the planet for what I'm about to do to Ethan. I know he has this bad boy image, but underneath it all, he's a good guy. It's true. He doesn't deserve this. All of these thoughts are going through my mind as I stand here in the Illicit Entertainment lobby and wait for the elevator.

Can I actually go through with this? Should I tell Ethan what I've been up to? Sure, he may refuse to talk to me ever again after he finds out—I may never see him again, and I wouldn't blame him. And that's the price I'd have to pay. But maybe he wouldn't react that way. Maybe he'd respect me for coming clean. For realizing the whole thing was wrong. Maybe if he knew how I ended up here, he'd understand.

Suddenly, the elevator opens. I turn my body, facing forward, and I see Cheryl. Her wavy brown hair seems to have a shine to it now; it seems more golden. Is it the lighting down here? She looks over at me and smiles. I smile back.

What kind of a smile was that? I wonder. One minute, she's giving me an icy stare and is interrogating me in the computer room—her eyes gazing at me like they could burn a hole right through me, and now this? She smiled at me as if she has received some sort of validation. Has she come to some sort of realization? My brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out what exactly that smile was all about.

Then, she speaks. "See you at tomorrow's shoot."

It was all so cordial and happy. Where did all of her icy unease disappear to?

"Wait… actually, can I ask a big favor?" she says, looking at Walter and I.

We both look at each other and back at her, and I say, "Sure."

"Is there any way Walter could take me home?" Cheryl asks. "It would really save me from having to get a cab. I'd really appreciate it."

I look at Walter and he looks at me.

"I don't see why not," I say.

"It's no problem, just tell me where to go," Walter says. "I'm assuming you live nearby?"

Cheryl smiles again. "It's not too far. Thank you so much; you're saving me quite a bit of hassle today."

We all walk out of the lobby and to the limo. Walter holds the door open for us and Cheryl and I both scoot into the long, black leather seat. "I could get used to sitting in this every day," she jokes.

Walter drives her to her apartment and I notice that she lives close to Ethan. When she leaves, I'm struck with a thought and I turn to Walter.

I say, "Drive me to Ethan's apartment."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Walter asks. He has a look of concern flash across his face. I guess I can understand where he's coming from. I've been an emotional rollercoaster today.

"Yes," I say. "I need to see him."

"Okay, anything you say," Walter replies, and he drives to One57. When we pull up to the massive building, I nearly jump out.

"Thank you Walter," I say. "I'll call you in a little bit."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, darling."

I give him a wink and enter the building. I take the elevator to Ethan's floor, and the higher up I travel, the more nervous energy I have. I find myself pacing back and forth in the elevator until the doors slide open and I walk into the hall, directly facing Ethan's apartment. I get the courage to walk forward and I knock. At first, I don't hear a sound, and then I hear his footsteps approaching.

He opens the door.

I see his cobalt blue eyes and that smile.

"I was hoping you'd come," he says. "I have a surprise for you."

Just standing her in front of him. Just seeing him. A flood of emotion runs through me. Is what I'm feeling real? Is this just lust, or something else?

If what I'm feeling turns out to be real … I'll have to tell him.

I'll have to come clean.


I’m sitting on the balcony watching something on my tablet. It’s pretty engrossing and I don’t even notice the sounds of the New York City traffic below.


No, you can’t see what I’m looking at.

I think that I already fucking share enough with you as it is, you know? It’s nothing personal. It’s just something that I want to keep to myself for now. I’m sure later on you’ll find out in time.

But let me just tell you one thing.

What’s on this fucking tablet is explosive. I mean, if you saw it, you would probably be fucking pissed at me. Maybe you’d tell me to do something that I’m not prepared to do right now. This book would be over because I’d walk the fuck away if you told me that.

Yes, fine. It has to do with Brittney, but that’s all you’re getting out of me, babe.

Besides I can’t answer any more. Don’t you hear the doorbell? She’s here.

I go inside, make sure to turn off my tablet and put it on the table before opening the door.

She’s standing there in a slinky black strapless dress that comes down five inches above her knees.

It's fucking classy and sexy at the same time. I don't even know how it's fucking possible but it makes me want to hold her close and protect her while ripping it off and fucking her at the same goddamn time.

Her face is made up and it’s beautiful. But my dick would be as hard as it is now if she had no makeup on.

God, I need to get a hold of myself.

"I was hoping you'd come," I say. "I have a surprise for you."

She looks at me like she’s seen a ghost.

“Come on in,” I tell her and she walks by. I turn to look at her ass as she walks by. That dress is tight around the ass and I watch those cheeks as they flex as she walks. Fucking Christ, I’m fucking hard already.

You’re shaking your fucking head at me, huh? I know. Don’t think I can’t see you. Yeah, I’m not ashamed or anything. Fuck that. I want to squeeze that ass. Rub it and knead it. Like fucking dough. I want to run my cock over it. Stick it in between those ass cheeks. I want to smack that fucking ass.

Then when I’m ready I want to fucking cum all over.

Mark it as mine.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I take a step over toward Brittney. The look in my eyes should probably tell her what I'm going to do to her—how I’m going to take her like the fucking savage beast that I am.

“Ethan,” she says to me, and I automatically hear something in her voice that makes me stop. “I need to tell you something.”


Outwardly, I’m calm. My brain may be consumed by lust, but you can’t tell looking at me from the outside. Sure, maybe if you grab my cock, you can tell. But if you’re doing that, then you’re probably thinking the same thing as I am.

Why am I all of a sudden like this? That’s what you want to know, isn't it?

Because of what I saw on the fucking tablet.

Yeah, the same thing I can’t tell you about yet.

Don’t pout. I just had to fucking do that. I’m going to fucking miss you when this book is over; you know that, don’t you?

Anyways, we’re far from done now, because Brittney is looking at me and I can tell she’s starting to waver in whatever she had committed to doing.

“Let’s sit down,” I tell her, and I take her hand and lead her to the sofa where I sit her down next to me.

I can smell her fucking perfume. It’s fucking addictive and it makes my nostrils flare up.

“What did you want to tell me?” I ask, looking at her.

Brittney looks down.

“Hey,” I tell her. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just a secret that I’ve been keeping from you,” she tells me. I nod. Every one of us has fucking secrets. That’s nothing new.

If you want to know my secrets, you’ll go turn on that tablet. But you can’t.

Yeah, I’m an asshole sometimes. I know.

“Babe, it’s okay,” I tell her, holding her chin with my hand and lifting her face. “You can tell me anything, but you don’t have to tell me everything.”

Brittney looks at me for a second. “You know I used to do porn, right?” she asks me.

I nod. I mean, I never outright asked her specifically if she used to be a porn star, but it was always something I suspected. And there was something about her face that seems kind of familiar…

“I always thought,” I say still nodding, “But I never really knew for sure.”

“I lived in Los Angeles for the longest time and I sort of drifted into the business,” she tells me, looking at me intently, seeing what my reaction is going to be. “I came to New York to get away from it.”

“Well, you seemed to do a good job of that, babe,” I tell her, smiling a bit to show her that it’s okay. I can tell she's fucking on edge—looking to see any sign of me being upset. “You’re going to be the first Illicit Escape girl. I don't know if that’s leaving the business entirely.”

“But that’s not what I thought I’d be doing when I came to New York,” she tells me, and she scoots closer. “I honestly thought I’d be leaving porn forever. I brought my assistant with me, Walter. And we set up a business together.”

I nod. Walter reminds me of Cheryl in a lot of ways from the few times I’ve seen him here and there as I’ve met Brittney.

“Okay,” I say, scooting a bit closer. “So you used to do porn. I’m in porn too,” I tell her.

“But it’s what I did afterwards, that I want to tell you about,” she tells me, struggling to get the words out.

“What did you do afterwards?” I ask, now getting genuinely interested.

“I started a company, where women would come to me, and they’d tell me about the men they wanted me to fuck, and I’d seduce them for money,” she says to me, letting it all come out in a rush. “They wanted to get proof that these men were assholes and were cheating on them so they’d have grounds for divorce.”

“They couldn’t just get a private investigator?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t always so easy. The husbands, maybe they weren’t cheating then, but they were still ignoring and mistreating their wives. Sometimes it was just that the husbands weren’t traveling. But the wives knew the love was gone. And they wanted out of the marriage. They came to me.”

I’m silent. Brittney continues.

“I’m the CEO of a company called Man Chasers, LLC, Ethan,” she confides. “And for the longest time I thought I didn’t need a man in my life at all. That they were nothing but a waste of time.”

I don't know what to fucking say.

“But then I kinda met you,” she finishes off with.

She’s looking at me. Waiting for me to fucking say something.

I move my eyes back to her. She’s so fucking cute as a button.

“I’ve never spent as much time with a single woman as I have with you,” I tell her. It’s the fucking truth. “I’ve never spent so much time fucking thinking about a woman as I do when you’re not around, Brit,” I say.

She gasps as I pull her close to me.

“And I could care less that you’ve been in fucking porn as long as you’re here with me right fucking now, babe,” I continue forcefully. “I could care less that you made a job to find out cheating scumbags and have them pay for being assholes.”

Brittney starts to smile and I pull her over to me all the way. She comes willingly.

“No one has fucking affected me. Ever. Like you,” I tell her. I’m telling her the truth. “When you first walked in that door, I fucking wanted to bang the shit out of you. I wanted to fucking smack your ass till you cried out and suck on your tits as I fucked you. I wanted to cum all over that fucking gorgeous body you got, babe,” I say to her, as serious as I’ve ever been in my life.

“That’s so romantic, Ethan,” she says with a teasing grin, as she rests her body on my chest. I can feel her. Every inch of her. Pressed against me. It’s fucking heaven. “You don’t want me to do that anymore?”

Fuck. This is where you’re going to think I’m fucking crazy. Especially if you saw what I saw on the tablet. But you didn’t. So you’re going to have to trust me that I know what's best.

I reach over to the cigar box on the coffee table. I open it and pull out the only existing prototype of Illict Escape.

Brittney’s eyes go wide.

“Is that…” she trails off.

“Yeah,” I tell her hoarsely. “It’s the only copy to date that we’ve made of Illicit Escape. And yes, I still want to fuck your brains out. But I trust you, babe. And I want you to experience what this is going to be like.”

Brittney’s eyes go wide and I can see that they’re going to tear up.

She’s fucking overwhelmed. The super secret project. Guarded so fucking closely.

And I’m about to let her in.

I take the glasses and put them on her. They’re spare and very minimal—single rimmed and unobtrusive.

I pull over my tablet. It’ll let me see what she sees.

“Let’s go for a ride, baby,” I tell her.

Then I power it on.


“Let’s do this,” I whisper, anxiety suddenly kicking in. I have no idea what Ethan's device really does, but I’m more than eager to find out.

“Are you sure, babe? I’ll be watching everything and I know this is… personal.” I look into his eyes, my heart drumming a song of desire and hesitancy, and I just nod. It’s an automatic movement, but one that I know is the right one. I can’t believe this is happening but… I think I’m falling for him. I want him to see what’s inside of my head, and I want him to see the way all my deepest desires revolve around him and only him. The moment he placed the glasses on me, I knew I wanted to do this. I just didn’t know how much.

“I want to do it… I want you to see,” I whisper, my heart pounding at a frantic pace. What the hell am I doing? I have no idea what’s going to happen once this thing gets going. Once again, the winds of hesitancy run wild inside my head; am I really this sure that I want to share what I’m about to experience with him? When the answer comes, it couldn’t be any clearer: of course I do.

There’s a bright flash of light coming from the rim of the glasses, and it starts to pulse at a steady rhythm. It spreads to the lenses, and I have to close my eyes; still, the red flashes of light are so strong that they manage to get past my shut eyelids. Slowly, the flashes starts to dim, the light pulsing at a more gently rhythm, and I open my eyes.

It’s weird, but I don’t see a thing. There’s just darkness, as if I’ve gone blind. I have no idea how this Illicit Escape thing works, but it has taken complete control of my sight. I can still feel the glasses sitting on the bridge of my nose, but I can’t see them anymore. Then, like a fog that starts to clear, I see a flicker in the distance, an oasis right in the middle of the darkness.

Even though I’m sitting, I feel myself moving as I walk toward the light in the distance. It seems that the Illicit Escape not only affects what you can see, but all of your other senses as well. Oh, this is going to be good … Really good.

As I close in on the object, I realize it’s a mirror. There’s no illumination in this empty and dark virtual place I’m in, so it seems the flat surface of the mirror isn’t reflecting any light; instead, it’s from there that the light comes. From the other side of the mirror, my reflection looks straight into my eyes.

My hair is tied up in a ponytail, and I’m wearing nothing aside from a pair of high-heels, black stockings, and a matching pair of black lace panties and bra. My lips are painted with a deep red, the color of wine, and I can’t help but lift one finger and brush it over my mouth. It’s a strange feeling. I feel my real body frozen in place, but my body in this dream world reacts, and I touch my lips with one fingertip. And I can actually feel it.

This is insane; this thing has to be worth millions and millions of dollars. No, scratch that… We’re talking billions here. This is so far beyond what anyone has managed to pull off. Once he launches Illicit Pleasures, Ethan will become the undisputed King of Porn… And I bet that it won’t take long for his VR technology to make him as rich as God once he ventures outside of the sex industry. No wonder Simon is dying to get his hands on this prototype. Forget about porn, this is a game changer.

My thought process doesn’t take long to derail. I see someone moving in the mirror, drawing close, and I turn on my heels to face him. Ethan is standing right behind me, wearing what looks like a million dollar suit; from the crisp white shirt to the polished black shoes, everything on him seems arranged to perfection.

“Hello, Brittney,” he says, gently smiling, and he sounds just like the real Ethan.

“Hello,” I hear myself responding, even though my real lips aren’t moving. The longer I spend with the glasses, the more they seem to be working their magic on me. There’s already a noticeable change taking place; it all looked so life like, but now… It just seems real.

“Ready for the ride of your life?” The Ethan in front of me tells me, undoing his tie at the same time. “I’m here to do… whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want,” I repeat after him, the words taking on an almost mystical sound. His smile turns into a grin, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt then, his fingers moving with maddening patience. As his chiseled pectorals and abs come into view, my pussy starts to grow wet. Oh, when all this is over, I’m getting one of these glasses.

Once Ethan takes off his shirt, he unbuckles his belt and pulls it out. Without taking his eyes off of me, he joins the two ends of the belt in his hand, and then snaps it tight.

“Close your eyes,” he commands me, and I feel that steady pulse of light against my eyelids again. Once it subsides, I open my eyes again and my surroundings have changed; we’re in an enormous room now, and there’s a bed right in the middle of it. The floor is all carpeted in red, and so are the walls; there are no windows or doors in this place, and the illumination seems to come from the top and bottom corners of the room. Ethan remains in front of me, though, his chest bare and the belt in his hand.

Without saying a word, I know what he wants me to do. I saunter toward the bed, and bending over, I jut my ass back as I place my hands on top of the mattress. Somehow, the machine is reading my innermost desires, pulling them out from their unconscious slumber and turning them into something tangible.

“Use me, Ethan,” I find myself saying, my whole body tensing up as I prepare for the impact of the belt. To my surprise, it doesn’t come; instead, he simply brushes the leather belt against my ass cheeks, gently moving it up and down. He’s teasing me; it seems that the machine is devious enough to not only know what you want… but also what you need.

“Beg,” his word seems like a command from a god, and my insides clench in response. My thong is already drenched in my wetness, and I feel it sticking to my skin. By now, I can’t even feel my real body; my world is now inside this reality. Still, I’ll bet that my real thong is as soaked my digital one.

“Please, Ethan…” I whisper, getting the words out between breaths. He keeps brushing the belt against me as if he didn’t hear me, making me want his sweet punishment even more. As he takes the belt off of my ass, he places one finger between my ass cheeks and over the small string of my thong, and slides it over to my back. I can’t help but moan as I feel his touch and then, just like that, he takes his finger out and I feel him moving behind me; in a heartbeat, the belt lands heavily on my ass, the sound of it blending in with my scream.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, whipping me across the ass again. The dry sound of the leather hitting my flesh crawls all the way up to my brain, and I can barely think straight.

“Yes, yes,” I repeat as he slaps me with the belt again, hard enough to leave a mark. I never cared too much about being roughed up like this, but with Ethan it just seems… Inevitable. He’s a dominant man, and what better way than this for me to feel his dominance?

Slapping my ass repeatedly, he only stops when my skin seems to be on fire. My eyes are closed, but I hear the belt falling on the carpeted floor. In an instant, he’s on me, his bare chest pressed against my back; his hands go straight to my breasts, and he squeezes them eagerly over my bra, pulling one cup down and baring my hard nipple. He pinches it between two of his fingers and a loud moan jumps out of my mouth.

“I want to fuck you…” he whispers against my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he speaks. “To devour you…” When he pulls back, his fingers go from my breasts to my back and with a quick flick of his fingers, he undoes the clasp on my bra. I shiver as he pulls it down my arms, and then simply throws it somewhere on the floor.

“Devour me then,” I moan, and as if my words were a command, he goes down on his knees. My skin prickles as his fingers slide down my skin, and then they finally stop on my waistline when they meet my thong; hooking his fingers there, he slowly starts to pull on my drenched underwear. I lean forward as I feel him pushing the fabric stuck between my ass cheeks, and then my skin prickles as it easily slides down my legs. Now, wearing only stockings and high heels, I’m more than ready for him to devour me. And that’s exactly what he does: placing both his hands on my ass cheeks, he pushes me forward and I bend even more; then, he leans into me.

I feel the tip of his tongue running between my soaked folds and I can’t help but tremble in place, lust raging through my veins. As his tongue goes back and forth, my mind starts to go through a slow boil, and it doesn’t take long for me to thrust back. As I do it, he matches my movement and goes all the way in as well; he crushes his mouth against my pussy and starts to suck immediately, jabbing with his tongue.

I sway my hips from side to side, rubbing my wetness all over his face and feeling electric sparks travel all the way up my spine and make their home inside my mind. My thoughts are crashing against one another, and it’s almost impossible to focus on anything… Anything besides the electric pleasure that consumes me, that is.

“Keep going… Don’t stop…” I moan, thrusting back against him even harder. Loyal to my words, he starts devouring me as if he needed to do it to survive. Working me with his whole mouth, he does in such that a way that the electricity pooling in my brain starts a fire, scorching whatever rationality was still inside of me.

Curling my fingers and grabbing at the sheets, I bunch them up as my muscles turn into solid concrete. Electricity and fire turns into pent-up tension and then, in just a heartbeat, all that tension goes free. I go down on my elbows as my muscles start to spasm, my heart drumming so furiously it seems ready to burst at any given moment.

“OH GOD…!” I cry out, somehow managing not to scream. Somewhere in my mind, I know that I’m still sitting in front of Ethan, in the real world… And as I moan and scream, I’m also vaguely aware that I’m doing it for real. Not that it matters; the real Ethan is probably watching everything that’s happening inside my head on his iPad. And that… Well, that just makes me even hornier.

As the orgasm starts to subside, Ethan doesn’t allow me a break; he pulls back from me, takes a deep breath, and then dives in again. He starts to suck me as eagerly as before, but this time he runs one hand up my leg and presses one finger right on top of my clit. I tremble as I feel the pressure there, but I remain in place, trying to ride the waves of pleasure without falling off.

As if he knows what I want him to do next, he runs his tongue between my inner lips and then keeps going upward. I sigh as his finger goes down from my clit and he pushes it inside of me, curling it in a hook motion until it meets my G-spot. I scream loudly, and as I do it, he presses his mouth right between my ass cheeks.

“Oh, God…” I moan again, Ethan flicking his tongue at my asshole as he keeps on rubbing my G-spot, the two sensations raising a whirlwind of pleasure inside of me. I just came, but I’m about to do it again. Christ, someone give a Nobel Prize to the brains behind Illicit Escape: this thing is so good it might just make sex between two real people almost obsolete. Almost being the key word, of course. Nothing beats the nitty gritty of having a man like Ethan fucking your brains out. Nothing.

Licking my ass in much the same way as he was licking my pussy, he starts to press harder against my G-spot. Time seems to stretch all around me, and the flames of pleasure are growing at a relentless pace. Even though I still feel the remains of my first orgasm fluttering in my head, I’m ready to go again.

My eyes close by instinct, and in that same moment, fireworks go off behind my eyelids. My eyes roll in their orbits and I fall forward, collapsing on top of the mattress as I flail my limbs. It’s almost like having a seizure, but one that I wouldn’t mind if it lasted forever.

I’m still shaking when I feel Ethan’s fingers on my wrist. He pulls one arm upward, and I offer no resistance as he places something metallic on my wrist. I open my eyes just in time to see him handcuffing me to the bedposts, but I do nothing to dissuade him; this is exactly what I want.

He goes around the bed and handcuffs my other hand, forcing me to go on all fours. With both my arms tied to the bedposts, there’s really no other position for me to be in.

“Now… You’re mine,” he says, his words oozing a kind of primitive power. Yes, I’m his, there’s no doubt about that.

“Then treat me like it…” I whisper, trying hard to keep my neck straight. My muscles are still reeling from the orgasm, and if it wasn’t for the handcuffs, I don’t know if I’d be able to get up at all from the mattress.

“I intend to,” he tells me, and then climbs on top of the bed. Stepping over my arms, he goes up to his feet, and looks down at me. “You have no idea how much I’m enjoying the view from up here,” he continues, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his legs. I swallow hard as I see his hard cock straining against his boxer briefs, and I half-expect it to simply rip its way out of the fabric. With a wild grin on his lips, he kicks off his pants and then takes off his boxers, throwing all of his clothes out of the bed. My heart skips a beat as his cock springs free, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Desire steering me, I crane my neck, trying to go for it with my mouth, but he keeps himself out of reach.

“I want it… Now. I want you to fuck my mouth…” I plead, straining against the handcuffs and crawling closer to him. As a response, he flexes his knees slightly and brushes his glans against the space between my lips; my eyelids droop by instinct, and I feel the saltiness of his pre-cum on my tongue.

I open my mouth as wide as I can and, seizing the opportunity, he thrusts, allowing his shaft to roll all the way in. There’s a wet sound when his tip hits the back of my throat, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about the way he’s filling up my mouth. Somehow, I guess they’ve found a way to engineer the inconvenient details of sex out of the whole experience… If you ask me, I love every single inconvenient detail about it. There’s nothing like almost choking on a 12-inch long cock.

“That’s it… Suck on it, you’ve been dying to,” he whispers, slowly sliding his cock out. He goes back until only his glans is inside of me, and then he thrusts again, with the same abruptness of before. He repeats this motion for God knows how long; I’ve lost all notion of time, and as far as I’m concerned, I could spend an eternity like this.

As he thrusts, I start to bob my head back and forth, trying to match his rhythm. Forgetting that I’m handcuffed, I try and reach for his cock, but the metallic cuffs stop me. Burning with frustration, I simply start to suck him as hard as I can, forcing my mouth to move at a breakneck speed. I go so fast that he stops moving and simply remains in place as I completely devour his cock.

Pulling back suddenly, I let his cock pop out of my mouth; then, moving as fast I can, I tilt my head and reach for his shaft with my tongue. I trace his whole length, going down until my lips finally meet his balls. There, I place my lips against one and suck it in; I roll it inside my mind, lapping at it with my tongue, and then I do the same with the other one. As I let my tongue slide back up his shaft, he suddenly places one hand on my head and tangles his fingers on my hair. Holding my head in place with just one hand, he uses the other one to grab his cock and then thrusts at my mouth once more.

I open my mouth as wide as I can, completely surrendering to the way he starts to fuck my little mouth. Fuck, I know that none of this is really happening, but this is almost too much for me… This feels so good it should be illegal. But perhaps it isn’t really the Illicit Escape machinery doing all the heavy lifting; perhaps my more than fertile imagination is helping matters. Whatever the reason, all I know is that I’m having the time of my life right now.

A sudden urge growling inside of me, I pull out and look him straight in the eye. I take a deep breath, and then I finally blurt out what I want him to do to me.

“I want… I want you to…” I start, panting, but he cuts me short.

“I know what you want… And once I’m doing it, you’ll be screaming like you never did before.” With that, he steps over my locked arms, and places himself behind me. I feel the mattress shifting under his weight as he moves, and he goes down to his knees as I look back at him over my shoulder.

I gasp as, without expecting it, he slaps me across my ass with the back of his hand. He does it over and over again, the sound of his hand hitting my cheeks echoing all across the virtual room. It hurts when his hand lands on my ass, but by the time my nerve endings transmit that to my brain, it has already turned into pleasure.

“Fuck me, just fuck me,” I cry out loud, and I don’t need to say more. His smacks stop immediately, and then he presses his thick glans against my pussy lips. This time, he doesn’t tease me mercilessly; no, this time he takes me by assault, thrusting at once. His cock pushes back against my insides harshly, and he drives it so deep into me that I can’t help but let out a violent scream. I feel the muscles in my neck straining, and my throat is growing raw. Right now, I’m not even sure if I’m just screaming inside this VR world or if I’m also doing it in real life… But who cares anyway? There are more pressing matters right now, like the gigantic cock inside of my pussy.

With both hands resting on my hips, Ethan starts to thrust, rocking his hips back and forth as he ravages me with his cock. Each thrust of his is like lightning and thunder, a furious storm already looming on the horizon. This isn’t exactly like the real thing but… it comes close.

Gritting my teeth, I hiss as a viper, and then I come undone. I’m screaming loud enough to shatter glass, and both my throat and eardrums are complaining. Still, I have to do it; pleasure rages through my veins with an implacable intensity, and there’s no denying it. As I come, Ethan stops thrusting and simply buries his cock as deep as possible inside of me, waiting for the waves of pleasure to recede. When they finally do, he pulls his cock out, and without a moment’s break, starts to rub its tip between my ass cheeks.

“Yes… Fuck me in the ass,” I hear myself saying, my voice sounding more and more like a whimper. He presses his glans against my hole, and simply holds it there, allowing the anticipation to build in my mind. When I finally can’t take it anymore, I thrust back and he matches my movement; his cock strains against my insides, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He buries his cock up to the hilt in my ass, and then pulls back as slowly as possible. I’m grabbing at the sheets, bunching them up as the whip of pleasure lashes at every single one of my nerve endings.

With each passing second, the rhythm of his thrusts grows more and more. Soon enough, he’s fucking my ass without a single drop of mercy. I’m still screaming, even though my throat should be too sore for me to do it. Endorphins coursing through my veins like a drug, I still feel the pleasure waves from the last orgasm lapping at my mind as a new one blankets me.

My insides clench as I come, and I let my head fall. If it weren’t for the handcuffs, I’d just collapse on top of the bed and surrender to a convulsion of ecstasy. As it is, I hang there limply, shaking and trembling with my arms hanging up in the air.

“Fuck… This was… This was so good,” I whimper as he pulls his cock out of me. Without saying a word, he climbs down from the bed and goes around it; producing a key from God knows where, he releases both my hands and grins at me.

“Tired?” he asks me, a note of defiance to his words. “There’s a lot more to come, babe. I’m insatiable.”

I open my mouth to respond, but something snaps inside of me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and wait until I feel my real body. Like before, I’m still sitting down, the glasses on my face; I reach for them, and finally, I feel my real hand moving. My fingers are trembling, but I still manage to grab the glasses. With one quick movement, I pull them off of my face.

“Christ,” I mutter as the light in the room crashes against my eyes. I blink twice, floating down from the dream state I was in. Ethan is sitting in a chair in front of me, his mouth slightly ajar as he looks down at the iPad he has in his hands. A warning goes off in his screen, and he raises his head to look at me.

“So?” he simply asks, eager to hear my thoughts. I can’t help but notice that there’s a thick and hard shape straining against his pants.

“It was…” Fuck, how can I possible describe something like this? I’m soaking wet right now, and my own fluids have drenched my thong and ran down my thighs. I’m a wet mess, and all because of Ethan’s Illicit Escape glasses. Not knowing what to say, I simply place the glasses back in their box and go up to my feet. In two steps I cover the distance between Ethan and I, and opening my legs, I sit on his lap, straddling him. “It was… amazing. It’s brilliant.” I tell him, trying to say something mildly interesting. I quickly give up on it, though; there’s no way I can focus on this right now. “I want the real thing,” I whisper, leaning in. It doesn’t matter how good what I just went through was… Nothing beats real life, and right now, I need a hefty dose of it.

“Now you’re talking…” he tells me, grabbing my hair by the root and yanking on it. He places his free hand on my dress and just rips it open. The sound of the fabric tearing apart makes me even wetter, although I have no idea how that's even possible. Pulling harshly, he ruins my dress completely, and simply discards it to the floor without a second thought.

Following his lead, I place both my hands on his chest and tear his shirt open. The buttons pop out at once, and scatter themselves on the floor as I flatten the palm of my hands against his chiseled muscles.

I raise my hips slightly and take my hands to his crotch. Doing my best to steady my fingers, I unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, and pull his cock out. I feel his warmness against my hand, and the desire to have him inside of me simply overwhelms me. He’s in the same state as I am; moving suddenly, he places his fingers against my pussy and flicks my thong to the side. The moment I feel the fabric sliding against my skin, I curl my fingers around his shaft, and keeping it still, ease myself down.

The moment I feel him in my pussy, I let out one loud scream. My throat hurts from the effort and I realize that, while I had the glasses on, I was really moaning and screaming throughout the whole thing.

“You have a dirty, dirty mind,” he whispers against my ear, thrusting as hard as he can. I moan in response, and he continues to speak. “You can’t imagine how fucking hard I got seeing what you did with me…”

To know that he saw everything that was going on inside my mind makes my head spin. It’s almost as if someone could peer into your dreams and record it. Voyeurism at its extreme, and I fucking love it.

“Well, what can I say?” I place my arms over his shoulders and I start to sway my hips, riding him hard. “When it comes to you, I have no limits.” I move over his cock as fast as I can, and I already feel ecstasy bubbling up to the surface. No wonder—after coming so many times without going through the motions, my body is aching for some real release.

It comes quickly and without warning: my pussy clenches around his shaft and I lean into him, digging my fingernails into his back. A convulsion of pleasure takes over my body and I feel it shaking as it never did before. I feel my brain frying up, and the fire under my skin scorches every single one of my nerve endings. This is Heaven, pure and simple.

Not wanting to lose momentum, I climb down from him, making his cock pop out of me in the process. My legs grow weak as I stand up, and I fall down to my knees; not that I care, this is exactly what I want.

Without waiting a single second to see his reaction, I grab his cock and go for it, planting my lips on his tip. My own scent and flavor hits me, and I just let go completely. I roll my lips down his shaft and I go all the way down, only stopping when I meet the skin at the root of his cock. This time, when his glans hits the back of my throat, there’s some discomfort as I struggle to breath; and this is exactly what makes the real thing so much better. The way I see it, the best things in life are the hardest ones? Why should it be any different when it comes to sex?

Bobbing my head up and down, I wrap my fingers around his shaft at the same time, and then start to move my hand at the same rhythm of my mouth. Sucking and stroking, it doesn’t take very long for a slight spasm to take over his cock. After spending God knows how long watching me being fucked by his virtual self, he must be aching for release even more than I was. I mean, at least I was coming throughout the whole thing, when all he could do was stare.

Without warning, his cock spasms harshly, and just like that, a flood of cum fills my mouth. All it takes is two spasms for my mouth to be brimming with semen, thick strands of it dripping down my chin. I pull back immediately, but he keeps on shooting, hitting me straight in the face with his cum.

I keep stroking him as he cums, forcing him to unleash his load upon my half naked body. I’m still wearing my bra and thong; there was no time to take these off when all I needed was to have him inside of me, and I’m sure it will all go straight to the laundry once I leave.

Still holding all his cum inside my mouth, I go up to my feet as soon as he stops shooting his load. I straddle him again, and not leaving him the time to react, lean in and press my mouth against his. I push my tongue against his mouth and force him to part his lips; he obliges and we submit to a frenzied kiss, our tongues swapping his cum as if it were the most delicious thing in the whole universe.

When I pull back from his kiss, exhaustion finally takes over me. My body grows limp, and if he wasn’t holding me I’d fall straight to the floor. Smiling, he pulls his pants up and picks me up, carrying me in his arms. I feel myself drifting off, and the moment he lays me down on his soft bed, I’m a goner.

God, why did it take this long for me to find out that there are men like Ethan walking around?


When I open my eyes, it’s already morning. I blink twice as my brain reboots, trying to figure out where the hell I am. Cotton sheets are covering my naked body, and behind me, there’s another naked body—Ethan’s. All at once, the memories of last night flood me. God, that was intense; Ethan’s VR glasses left me spent and exhausted, and then we fucked as if we just had a few minutes to live. No wonder I passed out. I was half comatose by the time he came.

There’s a wide smile on my lips and I have no idea where it’s coming from. My heart is beating steadily, drumming a happy tune, and I realize that I haven’t been this happy in ages. I think of turning to Ethan to wake him up, but we’re spooning and he has his arm draped over my body. So, I do the next logical thing and press my ass back against him; in half a heartbeat, I feel something thick and long stiffening and pushing against my ass cheeks. Hello there.

Ethan stirs, and then his hand goes down my side as he wakes up. “G’morning,” he whispers with a lazy voice. I guess last night wasn’t easy on him as well.

“Good morning,” I repeat after him, pushing my ass harder against his cock. His shaft is nestled between my ass cheeks, and I start to grind against him in soft, gentle movements. I’ve just woken up and I’m already eager to go at it again… Christ, he’s like a drug, and I’m already an addict.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” he asks me, his hand going down to my ass. He squeezes one cheek gently, and then moves his hand up to my breasts.

“Never,” I purr, that uncontrollable smile still dancing on my lips. “Not when I’m with you.”

“That’s the right answer, congratulations.”

“Do I get a prize?” I ask him, grinding harder against him.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I tease him, swaying my hips from side to side and stroking his cock with my cheeks. Curling his fingers around his shaft, he slides his glans down my crack, and then fits his hard member between my legs. Biting on my bottom lip, I feel my pussy grow as wet as the Pacific.

“Oh, I know you do.” With his lips on my neck, he starts kissing me tenderly while, at the same time, he slides his glans inside of my pussy. My insides clench as I feel the tip of his cock pushing back my folds, and my arm shoots back to his ass; grabbing a handful of his firm cheeks, I try and pull him into me. “See? You knew, after all.”

“Oh, shut up and fuck me,” I chuckle, thrusting back with my hips. He allows another inch to go inside of me, and keeps that slow maddening pace until his whole shaft is buried in my pussy. Once I feel his tip pressed against that sweet spot, he digs his fingers into my thigh and starts to rock his hips.

As his cock starts to slide in and out of me, I sway my hips and try to match his pace. When our rhythm reaches its frenzied pinnacle, Ethan throws the sheets back, and the cool air of the morning makes my skin prickle. My hand is still on his ass, and I leave it there, urging him to go faster and faster. And that’s exactly what he does, picking up the pace until my insides are burning up.

With a wild grin, I move forward and his cock pops out of me. I turn to him, and his eyes are wide with surprise: he wasn’t expecting me to take the lead, but that’s exactly what I want to do. I wink, and then climb on top of his body; grabbing his cock, I guide it home and ease myself down on it.

His hands go straight to my tits, and as he squeezes them softly, I start to ride him at a tender pace. My hips are moving steadily, and I throw my head back and sigh loudly. Of course, all tenderness turns into frenzied lust, and I can’t help but lean into him and jump up and down on his cock. As I do it, I crush my mouth against his and lock myself in a kiss.

This time, sex has nothing to do with a power play. It has nothing to do with Simon's demands, or with Ethan’s prototype. No, this time we’re making love (oh, God, did I really say make love?) because I want to. Because I need to please him. That’s right, it’s not about me; it’s about him.

Pulling back from our kiss, I press my forehead against his and simply look into his eyes. I could lose myself there, and somehow, I know that I’m already lost. Oh, God, what’s happening to me? I never got this involved with any of my… targets. I can’t do this, I can’t. But it looks and feels so right…

My eyes never leaving his, I ride him until I feel his cock spasming. His pleasure turns into my own, and my pussy starts tightening up around his shaft at the same time. I smile at him, and just like that, we come undone. He groans, and I moan; in a fraction of a second, I feel his cock coating my insides with his cum, and it’s simply perfection. Christ, I love to make him cum, to know that I’m pleasing him like no other woman can.

Ecstasy courses through us both as if we were one, and I close my eyes and surrender to his embrace. Breathing softly, I lay my head against his chest and remain like that as his cum drips down my pussy, his cock finally quieting down.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m falling for him, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. If I fall for him, I’m screwed.

Rolling to the side, I sprawl myself on top of the mattress, gazing at the ceiling. Ethan turns to me and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “You’re really one of a kind, Brittney,” he whispers, and I feel my heart melting. Oh, God, please don’t allow this to happen. Please, please. I can’t fall for him.

I remain on the bed as Ethan gets up and goes for a shower. I lay there as if I’m frozen, but the gears inside my head are turning at high speed. What am I going to do?

“I ordered you breakfast, babe,” Ethan tells me, coming out from the closet fifteen minutes later, already dressed. He’s wearing a dark suit and I can’t help but notice how it fits him perfectly. I’m sure it’s expensive as hell, but I’m not talking about the quality of the suit… Somehow, Ethan is the kind of guy that makes suits look good, and not the other way around. “You can take your time, but I gotta go.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” I tell him with a smile, and I don’t even know if I’m thanking him for the breakfast, or for the sex. I guess it’s both. When he finally leaves, I wait until I hear the elevator going down, and only then do I get up.

I take a long shower, and then I get dressed; Ethan left a new dress and matching bra and thong for me on the bathroom. Already feeling hungry, I stumble toward the living room, and when I get there, it’s as if I’ve been hit by thunder. My eyes go straight to the briefcase sitting on the coffee table and my heart stops beating.

He left the Illicit Escape prototype behind.

I walk toward it, my heart now racing, but I can’t even bring myself to touch it. Here it is, the one thing capable of buying my freedom from Simon. My way out. All I have to do is pack it up, shut the briefcase and forget that Ethan exists. So simple, and so hard.

That’s when I hear my phone ring. I go toward the sound, and find it lying on the couch, next to my purse. On the screen, there’s a single name: Simon. Sighing heavily, I pick the phone up and press it against my ear.

“Where are you?” he asks me immediately, the tone of his voice a disgusting one. He treats me as if I’m his slave.

“Home,” I lie. I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth.

“Any news? I want this over with as fast as possible, Brittney,” he continues, a veiled threat in the way his words get to me.

“I’m working on it. But it’s not as easy as you think… He doesn’t leave that thing where someone can just pick it up, you know?” I continue to lie, suddenly feeling nauseous. I feel like I’m falling down a hole, and I don’t know when I’m going to hit the ground.

“Don’t fuck with me, Brittney,” he hisses, and I can almost imagine his disgusting face contorting with rage. “You know what I can do.” I feel like I’m going to be sick. More than anyone, I know what Simon can do… I close my eyes, and remain silent, the memories of moments long gone flashing behind my eyelids. “If he finds out where you are, you are fucked, bitch. You better remember that.”

“Simon, I…”

“Don’t you fucking try to stall. I know you’re on the run, hiding like a scared little girl… And if you don’t get me the prototype, I’ll tell him where he can find you. Let’s see how tough you are when your sweet ex-boyfriend is choking the life out of you.” Oh, God. How did it get to this? The worst part is that I’m not scared for myself. No, if my ex finds out that I ran away after discovering his secret, more people will suffer.

When I was younger, I used to hang out with the wrong crowd. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was head over heels with one of these assholes women say they hate, but then end up with. Except this asshole wasn’t just bad… He was evil. I knew that the first time I had to put on makeup to hide the bruises. I remember that during a visit to the ER my right eye was so swollen that I thought I’d never be able to see again.

I thought of running away more than once… I thought of fighting back. But things are never that easy, hun. You see, my lovely ex had more secrets than he cared to share. And once I got down to the bottom of it, I knew I was trapped. I couldn’t do a thing. If I tried to fight back, I’d be putting other women in danger.

That’s why one day something just snapped inside of me and I left. I came here to New York, looking to start over and forget all about my past… A new start, just like in the movies. Of course, the past has its ways of catching up to you. Call it bad luck; call it karma… Call it whatever you want. Thing is, now that Simon knows about my past, he’s using it as a threat to make me do his bidding. And I don’t know what to do. I really don’t.

Tears start to well in my eyes, and I have to take a deep breath to stop myself from sobbing. “I’ll get it done,” I whisper, one lone tear streaming down my face. “I’ll fucking do it.”

With that, I end the call and throw the phone into my purse. I place the glasses inside the briefcase, shut it, and leave the apartment.

I have no choice, it’s the only thought echoing inside my head. I have no choice.


I hear a whistle coming from my right side and I look up to a see a woman smiling. Her teeth are so white they almost seem blue. She's completely naked, except for a pair of stilettos on her feet. She has great breasts and a great body; I'll give her that, but I have zero interest in exchanging fucking flirty banter with her, if that's what she's hoping for.

"Well, someone's looking smoking hot today," she purrs. She pushes a stray section of blonde hair behind her ear and walks closer, placing her hand on my arm.

"Don't you have a promotional shoot to be at Amy?" I ask, not giving her another glance.

She gets the hint and walks off. I can hear the sound of her heels clicking against the hard floor. I listen until it fades with her distance.

I swear, not more than five fucking minutes later, another woman walks up to me. She's a little more clothed, but not by much.

"Is this silk?" she asks, playfully running her hand along my tie.

"Yes, it is," I reply, only half listening. My response is curt and unenthusiastic. I move my body just out of her fucking reach.

"Care to join me for a drink tonight… and maybe something more?" she asks, a devilish grin on her face. I know exactly what she's insinuating.

"Not tonight doll," I say dismissively. Don't get me wrong; she's hot and easily fuckable, but I just don't care. Normally, I'd be up for bending most of these women over and fucking them… but now I have my sights on only one. Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Ethan fucking Kane getting attached? But before you think I'm growing soft on you, I'm not. I'm just into Brittney, okay?

I watch as a frown forms on the actress' face—I can't even remember her name—and she moves on. I don't think most of these new actresses ever expected me to be so uninterested in them—given my reputation and all.

I enjoy a relatively peaceful next 20 minutes when I suddenly feel two arms wrapped around my waist.

"How's my handsome boss today?" the voice asks. I turn around and see that it's Carla. Remember her from the scene we shot in the upper middle-class suburban home, complete with crochet on the tables, a giant 52” flat screen TV on the wall, pictures of a fictional family, and a roaring fireplace?

That was all before Brittney. Back then, it felt fine fucking Carla. She wasn't anything amazing, but my cock didn't seem to complain. After Brittney, I don't want anything to do fucking do with her.

I give Carla a smile but don't say much. I really don't have anything to say, but I don't want to be over-the-top rude.

"When are we gonna shoot another scene together?" she purrs.

"I'm really too busy for that these days," I say. She gives me a puzzled look. I've never been one to stay out of shoots completely. But she shrugs her own confusion away, gives me one more quick hug goodbye, and walks off.

I begin to walk off as well, and then hear another voice.

"Ethan, there you are!"

Great. Can't I get any time to think around this place without women fawning all over me?

"Look, I need everyone to leave me al—" I say, but I'm cut off. It's Cheryl.

"It's important," she says.

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was you," I reply. "I've been bombarded ever since I walked in the door."

"Where's the prototype?" she asks me. "You left here with it yesterday, but I don't see it anywhere."

"I left it at home."

"You what?" Cheryl asks. She looks genuinely shocked.

"It's fine. I'll bring it back in tomorrow."

"Ethan, do you realize what you've done? You've left our only prototype—the one piece of technology that we're banking on and pouring all of our resources into—exposed and unguarded. Would you leave a million dollars on the sidewalk and expect it to be there the next day?"

"It's not like I left it on the street corner," I say. "That's not a good analogy. This is my apartment we're talking about. It's safe there. No one is going to touch it."

"Are you sure about that?" Cheryl asks, her eyes narrowing. "I don't think that was the wisest thing to do because you weren't alone … You had Brittney over."

"How did you know that?" I ask.

"I dropped her off near One57 yesterday and just as I thought, she ended up at your place.”

For a moment I wonder if Cheryl has resorted to stalking me at my own apartment now.

"Look, I know you worry, but I trust her," I say.

"Since when have you become so trusting of strangers?" she asks.

"It's not like that … I've gotten to really know Brittney. She's not a stranger. I can trust her. She's opened up to me. You can trust her too."

Are you listening to yourself?" Cheryl asks, shaking her head. "Prove to me that she can be trusted."

"Why are you being so difficult? What's come over you?" I ask.

"Do you even know what Brittney used to do before we hired her on?"

"Yes, I already know all about that," I say. "She told me. She was in porn, and then started her own business, Man Chasers LLC."

"And did she tell you what she did with that company?"

"Yes, she told me all about that too," I shrug. "Look, it doesn't bother me. She helped women get back at their cheating husbands. She helped them find closure… and justice."

"Did she forget to mention how she managed to pull that off?" Cheryl asks.

"Well, we didn't go into depth on that."

"She used deceit, Ethan. That's what she did. She lied. And she was good at it. She could convince even the most powerful men to drop their pants for her, and she was cunning enough to gain access to them," she says. "Think about that for a moment."

I never really thought about it like that. I guess Cheryl has a fucking point. But what Brittney and I have together is fucking different. I'm not some cheating husband that she's been hired to uncover.

"Look, I'll prove to you that the prototype is fine," I say. "I brought my tablet. It's connected to the cameras in my apartment. I'll power it on, and I'll show you that the prototype is still sitting in my briefcase, on the table."

I hold down the home button and toggle my tablet on. The screen glows to life, and I click on the application that'll show Cheryl everything's fine. Maybe then she'll get off my back. I know she means well, but I wish she'd just fucking trust me.

The app launches and I immediately see a live view of my apartment. Everything is still. I don't see Brittney anywhere. She must've already left.

I pan around to the living room, and I zoom in. I see the couch … I see the table … but I don't see the briefcase.

What the fuck? My heart sinks, and my pulse races. I know I left that briefcase in plain view. I should be seeing it. I'm trying to fight the dizzy feeling that's beginning to flood my head.

I'm trying to keep my cool in front of Cheryl. What if she's right? Fuck.

"I know the briefcase is around here somewhere," I say, panning around the apartment.

"I thought you said it was on your living room table?" Cheryl asks.

"It was… or I thought it was, but I could've misremembered," I say.

"It's gone, Ethan," she says. "I told you. Brittney couldn't be trusted. Now what are we going to do?"

My heart now sinks even further as I realize Cheryl's right. I'm not sure if this is what a broken heart feels like, but it must be pretty fucking close.

The realization finally sinks in. Despite the fact that I know what she did, I have to repeat it to myself.

Brittney used me. She stole the prototype.

There's a moment of stunned silence.

"Ethan you can trust me," a voice says from behind me. "Here's your prototype."

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn around. It's Brittney and she's holding my briefcase in one hand.

"I thought you stole the prototype," I say. I'm relieved that she's here, but she looks distraught. This isn't the Brittney I kissed goodbye to in my apartment.

"I love you Ethan," Brittney says. "I love you with every fiber of my body. I've never felt this way about a man before… but now that I've met you, I know what true love feels like. I can't imagine my life without you."

"Brit, come here," I say, embracing her in a hug. I see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid Ethan," she says. "Very afraid."

She continues, "There's a man out there who wouldn't hesitate to see me dead."


I don’t care about what happens next. I can’t bring myself to betray Ethan. Whatever the consequences are, I’ll face them as long as he’s with me. When I first came into this, I came ready to do my job, but I ended up falling for the best man I have ever met… And I can’t turn my back on him. I deserve this.

It wasn’t easy to stroll into his office with an admission of guilt, throwing myself at his mercy. But this was what I had to do. Even if Simon makes good on his word, there was no other option for me. Not anymore.

So here I am, standing in front of Ethan, fear and hesitancy nestled in my mind. I look at him with pursed lips, knowing that there’s no going back from this; this is my personal Rubicon, and I’ve just crossed it. Cheryl dismisses herself from the room.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, taking one step toward him. He’s standing in front of his desk, dashing as always. And now, more than ever, I need to feel his arms around me. “I really am.”

“Don’t.” He brushes the back of his hand on my cheek, and then runs his long fingers through my hair. “You’re here, and you did right by me. We’ll work this out.” I nod, hoping that his words turn out to be true, and that everything will work out. Looking into his eyes and seeing the confidence shining there, I can’t help but trust him. Still, deep inside of me I know that the world is a mean and dirty place, and it will do everything to crush me. I know it, and Simon does too. “I promise you,” he adds, and then leans into me. His lips touch mine, and there’s a gentle tenderness to our kiss.

“I’m so glad I met you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his and smiling. Whatever happens, nothing will change this. Meeting someone like Ethan… It was like finding an oasis after walking for years through a barren wasteland.

“Me too,” he says, pressing his mouth against mine once again. I take my fingers to his face, and gently hold him as I part my lips and push my tongue inside his mouth. My heart is beating steadily, and this time it isn’t just lust racing through my veins; there’s love too. Love. It feels good to admit it; I love him, and I wouldn’t change that for all the money in the world.

I let my hands fall down from his face and I press them over his chest. Underneath his shirt and his pectorals, I can hear the steady beat of his heart. It’s silly to say this, but it almost seems that his heart is beating at the same rhythm as mine. Right now, I can’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

Sliding my fingers up from his chest to his collar, I loosen his tie and then unknot it. Instinct guiding my hands, I start to unbutton his white shirt, my fingers working swiftly. Once I get down to his waistline, I untuck the shirt from his pants, and finally flatten the palm of my hands against his abs. It doesn’t matter how many times I feel his body… I can’t get enough of it. It’s almost as if God put Ethan on this Earth for me to find out, all his perfection a hidden gift.

As I slide my hands over his abs, Ethan rests his hands on my ass, over my skirt, and pulls me into his embrace. With my breasts pressed against his bare chest, I feel my nipples hardening, a warmness spreading from them and numbing my mind. Between my thighs, I feel my pussy growing wet, desire spreading its wings inside of me.

“I want you,” I tell him, pushing his shirt down his arms. “I need you,” I continue, taking my hands to his head and grabbing his hair.

“I’m right here,” he tells me, squeezing my ass cheeks as his lips curl into a smile.

“You are,” I smile back, crushing my mouth against his. This time, there’s nothing gentle about the way we kiss; I surrender to that craving inside of me and simply let loose. He does the same, sliding his fingers under my skirt and hiking it slightly up; I tremble as I feel his touch on my bare ass, and my hands dart to his waist. With an anxious knot in my throat, I press one hand against his crotch; my heart starts picking up the pace as I feel the hardness under his pants, his cock already hard and pulsing with desire.

Pulling back from his kiss, I lay my lips against his neck. Slowly, I go down on my knees, gently kissing him as I go. My lips brush over the curve of his pectorals, then over the hard blocks of his abs, and each kiss I lay on his body just makes me grow wetter.

When my knees finally touch the carpeted floor, I look up at him with an easy smile on my lips. I take a deep breath, and steadying my hands, I unbuckle his belt and pull it out from its loops. Placing it on the floor, I have to take another deep breath as I start unbuttoning his pants. He just looks at me, running his fingers through my hair with a tender smile on his face. In his eyes, there’s that familiar flicker of lust… But there’s something more too. Something gentle and kind.

With his pants now unbuttoned, I let my eyes wander down his body; his cock is pushing back against his boxer briefs, its thick shape perfectly delineated. Ethan’s cock is almost as thick as a can of Coke, and with its 12 inches, it’s perfection made flesh. And what really matters is that Ethan knows how to wield it; trust me, I know.

My heart is already galloping inside of my chest, and I can barely steady my hands. Still, I lift my index finger and trace the contour of his cock with just my fingertip, slowly moving it up and down his shaft. As I tease him, he tangles his fingers in my hair, and I can already feel the tension starting to mount in the way he holds me.

Running my tongue over my lips, I finally hook my fingers on his boxers, and moving as slowly as I can, I pull them down. His cock jumps out at once, all its size ready to ravage me. I lock eyes with Ethan once more, curling my fingers around his shaft at the same time. Unblinking, I start to flick my wrist, my hand moving up and down his cock at a slow teasing pace.

“Every time I look at your cock,” I say, a grin taking over my lips, “I can’t help but want to devour it.” The pressure on his fingers grows harder at my words, and he yanks on my hair, holding my head still.

“You can devour all of me,” he tells me, and each one of his words feels like a loaded gun. Anticipation is running high inside his head, and I can see it. My grin growing wider and wilder, I push back against the hold he has on me, and he relents, opening his fingers. My eyes never leave his as I lean, tilting my head sideways as I allow my tongue to part my lips; I reach for his cock with the wet tip of my tongue, and then run it all the way down to its root. I move back up, and then down again, repeating this coming and going motion until his whole body starts to tense up. When I feel that he can’t take it anymore, I grab his cock harshly, and opening my mouth as wide as I can, I dive in.

His shaft slides inside my mouth at once, pushing down on my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks. It doesn’t matter how many times I go down on him, the way he completely fills my mouth never fails to amaze me. To fit his thickness between my lips, I have to strain my jaw to the point where it starts to hurt, and no, I’m not complaining here, far from it.

Forcing myself to go as deep as I can, I only stop when I’m close to choking, his fat glans pressed tight against the back of my throat. Pulling out, I slow down when my lips reach his glans, and I wrap them tight around it, sucking as I lap at it with my tongue.

“You know, Brittney,” he starts, and I look up at him, his cock still filling my mouth, “you really know how to use that mouth of yours…” His words give me a shot of confidence, and I start to bob my head as fast as I can. I curl my fingers around his shaft and, as I suck on him, I start to stroke him as well.

Moving in a pendulum motion, I keep going until his cock starts to pulse wildly against my tongue; moving fast, he holds my head in place and stops me completely. Then, without a moment’s pause, he starts to thrust, moving his cock in and out of my mouth at a relentless pace.

As I let him fuck my mouth, I push his pants and boxer briefs down his legs, sending them down to his ankles. Suddenly, he pulls back, his cock springing free at once. He kicks off his shoes to the corner, and after stepping out of his pants, pulls me up to my feet.

“You know,” he whispers, placing two fingers under my chin, “I never fucked anyone inside this office.” I grin, gently chuckling as I see the eagerness in his eyes.

“I find that hard to believe, Ethan,” I tell him, looking around the room. Two of the walls are floor-to-the-ceiling mirrors, and I see no other reason but sex for having something like that mounted here. Wherever I’m looking, I can see my reflection staring back at me, and I can already imagine how amazing it must be to fuck him while I watch everything unfold from all angles.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he grins, “but no. I never got around to using that mirror…”

“We have to fix that,” I tell him, grinning back at him.

“We do.” As the air grows electric and heavy around us, he places his hands on my shoulders and runs them to my waist. Grabbing at my blouse, he moves fast and pulls it over my head, forcing me to raise my arms. His hands go back to my hips, and then he forces me to turn on my heels; turning around, I reach for his desk and plant my hands on the flat surface. He wastes no time, and goes straight for the clasp between my shoulder blades; with a quick flick of his fingers, he opens my bra and pushes it down my arms. I sigh heavily as I feel the cups drooping over my tits, and then he simply yanks the bra off of me.

As I exhale sharply, he rests both of his hands over my breasts, squeezing them eagerly. My flesh molds to his fingers, and a shiver goes up my spine as I feel his fingers running over my hard nipples. Then, one of his hands slides down to my stomach, and he slowly lowers it until it finds the place where skin meets skirt. He slides his fingers underneath it, and cups my pussy almost too harshly. I gasp, an electric discharge going from his fingers to my pussy and igniting a frenzy inside of me.

Instinct slapping away my rational mind, it then sits behind the wheel. Acting in an almost unconscious way, I take my hands to my lower back and grab the zipper on my skirt, pulling all the way down. He reacts by pushing his body against mine, and I have no option but to place my fingers on the table top again; then, acting like a hungry beast, he pushes my skirt down my legs and presses his thick shaft between my ass cheeks, my thong the only barrier between us.

Without waiting to see what he wants, I thrust back against his cock, rocking my hips. Grinding against him, I feel his shaft pulsing against my ass, and the desire to have him fuck me trumps almost everything else.

“Fuck me, Ethan,” I pant, closing my eyes and throwing my head back. “Use me however you want.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to,” he whispers against my ear, and then nibbles at the skin on my neck. He places both of his hands on my hips, and then his lips start to trace a downward line down my back. When his mouth meets my thong, he bites down on it and starts to peel it off of me. My skin prickles as he pulls the string out from between my ass cheeks, and then pushes it down all the way to the floor, where it falls in a wet heap on top of my skirt.

Now on his knees, Ethan places one forearm across my lower back and forces me to lean forward. I do it willingly, supporting myself on my elbows as he dives into me, wrapping his full lips around my drenched folds. He attacks me viciously, sucking on my inner lips and lashing out at them with his tongue. Working furiously, he presses his whole mouth against him, and opening it wide, starts to jab with his tongue.

I’m already breathing hard, but when he places two fingers right above my clit and starts to rub on it, my hard breathing turns into a sequence of harsh moans. Punishing my pussy and clit with wild precision, he sets fire to my mind, the first whispers of ecstasy echoing inside my head.

“Yes, keep going…” I moan, barely able to get the words out. “Eat me out, Ethan… My pussy is yours,” I continue, the words forming in my mouth before my brain even has the time to process them. As he keeps on sucking, I feel a pressure mounting inside of me, and before I can prepare myself for the impending explosion, it simply happens.

I hiss through my gritted teeth as my muscles start to twitch, an electric current going through me as if I were hit by lightning. My heart is no longer pumping blood, but endorphins; I can almost feel them raging through my veins, consuming everything in their path and soaking my brain into an ocean of lust and pleasure.

“Oh, God,” I cry out, thrusting back against his mouth as hard as I can. Holding me by the hips, he pushes his face against my pussy, and the pressure between my thighs becomes almost unbearable. Without even allowing for my orgasm to run its course, he takes his fingers off of my clit, and turning his hand around, slides them inside of my pussy. He goes straight to my G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure for my moans to turn into a sudden scream.

As he builds up a second orgasm on top of the first one, he takes his mouth off my pussy and runs his tongue over my crack. He only stops when he meets my asshole, and then he presses his mouth against it.

“Yes…” I moan, pushing my ass back against his mouth. He slides his tongue inside of my hole, and I lose it; there’s a detonation inside my mind, and I let out one wild scream, the muscles in my neck straining with the effort. “Fuck! FUCK!” I shout, my pussy spasming against his fingers as I come.

I can’t help but scream even louder. I don’t know even know how I do it; when he takes his mouth off my ass, he uses his free hand, and slides his index finger inside of my hole. With his fingers inside my pussy and ass, endless waves of ecstasy crash against me and devastate me completely. I almost collapse on top of the desk, my muscles burning up as if I was running a fever. When he finally takes his fingers out, I’m barely conscious. Still, desire has a pulse, and I force my eyes open.

Summoning whatever strength I still have inside of me, I stand up and turn on my heels, facing him as my heart thumps against my chest like a cannon. I look to the right, and then to the left, my skin prickling as I see our naked bodies reflected on the wall mirrors.

“Come here,” I whisper at him, sitting on top of his desk and parting my legs. He comes forward, placing his body between my legs; grabbing his cock, he angles it down and presses his glans against my wetness. With a lewd smile, I place my arms over his shoulders and urge him to carry on, to fuck me as hard as he can.

Moving steadily, he starts to push his cock past my folds, shards of pleasure digging into my brain as he moves. When his shaft is halfway in, he suddenly thrusts, drawing a loud moan from my lips. I throw my head back, grinning wildly, and look to the side as he starts to rock his hips against me. My reflection grins back at me from the other side of the room, and I let my eyes wander to Ethan’s body; from here, I can see him thrusting, his ass cheeks flexing over and over again as he pounds me with his massive cock.

“Now this is fun,” I tell him, looking from one side to the other and taking in the sight of Ethan fucking me from all angles. His muscles are bulging, and I see them working like the perfect piece of human engineering they are.

“What’s fun,” he starts to say, nibbling at my neck once more, “is fucking your tight pussy.” He pushes me back on top of the table, and as I lean down, he curls his fingers around my ankles. Lifting my legs, he places them over his shoulders, and starts to thrust immediately. Pistoning into me harder than before, he now goes deeper, his tip hitting that sweet spot inside of me.

I keep watching everything unfold through the mirrors, my naked body ravaged by Ethan as he fucks me. It’s weird to watch everything through a game of mirrors, reflections upon reflections kicking my lust into overdrive.

“You sure like to watch yourself,” Ethan says, thrusting as hard as he can.

“No… I like to watch you fucking me,” I say between hard breaths, managing not to scream just for a few seconds. I’m looking into his eyes now, entranced by the flames dancing there. Inside him rages a fire, and I just know that it’s going to consume mercilessly. Which is exactly what I want.

“Then watch,” he simply whispers, placing his arms around my legs and keeping me in place as he fucks me at a maddening pace. I tilt my head to the side and force my eyes to remain open, watching the sway of his hips as his cock slides in and out of me. He rams his shaft into me until my pussy lips caress the skin at the base of his cock, and then he pulls it back all the way to his glans before thrusting again. He keeps going like this for what seems like an eternity, time becoming just a foreign word to my ears. Right now, I’m drifting away, carried by a river of pleasure and wonder.

I close my eyes and surrender completely, allowing my brain to shut down all the unnecessary noise inside it. Now focusing only on the way his shaft strains against my inner walls and stretches me wide, it’s only a matter of seconds until I come again.

“Don’t stop, Ethan, don’t stop!” I cry out, grabbing at the edge of the bed so hard that my knuckles turn white. My body tenses up, and just like an elastic band stretched to the limit, it simply snaps. “OH GOD, OH GOD!” I scream like a mad woman, my pussy tightening around his shaft as a violent orgasm turns my mind to shreds.

“That’s it, babe… You scream all you want,” he whispers, leaning into me and pushing my legs with his shoulders. As he does it, bending me even more, his cock drives deeper into me and my scream dies down, my throat too weak to carry on.

My lungs are working overtime to get the air in, but I finally come down from Cloud 9.

“We’re not done yet,” I tell him with a grin, as if he didn’t know it. He doesn’t even bother to reply; he just takes my legs out from his shoulders and takes one step back. With a growl in my throat, I climb down from the desk and jump on him; he moves fast, grabbing me as I cross my legs behind his back. He eases me down over his cock, and as I feel his thickness pushing past my inner lips, I rest my head against his shoulder and whimper softly.

“You’re right,” Ethan says, rocking his hips and sliding his cock deep into me at a gentle rhythm, “we’re not done yet.” With each passing second, he starts to thrust faster and faster, making the electric current under my skin start to crackle. I exhale sharply, and instead of screaming, dig my fingers into his shoulder. I bite hard enough to leave a mark, and that only makes him go harder. While my teeth are buried deep in his flesh, and I’m biting fiercely enough to draw blood, he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge what I’m doing. Right now, it’s as if he’s impervious to pain.

Completely lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, I come again, my body jolted by a high voltage current. I stop biting him, and I only need it because I have to scream like a banshee. The sound of my voice seems to spur him on, and while I’m still coming, he puts me down on the floor. He’s on his knees, and I’m straddling him, but with a quick motion of his hips he turns around and lays me down. With both his hands on his knees, he pushes my legs up and intensifies his rhythm. My scream turns into a quivering moan, and I’m almost sure that tomorrow I won’t be able to speak—or sit.

“I want you to…” I find myself saying, the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I want you to… Fuck me everywhere. Everywhere.” I remember what I went through when I put on the Illicit Escape glasses, how it felt to have his thick cock sliding inside my ass… And I need to feel that right now.

“I know,” he whispers, pulling his cock out with one single movement. “I want it too… Since I saw what you experienced with the glasses, I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”

“Good,” I merely respond, moving like a cat and going on all fours on the floor. Even though I’m breathing hard and my muscles are screaming from all the pleasure, desire seems to act as high-octane fuel. I sway my ass from side to side, an open invitation for Ethan, and he places both his hands on my hips. Running just one finger between my ass cheeks, he presses it against my asshole and slowly feeds it into me. He pushes it all the way in and then, without a break, he starts fingering my ass. My insides are burning, and even though I have no idea how it will feel to have a cock so massive fucking my ass, I can’t wait for it.

Once he takes his finger out of my ass, he replaces it with his cock; pressing with his glans against my hole, he rubs in an up and down motion until I’m gasping for air.

“Please,” I pant, moving my hips back. He feeds one inch into me, and I feel my inner walls burning up as his thickness strains to get inside of my ass. I won’t lie, this hurts, but it’s a pain so sweet and delicious that I can’t help but want more. I thrust back even harder, and reading what’s on my mind, he thrusts mercilessly. His shaft pushes back against my inner walls on the way in, and once every long inch of him is inside of me, there’s nothing that I can do but scream.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I hear him say, his voice coming at me as if he was on a completely different universe. As he starts to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of my ass, I only know that I scream—my brain can’t even process the sound of my voice right now; it’s busy with distilling pain into pleasure.

“Harder, Ethan, harder…” I beg of him, wanting him to fuck me until I can no longer utter a coherent sentence. Obliging, his hips start to slap my ass cheeks as if tomorrow would never come. I let the sound of flesh on flesh lull me into a dream like state, and as his cock ravages my ass, I let the waves of ecstasy drag me down into an ocean of lust.

Making it all so much better, he starts to slap my ass as he fucks me, his hand hitting my cheeks hard enough to leave a mark. Tomorrow I’m going to have a sore ass, and that suits me just fine. I want to wake up remembering how it felt to have a cock as thick as a can of Coke inside of my ass. By all means, this should be physically impossible, but we’re still doing it.

As he pounds into me like a predator, I feel myself on the verge of exploding. So, I do the logical thing and set the fuse on fire; I slide one hand down my stomach, and pressing down on my clit, I start to rub myself as his cock demolishes my ass.

“Come, Brittney,” he says, and his words have an almost magical effect on me. They caress my eardrums, travel to my brain, and there they wreak havoc. As if this was the first orgasm of the day, I throw my head back and scream as loud as I can, my voice so shrill that I wouldn’t be surprise if the mirrors on the walls simply shattered. But they don’t, and so I force my eyes open and look to the side, watching his ass cheeks flex as he thrusts, his long mast destroying my hole.

“FUCK! FUCK, FUCK!” I scream, tears streaming down my face. I feel my brain melting like butter on a hot day, and all of my nerve endings are being cauterized by the scorching heat of pleasure. I let go of my clit, and with both hands on the floor, my fingers curl into claws as my whole body tenses up and then down. The waves of maddening ecstasy rush through me, and I don’t even know how I’m still conscious. “I want you to cum in my ass,” I tell him, and a series of spasms start to take over his cock as if my words were a spell. “Cum, cum…” I repeat, and then I feel a warmness flooding me.

Succumbing to pleasure, he pulls his cock out of my ass, and grabbing it, he starts to stroke himself as thick strands of cum cover my lower back and ass. I moan and scream like a woman possessed, feeling the way his seed covers my naked skin. He keeps stroking himself until there’s nothing left inside of him and then, letting go of his cock, he grabs my hips and leans into me.

I feel his lips on my asshole, his tongue scooping up the cum that’s dripping out. He keeps on licking me until there’s nothing left inside of my ass, and then he runs his tongue up and down my crack, taking all of his seed inside of his mouth. Then, with his hands resting on my lower back, he starts to rub his seed all over me, his fingers sliding easily over my body.

Completely spent, I still find the strength to turn around and face him. Without a single word, I lean into him and press my mouth against his, parting his lips with my tongue. We kiss in a frenzy, and I take all the cum he holds in his mouth inside of mine; as I pull back from his kiss, I grin and swallow, allowing his saltiness to burn down my throat. I feel the scent and flavor of my pussy and ass on his lips, and that only manages to make me hungrier for his semen.

With a gentle smile, he lets his tongue out and licks my lips dry, cleaning them of the few drops of cum hanging there.

“I love you,” he tells me, a quiet tenderness in his eyes. “I never thought I’d feel like this, but fuck, I really love you, Brittney.”

“I love you too…” I whisper, closing my eyes and letting his words echo inside of my head. I love you, he said. Ethan loves me. It feels unreal, as if I’m dreaming or living a fantasy through his Illicit Escape glasses. Forget about lust and sex… Right now, all that matters is his love for me, and I have it.

Still, even though his words are genuine… I know there are roadblocks on our path. Simon won’t take this lying down, and he has the means to make my life a living hell. Even though Ethan is a very powerful man, I don’t know if he can protect me from what lies ahead.

Yes, I’m afraid, I won’t lie about that. But, at the same time, I’m as happy as I have ever been. I’ve finally found true love, and God, I’ll do everything that I can in order to not lose it.


I wake up and the sun is just coming up over the city. I look over.

Brittney’s lying next to me. She’s sleeping soundly under blankets; the only way I can even fucking tell she’s there is the mop of blonde hair that’s sticking out.

But underneath the blankets, I feel her soft body pressed against me. Her curvy ass pressed against my cock.

The fact that I even got any fucking sleep is a mystery. I mean my cock between these fucking gorgeous ass cheeks? It’s already coming back to life and getting hard. I just want to fuck her. Again.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’d think someone who runs the world’s largest pornography company would have enough sex in his life and not be running around like some fucking horny 16-year-old kid.

That’s exactly when Brittney yawns again. It’s such a fucking cute little yawn. She wriggles her body a little, and nestles her ass a bit deeper into my crotch.

You remember I was asking what the fuck was wrong with me? Why I was acting like a horny 16 year old?

Well, forget I ever said anything because feeling that beautiful ass on my dick is enough to remind me of the reasons that I’m so fucking in love with this woman.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not just the sex. She’s honestly such an amazing person that I can’t even begin to describe it. So warm. So loving. So pure.

Yeah, pure. I know her past. A porn star who’s starting over. But inside that, past that, is a purity that you don’t see in a lot of people.

I know she’s struggling with something more though. I just can’t—

Wait, did you hear that?

I stop thinking and pay attention and a moment later I hear the doorbell chime once more.

Sighing to myself, I realize that whoever is at the door probably has a good reason to be here at 7:30 am.

With great fucking reluctance, I slowly extricate myself from Brittney. Even though she’s sleeping, I can tell Brittney misses my body. She gives off a little mewl as I get out of bed and put on a robe.

I pad over to the living room. The sun is just rising above the buildings on 5th Avenue. It’s a fucking beautiful sight that reminds me why I love living in New York City.

I open the door and somehow, I’m just not really fucking surprised at all to see Cheryl.

She’s already dressed in a prim and proper black suit and pencil skirt. I step aside to let her in.

“Sleeping in?” Cheryl asks me with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

I groan. “It’s 7:30 in the fucking morning, Cheryl,” I manage to say as I walk over to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

“They say the early bird gets the worm,” she replies back, following me.

“My worm gets enough fucking bird, thank you,” I tell Cheryl as she rolls her eyes at me.

I pour my coffee as Cheryl sets down her tablet and turns it on.

“Would you like to go over the plans so far for the launch?” she asks me.

I look at Cheryl. “It’s 7:30 in the morning, Cheryl…” I begin, but if she cares, she doesn’t show it.

“We are three months away from releasing the one product that will revolutionize the pornography industry in ways that dwarf what the VCR did, Ethan,” she tells me sternly. “7:30 in the morning means absolutely nothing to me.”

She’s got a point. I need to not go soft.

“Let’s go to the living room,” I tell her, and grab her a cup of coffee and take it with me. I sit down on the sofa and she remains standing.

“Like I said, we’re launching in three months, and we’re going directly out to 192 countries,” she begins.

Now I’m in work mode. “How many retailers have signed on?” I ask. I’m not hopeful. I mean we’re talking about a virtual reality porn product.

“We’ve gotten commitments from Target, Wal-Mart, Best Buy, Amazon, and CostCo for superior product placement,” Cheryl says and I do a double take.

“Really? Holy fucking shit,” I exclaim. She nods her head.

“They all see the intrinsic value in this,” she tells me. I shake my head. A lot has certainly changed since I was a fucking kid.

“We’re working with other major retailers such as Dollar Tree, Sears, as well as independent retailers to take us on, and we’re still waiting to hear from Google and Apple,” Cheryl finishes.

I nod my head. “Press?” I ask.

“Generally favorable so far, and I think the announcement we did in Times Square got us on the front page,” Cheryl says. “It has also attracted a fair amount of unwanted attention,” she finishes.

“Unwanted attention?” I ask her, cocking my eyes.

Cheryl nods, looking glum. “Our cyber security people have stopped 18 attacks designed to compromise our internal networks in the last week alone,” she tells me and I start looking over a report that she places in front of me. “Mostly it was attempts to get at the plans or the strategy behind the I.E.” Cheryl says.

“Who was it?” I ask her.

She looks at me. “Who do you think?”

There’s a moment of pause between us.

“He’s still out there, Ethan,” Cheryl says. “And he wants the plans for this device. He’s not going to stop and he’s going to spend as much money as he needs to until he gets it. And just hacking into our systems isn’t all I think he’s doing.”

I look at Cheryl in alarm. What the fuck is she talking about?

“How else is he going to get it?” I ask her sharply. “He’s going to rob me?”

She shrugs. “He would if he could, but I think he’s trying to get someone on the inside. He’s trying to put in a mole.”

“Who?” I ask.

Cheryl looks at me. “You know who I’m talking about,” she tells me.


Don’t look at me like that.

You know who Cheryl is talking about.

But I don’t believe it.

“Who’s sleeping in your bed right now, Ethan?” Cheryl asks me. I don’t answer. “Who have you been spending more and more time with and who is closer to you now than even I am?”

“Cheryl,” I start and get up. “You’re getting irrational.”

Cheryl doesn’t have time to answer. Because that’s when I hear a cute little voice behind me.

“Hi,” is all I hear and I turn around to see Brittney wiping the sleep from her eyes. She’s wearing one of my button down shirts and it comes below her waist and makes her look fucking innocent and sexy at the same time.

I stare at her and can’t stop, but I hear Cheryl walking to the door.

“Think about what I said, Ethan,” she tells me and doesn't wait for me to turn around. “And watch your back. I’d love to be wrong.”

Fucking Cheryl.

She doesn't even say hello to Brit. She just treats her like a piece of furniture.

“Brittney,” I say to her as I take a step closer.

“What was Cheryl doing here?” Brittney asks me, her eyes big. “And who does she think is trying to steal your I.E.?”

I stop and take a deep breath. Brittney waits for a second and then her face gets serious.

“Tell me, Ethan,” she says, coming close to me and putting her hands on my robe. “I need to know.”

This is way too much fucking drama for this early in the morning. I swear to fucking God. I’m about ready to tell her to fuck off.

But then I look into her face. She’s looking up at me, her eyes wide, open, trusting.

Is Cheryl right?

Is she playing me?

Only one fucking way to find out.

I sigh, and take a sip of my coffee, and start.

“I started this company shortly after I quit working in marketing,” I say, and Brittney looks at me as her gaze softens. “I didn’t work for someone else anymore, and I don't know how, but I got into representing models at first.”

She nods to me. “I started porn through a modeling contract,” she tells me.

I nod back. “Same here. Before you knew it, I was selling pictures for models that agreed to magazines and websites, getting paid royalties. It seemed like easy money, and I was good at getting the girls paid more than they would have modeling for Baby Gap or whatever the fuck was hiring.”

Brittney is silent, waiting for me to continue.

“It was only a few steps away from eventually moving into shorter movies and videos, and I began to dabble in creating my own content,” I tell her, thinking back to those days long gone by.

It’s a fucking cliché that I’m some idiot bad boy if that’s what you’re still thinking. Sure, I say ‘fuck’ every other sentence. Maybe I talk about my foot-long cock too much. And yes, I produce pornography. But I’m a fucking hard worker. Everything that I have, everything that I own, I built on my own. No one fucking handed this to me. I built this. All of it.

But I had help.

“But I needed money to grow,” I continue, and Brittney narrows her eyes. She must have heard this line before. “I got into business with some people. Nothing permanent at first, and for a while it was good.”

So far, she hasn’t given me anything other than the fact that she’s listening.

“But as time went on, I began to work more and more with one man. Simon Connors. He had the money and he was willing to invest it in me. We got along great. And for a time, our growing pains were behind us. Things were looking good,” I tell Brittney.

She nods. “But?” she asks and I smile.

“But that was at first. When we were small,” I say with a smile. “We had some huge hits eventually. Got big. Became wealthier than we thought we would ever be. He started getting jealous. Never got over the fact that he was a minority investor.”

Brittney nods. “You guys didn’t part well?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “It’s not that. He let the success go to his fucking head. Started getting caught up in shit that I stayed away from,” I say to her. “Drugs. Self-destructive shit. More self-destructive than me. He was pulling in hundreds of thousands of dollars in his investment and ending up broke each month.”

“What did you do?” Brittney asks me, coming closer.

I shrug. “At first I looked the other way,” I tell her and pause, thinking back. “But eventually it got to be really bad. He started embezzling money. It got to the point that one month the company couldn't pay its employees without taking a loan because Simon had taken the money for himself. That’s when I knew he needed to go.”

I pause again. Brittney looks at me and takes another step closer, putting her head on my chest.

“We had a huge fucking fight. He told me that I’d be nowhere if it weren’t for him. Tried to pull a gun on me, but eventually I bought him out,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her. “He took that money and tried to clean up, but he also started a porn company with the express intention of taking me down,” I say.

She nestles her head into my chest and I think back to all the times in the past Simon has tried to fuck me over.

“The entire business plan of Connors Media is to take me out,” I tell her. “He’s using hate to chase after me. He used his hate at being thrown out of the company to become the second largest pornography distributor in the world. And it’s likely that he’s using hate now to try and stop me from ascending to another industry altogether.”

I sigh, finishing my sentence. Brittney is holding onto me, not looking at me, but comfortable to be close.

“You okay, babe?” I ask, running my hands over her body.

“I will be,” she says to me and I wonder how this story could affect her so much. If she were working with Simon, it’s possible she may be having second thoughts after hearing this.

Normally, having her firm body pressed up against me does wonders to make me forget everything, and for a moment I draw in the smell of her shampoo.

Brittney feels the same way and it's not long before I feel her tiny hand navigate under the folds of my robe. She unties the sash, opening it up, and with total concentration, brings her hands to my cock, slowly jerking me off.

She looks up at me and gives me a lascivious stare. “Thank you for trusting me with that, Ethan,” she says to me. “It meant a lot to me.”

I smirk at her. She’s in the mood to play. Well, fuck, so am I.

“How much?” I ask her, grinning.

She doesn’t answer with words, but rather by sinking to her knees and running her tongue over the tip of my cock.

Finally. Something good is happening this morning.


Five thousand.

That’s how many dollars I’m spending every month to keep a one-bedroom apartment near Riverside Park even though I spend most of my nights with Ethan at One57. I don’t mind the cost, really. I mean, I’m not complaining about that. Besides, it gives me a sense of independence. Until I’m completely honest with him, I don’t think I’d be comfortable moving in with him. I mean, you tell me, has he ever once told you anything about wanting me as his girlfriend? Or that we’re exclusive?

We haven't had that talk on my end.


I swear. We haven’t had any sort of discussions…oh, wait, we had that one time.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we had both gone out to some party the night before. It was a cast party I think for someone who was leaving the set of Hamilton and we had both had too much to drink.

We woke up the next morning slightly hung over. After eating a greasy breakfast over at the Red Eye Diner, Ethan looked over to me.

“You get that hang over horniness, babe?” Ethan asked, his hand on the small of my back as we crossed the street.

How did he know? All I wanted that morning after food and water was to get his giant cock inside of me to scratch an itch. But I was too much of a lady to say anything. Instead, I looked over at him once we crossed the street.

“Let’s wait till we get upstairs and I’ll show you,” I told him. He smirked at me.

He wasn’t smirking ten minutes later as his hands were grabbing my tits and squeezing my ass as I desperately shucked myself over and over on his thick, hard cock and came. Then, he turned me over on all fours and fucked me doggie until I had another orgasm. He fucked me on the sofa, then moved to the balcony where he bent me over the railing and drilled me, and then brought me inside and fucked me missionary where he came all over my tits. And he came in gallons. It was intense.

I scooped it all up with my fingers. Yummy.

Okay, yeah you’re done listening to my crazy sex life with my hot handsome stud, but this is the important part.

As we lay naked on the sofa together, Ethan turned to me.

“You have enough clothes for next week?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I thought you like it when I’m naked,” I replied, doing my smart ass thing that I use on him sometimes.

“Yeah, but you know, to go to work and shit,” he replied.

“I’m usually naked at work, filming scenes for I.E.,” I told him.

“Fuck, if you need to go to your place and get your shit, I’ll help,” he said, getting annoyed at me.

I turned over to him. I knew what he was going for. But I didn’t want to have that conversation.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked him with a pout.

I knew it would fuck with his head.

I know, why did I spoil the chance?

Because I was scared, I think.

I don’t know, hun. I’m fucked up in the head. After Robert. After running away.

Ethan just dropped the subject and went back to watching television. Which at the time was fine by me.

Now I’m wishing I had told him that it might have been easier to just move in—that this going back to my apartment over and over to get things was time consuming. Because an hour after our conversation, that’s exactly what I had to do. Trek all the way uptown and get my stuff.

But, no! Don’t you dare tell him that.


That’s how many times I’ve had to go visit Simon. Go give him progress reports on the I.E.

Thank God Simon has no way of knowing that I’ve actually tried it on. That I’ve had sex with Ethan on the I.E. Thank God he doesn't know just how utterly realistic and life-changing that device is—how much it’s going to revolutionize pornography as we know it.

But still, he has questions. He has threats.

“Aren’t you telling me that you’re the one who's going to be the face of it?” Simon asked me on the last time that I went there to give him my report. “That you’re going to be the star?”

I nod my head. I didn’t know what else to tell him. He dipped his head onto his desk and used a $100 bill to do another rail. When he was finished, his eyes were bloodshot.

“So, you’re not only taking the money that I’m paying you to infiltrate Illicit Entertainment,” Simon said snidely before taking some coke and using his fingers to slide them over his gums. “But now you’re also going to be a star again?”

I shrugged. There wasn’t much I could do to respond to him in a way that he’d be satisfied.

“I hired you for a job, Ms. Roman,” Simon said to me, getting up from his chair, his body already tweaking. “I expect you to carry it out or be prepared to face the consequences.”

I mean, each time I see Simon, it’s pretty much the same formula every time around. I give him my progress report, which isn’t that much progress, and then he gets upset at the lack of progress and follows by threatening me.

That’s the same thing that happened this time. I’m hoping that’s the same thing that happens next time, and the time after.

Although last time, Simon ended the meeting by glaring at me.

“For three months, I’ve asked you to get me a copy of the prototype!” he yelled at me.

“They only have one working copy!” I yelled back at him. “Not even he’s alone with it. I’d have to sleep with half the office to get them to turn the other way while I take it,” I shot back.

The thing was, and I had been thinking this for a while—once we get close enough to the launch date, maybe that buggy old prototype that they were working on would get me out of this mess.

“Never mind about stealing the physical prototype now,” Simon said however, dashing my hopes. “It’s too late to do anything with it. What you need to do is get me the underlying computer code that runs the software,” he said. “A copy that actually fucking works. Unlike your brain, which doesn’t apparently.”

I remember looking at him and blinking.

“Simon, how do you even expect me to do that that?” I asked him. “I barely know how to use SnapChat. Last time I tried I brought what you said was junk.”

But all Simon did was look at me and smile evilly.

“If there’s a will, there’s a way darlin’,” he hissed. “This is what happens when you dilly dally on getting the prototype. If you had just gotten that, it would have been a lot easier. But I guess you’ll have to be extra clever now. Or maybe you want me to just call Robert up on the phone so you can say hi?”

I nodded and left.

Little does he know that Walter and I already had the plans once… and the beta computer code… all downloaded on a USB drive. But by the time I gave it to him, it had become junk.

But yeah, I guess I keep that information to myself. I’ll also keep to myself that Walter and I talked about whether we even want to try again to steal the computer code, or we try for the physical prototype. I don't want to tell Simon any of our plans. It’s the only way I can keep some sort of control over this fucked up situation.

I don’t know what else to do, okay?

I can’t let him point Robert in my direction. Not after what he put me through. I mean, I ran away from porn and moved across the country to get away from him.

On the other hand, I can't betray Ethan.

Not after everything we’ve done.

Not after I’ve fallen in love with him.


That’s how many months have passed since I’ve first infiltrated Illicit Entertainment. It’s been three months of filming simulated sex for the virtual reality marvel that is the Illicit Escape. Three months where I’ve become the face of the new product. Three months where I’ve fallen in love with Ethan.

I know what you’re thinking, babe, and you don’t need to worry.

I’m not having real sex on set. Ethan isn’t having to watch me fuck another guy.

Anytime a real cock is needed, guess who’s filling in?

That’s right. Mr. Kane himself.

But even those times are really for still shots, or when the viewer maybe wants to look down and see me blowing them, you know? Like we don’t use a real cock for much because for the first time, the viewer is moving from viewing to participating.

It takes POV porn and goes one step closer.

But that means in filming, I only ever really film anything by myself.

It’s harder than I expected. If you don’t believe me, try pretending to have sex without anyone having sex. Like try scrunching your face in an orgasm when there’s no cock inside of you and without using your fingers.

But we only ever film maybe one day a week. The rest of the days are photos, touching up some shots, and other housekeeping.

Filming porn for virtual reality, where the user expects to have the sensation and experience of having sex with me is actually a very lonely endeavor. I’m actually spending a large amount of time in front of a green screen holding ridiculous poses.

The other day, I spent five minutes holding my hand in front of my mouth as if I was grasping a cock and guiding it inside. The day before that, I must have lay there for ten minutes with my legs spread out as they used my image and then moved it around in their computer systems to get it ideally pixelated for the I.E. experience.

It’s safe to say that being so close to sex, but not having real sex is enough to make me want to jump Ethan when we get home.

Afterwards, I go take a bath while Ethan fixes dinner.

Then we cuddle on the sofa and watch TV.

Well, let me actually correct that. Ethan watches TV and I lie in his arms, feeling them surround me and keep me safe. I like the sex, but smelling his cologne and feeling him wrapped around me is probably the most satisfying feeling I’ve had in years. I usually fall asleep there and he carries me to bed.

Every night.


That’s how many weeks I’ve known that I’m pregnant.

I know, right!

I’m pregnant!

I mean, yes, I’m happy. It’s okay. Don’t worry, this is so a good thing.

Oh, yeah, I first found out when I missed my period. I’ve never been late in my entire life. It has always been on the dot. And somehow, I just knew. Something was up.

One home pregnancy kit later, I knew that my body’s sixth sense was spot on.

And no, Ethan doesn’t know. I’m sorry, hun, but I need you to keep one more secret from him for me. You can’t tell him this until I tell him.

And I haven’t told him just yet because I’m still not sure what to do about Simon.

I mean, I would love to go and tell Ethan and have him pick me up in happiness. I’d love to start buying baby things with Ethan. I’d love to start teasing him about naming our little boy Wilfred and our little girl Juliana and watching him cringe at those names.

But I can’t.

I either have to wait until Ethan releases his prototype, or until I can get Simon off my back.

But I don’t know how to get out of this situation and so I’ve been keeping quiet.

I can’t lose Ethan. But I have a baby to think about now too.


That's how many hours Simon called me and told me I have to get him an I.E. Prototype just now.

I’m serious. He called just now.

It’s Monday morning and Ethan is already at work.

I don't have to go in till later on today to meet with the graphic designers and so I was able to see when Simon called my phone.

When I picked up, he was curt.

“Babes, I gave you long enough to get me what I fucking want. The product goes live in two weeks and I’m done waiting,” was his way of saying hello. “You have 24 hours to get me my fucking shit that actually works this time before Robert gets a nice little FedEx with all your fucking information, right down to your address and daily fucking schedule.”

I froze as I heard him and tried to comprehend what he was saying.

“I know exactly how many nights you spend at One57 and if I wanted to, I’d know exactly what fucking color underwear you were wearing, so please believe me that I am deadly serious,” he said over the phone. “24 hours. No more.”

I stand there for a long time feeling ill.

Wondering not just about myself. But about Ethan. And to top it all off now, about the baby inside of me.


“The initial marketing efforts will be through broad-based Internet advertising as well as direct television advertising,” Cheryl is speaking on the line and her voice is coming through on speakerphone.

It’s the afternoon and I’m sitting with my feet up on my desk listening to the people on the call. There’s probably about forty people all told who dialed in to the final two weeks before go-live. We got people from all different areas of the fucking company: Operations, Finance, Marketing, Legal, and R&D are on this call.

And tying it all together and holding us in check is none other than Cheryl —Personal Assistant to the fucking stars. My fucking personal assistant.

“What channels on the television spectrum are we targeting?” someone from Marketing asks Cheryl over the conference line.

There’s a pause. I know Cheryl is prepared for this question. It’s not like someone tripped her up or anything.

“We’re targeting prime time spots on all broadcast networks as well as contemporary movie channels that target the 18-44 demographic,” Cheryl says, reading off her list. I nod to myself. That sounds like a pretty good lineup.


Oh come on, don’t look so fucking shocked. I’m sure prime time television has no fucking problem running ads for a virtual reality porn player. I mean, have you looked at what they put on television recently? Fuck, this shit is exactly what the audiences are waiting for.

“We also have cross-promo licensing deals with all major fast food chains across the country as well as—” Cheryl would say more but all of a sudden my head jerks toward the door as it flings open.

I immediately put the call on mute. Then I put it on hold. Whatever is about to fucking go down does not need to be interrupting this important fucking call that's going to make me billions of dollars.

Jesus. I don’t know why I’m so fucking jumpy all of a sudden.

I realize how silly I’m being when Brittney walks in.

Instead of armed thugs being led by Simon Conners, it's the most beautiful girl in the fucking world walking in wearing a tight dark blue wraparound dress.

I know what you’re wondering right now, and fuck you for wondering, but yes, my cock does twitch a little bit seeing the fabric of Brittney’s dress cling to her fucking perky and full breasts and the rest of her slender body.

“Brittney?” I ask her. I mean, despite wanting to fuck her, I’m a bit surprised. She’s never surprised me at work like this before. “What’s going on, babe?” I ask.

She takes several steps toward me, her face determined.

“I need to withdraw from the project and end my association with Illicit Entertainment,” she says, as if she’s rehearsed this on the way over. “I need off the team.”

If she had stood there and told me she was growing a third fucking tit I wouldn't have been more shocked than I am at that moment.

I stand up, more because this moment is too important to be fucking sitting down.

“What do you mean?” I manage to ask her, not even sure I heard her right.

She shakes her head, and it looks like she might burst into tears at any point.

“You heard me, Ethan,” she says to me. “I need off the IE team. I’m sorry, but I can't be involved any more.”

I walk around the desk. This isn't a fucking employee problem anymore. This isn't a Human Resources case at this point.


This is something wrong with my girlfriend.

There, I don't care if she has trouble realizing that. Or doesn't want to admit it or whatever.

I fucking love this woman, and right now there is something that's bothering her.

“Babe, what the fuck is wrong?” I ask her and she’s about to answer when I realize she’s probably just going to say the same thing she has already. I stop her. “Wait,” I say and take a step toward her.

She looks up at me and there's the briefest flash of hope in her eyes. As if there's some way that maybe I can sort this out for her.

“I don't want to hear what the problem is if you can’t tell me, but know this babe,” I tell her and wrap my arms around her, bringing her close. “I will be with you no matter what the problem is. Hell, if you fucking killed someone I’ll be there with you to bury the fucking body.”

Brittney trembles and I pull back from her so I can look her in the eyes.

“Fuck the world, babe,” I tell her, my eyes piercing into her. “It’s you and me fucking forever,” I say with finality.

Brittney stares at me for a long, long time. Her eyes widen as if she’s realizing something for the first time. She uses her hand to wipe away some tears before they can form.

“Listen, I know you did fucking porn back in Los Angeles, but guess what? We’re a company that sells porn, so it’s fucking okay!” I exclaim and she laughs for a second. Bingo. I’m on the right track.

“I know there was probably some other shit that you’re not telling me, but listen to me, okay?” I say, and Brittney nods as she looks at me.

I take a deep breath. Fuck. Sure, I’ve told her I love her. But I’ve never put it in this way before like I’m about to do.

“I really don't care what the fuck you did, are doing, or will do, as long as you let me be around you,” I tell her and she gasps.

“I know I sound like a fucking pussy for saying that and don’t worry, you won't fucking walk all over me or something, but Brit, whatever it is, I’m always next to you because I fucking love you,” I finish.

Another fucking long pregnant pause.

She takes a step over and gets on her tiptoes. Her mouth comes to mine and she kisses me.

Long and fucking hard.

The kind that sends blood to your cock.

When she pulls back, she’s smiling.

“I love you too, you big romantic bear, you,” she says with a smirk and twinkling eyes.

Fuck. She’s back.

“So no more talk of leaving?” I ask her, trying to hide my smile.

“Uh-uh,” she says shaking her head.

“Good,” I tell her, turning away, trying to not look like a fool. “Then scram. I got work to do.”

Brittney kisses me one last time and turns around to walk away. I go to my desk and unmute the call.

But the line is silent. I wonder if they’re already done? They can’t be. The call was supposed to be for another half hour at least.

“If you’re wondering what happened to the call, I told everyone we’d reconvene when we never heard you answer any of our questions,” Cheryl says from the door to my office.

I turn around. She’s standing there holding her tablet and looking at me.

“When you didn’t answer even me, I decided you had probably jumped off without telling me,” she says as she walks in, her eyes looking around. “Which is a very odd thing to do, even for you, considering the importance of what we’re planning here Ethan,” she finishes with.

She’s looking at me closely and I know what's fucking coming.

“I got caught up, Cheryl…” I start to say but she fucking cuts me off.

“Yes, I saw her heading to the elevator when I started coming this way. She looked happy,” Cheryl says and raises her eyebrows at me. “Quite different from the way she looked from my office when she came up.”

“She wanted off the project,” I tell Cheryl, not knowing why I’m fucking explaining myself to her. “But I talked her into staying.”

“I see,” Cheryl says with a deep breath as if smelling the room. “I’m glad you didn’t sleep with her to make the point.”

“Are you smelling for fucking sex smells, Cheryl?” I ask, not sure where this conversation is headed. “Is that in your bag of tricks nowadays too?”

“I’m sighing, Ethan,” Cheryl says rolling her eyes and walking to the window. “Because I don’t think you realize what you’re falling into here.”

“What?” I ask, walking to the window too. “You still think she’s the one who's going to steal the prototype for Simon?”

“No, Ethan,” Cheryl says turning to me. “It doesn't matter if she’s the one who's stealing the prototype, but at least you need to be honest with her.”

I pause. That stops me short.

“You need to tell her the truth about what you’re doing,” Cheryl says to me. “Because you’re in love with that girl, and regardless of what she’s up to, she’s in love with you.”

I still have nothing to fucking say. It’s not like I have the high ground anymore.

“And if you really love her, the least you can do is be honest about yourself and what you’re doing. At least to her,” Cheryl finishes.

I’m silent as she looks at me for another second.

“I’ll be with Marketing if you need me,” she says by way of goodbye.

I stand there for a long minute as Cheryl leaves.

I mean, just answer me one fucking question, if you will, and don’t skip to the end, okay?

Since when did porn get to become so fucking complicated?


Two weeks left to go until the go-live for Ethan’s prototype that will revolutionize pornography for the human race.

Yeah, sounds a bit over the top, doesn’t it, hun?

In fact, this entire situation seems like something you only find in a movie or the mind of a very mischievous romance novelist.

I mean, look at me? A porn star?

Sure, I used to be famous, if famous is the word. I mean, I used to be on DVD covers and on the Internet. My face used to be plastered on porn sites. Click on me and you’d see me sucking cock. Licking another girl’s pussy. Having a cock pounded into me.

Yeah, I like sex. I liked the role playing I used to do. Pretending to be the stepmom and getting paid for it. Dressing up as the stepdaughter and moaning ‘Daddy’ and calling that work. Driving my Mercedes. Having fancy clothes. Jewelry.

I liked sex. I still like sex.

And now, I have 24 hours. 24 hours to steal the one device that could make me a star again. 24 hours to take from the man I love his greatest accomplishment and give it to his sworn enemy.

Or else, the dark shadow from my past comes back to haunt me.

Right, I keep hinting at Robert, the ex-boyfriend, but you actually have no idea completely what I’m talking about yet, do you?

I know I kept telling you that I’d fill you in but I never have.

I’m sorry about that, hun. I really want to, because you deserve to know, since you’re the reader and all.

It’s just that it’s been so difficult to bring him up. I mean, I want to completely put that part of my life in a box and forget about it.

But, I guess if I can’t tell you, who can I tell?

Well, yeah I know, don’t roll your eyes. I could probably tell Ethan too.

I probably will need to, come to think about it. Because one way or another, I think I’m fucked.

So, let’s see …

What Simon is threatening to do to me is basically tell Robert McIntyre, my ex-boyfriend, who lives in Los Angeles, California where I’m currently at.

Robert McIntyre was the man I dated when I did porn back in the day. He was the ‘modeling agent’ who found me when I was working in an elementary school. He gave me his card and wined and dined me. He fucked me first and then slowly got me used to the idea of porn. First he had me do modeling shots that were sexier and racier. It started with bikinis and underwear. You know, the kind of stuff on Macy’s ads that you see in the newspaper.

Then it became a bit edgier. Topless shoots. Showing my tits.

Then he began getting money for those selling them to magazines. Soon, it was with a guy. And then we were both naked in the pictures. And then soon, we were fucking.

I saw the fancy cars, the clothes, the expensive watches, and the glamor and I fell for it.

I always did modeling on the side even while holding my day job, but eventually you know, you can’t do porn and teach elementary school kids at the same time.

So I quit my job when he convinced me to.

I mean, he wasn’t the cutest guy. But he was all I knew. I hadn’t dated very much till then and I had no idea what to expect from a man in a lot of ways. I wasn’t that experienced in sex like I am now.

But he wasn't the…nicest of men either, hun. He was mean at times.

By mean, I mean he had a temper.

There were plenty of times I applied makeup to cover up something that he did.

Plenty of times that I made excuses for a blemish or a bruise.

He always apologized afterwards, but I couldn't get out. Because any mention of me leaving that relationship would just drive him to get even more upset.

A part of me was scared, for sure. While he never hit me that hard or punched me or threw me down the stairs or anything, the anger and violence was there in his eyes. Plenty of times he punched a hole in the wall or broke something. He once ripped a pair of my panties in anger when I didn’t want to have sex. I don’t want to talk about how I maced him in the eyes immediately afterwards.

Macing him was actually at that stage where I was fighting back. But for over two years I took it.

But who knows, I probably would have stayed in that relationship fighting back longer if I had to, if I hadn't found out he was basically living a double life.

I only found out one day because I found two cell phones in his pocket. I had no idea he had two phones and when I asked him he was evasive.

Something about the whole situation put my mind on edge and two days later, I followed him when he left the house on what he told me was a business trip.

I tailed him all the way from the Hollywood Hills where I was living with him to Malibu. He stopped at a house. He had the keys to the place and spent the entire day and night there. I know, because I watched him from my car.

As I sat there, I researched the address on my phone. And I found out so much about Robert McIntyre that I had never known before.

Turns out he was married. Wife and one kid.

He apparently also had another job at KPMG as an accountant. He was representing me and sending me to do porn to fund what I don't know, but whatever it was, my fees were paying for a double life for him.

I hadn’t put up with a man that had a 5-inch cock for this. I didn't put up with a man with violent tendencies that occasionally slapped me when he got angry for this. Fuck, I didn't put up with a man that pimped me out at porn sets for this.

I could have been a real model. I could have done so much.

I rang the doorbell that night and she answered. I can’t even remember her name but I remember her eyes widened when she saw me.

“You have to leave!” she whispered to me.

“Are you his wife?” I asked. She nodded to me and closed the door.

“You don’t want to confront him, babe,” she told me. “You need to go now!”

But I couldn't just go. I couldn’t just leave her there if she was afraid.

But she shook her head.

“I’ve been married to him since high school,” she told me. “And I know who you are. I know all of his women. He doesn't care to hide them anymore from me. He thinks he has me beaten down.”

If you want to think that I’m sort of slut or sub-human then you’re welcome to hun, but this woman was living with a true sub-human. His wife told me he had half a dozen girls working in porn at any given time. He’d use them until their shelf life expired. Then he’d move on.

“You need to leave and pretend you never came here!” his wife told me.

She went on to tell me that I wasn’t the first person to have discovered her house. There had been one other, a year ago. She had come knocking and had stormed the house during the day.

Robert had slapped her around a couple times, and then dragged her to his car.

When he came back, he hadn’t talked about her and pretended the whole thing had never happened.

“She never acted in porn after that. Just dropped off the face of the earth,” his wife told me. “I think he may have killed her, but I can’t go tell anyone because I have no proof.”

I still wanted to confront him. I could handle my own.

“Then he’ll kill me, so his secret never comes out,” she said.

And I saw desperation in her voice.

“I can take care of myself and my boy if you just leave,” she pleaded to me. “If you pretend that you never saw me. That you know nothing of this house.”

The look in her eyes I think is what convinced me to listen to her, you know?

I remember getting in the car and driving off.

But I didn’t go back home. I just kept driving. Left Los Angeles. Ended up in Vegas that night where I emptied our bank accounts the next morning, and moved all the money into a separate, new account.

I found a guy who changed my last name from White to Roman and made me an entirely new social security number and even gave me a 720 credit score.

Then I drove off.

I kept driving until I reached New York.

It was as far away from Robert as I could go.

And I started Man Chasers LLC. I don't know why I went out hunting for cheaters. Why the sole purpose of my job was to bring misery to men.

But it felt good. It felt damn good.

And now, either I go on the run again, or I sacrifice everything and everyone I’ve come to love to stay standing.

But I can’t just think about me.

I need to think about my baby. His baby.

No, it doesn’t sound right, does it?

I need to think about our baby.

And as soon as that comes into the picture, I know exactly what I need to do.

I know exactly why I can’t keep running anymore.


It’s time to fight back. It’s time to show just how strong I can be.

The whole Brittney that runs away and is too weak—I left her in Los Angeles. The Brittney in New York City? She’s a bad fucking bitch.

But before I do anything, I need to tell Ethan.

The truth.

For real this time.


“Ethan?” There’s a knock on the door, and then Brittney steps inside my office. She wasn’t supposed to be around this soon, and the expression on her face tells me that something’s up. And I have a feeling that I won’t fucking like that something.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask her, getting up from my chair and going around the desk. I place my hands on her hips and pull her into me, brushing my lips against hers. She kisses me back, but her whole body is tense. “What’s going on, babe?”

“I… I need to tell you something,” she starts, fear and anxiety in her voice.

“You know you can tell me anything, Brittney. I love you,” I tell her with a smile, tucking a lock of her hair over her ear. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I know that Cheryl doesn’t trust me… Because she thinks I came here to steal your prototype,” she starts, her voice quivering.

“Hey, don’t worry about her… She’s very protective and—"

“She’s right. I came here to steal it,” she cuts in, pursing her lips and locking her eyes on me. There’s fear on her face, but there’s also determination. She’s telling me the truth, but why now? “And I was working for Simon.” That’s it; I just fucking lose it.

“Simon? You’ve been working for that fucking excuse of a man?” I let go of her and take one step back, having no idea on how to process what she’s telling me. Fucking Simon, of all fucking people. “How could you?”

“He… blackmailed me. I had to… I had to, Ethan. I had no other choice,” she continues to speak, tears welling up in her eyes. I’m torn between holding her in my arms and punching the fucking wall. Simon always tried to fuck me over, and it seems that this time he really got close to it. “He… Threatened he would tell my ex where I was and… I don’t know what he would do if he found out, I really don’t. I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad; everything in this situation is fucking terrible.

“How far have the two of you gotten?” I ask her, almost unable to hide the rage in my voice. If I were face-to-face with that motherfucker, I would give him the beating of his fucking life. He tried to fuck with my company, and along with that, with the woman I love. This is a fucking declaration of war.

“He… He stills needs the code. Without that, he has nothing…”

I remain in silence, looking at her as I consider my options. There’s not a lot that I can do.

“Ethan… Please, say something…” she whispers, taking one step forward and placing her hands on my chest. “I don’t want to lose you,” she mutters, looking me in the eye. “I need you,” she continues, and I become acutely aware of the way her body is pressed against mine. Before I know it, my cock is hardening and pushing against my boxer briefs. As she presses her breasts against me, all of my fury and lust blend into one another and I just fucking lose it.

I push her against one of the mirrors on the wall, pinning her arms while my mouth goes straight for her neck. I’m fucking furious right now but, somehow, that makes me want her even more. I start to kiss her neck and then I press my mouth against hers, an animalist urge taking control of me. I need to fuck her, and I need it badly.

Her hands dart to my waist, and not losing any time, she unbuckles my belt and starts to unbutton my pants. Then, flattening the palm of her hand against my boxer briefs, she starts to rub my hard cock.

Anxious to be inside of her, I place one hand under her ass and force her to lift her leg, hiking her dress up to her waist. I press my body against her, gritting my teeth as I feel my cock against her pussy. She tangles her fingers in my hair, and as we kiss madly, she starts to sway her hips from side to side, rubbing herself against my cock.

I don’t know why or how, but the fury and rage at what Brittney and Simon intended to do is turning into lust, and I can’t fucking stop. It overpowers me, shutting down my rational mind and leaving me in a frenzy.

“On your knees,” I tell her, pulling out from her kiss. Without saying a word, she goes down and hooks her fingers on my boxer briefs. She pulls on them, sending both boxers and pants down to my knees, and grabs my cock with one hand; with the other, she cups my balls and starts to massage them. I groan, closing my eyes for a moment, and she starts to stroke me at a frantic pace, my shaft throbbing against her fingers.

Exhaling sharply, I place my hands on her head and grab her hair by the root. With that, I pull her into me. She tilts her head to the side and smacks her lips against my shaft, running her tongue up and down my length. Going from my balls to the tip, she finally parts her lips and wraps them around my glans; moving slowly but firmly, she starts to go down, my shaft pushing its way between her lips. When I feel my glans against the back of her throat, I hold my position for a few seconds, and only then do I pull back.

Still grabbing her hair, I keep her head still and start to thrust, my shaft flying in and out of her mouth at a relentless pace. I fuck her mouth with abandonment, anger and rage hardening my movements and infusing them with a kind of furious desperation.

I’m going so hard that I almost come; I feel a dangerous pressure inside of me, and I have to clench my ass and hold my breath in order to take back control. Taking a deep breath, I pop my cock out of her mouth and pull her up to her feet; moving fast, I grab her by the hips and force her to turn around, slamming her against the mirror wall once again.

I don’t even bother with taking off her clothes; I simply run my hands up her legs, and after pushing the hemline of her dress up to her waist, I place one hand between her thighs and flick her thong to the side.

“Please, yes…” she moans, but I can barely hear. I’m fucking lost in an ocean of lust, and there’s only way to find myself. Yeah, you’re guessing right, it involves fucking.

I grab my cock with one hand and angle it down, placing it between her thighs and against her wet pussy. As my glans touches her folds, she lets out one loud moan, jutting her ass and trying to get me to thrust. And that’s what I do. I thrust as hard as I can, burying my shaft deep inside her pussy. She screams, slamming her forearms against the mirror, and I start to rock my hips.

I go fast and mercilessly, pounding her with my thick cock in such a way that I just know she won’t be able to sit for days without remembering it. And that’s exactly what I want.

Grabbing her by the hips, I make her jut her ass back, and then I go as fast as humanly possible. My thighs slap her ass cheeks over and over again, the sound of it making me even more fucking insane. Gritting my teeth as I move, I look over her shoulder and into the mirror; I can see her face, an expression of pain and pleasure there, making her even more fucking beautiful. Fuck, why did she have to be working with Simon? Why the fuck did all this have to happen?

Moving as if I’m in a trance, I take one hand around her waist and press my fingers against her clit. Rubbing her with fast tight circles, it doesn’t take long for her pussy to tighten around my shaft like a vice. She presses her forehead against the wall, and hissing through her gritted teeth, she comes.

“It feels so… good,” she pants, breathing hard as tenuous spasms make her muscles twitch. Once again, I keep my silence, not knowing what to say. Anger and lust replace any need for words.

With both my hands on her hips again, I turn her to me and crush my mouth against hers. We kiss as if we needed it more than air to survive, our tongues dancing around one another with wild frantic movements.

“More, I want more…” she moans, and I act on instinct, placing both my hands under her ass cheeks and pressing her against the wall mirror. I pick her up from the floor, and she laces her legs behind my back; once more, I flick her thong to the side and press my cock against her wetness. Groaning, I thrust and bury my cock inside of her pussy, sheathing to the hilt. I grit my teeth as she digs her fingers into my back, her legs locked around my waist.

Moving at a frenzied rhythm, I piston my cock into her with a fucking growl. I go as deep as I can, a scream leaving her lips each time my glans rubs against that inner sanctum hiding inside of her. Closing my eyes, I let my dark instincts take hold of me and I fuck her like I never did before. My movements are raw and harsh, and I can no longer hear her moans; I’m in a world of my own right now.

I feel her fingernails burying themselves in my back, over my shirt, and the sharp pain of it brings me back to reality. She’s moaning like she’s fucking possessed, and I can’t help but brush my lips against her ear.

“Come, just come,” I whisper, and a fraction of a second after, her pussy starts to spasm around my shaft. I don’t stop moving as she comes; instead, I go even harder, beads of sweat already pooling on my forehead. Each thrust of mine draws a quivering moan out of her lips, and she starts to claw at my back, throwing her head back and pressing it against the mirror.

“Oh, God, don’t stop,” she moans, and then her arms start moving erratically. Coming for the second time in a row, she allows a violent orgasm to ride the coattails of the one before. I thrust one last time, forcing my cock to go all the way in, and then hold my position there as she comes her fucking brains out.

When the last sparks of pleasure have faded away, she eases the pressure of her fingers on my back, and presses her forehead against my chest. Slowly, I pull my cock out from her pussy and she takes her legs from my back. As she touches the floor, she has to support herself against the mirror, her legs shaking as if they have become too weak to support her weight.

“Your mouth,” I find myself saying, my cock twitching and aching to feel her tongue once more. Obedient, she goes down on her knees, and curling her fingers around my shaft, dives into me at once. She bobs her head back and forth at a relentless pace, and I rest my hands on her head; this time, I let her dictate the rhythm.

“Fuck…” I whisper, more to myself than to her. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and just savor the way her lips roll up and down my shaft. Fuck, she really knows how to use her perfect little mouth…

Still with her lips wrapped around my cock, she starts to move her hand up and down my shaft, and I feel on the verge of cumming. I tangle my fingers in her hair and stop her from moving; gritting my teeth, I exhale sharply and let a violent shiver go up my spine. At the time, my cock spasms and I feel the cum rushing through me and into her mouth.

I keep holding her while I come, filling her mouth with my seed. There are strands of cum already dripping down from her lips and onto her chin, but I don’t give a fuck; I keep cumming inside her mouth, even though it’s already brimming with my juices.

Once I’m done, I let go of her head, and moving slowly, start to slide my cock out of her mouth. When it finally pops out, she looks up at me and opens her mouth, showing me her full mouth like the bad girl she is. I grin at her, momentarily forgetting all about the fucking mess we’re in.

I place two fingers under her chin and make her close her mouth. “Swallow. All of it,” I command her, and obedient, she does it. Satisfaction rushes through me as I watch the muscles in her throat move, my cum going down through it. Her chin is glistening from the cum there, and a few drops are already making their way toward her neck and cleavage.

I reach for one of the drawers I keep in the corner and take a dry towel out. I take a deep breath, reminding myself of what I need to do now that the truth is out, and throw the towel at her. She starts to clean herself, going up to her feet, and then adjusts the hemline of her skirt. I watch her do all of it, my heart racing like a motherfucker.

Here she is, the most fucking beautiful woman on Earth, and she had to be working for the fucking enemy. Life can be a bitch when it wants, that’s for fucking sure. But it can’t be helped; it’s time for me to man the fuck up and make the right decisions.

I button up my pants and look at her, knowing exactly what I have to do. I go back to my desk, sit down in front of the computer and tap at the keyboard. Accessing the Illicit Escape code, I downloaded it onto a hard drive and then eject it. Holding it in my hands, I get back up and walk toward her.

“Take it. It’s the code,” I tell her, no emotion to my voice.

“But…” she stammers, her eyes widening in confusion. “No… I can’t… I won’t, Ethan.”

“You will,” I tell her harshly. “It’s the reason you came here in the first place, isn’t it?” I push the drive into her hands and she grabs it hesitantly. I notice that her hands are shaking, and my heart feels tight as fuck inside my chest. “Give it to him, and your problems will be solved.” Without saying one more word, I turn my back to her and sit at my desk again.

She stands there, looking at me with tears in her eyes, and fuck, I just want to fucking hold her tight, but I can’t. I fucking can’t.

“Ethan…” she starts, taking one step toward me. I look her in the eyes and she stops dead in her tracks, anxiety written all over her face.

“You can go now, Brittney. I have work to do,” I dismiss her coldly, as if I wasn’t talking to the woman I love. This is the hardest fucking thing I have ever done. “Go,” I repeat, ice in my eyes and in my voice.

She runs her tongue over lips, and slowly, turns her face away. She starts walking toward the door, and I feel like shit. This is the worst fucking day of my life, that much I can tell you.

“Brittney, one more thing…” She stops and looks back at me, hope gleaming in her eyes. I look back at her, unable to say a fucking thing. But I must do it. I fucking must.

“Yes…?” she asks me, clutching the hard drive against her chest.

“You’re fired,” I say to her and close my eyes for the final bit. “Effective immediately. With cause.”


“This is it?” Simon says, leering at the USB drive in my hand. “That’s the software programming for the I.E.?”

I nod.

“That’s exactly the code that Ethan was studying,” I tell him, my voice flat.

Simon let's out a high-pitched squeal of glee and rubs his hands together.

“Finally!” Simon shouts to himself. “That man will get what is coming to him!”

I remain silent as Simon takes the USB drive and kisses it in delight. He looks to me. “They called me shady, you know?” he asks me. “They said I was too sly. All my life, people like Ethan have walked all over me. Because everyone seems to think that just because he’s handsome, he deserves a chance. Or because he’s nice to people, it’s okay to be an idiot. Or because he’s got a good heart, it makes up for being stupid.”

I back away slightly.

“I never had a shot with them!” Simon yells, and I’m thinking it's more to himself than with anyone else. “They thought I was too smart. Too sneaky. Ugly, you name it. But this will show Ethan. This will show everyone. Mr. All-American just got brought down by sneaky ol’ me!”

“Is that all you need then?” I ask Simon, eager for this to be over.

“Just one last question,” Simon says, turning to me. “How’d you get it?”

I look at Simon with a mixture of dread.

How do I tell him that I got on my knees to Ethan.

That tears streamed down my face as I told him how I’d been working for Simon the entire time we’d been together.

That when Ethan and I went out to dinner, it was because Simon was paying me. That when Ethan was fucking me, it was because I was trying to get undercover. That when we fell in love, it was because it had been arranged to be so.

That the only reason his baby is inside of me and I haven’t told him is because he or she only came to life because I was running a con.

That the whole thing was designed to steal Ethan’s greatest creation.

How am I supposed to tell Simon that even after telling Ethan all this, and breaking down and confessing how now I’d gotten in way over my head—not knowing what to do. Whether to run and hide or stay and suffer.

That after all that, Ethan just handed the USB drive to me. Told me to take it. And never come back to work again.

I mean, how would you tell Simon?

Oh, wait. I just remembered who I’m talking to, hun. You would never have been in this situation in the first place right?

Because you would probably have never gotten into the limo. You would have probably never made the choices I did. Probably never have had to worry about trying to run away from a man like Robert McIntyre.

“Well?” Simon asks again, “How’d you get it?”

“Switched it after sex,” I lie shrugging. “He was asleep, didn’t notice.”

“Well they’re going to notice pretty soon,” Simon says.

“I’m not going back, so it’s no bother for me,” I tell him and turn around to walk out.

What? It’s true.

Ethan basically fired me. From his company. And I’m pretty sure from his life.

Have you ever been in a crowd of people but felt utterly and completely alone?

Well, hun, welcome to me right about now.

I mean, that overcast sky might as well just open up and start raining right about now as I walk down 7th Avenue because that’s my mood.

As if deciding to play a cruel joke on me, I hear something that seems like light rumbling as I approach 52nd Street and 7th Avenue, and the first bits of water start to fall on my head.

Great, now even Mother Nature is deciding to hate me.

The bits of rain quickly turn into a downpour as people scramble around me. The skies darken even farther as I approach Columbus Circle, the horses whinnying along Central Park South.

I’ll tell you one thing though, hun. It’s a good thing it's raining. Because the tears kind of get washed away when I see the giant billboard next to the Trump International Hotel & Tower advertising Illicit Escape.

Right there, holding the futuristic glasses, is my smiling face. The tag line, “Revolutionizing Pleasure” written in a sexy font.

I’m glad you can’t see my tears.

It's in these moments that the biggest city in the world becomes the loneliest place on earth.

But it’s nothing that I don’t deserve after everything I’ve just done.


The next week is basically like that day. Cold, sad, depressing, and rainy.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been like this. I mean, I had a chance to be happy. I had a chance to settle down with a man that truly, really loved me.

I know what you’re going to say, though. I had an impossible choice. It was either protect myself from Robert or run again.

And why exactly did I sell Ethan out?

Because I didn’t want to run. Because I wanted to stay in New York City and make a home for the baby that I’m carrying. Hoping that Ethan would understand.

I mean, I did go and tell him—at the end. I confessed to lying to him, trying to steal from him, and taking his heart under false pretense.

And what did he do?

He gave me everything I wanted.

He gave me the computer coding for the software that runs the Illicit Escape. He let me keep my home.

He gave me everything I asked for.

But it turns out, while I was on my knees pleading to him to show me mercy, I never once asked him to forgive me and hold me.

To take me back.

But isn’t that the story of my life?

Always thinking about myself?

Leaving teaching to get into modeling full time? Not even thinking about the people who were relying on me when I began to split my time as an elementary school teacher and a model.

And then when a better offer came along, not even considering the implications to others when I moved into porn.

Maybe I deserved someone who used me as casually as Robert did. Maybe I never hit him, but I abused others with my lack of consideration just the same. I never thought about them. Only what was good for me.

That’s why when I finally found out about him, I never gave a second thought to thinking about his wife and child. I just drove.

Got out of there.

I could have gone to the police, maybe?

If not that, I could have tried to warn others. His wife had said there were other women, hadn't she?

And then in New York.

From the very first time Simon came into my life, I’ve thought about myself first and foremost.

Sure, hun, if you’re saying I had to think about the baby at the end, I’ll agree that I thought about the baby.

But there had to have been another way than asking Ethan to give up what he’s worked on for so long.

I just never bothered to see what it was.

To his credit, Ethan seems to keep going full speed ahead with the release.

Only this time, Conners Media, led by Simon has also stepped to the plate. They announced two days ago that they too would be releasing wearable technology designed to let the user experience porn through virtual reality. They call it Wicked Wear.

Ethan seems to not even care, if that’s the right word.

Maybe the plans are so fully committed that he has no option now but to see things through.

In the last week, there’s been a media blitz, including front page ads in the the New York Daily Journal, television spots, a marquee every hour at Madison Square Garden, skywriting, giveaways during lunchtime with Illicit Entertainment starlets, and a massive launch party in Times Square.

It’s the launch party that has the entire city, and possibly nation talking.

It’s being filmed live in Times Square and being carried by all the major networks.

The network morning TV show, Today USA is even carrying it live.

But that’s not why everyone is tuning in.

In perhaps the only nod to Simon, Ethan has challenged him to publicly put his product head to head against his.

He says that the entire nation should be allowed to decide for themselves who has the better technology.

Today USA is even planning on doing snap polls in the moment as people see the products matched up.

I’m a little unsure heading up to the launch date how they’re going to even do the matchup. I mean, are they going to put the glasses on people and ask which one makes them cum faster?

Seriously, if you’re laughing, so am I—but it’s a morbid laughter.

Because I know that with the code that Simon has, he’s had a week to tweak it and make it better. Whereas Ethan probably is looking to alter his software so as not to seem like a copycat product.

I don’t know if this is Ethan’s last ditch plan to bluff his way out of an impossible situation. To keep his head high after being stolen from and hurt by someone he let get too close to him.

All I know is that while I don’t want to watch, I’m probably going to end up tuning in like everyone in the country. If for nothing else than to pray for a miracle.

That’s until the morning of the launch, when I get a phone call.

I look at the phone and my heart skips a beat.

It’s Ethan.

With trembling hands, I answer.

“Hello?” I ask, a bit shaky. The butterflies are in full force in my stomach.

“I’ve sent a car for you, babe,” Ethan says. “I want you to get in it.”

“Why?” I ask instinctively. After a week and a half of no contact, to call me out of the blue and tell me to get in a car.

I’m sorry hun, but the last time I got into a car, it was with Simon, and do you remember what happened?

“Listen to me, babe,” Ethan says into the phone. “I really really really want you to get into that fucking car.”

“Where is it going to take me?” I ask him.

“It’s going to bring you to my place,” he says confidently. I wonder if he’s that hard up for sex that he needs me again. “We’re going to watch the product launch and the match up together.”

Well, let’s just say that’s a surprise.

I honestly don’t know what to say here.

I swear to you – this is just too much.

I’m just a simple girl from Southern California. I’m not someone who normally plays these games that billionaires play. I’m at the end of my wits.

I’m all check-mated out.

“I just got word the car’s outside, Brit,” Ethan says.

I’ve been silent, but I know that if there’s even a sliver of a chance that I can go back and reclaim the father of my child I’ll take it.

“I’ll be right down,” I tell him, my mind made up.

If there’s even a chance for him and I, I’m going to do everything I can to take it.

For me, yeah. But for him as well. And most of all, for the baby.


I can fucking tell the moment the car pulls up to the curb of One57.

I mean, fuck, I could have told you what Brittney was wearing from the moment she got in the fucking car.

I’ve got sensors on the car, telling me exactly where it’s at. I’ve got cameras in the car that I can see the passengers.

The cameras in the car though, that one is actually because we filmed a movie once, two people fucking in the backseat of a limo. That’s not purposely being a fucking spy or whatever. I think we called those series something like ‘Ride Me: Backseat Confessions’ or something.

Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that it’s not a big shocker when I see Brittney getting out of the car and walking toward the entrance of the building as the doorman to One57 based on the tiny micro camera I have installed on the lobby.

Yeah, I get shit for it. Every so often, some billionaire’s bodyguard or intelligence person finds it. They remove it or destroy it with white noise. But for times like this, where I can use this tablet to watch this beautiful woman get out of the limo in a tight black dress that’s accentuating her hips and showcasing her tits, it's absolutely amazing.

Oh yeah, you heard me right. I watch a whole bunch of shit and keep recordings of the surveillance on my fucking tablet.

Remember the first time Brittney came by? I was watching something and totally entranced by it and you wanted to know what it was that was so fucking fascinating but I wouldn’t tell you?

Well, here’s me telling you right now.

I have these cameras watching, recording, and showing me what happens in places when I’m not there. I got one in my office, around various rooms in Illicit Entertainment, in my homes, in my cars, you name it.

In fact, what I was watching that day when Brittney first came over was—

Fuck, there she is actually, ringing the doorbell.

That was fast.

I’ll tell you later, okay?

Right now I walk to the door to open it and reveal a very wary looking Brittney Roman.

I also gotta be a bit honest here.

I look at Brittney, and I know you think I should be mad or something. But all I want to do right now is two things in the world.

I want to pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. Tell her to stop feeling down. Tell her everything is going to be alright. Make her stop worrying—stop beating herself up, which I know she’s doing. I want to make her happy and tell her that I want to protect her for the rest of her life. That I never want anything to get in the middle of us. Ever. That I fucking love her.

Yeah, that's the first thing.

The second thing I want to do is fuck her brains out. I’m completely serious. After I tell her how much I love her, I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her like a whore. Bring her to a whole new level of fucking pleasure than she’s ever been before. Fuck her so hard that she forgets what walking is all about she’s so fucking sore. Make her scream so loud that only the fucking birds hear her. I want to own her. Body and fucking soul.

And mark my fucking words, darlin’, I’m going to do all that.

First though, I hold the door open and look at her.

“Come on in, babe, it’s okay,” I tell her. She looks at me and warily walks in the door. I smile as she passes me and turns her head back to look at me.

I let a moment pass. Her ass is just too good to not stare.

“Should I leave you and my ass alone so you two can catch up?” Brittney asks me and I look up. She’s got the faint hint of a smile going.

“That’s the girl I remember,” I tell her, grinning at her. “There she is.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot in a week and a half?” she asks me, with a small pout.

I take a few steps toward her and lean in to kiss her.

It’s a chaste fucking kiss. Nothing at all like I’m going to do to her in a bit. But it’s all the situation needs right now.

When I pull my head back, I see her. Her eyes are closed and she’s enjoying it.

I wrap my arms around her.

“Hey,” I tell her. “It’s okay. Really. Listen to me…” I say, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“No, Ethan, it’s not okay, okay?” Brittney says with a ferocity I didn’t expect. “I played you, and it’s not okay.”

“You did?” I ask, with a raised eyebrow.

Despite everything that's going on, she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Well, fine,” she says to me. “I tried to play you. But sure, I failed, but in the end you still let me. I can’t believe you just handed over the software code for the I.E. to me,” she says to me, her words rushing out like water out of a damn.

“Listen babe,” I start again, trying to get in a word edgewise. “I think that it’s going to be okay…” Again though Brittney cuts me off.

“How?” she asks me, pressing herself against me. “I had to give Simon the code and he had enough time to build the prototype you spent so much time on. And how the fuck can you not be freaking out at me right now?” Brittney asks.

I pause. She’s starting to get hysterical.

I guess I could start fucking talking.

But instead, I take the remote near the side table and turn on the television.

“Let’s sit down,” I tell her. “The product match-up should be starting soon.”

Brittney sighs heavily, but she follows me to the sofa where we both sit. It takes her a moment of hesitation before she’s able to curl up into me as we both watch TV. I don’t mind. She’s probably more confused than anything right now.

I mean, she fucking betrayed me and saw how I angry I was when we were fucking ten days ago, right?

And now, I’m holding her close and telling her everything is okay?

“Just watch,” I tell her.

You should listen to that advice too.

I mean, it's the perfect day in Times Square for the launch. No, I have no need to be there. Cheryl’s planned it well enough that our spokespeople can do the heavy lifting while I watch with the woman I love.

Besides, it’s going to be awesome.

Within moments, Today USA is broadcasting both Illicit Entertainment and Conners Media representatives as they stand side-by-side on a raised platform at the intersection of Broadway and 42nd Street. There’s an emcee from the network. Behind him is a giant 40-foot projection screen. The whole point of this demo is to have an user put on the respective glasses and have it transmit what the user is seeing on the projection screen.

If you’re scratching your head and wondering if it’s a bit over the fucking top, let me just stop you right there and remind you of one thing.

Just remember who’s telling the fucking story here, okay?

Does it say Bonnie Believable on the cover?

Or does it have my girl, Alexis Angel’s name?

I’m thinking it’s the latter. Which means in this version of reality, our society has gotten to the point where it’s not just okay to do a demonstration of a gadget that is intended for explicit sexual use, but it’s celebrated enough that one of the largest broadcast networks is holding a product competition that they’ll air over public fucking airwaves.

Over the top? You fucking bet, babe.

“I can’t believe they’re going to actually do this demo,” Brittney says quietly. “It’s so insane to watch porn in a group.”

Jesus, it’s like I can’t get a fucking break here.

“You’re pretty insane for doing this,” she says, turning her head to face me. She wriggles her body as she does so and all that means is that her ass is wiggling against my cock. I sigh. She knows what she’s doing. But if she enjoys teasing me now, that’s fine. I’m going to be making her scream later for every tease now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today as we celebrate the launch of not one but two revolutionary products in the personal entertainment arena,” the announcer says into his microphone. “Throughout history, this country has been the source of innovation and ingenuity. That drive and spirit are on full display here as we pit two of the most anticipated products of the year—the Illicit Escape manufactured by Illicit Entertainment against the Wicked Wear manufactured by Conners Media.”

The crowd cheers as the announcer continues. “Due to FCC limitations, we will only be able to show the first few minutes of the experience that each of our users will be seeing,” he says. Makes sense. I doubt they’ll be able to show full scale fucking in Times Square just yet. Maybe 10 to 15 years from now, but not today. “We’ll be using the projector screen behind us and splitting it. On the right hand side will be Conners Media. On the left hand side will be Illicit Entertainment. Are the participants all ready and wired in?”

The announcer turns toward two nondescript men sitting on right and left sides of the stage. Both are already wearing glasses that are connected via A/V wires to a hard drive that's connected to the projector screen. They both give thumbs up.

“Even the glasses look nearly identical,” Brittney whines to herself.

She’s right. The Illicit Escape looks like a slimmed down and futuristic version of single rimmed glasses. The Wicked Wear is a bit bulkier but has enough similarities that it’s hard not to wonder what the fuck is going on.

“If all sides are ready, let’s get this show on the road, and let’s focus our attention to the projectors, to see what they see!” I hear the announcer say and the lights on the stage go dim. The projector screen goes black too.

Then both the right and left hand sides of the screen start flickering.

I turn to Brittney and hold her closer with one hand as I grab my phone on the coffee table with another.

This is the moment of fucking truth.

I unlock my phone and press the call button and hold it to my ear.

“Ready,” a male voice answers me.

“Go,” I respond back to the voice.

“Acknowledged,” the man says back and I hang up.

Brittney turns to look at me.

“What was that?” she asks me.

I smile. “That was the number that Cheryl gave me to call when we want to activate the Trojan Horse built into the software,” I tell her.

Brittney raises her eyes.

“What does it do?” she asks me suspiciously.

I shrug and don’t answer. Instead I gesture to the television.

The opening credits have passed and both viewers are experiencing a virtual reality environment.

The screen shows that both of them are in a bedroom. They’re free to look in any direction they want and the direction both people look is independent so on one hand of the screen you see the user looking all around the room while the other user is looking out the window.

Eventually, both users look toward the woman on the bed.

It’s Brittney. She gasps, seeing herself on such a huge projector screen. On the video, she’s wearing a lace white thong and a matching lace white bra.

“Hey baby,” she says, getting on all fours on both split screens and crawling to the edge of the bed. “Is your father home?”

Both users shake their head no and it translates itself on the screen. The computer understands this gesture and Brittney smiles.

“Good,” she says on the screen with a wicked smile. “I don’t think he’d like the fact that his fiancée is dressed like this in front of his son, would he?”

Again both users shake their head.

“Why don’t you come over here?” Brittney asks.

Both users use their eyes to signify they want to walk closer to the bed.

“That’s a good boy,” Brittney says as her hands brush over where a real person’s cock would be if they were in the bedroom. “Looks like you’re already excited, aren't you, you naughty boy.”

The crowd begins to cheer and chant, clearly enjoying the show.

“Maybe we should do something about this,” Brittney says to the users. “I mean, in a few months it’ll be hard to do it when I marry your father. Now’s the time, right?”

Both users enthusiastically nod.

The sound of zippers being unzipped occurs on both sides of the screen.

And it should be coming right about now.

There’s a sudden flickering on the right side of the screen.

There it is.

So while the left side of the screen—the Illicit Escape side—continues to play and show Brittney slowly taking off her bra and squeezing her tits together, the right side of the screen starts to give the user a very different experience.

“Are you getting ready to jerk off?” Brittney asks, her face turning into a scowl. The Wicked Wear user is visibly startled and the picture shakes on the screen.

On the left hand side, Brittney leans forward and the user starts having his ocular nerves stimulated in such a way that his brain feels that Brittney has placed her hands on his cock. He starts to relax and squirm on his seat on stage.

On the right hand side, Brittney pulls back, and puts on a sweater.

On the left hand side, the user and screen show Brittney begin to bring her head toward the user's crotch. “I love how big your cock is,” she purrs on camera. “So much bigger than your father's,” she says as she begins to lick it. The user is clearly hard and the Today USA camera crew zooms in the massive erection tenting the man’s trousers as he sits on stage.

On the right hand side, Brittney takes her phone and points it at the user and takes a picture. “I’m going to send this over to the National Database and register you as a fucking sex offender, you pervert!” she says on camera. “Don’t you know how bad pornography is for you?”

And that’s where on the right hand side of the screen, Brittney’s on-camera avatar starts altering. Her face morphs into that of a rat, with whiskers. Her skin starts to become scaly and green. Her eyes become slits. Roaches start coming out of her mouth.

In the audience people are visibly upset and shaking at what they’re seeing on one half of the giant 40-foot projection screen. People are visibly turning white.

On the other half, Brittney proceeds to start sucking and the user’s body spasms as he finds himself not caring about the crowd and starts stroking his cock through his pants on national television.

On the right hand side, Wicked Wear is starting to scare it's users as Brittney starts speaking with the voice of a demon, “Porn is bad,” she/he hisses. “I’m going to bite and eat your dick!”

Apparently this is even too much for the user who rips off his glasses and throws them on stage and stomps on them!

That picture—the user stomping on a Wicked Wear set of glasses is priceless. The split screen is frozen with a picture of a demon-rat-faced-snake-bodied Brittney looking out at the audience and the words ‘System Failure’ flashing on screen.

“Well!” the announcer adds, clearly stunned at what happened. “I think we know who the real winner in this matchup is. And which company to never, ever buy adult entertainment from again!”

A technician manages to unplug the 40-foot screen from both devices as they go dark. The Illicit Escape user is still rocking back and forth and spasming when they reach over to take the glasses off. At first, he’s upset but the announcer comes up to him.

“How would you rate it?” he asks.

The user is breathing heavily as the cameras zoom in. He’s at a loss for words. All I hear is him say, “So real…”

That’s when the cheers erupt from the audience at the ringing endorsement.

Brittney turns toward me.

“What’s going on?” she asks me, her eyes narrowing. “How did…what just…what’s going on?”

I love it.

“That,” I say to the screen and pause. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”


“That,” Ethan says, pointing to the screen and looking at me. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”

Oh my God.

What is he talking about?

But Ethan doesn’t say anything else. He reaches over to the tablet on the coffee table and pushes some buttons and turns it toward me.

I get up, my knees on the couch supporting me.

I squint. It’s closed circuit television and it takes me a minute to realize…

Oh. My. God.

It’s Ethan’s office.

And that’s me. At his computer.

“Walter, his terminal looks similar to what we went through, but I’m going to need you to walk me through it,” I hear myself saying on the video.

I don’t know about you, hun, but I’m starting to get really worried every time I see myself on a screen. First it was whatever went on in Times Square. Taking a glance at the television, which is on mute right now; the crowds are chanting and celebrating and cheering and lining up to buy Illicit Escapes. Wicked Wear is most likely out of this market for a very, very long time.

It’s almost as if this whole thing were…

“Planned?” Ethan asks me, and I snap out of my reverie.

“That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” he asks me with a smirk.

On his tablet, I look at myself furiously clicking at the keys and talking to Walter through my earpiece.

He knew!

He knew this whole time! And yet he kept me around. He knew I was betraying him as he made love to me. He knew my goal was to deceive him the entire time.

“Yeah, babe,” Ethan says to me. “That day I left the prototype on the table…I thought you’d take it to Simon,” he tells me.

“You played me?” I ask him, all my sorrow at deceiving him starting to melt away. “You’ve been fucking playing me the whole fucking time?!”

Yeah, I’m pissed. He’s been lying to me the entire time. While I’ve been falling in love with him and feeling sorry for deceiving him!

My hand raises up and I know where it’s going.

I’m going to slap that fucking smirk off his face right now.

And I would have too, if his hand hadn’t raised up and caught mine. With the strength of ten men, he pulls me closer.

“No, I don’t fucking think so, babe,” he says as he pulls me to him and I smell his cologne mixed in with his man smell and I realize that he’s won. “And yes, I fucking knew. But I had to make a decision as to what was best for you. And for us.”

He’s tamed me. The Man Chaser.

He pushes me against the back of the couch and presses himself on me. His mouth finds mine.

He’s rough, his hands running over my body, claiming what he’s won. What he owns.

That bastard!

I’m sorry. I can’t get over the fact that Ethan Kane knew this whole time.

That he let me make such a fool out of myself so he could have a laugh. Why would he do that?

This is all I can think about, but my body is already responding to his kisses, pressing up against him and kissing back as I find the nooks and crannies on his body and wiggle into them. My hand travels to his crotch and I can tell he’s already hard. A few good squeezes in, I let myself feel indignant again.


I need to know one thing!

Pushing him off me slightly, I look at him.

“How long did you know?” I ask him. “And did you have to decide?”

Ethan is almost about to jump me again, but I see him think better of it and sigh.

“I knew you were somehow trying to steal the device from the moment you were in my office,” he tells me. “I didn’t know it was Simon till you told me. I knew it could potentially have been Simon, but I didn’t want to rule out maybe it was someone else. Maybe you were working for Arsen Hawke or someone else.”

I’m silent as he continues. “When you didn’t take the device and you actually brought it back, I began to think that you weren’t actually trying to steal on your own, but someone was either paying you or forcing you to do it,” he says and I nod. “Which is basically what you confirmed ten days ago.”

“And then?” I ask.

“I knew that eventually if you were being forced to do this, there might come a day where you’d have to fucking choose between yourself and us,” he tells me, his eyes deep and soulful and even through my anger, I can see full of love. He shrugs as he continues. “I didn’t want you to have to make that choice. So I made it for you. I prepared the Trojan Horse script that would stay hidden and only run upon command if needed. As it turns out, it saved us from each other.”

My head is spinning, babe.

I need to sit down.

To think of what’s going on.

How Ethan has just saved me from Simon. But I know you by now, and I know you’re wondering about Simon. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person that takes kindly to being made a fool of. He’s definitely going to retaliate.

All of a sudden the anger is replaced by fear.

Am I going to have to run again?

“Once you mentioned Simon, I knew exactly how he’d try to coerce you,” Ethan tells me as he picks up his tablet and turns on the video call option. He looks at me and smirks. “You might be interested to know that Cheryl is in California right now.”

My heart leaps up into my throat and Ethan recognizes the look.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that hard to figure out where you used to live in California and that your agent was Robert McIntyre.”

I don’t have a chance to explain or even question because that’s when Cheryl comes on the screen.

“Hey there, Cheryl,” Ethan says with a cheery voice. “What’s the status?”

“Robert McIntyre never got a chance to see Today USA,” Cheryl says into her phone, her expression blank. She glances at me and even across the country, I can tell she’s sizing me up. Seeing if I’m any threat to Ethan. “He’ll never catch the reruns of what happened either.”

Ethan nods. “Do I want to know why not?” he asks.

Cheryl doesn’t answer. She just shakes her head.

There’s a moment of silence.

I don’t even know what to say. Is Cheryl saying that he’s dead? Did she have something to do with this?

“Thank you so much,” Ethan says and without any further ado, pushes the END button.

He looks at me.

“You’re free,” he says.

“Ethan?” I ask, going closer to him. The prospect of being free of having to look over my shoulder is insane. “What happened to him?”

“Sometimes porn is still a dirty fucking business, babe,” Ethan tells me, his voice and face serious. “If we don’t ask questions, we never have to lie.”

It sends a small chill. The power that this man wields.

But it makes me feel safe. Because with everything Ethan knows, and with everything it turns out he can do, what he wants most in the world right now…is me.

“Free,” I say to him, smiling.

“Free,” he repeats, pulling me closer. “It’s time to fucking celebrate.”

I feel his mouth approaching mine and I’m about to give in to him. To surrender to this man who seems to have tamed me.

But not so fast!

Ethan Kane has played me very well. That’s for damn sure.

“Ethan, wait,” I tell him, pushing against his chest with one hand. “One second.”

He looks at me, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gruffly. I can tell he’s ready. He needs to be inside of me. And that makes holding him off even sweeter.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m finally free. I want to celebrate by having filthy, dirty, sex.

But I can’t let him win on every single front.

“I have something to tell you as well that you don’t know,” I say, keeping a serious face.

He looks at me, backing up on the sofa slightly. I relish the moment.

Ethan Kane thinks he’s all that, does he? Thinks he’s so smart for pulling off this coup? Playing me?

Watch me make him crumble.

“I’m pregnant, Ethan,” I say to him softly. And then with a smile, “We’re pregnant.”

It takes literally a minute for the words to go from his ears to reflect in his eyes and then his face.

He smiles brightly. Then the smile transforms into a grin and there’s no stopping him – his arms are wrapped around me and he’s holding me close.

He’s hugging me. He’s kissing me. He’s kissing my neck. My earlobes. My face. My ears.

His cock is pushing into me.

“That’s fucking fantastic!” he says, pulling back. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks.

I look at him as he asks again, “Why keep it a secret?”


I roll my eyes and shrug, using his own words. “I had to make a decision as to what was best for you. And for us,” I say.

He looks at me for a moment, digesting those words. And then he breaks out into a smirk.

“Alright then,” he says. “It’s going to be fun keeping you in line from now on.”

“Right back at ya, hun,” I tell him as we kiss.

Before long, his arms are pulling off my shirt and I’m undressing him.

It’s time to live freely. With the man I love.

For the first day of the rest of our lives.

Well, I guess I can do that.


I’m finally free. Free from Simon, free from the shadows of my past. And, better yet, I found love. And we’re having a baby!

When I came to New York, ready to start a new life, I never expected I would ever be this happy. But then Ethan happened.

An hour after we just annihilated each other with the truth and realized how much we mean to each other, we’re back in Times Square, as Ethan finishes up the press conference.

And no, it doesn’t look awkward with me standing there next to him. I’m the leading lady of the new virtual world we’re creating, remember?

“Over the next several months, we’ll be rolling out the product to the widest number of people,” Ethan says. “Illicit Entertainment won’t rest until an I.E. is in every home in America.”

The press shout questions to him, but Ethan waves them off.

“Today was a matchup that showed that hard work and perseverance still count for something. I had a vision, and I worked to bring it a reality. It’s now time for me to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Thank you very much.”

The press frantically try to get in a question, but Ethan’s statement has been made. He’s done.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading the way. All around us, journalists are shouting a thousand questions and trying to get a reaction out of him, but he just ignores the chaos in the room. He won the war against Simon, but he’s not interested in gloating; right now, there’s something else on his mind. And on mine as well.

While the whole press is going insane with Simon’s failure and Ethan’s triumph, we sneak through the backdoor. Ethan already has a limo waiting for us, and smiling gallantly, he holds the door open for me.

“Where are we going?” I ask him as I get in.

“It’s just a short ride,” he tells me, sitting next to me. The driver revs the engine up, and soon enough, we’re cruising through NY’s traffic. I place my hand on top of his, and looking into his eyes, I feel happiness spreading its wings inside of me. I’m the luckiest woman on Earth.

“Thank you, Ethan,” I whisper, squeezing his fingers on mine. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Not now, not ever. I love you, Brittney, and I’ll tear the whole world apart before I let anyone lay a finger on you.” His tone is a calm one, but he means what he’s saying. My heart melts, and as I lean in to kiss him, the limo parks right in front of the closest hotel, The Plaza.

We stroll inside arm-in-arm, and Ethan just walks by the registration desk; he probably already has the key to the suite inside his pocket. Which makes me think, when did he start planning all of this? Finishing off Simon, taking care of my ex… He probably already knew how things would end. And now I do too; I get the happy ending I deserve.

When we get inside the room, a suite overlooking Fifth Avenue, he doesn’t even give me enough time to appreciate my surroundings. He closes the door, and placing both his hands on my hips, he slams me against the door; his body is pressed against mine, and the moment I lock eyes with him, I feel my pussy growing wet.

“I love you so fucking much,” he tells me with a smile, leaning into me and brushing his lips against mine. Then, his smile turning into a grin, he takes one step back. Loosening his tie, he pulls it out and looks at me with mischief in his eyes. A shiver goes up my spine as I feel his eyes roaming down my body, and I can’t help but look at his crotch. His cock is growing hard, pushing against the fabric of his pants, and I can barely wait to simply pull it out.

“You’re everything, Ethan,” I tell him, a wide smile on my face. I’ve made it through… And with him by my side. When everything seemed lost, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that light was Ethan. Whatever happens in the future, I know this: I’ll never stop loving this man. Never.

“Am I?” he asks with a mocking grin on his lips. Then, his expression turns serious. “I know, Brittney. But you’re my everything as well… And from now on, we are one.”

“One,” I repeat after him, the sound of it like honey on my throat. “Forever.”

Smiling, he pulls the tie around his neck, and instead of simply letting it fall on the floor, he brings it up to my face. He lays it across my eyes, tying it on the back of my neck, and darkness swallows me.

“For all eternity,” he says. With that, he leans into me and I feel his lips brushing against mine, his tongue sliding inside of my mouth and dancing around my own. Blind, I rest my fingers on his chest and feel my way to his collar; there, I start unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest. While I undress him, he places his two hands on my hips and pushes me back until my knees meet the edge of the bed. He pushes me down and I fall on top of the mattress, untucking his shirt as I go down.

I feel the mattress shifting under his weight as he climbs on top of the bed, and then he’s on top of me, kissing me again. I push his shirt down his arms, and then run my fingertips up and down his back; I feel the ropes of muscles in his back, moving as he kisses me, and my heart starts to drum a wild song of lust and decadence.

“I want you,” I find myself saying, sliding my hand down his stomach and finding the way to his belt. Unbuckling it, I pull it out of its loops with a sudden movement and flatten the palm of my hand over his crotch; his thick cock pulses against my fingers immediately, straining against the fabric of his pants without enough strength to rip its way out. Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I lace his waist with my legs, and start to stroke him over his pants. My fingers are curled tight—perhaps too much—around his shaft, and I stroke him viciously.

Moving like a tiger, he grabs my wrist and takes my hand off of his cock. Pinning both my hands against the mattress, he presses his body on top of mine, my dress hiking up to my waist. I thrust against him, pressing my drenched pussy against his cock, and start to sway my hips. Grinding, I feel his shaft pulsing with desire, and I wish I could simply will my clothes away.

Luckily, it’s as if he can read my thoughts. With his mouth resting against my neck, he kisses my skin while, using only one hand, he pulls the straps of my dress down. The fabric droops over my arms, and slightly easing the pressure of his body on mine, he yanks on my dress as hard as he can. I hear a ripping sound, and then I feel the fabric sliding almost too easily over my skin. He goes to his knees, still between my legs, and tears the dress off of me, ripping it off as if he was a savage.

In a fraction of a second, my heart starts to kick and punch against my ribcage, and I can’t help but undo the clasp on my bra hurriedly. I pull it out and throw it somewhere far off, the cool air of the room lapping at my hard nipples.

I half-expect him to simply lie down on top of me and go straight for my tits, but that’s not what he does. He remains kneeling between my legs, and then brushes one fingertip against my thong. I shiver as he traces the contour of my underwear, and then his finger starts a hike over my stomach. He goes all the way up to between my tits and then, after a moment’s hesitation, he lets his finger go up the hill of my right breast. Circling my nipple, he never actually touches it, preferring to make me go completely mad before he really does anything.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m already mad and desperate for him. As such, I grab both his hands and force him to press them against my tits. Exhaling sharply, that’s exactly what he does, squeezing my mounds eagerly and then pinching both my nipples at the same time. He pinches them until a loud moan leaves my lips, and then he does it even harder; reacting by instinct, I grab his wrists, but I don’t stop him. I lay here, panting and moaning while pain and pleasure poke holes in my brain, the madness that fills my mind turning into pure insanity. I’m unhinged, through and through.

“Fuck me,” I blurt out, and I can almost feel a grin dawning on his face.

“You have to be a little more patient than that, Britt,” he chuckles, finally letting go of my nipples. I sigh loudly, and then he presses his mouth right between my tits. He lays gentle kisses on the curves of my breasts, and then finally wraps his lips around my right nipple. He nibbles at it with his teeth, gently, and circles it with his tongue. The more he kisses and sucks, the more I feel that familiar electric buzz crackling under my skin.

Sucking on one nipple and caressing the other with his fingers, he drives me to pleasure’s cliff and throws me off of it. Like a whip, pleasure snaps at my mind and I simply explode. Arching my back, I let out one loud scream and it echoes in the room, bouncing off the walls and coming back to haunt me. My body is boiling, and my brain is melting away.

Riding the wave, he slides his lips down my stomach, and with both hands, yanks on my thong. He pulls it against my outer thigh, and with one strong movement, rips it off of me. The outer string buries itself in my flesh and then, as if it were never there, it simply slides off.

Now that I’m completely naked and ready to be served, Ethan places his hands on my inner thighs and forces me to spread my legs. I open them as wide as I can, and he starts to kiss the skin around my pussy; as he pulls back, my hands go straight to his hair and I try to make him dive into me. He resists at first, only allowing the tip of his tongue to part my drenched folds, but then he goes for it with a renewed spirit. Fitting his mouth against my pussy, he starts to suck on my inner lips, taking my fluids into his mouth; without wasting any time, he places two fingers against my clit and starts to rub me there at the same time.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I push him against my pussy as fiercely as I can, and I sway my hips from side to side. He devours me like a man who hasn’t seen a woman for decades, and his eagerness almost makes my mind explode.

“You’re so fucking delicious,” he says as he comes up for air, but then dives into me again. This time, his mouth and fingers trade places: he wraps his lips around my clit, sucking on it, and slides his two fingers inside of my pussy. He curls them upward in a hook motion and pushes them into me harshly, only stopping when his fingertips are pressed tight against my G-spot.

“And… I’m… All… Yours…” I manage to say, not knowing if I should be breathing or speaking. Raising my legs, I lace them behind his neck and hold him in place, thrusting against his face as he sucks and fingers me. I can already hear the sound of an incoming storm, and I’m more than ready for it; since Ethan started fucking me, my stamina has improved tremendously. And, let me tell you, I was already a high-energy girl. But now… Now I’m a goddess. And I’m a goddess that’s about to come. “Oh, fuck,” is all that I can say, fireworks going off behind my eyelids without any warning whatsoever.

My legs start to shake, and I have to take them out from behind his neck. Letting go of his hair as well, I start to grab at the sheets, bunching them as lightning and thunder consume me. We’re just starting, and I’ve already came twice; I like where this is going. Oh, if I get this treatment every single day for the rest of my life, I’m going to be the happiest woman on Earth.

“I want to taste you,” I tell him, propping myself up on my elbows as he goes up to his feet. I can’t see him, but over the fabric of his tie, I can see the contour of his figure moving. I hear him take off his shoes, and then I hear the rustle of fabric as he drops down his pants and boxer briefs. I sit down on the bed, ready to take him in my mouth, but he sits down next to me.

“But I want to keep eating you out as well…” he says with a devilish tone. “How are we going to solve this?” Turning to him, I smile and place both of my hands on his chest. I push him down to the mattress, and as he lies down, I climb on top of him with my ass turned to his face. I slide my hips upward, and then only stop when he places his hands on my ass cheeks, guiding my movement. He reaches for me, and the moment his mouth touches my pussy, I can’t help but thrust back. I sit up on his face, and instinct guiding every single one of my movements, I start to sway my hips as he eats me out. I’m grabbing my tits at the same time, squeezing them hard, as all of my nerve endings seem ready to burst. But this can get better… And it will.

Still with my pussy on his face, I lean forward and slide my hands down his stomach. When I find his thick shaft, I curl my fingers around it and angle it toward me; slowly parting my lips, I go down until my tongue meets his glans, and then I make it dance in fast moving circles. I can taste his raw saltiness on the tip of his cock, his veins pulsing against my fingers… and I can’t help myself.

Opening my mouth as wide as I can, I let his shaft slide inside of me, and I start bobbing my head up and down at a frantic pace. I do it hard and merciless, his tip hitting the back of my throat over and over again. Matching the rhythm of my mouth with my hand, I suck and stroke as if I were a woman possessed. Which I am: I’m a woman possessed by lust and love, and that’s exactly the way I like it.

As I suck on him, he keeps licking my pussy and spreading my ass cheeks wide. Finally, I succumb to the urge to see him; with one hand, I loosen the tie and pull it off in one single stroke. I blink twice, my eyes adjusting to the light in the room, and then I look down; his thick shaft is still between my lips, and seeing right in front of my eyes makes me go even harder.

While I suck on him, he starts to brush one finger along the length of my crack, and I tremble every time I feel him close to my hole. When he presses down on it, I have to pull his cock out; a loud moan explodes in my mouth, and at the same time, he pushes his finger inside my ass. As he slowly feeds it into me, I start to stroke him with erratic movements, my hand moving as if it has a life of its own. I go like that until my wrist starts to hurt and then, finally succumbing to the pressure mounting in my pussy, I let go of his cock and sit up again.

Grabbing at my tits, I throw my head back and let my hair cascade down my shoulders as I start to ride his face. I move my hips back and forth, and then from side to side, and he starts to finger my pussy at an almost too violent rhythm.

“Don’t--” I start to say, but the words die in my throat as a convulsion takes over my body. High voltage runs up my spine, and my muscles start to twitch as if the brain-body connection had been severed. “Oh, God… It’s so… It’s so… GOOD!” I scream out, clenching my ass cheeks as he pushes his finger deep into me. I stay like that, sitting on his face, until the final waves of my orgasm finally wash over me.

Not wanting to lose moment, I crawl down his body, and when my knees are lined with his thighs, I grab his cock and angle it upwards. Raising my hips, I start to brush his glans against my wetness, and then I ease myself down. I do it in one sudden movement, allowing him to pierce me with enough strength to break me in half. His thickness stretches me wide, and I wonder how many times will it take for my tightness to be permanently ruined; I mean, we’re going to be fucking every single day from now on, and his cock is simply massive. Not that it matters anyway: when we’re talking about a cock this big, I guess that any pussy is tight enough.

I lean forward, and grabbing his ankles, I start to sway my hips. His cock slides easily and I start to rock my body as hard as I can. There’s an ebb and flow to the way I move, but my movements are all being guided by my unconscious mind. If you ask me my name right now, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to respond.

When I finally feel ready for more, I lift my knees, and placing my feet on the mattress, squat down over his cock. I go down on his shaft, and it goes deeper than before, his tip pressed tight against my G-spot. I feel my eyes rolling in their orbits and I start to jump up and down, my ass cheeks slapping his thighs as I move.

I ride him fast, and I ride him hard. I do it until there’s no more strength left in my legs, and then I keep riding him some more. Even if my heart stopped beating and my lungs collapsed, I doubt that it would stop me from fucking him. Yes, it’s this good. But you already know that, don’t you? You’ve been here all along, by my side… I appreciate it, but don’t think that I’m going to share Ethan out of sympathy for you. I have a big heart, but it’s not that big—sorry.

I slow down just a bit, but Ethan keeps the rhythm up by thrusting. I have to stop and allow him to take the lead; he hooks his fingers on my thighs, and,pushing me down, he starts to thrust like a madman.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or to himself. Either way, his words tickle my brain, and I let the satisfaction wash over me as my pussy starts to tighten around his cock.

“I don’t want you to get enough of me,” I manage to say, struggling to get the words out as his cock pistons into me, setting fire to my sides. I grit my teeth, hard enough to shatter them, and hiss through them like a snake; then, unable to control myself, I go back down to my knees and scream so hard that I risk ruining my vocal chords.

Even though I’m already coming, Ethan doesn’t slow down; if anything, he goes even faster. Each thrust of his intensifies my orgasm, and before I even know what’s happening, I feel it building up all over again. Instead of fading away as quickly as it came, ecstasy rises and falls in me, maintaining a constant presence as tiny fast spasms make my muscles twitch. I come for the second time in a row, and it’s almost too good to be true. If I died right now, I’d die as a happy woman. I mean, I’m sharing a bed with the most perfect man on Earth… And did I mention that he loves me? Yeah, I probably sound like I’m head over heels right now, but that’s only because I really am. I don’t care if I sound like a naive teenager; this is my moment, and I’ve earned it. And you can rest assured that I’m going to enjoy it.

Rolling to the side, I sprawl myself on the mattress, breathing so hard that I don’t even know how my lungs are still working. I’m so spent that I can’t even open my eyes right now. Still, my heart keeps beating that relentless song of lust and desire, and I know that we’re far from being done.

“Come here,” I purr, going on all fours and swaying my ass. Grinning, he goes up to his knees and places himself behind me, his hands going straight to my hips. With one single stroke, he places his glans against my pussy and slides it inside me at once. This time I don’t moan or scream, I simply let it happen.

Slapping his thighs against my ass cheeks, he fucks me savagely. He doesn’t build up the rhythm; he simply goes hard right from the start. His cock is moving so fast that I can’t even tell when it’s going in or when it’s going out, and really, who cares? All that matters is that his shaft is deep inside of me, pushing against my inner walls and ravaging me.

“This… Every day…” he groans between thrusts, slapping my ass with the back of his hand. “Can you handle it?”

“Can you handle it? I’m insatiable…”

“Then we’re a match,” he tells me, and without warning, pushes his thumb against my asshole and slides it in. I moan immediately, my whole body tensing up as a nocked arrow. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to come again. When I met Ethan, I was already an experienced woman (okay, I was more than just experienced), but this is almost too much, even for me.

Two more hard thrusts and I’m coming again; I collapse on top of the mattress, but Ethan follows, pressing his body on top of mine. I bite at the sheets, bunching them up with my fingers while I flail my arms. I’m completely out of control, and it feels amazing. While my brain is frying, Ethan keeps on thrusting, pressing the tip of his cock against my G-spot and rubbing it there. With precise movements, he stops my orgasm from simply fading away, and keeps fanning the flames of pleasure inside of me.

While he pounds me furiously, I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Supporting myself with only one hand, I take the other one and place it between my thighs, two fingers tightly pressed on my clit. As my body rocks back and forth, my hair plastered to my forehead and cheeks, I feel something boiling inside of me. Something… different.

“That’s it, babe, don’t stop now,” he tells me, and I can’t help but obey. With my fingers working in tandem with Ethan’s cock, I finally explode.

“OH GOD, OH GOD!” I scream, raw ecstasy going through me. Harsh spasms take over my pussy, and as it grips his cock like a vice, I start to squirt. “OH FUCK!” I continue to scream, my own fluids dripping down my legs and onto the sheets. Consulting and only semi-conscious, I collapse on top of the mattress, breathing hard as the final waves of pleasure crash against me.

Ethan followed after me, keeping his cock inside my pussy as I went down. Only now that I’m finally spent, does he pull his cock out of me, and he stands up on the bed. Knowing what I have to do, I roll to the side and go up to my knees, opening my mouth as he strokes himself. I look at the movement of his hand on his cock as if I were in a trance, and when he starts to cum, he catches me with my guard down.

A thick strand of cum slaps me across the face, and then he starts to gush a fountain of cum all over me. While he paints me in white, I stick my tongue out and let him fill up my mouth, which he does in just two seconds. When it’s brimming, I simply swallow down and open it back up, allowing him to give me another dose of his salty seed.

While he shoots his load all over, I rub my hands over my tits and start to spread his cum over my skin, looking at him with a devilish cum-coated grin on my face. Once his spasms finally subside, his knees buckle and he goes down, kneeling right in front of me. Returning my devil’s grin, he leans into me and presses his mouth against mine; his tongue takes my mouth by assault, and stealing it from me, he scoops up his own cum. When he finally pulls back from our kiss, his grin is even wider than before, and he swallows.

“You’re a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Woman Tamer” I purr, smiling as if I am the happiest woman on Earth. Which I might be.

“Look who’s talking, Ms. Man Chaser,” he shoots back, brushing his fingers across my face. “And I like it that way, don’t worry… After all, we’re going to have a lifetime of dirtiness ahead of us.” I smile at him, letting that sink in. A lifetime together… And, soon, we’re going to have a family. I don’t know what else to ask for.

“I can’t wait for it.”

Epilogue As Told By Brittney

I sit back on the couch and spread my legs wide. I’m wearing just a light blue thong. One hand is underneath, desperately fingering my clit. The other hand is twisting my nipples.

In front of me are two mirror images of Ethan. They’re both coming toward me.

“You’ve already started without us, huh?” Ethan One asks me, giving me his trademark smirk.

“But you’re going to end with us,” Ethan Two says, picking up nicely. “I swear.”

I’ve done this program maybe about half a dozen times and I never last through it. Two big strong men like Ethan are about to have their way with me.

I’ll tell you right now what's going to happen, hun.

They’re going to take off their boxer briefs. Then they’re going to force me on all fours on the couch.

Ethan One is going to stand next to the edge of the couch and force me to blow him. Ethan Two is going to slap my ass if I don’t blow fast enough while also taking time to bring his face lower and lick my ass.

Then Ethan Two is going to jam his cock in me as Ethan One keeps fucking my face.

By now, I’ll have cum at least once, maybe twice.

They’ll fuck every hole of mine. They’ll DP me till I pass out from pleasure. They’ll cum all over me and leave me a quivering mass of twitching flesh on the ground.

And then I’ll take the nondescript looking glasses off and be transported back to my apartment.

Only this time, I don’t get a chance to do any of that, because someone takes the glasses off of me.

“Hey!” I shout out.

And I realize that Ethan Kane—the real thing—is standing right in front of me.

“Figured you’d want me in the flesh?” he asks, a smirk, on his lips.

I smile at him and stand up.

I’m dressed casually, just yoga pants and a tank top. It’s a Sunday and neither of us has work today. Thank God.

I’m serious, hun. If you only knew the kind of year that we’ve had.

Oh, no, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact it was several orders of magnitude better than great.

First, let’s do the work bits.

So Conners Media and everything controlled by Simon Conners kind of blew up after the disaster that was Times Square. As one of the largest companies in the world of pornography began to implode, Ethan found himself on the front seat. Illicit Entertainment began to start picking up and buying pieces of Conners Media from the banks after they were sold off.

The final death knell came when HawkeLane Media, the direct Internet sex entertainment company run by Arsen Hawke and his wife purchased the rest of the assets at fire sale prices and fired Simon Conners.

After that, Simon began to try and nurse his depression and spent six months blowing through millions of dollars.

I mean, he made even Ethan Hawke look frugal. But he was burning out. Constantly strung out and finding no one who wanted to fuck his coked up limp dick, he began to do more and more drugs. He got busted a few times with massive amounts of cocaine possession. The busts were so big that the authorities wondered how he was even still alive.

They stopped wondering six months ago when his body went into a cocaine-induced overdose and he was found dead outside of his 3rd Avenue apartment building.

He died poor. And alone.

I never learned how he found out about Robert until Cheryl approached me a few weeks after the Times Square matchup.

“I hope you know I had nothing to do with Robert and his untimely ending,” she told me.

I looked at her, not believing her at first.

“His wife was inches away from killing him,” she continued. “And when I first went out there, it was mainly to do research and see what we could do to pay him off or scare him.”

I think I was a bit relieved when she told me this, but still a bit curious.

“Sure, we were probably going to scare him,” Cheryl continued. “Like have him wake up with a dead horse head in his bed like the Godfather or something,” she said.

I remember nodding, you know? As if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“But apparently my visit actually pushed her over the edge,” Cheryl told me. “The constant years of lying and cheating must have taken their toll on the poor woman because literally one hour after I left, he came home and she killed him.”

“So you didn't kill Robert?” I asked, too happy to express myself.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad that Robert is gone. But if it were because of me, I would have felt really horrible.

“No, but I helped her bury the body,” Cheryl said to me with a deadpan stare. “And if push came to shove, and I had to defend myself, there would be no question.”

I remember thinking maybe that was the best I could hope for.

And maybe to never fuck with Cheryl. Ever.

So that took care of Simon. And Robert. Now, a year later from when the whole thing started I think I’ve turned a page in my life. That I’ve moved on.

I look up at Ethan, who’s staring at me and smirking as he looks at me, contented and sitting on the sofa.

“So,” I say, looking up at him. “I think since you interrupted my little session, you might be owing me something."

“I thought we were waiting till the wedding?” he asks me, deadpanning.

I pout. He’s right of course. Six months ago, as I was approaching my last trimester, Ethan proposed to me.

He told me he wanted to make an honest woman out of me before we got married.

I told him yes. I mean, come on, right? Why would I have doubts about marrying the man I love.

But I also told him I wanted to wait.

I wanted our daughter to be born first. And then have her at our wedding. I wanted to share the happiest day of my life with everyone that I loved, you know?

Plus, get a chance to work off all the pounds so I could still turn heads.

“You’re right,” I pout. Three weeks ago, we told each other that we’d re-virginize ourselves and not have sex till our wedding night.

The only problem is, our wedding is still another seven days away.

I know, stop rolling your eyes, hun. You’re probably asking yourself what’s seven days without sex, huh?

Don’t lie.

And just remember, seven days without sex may not seem like much, but when you’re living with the absolute hottest piece of man meat on the planet, every minute feels like a month.

“You can do it, babe,” Ethan says with a laugh and gets up as I stare at his ass. “Besides, we can’t get too crazy. Cheryl and Walter are bringing Anna back from the park.”

Anna. That’s our little baby girl’s name. She was 6 pounds and 3 ounces when she came out and she’s been the apple of her father’s eye since then. I’ve never in my life thought I’d see that day when Ethan Kane began to change diapers.

But it’s true.

Walter and Cheryl. That’s another surprise that I never saw coming. Turns out our assistants decided to follow the example that their bosses set and get together as well. Who would have thought it, huh?

But they balance each other out. Cheryl is strong where Walter is thoughtful. He’ll come up with the plan and Cheryl will make sure its executable.

Together they’ve been looking after Anna a lot and really taken to their godparent duties with gusto.

“We don’t have to get crazy if we’re quick,” I say to Ethan, standing up and sauntering over to him. He eyes me. I can feel his stare as it goes up and down my curvy body. I smile. I have him. “Besides, a blowjob isn’t sex, right? On the West Coast, they call it a California handshake.”

Ethan grows as my body presses against him. It’s been a long time for him too, and I can feel his hard cock tenting his dress pants.

“Oh, is that your cock, Ethan?” I ask as I rub up against his body. “It feels good, poking into my stomach. I want to run my mouth over the head. I want to lick it, suck it, and make it squirt.”

Ethan’s hands grab me and in that moment, it’s better than any virtual reality I could have had. I have the most amazing man in the world. And he’s all mine. Forever.

“Is that the best you got for me, Man Chaser?” Ethan asks me, pulling me close to him, his nostrils flaring.

“You think you can handle any more of me, Woman Tamer?” I shoot back.

Ethan smiles and I kiss him as he pushes me back to the sofa. My hands are grasping at his trousers and I unbuckle his belt and unzip him.

Sure, we said we’d wait.

But we’ll have plenty of waiting when Anna is back with Cheryl and Walter.

For now, it’s all about celebrating the times to cum.

Second Epilogue - As Told By Brittney

I know it’s been a while now since you first met me, but you ever wonder if things like this could really happen?

I do.

Or at least I did.

I mean, again, don’t tell Ethan, okay? But there are days where I literally wonder if I’m living in a dream.

I have the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Who seems to have a cock that that can do its own bench presses at times with the power and intensity that it fucks me with. I have a beautiful daughter. Living a gilded life in the skies of Manhattan.

But you know, none of this story would have ever been possible without Alexis.

That’s why when I walk into the master bedroom and see Ethan still getting ready, I tell him to hurry.

We don’t want to be late for the launch, that’s for sure.

“You know, usually it’s the woman that runs late,” I tell Ethan, rolling my eyes.

He glares at me. “You want to tell Cheryl that you have to go to a party when she’s going over the weekly schedule?”

I shrug. Cheryl is a sweetie, and I know Ethan realizes that.

“Besides, what’s this party for again?” he asks me.

I swear, he may be handsome and intelligent and sweet, but sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t have selective memory. Or selective hearing.

“Alexis invited us to the launch of her book,” I tell Ethan. “You know, like I told you at least three times this morning.”

“Oh, fuck. You’re right,” Ethan says. “What book again?”

Oh. My. God.

I swear to…

That’s when I see Ethan smile and give me his infuriating but charming smirk.

“Got you, didn’t I?” he asks.

Ugh. Sometimes I love him, but I just want to punch him.

He comes over to me and stands close. “Here,” he says. “I got you this.”

He pulls out an envelope and hands it to me.

“What is it?” I ask even as I open it.

“Alexis wanted us to have it in case our lives ever got interesting again,” he tells me.

I look at it. Its a single paper.

With a few contact details.

Alexis Angel:

Email: author.alexisangel@gmail.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexis.angel.754

Newsletter: Naughty Angels.

Newsletter Link: http://eepurl.com/cu4ET9

I look up at Ethan. “Do you think our lives will continue to be as interesting?” I ask him.

He smiles at me. I’m sure that our lives won’t be boring, but I wouldn’t really mind. As long as my family is around me.

“Well, you know, after Alexis wrote Red & Blue and the Governor and that Mayor fucking the Senator, or Scandalous about the Mayor’s son fucking his hot stepmom, or Client 5 about Arsen and his phone sex business, she’s been pretty hot,” Ethan says.

“I think the only thing I haven’t read by her is Jailbait,” I tell Ethan, rolling my eyes. This is old news to me. I’m the one that found Alexis, remember?

“Yeah, but did you know she also writes in collaboration with another author called Erin Wright? They’re going to have a new pen name called Mona Cox,” Ethan tells me.

I look over at him. Big, hulking, cut, ripped, whatever you want to call it. He’s talking to me about fucking romance novels.

“Since when did you start reading the works of my author friends?” I ask him.

He smiles. “Since they started writing about the fucking hot as hell sex we have, babe,” he says to me.

He takes a step closer and I can already feel that giant monster sized cock of his poking me. I mean, 12 inches. It’s going to reach me before the rest of his body does if it’s hard.

“You know we have a party to go to,” I murmur as Ethan nuzzles his face on my neck.

“That’s what I’ve been doing the last half hour was reading her book about us, babe,” Ethan says. “And holy fucking Christ we are fucking hot.”

Oh, don’t I know it. Remember, the whole thinking I’m in a dream?

“Brings back some memories, doesn’t it?” Ethan asks. “Reading about us.”

He’s right and just thinking back to what you’ve read in the last 75,000 words and actually remembering those experiences - I dunno - I don’t resist as I feel his hands grab my ass and pull me towards him.

In fact, I may actually be doing a little grinding of my pussy against his cock.

Whatever it is, it’s enough to bring us in for a kiss.

And then one more. And another.

Until Ethan unzips the zipper on my dress and lets it fall to the floor.

I stand there in my strapless bra and black lace thong.

“Turn around and bend over,” Ethan tells me. It’s not a question. More a statement of what I’m going to do.

Which I am more than happy to comply with.

As I turn around, I see the clock on the nightstand.

Oh, fuck. We’re going to be late. We can’t do this.

But then I feel his cock against my ass cheeks.

That pulsing, throbbing, giant cock of his. I feel his hands squeeze my ass. My body begins to tremble with lust.

And you know what? I can be late.

I’d rather get fucked by this piece of gorgeous man meat right now than anything else in the world.

Alexis is a sweetie, though, so listen.

You’ve been with me this far. You’ve seen everything.

You’ve kept secrets when it was just me and you talking.

Can you do one last thing for me?

Can you email Alexis or tell her on Facebook that I’m going to be late? That Ethan and I are going to be late to her party.

Tell her, “They’re busy fucking again.”

She’ll know what you mean.

Thank you so much, hun! Love you and hope you had fun!

Man Chaser is done!

Man Chaser was the first book that became a bestseller in its subcategory. After that came only more success lol.

Next is a copy of Wicked Lil’ Brat by Alexis Angel.

And then a copy of DILF by Alexis Angel. This has never before been seen in added content and is provided exclusively for you today as a thank you!

After that, I have two short stories.

Followed by Buyer’s Remorse, a short story by Cara Angel - who is new to the Naughty Angel lineup.

All followed by, Whitney & Dax, which is a short story by Alexis Angel.

Both are never before seen and brand new. They will never be published anywhere else separately.

Our goal in this is simple.

To entertain you as long as we can to give you the best experience with the words that we hold so dear. Because while we may be in various corners of the world, the fact that we are sharing these brings us closer together we feel.

Thank you so much for reading!



Wicked Lil’ Brat: A Secret Baby Romance


The best way to enjoy my lil’ brat is to make her beg...

No woman can tame Mason Kane. Trust me, plenty have tried.

They get caught up with my bedroom eyes, ripped body, and massive...bank account.

But then I go too far.

Now I’m stuck in a loveless sham marriage to a soulless ice queen to save my company from the mistakes of my past.

But it gets worse.

There’s a little brat running around the house.

Teasing me. Tempting me. Making me have forbidden thoughts.

So what if she’s 16 years younger than me?

So what if we all sit around a table and share a wholesome family dinner every night?

Because it’s only after dinner – when everyone is asleep - that this bad boy of Wall Street is going to go up against his biggest challenge.

A wicked lil’ brat.

Wicked Lil’ Brat is a full-length standalone romance that will have your naughty bits twitching with delight. No cliffhanger. HEA? You know it, babe.



That's the sound that Stacy's pussy makes as my hard fucking cock drills her over the sofa she was sitting on.

Her grey skirt is bunched together and hiked around her waist. I already tore the panties off of her before you even got here.

"Oh my God, Mason," Stacy shrieks as I pull her hair back and slap her ass like a fucking pirate. She's on her fucking knees and her hands are holding onto the sofa cushions for dear life. Her blouse is unbuttoned and her bra is unclasped so her tits are hanging free.

I don't really know much about this girl. What I do know is that her name is Stacy Sawyer. She's an anchor for MarketWatch Journal, the pre-eminent financial news organization in the world. And up until maybe twenty minutes ago, she was finishing up yet another standard and pretty boring interview.

Oh, right. Where are my own fucking manners. Let me introduce myself, as long as you don't mind me talking to you with my cock up some slut. I mean, I already know your name. No, don't roll your eyes at me. I know who's reading me and who's not. And no, I'm not going to say your name out loud just to prove to you that I fucking know it.

In fact, you know what? I'm going to call you Gorgeous from now on. You got that, Gorgeous?

Anyways, so who the fuck am I to take such liberties with you?

I'm Mason Kane, billionaire CEO and founder of the investment bank Kane Price.

That's right.

That CEO that you see pictured on the cover of TIME Magazine saying that he's going to change Wall Street.

The CEO they made the movie about. Where they called me the King of New York. Funny how that name fucking stuck. Everyone seems to know it.

You probably saw the movie, but you're probably rolling your eyes at the over-the-top lifestyle that I live in. Everything I have around me is larger than life. My personal fortune stands just shy of $30 billion dollars. Sure, a good solid 85% of it is tied to the performance of the stock in the company I started—the investment bank and private equity shop known as Kane Price.

That's right. I started Kane Price with nothing. Built it up to a massive, globe-girdling corporation that today employs over 300,000 people all around the world with offices and operations in over 180 countries.

The Mason Kane that you see on the cover of People Magazine. Yeah, they love taking pictures of me, trying to figure out which fucking slut I'm currently banging, or if I'm doing more than one at the same time. I mean, they've covered me with everyone, from that one chick that won the fucking Oscar for Best Picture, to the first female Senator from Hawaii, to those billionaire twins, to even a pop singer. I mean the fuck list goes on and on.

Sure, the press inevitably find out about the women. Hell, the women are the ones that go to the fucking media. . After they get told by my assistant that I'd received their messages and would call them back when I was free, and they never hear from me. They go running to the newspaper and the press goes on to report to the nation how I made yet another one of America's Sweethearts cry because she missed my cock.

Yeah, just to make sure you have the right Mason Kane, I'm the one with the gigantic 12-inch cock. The one that Playboy called the foot-long gift from God to all women of the planet. Swinging between my legs, its the first thing people glance at when they know who I am, and are meeting me for the first time.

Seriously, I shit you not. People I've never met before—male and female—will shake my hand as per protocol and their eyes will try to pass briefly over my crotch. But they'll notice the bulge, and how it continues, and they'll forget all the rules about staring and their eyes will go wide.

The women at least will start trying automatically to get me out of my fucking clothes. Some of them succeed; I mean they say a fuck a day keeps the doctor away, right? Not that I really need a doctor, to be quite perfectly honest. I'm like the pinnacle of human evolution.

I stand fucking 6' 3" tall. I've got broad fucking shoulders and a cut fucking body with defined pecs and a set of 8-pack abs that ripple with enough power to make any man feel inadequate. My eyes are cobalt blue and they penetrate deep into your soul when I look at you.

But you're not noticing all of this if we're in a room together.

Just like Stacy, you'd be salivating as I took off my shirt and showed you my ripped body. Your eyes would look over my defined pecs and 8-pack abs. Seriously, you probably haven't seen that many guys with an 8-pack of abs. Those guys that they have on the covers of other books don't have 8-packs. You gotta train hard to get it. And that's what I do. My body is a temple for fucking.

Yeah, Gorgeous, your panties would be fucking wet and you'd be taking them off.

In fact, why don't you just take my fucking advice and take your panties off right now?

I fucking guarantee you that it will save you the effort later. You won't have to do laundry on another pair.

You might want to also go somewhere a bit more quiet so you can fucking read; you know what I mean?

Get that fucking vibrator out and get ready, because this shit is about to get real. My 8-pack abs are about to start caressing your body as I start fucking kissing your neck.

The party is about to start, so fucking feed your family and go get in bed.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Although, I don't think I need to warn you.

I know you'd have a bit more class than Stacy did during our interview.

All during the interview, Stacy made no secret of the fact that she was in fucking heat. She wanted to shuck herself on my flagpole.

"So you really are bullish on the market then?" she purred during the interview and I remember fucking smiling. I mean, it wasn't hard to figure out what she wanted all throughout the interview; her eyes were already undressing me the moment I walked in. Sure, it was a boring interview to watch for the viewer, but for me, watching her cross and uncross her fucking legs got me hard. And Stacy could see it. She watched as my cock came to life, began to twitch, and then started to bulge on my trouser leg. She smiled as she asked me, "And what are your predictions about banking stocks in the next quarter?" as she gave me a fucking lascivious stare.

"Very, very hard to keep from rising right now," I remember telling her and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt we were gonna fuck. That's why as soon as she said, "Great, thank you for sitting down with me today, Mr. Kane," I wasn't surprised to see her order the cameraman—who was the only person in the room aside from us—to go get the makeup artist without a second to spare.

Now I'm fucking making her moan like a whore as I pound her pussy mercilessly with my 12-inch cock. I can feel her squirming and her walls closing around me, and that's the cue that she's having an orgasm.

"I'm cumming!" she yells breathlessly, her eyes closed and her face contorted in this fury of fucking lust. "Oh, God. I'm cumming!"

Her entire body is fucking trembling. It's fucking amazing what my cock is able to do to women.

But you know what, Gorgeous? I'm not really into this bitch that much. I mean, sure, she looks okay. She doesn't have the tightest pussy. Her body is giving up. She's not really even much of a fucking nice person. She ordered around people before our interview like she was some kind of fucking princess. And of course, she's just fucking me because she's horny. But she's probably going to go to 21 afterwards and tell all her broadcast journalist news friends that she fucked Mason Kane.

And then she's going to go home to her fucking husband who lives in Connecticut and kiss her kids on the mouth a few hours after she used it to give me a lick-smacking, dirty-as-fuck blowjob.

So yeah, I don't have much respect for her at all.

In fact, I slap her on the ass, hard.

This makes her body tremble even more and probably intensifies the orgasm.

I can feel her pussy milking my cock and I know I'm not going to last much longer.

Fuck, I wish we'd left the camera on. At least that way I'd have something to watch later on in my office.

I glance toward the camera and see it staring at me.

Hey, one fucking second. Is the red light on the camera supposed to be on?

That's exactly when the door bursts open.

"Guys, we're somehow still live and rolling!" the cameraman shouts.

Stacy is in the throes of the last of her orgasm and all she does is whimper. I don't even know if she realizes what's happening.

But I have a fucking reputation to protect. I can't be like that guy, what's his name? Lance Anders? The intern at the White House who almost started World War III by fucking the President's daughter in the Oval Office.

I have a fucking Board of Directors who will flip the fuck out as well as fucking shareholders who'll just roll their eyes and wonder if I've gone off the deep end.

"Guys, we're live!" the cameraman yells.

To demonstrate, he holds up a tablet that shows that the camera must have somehow come on after he turned it off and for whatever reason begun to broadcast from our studio. So while we thought we were done, we were actually being broadcast. And because the cameraman wasn't here, he couldn't turn it off.


But Stacy's pussy walls keep milking me, and while I somehow understand the situation I'm in and how this is really not good, the bigger part of me is fucking shuddering in pre-orgasm. My eyes roll back into my head.

But I'm a stronger man than that. I can't make a complete fucking ass of myself on national television.

Even though a portion of my brain is telling me to shut the fuck up, I pull out of Stacy. There's a popping noise as I leave her pussy. Fuck, I really did a number on it, stretching that shit out.

"No!" Stacy says, and her hand darts back instinctively toward my cock.

It's just the angle of our bodies in that when her hand grasps my cock and begins to jerk me, she pulls off my condom.

I shudder at her hand as it goes up and down my shaft.

The cameraman is shrieking, but I'm only fucking human.

I close my eyes and feel my nuts explode.

A split second later my cock blows up.

Pleasure sears my body, travelling up my spine and I'm stuck in a seizure of ecstasy as I literally feel rope after rope of cum shoot out of my cock.

I groan loudly as massive spurts of semen leave my cock and arc out in the air. I can feel my body relax and my muscles basically give way.

It's all I can do to stay standing.

After the last couple of spasms wrack my body, I slowly open my eyes, still feeling Stacy's hand milking my monster cock.

What the fuck is wrong with her? Does she just not care that she's facing a nation with her tits hanging out and her pussy all stretched out as she milks the last drops of my cum.

Speaking of which, I raise my head and look over toward the cameraman.

He's in a state of shock. I don't know why. I mean, I can understand if he were just amazed at the size of my cock. It's still probably a good 11 inches even though it's getting soft.

But he's not facing me. His eyes are not on my cock.

No, I realize with fucking alarm that he's looking at the camera.

The wide lens that was pointing at me...

How else do I fucking say this? It's covered.

With cum.

I shot so hard and so fast and didn't see where I was aiming.

I completely covered the camera.

My cum is coating the lens.

It's dripping off onto the floor.


I just came over the entire nation.

Yeah, this is going to be a great way to start the day.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

The financial world was stunned yesterday as the King of Wall Street was caught without his clothes.


In what amounted to a stunning display of personal hubris and poor luck, a camera that had been switched on began to automatically broadcast during a live segment of the Corporate Broadcasting Company's financial news show, Market Pulse.

This minor glitch, while embarrassing but understandable to network executives as it overrode the current broadcast of the news program was further exacerbated by the fact that it caught Mason Kane, CEO of one of Wall Street's most powerful investment banks, in an intimate moment with his interviewer, Stacy Sawyer.

The two proceeded to continue unknown that they were being broadcast to millions of viewers across the nation and culminated in perhaps one of the greatest and most watched episodes of the storied financial news show.

Retribution against the network however was fast and swift.

Despite the fact that the network apologized profusely as network executives went on the air and detailed exactly how their system had broken down—the cameraman who had taped the live interview had left the room on an errand and had not been present to switch the camera off completely—politicians and government officials on both sides of the aisle condemned the network and Mr. Kane for what they termed "lewd and lascivious conduct that defiles the sanctity of the public airwaves."

In a rare show of bipartisan agreement, members of Congress condemned the Kane Price investment bank that is run by Mason Kane and threatened it with Congressional hearings.

In a simultaneous move, the FCC announced that it was temporarily suspending the Corporate Broadcasting Company's transmission licenses and levying a fine with an amount that's still being determined.

Industry executives cautioned that such a fine could deal a crushing blow to the CBC, which has struggled to stay relevant in recent years with the advent of online media. The FCC under the current administration has taken a tougher stance after several instances where viewers have been subjected to a larger frequency of on-air or very public sex acts.

"There's something going on in our culture where everyone starts to think it's okay to take off their clothes and begin rutting like rabbits," an FCC spokesman said. "What you do in the privacy of your own home is fine, but there's no need to broadcast it to 180 million viewers who just want to see if it's going to rain tomorrow."

The increased government oversight of Kane Price and of Mr. Kane places him in a precarious situation. The beleaguered CEO may face questions about his ability to lead the company from his Board of Directors and from general shareholders. In recent months, a string of lower than expected quarterly profits has even caused many Wall Street insiders to wonder if he still deserves the moniker, 'King of Wall Street'. Kane Price shares were down this morning on heavy trading by about 3%.

Stay tuned to MarketWatch Journal for all late breaking financial news as it affects your portfolio.


“I don’t mean to brag, but I have other women I could be seeing now. What can I say? Women love me, you know?”

Right, of course. Sigh. I could be doing something more productive right now, like working on the latest financial folders from what seems like everyone at Kane Price piling up in my inbox, but no. I have to put up with Robert, an obnoxious banker hell bent on proving to me how macho he is. What’s wrong with men nowadays? Why can’t they act naturally around women? Why do they have to put on a show? And a terrible one, at that.

“Well, you were the one inviting me,” I point out, looking at him with a bored expression on my face. It’s true; after weeks of insisting day and night, I finally relented on going on a date with him. Tall, broad shoulders, and a square jaw, Robert is actually a good looking guy. And, since I’ve been going without sex for God knows how long, I finally gave up on trying to resist his advances. I mean, I have urges, you know? And since I’ve started my internship at Mason Kane, these urges have been unattended to for too long. I just didn’t expect him to act like an asshole once I agreed to go out with him.

“Yeah, you are hot enough,” he says off-handedly. Hot enough? What the hell does he mean by that? And who the hell says something like that to a woman during a date? Jesus Christ, this is going worse than I expected.

You know, I had a feeling that something like this would happen. After putting on my favorite skimpy, tight, black dress, I sat in front of my bedroom mirror and I didn’t like the look I saw on my face. It wasn’t an eager or anxious one, no the expression on my face was one of reluctance and boredom. The kind of face someone would have while doing a chore nobody really wants to do. I should have picked up my cellphone then and there, and called the whole thing off. But no, I went through the motions—lipstick, blush, eyeliner—and got ready for someone who, it turns out, doesn’t even deserve five minutes of my time. Story of my life.

“Hey, listen, it’s already late,” I start, looking down at my wrist and realizing that I’m not wearing a watch. Still, I push through. “I think it’s best I get going.” For the first time since we got to the bar, his facade of overconfidence starts to crumble. He frowns, a line of confusion on his forehead, and tries a hesitant smile.

“But you haven’t even finished your drink…” he stammers, looking down at the half-full glass of red wine sitting in front of me. “I, uh, we can go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have some work I left unfinished, and I really should get around to it,” I continue, putting on one polite smile. I know that, by now, he has probably seen through my lies. But, hey, what the hell? He’s the reason I’m lying, anyway.

I’m about to get up from my seat when Robert reaches across the table and grabs me by the forearm. “Hey, listen, Becca. Stay a little longer… It’ll be fun, I promise,” he starts, looking at me with wide eyes. If I was uncomfortable before, now I’m way beyond that.

“I suggest you let go of the lady,” someone says from behind us, and I look back over my shoulder at a man in his late thirties. He’s wearing all black, even his shirt and tie are black, and his suit clings to his body as if he came into the world dressed just like that. Classy, but at the same time, elegant and modern.

His hair is groomed with a kind of perfect carelessness, and his full lips form a serious but relaxed line as he stares down Robert. Even though his blue eyes are two orbs of veiled threat right now, I can see the gentleness they hide in them. His high cheekbones give him the flair of royalty, and I can’t help but imagine that he’s the right kind of man born in the wrong age. A man with eyes like his… he could be a King in another life. He isn’t a king, but of one thing I’m sure: a man like him must leave a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. Oh, also, his name is Mason Kane, and he’s my boss.

Now, he probably doesn’t even know who I am; I’m just one more girl in his army or interns, but I know who he is. I mean, who doesn’t know who Mason Kane is? I’ve just never been this close to him.

“Mind your own business,” Robert tells Mason, springing up to his feet and letting go of my forearm.

“Or what?” Mason tells him with a smirk, leaning against the counter and grabbing his glass of whisky. He takes the glass to his lips and, throwing his head back, downs the whole thing at once and goes to staring at Robert with one eyebrow raised.

“I…” Robert starts to stammer, balling his hands into fists and looking from me to the stranger and then back to me. “I…” he continues, his brain seemingly shutting down as he doesn’t seem to find any words inside his pretty—but empty—head. “Fuck it. I’m outta here,” he finally blurts out, pursing his lips and turning on his heels. “Call me, anytime,” he does his final Hail Mary pass at me, looking over his shoulder before bolting out of the bar as if his jacket was on fire. Good riddance.

Sighing loudly, I sit back down on my seat and take a gulp out of my red wine. Finally, peace. Who knew that being alone could be better than being on a date? The answer flashes through my mind as I look at the man by the counter, Mason Kane. He’s already facing forward, drinking another glass of whisky as if the whole situation between me, Robert, and him never happened. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m already going up to my feet; with the glass of wine in my hand, I walk up to the counter and sit down on the stool next to him.

“Thank you,” I say, running my tongue over my dry lips. He glances at me, not even bothering to turn his body, and waves with his own glass.

“No problem,” he responds with a smile, and then turns forward as if I’m not here, eager to find out more about him. Yes, I said it; he intrigues me. Sure, he looks almost old enough to be my father, and he’s also my boss, but it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong here… Besides, even though he’s probably in his late thirties, early forties, he doesn’t look anything like his age. Oh, no, he looks like one of those Hollywood stars that don’t ever seem to age. And there’s something about him, an aura of… power? Dominance? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind finding out.

“Becca,” I introduce myself, extending my hand toward him. He glances at me again, his eyes slowly going down from my face to my hand. He doesn’t recognize me from the office, it seems, but a soft smile appears on his lips and he finally reaches for my hand with his own, giving me a gentle handshake.

“Mason,” he tells me, a spark flickering behind his eyes. “So, Becca,” he continues, turning his whole body toward me, “what’s a girl like you doing with a guy like that?” My heart starts galloping inside my chest as I realize that I finally have his attention. Smiling, I drink the rest of my wine while I ponder my next words.

“Waiting for someone better to come along,” I say, my smile turning into a veiled grin. I really don’t know why I’m trying so hard to flirt with him; I just know that I have to do it.

“I see. Well,” he smiles politely once more, grabbing his whisky and finishing it, “good luck with that.” Shit, he’s really playing hard to get. Either that or I’m too young for him and he doesn’t see me like a real woman, one with whom he’d like to… Christ, what am I saying? Am I really thinking of unbuttoning that shirt of his and seeing what’s underneath it? Am I really this desperate to find out the taste of his lips? Yes… Yes, I am. I mean, I’m having a drink with Mason Kane, the King of Wall Street, for God’s sake!

“How about you? On a date with a bottle of whisky?” I ask him, hoping to God that I’m not overstepping. I don’t why he’s sitting here by himself, but I really don’t want to ruin this.

“You got me,” he replies, raising both his hands in the air as if I was pointing a gun at him. “Sometimes a good scotch helps ease a troubled mind.”

“And what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing you would care about… Unless you also know how to ease a troubled mind, that is,” he says, smiling quizzically. We lock eyes, and I already feel my body temperature rising. Not only that, but between my thighs… Well, let’s just say that ‘dry’ wouldn’t be a term I’d use to describe the state I’m in right now.

“Maybe I know of a way to make you relax…” I hear myself saying, my heart thrashing inside of my chest. I can’t believe that I’m really saying this. What’s gotten into me?

“As long as it doesn’t involve yoga,” he tells me, that grin still dancing on his lips. “You look like the kind of girl who’d do yoga.” I blush at his words, even though there’s barely a hint of wickedness to them. Yet, I can’t stop myself from thinking that he’s imagining me in tight yoga pants and bending over…

“I do yoga, yeah,” I grin back at him. “But that’s not what I have in mind right now…”

“A special kind of yoga then?” he smirks, fully committed to the verbal spar I’ve pulled us both into.

“A very special kind of yoga,” I continue, feeling more and more comfortable with this back-and-forth conversation. It’s just words, right? Of course, the moment this thought goes through my head, he gets up from his stool and leans into me.

“Show me,” he whispers into my ear, placing one hand on top of my knee and slowly sliding his fingers underneath the hemline of my dress. I gasp and almost stop breathing as, with his eyes still locked on mine, he runs his fingers all the way up my leg, only stopping when he finds my soaked thong.

“Yes,” that’s all I manage to say, suddenly feeling dizzy. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t think I have ever felt this horny in my entire life! When he grabs me by the hand, it feels as if I’m floating; I get up from the stool and let him guide me. He walks through the crowded bar easily, everyone letting him through, and I follow after him in a daze. He goes all the way to the restroom and, stopping in front of the double doors, he looks me in the eye, mischievousness all over his face.

“Feeling adventurous?” he asks me, and I don’t even need to think of an answer.

“More than ever,” I respond, squeezing his hand in mine and walking past him toward the ladies restroom. I step inside, look around and, confident that the place is empty, I pull him in. Moving quickly, I step inside one of the stalls and, still pulling on him, slam the door shut and turn to face him. I’m breathing so hard my lungs might just collapse anytime now, and my heart feels more and more like dynamite about to go off.

Smiling, he tucks a stray lock of hair over my ear and, lust burning in his eyes, takes one step toward me. Not wasting any time, he pushes me back against the wall, his hands on my hips. With his body pressed against mine, he leans and lays his lips on mine. My eyelids droop as I feel the touch of his mouth, and a gentle warmness spreads all over my body.

“I never… I never did anything like this,” I pant, pulling back from his kiss and looking into his eyes. It’s true; I've never done anything quite like this. Sure, I’m not an innocent maiden saving herself for marriage, but I have never been with a man after only five minutes and half a drink.

“I know,” he tells me with a wicked grin. The look in his eyes tells me that he figured me out the moment he saw me for the first time, and that makes me want him even more. Placing both my hands on his face, I pull him into me and we kiss again; I push my tongue against his lips and, forcing them to part, I slide it inside his mouth. As we kiss, our tongues locked into a frenzied embrace, his hands go around my waist and he squeezes my ass gently.

I grow wetter with each passing second, the closeness of his body shutting out all rational thoughts and leaving only the steady pulse of desire. I take my hands to his waist and, grabbing at his shirt, I pull and untuck it. Going straight for the collar of his shirt, my eager fingers get to work and I start to unbutton it, baring his chest. I feel the hard edges of his muscles against my fingers as I go, and my heart tightens up inside my chest; he’s more ripped than guys far younger than him. Trust me, I know: I’ve dated jocks and college athletes, and all of them pale in comparison to the man in front of me.

“Like what you see?” he whispers against my ear, his long fingers hooking themselves on the hem of my dress. Pursing my lips, I look down at his chest and nod. His pectorals are so defined they look like something out of a magazine cover, and they lead the way to a perfect wall of abs… And when I say perfect, I really mean it. Forget about a six-pack, Mason has eight perfect squares of muscle covering his stomach.

“I like it… I like it a lot,” I purr, grabbing at his belt and unbuckling it. “But I want to see more…”

“You can see everything… But I want the same.” With that, he hikes the dress up to my waist and cups my bare ass cheeks. He squeezes them harshly and then, with a growl, he lets go and takes both his hands to my shoulders. Moving fast, he pulls both straps down my arms at the same time, pushing the fabric of the dress down to my waist and baring my bra.

Diving into me, he places his mouth right between my breasts, the touch of his lips sending a shiver up my spine. My hands dart to his head, and I tangle my fingers on his hair, closing my eyes as sweet pleasure washes all over me.

With his face still between my tits, he takes one hand to my right breast and, as he squeezes it softly, he pulls down on the cup of my bra. I sigh loudly as the cool air laps at my hard nipple, electricity darting from it all the way down to my pussy. I’m so wet that my thong is already sticking to my skin, the fabric drenched with my fluids. Pulling on his hair, I direct his mouth to my nipple and, offering no resistance, he wraps his full lips around my hard tip. A slight moan leaves my mouth as he starts to suck, his fingers still curled at the base of my breast.

This feels a lot like winning the lottery. To think that, just a few minutes ago, I was enduring one awful date… And now here I am, claiming the big prize, the King of Wall Street himself. You go, Becca.

As Mason focuses on my tits, my right hand slides down and over his belt, my fingers resting over his crotch. My heart starts to gallop inside my chest as I start to curl my fingers, a thick and long shape pulsing against them… Grabbing his cock harshly, I bite my bottom lip as I realize how big he is. I don’t think I have ever met a man with a cock like this… No, screw that, I didn’t even know it was possible for a man to be this huge. Oh, this is way better than winning the lottery.

With one hand on his hair and the other on his cock, I throw my head back and press it against the tiled wall. As he sucks on my nipple, he moves one hand up from my waist, his fingers brushing against the ridges on my spine, and he only stops when he finds the clasp on my bra. With a simple flick of his fingers, he unhooks it, making both cups droop over my breasts.

“That’s it…” I moan in a low and subdued tone as his mouth goes from one nipple to the other, his tongue lapping at it hungrily. The sound of my voice is still hanging on the air as, with a quick movement, he uses his body to part both my legs. Placing one hand on my right knee, he slides it slowly to my inner thigh and then, looking me straight in the eye, he flattens the palm of his hand against my drenched pussy.

“I like this…” he grins at me, pressing harder with his hand. “And I’m going to own it. Your pussy… is now mine,” he leans in, whispering his words into my ear. The sound of his voice caresses my eardrums, embraces my mind, and unleashes the whip of desire inside of me.

“Yours…” I whisper. “Make it yours and --”. With a quick flick of his fingers, he pulls my thong to the side and shuts me up. Moving his wrist, he places his index finger against my wet folds and, with just one quick movement, he slides it all the way in. I hiss through my gritted teeth, my muscles tensing up as I feel the tip of his finger brushing against my G-spot. Now this is a man who knows what he’s doing; there’s no trying or fumbling around, there’s just flawless execution.

I gasp as he presses his finger against my G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure. With my back pressed against the wall of the small toilet stall, I rock my hips forward by instinct; replying to the movement of my body, he starts to slide his finger in and out of me, hitting that sweet center of pleasure each and every time.

“This feels… This feels so good…” I whisper between hard breaths, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“This is nothing…” he whispers back, leaning into me and laying his lips on my neck. With gentle kisses, he traces the contour of my jaw and finally crushes his mouth against mine, parting my lips with his tongue and sliding it in. We kiss in abandonment as he works on me with his finger, a whirlwind of lust and desire lashing out at my mind. With a grin, he pulls back from our kiss and lays his free hand on my mouth, cupping it; at the same time, he presses hard against my G-spot and rubs me there until my body can no longer stand it.

I open my mouth and moan but, mercifully, his hand muffles the sound of my voice. God, I can’t believe that I’m actually being fingered by Mason Kane in the bathroom of a bar. This is a new low for me—or, shall I say, this is a new high for me? What? This is the 21st century, hun. I’m a woman, I like sex, and I’m not ashamed of that.

My eyelids droop as my muscles finally relax, high voltage running through them and making them spasm. I see white lights behind my closed eyelids, and my pussy cramps around his fingers. I can almost feel pleasure crawling under my skin, nibbling at my nerve endings with tiny but powerful electric fangs.

“Oh, God…” I let out as Mason takes his hand out of my mouth; at the same time, he slides his finger out and brings it up to my face.

“We have to be quiet,” he whispers, looking me in the eyes as that irresistible grin dances on his lips. Gently, he presses his wet fingertip against my lips and brushes it left and right, coating my mouth with my own fluids. Without thinking, I part my lips and let him slide his finger over my tongue. As he slides it back out, I suck it dry, the flavor of my wetness dancing its way up to my brain.

“Quiet… I’ll be quiet,” I tell him, a grin dawning on my lips as his finger pops out of my mouth. My fingers are trembling, but I still manage to still them with one deep breath; with barely steady hands, I go back to his cock and curl my fingers around it. His thickness makes the flames of desire dance high inside of me again, and I have to let go of his cock, just for the time it takes me to hook my fingers on his boxer briefs and tug them down. As I push his pants and boxers down to his knees, his cock springs free and slaps down the palm of my hand.

I only notice that I’m holding my breath when I curl my fingers around his thick mast, his long inches pulsing against my hand with ravenous desire. Unable to resist it, I look down at his cock and bite on my bottom lip, only now realizing how truly massive he is. Swear to God, my hand looks like the hand of a doll when next to his tree trunk of a cock.

“You’re so big,” I tell him, my brain brimming with so much lust that it’s now unable to filter out the words coming out of my mouth.

“I know,” he says with a devilish grin, his member throbbing hard against my fingers. Without taking my eyes off of his, I let my back slide down the wall and I go down to my knees. Instinct guiding the movements of my body, I start to lean into his cock, my eyelids drooping at the same time. I reach for his tip with my tongue and, the moment I finally touch it, there’s a pleasant buzz under my skin. I lean forward, parting my lips and allowing his glans inside of me; as it slides over my tongue, I have to open my mouth as wide as I can to accommodate its thickness. If having him in my mouth is this challenging… I can’t even begin to imagine how it will feel to have him inside of my pussy. I don’t even know if it’s physically possible! I mean, there has to be a limit for how massive of a cock a woman can take, right? Well, whatever, I’m going to find that out, sooner or later.

With his glans inside of my mouth, I run my tongue around it in wide, slow circles, and only then do I start to go deeper. Inch by slow inch, his gigantic shaft rolls down my tongue, filling my mouth in a way I didn’t even know was possible. I go so deep that the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat but, when I open my eyes, I realize that I still don’t have all of him inside of my mouth. I choose this moment to look up at him, my mouth straining to accommodate his thickness; the moment our eyes lock, I can see all the hunger dancing in his eyes.

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now…” he tells me, placing both his hands on my head and tangling his fingers in my hair. Holding my head in place, he slides his cock out of my mouth, only stopping when his glans touches my lips; then, he goes back in all the way to the end. He keeps this pendulum motion for God knows how long, time dilating more and more with each time he thrusts. Finally, he pulls back and his cock pops out of my mouth with a loud wet sound.

“Ready for the main event?” he asks me, pulling me up to my feet and pressing me against the wall once more. Smiling lewdly, I simply nod, placing both my arms over his shoulders. Taking the hint, he presses his body against mine and, grabbing me under my ass, he pulls me up and into him. Reacting unconsciously, I cross my legs behind his lower back. Now holding me with only one hand, he takes the other one between my thighs and, grabbing the fabric of my thong, he pushes it to the side; closing in on me, he angles himself so that his glans is against my wet pussy.

“I want it… I want it now,” I groan, trying to sway my hips and force him to thrust.

“How bad do you want it?” he whispers, keeping his position while he rocks his hips with soft movements, brushing the tip of his cock up and down my folds.

“Bad. I want it bad.” That’s all that I can say as I start to thrust harder, desperate to feel his cock inside of me. His grin widens as he sees my desperation and, with a flicker of lust in his eyes, he finally thrusts.

I throw my head back against the tiled wall and grit my teeth, doing my best not to scream. His shaft slides inside of my pussy at a slow pace, my inner walls straining so hard to adjust to his thickness that I feel my insides burning up; it’s physically possible, after all. The thing is, I’m not so sure that, once we’re done, my pussy will ever be the same. But if that happens… Well, it’d have been totally worth it.

Mason goes all the way in, only stopping when all of his inches are nestled inside of my pussy. I dig my fingers into his back, my eyes still closed as my brain tries to comprehend the avalanche of sensations that are hitting me right now. That’s when Mason decides to start thrusting; rocking his hips back and forth, his cock slides in and out of me at a growing pace, flames of ecstasy circling my mind and threatening to consume it. This is almost too much. Almost.

“Harder,” I find myself saying, my voice sounding foreign to my ears. Mason starts going harder and harder, ravaging me with such intensity that I have to breathe as deep as I can in order to remain conscious. Sparks of pleasure spread from my pussy to the rest of my body, ecstasy flooding me and overpowering me. I've never felt anything quite like this… I mean, I love sex, but I never really understood how good sex could be. If Heaven exists, I doubt it’ll make you feel half as good as what I’m feeling right now.

“You’re so fucking tight, Becca…” he whispers into my ear, still thrusting so hard that my insides are boiling up. “I could get used to this… I really could.”

It’s funny how life works; one moment you’re sitting at a bar, the other Mason Kane is fucking your brains out. I never thought, not even in my wildest dreams that my night would end like this... But here I am, trying hard not to scream as Mason’s thick cock stretches me wide. I can’t help but wonder if this is just what it is, something for me to treasure and protect in a chest of memories, or the start of something new… Deep down, I hope it’s the latter. I really do.

Lucky for me, there’s no time (or brainpower) to dwell in what’s going to happen afterwards. Right now, the pleasure I’m feeling forces both the past and the future to the sidelines, and the present takes the spotlight.

“I think I’m… going to come... “ I manage to get out between hard breaths, every single muscle in my body tensing up as electricity pools inside of them.

“Cum, Becca… cum for me,” he whispers, and his words act on my body as if they were a spell; slight spasms take over my muscles and, as my fingernails dig into his back, my pussy tightens around his shaft like a vice. I feel a violent scream climbing up my throat but, moving fast, Mason places his hand on top of my mouth once more, muffling my scream.

My eyes are shut, and thunder and lightning have taken over my mind. There’s a storm inside of me, a storm of out-of-control ecstasy, and I can’t stop myself from screaming into Mason’s hand.

Even though I’m coming my brains out, Mason doesn’t stop thrusting. In fact, he goes even harder than before, his thighs slapping my ass so hard that, if anyone walks into the restroom anytime soon, there’s not going to be any doubt about what’s happening in one of the stalls.

Luckily, his cock starts to spasm harshly and, in a quick movement, Mason pulls it out. With his hands on my hips he forces me to turn around, and I don’t need further instructions; I go down to my knees and lean into him, parting my lips as I reach for his cock.

I curl my fingers around his shaft as I wrap my lips around it and, wasting no time, I start going up and down his cock. He places both his hands on my head, feeling the sway of my body, and finally succumbs to pleasure. A violent spasm takes over his cock and, in a heartbeat, he starts to gush his load into my mouth. His warm juices fill me up in no time, the saltiness of it coating my tongue and making my skin prickle. I keep on bobbing my head back and forth until my mouth is brimming with cum, and only then do I pull back, but still he keeps on cumming, thick strands of it hitting across my chest and covering my bare tits.

When the spasms finally die out, I peel my fingers off his cock and, looking into his eyes, I go up to my feet. Without saying a word, he leans into me and, using his tongue, scoops the few drops of cum that are dripping down from my lips onto my chin. He runs the tip of his tongue between my pursed lips and, then, taking his lips to my ear, whispers, “Swallow it all.” I obey without hesitation, his seed going down my throat in an instant.

“This was --”

“Amazing,” he completes, looking at me with a dazed smile on his lips.

“What happens now?” I ask him as I lean back against the wall, still trying to catch my breath. I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m anxious for him to say that he wants to see me again. That he wants to tap my phone number into his cellphone’s keyboard, or maybe he'll agree to a date tomorrow… Right now, anything will work. Of course, that’s not what he says.

“Now? Now I have to go and meet another woman. She’s probably going to try to blackmail me with something and I’m mostly going to have to accept it. So, yeah, there’s that.” And, just like that, he crushes all my illusions.

I mean, what did he just say?

He recognizes my confusion.

“Why can’t you just say no to whatever she asks?” I ask, puzzled. “I mean, you’re a powerful man.”

He smiles ruefully.

“You don’t say no to Lorna Lowell,” is all he says before he leaves.

I’m frozen.

What. the. Fuck.

That name has no significance to you maybe right now hun, but this shit just started to get real.

Hold onto your tits, babe. It’s gonna be rough whatever he’s in store for.

Because I know Lorna Lowell.

She’s my mom.


Yeah, listen. If you're narrowing your eyes at me right now, Gorgeous, and shaking your head at me, I don't really blame you.

I'm fucking hating myself right now.

I mean, if I had just met that blonde girl at the bar a few hours earlier—what was her name again? Becca?—then none of this would've fucking happened. Hell, I probably would've taken her back to my place and kept fucking the shit out of her.

I mean, did you fucking see her? Did you ever see a more perfect woman in your fucking life? Those fucking tits? I felt them. They were so fucking firm. So ripe. Pert. Springy. I just loved feeling them.

That ass? You just want to fucking grab it and squeeze those ass cheeks like dough. Just suck on those legs, kiss that neck, slap that ass, lick those nipples, and pull that luxurious hair.

Fuck, just thinking about that girl is enough to make me fucking hard again.

But that's the last thing I want to do right now. Is be hard.

Not when Lorna is sitting across from me.

Fucking bitch from hell is what she is. The way her perfectly tailored pantsuit is put together, she's giving me a strange look.

"Mason, are you alright?" she asks with a voice dripping with fakeness. "Are you still...excited to see me?"

Fucking Christ. I'm about as excited to see her as I am of contracting fucking syphilis.

But there's nothing I can really do in this moment.

I fucked up. I don't deny that. I let my cock do my thinking for me, and I came on the set of a television news interview.

Millions of people got home from work and turned on the TV to see the interview with the King of Wall Street and potentially gain some insight into their investments for their retirement. Instead, they saw my huge monster cock destroy the interviewer's pussy. As an extra piece of icing on the cake, they then saw me cum like a fucking racehorse. Not just in the air, or on the woman, or anything that remotely resembles decent sex acts. No, I fucking came right at them. On the fucking camera.

I downloaded the video after it went viral. By the time I'm done groaning, you can't really see any more. Just a wall of translucent white. It literally feels like someone just came on your eyes and you went fucking blind.

"Mason?" Lorna asks again, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I reply back tersely.

She bristles at my brush off. Well, fuck her. She's been bristling her whole life at me.

You think I'm being unfair? You think she deserves a chance, or something?

Let me tell you a bit about this woman.

If people ever really do call me the King of Wall Street to themselves, then they probably call her the Bitch Who'll Fuck You Over.

Her claim to fame is that her father was wealthy. Jonathan Lowell was a famous Wall Street lawyer. He had one of the most respected law practices, managing a small law firm that had a better reputation than Sullivan & Cromwell and Quinn Price. His company was built around solid bedrock principles of trust and conservative advice.

The man loved his family. He had one daughter and a wife. But life didn't love him back. Some time ago, he lost his wife to cancer. So he devoted all his attention on his daughter. But instead of realizing how wonderful her father was, all that attention did was make her a vain, vile, spiteful, selfish cunt of a woman. Her father gave her the best schooling that his money could buy. She repaid him by running off and getting married to the son of his business rival.

He was able to make peace with that, but she divorced him a year later when he found out she was cheating on him.

I don't know the exact details of Lorna's life aside from that, but I do know that I respected her father. As a friend.

And it broke my fucking heart to see her cause her father to age so fast. He was worried about her, sure. But it was like she took a special liking to causing him trouble.

The worst came when she got together with a few of his partners and they bought out his practice. It's a practice called a leveraged buyout. With Jonathan's company, the partners took over, and forced Jonathan out. They paid him maybe $10 million dollars—a fucking pittance when held against the fact that he started and kept that company together his entire life.

Then, with Jonathan Lowell forced out, the ethics at his law firm just went out the window. It wasn't about respect anymore. It was about making a fast buck. They started taking on more than just securities litigation. They started defending drug pushers and hit men.

Lorna wasn't a lawyer; at heart she was a fucking shark.

Her father, who had three loves of his life—his wife, his company, and his daughter—now saw that his wife had passed away, his company was taken from him and dragged through the mud, and his daughter had betrayed him.

He died the next year. I remember he passed away a sad and lonely old man.

And so when Kane Price went public several years ago Lorna personally used her monies that she made off her father's company and took a large stake in my bank.

She got a large enough seat that according to the Kane Price company bylaws, I had to give her a fucking seat on my Board of Directors.

And that's when she started going from a pain in the ass to a fucking menace.

I'm fucking 37 years old. I took my company public at the age of 34. I never thought that the culmination of my greatest achievement would mean having to deal with a conniving bitch like Lorna.

"You need my support at this moment, Mason," she says to me now, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she sits across from me in my office. "You can't afford to keep me at arm's length."

Fuck her. When she uncrosses her legs, its not sexy. It's just fucking gross. Like I want to fucking throw up. All over her.

Bitch would probably be turned on by it though.

"I can't believe that you're here offering your help to me right now," I tell her, eyeing her offer.

On paper, it's not a bad deal. Lorna comes on board in a new role as Chief Counsel to the CEO and advises on all investment matters. But she also invests several hundred million of her own money into new products that we're launching. The presence of some outside capital then goes along and stabilizes the fucking shareholders because they start thinking that the company is now being run and managed by people who don't go around waving their dick around on camera.

The Board of Directors is made comfortable because they can rest easy that Lorna will keep me in check. And clients see a safer company to park their cash and they invest in our products and we all make lots of money.

It's all about inspiring confidence that we know what the fuck we're doing. Confidence from shareholders, the clients, and the employees. Even if we have no fucking clue which way to go, we always have to project that air of confidence. That's the number one rule of Wall Street, Gorgeous. When in doubt, never say you need help or ask for fucking directions. On Wall Street, it makes you less of a fucking man.

"So you get the higher profile and your face in the newspapers out of this deal?" I ask Lorna, eyeing her reaction. "In private I don't have to fucking look at you, right?"

She's holding her emotions in pretty good check, because she doesn't flinch at my obvious hatred.

"Well, I'll have a higher profile, dear, that's for sure," she says. "But I think you'll probably have to see me quite a bit more."

"You can do this role by simply emailing me and talking on the phone, you know," I tell her. "It's just for show basically. You're not really going to be setting any policy at this company."

Don't tell me to calm the fuck down, okay?

You're going to say no need to create all this anger on both sides. Just give her what she wants, take her money, and be done with it, right?

But no, Gorgeous.

I want you to understand just one thing.

There is no way in hell I'm letting my company go the way of what she did to her father's company.


"If you really want to have a say as to whether or not I set any policy here, Mason, then you'll do what I say," Lorna says and I see her fangs come out. "Because otherwise I'll go to the Board and tell them that when I tried to help with this proposal you shot me down. Maybe even made a pass at me. And then you'll really be unfit to lead."

I just stare at her. I'm not fucking surprised at this.

"Fine," I tell her. "You fucking win. We'll do it your way."

Lorna smiles. "There's one last condition that isn't on the contractual paperwork yet, dear," she tells me and I see her eyes twinkle evilly as I look at her.

"What's that?" I ask, wondering if this is what it was all leading up to.

"Sure, my profile will be high enough to get appointed to the Chief Counsel position," she says to me. "But I want just one more title in addition to that."

"What title do you want?" I ask her, rolling my eyes. "Last I checked, Wall Street banks didn't have a title for Chief Bitch Officer."

Lorna smiles at me sweetly and gets up off her chair, walking toward me. "No, silly, that's not the title I want," she says as she walks around my desk to stand inches in front of me. "I want my other title to be Mrs. Mason Kane."

Holy fucking shit.

She can't be serious.

But her eyes tell me she's deadly fucking serious.

"That's right Mason," she says to me. "In order for me to rescue you out of your latest trouble, I'm going to have to be your wife."

Fuck my life.

Actually, Lorna is already doing that. She's fucking me up the ass with a barbed wire dildo.

And there's nothing I can do about it right now.


Ok, listen. I realize that I shouldn't complain about my childhood. On the surface, I had everything—nice gated condo, new luxury cars, a butler, gourmet meals, piano lessons, private school, a math tutor—typical things that kids take for granted when they grow up with money. But before you get all judgmental and think I'm just another spoiled-rotten 21-year-old, you should know that I didn't have it all. There were voids.

I didn't grow up with a father, and my mother, well… let’s just say that she went through men faster than kids go through a bag of Halloween candy. She was actually my stepmother because my biological mother died in childbirth. And then my Dad married her before he apparently left. That left Lorna taking care of me and she had a new flavor of man every year, and sometimes even quicker than that—I think the record was two weeks, and believe me, there have been more flavors than I can count. I stopped keeping score.

She fucked them over each and every time.

Like Duke, a master dive instructor from Fiji—or was it Tahiti?—whose skin felt almost leathery from being in saltwater a good majority of his life. Mom managed to pick him up on one of her so-called "work" events although I doubt much work was happening, and while I admit he wasn't terribly bad on the eyes, his personality was lacking—maybe all that saltwater pickled his brain—and it quickly became apparent that he couldn't handle the pace of city life.

Then there was Ben, the epitome of big city living. He was a Wall Street guy with a penchant for talking above everyone in a room—literally, his voice drowned out anything around it as if he was perpetually screaming. He could never get off of his phone either.

I swear, we'd be eating and he'd take the call with a mouth full of food. He'd be talking and I'd watch in disgust as bits of ravioli, or buttery flakes of crab leg meat—or whatever it was that we were eating—dangled from his lips. He's the kind of guy you'd find "manspreading" on a crowded subway, where men feel like they can spread their legs wide open and take two seats instead of one. Like they were born to do it. What did mom ever see in that guy? What did she see in any of them really?

They were like playthings for her. For her, the thrill was in the hunt, and once she had them … and got what she needed from them … I'd watch as that spark slowly faded from her eyes. It was all so predictable. Needless to say, she got bored easily. You could always tell when she started to get bored with a guy—her heels got flatter and the hemline of her dresses grew longer.

I guess none of that matters, except to say that when it comes to my mom, I've always felt invisible. She was too busy chasing men to do the things that normal mothers do, like go to their kids' school functions, or pack a lunch with one of those cute little hand-written notes on a napkin that say something like, "Have a great day, sweetie, Love, Mom."

Honestly, that's the last thing my mom would ever do. But whatever, I'm sure you're bored to tears hearing about all of this, so I'll spare you.

I walk up the steps leading to my mother's townhouse. The front door is red—the "perfect accent" she calls it. I fumble through the pockets of my purse and realize that I must've left my keys back at the office by mistake, so I take a deep breath and I knock.

I instantly hear the click of my mother's heels against the fancy hardwood floor of the foyer. By the rapid sound of her steps, she seems to be in one of her moods that can only be described as a hyper Chihuahua. Did you know that Chihuahuas are one of the most vicious dogs on the planet? You're laughing, but it's true. They may be small and full of nervous energy, but they've got a whole lot of bite. That sort of sums up my mother. While she's petite—and men always want to pet her—she has enough energy to fill a room, or scare the shit out of it.

"It's about time," she says, opening the door and looking at me with her hands on her hips. Her eyes are judging me from all angles. She's wearing a black dress with a particularly short hemline and I wonder what new man she's chasing.

"It's nice to see you too mom," I say. See? I told you. There's no warmth from that woman. Ever.

"Don't give me that look, Becca. Dinner is scheduled for 7, and you're late."

I look at my watch. I'm literally late by three minutes. Honestly, it's such a negligible difference that it's not worth arguing with her about, and she wouldn't care to hear about how busy I was at Kane Price, so I drop it and try to lighten the mood.

"The table looks nice," I say, walking into our formal dinning room. And I mean it. She's managed to set up an extravagant flower arrangement in the center. "What are those, orchids? Are they real?"

"Yes, don't touch them. They're also rare."

She's such a spaz sometimes. I wasn't even considering touching them, so I don't know why she even bothered saying that. I realize what the orchids remind me of. They're the color of unripe bananas—not quite yellow, but not quite green either. I have to say, they definitely make a statement by how unusual they look.

"If only you gave everything as much attention as you do to your flower arrangements," I say with the roll of my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks. "Oh, don't tell me you want to go down that road again—complaining about what kind of mother I've been. Poor mistreated Becca, is it? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you had a fairytale childhood."

"If you mean the kind of fairytale where the princess is locked in a gilded cage, then sure," I shrug. Does she really not understand that all I ever wanted was her undivided attention? I didn't want to always compete with Joe Fabulous, her flavor of the month.

Just then, our Butler Carl walks into the dinning room, which freezes our hostile banter. "It's good to see you tonight, Becca," he smiles.

At least someone exudes some warmth around here.

He's carrying in the night's appetizers, a basket of warm dinner rolls with Rosemary browned butter. I try to stay away from butter, generally speaking, but this is to die for. It's that good. He's also bringing in Pancetta crisps with crumbled goat cheese and pear chutney.

Eating at home can be a decadent affair. Let me tell you.

"You should really watch your posture," my mom says, tapping me on the back and breaking my food trance. Was I slouching? My mom is never short on criticism. That's for sure.

"I'm fine mom," I snap. I'm in no mood to let her give me shit all night long. My patience only goes so far. I'm not a kid anymore.

Before she can say anything further, we hear the doorbell ring. "I'll get it," I offer. I walk over, unlatch the lock, and open the door.

At first, my eyes have to adjust to the darkness. And it takes my mind a minute to realize who's standing in front of me. There's no doubt that it's a man. A big strong one at that.

He's tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

And he has cobalt blue eyes.

That piercing gaze could only belong to one man … from one night not too long ago.

What the fuck is he doing here?

"Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to stand there all night?" he asks with an open-mouthed smirk. His perfect white teeth seem to glow in the darkness.

For a moment I wonder if an ego that big will fit through the door.

Because standing in front of me is a guy I’ll never forget.

The guy who gave me the best sex of my 21-year old life.

Mason Kane, in the flesh.


She's staring at me like she's some fucking deer in headlights, and honestly, I'm just as surprised as she is. What are the chances of running into the woman I fucked in a bathroom stall the other day at a bar? Especially here at Lorna's house.

I'll admit; she looks good in that tight skirt she's wearing and I'm reminded why I decided to fuck her in the first place, but I can't afford to get distracted right now.

"Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to stand there all night?" I ask.

I don't have time for the awkward gawking. It is what it is.

I don't want to be here, so it's best to get this all over with as quickly as possible.

She steps back and motions for me to step inside, but still hasn't said a word. This should be an interesting dinner.

I walk inside and look around the place. It's not bad. Lorna has an eye for decorating, and there's certainly a level of opulence. I'll give her that, but that's the only good thing you'll ever hear me say about that fucking woman.

"Welcome, Mason," Lorna says. There's a chill to her voice. Instead of her normal pantsuit attire, she's wearing a black dress that ends well above the knee and a pair of 5-inch black heels. "Please, have a seat." She waves her hand toward the dining room.

She walks over to the long dining room table and motions for me to sit in a chair adjacent to her own, which makes me feel like I'm trapped in a real-world game of chess where she's the queen capable of any move, and I'm just one of her pawns.

If you think that somehow sounds exciting, you're wrong, Gorgeous.

"I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Becca," Lorna says. I try to stifle my surprise. What the fuck? This is Lorna's daughter? Given our impending marriage, will this now make Becca my stepdaughter? If that's true, then I've fucked my own stepdaughter and the thought of that throws my brain for a loop.

"A Pancetta crisp, sir?" her butler asks me, breaking my train of thought. I smile and nod, and take one. I place it in my mouth and realize it's better than what I was expecting—sweet, salty, and crisp, like bacon, but better, and it's topped with goat cheese and pears, and the sweetness cuts through the salt in all the right ways.

Maybe dinner won't be entirely bad. At least I'll get a good meal out of it.

The butler comes back and begins pouring me a glass of bubbly Chenin Blanc, and when I take a sip, the crackly carbonation matches the crisp Pancetta in a way that makes me smile despite the fact that I'm sitting next to a snake thinly-disguised as a woman in a skin-tight black dress.

"Now that we're all here, I'd like to make an announcement," Lorna says, tapping her wine glass with the edge of her silver spoon making a tinkling sound that breaks our silence. Becca and I both look up. I'm dreading what's about to tumble out of her mouth. It could fucking be anything.

She continues, "Mason and I have gotten engaged."

The sound of someone choking comes from across the table and I see that Becca is having a hard time swallowing her dinner roll. I wonder if I'm gonna have to perform CPR, but she recovers by gulping down her entire glass of wine.

I can tell she's trying hard to contain her surprise, but she's clearly floored by this news. The same thought that crept into my mind has now probably made it into hers.

"You are full of surprises mother," she says. "Shall I say congratulations, or would that be too soon? Maybe I should wait and see if this marriage lasts longer than all the ones before it?"

Lorna bristles at her comment. "Instead of being a bitch, I think you should try and show your mother a little respect."

"Respect?" Becca asks. "Is that what you call this? That's hilarious."

"Careful, Becca. I'd hold that tongue of yours," Lorna says, and her chilly words bring a renewed silence. The kind of deep silence that accompanies a winter storm.

I don't know what's going on between these two, but I'd say they don't have the healthiest of relationships. But can anyone really have a healthy relationship with this devil in disguise? Even I know that anyone who gets close to this bitch gets burned. Just look at what happened to her father.

Their butler, Carl, enters the dining room again, this time bringing us plates of steak. I eagerly cut into it with my knife and see right away that it's a "black and blue" steak, which seems to sum up the way my bruised confidence is feeling right now. It's seared on the outside—almost burned really—but when I drag my knife through it, I see a mixture of blue and red on the inside, and I don't just mean a little rare, but fucking raw. It's blue and bloody, and while I rarely shy away from a good, thick steak, I'm not sure I can stomach this one.

Don't give me that look Gorgeous. You think true meat connoisseurs should enjoy their steaks raw? Well, have you ever eaten a "black and blue" steak? It's a fucking obscene and violent way to eat a slab of meat, and in my opinion, it's a fucking red flag when it comes to sexual partners, and maybe that's why Lorna chose it. Mark my words. Run for the hills.

The problem for me is that even though every fucking alarm bell is going off in my brain, I can't run for the hills. I'm fucking stuck.

I find myself pushing pieces of the steak around my plate when Lorna's cell phone starts vibrating.

"Excuse me, dear," she says, placing her hand on top of mine as she pushes her chair back from the table. "I need to take this call."

Dear? That word from her mouth makes my stomach lurch even more than it already is.

As soon as she's gone, Becca turns to me and says, "You're an asshole. You could've told me. You could've given me some sort of a heads up that a freight train of fucked up news was going to plow into me."

"It's not what you think," I say.

"Is that so? It all looks pretty obvious to me. Do you get off on 'stepdad-stepdaughter' role-playing or something? Is that why you fucked me? Or maybe that isn't it. Are you after my mother's wealth or something? I'm just trying to wrap my head around all of this," she says. "What's in it for you?"

"Look, slow down. First, I had no idea who you were that day at the bar," I say. "I had no idea that you were Lorna Lowell's daughter. And second, I have enough wealth without your mother's. I haven't been called the King of Wall Street for nothing."

"So what is it then? Are her tits that impressive? Has the head of your cock swollen so much that your brain has lost all ability to reason?"

This is a side of Becca I've never seen before. I have to say, she looks kind of hot all riled up like this. This girl has spunk.

"None of the above," I reply. "This has to do with my position with the board."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, tucking her blonde hair behind one ear.

I'm really not in the mood to re-count the whole story to Becca, but I figure this may be my only opportunity. I need to set the record straight.

"Your mother owns a large stake in my company, Kane Price," I say. "So large that according to company bylaws, I had to give her a seat on the Board of Directors. And she's now in the role of Chief Counsel advising all investment matters."

"But I still don't understand," Becca says. "Why would you have to go and marry her? Where's the connection?"

"She basically held my hand to the flame."

Becca laughs. "Give me a break. You're a grown man. Why wouldn't you just say no?"

"It's not that simple," I say, "and if you've watched the news at all, you'd see I recently got myself in a bit of a fucking mess."

"That's putting it mildly," she replies.

"She threatened me. If I didn't agree to marry her, she'd not only bring me down, but the entire company as well. You may not believe me, but I actually give a shit about the thousands of Kane Price employees. Their livelihood is at stake, just as much as mine is."

"Well, I'm still pissed you didn't tell me," Becca says.

"It wasn't my choice," I reply. "That night, I had no way of predicting this."

I can see by the look in Becca's eyes that she still doesn't believe me, but it's too late to convince her any further because I hear Lorna enter the dining room.

"What wasn't your choice?" she asks, her voice sharper than my steak knife.

Fuck my life.

I need to pull something out of my ass to placate her and smooth things over. This should be interesting.


I watch as Mason tries to cover his tracks with my uber bitch of a mother.

"I was talking about this steak," he says casually. "Becca asked how I could possibly eat my steak this rare, and I just said it wasn't my choice."

Mason looks at me, his eyes pleading with me to play along.

I agree to smooth the situation over with him and jump in with the lie. "Yeah, I half expect it to start mooing again at any moment."

"Grow up, Becca," Lorna says.

If that's the harshest thing she's got for me, I can live with that, so I let it go. What I can't live with is the fact that Mason consented to marry my mother. This feels like one big joke, where a camera crew is going to jump out from the kitchen and say, "Surprise! You've just been a part of one giant prank!"

But of course, I know it's far more serious than that. Still, how could he have agreed to the marriage after what we went through—rescuing me from Robert at the bar, the obnoxious banker who thought he was God's gift to women, and then of course what later happened in the bathroom stall… even he has to remember that.

I watch as Mason turns on the charm for my mother. He's completely ignoring me at this point. H's smiling a little wider, and his body is turned in her direction.

"Beautiful spread," he says to her, motioning at the table, and my mother smiles.

"I can show you a different kind of spread," she purrs, and I want to gag. I mean, literally fucking gag. But this feeling of disgust is mixed with something more … is it jealousy?

Yes, I admit that Mason can be a cocky asshole at times, but he's confident, successful, driven, powerful … and it helps that he's hot. Scorching hot. The good outweighs the bad. Believe me.

Yes, he's technically old enough to be my father … and I guess he is my father now … well, stepfather, but that doesn't make it any less strange, and I mean, if I'm honest, the moment I placed my hands on his chest and my fingers traced the hard edges of his rippling muscles, I knew he was truly a god among men.

He's ripped. Just thinking about those eight, perfect squares of muscles in his abdomen makes me wet. And I can't even think about his faultless 12-inches of manhood … unless I want to be instantly soaking wet during dinner.

If Mason is feeling the same as I am, it's impossible to know because he's completely playing along at this point. He smiles and places his hand on hers.

I watch as the two of them engage in friendly, albeit slightly flirty banter, and I decide to take the evening into my own hands.

"You two are perfect for each other," I say, taking another sip of wine. Carl's been doing a good job of keeping our glasses full all evening.

They both turn and look at me, caught off guard by my remark.

"I thought it was too premature to suggest congratulations," mother says.

"Oh, it is," I continue, smiling, "but who knows? Maybe two wrongs will make a right?"

Now I have Mason's attention. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"I just mean that I could never seriously date a man who publicly blows his load on one of the biggest financial news networks."

I figure I should use reverse psychology. If I talk about what he can't have, he'll want it even more.

"That's not my proudest moment with the MarketWatch anchor, Stacy Sawyer," he says. "It wasn't planned; it just happened."

"Just happened?" I ask. Give me a break. Things like that don't just 'happen.'

"Well thankfully you've got me, dear," Lorna purrs devilishly. "That'll never happen again."

I can almost detect a grimace on Mason's face, but he does a good job of hiding it. It goes undetected by my mother.

"You should really think about settling down, Becca," my mother says. "You aren't getting any younger."

I've heard this spiel before. Settle down. Get married. Have kids. As unconventionally career-minded as my mother is, she's also annoying conventional in terms of the advice she insists on dishing out to me.

"I'd settle down if I ever found a man worth settling down for," I reply.

I can feel Mason's eyes on me. He has a look that says he's mentally undressing me. Good. That just means my approach is working.

"You can understand that, right Mason?" I ask. "A woman needs a strong, powerful, driven man. A man who is equally powerful in his career and personal life, and who can keep up with me and … what's the correct word here? Keep me satisfied?"

"Satisfied?" he asks. He's shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Yes, I need a man who has his fingers on the pulse of my life, if you know what I mean," I smile. "Would you know anything about that, Mr. Kane?"

I can see him take a nervous gulp. His large Adam's apple bobs up and down his throat. I have him in my grasp, and I'm loving it. It's not every day that a woman can say she's made Mason Kane, the Wolf of Wall Street, nervous.

I sit up straight, purposely pushing my breasts out and I give him a deeper view of my cleavage. My mother doesn't notice. She's a few glasses of wine deep at this point in the evening, and is in her own world. I decide to take advantage of that.

Carl brings us a plate of figs, sliced lengthwise and drizzled with honey.

"Do you like figs?" I ask Mason.


"You have to know how to eat them," I say, and I decide to demonstrate.

I pick one up and hold it delicately in between my fingers. I make sure Mason is watching and I slowly bring it to my mouth, parting my red lips and then dragging my tongue across the flesh. I lick the sweet honey off of it by dragging the tip of my tongue across its glistening, soft, split ripeness.

Mason's visibly uncomfortable. There's a hunger growing in his eyes that can't be sated by the food on this table. He's shifting his weight from one side to the next in his chair, and not knowing what to do with his hands, he leans back and rubs the back of his neck. I wonder how hard his cock is right now.

There's only one way to find out.

We are sitting across from each other and I push one of my legs forward until it meets his. I slip my feet out of my heels. I'm wearing silk stockings, and I drag one smooth foot up his leg.

He coughs in surprise.

"Are you okay?" my mother asks him.

He waves her off. "I'm fine. I think a bite of food went down wrong, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

I decide to drag my silky foot up further until it's pressed against his soft inner thigh. He's shifting in his seat again until I bring my foot to the secret center of his crotch and I feel him—his 12-inch cock is as hard and thick as a cucumber, and I stifle a smile. I bring my second foot up until both feet are cradling his manhood. I stroke him with both silky feet, slowly at first, and then at a faster tempo.

He's trying not to look at me. He's trying to suppress the desire pulsing through his veins. He tilts his head back, tugging at the Windsor knot of his tie.

"It's hot in here," he says, loosening his tie some more.

"Carl!" mother shouts. "Please adjust the thermostat. Mr. Kane appears to be uncomfortably warm."

"Yes, ma'm," Carl replies, and walks off to adjust the temperature.

Little do they know, the thermostat can't help Mason. Things are about to get a lot hotter. I stroke his cock with increased pressure and speed, until I feel him twitch. His entire body is tense and I know I'm bringing him dangerously close to the edge of an explosive orgasm.

But not tonight. Not now.

I'm not going to give it to him that easy.

I remove my feet and slip them back into their heels as if nothing happened. "Well, it's getting late," I say to no one in particular.

Then I turn and look at Mason. "Perhaps I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

His words catch in his throat and he doesn't respond. He merely nods.

I've never seen Mason as speechless as I'm seeing him right now.

Who has the upper hand now, huh?

Bet he’s never gone up against a brat like me.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

Wall Street industry insiders were stunned yesterday when Mason Kane, the bad boy CEO of the Kane Price investment bank announced a surprise marriage with Lorna Lowell, his longtime foe.

Ms. Lowell is an activist shareholder who holds a large percentage of stock in the Kane Price investment bank and in recent months has been more and more critical of the way that Mr. Kane has conducted himself.

Her claims of Mr. Kane's inability to manage his position were taken up by other critics of the CEO recently after a scandalous episode in which Mason Kane was caught on camera engaged in crude sexual acts with a television reporter. That act was inadvertently broadcast nationwide during a camera malfunction and reached an unfortunate conclusion when Mason Kane proceeded to ejaculate on the camera, and by extension into the homes and faces of every viewer that was watching.

Mr. Kane’s spokesman announced that the two were married in a private ceremony attended by extremely close friends.

The marriage is surprising to many, however, not just for the playboy tendencies that Mr. Kane has been known to possess, but also for the loggerheads that he has often been at with Ms. Lowell and his Board of Directors.

Since the initial public offering of Kane Price three years ago transformed the company from a closely held partnership into a globe-girdling organization, Mason Kane has emerged as one of Wall Street's hottest deal makers and its youngest billionaire. However, this self-proclaimed 'King of Wall Street' has not been without his detractors who claim that his hard partying ways have caused a crisis of confidence to develop among the firm's top clients, as well as his Board of Directors.

In an industry where confidence and surety are prized, critics claim that Mason Kane provides neither.

The marriage to Lorna Lowell may however, in the opinion of some industry observers, go a long way toward alleviating some of the concerns regarding Mr. Kane's temperament.

"People love him. They think he's the life of the party. But quite honestly, you don't want the life of the party managing your money when you're talking about hundreds of millions of dollars. You want the most boring guy in the room. The guy who can't talk to any of the girls because he doesn't know how. All he knows how to do is count coins. That's what clients are looking for when they look toward an investment bank," commented a source who asked to remain anonymous due to the fact that his company was already doing some business with Kane Price.

It remains to be seen whether any union   between Mr. Kane and his critical Board members will have any affect on his image. However, one thing has transpired already, and that is undeniable.

"People are definitely talking about him more. And Lorna Lowell's profile has risen on Wall Street as well. Considerably," commented one industry observer who also requested anonymity due to the delicate and evolving nature of the developments.

The observer further commented, "It might just be enough to thwart any sort of revolt by the Board and prevent any no confidence motions. Maybe."

Whether that is the real reason for the engagement, or whether there is genuine love, that is up for debate. What is established however is that Wall Street is watching. Very closely.


"Good morning, Mr. Kane," my secretary smiles. I can tell she's hoping to engage me in a friendly back and forth conversation, but I'm not in the mood today.

"I need a coffee this morning, and I'll take it black," I say. I don't have time for small talk. I'm at work particularly early, 7 a.m. Too fucking early if you ask me, but there's a lot on my agenda.

First things first. It's early and I'd like to monitor the European fixed income markets. I also need to meet with a few visiting traders, strategists, and economists from visiting banks. In other words, it's a full fucking day. There's no rest for the King of Wall Street.

I walk toward the trading desk and I see her. Becca. The last time I saw her was at Lorna's house for dinner a week ago - back when I was a bachelor. She stood up and left me with a pair of balls bluer than the arctic. But the image of her right now stops me in my tracks. She's literally dressed to fucking kill.

What is it about a perfect pair of long legs and a tight, heart-shaped ass that makes men lose all rational ability? Because that agenda I just mentioned to you, Gorgeous? Well, I no longer give a fuck about any of it now that my cock is twitching in my pants. It's growing harder by the minute, and if I'm not careful, it's going to create an obscene tent.

Becca's bent over the trading desk and I can see every curve of her ass. She's talking to some broker who thinks he actually has a shot with her. The poor schmo is telling her about his latest market views, but he can't keep his eyes off of her tits. It's all so obvious. He's practically salivating.

My eyes travel down her tight skirt to her gorgeous legs. She's wearing a pair of silk stockings that have a seam traveling down the back, and on her feet are a pair of five-inch black leather heels. I can't help but want to grab those hips and part those legs.

I've never really noticed her like this before. Sure, we had one hot fuck session, and she teased me at dinner with Lorna at the same table … but now I seem to be hyper-aware of her body. Her presence sends an electric current down my spine.

I walk toward the trading desk.

"Mr. Kane, good morning," the broker says. I dismiss him and look right at Becca.

"I see you're here early."

"Yes, we were just going over market data," she smiles, and I'm not sure if it's my imagination but I swear she sticks her ass out a few inches closer to my cock.

I contemplate standing close enough to feel the heat of her body, to secretly press myself into her curves, but I hear a voice behind me.

"We need to talk."

It's Lorna. I swear, her timing is impeccable, isn't it?

"How can I help you this morning?" I ask. I'm hoping it's something simple so that she'll be on her way and I can quickly get rid of her.

"We need a set of investments," she demands.

"With who?"

"With Red Lion Aviation."

"Isn't that the airline company that has low safety ratings?"

She dodges the question and continues, "As Chief Counsel of this firm, I'm saying we need to invest in Red Lion Aviation bonds." Her tone is calculated and cold, and she speaks with finality.

"That's ridiculous," I say.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," she replies, giving me an icy glare.

"This is more than just an opinion," I say. "Market research doesn't lie. The numbers show that this isn't a viable company."

"Oh, you're certainly not one to talk about viable," she smirks.

"I'm not about to throw our investments down a drain," I say. "I care about the future of this company, and I'm not so sure the same can be said for you."

Lorna laughs, but it's not a good-humored laugh. It's vindictive and cold.

"You want to talk about smart, viable decision making?" she asks. "You should've started thinking about that before fucking that MarketWatch anchor on national television."

"Get off it, Lorna," I say. "That's over. I'm looking forward, not backward."

"I think you're forgetting something very important here. I am the largest shareholder in this company, and I determine where our investments go and don't go," she says, her cold blue eyes sparkling like broken glass.

I'm vaguely aware that Becca and the others on the trading floor are listening to every detail of our argument, but they're pretending to be busy. Now's not the time or place for Lorna and I to be arguing.

"Again, I'd consider your investment strategy if it was viable, but Red Lion Aviation is not. It's a joke, and I won't move forward with such an unreasonable plan of action," I say. For better or worse, I'm not backing down from this.

Lorna stares at me and she doesn't have to say another word because I can feel her wrath. I don't know what's going to happen, but there's no way I could move forward with such a bad investment in good consciousness.

I watch as she turns on her heels and leaves. Her steps are heavy and brisk.

I walk away from the trading floor as well and head into my office. I find my leather chair and sink into it. This morning isn't going as planned. It's gone up in flames and it's barely 8 a.m. I resist the urge to pull out the secret bottle of scotch that I have stashed in my desk drawer. I'd love one nice, long, warm pull from that bottle, but it's too early.

Knock, knock. I hear a soft tapping on my office door, and I wonder if it's Lorna back for more. I sit up straight in my chair and brace myself.

"Come in."

I immediately see that it's not Lorna; it's Becca. She steps in and closes the door behind her, quietly turning the lock. She's not saying anything, but she doesn't have to; her body language says it all.

My pulse leaps as she saunters toward me, her hips swaying like a gentle breeze. Again, I realize that I'd love to wrap my arms around those hips. Her steps are calculated, and she seems to almost glide into my office. I watch as her heels sink into the plush rug in the center of the room.

Her eyes are glazed.

She walks past my desk and to the windows behind me.

Reaching up, she closes the blinds.

My heart is pounding in my chest.

Maybe this morning isn't going to be so bad after all.


What am I doing? Honestly, I don’t know and I don’t care. I just know I have to do this.

After closing the blinds, I turn on my heels and look straight at Mason. There’s a fog in my mind, one hiding my rational mind and unleashing my deepest cravings. I’m so wet right now that I can feel my drenched black lace thong already sticking to my skin. This is wrong on so many levels, I know, but I just can’t help it.

“What are you doing, Becca?” he asks me, getting up from his chair. Without taking my eyes off of him, I walk toward him, going around his desk. My heart feels like dynamite, the whole room feeling like the inside of a powder keg.

“I’m a married man, now, remember?” he says to me, but he says it with a smirk and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“You know what I’m doing,” I whisper, placing both of my hands on his chest. “Let’s just call this my welcoming you to the family.”

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

Running my hands down his shirt, I only stop when I feel his belt, and I hook my fingers there, pulling him into me. “I want you,” I continue, my fingers fumbling with his buckle. “I need you.” I pull the belt out from its loops and let it fall to the floor; at the same time, he leans into me, my eyelids drooping as he closes the distance between our mouths. In his eyes there’s fire, an urgent need to dominate me; he wants this as much as I do.

When he presses his lips against mine, the whole world around me starts to fade away. Outside from his office, the trading floor is still going through its daily chaos; there are people talking and shouting, anxious traders walking back and forth as they split their attention between strong coffee and spreadsheets, but I’m oblivious to it all. Right now, I’m in a world of my own. One where Mason reigns supreme.

“You’re a wicked one,” he whispers, pulling back from our kiss and running his fingers through my hair. I reach for his mouth and bite at his lower lip, pulling it back as I place my hands on his waist.

“You have no idea,” I tell him, my fingers finding their way to his crotch. Flattening the palm of my hand there, a shiver goes up my spine as I feel his hard cock straining against his pants. I curl my fingers around his thick shape, remembering how it felt to have him inside of me, and I grow even wetter. Squeezing his cock, I look up at him, a lewd smile on my lips. Grinning back at me, he tangles his fingers in my hair and yanks; I gasp and, a heartbeat after that, he leans in and crushes his mouth against mine.

We kiss as if we are possessed, our tongues dancing around each other as a burning need takes over me. I don’t think I have ever wanted a man as much as I want Mason. Somehow, knowing that he’s going to be my stepfather, makes it even better. I never knew that doing the wrong thing could feel so right.

As desire buries its fangs in my mind, I lose all control. I tug on his shirt, untucking it, and then take my fingers to his shoulders. I pull his jacket down his arms and, before it has even hit the floor, I’m already unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers moving anxiously.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he tells me, grabbing my wrists and forcing me to stop. Looking into his, I can almost see the flames of desire dancing there. This might be a dangerous game, yes, but Mason loves the way we’re playing it.

“Yes,” I whisper, trying to break free from his hold, “and you love it.” A grin lights his face up and, forcing me to turn around, he pushes me back and against the wall. I breathe out sharply as I feel my back against the wall and, at the same time, he pins my arms over my head.

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now,” he continues, slowly leaning into me and laying soft kisses on my neck. Closing my eyes, I surrender to the way his wet lips make their way from my neck to my cleavage, my nipples getting so hard they almost hurt.

“Then do it,” I tell him, my heart racing faster and faster. I can’t believe that I’m asking him to fuck him here, in his office… I know that we fucked in a public bathroom, but this is different. Now there are consequences, and serious ones. The thing is, right now, I couldn’t care less.

As his hands go down the side of my body, my skin prickles in anticipation and I sigh heavily.

“Not until you beg me to, baby girl,” he whispers.

I whimper. He feels so good. I can feel his hands traveling down as every nerve fires. When he finally meets the hemline of my skirt, he slides his fingers underneath it and pushes it up to my waist. I pant, throwing my head back against the wall as his hands make their way toward my inner thighs. As he moves closer to my pussy, desire starts to boil in my mind, my insides clenching as primal desires take precedence over everything else.

I run my hands through his hair, disheveling it, and then pull harshly. At the same time, he presses his hand right between my thighs, and I can’t help but let out a subdued moan. I don’t think I have ever been this wet. It’s funny, really; I’ve had all kinds of men chasing after me, but it took an older one to make me feel like this. Of course, even though Mason is 37, he doesn’t look like it; in fact, he looks better than men ten years his junior.

“This,” he whispers, placing his mouth close to my ear as he starts to rub my pussy over my drenched thong, “is mine.” My insides clench at his words and I realize that he’s right; my pussy belongs to him and to no one else.

“Yours,” I pant, letting go of his hair and grabbing his wrist. I pull him into me, forcing him to press harder against my pussy. My insides are on fire, but I won’t stop until both my mind and body are turned into ashes.

I go back to his shirt and, with trembling fingers, I finish unbuttoning his shirt. When it’s done I press both my hands against his firm pectorals, feeling their hard shape under my fingertips, and then go straight to his abs. Sweet God, Mason looks better than men my age. He’s sin incarnate.

As I push the shirt down his arms, he lets go of my pussy and takes one step back. I look at him, my eyes roaming over the ropes of muscle in his torso, and then he’s on me again. His hands go straight to my breasts, his eager fingers squeezing them softly. With a growl, he grabs at my blouse and, tugging on it, he makes all the buttons pop out, baring my bra.

My hands dart to his head and, grabbing at his hair, I pull him into me. He dives in, his mouth going straight to the valley between my tits. As he runs his tongue across my cleavage, his hands go up my back and, with a simple flick of his fingers, he undoes the clasp on my bra. The cups droop over my breasts and, acting fast, he pulls the straps down my arms. I do the rest, pulling at the bra and throwing it somewhere on the floor.

“These are mine too,” he grins, pressing his fingers over my tits. I shiver as I feel his hands pressing down on my hard nipples and, my fingers now back in his hair, I force his head against my body. He doesn’t resist; he comes willingly, parting his lips and wrapping them tightly around my right nipple.

I sigh heavily, his tongue lapping at my hard tip as he sucks eagerly. The clouds are already gathering, and I know that I won’t leave Mason’s office without being consumed by the storm of pleasure.

Still sucking on my right nipple, he takes his fingers to my left one and starts to pinch on it. My nerves carry the pain all the way up to my brain but, by the time it gets there, it has already been transmuted into pleasure.

“It’s so… good,” I moan, the words coming out of my mouth honeyed and soft.

“And it’s just the start,” he whispers, pulling back from my breasts. Placing his fingers on my waist, he forces me to turn around; the moment I’m facing the wall, he grabs the zipper on my skirt and pulls it down. The fabric falls down my legs, pooling at my feet, and I try to look back over my shoulder at him; his eyes are glazed, a bonfire of desire burning there. There’s no stopping him now.

He presses his body against mine and, reacting on sheer instinct, I thrust my ass back against his crotch. I feel the bulging in his pants fitting between my ass cheeks and, as he grabs at my breasts, I start to move my hips in an up and down motion.

“You can’t wait, can you? You want me inside of you,” he says, and I close my eyes and start to grind against him harder.

“I want it,” I purr, electricity running up my spine as I feel his shaft pulsing against my ass. “I want it now,” I repeat, anxious for him to push the thong down my body. I want him to use my naked body like no one ever has before… I want him to fuck me, to ravage me, and then I want to do it all over again.

“You’ll wait,” he tells me firmly, grabbing at my ass cheeks and squeezing them. Then, no warning whatsoever, he smack my ass with the back of his hand. The sound is dry and snappy, and the sting of pain hits me at once. I cry out and, biting on my lower lip, I wait for him to do it again. “I’ll fuck you… But first I’ll make you beg.” He smacks my ass again, hard enough to leave a mark, and then presses his mouth against my neck.

“I’ll beg…” I pant, thrusting back as hard as I can. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I know that,” he whispers, and then takes one step back. I turn to him and try to kiss him, but he simply grabs me by the hair and forces me to throw my head back. “On your knees, Becca.” The deep sound of his voice acts like a drug on my brain and, almost immediately, I feel my knees buckling under the weight of my body. I go down, my hands going straight for his crotch.

“Go on…” he says, and I take a deep breath. Unbuttoning his pants, I feel my heart becoming tighter inside of my chest as the shape of his cock pushes back against my fingers.

Before pulling it out of his boxer briefs, I start by flattening my hand against it, rubbing it up and down. Before I even know what I’m doing, I lean into him and, tilting my head to the side, fit my mouth against his shaft. I start to suck over his boxer briefs, my fingers tightening up around his shaft.

As the pressure intensifies, I finally hook my fingers on his boxer briefs and tug on them as hard as I can, sending them with his pants down to his ankles. I grab his cock immediately, struggling to get my fingers around his shaft. Swear to God, I didn’t even know cocks as big as these existed; he has to be as thick as a can of Coke.

Flicking my wrist, I start to stroke them with both my hands, moving them at a steady pace. He groans and then, as he pulls my head in, I go straight for his glans. I stop stroking him and angle his cock down; parting my lips, I wrap them around his tip and start to suck. My mouth moves down his shaft with maddening patience, but I go all the way—no half measures. It should be physically impossible for me to have all of his length inside of my mouth, but I don’t care about it. I push through, only stopping when I feel the tip of his cock against the back of my throat.

“That’s it…” he groans, pushing my head back. Once I’m on his tip again, I cup his balls and start to roll them over my fingers. They’re heavy, full of his cum, and I can’t wait to unload them all over me. I shiver, remembering how his semen tasted, and that just makes me start to suck on him as hard as humanly possible. Bobbing my head back and forth, I close my eyes and surrender to the way his thickness forces me to open my mouth wide. My jaw hurts from the effort, but that’s the price you pay when you have a cock as big as this at your disposal. And, if you ask me, I’m more than willing to pay the price.

The muscles in my neck are already complaining from the effort and, stopping just for a second, I take his cock out of my mouth and take a deep breath. While I do it, I keep on stroking, my hand working on him furiously.

“I fucking love the way you use your mouth,” he says, softly brushing his thumb over my lips. “It’s so tight… Almost as much as your pussy.” His words are like a drug, his voice blanketing all of my thoughts; eager to please, I dive into him again, rolling my lips down his shaft. I suck on him so relentlessly that a violent spasm takes over his cock; he’s on the verge of cumming, but that I don’t stop. Pulling on my hair, he has to be the one taking control. He pushes me back and his cock pops out of my mouth with a wet sound. “Not yet.”

In a hurry, he kicks off his shoes and steps out of his pants and boxers. Like a god, he towers over me, his naked body the most perfect sight my eyes have ever seen. Mason he’s… perfect. And he’s going to be your stepfather as well, an insidious voice whispers inside of my head. I know that this simple fact should be enough to ruin the fun… But it just makes me hornier.

“Fuck me,” I blurt out, looking up at him. Grabbing one arm, he pulls me up to my feet and pushes me back against the wall. Without wasting time, he presses his body against mine, and I tremble as I feel his shaft brushing against my drenched thong. “Please,” I moan, running my hands down the side of his body and resting them over the curve of his ass.

Moving fast, he grabs at my thong and pulls it against my outer thigh. I gasp as I feel the fabric digging deep into my flesh and then, as he tugs harshly, I hear the sound of the thong tearing. It slides off my skin and, instead of throwing it to the floor, he brings it up to his face.

“You’re delicious…” he whispers, brushing my drenched thong against my lips. I feel the scent of lust and sin, my own fluids smearing my lips, and only then does he let the thong fall to the floor. “It drives me fucking crazy,” he continues, leaning into me; with the tip of his tongue, he licks my lips, tasting my pussy there.

I grab his cock, anxious to feel it sliding inside my pussy, but he grabs me by the wrist and stops me. “I want to taste you first,” he says and, acting on it, he goes down to his knees. With one hand on the back of my knee, he places my right leg over his shoulder and then leans into me. I place both my hands on his head, my insides clenching as he places his face between my thighs; when he runs his tongue between my wet folds, I can’t help but let out one loud moan.

Grabbing his hair by the root, I pull him into me with a violent movement. He doesn’t fight back; he dives into me with a vengeance, his open mouth sucking on my drenched pussy. When he flicks his tongue at my clit, I feel as if I was hit by thunder. My whole body tenses up and I start swaying my hips from side to side, rubbing my pussy against his face as if tomorrow would never come.

“Yes, yes,” I moan, bright lights flashing behind my closed eyelids. My moans become louder and louder, and I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming. If I keep being this loud, everyone will know what we’re doing inside his office. Even now, my brain is drowning in pleasure, I can still hear the noise from outside the office, the traders going about their business just a few feet away from me and Mason. Oh, if anyone barged in and saw us fucking… Mason and his step-daughter fucking—I can already see the headlines. Now that would be a mess.

Closing my eyes, I throw my head back and try to keep quiet. It’s harder than it seems, but somehow, I manage to do it. Mason doesn’t seem to care about it, though. Instead of taking it easy, he licks my pussy in a feverish frenzy; feeling me on the verge of exploding, he presses two fingers over my clit and starts to rub it in that maddening rhythm.

“Oh, fuck…” I hiss, my body like a coiled spring. Experienced as he is, it doesn’t take long for me to snap. Grinding my teeth hard enough to shatter them, I let a wave of ecstasy wash over me. My muscles tremble and twitch, and pleasure rages through me like a midnight storm.

I’m breathing so hard even my lungs are complaining; still, Mason doesn’t ease up. He keeps lapping at my pussy, working me with his tongue and fingers until the orgasm finally starts to subside.

Taking my leg out from his shoulder, he goes up to his feet, the Devil’s grin on his face. “Delicious,” he whispers, running his tongue over his wet lips. The skin around his mouth is glistening, my fluids dripping down his face, and the urge to kiss him overwhelms me. I crush my mouth against his and part his lips with my tongue. My own flavor coats my tongue and crawls up to my brain, making me feel dizzy. There’s something wicked about tasting myself in the lips of a man like Mason.

“Delicious,” I repeat, smiling at him while I run my tongue over my lips. “No wonder you like it so much.”

“That’s right,” he says, pressing his body against mine. His hands are on my ass now, squeezing my cheeks gently; I grab his cock and angle it down, pointing its tip straight at my wetness.

“Fuck me now,” I urge him, trying to place his glans against my pussy. He resists, not moving, and simply looks me in the eye. “I can’t wait any longer… I need it now.”

Like a predator moving on its prey, he places both hands under my ass and lifts me up, pinning me against the wall while I lace my legs behind his lower back. God, my heart is about to burst right now.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Grabbing his cock, he comes closer and starts to rub his glans against my pussy lips, moving it up and down its length. I try to thrust, desperate to feel his thickness pushing against my inner walls, but he simply keeps on teasing me.

“Please, Mason… Please…” I moan, placing both of my hands on his bare ass and trying to reel him in. Grinning, he feeds one inch of his thick cock inside of me, and my fingernails dig into his ass cheeks. I want more; I need more. “Please…” I beg again, my voice like frail glass. He gives me one more inch and I throw my head back, hitting it against the wall. “Please…” I repeat, just like a prayer. I’m desperate now.

“There’s nothing better than hearing you beg…” he whispers against my ear and, with one violent thrust, he impales me on his cock. I scream, forgetting all about the dozens of people hanging around Mason’s office. There’s still a semblance of rationality inside of me, though. I close my mouth and, gritting my teeth, trying to keep silent as Mason slides his cock out of me. But then, when he thrusts again, another scream crawls up my throat. I hiss and moan, fighting against the urge to scream like a banshee, but Mason seems hell bent on fucking me so hard that screams of pleasure become mandatory.

Pistoning into me with the fury of a god, I feel my inner walls straining to accommodate him. He slides in and out of me at a frantic pace, stretching me wide, and I let my head down and press it against his shoulder. I bite there, burying my teeth into his flesh hard enough to draw blood; he doesn’t even seem to notice it. By the time I take my mouth off of his shoulder, the mark of my teeth on his skin is clear as crystal. A memento of sin.

I open my mouth to beg him not to stop, but there’s no need for it. As if he could read my mind, his thrusts grow even more wild and ferocious, and I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope. Sparks of pleasure are biting at my muscles and, as tension builds deep inside of me, I grit my teeth as hard as I can, bracing for impact. Don’t scream, don’t scream, I think to myself, but then reality chokes all that out of me.

An explosion goes off inside of me and, knowing what’s to come, Mason places his hand over my mouth. I let out one fierce scream but, with his hand, he manages to muffle it. My pussy starts to spasm around his shaft, and it feels as if someone has poured my body with gasoline and then put a flame to it.

“Oh, God…” I sigh as Mason takes his hand off of my mouth. Carefully sliding his cock out of me, he takes my legs out from his back. When my feet touch the floor, I suddenly feel weak and spent. Still, when I open my eyes and meet his devilish grin, adrenaline starts to course through my veins once more. Bring it on, stepfather; since we’re already sinning, let’s go all the way.

I turn on my heels, eager to go at it again, and Mason places his hands on my waist. There’s a hunger to the way he moves, and I can’t help but want to be devoured by him. I jut my ass back, and I close my eyes as I feel his thick shaft between my ass cheeks; without waiting to see what he does, I start to rock my hips against him, stroking his cock with my crack.

Allowing me to tease him, he lays his mouth on my neck and starts to kiss me, his kisses eager and impatient. When he finally decides to act, there’s no hesitancy about it; he grabs his cock and, pushing it down, places it right between my thighs, his glans brushing against my pussy. I jut my ass back even more, angling myself, and he thrusts at once. His cock pierces me like thunder, and Mason starts to rock his hips at that furious pace of his. The sound of his thighs slapping my cheeks fill the whole room, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re being too loud. Then, as if to drag my worries into the light, someone knocks on the door.

The sound of it has the same jarring effect a gunshot would have; Mason stops thrusting and my eyes widen in surprise. I remain in silence, my heart thrashing against my ribcage, and then there’s another knock.

“Mr. Kane?” The person on the other side of the door calls. It’s the voice of a young woman, probably one of the new interns. “I have some documents here for you to sign.”

“Come back later,” is his curt response. “I’m in a meeting,” he continues, slowly rocking his hips. I purse my lips, doing my best to remain quiet, but as Mason picks up the rhythm it becomes almost impossible.

“Yes, sir,” the young woman replies. After that, the lively chatter of the traders outside fills Mason’s office again. Acting as if nothing happened, he grabs me by the hips and, keeping my body in place, starts to thrust once more. The sound of flesh on flesh drowns all other sounds and, when I feel my eyes rolling in their orbits, I add a cadence of moans to the symphony.

“Don’t stop, Mason… Don’t stop…” I beg him, my pussy tightening around his shaft. That familiar pressure starts to mount inside of me and I press my forehead against the wall, surrendering to the incoming avalanche.

“You don’t need to ask,” he tells me, thrusting even faster. I’m barely moving, but even so I can already feel heavy beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Mason is on a whole new level; forget about boys, I found myself a man.

When I finally come and my muscles start to twitch, I place my forearms on the wall and hiss through my gritted teeth. Pleasure rages through me with a fury and my mind starts to drift off; right now, I can’t focus on anything aside from the river of ecstasy rushing through me.

“Now,” he whispers against my ear, slowly pulling his cock out of me. “I want you back on your knees.” I take one deep breath and obedient, I turn on my heels and go down in front of him. His cock is wet and glistening from my fluids and, guided by wicked instincts, I lean into him and place my lips against his glans. My own scent and flavor hits me at once and, losing all control, I open my mouth as wide as I can and roll my lips down his shaft. As I move back, I suck him dry, taking all of my fluids into my own mouth.

When I take his cock out of my mouth, I look up at him and smile. Mischief is burning in my heart and I pick up my discarded thong up from the floor. It’s still wet, and I wrap it around his cock; grinning wildly, I place my hand on top of it and start to stroke him softly.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. Slowly, I start stroking him harder, now using both my hands. When my rhythm reaches its peak, I pull the thong down his shaft and then throw it away; it’s time to get serious. “I want all of it inside of me,” I continue to say, the words tumbling down my lips completely unfiltered. I’m unhinged, and I just love it.

I’m fucking my stepfather, and I’m being as dirty as I’ve ever been; by all means, I shouldn’t be feeling sexy, but that’s exactly how I feel. I don’t know, there’s just something about the way he looks at me… About the way he gets hard for me. Is there anything better than knowing that a man like Mason can’t look away from you?

“Fuck,” he groans and, when I feel his cock spasming slightly, I lunge at him and place his glans inside my mouth. Not even a fraction of a second after, he erupts, his warm cum rushes into my mouth, his cock pulsing violently as it unleashes all of his seed. It’s salty, and has a harsh flavor; the best way to describe it would be to say that it tastes like a real man. Which seems just right.

It only takes two seconds for my mouth to be brimming with his semen; still, he keeps on cumming. Thick strands of it start dripping down my chin and, as he keeps on gushing, more and more of his seed escapes my mouth. But I remain frozen in place, not taking my mouth off his cock; I only do it when the spasms stop, half of his load inside my mouth, and the other half already dripping down my neck and moving toward my tits.

Moving slowly, I roll my lips back and his cock pops out of my mouth. Looking up at him, I let a wild grin take over my face and then open up my mouth; the moment I do it, his cum starts to spill out of my mouth and drip down my chin. Grinning back at me, Mason places two fingers under my chin and closes my mouth.

“Swallow,” he tells me in a hushed tone and, without even thinking about it, I do it. As his flavor burns down my throat, he reaches for me with one hand and makes me go up to my feet. Now standing in front of him, I let a gentle smile take over my face. He brushes two fingers over my cum-coated lips, his eyes glazed as he takes in the sight. With a smile on his lips, he bends down and picks up my thong from the floor; he presses it against my lips, using it to dry my skin. I stand there, frozen in place, as he moves the fabric over my skin at a tortuous pace, cleaning me up.

When he’s finally done, he lets the thong fall from his fingers and kisses me.

“What the fuck are we doing?” he asks, more to himself than to me. I say nothing and just look into his eyes; I’m wondering the same.

What the fuck are we doing?


I can hardly believe what transpired between Becca and I … in my office no less. Now I'm in my apartment, leaning back into the leather of my couch and looking out across the city. Cityscapes have a way of calming my nerves. The skyscrapers are a testament to human achievement, power, and determination. The hum of traffic, people, and hustle is music to my ears.

One of the reasons why I chose this apartment was for the view. Floor to ceiling windows on the 40th floor… the view is unparalleled. I pick up my glass of scotch from the nearby table and listen as the ice clinks against each other. I swirl it around for a moment with quick flicks of my wrist before bringing it to my lips.

The heat of the liquid burns a comforting trail down my throat and I close my eyes. I need to figure out what's going on … with Becca and Lorna. Lorna seems hell bent on destroying the company I've worked so hard to build up. I don't understand why she'd urge us to embark on such a risky investment. No, risky isn't the right word … it's downright suicide.

And Becca … what can I say? She drives me wild. The way she walked into my office … determined, knowing exactly what she wanted … I couldn't help myself. I knew I needed her as much as she needed me. There was a hunger in her movements … and in mine. But I know it's wrong.

There's a knock on my door and I stand up to answer it, but I must've left it unlocked because the door opens without me, and before I can react, in walks Lorna.

"Hello, dear," she says, placing one hand on my arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. She then walks past me, throwing her leather purse on top of the dining room table.

Her touch makes me want to shrink away, and when she calls me 'dear,' I try not to lose my stomach. Instead, I walk away and pour myself another glass of scotch without saying a word. I think the expression is speaking volumes to her right now. It's a mixture of disgust, exhaustion, and frustration, and she's trying to ignore the fact that I want nothing to do with her.

At least the scotch should help … I hope.

She approaches me from behind and rakes her fingers through my hair.

"You're not still mad about earlier, are you?" she asks.

I lift her fingers off of my hair and take a few steps away from her.

"I don't know if mad is the right word, but—"

She cuts me off. "Good, because I have an idea," she purrs, walking to me and placing her hands on my chest. She reaches for my tie and starts loosening the knot. "I think I know of the perfect way to let off a little steam."

She pulls my tie from my shirt collar and moves to the buttons, slowing unhooking them. I bring my scotch to my lips and take a big gulp.

What can I do? This snake of a woman has the power to ruin me, and Kane Price, the company I've worked so hard to build up.

Do I force her out and risk her backlash?

Do I walk out, and leave her standing here, wondering?

As I'm trying to figure out how I can get out of this, I realize Lorna has my shirt completely open.

"Mason, you're even more … impressive than I had imagined," she says, using her cold fingers to trace the contours of my muscular chest.

Great. The last thing I want to do is impress this woman.

"Look out there," she says, pointing to the glittering cityscape of New York City. "Together, you and I will rule this city."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," I mutter. "There is no 'we.' There's just 'I.' And we'd certainly never rule anything …let alone the whole of New York City by making bad investments."

"Oh come on now," Lorna laughs. "Are we going to talk about that again? I thought we've moved past that. Let's have a little fun, shall we?"

She hooks her fingers under my belt loops and slowly unbuckles my belt. I can hear the clink of the metal buckle unfastening and I shift uncomfortably, my pulse increasing.

"I can't do this," I say, pushing her hands off my belt.

She isn't listening. "Of course you can," she purrs, "and you will. We're married, remember? This is what husbands and wives do." She renews her efforts, shoving her fingers under the waistband of my boxers.

My stomach lurches at her touch and at the thought of Lorna as my wife. She's one of the most heartless people I've ever encountered in my life—and I've encountered a lot of despicable people on Wall Street. There's no upside to being with a woman like her.

I push her off me again, and this time I stand up from the couch. It's a bold move and Lorna isn't happy. Her eyes are as cold and unpredictable as a brewing storm.

"I won't say this again, Mason," she says, glaring at me. "You better do as I say and follow my lead, starting with Red Lion Aviation."

"I've already told you, it's a terrible investment," I say. "Red Lion Aviation is an Indonesian airline with one of the worst safety records in the industry. It's not uncommon to hear that another one of their planes has taken a nose dive into the ocean."

"Minor details," Lorna waves dismissively. "Planes go down. People understand that. They're still far safer than cars."

I'm not willing to hear her reasons for why we should invest in Red Lion Aviation because no matter what, I've performed the market research, crunched the numbers, and I know that it doesn't make sense on any level.

"I won't do it," I reply.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"I'd carefully reconsider what you're saying," she hisses. She walks over and grabs her purse from the table. "Because if you don't, I'll make sure the Board sees that you are unfit to lead this company."

Without saying another word, she walks to the door and steps out before slamming it shut behind her.

Fuck me. How did I allow myself to get into this mess?

Just as I'm about to sit back down on the couch and try and forget about Lorna for the night, I hear a knock on the door.

I hope she isn't back for another round.

I open the door.

And I see her … it's Becca.

But she looks different. There's a suspicious look to her eyes.


I shouldn't be here at his apartment. Every fiber in my brain is telling me that I should just turn the other direction and walk away.

No, I should probably run away.

As far away from Mason and my mother as I can get.

If I have half an ounce of common sense in my head I won't go any deeper. I'll cut my losses and tell myself it was what it was—a very hot, passionate affair with an older man who just happens to be my stepdad.

But that's if I had any common sense.

That's if I could make myself forget how hot he made me when he held me. How excited I got when my hand wrapped around his hard shaft. How I felt him grow in my hand. How I made him hard.

Sure, he's a playboy. I knew that going into it.

He's 16 years older than me. I can do the math.

But the times that we've been together, when he's taken control of my body—owned it and used it for his pleasure—can never be forgotten.

I can't forget his cock inside of me, stretching me out.

I can't forget seeing his eyes roll back into his head when I put him in my mouth and run my tongue up and down his shaft.

When I pumped him repeatedly.

When I licked his tip.

When I made him cum.

Oh God, when he came. It's almost as hot as when I think back to how he makes me cum.

See where my mind has gone? See what's happened?

No, I'm definitely not thinking with my brain.

I'm thinking with my clit.

Is that even possible for a woman to do? I've heard of guys who think with their cocks, but women are supposed to be smarter than that, aren't they? I mean, your husband or your boyfriend, babe. You're way smarter than him, right?

So why am I standing here then like a ridiculous deer looking at headlights?

I mean, thank God Mom didn't see me as she walked off. She was walking the other direction, but she was too busy straightening her clothes out to notice anything.

Mason recognized me though.

He's looking straight at me.

I can't help myself. I should be running away. I should be protecting myself from what Mom can do to guys.

But I don't run away, do I?

I stay here as he comes up to me.

I can smell his cologne wafting into my nostrils and I close my eyes as I inhale. He smells like...man.

All of those thoughts of self-preservation that were in the back of my head are now completely gone.

All of the dark, twisted, sexual desires that I've been living with Mason—fucking my older stepdad—are back and stronger than ever.

It's as if the demon Lust has taken control of my body. Because when I open my eyes, Mason's standing in front of me.

He looks at me silently. He's so confident. So strong.

And why shouldn't he be?

He knows he owns me.

The way he grabs me by the arm and starts walking toward the open door to his apartment. I have no choice but to follow. And even if I had a choice, we both know that I would go wherever this man took me.

I feel more than hear the door to the apartment close behind me.

But just as suddenly as he grabbed me and pulled me in, Mason lets me go and turns toward me.

I notice the skyline visible through his open window. The skyscrapers of New York City glitter in the evening. It would be a breathtaking view, if I could even compose my thoughts at the moment.

I mean, my Mom walking out of Mason's apartment.

Adjusting her clothes.

There's only one reason that she could have been here. Only one thing she could have been doing.

"Becca," Mason says to me, looking at me. As much as he acts the completely dominant alpha-male around me, I see in his eyes true concern for what's going on in my head. He takes a step closer to me. "Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions."

"There's no conclusions to jump to, Mason," I tell him, surprising myself with how calm and cool I sound. "I think I have a pretty fair idea what you two were up to."

Mason sighs. "We didn't fuck, if that's what you mean."

Maybe he sees me wince as he says the word fuck. I'm imagining my mother claiming him. My Mason being conquered by Mom. Taken away from me.

Maybe because I start trembling.

"Hey," Mason says and I'm about to respond but the fact that I'm about to lose this man to someone as vile and deceitful and conniving as my mother is enough to make my knees tremble.

The next thing I know, Mason has his arms wrapped around me and he's holding me from falling.

My knees have given way and had Mason not held me, I would have crumpled to the floor.

But holding me up is seriously about as much effort on Mason's part as maybe opening a door.

With ease and almost no exertion, he picks me up and starts walking to his bedroom.

"What's the matter with you today, babe?" he asks, his eyes finding mine as he walks into the bedroom.

I shake my head.

I mean, you're probably even rolling your eyes at me right now, aren't you. You're used to getting to know strong, confident, sexually mature women whenever you sit down with Alexis.

Why am I acting like this? I mean, you remember when I first met Mason? That was me. I was strong. Confident. An independent and sexual woman who wasn't afraid to go after what I wanted.

But now, it seems that I've turned into this 21-year-old hapless little damsel in distress, doesn't it?

If you only knew what I went through that brings these memories back. If you only knew the things--

"Babe," Mason says as he puts me on his bed, taking off his shoes and getting in next to me. "Tell me what the fuck is going on. Is this because of Lorna?"

I mean, it is and it isn't.

"There's nothing going on with me and her," he says through clenched teeth. "I know it looks bad, considering the fact that she is legally married to me."

I close my eyes, trying to will the thought away. The fact that Mom is married to him makes it feel like daggers being thrown at my face.

Mason sees this and he immediately runs his hand down my cheek.

"Hey, babe," he says, his voice soft. "Look at me."

It takes me a moment, but eventually I open my eyes and look at him.

"I will never, ever touch that woman," he tells me, his eyes piercing into mine. "I will never be with her. Never have an intimate moment with her. I swear. You will never have to worry about that. The marriage wasn't even a ceremony … just paperwork. It's not even worth talking about."

Maybe it's the intensity by which he says it, or maybe it's how he's looking at me, but I believe him.

I do. I swear. I may not know all of what's going on, but I know at least that he's telling me the truth.

Please, don't worry about me, okay? Instead, just help me figure out what's going on with Mason.

"Why are you guys even married in the first place?" I ask him, my eyes flashing curiosity as he smiles. "I mean, what the fuck?"

He shrugs. "I'm still trying to figure out what she can get from me," Mason says to me, as his hands run idly down the curves of my body. "All I know is that I need to be careful. She's been after my company for a long time."

"Kane Price?" I ask. He nods.

"She's had her eye on it since before I went public," he says to me. "She had her fucking eye on it even while her dad was alive. She'll do anything to get it."

"She'll do anything to get what she wants," I say, and almost instinctively I scooch closer on the bed next to him. I wrap my arms around him. "Don't let her get you, please."

Mason wraps his arms around me.

"What did she ever do to you?" he asks, genuinely concerned. I mean, come on. The way I'm acting would concern anyone.

"There's too much hurt and too much pain with her, Mason," I tell him, nestling my face into his chest. "She's taken too much."

There's a pause from Mason as he kisses the top of my head.

"Has she ever taken someone you loved?" he asks me.

I draw my head back and look him in the eye.

I'm astonished, you know?

It's like this guy is so attuned to how I think. He knows me on a deeper level.

I mean, I didn't even tell you some of the things that Mom has done to me. But he seems to know just by holding me.

"Never anyone I loved," I tell him, speaking softly. "She never gave me a chance to fall in love."

Mason's quiet as I think back to the litany of relationships that Mom has reveled in ruining for me.

"My senior year in high school, on the night I thought was going to be magical, I walked in on her giving my prom date a blowjob on my bed," I recount, my eyes glazing over. "When I walked in she just looked at me and told me she was busy and would I mind waiting in the living room."

Mason is silent, holding me as I think back to my interactions with Mom.

"She's broken up every relationship I've ever had," I say to him. "I never brought a guy home from college because she'd seduce them. I knew. So instead, she would visit me at school."

I think back to those days, still relatively recent. Mom showing up in my dorm with a short skirt and tight blouse. Enticing all the guys. Ruining them for me.

"She knows exactly how I feel about it," I tell Mason. "I've told her before. But she doesn't care. She does it to hurt me. Because she sees my Dad in me. She keeps me around and hurts me to get back at him."

I would continue, but Mason pulls me closer.

"She'll never hurt you again, baby girl,” he tells me, kissing my forehead. "Not while I'm here with you."

You remember how I told you I believed Mason when he told me he'd never touch Mom again?

Well, I believe him now too.

Especially when he brings his mouth closer to my face and kisses my forehead then pulls back to look at me.

"I promise you," are his only words.

At some point, I'm going to have to start trusting him, aren't I?

It would be weird if I didn't.

Because I'm already starting to fall in love with him, you know?

We lie there a long time, quietly, until eventually I fall asleep in his arms.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

In an unexpected twist to the drama already surrounding Wall Street bad boy Mason Kane, inside sources claim that he is now the subject of an internal power struggle that may lead to a vote of no confidence at the next shareholder meeting.

According to sources who requested anonymity because they are close to the situation, Mason Kane has repeatedly disregarded potentially lucrative investment advice that would have significantly added to the revenues of Kane Price.

While no set vote of no confidence has been scheduled yet, it's enough to have spooked both investors and clients. Kane Price stock tumbled 10% on the news as rumors spread that the Firm's clients were pulling their money out. As yet, no high-profile names have announced any withdrawals or liquidations from the bank, but many are worried that further bad publicity will prompt them to do so.

Kane Price has been in the news quite a few times recently, first with the antics of Mason Kane, who was caught in a compromising sexual position with a television reporter during the time of broadcast, that sparked outrage among moral conservatives, and then more recently as Mason Kane announced a whirlwind engagement and marriage to noted shareholder activist Lorna Lowell.

Many have speculated that Mr. Kane, who styles himself the King of Wall Street, has married Lorna in an effort to repair his tarnished image. However those people also point out that at the same time as marrying Lorna, he has elevated her to a position of great confidence—that of Chief Investment Counsel for the entire Kane Price firm.

In her role, it is the now Mrs. Lorna Kane who is advising on special investments designed to increase the Firm's bottom line. These investments are generally of an experimental nature and may or may not fall outside of the Firm's traditional portfolio of products. However the revenue they generate may be used to entice clients to increase their buy-in into other products and instruments.

Mr. Kane had set an ambitious agenda at the beginning of the year in which he planned to unveil newer and more revolutionary financial products. Many speculate that his tarnished reputation may have led Mason Kane to marry Lorna Lowell in a bid to bring an air of credibility and legitimacy to his position at the company and prevent a flight of capital from the traditionally button down clientele of Wall Street.

In the past, Mason Kane has lived a lavish lifestyle and has been called at times the Bad Boy of Wall Street, or the King of Wall Street. He has been romantically linked to a revolving door of actresses, pornographic film stars, models, pop singers, heiresses, as well as a bevy of other women, almost all of them young. Many hail him as the standard bearer of male chauvinism in an era of political correctness.

But with his increasingly hostile stance with his corporate officers, including but not limited to his recently married wife, many believe that Kane Price is headed toward a reckoning that will either settle this question once and for all or destroy the Firm in an implosion unseen since the bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers.

Only time will tell.


There has to be something here! I can tell there's something here underneath the surface.

This company is trying to hide something. You know that feeling you get when you can tell that something isn't right about a person or place, but you just can't spot it or put your finger on it?

Well, that's how I feel about Red Lion Aviation.

There just seems to be something that doesn't add up.

I mean, if Mason hadn't told me on his own like he did earlier, then I would have been researching them anyways. Half the company is making the case for Red Lion. The other half is making the case against them.

It's like Kane Price is fighting a civil war within its walls. On one side are people who are listening to Lorna, thinking they should go in and invest in the company for a very substantial stake.

On the other hand are people like Mason who are getting their sixth sense tingling when they see the reports on this company.

Don't get me wrong. There's nothing overtly wrong with them. On paper they seem to have solid fundamentals. They are turning a slight profit every quarter. They seem to be expanding. They don't have any major safety issues … recently, anyways.

But they just seem too....manufactured. Too shiny. As if there is a rottenness hiding inside.

Here is what I know so far, in case you wanted to Google them.

Red Lion Aviation is headquartered in Malaysia. They trade on the New York, Frankfurt, London, and NASDAQ stock exchanges.

They were founded ten years ago by an Indonesian oil tycoon and were based in Jakarta, Indonesia before moving their operations over to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

They run flights between Sydney, Singapore, Bangkok, Jakarta, Bali, KL, and other cities in Southeast Asia.

An investment the size that Mom is talking about would significantly increase their reach and they would start offering flights into the lucrative US market.

Something like this would increase their revenues and profits maybe by about a thousand times, I think.

Just to put that into perspective, if you have a one billion dollar investment in this company, imagine multiplying that by a thousand.

That's right. If Mom is right, this investment could net Kane Price a cool one trillion dollars.

It's just incomprehensible this amount of money.

No wonder so many people in the Firm are making such a big deal about it.

But if something were to go wrong…

I'm shuddering at the implications at a one billion dollar bet that goes south.

Mason would get most of the blame. They'd probably have to eliminate several departments and have years of belt tightening. No salary increases. No bonuses. Cutbacks on benefits.

Investors would jump out of a lot of the Kane Price products. They'd think that the Firm was just poorly run, which means that the fund managers would have to sell positions and maybe even take losses. Which would be a death spiral as more and more people pull their money out.

You know what's ironic?

If Mason does this investment and takes Mom's advice, and it goes bad, then basically people are going to say that he doesn't have the right judgment to lead the Firm and they're going to try and expel him.

But if he doesn't do this investment, they're going to say the same thing.

I know what you're thinking, hun. You're not saying it, but I know you're wondering about it.

Why am I still around him, right?

I mean, even if you didn't think it, it probably crossed your mind at some point or another.

I mean, I'm smart. People tell me I'm pretty, but it's hard to tell some mornings, you know?

I'm funny, I hope.

What I'm trying to say is I could be a catch, I think.

I could make a guy happy.

So why am I hanging around a guy that's 16 years older than me, and technically married to my Mom? Why am I putting myself in the middle of a corporate boardroom fight that's involving billions of dollars and a global financial services giant? Why am I standing so close to a man that loves to play with fire?

It can't just be his cock, can it? It can't be the way he fucks me.

I mean, sure I like sex. I'm no virgin. I had a pretty active sex life in college. I had one even before I met Mason.

I don't apologize for that. If you're shaking your head or whatever, I mean, you can put the book down I guess.

Sex is supposed to be fun and supposed to be enjoyable. It's not supposed to be something you feel ashamed about. Or judged about. Or embarrassed about.

Sorry, hun, I'm not getting preachy or anything.

I guess I'm trying to tell myself it's okay that I'm technically fucking my stepdad.

There. I said it.

I might have said it before, but I'm saying it again.

I'm having sex with my stepdad. Hot, dirty, mind-altering, life-changing, dirty, filthy, nasty fucking with my stepdad. My stepfather. While he's married on paper to my mother.

God, I am so turned on right now.

I mean, it's hard not to let the situation turn you on.

Especially when the only thing competing for my attention are these dry facts and figures on a spreadsheet about Red Lion Aviation.

I pulled their mandatory required employee filings that they had to file with the Securities and Exchange Commission in order to be listed on the New York Stock Exchange.

I don't know why, okay?

I guess I'm just looking for something.


But wow, it's so hard to focus when my brain's attention is split between Red Lion Aviation employee records and thinking about Mason's 12-inch, veiny, thick cock.

I mean, that thing is massive. I can't believe how good it feels when it gets hard in my hand and I'm serious when I tell you that when I see it I have this urge that's almost uncontrollable to put it in my mouth.

Like the warmth of the tip as I wrap my lips around it and feel it on the corners of my mouth is just amazing. And when he puts it inside of me...yeah, I'm pretty wet right now.

I glance at the clock on my computer. It's actually pretty late and a lot of the office has gone home for the night.

It might not be that dangerous to just pop into the restroom, go into a stall, and work this tension out.

Have a quick orgasm, calm down, focus on this and get it done. So then I can head home and maybe even call Mason to come over and fuck me for real.

I think that might be a good...


Do you see that?

Right, you can't see my screen from where you are.

But, I think I just discovered something that might be the key. I look at my computer really quickly and then take a screenshot from the keyboard and mail the picture to my work email.

Five seconds later my tablet chimes, telling me that I have a new email.

Taking the tablet, I get up and start walking.

I get to the elevator and head to the 5th floor where Mason's office is.

Yeah, I work on the 18th floor. The executives all sit on the lower floors.

Oh right, that's something that doesn't make sense right? Let me explain it to you. It takes a bit to walk from the elevators as the doors open to get to Mason's office anyways.

See, it's really pretty simple. Back in the day, the more senior you were, the higher up in the building you sat. Better views. Less accessible to the common workers. All that old guard Wall Street stuff.

Then 9/11 happened. And all of a sudden you had executives making $150 million a year who were jumping from the 102nd floor while you had the lowly interns and mailroom clerks running to safety from the ground floor.

So Wall Street changed. Today, the closer you are to the ground is the higher up in the food chain you are. So you have the Board of Directors who have their offices on the 5th through 10th floors.

And then you have the Finance and Human Resources people sitting on the 60th floor, admiring the views.

Because Wall Street views them as more expendable than the executives.

It sucks, huh? Everything about this industry is based on how much value you have.

I mean, look at Mason's office.

He's got a bathroom and a shower in here I notice as I walk in. I make sure to close the door behind me. This conversation is not for public consumption.

He looks up at me.

"The door was open," I say, all of a sudden a bit nervous. Just because we have sex in private doesn't mean I should parade myself around in public like this. What if he was in a meeting?

But he seems genuinely interested to see me.

"What's up?" he says, leaning back in his leather chair.

I take a moment to look at the man.

Tall, fit, strong, muscular. Everything I could ever want.

Is it possible to fall in love with your stepdad?

He's at a solid oak desk, the kind where the front of the desk has a board going across the back so you can't actually see his feet or the space underneath the desk.

God, I must still be so horny from before because a part of me wants to forget about what's on the tablet and just crawl under and....

"Becca?" Mason asks, and I can see he's trying to be patient. But he's also had a long day. He's working. He's trying to stay one step ahead of his wife—my mother.

I walk over and hand him the tablet.

"This is a screenshot of people engaged by Red Lion Aviation in the last year," I tell him. "Look at the fifth name from the bottom."

He looks at the tablet and freezes.

Oh right. I forgot to tell you the name.

I'll tell you later, okay?

Because right now Mason's looking at me, and asking, "Where did you get this?"

I shrug. "Standard SEC filings," I tell him. "It's open to the public. You just gotta know where to look."

Mason shakes his head.

"I have four fucking VPs trying to find something...anything, and they've come up short," he says with disgust. "And you weren't even assigned to this."

"You just gotta know where to look," I say, trying not to blush at his offhanded compliment. "I have an ulterior motive."

"What's that?" Mason asks me with the beginnings of a smile.

I smile as I walk over.

"I want to see Daddy happy," I say with a mischievous smile of my own.

"Well, listen, Becca," Mason says to me. "Talk to my admin if you need to, but can you please keep digging on this path? Go explore this angle. I need someone that Lorna isn't going to keep tabs on and you're perfect."

He's asking me to work in secret.

For him. Against my own mother.

My vile, ruthless, lying, mother.

Yeah, I know, right? Tough choice.

"I only have one price," I say to him, my mind wandering back to earlier.

He sees the twinkle in my eyes.

"What's that?" he asks.

I take the last few steps toward him and sink to my knees.

Without another word, I push his chair out a little bit and position myself underneath the desk.

Wow, am I glad I had the foresight to close the door behind me.


She goes down to her knees and I lean back against my chair, allowing her to kneel under my desk. Placing her hands on my knees, she runs them up to my crotch, never taking her eyes off of mine.

“This is my price, Daddy dearest,” she whispers, a lewd smile adorning her lips. Fuck, this is the kind of price I’m more than willing to pay. My heart starts to race, pumping blood to my cock and hardening it. It doesn’t take long for all of my length to strain against the fabric of my pants, its thick shape bulging and aching to feel the touch of her fingers.

She moves slowly, running her fingers back and forth over my legs, but never actually reaching for my crotch. She’s teasing me, torturing me, and it’s fucking working. With each passing second my cock grows harder and harder, and the need to simply ram it inside of her mouth becomes almost too overwhelming.

When she finally goes for my cock, she does it with only one finger. She places it at the base of my bulging shape, brushes it all the way up to its tip, and then back down again. She repeats the motion over and over again, my cock pulsing against her fingers harshly.

“Patience,” she whispers, her smile turning into a wicked grin. Patience? Fuck, patience was never one of my virtues. I’m used to taking what I want, when I want it… But, somehow, it’s different with Becca. With her, I can wait; after all, the payoff is always worth it.

She places one more finger on my shaft, and keeps caressing it with these gentle motions. Then, finally feeling me ready for more, she takes her hands to my belt and unbuckles it. Once my belt is open, she pulls it out from its loops and lets it fall to the floor at my feet. She goes back to brushing her fingers over the hard shape of my cock, and I feel my mouth turning dry. The fucking anticipation is killing me.

Then, no warning whatsoever, she flattens the palm of her hand against my cock. She does it harshly, and I groan as I feel the pressure against my shaft. She takes her hand off of my crotch as fast as she pressed on it, her fingers flying to my waist. With slow deliberate movements, she starts pulling my zipper down and my cock starts to push its way out from its bindings. It brushes against the back of her hand, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes, my heart kicking against my chest.

Once she’s finally done, she presses her hand against my cock, over my boxer briefs. I groan, pleasure rushing through me like a drug. I place both of my hands on her head, running my fingers through her hair, but I allow her to keep her rhythm.

Brushing her fingers up and down my cock, she finally leans into me, tilting her head sideways and resting her lips against my shaft. The fabric of my boxer briefs remains between us, but the pressure of her mouth is enough to send a shiver up my spine. She knows what she’s doing, that much is for sure.

“You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy, baby girl,” I whisper, throwing my head back and sighing.

“I know,” she tells me deviously, once again pressing the palm of her hand against my shaft. She presses harder this time, and my cock pulses violently against her fingers. As a response, she hooks her fingers on my boxer briefs and, moving with a maddening slowness, she starts to pull them down. My cock springs free at once, forcing her to simply tug on my boxers, and I have to take a deep breath. Fuck, she’s barely touching me and I’m already as hard as I’ve ever been.

“I love your cock,” she purrs, brushing one fingertip from the root to my glans. “It’s so big… So thick…” she continues, softly moving her finger up and down my length. “I can’t get enough of it.”

I open my mouth to say something, but the words die in my throat as she leans into me again, her tongue parting her lips and touching my glans. I close my eyes, feeling a high voltage current making its way up my spine and electrifying my brain.

Running her tongue in slow soft circles around the tip of my cock, she finally curls her fingers around its root. Fuck, I’m struggling right now; my body is begging for me to simply ram my cock inside of her tight little mouth, but somehow, I manage to resist the urge. She’s putting on a show for me, and I have to let her do it.

Instead of parting her lips and resting them against my glans, she tilts her head to the side and, still only using the tip of her tongue, she runs it all the way to the base of my cock. A shiver goes up my spine as she moves her tongue like a pendulum, running it up and down the whole length of my cock. She does it a couple of times and then, finally, she wraps her lips around my glans; sucking on it eagerly, she takes the whole tip inside of her mouth and peels her lips back. She repeats that motion until I tangle my fingers in her hair, fighting against the urge to take control.

“You want my tight mouth, don’t you?” she purrs again, looking up at me and flicking her tongue against my glans. “You want to fuck my little mouth, I know it,” she continues, the sweet sound of her voice driving me fucking crazy.

“I do,” I whisper and, as a response, she wraps her lips around my glans once more. As I look down at her, I feel my whole body tensing up at the sight; she has her mouth open wide, her lips tightly hugging the tip of my cock, and that somehow makes her look even more beautiful than she is.

I can’t fucking resist it anymore; grabbing her hair, I push her down, forcing her to roll her lips down my shaft. She doesn’t resist and, allowing me to guide her, goes down until it becomes almost too hard to carry on. Still, she insists, only stopping when her lips brush against the patch of skin around the base of my cock. She holds her position there for a whole second, and then starts back, stopping on my glans.

Bobbing her head, she starts to build up a rhythm, and I ease up the pressure of my fingers. I let her lead once more, simply savoring the way it feels to have my shaft pushing down on her wet tongue. When she starts to move at a furious pace, I can’t help but groan, exhaling sharply as my cock pulses violently against the inside of her cheeks.

“Fuck,” I hiss and, at the same time, she curls her fingers around my thickness. Stroking and sucking at the same time, I know that this time there will be no stopping her; she’s going to go all the way, and I’m going to cum inside that pretty mouth of hers. Which sounds fucking perfect, if you ask me.

I’m gritting my teeth now and, as my heart starts to drum so fast it might explode anytime, I feel a storm of ecstasy looming on the horizon of my mind.

Then, as if to ruin the moment, I hear Lorna’s voice.

“Mason?” She knocks on the door but, without even bothering to wait for an answer, opens it and steps inside. What the fuck?

I sit straight in my chair, placing my elbows on the surface of the desk and trying to hide Becca from sight. From where she’s standing, there’s no way Lorna can see what’s happening, or so I fucking hope.

Like the devil she is, Becca doesn’t stop what she’s doing. It’s exactly the opposite; she starts to bob her head up and down even more fiercely, ravaging my whole length with her mouth while her mother steps inside my office.

“What do you want?” I ask Lorna in a terse way, looking up at her. She’s wearing a tight black dress, one that hugs all of her curves in an enticing way. For a woman her age, she’s still a fucking hot one. If it wasn’t for her little power plays and fucking horrid character, I would have fucked her a long time ago. As it is, I can’t be bothered by her. There’s no bigger turnoff than realizing that a woman is trying to play you for her personal gain.

“I just came to check up on you,” she tells me in a soft tone, walking toward me and, ignoring the chair there, sitting on top of the desk. She crosses her legs as she sits, the hemline of her dress sliding up her leg and revealing a hint of inner thigh. Fuck, she couldn’t have picked a worst time to try and fucking seduce me.

She reaches for me, laying her hand on top of mine, and smiles. “I know things haven’t exactly been working out between the two of us… And I want to make amends,” she purrs, squeezing my fingers with hers. I know what kind of amends she has in mind, and I’m fucking sure it has nothing to do with making things right. She’s a shrewd and calculating woman, and I’d bet my whole fucking fortune that she just wants to fuck me to consolidate her position as my fucking wife. Too bad that I’m already busy with consolidating my position with her daughter.

“I’m busy, Lorna,” I tell her with ice in my voice. Trying hard to keep an expression of calmness, even though there’s a storm raging under my skin. I reach for the folders sitting on my desk and start to stack them together. I have no idea what I’m doing; I’m just trying to look as if I’m busy. She isn’t giving up this easily though.

“Maybe you could unwind a little,” she purrs, grabbing the hem of her dress and hiking up her outer thigh, revealing the tiny string of thong that laces her outer thigh. Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening right now. “ I know I could…”

“Look, Lorna,” I start, taking a deep breath as Becca pushes her mouth all the way down my shaft and holds her position, my glans pressed tight against the back of her throat. I deserve a fucking Oscar for the performance I’m putting on for Lorna right now. “I appreciate you coming here and all… But I have lots of work to do, as you can see,” I continue, shuffling papers around. Right now, I can’t even read what’s written in any of them. I’m using all of my brain power to maintain a straight face, and that’s already as fucking consuming as anything could ever be.

“Work can wait,” she insists, taking her fingers to her shoulder and pushing down one strap of her dress. It droops over her arm, the curve of her right breast revealing itself to me. My eyes dart to her cleavage, but I force myself to look away. She realizes it, and I notice a flash of anger in her eyes. She’s trying hard to get me interested, and it’s not fucking working.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, Becca bobbing her head so fast that I can barely see anything in front of me. I try and make it look as if I’ve found something in my papers that I didn’t like, but I don’t know if Lorna’s buying my performance right now. Lucky for me, she’s more preoccupied with her own performance than she is with mine.

“Come on, Mason…” she continues, pushing down the other strap and revealing the outer edges of her bra. She’s done with being coy; now she’s moving hard, and won’t stop until I shoot her down as loud and clear as I can. Fuck. Well, I guess it’s only fair that I can’t fuck my stepdaughter without a few hiccups along the way.

I look down at my papers and, frowning as if I'm deep in concentration, I try to ignore Lorna as hard as I can. Like fucking Satan, she places both her legs on top of the desk and spreads them wide; unable to restrain myself, I look up, taking in the sight of her thong. There’s a wet patch there and I realize that, even though this is probably nothing more than a power play, she really wants me to fuck her.

“Lorna,” I repeat her name, putting the papers down and pursing my lips. Becca has taken her mouth off my cock now, and she’s using one hand to stroke me while, with the other, she caresses my balls and rolls them around her fingers. I feel my whole body tensing up, and I have to take a deep breath to stop it from showing. If Lorna finds out Becca is under the table, she’s going to raise hell and use that as ammo to get whatever she wants. I have to be fucking careful now; I’m walking on thin ice here. “I’m working,” I tell her curtly, trying to pretend that I’m pissed off at her interruption.

“You’ve said that already,” she hisses at me, barely able to hide the anger in her voice. “But I don’t believe you’re the kind of man too busy for women, are you?” she continues, placing her open hand on her thong and rubbing her own pussy.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend that you do,” I shoot back, my insides clenching as I feel Becca’s lips on my cock once again.

“Oh, I do know you, Mason,” she purrs, all anger fading away from her voice. She’s acting, I know it, but she’s pretty convincing. “I know just enough to know that you can’t resist a tight pussy… And I’m tight. Very tight.”

Not as much as Becca, I think, trying to stop myself from grinning. Even though I try, I can’t stop the corner of my lips from curling into a half-smile. Taking that as encouragement, she grabs her thong and flicks it to the side, showing me her rosy wet pussy. Fuck, I can’t believe this is fucking happening.

“Lorna, don’t make me repeat myself,” I tell her harshly. “I’m working. Get out of my office. Right now.” I ball my hands into fists and place them on top of my papers, looking into her eyes.

Her seductive expression fades away from her face and, letting go of her pussy, she closes her legs and gets down from the desk. Straightening the front of her dress, she looks at me with disdain, anger flashing in her eyes. Lorna isn’t a woman used to being turned down, and I bet that she can harbor a grudge better than anyone.

Without bothering to say a thing, she simply smirks at me and turns on her heels. You’ll regret this, her eyes seem to tell me, but I don’t give a fuck. Right now, I’m on the verge of cumming, and all I want is for her to get the fuck out of my office. Becca knows that I’m close and, acting mischievously, she starts to suck with a renewed spirit, moving fast but careful enough to not make a sound.

As Lorna reaches the door and grabs the handle, I can’t stop myself; pleasure explodes inside of me and I come like a fucking geyser. My cock spasms violently, pushing down on Becca’s tongue, and my load gushes inside of her delicious mouth. Still with my hands balled into fists, my fingernails dig into the palm of my hands with enough strength to draw blood. My muscles are so tense that they might just snap, and that’s exactly when Lorna turns around and throws me one final look of contempt.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grit my teeth as hard as I can, returning her look with a blank expression as I do my best to hide the fact that, right now, I’m cumming my fucking brains out.

Finally, she turns on her heels and leaves, slamming the door behind her. The moment I hear the sound of the door closing, I lean against the chair and throw my head back, groaning loudly and placing my hands on top of Becca’s head.

I look down at her and grin, seeing how my cum is already dripping down her chin. Her mouth is brimming with semen, but she keeps her lips tightly wrapped around my thickness, not letting go.

When the last spasms of my cock finally die out, she slowly rolls her lips back and allows my cock to pop out of her mouth. She purses her lips, keeping all of my cum inside, and gets up, sitting on my lap and lacing my neck with both her arms. With a smile, she opens her mouth and shows me all the cum that I’ve gushed inside of her, acting like a girl who wants to make her man proud.

“This was fucking insane, baby girl,” I tell her, still breathing so hard that my lungs are hurting from the effort. Smiling at my words, she throws her head back and swallows; I look at her in a trance, watching how the muscles in her neck move as my semen goes down her throat.

“It was,” she whispers, leaning into me and pressing her lips on mine. I close my eyes as I feel the wetness in her lips, the salty flavor of my own seed inundating me at once. “I couldn’t stop,” she smiles, pulling back from my kiss and looking into my eyes. Smiling back, I start laying gentle kisses on her chin, scooping up the strands of cum that made their way there. I’m not even thinking about what I’m doing; I’m just doing, acting on pure instinct.

I couldn’t stop, her words echo inside of my head, and I realize that those words represent everything about this fucked up situation; even though we’re in the wrong, we can't stop.

And, fuck, I don’t even want to stop.


Locked away in my cramped office, I don’t even notice the hours passing by. When I look up at the clock on the wall, it already marks 9 pm. I lean back against my chair and take a deep breath, rubbing my eyes. I’ve been sitting here for God knows how long, looking over all the incongruences I’ve found in the papers Mason gave me. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on, but there’s something fishy about the company my mother wants him to invest in.

But, right now, I need a break. I get up from my chair and head out of my small office, stepping out into the corridor. I go straight for the coffee machine at the end of the corridor, and that’s when I realize that Mason is already there, leaning against the wall and sipping on a cup while he looks at something on his cellphone. When he notices me walking toward him, he raises his eyes from his phone and smiles at me.

“Working late?” he asks, his smile telling me that he hasn’t forgotten about what happened a few hours ago. I know I should have stopped whatever it is that’s going on between him and I, but I just can’t. It’s stronger than me. Even though we’re heading toward a dark place, I can’t resist it.

“Going over a few documents,” I respond, smiling back at him. When I close the distance between the two of us, Mason has already gotten me a cup of coffee out of the machine. He gives it to me and, as I grab the cup, my hand brushes against his. His warmness spreads to my fingers and I feel my insides clenching, the memories of his cock deep inside my mouth bubbling up to the surface. I could do it all over again, right now; I’d just go down on my knees, unbutton his pants, and take his long shaft inside my mouth until he came again. Still, even though I’m walking down the devil’s road, there’s some self-restraint inside of me.

“A hard worker,” he says, that gentle smile on his lips. “I like that… I like that a lot,” he continues, and I suspect that he prefers me to work hard when I’m on my knees, his fat cock between my lips. To be honest, I prefer to work hard that way as well. As fun as it is to look at spreadsheets and graphs all day, nothing beats having a cock as thick as Mason’s buried deep inside of your mouth. Hey, I’m just being honest here; don’t judge.

“You know I always do my best effort,” I purr at him, leaning back against the wall.

“You never disappoint, no,” he nods, mischievousness flickering behind his eyes.

“Well… You’re my boss and my stepfather. I’d hate to disappoint you,” I continue, running my tongue over my lips.

“I feel the same. I don’t want to disappoint you as well.” With that, he takes one step toward me, placing his cup of coffee on the small round table flanking the machine. I do the same, placing my cup next to his.

“I can’t really complain,” I purr again, “at least so far.”

“Let’s hope there will be no reasons for a complaint,” he whispers, closing the distance between us. His body is now just a few inches away from mine, and I can already feel my heart racing. Then, moving slow but steadily, he places his hand on my knee and runs it up to my inner thigh, gently hiking up my skirt. I remain in place, unmoving as his fingers make their way toward my pussy; by the time he touches me there, his hand between my thighs, I’m already wet and anxious for his touch.

I bite my lower lip, looking into his eyes as he presses his hand against my wetness.

“I’ve been thinking of… returning the favor,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against my ear. My insides start to burn up as I start to imagine what he has on his mind. “Would you like that, baby girl?” I nod, trying to find something to say, as his grin widens.

“Is that why you’re on my floor…? Or do you just prefer the coffee up here?” I ask him, anticipation boiling under my skin.

“What do you think…?” he says, and anticipation turns into desire inside my mind. Suddenly realizing that I need it to happen, and that I need it now, I grab his wrist and make him take his hand out from between my thighs. With a lewd expression on my face, I grab him by the hand and start walking down the corridor and toward my office, leading him.

He comes after me without saying a single word and, when we finally step inside the office, he shuts the door with his foot and then turns toward it, reaching for the key. As I hear the key turning on its lock, my insides clench and I feel my nipples hardening and straining against the cups of my bra. Here we go.

With that devilish grin on his face, Mason places his hands on my waist and pushes me back until my ass cheeks are pressed against the edge of my desk. He forces me to sit up on it and, taking his hands to my knees, he forces me to spread my legs. His fingers run from my knees to my inner thighs, and I tremble as I feel his fingertips brushing against my groin. Then he flattens the palm of his hand against my drenched thong. One tenuous moan leaves my lips and, with his free hand, he grabs at my hair and yanks on it.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask him, locking my eyes on his as I feel myself growing even wetter.

“I’m going to devour you, baby girl” he responds without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m going to kneel and, using only my mouth, I’m going to make you moan and scream. I’ll make you come with my tongue, and I’ll leave you burning for more.” As he speaks, he takes his hand off of my pussy and, grabbing at my blouse, starts to unbutton it with clockwork precision. I almost forget to breathe as he pulls the blouse down my arms, letting it fall to the floor.

Pressing his body against mine, he stands up between my parted legs. His hands are on my waist, and he starts to slide his right one over my stomach and toward my breasts. Once there, he runs one finger between my tits and, hooking it on the right cup of my bra, he pulls it down and bares my hard nipple. He’s moving slowly, and I realize that he’s doing exactly what I did to him; he’s teasing and torturing me. And I’m okay with it, oh, I really, really am.

Circling my rosy tip with his index finger, he never actually touches it; his finger just goes around it, drawing close but never going for it. When he finally touches my nipple, he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, squeezing it gently but then building up the pressure. I sigh loudly, and then I moan as the pressure grows harder, electric pleasure spreading from my breasts and crawling under my skin.

Allowing desire to take the steering wall, I place my hand on top of his and force him to flatten the palm of his hand against my breast. He does it and squeezes gently, my flesh molding to his fingers.

Letting go, I place both of my hands on his face and pull him into me. He comes willingly and, parting his lips, presses them against mine. As we kiss, my eyelids droop and leave the real world outside. He parts my lips with his tongue, sliding it inside of my mouth, and I lose myself in a wild kiss, running my fingers through his hair.

As we kiss, he takes his hands to my back and, with a simple flick of his fingers, he unhooks my bra. Still moving slowly, he hooks one finger on my cleavage, right where the two cups meet, and then pulls on the bra. I shiver as I feel the straps caressing my arms on the way down, and then he throws it on top of my blouse on the floor.

Pulling back from our kiss, he grabs both my tits at the same time and dives into me. With his lips slightly parted, he reaches for my right nipple; before touching it, his tongue darts out and he starts to run it around my rosy tip in fast maddening circles. I throw my head back and let out a loud moan, and that’s exactly when he moves for the kill: wrapping his lips tightly around my nipple, he starts sucking it into his mouth as he laps at it with his tongue. High voltage runs through my muscles, making them tense up, and I can’t even start to imagine how I will feel once he takes these delicious lips of his and places them on my drenched folds. God, just thinking of that is enough to make me almost desperate to be eaten out by him.

Done with my right nipple, he slides his tongue down the curve of my right breast and traces a straight line toward my left nipple. Once there, he attacks me viciously, sucking and licking as if he’s a man possessed. I tangle my fingers in his hair and, allowing instinct to dictate my movements, I start to push his head down. He doesn’t fight back, and his lips brush down my stomach and over my navel, only stopping when they find the place where the fabric of my skirt and my skin meet.

He starts by laying gentle kisses around it and, at the same time, takes his hands to my thighs and hooks his fingers on my skirt. He pushes the fabric down, and I lift my ass up from the desk as it slides down my ass. I bite my bottom lip again as I feel the skirt kissing its way down my legs and, when he finally throws it on top of my discarded clothes, I finally sit back down on the desk.

Looking me in the eyes, he goes down to his knees as a wicked smile shines on his face. I let go of his hair and lean back, placing my elbows on the desk’s flat surface and surrendering to whatever it is that Mason wants to do to me.

Instead of grabbing my thong and pulling it down my legs, he simply rests his hands on my knees and starts to kiss his way toward my inner thighs. My skin prickles as his lips come closer to my pussy, and I throw my head back, letting out an anxious moan of anticipation. Kissing my groin softly, he finally places his lips over my drenched thong and I feel a thunderstorm building up inside of me. I moan louder as he starts to suck, my fluids going into his mouth through the fabric of my thong.

Placing both his hands on my lower back, he pulls me into him and presses his mouth against my pussy as hard as he can, sucking in such a way that I can’t stop myself from moaning. All his gentleness and teasing movements have been thrown to the curb, and he’s relying solely on his primal urges, which is exactly how I like it. His fingers slide around my waist and he hooks them on my thong; tugging viciously, he makes me lift my ass up from the desk. The moment I do it, he pulls my thong out and throws it away. His eyes go straight to my pussy, and I can see the hunger flashing there, wild and unstoppable. He’s right about what he just said: he’s going to devour me, and he won’t stop until I’ve moaned and screamed my lungs out. Thank God the whole floor is as deserted as the Sahara right now.

“Do it, I want your mouth,” I find myself saying, pulling on his hair and reeling him in. He lunges at me fiercely, opening his mouth wide and pressing it against my drenched pussy lips. The moment I feel his touch, one loud moan claws it way up my throat and explodes into the air. “Oh, God,” I moan, sparks of pleasure rushing through my muscles.

He sucks on my folds in the most maddening possible way, tasting me and devouring me with the viciousness of a man unable to control himself. Which suits me just fine, since I don’t even know what self-control means; grabbing his hair, I keep his mouth pressed against me and start to sway my hips from side to side, rubbing my pussy against his face. He retaliates by jabbing with his tongue, pushing it past my pussy lips and then inside of me. My insides clench as he kisses my pussy more fiercely with each passing second and, as the fires of pleasure rage wildly inside of me, I finally let go of his hair and fall back on top of the desk.

As I lay down, I send a stack of papers and a keyboard tumbling onto the floor, but the sound of it barely registers in my mind; I’m in a world of my own right now. I think that even if my mother strolled inside the room, just like she did while I was hiding under Mason’s desk, I wouldn’t look up at her and acknowledge her presence. Yes, that’s right, Mason really knows what he’s doing with his mouth, so much that reality doesn’t even seem to matter anymore.

“It feels… so good…” I pant as he pulls slightly back, flicking his tongue at me and then running it up and down the length of my pussy. When he finally touches my clit with it, I have to fight against the urge to press my legs together, and so I bite my lower lip as my rational mind slowly drowns in a sea of pleasure. This feels too good to be true, and yet it’s really happening. Why did I only find a man like Mason just to have him marry my mother? The world couldn’t be any crueler. “Don’t stop, Mason,” I beg him as he circles my clit with his tongue, and that’s exactly what he does, redoubling his efforts and making my whole body buzz with electricity.

My muscles tense up and, a heartbeat after that, I simply come undone. Ecstasy travels from my clit all the way to my brain and, there, it slaps him around and leaves it for dead. I didn’t think that it was possible to feel this much pleasure from having a man go down on you. Of course, it really shouldn’t be a surprise to me, this is Mason we’re talking about, after all.

“More… I want more…” That’s the only thing I’m capable of saying, the muscles in my throat still filled with electric pleasure.

“No,” he says curtly, pulling back from my pussy and looking up at me. I raise my head and lock eyes with him, my heart skipping a beat as I see my fluids dripping down his chin, his wet lips glistening. “I want more,” he corrects me, and dives into me again, this time replacing his tongue with his lips, and wrapping them around my clit. The moment he touches it, he starts to suck furiously, and I start to move my hips, unable to remain in place as pleasure whips at my mind. He acts fast, placing his forearm across my stomach and pinning me against the desk, holding me still.

Unable to move, I just lay here and succumb to the lashing he hands out with his tongue. With his lips still firmly around my clit, he presses on it with his tongue, and that sweet tension starts to build up once again. I feel that lustful energy pooling on my muscles, eager to be set free and unleash ecstasy all over me, and I can’t wait for it.

Upping the ante, he starts to brush the tip of his index finger against my pussy lips, moving it up and down as he keeps on sucking my clit. Inch by slow inch, he starts to feed it into my pussy, curling it upward in a hook motion. He slides it all the way in, only stopping when his fingertip is tightly pressed against my G-spot. Holding his finger there, he starts to press hard, rubbing me and driving me completely insane.

“Fuck… This is too much…” I moan again, my words sounding foreign to my own ears. I don’t even know where I am anymore, and I couldn’t care less about it. When he slides one more finger inside of me and presses it against that sweet spot, I explode once more, bright fireworks going off behind my shuts eyelids. “Fuck…!” I hiss through my gritted teeth, arching my back as a raging river of pleasure makes its way toward my brain and inundates it.

I start to convulse as if I’m having a seizure and, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s holding me down with his forearm, I would send everything on top of the table straight to the floor. I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t even know what to say or how to say it, the English language seems like something unintelligible right now.

“Tired already?” he asks me, pulling back from my pussy. I look at him, breathing as hard as humanly possible, and I see sparks of mischievousness flickering in his smart eyes. I am tired, and I am spent, but I still want more. Oh, when Mason is involved, I’m insatiable.

“No,” I manage to say between breaths. “Never.”

“Good,” he tells me with a grin. “Because I’m not done yet.” With that, he places his hands on my hips and forces me to turn around; I roll to the side on top of the desk, and he pulls on my hips, making me go on all fours. My hair cascades down my shoulders and face, and I wait as he goes up to his feet and positions himself behind me. I have no idea what he has on his mind right now, but I don’t even care; whatever he wants to do to me, I want him to.

He places one finger on my crack and starts brushing it between my ass cheeks, moving it up and down. Whenever he goes over my asshole, a shiver goes up my spine as I start to realize what he has in mind.

“I bet you’re delicious… All of you,” he whispers, leaning into me and placing one soft kiss on one ass cheek. Moving his lips to the side, he runs his tongue along the length of my ass, and then finally presses his mouth against me. I close my eyes and he pushes his tongue against my hole, forcing it in, and I can’t help but imagine how it would feel to have his massive cock between my ass cheeks, stretching my ass wide.

Using both of his hands, he spreads my cheeks wide and starts to lick me furiously, flicking his tongue at my hole and forcing whatever rationality still lives inside of me to vanish. I moan, completely out of control, and push my hips back against his face. He's devouring my ass, much like he did with my pussy, and I just love it. I never really met a man that could drive a woman mad with pleasure using only his lips and tongue and, now that I’ve found him, I can’t help but surrender completely.

He takes one hand around my waist and, sliding his fingers down my stomach, he finds the way to my clit. He presses on it as he licks my ass, rubbing it with fast circles, and I let out one wild scream. Working me with the mastery of an experienced man, he drives me to the edge of ecstasy and throws me off of it. I grit my teeth, hiss, and then scream, one violent orgasm taking over me suddenly.

“Oh my God,” I mutter, thrusting back against his mouth as the flames of pleasure consume me from the inside out. If he keeps going like this, I’m going to pass out. “OH GOD!”

“Delicious…” he says, taking his mouth from between my ass cheeks, “just like I said.” I sway my ass from side to side, still wanting more, and he responds by smacking my cheeks with the back of his hand. The sharp sting of pain makes me clench my ass cheeks, and he smacks me hard once more, the dry sound of flesh on flesh making me delirious.

“Take me… I want you to do it,” I tell him, thrusting my ass back as he smacks me once again. Suddenly, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me into him, nestling his shaft between my ass cheeks. I clench them and, rocking my hips, I start to stroke him with my ass. “Fuck my ass… I need it,” I continue, the words leaving my mouth completely unfiltered. I never felt a burning need like the one that’s raging through me. I should be afraid and anxious, after all, I have no idea what’s going to happen once he starts to push his fat long cock inside of my ass… But I can’t wait for him to do it.

I keep stroking his cock with my ass until he stops me in place; then, he grabs his cock and starts to rub its tip against my hole. I feel my insides boiling, and he keeps on teasing me, making me dizzy with anticipation and desire. I never thought I’d want to be fucked in the ass this much, but here we are.

“Please…” I moan, my voice quivering, and he starts to push his cock into me. As his glans stretches my hole and goes inside my ass, it’s as if lightning and thunder explode inside of me. I can feel my inner walls straining to accommodate him and, even though it hurts, the pleasure I’m feeling right now is simply beyond all of it. Inch by slow inch, he slides his cock inside of my ass and I feel my eyes rolling in their orbit. When his long inches are all inside of me, I realize that I’ve been holding my breath; I will my lungs to start working again and, at the same time, he starts pulling his cock out.

He builds the rhythm slowly, sliding his cock in and out of my ass with tender movements; each coming and going motion makes my mind burn and turn into ash, and it doesn’t take long for me to start to thrust back and impale myself on his cock.

I won’t lie; it hurts. It hurts like hell. But as the pain goes through my nerve endings and reaches my brain, somewhere along the way it transforms into pleasure. It’s hard to explain, but what matters is that this is the sweetest kind of pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. You can quote me on that.

“You’re so fucking tight…” he whispers, more to himself than to me. At the same time, he starts to build up the pace, the sound of his thighs slapping my ass grow into a furious crescendo and, as I scream, a symphony of pure unbridled lust fills my ears. Each thrust of his draws a violent scream out of my mouth, and it doesn’t take long for my throat to feel raw and sore. And still I keep on screaming, pushing through the pain and succumbing to the demands of ecstasy.

As he keeps on ravaging my ass, he starts to smack my cheeks, laying his hand heavily on my flesh. My screams turn into moans, and moans turn into sighs; in a few thrusts, my throat is so raw that I can no longer utter a single sound. But he keeps thrusting, fucking me in such a way that I can no longer tell left from right. This is pure bliss, there’s no other way to describe it. If I had to guess, I’d say that Heaven would be a place where Mason and I could fuck every single hour of the day without getting exhausted. Now that’d be something.

“I want you to… Come in my ass,” I manage to say between breaths, already imagining how it’ll feel to have his cum filling me. That’s enough to make my whole body go electric; in an instant, I tense up like a nocked arrow, all the energy that has been pooling in my muscles screaming to be set free.

Mason starts to thrust like a madman, completely ravaging me, and I ball my hands into fists and prepare for impact. My fingernails are digging into the palm of my hands, and I only open them up when I finally come. It hits me almost by surprise, a wild spasm taking over every single one of my muscles. I go down on my elbows, and Mason buries his cock as deep as possible inside of my ass and holds it there.

“Oh, God…” I moan, repeating these words over and over again as my brain burns. “Come for me, Mason… Come…” I whisper, my muscles finally relaxing. Moving fast, he slides his cock out of my pussy and then in again, building up his rhythm once more. This time there’s nothing gentle or tender about it; he’s doing it for his own pleasure, and only his own.

It doesn’t take him long; a few violent thrusts, a couple of screams from my side, and I start to feel his shaft pulsing violently against my inner walls. Just like that, I feel him gushing his load inside of me, coating my insides in white. I hold my position as he cums, moaning as I feel his warm seed filling me up. Moving slowly, Mason starts to slide his cock out even though he’s still cumming; when it pops out of my ass, it sends thick strands of semen all over my lower back. It drips down my crack and over the curve of my cheeks and, at the same time, I feel it dripping out of my asshole.

Moving fast and without a hint of hesitancy, he places his hands on my ass cheeks, spreads them wide and attacks me with his mouth. I can’t help but moan as I feel his lips on my hole, his tongue jabbing at my insides and scooping up his own semen. When he has licked my asshole dry, he runs his tongue up and down my crack, taking all of the cum he finds there into his mouth. He finally moves down to my pussy, tilting his head sideways and sucking on my inner lips, drying them up as he laps at them with his tongue.

When he finally pulls back from me, I force myself to turn around and sit on the edge of the desk. My eyes lock on his, and I feel my heart pounding loudly as I notice a few drops of cum making their way down his chin. With a smile on my lips, I reach for him and, using only the tip of my tongue, I scoop every last drop into my mouth.

Wordlessly, he leans into me and, with two fingers under my chin, presses his lips against mine. Instinct guiding every single one of my actions, I push my tongue past his lips and take into my mouth all of the cum he has licked out of me. I roll my tongue around his mouth, brushing it against his own tongue and at the insides of his cheeks and, when I finally pull back, my mouth is brimming with his salty seed.

This time, he doesn’t need to tell what to do; with an exhausted grin on my face, I swallow, Mason’s seed burning its way down my raw throat. Spent, exhausted, and barely able to think straight, I lean back, supporting myself on my elbows, and look into Mason’s eyes. He’s looking at me in a way that makes my heart tighten up, and I realize that, somewhere along the way, we crossed one forbidden line from where there’s no going back. We are no longer just fooling around or succumbing to desire… No, this is something more. Something that I can no longer control… Something that I no longer want to control.

“You’re mine, baby girl,” Mason whispers, looking down at me with more than just passion flickering in his eyes. Fully knowing that I’m signing my death sentence, I respond in kind.

“I’m yours.”


"I'm yours."

Becca's words are tumbling through my brain as I travel back to my apartment. They nestle in my throat at every red light, and they sit in the pit of my stomach as the elevator to my apartment travels up to the top floor.

I told her that she was mine as well.

I know it doesn't make sense. I don't expect you to understand it. There's a considerable age difference between us, and she's my stepdaughter, which I have a hard time wrapping my head around … and I'm technically married … but we have an undeniable chemistry, Becca and I.

I'm falling for this girl. I have to be honest with myself.

This is new territory for me. I don't fall for women. Ever. Not Mason fucking Kane, the King of Wall Street.

But this is different.

I walk into my apartment and stand in front of the windows overlooking the city. My housekeeper called in sick today, and I notice a few used scotch glasses sitting on top of the table. I realize I better pick up the place a bit.

Becca mentioned that she was going to come over tonight after she finished up with her work. And after what just happened back at her office, I wouldn't object to a second round with her.

I press my forehead to the cool glass of the window, allowing the city lights to dance across my field of vision, and I recount my evening at the office. My hands on the small of Becca's back, and on her hips. Breathing in her scent as deep as my lungs would allow me to like a kid in a candy shop. My lips on her neck, nibbling her soft flesh. Hiking her skirt up above her thighs, and parting her legs. Firmly squeezing her perfect breasts and then feeling the wetness of her thong against the palm of my hand. Gently grabbing the rosy tip of her nipple in between my teeth and watching them grow hard under my touch. Her firm ass.

Just thinking about this is causing my cock to stir alive in my pants again. It's straining against my zipper and threatening to bust free.

Then I feel my cell phone vibrate in the pocket of my pants and it breaks my thoughts, bringing me back into the present.

It's Lorna. I let it ring a few times and then decide to answer it right before it goes to voice mail.

Hello dear, are you home?" she asks. She won't give up. It's like she doesn't understand that I want nothing to do with her.

I debate as to whether or not be truthful with her. Do I admit I'm home, or do I say I took a late client meeting? I figure lying takes too much energy, so I decide to tell her the truth.

"I just walked in the door," I reply.

"Good, I'd like to come over," she says, and I can almost hear her lips curl into a smile.

"Truthfully, I'm pretty tired tonight," I say. It's the best I can muster.

"Nonsense," she demands. "I'll bring a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, and we can unwind together. How does that sound?"

That sounds like my worst nightmare.

"I can't," I continue. "I'm tired enough; the wine will put me over the edge."

Her voice now assumes a hard edge to it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to avoid me, Mason."

"Well, there's clearly no avoiding you."

"We're technically married," she says. "Are you forgetting that?"

"How could I forget when you make it painfully clear every waking moment?" I ask. It's true. I can't even count how many times she's given me this spiel at this point.

"As husband and wife, I refuse to be in a sexless marriage," she says. "We need to have sex, Mason. My patience is running thin."

It takes me a moment to say anything. The idea of having sex with that woman is repulsive. I'd drag my feet to the ends of the earth before I agreed to that.

"I mean it," she continues. "If you keep playing this silly little game of yours, I'll tell the Board."

"Tell the Board what exactly?" I ask.

"I'll make a big deal about Red Lion Aviation," she says matter-of-fact. "What CEO can be respected for walking away from a cool trillion dollars?"

"You know as well as I do that the investment would go bust."

"Is that so?" she asks. "The Board listens to me. On paper, Red Lion Aviation looks good Mason. They're profitable and expanding. You slammed them for having poor safety ratings, but you should know that they've cleaned up their act. They're in good standing now. They're even adding new flights this year beyond Southeast Asia. A sizeable investment in Red Lion could change the future of Kane Price."

"Yeah, it could shutter our doors," I say.

"You're wrong," she continues. "It could increase our reach. We could break into US markets, and profits could reach unprecedented levels. We'll turn a billion dollars into a trillion."

I laugh. I don't laugh because it's funny … because this situation is anything but funny … it's downright infuriating, but I laugh at the irony. Here she is talking about increasing profits by such a wide margin, when I know the opposite would happen.

Still don't believe me?" she asks. "Well, I don't need you to believe me; I just need you to do as I say. If you don't, there will be consequences. I'll be sure to make a big deal about it with the Board."

Fuck. It's a catch 22. She has me by the balls and she knows it. What can I do at this point? I feel like I've got my neck in a rope and the longer I'm with Lorna, the tighter it gets. I'll hang myself if I'm not careful.

I realize there's only one thing left for me to do.

I grab my keys and wallet.

"I'm coming over," I tell Lorna before hanging up the phone.

"Now that's more like it," she purrs.

But she has no idea why I'm coming over.

I have to end this marriage.


It's as if I'm under a spell. A spell cast by Mason Kane. Have you ever been so captivated by someone that you don't mind spending every waking minute with them? Well, that's how I feel about Mason. It's strange to admit, but it's true.

Sure, his ego is sometimes too big for his own good, but with that comes confidence.

I feel his intoxicating draw as soon as he steps next to me … his warmth, his strength, and his cologne—a mixture of leather, and spice, and seduction. And don't get me started about his suits. Anything would look good on a body like Mason's, it's true, but his suits elevate him to the next level. It's as if James Bond has handpicked his entire wardrobe. Classy and perfectly tailored. It's delicious.

There's something about him … his power, and success, and drive. He's driven in a way that few men are, and I find that incredibly sexy. When Mason walks into a room, he commands it, almost without effort. People turn, and stare, and want to know this man.

Many want to be him.

In that sense, he's my opposite. I was painfully shy in school. I'll admit it. I've gotten better over the years, but I've always admired people who don't have that level of social anxiety.

God, just listen to me.

I'm gushing on and on about a man who's technically my stepfather.

I shouldn't be feeling this way … but I have to admit that I do.

I think I'm really falling in love with this man.

I'm lying on my bed in the soft light of my room and I realize I better start packing. I promised Mason I'd come by his apartment later, and stay the night.

I tap my cell phone and check the time. It's almost 8 pm.

I jump up and rummage through the top drawer of my dresser … where I've neatly stashed an enviable collection of lingerie. I decide to pick out something a little … naughty. I grab a sheer, black lace set. You can't go wrong with black. It's sexy and classy, and flatters everyone who wears it. If you don't believe me, you can ask Aubrey Hepburn or even the stripper down the street at Scandals. And if you ask men, most will pick black. Yes it's true, more men, if given the choice, will choose black even over red.

Next, I spritz myself with a little perfume, something ultra feminine—a floral scent that is sexy, like walking through a secret garden of jasmine and orchids, and rolling around in a bed of roses. I dab some perfume on the pulse of my wrists, on my neck … and even a dab in between my thighs. The fragrance is impossible to miss, which is a good thing. When it comes to Mason, I want to be unforgettable.

I also need to also think about clothes for the morning. Maybe we'll splurge and grab breakfast at Norma's—their Papaya Mango Brown Butter Cinnamon crepes are seriously to die for. I'm not even exaggerating. If you haven't tried them hun, I suggest you do sometime.

And honestly, the thought of waking up next to Mason tomorrow morning makes me giddy. I don't know what's come over me, but the thought of nuzzling into his strong chiseled chest and walking hand-in-hand with the King of Wall Street down the streets of New York City is enough to make my heart leap.

A man has never made me feel this way before.

I lean down and zip up my overnight bag when I hear something.

There's a thump, and then I hear what sounds like two people laughing in the living room. It's normally quiet around this time, so the commotion piques my interest. Maybe my mother is talking to Carl? I didn't think mom was having any guests over tonight, so I walk over by the wall and strain to hear.

"You like what you see?" Lorna says. "This is just the beginning … a taste, if you will."

A man replies, “You think you’re going to have me?”

"Oh, just wait till I wrap my lips around—"

The rest of the conversation is muffled and I strain against the door to hear more. It's clear that something is going on, and then something else becomes crystal clear … the man's voice is … Mason.

What in the hell is he doing here? He's supposed to be at his apartment. We made plans. And what's he doing with my mother?

Yes, I know they're married, but only on paper. He swore it was all against his will.

But if that's the case, why is he in my mother's house in our living room … being seduced by the sound of it?

"Ah, ah, ah—no hands … yet anyways," Lorna purrs. "Someone's awfully eager."

“That’s not what I came here to do,” he says. “This wasn’t what we agreed to, Lorna.”

"I'll tell you where, when, and how I want you. All you need to do darling is follow my lead," she replies.

"I'm not a man used to taking orders," he replies. "Especially not from women."

"I'll think you'll find this a nice change of pace," she replies.

What exactly is happening in there? By the sound of things, Mason seems to be going along with my mother's desires. This isn't the man I know … or maybe I never really knew him at all.

I feel a boulder-sized rock nestle itself into the pit of my stomach and I can barley breath. It's a heaviness I can't shake.

Maybe Mason isn't the man I thought he was.

One thing's for sure; I definitely won't be going to his apartment tonight.

I reach for my overnight bag and draw back the zipper. I grab the lingerie sitting on top of my clothes and wipe back a tear that's threatening to spill out from the corner of my eye.

I throw the lingerie to the floor in disgust.

I'm not helpless, and I'm certainly not weak, or gullible.

If that's what he thinks, he doesn't know me at all.


Lorna is right fucking here. Her tits are nearly spilling out of her dress. Her body is angled into mine. Even the way that I'm sitting has my cock open to her and don't I fucking know it, I feel first her knee rubbing at my crotch, and then her hand starts massaging my cock through my trousers.

She's squeezing it, palpitating it like a shoe saleseman as she squeezes down the shaft looking for the head.

She finally reaches it, and just by her manipulation, she's gotten me fucking hard.

Understand before you get fucking pissed at me that I have zero attraction to Lorna Lowell—I refuse to even think of her with my last name. I fucking hate what she's done to the people around her—her father, her daughter, you name it. There is no way I want to fuck her in this lifetime.

In fact I came in here fully expecting to end this shit.

But she was ready. She was waiting for me to do that. And she pounced.

Try telling someone you’re trying to end the marriage and be nice about it, okay Gorgeous? Especially when they’re the single largest shareholder in your company after you.

It’s not easy.

But my cock doesn't know that. It feels a pair of hands squeezing and massaging it and it's an instinctual response.

Lorna rubs her open palm on the head of my cock as her eyes open wide.

"Jesus Christ, Mason," she whispers throatily. "You're so huge."

Yes, we already fucking know this. 12 fucking inches of pussy pleasing power when the average in the United States for adult men is 5.5 inches. I'm double the man as the national average.

It has Lorna openly salivating. She's breathing heavy.

"I can't wait to see what this cock is going to do to me," she says.

Doesn't she know that her daughter is somewhere in the house?

It grates me enough that I fucking mention it.

"You don't want to close the door even, at least?" I ask, and immediately wonder if she's going to take my question as an acceptance to fuck.

But Lorna, being the selfish person that she is, only shrugs. "And tear myself away from this magnificent cock?" she asks. I sigh. "I'm just saying that as her mother..."

That's when Lorna's face snaps back to reality from whatever deluded lust game she was in.

"I'm not her mother!" she snaps at me. "Her loser of a father brought her into the marriage. He was a widower. When he went off to join his poor wife in the afterlife, it was a tax credit to claim her as my dependent," Lorna explains to me.

There's a fucking ferocity to her that momentarily stuns me.

And is it me, or did you just hear a gasp from outside the door?

Holy fucking Christ, is that Becca?

Does Becca not know about...

"Does Becca know?" I ask Lorna, flexing my abs to sit up a bit more.

Lorna shrugs. "I let her think whatever she wants," she says to me. "It usually helps me if she thinks of me as her real mother."

That's fucking it.

If there was ever any way that I had thought that this evil woman in her short skirt trying to rub herself on my body would get me to succumb—any iota in my brain that was even tempted by that body—it's gone now.

"Get the fuck off of me," I snarl at her and push myself off the chair I was sitting in.

I flex my muscles and stand up; my only thought is to get out of this house.

Lorna goes to move, but apparently she's not fast enough because by the time I'm standing she's still on me, and once I get off the chair, she's sliding, falling ungraciously in a heap on the floor.

"I'm never going to fucking touch you, woman," I spit at her, not just my mortal fucking enemy but the woman who on her own destroyed Becca's childhood. "I suggest you stop trying."

That's all I have to fucking say to her. I start walking out of the living room.

Her voice stops me for a moment. "Don't think this is over, Mason," she says to me, much more bitterly and spiteful than the purring she was doing a few moments ago. "Don't ever think you can get rid of me so easily."

I pause as I let her continue without turning back. "Your company is going to be mine if you don't do what I say," she hisses like a fucking witch. "And if you think you'll be able to stay away from me after that, you've got another thing coming."

Fuck her.

“I haven’t finished hunting you down, dear,” she says as I exit. “You will be mine. I swear it.”

I walk out the living room and through the foyer of the condo.

I know I should have stopped and seen after Becca, but I need to clear my fucking head.

A part of me is thinking of going back up once the elevator doors open and let me out into the building lobby, but I realize that my temples are still throbbing with anger.

No, I need to calm the fuck down first.

I mean, there's a lot of things women can do. They can be sweet, innocent, and naive. Hell, they can be sexy if they want to and I won't judge. They can even be slutty, and sometimes the sluttier the fucking better.

But there's a fucking line between wanting to have sex because you enjoy the human contact and appreciate the fucking beauty in people, and wanting to have sex because you're a selfish leech that's looking to satisfy your own dark fucking desires for power and control.

No, there's nothing fucking sexual about Lorna. She's more a nympho than a slut.

That's the realization I have as I get into the cab. I tell the cabbie to take me to midtown to the Kane Price offices.

There's one thing I need to do before I get home and try finding Becca.

I head into my office and pick up the phone.

I can't tell you yet who I'm talking to, because there's a chance that if Lorna finds out, she'll try to stop me.

"It's me," I say into the receiver.

Don't worry. The one person who was expecting my call knows my voice. They know who I am if I tell them it's me. They stay silent as well.

"Lorna's probably going to go to war," I speak into the phone. "I want to be fucking ready in case she does."

Again silence. But that only means that they understand. Asking for a vote of no confidence will mean war. It has the potential to tear the company in two. I'm going to prevent that if I have to.

But right now, I've said everything I need to.

I quickly head out of my office.

I texted my driver and my limo is waiting outside of the entrances to Kane Price and I hop in, telling the driver that I need to go home.

As the limo makes its way toward Seventh Avenue and One57 apartment, I look at my phone.

Becca hasn't texted. She hasn't called.

Does she think that Lorna and I started fucking?

Or is she just too distraught at what her mother said?

Fuck, I need to get home and sit down with a glass of scotch. Then I need to figure out how to get to Becca without having to go back to Lorna's house. There's gotta be a way.

I'm not thinking of any solution as I unlock the door to my condo and walk in.

But then, a moment later, I stop thinking altogether.

Because I don't have to; standing right in front of me is Becca Lowell.

She turns to me, and I try to figure out what the look on her face means.

Is she hurt? Distraught?

"Becca," I say, dropping my keys on the table and walking over. "Nothing happened with your mom," I say.

She smiles at me. "I know," she says and takes a step over. Is it me or does she sound happy?

"I heard everything Mom said," she says and then stops herself. "I mean actually, I guess I heard everything Lorna said. Since she's not really my mother."

This is the part that I fucking dreaded.

"You heard that?" I ask.

"Mason, it's okay," she says to me and wraps her arms around me. "It means I'm not related to that bitch. And, that I'm not fucking my stepdad anymore since I'm technically not related to her at all. Thank you for standing up to her."

I pause. Becca's happy. I guess I can understand, but a part of me stirs when she says the word stepdad.

"I guess we're just two people then who aren't related at all," I say slowly.

Becca unwraps herself and takes a step back. "But it's so dirty to still imagine it, isn't it?" she asks me with a wicked grin.

I feel my cock twitching just looking at her. It's filthy. It's taboo.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asks me. And then slowly she says the word, "Daddy?"

I have no idea how she got here before me. But when she pulls her pink shirt over her head I stop caring.

She takes a few steps back and I follow. She takes a few more steps back, and I follow again.

We end up in the guest bedroom.

I’m staring at her.

She wears a black lace bra, her round breasts a perfect match for the almost transparent fabric. Still holding my gaze she takes her hands to her back and unhooks the bra, allowing its straps to slide down her arms and the whole thing falls onto the floor.

I want to reach toward her breasts, feel her already hard nipples under my fingers, but I restrain myself.

Becca doesn’t want to have anything to do with any kind of restriction, though. She closes the distance between us again with a quick shuffle of her feet and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. My naked torso calls for her, her eyes coveting my solid pectorals.

“Let’s take some of these clothes off,” she says, looking up at me with wicked eyes. “Daddy.”

Fuck, I need to have her.

Her tongue runs over her lips in anticipation; she leans forward into me and I respond, my mouth pressing into hers, sweet electricity discharging all over our bodies. They’re like two coiled springs yearning for release.

I raise one hand to her waist and embrace her figure, pulling her down onto the bed. Her breasts feel my warm skin as she presses them against my naked chest. Needing to feel me all over she takes her hand to my crotch and pushes down, her heart skipping a beat as she felt something as solid as rock there, something aching for her.

“Oh, Daddy, is that for me?” she purrs into my chest.

What the fuck is going on? Why is my cock harder than it’s ever been before?

She groans lightly as I suck on her tongue, my hands going down to her backside and pulling her closer, the friction between our bodies enough to start an all consuming fire.

Taken by an impulse I grab her hair and pull her head back, exposing her bare breasts. I takes her nipples into my mouth, softly sucking each of them, my tongue tracing their outline with care. I feel my cock hardening even more and, for a fraction of a second, I almost throw her onto the ground and pull down her tight pants, having at it there and then.

You don’t have to be a fucking scientist to see how I’m aching to fuck her; I know it, you know it, and most importantly she knows it.

She gets up from the bed after squeezing hard on my cock, and takes her fingers to her waistline.

“Should I pull this down, Daddy?” she asks me.

The anticipation in my eyes is self-evident. Happy to indulge me, she pushes down, her tight pants sliding over her toned legs in a slow hypnotizing motion. My cock tenses up against my boxer briefs at the sight of her small black thong, my heart almost in pain with desire. How I want to fucking reach for her underwear, slowly pulling it down with my teeth and feeling her scent taking hold of me…

Like a wild cat she approaches me, her movements charged with lust and hunger; her hands dart to my pants and pulls them down with my boxer briefs, her fingertips scratching at my skin harshly. My cock rises up, all 12 hard, thick inches saluting her expectantly.

She doesn’t need instructions.

Her knees touch the floor and, before I can breathe out, her lips wrap around my hard cock. As if pushed back by an invisible force I fall on my back, spreading my arms wide on the mattress.

She spreads my legs apart, stroking my inner thighs with the tip of her fingers; my breathing grows harsher as she starts sucking me, one of her hands cupping both my balls and playing around with them.

“Am I delicious?” she asks with a sweet smile.

“Fuck,” I groan.

“What did you call me, Daddy?” she asks sweetly. “Say it.”

I can’t believe this is fucking happening to me.

“Am I delicious, Daddy?” she asks.

“You’re fucking delicious,” I say and she keeps looking at me expectantly. “Baby girl.”

I’ve let go.

I’ve lost control.

For now.

I look up to the ceiling and sigh, my whole body shaking in pleasure as she goes up and down, up and down on my cock, her lips smacking against one another each time my cock springs out of her little mouth.

After a while, it’s just too much to fucking bear. And not just for me, but for her as well.

“Just fuck me already,” she demands, taking my member out of her mouth and pushing me down onto the bed with both of her hands. Like a tiger pouncing on prey she climbs on top of me, my hands latching to her ass almost magnetically.

She takes her black thong off, the small piece sliding down her legs easily, and pushes her soaked pussy against my cock, her juices dripping down on my thighs. She rubs herself against me, both hands on my chest, fingers like claws.

“Tell me you want me, Daddy," she says, a tone of command in her voice.

“I fucking want you. I want you bad,” I reply.

“Call me your baby girl,” she says.

“I’m going to fuck you so bad, you wicked little brat,” I say to her through clenched teeth. “I’m going to fuck that filth right out of you.”

And, with that, she wraps her legs around my torso and forces my cock inside her. She gasps as my length enters her smoothly, my thickness pushing against her inner walls.

Oh, yes, I’m going to fuck her in a way she’s not going to fucking forget for a long, long time.

She pushes her hips forward, forcing me to drive my cock deep inside her. She moans loudly, not a care in the world. Fuck being discrete.

I breathe heavily as she rides me hard, her ass bouncing up and down against my thighs. Once again I feel drawn to her perfect ass, my hand hitting her cheeks hard. I relish at the sound, spanking her ass one more time, the sound of flesh on flesh music to both of our ears.

“Your cock is mine… Just mine.” She moans against my ears, her breasts frictioning against my chest. She bites my neck, her teeth pulling my skin hard enough to make me groan and bury my cock inside her pussy in a brutish fashion.

“You know... “ she nibbles at my ear, her hips swaying back and forth on top of me. “The first time I saw you in that bar, I just wanted to finger myself.”

I'm not sure what it is, her words or the way in which she is moaning them, but one thing I'm sure of: she's driving me crazy. In my mind there's only one simple thought: to ravage her, and to fuck her very, very hard.

I grab her by the waist and, without pulling my cock out, push her to the side and climb on top of her, feeling the acute feeling of her fingernails digging into my ass, pulling me into her.

Pushing against her hands, I suddenly pull out; my thumb darts down, massaging her clit. With two other fingers I go inside her, driving them into a hook, making her moan even more loudly.

I love the feeling of her wetness on my fingers, and I make sure to share it with her. I remove my fingers abruptly from her pussy and place them over her lips. Eagerly, she opens her mouth and sucks on my fingers, the flavor of her own pussy sending shivers down her spine.

“Do you want my cock, baby girl?” I ask, my mind clouded by lust.

“Oh, God… Just give me that cock!” she begs.

“What do you call me?” I ask her.

“Please...Daddy,” she moans. “Give me that cock.”

In a quick motion of my hips I’m inside of her once again, my body pressing down on hers, sweat running down my back. She laces her legs around my back and imprisons me in a tight embrace, making my cock plunge deep inside of her in a way that makes her scream at the top of her lungs.

I don’t even care if someone is listening. All I care about is giving her what she wants.

“Make me come…” she moans. “Make me come… Fuck me hard, I…”

I can do that.

I pull out of her and motion her to place herself on all fours. She rolls over on the mattress and raises her ass at me; with one hand I feel her wet pussy aching for me and, happy to oblige her desires, I ram my cock into her hard enough for her to bury her head in a pillow, her muffled scream of pleasure bouncing off the mattress.

I push every inch into her, grabbing her hair with both hands.

“It’s… so… fucking… good…” It's all she manages to say between each stride I make inside of her. “Harder... harder... HARDER!”

I don't know if she’s screaming or whispering. I’m so fucking lost in motion, sweat tricking down both our bodies, her wet hair clinging to her face.

I go as fast and as hard as I can until her screaming makes her throat go sore. Even so, she lets out a harsh moan that makes my skin prickle, her body convulsing as an out-of-control climax takes hold of her body.

The sound of her moaning drives sparks of electricity down my body, and I feel a pleasant tightness taking hold of me. My cock jerks deep inside of her and, grabbing her by the hips with more force than is necessary, I join her in absolute paradise.

I close my eyes as my cock explodes inside of her, my cum filling her pussy and dripping down onto the sheets. I breathe out, long and hard, as if I’m breathing out all the tension that has accumulated in my body.

Only when her body goes limp do I let go of her.

I roll to the side, allowing my body to rest right next to hers. She’s breathing hard, as if she's just ran a marathon, not that I'm in much better condition. My lungs are working hard, my heart's working overtime, and all of my muscles are feeling sore from the effort.

I close my eyes, just for enough time to catch my breath. The next thing I know I’ve slipped into the land of dreams, the scent of her pussy still lingering on my cock.

For the first time in days I sleep like a baby.

I wake up with a chill. I’m still naked on top of my bed, my crumpled clothes lost on the floor. I rub both of my eyes with the back of my hand and sit up on the bed. For how long have I been asleep? Five minutes? Ten hours? I have no answer.

“Hey, wake --”, my hand expects to find her naked body still next to me, but all I find is the soft velvety mattress. I feel the silence around me, my breathing the only thing spoiling it. On the floor, all of her clothes are gone. Well, almost all of her clothes.

I smile at the sight of it.

She’s vanished like a ghost, but she’s been wicked enough to leave one last memento behind: her thong.

I imagine her tiptoeing out of my room, her pussy rubbing against the fabric of her tight pants and I almost laugh to himself.

She sure knows how to drive a man crazy. Whether I'm her stepdad or not, I’ve never had an experience like this before.

I need more.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

New details emerged today surrounding the beleaguered billionaire. This time rumors have surfaced that the hastily arranged marriage was nothing more than a cover up to protect Mason Kane's career.

Sources who have requested anonymity due to being close to the married couple confirm that the marriage between Mr. Kane and Lorna Lowell has yet to be consummated. While paperwork and all the bureaucratic measures have been taken, they allege that Mr. Kane seems uninterested to the point of revulsion in being intimate with Ms. Lowell. Speculation is rife within the Lowell domestic staff—who have witnessed or heard second-hand reports of the couple—whether Mr. Kane is a closet homosexual. Many anonymous sources believe at this time that Mason Kane either suffers from impotence or is gay and thus arranged the marriage with Ms. Lowell to further stave off embarrassment.

The anonymous sources do acknowledge that Mr. Kane has made no formal declaration of any of the speculation—neither confirming nor denying these allegations. However, amidst a culture on Wall Street that acts on rumors and vague murmurs, the allegations were enough to send shares of Kane Price plunging 15% during market trading before stabilizing during after-hour trades.

The sudden decrease in share price has many shareholders and clients once again considering whether Mr. Kane is the right person to be managing the investment bank that he founded and took public several years ago. While critics do not question his potential to make money, they do question whether his extra-curricular entanglements have gotten to such a point where he is no longer able to serve as a fiduciary steward of shareholder value.

It was only two months ago that the self-styled King of Wall Street married Lorna Lowell, a shareholder activist who controls a large chunk of voting stock within Kane Price. Ms. Lowell has been outspoken in her criticism of Mr. Kane and his handling of his personal life prior to their marriage as well as his investment choices that he has made in recent weeks.

Both sides agree that a vote of no confidence, unheard of in the button down world of Wall Street would literally tear the company apart, with factions splitting off into opposing camps and halting the business that is conducted daily by the globe-girdling bank. That such a development would be disastrous to shareholders and clients is something both sides agree on and only warranted in the most extreme circumstances.

Still, the tension and threat of a no confidence vote are simmering under the surface.

Internally, sources confirm that Kane Price is splitting up into battlegrounds over a proposal by Ms. Lowell to invest $1 billion of the Firm's assets into Indonesian regional airline provider, Red Lion Aviation. Mr. Kane has strongly opposed this investment, stating that the risk is too great for any return. However those who favor the investment view any delay on Mr. Kane's part as simply being based out of ego and not on rational decision making.



That's how many weeks it's been since I first fucked Mason in the bathroom of the bar. Before I knew who exactly he was. Before we began to spend more and more time together. Before I realized his connection to Lorna. Before I realized a lot of things. I used to think I was so grown up. But I realize now just how naive I was. It feels like in those five weeks since I've met Mason, I've crossed a bridge that can never be crossed, you know? Like I've matured much faster than any 21 year old should have to.


That's how many days ago I finally moved the last of my things out of the townhouse that Lorna lives in.

Mason helped me of course. "Mom" wasn't around to even see me go. Mason didn't know where she was either. Only later did I find out from our housekeeper—who cried all day as I was moving out—that Lorna had gone to the Hamptons with another Kane Price shareholder.

Of course, you know what she did there?

I don't have to have a very vivid imagination to say that she went out there to seduce him. I'm not being a bitch if I say that. She pretty much told me this herself a few days after I overheard her tell Mason that she wasn't my mother.

That's right, babe. I totally confronted her. I remember. It was a Saturday morning and she was reading the newspaper on her tablet in the sunroom.

"Why do you look so shocked, Becca?" she asked me when I asked her if it was really true. "You got a good deal out of it, didn't you?"

"But that's not the point, Mom," I said, instinctively falling back on the moniker.

"Please, will you fucking stop calling me your mother," Lorna said with obvious disdain. "I could give two shits whether you live or die, to be honest. You're only as good to me as you photograph, if you must know."

I think I gasped or something, you know? Just hearing those words coming from the woman I thought had loved me my whole life.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," she said to me. "You're nothing like me. You're weak, soft, and stupid. You don't have the killer instinct."

"Is that why you didn't like Dad?" I asked her. "Because he didn't have the killer instinct?"

Lorna's face turned into a grimace. "I wish he'd never brought you into the marriage we had," she sneered. "If he'd just thrown you out on the corner, maybe he'd still be alive. I wanted him, not you. But when you came along with him, it sort of ruined the experience for me, you know?"

I remember shaking with fear and shock and loathing. How could one person be so cavalier about the dead? So hating toward the living.

"I cheated on your father every chance I got," she said, smiling as if relishing the fact that she was hurting me. "I made sure he found out about it each and every time. I fucked guys on our bed. I left panties soaked in other men's cum for him to find and see."

She went on and on. A litany of betrayals as I sat in horror.

"And then," she said, without a shade of remorse. "When he couldn't take it anymore, he took his own life."

I couldn't believe it. She laughed at me and said the final piece that made me realize I had to leave. "Just the way I'd planned it."

There was something very psychotically wrong with Lorna Lowell. And I needed to get away as quickly as possible.


That's how many weeks ago Lorna finally cut me off from everything. I was removed from her will. I lost my bank accounts. Even my cell phone contract was cancelled. I mean, she paid the penalty for early termination just to cut my phone bill and show me who was boss.

I knew what she was trying to do.

She was trying to assert her dominance over me. Trying to get me to realize that I had to come crawling back to her.

Don't worry. That's something that I'll never do.

Luckily, I still had a decently paying job as a Wall Street intern. Annualized, I made about $60,000 a year so I was able to open a bank account on the same day. I basically had the clothes on my back and the cash in my pocket, but with the help of a few friends, I was able to get by till payday. That's when I began saving my money and couch surfing till I finally found a one-bedroom walkup on the Lower East Side that I was able to move into.

"You should just stay with me," Mason immediately offered. But I knew that I didn't want to put him in that situation. I want him to have me over at his place because he wants to. Not because he thinks he's doing me a favor.


That's how many days out of the seven that I've had my new apartment that I've spent the night at Mason's place in One57. That's right, babe. I moved into a new apartment and my first week I only spent one night.

I mean, it's a pretty different world from what I was accustomed to. It's a walk up. No doorman. No elevator.

The view is of a brick wall. The faucet in the bathroom leaks. It's about the size of Mason's walk-in closet. It's definitely for people who are either starving artists or holdovers from the days of rent control. Nevertheless, I didn't mind staying there.

But there was one thing the apartment, with all it's independence from Lorna, couldn't give me that Mason could.



That's how many times a day Mason and I have sex when I'm able to have sex. Seriously, who would think that he was in his late thirties by the way he fucks. He's like a pile driver powered by some sort of Energizer battery. But whereas the bunny would tire out and nap, Mason just keeps going and is ready for more at the drop of a hat, or the bending of a waist.

Ever since the fist night in his apartment where I began to go all out and call him Daddy, I haven't gotten it out of my head. I love pretending he's my stepdad. I mean, technically, I suppose he was, even though at 21 I'm fully emancipated from a woman who bears no familial relation to me.

But it gets me so wet. I can't even begin to describe how filthy I feel when I think about him spanking me as I beg him to smack my ass harder. I moan out "Daddy, don't stop" as he puts his massive cock inside of me. I groan "Daddy, cum all over my face" right before he sprays a quart of cum all over me. And then I lick it up and swap it with him.

Just thinking about him right now has my panties drenched. You remember how Mason told you back in the first chapter to take off your panties before diving into the book? I wish someone had told me to stop buying thongs before I met Mason. Because what's the point?

I mean, for someone on a budget, it's more cost effective for me to go commando. Saves on laundry costs.

But I want to make one thing clear though.

It's not just about the sex.

I think I'm falling in love with him.


That's how many months I've been debating in my head whether I'm really falling in love with the bad boy of Wall Street. I mean this guy used to be a player. Yeah, I told you I know all about his MO. I've read everything about him and that Stacy Sawyer chick on Market Pulse and how they fucked.

But he really does care for me.

Not just because he takes care of me when Lorna cut me off. But just spending time with me.

Take the other day, for example.

I wanted to go to Kittichai, the Thai place on the West Side.

"That place is overrated," Mason said to me when I broached the subject.

"But their chicken curry is so good!" I whined. He looked at me and I pouted. "After everything that's been going on, I could use something like Thai food to pick me up."

It was true. Sharing a meal was a way to forget about the impending vote of no confidence, the power that Mom was amassing in the Firm, or the fact that I was caught in the center of it.

Also, I knew he couldn't resist that pout.

So I was a little surprised when he said nothing more and headed to work.

I followed an hour later and all day it was business as usual, both sides of Kane Price desperately trying to make or break the Red Lion Aviation deal.

Around 6 pm, Mason came by my desk.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked me.

I looked at him with a stupid stare.

"The car's waiting to take us to Kittichai," he said.

It's not just the fact that Mason Kane had actually planned and gotten us into one of the hottest restaurants in New York City with a reservation list of at least a month.

It's that he was standing at my desk, telling me that the car was waiting.

That he was acknowledging me in full view of the people on my floor.

That he held out his arm as I got up and we walked out, arm in arm.

That he opened the door for me to the car, and before I got in, stopped me.

I could tell the words going through his brain.

But how is the Bad Boy of Wall Street supposed to tell a girl that he loves her?

Instead, he did the next best thing.

"I will do anything for you, Becca Lowell," he said. "I promise."

Not as good as I love you, I know, but still, enough to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.


That's how many hours ago I got back from the Duane Reade and desperately pulled out the pregnancy test kit and went to the bathroom and peed onto it.

I mean, the results the first time made me do it again.

And from then till now, I'm starting to wrestle with a nagging question in my head.

How am I going to tell Mason that in the middle of fighting for his company, being stuck in a forced marriage to a woman who is evil enough to pretend for 21 years that she was my mother, and being skewered in the media, am I going to tell him that I've just found out I'm pregnant.

I mean, this should be a happy time for us.

I'm not so sure that I'll do anything more than add yet another burden to him.

If dating me doesn't do it, will this baby inside of me be the straw that finally breaks the camel's back?


"Mason, are you even comprehending what kind of shit storm you're looking at?" Roy Purpus asks me as I stare out the window. "We're talking about throwing everything you've worked for into the garbage can because of your ego."

This isn't the kind of fucking language that you normally hear in Board Meetings. But then again, this isn't the kind of thing you see in companies.

What's going on isn't actually even supposed to be fucking happening.

I was just minding my own fucking business, when I got an email from Roy if he could pop in with some members of the Board.

So minding my own business apparently means anything that can potentially go wrong with the company. So I said yes, cleared my schedule, and sat back as almost every member of my fucking Board walked in.

"We need to talk," Roy said pretty bluntly and immediately I knew what he was here for.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," I told them as I got up to walk to the set of couches on the far corner of my office.

"We didn't want to come to you like this Mason," another Board member, Peter Cheil, said to me. "But Roy here got us together and raised some good points about the Red Lion Aviation deal."

That's when I walked up and went to go stare out the fucking window.

You can't blame me, because if I had been right there I would have hit something.

That's basically where you came in. You're all caught up now.

But what I didn't tell you that I think is that I've been fucking set up.

"We can't pass on a trillion dollars, Mason," Roy says to me, raising his voice when he sees that I'm quiet. "We'll be the laughingstock of Wall Street."

Okay, let me just take a moment to talk to you real quick and explain something to you.

I bet a part of you is probably hoping you could ask me if this Red Lion deal is really so fucking lucrative and it's already been reported on in the newspaper and all that shit then why the fuck has no other firm on Wall Street gone in and snapped it up.

That's a very good question and a part of me wishes that the people in the fucking book would take a moment to pause half way through and answer any and all questions for readers. Because it would certainly make your experience a more enjoyable one.

Let you focus on getting wet and imagining my 12-inch cock between your legs instead of thinking about the complicated nature of investment banking.

Let me put it really simply to you. Lorna proposed a deal to me. And that deal was put together potentially with Red Lion and whatever other players are out there. In putting the basics together, we've already signed a fuck ton of paperwork. I'm talking fucking Non-Disclosure Agreements, Memoranda of Understanding, Clauses for binding arbitration.

So Red Lion knows that if they breach any of that shit, the penalties are tremendous. We know that if we breach any of the shit that we agreed to before we started talking to them, the penalties are tremendous.

So it's like both sides sat down to talk about a potential alliance. But before they sat down, they used a third-party negotiator to make sure that everyone was clear how many guns each side was going to carry, where they were going to sit, and what was going to be served for dinner. With the expectation that if one side brought more fucking guns or tried to sit somewhere else, the other side and the third party mediator would both blow them out of the fucking sky.

So until Kane Price formally declines the offer and releases Red Lion Aviation from any sort of clauses that we had, no other Firm can come in and sweep us up.

There are two ways to do this. The first is to formally let the company we're looking to invest in know that we are not going to at this time.

The other alternative is to let the contract lapse without renewing it.

Nine times out of ten, the best way is to just let the contract lapse.

That's what's got Lorna fucking spooked.

"We're running out of time, Mason," Roy says to me from his seat. "And people may start to question your leadership if you let this one slip away from our fingers."

That's when I fucking realize that Roy Purpus has probably been fucking Lorna.

I turn around and look at him.

Yeah, he's most likely the guy who she's using to round up allies for her cause. She probably bent over, shook her ass for him and grinded herself on his fucking cock before sucking it down and riding it.

I can definitely see that. Roy used to be a happily married man before Lorna joined the Board.

Now there are rumors that he was cheating on his wife with another woman and the affair started right around when Lorna joined. He's had wild fluctuations with his weight and has looked fucking strung out at times. I've seen the signs. That's what happens when you fucking party too fucking hard. Sniffing too much of the fucking blow at the fucking club.

Yeah, Roy's life has definitely gotten worse in the time that Lorna has been here. I think his wife has even left him recently, taking their daughter with her.

"You think my Board is going to try to oust me from the company that I fucking built?" I ask, hostility tinting my voice as I take a step toward the sofa that Roy is sitting on.

But Roy's a weak fucking man now. When I first met him, he was a strong and savvy marketing executive. He now withers under my stare.

"We're not talking about ousting you, Mason," he says defensively.

I know the rock and hard place that Roy is fucking trapped in. Lorna probably set him up to do this. Probably fucking sucked his cock in exchange. But poor Roy, he probably didn't know the best way so he started putting together a group of Board Members to back him up.

But now they're fucking quiet, staring at the both of us and letting Roy do all the talking. And Roy isn't used to being able to defend himself from my words.

"That's exactly what you're fucking talking about, Roy," I say, pressing my advantage. "You walked into my office and told me that if I don't gamble with the future of my company, you're going to fucking take it away."

Now either Lorna fucked a bunch of other Board Members when she joined or Roy has done a fucking wonderful job recruiting people because he holds his head lower. But it doesn't matter because another Board Member, Harry Trent, stands up.

"That's not what Roy is saying at all, Mason, and you know it," he says to me. He's standing and looking at my side and I turn my body toward him as he continues. "Like it or not, when you went public you agreed and signed paperwork with the SEC that you would look out for the shareholders. And you'd listen to our advice when doing it."

"That's not what this is fucking about," I snarl.

"It absolutely is, Mason," Roy says, standing up. "And if you do something that we believe is against the best interests of the company based on your ego, we'll fight you on it."

Is that a fucking threat?

"And that is a threat, Mason," Roy says, reading my thoughts. "We'll go to the news outlets, the stock exchange, and wherever it was that we went and did the work so you didn't have to. And once we're there we will contradict the shit out of you. This company will be paralyzed and eventually destroyed when it could've been profitable for all of us.

Roy is looking at me with a glint of jealousy in his eyes, and I realize that the odds are stacked against me.

"How many of you here share Roy's opinion?" I ask.

Literally every hand in the room goes up. Some forcefully. Some in an irritated fashion.

But at the end of the day, they're fucking taking sides against me.

Lorna's been fucking busy, that's for sure. Whatever she had been planning, she's had it ready and in motion.

And right now, I'm staring down a fucking potential coup.

I'll be at her fucking mercy.

Maybe it's time I start playing fire with the fire in the same fucking fashion until I can take them once and for all.

But that'll mean I just have to get down and dirty with the rest of them.

Which is fine. I've had to in the past.

There's just one person who might be upset beyond all measure with me.

I'll leave you to figure it out.

"What would you propose our next steps would?" I ask.

Roy takes out his phone and dials it.

“Hi, Lorna,” he says into the device. “I have Mason here. He wants to talk to you.”

He hands me the phone.

On the other line is the salvation for my company.

The chance to live another day.

All for the small price of my soul.


It drives me crazy when I send a text message, and I don't get a response for days. Especially when that someone is Mason Kane. It's been several days and I haven't seen, or heard from, Mason. He hasn't shown up at my apartment, he won't answer my texts, and he won't answer my calls.

At work, he seems to be in meetings all day or offsite.

It's like I'm in the Twilight Zone or something without seeing him.

Can you blame me though, huh?

I love him.

I’m carrying his child.

Oh, God. I need to tell him.

It’s like fate is making this even harder for me to tell him than normal.

I try to send him another text:

"R U Alive?!"


I send another one: "This isn't funny. Can U at least let me know U R breathing?"

He still doesn't respond, and from what I can tell, the messages are delivered, but not read.

It's uncharacteristic of him. What did I do to deserve this?

One minute, things are going great, and the next … they aren't going at all.

I decide to call.

I find him in my contacts and press the call button.

It rings, and rings, and rings some more before finally going to voice mail. But there's still no Mason.

It's what I expected.

Fuck. I really need to speak to him, but given that he won't text or call me, and I can't find him at work, or even at his apartment, it's proving difficult to do.

I've spent the last 48 hours researching Red Lion Aviation, and I'm finding more holes in the company than I've found in the slice of Swiss cheese on my sandwich today. I need to run a few things by Mason. I honestly have so many questions, and he's the only person who can help me answer them.

I decide to call his secretary.

"You've reached the desk of Mason Kane, how can I help you?"

"Hi, it's Becca."

"Oh Becca! Hi! It's been a while," she says. "It's always good to hear from you. Where have you been? I've haven't seen you on our floor."

"I've been around," I say. "Just busy. Listen, I've been looking for Mason. Is he in the office today?"

She thinks for a moment and then responds. “He isn't taking calls. Can I take a message?"

"No, that's okay," I say, slightly pissed off that he’s not taking calls from me. Whatever list he made of people he’d take calls from I guess I didn’t make it. "Do you expect him back in the office today?"

"He asked me to re-schedule all of his meetings today, so I figure he isn't planning on returning today," she says.

"I see, do you have any idea where he might be right now then?”

She contemplates for a moment whether or not she should give me this information and then relents. "Between you and I, he's at the Four Seasons."

"The Four Seasons on 57th?" I ask.

"Yes, that's the one."

Thank you!" I shout. I hang up the phone and can barely contain myself. I need to catch Mason before he leaves. I need to leave now myself. I grab my purse and keys and throw on my coat. I run outside and hail a cab. I can feel the minutes ticking away. If I don't catch Mason at the Four Seasons, I may not have the opportunity again for a while. Especially with the way he's been playing hard to get.

A cab pulls up in front of me and I hop in, directing the driver to the hotel.

"As fast as you can, please," I tell the driver, and he listens because I hear the squeal of our tires against the asphalt.

Within minutes I'm at the Four Seasons. I pay the fare and run toward the hotel, which is situated in an ideal spot in the city—minutes from Central Park and the Museum of Modern Art. But I don't have any time to gawk and take in my surroundings. Instead, I run into the lobby.

I realize I didn't think to ask his secretary what he was doing here. Is he renting a room? Is he in the middle of a conference? Or?

I decide to walk up to the front desk.

There's a middle-aged woman in dark-rimmed glasses staring at me.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. Mason Kane. I think he may be renting a room here for the night."

The woman types the name into her computer and my heart is racing with each click of her keyboard.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't have a Mason Kane booked for the evening."


"Thanks," I say, walking away from the desk and wondering what my next move will be. I start walking and then, by chance, notice a restaurant off of the main lobby. It's called The Garden and it's decorated with faux trees and plush, neutral colored chairs. It looks like an inviting enough place.

When my eyes scan the patrons, I can't believe my luck. I spot Mason … and he's dining with Lorna. They seem to be smiling, eating, and drinking cocktails.

What's he doing here, with her? I thought he wasn't even taking any of her calls?

None of it makes sense.

I debate whether or not I should approach them. On the one hand, if I walk up, I look like a desperate, lost puppy who can't keep her hands off of Mason. It feels like a blow to my ego. But on the other hand, if I don't talk to Mason now, there's no telling when I'll have the opportunity to again.

I take a deep breath.

I have to walk up to them. It's now or never.

I have to somehow let Mason know that I need to talk to him. It's important. I swallow my nerves and approach them.

Lorna is the first one to notice me.

"Becca, what a pleasant surprise," she says, flashing me a smile that is anything but friendly. It's like a viper ready to strike.

Mason looks up, and gives me a casual wave. There's nothing in his eyes or body language that suggests he's excited to see me, and it leaves me confused. Did he not receive the dozen or so text messages from me? Or has he somehow decided that he wants nothing to do with me?

My stomach sinks.

Maybe Lorna has finally succeeded in getting inside of his head?

It's hard to tell. And it's driving me crazy. I have so much I need to ask him, but I can't ask him with Lorna around.

"Would you like to join us?" she asks, motioning toward the empty seat at the table. As she says this, she slides her hand affectionately on top of Mason's and he doesn't pull away.

Perhaps I'm right.

Maybe she has finally gotten to him.


Great. Just fucking great.

The one person—the one woman—who I really didn't want to see here at this moment is now sitting in front of me.

She's been texting and calling me relentlessly, and I can't fucking face her. As of right now, I don't know what to say. I've been avoiding her for a reason.

Lorna points to the empty seat at our table and then slides her cold, thin hand on top of mine. It's supposed to be an act of affection to get under Becca's skin, but instead it gets under mine. I want to recoil, but I can't. Her touch repulses me. You have no idea to what end.

"Would you like to join us?" Lorna asks Becca.

Please say no, please say no, please say no, I beg to myself. It's a mantra I somehow hope she can subliminally pick up, but of course I know that's wishful thinking.

I look at Becca's face and I can see a range of emotions flash through her eyes. She's fighting the urge to leave, but she ultimately decides to stay.

"I think I have an extra few minutes to spare," she says.

Fuck. Of course she's deciding to stick around.

She looks at me, trying to decipher what's going on, but I refuse to hold her gaze. I can't stomach looking at her right now. I've ignored her for this long, what's another day, right? Except that every minute at this table seems to stretch out for a fucking eternity.

I bring my glass to my lips and take a drink of my tea. Before you shake your head, I'm not going soft. I'll be hitting the scotch soon enough, don't you worry, but for now, I'm taking it easy.

"So, what brings you two here?" Becca asks us, her brows knitted. She's trying to act casual.

Lorna turns to me and smiles. She brings her hand to my neck and gives it a gentle, affectionate squeeze. I can't help but picture her hand as a baby anaconda slithering around my shoulders and threatening to squeeze the life out of me at any moment.

"We're having a romantic night out," Lorna replies.

I nearly choke on my tea. Romantic? Is that what she calls this? That's a laugh. But of course Becca doesn't know any better. She's having a hard time wrapping her head around all of this, and honestly, I don't blame her.

It's 360 degree change from the last time we spoke.

It's true that I've been playing along, but this meal, together with Lorna, is far from romantic.

Becca eyes me suspiciously, but again, I look away. I still can't stand to look her in the eyes.

Just then, a waiter approaches us, bringing our food.

"Here's one plate of seared Ahi Tuna ribbons, with minted Mizuna salad and soy and toasted peanut dressing," the waiter says, placing it in front of Lorna.

"And here's one plate of basted prawns with spicy, golden pineapple, and smoked bacon," he continues, this time placing the food in front of me.

Our entire table smells of the Far East.

"Last, I have a side of toasted quinoa pilaf."

He places this one in the middle and then turns to Becca.

"Would you like to order anything ma'm?"

She has the menu open in front of her and is scanning their offerings. Just when I think she may not actually order anything, and it was all for show, she responds.

"Yes, I think I'll just have a salad—the Chicken Cobb, but please go light on the blue cheese … and buttermilk dressing."

"You bet. One Chicken Cobb will be out shortly ma'm," the waiter says, nodding his approval.

As soon as he leaves, and Lorna has Becca's full attention, she leans over and playfully kisses my neck and cheek. She's resting against my shoulder in what feels like an overly exaggerated way.

It feels that way because it is.

I catch a glimpse of Becca and her cheeks flush a deep pink.

Fuck. I can barely stand it.

This is killing me to go along with Lorna's games.

"This place is beautiful, isn't it Mason?" Julian asks me, turning toward me all of a sudden.

I nod, but don't say a word.

"And this is just the beginning," Lorna continues, raking the tips of her red fingernails through my hair and against my scalp. "We have quite the evening planned." She is now dragging her manicured hand across my chest.

She's trying so hard to rub all of this—her and I, and this meal, and this time together—in Becca's face, and it seems to be working.

Becca is becoming visibly upset, but she's working hard to keep her emotions in check. The waiter brings her salad and she instantly uses it as a diversion, crunching into the lettuce with her fork and scooping up some of the buttermilk dressing.

"Darling, excuse me for one moment," Lorna says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I need to use the restroom; I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

As soon as she is out of earshot, Becca explodes.

"Are you SERIOUS? What's going on Mason? I've been texting and calling you for days! You won't answer and you aren't showing up to the office. Are you avoiding me?"

"It's complicated," I say.

"Complicated? Is that all you can say? I've been needing to talk to you and you're acting as if I don't exist."

Seeing her like this makes my stomach do somersaults. It kills me. It really does.

"This wasn't my choice," I say.

"I've heard that before," she replies. "Just answer one thing for me. Is all of this real?"

"What, exactly, are you referring to?"

"THIS! All of this … the romantic meal, all of this outward affection … you and Lorna … all of it," she says. "Are you falling for her?"

I look into her eyes. Her confusion is palpable.

I want to tell her how I really feel, how I meant what I said before; I can't stand Lorna, but none of that comes out of my mouth.

For the first time in a long time, I'm nearly speechless.

"I have to do what's best for the company, Becca," I say.

I watch as tears tug at the corners of her eyes.

I'm fucking dying inside. Literally dying.

It's like someone is holding a match to my insides, burning me slowly, and there's nothing I can do about it except to allow my heart to be set ablaze.


I run out of the Four Seasons and onto Park Avenue not knowing where else to go. I just know that I need to get out.

Get out of there. Get out of that toxic situation.

I'm breathing hard. I'm panting.

My heart is racing. My eyes are seeing spots. I see stars, and not the good kind you see during sex, but the kind that makes me think I'm having a stroke.

My head is spinning and it feels like my entire stomach has fallen to the ground.

How could Mason just turn around and betray me like this?

Like it was no big deal? Like it was just a business decision.

Didn't he know that I was falling in love with him?

I mean, you noticed the signs, didn't you? When I talked about him, you could tell that I was falling in love with the guy, right?

Please tell me that I wasn't just feeling that in my head and actually driving him away or something. Please tell me that I didn't do something inadvertent to make this happen.


Actually, no. Don't tell me anything.

I don't want to talk about that bastard for another second.

I can't believe him. That fucker!

I should have known to stay away from him from the first afternoon where I saw Mom leaving his apartment. You remember that night I tried to seduce him? Calling him Daddy? I bet he was laughing at me.

God, I bet he's just laughing at me right now, isn't he? I bet he and Lorna are just chuckling over how I'm nothing more than a stupid little girl who thought she was indulging a crush on her stepdad. It wouldn't surprise me if the Lorna knew this whole time and was just going along with the whole thing and laughing behind the scenes.

No, don't shake your head. After what Mason just pulled in there, anything is possible, you know.

I know you want to give him the benefit of the doubt and everything, especially since I'm pregnant with his baby. But trust me, he doesn't deserve it. He's an asshole who doesn't deserve to have the benefit of anything. I seriously hope that--

The skies open up above me and the first flash of lightning and crack of thunder goes through just as I'm angrily crossing the median divider of Park Avenue as I head west.

I notice that the skies have darkened. They're a whole lot darker now than they were just five minutes ago when I stormed out of the Four Seasons.

There's another flash and crack.

And within seconds, just as I get to the sidewalk, the first heavy drops of rain start to fall from the sky.

I don't have an umbrella, unlike everyone around me who seems to pull theirs out.

So I'm just walking down Park Avenue as the rain starts coming down.

I'm getting drenched. But you know what?

Fuck it.

I'm pregnant. Lonely.

The woman I thought was my mother actually has no relation to me. The only connection I truly have with her is that she caused my biological father to kill himself years ago.

The man that I thought of as my stepfather and who I thought I was falling in love with happens to have betrayed me worse than I've ever thought possible—trading in love and happiness for the chance to save his company by joining forces with the Devil.

Oh, and I'm also carrying his baby.

And if Mason is out of my life, then it's probably a good bet that I'm out of a job. I mean, either Lorna will come for me, or he will.

My "mother" has already kicked me out of her house. She could very easily require Mason to force me out of a job.

Which means that I wouldn't have enough money to even afford the walk-up apartment I have on the Lower East Side without a job.

Do you remember earlier on when you first met me I told you that I never really grew up knowing poverty or want?

I know I may have come across as a bit of a brat, basically saying oh I've been well off.

Well, guess what, hun. I'm broke, single, lonely, betrayed, pregnant, and drenched to the bone as I walk down New York City right about now.

I think if anything this whole experience has me humbled. A lot.

What? You don't believe me?

I mean, hun, I've lost everything I have. I've pretty much had everything either taken or stolen away from me since you met me.

Seriously, there is no way for a happily ever after from here.

There's only one thing that I can do, if I'm looking to survive right now.

I start to run downtown toward the Kane Price offices. I take off my shoes and run barefoot. What the fuck do I care at this point? I'm already soaked to the core in this downpour.

I make it to the 52nd Street and Park Avenue headquarters of Kane Price a few minutes later. The sidewalks have cleared out because of the rain and even the traffic is a lot slower. But I don't pay any attention to that, going into the building.

I can tell the few people in the lobby look at me in a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity but I seriously have no more fucks left to give as I find my ID badge and buzz myself past the security turnstiles and toward the elevator banks.

The security desk can't do anything to stop me if I'm wet as long as I have my security badge that gives me access.

The elevator takes me up to my floor. It's evening and a lot of people have left for the day so not too many people stare at me as I walk to my computer.

Water is literally dripping from my hair, face, and clothes. I'm definitely leaving a trail, but I don't care.

I go to my desk and turn on my computer.

It takes five minutes to copy everything I have on Red Lion Aviation and put all of the information on a secure USB that I plug into the computer. Once all the information has been transferred, I take the USB and put it in the driest corner of my purse.

The next thing I do is open up my email.

I compose a letter to my direct manager, deciding to copy Mason as well.

My manager is going to freak the fuck out, that's for sure. A lowly 21-year old intern is copying the billionaire CEO on her resignation letter.

"Dear Jonathan,

It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation from Kane Price effective immediately due to personal circumstances. I apologize for the lack of notice as well as the cryptic nature of my message.


Rebecca Lowell"

As long as I resign first, then Mother can't come out and get Mason to fire me. Which means that at least I have a chance to restart my career on Wall Street.

Although, who am I kidding? If Mason is really sticking his cock inside Lorna and doing her bidding, I don't know if any place in the world will be safe for me.

A part of me is ready to cry. But the greater part of me is still in shock.

I idly wonder for a moment how Mason could be so evil. Something doesn't quite add up.

I mean, he held me in his arms. I remember looking into his eyes.

They were full of care. He was always concerned about me.

I don't understand. Was he lying the whole time? Was it just a game to him?

Or does he really care about me and maybe he really was starting to fall in love with me but he was willing to sell the whole thing just to make sure that Lorna wasn't going to take his company away from him.

In which case, he's chosen what is most important to him.

And I need to do what is most important to me.

Sorry, this isn't much of the romance story that you thought, is it, hun?

I mean, again, I'm pretty sure there's no HEA with him and me, here. Ever.

I look around. I thought all the knick knacks I had on my desk were important. Pictures with my mother. A giant finger from Yankee Stadium that Mason had got for me when we went to go watch the Yankees. A stress ball. Some inspirational pictures. Some gifts from co-workers.

No, none of it matters anymore.

What I need to do more than anything else is to get home.

I leave my computer on and walk to the door that will take me to the elevator banks. Outside the rain continues.

But I no longer care about rain or getting wet.

I mean, what's a few ruined clothes to a person who's dealing with a ruined heart, you know?

Oh well.


Fucking Christ.

If you're still with me and you don't hate me after what just happened, then you're a fucking saint.

Because right about now, I feel like the lowest piece of shit around.

I deserve to be with this fucking woman next to me. With this harpy from hell.

"Ready, dear?" Lorna says to me, getting up from the table.

She doesn't even look backward; she's walking toward the door. Her ass is swaying and I even catch a few of the men seated around the restaurant stare at it as she walks by them, but I swear to fucking God it does nothing for me.

Once Becca stormed off, I had the chance to be the man that could look at himself in the fucking mirror.

I could have gone after her and taken her in my arms and told her that she never needed to worry about me. That if she wanted to I'd drop everything.

But I didn't.

Because big bad Mason Kane is a fucking coward.

You heard that right.

The King of Wall Street is a lowly piece of fucking pond scum that can't even reassure the woman he loves. And yeah, I fucking love her. I realize that now.

But to save my company, to save everything I built, I'm following the woman I hate outside the Four Seasons.

The rain is coming down by now pretty hard and we wait underneath the awning as Lorna's limo arrives.

"Let's go to my place, dear," Lorna says with a lascivious smile. "Becca's moved out so we can really break the place in."

I don't say anything at all because I'm afraid if I start talking I'm going to say something I fucking regret.

Instead I get into the limo after Lorna and sit down, my mood darkened.

Remarkably, Lorna does not jump me the moment the door to the limo closes. No. I know, it's a fucking surprise to me too, and honestly, a good one. Maybe the only good surprise in an otherwise fucked up situation.

I mean, I know where we're headed. I know what she expects of me. She's been very upfront with her desire. I just haven't thought about it.

Instead of jumping on me, Lorna sits across from me. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, wantonly hiking up her skirt to give me a better view of her inner thighs.

On Becca, I would be hard in an instant. Hell, the car would be rocking back and forth by now.

Instead, all I can think about is the look of abject hurt on Becca's face when I told her that I couldn't leave. That I had to stay for dinner. That I would probably be going home with Lorna.

All I can think about is Becca's body as it trembled as she realized that I was going to place the survival of my company over her feelings.

Listen, I hate it when you look at me like that, alright, Gorgeous?

This is Wall Street. This is business. You don't have time for feelings.

I have a fucking fiduciary duty to my shareholders. To the people who rely on me to keep the company running. There are people with retirement accounts, both investors and fucking employees. Their families.

The car stops outside Lorna's townhouse and the driver opens the door.

She gets out first.

That's her shaking her ass at me as she exits the limo.

Fuck. I need to think about the college tuition that people who work with me are saving for. The 529 Savings plans.

We walk into the main entrance and Lorna wastes no time.

She turns around and pushes me toward the entrance to the living room. I let her push me back until I'm back on the sofa on my back.

Same as the last time I was here.


Think of the fucking people that rely on me for their paycheck. Their livelihoods. Their families. Their kids.

"And now, Mr. Kane, I'm going to enjoy making you mine," Lorna says with an evil smile as she unzips her dress.

I lay back and watch the dress fall to the floor. She's wearing a lace black bra and a tiny thong.

Her breasts are big. Her stomach is flat. Her thighs are slender.

Fuck, she even has a thigh gap.

But she can't hold a fucking candle to her beautiful daughter.

Lorna slowly puts her hands to her back and unclasps her bra. She shakes her shoulders and the straps fall off and she lets the garment fall to the floor.

"Like what you see?" she asks me, hardly paying attention, but rather looking down at her melons as she caresses her body. Her hands go down to her waist and she hooks her fingers under the waistband of her thong and pushes it down.

She kicks her thong in my direction and it lands on my chest.

She's shaved. Completely.

Understand this. If I had never fucking met Becca, I'd probably man the fuck up and I'd tell my cock to get hard and fuck her.

"I guarantee you, I'll be a lot better lay than my daughter," she purrs.

What the fuck? My eyes flash toward her in shock.

"Oh, yes, I know," she gives me a lascivious smile. "Well at least I suspected there was something there, but I didn't know till just now."

Fucking Christ.

"I think it's sort of kinky," she says, stepping towards me and running her fingers over my pants. "First you had the daughter. Now you'll have the mother. And I know you'll choose me."

Lorna puts her knee in between my legs and gently brings it up. I feel her press against my cock and I can tell that it's twitching involuntarily.

But just hearing her words I realize what I'm doing. What I'm allowing to happen to me.

You know what, Gorgeous?

Fuck it.

I don't care if I lose fucking Kane Price.

I don't care if I never work on Wall Street again.

I'm not going to give up the one good thing in my life for a company. I'm not going to sacrifice my happiness to make more money.

Lorna brings her mouth toward me. "I know you're going to enjoy me," she purrs. "And if you even want I can do a press conference and tell the world I know for a fact you're not impotent and gay. Describe how good you fucked me. I bet Becca will cry for days."

Fuck off, bitch.

"Did you say something?" she asks me. She must have heard me mumbling.

Apparently I didn't speak loudly.

"I said to fuck off," I say, looking at her. "And then I called you a bitch."

Lorna looks at me for a moment.

I don't know where that hand of hers comes from but it's at an awkward angle and trying to slap me.

I grab it by the wrist and hold it up. She yelps as I lift my body up.

Lorna tries to latch on, but I throw her.

Not hard, mind you, Gorgeous.

I'm a hard fucking man and I've left my enemies in the dust, but I would never touch a fucking woman.

No, I throw her against the sofa where she crouches as she looks at me.

I take one last look at her.

"I think our deal is fucking off," I tell her simply.

I'm not mad.

I'm just removing her from my goddamn life.

"If our deal is off, then your company is mine," Lorna shrieks. I pause and turn to look at her. She has no fucking clue. "I won't stop until Becca ends up just like her father!"

Becca told me all about her Dad and Lorna.

You know how I told you I never hit women?

Well, Gorgeous...just this once I am so fucking tempted.

But it won't do anything.

I'm strong enough to leave.

My mind is a jumble as I hail a cab that takes me downtown.

“Where do you want me to take you exactly, man?” the cabbie asks me and I jump.

I’d been in my own little world. Not even realizing that we’re already in Midtown.

Fuck, I need to get my mind off of this shit.

“Just drop me near 6th Avenue far corner,” I tell the cabbie and he pulls up to the curb. I swipe and get out.

I need to get my mind off of Lorna.

I also need to get it off of Becca. I mean, my brain needs a complete reboot.

So what do I do?

I head into Lace.

It’s a strip club off 35th street, in the shadow of the Empire State Building.

Don’t shake your head, Gorgeous. New York City is filled with strip clubs, massage parlors, peep shows, and brothels.

They’re just sitting right in front of you in plain sight.

Times Square? You got peep shows where you pay a buck per minute to jerk off to the girl in the room fingering herself.

Near Grand Central? $200 an hour gets you a massage with a happy ending from a fucking Eastern European or Asian masseuse.

On the East Side? $300 and up and you can go into apartment buildings and pick the girl and take her for an hour to a room where you can fuck her brains out.

Sure, I’ve done some of it.

But I work on Wall Street. This is the fucking culture.

“Hey Mason, long time,” a stripper says as I enter the dimly lit main stage.

I look at her.

“Destiny?” I ask. She smiles at me.

Right. I forgot to tell you that there have been a host of Kane Price department parties at this place. Destiny and I have had our share of fun in the past.

She’s a good fuck. Just likes her pussy liked and her ass spanked and for me to cum all over her face.

“What you looking for today?” she asks, her hands traveling to her tits. “Fuck me in the Champagne room or you want me to blow you in the VIP?”

I look at her for a second.

That’s when it hits me.

Did I just leave Lorna to come here?

“Just give me a second, alright?” I tell her and go outside again.

Thankfully, the rain has stopped.

I look downtown.

In my old life, I would have been looking either inside to Destiny or uptown to Lorna.

In my old life, I would have no problem fucking Lorna. Hell, I might have even traded in my morals and enjoyed it.

But I’ve changed.

I realize that I’m no longer the same person.

It took me a long time to figure this out, but I realize that I’ve been a complete idiot.

My company is something I built. The whole ‘King of Wall Street’ is something I built for myself.

But it doesn’t mean a damn without the woman I love being by my side.

I need Becca. I love Becca.

But it’s already late. And I don’t want to text her booty call fashion on top of everything she’s been through.

I need to go home and calm down. Then I need to wake up in the morning and work out.

And then, around noon, after she’s had enough time, I need to go make things right with her.

And never look back.


They say yoga is like refreshment to the soul. It’s with that in mind that I put on a tight tank top and squeeze myself inside a pair of yoga pants. I place the rubber mat in the living room, at my feet, and close my eyes. Exercise has always helped me deal with the stress at work, and I just hope it will help me the same when it comes to matters of the heart. Because there’s no other way to put it: right now, my heart is shattered.

After tasting what real love and lust feels like, I truly don’t know how to move on with my life now. Mason is on my mind constantly: I’ve been thinking about him nonstop since I ran out of the Four Seasons last night, and I dreamt of him when last night even as I was asleep. It’s torture, plain and simple, and I have no idea on how to escape from the pain.

I go down on the mat, placing my hands in front of me, and arch my back, taking one deep breath. I start slow, assuming an easy position, but then progress to more complicated ones, pushing both my mind and body to the limit. As time passes and beads of sweat start to form on my skin, I feel my body relaxing - still, the gears inside my head keep on turning and turning, Mason’s smile dancing behind my closed eyelids.

Trying some of the hardest positions, I let my muscles work until they’re exhausted and, only when I can no longer move, do I lay down on the mat. Sprawled on the floor, I look at the ceiling, the pounding of my heart against my eardrums. Locks of hair are plastered to my forehead, glued to my skin by sweat, and I already feel my shirt sticking to my body. Sighing heavily, I sit up and purse my lips, giving up on trying to forget about Mason. Forget about yoga, I need something more drastic.

I go up to my feet and, grabbing my cellphone, I go through the contact list. My heart starts to race, and there’s a little voice in my head, whispering for me to get a hold of myself. I know that I’m about to do something terribly stupid, but I just can’t help myself. Heartbreak is the leading cause for bad decisions, it seems.

Remember Robert? Well, he has been sending me text messages almost every day, even though I never bother to respond. I figured that after our failed date and Mason’s intervention, that he would see the painting on the wall and simply forget about me. Of course, I couldn’t be any more mistaken about that. If anything, it seemed that when Mason entered the scene that Robert’s competitive streak flared up. Now, alone and depressed after a failed yoga session, I’m glad that he hasn’t given up.

When his name pops up on the screen, I double tap it and take a deep breath as my thumb moves across the screen. “Want to have lunch?” I write, my thumb then hovering over the SEND button. Don’t do it, Becca, my rational mind seems to say, but I can’t stop myself - I press the icon on the screen, and the message flies away from my cellphone and into his.

I throw my phone back on top of the table, expecting for him to take a while to respond, but his answer is almost an immediate one: the moment I let go of the phone, it vibrates at once. I pick it up, unlock it, and feel my heart tightening up as I see Robert’s response. “Yes! We can have lunch at your place. I’ll bring wine,” his text says. Fully knowing that I shouldn’t be doing this, I text him back a simple “sure”.

I went from trying to set up a lunch with Robert to now having him come into my house with wine. To say that I’m not thinking straight would be putting it mildly, I know. Sighing, I look down at the clock on my phone and, realizing that Robert will probably be here in a hour or so, I head straight for the bathroom. I get undressed and, hopping into the shower, I step under the hot water and let it wash over me, pushing all my anxiety to the back of my mind. It doesn’t work, of course, but I have no idea on what else I should do. I never really had to deal with heartbreak before and, now that I find myself going through it, I’m at a complete loss. Nobody ever told me that it was this hard.

When I finally get out of the shower, I put on a matching black lace bra and thong, and then squeeze myself into a close fitting dress. The dress is a bit revealing, showing more of my cleavage than what I’m used to, but by now I’m far from thinking straight. Am I actually expecting for something to happen between Robert and I? No, that whisper of rationality seems to say, and I know it’s the truth. I’m not expecting it to happen, and I don’t want it to happen… But the pain in my heart is guiding all of my decisions right now and, as I step out of my room wearing a provocative dress, I’m no longer sure of what I’m doing. I’m working on auto-pilot, and I’ve set it to drive me all the way against the wall. Right now, all I want is to crash and burn - self-loathing at its best, I guess.

I sit down on my couch, waiting for Robert, but I don’t have to wait long. When the clock strikes 12, there’s a knock at my door, and my heart almost explodes at the sound of it. I go up to my feet, straighten the hem of my dress, and put on a fake smile on my lips. God, what the hell am I doing?

Stopping in front of the door, I take one deep breath as I reach for the handle. I wait one long second before turning it and, when I do, I feel my knees shaking. I can’t back down from this now.

When I open the door, I try and put on my best smile as I see Robert. He’s holding a bottle of red wine in his hands, and there’s a truly happy smile on his lips. On his eyes, I can already see hunger and lust holding hands, and I’m not sure that I like it. But, just like I said, it’s too late to back down from this.

“Hey,” I greet him meekly, accepting the bottle as he hands it to me.

“Hey,” he repeats and, without giving me the time to react, leans into me and kisses me on the cheek. Oh, God, this is already going sideways. I bet he expects to fuck me once we empty his bottle of wine.

I know I should try and put a stop to this while there’s still time, but the autopilot is in full throttle. “Come in,” I tell him, stepping to the side and allowing him to get in. I close the door behind me, and anxiety kicks in with all its forces. Crap, what the hell got through my mind for me to invite Robert over? Or, rather, to allow him to invite himself over.

I go up to the kitchen counter and, setting the bottle down, I rummage through the drawers, trying to find the bottle opener. While I do it, Robert leans on the counter, looking at me with that barely contained hunger in his eyes. I don’t mind when men look at me like that but, somehow, he’s giving me the creeps. Maybe it’s because I’ve grown accustomed to having Mason look at me like that… Maybe it’s because I’ll never be with a man again without thinking of Mason. He ruined me for other men, that’s for sure, and I’m not talking about his massive cock - although, I’ll admit, I’m going to miss it for the rest of my life. Hey, don’t judge - you don’t come across a man with a cock that big often in your life. And he also knew how to use it, don’t forget about that.

“What’s for lunch?” He asks me, and I almost slap my forehead with the palm of my hand. Lunch! Fuck, I completely forget about that.

“I, uh, I didn’t have the time to prepare anything. Maybe we should go out?” I try hesitantly. At the same time, I finally find the bottle opener and place it on the counter, next to the bottle. Robert reaches for it with a smile and, grabbing at the bottle, starts to uncork it.

“Don’t worry, Becca. We can order in something… What matters is that we’re here together, isn’t it?” He says, and I notice his eyes wandering down to my cleavage. Suddenly, I feel like a complete idiot for putting on a dress like this. What did I think would happen?

“I… I guess,” I stammer, reaching for two glasses of wine. As I set them on the counter, Robert proceeds to serve the wine. My heart kicks and punches against my chest as the sound of wine hitting glass reaches my ears. When I go for one of the glasses, I realize that my hands are shaking, and I have to take a deep breath. I take one long gulp, hoping that it will steady my nerves. With each passing second, I feel more and more uncomfortable about being along with Robert, and the fact that I was the one setting all this into motion doesn’t really help… I can’t exactly kick him out without looking like a complete bitch.

“What would you like to order in?” He asks me, going around the counter and closing in the distance between me and him. With each step he takes, my heart starts to pound louder, just like an alarm. “Or maybe we can think about that later…” He continues, lowering his voice and brushing two fingers against my cheek. I tremble as I feel his touch and, reacting by instinct, I take one step back, almost spilling the wine all over my dress.

“We can order now,” I blurt out, reaching for my cellphone while my mind goes into overdrive. I try and look for a restaurant that does home deliveries, but I can barely concentrate on what’s on the screen. Robert reaches for my phone and simply plucks it out of my hands, placing it on the counter.

“You’re nervous,” he whispers, smiling at me. “That’s okay. I’m a bit nervous too…” I gulp as he comes up at me and, taking another step back, I hit the fridge with my back. My eyes dart to his crotch, and I notice something bulging underneath his pants. Oh, God, I can’t believe that he’s already hard.

Coming up to me, he presses his body against mine, taking both hands to my face. As I feel his boner on my leg, I immediately react by pushing him back and stepping to the side. My mouth has suddenly grown dry, and I guess I can say the same thing about my pussy.

“Robert… I think you’ve misunderstood me,” I start, looking at him as I try to find the right words. I told him he could come over, I’m wearing a skimpy dress… And now I’m telling him that he has misunderstood my intentions? Well, that’s rich of me. Still, I don’t care - whatever I’m wearing, no man has the right to put a move on me without my consent. That’s right, I might be a lot of things, but I’ll never allow anyone to walk over me. Especially when sex is concerned.

“You’re just scared,” he continues, still walking toward me. The guy is relentless. “But you don’t need to be… I want you, Becca. I’ve dreamed of you every single night since I first saw you.” How do you spell creepy? Oh, right, R-o-b-e-r-t.

As if the universe conspired to save me from his advances, someone knocks on the door. I step out of his reach and walk hurriedly toward the door, turning the handle without bothering to ask who’s on the other side. My heart skips a beat as I see the man in front of me. Yes, I know what you’re thinking… And you’re right.

“Becca…” Mason says my name as he steps inside the apartment. In his clear blue eyes, I can almost see my reflection.

“Mason…” I say, my heart tightening up so much that I no longer know how in the world it continues to beat. He smiles tenderly at me, and then he notices that we’re not alone. He looks at Robert with one arched eyebrow, and I notice his eyes wandering to the bottle of wine on the counter. Finally, he look straight at Robert. His smile vanishes, and he purses his lips; I wish I could have a hole where I could hide right now.

He looks into my eyes, and I give him a weak smile. I’m sorry, I mouth, biting on my lower lip with regret. With a quick nod, I give him my assent to do what needs to be done.

“Get out,” he tells Robert, turning to him with a serious expression on his face. He’s completely relaxed, but I notice his hands balling into fists, almost as if he’s ready to crash them into Robert’s face at a moment’s notice.

“You can’t simply walk in here and --” Without bothering to hear what Robert has to say, Mason walks over to him and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He tells him, and I can almost see Robert shrinking in size. To have someone as imposing as Mason telling you to fuck off has be an intimidating experience. He opens his mouth to speak but, like a fish suffocating on too much oxygen, he simply closes it again. When Mason lets go of him, he straightens the collar of his shirt and, trying to act as dignified as possible - and failing miserably - he walks toward the door.

Before he leaves, he throws me a pissed off look and then simply storms out, slamming the door behind him. I turn to Mason at once, looking as apologetic as possible.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, desperate to know everything about the tender expression he looks at me... Somehow, I already knows what he wants to say, but I need to hear it all the same.

“I was wrong, baby girl. I was so fucking wrong,” he whispers, closing the distance between him and I and placing both his hands on my hips.

"Fuck the world, Becca," he says. "They can fucking take everything from me. My company. My title. My money. But I swear to fucking God they will never take me away from you. Ever again."

Tears stream down my eyes.

"I fucking love you, baby girl," he tells me.

"I love you too, Daddy," I says with a mischievous smile - so happy that I feel drunk.

“And I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes penetrating mine.

“I’m… sorry as well,” I manage to say, biting on my bottom lip as I remember the look on Mason’s eyes as he realized I was all alone with Robert.

“No, that’s my fault for being a fucking idiot,” he whispers, and then leans in to kiss me. The moment our lips touch, everything is right with the world once more. Heartbreak? What does that even mean?

“Promise me,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his, “promise me that you won’t leave ever again.”

“I promise,” he tells me with a smile, and then runs his fingers through my hair. I look into his eyes, my heart beating a tender song of love. When everything seemed lost, the wheel of Karma turned and turned and now here we are… Together. And nothing will ever come between us. I just know it; whatever it is that life throws at us, we won’t allow anything to pull us apart, not anymore.

“I love you, Mason.”

“I love you too, baby girl…”

We kiss again and I place my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart beating under the palm of my hand, and it almost feels like it’s beating at the same rhythm as mine. Guided by more than simple lust—love—I take my fingers to his collar and start unbuttoning his white shirt. My fingers move slowly, but they work at a steady pace. When I finally open all of the buttons, I pull on the fabric of his shirt and untuck it, hooking my fingers on his belt.

“I never wanted anyone as I want you…” I find myself saying, a growing wetness conquering the space between my thighs. If a few weeks ago someone told me that lust could be this wild and uncontrollable, I’d just laugh. But now… Now I’m not laughing, far from it. And I couldn’t be happier to be proven wrong.

“That makes two of us, baby girl…” he says, resting his hands on my shoulders and pulling the straps of the dress down my arms. I let him pull the fabric down my torso, and he only stops when my dress is hanging limply at my waist. With his fingers on my stomach, he runs them up to my breasts and, settling his hands over the cups of my bra, he squeezes gently. I feel my nipples hardening under his touch, and my pussy continues to grow wetter with each passing second.

With a smile, I unbuckle his belt and start to pull his pants’ zipper down, my hands no longer shaking. All the anxiety and fearfulness that I felt only a few minutes ago has already vanished, almost as if I had never felt it in the first place. It’s funny how things can change so fast. In one minute you’re down in a pit, the other you’re flying too close to the sun.

Turning my hand around, I gently place my fingers over his boxer briefs, my skin prickling as I feel his thick shape throbbing against the palm of my hand. And to think that, for a moment, I was almost sure that I would never feel his cock ever again… Curling my fingers around his member, I start moving my hand over his shaft, stroking him softly; at the same time, he pulls the right cup of my bra down, baring my hard nipple.

A gentle moan leaves my lips as he leans in, wrapping his lips around my rosy tip and sucking it into his mouth. Sliding one hand down the side of my body, he places it over my ass and squeezes my cheeks; with his other hand, he goes for the strap of my bra and, with a simple flick of his fingers, unhooks it. My fingers become tighter around his cock as he pulls my bra down, taking it off of my body.

Sighing as desire lulls me into a dreamlike state, I slide my hand under his boxer briefs and grab his cock again, my skin prickling as his warmness spreads to my fingers. I need him so much, God… It’s almost unreal.

With a knot in my throat—one of lust and desire—I let go of his cock and take one step back. Smiling, I turn my back to him and walk to the couch right in the middle of the living room, leading him by the hand. He comes after me willingly and, once I’m close to the couch, he pushes down. I sit up at once and, in one flowing movement, I hook my fingers on his boxers and push them down, sending them with his pants to his knees. His cock springs free at once, slapping the back of my hand, and I grab it almost immediately.

Wasting no time at all, I start to stroke him as I lock eyes with him, and I feel the pull of his cock and I lean in, parting my lips. I rest them against the tip of his length, feeling his salty precum coating the tip of my tongue, and let his glans slide inside of my mouth. There’s a barely audible groan of pleasure, and then he places his hands on my head, but he doesn’t force me to go down; instead, I’m the one taking the lead and doing it.

Opening my mouth as wide as I can, I start to push my mouth down his shaft and I only stop when all of his twelve inches are comfortably nestled inside of me. I don’t even know how to describe the way he completely fills my mouth… It presses down on my tongue, and it pushes the inside of my cheeks to the sides and, when it touches the back of my throat… God, it just makes me burn up like a virgin girl savoring a cock for the first time.

Even though there’s a whirlwind of lust inside of me, I keep myself poised and serene; I roll my lips back the way they came, and then I go down again. I repeat the motion over and over again, allowing the pace of my mouth on his cock to grow naturally. With his fingers tangled in my hair, he allows me to dictate the tempo and simply surrenders to the sway of my head as I suck on him.

Using both hands, and all this without taking my mouth out of his cock, I tug on his shirt and send it flying down his arms. It falls to the floor at his feet, and then I let my hands go down to his ass. Digging my fingers into his ass cheeks, I pull him into me, and he starts to rock his hips gently, instinct blanketing us both. As he does it, I finally stop moving my head and let him thrust, his cock sliding in and out of me at a perfect pace. I close my eyes, my insides clenching as he fucks my mouth, and I become so wet that I feel my fluids dripping down my thighs and drenching both my thong and dress. I need him between my legs, and I need it now.

I let go of his ass and, moving back, I allow his cock to pop out of my mouth with a wet sound. Reading what’s on my mind, he takes off his shoes and kicks off both his pants and underwear, his naked body towering over me. He leans into me and, grabbing at my dress, he pulls it down my legs as I lift my ass up from the couch.

“I need to taste you first,” he whispers, his lips moving in a seductive way as he speaks. Oh, I’m the one who needs him to taste him… I need to feel his full lips on my pussy as much as I need to breathe right now. As he goes down to his knees, I spread my legs wide and allow him to place his head right between my thighs. I shiver as he starts kissing my naked skin, brushing his lips against my inner thighs and moving them close to my groins; with his tongue, he traces the contour of my thong and then, finally, he bites down on the fabric. As he pulls with his teeth, I lift my legs up in the air and press them together, allowing him to peel the thong off of me. Completely naked now, I reach for his head and grab at his hair, guiding him right to where I need him to be. He comes willingly, parting his lips with his tongue and going straight for my clit.

When the wet tip of his tongue touches me, that old familiar electrical thunderstorm starts to roil inside of me. I can already feel the energy pooling in my muscles and, allowing my body to act as if it has a mind of its own, I place both my legs over his shoulders and cross him on his back. Urging him to devour me, I pull him into me with both my hands and my legs; with what sounds like a growl, he finally succumbs to desire and opens his mouth wide. As he sucks on my folds, my fluids going into his mouth, I throw my head back against the couch and sigh heavily, my nipples feeling as hard as they have ever been in my entire life.

“So good… I love the way you do it…” I purr as I let go of his hair and take my hands to my breasts, squeezing them as Mason runs his tongue up and down the length of my pussy. Each time his tongue reaches my clit, he circles it twice and then goes back down my folds, the pleasure that rages through me growing in fury each time he does it.

Finally focusing solely on my clit, he wraps his lips around it and starts to press down with his tongue; he works me with his mouth until I can’t take it anymore, and he knows it. My hands go back to his head and I start to pull at his hair fiercely, my arms moving with erratic movements. In a fraction of a second, my whole body tenses up and then relaxes, one violent spasm washing over me. Throwing my head back, I moan loudly, my voice filling the whole living room as Mason keeps on licking and sucking.

“Oh, God… This is so… So… FUCK!” I cry out as, without allowing me any time to rest, he places two fingers against my pussy. Without taking his mouth off of my clit, he pushes them past my pussy lips and curls them upward until they meet my G-spot. Rubbing me there, he doesn’t allow the orgasm raging inside of me to subside, instead making it grow and grow. Before I even know what’s happening, my spasms turn into full-blown convulsions, and my moans become screams of pure delight.

I pull him into me as hard as I can, thrusting against his face and rubbing my wetness against his mouth. I do it until pleasure starts to subside, and only then do I take my legs out from his shoulders. Leaning against the couch, I throw my head back and take one deep breath, my lungs working overtime to get the air in. Christ, this is almost too much for me to take…

Unable to open my eyes, I still feel Mason moving; placing his hands on my knees, he forces me to spread my legs and then places his body between my thighs. Blindly, I reach for his cock and curl my fingers around it, angling it down and pointing it home. As he presses his body against mine, my tits squeezed tight against his chest, I can’t help but moan again as I feel his thick glans pressing against my pussy lips.

Inch by slow inch, he feeds his cock into me, and my eyes start to roll in their orbits as my inner walls struggle to accommodate his thickness. Still, he slides all of his cock inside of me, its tip pressed tight against that maddening spot inside of me, and then he starts to thrust.

With both his hands on my knees, he bends my legs and supports himself as he rocks his hips, his shaft flying in and out of my pussy at a growing pace. When I finally manage to open my eyes, I look at him and grin, lust crawling under my skin. And it’s not only lust—it’s love, lust, and happiness. It’s all of that and then some more.

“Harder, Mason… Harder…” I beg him and, without wasting any time, he does exactly as I asked, pistoning into me with the fury of a god. His shaft pulses against my insides and, as it moves in and out, it stretches me in such a way that I just know I won’t be able to sit comfortably for the next few days. And it’ll be totally worth it.

“I want to fuck you like this… Every day, for the rest of my life,” he whispers as he fucks me, and then starts kissing my neck. Pulling at my skin with his teeth, he bites my neck gently, the pain turning into pleasure as it reaches my brain.

“Every day… For the rest…. Of my life…” I repeat between breaths, my pussy clenching around his shaft like a vice. With a moan loud and shrill enough to shatter glass, I come again, electric spasms making my muscles twitch in a never-ending sequence. All rational thoughts scatter inside my mind as a violent orgasm takes over, leaving only pleasure and lust floating inside my head.

Pulling his cock out of me, Mason goes up to his feet and I look up at him. I turn on the couch, ready to go on all fours, but first I dive into him; I part my lips and allow his shaft to slide deep into my mouth, and I taste my own pussy on his cock.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” he asks me, looking at me with a wicked grin on his lips. I try and smile back, but that’s impossible to do when you have a cock as thick as this stretching your mouth wide. When his cock finally pops out of my mouth, I finally go on all fours and start to sway my ass from side to side.

“Hard. As hard as you can… As rough as you can…” I pant as Mason places both his hands on my ass cheeks, squeezing them eagerly. “I want you to use me…” I continue, my eyelids drooping as he presses the tip of his cock against my drenched pussy. He rubs it against my inner lips but, when I try and thrust back, wanting to impale myself on his cock, he moves back.

I look over my shoulder at him just in time to see him raising his hand; it comes down harshly, and he smacks my ass hard enough to leave a mark for days. I grit my teeth and hiss, the painful sting of his hand racing to my brain. He does it again, this time even harder, and I can’t help but moan. I can almost imagine the red mark of his fingers delineated on my ass cheeks, and it just drives me completely crazy.

“Fuck me, fuck me now…” I cry out, thrusting back at him once more. Grabbing my hips again, he starts to rub his glans up and down my pussy and then, with no warning whatsoever, he finally thrusts.

The moment I feel his shaft sliding inside of me, my hands dart immediately to my pussy. As Mason starts to rock his hips, slapping my cheeks with his thighs, I start to rub my clit with two fingers. My eyes are closed and, still, bright lights are dancing in my eyes. Pleasure is raging through me like a wild river, and I can’t even think straight right now. All I know is that I need to reach the summit of ecstasy, and surrender myself to the onslaught of pleasure I’ll find there.

“So… fucking… tight,” he says, getting one word out with each of his thrusts. Grinning wildly, I clench my insides and make my pussy tighten up around his shaft. He groans, his fingers digging into my hips, and starts to ram his cock even harder at me. Tightening up as I am, it almost hurts to have all of his length sliding in and out of me, but I don’t give up. No way. I keep pressuring his shaft as I rub my clit feverishly, and I only take my hand off of my pussy when the pressure inside of me becomes too much to bear.

Grabbing the edge of the couch with both of my hands, my fingers curled so tight that my knuckles turn white, I thrust back against Mason and I explode. Pleasure’s dam bursts at once, and I’m flooded by a sensation so wild and sweet that I feel my consciousness fading away. Right now, I have no sense of self; I don’t know who I am, and I couldn’t care less.

I’ve never been a religious girl, but what I’m feeling right now is proof enough that there’s a God. The pleasure that courses through me is so intense that it borders the mystical. This goes way beyond the physical realm. It’s transcendence. Enlightenment. Nirvana. I don’t care what you call it, but it’s beautiful.

Almost unconscious, I finally collapse on the couch, sitting and leaning back against the leather. Towering over me, Mason remains right where he is. I open my eyes and, too exhausted to lift even a finger, I grin at him.

“I want you to stroke yourself… I want you do it while looking at me and then… I want you to cover me with your cum,” I tell him, honey and wine in my voice. As if my words were a command, he grabs his cock at once and, losing no time, he starts to flick his wrist at a maddening speed. I look at his cock in a trance, my glazed eyes hypnotized by the movement of his hand.

“Fuck,” he groans, and his muscles tense up at once. I look at his chest, biting on my lower lip as I see his muscles bulging, his abs a perfect wall of lust. And then he starts to cum.

A long strand of cum shoots from the tip of his cock and hits me straight in the face. I grin as I feel the warmness of it against my face and I open my mouth, taking the next strand over my tongue. It doesn’t take long for my mouth to be brimming with his seed.

“That’s it… Come for me…” I moan, semen cascading out of my mouth as I speak. He keeps on stroking as he cums, a river of his seed covering my face, neck, and tits. While his cock gives out its final spasms against his fingers, I grin wildly and, grabbing my own tits, start to smear his juices over my naked body. I take my hands down to my stomach, pushing the cum there, and then I go further down to my pussy. Trembling, I feel thick strands of his gooey warmness dripping down my folds; I look up at Mason and bite on my bottom lip. There’s no need for words; he goes down to his knees and, moving like a predator, he lunges at me.

Wrapping his lips around my inner lips, he starts to suck on my pussy; then, when he has already licked me dry, he moves his tongue up my stomach and toward my tits, scooping his own cum in the process. Moving his mouth between my breasts, he only stops when his lips find my own.

I place both my hands on his face and kiss him, our tongues dancing around one another as we swap his cum. I’ve never exactly been a saint or a prude, but I’ve never been this wicked… But with Mason, it just seems right. When I’m with him, everything seems right.

“I love you so fucking much, baby girl” he whispers, a tender smile on his lips. His words are genuine and, just hearing him, I become as sure as I have ever been that nothing will ever again come between us. Whatever we have to do to make it work, I know we’ll do it. Whatever the cost.

“I love you too… You’re my everything.” I smile and lean back against the couch, pulling Mason close to me. He sits by my side and, as I throw my head back, I simply close my eyes and hold his hand in mine.

This is perfection.

This is happiness.


I wake up as the rays of sun start to hit my eyes.

I look over and smile.

She's fucking beautiful. But right now, she's just a head with blonde hair peeking out from underneath the blankets.

Jesus Christ we did some crazy shit last night.

You remember I told you to take your fucking panties off? That they'd get wet?

I hope you listened to me.

No, I'm not going to check for you. Listen, after everything that went on with Lorna, the most I'm going to do is roll over like I'm doing now and run my hand over Becca's tight, smooth, squeezable ass.

Fuck, her ass feels good. And I can tell that even in her sleep she's fucking enjoying it.

She moans slightly. I'm probably giving baby girl a wet dream right now.

Her body twitches ever so slightly and I pull myself closer to her.

I'm a fucking animal. I'm guided by just one thought and desire right now. And that's to bring my naked body as close to hers as possible. To rub my cock against her. To please myself using her. Lust is guiding my thoughts. Carnal fury is starting to simmer in my brain.

My cock starts to press against Becca's ass cheeks underneath the blanket and I pull my teeth back in a silent snarl.

This girl does all sorts of fucked up things to me. I mean it. Look at me.

Twenty-four hours ago I was the King of Wall Street. On top of a globe-girdling multinational corporation.

Sure, technically I still am. But I know what's coming. I know where this is heading.

I made my choice last night. And I chose Becca over Kane Price.

Do I regret it at all in the morning?

Absolutely not. I'll never regret the decision I made.

So what? The Board of Directors fires me? Is that what you're worried about, Gorgeous?

Well, guess what?

I got enough fucking money that neither of us has to work ever again.

Sure, I want to work. I want to be top dog. I want to be the fucking best at what I do.

But it's not worth losing the girl I love over.

The girl right now whose body is responding to my cock as it nestles inside her ass cheeks.

She's grinding her hips against me in slow, circular movements.

I feel the nerves on my tip start to burn. Her skin is so fucking soft and her flesh is so pliant that I could cum all over her ass right now if I kept on doing this long enough.

Thinking about her ass guides my hands down to her cheeks and I squeeze.

Becca slowly wakes up, coming to life. She turns her head back slightly and realizes the position she's in. She knows what's happening and without a word, she pushes back on me with greater precision.

I run a finger over her lips.

They're puffy and swollen with desire. She wants this just as bad as I do.

Last night she was like a monster. She couldn't get enough.

Becca grunts, and in a moment she's adjusted herself. We're not spooning anymore. She's turned over on her stomach. She sticks her ass up in the air, inviting me.

I don't need to be asked twice.

Just because I love her doesn't mean that I won't fuck her like a whore right now.

I get on my knees and position my thick 12-inch cock over her slit.

She feels the head part open her lips.

"Fuck," she whimpers as my head stretches open her canal.

"That's good, baby girl," I whisper and in one smooth motion I'm inside her.

All fucking 12 inches.

"Oh my God," Becca moans as I piston my cock inside and out of her slowly.

I can afford to go slow.

"I love it when you fuck me," she moans into her pillow.

I continue to fuck her.

"What did I tell you to call me?" I ask her.

My cock is scraping against her walls, making her spasm involuntarily.

"Daddy," she whimpers. "I love it when you fuck me, Daddy," she says.

"That's a good girl," I say softly into her neck.

My nose brushes against the small of her neck and I kiss her. I can smell her hair. It smells like roses. "Fuck, you're so sweet and innocent," I say to her.

I can feel rather than see her smile into her pillow and she wiggles her ass a bit more.

"But I'll be your whore, Daddy," she moans as my cock continues to stimulate her nerve clusters.

"I've made you my fucking nympho," I grunt.

"I love it, Daddy," she says with a drawl that I can tell is caused from the pleasure of my cock.

I want her to be as dirty as she wants with me. To do the nastiest things with. Things that we'll never tell anyone else. But keep secret between us.

I'll tell her every single fucking fantasy I have. And I'll make hers come true.

She begins to push her ass up at me, meeting my thrusts.

Fuck, I can't keep this going much longer if she does it. I thought I was satisfied from yesterday. But it's like she's my fucking drug.

I mean, look at it. I've given up everything to be with her.

And I'd do it all over again.

Becca turns her head as much as she can to look at me. She can only manage from the side of her vision but her eyes are clouded with lust.

"You're not supposed to do this to your baby girl," she says with a lascivious smile. "I want you to cum inside of me."

"Fuck, if you keep talking like that, I'll cum right now," I manage to say despite the fact that my nuts are starting to twist and my heart is beating rapidly.

"Cum inside me now, Daddy," she moans as her eyes roll back into her head. I feel her body tremble and shake and her pussy walls grasp onto my cock and start squeezing it.

Fuck, I'm being milked. And I can't take it anymore.

I explode with the power of my seed, shooting deep inside of her.

My vision blurs and I can't stop.

Pleasure courses from the tip of my cock through my body as I keep pistoning in and out of Becca and she keeps meeting my thrusts with movement of her own.

She can't stop either. Our muscles have begun to work involuntarily.

The pleasure turns to shuddering. I've cum almost a quart of fucking cum into her and my nerves are raw. A few final strokes send shudders down my spine and I stop.

Becca is sprawled on the bed again, breathing heavily.

I pull out of her and join her.

Immediately, my seed spills out of her. It's overflowing like a dam.

I came so much. It's a wonder that she doesn't get...

"Mason," Becca says, turning to me and cuddling against my chest. "I have something to tell you that I was going to tell you last night...before everything happened."

I look at her. She can tell me anything she wants.

"I'm here for you, baby girl," I tell her.

She looks me in the eyes. Those wide, beautiful doe-eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she says simply. I can tell her eyes are intently searching my face to see what my reaction is going to be.

I mean, fuck, think about why she'd be worried, okay?

Technically, I'm still fucking married to her mother, right? Can you imagine the headlines? King of Wall Street Impregnates Stepdaughter?

But fuck the world.

She may be worried, but I'm stunned.

With fucking happiness.

I grab hold of her and without saying anything pull her close to me and kiss her. Hard.

"We're pregnant?" I ask. "We're fucking pregnant?"

"Well, I am," she says, rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at me.

"Fucking brat," I say smiling.

"Your wicked lil' brat, Daddy," she says, bringing our bedroom play out into the sunshine. "Always yours. Are you upset?"

Why the fuck would I be upset? I hold her close to me and show her how not upset I am.

"With everything you're going through right now, I didn't know," she says in between kisses.

Here is where I pull back.

"We're going to be okay," I tell her.

She nods thoughtfully, both of our minds all of a sudden drifting off to work.

"If only there was a way to show that Mom knows that Red Lion Aviation is a shady company..." Becca trails off.

But I've already been thinking about this. Sure, I may have looked like I gave up and chose Becca last night.

But you know I'm Mason fucking Kane. King of fucking Wall Street. I don't give up that fucking easily, Gorgeous.

"What were you coming to tell me the other day at dinner?" I ask Becca softly. "Was it just to tell me about the baby?"

Becca shakes her head. "I had more research I had done," she says. "I think it could help if we looked into it."

That's what I thought. Baby girl is thorough and meticulous.

"Email me that research," I tell her. "If it's like the last thing you found, I think we can begin to start connecting the dots."

She nods thoughtfully. "You mean from the employee records?"

I nod to her.

You remember what I'm talking about, Gorgeous? Remember Becca found something on the employee records that Red Lion Aviation had to file with the government and showed me?

I hadn't told you what that was yet right?

Well, don't worry. You'll find out soon enough.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Becca asks me, her eyes wide. “You know, with the way you left Mom?”

I shrug. “Lorna is most likely going to get her people to call a Non Confidence vote from the Board to throw me out,” I say calmly. “Say that with not investing in Red Lion and my outside antics I’m not fit to lead the firm.”

She looks at me and I can see her beginning to wonder if this is because of her.

“I have some tricks up my sleeve though, just in case,” I tell her. “Just get me the data, and if there’s a Board Meeting, make sure you make sure to be there.”

“Where will you be?” she asks me.

“I might be out finding the smoking gun,” I reply. Then I give her a grin. “I mean, if all else goes badly, I might just pull a Sawyer and leave New York and go to the fucking mountains.”

Becca looks at me. “Sawyer?” she asks me.

“The Woodsman?” I ask her back. She looks at me blankly.

“Go read Eddie Cleveland, baby girl,” I tell her. “He’s an author and a friend of mine. Good shit.”

Becca has just lifted her head off my chest and is looking at me. I can tell the time for serious talk is over.

"But before I do anything, Mason Kane," she says with a mischievous smile. "I'm simply not going to let another minute pass without me getting a chance to suck that big, beautiful cock of yours."

Yeah, Gorgeous, I don't think I'm going to be talking for a while. But I fucking promise. If what Becca found is important enough, you'll be the first to know.

Becca's head approaches my chest and she starts to kiss her way down.

I feel her body scraping against mine as she lowers herself.

Fuck, it's going to be a good morning.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

Breaking news today that has all of Wall Street talking.

Allegations surfaced today of sexual impropriety on the part of Mason Kane, the beleaguered CEO of the embattled investment bank Kane Price. Amidst the allegations, the Board of Directors of Kane Price formally declared to hold a vote of No Confidence in Mason Kane, the founder and CEO of Kane Price.

Kane Price shares tumbled in intraday trading, dropping as low as 30% before finishing the day lower 25%. Prices of a single share of Kane Price were at their 52-week low of the year.

The No Confidence vote came on the heels, and many believe, spurred by a statement from Mr. Kane's current wife. The statement released by Lorna Lowell, the activist shareholder with the largest position in Kane Price after Mr. Kane himself. In the statement that was released to the media as well as posted on her own official site as well as that of her law firm, the recently married wife of the CEO states that she will be seeking an annulment from their marriage, and barring that, a divorce.

In the statement, she states unequivocally that Mason Kane expressed an unhealthy interest in her daughter, Rebecca Lowell. She asserts that on numerous occasions she had caught both Mr. Kane and her daughter in sexually compromising positions that violated the sanctity of her marriage vows.

Ms. Lowell further goes on to state that she plans to bring about conclusive proof in divorce court should she be required to that these overtures by Mr. Kane were the result of his "bare knuckles" approach to dealing with her when the two disagreed on investment matters for the Firm. Ms. Lowell was made Chief Investment Counsel to the CEO less than three months ago. Almost immediately, the two began to clash on controversial investments and the future of Kane Price.

Numerous insiders describe the situation inside Kane Price as two armed camps that are facing off against each other, with one side siding with Lorna Lowell and the investment direction she proposes, and the other sticking with Mr. Kane and the tried and true formula that he believes in.

Mr. Kane has faced troubles before. Earlier in the year he was at the heart of a scandal after being filmed in a compromising sexual position with a television anchor, Stacy Sawyer. The video culminated with his ejaculation on live television.

Investors and clients are naturally spooked by the turbulence at Kane Price and sources tell us that an outflow of money has already begun that will most likely get worse if the Board decides to remove Mr. Kane in it's No Confidence meeting scheduled four days from now.

At this time, the only person who seems to be calm is Mason Kane himself. Reporters sought to gauge his pulse as he headed out of his One57 condo, but the CEO stated that he had no comment to give. Mr. Kane was last seen heading toward Peterborough Airport and many find it odd that he would leave New York City at a time like this rather than prepare for the meeting that will decide his fate as CEO.

As the eyes of Wall Street focus on Kane Price, stay tuned to MarketWatch Journal for all your updates.


Four days ago, the no confidence vote was announced, and Mason left me to go to his apartment and then go to the airport.

Halfway to his apartment, I remember him calling me.

"Can you email me everything you have?" he asked. I rolled my eyes as he qualified that statement with a, "I love you but I'm just reminding you because I'm going to be going away for a little bit."

I would have asked where but I knew there was no point.

There was something that I had found in the Red Lion research that had tickled Mason and he was off to go see what it was.

"Don't worry, baby girl," he told me over the phone before he hung up. "I'm pretty sure after I'm back no one will fuck with us ever again."

I tried to keep a brave voice.

"I also can't accept your resignation," Mason had said. I knew this was coming. "I need you close to me for whatever goes down. Trust me."

Well, hun, I'm really trying to trust him here and have faith in him because when he said that four days ago I never thought for a moment that I'd be outside the Board Room four days later watching as each of the Board Members began to sit down and wait on Mason.

I mean, four days ago I had marched to my floor drenched to the bone and written a resignation letter.

Let's not even get into the look of puzzlement on my direct manager's face when Mason replied back to the email I had copied him on saying, "No fucking way."

I mean, you're talking about a middle manager here in his 50s with a bit of a paunch. He sees the brash bad boy CEO commenting and replying back to an email to the 21-year-old intern.

"I don't want to get in the middle of anything," he had told me. "I have five years before I make enough money to retire and I don't wanna know anything."

Well, that left me pretty much free for the next four days, trying my best to organize as much of what I could find for when Mason came back.

Only now, I'm waiting in the conference room, and he's not back.

Technically the meeting is supposed to start at 12 pm. But it's already 12:03 pm.

The Kane Price boardroom is literally something else.

A dark mahogany conference table dominates the room. The room itself has priceless art hanging from two walls. The other wall is all glass, with panoramic views of New York City. And the farther wall is mounted with two-way video screens to allow for people to remotely dial in via videophone. A second flat panel television is on mute right next to the video screen with a constant update on Market Pulse. The reasoning behind the television is that if there is anything where minute-to-minute updates are needed, the Board will have an easy way of keeping abreast of the news.

I'm hovering outside the conference room, but in truth I have no reason to be here.

I mean, think about it. I'm a 21-year-old intern in the Private Equity Group. What possible reason could I have to be in a group of people who have a minimum individual net worth that starts in the eight figures?

None. Except that I'm worried.

The man I love is going to be attacked by these people today. Roy Purpus has called for a meeting that seeks to have this group of people vote against Mason as CEO. I can understand how that would be good for Mom, but I can't understand why Roy would fall for everything that's going on in the news. There's no way he can be viewing Red Lion as a viable investment alternative to everything else Kane Price has right now, can he?

I walk in nonchalantly, as if I have every reason for being there, and sit down on one of the sofa-benches built into the wall. The spaces are usually occupied by Vice Presidents and Directors who provide support documents to members of the Board as well as administrative assistants who fetch papers, water, food, and any manner of sundries. I think I can blend in here. No one upstairs on the 18th floor is going to miss me. In truth, work has sort of ground to a halt today as the eyes of the Firm, and the entirety of Wall Street wait to see what will happen.

There are a bunch of things that I can tell you about how important today is.

No Firm in the history of Wall Street has ever kicked out their CEO.

No Firm in the history of Wall Street has ever been ripped apart like ours is being now based on a power struggle between a husband and wife.

No CEO has ever been in this much of the public spotlight as what the media calls the "Bad Boy of Wall Street." They used to call him the "King of Wall Street" but I think Mom pretty much came and ruined that.

But then again, she seems to ruin everything.

I sit and try to blend in as Roy Purpus strides into the room.

He's a corpulent man, at least 400 pounds and he's known to begin sweating at the slightest of efforts. He's got a thick Texas twang and at least five chins and I can see that he's the exact opposite of Mason in every way.

Sorry if I'm a bit biased, hun. I mean, he's the one that called the No Confidence Board Meeting. I just don't understand why. From everything I've researched he's always been rather indifferent to the investment direction of the Firm. In fact, as long as he'd had his payday he hasn't really cared where the money has come from or the ethical implications. But he's never been one to be an activist.

"What are you doing here, girl?" a voice bites out at me from my side, immediately snapping me out of my reverie and jarring me back to reality.

Standing in a rather tight black pencil skirt and black blouse stands the woman that I had been raised to think was my mother. Lorna Lowell.

At first I don't know what to say, so I remain silent.

"Well, girl," she sneers at me. "You're lucky you even have a job to come back to. Don't push it by sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Right, I've pretty much had enough of her.

I stand up, and I can tell there are a few eyes on me.

"You know what, Mother," I say to her trying not to raise my voice. "I think I will stay here. Someone has to keep you honest."

"Don't test me, Becca," my mother says to me. "I've ruined and brought down greater men than you can imagine. Your little boyfriend is nothing. You think you'll be saving him?"

I can feel rather than see more eyes staring at me.

"Lorna," Roy Purpus says from the side as he approaches. "Is everything okay?"

Mother turns her head and looks at Roy with a scathing glare. "Go and sit down, Roy," she commands sharply and I jerk back in surprise at her tone. After Mason and then her, he's probably the next most powerful Board Member at Kane Price. He's a Senior Managing Director and he's been with the Firm forever. But what's even more surprising is that he listens to what Mother says, even meekly accepts her public rebuke of him.

"We'll start the meeting as soon as I deal with my wayward daughter," Mother says, more to the room than to anyone in particular.

But why is she giving orders?

I need to stop this. Whether or not Mason Kane is here, someone needs to speak up.

"Mr. Purpus, before you sit down and let my mother take over this meeting since Mason isn't here, there are a few things you need to know about what I found out about Red Lion Aviation," I say out loud to Roy, raising my voice. He turns around and looks at me, as if noticing me for the first time.

I gulp. That did it.

The entire room is now looking at me.

But this is my chance.

"I've done some research into Red Lion Aviation," I begin, my heart starting to beat a mile a minute.

I mean, I'm 21 years old. I'm not supposed to be addressing the Board of Directors of one of the most powerful investment banks in the world.

But here I am.

God, sometimes I hate Mason for stranding me here like this.

"And?" Roy asks.

I notice Mom smile and walk to the head of the table.

A few people eye her warily as she sits down at the head of the table where Mason would be sitting.

I need to get what I have off my chest as quickly as possible.

"We all know the reasons why we're either for or against taking a majority-minority stake in their company," I say. "We think they could grow, but they've got a horrible safety record."

"That's not news," a Board Member that I can't identify says from somewhere in the room.

They're already losing patience with me.

They think I'm a petulant little girl.

They're not going to take me seriously.

But no one else is standing up to her.

I need to continue.

"After their last accident off the coast of Bali, I noticed something about their routes," I begin, reaching to the sofa-bench and pulling up my file that I had brought with me. "The number of passengers and routes began to decrease."

"So?" a Board Member—again unidentifiable—asks me.

"So, they began posting higher and higher profits," I say to the room. "Even as independent industry ratings agencies began to note fewer and fewer passengers."

The room is silent at this point.

"In fact, for an entire month at the beginning of this year, they had almost two weeks of planes that were running empty. Yet that was their most profitable month ever," I tell the room. "Don't you see? Something very strange is going on here. Something that probably violates the Anti-Money Laundering Act as well as the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act as well as a host of other US laws that could shut us down!"

"Stop being so dramatic, little girl," Mother says dismissively from her seat.

I turn to her.

"You don't care anything for this company," I seethe at her.

"Lorna, it may be something we wish to investigate," another Board Member who I remember being sympathetic to Mason says.

"We will do no such thing based on the lunatic ravings of a little girl," Mother says out loud before looking at me. "Especially the rantings of a girl who has seduced my husband and your CEO and is now acting out like a spoiled and wicked little brat."

There are gasps from around the room. Of course people have read the papers, but having to confront what they read with someone standing right in front of them is jarring.

I stiffen my back and look at my Mother.

"You're overthinking what is merely a diversion for Mason, dear," Mother says to me. "You're nothing more than a plaything for him until he gets bored. Only this time, he's gone too far and allowed the company to suffer."

"Mr. Purpus," I beseech the large man as he turns away from me. "You have to do something to delay the vote until Mason can be here to explain himself and tell you about his concerns about this company in person."

Roy looks at me for a long moment. I can see pain and sadness in his eyes.

"I wish I could," he says, shaking his head at me. Then he turns to Mom. "I think we can get started."

I can't believe it!

They're going to remove Mason from his own company.

And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Tears begin to fall from my eyes as I see the world start to go dark. I wonder if I'm going to faint.

"I would like to say a few words before you guys get started," Mason says.



No, you read that right.

That was Mason.

Only he hasn't walked in.

People are gasping and pointing to the television.

He's sitting there next to the anchor on Market Pulse.

"Hi, everyone," he says with a smirk; the same smirk he's used on me many times. I can see his eyes shift slightly. "Hey Becca."

He can't see me, but somehow my cheeks turn red at being recognized by him.

But wait a second.

He's on TV.

He can't see me. Right?

Did he just say 'Hey Becca?'

You're not supposed to be able to see two ways through a television, right?

Apparently a lot of people are wondering the same thing too because they're talking amongst themselves and pointing.

Mason smiles as if he's amused through all this.

"In the future, you may want to turn on the television for the two-way video screen and not just leave the camera running, folks," he says on live TV. "Because right now I can see and hear the whole thing logged in from my computer. I've been there for quite a while now. And Becca was right. Do I have quite a story to tell you."

All of a sudden, Mother notices something.

And she turns very, very white.


Actually, thinking about it right now, this is probably the highest ratings that Market Pulse is getting today.

The last time they probably had ratings this good was the last time I was on their show. Jesus, it feels so long ago that I was fucking Stacy Sawyer and I fucking shot my load all over the camera lens.

I know, I'm shaking my head as well, Gorgeous. I can't believe I did that.

The truth is, I was lost at that time.

Sure, I called myself the Bad Boy of Wall Street or the King of Wall Street, but all I really was doing was just fooling myself into thinking that I wasn't a lost little boy.

I mean, every other word out of my mouth was "fuck."

That's still the case a lot. Old habits die hard.

But fuck, think about what I used to do and compare it to now.

To my life...after Becca.

Until I met Becca I didn't have any boundaries. But it took almost losing her for me to see what my priorities should be.

That's why, when we realized that we were looking at an impending vote of no confidence from the Board, I got Becca to give me everything she had dug up so far and I made a few educated guesses.

Yeah, I had to leave town for a few days. There were a few hunches I needed to follow up on.

And yeah, I know I could've told Becca where I was going. But, also remember Gorgeous, we're at war. And sometimes in war you have to hold your cards close to your fucking vest.

So it actually made me smile as I saw the chips falling down just as I had expected.

I knew Becca would come to the conference room after not seeing me. It's been a hard few days not being around her, but just seeing her through the video screen was enough to keep me going.

Plus, once this is over, we'll have all the time we fucking need.

Yeah, this is pretty much over. I've got this in the bag. I'm pretty convinced. You can rest easily.

And listen, I know you've been in the dark for a bit. I've had information that you've wanted to know about and I kept telling you that I would tell you later. Well, later never came and things started coming up so I'm going to do one better.

I'm going to show you.

I smile and talk into the camera. I'm being broadcast to over 180 million homes around the country.

Why not take Lorna out in one fell swoop in front of the whole country?

Little payback for the long string of leaks and planted stories she's been doing to me the last couple months as she tries to sit in the big chair at Kane Price.

"Good afternoon, America, my name is Mason Kane and I'm the CEO of Kane Price," I say, controlling my words so as not to come across too aggressive to the people who may not know that Lorna deserves it.

When I approached the network the other day to come on Market Pulse, at first they were a bit skeptical. I mean, I came on the camera lens, remember? You can't just wipe that shit down with a damp cloth when trying to clean the lens. No, you gotta throw out the whole fucking camera is what you gotta do.

But when they saw the information that I had found, and saw that I was ready to share it, they were more than willing to help me.

After all, they were affected by this too.

They just didn't realize it.

"Many of you know me from my unfortunate event that I was involved in with a Market Pulse reporter several weeks ago," I say into the camera, trying to keep a straight face. "Caught in the moment during a sexual encounter, I may have unloaded more than I meant to during the interview. And from your perspective it may have looked like I came...on your faces."

Fuck, I forgot to tell you. One of the stipulations that I had to agree to with the network was that any fines and the like if I didn't manage to come out beating Lorna would be borne by me. I agreed. I mean, if I'm unsuccessful then it's not like Lorna will spare either of us.

"A lot happened in my life since then," I continue, thinking back to how I met Becca and the crazy fucking ride that the both of us have been on. "But my actions on this network kept coming back to haunt me."

I sigh, and lean forward. "Look, I know what they say when they see shit like that. I know they think that I'm a loose cannon. How can you trust someone like that who calls himself the King of Wall Street to manage trillions of dollars of other people's money?"

I can almost imagine America nodding its collective head.

"And yeah, I may have tried to compensate for it by compromising a bit," I say. "When Ms. Lowell showed me the reports of clients getting jittery, instead of doing the hard work and apologizing to the nation, I made her the Chief Investment Counsel at Kane Price and married her. Thought it would repair my image."

The studio is silent. "But it didn't. The demons kept coming back from that interview and they set off a chain of events that led me here, where I am one Board Meeting away from being removed as the CEO of the company that I founded."

I can see the video screen of the Kane Price conference room. Everyone is watching the television. Those fucking idiots still haven't figured out how exactly to turn on the video call monitor screen that's hanging on the room. So I can still see them because the camera is turned on, but the viewing screen being turned off means they can't see me.

"You've heard a lot about Red Lion Aviation," I say with a sigh. "You've heard that I don't think it's a viable company to invest in and this has called my judgment to lead the company into question. In fact I'm facing a No Confidence vote right now."

The people in the conference room are still. They're enraptured. Lorna looks like she might faint.

"Well, one of the interns at Kane Price did a little digging on Red Lion Aviation and they sent it to me," I say, pulling open the file.

Here's where I get to tell you everything, Gorgeous.

"Oh, and the intern that did this? Her name is Becca Lowell, and I love her," I say to the camera.

"Now I just heard a few gasps. I know what you're thinking. He's in love with his stepdaughter. His investment sense is skewed. He was caught fucking a reporter. His judgment is terrible," I say with a smile. "But let's really look at the facts, shall we?"

Now I turn my head slightly so it looks like I'm looking directly at the camera.

"To my Board of Directors," I say with declarative strength in my voice. "Becca is absolutely right. Red Lion Aviation flies planes nowadays, but they're only flying one to two flights per day. And they're all empty. Their profits are through the roof because they're getting investors left and right. And those investors are getting paid their returns based on new investments."

I see the people in the boardroom stiffen. They know what I'm describing. A ponzi scheme.

"But they have some very interesting employees," I say, not quite done. "They hired a woman a year ago who already had a job. Can we move the camera a bit?"

I see the camera swivel and there, sitting next to me, is Stacy Sawyer.

"Say hello to Stacy Sawyer, everyone," I say with a grin and I see consternation in my boardroom. "She was fired from this network earlier, but she didn't mind. Because she got a pretty big bonus from Red Lion Aviation."

I look to Stacy. "Tell us what it was for Stacy," I ask.

Stacy takes a gulp. I found her in Toronto after Becca handed me the file showing that Red Lion Aviation had hired her earlier in the year and had released her from employment shortly after the whole thing with her at Market Pulse.

"My job was to seduce and catch Mason Kane on camera in a compromising situation," Stacy says, looking into the camera like a pro. "To cause him embarrassment and call his judgment into question."

"Thank you, Stacy," I say with a wide grin. I can see on my laptop that people are starting to look at Lorna in the boardroom.

"And who hired you, Stacy?" I ask, knowing the answer full well, but deciding to play it out.

Stacy nods to me.

"I was hired by Lorna Lowell," she replies. "Who is the majority shareholder and CEO-at-large of Red Lion Aviation."

Now there are gasps in the studio as well.

"That's right folks," I say to the camera and the studio staff. "This shit is pretty big. So, Stacy was hired to fuck me on camera and get me into a situation. She was hired by none other than Lorna. Who then came up to me and tried to get me to repair my image by investing in a ponzi scheme that would have kept her criminal enterprise going on forever."

I pause for a second to let it sink in.

"But wait," I say with a smirk. "Let's just say that's all true, which it is. I still have the issue of being married to this woman and fucking her daughter, right?"

I pause for a moment. I can see the amount of consternation in the boardroom. I put the laptop on mute, but people are standing up and backing away from Lorna who is sitting crumpled in a corner, defeated.

"Well, I did some more digging there after I found Stacy Sawyer, and you'd be surprised what I found," I say and look to my left. "I'd like you meet a man I met in northern Canada. His name is Daniel Hoover, and he's the supposed late husband of Lorna Lowell."

Now I see Lorna perk up and look at the screen. It's not bad enough that she lost her Kane Price gambit.

Now she's going to lose everything else.

"Daniel Hoover is the biological father of the woman I love who is carrying my child, Becca Lowell," I say. "Many years ago, he was forced to fake his own suicide to get away from his horrible wife. He's been living quietly in Northern Canada, but when I mentioned to him that his daughter needed help, he was more than willing to come to New York with me. Say hello, Daniel."

Daniel is a lot more nervous than Stacy was. But he manages a, "Uhm, hey Becca. Hello, everyone."

And that's it. There are too many people in the boardroom yelling and shouting and screaming according to the camera on my laptop.

I had called the cops earlier and the last thing I see before it gets too crowded are two uniformed NYPD officers enter the boardroom.

I only have one last thing to do now.

"Listen, America, I'm sorry, okay?" I say to the camera. "Even if it was a trap, I should have controlled myself better. My enemies knew just how to manipulate me. But I'm not cheating on my wife with her daughter because I'm not married. And I did smell out a ponzi scheme and hopefully end the career of an international financial criminal like Ms. Lowell. But despite all that, I want you to know that I'll be trying to do better."

And the last bit.

"Because the final thing I have to say to the country is this. After everything I've gone through, I'd gladly do it again. Because I met the love of my life in the process. And her name is Becca Lowell," I say and give a long pause. "Thank you."

The producer cuts the taping and I swear to God the entire studio starts clapping and cheering.

I stand up and take a moment to bask in the adulation.

Back in the day, I would have fucking loved it. Maybe even fucked Stacy again.

But now, there's only one woman for me.

And I need to get to her right now.


It's utterly unbelievable what's going on. Actually, unbelievable doesn't even begin to describe what is going on.

Mom—Lorna—is sitting at the front of the conference room, her eyes on the television as it's playing Market Pulse. The anchors that took over are understandably stunned. For a full few minutes they did nothing but just replay sections from Mason's little speech that seems to have broken Wall Street.

Trading has been light, apparently. It seems traders don't know what to do so they've been sitting on their money and not buying or selling anything with the exception of one company.

Kane Price.

That's right. The stock has climbed up nearly 34% since Mason started talking. It really started to climb once he left.

He sent me a text about ten minutes ago also. Told me that he was on his way.

People that have been trying to leave the conference room have been stopped.

"No one comes in or out until Mason Kane gets here, folks," the detective from the NYPD says as he stands at the door with two uniformed officers.

No one has approached Mom since Mason started talking. In fact, they've given her a wide berth.

It's not every day that someone is accused and proven to be running a company that's conducting a ponzi scheme at the international level.

I'm just trying to process all this information.

I never had a clue that it was so big.

"How did you end up working for Red Lion Aviation?" the anchor is asking Stacy Sawyer on television. She stayed back after Mason left. She said she was there to answer any questions, but just between you and me, babe, I think she's just trying to capitalize on the situation and resurrect any sort of public image that she had.

"Well, I was approached by representatives of Ms. Lowell one evening," Stacy says slowly. "It turns out I had gone out with a few girlfriends for drinks after work one night and I was talking to some guy. I don't even remember who. But the next thing I knew was that whatever I had drunk had put me to sleep and when I woke up I was naked on a bed with three men having sex with me. They were filming it."

"And so it was blackmail?" the anchor asks her. She nods, tears coming down her face.

"I think now that I was set up," she says and the anchorman nods sympathetically as she continues. "They offered me a lot of money if I cooperated. And if I didn't they threatened to destroy my career. There was only one thing left to do."

I don't know what to believe at this point, but I have to say that it does sound in line with what I've seen this woman who once claimed to be my mother do.

That leaves one question remaining that I need answers to.

I start walking the length of the room toward Mom.

Unlike before, where no one could recognize me, this time everyone is watching me as I walk forward. People that are standing around talking in hushed voices part for me as I walk up to her.

Mom looks up at me.

She's been crying.

Her whole body seems defeated.

But there's still no love in those eyes. No remorse. Rather a regret at having been caught.

"Did you know he was still alive?" I ask her, my eyes searching her face.

She looks at me for a moment and then shakes her head. "He must have wanted to get away from me bad enough that he literally killed himself. Only he didn't."

"Didn't you ever view the body?" I ask.

"I never even attended the funeral," she says, almost with a distracted air.

"The way Daniel put it to me, she wanted him dead so badly that when someone told her he was, she believed it because she wanted to," a voice says behind me and I turn around.

It's Mason.

All the last four days of waiting and the last harrowing hour of emotional ups and downs comes crashing down and all I can do is wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.

His arms hold me tightly for what seems like forever.

That's fine by me. After everything we've been through I never want him to let me go.

But eventually he does. And he looks at me.

"Your father is at one of my hotels close by to here," Mason says, looking me in the eyes. "You can go see him whenever you like but he's asked if you wanted to take it slow, he's okay."

I nod. Instead of rushing over to go see him, it makes sense to discuss the whole thing with Mason first.

"He knew you were alive and had kept tabs on you but he never wanted to cause you any harm by coming back into your life and upsetting Lorna," he says, looking over at her. "Even though she said she never wanted you, at the time she made sure to make it clear that if he ever left her, she would keep you."

"She only must have done that to come out on top," I say slowly, as it dawns on me how incredibly fucked up my life really was. "To hurt him. The final insult."

Mason nods his head. "That's been her MO throughout her life. Don't just take, but completely destroy," he says to me. But this time, his eyes stay on Mom. "Isn't that right, Lorna?"

She looks at Mason with blank and vacant eyes. She's not used to losing so completely.

"I hope you're happy, Mason," she says. "You had to scorch the earth in order to beat me. I'll be surprised if there is even a Kane Price left six months from now."

Mason lets go of my shoulders and steps away from me.

"You've been trying to get your grubby little paws on this company ever since you caused your father's death," he says to her. "And that stops today."

"And you're the one who will stop me, Mason?" Mom asks, with the hint of a smile. "You're forgetting why I'm even here in the first place. I hold more stock in this company than anyone else except for you. There's nothing you can do about that."

"Stock that immediately loses voting rights and is liquidated in the event that you attempt to prevail against the interests of the corporation," Mason says as if he's been holding that one in for a while. "Or, if you go to jail."

That's when the two uniformed officers arrive.

"In this case, Lorna, both charges go very well against you," Mason concludes. "And that paper ownership certificate you have in Kane Price might as well be used for toiled paper in prison, since they don't provide you with any when you run out."

Mason nods to the detective who nods to the uniformed officers and they approach Mom.

"Lorna Lowell," the larger of the NYPD uniformed officers says as he takes out a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest for attempted conspiracy to commit fraud, money laundering, gross and egregious violations of the USA Patriot Act, and for violating multiple instances of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act."

"You have the right to remain silent," another officer says as he starts reading her Miranda rights.

As the officer begins to read the woman I know as in various stages as Mom, or Lorna Lowell, I turn back to Mason.

He looks at me.

I can't help it. I don't care if everyone in this room is either watching us or pretending to wait till the cops are done so they can surreptitiously watch us.

No. I don't care about any of that anymore.

And neither does Mason.

His mouth comes down lower, toward mine.

I close my eyes as his eyelids droop and before I know it, his lips are on mine. I feel the pressure of his body against me as he pulls me closer.

I can feel his cock twitch. That's how guys usually describe that, right? Well, it's twitching against me, growing larger and larger.

I feel Mason's tongue part my lips and slowly begin to massage my own.

After several long seconds, we break away. We're both panting.

"I only have one wish left," he says, grinning at me as he says so.

Don't roll your eyes, but I know that wish that he has.

I have it too.

I want him to take me somewhere and fuck my brains out.

But I don't say anything. Everything has been resolved to an extent and there is nothing left to say.

So instead, I do.

I take his hand and I press it against my crotch. I position his hand so his fingers are right over the fabric of my skirt covering my pussy lips.

"You have a wish, babe, just keep rubbing it right there," I tell him, giving him a mischievous smile. "If you rub long enough, your wish might come true."

Mason smiles at my attempts to be a brat.

He wastes no time, grabbing me by the arms.

"Come on," he says to me. "Lets get out of here."

The path is cleared now that the cops have dragged Mom away and Mason leads me out of the conference room as well.

I have no idea where we're going. But I follow.

And I can't help but comment, "Yes, Daddy."


Happiness. Joy. Ecstasy.

I feel all that and then some more as I step inside the limo with Mason, ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime with the most perfect man by my side. Remember when I found out that he was to be my stepfather? When everything seemed so hopeless? Well, it worked out. All of it. Even though my mother tried hard to crush us, we pulled through. I should be devastated because of my mother, and in a sense, I am, but you can’t choose family. What you can choose, though, is where to place your love. And I know exactly where I’ve placed mine.

I rest my hand on top of Mason’s and, looking into his eyes, I realize that I can’t wait for us to get back home. I need him now, and when I say now, I mean right now. I slide myself over the seat, closing the gap between us, and place my hand right on his crotch. In two heartbeats, I feel his cock hardening under my fingers, straining against the fabric of his pants. Smiling, I curl my fingers around his thick shape and press hard on it.

“Someone’s very eager…” he says, placing one hand on my knee and sliding it up until it meets the hem of my dress. I shiver softly at his touch, the sting of desire striking me at point blank.

“You can’t imagine how much,” I tell him, squeezing his cock more harshly than I probably should. I just can’t help myself.

“Lucky for you, baby girl…” he whispers at me, a wicked grin dawning on his lips, “I’m just like you; I can’t wait.” With that, he slides his hand under my dress and only stops when he has his fingers pressed tight against my pussy. I grow wet in a fraction of a second, my thong dampening immediately. Biting on my lower lip, I let an expression of desire take over my face and lean into him, crushing my mouth against his.

Forcing his tongue past my lips, he pushes it inside of my mouth and runs it in soft gentle circles around my own. We start slow and tenderly, but our kiss quickly degenerates into wildness; we start to kiss as if we are possessed and, really, we are. We are possessed by lust and love; and above all, we are possessed by happiness.

As we kiss, Mason presses his hand harder against my pussy and, with a quick flick of his fingers, he pushes my thong to the side. I pant as I feel his index finger brushing against my pussy lips and, when he presses it over my clit, I go completely mad and nibble at his bottom lip, pulling it back with my teeth.

Taking one hand to my hair, he yanks on it and, at the same time, slides his finger all the way inside of my pussy. I press my legs together, trapping his hand in place, and he pushes his finger even deeper inside of me, his fingertip rubbing against my G-spot. As he touches me there, the gentle flames of pleasure and desire start raging and raging, turning my mind into a furnace.

“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he says, hunger in his voice, “I can’t wait. I really can’t, baby girl.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” I say, my voice quivering as he rubs his fingertip against my G-spot. Flicking his wrist, he starts to move his finger in and out of my pussy, always pushing it all the way in until it’s touching that sweet hidden spot in my body.

Anxiety rushing through my veins, I start to stroke him over his pants and then, not satisfied with it, I unbuckle his belt with trembling fingers. Tugging on his pants, I force the zipper to go down and, moving fast, I slide my hand under his boxer briefs and grab his thick mast. My skin prickles as I feel his warmness, his shaft pulsing against my fingers, and I start to move my hand up and down at a furious pace.

Throwing my head back against the headrest, I grit my teeth and hiss furiously, my pussy clenching around his fingers. He feels me on the verge, and so he presses his fingertips tighter against my G-spot; just like that, I come undone. I have to clench my teeth in order not to scream, all the muscles in my body twitching as if I’ve just been shocked.

“Fuck!” I moan in a low tone, opening my eyes and looking at him with anticipation and pleasure flickering in my eyes.

“That’s the right word,” he grins, sliding his fingers out of me. “And we’re just getting started, baby girl,” he continues, taking his fingers to my mouth and brushing them over my lips. Without even knowing what I’m doing, I part my lips and allow him to slide his fingers inside of my mouth and, as he pulls them back, I suck them dry. My own flavor and scent hits me at once, coating my tongue and making my head spin.

Moving like a wild animal, I lean into him and, pulling his boxer briefs down, I grab his cock and point it straight at my mouth. I place my lips against his glans, lapping at it with my tongue, and then just push my mouth down until I feel my lips touching the skin around the base of his cock.

I hold my position there until my lungs are screaming for air, and only then do I move back. As my lips are around his glans again, I start to bob my head up and down his cock, sucking him as fiercely as is humanly possible. I’m not sucking or blowing him; what I’m doing is devouring him. He likes to say that my pussy is delicious, but let me tell you this: if there’s anything delicious in this world, it’s his cock. Swear to God, I could suck on it for hours and hours.

I suck on him hard and, if he didn’t grab me by the hair and forced me to stop, I would just keep going until he came in my mouth. As it is, he pushes my head back, but I simply can’t control myself. If I can’t have him in my mouth, then I need him in my pussy.

Moving with cat-like movements I climb on top of him, spreading my legs and straddling him. Before he can even react, I grab at his cock and angle it upward; with my other hand, I flick my thong to the side and push his glans against my wetness. He holds me by the hips as I try to ease myself down; then, grinning, he only allows me to rub my pussy with the tip of his cock. He’s torturing me, and loving every single second of it.

“Please,” I moan, repeating the word over and over again until he finally surrenders to me. Easing up the pressure on my hips, he allows me to go down and, just like that, I impale myself on his cock, his shaft sliding easily inside of my pussy. I guess that after so many times fucking him, my own insides are growing accustomed to how it feels to have a massive cock inside of me.

I start to sway my hips like a mad woman, placing my arms over his shoulders as I ride him. He places his hands on my ass, hiking my dress up to my waist. As I keep on rocking my hips, he pushes the string of thong that covers my ass to the side, and starts to brush one fingertip along my crack. I go even faster, riding as if tomorrow would never come, and he presses down on my asshole. I tremble and shiver, my skin prickling as I feel his touch, and a deep moan climbs up my throat.

“Oh, God…” I moan, and he starts to press harder on my hole. Slowly, he slides his fingers inside of my ass, and the sway of my hips slows down. As he fingers my ass, the movement of my body matches his rhythm, and I close my eyes as electricity crackles inside my mind.

I’m moaning hard, and I don’t even care if the driver can hear us. Who cares, really? We’re not hiding anymore. What we are, what we do, and what we want is right in the open… Exactly as it should be. Let the whole world know about it; if a driver gets to enjoy the sounds I make while I have a thick cock inside of me, well, good for him.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…” I start to say, but I don’t even manage to finish my sentence. Clenching my ass cheeks and trapping his finger deep inside of me, I feel my pussy tightening around his shaft and I come. I take my hands to his chest and, completely out of control, I grab at the fabric of his shirt and pull as hard as I can. His buttons pop out, and I even feel the fabric tearing under my hands, but I don’t care; all that I want is to feel his naked skin under the open palm of my hands. Ripping his shirt open, I press my hands on his firm pectorals and dig my fingernails into it, hard enough to draw blood, and just keep him riding as I come my brains out.

Instinct taking over me, I summon whatever energy still lives in my body and clench my legs, going up on the seat and placing one arm on the roof of the limo. “Your mouth,” I pant, “I want it.” Knowing what I want, he places his hands on my ass cheeks and reels me in, placing my pussy against his face. I close my eyes as he jabs his tongue past my drenched folds, running it up and down and then focusing on my clit, lapping at it harshly.

“Oh, God… It’s so… Fucking good,” I moan loudly, swaying my hips and rubbing my pussy all over his face. Sucking and licking, he moves one hand around my waist and presses one finger against my pussy. He moves it in, pushing it all at once and drawing one loud scream out of my lips. “Fuck, fuck…” I cry out and, the moment he touches my G-spot, I start to convulse as if I’m having a seizure. I go down, sitting on his lap and my body feels as if it’s on fire. I don’t think I’d feel this hot if I was standing right in the middle of a raging inferno.

“My turn,” he whispers against my ear, nibbling at my earlobe with his teeth. “I want your pussy again. But not in my mouth,” he grins at me, and I feel my pussy aching to have him in it again.

With a growl, Mason takes his hands off of my ass and grabs me by the hips. He pushes me to the side, throwing me down on the seat, and I lay down. He spreads my legs open and lays on top of me, grabbing his cock and pressing it against my pussy in one single breath. With a sigh, I cross my legs around his lower back and lace my arms around his neck, pulling him into me as the desperation to have his cock completely demolishing my pussy reaches the height of its intensity.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll forget your name, baby girl,” he whispers before pressing his mouth against mine, kissing while he thrusts. My insides burn as his thickness pushes back against my inner walls, and I grip him hard with my legs around his waist. He’s fucking me so hard that fireworks are going off behind my shut eyelids, and I already feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. He was right about what he said; if he keeps fucking me like this, I won’t remember my name once he’s done.

He’s moving so fast that I no longer know when his cock is sliding out or sliding in and, to be honest, I couldn’t care any less about it. All that matters is that I feel every single throb of his cock, the warmness of his shaft spreading through me and numbing every single one of my senses. Each thrust of his is like a pure blessing, and I’m already feeling the pressure mounting inside of me.

I open my mouth to tell him not to stop, but all I manage to produce is a weak croak. It doesn’t matter, though; he’s not thinking of stopping. Instead, he goes even faster, pushing me close to the edge and then forcing me to jump straight into a pool of pleasure.

“Oh, my, GOD!” I scream out, the sound of it crawling up my throat, clawing at my vocal chords and then exploding on my mouth like a bomb. My scream turns into a high-pitched scream, the flames of ecstasy licking at my skin from the inside out.

When my muscles finally stop twitching, Mason lays one gentle kiss against my cheek and then whispers into my ear. “I hope you’re not tired already…” he says and, even though I’m already feeling as spent as I could be, I shake my head.

“More,” I simply say, running my tongue over my lips.

“Are you sure you can take more?” he teases me, pulling his cock out of me. “I won’t hold back.”

“I don’t want you to hold back… I want you to destroy me,” I tell him, the way the words roll over my tongue making the adrenaline race through my veins.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grabbing me by the hips again. He sits me up on the seat and then he lies down, looking at me with an expectant look. “Come here,” he calls me with a grin. “I’m not done with devouring that pussy of yours.” Grinning back, I climb on top of him and, placing my knees at the side of his head, I offer him my pussy.

He cranes his neck and, grabbing me by the hips, presses his mouth against my wetness once more. I sway my hips back and forth, thrusting against his face as he eats me out, all of his movements pregnant with a wild and insatiable hunger.

A deep certainty fills me and I can’t help but smile; somehow, I’m sure that when we are finally old and wrinkled, our joints and muscles a ghost of a time gone by, he’ll be as hungry as he is now. And that fits me just right, if you ask me. I have absolutely no intention of going without sex even one single day for the rest of my life. Hey, what do you want me to say? I have a strong libido, especially since I’m with Mason. He just makes me be like this… I mean, I’m sure that he has this effect on pretty much every woman he comes across, but now he’s mine. Mine, mine, mine.

As I grind against his face, he moves his hands back to my ass cheeks and, using his index finger, he places it over my asshole. Pressing softly at first, he slides it inside of my ass again, moving it back and forth at a merciless pace until I have no other choice but to come against his mouth.

My body tenses up and relaxes, the orgasm washing over me with an ebb and flow. The tides of pleasure are lulling my mind, the high waves of this ocean of ecstasy lapping at my body and spending the few reserves of energy I still have inside of me. But I still want more… And I want one last showdown before making him fuck me for the last time. I lift my legs and turn around and, now with my ass turned to him, I go on all fours on top of his body; I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, I point it straight at my mouth and lower my head.

At the same time, he hooks his fingers on my hips and forces me to ease my pussy down on his face. The moment I feel my wetness against his lips, I start to sway my body at a frantic pace, bobbing my head at the same rhythm.

We go like this for God knows how long, the whole concept of time becoming completely meaningless. With his mouth on my pussy, and my mouth on his cock, I can’t really focus on anything else. And, as he licks my clit with renewed ferocity, I feel my brain on the verge of shutting down. Still, I manage to remain unconscious, only to have another orgasm explode inside of me, the shock waves of it rushing through my muscles and forcing me to take his cock out of my mouth.

Coming up for air, I scream as loud as I can, certain that the driver can hear us. I’m pretty sure that the limo has soundproof dividers, but there’s no way in hell that a scream as loud as my own would go by unheard. As far as I know, even the passersby in the street can hear us—not that it bothers me, anyway. In fact, all I want is for everyone to know that Mason is my man, and that I’m his woman… I want everyone to know that I have the perfect man with the perfect cock, and that he knows how to fuck me like no other man could ever do.

Yeah, I’m gloating, but so what? I think I’ve earned the right to do it. And if you feel jealous of me… Well, I get it, I really do. But that doesn’t mean that I’m willing to share Mason; oh, no, keep your hands where I can see them. Sorry, I know I’m being possessive… But that won’t change anytime soon.

Breathing so hard that I’m dizzy, I climb off of Mason’s body and, without waiting to see what he wants me to do, I go on all fours on the seat. He gets up in a heartbeat, kneeling behind me, and smacks my ass harshly with the palm of his hand. He does it again and again, and only stops when the pain becomes so deliciously unbearable that I’m moaning in ecstasy and thrusting back at him.

I have my head down, my hair cascading down my shoulders, and so I can’t see him, but I can imagine the wicked grin he has on his face as he presses his glans against my pussy. With one simple thrust, he’s in me again, stretching me as wide as only he can do. I moan and scream, the sound of it blending into something almost inhuman. My voice caresses my eardrums and then claws at it, all while a firestorm rages inside of me, threatening to consume everything that I am.

Maybe I’ll die of pleasure now; maybe my final orgasm will be so intense that I’ll stop breathing, my heart will stop beating, and then my brain will shut down. My soul will float away into the afterlife and, if all this happens, I’m sure that I’m going with a grin on my face. I mean, to go out with Mason’s thick cock ravaging me wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it? That’s right.

When I finally come, there’s no screaming or moaning; I place my head against the leather seat and just hiss like a rattlesnake, my throat too ruined to carry on. I almost think that Mason’s done, but when he pulls his cock out of my pussy he runs it along my crack and presses it against my hole. Oh, sweet God… I think I’m really going to OD on pleasure.

“Do it… Do it… Fuck my ass,” I beg him, and he starts to push his cock inside of my hole. It moves in at a slow pace, but it goes steadily all the same. Even though my throat has given up on me, I force myself to scream one more time, the pressure of Mason’s cock on my insides too good for me to remain in silence. “Hard… Fuck me hard,” I continue, and he doesn’t need any further instructions; he starts to thrust as if his life depends on it, ravaging my ass like he never has before.

Remember when I told you that I probably wouldn’t be able to sit straight for days? Yeah, let’s make that weeks. But, once again, the price is worth the admission. Oh, if you could only feel what I’m feeling right now… Every woman on Earth should be fucked like I’m being fucked right now, even if only once in their lives. I can’t imagine living all of my life without experiencing an orgasm so fierce it makes you pass out.

Mason quickly derails my train of thought, burying his cock so deep inside my ass that I have to scream again. At the same time, he slides one hand around my waist and presses down on my clit with two fingers, immediately stroking it at a furious and almost too violent pace.

It doesn’t take long for me to come undone; one more thrust of his cock and my mind snaps, my soul shattering into a thousand little pieces with it. I thrust back, forcing him to push his cock deep into me, and then I hold that position as a violent convulsion takes over me. My muscles are burning, my skin is boiling, and both my heart and lungs are working overtime to keep me alive. It’s a wonder that I still haven’t passed out… I feel exhausted enough to fall unconscious, but I refuse to do it as pleasure still courses through my veins. Even though Mason and I have a lifetime ahead of us, I don’t want to waste one single second of what I’m experiencing now.

“Cum… Cum for me… In my ass…” I find myself telling him, my brain having no say on what words leave my lips. As if my voice had a magical effect on his body, his cock starts to spasm and, half a heartbeat after that, it throbs violently and I feel the warmness of his cum filling my ass.

Instead of gushing his entire load inside of me, Mason pulls his cock out and, still on his knees, starts to stroke himself. I feel thick ropes of cum cover my lower back, ass cheeks and crack, but there’s a whole lot of skin to cover. Grinning devilishly, I turn to him, forcing my body to spend the last reserves of energy, and curl my fingers around his cock. Now I’m the one stroking him, and I’m doing it even more fiercely than he was.

Aiming with his thickness, I point it at my face and, not a fraction of a second later, he starts gushing out like a torrent. I open my mouth immediately, allowing his seed to fall over my tongue and, without wasting time, I swallow as soon as I feel my mouth brimming with his juices. But there’s more inside of him, and he keeps on covering me with semen—my face, neck, tits, and stomach… All of it is a white wet mess, and I already feel it dripping down to between my thighs and caressing my folds.

The cum inside of my ass is dripping out of my hole and pooling on the seat, right between my thighs, but I don’t care. I’m not sure on how we’re going to explain the fact that the back of the limo is completely covered in cum, but I can’t really devote any of my brain power to it right now. Oh, no, there are far more important things to think about.

“Fuck… This was fucking amazing,” Mason groans, looking me in the eyes as his cock spasms one last time against my fingers. A final drop of cum falls from his tip, and then it drips down to my fingers.

Painted in white, I lean into him and gently kiss him on the lips. Then, completely exhausted and unable to think straight, I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. I feel myself drifting off, but I take a deep breath and manage to hold on to consciousness.

“I can’t imagine my life without you…” I whisper at Mason, opening my eyes and looking at him with the happiest smile on my face. Sure, it’s a cum-coated smile, but I’d say that makes it even more beautiful.

“Neither can I,” he replies, taking my hand in his and squeezing it softly. “You’re my everything, baby girl… I will protect you, I'll love you, I'll hold you in my arms and never let you go,” he continues, smiling back at me, and I squeeze his hand in mine. I purse my lips, stopping myself from crying. Yes, I’m getting emotional and I’m not ashamed of it. I mean, he fucked me hard, and now he’s telling me the sweetest things… I have the right to be emotional right now. I’m the luckiest woman on Earth.

“I love you so much… You have no idea,” I whisper, leaning into him and placing my head against his shoulder.

“I know, babe… I love you too,” he says, stroking my hair softly. As the limo cruises through the New York City traffic, the gentle purr of the engine lulling me to sleep, I close my eyes and fall into a slumber.

Once I wake up, we’ll be a few minutes away from home… As soon as I get there, I’m going to have a nice warm shower and, when I step out of it, wrapped only in a small cotton towel, I’m going to go straight into Mason’s arms and… We’re going to do it all over again. And again.

I’m insatiable, and I’m in love.

MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

Financial markets were stunned into submission yesterday as Mason Kane reaffirmed his status of King of Wall Street.

One title that the CEO of Kane Price was quick to let go of however, was that of Wall Street's Bad Boy.

He appeared at a press conference outside the offices to the Kane Price's global headquarters on Park Avenue, where he held forth on the ensuing drama.

"Was I partly to blame for everything that happened? Of course. I was living a live that was wild and unhinged, but boy did I think it was fun. But at the end of the day that's what made me a great target for Ms. Lowell. And you know? It almost cost me not just my company, but hundreds of thousands of people their jobs - their livelihoods. But the only thing that saved me from all that was the honest love of a real woman," Mr. Kane said in an emotional and heartfelt statement.

Some observers had questioned the propriety of Mason Kane, who at 37 is romantically linked to the daughter of his ex-wife. However, his proponents rightly point out that Lorna Lowell was not in fact married to him under the articles of New York State law since her husband was still in fact alive and the two had never dissolved their marriage. Further, Rebecca Lowell, at 21, was the daughter of her father, and only related through marriage to her stepmother.

Kane Price shares finished trading near their highs for the year, as investors and clients breathed a sigh of relief that this period of turbulence had passed.

In a sign that Mr. Kane was ready to move on, he granted an amnesty of sorts to many who had opposed him. But not all. Shortly before his press conference, Kane Price announced the involuntary termination of Roy Purpus from the Board of Directors for his collusion with Lorna Lowell throughout the episode. It was Mr. Purpus who had called the initial vote of No Confidence.

"I have every belief that the employees who were believing Red Lion Aviation was a good deal were doing so based on the limited information that was made available to them, and I can't hold them in fault for that," Mr. Kane commented.

Tensions within the investment bank seemed to heal on a rapid clip as insiders reported that work had begun proceeding according to normal schedule. The perception of two armed camps - something that had come to dominate how Kane Price was viewed by Wall Street - had already begun to alter itself.

In the coming months, Kane Price is expected to announce and launch revolutionary new products that promise to upend the traditional order of Wall Street and generate a great deal of revenue for the Firm.

Stay with Marketwatch Journal as we bring you updates on them as they happen.


"Mason," I whisper, trying to sound serious. "Don't make me moan out loud. You'll wake the baby."

Mason just laughs and continues to grab my boob, squeezing it and running his fingers around my nipple as he kisses my neck.

I tilt my head back and sigh in pleasure at his touch.

A year and half after we first met, he still has the power to make me forget everything and revel in the moment.

"You'll moan when I tell you to, baby girl," he whispers in my ear before biting my earlobe.

My entire body convulses in shudders at his voice.

I'm almost carried away.

I mean, you would be too. Imagine yourself trading places with me. I'm sitting on the leather sofa of our new One57 apartment that we bought together as husband and wife.

Little Ida is asleep in the other room, in what I hope is a peaceful sleep. I had just sat down with my Kindle. I was going to read The Woodsman by Eddie Cleveland.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but based on everything I’ve seen, the closest anyone ever comes in the book world to Mason and his complete alpha nature is Eddie and the bad boys that he writes about.

I remember Mason was the one who first introduced me to him back sometime after I told him I was pregnant.

“Something for you to read when you need to think about me fucking you,” he said one morning as he was going to work. “My friend Eddie is an author. He just published this.”

At first I didn’t really know, you know? I just skimmed through it. I mean the story was good.

But then I got to the sex.

And, oh my God.

By the time Mason walked in, I was jumping all over him.

No one writes bad boys and alpha males like Eddie. Except maybe Alexis.

So The Woodsman is just something I thought I’d relax with. I briefly thought about taking my panties off. But I figured I’d just let them get wet. It would help Mason smell me.

And he’d know.

So I got through one chapter and I must have given off pheromones or something.

Because Mason is already here.

And true enough, he's literally trying to get in my pants. As in his hands are travelling to the hem of my yoga pants and his fingers are slowly tracing an outline over my thong.

With a sudden flash of inspiration, I turn to him and smile.

"If I'm your baby girl, will you go make me something to eat?" I ask him.

I'm trying hard not to laugh as the King of Wall Street looks at me with a perplexed look. No one has probably even asked him that. Ever.

No, of course not. Mason has just finished off a successful year as Wall Street's most celebrated CEO.

I mean, it's a good thing he's had me over the last year to at least suck his cock every morning otherwise I don't know if he'd even have time for sex.

Kane Price has launched over 40 new financial instruments and products and they've literally cornered the market on exotic financial instruments. Money flows only one way nowadays and that's into the coffers of Kane Price.

"Excuse me?" Mason asks me, and I can see his brow furrowing. That's right. Not too many Wall Street people probably joke around with him nowadays, what with his sky high bonus and soaring valuation, people are calling Mason Kane one of the richest men in the world.

"Please, Daddy?" I ask batting my eyes and trying to keep from laughing. "Please feed m?"

Now Mason realizes that I've been joking. When I'm begging to him, but begging for food and not fucking, he can finally tell that I'm pulling his leg.

He growls and picks me up.

I squeak loudly as he stands up and carries me to the chaise lounge next to the sofa and deposits me on it.

I splay my body out and spread my legs wantonly. My finger comes to my pussy and I begin to rub my clit through the fabric of my yoga pants and thong. I'm definitely wet. Just being around my husband makes me wet.

Mason begins to unbuckle his belt.

"You're either going to need a spanking, baby girl," he says to me as his eyes meet mine. "Or a good fucking. Either way you need to be taught a lesson."

"I'm not a good learner tonight, babe," I say, teasing him. "Maybe you you need to teach me extra hard."

We both stare at each other for a long moment.

Finally Mason cracks a smile as my eyes twinkle.

At the last minute I can't hold it in anymore. I start to chuckle.

Mason joins in.

But our chuckle becomes laughter which quickly gets louder and louder.

Oh my God, my stomach is hurting.

Which is when the baby monitor goes off.


We've woken little Ida.

Mason looks at me with concern, but I just sit up and grab a hold of his arm as the two of us walk to the nursery.

Inside is the cutest little baby that I've ever seen.

Ida was born several months ago, but already Mason and I can tell how much our lives have been changed.

I feel so blessed to be a mother. Sometimes I don't understand how Lorna could not have wanted this feeling ever in her life.

But I'm sure she has plenty of time to think about things like this.

The case was pretty open and shut against her. I mean, when you're trying to bilk close to a billion dollars from a publicly traded corporation that manages the pension payments of millions of people, there's very little leeway that the prosecution is going to grant you. She was sentenced to life in prison at a maximum security women's prison. Her eyes boiled with hate towards Mason and me the entire time.

I just sat there next to Daniel, my father, and prayed that this would be the last time I'd ever have to see Lorna again.

It took me a long time to not instinctively call her Mom, and I think I've finally made peace with all the things she said and did to me through my life.

Oh, right. Daniel.

So Daniel had always kept tabs on me from afar, but as Mason had said, he never really bothered to reach out to me. He was under the impression that my life was proceeding along happily and that anything he would have done to get back in it would have raised retribution from Lorna towards both him and me.

I was surprised when he told me that, to say the least.

I mean, with everything Lorna had said to me, it didn't sound like she much wanted me.

"I don't think she did either," Daniel agreed with me. Even though he was biologically my father, I couldn't call him Dad. "But when the whole topic of separation came up, she made it clear that she would fight for custody. Not because she loved you, but because she would win. And she would have a trump card to play against me our entire lives."

But over the last year and half, I think that Daniel and I have gotten close. I mean, we don't see each other much - he lives in Canada somewhere in the mountains filled with snow - but we keep in touch by email and sometimes Facebook.

I think it just feels good knowing you have a family out there in this world. That you're not completely and totally alone.

And just like that, we raise the next generation of our family.

Ida is looking up at me with wide eyes, her crying over now that the big humans have come to her crib and are looking down at her making funny noises as they take her in their arms.

Mason looks at me.

"You're a great Mom," he says to me, drawing me close to him. "I have a great family."

I smile.

He's right on the money in this respect.

I couldn't have wished for a happier and more content family life.

I am truly blessed.

And it's all because of a taboo love affair.

Amazing, really.

Almost makes you want to write a book about it, doesn't it?

So I hope you liked the the stories!

Wicked Lil’ Brat was the first book that broke into Amazon Top 100.


DILF by Alexis Angel. This has never before been seen in added content and is provided exclusively for you today as a thank you!

After that, I have two short stories.

Followed by Buyer’s Remorse, a short story by Cara Angel - who is new to the Naughty Angel lineup.

All followed by, Whitney & Dax, which is a short story by Alexis Angel.

Our goal in this is simple.

To entertain you as long as we can to give you the best experience with the words that we hold so dear. Because while we may be in various corners of the world, the fact that we are sharing these brings us closer together we feel.

Thank you so much for reading!




*I’m definitely a Daddy You’d Love To…*


Don’t say it. Because once you say it, you won’t be able to stop thinking about it.

You won’t be able to stop thinking about my soulful, bedroom eyes.

You’ll get desperate to feel my ripped body with my 8 pack abs and defined chest pressed against you.

And once you f*ck my foot long lust muscle…let’s just say that you’ll be mine.


So when my enemies send a temptress my way to steer me off course, they gotta know how it’s gonna end.

How after one night with me I’m gonna end up owning her - body and soul.

You think I’ll go easy on her and let her win because she’s my stepdaughter?

If anything, that just makes me harder.

And trust me...if you like me when I'm calm like now, you’re gonna love me when I’m all hard inside of you, darlin’.

**Come join Alexis Angel in this full-length standalone romance but please note she’s not responsible for the laundry bill if you soak your panties! No cliffhanger but it's going to be a scorcher with scenes of MF and MFMM. HEA? You know it, babe**

Dirty Lil’ Angels

Hi ladies!

If you’re like me, once you finish, you’re not going to want the story to end!

To receive exclusive sneak peeks, (before anyone else!), bonus content not seen anywhere else, giveaways, and tons more swag, visit me and my Naughty Angels on Facebook at Dirty Lil’ Angels.

We’ll make it worth your while…





"How bad do you want this?" I ask the three women crowded around me. They're on their knees, purring, and pawing, and pulling on my fucking belt buckle.

I sit back in the leather booth, both arms behind my head, and smile.

This is the fucking life, isn't it?

I'm enjoying an evening at Happy Endings exotic nightclub. The place isn't half bad—one of the better Midtown strip clubs.

The brunette with the smoldering eyes—Vicki I think her stage name is?—is sliding my belt from its buckle with one hand and dragging her other hand up my thigh, slowly raking her red nails against the fabric.

The other two women are jostling for a piece of the action too, and who the fuck wouldn't?

Look at me—8-pack abs, a cock bigger than your imagination can handle, the chiseled physique of a Greek god, eyes bluer than a hot bolt of lightning. What else could you possibly want? If you were in this room right now, I guarantee you'd be staring at my cock, touching yourself, and …

Oh, come on; don't give me that look. Don't be shy. You can stare; I don't fucking mind.

It's not everyday that you're gonna see a cock like this one. Don't shake your head. You know it's true, Gorgeous.

And don't you see how these three women are practically begging for a fucking taste of me?

I hear the metallic trill of my zipper as both of the blondes pull it down. My cock is fucking harder than a tree trunk, and they both give a shriek as its full 12 inches pop out of my boxer briefs and slap them in the face.

Vicki pushes her way in, opens her mouth, and eagerly wraps her lips around my cock. She pushes all 12 inches down her throat.

Impressive, I think to myself.

"Someone's hungry," I smile.

She then pulls back, and I hear my cock pop out of her mouth with a single, wet sound. The other two women seize the opportunity and lean in, and they twirl their tongues around my tip. Then one woman grabs my cock, and the way her hand looks so small wrapped around it makes me even fucking harder, if you can believe that. She opens her mouth as wide as she can, and wraps her lips around my now throbbing cock. She presses it down against her tongue, moving slowly, allowing her lips to roll over my entire length, inch by fucking inch until it presses against the back of her throat. I throw my head back with the fucking perfection of it all.

"Fuck, that's it," I groan, resting both of my hands on top of her head. I grab her hair in one fist and move my hips, guiding the motions of my cock in and out of her mouth. Vicki reaches in and tugs on my balls, rolling them between her capable, expert fingers.

"Oh yeah, fuck that's good," I whisper. All three of them look up at me, and smile.

If you can think of anything better than having these three women worshiping my manhood, let me know. Because right now? Nothing fucking beats it.

Sure, I was married once, but all that woman just wanted was to weasel her way into the Governor's office.

That was seven years ago.

Big mistake.

But I've moved on and I'm better for it.

I learned a valuable lesson: always diversify. Translation: Multiple women are better than one.

"I want a taste," the other blonde purrs, leaning in and eyeing me hungrily.

"There's plenty to go around, ladies," I say, a grin growing on my lips.

Sure, as mayor of New York City, I do my fair share of fucking ribbon-cutting ceremonies, I shake hands, and I smile at babies, and I've even made appearances at weddings, but let me just say that I'm known as Parker "Pleasure" Trask for a fucking reason.

You know what I mean?

All three women are moving fast now, each one taking turns on my cock and I decide to change things up. I stand up and bend Vicki over the huge, shiny black table. We're on the top floor of the club, overlooking the stages and poles, and I fucking smile. I love New York City.

This is my city. The city of my fucking wealth.

I look down at Vicki and lift her skirt up, slapping her ass. It's firm and I grab a handful of one ass cheek in my hand. I have enough money to bounce $100 bills off her ass all day long. I can make it fucking rain for hours.

Don't believe me?

I've made an excess of a billion dollars on Wall Street, first working for Carter Jeffries, and then doing some currency trades. I still have a currency trading operation, Trask Phillips—a fucking power broker on Wall Street.

“I want you to fuck me hard," Vicki moans, looking back at me. I grin and grab her hips in one hand, and with the other, I yank her thong down.

Then I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Oh, I'll do it … but be careful what you wish for."

I push a finger inside of her pussy, sliding it in all the way.

"You’re so fucking wet, and I love it," I grin.

With a forceful thrust, I push my cock into Vicki and watch as she grips the table top with both of her hands. She's moaning and the two blondes get down on their knees behind me, dragging their hands up my thighs and grabbing my balls.

Yes, being Mayor of this city is a hell of a lot of fucking fun.

And I'm not just talking about fucking these women.

I've cleaned this city up, after the Anders administration. Unemployment is at 2%.

Crime is at all-time low.

People are making more fucking money than they have in years.

I fucking love seeing this city firing on all cylinders. And that's a direct result of my hard work.

Courts, transportation, EMS, urban planning, IT, public facilities, infrastructure, speaking with lawyers on legal issues, zoning and land use, finances, libraries, and even parking lots—you fucking name it and I've had my hands in it. Impressive list, isn't it?

And email—fuck let's not even talk about that. I spend hundreds of hours answering tens of thousands of fucking emails, communicating with the public, with my staff, with governments, and utilities, and on, and on.

You get the fucking picture.

Are you wondering how one person could possibly handle all of that?

Well, this job isn't for the weak-minded.

It takes a lot of fucking guts and determination.

And the bottom line is, I've changed the way the government interacts with people and their lives. And the city is thriving because of it.

But what now? What's my next big move?

A lot of high political jobs require that I have a fucking wife and kids.

But as I look down at Vicki, and at the other two women, their perfect tits and asses, and eager, open mouths … well, let's just say I'm in no fucking hurry to get married.

Been there, done that.

I'll take the foursome any day.

Vicki let's out a loud moan and I start working her pussy faster. I feel a growing desire coursing through my body and my movements become more erratic.

There's an electric current traveling through every muscle fiber, and the energy of it all is mounting. I feel like I'm about to fucking explode.

I pull my cock out of Vicki and all three women get on their knees. They grab my cock and stroke it for me, all three pairs of delicate hands moving in perfect unison.

Fuck, this is too good to be true.

But here I am.

All three of them looking up at me, mouths open, tongues out eagerly awaiting a taste. Their smiles wild and wide.

"Oh fuck," I groan, and then my cock is a geyser. It's twitching, and with every pulse, thick, hot ropes of cum are hitting all three women. It doesn't stop as they continue to milk me.

Rope after rope of cum.

I close my eyes for a moment and throw my head back.

When I open my eyes back up, I watch as all three of them are now swallowing my cum as if it were the best meal of their fucking lives. A few gooey strands are missed, and drip down their chins.

"Fuck yes," is all I manage to moan, as I continue to empty my load all over their faces, one by one.

Vicki grabs my cock and angles it down her mouth, catching the last two spasms and greedily swallowing my remaining cum.

And then I hear a sound that paralyzes me. It freezes time.

It's the sound of a camera.

A click.

A flash.

I turn my head just in time to see a newspaper photographer snap a picture of all this.

But before I can say, or do anything further, he's a blur.

He's simply gone; he vanishes as quickly and as quietly as he appeared.


This should be a wild ride.

Think you can handle it?

If you think you can hold on, then you’re welcome to flip the page, darlin’.

Just make sure you take off those panties. Spread those legs. Go somewhere private.

That’s right, probably best not to read this in public.

And hold on for the ride.

New York Daily Journal

Bad Boy Mayor Caught With His Pants Down - City Says "Meh"

All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

New York City's bad boy mayor, the Honorable Parker Trask was caught in a compromising situation yesterday that would have cut short the political career of any other public servant as he was photographed inside of a strip club with three exotic dancers engaging in a combination of sexual acts.

The Mayor's spokesman, when asked to comment during an evening press conference as to whether the Mayor's office had any statement regarding the photographs that were taken by an independent photographer and published online simply commented, "Is there anything left to say? Does anyone even care?"

Indeed, critics of the Mayor assert that he has brought a level of cheapness and coarseness to the office of Mayor, engaging in acts and saying things that prior holders of the office would have avoided.

The latest incident occurred at the Happy Endings exotic nightclub in Midtown. The Mayor was sequestered with multiple dancers in a private room on the second floor of the club when a freelance photographer gained access to the room, and captured the Mayor in a variety of poses that displayed the sex acts he was engaged in.

Within hours, the photographs were circulating online. TMZ, the celebrity gossip organization, mentioned the photographs in their television update but did not air the uncensored pictures, rather putting those on their website.

Word spread in a viral fashion and within five hours the TMZ servers were being desperately backed up as 30 million people clicked to view the New York City's bad boy mayor with his pants down. Less than an hour later, the TMZ servers crashed from overuse.

It is perhaps telling that none of the city leaders or members of the opposition party have come out to decry this latest development. Many observers credit this to the fact that the Mayor has built excellent relationships with opposition groups and done an admirable job of actually running the city.

"Listen, the guy's lowered my taxes, and dropped unemployment so I'm back to work, and made the streets safer and gotten schools and teachers back on track. If he wants to wet his whistle to take a break from all the hard work, I'm actually okay with it," commented one citizen when asked during his commute what his thoughts on the Mayoral non-scandal was.

This sentiment has been largely echoed throughout New York City as it looks at the latest act of its wunderkind Mayor. The city has been relatively prosperous for the better part of the decade following the troubling years of the Michael Anders administration, which were plagued by scandals both inside and out of his administration, as well as rising property values that pushed out residents in Manhattan, rising crime and unemployment levels, a breakdown in the city infrastructure, failing schools, and a shrinking tax base.

Those problems were tackled head on by the brash Parker Trask and within two years, had begun to subside.

Indeed, many in New York are wondering what the Mayor will do as he comes upon his final year in office. While many have requested that he stay for a third term, sources are saying that the Mayor may have greater ambitions in mind. What those will be, we have yet to find out, but rest assured that once we find out, we'll let you know...


“I’ll be in my office,” I tell the production crew as they pack up for lunch. I eye the shirtless model under the spotlights one more time and make a beeline toward my office. It’s been a hectic morning, testing the new high-definition cameras I bought and getting them ready to go, and I need a break. A long one.

I step inside my office, shut the door behind me, and collapse on my chair, stretching as I yawn. I should be getting lunch right now, not lazing around inside my office, but we won’t pick back up till 3, so I’m not exactly in a hurry. Maybe I’ll answer a few emails before heading out.

Just look at me, turning into a workaholic beast all of a sudden. Believe it or not, it hasn’t always been like this. I guess starting your own company forces you to develop some work ethic. Especially when it’s a company that revolves around sex.

Oh, you thought that having a production crew and a few cameras meant I was a respectable young entrepreneur, didn’t you? Well, I guess that depends on your definition of respectable. As far as I’m concerned, working in the sex industry is as respectable as any other job; it’s just more fun. And, if you ask me, the sanest people I’ve ever met always have the craziest backgrounds.

It all started when I graduated college. Fresh out of Yale and with a finance degree tucked under my arm, I was ready to take the world by storm—except I was broke, of course. Welcome to the 21st century, right?

Thankfully, one day I got a call from a headhunter, and he was interested in seeing some pictures of me. I almost hung up then; I thought he was just one of these run-of-the-mill creeps, preying on desperate pretty girls. But, as it turned out, his offer was a pretty legitimate modeling gig. Sure, it was a racy modeling gig, but it paid handsomely.

So, smart girl that I am, I rolled up my profits into currencies and stock, and put my finance degree to work. When I reached a considerable monthly income, I gave up on the idea of getting a regular 9-to-5 job. So, yeah, I escaped the rat race before I even had a chance to participate in it.

I was only 23 years old when I opened up my first business. Instead of opening up a respectable burger franchise, or something equally boring, I instead decided to go for something a little more entertaining—a webcam business. And I don’t need to explain to you what a webcam business is, do I? I wasn’t selling webcams, if that’s what you’re wondering.

It was a wild success. From there, I expanded into the streaming-porn business, and it was only a matter of time until I caught the attention of the biggest shark in the ocean: Ethan Kane.

Owner of a billion-dollar porn industry behemoth, Kane did right by me; instead of treating me as a rival and shutting me down, he straight up bought my business. I was 24 years old and had enough money to retire for good.

For a few days I contemplated moving somewhere next to the beach and sipping on margaritas until I grew old and wrinkled. I took a two-week vacation in the Bahamas, but I grew tired of that hedonistic lifestyle quick enough. I grabbed a plane out of there and came back to New York, ready for another business venture.

Kinky Amy’s—does it ring a bell? It’s my new company slash club slash studio, and it’s on 43rd and 8th Avenue. And I probably don’t need to tell you that it’s all about sex. I mean, hell, the name’s Kinky Amy’s, not Prude Amy’s.

It’s basically a sex club with a specific department devoted to filming. I run what’s called an online peep show, and it’s blowing everyone else out of the water. Ethan Kane has once again offered to buy me out, but this time I decided against it. I love money, sure, but I need to keep busy. What the hell am I supposed to do all day if I’m not working?

Anyway, so that’s where I am right now, and this is my private office. The new huge cameras outside are my latest investment, and let me tell you: they were expensive. But I guess that if I want to keep on thriving in this business, I have to invest in top-of-the-line stuff, right? Always go for the best; that’s my motto in this business, and you can rest assured that I’m talking about more than just video cameras.

That’s why the shirtless model out there was as hot as a supernova. Square chin, washboard abs, and a delicious smile—you know, the works. That’s why I love my company. Where else would I have the chance to work in a place packed with scorching hot men? Yes, I love hot men and I’m not ashamed of it, not one bit. Why would I be? It’s not like I live in the 19th century, even though there are still some assholes that’d prefer women to wear chastity belts all the time. Thank you very much, but I’ll pass.

God, just thinking of hot men makes the gears inside my head start turning. And when that happens, I know exactly what I need.

Picking up my Kindle from one of the drawers, I prop my feet up on the desk and lean back against my chair. I power the Kindle up and launch Pierce Me, one hell of a steamy book by Simone Sowood. Oh, you haven’t read it yet?

It’s coming. She just sends it to me first because I’m just so awesome.

It’s surprising how fast I go through these books. As busy as I am, I should be reading one or two books per year… but I just can’t stop reading these dirty books. It’s like an addiction. The sweetest kind of addiction.

I pick up right where I left off, right before one steamy scene, and let my eyes wander over the words on the screen. Too bad perfect men only exist in Book Land; I wouldn’t mind having the power to just snap my fingers and make one of these men pop up into the real world.

And, God, why does Simone have to write so well? Seriously, two pages in one of these sexy scenes and my thong's already sticking to my skin. Okay, I need some action, and I need it right now.

I place my Kindle on the desk and jump up to my feet. I walk straight to the door and, opening it just a crack, I stick my neck out. “Justin!” I call out, and a few heads at the end of the room turn toward me. The production crew is having lunch on a makeshift table at the end of the studio and Justin, the model, is sitting with them.

“You need me?” he asks, jumping up to his feet. There’s an eager expression on his face, and I can’t help but smile at that. Justin has been eyeing me since his first day of work here, and today’s his lucky day.

“Yeah, I need you. Get in here,” I tell him, and then take a few steps back as I wait for him to walk across the studio. He swings the door open hesitantly, and then shuts it behind him.

“What is it?” he asks me, trying hard to avoid staring at my cleavage, but failing miserably.

“I’m bored,” I say with a coy smile, opening the top button on my blouse. His eyes widen and he smiles hesitantly, this time completely entranced by my breasts.

“I … I can help with that,” he tells me, taking one careful step toward me. God, would it hurt for him to be more assertive? Seriously, what’s wrong with men today? Even the handsome ones seem to walk on eggshells around me. Am I that intimidating?

“You sure can,” I whisper, reaching for him and hooking my fingers on his belt. I pull him into me, eager to get him out of his clothes and show him what a real woman can do.

He lays his hands on my hips, sliding one down to my ass and squeezing my cheeks, and then he leans into me. My eyelids droop as his mouth comes for mine, and I flatten the palm of my hand over his crotch, feeling his hard cock underneath his pants.

“AMY! Jesus Christ, have some decency!” I hear a woman’s voice cutting through the fog of my mind, and my pussy dries up in a fraction of a second. That woman’s voice, you know to whom it belongs? My mom, Katherine Meelios. Yeah, thanks Mom, I really needed for you to barge in here when I’m about to have some fun.

I pull back from Justin (who’s now looking from me to my mom with a scared expression on his face), and place my hands on my hips. “Haven’t you ever learned to knock? This is my office, you know?” I tell my mother, tapping my foot on the floor.

She’s standing by the doorway, her hand still on the door’s handle, and her lips are tightly pursed in a disapproving expression.

“You’re my daughter,” she simply says, walking inside my office and turning her attention toward Justin. “Out,” she tells him drily, and he just scurries away like a frightened mouse. Yeah, my mother has that effect on people.

“What the hell do you want?” I ask her, still pissed off that she had the audacity to storm inside my office like that. I mean, it’s my lunch break, and I was about to have some much needed fun. It should be illegal to ruin moments like these.

“I want you to turn on the TV,” she tells me, and her harsh tone of voice tells me that something’s coming.

And, whatever it is, it isn’t good.


The weather couldn't be any fucking nicer if it tried to suck my cock.

What the fuck. That makes no fucking sense at all.

I don’t even know why I said that. Am I really that nervous about this shit?

It’s like sometimes I don’t have control over what I say, ya know? Like some giant hand is writing this shit out somewhere and I have no control over what I say and do.

That’s not what today is all about though.

The sun's out, there's a gentle breeze, and it's a clear, bright day. The sky is a perfect shade of blue. Traffic seems to almost float by. Even the pigeons look fucking happy, gliding, and pecking, and cooing, and the trees look greener than normal.


Everything's going as planned.

I have total control here.

Carpe diem. I'm seizing the fucking day.

I look over at the podium placed in front of City Hall. The building stands tall and stoic.

The stage is set. In a few minutes, I'm going to stand in front of that podium, speak into the microphone, and unveil a secret to the citizens of New York City: I'm running for the U.S. Senate.

I straighten my yellow tie (the color of power, I've been told) and smooth the lapels of my suit jacket. Here's my chance.

I walk over to the podium, and watch as a crowd gathers.

Men, women, and entire families—I even see babies sucking on their toes in strollers. Even kids skipping school to play witness to this moment.

I clear my throat. "Thank you all for gathering here today," I start, and already I hear a smattering of claps, and whistles.

"We love you Parker!" one woman yells out, and I wave to the anonymous woman in the crowd, smiling.

"I'm sure it's no surprise to any of you that I've been in the tabloids quite a bit as of late."

I hear more shouts from the crowd. "You can say that again!" another woman yells. I hear some laughs.

And I continue, "But I just want to make one thing clear. I don't give a fuck about what the media thinks about me. None. They can all say what they want. But we all know that I get results for this city! I put my money where my mouth is."

I hear clapping erupt across the crowd. "You tell 'em Parker!"

I continue, "The only people I care about are you—the hardworking citizens of New York City. And I think that's been apparent in my work as your Mayor."

I look out at the sea of smiling faces, and the clapping. I look at the serious nods of approval.

"What once was a city of crime, is now a place that," and I pause, holding the gaze of various women in the audience, "women can walk safely down the street at night. Safety is not a privilege, it's a right, and I'm proud to say that I've lowered crime across this city that we call home."

More cheers and claps emerge from the crowd.

"But let's not stop there," I smile, holding a dramatic pause. "I've brought back jobs to this magnificent city—including new construction. Not only have I brought new jobs, but a new infrastructure for us as well."

The crowd is growing increasingly loud, shouting their approval, and I'm on a fucking roll.

"I'm happy to say that unemployment is at an all-time low. And that's just the beginning!"

"You tell 'em Parker!" a man shouts again, and he's backed by increasingly more cheers.

I continue, "For all of our families—historically, the cost of housing has been especially tough. But I say, enough is enough! Families are our future, and it's been my mission to lower that cost—and I'm happy to say that's happened."

"Ain't that the truth!" comes another shout from the crowd, and there's another round of clapping.

I hold my hand up to quiet the crowd, and continue, "I've also cleaned up this beautiful city. As many of you have probably seen, I've added parks, play structures, and recreational courts, and because children are our future, and I believe that they should be given every opportunity possible to succeed, I've added a number of new after school programs."

There's more clapping, and at this point, I don't try to quiet the crowd. I just continue on.

"Shall I go on?"

People are now chanting, "Parker! Parker! Parker!"

"Under my years as Mayor, I have balanced the budget. We now have more money for what matters most to us, and not only that, but I've managed to lower taxes for all of our citizens. I'm sure you're all feeling the effects of that!"

The clapping continues, and increases in intensity.

"Never, in the history of our city, have things been this good. That's not hyperbole; that's the honest to God truth! And with that, I've got an announcement to make today."

I remain silent for a moment and look out across the sea of happy faces. The clapping and shouting continues, but grows quieter as everyone becomes eager to hear my announcement. They all seem to be leaning in just a little closer.

I continue, "I'm happy to announce that I will be running for a seat in the U.S Senate!"

With that news, the crowd erupts. They're shouting their approval. They're ecstatic. They're practically leaping out of their shoes.

I feel on top of the fucking world.

"With your support, I promise to represent the people of New York City in Congress—to talk about the issues that are most important to you, and to push along the bills that matter the most. I give you my promise. I'll be there when you need me the most. So always remember this, New York City: When you're in need, just ask Trask!"

The audience loves the tagline—they're literally eating it up—and they immediately begin shouting and chanting, "Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask!"

I smile with a grin that feels wider than the Atlantic Ocean.

I can feel the energy and excitement pulsing off of the crowd. People are shouting their approval, cars are honking, drivers are waving, babies are smiling, and the thunder of applause seems to rumble across the entire fucking city.

Now this is how you make a bid for the U.S. Senate.

This is how it's done.

Can things be any better?

I don’t fucking think so.


I stare at the TV, barely blinking as I take in my stepfather’s words. Why the hell is my mother showing me this? He’s running for Senate; great, but what the hell does that have to do with me?

“So?” I ask my mother, turning to face her.

“Your stepfather has decided to run for the Senate,” she tells me, and I just shrug.

“Yeah, I saw that. What do I care?”

“Oh, you don’t care now. But you should ... because, as of now, his bid for the Senate is your problem,” she says, lowering her voice as an amused grin creeps up on her face.

There’s one thing you should know about Katherine Meelios, my beloved mother: she’s an ambitious sociopath. There, I said it. You’re probably thinking that I’m being too harsh on her, since she’s my mother and all. But trust me, you don’t want to get too comfortable around my mother. She’s not the kind of person to dip her hand into your purse looking for your wallet, but she’ll steamroll you if you’re in her way.

“I want you to get close to him,” she continues, narrowing her eyes into slits. I go back behind my desk, unconsciously needing a barrier between her and I, and sink into my chair. “I need you to get inside his campaign.”

“Are you crazy? You want me to spy on Parker?” I sigh, rubbing both my temples. Here we go. Once again, she’s pulling me into her Machiavellian plots for world domination. Just lovely.

“I want you to spy on him, and you will spy on him,” she says, a veiled threat behind her words. Well, not exactly veiled; if there’s one thing my mother loves, it's to threaten me in order to make me do her bidding. It’s what she does. Behind her pretty face and middle-aged elegance lies a creature that knows no limits. “I’m going to run for Senator, and Parker’s in my way. I have to put a stop to his ambitions, and you’ll help me do that.

“You’re insane,” I repeat, a headache already brewing inside of my skull, “how the hell am I supposed to get into his campaign? And, besides, he’s my stepfather. It’s not like I get off on sabotaging family.”

“Parker and I aren’t together anymore, so let go of that family talk,” she shoots at me, walking around my desk and leaning into me, her hands resting on my chair’s hand rests. “And we were only married for a year, Amy. Don’t bullshit me and say you care about him. You hardly know him.”

That’s true. I was only 18 when mom and Parker called it quits and split up. But that only strengthens my case.

“Yeah, that’s right. So what am I supposed to do? Stroll into his campaign’s headquarters and announce myself? Hey, daddy? I missed you! Gimme a job. How do you think that’ll play out?”

“It’s not like you have a choice,” my mom says, her grin widening as she lowers her voice. Here we go.


“That’s right, Amy. I still have that tape, and unless you want your business to go up in flames, together with your reputation, you’ll help me do this,” she hisses, an amused expression on her face. Ever since she got her hands on that tape, there’s been no stopping her.

You see, Parker left a lasting impression on me. I was only 18 when he left, but I grew up dreaming of his strong frame, deep voice, and smart eyes … God, just thinking about that is enough to make my heart race.

Anyway, I’m not ashamed to say that I had some solo fun thinking of Parker once puberty hit. Too bad that, once in college, I never found anyone that managed to fill Parker’s shoes.

That only happened after college.

I was still working as a model when I got a very lucrative offer to star in a movie—a porn movie. I said no at first, but when I saw the man I’d be, ahem, co-starring with, I started having second thoughts. And for a very simple reason—he looked a lot like Parker. Sure, the voice was off, and he didn’t tower over me like my stepfather did, nor his body was as perfect as I needed it to be… But there were a few resemblances, and I found myself signing a contract just so that I could get the chance to live out a fantasy of mine.

I don’t even remember that man’s name. All I know is that he looked like Parker and, once our clothes were off, he became Parker. I closed my eyes once he slid his cock inside of me, and I moaned and screamed Parker’s name until my throat grew raw. I forgot all about the cameras, the director and the crew; in that moment, I was just living out a dream.

Once that was over, I started having second thoughts. Did I really want to star in a porno? Did I really want to go down that road? Push came to shove, and I decided to bail out of my contract. I returned all the money I was paid, and the producers were kind enough to bury the footage. I chucked out that moment in my life to a lapse of judgment and promptly forgot about it. I had the only copy in existence, and so my little secret would never see the light of day.

Except, of course, I made a slight miscalculation. You see, I always knew my mother was a ruthless person, but I never thought she’d be shrewd enough to go looking through my stuff, trying to find some dirt on me.

Once she found the tape, it was downhill from there.

Anytime she wants me to do anything, she resorts to her threats right away. And it isn’t like there’s anything I can do. If that tape sees the light of day, Kinky Amy’s is going to be swept away by the resulting scandal, and I can kiss goodbye all the sweet investment I managed to secure with my hard work.

“I’ve done enough for you,” I say, gritting my teeth and making an effort not to slap my mother. It’s kinda sad if you think about it. She’s my mom, and all I really want to do right now is smack her across the face.

Ever since she got her hands on that tape, she has used me like some disposable tool. I’m not proud to say it, but she has forced me to seduce some of her political rivals in the past so that she could force them to align with her, or get out of the way. Yeah, I’m her femme fatale of service.

But I can’t do that to Parker. He’s my stepfather, for God’s sake!

“In case you haven’t noticed, Amy, this isn’t up for debate. You will do this. But don’t think I’m an evil bitch,” she whispers with a smile, and I do exactly the opposite. She couldn’t be any more of an evil bitch. “Do this for me, and I’ll let you have the tape once you’re done. Just do your mom one last favor.”

“One last job,” I correct her, pursing my lips.

“Whatever you want to call it, Amy,” she chuckles, throwing her purse over her shoulder and straightening the front of her haute couture dress. “Just make sure you do it,” she finishes off, and then walks out of my office.

I sit there in silence, my hands balled into fists. Once again, my mother has pulled me into her political schemes. And, once again, I have no choice but to do her bidding.

One last job then.


It's been four days since I announced my bid for the U.S. Senate and my phone's been ringing non-stop. My inbox is so full, I could spend the next ten years answering every fucking message, and I still probably wouldn't get through it all.

And you know what? I couldn't be happier.

Needless to say, people are pretty fucking excited about my announcement.

And this evening, I'm celebrating at Cipriani's where the liquor choices are large, and the jumbo shrimp cocktails are even larger.

I walk over to the bar and motion to the bartender for a drink.

"What can I get for you sir?" And before I can even answer, a smile of recognition spreads across his face. "Wait a minute, you're the guy I saw on TV the other day—the 'Just Ask Trask' guy. You're Parker Trask, aren't you?"

"That's me," I say, reaching over to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine—now about that drink," he smiles. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll take an Old Fashioned," I reply.

"Sure thing—but I've gotta say, you're anything but Old Fashioned. The way you've whipped this city into shape, and brought it all together, is nothing short of a miracle. I've never seen that from any other mayor, and I've been in this city my whole life."

"I appreciate that," I reply. I think about segueing his accolades into my new bid for Senator, but then I decide that'll come across as shameless self-promotion, so I hold back and simply keep it at a thank you and nod my head.

I watch as he makes my drink—muddling the sugar and bitters, pouring the whiskey, and topping it with a twist of orange and a cherry. The ritual of it all is somehow comforting. He slides it over to me.

"Perfection," I say, and he seems pleased.

I reach down to grab the glass and before I can bring it to my lips, a woman catches my eyes. She grabs the empty seat next to me, and casually looks at the bar's menu.

I'm trying not to stare, but fuck, this is some woman.

Did I just say that my drink was perfection? Because I was clearly wrong. This woman sitting next to me is perfection incarnate.

I look around, hardly believing that she could be sitting here, alone. There's probably a boyfriend—or husband—about to walk up any minute. I'm bracing myself for the disappointment. I'm expecting it.

When I steal another look at her face, I notice that she seems familiar somehow.

Do I know her from somewhere? I'm wracking my brain for an answer when she speaks up.

"Can I really ask you anything, Trask?" she says, a smile forming on her lips.

Wait … that smile. Now I know why she looks so familiar. She looks so much like her mother.

"Amy?" I ask.

"I was wondering when you'd recognize me," she laughs.

"You look—"

She cuts me off. "Older?"

"You look good," I say.

"I'm not the frizzy-haired, braces-wearing 18-year-old kid you remember, right?" she continues, laughing.

If I'm honest, she's the opposite of that description in every possible way. Fuck, the woman sitting next to me is stunning. A halo of blonde hair frames her face. She's wearing a form-fitting, but classy black dress that shows off her every curve. She has an ass to die for; I'll tell you that much. I can picture myself squeezing it, a full cheek in each fist.


Don’t look at me like that. Sure, she’s my stepdaughter. But that fucking dress. It’s wrapped to her body like wet tissue paper.

Its almost impossible to not be able to tell what she looks like fucking naked.

No, she's definitely not a kid anymore. I can't help but gaze at her perfect, round tits, and the way that they seem to be popping out of her dress—almost fighting with the fabric—and she catches me in the act of staring.

"I'm up here," she smiles.

I quickly look up, and act as if I don't know what she's talking about.

"Jesus," I say. "I just can't believe how grown up you are."

It's as if the surrounding people—the noise, the commotion, the bar, and everything has melted away and the only thing I can see and hear is Amy.

She smiles and seems to recognize the magnetic hold she has on me right now. She now has a drink in her left hand, and as she brings it to her lips, I quickly scan her finger for a ring, trying not to be too obvious about it. I don't see one.

"No husband?" I ask.

"I haven't found anyone worth marrying," she grins.

"That's a shame," I say.

"And why's that?" she asks, one eyebrow arching. "Maybe I don't want to be married."

"With your," and I hesitate, trying to find just the right word, "assets … you'd make any man happy, and lucky."

She doesn't reply, and instead simply smiles, and goes back to her drink. I notice her legs are angled toward me now, and she seems to have scooted in a little closer. I take it as a sign to try and dish out the charm.

"Want to make a bet with me?" I ask.

"Depends," she smiles, hesitating ever so slightly. And I swear she opens her legs a little.

Am I just imagining that?

It takes everything in me to not reach over and rest my hand on that butter-smooth crevice between her legs.

I hand her the cherry from my drink. "You know what they say about a woman who can tie a cherry stem into a knot without using her hands, right?"

She shakes her head no, so I continue. "Well, it means," and I lean into her ear and whisper it for emphasis, "that she's a phenomenal kisser."

"Is that so?" she purrs, a wide smile lighting up her face.

"But I bet you can't pull it off," I say, teasingly.

"That little stem?" she laughs, looking at the cherry pinched between my fingers.

"That little stem," I confirm, and smile. "And I'm gonna bet you can't do it. But if you prove me wrong, I'll owe you an entire dinner."

She seems to perk up at the challenge. She's competitive. I like that in a woman.

"Do I get to choose the place?" she asks.

"Of course. Anywhere," I confirm.

"Considering what I do for a living," she smiles, "challenge accepted."

"Wait, what does your job have to do with tying a cherry stem with your mouth?"

Now I'm really fucking curious. I can't possibly imagine the connection.

"Let's just say I'm a sex worker of sorts."

Wait, what did she just say? I nearly choke on my drink. Instead, I cough into my napkin.

"Sex worker?" I ask. "You're joking, right?"

"Is that so hard to believe? Especially from a man like you, Mr. Parker 'Pleasure' Trask—the man who was caught with his pants down, with three different women at once?"

"Okay, okay," I shrug. "I get it—you're right. So, what exactly do you do?"

"I basically run my own online porn presence with an online peep show," she smiles. "Our jobs are more alike than you think," she continues, when I don't respond right away.

"I'm not sure about that," I say, shaking my head. I really don't see the connection.

"It's true. We both know how to work an audience," she purrs, and now she's so close that I feel her knee pressing against my thigh and it sends an electric current up and down my body.

"Maybe," I smile, not totally convinced, but not wanting to say she's wrong either.

"I want to help you with your campaign," she continues, in all seriousness.

"I don't know… I don't think that's a good idea," I say. "I've already given the media enough to talk about lately."

She laughs, and then places her delicate hand on my thigh. I think about how close she is to my 12 inches of man meat, and I grow hard. "Since when did you care about what other people think?" she purrs.

Fuck. She does have a point.

"Touché," I smile.

I watch as she grabs the cherry from my hand. The color seems to mirror her nail polish, and she brings it to her mouth, slowly. Grinning, she places it between her lips and pops it from the stem. I watch as she licks it and rolls it across her tongue before chewing it.

Fuck. My cock is throbbing.

Then, she pinches the stem between her white teeth. Her teeth are so white and straight they remind me of a picket fence.

"The moment of truth," she purrs, and gives me a seductive wink.

There's a fucking pulse in my pants now, and I watch as her plump, moist lips take turns parting, closing, and wiggling in cycles.

Then her mouth stops moving and she shrugs her shoulders.

I try to read the meaning behind her eyes.

She reaches into her mouth and pulls out the stem.

"Never bet against me," she grins. "It looks like you now owe me dinner."

I look down.

There, lying on top of the bar, is a cherry stem fastened into a perfect knot.

“Have your people call my people,” she says to me as she turns to leave, swaying her hips and giving me a view of her ass.

My eyes meet hers as she gives me a lascivious smile and licks her lips.

“See you around, Daddy.”


So, what does a busy entrepreneur such as me do on a Friday night?

Well after the way I left Parker, I’m going to need to spend it doing research.

So that’s what I do Friday. Read up on my latest target, Parker Trask, or, as the media dubs him, Parker ‘Pleasure’ Trask. So here I am now, sitting in my living room and wearing pajamas, my laptop balanced on top of my knees.

I have to be honest, even though Parker’s my stepfather, I never knew much about him. Sure, I knew that he was New York City’s mayor, and that he had a reputation; I just had no idea how big his reputation really was. And, ahem, it seems that his reputation isn’t the only big thing he has. Hey, I’m not the one saying it; it’s all over the tabloids.

Since I have no other choice but to go through with this, I decided to do some research before diving head first into what I hope is the last time I help my mother out. Although, I must admit, what really spurred me to do all this research was meeting him at Cipriani’s. The air around us seemed to grow warmer and warmer with the bet he made with me, until it started boiling, and I’ve been in a daze ever since.

News articles, interviews, tabloids—you name it. If it mentions Parker, I’m reading it. I like to go into things prepared, you know? It’s not like I take any pleasure in doing my mother’s dirty work, but since I’m being dragged into this, I figure I’ll go in prepared.

Thing is, I didn’t realize that reading up on Parker would be fun. Yeah, there, I said it: fun. Billionaire, bad boy, sex god; the man is the complete package. And the photos of him … Jesus Christ, it seems that after he left my mom he became even hotter than before. Sure, I watched him on the news from time to time, but only now that I devoted my whole evening to him do I realize how truly gorgeous he is.

Throughout the years, I tried to forget all about him. I told myself that all the desire I felt toward my own stepfather was nothing but a silly teenager fantasy. But I was wrong.

And you know what? I’m freaking wet right now.

Crap, I can’t believe this is happening to me. Not again. I spent most of my college years daydreaming of Parker, imagining how it’d be to have his naked body pressed against mine, but eventually I put all that behind me once I started focusing on growing my companies. But now it seems that hunger for Parker is coming back to me. Which, you know, is kinda messed up since he’s my stepfather and all. Not to mention that I’m supposed to start spying on him so that I can ruin his political aspirations.

Could this situation be any more fucked up?

Okay, I need to take a break from all this. I need to unwind or else I’ll go crazy.

I place my laptop on the coffee table in front of me, and I’m about to close its lid when my eyes meet the picture on the screen, the last one I was, ahem, analyzing. It’s from a photo shoot Parker did two years ago for a magazine, a complimentary piece to one long interview he gave. In it, he’s loosening his tie and offering the camera his million dollar smile, and I’d bet my company that this photo alone made thousands of women as wet as I am right now across the whole city.

Oh, screw it, I think to myself as I lie down on my couch, my eyes focused on Parker’s picture. Biting down on my lower lip, I place one hand over my stomach and then slide it down between my thighs, pressing the tip of my fingers against my pussy. I choke down a moan, and then decide to go all the way; I slide my hand underneath my pajama bottoms, feeling the wet fabric of my thong, and then press down on my clit.

Pleasure soaks my nerve endings all at once, and my eyes start rolling in their orbits as I imagine Parker right in front of me, that deliciously wicked smile dancing on his lips. Oh, I’d give a lot of money for him to be really here now. I’d just reach for his crotch and grab his cock, feeling it harden against my eager fingers… Oh, I bet the tabloids are right about his size.

Oh, God, I can’t stop myself now. I slide my fingers underneath my thong and, parting my inner lips, I slide my middle finger inside my pussy. I curl it upward like a hook, driving it all the way in and only stopping when I find that red hot button of pleasure, my G-spot. I press hard against it while, at the same time, I use my thumb to stroke my clit.

I close my eyes as my brain starts to overheat, all of its processing power used to render a mental picture of Parker’s body. I imagine the rugged muscles he hides under his tailored suits, and how it’d feel to run my tongue over the grooves between his abs… And, you know, with my tongue on his abs, it’d only be a matter of time before I went further down and found out exactly what he has dangling between his legs.

How big is he? Now that’s a question I’d pay serious money to see answered. Judging by what the tabloids spout, he must have a baseball bat between his legs. Which sounds like the most delicious thing I've heard all day. I can already imagine his enormous shaft sliding in and out of me, ravaging my pussy mercilessly…

“Oh, sweet God…” I moan, my quivering voice echoing throughout my empty apartment as I start moving my hand faster. I slide one more finger inside my pussy and start flicking my wrist fast, my fingers moving in and out of me at a furious pace. I pretend they’re his cock, stretching me wide and ruining me for all other men, and that just drives me completely insane.

I arch my back, moaning loud enough for my neighbors to hear, and take my free hand to my breasts, squeezing them eagerly. Images of Parker’s naked body flash behind my shut eyelids, and a burning need to feel his body on mine flares up violently, like a sword cutting my brain in half—rationality to one side, irrationality to the other.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan, my inner walls tightening around my fingers as my muscles start burning up. I hiss through my gritted teeth as a sudden spasm takes over my body, forcing every single muscle in me to twitch erratically, and that’s when a sudden moment of clarity overtakes me.

I must have him.

I will have him.

This has been a fantasy for too long.

Besides, it’s not like my mother forbade me from doing it, right? And it’s not like she’ll ever find out if it does happen.

Dear stepfather, here I come.


We've been driving for 15 minutes. I sit back in the black leather seat of my car as my driver navigates us to Amy's apartment.

A-my … those two syllables officially drive me wild. They raise my pulse. They make my heart kick. I even heard someone at the grocery store the other day say something that sounded like "Amy," and when I swung my head around, wondering if it was 'The Amy,' all I found was a toddler on the verge of a tantrum, pulling on his mother and saying, "weigh me," because he felt that he should get to swing from the produce scale instead of the bag of bananas.

I must be slowly losing my fucking mind.

A is a letter that seems to get my attention wherever I am now. And that day in the store, I swear to God, every fucking item starting with the letter A jumped out and reverberated in my brain—almonds, apple cider vinegar, avocados, angel hair pasta.

"Here we are sir," my driver says, pausing my thoughts.

I look out the car window at her building. It's nice. Nicer than I imagined, if I'm being honest.

"I'll be right back," I tell my driver. "Keep the car running. This'll only take a minute."

I walk briskly into the building and to the elevators, pressing the numbers to her floor.

As the elevator climbs, my thoughts return. I remember her back at the bar—the bet—the way she kept her legs slightly open, suggesting something more. Like she was on the verge of revealing a secret and I was going to be the lucky recipient of.

I remember the way I wanted to slide my hands between those butter-soft legs, or squeeze her tits, or slap her firm ass. The way I wanted to press my mouth to hers as she wrestled that cherry stem.


The elevator doors slide open and I'm here. This is her floor. I shake those thoughts from my mind.

I walk over and knock on her door. And I smell her before I hear or see her—like a bouquet of roses, or a walk in a seaside garden.

Then I hear the lock jostle free, and she opens the door.

She stands in the frame and my eyes travel the length of her body. She has to be the most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen.

"You look," I manage to say, "stunning."

"You don't look half bad yourself," she grins.

"Shall we?" I ask, extending her my arm. She nods, and grabs it and together we head down to my car. It almost feels like a silly, old-fashioned gesture, but in the moment I'm compelled to do it.

As we slide into the car, Amy sits close to me. She reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh. I play it cool and make small talk, even though my cock is obviously thrilled. I feel it leap in my pants.

"So, the Boat House?" I ask. "Have you been there before?"

"The view can't be beat," she replies. "A view of the lake—the history of it all—I love it."

"It's a good choice."

We make small talk, and before I know it, my driver is dropping us off and we're being led to a table with, as Amy mentioned, a clear view of the lake.

I immediately order us a bottle of wine, and as we sit, and sip from our glasses, I say, "So, tell me more about your business."

"What do you want to know?" she grins. "There's cameras and there's sex." She's testing me. Teasing me? "I don't need to explain to you what I used to do in front of a webcam, do I?"

"Maybe," I smile. The truth is, I want to hear every fucking detail.

"Well, sometimes" she grins, leaning into me with her tits, "I would use toys, and I'd fuck myself for hours."

"Hours?" I ask in disbelief.

"That's right," she confirms.

At this point, I have no idea if she's just trying to raise my blood pressure, but it's working. My cock is fucking harder than it's been all day.

"And what else?" I ask, pressing her further. Her tits look good enough to eat. I try not to stare, but honestly, they look tastier than anything on the Boathouse menu.

"You do realize that I'm your stepdaughter, right?" she teases with a smile.

Fuck, the way she says that makes my cock leap even more.

"Yeah, and?" I ask. And the truth is, I don't care. It fucking turns me on more.

"One time, in my early days, my Internet went out mid session, so I had a cable guy come out to see what the problem was. Within a few minutes, he had it turned on and as my screen went live again, I had an idea. I asked all of the men viewing if they wanted me to ask the service guy if he'd fuck me."

"And did you do it?" I ask, eager to know how the story pans out.

"I did. I started the bid at $1,000 and before I knew it, it was at $2,000, so I asked the technician to come in my room. I was nervous, of course—I had never done anything like that before, and I revealed what I was doing. Without a second's hesitation, he agreed, and before I knew it, I had his cock in my hands."

"Was it big?"

"I think what you're really asking," she says, sliding her hand up my leg and within inches of my own cock, "is if it was bigger than your cock."

I stare at her for a moment, our eyes locked. "And was it?" It's a question but it tumbles out of my mouth like a dare.

"I think we should go find out," she grins.

In no time, we find ourselves back in the car, riding toward my fucking place, Gracie Mansion, and I can hardly contain myself. I lean into Amy and brush my lips against her ear. Then, I move closer to her mouth and bring my lips to hers. She exhales sharply, like she's been waiting for this moment all night, and I bring one hand to her hair and grabbing it, I pull her head back and kiss her deeper than I've ever fucking kissed a woman before.

I hear my driver cough, "Ahem, excuse me sir, but we're here."

As we step out of the car, Amy looks up at Gracie Mansion. "My, what a big …" and she looks down at the outline of my cock in my pants and back up at the house, and continues with a grin, "house you have."

"One of the perks of being mayor," I smile. "Would you like a tour?"

"I'd like more than just a tour of your mansion," she purrs, and I can feel desire coursing through my veins.

"I can make that happen," I smile back.


Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss, but sometimes … it’s something else.

The moment my lips touch Parker’s lips, I know I’m in for a wild ride. My heart is thumping fast and my mind is wired up, tapping into some inner well of pleasure. I feel the world around me fade away, and all labels vanish into thin air; forget all about stepfathers and stepdaughters, this is about a man and a woman.

I pull back from his kiss and, looking into his eyes, I feel two inevitable words making their way up my throat. I open my mouth and desire speaks through me, the words like rolling thunder.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, my heart feeling like a hand grenade.

“I thought a sweet girl like you didn’t know how to use words like that,” he says, teasing me as his lips curl into an eager grin.

“Oh, you have no idea how sweet I am. You haven’t even had a taste,” I shoot back, holding my breath as I take my hand and press it against his crotch. His eyes widen as he feels my touch, and I waste no time; I curl my fingers around his cock, tightening my grip on the growing shape under his pants.

“No, I haven’t. But just one look at you is enough to know you’re a sweet girl, whether you know it or not,” he tells me, resting both his big hands on my hips, “and I’m going to fuck all that sweetness out of you.”

His words are like honey and fire, and they take over my mind in the blink of an eye. I have no ready response this time, and so all I do is lean into him and surrender to his kiss again. His cock throbs against my fingers as we kiss, our tongues dancing around one another like two long lost lovers.

He takes one hand off my hips, and then I shiver as I feel the touch of his fingertips on the nape of my neck. He tangles his fingers in my hair and then yanks on it, forcing me to throw my head back. I look into his eyes, breathing hard, and he just pushes me against the wall with a growl.

I gasp as my back touches the wall, a sudden urge to feel Parker’s dominance taking over me. I reach for his shirt, hooking them on his collar, and now’s my time to growl. I yank on his shirt from side to side, forcing the buttons to pop off in fast sequence, and then I press my hands on his bare chest. I hold my breath and look at his chest, my eyes widening as I realize that Parker’s so much more than I had imagined; his pectorals are like sculpted muscles, and there’s a wall of bulging 8-pack abs covering his stomach. He has an eight pack, for God’s sake!

“Surprised? I’m not an old man, you know?” he asks me, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

“No,” I breathe out, my lungs suddenly remembering to start working again. “But you’re still my daddy,” I tell him, grabbing his cock so harshly that he groans.

“Yes, I am,” he replies, moving fast and reaching for me with his hand. He places it over the front of my dress, bunching it up between my thighs, and I let out a moan as I feel the pressure of his fingers right on my pussy. “And daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

Insanity. This is pure insanity. Out of all the men in the world, why did I have to succumb to the only one I’m not supposed to have? I’ve never really cared about society’s fake modesty, but fucking my stepfather? That’s a bit too much, even for me. But, the thing is, I can’t stop it. No, this river is going to run its course.

Letting go of his cock, I curl my fingers around his wrist and force him to press his hand harder against my pussy. I throw my head back at the same time, pressing it against the wall, and I moan as the pressure of his fingers on me becomes almost unbearable. I’m so wet right now that I feel lightheaded, both my brain and heart succumbing to the natural high of pleasure and anticipation.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks me, his deep voice sending a shiver up my spine. He takes his hand out from between my thighs, but that’s just so he can slide it under the hemline of my dress. His fingertips trail toward my inner thigh, and then he’s on me again, the palm of his hand pressed tight against my drenched thong.

“Ah… I… I do…” I moan, struggling to get the words out.

Stroking the front of my thong with the tip of his fingers, he teases me mercilessly, drawing moan after moan out of my lips. Then, his fingers flowing from one movement to the other, he pinches the fabric and flicks it to the side. He presses the palm of his hand over my pussy and I gasp, the pressure making my insides clench, a violent urge to have him inside of me taking over my mind.

Reading my thoughts, he caresses my folds with his middle finger, moving it up and down in a repetitive motion. He only slides it in when I’m not counting on it, curling it upward like a hook and moving it straight toward that sweet hidden spot inside of me.

“Oh, God,” I pant, feeling his fingertip pressed tight against my G-spot. At the sound of my words, he presses even harder, my eyes rolling in their orbits as he does it. He lowers his thumb over my clit, then, and starts rubbing with the same abandonment with which he’s pressing on my G-spot. “That’s… that’s good,” I whisper, smiling as he handles my body with the expertise of a man who's seen it all.

Most men can’t even find a woman’s clit, let alone her G-spot. And that’s just sad, don’t you think? Thankfully, Parker isn’t like most men, and everything he does makes me believe that every second with him is a gift from the heavens.

“You’re tight,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against my ear. At the same time, he slides one more finger inside my aching pussy; he flicks his wrist slowly, moving both his fingers in and out of my pussy at a growing rhythm. “I love tight,” he continues, fingering me so hard now that I can’t even think of a response to his words. All I can do is stand there while he works me with his fingers, each movement of his hand like a sweet sting.

I want to tell him not to stop, to keep going, but I don’t have the strength to do it. When I open my mouth, all that I manage to do is whisper another quivering moan, my eyelids drooping as I feel a storm brewing inside of me. Perhaps feeling it, he drives his two fingers deep inside my pussy, pressing them both against my G-spot, and then he starts rubbing my clit even harder than before.

I succumb to his magical touch in a fraction of a second, my pussy tightening around his fingers as a violent electric spasm crawls up my spine. I throw my head back, bumping it against the wall, and let my moan spread its wings and turn into a scream of utter delight.

Using both my hands, I curl all of my fingers around his wrist and force him to press even harder, my G-spot burning as if his fingers were made of flames.

“That… that was so good,” I breathe out as he slides his fingers out of my pussy. He doesn’t reply; he just grins and, lifting his hand up, takes his two fingers to his mouth. He brushes his fingertips over his parted lips, my fluids making them glisten, and then smiles softly.

“Of course it was,” he simply says, moving his fingers toward me. I open my mouth by instinct, my body reacting on its own, and he slides his fingers inside my mouth; I close my eyes and suck on his fingers, the sweet flavor of my own pussy eclipsing every other sensation. “Delicious, isn’t it?” he asks me, his deep rugged voice awakening a beast inside of me.

“Yes,” I tell him, smiling back at him while I rest my hands on his shoulders and push his ruined shirt down his arms. My heart thumps faster as I see the cords of chiseled muscles that go down from his shoulders to his forearms, and my knees grow weak, which isn’t a problem because what I want to do now doesn’t require me to be standing up.

I lower my body, my fingers trailing down from his shoulders to his abs, and kneel right in front of him. “Now let’s see if you’re as delicious as me,” I tell him, looking up and into his eyes. My fingers go down to the line between his pants and his skin, and I start working on his belt, unbuckling it.

My movements are slow but deliberate and, as I pull his belt out from its loops, I know that my patience is paying off. His whole body is tensing up, and his cock is straining harder against his pants, tenting them up even more eagerly than before. I’ve felt it with my fingers, but now I think it’s time to see with my own eyes what he’s hiding between his legs.

I undo the top button on his pants and then, holding my breath, I pull his zipper down. His cock pushes back against his boxer briefs, and my heart skips a beat as I lay eyes on its perfect outline. I’ve never seen anything quite like it; it’s simply too big.

Still holding my breath, I use the tip of my fingers to trace the outline of his cock, a pleasant warmness spreading from my fingertips to the rest of my body as I feel his shaft pulsing against me. Well, here I go.

Moving as fast as I can, I hook my two thumbs on his boxer briefs and, exhaling sharply, I push them down his legs violently. Both his pants and boxers fly down to his ankles, and his cock springs free so fast that it slaps me across the face, the touch of skin on skin almost enough to make me come.

I pull back and, just kneeling there, I let my eyes roam over his massive shaft. He has to be at least twelve inches long, which makes it the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. I reach for it, hesitating as I wonder about what I’m going to do with it; he’s big enough to make me doubt my own prowess. I mean, just think of the mechanics involved; is he even going to fit inside of me?

Well, I guess I have to find out, don’t I?

“Like what you see?” Parker asks me, kicking off his shoes one at a time and stepping out of his pants.

“I do,” I reply, taking a deep breath to steady my fingers and finally curling them around his thick shaft. I tremble slightly as I feel his thickness against the palm of my hand, and I breathe out loudly as I move my hand for the first time, moving it all the way to the base of his cock. Now grabbing him with both my hands, I start a pendulum motion, going up and down his length at a growing pace.

I work my way into a furious rhythm and I finally start leaning in; I stop stroking him and tilt my head sideways, reaching for his shaft with the tip of my wet tongue. My skin prickles as I feel the tip of his cock, and then I run my tongue all the way down to its root. I repeat this motion over and over again, teasing him, and only stop when he rests both his hands on my head, running his fingers through my hair.

“Let’s see how delicious you really are, then,” I whisper, wrapping my lips around the tip of his cock. I have to make one mighty effort in order to do it, my jaw burning as I force my mouth open as wide as I can. Still, I push through, rolling my lips down the glorious length of his cock; I close my eyes as I feel its tip pressed against the back of my throat, and then I make one final effort, only stopping when I feel my lips brushing over the skin at the root of his cock.

I use one hand to caress his balls, rolling them over my outstretched fingers and feeling their weight. I can only imagine how much cum balls as big as these can produce; they’re so big they look like tennis balls.

“That’s it,” Parker groans, his fingers pressing down on my scalp and urging me to move. Obeying happily, I grab his cock with one hand, keeping it in place, and start bobbing my head back and forth. My lips roll over his shaft furiously, a wet sound filling the whole room as I go.

“Like it?” I ask him, popping his cock out of my mouth so that I can take a deep breath. I keep on stroking him, though, and I don’t even wait for his response; the moment clean air rushes into my lungs, I dive into his cock once more.

“I fucking love it,” he groans, throwing his head back and surrendering to the tightness of my mouth. I keep on sucking and licking until the muscles in my neck start cramping up, and that’s when I slow down. I take his cock out of my mouth once more, but keep my tongue dancing in steady circles around its tip. Running it down the length of his shaft, this time I go all the way down, wrapping my lips around one of his balls and sucking it into my mouth.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I hear him say as I go from one ball to the other, lapping at them with my tongue.

“You know what else feels good?” I ask him, looking up into his eyes with a wicked grin. At the same time, I run one hand down my stomach and press my fingers right between my thighs. His eyes dart there, and I can see him mentally ripping the clothes off of my body.

“I can imagine,” he replies, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me up to my feet harshly. “If your pussy is as tight as your mouth, I can’t fucking wait,” he continues, pinning both my arms against the wall while he presses his naked body against me. I swallow hard as I feel his hard cock brushing against my inner thigh over the fabric of my dress, and this time I’m the one mentally allowing him to rip the clothes off of my body.

Still holding me by the wrists, he leans into me and crushes his mouth against mine, parting my lips with his tongue. Our tongues dance around one another in a frenzy, and I notice him peeling his fingers off my wrists at the same time; his hands dart to my shoulders, and then his fingers trail down the side of my body.

With a growl, he digs his fingers into my hips and forces me to turn on my heels. I place my hands against the wall at shoulder-height, and I bite down on my lower lip as I feel him grabbing the zipper between my shoulder blades. He pulls it down slowly, baring my back, and it almost feels like flames are engulfing my beating heart when I feel his knuckles brushing over the dimples on my lower back.

I breathe out and close my eyes as he presses his mouth to my neck, kissing my skin as he pulls my dress down, bunching it around my waist. His fingers move back up to between my shoulder blades and, with a deft flick, he simply unhooks my bra. I feel the cups drooping over my breasts, and my nipples become so hard they almost hurt.

There are no straps on my bra, and so all Parker has to do is tug on them gently for the cups to slide off my breasts and then float easily to the floor, falling at my feet. I press my forehead against the wall as he reaches for me, cupping both my tits and squeezing, and I react without thinking; I thrust my ass back violently, eager to feel his hard cock against my body.

His shaft fits right between my ass cheeks and, even though there’s still fabric between both our bodies, I can’t help but moan as if he’s already inside of me. I sway my hips in a flowing motion, grinding against him and stroking him with my ass cheeks, and he responds by pinching both my nipples at the same time. I feel a sharp stab of pain on my rosy tips, and that pain shoots straight up into my brain, except by the time it gets there, it has already turned into honeyed pleasure.

“I want you… I want you so bad,” I find myself saying, the words flying out of my mouth before my brain has even had the time to process them. All I know is that I need him inside of me in an almost desperate way, every single inch of my body screaming for his touch.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, taking his hands off of my breasts and burying his fingers in my hips. He rocks his hips against me, grinding against my ass for a few seconds, and then suddenly takes one step back. He tugs on my dress harshly, yanking it, and I feel the fabric kissing my legs as it slides down to my ankles.

I feel his eyes roaming over my body, and then he’s on me again, his cock nestled between my ass cheeks. With a growl, he hooks his fingers on the string that laces my outer thigh and pulls on it; there’s a ripping sound, and then the fabric of my thong slides off me, the cool air of the room caressing my naked pussy.

His hand goes around my waist, and then drops down until he has two fingers pressed on my clit. I gasp as I feel the pressure, electricity building up inside every single nerve ending in my body.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he whispers, pressing his cock hard against my ass.

“Do it, daddy,” I tell him, my voice heavy with anticipation. He pulls back, and I feel the tip of his cock trailing down my ass crack as he grabs it with one hand and angles it down. I go on tiptoes as I feel his cock brushing against my drenched folds and, just like that, he thrusts. I gasp as I mentally prepare to have him go all the way inside of me, but he stops after feeding just one inch into my pussy.

“Fuck me… hard…” I breathe out, my insides burning as I feel my pussy lips choking the thickness of his shaft. Even though my back is turned to him, I can almost feel the grin on his lips as he thrusts, this time burying his cock to the hilt inside my pussy.

I grit my teeth as I feel my inner walls stretching to accommodate the massiveness of his shaft, my brain working overtime to process all the mind-bending sensations flooding it. And that’s when Parker starts to rock his hips, sliding his cock in and out of me at a steady pace. His thighs slap my ass cheeks over and over again, the sound of flesh on flesh lulling me into a lust-crazed trance.

“So… fucking… tight,” he groans between thrusts, his hands on my waist as he holds me in place. As his thrusts become harsher, I feel all strength leaving my body, my elbows trembling each time he drives his long inches all the way inside of me. I press my forearms against the wall for better support and, gritting my teeth, I tap into some hidden reserve of energy and start thrusting back against him, my ass cheeks smacking his thighs at a furious pace.

“Harder, daddy,” I pant, his thumbs curling over the dimples on my lower back as he holds me. He doesn’t reply; instead, he just does what I asked of him, moving his body with a kind of coiled violence, his cock punishing my pussy with the relentlessness of a piston.

Taking one hand of his around my waist again, his two fingers find their way to my clit once more and he starts working on it with the same fury with which he’s fucking me. The moment I feel the sweet pressure on my clit, I realize I’m just a few heartbeats away from coming again. My pussy’s tightening around his cock, and my spine feels like a live wire, electricity running up and down its length and driving me completely insane.

“I think I’m --” I start to say, but the words crumble as a wild scream takes their place. My throat burns as I scream, the sound of my high-pitched voice stabbing at my eardrums; my muscles are twitching, and even my brain seems on the verge of shutting down.

The whole world fades away as waves of pleasure crash against me; pleasure echoing inside my body and making my bones rattle. Right now, I’ve forgotten all about the fact that Parker is my stepfather, and that what we’re doing is completely wrong, right now, none of that matters. What matters is that my brain is drowning in an ocean of ecstasy, all of my thoughts like murderous hands, choking my conscious mind.

“So good,” I whisper, my forehead pressed against the wall as I try to take a deep breath, both my brain and body still reeling from the mind-bending orgasm.

“And we’re just getting started,” Parker whispers back, sliding his cock out of me. I tremble as I feel his long inches working their way out of my pussy, and my heart grows heavy as that familiar emptiness takes over my pussy. Now that I’ve had him inside of me, it’s like I’ve discovered a secret world behind a curtain, and I can’t go back to being my regular old self after finding out about it. I’m just like Alice in Wonderland, except this new world is called Cockland, and it’s as good as its name promises.

I turn on my heels to face him, flattening my back against the wall, and let a smile take over my lips. I run both my hands through my hair, pushing it back over my shoulders, and then reach for Parker’s cock with one hand.

“Why are we stopping? Don’t tell me you’re tired,” I tease him, offering him a devious grin. He responds by pressing his body against mine once more, both his hands going around my waist and settling over my ass cheeks; he squeezes them harshly, my flesh molding to his touch, and then pulls me up and onto him. I react by instinct, jumping up and lacing my legs around his waist.

“Let’s see if you can take it then,” he says, grabbing his cock with one hand and angling it down, nestling its tip right between my pussy lips.

“I can take it, how about you?” I ask him, but my last words are an undecipherable mess; he thrusts mid-sentence, his shaft straining against my inner walls on the way in and overloading my brain with vicious pleasure.

“Ah, fuck,” I moan, placing my arms over his shoulders as I throw my head back once more. This time, he doesn’t waste his time by building a rhythm; he starts thrusting as hard as he can right away, pounding me with a kind of savage fury that incinerates any kind of rational thought still floating inside my head.

The coming and going motion of his cock anchors me into the present moment and, for an instant, I feel enlightened. There are no thoughts of the future or of the past, and there’s no dwelling on what I’m doing (or not doing); I’m just existing, and drifting away in the river of the present moment. This is what sex is all about.

More than ripped bodies and huge cocks, this is what I really crave. An experience so intense that it just pushes me through my boundaries. And that’s what’s happening right now; fucking Parker is an experience that borders on the religious.

“Don’t stop now,” I say, the words slipping out subconsciously. I feel on the verge of coming again and—oh, God! OH GOD! I grit my teeth so hard they might shatter into a thousand splinters, and I let an avalanche of pleasure overtake me.

My pussy tightens up around Parker’s cock like a vice, and my heart beats so fast it feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest. Endorphins rush through my veins like a drug, soaking my brain with ecstasy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt pleasure like this. It’s simply too good.

I feel beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, my body burning from the effort. “This… is amazing,” I breathe out, untangling my legs and placing my feet back on the floor as Parker pulls his cock out. I fall back, collapsing against the wall, and my body slides down until I’m sitting on the floor.

“Amazing…” I repeat, my muscles still twitching fast as ecstasy takes over my soul. I open my eyes, looking up at Parker, as he stands tall, towering over me. The shadow of his cock falls over me like a bad omen, and I find myself grinning and going to my knees.

“Give me all you've got,” I whisper, curling my fingers around his cock and stroking him fast right from the beginning. My hands fly up and down the length of his shaft and, even though the muscles in my arm seem about to give up on me, I push through. I won’t stop; I’m going all the way now.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes closed and an expression of pure delight taking over his face. He’s breathing hard, his chest falling and rising in a hurry, and I know it won’t take long for him to reach his climax.

“Do it, daddy,” I whisper, his cock throbbing hard against my fingers the moment the word daddy tumbles out from between my lips. “I want your cum, daddy,” I continue, urging him to surrender to me, and that’s exactly what happens.

His cock spasms fast in my hand, as if a high voltage current is running through his muscles, and I lean into him as fast as I can. I wrap my lips around the tip of his cock as he starts gushing, warm semen coating my tongue and flooding my mouth.

I keep him in my mouth as he cums, but he does it for so long that he fills my mouth to the brim, strands of semen dripping down my chin and onto my neck. I pull back and, looking him in the eye, open my mouth to show him the mess he made inside of me. With a mischievous grin, I swallow his entire load as he keeps coming, a thick strand of his juices hitting me across the face.

I go back to stroke him, hell bent on getting his entire load on me; by the time his cock gives its dying spasms against my fingers, I’m glistening from the waist up. Beads of warm cum make their way up and down the curve of my breasts, caressing my hard nipples on their way toward my stomach, and I just sigh heavily as I finally let go of his cock.

“Look at the mess you’ve made of me, daddy,” I tease him, grabbing both my breasts and squeezing them lightly. My skin prickles as the palms of my hands brush against my nipples, and then I just flatten both my hands and start smearing Parker’s fluids all over my naked chest, never taking my eyes off of his.

“That’s my kind of mess,” he whispers, going down on one knee and taking two fingers to my chin, forcing me to raise my head. He looks straight into my eyes, almost as if he’s looking into my soul, and then leans into me. My eyelids droop as he closes the distance between us, and our lips touch softly.

“Not so innocent now, are you?” he asks me, pulling back from my kiss and offering me an amused grin. I bite down on my lower lip, seeing his lips glistening from his own cum, and then smile back at him.

“No, definitely not,” I tell him, grabbing both my breasts again and feeling them slippery under my touch. “You kept your promise.”

“I always keep my promises,” he replies, and my brain gets to work trying to think of ways to make him promise me so much more.

I know, I know… he’s my stepfather and this is wrong. Taboo, forbidden, indecent—whatever you want to call it. But, in the end, who cares? I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions; and if what I want is for a man as gorgeous as my stepfather to fuck me, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Screw society’s prejudice. The way I see it, we’d all be a lot happier if we fucked more and judged less.

It works for me.

New York Daily Journal

A Father-Daughter Dynamic Duo

All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

The race for the open Senate seat for the sate of New York took a complicated turn today as the Mayor's office announced that the Mayor's stepdaughter through marriage, Amy Aspen, would be joining the campaign for the open Senate seat.

What makes the situation stranger and more unique than prior elections is that the opponent who is facing off against Hizzoner is none other than his ex-wife, Governor Kate Meelios.

Sources close to the Governor have been quiet as to any comment regarding the fact that the daughter of the Governor is working for her ex-husband. In a similar fashion, sources from City Hall have yet to comment themselves on the new arrangement.

Amy Aspen, prior to stepping into the role of campaign advisor for Mayor Trask, has had a rather colorful career. She is the current owner of Kinky Amy's, an online peep show and sex club that stands at the forefront of the digital sexual revolution. An unabashed critic of the double standard by which women and men are judged when it comes to sexual matters, Ms. Aspen has often added a touch of editorial opinions to her videos and website.

Time will tell what exactly Ms. Aspen will bring to the campaign, but already there are rumors circulating that the Governor may not be pleased with the choice of the Mayor to employ his stepdaughter.

New Yorkers have not seen such family drama play out in the city in a long time. It was the administration of Michael Anders that brought about the scandal that led to the divorce of the mayor and his wife, and his subsequent dating and marriage to his campaign staffer Kenneth Gilford after he came out on the eve of the election as being gay.

Observers do not believe that something like that situation would repeat itself here for the simple fact that Mayor Trask is hiring his daughter in an official capacity.

"Look, it's one thing if she were his stepsister or just not even related to him, then yeah, something might happen between the two of them. But she works for him. I mean, there's no way a woman is going to find her boss attractive, right? If anything, the fact that he used to be her stepdad should be a deterrent," a City Hall observer commented on condition of anonymity due to the fact that he works often with the current administration.

Whatever developments arise, it's a foregone conclusion that this election will be unlike anything that New York State has seen in recent times. It will be dirtier and with a husband and wife facing off against each other and a stepdaughter in the middle of the mix, it may very well border on scandalous.

Stay tuned to the New York Daily Journal to stay abreast of every juicy detail!


"You're kidding, right?" Susan Duran asks, hands on her hips.

It's a busy morning. The staff is buzzing and phones are ringing. I can see people taking calls and answering emails just beyond the glass panes of my office windows.

Susan's my Chief of Staff, and it's clear from her body language and the fact that her eyes are shooting daggers at me, that she isn't fucking happy that I've decided to bring Amy onto this campaign.

"It'll be fine," I promise her, taking my hands out of my pockets and giving her a quick pat on her shoulder. "I think Amy brings something unique to the table."

Susan laughs. "Is that what you're calling it? Unique? That's definitely not a word I'd use. Look, all I'm asking is that you stop and think about this for a minute, Parker."

"I have," I reply, "and I think this is a good move."

"Even with your playboy reputation?" Susan asks, her eyes widening in further surprise.

And just then, as if on cue, Amy knocks on my office door and lets herself in.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," she smiles. "City cabs can be so unpredictable."

She's wearing a short black skirt and I can't take my eyes off her ass.

She extends her hand to Susan. "I'm Amy; it's nice to meet you."

I watch as Susan eyes her up and down, and as if she didn't hear the introduction, she turns to me, completely dismissing Amy's outstretched hand.

"Parker, about our council business meeting tomorrow," she says, turning her entire body away from Amy, "we're going to need you to discuss your thoughts on improving the city's open data policies and IT infrastructure."

Amy tries to chime in, undeterred at the snub. "Actually, I can give you a lot of information on—"

But Susan cuts her off, still refusing to look in her direction. It's as if she's refusing to believe she's even in the same room. "I'm sure that isn't something that Amy can help us with."

"You're talking about her as if she weren't standing here with us," I laugh. My eyes travel between both women. Amy is standing with her hands on her hips. It's clear she isn't going to back down from Susan's dismissal.

"I know what this is about," Amy says.

"You're out of your element here," Susan replies. "I'm sure you know plenty about … other things … but I doubt you know much of anything in this arena."

"Other things?" Amy says.

"Oh come on," Susan smiles. "It's no secret what you do."

"And what exactly is it that you think I do?" Amy asks Susan.

I decide to jump in before the catty banter between these two women escalates into something else. What exactly, I don't know. But I don't want to find out either.

"Now, now," I say, waving one hand through the air dismissively. "Let's give it a rest."

"A rest is the last thing we need," Susan chimes in. "We need speed, momentum, and a clear action plan … with the right team. The clock's ticking."

That little dig causes Amy to bristle.

"I'm exactly what this team—" she begins to say, but I wave my hand and cut her off.

"Both of you stop," I say. "I've already made my decision. Amy's on the team, and that's final. Now, let's all start acting like we're a team."

I look at them both, and they're silent, so I turn to Susan and continue, "I trust Amy's judgment. I really do. Shouldn't that be good enough?"

Susan doesn't respond, but I can tell she's taking in what I'm saying carefully. She can sense the sincerity on my face. And then I turn to Amy and address her as well. "Look, you're on probation for now. Like I just said, I trust you, but it's going to be important for you to prove yourself. You'll need to prove to me … and to this entire team that you're a good fit, and you can bring something to the table."

For a split second I think she's going to protest, or come back with a comment of her own, but she doesn't, and I'm relieved. Finally, they both seem to understand.

Now we can move on.

I reach into my pocket to pull out my cell phone and open my calendar. I figure we should solidify this week's meetings. Maybe talk about next steps. Who to meet and where. PR events to attend.

But before I can do any of that, the office door flies open and I can hardly believe who's standing in the doorway.

The devil herself.

Kate Meelios.

She gives me an icy glare and stalks across my office, straight toward me. Her eyes remind me why we divorced in the first place. She's dressed to kill; a pencil skirt and a tight, white blouse. She means business. I can't help but watch the way the sharp tips of her stilettos jab and sink into the carpet as she walks.

"I hope you're happy," she says to me as her eyes survey the room. They're cold and the color of ice. Her thin, red lips part into a serpentine smile. She looks at Amy and then at me, and shakes her head. "I hope you're happy for stealing my daughter away from me."

"Mom—" Amy starts to say, but Susan takes this as her cue to leave the room, and we all watch as she silently leaves, hardly daring to guess what's about to come next.

I can't remember the last time Kate's been in my office, and whatever the reason for her visit today, it can't be good.

If only it were that easy for me, I think to myself as I watch Susan exit the room.

"Kate, what a pleasant surprise," I say, with a sarcastic smile. Her entrance has been anything but pleasant. It's downright painful, like being squeezed by a snake.

"Cut the crap, Parker," Kate replies, and I swear she's about ready to bare her fangs. “You hired my own daughter to defeat me from becoming Senator?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to fucking say anything.

"You do realize what this means now, right?" Kate asks, and neither Amy, nor I dare to answer.

Kate just smiles and continues. "This means war."


And here we go—the gloves are off now.

My mother stares Parker down with such a fury that the air around her seems to be simmering. There’s a vein bulging in her temple, and her lips are a thin line of contempt. Her face is contorted into an expression of seething rage, and all of her beauty seems to have evaporated.

For a woman as beautiful as my mother is, she sure knows how to play the part of haggard evil witch.

“What the fuck are you really doing here, Kate?” Parker asks her, turning to face her. The surprise in his voice is telling; he wasn’t expecting her, not at all.

“I came to see if it was true… You turned my own daughter against me,” she whispers, balling her hands into fists. Jesus, she can act, which reminds me of how dangerous she really is. She’s like a coiled snake, hidden in the leaves but ready to strike and bury her fangs in the flesh of an unsuspecting victim.

“Don’t be insane,” Parker replies, folding his arms over his chest. “No one’s turning Amy against you.”

“How dare you lie to my face?” my mom shrieks, taking one step toward Parker as a hateful scowl takes over her face. I look from her to Parker, having no idea what I’m supposed to do here, and so I resign myself to a simple spectator.

Susan, meanwhile, made the sanest choice available and quietly sneaked out of the room, which now makes this a family reunion   of sorts.

Just wonderful.

“You’ve always hated me, Parker…” my mother continues, lowering her voice. “And now you’ve decided to run for the Senate just to spite me. And you brought my daughter into this as well… Don’t you have any limits?”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Kate. Why did you come here? Just to shout at me? What the fuck do you want?” he asks her, and I see something flickering in her eyes. That’s the question she was waiting for.

“I want you to drop out of the race,” she replies, the words flying out of her mouth with the force of a sledgehammer.

“I see,” Parker whispers, more to himself than to my mother.

“Drop out,” my mother repeats, and I can see the hint of a grin on her lips. She knows that he won’t drop out this easily, but just knowing that there’s a chance that this will all be over here and now is enough to make her smile.

“Over my dead body,” Parker finally responds, narrowing his eyes and staring her down. Yeah, so much for wrapping this up.

“That can be arranged, Parker,” my mother tells him, her voice so low that I can barely hear her. I lean back against my chair, shocked by her words, and by the honesty behind them. Why do these two hate each other’s guts like this? I never expected them to be on friendly terms, but this is simply too much. What the hell’s going on in here?

“Hey, look, we should all calm down and --” I start, getting up to my feet, but my mother turns to me and shuts me up real quick.

“Stay out of this,” she cuts me short, her icy eyes turning toward me. I sink down into my chair once more, realizing that this time I might be in over my head.

“Get out. Now,” Parker says, his voice boiling with rage. He takes one step toward my mother, but she just looks him up and down with a look of disgust and, clutching her purse against her chest, turns on her heels and starts walking toward the door.

“This isn’t over, Parker. Not by a long shot. Like I said, this means war," she whispers before bolting out of the office, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Jesus,” I whisper with a sigh, still staring at the door as the fading click of her high heels reaches us. I know she wants me to help her force Parker out of the race, but I had no idea she intended to go bat shit crazy over this.

What the hell was she even trying to accomplish with this? Unless… Unless she’s trying to set up a precedent. She’s building up a story, trying to make it look like there’s no connection between her and I. All hail the Queen of Mind Games, Katherine Meelios.

“Are you okay?” I hear Parker’s voice, my train of thought derailing, and I turn toward him.

“Yeah… I’m okay, sure,” I reply, not knowing what else to say. I guess that if my mother’s little act was true, I’d be shaken up by the scene. But I’ve never been a good actress and, besides, it’s not like I need to pretend right now.

Parker’s too absorbed by his own thoughts to notice my calm demeanor; the look on his face is one of anger and calculation. Just now, he’s realizing that my mother has declared war. And when my mother goes to war, she doesn’t hold back any punches. I’d know, after all, I’m sitting inside Parker’s office as her spy.

Suddenly, Parker walks toward the door and, without a single word, he grabs the key from his pocket and, after sliding it inside the lock, turns it. I hear the bolts sliding as he locks the door, and he finally turns to me.

“I want you. Now,” he whispers, his serious eyes focused on me.

“I’m right here, Daddy” I reply with a smile, getting up from my seat as my heart starts picking up the pace. The confrontation with my mother has made his blood boil, and there’s only one way a man like him can let go of his fury.

“You’re fucking mine to do with as I please,” he hisses.

I gulp. I’m wet.

I can’t imagine that one of those staffers outside would be scared at this glint in his eyes.

Lucky for him, I’m right here, eager to help him unleash all that rage of his. Even though I never wanted this assignment in the first place, I have to be honest: being at Parker’s mercy makes it all worth it.


Lust and adrenaline have taken over Parker and, with a flicker of unbridled savagery in his smart eyes, he starts walking toward me. I stand in place, my feet glued to the floor as he closes the distance between us. Without saying a word, he takes one hand to the nape of my neck and tangles his fingers in my hair; yanking on it, he forces me to throw my head back and I gasp, a growing wetness between my thighs.

“Do it,” I tell him, knowing what he wants. He wants to ravage me, to unleash all of his pent-up fury upon me. “Fuck me,” I continue, looking into his eyes as a sure smile takes over my lips.

Still in silence, he pushes me back until my ass is pressed against the edge of his desk. I place my two hands on the flat surface and pull myself up, sitting on top of the desk and spreading my legs so that his body fits between them.

“I need you,” he whispers, breathing hard, and then leans into me and crushes his mouth against mine. I close my eyes as I feel the touch of his lips, my tongue finding its way into his mouth and dancing around his own. Placing my hands on his lower back, I let my fingers trail down to the hem of his pants, and then I slide them underneath both his pants and boxers, feeling the naked curves of his firm ass cheeks.

“I want you,” he tells me again, pulling back from my kiss and allowing his hands to wander over to my breasts. He squeezes them both at the same time, my nipples hardening under his touch, and then starts unbuttoning my blouse, his fingers moving in a kind of patient hurry as he bares my chest.

The moment my bra jumps into sight, I take one hand to his hair and grab it; I pull him into me and he comes willingly, pressing his eager mouth on the valley between my tits. Kissing my skin, he hooks one thumb on the left cup of my bra and pulls it down, baring one rosy tip, and then takes his mouth there. He wraps his lips around my hard nipple and starts sucking, lapping at it with his tongue.

His free hand takes care of my open blouse, pushing it down my shoulders and arms and then allowing it to fall to the floor like some forgotten rag. I tremble as I feel his fingertips making the hike from my lower back to my shoulder blades, his touch soft but heavy with pent-up lust; finding the clasp of my bra, he unhooks it with one quick flick of his fingers and then yanks it off of me, throwing it on top of my blouse.

“Beautiful,” he says, standing again and allowing his eyes to roam over the curve of my breasts. My pussy becomes even wetter as he looks at me, his eyes widening as a violent desire takes over him.

“Are you just going to stare?” I tease him, running my fingers down his black tie and then un-tucking his white dress shirt with two harsh tugs. “Or are you going to make me yours?” He simply grins at my words and, for a short moment, I almost think he isn’t going to bother with an answer to my question.

“Make you mine?” he chuckles, his deep voice sending a shiver up my spine. “I don’t need to make you mine. I already own you,” he whispers, yanking on my hair again and taking his mouth back to my nipples. He sucks on my right nipple eagerly, squeezing my left one at the same time, and I feel my eyes rolling in their orbits as he does it.

My fingers run through his hair as he devours both my nipples, jumping between them at an erratic pace, and I lace my legs around his waist. My skirt climbs up to my hips as I do it, and I pull him into me fast, moaning as I feel the bulging shape under his pants pressing against that sweet spot between my thighs.

With a growl, he takes one step back, forcing me to unlace my legs. Grinning wickedly, he goes down on one knee and rests his hands on my knees. Never taking his eyes off of mine, he slides his fingers up my stockings and underneath my skirt, taking them all the way to my outer thighs. He grabs at my stockings and, knowing what he wants, I lift my ass up from the desk and allow him to pull them down. I throw my head back and smile as I feel the stockings caressing my legs on the way down, but then he just pulls them almost too violently, forcing me to gasp as the sound of ripping fabric fills the whole room.

He tears the stockings off of my legs, only stopping when they’re in tatters at my feet, and then he places his hands on my knees again. He forces me to spread my legs apart and, giving me no time to prepare, he just pushes my skirt up and dives into me, pressing his open mouth against my drenched thong.

I bite on my lower lip, stopping myself from screaming just in time, as sweet flames of ecstasy spread from my pussy and engulf my mind. Grabbing at his hair, I pull him into me as hard as I can, closing my eyes as he starts to suck. I rock my hips against his face, the sweet pressure of his mouth on me growing and growing until I can no longer think straight.

“Yes… That’s it…” I moan, not even knowing what the hell I’m saying. All I know is that I want him to devour me, to eat me out until he satisfies all that devious hunger of his. And, let’s be honest here; he fucks like a god, and that just makes me curious to find out what he can do with that mouth of his.

“I can’t wait to fucking devour you,” he says, taking his face out from between my thighs and offering me a wild grin. He darts his hands to my waist and, hooking his fingers on my skirt, he pulls it down my legs harshly. I lift my ass up from the desk as he does it, and then I sit back down, this time wearing only my thong, and he takes care of that quickly enough too.

With an expression of pure hunger on his face, he pulls my thong down but, instead of just letting it slip from his fingers and onto the floor, he takes it to his mouth and takes a deep breath. Only then does he throw it on top of my blouse and skirt, his eyes flaring with lust.

I bite down on my lower lip as he starts leaning into me again, his parted lips aiming straight for my clit. Except, instead of going there, he turns his head to the side and starts kissing my inner thighs. He goes from one to the other, gently caressing my skin with his full lips, but never touching my pussy.

I place both my hands on his head, grabbing at his hair again, and try to force him to press his mouth against my pussy. He resists, though, and looks up and into my eyes.

“On my terms,” he simply says, and then he’s back on my inner thighs, his lips dangerously close to my pussy. Reaching for me with the tip of his tongue, he caresses the contour of my pussy over and over again, and then, when I’m no longer waiting for it, he finally dives into me and wraps his lips around my clit, pressing down on it with his tongue.

I gasp and, remembering where I am, choke down a moan as a high voltage current climbs up my spine and explodes inside my skull. My fingers turn into claws as I grab at his hair, and I start moving my hips from side to side, rubbing my wetness across his face.

Finally allowing that wild side of his to take over his movements, he opens his mouth wide and places it on top of my pussy, sucking on my inner lips almost too harshly. He takes them between his lips, running his tongue across their length, and then goes back to punishing my clit with clockwork precision. It’s almost like he knows my body even better than I do.

“Oh, daddy…” I moan in a subdued tone, the sound of my voice caressing my eardrums and making my skin prickle. “It’s so good… So good…” I pant, still rocking my hips against his face as he eats me out in such a way that it’s a wonder I’m not screaming.

He doesn’t say a thing; he simply keeps eating me out as if my pussy is the most delicious thing in the world. And that… Well, that just makes my mind kick into overdrive. To see him (and feel him) devouring my pussy as if he spent the whole day thinking about it, it’s almost too much.

Most men look at going down on a woman as a chore, a necessary sacrifice to get what they want. But not Parker; he does it without thinking or planning, the movements of his lips and tongue like the most important thing he has ever done in his entire life. Swear to God, he’s turning this into an art form.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I whisper, grabbing at his hair so harshly I might tear some off his scalp. He doesn’t even seem to notice; he just opens his mouth even wider and, using his tongue, starts jabbing at my insides.

There’s a pleasant buzz going on under my skin, an electric crackle making my ears pop, and I know that I won’t resist this for too long. I already feel my mind dangling over the edge, and all it takes now is a little push.

Reading my mind (or, perhaps, he read it in my body), he lays one arm over my legs and, using only two fingers, he reaches for my clit. He presses down on it with his two fingertips, and I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood; somehow, that’s enough to stop myself from screaming.

Parker doesn’t seem worried about my moans or screams, though. In fact, the way he’s working my pussy now makes it seem like that all he wants is to hear me scream. “Oh, God,” I say with a quivering voice, the pressure of his fingers on my clit and the way his tongue runs up and down my inner folds blending into a perfect storm.

I fall back on the desk, laying my forearms across the flat surface, and let my head fall back. My hair cascades down my shoulders as I grit my teeth and, a heartbeat after that, I come undone.

Sharp stabs of pain and pleasure seem to make their way up my spine, and then a raging river of ecstasy floods my brain, drowning it in ecstasy. I moan, careful enough not to do it too loudly, and lie back on the desk, breathing so hard that my lungs feel like balloons about to pop.

“Oh, God, that was so good,” I whisper, finding the strength to prop myself up on my elbows again. I look down at him with a dazed smile as he pulls back from between my thighs, his chin and mouth glistening from my juices, and then my insides clench as I hear him speak.

“Was? Who told you I’m done?” he simply says; with that, he dives into me again, his lips choking my clit as he caresses the length of my pussy with his middle finger. He caresses my pussy lips with that finger, moving it up and down at a steady pace, and I grit my teeth as I prepare myself for the inevitable; soon enough he’s going to start licking and fingering me, and I have absolutely no idea on how I’m going to stop myself from screaming so loud everyone in this building will race here to see what all the commotion is about. Oh, well, if it happens… It happens.

I told you: I can’t exactly think straight right now.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan as he slides his middle finger all the way inside my pussy, curling it upward until it meets my G-spot. I let out a little yelp of pleasure as I feel electricity spreading throughout my body, and that’s when he slides another finger inside of me. He starts sliding them both in and out of my pussy, ravaging me, and then leans toward me and wraps his full hungry lips around my clit.

Just like I had anticipated it, he sucks and fingers me with a frenzied kind of desire, tongue and lips and fingers working in unison toward the same goal: drown me in pleasure and ecstasy.

I lie back on the desk again, sending a few papers and folders tumbling down to the floor, and he kisses my pussy with renewed intent. His fingers fly in and out of me at a steady mechanic pace, hitting my G-spot over and over again with maddening precision.

“Oh, this is… Fuck… It’s so good,” I groan again, my pussy tightening around his fingers. My muscles are tensing up now, and I know it’s just a matter of time until a second orgasm overtakes me. It’s almost funny to think about it like this, with most men, I’d consider myself lucky with a second orgasm, but with Parker it seems that a second orgasm is just part of the appetizer.

I moan loudly as vibrant electricity takes over my spine and explodes in my nerve endings, and only when I remember myself do I grit my teeth, trying to choke down my moan and be as quiet as possible. Which isn’t exactly an easy task, mind you. I have no idea how I’m going to remain silent when we move toward the main course. But one thing at a time, right?

“Now… We can start,” Parker whispers somberly, pulling back from between my thighs and going up to his feet. I look into his eyes, grinning wildly as I see drops of my juices glistening on their way down his chin, and sit back up on the desk.

He takes his fingers to his collar and, loosening his tie, he then undoes its knot and pulls it out from around his neck. He’s about to throw it to the side when his lips curl into a grin. Using both hands, he stretches the tie right in front of me, pulling the dark fabric until it’s just a smooth long line.

“On your feet,” he tells me, the tone of his voice leaving me no room to do anything else but obey. I slide down from the desk, standing on wobbly legs, and look at him. “Now, turn around,” he continues, and I do so, turning on my heels. Using one hand, he pulls one of my arms back and pins my wrist against my lower back; he does the same with my other arm, and then I feel the soft fabric of his tie being wrapped around both of my wrists. He finishes it off with a tight knot and then, placing both of his hands on my hips, he makes me turn around again so that I’m facing him.

“Much better,” he whispers. Unblinking, and without taking his eyes off of me, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. My eyes wander up and down his chest as he reveals the hard muscles hiding under his shirt, and then I just purse my lips as he pushes it down his strong arms.

“On your knees,” he commands me, and my body reacts before my brain even has the time to process the meaning behind his words. My knees touch the floor in a heartbeat, and he unbuckles his belt and pulls it out from its loops in one swift motion. Unzipping his fly, he lets his pants fall down to his knees, and my heart skips a beat as my eyes fall upon the bulging shape straining against his boxer briefs.

“I want it,” I breathe out, my brain swimming in a lake of lust and desire. I move my hands unconsciously, as if to reach toward his crotch, but all I manage to do is chaff my wrists against the tight knot around my wrists.

“You want it… and you’ll have it,” Parker tells me, hooking his fingers on the side of his boxer briefs and pulling them down to his knees. His cock springs free at once, a few drops of pre-cum glistening on the tip, and I find myself leaning toward him.

“Patience,” he says, grabbing me by the hair before I can reach his cock. He takes a step back, kicks off his shoes and steps out of his clothing, and finally untangles his fingers from my hair.

“Give it to me,” I exhale again, anxious to feel his thick cock pushing down on my tongue, and this time he doesn’t stop me. He grabs his cock and angles it down so that it’s pointing straight at my mouth, and all I have to do is let my head fall forward. Which is exactly what I do; I open my mouth as wide as I can and, in a fraction of a second, I feel his thick shaft making its way past my lips and sliding down over my tongue.

Grabbing me by the hair again, he holds my head in place and drives his cock all the way in, only stopping when its tip is pressed tight against the back of my throat. He holds it there for a second or two, and then slides back out, but that just so he can slide in again. Thrusting, he fucks my mouth at a gentle pace, his cock rolling between my lips like a piston.

I moan, the sound of it rising in my throat and vibrating through his cock, and then I just let my eyelids droop and surrender to the pulsing pleasure inside me. He keeps on fucking my tight mouth until a sudden spasm takes over his member—for a fraction of a second, I almost believe he’s just going to cum inside my mouth, but that’s not what happens. He takes a deep breath, holds his cock deep inside my mouth, and then just slides it out. It pops out of me with a wet sound, and I open my eyes again.

Parker’s looking down at me with serious eyes, blue flames of ravenous lust dancing there. Before I can even say or do anything, he grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me up to my feet. I gasp as he does it, and then his hands go down my waist and he turns me around. He does it fast, laying one forearm across my shoulder blades and forcing me to bend over. I lay my naked chest across the surface of his desk, and then he grabs the knot on his tie, holding me by the wrists.

“Do it,” I cry out, feeling vulnerable and exposed, and loving every second of it. Using his free hand, he caresses the contour of my ass cheeks, and then slaps me hard across them. I gasp again, not expecting it, and press my forehead against his desk. His hand falls on my ass over and over again, and each time I feel its impact is like a small explosion goes off inside my skull.

I’m still busy trying to process the way he’s smacking me when I suddenly feel the tip of his cock going down my ass crack. Grabbing his cock, he pushes it down until his shaft is pressed against my pussy lips, and then he just thrusts.

I grit my teeth hard so that I don’t scream, but that’s an almost impossible mission: his cock goes inside of me so fast, and stretching me so wide, that the pleasure I’m feeling just demands to be turned into sound. Somehow, I manage to keep quiet… But the quieter I get, the harder Parker thrusts.

Still holding me by the tie, keeping my arms stretched behind my back, he slams his cock into me repeatedly. The sound of his thighs slapping my ass cheeks fills the whole office, bouncing off the walls and getting back to me like some disjointed melody of sinful pleasure. The sound of taboo and lust.

“You’re so fucking tight…” Parker groans, thrusting so hard that the whole desk seems to rattle under my naked body. “I can’t get enough… of your pussy…” he continues, finally letting go of the tie and placing both of his hands on my ass cheeks, his fingers digging deep into my flesh.

My eyes are closed now, but I can’t stop the fireworks from going off behind my shut eyelids. Ecstasy rushes through my veins, my heart pumping fast and loud, and I let myself be carried down a raging river of pleasure. Perhaps feeling me dangling over the edge, Parker takes one hand around my waist and, wasting no time, he finds my clit straight away and presses down on it with two of his fingers.

The moment he does it, an electrical storm starts raging inside my head. My thoughts seem to fly in opposite directions, banging against the inside of my skull, and even my eyes seem to be rolling in their orbits. I curl my toes, digging my heels into the carpeted floor of Parker’s office, and a shot of pleasure flies from there to my scalp, engulfing every single inch of my body in orgasmic madness.

“Oh God oh God,” I repeat over and over again, like some forgotten mantra, trying to fool my brain into not screaming. It’s getting harder and harder to do, but so far I’ve managed to keep the noise to a minimum. Which, really, is a miracle, Parker’s fucking me so hard, that any other woman would just scream her lungs out until they simply exploded inside her ribcage. But this isn’t my first rodeo with Parker and, as such, I’ve come into this mentally prepared.

“More… I want more,” I groan as Parker slides his cock out of my pussy. The moment his cock pops out, I push my forehead against the desk and use it as a leverage to get back up. I turn on my heels then, needing to face him, and he acts fast: he grabs me by the hips again and, pushing me up, sits me on his desk.

I spread my legs by instinct, and he closes the distance between us, his naked body between my thighs. Crossing my legs behind his lower back, I pull him into me until his cock is brushing against my drenched folds, and then I just look into his eyes and show him one exhausted grin.

“Go on,” I tease him, spurring him with my heels, and he just returns my grin. The moment he thrusts, it’s as if a nuclear detonation has gone off inside my head; my inner walls move to accommodate his massive cock once more, and he drives it so deep inside of me that my body seems to be burning up from the inside out.

“As… hard… as… you… can…” I manage to tell him between breaths, his cock once more sliding in and out of me at that relentless pace. Hearing my words, he presses his forehead against mine, and then reaches for my lips with his. We kiss in abandonment, the pace of his thrusting growing into a maddening crescendo, and I simply forget where I am, or who I am. And no, I’m not exaggerating.

The whole world fades around me as if it was a mere illusion, and as if the two only real people in the universe were Parker and I. His body and mine. In this moment in time, we are one.

Locking him in place with my legs, tightening them around his waist like a vice, I force him to thrust as deep as humanly possible. I then throw my head back, hissing through my gritted teeth, and finally surrender to that wild urge that threatened to overtake me. I open my mouth and scream, my high-pitched voice reaching my eardrums as if it were poison.

Maybe I’m being too loud right now, but I just can’t help it. All I can do is hope that his office walls are thick enough to keep all the noise (and all our secrets) on the inside.

My pussy lips spasm around his shaft, tightening their hold around Parker’s thickness, and I feel small ants of ecstasy crawling under my skin. My brain is boiling; my thoughts have turned to ashes, and all I can think of is that this is the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my entire life. It seems that each time I’m with him our connection grows stronger, and with it all the pleasure that takes us hostage.

Because, make no mistake about it, we’re hostages in here. Victims to the way our bodies crave each other. If we were rational creatures, we’d never allow ourselves to fall into this wicked dance. Danger abounds for both of us, and the more we walk down this road, the more the thorns on the side of the road seem to reach for us.

But even though we both know this, our needs are simply far too powerful for rationality to win. How can I be rational when he’s inside of me, his mouth pressed against my own? His hands roaming over my naked body, exploring and discovering the soft curves reserved for lovers?

This road might lead us to a precipice, but I’ll gladly follow it to the very end.

“Don’t stop…” I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. “Don’t stop,” I repeat, and he just takes one hand behind my back and undoes the knot that binds me. Once my wrists are free again, I place my arms over his shoulders and lock him into a tight embrace, pulling his body against mine.

We kiss once more, our tongues dancing around one another as he keeps on thrusting, this time more softly than before. “All the way…” I whisper again, and he pulls me into his embrace, thrusting hard and stopping all movement at once.

A violent spasm takes over his cock and, in a fraction of a second, I feel the warmness of his seed flooding my insides. I crush my mouth against his, kissing him as he comes, and my skin prickles as I feel my pussy brimming with cum, strands of it dripping down my thighs and pooling on the desk.

He keeps on coming for a long time, and we only stop kissing when his cock gives one violent, but final, spasm. Slowly, he slides it out of my pussy, and I tremble as I feel his thick inches leaving my body.

“Fuck, I needed this,” he groans, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. I run my hand through his hair and, looking into his eyes, smile.

“So did I,” I tell him, my body still wrapped in a blanket of mind-bending pleasure.

I came into this because my mother forced me. But the first time I shared my body with Parker, it all stopped being just a political game. I should be completely indifferent to everything that’s going on, but that’s not what's happening.

I’m starting to feel something toward Parker, and it sure as hell isn’t indifference. And that just makes the road I’m walking on even more dangerous than before.

New York Daily Journal

A Family Divided!

All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

Polls released yesterday evening show a statistical dead heat in the race for the New York Senate seat.

The two contenders that were polled were New York City Mayor Parker Trask and his ex-wife Governor, Kate Meelios.

Speaking on condition of anonymity, sources from both campaigns described the mood internally as tense in both camps.

Sources said fear and dread at defeat were widespread within the Governor's campaign staff, as her displeasure at losing to her ex-husband is widely known. Governor Meelios has emerged as one of the premiere politicians in the state who use whatever ends to justify the means in getting their agenda passed.

Tensions were also high in the Trask campaign after sources confirmed that the Governor had indeed stormed into the Mayor's office recently this week and engaged in a verbal shouting match. While details were still shrouded in mystery, it appears that the Governor was not happy that her ex-husband was employing his stepdaughter for his campaign.

The daughter in question, Amy Aspen, brings some controversy. A noted women's rights advocate who believes that men and women should be judged equally when it comes to sexual freedoms, Ms. Aspen has long been outspoken in a woman's ability to live her life on her terms. This has caused her to embrace an unconventional career, leading a highly successful content creation company that focuses on adult entertainment.

When the Daily Journal interviewed sources within the Trask campaign, they expressed misgivings that the Mayor's daughter would only serve to alienate voters. Indeed, in head-to-head matchups, it's clear that there is a point to the fears. Most voters in New York City seem to favor Parker Trask, who they see as having fixed the schools, lowered crime and taxes, raised employment levels to record highs, as well as tackled and solved the chronic housing shortage that was leading to astronomical rent increases during prior administrations. Faced with these accomplishments, voters in New York City are more willing to overlook and forgive what they see as personal failings and idiosyncrasies of Mayor Trask.

However at a state level, Mayor Trask begins to lose popularity once the borders of New York City are on the horizon. In rural country sides and small towns and villages outside of the metropolitan area, it's actually the Governor, campaigning on an anti-city base that draws the most votes.

"Listen, you'll hear a lot of stuff about the Mayor and how he's gone around doing all these women and keeping pretty girls around him, and now he's gotten close to his stepdaughter—not that he's doing anything at all—and you can tell these are New York City values. Those values don't apply to rural upstate New York. We don't have crime problems that Mayor Trask can solve because we don't have crime. Because we don't have New York City values," the chairman of the Governor's upstate New York operation commented on the record.

With polls at historic levels of closeness and the election approaching, the individual actions of each candidate will be what determines this election. That means their actions will be scrutinized even further.

And that just means more juicy details for you!


The vibration on my wrist wakes me. It's my Apple Watch reminding me that I have a meeting with Susan in 10 minutes. I look over at Amy. She's sleeping peacefully. I smile at the way the sun catches her hair as it cascades down her shoulders.

It takes everything in me to resist the urge to reach over and press my lips to her warm skin. To touch her lips. But fuck, I remind myself that I have to stay focused.

I smile. What the fuck is happening to me? One minute, I'm New York City's bad boy "Pleasure" Trask, and the next, I'm … what is it exactly that's happening?

I guess I'm just hung up on this girl. Amy. And she's not just any girl; she's my stepdaughter. It sounds wrong, but feels so right.

I quietly slide out of bed, careful to not wake Amy, and I slip on my clothes. I take another look at Amy … her angelic, sleeping face and her perfect curves, and my cock already doesn't care that I have an upcoming meeting with Susan because I can feel it twitching in my pants. It's daring me to slip right back between the sheets.

Not now, I think, and I walk into the living room; I have business to take care of first.

Gracie Mansion is huge. It drips with history.

So when I walk into the main room of the house, I can't help but wonder about this building's place in history. Visions of Mayors past, and even early New York Federalists and Alexander Hamilton—okay, okay… now I really need to fucking focus.

I grab my coffee and sit on the couch, powering up a nearby computer. I launch Skype and immediately, Susan's call comes through with the sound of shrill ringing. The ringing seems especially irritating this morning for some reason. Maybe it's because I'd rather be back in bed with Amy.

"Well, aren't you an eager one this morning," I laugh. She's right on time, down to the second.

She eyes me suspiciously and continues, "You look tired. Sleep much last night?"

It seems like that's a thinly veiled question for something, but I shrug it off. "Apparently not enough, but this coffee should do the trick," I smile, pointing down at the steaming mug.

"Well, I have some news that may wake you up," Susan replies.

"Good or bad?" I ask, but then quickly say, "Give it to me either way."

"It's good," she replies. "You're probably winning … if you count New York City."

"Really?" I say with a yawn, running my fingers through my hair. I just remembered that I didn't bother brushing it before jumping on this meeting with Susan.

"Are you okay, Parker?" Susan asks.

"What? Of course I am," I say. "I'm fine. I just woke up, that's all. That's great news."

She thinks for a moment, and her silence tells me that she's onto me. I've never been good at hiding things from Susan. She sees right through me.

"Let me just ask you. What's Amy really doing on this team?"

"She's uh," I think carefully about what I should exactly label her as, "functioning as my advisor."

But it doesn't matter what I call her because Susan can sense that something's going on between us.

"Oh really? Is that what you're calling her?"

"Yeah, uh, look, I think we can talk more about this during—" I begin to say, but as soon as I do, Amy enters the room.

She's wearing one of my button-up shirts … only a few buttons clasped together … and nothing else. The shirt just barely reaches her thighs and I have the distinct feeling that if she were to turn around, I'd have a nice view of her ass. It's falling effortlessly across one of her shoulders, nearly exposing a breast. My cock takes notice and twitches in my pants.

I look back at my computer, realizing I'm still in a meeting with Susan.

Fuck. Susan's noticed Amy's entrance as well, and her eyes are nearly ready to pop out of their sockets.

"No way—you're fucking kidding, right?" Susan exclaims. "I can't believe I'm seeing this."

"Calm down," I say. "Look, I have to go; we'll talk again soon—I promise."

"Fuck that Parker," Susan says. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Do you realize what you've done? Do you realize what kind of shit you're in now?"

"That's a little dramatic," I reply.

"Dramatic?" she laughs, but I can tell she thinks that this is anything but funny.

"I don't really give a fuck what anyone thinks. You know that," I say.

"This is different," Susan says. "You're fucking your daughter, Parker! What's the public going to think about that?

"Stepdaughter," I correct her.

"How long do you think you can keep this hidden?" Susan asks.

I'm silent for a moment, and Susan continues, "You'll be kicked out of Gracie Mansion. You realize that, don't you? If Giuliani couldn't even stay there with his mistress, what makes you think you can stay there with yours … your stepdaughter no less?"

I'm still silent, trying to find the right words, and Susan, no longer able to stomach it all, drops a bomb into my lap.

"Never mind," she says. "I actually don't need you to answer any of those questions because I quit."

"Wait—" I begin to say, but she interrupts me.

"I can't work with you."

And just like that, Susan's gone.


I'll have to figure out what to do with that news. If Susan wants to leave, I'll need to figure out a backup plan, but not right this minute. Right now, I turn my attention to the image of perfection—the sexy golden goddess now standing in the room like a magnet for my desire.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" I say with a smile, getting up from the chair.

"I see your day's off to a good start. Working already, huh?" she smiles back.

"Not anymore … now that you're awake, I think we can do something else." And as soon as I say this, my cock knows exactly what I'm thinking.


I stand there in the middle of the living room with Susan’s words reaching my ears like a sledgehammer, hammering the truth deep into my soul like a long nail. I’m ruining Parker’s bid for the Senate. I’m ruining his life.

What am I even doing?

I can’t go on like this. I’ve played my mother’s spy for long enough. And, in doing so, I’ve… I’ve fallen for Parker. I need to admit it, even if just to myself. It’s time to quit this charade and, for once in my life, stand up for what’s right. I can’t destroy everything he’s working for, just so my mother realizes her political ambitions.

I need to put an end to this.

“I… I’m sorry, Parker,” I mumble, taking two hesitant steps toward him. He turns toward me, a resigned smile on his face.

“What are you talking about, Amy? This is not your fault,” he tells me, closing the distance between us and caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. “This has nothing to do with you,” he lies, and his lie hurts more than the truth itself. He’s lying because he wants to protect me, to shelter me.

“Of course it does,” I whisper, grabbing his hand with mine. “You heard her… This is a mess. You’ve just lost your campaign manager, and if people ever hear about us… Susan’s right. I need to go.”

“Go where, Amy? What are you talking about? I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Still smiling, almost as if he doesn’t realize how serious the situation is, he brushes a stray lock of hair away from my face and tucks it over my ear.

“You need to fire me,” I blurt out, the words burning their way up my throat. I’m actually doing this. And it’s the right thing. I know it. “You need to fire me, and then you need to go after Susan and get her back.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Amy, you’re --”

“You need to get Susan back,” I continue, talking over him. Now that I’ve started, I need to go all the way. “You have to get your campaign together. You’re so close now… I know it; you know it. You can’t risk everything now.”

Even though what I’m doing now might unleash hell upon my life, I have to do this before it’s too late. I don’t care if my mother comes after me looking for revenge, and I don’t care about some stupid tape anymore. What if my business suffers in the process? I’ll rebuild; I’ll start over.

But I can’t hurt my stepfather.

I can’t hurt the man I love.

“I can risk everything, Amy… In fact, I need to do it,” he whispers, his eyes locking on mine.

“Why?” I ask him, my voice just a whisper.

“Because I’m falling in love with you,” he replies, and I feel as if someone has stolen the floor right from under my feet. His words echo inside my head like a melody and, at the same time, I feel my heart tightening up inside my chest. “I’m falling for you, Amy,” he repeats, his voice steadier now, and pulls me into his embrace. “And that’s why I can’t let you go.”

I say nothing as he wraps his arms around me, my face pressed against his chest. Tears well up in my eyes, and I smile. Right now, there are two opposite emotions inside of me, and I simply don’t know how to deal with that.

On the one hand, all I want to do is surrender to the happiness his words have brought me, but on the other hand, there’s this urge to just run away and hide in some deep and dark hole. Why? Because I came into his life with one purpose—to bring him down—and now he has fallen for me.

“I’m… I’m falling for you too,” I admit, unable to keep it all bottled up inside of me, the truth of it making my heart ache. I’ve fallen for my stepfather. I’ve fallen for the man I was supposed to be spying on.

“I know,” he simply says, running his fingers through my hair. “We’ll work it out, Amy. I know we will,” he continues and, somehow, I find solace in his words. They give me hope. Even if it’s just a fantasy, they make me believe that maybe, just maybe, something good will come out of the mess I’m in.

At the same time, though, I feel fear worming its way into my heart. For the first time in my life I’ve found someone I care about, and if he ever finds out the truth about me and mother… If that happens, I’ll surely lose him. And rightfully so; how can I ask the man I love to stay with me, to forgive me, when I stomped my way into his life as a spy?

I take one deep breath, trying to purge my mind from all these thoughts, and I let my rational mind melt away. I let the sound of my heartbeat lull me into a world where everything’s perfect and, even if just for today, I want to live as if that’s the truth. I want to leave the real world outside and, just for now, be happy.

“We will work it out,” I whisper, pulling back from his embrace and looking into his eyes. I force myself to smile and he smiles back at me, his fingers still running through my hair as he caresses me. I let the seconds pass us by, our eyes locked, and I reach for his lips and kiss him. “But now… Let’s just forget about it,” I ask him, closing the door to all that’s true and real, and stepping inside a fantasy where happiness is just at arm’s reach ...

“We can do that, yeah,” he replies, leaning into me and kissing me back.

His lips touch mine, and the whole world fades around us both.

In his lips, I’m home.


Daddy,” I purr, a renewed sense of lust filling every single cell in my body. I’ve managed to shut down the reality I’m living in and, for as long as this moment lasts; I’m going to show Parker what a real woman can do.

“Come,” I say, grabbing him by the hand and guiding him toward the couch. I turn to him and, pressing both my hands on his chest, I push him back and force him to sit down. He goes down willingly, a huge grin taking over his face, and I jump up on top of him, opening my legs so that I’m straddling him.

His hands go straight to my ass, his fingers digging into my naked skin, and even though he’s wearing jeans I already feel his cock hardening against my pussy. I place my arms over his shoulders and, leaning into him, I kiss him once more. We kiss in abandonment; our tongues dancing and wrestling around one another as the joy of sin and lust take over us both.

I start rocking my hips against him, moving them back and forth at a growing pace, and his cock reacts by becoming hard as steel. I grind against his thick shape eagerly, my pussy growing wet with each passing second, and I feel that delirious sense of loss of control making its way into my bloodstream.

“I’ve never had a man like you,” I whisper at him, pressing my forehead against his as I keep on moving my body in a flowing motion. His hands are still on my ass, feeling the sway of my hips, and he’s squeezing my cheeks harshly.

“Is that so?” he says, looking back into my eyes with that delicious smile of his. “I guess I deserve something special then, don’t I?” he asks me, pushing my thong to the side and caressing my ass crack with his thumb.

“You do deserve something special,” I reply with a nod, already knowing what I’m going to do. I’m going to break free of all chains, of all decency, and I’m going to drive him utter and completely mad. “This is all for you,” I continue, grinding against him harder than before, moving my hips so fast that my muscles are already complaining from the effort. I just ignore the cramps and keep on swaying my body, pressing my wet pussy against the bulging shape of his cock as hard as I can.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back against the headrest of the couch and closing his eyes. I start unbuttoning his shirt, popping button after button, and then flatten the palm of my hands over his hard pectorals. I bite on my lower lip as I do it, feeling the rugged outline of his muscles under my fingertips, and then I lean toward him and crush my lips against his neck.

I kiss his skin wantonly and then I part my lips and nibble at it, pulling it between my teeth. He groans once more, hooking his fingers on the side of my thong, and then tugs on it viciously. There’s a ripping sound, and then I sigh heavily as I feel the thong sliding off my body. I raise my hips for a second, allowing him to take it off of me, and then I sit back on his lap again.

“You’re something special,” he tells me, throwing my thong to the side and laying his hands on my ass again. “I’ve never met a woman that could drive me half as mad as you do, Amy,” he continues, his voice heavy with anticipation. He’s probably wondering what I have in store for him, and that’s good; I want to keep him on edge.

“Trying to buy me with praise?” I ask him, nibbling at his neck again and resuming the pendulum movement of my hips.

“I don’t need to buy you with anything,” he replies, grabbing the hem of the shirt I’m wearing and pulling it over my head. I raise my arms up in the air as he removes the shirt in a hurry, and I let a smile creep up on my lips as I notice his eyes falling on my naked breasts. You guessed it—no bra.

“No, you don’t. Your big cock has already bought me,” I tell him, taking my hand to his crotch and curling my fingers around the shape of his huge member. I feel it pulse against my fingers, and my skin prickles as I imagine him inside of me.

My heart starts racing inside my chest and, acting on pure instinct, I flick my fingers against the top button of his jeans and let it free. I then pull his zipper down, biting on my lower lip as I feel his hard cock pushing back against the fabric of his boxer briefs and brushing against my knuckles.

With a half-growl, half-moan, I roll to the side and push his pants down his legs in a hurry. He helps me by kicking them off, and then I push his shirt down his arms, a shiver going up my spine as I feel my fingertips going over the cords of muscles that move under his arms.

“Much better,” I grin, looking at his almost naked body with a hunger I didn’t even know I had in me. My eyes focus on the harsh shape under his boxer briefs, and a sudden urge to have him inside of me takes over my mind.

I’m going to take his boxers off, and then I’m going to suck on his hard cock in such a way that he’ll never forget my mouth. That’s what I want to do, but first, I need to feel his thickness stretching me wide.

I simply can’t help it.

I jump on top of his body once more, straddling him, and press my naked pussy against his crotch. I swallow hard as I feel his thickness throbbing against my pussy lips, just a thin layer of fabric between our bodies, and unbridled madness takes over me.

“I… need… this…” I groan as I move, turning my fingers into claws and hooking them on his boxer briefs. I push them down his legs with erratic wild movements, and then I sit back on his lap, reaching for his cock with one hand. I curl my fingers around it and, with my eyes locked on his I start moving my hand back and forth as fast as I can.

“Fuck… That’s… That’s good,” he groans, gritting his teeth as an expression of pure bliss takes over his face. He throws his head back again, a sudden grin dominating his lips, and he thrusts his hips up by instinct. He wants to feel more than just my fingers wrapped around his cock. And you know what? So do I.

I stop stroking him and angle his cock down, pointing its tip straight at my pussy, and then I just rub it up and down over my drenched folds. I moan as I trace the length of my pussy with his cock, and then he just grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him almost too violently. There’s no way I can resist his movements, and so his cock flies inside of me fast, straining against my inner walls as it impales me.

“OH GOD!” I scream, the fires of hell leaping from his cock and into my pussy, scorching everything in their way. “OH GOD!” I keep on screaming, already moving my hips back and forth like I was doing moments before. Except this time I’m no longer grinding against his cock; this time his whole thickness is inside of me, flooding my mind with the kind of pleasure that can’t be described.

“Good, isn’t it?” he asks me, and I somehow manage to open my eyes and look at him.

“It’s much more than just good,” I reply, moving my body over his cock as fast as I can. He guides the movement of my hips with his hands, his fingers digging deep into my ass cheeks, and I let out a moan each time I feel his cock going all the way inside my pussy.

I ride him fast and wild, and I do it so fiercely that beads of sweat are already pooling on my forehead. Locks of hair are plastered against my cheeks, and I feel exhaustion taking over my muscles. Still, I don’t give up; all this just makes me want to go even harder, to push past all limitations and explode in ecstasy.

“My turn,” he whispers, hooking his finger on my hips and taking all control. He pushes me down, impaling me on his cock, and then he starts thrusting upward. He pistons at me with a ravenous fury, his cock sliding in and out of my pussy at a breakneck pace.

Each thrust of his is like a fast acting drug, and I just know that if he keeps on fucking me like this I’m going to OD on pleasure. Seriously, has anyone ever died from having an orgasm that was just too strong? I don’t know, but I guess that eventually I’m going to find out, won’t I?

“Oh, fuck, Parker… Harder, harder, HARDER!” I scream at the top of my lungs, letting my head fall back as I exhale sharply, my scream turning into a quivering moan as a sequence of spasms and twists take over my body. I convulse as if I’m having a seizure, my pussy lips choking his shaft, and I dig my fingernails into his pectorals, hard enough to leave a mark.

“More…” I manage to say, pushing the word out from between my lips with great effort. Still with his cock inside of me, I lift my hips just an inch, and then place my feet on either side of his thighs. Squatting over his cock, I start jumping up and down, his cock going so deep inside of me that I feel it brushing against that wicked spot of delirium, my G-spot.

Beads of sweat drip down from my forehead and onto my lips, the saltiness of it just a memento of how dirty sex with Parker can get. It’s almost too good to be true. I never thought that sex could be this good, and this coming from someone who has some experience under her belt.

The first time we fucked, I thought it was so good because of two things: the fact that his cock is enormous, and the fact that he’s my stepfather. The wickedness of it just gives an edge to the whole thing, you know? But the more we’re together, and the more I get to know his mind and body, the more I start realizing that the taboo aspect of our relationship is nothing more than just a footnote. Sure, I’m his stepdaughter, but in the great scheme of things that doesn’t matter. What matters is that our bodies seem as if they were made for each other, etched in God’s blueprints since the dawn of time.

“I’m going to… I’m going…” I start to moan, the words dying in my throat as I feel the thunder and fire of pleasure hiking up my spine. Ecstasy explodes inside my skull, ricocheting against my brain and bones, and I go down from my feet onto my knees, holding still as an orgasm takes over my exhausted body.

“Ah, ah… So… fucking… GOOD!” I scream, my mind burning and turning into ashes. He holds me tight as I come, one arm wrapped around my waist while he cups my ass with one hand, squeezing my ass cheeks eagerly. He only lets go of me when pleasure finally washes over my body, receding to that ethereal place from where it originates.

“I needed this… I really did…” I pant, rolling to the side and collapsing on the couch. I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath, and have to struggle against the urge to simply drift off to sleep. Have you ever fucked so hard that the moment you’re done it seems like exhaustion has clubbed you in the back of the head? That’s exactly how I feel right now. But I’ve made Parker a promise, and I’m going to keep it: I’m going to show him exactly how far I’m willing to go for him.

I slide down from the couch, kneeling at his feet while I position my body between his legs. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice laced with anticipation as I reach for his cock and grab it.

“Pleasing you,” I reply, leaning toward his huge member and reaching for it with the tip of my tongue. I lay my tongue against the root of his cock, and then I slide it upward until I’m licking its head. I savor my own fluids on his skin, and that just makes me want to gobble up his cock even more. But I resist that maddening urge; I don’t want to rush this and ruin it.

I let my tongue dance around the tip of his cock for almost a minute, and then I hike down the length of his shaft once more. Curling my fingers around his cock, I start stroking him softly while I wrap my lips around one ball of his and suck it into my mouth. It feels warm and heavy, and I can only imagine how busy it is producing ungodly amounts of cum, which is exactly what I want… Because the surprise I have in store for Parker is the dirty kind of surprise.

Opening my mouth as wide as I can, I suck both of his balls into my mouth and lap at them with my tongue, doing it for as long as I can before I finally start struggling for air. I take his balls out of my mouth and take a deep breath; the moment fresh air fills my lungs, I dive into him again, tilting my head sideways and laying my mouth on the side of his shaft.

I suck on it sideways, closing my eyes as I taste the flavor of my own pussy, and then I run my lips to the tip of his cock. I finally wrap my mouth around it, pressing against it with my tongue, and slowly roll my lips down the length of his shaft. I go down inch by slow inch, taking as much time as I can, and I only let that insane side of me take over when half his cock is already inside my mouth.

He places his hands on the top of my head, barely any pressure to his touch, but I go off like a bomb all the same: I let my head fall down, opening my mouth wide and taking all of his cock inside of me at once. It hits the back of my throat in an instant, and it happens so suddenly and harshly that I almost think he’s going to pierce me from side to side or that I’m going to gag on his member.

But none of that happens; what happens is that he groans, his voice quivering with ecstasy, and then tangles his fingers in my hair. Holding my head in place, he slides his cock out until only its head is inside of me, and then thrusts viciously. He starts fucking my tight little mouth in abandonment, completely ravaging me, and I do nothing but savor the moment.

I moan as he thrusts, the sound of it climbing up my throat and then blanketing his cock. At the same time, I take one hand to his balls and I cup them both, rolling them over my fingers as he keeps on fucking my mouth. But this is my show, not his. Remembering that, I move fast and lay one forearm across his waist, pinning him down to the couch.

His eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles as he realizes that I want to take the reigns of what’s happening. Still with my forearm on his waist, I take my free hand to his cock and, grabbing it, I start stroking him at the same pace I’m sucking, my hand and mouth working in unison.

I bob my head back and forth for what seems like an eternity, time just an abstract concept to me now. With my mouth completely filled, Parker’s huge cock throbbing against my tongue and the inside of my cheeks, it feels like things such as time hold no meaning anymore. Only pleasure matters… And, as far as I’m concerned, I’m having the time of my life right now.

And so is Parker, I’d say.

Opening my eyes, I look up at him, and I’d smile if I didn’t have his gigantic member inside my mouth. He has his head thrown back against the headrest, his eyes are closed, and there’s one delightful smile dancing on his lips. It isn’t a simple smile, one born out of happiness or pleasure, but a smile that tells me that he needs me, and my body, to feel whole. And, by all means, I’m happy to oblige.

Focusing on his cock again, I bob my head back and forth as fast as I can, pushing through the cramps striking the muscles in my neck. Blindly, I take my forearm off his waist and reach behind me with my hand, trying to feel my way around the coffee table with my fingertips. I stop when I feel the clear surface of a martini glass, a glass from the drinks we had last night, and then I curl my fingers around it, bringing it forward and placing it on the floor between my knees. I don’t need it yet, but I want it ready to go.

“Keep going, Amy… Just keep going,” Parker groans, grabbing at my hair. The words come out of his voice as if they were on fire, and I know that he won’t resist me for too long. Soon enough, his cock is going to start pulsing inside my mouth and… Well, and then I’ll be ready for what happens next.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he continues, his voice fraught with tension, and I start going even faster than before. I’m going so fast that all I see from my hand is a blur of color and movement, and I’m actually surprised I haven’t broken my neck yet. But even if I did, it’d be totally worth it. When I’m with Parker, everything’s worth it and everything’s perfect.

I suck him until the first spasm runs up his shaft, and then I act fast. I take his cock out of my mouth and just keep on stroking him. With my free hand, I reach for the glass between my knees and grab it, bringing it up to his cock.

“What are you doing?” he asks me, his words coming out as a groan. He has one eyebrow arched in curiosity, but his smile is an amused one.

“Wait and see,” I purr at him, moving my hand as fast as I can over his shaft. “Just let go, daddy,” I continue, allowing the word daddy to linger on my lips as I speak. And that’s all it takes: the moment my words reach him, his cock starts spasming violently against my fingers, and a thick strand of cum jumps out from its tip.

It his me across the face, a thick white line that goes over my closed lips and reaches for my forehead. I move fast then, angling his cock downward and tilting the glass forward, just in time to get the second strand of cum inside there.

“Fuck,” Parker groans as he starts gushing an endless river of cum, his white seed spraying the curved inside of the glass like a tidal wave. I keep on stroking him as he comes, my eyes widening as I watch his cum filling up the glass. And all it takes is a few seconds; the glass is brimming now, heavy beads of cum dripping down from it and caressing my curled fingers.

I let go of his cock when the last drops of cum simply fall down and drip down onto his shaft, and then I bite down on my lower lip and look up at him.

“You’re insane,” he grins, his eyes going from mine to the glass I’m holding in my hands.

“I know… and that’s why you can’t resist me,” I shoot back at him, going back to my feet carefully and trying not to spill the cum inside of the glass. I climb on top of his body, straddling him again, and bring the glass up to my mouth until it’s just a few inches away from my lips.

“What are you doing?” he asks me, a wide smile brightening his face.

“What do you think?” I whisper, touching my lips to the edge of the glass, and reaching for the white pool of cum with the tip of my tongue. I scoop up just a few drops, and bring my tongue back inside my mouth, closing my eyes as I swallow. His saltiness makes me skin prickle, his raw manly flavor burning its way down my throat.

“This is how crazy you make me,” I say, once again placing my lips against the glass. This time, instead of just scooping a few drops of it with my tongue, I tilt the glass toward me and let his seed flow into my mouth, filling it. I smile at him, open my mouth to show him my cum-coated tongue, and then just swallow once more.

Despite my free-of-prejudice background, me being a player in the sex industry and all, I’ve never done anything as crazy as this. But being with Parker just unleashes that wild Amy, crazy whispers of temptation echoing inside my mind and driving me toward that fabled place where there are no limits.

“Take it all,” I hear Parker’s voice, and I open my eyes just in time to see him taking the glass out of my hands. He brings it up to my mouth, and I smile as I reach for it with my lips, opening my mouth as wide as I can as Parker tilts the glass toward my mouth.

His seed fills me up in a heartbeat, and thick strands of cum drip down the side of my mouth and chin, making their way down my neck and inevitably going over the curve of my breasts.

Pulling the glass back, Parker empties the rest over my naked chest, painting me in white. I feel a shiver going up my spine as I feel his fluids caressing my naked skin, its warmness like a blanket of pleasure and lust.

“This is so fucking insane,” Parker grins, throwing the glass to the side and running both his hands through my hair. “So fucking insane,” he repeats, his eyes roaming over my glistening skin as he takes in the scene.

Swallowing the cum inside my mouth, I then grab his face with both my hands and look into his eyes. “It is insane… And so is this,” I whisper as I lean into him and, before he can do a thing about it, I shove my cum-coated tongue inside his mouth. Surprisingly, he doesn’t push me back; instead, he kisses me with abandonment, stealing whatever cum is still inside my mouth with his frenetic kiss.

“I love insane,” he tells me, pulling back from my kiss and smiling, his lips glistening from the cum. Moving fast, he grabs me by the hips and forces me to roll to the side, laying me down on the couch. “And now someone will have to clean all this mess…” he whispers, his eyes trained on the strands of cum making their way down my stomach and straight toward the wet space between my thighs.

Lying down between my legs, he forces me to spread them wide, and then his mouth is on me. He lays it on top of my pussy, sucking my drenched folds inside his mouth, and then he runs his tongue up to my clit, circling it over and over again before he goes on his way.

I run my fingers through his hair as he licks me, and then I let out a purred moan as his tongue climbs up to my belly, scooping up the strands of cum dripping down my body. Licking me dry, he takes his time as his lips and tongue roam over my stomach before finally going for my tits. There, he climbs their curve with the tip of his tongue, and then wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks it dry, lapping at it with his tongue.

Lying down on the couch, I grin as I feel his mouth caressing my skin, but then Parker crushes that grin into submission by pressing his lips against mine. I tremble slightly as I feel the cum on his lips, proof of how insane the two of us have gotten, and then I just let my tongue dance around his over a blanket of thick cum.

Lost in our kiss, I let all worry fade away into nothingness.

At least for now, we’ve escaped the real world; our hiding place is both of our naked bodies.


It's been three days since Susan Duran left. Three days since she detonated that bomb in my lap and said she was quitting this campaign and left me scrambling.

Luckily, I'm not one to take things sitting down. I'm fucking proactive.

I'm standing at the podium, and I look over at my new campaign manager, Megan Wright. She's standing off to the side, giving me a secret thumbs up, as if that's supposed to make me feel any better about this press conference.

Megan is Susan Duran's opposite in every way. She has a head full of big curls that sway like the ocean when she talks.

Susan was a planner, the kind of person who ate checklists for breakfast. Bounced bullet lists instead of basketballs.

Do you see where I'm fucking going with this?

Megan is a planner too, I suppose, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. With her, we make a plan by throwing it up in the air, and then sort of wing it through the details falling all around us.

This is one of those 'just winging it' moments, and she's smiling and sipping a Pepsi and I'm over here, in front of hundreds of eager reporters, hoping I can pull this off.

But I think Megan's vision is good. It should work. I've just got to pull it off.

She's advised me to remain focused on the issues. The fucking things that matter to the people of this city she says—jobs, taxes, infrastructure, family.

I can practically hear Megan's words echoing in my brain as I straighten my tie. "Whatever you do, stay away from your private life," she repeated to me just minutes ago, as I watched her hair sway. "I mean it Parker; don't let the conversation go there."

I take a deep breath, straighten my tie, put on my game face, and begin.

"Thank you all for joining me here today," I say. "I think we can all agree that Congress should hear your concerns as it pertains to increasing jobs in this city we call home, fixing our IT infrastructure, and cutting taxes. I'm prepared to be your voice in the Senate."

I give this opener and look around at the crowd. Normally, I hear a few cheers, and maybe a few claps, but right now, it's crickets. People are staring with blank faces. The silence is unnerving. It's a completely different vibe than the last press conference I gave.

I continue, "Today, I'd like to talk about—" but a red-faced reporter wearing square, black-rimmed glasses immediately interrupts me.

"Excuse me, Mr. Trask, what is your relationship to your advisor, Amy?"

I look over at the report in question, immediately spotting him in the crowd. "I'd like to keep the discussion on the issues that matter," I reply.

The reporter pushes back, "I think I speak for everyone when I say that's an issue that matters to all of the citizens of New York City."

"I've said this before, but I want to make it clear that my private life does not concern the public. That's final. I don't give a fuck about what the media thinks about me. As you all know, at the end of the day, I'm a mayor who get results for this city."

Another reporter chimes in, ignoring my stance on privacy, and says, "Mr. Trask, is it true that Amy is your daughter, and that she's been staying with you at Gracie Mansion?"

"That's incorrect," I say. "She's my stepdaughter and—"

The red-faced reporter cuts me off before I can get another word in. "Wouldn't you agree that having personal relations with your stepdaughter sends the wrong message to citizens?"

"Well, that's not what—" I try to say, adjusting the microphone, but am cut off again.

"Isn't it against state rules to be undergoing such an affair within the walls of Gracie Mansion? Not to mention, don't you agree it's morally corrupt?"

"No comment," I say, trying to move on. This is going downhill fast. This definitely isn't where I wanted our discussion to go today.

"Mr. Trask, just answer the question," the reporters continue to chime in.

"I repeat, I won't be answering personal questions. We should remain focused on the real issues."

"But Mr. Trask, what are you really hiding from the citizens of New York City? Why won't you simply answer our questions?"

"This press conference is over," I say, raising a hand to the crowd. I realize there's no use trying to steer a sinking ship.

I can hear boos from the crowd, and a jumble of questions still rumbling through the reporters. But I wave them off and walk backstage, joining Megan and Amy.

I wipe a thin line of sweat that I didn't even realize had begun to gather on my forehead.

"Well, that felt like being lowered into shark-infested waters inside of a chum bucket," I say, looking at Megan and Amy. "Fuck, that crowd was out for blood. I couldn't get a word in."

Megan's pacing back and forth, and her confidence seems to have faded faster than a new pair of jeans.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, concern growing on my face. "I know this press conference didn't go as planned, but I have a feeling there's something you aren't fucking telling me."

With that, she looks up, holding my gaze and says, "I hate to say it, but we have bigger problems."

"Bigger fucking problems?" I ask, eyes wide. I honestly can't think of anything worse than this press conference.

"It's Susan Duran," she says. "She was seen going into the Governor's campaign office Downtown."

I look over at Amy.

She's standing next to Megan and nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the next. I've never seen her look so nervous.

"Don't worry," I tell Amy, placing the palm of my hand gently against her cheek. When I do that, she walks over and rests her head on my chest.

"Whatever comes … we'll face it together," I say.


“Her poll numbers have been climbing steadily,” I sigh, waving at the stack of papers in front of me with a frown. His staff provided us with the last analysis on the Senate race and, despite Parker's numbers being as solid as ever, my mom is just snapping at our heels.

It’s been a week since Susan left.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he frowns, peering over my shoulder at the graph in front of me. We’ve been pouring over these documents for the last half an hour and, even though we haven’t said it out loud, we both know that with the numbers my mom is pulling right now, all she needs to do is use the relationship Parker and I have to secure her position in the polls. Which means that we have a sword hanging over our necks, and no idea when it’s coming down to cut off both of our heads.

“Still, unless something major changes, I’d say you’re well on your way to secure the Senate,” I smile, swiveling the chair around so that I’m facing him. I’m trying to be optimistic, but it isn’t easy. Especially now that Susan jumped ship.

“Yeah, let’s focus on what we can do to --” Parker falls silent as someone knocks on the door to his office. “Yeah? Come in,” he says, and the door swings open to reveal a tall and slender woman wearing jeans and a loose blouse, her hair pulled into a messy bun, with a few strands of her curly hair framing her face. Megan Wright, the new campaign manager, doesn’t seem to really care about looking good; she just cares about getting the job done. Which, as far as I’m concerned, sounds perfect.

“I think you should turn on the TV,” she says to Parker, an excited smile on her face. Behind her, I see all of Parker’s staff huddled together in the center of the room, staring at one of the flat TVs mounted on the wall.

“Why? What happened?” I ask Megan as Parker reaches for the remote and, with one click, turns it on.

“See for yourself,” Megan smiles, and then simply slides out of the room with a grin and closes the door behind her, leaving Parker and I to see what’s going on.

“What the…?” Parker whispers to himself, turning the TV toward one of the news channels and sitting down on the chair by my side. On the screen, a middle-aged reporter with white hair is talking about my mother, and under him there’s a red stripe with bold white letters, a headline that reads Backlash for Meelios.

“Turn it up,” I tell Parker, but I don’t give him the time to do it. I snag the remote off his hands and turn up the volume, my unblinking eyes focused on the screen.

“Governor Katherine Meelios is having a rough night,” the newscaster says, an amused tone to his voice. “After a well-received speech in front of a crowd mostly composed of veterans, all was going well for the New York Governor when a microphone suddenly caught her off guard. Let’s see the footage,” he nods at the camera, and then the screen pans to a packed conference room.

My mother’s on the stage, shaking a few hands from the veterans that have come up on the stage, and then she leans toward one of her assistants and whispers something. Except her whisper isn’t really a whisper; the microphone in front of her picks up what she’s saying and the words echo throughout the room.

“How long is this going to take?” she asks the assistant, smiling to the veteran that’s shaking her hand. “I’m tired of these idiots. I can’t stand all this Army stupidity,” she continues, and then she snaps her head toward the microphone in front of her, realizing that it has amplified each and every one of her words. A loud and confused boo takes over the crowd, and then the image pans back to the newscaster.

“Well, I guess we can put down Governor Meelios on the list of people having a worse day than us, right, Michelle?” he asks his co-presenter with an amused smile. “And now, let’s cut to the Puppy Fair taking place at the --” I turn the TV to mute and let the remote slip from my fingers and fall on the desk.

“Oh my God…” I whisper, turning toward Parker. “Did you hear what I just heard?”

“I did… And so did everyone else,” Parker chuckles, pointing with his head at the door to his office. His staff’s whistling and clapping, almost as if they’re celebrating a home run from their favorite baseball team. Which, really, is pretty much what this feels like.

My mother really fucked up this time. A faux pas like this won’t be easily resolved, and it’ll probably be enough to sink her bid to the Senate. Of all people, she had to go and pick on the veterans. I can probably imagine her in her hotel room right now, tearing her hair out as she replays the images I’ve just seen over and over again. I figure the guy in charge of the microphones is going to be on the hunt for a new job soon enough.

“I hope this does it for her,” I tell Parker, taking a deep breath and feeling as if someone has taken a heavy weight off my chest. If her faux pas ruins her bid, she’ll have to drop out, which means she won’t need to come after Parker and I anymore.

“Well, we should probably keep our guard up all the same,” Parker replies with an easy smile, and I can tell that some of the stress caused by this election has been lifted off of his shoulders.

“I guess the road toward the Senate is going to be an easy one now,” I say, getting up from my seat and closing the distance between Parker and I. I grab the hemline of my dress and, hiking it up just a few inches, I climb on top of him, straddling him. “Senator Trask… I like the sound of it.”

“You do, huh?” he whispers, his hands trailing down the side of my body and going over the curve of my ass.

“I do…” I purr. “I can be your intern, Senator. And this particular intern would love to do her country a service and fuck her Senator,” I continue, biting down on my lower lip teasingly.

“I don’t think a Senator’s supposed to fuck his interns, Amy. Although I could make an exception for you,” he says, squeezing my ass cheeks.

“It’s not like you have any choice, Senator Daddy,” I continue, placing one hand on his chest and letting my fingers trail down to his crotch. I grab his cock over his dress pants and, squeezing it, I lean in and nibble at Parker’s lower lip. “Let’s do something different tonight. Let’s celebrate.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Have you ever heard of Python?” I ask him, a wicked grin on my lips. I haven’t been to Python, a club where women’s dreams come true, in ages… And it seems like the perfect place for a celebration. Although it’s not like we can go there without drawing unwanted attention.

“Heard of it? I used to work there, Amy,” Parker replies, sliding one hand up my leg and under the hemline of my tight-fitting dress. “Back in the day with my buddy Aidan Stone.”

“Worked there…?” I ask him with one arched eyebrow, holding my breath as I feel him flattening the palm of his hand over my thong.

“Yes, I used to moonlight there when Python was still in Queens.” He presses his hand hard against my pussy, and I let out a soft quivering moan.

“Are you going to take me there?” I grin again, fully knowing that this is nothing more than a fantasy. It’s not like we can simply stroll inside Python’s in the middle of a Senate race. The media would crucify us, and that’d give my mother another shot at winning. Still, it’s fun to fantasize.

“You know we can’t,” he whispers, looking straight into my eyes. “Which is a fucking shame.”

“Well,” I start, going up to my feet and patting down the front of my dress, “at least we agree on that. But now,” I bend over, showing him cleavage while I give his cock another squeeze, “I must head home and read through all these documents for tomorrow.”

“Stay,” he whispers, and I just know that if I stay one more minute inside his office that we’re going to end up fucking. Which would be perfect if I didn’t have a Mount Everest of legal briefings to read through tonight.

“I can’t,” I tell him, turning my back to him and picking up the documents from the desk, stuffing them inside my messenger bag. “But you can rest assured that I’ll spend the night thinking of you.”

“That makes two of us,” he whispers as I leave his office, throwing him one wicked smile. He replies with a smile of his own, and something in it tells me that the gears inside his head have already started to turn.

You don’t get a man hard and then leave without suffering the consequences.

And I can’t wait for that.


Ever since Mom’s dropping the ball, it seems Parker’s campaign has spiraled into a workaholic’s wet dream. We’re trying to capitalize on my mother’s mistake, and that means we leave no stone unturned. We aren't leaving any holes in our armor.

Of course, I also know that the Achilles’ heel in Parker’s campaign is… well, me. And that’s exactly why I’ve been working harder than everyone else on the staff. I want Parker to succeed, and I’ll do my best to see that happen. My mother may have forced me into this, but I’ve given up on being her spy long ago.

Still, even though everyone is ecstatic about her mistake at the veteran’s convention, I can’t help but worry. What if, instead of simply rolling over and accepting defeat, she decides to go on the offensive? When dealing with my mother, Governor Meelios, you can always expect the unexpected.

“Alright, one more briefing and I’m done…” I whisper to myself, grabbing one of the folders in front of me and putting it on top of my laptop’s keyboard. I’m about to open it when I hear someone knocking at my door. One quick glance at my cellphone tells me it’s already 7 pm, which means it’s probably Parker at the door.

We agreed to have dinner at my place today, and that explains the La Perla lingerie I’m wearing right now—a red lace bra and matching thong, both these pieces hiding underneath a tight fitting (and very revealing) dress.

“Right on time…” I say as I open the door, but I trail off as I notice that Parker isn’t alone. Standing by his side are two men almost as tall as him, both of them wearing dark suits and skinny ties. What really surprises me about them isn’t that they seem to be two perfect specimens, as well-built as Parker, but the fact that they’re wearing masks—one of them black, the other white.

“Since we can’t go to Python, I brought Python to you,” Parker says, showing me his irresistible smile. I take one step back, allowing the three of them in without saying a word. I mean, what can you say when three perfect men show up at your apartment, all of them ready to give you the night of your life?

“You’re one of a kind,” I simply whisper, my eyes darting from him to the masked men.

“Anything for you,” he whispers back at me, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me into him. Leaning into me, he brushes his lips against mine, and I surrender to his kiss just like that. “Now let’s get you out of that dress,” he continues, pulling back from me and running both his hands up the side of my body. His fingers go up to my shoulders, and then he pushes the straps of my dress to the side, allowing them to droop over my arms. The two men come up to me then and, one of them by my right side and the other on the left one, they grab at my dress and yank on it, pushing it down until it becomes just a bundle of bunched up fabric around my ankles.

“Fuck, you look amazing,” Parker breathes out, taking one step back as his eyes wander up and down my half-naked body.

“Anything for you,” I repeat his words from before as I step out from my dress, my pussy growing wetter each time my heart beats. I’ve heard about the legendary Python nights, where masked men use and abuse you, soaking you with pleasure until all that’s left is pure exhaustion… But I’ve never had the courage to sign up for something as crazy as that. I mean, to go up on stage and allow a bunch of masked men to fuck me silly? I’m crazy, but not that crazy. Although now, with three handsome men in my apartment… Well, how can I say no to this?

“What happens now?” I ask Parker, my heart beating faster and faster with each passing second.

“Now you’re going to have the best night of your life,” Parker grins, his hands back on my hips. He pushes me back until I’m against the wall, and then he grabs my wrists, pinning my arms over my head and against the wall.

The masked men follow after us and then they both kneel at my feet, one on either side of my body, their hands climbing up my legs all the way to my inner thighs. Parker’s right, this is probably going to be the best night of my entire life.

“A wicked night for a wicked girl,” Parker whispers, resting his lips on my neck and kissing my skin in an upward line until his mouth is on mine once more. While he kisses me, his hands go around my waist, his fingertips on my lower back, and then he slides them up to my shoulder blades. There, he finds the clasp on my bra and unhooks it.

“Much better,” he says, his mouth now sliding down my chin and neck, all the way toward my cleavage. There, he grabs at my bra with his teeth and pulls on it, its straps sliding down my arms in a hurry. With a grin, he lets go of the bra and it floats down to the floor, Parker’s hands darting to my naked tits at the same time.

He squeezes them eagerly, my flesh shifting under his touch, and then wraps his lips around my left nipple. He sucks on it hard, forcing me to release a loud moan; at the same time, the masked men caress my inner thighs, their fingers dangerously close to my wet thong. Perhaps feeling me ready, they finally go for it, pressing their hands between my thighs harshly.

“Oh, God,” I purr, my brain struggling to process everything that’s happening right now. Parker’s devouring my right nipple, one hand of his squeezing my left breast, and now I have a set of hands pressing on my pussy and massaging it. My poor brain doesn’t even know what it should focus on right now. Oh, if all problems were like this the world would be a much better place, wouldn’t you say?

“Feels good, doesn’t it? And we’re just getting started,” he tells me, looking straight into my eyes and flattening his free hand over my stomach. He runs it down slowly until it meets the hem of my thong, and then he lets his fingers slide under the fabric. The masked men take their hands off me as Parker cups my pussy, his long fingers pressing against my soaked folds, and I let out a yelp of pleasure.

Curling his hand, he caresses my pussy lips with his middle finger, moving it up and down the length of my wetness. I hold my breath as he does it, my heart drumming a song of crazed lust inside my chest, and then I feel the masked men hooking their fingers on my outer thigh, grabbing at my thong and pulling it down my legs. I kick it off once it reaches my ankles, and then flatten my back against the wall as Parker parts my pussy lips with his middle finger and starts sliding it in.

I gasp as I feel his finger going in, only stopping when it’s pressed tight against my G-spot. Every muscle in my body tenses up, almost as if they were turning into steel and concrete, and then Parker slides one more finger inside of me.

The men in the white mask takes his hands up to my ass, squeezing both my cheeks harshly, and the one in the black mask reaches for my clit with two fingers, pressing down on it. Parker starts fingering me then, flicking his wrist at a steady pace and sliding his two fingers in and out of my pussy. Each time he touches my G-spot it feels as if I’m stepping on a live wire, electricity crawling inside my pussy and climbing up my spine.

My head is pressed against the wall, my back arched as I let out moan after moan, my brain adrift in a sea of pleasure. And, just like Parker told me, they’re only getting started.

“Oh, that’s… I… I’m going to… “I mumble, but I shut up real quick when my pussy starts tightening up around Parker’s fingers, my brain sending the order to unleash all endorphins available into my bloodstream. I throw my head back so hard that I might crack the wall, gritting my teeth and hissing through them as a violent orgasm rages inside me. “So good… So fucking good,” I whisper, my voice heavy with ecstasy.

“That was the warm-up,” Parker replies, sliding his fingers out of my pussy and taking one step back. As he does it, the two other men go up to their feet and move back, standing by Parker’s side. Closing my eyes, I let my wobbly legs buckle under my weight and allow my body to slide down the wall, sitting on the floor with a sigh.

“I was going to tell you to get on your knees… But it looks like you’re way ahead of me,” Parker tells me, loosening the knot on his tie and then taking it out. The masked men mimic him, taking their ties off, and then they start unbuttoning their dress shirts, their fingers moving deftly and popping button after button.

I kneel under Parker and the masked men, looking up at them as wild anticipation makes my heart beat so fast it might explode. My pussy is so wet right now that I feel my juices dripping down my thighs and onto the floor, pooling there under my naked body.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I reach for Parker, un-tucking his shirt as he unbuttons it, and then I just tug on it. The shirt drops down from his shoulders and caresses his biceps on the way down before finally floating all the way to the floor. Still mirroring Parker, the other two men take their shirts off and throw then behind their backs, and I feel a knot in my stomach as I take a good hard look at their naked chests.

A perfect wall of abs covers both of their stomachs, and cords of muscles lace their arms and shoulders, bulging as they move. They don’t look like bodybuilders—gigantic muscle and no real substance—but instead like rugged soldiers, ready to kick ass in some foreign war zone… or Hollywood set. Either way, they look completely ready to lick.

Instinct kicking in, I reach for the masked men with my hands, grabbing their belts and unbuckling them in a hurry. I pull them free and out from their loops, and then I let them fall from my fingers as I turn my attention toward Parker. I reach for his belt as well, but I do it slowly now, looking up at him and locking my eyes on his, I unbuckle his belt and then pull down his zipper, opening my hand and pressing it over his boxer briefs against the already hard shape hiding under the soft fabric.

“Can you take this, Amy? The three of us?” Parker asks me, a devilish grin making his face shine like a beacon. I see him distribute condoms to each of the men.

“Use them before you go inside of her,” he says to them and they nod, having them ready.

“The real question is… Can you guys take me?” I shoot right back, hooking my fingers on his boxer briefs and sending them down his legs. His cock springs free at once, long and thick and majestic, and I have to restrain myself from simply diving into it and taking it into my mouth.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Parker responds, with that wicked grin still on his face as he kicks off his shoes and steps out from his pants and boxers. I look at the masked men, swallowing hard as they take their pants off, their hard cocks straining against their underwear.

“Don’t be shy now,” I whisper, a sudden surge of confidence taking over me. I raise my hands and, grabbing at the boxers the masked men are still wearing, I yank them down at the same time. I feel my jaw dropping slightly as their huge cocks jump free, thick and veiny and more than ready to unleash hell upon my body. It seems that the men working at Python are really hand-picked, even though their cocks aren’t as gigantic as Parker’s, they’re the biggest ones I’ve ever seen. Ten inches long? Eleven inches long? How about insane-inches long? Yeah, that describes it.

Taking a deep breath, I curl my fingers around the masked men’s cocks and, at the same time, I lean forward and part my lips. My eyelids droop as I feel the tip of Parker’s cock brushing against my open mouth, and that’s when I start moving both my arms, stroking the two cocks in my hands as I roll my lips down Parker’s shaft.

I start slow and gentle, but that doesn’t last long. It’s impossible to go slow or gentle when there are three perfect naked men towering over you, don’t you think? Especially when their cocks are as huge as theirs.

My hands fly back and forth over their cocks, and my mouth moves at the same urgent pace, devouring every single inch of Parker’s cock as if I needed to do it in order to survive.

“Now this is a sight,” I hear Parker’s voice say, and I open my eyes to look up at him. He’s looking down at me as if he’s in a trance, one eternal smile etched on his lips. Resting both his hands on my head, he forces me to stop moving and starts rocking his hips, taking all control away from me. Holding my head in place, he thrusts harshly, fucking my mouth as I keep on stroking the masked men.

I close my eyes again, surrendering to the insanity that’s flooding my mind. All thoughts of my mother and of Parker’s campaign have drifted off to some unknown place, and all that’s left inside my skull is an endless river of sinful (and equally delicious) thoughts.

“I want more,” I suddenly exhale, pushing back against Parker’s hold and making his cock pop out of my mouth. “I want more,” I repeat, still trying to catch my breath, and Parker’s smile widens and turns into the Devil’s grin. You ask, I give, his lips seem to tell me, which is enough to turn my pussy into a complete wet mess.

Pulling me up to my feet, he then picks me up from the floor. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he tells me, and then ambles down the hallway carrying me in his arms. The masked men stay behind for a few seconds, but then trail after us toward the bedroom. “Now the fun starts,” Parker whispers, laying me down on the mattress.

I look up at him expectantly, and that’s when the other two men enter the bedroom, their belts curled around their hands. I look from the belts to Parker, and he just smiles at me.

“You’re all mine now, Amy,” he explains as the men hand him the belts. Placing one knee on the mattress, he reaches for one of my arms and loops the belt around my wrist. He then ties it to one of the bedposts, and then does the same with my other arm. “No escaping now,” he whispers, and I strain against the belts, testing Parker’s knots. He’s right; there’s no escape for me now.

“And what are you going to do?” I ask him, running my tongue between my lips as he climbs on top of the mattress, positioning himself between my legs. Placing his hands under my knees, he forces me to spread my legs wide and lays his body on mine; he grabs his cock with one hand and starts brushing its tip up and down against my pussy, teasing me.

“This is what I’m going to do,” he finally replies, feeding one inch of his cock into my pussy. I throw my head back as I feel his shaft sliding inside of me, and I hiss through my gritted teeth as my inner walls strain to accommodate his massive member.

“Oh God,” I let out as he buries his cock all the way inside of me, my pussy stretched wide. Feeling the mattress shifting under me, I open my eyes just in time to see the man in the white mask climbing on the mattress and kneeling close to my head, his cock casting a long shadow over my face. The man in the black mask follows after him, positioning himself on the other side of my head, and I feel my insides clenching.

Let’s do this, I think to myself as I crane my neck and open my mouth as wide as I can. Responding in kind, the two men inch closer to each other, only stopping when the tip of their cocks are touching, and I lay my lips right on their meeting point, tracing the contour of both their cocks with my tongue.

Parker starts thrusting at exactly the same time, his cock sliding out of my pussy and then back in again with a blur of movement. I start licking the two cocks in front of me at a furious pace, Parker’s thrusts making me lose all control of my body. Opening my mouth even wider, I turn my head to the side and allow one of the cocks, the one belonging to the man in the black mask, to slide deep into my mouth, all the way in until its tip is pressed tight against the back of my throat. I start bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can, devouring the huge cock filling my mouth, and the man in the white mask decides to bend over and focus on my tits.

A shiver goes up my spine as I feel him wrapping his lips around my rosy tip, and I’d moan if I didn’t have a massive shaft pushing down on my tongue. Somehow, I manage to keep on sucking as Parker fucks me, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep my focus, especially now that the man in the white mask has let go of my nipple: his tongue is running down the curve of my breast, making a downward line over my belly… He goes all the way to between my thighs, his mouth dangerously close to Parker’s cock, and then he wraps his lips around my clit and starts sucking on it.

“OH FUCK,” I cry out, the cock inside my mouth popping out with a wet sound as I let my head fall down onto the mattress. The man in the black mask follows after me with his cock, silencing my screams of pleasure as he shoves his long member into my mouth once again.

My mind is stretched thin now, my brain overheating as every single nerve ending in my body seems to be sending a constant stream of information. My mouth, my clit, my pussy… It’s hard to keep track of all the places in my body from where pleasure is stemming from, you know?

And, to help matters, Parker has upped his pace; his fingers are digging deep into my ass cheeks, and his cock is sliding in and out of my pussy so fast that I don’t even know when it’s going in and when it’s going out. Which, really, doesn’t matter much: all that matters is that he’s inside of me, ravaging my pussy as only he knows how.

Parker is unlike any other man I’ve ever met. He’s not bound by society’s rules, and even ethics seem like a footnote to him… These two things would turn most men into wild beasts, but not Parker. The person he is has grown out of a strong sense of self, and he understands what’s right and what’s wrong at a primal intuitive level. He doesn’t need laws and rules to stop him from doing the wrong thing and, in a way that explains what’s happening right now.

I mean, he’s sharing me with two hot men. It’s like he doesn’t even know what jealousy means. And that’s because he has risen above that. He cares about making me happy, about pleasing me, and he doesn’t care if that involves sharing me. Because, in truth, he’s not even sharing me: the masked men are just an extension of himself, his instruments of pleasure. And that’s exactly the way I like it. I don’t want to be shared or used by random men, but I want to feel Parker’s dominance in every possible way, and I want him to drown me in pleasure until I simply can’t take it anymore. Which is exactly what’s happening right now.

“Don’t stop, oh please, don’t stop!” I cry out again, turning my head to the side so that the cock inside my mouth slides out. “Don’t stop, don’t --” The words lose themselves in my throat as a pillar of fire rises from my pussy and travels all the way up my body, finally exploding inside my skull and making my eyes roll in their orbits. “OH GOD!” I shout as loud as I can, my lungs straining so hard they feel as if they’re about to pop.

I tremble and twitch as if I’m having a seizure and then, exhaling sharply, I just collapse on top of the mattress, my body limp and spent. Parker goes to his knees, sliding his cock out of me slowly, and the two other men follow his lead, pulling back from my naked body.

“Had enough?” Parker asks me, and the tone of voice tells me that he already knows the answer to his question.

“Never,” I grin, swaying my hips from side to side teasingly, eager for more.

“Thought so,” he replies as the masked men climb down from the bed, standing on either side of it. Still between my parted legs, Parker reaches for the bedposts and frees my wrists from the belts. I let my arms fall by my side, my muscles cramped up from being stretched for so long, but Parker doesn’t allow me any rest.

Grabbing me by the hips, he forces me to roll over on the mattress so that I’m laying flat on my stomach. Curling his fingers around my right wrist, he laces it with the belt once more and ties it to the bedpost, and then does the same to my left wrist.

“What are you--?” I start, straining against the belts, but he just grunts and hooks his fingers on my thighs, making me jut my ass up and go on all fours.

“Wait and see,” he whispers, running his hands up the curve of my ass cheeks and then smacking me hard. I gasp, biting on my lip by accident, and he slaps my ass again with the back of his hand. The sound of flesh on flesh is a dry one but, by contrast, it causes a very wet reaction between my thighs.

“We’re gonna have some fun,” he whispers, his thumb going over my ass crack. He stops over my asshole, his finger lingering there, and then starts pushing it inside my body. I let out a moan as he does it, slowly realizing where he’s going with all this, and thrust back against him. He slides his finger all the way in, and then turns it around inside my ass, probing my insides.

“Boys,” he whispers, and I look to the side to see the man in the white mask rolling a large condom down his cock. My insides clench as I imagine these three cocks filling every single one of my holes, and I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for it.

Climbing back on the bed, the man in the white mask lies down and worms his way underneath my body. I ease down, straddling him while my arms are stretched and tense, hanging by the belts that bind me.

At the same time, the man in the black mask jumps up on the mattress, and he goes to his feet right over my pillow, his hard cock just a few inches away from my mouth.

“Ready for this?” Parker asks me, and I turn my neck around so that I’m looking at him over my shoulder.

“I was born ready,” I whisper, my words flexing into a moan as he slides his finger out of my ass. Resting his large but soft hands on my thighs, he pushes me down, and I moan again as I feel the cock from the man under me pushing my inner lips aside and sheathing itself up to the hilt. I arch my back as I feel the masked man’s shaft pulsing inside of me, and that’s when Parker starts brushing the tip of his cock up and down the length of my ass crack, finally stopping when it’s over my hole.

Moving as slowly as possible, he feeds one inch into me. I moan, and then he allows me one more inch.

And then one more.

I moan until all of his long inches are buried deep inside of me, and then I just hold my breath, every single muscle in my body as tense as a nocked arrow.

“Hard,” I push the word out from between my gritted teeth, forcing my eyelids to flutter open so that I can face the cock right in front of me. Craning my neck, I part my lips and wrap them around its tip. Wasting no time, I let my lips roll down the thick shaft inside my mouth and I only stop when it’s firmly pressed against the back of my throat.

I hold my position for a few seconds, all three cocks buried inside my body, and then Parker and the man in the white mask start sliding their cocks out. That, of course, only so that they can start thrusting, which they do slowly at first, but it doesn’t take long for their rhythm to grow into a wild and unbridled dance.

Closing my eyes again, I let all these lustful sensations wash over me and, regaining a slice of focus, I start bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can, devouring the cock in front of me with unrepentant hunger.

The sound of their cocks sliding in and out of my body is a wet one, primal and maddening in its nature, and it makes the fire inside my belly grow into a raging furnace of pleasure.

My whole body is burning up, and I don’t think it’ll take long for my skin to start turning into ashes. Which I wouldn’t mind—after all, there’s a price to pay for pleasure. Perhaps wanting me to pay that price quickly, the man in the white mask grabs me by the head and, holding it, he starts thrusting. In that exact moment, the three men start pistoning into me at the same time, their rhythm one and the same.

I arch my back even more, electricity snapping at my nerve endings with vibrant jaws, and I shut my eyelids so tightly that my eyeballs start to hurt. I feel a numbness taking over my toes and, slowly, it spreads all over my body, finally taking over my brain and turning it into a processing plant for lust.

“OH FUCK, FUCK!” I scream out loud, pushing my head back and forcing the cock inside my mouth to slide out. The moment the words leave my mouth, my body responds in kind and every single muscle in my body starts spasming hard, almost as if someone had tied a string to them and was now pulling on it with no rhythm or kindness.

I let my head fall down, pressing my forehead against the chest of the man in the white mask, and I don’t move until the last kisses of climax stop caressing my body. I lay there as if I‘m dead, beads of sweat dripping down my back, and the only thing I manage to do once pleasure washes over me is whimper.

“That was…” I start to say, but I don’t finish my sentence. I just take a deep breath and watch as the man in the black mask turns around and unties both my wrists; I place my hands on the mattress then, allowing the muscles in my arm a few seconds of rest, and then my brain allows a sinful whisper to take over my body.

They started it, you finished it, that whisper goes, and I know exactly what I have to do. Moving my body forward in a flowing motion, I let the cocks inside my pussy and ass slide out of me, and then I roll to the side, sliding down the bed and going straight to my knees.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask the three of them, looking at them with narrowed eyes and a wide grin.

Moving as if they’re in a trance, they get out of the bed and stand in a line right in front of me, just like they did before. And, exactly as I did before, I grab the masked men’s cock and dive forward, opening my mouth and gobbling up Parker’s shaft.

My hands move as fast as humanly possible, stroking the two cocks I’m holding, and I bob my head back and forth at that same frantic pace. For a second I stop existing, my sense of self is dissolving in the movements of my body.

I’m only brought down to Earth when a sudden strand of cum hits me straight in the face.

And then another.

And another.

Before I know it, my face is covered in cum, and it’s only then that a violent spasm runs through Parker’s cock. In a heartbeat, his cock starts gushing a river of cum into my mouth, filling me up to the brink before I can do anything about it. Cum drips down from my mouth, joining the masked men’s semen, and all that wet gooey mess slides down over my skin. It goes down my neck and over the rising curve of my breasts, wetting my nipples and making my skin prickle.

I move my body back and let go of all three cocks, throwing my head back and squeezing my breasts while Parker and the masked men unleash their never ending load over my exhausted body.

I keep frozen in place as they finish off, and by the time that happens I’m completely covered in their seed. I let a wild smile take over my lips and, almost as if that turned a switch inside Parker’s head, his knees buckle under his weight and he kneels right in front of me.

“So? How did you like Python?” he asks me, taking his hand to the nape of my neck and grabbing at my hair, forcing me to look straight into his eyes.

“Loved it,” I tell him, but then I reach for his still hard cock and give it a squeeze. “But I’ll always prefer your python.”

“Thought so,” he laughs, leaning into me and pressing his lips on mine, a thick barrier of cum between our bodies.

I close my eyes as the masked men turn on their heels and get out of the bedroom, leaving Parker and I alone, and that’s when I surrender completely to his kiss, my tongue dancing around his own.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For this, for everything… For being you.”

He just smiles at me, and that’s the only reaction I need from him.

Sometimes a smile is worth more than a thousand words.


Stretching, I let out one big yawn. I stare down at the clock on my laptop, which tells me I’ve been working for almost twelve hours straight, and then close the lid. My days are now a retreading of what came before—work, work, and then some more work. Thankfully, I make sure to keep my spirits up by taking a hefty dose of Parker’s naked body. It seems that’s all I do nowadays, work and fuck. Hey, work hard; play hard. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

But Parker has been busy the whole day, meeting with some of the big names of New York politics, and I’ve spent the whole day holed up in my apartment, reading through a mountain of legal briefings and strategy documents for his campaign. Seriously, you’d say half of the Amazonian rainforest has been cut down in order to create this much paper. But I’m done now; it’s already 10 pm, and I have to meet Parker’s staff early in the morning.

I get up from the desk I’ve set up in my living room and start dragging my feet toward the bedroom when there’s a loud knock at my door. I glance at my cellphone, still sitting by the side of my laptop, but Parker hasn’t called or texted me. He’s still in a meeting, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten out earlier and decided to drop in as a surprise.

I smile, remembering how he surprised me last time, and then saunter over to the door. Already expecting to see Parker on the other side, I turn the handle and open the door. Except it isn’t Parker standing in the doorway—it’s my mother.

High heels, a formal pencil skirt, a blouse more expensive than my whole furniture collection put together, and, of course, a smile that I can only translate as trouble. Hi, mom.

“What are you --” I start, not even knowing what to say, but she just cuts me short and walks past me and inside my apartment, her shoulder bumping harshly against mine.

Without saying a word, she walks with her sure step toward the drink cabinet I have on the corner and she grabs two short glasses of whisky. She takes the cork out of a bottle of aged malt and then pours the whisky onto the glasses.

“Here, drink this,” she says, pushing one glass into my hands.

“What are you doing?” I finally manage to say, wrapping both my hands around the cold glass of whisky.

“You’ve done your job, Amy,” she tells me, looking straight into my eyes with an icy expression, and then drinking half of her whisky in one single gulp. “And you’ve done it perfectly.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, not quite sure of what’s going on. “Did you come for these?” I continue, waving my hand at the stack of documents piled up on my desk. “Because there’s nothing in there that --”

“Oh, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Amy,” she whispers, finishing off her drink and then pouring some more whisky. She’s in a celebratory mood, which isn’t really good—for me and for Parker.

“Then what? What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I care about Parker’s strategies or whatever documents his staff passes back and forth? Believe me, if I wanted to go down that route, I wouldn’t need you. What I wanted was for you to give Parker’s life an air of… indecency. Impropriety. Which you’ve done wonderfully,” she smiles, raising her glass at me as if she were giving a toast.

So this was her game all along. And, just like a fool, I played straight into her hand. How could I have not seen this coming?

“Your bid for the senate is in ruins… After that veteran thing it’s going to be impossible for you to --”

“Don’t be a fool. Do you think people are going to care about some stupid thing like that? Once the world knows about what Parker has been up to, that situation is going to disappear as fast as it came up. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Amy. You were dying to get into his pants, and now you finally did it. I don’t care that the two of you are sleeping with each other, you know? It’s all the same to me.”

“I’m your daughter…” I whisper, curling my fingers tightly around my whisky glass. I’m struggling against the sudden urge to simply throw the glass against her head.

“So? And I’m your mother. And, from what I’m seeing, you prefer to side with Parker than with me.”

“You’re a monster, that’s what you are!” I hiss, rage boiling inside my veins.

“I’m not a monster. I’m a realist. Not a wide-eyed dreamer like you and your friend Parker. And don’t act like you’re a saint either, Amy. You helped me do this, remember? And you’ve done exactly what I needed… Now I just need one final thing from you.”

I stare her down in complete silence, ready to refuse whatever she asks of me. I don’t care about what happens. I’m done with his bullshit.

“You need to leave him,” she finally says, smiling as if the words feel like honey in her mouth.

“No,” I reply, placing my glass on the desk and balling both of my hands into fists. “I’m done with you.”

Still with that smile on her face, she sighs heavily and then takes one step toward me.

“You will leave him. I’m going to hit him fast and hard, Amy, and I need him as demoralized as possible. You don’t have a choice in this, you should know by now. Or haven’t you learned anything?”

“Yeah, I’ve learned something,” I whisper, closing the distance between us with one sure step and then hitting her across the face with the back of my hand. “I’ve learned you’re a bitch. And now I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Moving slowly, she sets her glass on the desk and looks to me, her smile turning into a grin of pure savagery.

“I’ll go, Amy. But if I were you, I’d be as far away from Parker as possible. Because, rest assured, I’m going to crush him… And if you’re standing by his side, I’ll happily crush you as well.”

“Fuck off,” I growl, and then I stare at her as she grabs her purse and walks out of my apartment, leaving the door open behind her.

This is it. Whatever she has in store for Parker, it’s clear what’s going to happen next.

We’re officially going to war.


I'm sitting behind my large, mahogany desk. My top staff officials are standing behind me, poised and smiling. This is a big moment. I have a stack of documents splayed out over the desk, and a heavy pen resting between my fingers.

I'm signing my way through documents as reporters snap pictures.

I'm hoping this action sets my campaign back on track. It's recently gone off the rails since Kate Meelios showed up unexpectedly at Amy's apartment.

This is city legislation I'm signing today that will make it illegal for sex offenders to work in our public school system, and I'm proud of this. It's about time it's happening.

"This legislation is long overdue," I say proudly, looking up from the documents. "I'm fulfilling a campaign promise that I've made to the citizens of New York City. This is a historic moment for all of us."

I smile and get up from my desk, preparing to leave now that the documents have been signed, and waving to the press, when one reporter speaks up, stopping me.

"Mr. Trask," he says, one arm outstretched to slow my exit and capture my attention, "with your stepdaughter facing charges of sex trafficking as her business is being closed down, will her being labeled as a sex offender cause a strain on your family?"

What the fuck?

I can hardly believe the words coming from his mouth. My head is fucking spinning.

"What did you just say to me?" I ask, turning to address him.

I'm being civil. Hiding frustration and anger that's bubbling to the surface. But honestly, I could wring his neck.

Is this a blatant question to sabotage me in front of the press? Or is there a nugget of truth to this? Is Amy hiding something from me?

Your guess is as good as mine.

The reporter looks at me with a confused look on his face. "You do know about this, don't you?" he says.

"Excuse me, but I don't understand the question," I say. I can feel my pulse increasing, and the room is beginning to feel twenty degrees hotter. What's going on? I think to myself. Is Kate behind this?

I'm having a full-body reaction to this reporter's accusations, but before he has a chance to speak again, Megan places her hand on my elbow.

"Let's go Parker," she whispers, gently guiding me out of the room so that no other exchange of words can transpire. I can tell she's trying to make a strategic exit.

I raise my shoulders and shake my head. "I really don't know what the fuck is going on Megan," I say to her, leaning in and whispering. And that's the truth.

"I know, but right now, we need to get out of here," she replies, her face serious and stoic.

She continues to lead me out of the building, as a few reporters try to follow behind us. I can hear the continued snap of cameras and raised voices, all vying for my attention and for more information. They're clamoring for my thoughts—anything to grab onto and throw into tomorrow's headlines, I'm fucking sure of it.

"Here we go," she says, pointing to our black limo waiting for us at the curb. The drivers is holding open a rear door of the car and we both slide into the cool leather seats, reporters nipping at our heels. The door slams shut behind us, and we are now completely shielded from the outside world.

The windows are deeply tinted, and while we can see out, we are safe from the prying eyes of all of the photographers. Even their shouts are muffled, and almost a distant memory at this point.

I turn to Megan. "What the fuck was that all about?"

She doesn't say anything, and just shakes her head, her curls bouncing.

I continue. "I'm serious, Megan. I need to know what in the hell is going on," I say again. "That reporter made one hell of a statement back there."

I watch as she pulls her cell phone from her purse.

"I don't know," she says, holding up a finger to silence me, "but I'm going to find out. Just give me a second."

She's holding her phone to her ear, and I watch as she begins speaking to whoever her source is on the other end of the line.

And then it hits me. I don't have another second to give.

I need to see her. I need to see Amy for myself—right now.

"Mike," I say to the driver, "I want you to turn this motorcade around to 43rd Street and 8th Avenue."

"Sir?" he asks. "You're redirecting us near Port Authority. Am I understanding that correctly?"

"That's right," I reply. "And hurry. We need to get there quick."

"Yes, sir," he says, and I watch as he presses one foot on the brake and turns the steering wheel, making a sharp U-turn. Cars are honking at the sudden maneuver. No doubt he just cut a bunch of people off. Megan and I slide to the right side of the car with the momentum of the turn.

If Amy's really going out of business, I need to see it for myself. I'm going straight to the source, her place of business—Kinky Amy's.

"Okay," Megan says, ending her call and breaking my train of thought. "I just got off the phone with the State Attorney General."

She stops for a moment and pulls a stick of gum from her purse, carefully peeling off the wrapper and placing it into her mouth.

Way to leave me hanging, I think.

"And?" I say. "Don't hold me in suspense. What did he fucking say?"

"Well, it's true—the State Attorney General has charged Amy as a sex trafficker," Megan says.

"So, the reporter was right?" I ask, slowly putting everything together in my mind. "Fuck, I can't believe this." My head is spinning.

"And not only that," Megan continues, "but the state troopers are coming right now. They're on their way to shut her business down."

Fuck. We have to hurry. I need to be there.

"Mike," I call out to the driver. "Step on the fucking gas now!”


“No!” I cry out, crossing my arms and standing right in front of the entrance to my office building. The sidewalk is swarming with state troopers in grey uniforms, all of them eager to storm into my office. “This is bullshit, you can’t simply --”

“I have a court order right here, ma’am,” one of them, the one in charge, says. He steps forward and picks a folded piece of paper out from his jacket. He shoves it toward me and, with a frown, I snag it from his fingers.

Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? I think to myself as I glance over the document. I’m being charged with sex trafficking, and the state troopers are here to shut down my business. The document is signed by one Judge Andrew McGill, a name that rings a bell. If I’m not mistaken, he’s one of my mother’s political allies. Which makes perfect sense—since I’m tied with Parker, my ruin will surely mean his ruin.

“This is bullshit!” I say again, stomping my foot against the floor and standing my ground. If these troopers want to take down my business, they can do it over my dead body. No way I’m going to let them in over some phony charges.

“This is the law, ma’am,” the man who handed me the court order barks, his fingers resting on the butt of his revolver. Just perfect. “Now stand aside,” he says, lowering his voice until it becomes just a whisper. The threat is implicit; if I don’t move out of his way, the troopers are going to use force.

There are at least twenty of them, all of them standing in a half-circle around me, a scowl on their faces. They came in their SUVs as if I were a terrorist, jumping out from their cars and establishing a perimeter around me as if I had a bomb strapped to my chest. Not a happy sight when you’ve just woken up half an hour ago and your brain's still rebooting.

“No,” I growl, opening my arms wide and blocking their path. “Over my dead body,” I whisper back at the trooper in front of me, and I see a hint of a grin flashing on his lips. He pulls his gun free from his holster belt, and he’s about to point it at me when the loud sound of engines grabs his attention.

I look over his shoulder just in time to see a limo parking in front of the building, two NYPD cars flanking it. The cavalry has arrived, and just in time.

“What the fuck’s going on here?” Parker cries out as he steps out of the limo, buttoning his jacket and walking toward me in a straight line. He shoves two troopers aside and then comes up to me. “You okay?” he whispers, and I just nod, running my tongue between my dry lips.

“Yeah, but this is… This is complete bullshit.”

“I know. Don’t worry; I've got this,” he says, and then turns on his heels to face the troopers. “Care to explain exactly what’s going on here?”

“Uh, sir, there’s a court order,” the tall trooper says, pointing at the document I'm still holding in my hand. “We’re here to shut down whatever’s going on in here, and a judge has signed off on it.”

“A judge?”

“Yeah, Judge McGill,” the trooper continues, taking his hat off and wiping the sweat off his brow. He thought this was going to be a clean operation, and now he’s being stared down by the mayor. “Governor Meelios ordered this investigation, and the judge has approved of the proceedings.”

“Governor Meelios, uh? Well, trooper, I must ask you to get back to your cars and get out of here,” Parker tells him, a deadly expression on his face. NYPD officers have started climbing out of their cars now, and they’re hanging back around the limo, hesitantly watching the scene unfold right in front of them. A crowd of onlookers has also started to gather on the sidewalk, a voyeuristic kind of confusion washing over everyone’s face. They were mildly interested in the commotion the state troopers were causing, but now that the Mayor has stepped onto the scene, everyone’s hooked. This beats reality TV, I guess.

“Sorry, sir, but… Uh… We can’t do that. Governor’s orders. We must go through with this,” the trooper continues, and I notice his fingers tightening around the butt of his gun. This isn’t good.

“Fuck the Governor. I’m the fucking Mayor,” Parker shoots back, and then raises his hand up in the air and waves at the NYPD officers. They stand up straight and walk toward both Parker and I, cutting their way through the troopers and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Parker, the palm of their hands resting on their still holstered guns.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s wise,” the head trooper hisses, looking at the wall of NYPD officers that has just formed in front of him.

“Well, I don’t think that you being here is wise either. So that has us at an impasse, trooper,” Parker growls, and then turns to the NYPD officers. “Don’t let any of these troopers through. This is a political vendetta, and I won’t let it happen in my city.”

“We’ll use force if necessary, sir,” the trooper threatens Parker, his voice hesitant but icy at the same time. Big mistake. Parker takes one step forward and, now towering over the trooper, he simply smiles.

“Go right ahead,” he whispers, and hesitation washes over the trooper's face. Nervously, he wipes the sweat off his brow once more and then turns on his heels, creating some distance between him and Parker.

“Form up!” he barks at the other troopers, assuming his position in their straight formation. He raises his gun up in the air, and the other troopers do the same, pointing their guns at Parker, me, and the NYPD officers.

“You’ve heard the Mayor, boys,” one of the NYPD officers shouts, and they all get their guns out at the same time. Oh, God, this is going downhill fast. I wasn’t exactly expecting a shootout when I woke up this morning.

“We’ll use force, sir, final warning!” the trooper shouts at Parker. The expression on Parker’s face hardens; and he walks straight toward the line of troopers, only stopping when the muzzle from the head trooper's gun is pressed against his chest.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Parker growls, and I feel nauseous for a very long second, imagining the sound of a gun going off. Then, moving fast, Parker grabs the troopers’ gun and takes it out from his hands. “Thought so,” he says, emptying the gun’s chamber and then throwing it to the ground. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

With one deadly last stare at Parker, the trooper’s pale lips tightly purse into one thin line, and he finally turns on his heels and orders his subordinates to follow after him. In a matter of just a few seconds, they get back in their cars and disappear, almost as if they were never here in the first place.

I was right; my mother is more than willing to go to war.

And this is just the beginning.

New York Daily Journal

Mayor to Governor: Over My Dead Body, Honey!

All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

Political commentators, observers, and citizens were left in shock and awe yesterday as one of the most bitter and divisive Senate races spilled out into a near civil war.

New York City denizens were glued to their screens as they watched the tense standoff in the longest thirty minutes of city's history as state troopers from Albany, acting on a signed order from a State Superior Court judge, sought to shut down a business, but were stopped by the Mayor and NYPD.

Perhaps the strangest situation in all of this—the business that the state troopers sought to shut down was owned by none other than Amy Aspen, the daughter of the current Governor, Kate Meelios.

It is widely believed that the court order was signed at the behest of the Governor, who has long expressed concern and displeasure at the streaming of adult content that her daughter engages in.

But perhaps more surprising was that the savior of the moment was none other than Parker Trask, the ex-husband of the Governor and thus the stepfather of Ms. Aspen.

"The Mayor and the Governor have never really liked each other," a source within the Governor's camp was quoted as saying on condition of anonymity. "They may have been married to each other, but I doubt there was ever any real love. So it's not surprising that it came down to people pointing guns at each other with these two."

The circumstances of the encounter have left many New Yorkers, as well as citizens outside the city, understandably anxious.

Never in the history of the state has one branch of law enforcement had to draw a firearm to prevent another branch of law enforcement from doing their job.

"Don't doubt it," an NYPD police officer was quoted as saying after hours at a tavern on condition of anonymity due to being a police officer. "If those state troopers would've come an inch closer, we would've used whatever force was required to stop them."

The situation itself has quickly spiraled from what was a simple contested Senate seat campaign into a national discussion of states rights vs a central bureaucracy making rules.

While accounts vary as to the provocations that led to the Mayor stepping in, certain facts are accepted by both sides.

The heart of the matter that led to the standoff yesterday centered around a business that created adult content. This business was indeed founded and still owned by Ms. Aspen.

"There's just entirely too much family drama going on here," said a passerby as they were leaving a bar across from Kinky Amy's. "This doesn't feel like protecting the public. It feels like family members treating the civic institutions of the city and state as their personal tools to use in avenging themselves on one another."

Many New Yorkers agree, with both the Governor and the Mayor taking a dip in their approval polls. In a surprise twist, however, Amy Aspen was polled at a much higher job approval rating than her Governor mother, as well as her Mayor stepfather.

Only time will tell what the next twist in their ever-complicated road will be.

Stay tuned to the New York Daily Journal to stay up to date.


Amy and I are sitting at Gracie Mansion, sitting side by side, and watching the television without saying a word. It feels as if we're holding our breaths, and even the air around doesn't seem to be moving.

The anticipation is oppressive. We've been waiting for this moment.

I look over at her, and she seems worried—more worried than any of us would like to admit. There's a deep crease across her forehead, and her chin is resting in the palm of her hand. Her hair is hanging down one side of her face, creating an ominous shadow.

It's almost as if she's hiding something from me. But I shake that thought from my mind. It's just stress, I think to myself. This kind of stress would cause anyone to look like that.

"It's going to be okay," I say, placing my hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, but she doesn't respond or look at me. She keeps her gaze on the TV.

We watch as her mother, Governor Kate Meelios speaks into a microphone. She's standing at an outdoor podium, and the wind is blowing her hair in unruly patterns. She looks like she could be Medusa's sister, with a head full of slender, hissing snakes, and in one, long stare, it's as if she could turn you into stone. The thought of that almost makes me want to turn away from the TV, but I can't.

I keep listening. Our future depends on it.

"The events of the past 24 hours are outrageous, to the say the least," she says, and there's an edge to he voice that means she is more than ready for war to break out.

Her gaze is cool and calculating, her eyes as sharp as broken glass, as she continues. "Parker Trask has far over exceeded his authority as Mayor of this city. On that, I think we can all agree. He nearly assaulted an officer, the way he threatened to grab the officer's weapon and pushed his chest into the muzzle of the gun. He also turned the NYPD against us. That is a hostile act that can't—no, it won't be tolerated under my governorship, his blatant disrespect for the law."

I nearly choke, listening to the words pouring out of her mouth.

What the fuck? How can she in good conscience say these things?

"Can you fucking believe that? I seriously can't believe she's turning this all on me—making me look like the villain in all of this," I say to Amy, turning to her. But she's still glued to the TV.

"She's making me look like a villain too, Parker," Amy responds, just above a whisper and still glued to the TV. She still isn't saying much.

Actually, I take all of that back. I can believe it. I can believe every word coming from the Governor's mouth.

It's like deja vu.

This is Kate Meelios we're talking about, and she's quite possibly the most power hungry person I've ever met in my life, and that's saying a lot.

I've met a lot of power hungry people during my time on Wall Street, and in various political circles, but she puts them all to shame.

She'll stop at nothing to destroy anyone in her path to power.

I turn my attention back to the TV and listen as Kate Meelios continues her rant to the crowd. They seem to be agreeing to her every word, and her momentum is gaining.

"I'm preparing to send in the National Guard to close down Kinky Amy's. Sex trafficking will not be tolerated in this city, and neither will the antics of Mayor Parker Trask. If he wants to harbor—and protect—a woman who has already been found guilty of such heinous acts as sex trafficking, Parker should resign from politics and take his moral ineptitude elsewhere."

The crowd cheers at this, and it's clear that the Governor is gaining a lot of traction with the public. She's always known how to work a crowd—so long as she doesn't have a technical issue with her microphone.

This all makes me sick to my stomach—and mad. I ball one hand into a fist and shove it into my pocket. The way she's dragging Amy and I through the mud, and the fact she's gone to such extremes is infuriating.

I won't let her get away with this. Not now. Not ever.

Meelios continues, "Also, until further notice, I'll be freezing the assets of New York City until it complies with my ruling on indecency."

Did I just fucking hear her correctly? I'm now shaking my head and leaning in closer to the TV, disbelief etched into my face.

"This means," she continues, "that subway workers will no longer be receiving pay—public transit will come to a standstill. The state's food stamps will also stop being distributed. Just think about all of the disadvantaged families that will be affected by this. And it doesn't stop there. The state's colleges and the state's courts will also no longer receive funding. This will be a crisis unlike anything the state's ever seen—and all until Mayor Parker Trask resigns. I implore the Mayor to do the right thing."

"That bitch!" I yell at the TV, pumping one fist into the air. "I can't fucking believe the lows she's stooping to."

Then Amy turns to me. The expression on her face has changed to one of sadness, and I don't know what's worse—seeing her worried, or seeing her sad.

"You have to fire me, Parker," she says, looking at me before burying her face into her hands.

I immediately scoop her into my arms, wrapping her in my embrace. "No," I say. "I refuse to do that. We aren't going to let the Governor get the best of us."

But Amy doesn't seem convinced. I watch as a single tear zigzags its way down her cheek.

"I have," she says, and halts for a second before continuing, "a secret."

"A secret?" I ask, confused.

"Yes," she replies. "It's time I come clean to you Parker."


“I’m not… who you think I am,” I start, the words coming up my throat as if they’re wrapped in thorns. “My mother put me up to this, Parker,” I continue, finally letting the truth out. No matter how much it hurts, it must be done.

“Your mother? What are you talking about, Amy?” he asks me, narrowing his eyes in confusion. I wasn’t sure if Parker ever suspected my mother’s hand in all of this, but his look tells me that he wasn’t expecting to hear these words.

Looking down at the floor, I take one deep breath to summon the courage necessary to go through with this. Once I’m done, Parker’s going to hate me, I’m sure of it. But I can’t keep on living a lie. It’s time to put it all out there.

“My mother, she… blackmailed me. She forced me to go work for you. She wanted me to act as her spy but, in the end, what she really wanted was for the two of us to sleep together… which happened, exactly as she wanted it to happen,” I say, my heart tightening up into a fist inside my chest. I replay that fateful night inside my head, remembering each of my mother’s words as she backed me down into a corner and forced me to take up arms against my own stepfather.

“No… it can’t be. I don’t understand,” he says, disbelief in his voice. “I mean… blackmail? What did she even blackmail you with?” he asks me, his tone of voice turning flat and emotionless. Oh, God, here I go.

“When I was younger… Oh, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but when I was younger I participated in a porn and… and the actor looked just like you. I’ve always dreamed of you, Parker, and in that moment I let it all out. I lived that moment as if I was really there with you.” I take a deep breath, choking down a sob that threatens to overtake me, and then I continue. “I never let that tape go public, but my mother got hold of it. She never let me forget about it. Told me that she always knew how I felt toward you, and that it was my fault that her marriage to you ended…”

“Jesus…” he whispers, looking into my eyes with an undecipherable expression.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I’ve blamed myself for your broken marriage. I was a stupid girl and, somehow, I started to believe that the way I looked at you played a part in your divorce…”

“Amy, I --”

“And when she threatened to go public with the tape if I didn’t do this… I didn’t know what to say. It’d ruin my business, Parker, and… I didn’t want you to see it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you saw how… how stupid I was.”

The tears are streaming down my cheeks now, and all I can do is bury my face in my hands, breathing in with tearful sobs.

“I’m sorry, Parker… I really am. For everything.”

“Amy…” he whispers my name and, reaching for me, peels my hands off of my face. I look at him, desperation taking hold of my heart as the tears run free down my face. He’s going to say he hates me. He’s going to say he wants me out of his life for good. And then I’ll lose him. Forever. The man I love will be gone.

“We didn’t break up because of you. That marriage ended because Kate didn’t want to be married; what she wanted was my money. And she used as much of it as she could, all so that she could set herself up as the Governor… And once she became Governor, she left. Which was okay. I don’t think I’ve ever loved her.”

“It doesn’t matter, Parker… This mess we’re in, it’s all my fault!” I continue, unable to process the soft tone of his voice and his caring words. All I feel right now, and all my brain is capable of understanding, is the utter despair of being on the verge of losing the man I love.

Because I love him, I really do.

It’s true; I’ve been fantasizing about Parker ever since puberty hit, but it was nothing more than just a silly girl’s fantasy. But that blossomed into real love now, and it’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt something like it.

“Shh, Amy,” he hushes me, placing one finger across my lips and caressing my cheek with the back of his free hand. “I know your mom, and I know how ruthless she is. You’re as much a victim as I am.”

“But --”

“No. No buts, Amy,” he cuts me short, placing both his hands on either side of my face and forcing me to look up into his eyes. “And I don’t want to hear anything about you leaving.”

“Why?” I ask him, wiping the tears off my face with the back of my hand. “Why, Parker?”

His lips open up into an easy smile, and then he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine.

“Because I love you, Amy, that’s why.”

I blink once, and then twice, my eyes locked on his as my brain tries to understand the meaning behind his words. Because I love you, Amy, that’s why; his words echo inside my head like some soothing prayer, and I feel the gentle embrace of hope silencing all that despair and anxiety.

Maybe it isn’t all over. Maybe there’s hope. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t lose the man I’ve come to love with all my heart.

“I love you…” he repeats, almost as if he’s trying to make sure that I understand him. Finally managing to offer him a weak smile, I return his kiss and then look into his eyes once more.

“I love you too,” I whisper, closing my eyes and surrendering to his embrace.

Love—sometimes it only shows up when everything seems lost.


This might the sweetest kiss we’ve shared so far. There’s something special about a kiss when love has blossomed. In a sense, it’s almost like magic. Corny, right? But it doesn’t make it any less true.

I reach for Parker, grabbing at his tie, and I let my fingers slide down the smooth fabric until I have my palms pressed against his pectorals. I feel their rugged outline under my fingers, and I loosen the knot on his tie. Our tongues are dancing around one another, lost in a soft dance of love and lust.

“I love you,” I repeat, slowly pulling back from him and looking into his eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of feeling these words rolling over my tongue.

“Love you too,” he says, placing his hands on my knee and sliding it up to my thigh. We lean into each other once more, our lips drawn together, and I undo the knot on his tie and pull it from around his neck. Slowly moving my fingers, I start unbuttoning his shirt, popping button after button, and then I un-tuck it.

I rest my hand over his abs, feeling their smooth hard curves, and then I curl my fingers around his belt, pulling him into me.

“Someone’s pretty eager,” he whispers into my ear, and then tucks one arm under my knees and pulls me into him while he goes up to his feet. I place one arm around his neck, my eyes never leaving his, and he carries me in his arms across the room we’re in. In silence, he carries me up the stairs and then heads straight to the bedroom, only putting me down on the floor so that he can lock the two large double doors behind us.

“I want you so much,” I tell him, my mind ordering me to rush to him, which is exactly what I do. I close the distance between us with one sure step and, pressing my body against his, I pin him against the wall while I crush my mouth against his.

He returns my kiss eagerly, his tongue finding its way into my mouth while his hands trail down the side of my body and go straight for my ass. He feels the curve of my cheeks over the fabric of my dress and, outstretching his fingers, he cups them and then squeezes, a soft whimper on my lips as I surrender to his touch.

“I’m right here,” he whispers to me, and I just grin and react by pure instinct, jumping up and into him. He reacts fast, his hands on my ass as he holds me, and I just lace my legs around his waist.

We resume our kiss as if our lips had never separated, and Parker stumbles across the bedroom until his knees meet the edge of the bed. He tumbles onto the mattress clumsily, pinning down my body, and I run my hands through his hair, disheveling it.

I move my hips softly, pressing my crotch against his, and my pussy grows wet as I feel the hard shape of his cock pulsing under his pants. “I want it,” I say with a dazed smile, allowing one of my hands to run down the side of his body and then cut in over his waist, only stopping when I have my fingers curled around his thick cock.

“Then have at it,” he replies, his deft fingers pulling down one strap of my dress. Leaning in, he lays his lips on my shoulder, carefully kissing my skin, and then pulls down the other strap, baring the outer edges of my bra.

His lips hike down until they meet my bra, and he grabs it with his teeth, pulling down one cup and setting my nipple free. Smoothly, he reaches for it with the tip of his tongue, running slow teasing circles around it; I grab his hair and pull him into me, a purred moan leaving my mouth as I feel his lips wrapping themselves around my rosy tip.

I close my eyes as I feel tiny electric sparks spreading from my nipple, his tongue working it with a kind of patient fury, and then he pulls down the other cup of my bra. His lips never leave my skin as he slides his mouth down and then up again over the curve of my breasts, reaching for my other nipple.

I moan again, each breath I take making my pussy even wetter, I take my two hands to his shoulders and tug on his open shirt, pushing it down his arms. I curl my fingers into claws and, burying them in his back, I trace hard lines over his muscles, feeling them move under my fingertips. My fingernails dig deep into his flesh, and that makes him suck harder on my nipple. Sweet mercy, this is good.

Moving fast, he slides one hand under my back, and grabbing at the clasp of my bra, he unhooks it and pulls it free. Kneeling over me and between my legs, he now places his hand between my breasts and, grabbing at the string of my bra that bridges the gap between them, he yanks on it and rips it off of my body.

His eyes fall down from mine and, moving with patience, trace a straight line toward my naked breasts. He remains still and in silence for a moment, just taking in the sight of my half naked body, and then he opens his hand and lets the bra slip from his fingers and float down out of sight.

“You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice laden with more than just lust. There’s love and kindness there; more than just the desire to consume my body, he wants to worship it with his.

I watch in silence as the muscles on his shoulders move under his skin, his arms reaching for me. I breathe out heavily as his fingers touch the naked skin of my breasts, and a pleasant warmness blankets my mind as I feel my nipple pinned down under the palm of his hands.

I place my hands on top of his and make him squeeze both my breasts harder, arching my body and throwing my head back. “Take me,” I find myself saying, locking my eyes on his. “I’m yours now. Forever,” I whisper without blinking, my heart happily beating inside my chest.

“You are,” he whispers back at me, letting go of my breasts and curling his fingers around my dress. He pulls it down, bunching it around my waist, and then I lift my ass up from the mattress and allow it to slide the fabric down my legs.

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he grabs my right ankle softly and, lifting it up in the air, he takes my high heel off. He lays his lips on my ankle, kissing my skin gently, and then takes my other high heel off, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Still grabbing my leg, he starts kissing it up all the way to my knee, and then he slides his lips all the way over to my inner thigh. I grab at the sheets under me, tugging on them unconsciously, and I tremble all over as I feel his lips brushing against my pussy. I want to reach for him, to yank on his hair and force him to crush his mouth right between my thighs… But, somehow, I don’t do it. I remain frozen in place, savoring this moment; something inside of me tells me that this isn’t the moment to rush things, and I obey that whisper willingly.

Placing his hands on my inner thighs, he keeps my legs spread apart and then takes his mouth right to where I need it to be, his lips gently landing on the wet patch of fabric covering my pussy. Opening his mouth wide, he sucks on me over the fabric while, at the same time, he grabs at my thong. He pulls back for a second only, enough time to push on my thong and pull it down my legs, and then he reaches for my inner lips with the tip of his tongue. He flicks it up and down with a patient rhythm, as if we have all the time in the world, and then he goes for my clit, pressing down on it hard.

“That feels good,” I say with a smile, my eyelids drooping as I finally allow my hands to reach for him. I tangle my fingers in locks of hair and, succumbing to desire, I start swaying my hips slowly. I take rushed breaths as I rub my pussy against his mouth, and I keep on doing it until he lays one forearm across my waist, pinning me down.

“That’s because you’re delicious,” he tells me, looking up and into my eyes before he takes his mouth to my pussy once more. Tilting his head slightly sideways, he sucks my folds into his mouth, running his tongue along their length, and he starts stroking my clit with his thumb, rubbing it in fast but precise circles.

He licks me until I don’t even know if I’m breathing anymore, and then all the air inside my lungs rushes out of me as, without a warning, he slides his middle finger inside my pussy. He curls it up, looking for that sweet spot, and he presses hard against it when he finds it. I gasp as I feel the pressure on my G-spot and clit blend into a perfect storm, a hurricane of pleasure dancing up my spine and scattering all the thoughts inside my head to the wind.

Yanking hard on his hair, I push him down against my pussy while I thrust up at the same time, pressing my wetness to his mouth as hard as I can. The pressure becomes too much for me and I simply give in, bending backwards and arching my back as a sudden moan explodes in my mouth.

“Oh, God,” I pant, letting go of his hair and tugging at the sheets under me, spasms taking over my muscles and forcing them to twitch fast and hard.

“Liked it?” he asks me earnestly, sliding his finger out of my pussy and going back up to his knees. I open my eyes to glance at him, and smile as I see my fluids dripping down his chin and making his skin glisten.

“I loved it,” I whisper, propping myself up on my elbows and reaching for him with one hand. I grab his belt and, flicking my wrist to the side, I unbuckle it. I pull his zipper down and then simply lay back, watching as he climbs down from the bed and kicks off his shoes, his pants falling down his legs. He steps out of them and, smiling while he looks at me, he hooks his thumbs on his boxer briefs and pulls them down, his thick mast springing free at once.

“Then you’ll love this.” He climbs back onto the bed, moving with cat-like movements and positioning himself between my legs again. He lies down on top of me and, with a pleasant smile still on my lips, I reach for his cock and curl my fingers around it. I angle it so that its tip is brushing over my drenched folds, and then I let go, placing both my hands on his shoulder blades and digging my fingernails deep into his skin.

“I will,” I whisper into his ear. One heartbeat after the words have rolled out from between my lips and he thrusts, his cock pushing my pussy lips aside and piercing me with one single movement. I gasp as I feel his thickness stretching me wide, that pleasant warmness inside of me turning into a supernova explosion.

I cross my legs over his lower back and reel him in, forcing him to go all the way while I lock him in place. Smiling, he places one hand under my head, supporting me, and he starts thrusting softly without taking his eyes off from mine. I look back at him as I feel his cock sliding in and out of my pussy and, for the first time, I feel my heartbeat slowing down.

My heart isn’t racing anymore. My body isn’t concerned with what’s coming, or with what happened before. Right now I’m simply drifting down the present moment, time like a river flowing around both of our bodies.

“I love you,” I say once more, finally closing my eyes and reaching for his lips with mine. We share a tender kiss, our lips locked in a tight embrace, and I let pleasure crawl up and down my body. My hands go down his back and I reach for his naked ass, digging my fingers into his cheeks as he starts thrusting harder.

Pulling back from our kiss, I throw my head back against the mattress and, still with my eyes closed shut, I let out a groan as I feel my pussy walls tightening up around his cock.

“I wish this moment could last forever,” he tells me, his body moving back and forth steadily, and I smile at his words. I never imagined I’d live to see the day where these words would find their way to Parker’s lips. Parker ‘Pleasure’ Trask, everyone calls him. But there’s more to him than a nickname, and I might be the only person to know that.

“So do I,” I tell him, the words coming out of my mouth with a hard edge. The muscles around my throat are tightening up like murderous fingers, and I feel my body turning into concrete. Then, in a fraction of a second, all that tension simply disappears, and taking its place, violent ecstasy rushes in.

“AH! GOD!” I cry out, tightening my locked legs around Parker’s waist and forcing him to stop moving, his cock buried inside my body. I remain frozen in place as happiness rushes through my veins, my mind floating over an ocean of pleasure and lust.

My hands slide up from his ass and over his back, and I move my fingers around his neck so that I can cup his face. I open my eyes and just stare at him with a smile, biting down on my lower lip as pleasure devours me from the inside out.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” I ask him, my voice quivering as pleasure washes over me, fading away into nothingness.

“You didn’t have to do a thing… All it took was one look into your eyes and I was yours,” he replies, pushing back one stray lock of hair back over my face and showing me a tender smile.

“Is this real, Parker? Or is it a dream?” I ask, suddenly realizing that if this is all a dream, it’s one from which I don’t want to wake up from.

“This is as real as it gets, Amy…” he smiles then, the lines on his face softening up as he pulls back from me, his cock sliding out of my pussy.

“Where are you going?” I ask, following after him as he kneels on the bed. I place my hands on his chest and push him down onto the mattress, now my turn to climb on top of him. My knees are on either side of his thighs, and I’m straddling him, his cock pinned down between his body and my pussy. “I’m not done with you,” I whisper, grabbing his thick shaft and pulling it up.

Running my tongue between my lips, I lift my hips up just a few inches and then I ease myself down, once more allowing his cock to slide into me. I let it go all the way inside of me, only letting go of his shaft when I feel its tip touching that hot trigger of pleasure hiding inside my pussy.

I lean into him, my hands still on his chest, and start rocking my hips. I start slow, but each coming and going motion of my body makes the rhythm go up, and it doesn’t take long for my movements to be a dance of frenzied lust.

“You drive me crazy, you know?” he whispers, reaching for my breasts with his open hands and grabbing them. I throw my head back and chuckle, the happiness in my voice making my skin prickle.

“I know,” I merely say, moving my hips back and forth and from side to side, so fast that I feel tiny beads of sweat dripping down my back. I ride him until my body starts tensing up, and I don’t even stop when climax takes me by surprise, sneaking its way into my mind and spreading its wings all at once. I just keep on moving my body, riding him through my orgasm and surrendering to the most perfect moment of my entire life.

My pussy tightens up around his cock, slight spasms making my inner lips tremble, but I don’t stop even though tall flames of ecstasy lap at my body. I keep on moving until I feel pleasure pulsing inside of me like a beating heart, a second explosion of pleasure taking place on top of the previous one. I grit my teeth and, throwing my head back, I let out a sound that’s half a moan and half a chuckle, my voice filling the whole room at once.

“What happened to that ‘I’m not done with you’ talk?” he teases me, mimicking my voice and running one hand through my hair, his smart eyes focused on mine.

“What? Are you saying I can’t go on?” I try to act strong, but the exhaustion comes through my voice. But no matter; my body might be spent, but the hunger inside my mind isn’t sated yet. And, to be honest, I doubt that it’ll ever be.

Placing my feet on either side of his thighs, I squat over his cock and, gritting my teeth, I start jumping up and down. Instead of rolling my hips back and forth, now I allow his cock to slide in and out of my pussy by raising and lowering my hips, his cock going deeper than before.

“I… can… go… on…” I say between breaths, grabbing my own breasts and squeezing them so hard that a loud moan escapes my lips. “I don’t get tired,” I continue, working his cock so furiously I’d be worried about breaking it in half if he wasn’t so thick. As it is, he might be the one breaking me in half.

“I can see that.” Hooking both thumbs on my hips, he pushes me down in a fraction of a second, thrusting upward at the same time. My moaning turns into screaming before I know what has happened, a furious orgasm explodes in my pussy and sends shockwaves all the way up my spine.

“FUCK!” I scream, my throat working hard to produce a shrill and high-pitched sound. I keep on screaming until my throat grows raw, and then I place my knees back on the mattress, his cock sliding out of me as I roll to the side and sprawl myself on the bed. “Oh my God… What the hell just happened?” I ask to no one in particular, a silly and tired smile dancing on my lips.

“I happened,” Parker says, his response a fast and sure one.

“Cocky, uh?” I turn to him, my body against his, and place one hand on his chest. My fingers make the hike down to his stomach, slowly tracing the contour of each one of his abs before I finally move toward his hard cock. “On your knees, Mr. Cocky,” I tell him, my words cracking as a whip, and he obeys willingly.

Moving over the mattress, he kneels right between my parted legs and I finally curl my fingers around his thickness. Smiling wickedly, I start flicking my wrist back and forth, stroking him as fast as I can and already picturing the gallons of cum he’s about to unleash upon my naked body. I have no idea how it's even possible for him to produce such ungodly amounts of cum, but it’s not like that matters. As long as I’m the only one on the receiving end, I don’t care about the magical origins of his seed.

“Cum for me…” I whisper, propping myself up on one elbow as I stroke him. I bite down on my lower lip, my unblinking eyes never leaving his, and he returns my gaze as if he were staring at the most beautiful painting in existence, appreciating every single detail on my face. “Cum for me,” I repeat, lowering my voice until it becomes a soft purr, and a slight spasm makes his cock twitch against my fingers.

“That’s it,” I continue, moving my hand faster than before, my whole arm moving back and forth so fiercely that it just becomes a blur of color. “Do it, daddy…” I whisper, allowing the word daddy to linger on my lips, and that’s when his cock throbs violently against my grip.

There’s the glisten of pre-cum, and then he starts gushing a torrent into me. I open my mouth just in time for the first thick strand of semen to land on my tongue, and I tilt my head back so that the rest goes inside my mouth. He fills my mouth up to the brim in just two seconds, and I can’t help but grin savagely as I feel it all dripping down my face.

I keep on moving my hand back and forth over his cock, stroking him as he cums, and his groans of pure pleasure only make me want to go harder. The muscles in my forearm are burning from the cramps, but I barely notice it; I’m too focused on the way drops of cum splash over my naked chest, covering my tits as if they're a blanket.

He keeps on cumming for a long time, long strands of cum already sliding down my stomach and tracing a straight line toward the wetness between my thighs. A shiver goes up my spine as I feel the warmness of his seed dripping onto my pussy and blending in with my fluids, and that’s when I finally let go of his cock, one final spasm making his cock twitch against my closed fist.

“What a mess,” I tease him with a chuckle, my lips sticking to one another as I speak.

“It’s a mess indeed… but maybe I can help,” he replies, bending over between my legs. Placing his thumbs on the back of my knees, he guides his mouth straight toward my pussy and rests it against my cum-coated folds, sucking them into his mouth and only letting go of them when they’re dry and clean.

Running his tongue up the length of my pussy, he lets it wander up to my stomach, scooping up all the cum on its way, and then he continues all the way up to my breasts. Caressing my soft mounds with the tip of his tongue, and always lingering on my nipples, circling them and sucking, he finally kisses the curve of my neck and chin.

I part my lips, anxious to feel his mouth on mine, and I look into his eyes before he does it. We smile at each other, and then we’re drawn into one wild kiss, our tongues wrestling over a curtain of cum.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he finally tells me, his own cum glistening on his delicious lips.

“And, still, it’s not the first time you’ve done it,” I smile, wiping one drop of cum from his chin with the tip of my fingers. “And you love it.”

“I do… when I’m with you, I love every single fucking thing,” he says before crushing his mouth against mine once more.

And it’s true; I could say the exact same thing about him.

When we’re together, everything’s perfect.


Two weeks.

That’s how long New York has been in a state of siege. Because, make no mistake about it, this is a siege. The mayor and the governor—my stepfather and my mother—have clashed over my company, and now the fate of New York City hangs in the balance.

Newspaper and cable networks keep on harping about this standoff, and it seems that the scales are tilting in my mother’s favor. Point by point, the lead Parker had over my mom is now eroding steadily.

Her little stunt with the state troopers has paid off, and even after she doubled down on the stunt, it kept paying off.

The city is slowly plummeting into chaos and, instead of seeing the governor as the culprit, a lot of people are turning their accusing fingers toward Parker and I. It got to the point where I relented and asked Parker to allow the state troopers to close down my company.

Of course, he’s refused. Kinky Amy’s stays open and 8 million people are doing without basic services.

As much as I love my company, I simply can’t stand watching the city where I've grown up tear itself apart. Trash is piling up on the streets, the public transportation system is in complete chaos, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight to this madness. My mom has cut off all state funding, and Parker has spent the better part of these last two weeks trying to patch a temporary solution over the countless problems that have arisen.

He’s gotten a number of companies and wealthy individuals to lend the city money and things are progressing slowly - lurching from one crisis to the next.

Which is getting harder to do, especially now that the international community is getting involved.


Thirty-seven countries have expressed their concern over what’s happening in New York City. Apparently, cities standing up to state governments with guns is something that the United Nations really does care about. Even countries like North Korea have reprimanded Parker Trask for what they perceive to be “an assault on authority.”

Oh, the irony.

Of course, my mother’s piggybacking on all that. She even made a speech to the UN - live video streamed from the statehouse, all teary-eyed about her beloved city and her corrupt and indecent family. We watched her speech at Parker’s office and, if he hadn’t stopped me, I’d have kicked and punched the TV until it became nothing more than splinters of plastic, glass, and wire.

That’s how mad I was.


It took me thirty minutes to pack my bags and move to Gracie Mansion. It’s surprising how little you need when you’re moving in with someone you love. Sure, I love all my makeup and expensive lingerie, but everything I needed—at least for the time being—fit inside two travel bags.

Parker invited me to move in with him because he wanted me close to him every day… But there was more to it than that, of course. He wanted to keep me safe. With the city descending into chaos, he didn’t deem it safe for me to stay alone in my apartment. My mom’s been growing more erratic with each passing day, and there’s no telling what she can do.

And yeah, I’m talking about murder; let’s not sugarcoat this. Do I really think she’d be capable of doing it? I don’t know, I really don’t, and that’s what scares me… Because, right now, I think my mother would be capable of anything to secure her power.

But not everything’s bad. Moving in with Parker has paved the way to good things… Love in time of war and all that.


That’s how many times we’ve had sex. Approximately. I mean, the number’s probably higher than that, and it’s not like I keep count. I’m just doing an educated guess.

I’m a bit ashamed to say it, but I feel like we’ve done it in almost every room of the Gracie Mansion. And the place is huge. I know, if the world knew that Parker and I have been fucking like rabbits while the city is in a downward spiral, people would just straight up riot and nail us to a cross. But, hey, what are we supposed to? It’s not like we’re lazing around while the city goes up in flames. In fact, it’s just the opposite.

We’re working around the clock, using all of Parker’s political clout and connections to keep the city stable while we try to reach a solution for this mess. We’ve tried creating a communication channel between the mayor’s office and the governor’s one; unsurprisingly, my mother vetoed the idea before it even got off the ground. Lack of communication benefits her, and it makes us look like the bad guys.

So, yeah, forgive me if Parker and I like to get our minds off all this chaos from time to time. But it’s not like we can help ourselves; we’ve fallen hard for each other, and our bond grows stronger with each passing day.

Even though nowadays my life is built on doubt and confusion, there’s at least one thing I’m sure about: Parker is the man of my dreams. My soulmate. I know, I’m being all corny and cheesy, but I really do mean it.

Of course, all this loving and fucking was bound to have consequences, and this bring us to...


My period has been late for five days now. And I’m one of th0se girls who seem to have a clock inside her belly, you know? I’ve never been this late. And when I say never, I really mean it.

So I did what I had to do; I drove down to the nearest pharmacy, bought a pregnancy test and brought it home with me. It’s already in the trash, and I’m pacing back and forth in the master bedroom at the Gracie Mansion, still trying to wrap my head around the result.

It took around 30 seconds for two thin pink lines to show up on the test. Which, if you don’t know, means that I’m as pregnant as they come. If this were any other time, I’d be over the moon… But New York City is on the brink of civil war and, even though I know Parker loves me, I’m not sure if I should bring one more problem to the table.

If the newspapers found out that I’m carrying Parker’s baby, all hell would break loose. And my mother would seize the moment to stomp Parker. I wouldn’t be surprised if she talked the President into sending the Army in to depose Parker. Can you imagine tanks rolling down Times Square? No? Well, I can.

But Parker’s right about one thing: we've got to stop my mother. This is no longer a simple electoral race; this is about stopping a mad woman from seizing the senate. Once she becomes a Senator, she’ll use every dirty trick she knows in order to bend the whole senate to her will, and I know exactly where she intends to go with all this…

First the Senate, then the Presidency. And then there’s no telling what she’ll do. Can you imagine someone as crazy as my mother sitting in the Oval Office? I mean, she’d nuke New York City if that meant she’d get rid of Parker.

I don’t want my child to grow up in a world like that.

It’s almost funny how being pregnant changes my whole outlook. I was willing to step down in order to let my mom take the reigns of the whole situation, but not anymore.

Not when there’s a life growing inside my belly.

If she wants war, I’ll give her war.

But right now, I want anchovies. In chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. With bacon!

New York Daily Journal

Sex Between Mayor and Daughter Could Send the City Up In Flames!

All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

The New York political world was shocked as allegations of sexual impropriety rocked the campaign of Mayor Parker Trask in his bid to not only become Senator for the state of New York, but to stop the State of New York from imposing public decency laws in Times Square.

The city, already reeling from a cut in state funding is now reeling from these accusations as Mayor Trask’s position becomes less stable.

The allegations were made from sources within the campaign of Governor Kate Meelios through sources who requested to remain anonymous while they came forth to the New York Daily Journal.

The Daily Journal conducted it's own investigation and at this time is unable to confirm or deny the rumors that are circulating. However, the fact that the rumors exist is story enough for us to report on due to the nature of the allegations.

Sources close to both campaigns tell a tale of scandal where Mayor Trask has been engaging in an improper and highly suspect relationship with his stepdaughter, Amy Aspen.

The two have been seen on multiple occasions sharing an intimate moment that belied a relationship greater than just stepfather and stepdaughter.

Sources within the Trask campaign also independently confirmed for this paper that there have been times where the conduct of Amy Aspen and Parker Trask has given pause to the campaign staff. The departure of Susan Duran, the Mayor's campaign manager has given rise to speculation that she was unable to perform her job due to influence from Amy Aspen. Since leaving the Trask for Senate campaign, Ms. Duran has taken up work on the Meelios campaign where she has served as one of the many spokespeople employed by the Governor.

Ms. Aspen has not been a stranger to controversy and it's actually in relation to her that the Senate race has turned into a constitutional crisis between the Statehouse in Albany and City Hall in New York City. Earlier this month, a state court signed off on a court order to close down the office's of Kinky Amy's, a live streaming adult content provider that is run by Amy Aspen. The Mayor, upon finding this out during a campaign event rushed to the scene and physically prevented—with the help of NYPD—the state troopers from carrying out the order.

The subsequent rift that was caused persuaded the Governor, who had pushed for the initial court order in the first place, to declare a de facto state of war against the city. The State, which had prior to this paid for teachers, subway workers, and state services has all but shut down. The New York City transit system has been running on a skeletal staff for the last several days. State parks and highways have been shut down until Parker Trask resigns and allows the State of New York to close down Kinky Amy's.

Rather than get annoyed with this state of affairs, New Yorkers are still divided over the issue. Roughly a third of all city residents sided with the Governor in a poll asking who was at fault, agreeing that Kinky Amy's should've been closed and the battle fought in court.

A third of all city residents agreed with the Mayor, suggesting that the action taken by Governor Meelios was overreaching of the worst sort, and the subsequent reaction in trying to freeze out the city was overkill.

A final third of survey respondents expressed no opinion, stating that the lack of subway service or certain state activities being curtailed had not affected their lives as of this point.

Whatever the outcome, the effect of the sexual impropriety charges is sure to add yet another blow to the Trask campaign at a time when it can ill afford one. It remains to be seen how this will affect the Senate race.


My days now seem to be spent in complete and utter chaos. My entire campaign is imploding before my eyes like a match held to a gas tank.

With the influx of calls and me being up to my neck in emails, I barely have time to breathe. The insanity is overwhelming.

I realize the phone on my desk has been ringing non-stop so I reach over and finally answer it.

"Trask speaking," I say, fully expecting to hear some constituent yell at me about my morals, or lack thereof, or how I'm corrupting the people of this city, babies and grandmas alike, and even school children. Nothing would surprise me.

But instead, I realize it's a whole lot worse.

"Parker, look, I hate to do this to you, buddy, but I've decided to leave the campaign."

It takes me a minute to recognize the voice, but then it hits me; it's my Deputy Director, Scott.

"Scott, wait, hold on," I say. I'm trying not to beg because I don't fucking do that kind of thing, but I'm feeling pretty desperate at this point. "You can't do that. This campaign needs you."

And it's the fucking truth. I do need him. He's in charge of organizing our volunteers who fill out events and contact voters. Essentially, they're our fucking ground troops. I need his leadership in this arena, now more than ever.

"You're wrong. I can leave, Parker," he says solemnly, "and I am leaving because … I hate to say it, but the Governor's right. The sex trafficking, and Amy's sex store—well, it needs to be shut down. It's just wrong. Plain wrong … and a real shame. I have a family, and daughters of my own. I can't live with myself knowing that I'm letting this happen in our city. It's an eyesore."

"You do realize who we're talking about here," I say. "The Governor is a wolf in sheep's clothing. That much I can promise you. This isn't what it looks like."

"To be honest, I don't know who to believe anymore," Scott replies.

And with that statement, I know I've lost him and there's no getting him back. It's the nail in the coffin. One by one, I'm losing the trust of my campaign mangers.

This isn't fucking good.

I still have some loyal staff members sticking it out with me, but as I look around the office, I see we're spread pretty fucking thin.

Not everyone has outright quit, like Scott just did, but a whole lot of people are mysteriously calling in sick today, and that leaves me feeling pretty fucking uneasy.

I have to turn things around, and fast. The clock is ticking and I'm running out of time. I can feel the pressure of all of these events riding on my shoulders.

I turn up the volume to the TV mounted on my wall. It's the local news, and it's no surprise I'm still making headlines.

Today I'm still getting raked over the coals.

"Unlike his earlier campaign promises, it seems the last thing you want to do is 'ask Trask' for anything these days," a reporter says. "A taboo relationship with his stepdaughter, and then a sex trafficking ring—what's next for New York City's Mayor? What new lows can he possibly sink our city into next?"

Just fucking great. The media is eating this up.

The reporter continues, "In light of this scandal, Governor Kate Meelios is leading in the polls and in the majority of the counties in New York State as well as in the city."

The screen switches to a previously recorder interview with Meelios, and I watch as she hisses into a reporter's microphone. "I can promise one thing. If Parker Trask doesn't resign, I'm going to come in with the National Guard and close Kinky Amy's down. I think I've been very patient with my demands," she says, and despite the gravity of the situation, I can't help but laugh.

Patient? Is she fucking serious? I'd say she's been anything but patient and diplomatic. In fact, her lack of diplomacy is downright fucking frightening.

Meelios continues, "But enough is enough. I'm giving Mayor Trask two weeks to resign—for those counting, that's 14 days for him to do the right thing."

The screen pans back to the reporter. "You heard it straight from the source folks," she says. "Parker Trask has two weeks. Will he resign, or will he continue to drag this city through an asset freeze unlike one we've ever seen before?"

I grab the remote and click the power button, watching the TV screen fade to black.

I can't fucking listen to that anymore. I need to come up with a plan.

The Governor is out for blood, and every day that goes by, her fangs seem to come out just a little bit more, and a little sharper.

Just as I'm about to make some phone calls, Amy walks into the room.

I can't help but look at her gorgeous face, her perfect body, her perfect smile, and think how she's a ray of sun in this whole, dark shit storm.

She walks up to me, and places her hand on mine.

Before she can say anything, I lean over and give her a kiss, gently pressing my lips to hers. "It's been one hell of a day, and I'd love to grab lunch, or chat, but I'm really busy right now. I've gotta make some important calls. It's clear that Kate Meelios is on a warpath and my time is running out. The future of this campaign depends on the actions I make right now."

I grab my phone, bringing the receiver to my ear. "Can we catch up tonight?" I ask Amy.

I pose it as a question, but my body language suggests otherwise. I'm already mid-call when she looks at me and hesitates for a moment before speaking. "No, there's something I really need to tell you."

When she says this, I know it must be important so I place the phone back down on the receiver.

I carefully watch her face, listening, as she continues.

"Before you do anything," she says, "I think you should know … I'm pregnant."

"What did you just say?" I look at her in total disbelief. I don't know what I was expecting to hear come out of her mouth, but it certainly wasn't this.

I stand up from my chair and wrap my arms around her, drawing her into my chest. I lift her off the ground and give her a quick twirl.

"That's fantastic news!" I say.

"So, you're happy?" she asks. "I know the timing isn't ideal, with the drama of this campaign, and the all out war that Kate is launching against us and everything, but I'm happy. I'm really happy, Parker."

"And I am too," I smile, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo.

"I love you so much, and now it's time for me to fight," I smile.

For us.

For our future.

For our unborn child.

I know what I need to do.

Something dramatic.

Something big.

I'm calling a press conference.


It's as if I've been injected with the adrenaline of a thousand athletes because now I'm approaching the podium as a new man. I swear I have a spring in my fucking step.

The National Guard is set to take down Amy's business in just 24 hours, and I have a renewed sense of purpose, and confidence.

Not only have I found the woman of my dreams, but we're also about to bring a new life into this world together, and despite the political chaos unfolding all around our feet, I couldn't be fucking happier.

Sounds crazy, right?

I run my fingers through my hair and climb the steps to the podium as a crowd of reporters looks on. Despite the pressure of the situation, I'm feeling calm.

All of these reporters are wondering what I could possibly say at this point. I can see the confusion, and downright animosity simmering in their eyes. They think I'm the villain—the devil incarnate—that Kate Meelios has painted me out to be. She has painted me as the man corrupting their city—their mothers and daughters and sisters and wives. But that's going to stop.

They'll see that's wrong. Enough is enough.

I've allowed the Governor to steal the spotlight for far too long now.

It's time to clear the air and set the record straight.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I say, clearing my throat and speaking into the microphone with a wide and confident smile, "This has certainly been a rollercoaster ride, hasn't it? I'm sure you're all sick of the nauseating ups and downs, just as much as I am."

I can hear a smattering of murmurs, and hushed whispers, but I can't make out exactly what's being said, so I continue on.

"I'm here today to tell you that everything you've heard is true."

Now the sound coming from the crowd is growing louder than a murmur. I can hear people gasping, and confused conversations are circulating between the reporters. I'm sure they're already formulating tomorrow's headlines. They're looking at me as if I'm some sort of monster, and wondering what exactly I'm even doing here today.

"But," I say, holding up one hand to get everyone's attention, and to reign them in before this gets out of control, "it's important that you know the whole story. Yes, it's true. I've been carrying on a relationship with my stepdaughter, Amy."

More gasps erupt from the crowd, and I can see cameras flashing.

Each snap is blinding.

All eyes are on me. But that's fine; I'm used to the spotlight—the intense scrutiny of it all, and now, just as I said, I'm on a mission.

The room has grown so silent I swear you could her a pin drop. The reporters are waiting to hang on my next words.

I continue on with the press conference. "But you must also know that everything that Governor Meelios has said has been a lie. Amy has done nothing wrong. She is not a sex trafficker. That is not something that her, or I, have ever, or would ever condone. To say that we are morally inept couldn't be farther from the truth. I swear that to each and every one of you standing in front of me today."

I look around the room full of reporters, looking to see if they're following me, and I can see some heads nodding. I seem to be regaining their trust, albeit slowly, and I take that as a good sign.

"All my life, I have struggled to find that perfect woman—a woman who I could love and be loved by in return. A woman who I could picture spending the rest of my life with. There was even a time when I thought this might never be possible for me. That maybe I would never find this woman. But now I can honestly stand here in front of each and every one of you and say that I've found her," I remark, making eye contact with the crowd to emphasize the truth of it all. I also look over at Amy. She's standing to the side of the stage, and we lock eyes. I give her a smile and continue, "And I can say that I love her—I love Amy—with all my heart."

With that statement, the tension in the room seems to lift. It's like a dark cloud dissipates, and I feel a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.

I guess it's true what they say—the truth does free you.

One reporter starts to clap, and then another, and another, and another, until finally, the entire room is erupting into applause.

Instead of confused, frowning faces, I'm now seeing a sea of smiles, and that does it.

Cameras begin flashing again, and they don't stop for what seems like forever.

"From this day forward," I say, "I promise that there won't be anymore secrets. I'm proud of who I am; I'm proud of the life that Amy and I are building together."

Reporters are still clapping, and now I hear them begin to cheer.

"I'm also proud to call myself your Mayor, and look forward to taking my enthusiasm for public service, as well as my resolve, into my bid for US Senate. If you're willing to follow me on that journey, I urge each and every one of you to vote for me in this year's Congressional election."

The applause coming from the room is now palpable. It almost feels like a slow rumble beneath my feet, like a herd of buffalo migrating to greener pastures.

I'm back, I think to myself.

For the first time in weeks, I feel like I'm really back in this political race, and that try as hard as she might, Governor Kate Meelios can't touch us.

She can't take us down.

This feeling is sealed when I hear the crowd erupt into a familiar chant.

"Just ask Trask! Just ask Trask! Just as Trask!"

I smile again and wave to crowd.

Yes, I'm back.

And it feels so good.


This is it, the final showdown, I think to myself, forehead pressed against the limo’s window as we roll down the deserted streets. The National Guard is already on their way to my company’s offices, and Parker and I are heading there to stop them. Or, well, try to. I don’t really see what we can do, but Parker seems confident enough to give me just a sliver of hope.

The NYPD has already closed off the streets and evacuated the block where I have my offices, all to try and stop this from turning into a bloodbath. There’s an eerie feeling in the air, and I can’t help but feel anxious about the whole thing. It's show time, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.

“We’re here, sir,” the limo driver tells us politely, halting the limo right in front of the building where just weeks ago we had a standoff with the state troopers.

“Let’s go,” Parker tells me, squeezing my hand in his and opening the door on his side of the limo. He steps outside into the cold New York morning sun and I follow after him, straightening the front of my dress nervously.

There are at least twenty NYPD cars parked in the street in front of my building, each of them carrying at least five police officers. And that’s just the regular force—aside from them, there are also two SWAT teams and a full platoon of NYPD officers in riot gear.

“She’ll be here anytime now,” Parker tells me and, as if to compliment his words, the sound of helicopters closing in on us echoes throughout the street. I look up at the sky, anxiety gripping my heart, and then two helicopters come into view, their rotary blades raising a wind that lashes at my hair. Ignoring the battalion of NYPD officers, they land right in the middle of the street, and camouflaged soldiers start pouring out in a rush, clutching their heavy rifles to their chests.

She wasn’t kidding; she really brought the National Guard into this.

I look down the street as the roar of heavy engines reach my ears, and I do it just in time to see a parade of armored vehicles heading toward the blockade the NYPD has set up. More soldiers pour from the armored trucks, a few of them barking orders and bringing everyone into formation.

Okay, this is seriously getting out of hand.

One of the soldiers that came on the helicopter starts walking toward Parker, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and stops just a few feet away from him.

“Sir, we’re going to shut down your… stepdaughter’s business,” he says with a harsh edge, the seniority of his rank coming through his voice, and then waves at the apparatus surrounding us. “You know there isn’t a happy ending to be had from pitting the NYPD against the National Guard, sir, so it’s my duty to ask you to stand down. Let us do our job.”

“I know where you’re coming from, soldier,” Parker responds stoically, standing his ground. “But it’s also my duty to stand up to sociopathic politicians. Which is what I’m doing here. It’s high time someone stops this so-called governor.”

“Sir, this is --”

“I’m not getting out of the way, soldier, so if you want to shoot me just do it already,” Parker cuts him short, lowering his voice and balling his hands into fists. The soldier stares at him for a few seconds, the air around them crackling with electric tension, and then he just snaps his heels together and turns around, walking back to the helicopters.

“I think you better head home, Amy,” Parker whispers, looking at me with concerned eyes. “This might get ugly.”

“No, I’ll stay with you. Always,” I tell him, grabbing his arm and pressing my body against his. Whatever happens, I’ll be standing by his side, and I’ll do it to the very end.

Keeping his silence, Parker just nods at me, and then lays a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Look, here she comes,” he whispers then, pointing with his head at the end of the street. Emerging from between the National Guard trucks, a stretch limo rolls all the way up to the blockade. It stops a few inches away from the NYPD officers manning a blockade, and then the driver leaves his seat and walks around the limo, opening one of the doors.

Two high heels touch the road, and then my mother rises from inside the limo, a vibrant red dress clinging to her curves. True to herself, she came in dressed for a celebration; she thinks victory is just at arm’s reach. Which isn’t too far from the truth: if she orders the National Guard to start shooting, it’s a done deal. Except I’m betting she’ll only do that as a last resort. Despite having the public’s support, it’d be a huge risk to paint the streets of New York in crimson.

“Get out of my way,” I hear her hiss at the NYPD officers, and she strolls past them without a care in the world, ignoring the guns in their hands. She walks toward Parker and I with a victorious grin on her face, the click of her heels on the concrete like a bad omen.

“Time to lay down, Parker,” she tells him, stopping right in front of him. “Or do you want a bloodbath in your beloved streets?”

“Fuck off, Kate,” he growls, his hands once again balled into fists. “You should be the one laying down.”

“Me?” she laughs, the sound of her voice vibrant and cheery. “I’m not the one with a noose around my neck.”

“The tides turn fast, Kate… Faster than you’ll know,” Parker responds, and my mother just laughs again.

“Oh, that’s funny. You’ve always had a poetic streak to you, Parker. Too bad it won’t do you any good. You’re done. The only question remaining is… Are you sure you want to order these men to their death?” she asks him, looking around at the dozens of NYPD officers encircling us. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t get out of the way.”

“I’m not ordering anyone, Kate,” Parker says out loud, his lips slowly curling into a smile. “They all volunteered. Right, boys?” he asks, louder this time, his voice echoing throughout the street.

“FUCKING-A!” One of the NYPD officers shouts, and the others shout in agreement. “We have your back, mayor,” the officer continues, and Parker’s smile widens.

“They’re here because they’re loyal, Kate. Which is something you’ll never be able to understand. You managed to pull the National Guard into this, but do you really want to see how far they’ll go? How loyal they are to you? Just tell them to point their guns at their fellow Americans and see what happens. I fucking dare you,” he growls.

I watch the whole scene in silence, looking from Parker to my mother. Should Parker even be this confident? My mother’s insane enough to follow his advice and order the National Guard to start shooting.

“You’re fucking insane, Parker,” she tells him, that shit-eating grin still on her face. “And that’s going to cost you. Perhaps your life,” she whispers, turning on her heels and walking straight toward the senior National Guard soldier.

“Get these two out of the way!” she barks, and the moment she says it the NYPD close in on Parker and I, forming a human barrier between us and the National Guard.

“Over our dead bodies!” they shout, taking their guns out of their holsters. The first row of officers begin to kneel on the floor, offering the second row a clear shot.

“Stand down, boys,” Parker suddenly says, letting go of me and walking past the NYPD barrier. “No bullets will be fired today.”

“What now, Parker? Want to be the first one in line to have your brains blown out?” my mother snaps at him, visibly annoyed. “Shoot him!” she barks at one of the soldiers but, even though he raises his rifle and points it at Parker, he hesitates.

And then Parker speaks.

“This ends now, Kate.”


Yeah, this ends here.

I look to my side. Amy is standing there next to me and the NYPD officers are fanning out. The mother of my child is standing in a potential war zone. They're not just protecting us in rows of human shields, but they're taking defensive positions behind cars and in the doorways of buildings.

They're getting ready for a war.

We cannot fucking have this. Despite the fact that I've taken it this far, I'm not going to be known as the Mayor who started a civil war in his own fucking city.

I pick up the phone in my pocket and dial the speed dial button.

I don't need to say anything.

On the other side of the line, she gets the call and knows to set things in motion.

"Mayor Trask," the National Guard commander says through a bullhorn. "Please leave the premises."

I'm not moving one goddamn inch.

A government far away that has no idea what the people of this city care for is not going to dictate to me what is and isn't fucking moral.

The National Guard soldiers train their scopes on my NYPD and I can see the red laser beams pointed on their kevlar vests.

Several things happen at that point simultaneously and it's important I tell you what happens in order so that you're able to follow along, because I don't know if I believe it myself.

The first of the aerial news helicopters starts coming into view and circling overhead.

Right. I expected that. That's what the fucking phone call was for. I can't tell you who yet.

But the news vans arrive too.

They're coming through the side streets - through the sections of the city that the NYPD didn't close down.

Specifically for this event.

See, I didn't ask the police to close shit down to make dying easier for me.

I had them close streets down so the news crews could get here sooner.

And they line up now, training an even more powerful weapon on the National Guard than the AK-47 rifles the NYPD SWAT teams have - the fucking camera.

You can hear the whir of the helicopters overhead.

The boom mikes are being extended. They want to capture every last shot.


This is what I intended.

That's when the first protester runs past the barricades that were set up.

Holy fucking shit.

This throws everything into chaos. I can't risk the lives of ordinary New Yorkers. Not for Amy and me.

"Let me through," I say through clenched teeth and I can feel Amy squeeze onto my arm. She's fucking worried. Makes sense. "Let me out."

The NYPD Commander looks at me. He's wearing at least two layers of kevlar. He could get hit with a bullet form a 9mm and be okay. A bit winded.

I'm wearing a suit and tie.

"Sir, it's not safe," he says to me. "The situation is tense. They could take you out without cover."

He's right.

National Guard snipers operating under orders from Kate would have a clear shot to my head. Be able to take me the fuck out. Call me an enemy combatant. Be absolutely justified.

But that's when the second protester rushes through.

I know, the police did everything they could to detain the crowds. They put up pickets. Chain link fences on streets. Barricades.

But give me a break.

This is Times Square. In New York fucking City. 8 million fucking people.

"You're gonna have to kill me too, motherfucker!" the protester yells and I can see tension ripple through the National Guardsmen.

What the fuck is Kate doing letting them still maintain battle readiness? This is the most fucking irresponsible thing I've ever seen. They're so wired up they could snap at any moment now.

Start something tragic. And Amy. Caught right in the middle.


This is my fucking city.

I'm not gonna let that happen.

"Outta my fucking way," I say to the officer and push my way past.

I can see the soldiers twitch. I can see Kate standing there.

"There!" she yells, and a National Guard Commander trains his gun.

I look down at my chest.


The red dot of the laser pointer. Right on my heart.

Whatever. Do I look like I care?

I keep walking, one step in front of another. Guns trained on me.

I get to a car parked on the curb and get on top of it.

I need to do something now. Before more protesters come.

"Put me on," I say into my phone and there's a whine of a microphone to my right.

Soldiers, protesters, even NYPD look to my right.

"Susan?" Kate says, puzzled and angry. "What are you doing here."

"She's holding a speaker, Kate," I say into the phone and hear my voice echo through the wireless loudspeaker that Susan Duran is setting up on the sidewalk.

That's right.

Thought I'd forgotten about her, didn't you?

Thought I'd cast her aside.

You thought she was a traitor.

What can I say?

In the game of politics, sometimes you gotta play your fucking cards close to the fucking vest.

I couldn't risk you telling anyone. I don't know who. I just couldn't.

And I couldn't risk Amy finding out just yet.

Which I can tell she's figuring out as her eyes widen, seeing Susan.

For the first time, Kate looks like she's a bit off balance. She hasn't expected this.

The soliders are confused. They're starting to see the light a bit. A good thing too. There are now at least a hundred protesters who are starting to swarm past the barricades and into the restricted area next to the building entrance of Kinky Amy's.

"People of New York," I say into the phone and hear my voice come out commandingly through the loudspeaker. "Hear me out."

The protesters stop their chants and listen to me. NYPD officers are already paying attention.

The National Guardsmen with their scopes on my chest were always watching too, I guess.

Well, fuck. Here goes nothing. By the end of this, either Kate is gonna be done for, or I'm gonna be dead. We'll see.

"My name is Parker Trask, and I've had the honor of being the Mayor of New York City," I begin and I quickly begin to fall into my comfort zone. "I've lived in this city since birth. I love every damn block."

Some isolated cheers.

"All I ever wanted to do was serve the public," I say into the phone and hear myself through the microphone. "And I surrounded myself with people who loved the same things I did. One of those people was Susan Duran, who used to be my campaign manager."

Kate looks towards Susan and I continue.

"Sure, Susan left because at first she thought I was fucking my stepdaughter and she wasn't okay with it," I say and I can see more protesters coming towards the scene. Everyone is listening. This is the most drama they've had since the last author thing that happened on Facebook.

"And I can even understand that, folks," I say into the phone. "I can understand that she didn't feel comfortable. I can't fault her for leaving."

Kate starts to look sick.

The protesters are now joined I can see by more people.

Young and old. Black and white. Rich and poor.

People that have been been and always will be New Yorkers. They come form uptown, downtown, Midtown, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and yes, even the Bronx.

They've found whatever method of transportation (since the state's shut down most of the subway lines) to get to Times Square.

They've crossed the barricades through sheer force of numbers.

All to get their voices heard.

"The fact of the matter is, people of New York," I say through booming words. "If you want Kinky Amy's to go, I'll be the first to shut it down. But only after the people vote on it. Only after the people get a say."

There's widespread murmurs of assent.

"There is no way in fucking hell that I'm ever, ever going to let the government come in and impose morality on this city," I say and for the first time there are cheers.

"I will fight to my last fucking breath to prevent that from happening because the moment someone else starts telling us whats right and wrong, that's the moment we start to lose our New York City values!" I shout.

The crowd is with me. They're eating this shit up. Because I fucking mean it.

But it's not over yet.

Because while Kate is looking at the maybe 1000 people now surrounding the National Guardsmen and NYPD near the entrance to Kinky Amy's, I'm not done with her.

I'm not done with her for torturing Amy.

For being a bad mother.

A horrible human being.

Trying to ruin the woman I love.

"I'd do all that, but in this instance, we're not here suffering as a city because of our values and morality, folks," I say into the phone and boom out of the speaker. The news helicopters are flying and the tv crews are filming this. I've gone international.

The eyes of the world are on New York City again. To see what we say. What we do.

"When Susan came to me several hours ago, she was concerned," I say. "She still didn't agree with the fact that I was working with Amy and sleeping with her too, but she saw the press conference and was willing to make peace with everything that she was initially disagreeing with. I asked her why, because I was curious how she could change her mind. And she played this for me."

I look to Susan.

Susan holds up a tape recorder. One of those old school micro tape recorders with the small cassette. Something totally non-digital. That would never get picked up by a digital bug sniffer.

She presses a button.

At first it's hard to make out, but Susan holds it near the microphone and then all of a sudden you hear Susan and Kate.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Governor?" Kate asks and you can hear her clearly.

But not as clearly as you can hear Kate.

"I've been looking for a way to bring down that damned Parker ever since I left him," you hear her say. "And put my brat daughter in her place. Make her understand who the boss is in this family. She's never learned that there are consequences to her decisions and someone needs to teach her that there's consequences in going against me and opening that business of hers."

I can see the resolve of the National Guard waver. They're starting to put down their guns.

"I've got Judge McGill in my pocket, and what Amy didn't know was that I sent her over to Parker to spy on him ready to bring out obscenity charges and paint the two of them as colluding and whip the public into a frenzy," you can hear Kate say. "But they seem to have done that just fine on their own. And you're going to start leaking this shit all over to the media, Susan."

You can hear Susan take a gasp.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable doing that, Governor," she says. "I came to you because I don't agree with how Parker is conducting his campaign. But I'm not going to start throwing mud."

"You will if you don't want the last five years of your tax troubles and the installment payments you're making going out anonymously to the press," Kate says.

Another gasp. Most likely coming from Susan. "That's right," you hear Kate say. "I did some digging. Looks like you're paying off some back taxes that you should have paid. How embarrassing is that going to be when it comes out? How badly will it affect your career."

"Bitch!" someone from the crowd yells to Kate. People cheer.

"By the time I'm done with Parker Trask, his career will be dead, my daughter will never question me again, and his precious city will be nothing but a slum," Kate's voice booms out.

I swear to God, it's like a fucking tinderbox.

"Get the fuck out of our city!" I hear someone say.

"Fuck off, lady!" I hear someone else.

"Recall Kate Meelios!" I hear another chant.

"Recall the Governor! Get the fuck out of New York!" more people yell.

Remember, this shit is captured on live television. New Yorkers are watching. They're getting fucking upset. And they're taking to the streets.

Coming here.

You already see them from every direction. On the horizon.

"Guardsman, shoot that man!" Kate says, flailing her arms at me. I look down. The red dot on my chest is gone.

"I'm giving you a command!" Kate yells.

It take a long moment.

And then the Commander of the National Guard stands up and looks at Kate.

"No, ma'am, I cannot follow that order," he says to her. Then he turns to his men. "Fall back, soldiers. Let's take the Governor home."

You can feel the crowd cheer and shout and jeer Kate as the National Guard break formation and fall back. NYPD continues to stand guard but there's no need now. People are clapping and cheering. Hell, they're streaming content from Amy's website on the jumbo trons on 42nd street in the heart of Times Square. One last fuck you to Kate Meelios.

That's when I feel a delicate hand touch me.

I look over.

It's the most beautiful girl in the world.

Sure, she's a brat. A bad brat at that.

But she's a brat I wanna fuck till my eyes cross.

"Let's get out of here," Amy says, a smile on her face as her eyes tell me she's thinking the same thing as me.

Looks like I'm going to be doing just that.


Our lips lock fiercely, all of the adrenaline still running through my veins making me attack Parker furiously. After what felt like the end of the world, it feels good to be back in his arms.

Grabbing at his shirt, I let a growl rise from the back of my throat and I yank on it, forcing the buttons to pop out all at once. I hear their faint pop pop pop as they scatter around the floor, and I flatten the palm of my hands over Parker’s naked chest. With a violent push, I make him go back against the wall, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“Wicked Amy indeed,” he grins, sidestepping me and grabbing me by the wrists. Turning around fast, he makes me switch positions with him, pinning me against the wall while he holds my arms over my head.

“Wicked for you,” I say, reaching for him and pulling his lower lip between my teeth. He reacts by crushing his mouth against mine, our tongues finding one another fast and losing themselves in a lustful dance.

Letting go of my arms, Parker’s hands fall on my hips and, wasting no time, he lets them slide down to the hemline of my dress so that he can push it up to my waist. He presses his body against mine then, and I sigh heavily as I feel the hard shape of his cock pressing against my soaked pussy.

I grind against him, moving my hips as if they were a wave, and he grabs me by the ass, pulling me up and into him. “Now, I want you now,” I pant, one trembling hand reaching for his crotch while I place my other arm over his shoulder. I unbuckle his belt clumsily and, somehow, manage to open up his fly. I give a harsh tug to his boxer briefs, pulling them down, and I gasp as his cock springs free and smacks me right between my thighs.

“Now,” I repeat, my pussy burning with an uncontrollable need. Forget foreplay; I want his cock inside of me, and I want it now. Without saying a word, he slides one hand up my leg and, when he reaches my inner thigh, he flicks my thong to the side and allows the tip of his cock to brush against my inner folds.

“You’re in a hurry, aren’t you?” he grins, his cock throbbing hard against my pussy.

“You have no idea,” I whisper, both my arms now over his shoulder. His reply is a short and simple one; he moves his hips forward in a dry thrust, and a moan erupts on my mouth as his cock flies deep inside my pussy, pushing my inner walls back as it accommodates itself inside me.

“Better now?”

“Much better,” I laugh, throwing my head back and pressing it against the wall as he starts rocking his hips, his cock moving in and out of me like a restless piston. Moan after moan tumbles out from between my lips each times his full inches go all the way inside my pussy and, before I even know it, my moans turn into violent screams of utter delight.

“Harder,” I plead, bucking my hips at him and trying to force his cock to go even deeper. With a groan, he presses his body against mine harshly and starts fucking me in complete abandonment, pounding me so fiercely that a pleasant warm numbness starts taking over my pussy. “That’s… That’s it…” I groan, my eyes rolling in their orbits as my brain starts short-circuiting.

I close my eyes as electricity starts crackling under my skin, tension mounting inside of me, and I grit my teeth, bracing for impact. It hits me before I’m ready, and it feels like being hit by a sudden wave when your back is turned to the ocean; it just sweeps you off your feet, sends you tumbling down to the ground and then drags you back into the depths. Which I don’t mind, since the depths I’m talking about are the ones where pleasure reigns supreme.

“Now that’s how you get started,” I whisper, slowly unlacing my legs from around his waist and allowing my feet to touch the floor. With a groan he slides his cock out of my pussy but, before I can continue my assault on him, he grabs me by the hips and forces me to turn around. My arms shoot up by instinct, and I place my hands against the wall for support, jutting my ass back as I do it.

“I love the view from here,” he says with an indecent chuckle, running his hands up my legs and lifting my dress up once more, his fingers now cupping my ass cheeks. Moving as fast as a viper with drawn fangs, he hooks two fingers on my thong and pulls it against my outer thigh, ripping it out of my body with one brutish movement. I gasp as I feel the fabric digging into my skin and then tearing, the cool air in the room lapping at my wetness, and I thrust back against him.

I feel his cock nestling itself between my ass cheeks, his thick shaft throbbing against my hole, and then he just grabs his cock and pushes it down until its tip is back on my pussy.

“Do it,” I breathe out, anxious to feel his thrusts, his cock completely demolishing my pussy.

“You’re insatiable today,” he chuckles once more, thrusting fast. I choke down a scream and then chuckle too, the sound of my voice bright and clear.

“When am I not?” I laugh, rocking my hips steadily and slamming my ass against his thighs.

“That’s true.” He leans into me, brushing my hair over one shoulder, and then lays his lips on my neck. He kisses my skin while he grabs me by the waist again, feeling the sway of my hips. Responding to my rhythm, he moves his hips like a pendulum, his cock piercing me over and over again until I no longer know if I’m moaning or screaming. Not that it matters, anyway; I’m being so loud right now that the distinction between a moan and a scream has to be a faint one.

“I’m going to fuck you like this every single day for the rest of my life, Amy,” he whispers into my ear, nibbling at my earlobe and pulling it between his teeth gently. “Can you handle it?”

I laugh again, thrusting back so hard that I can’t help but gasp as I feel his cock spearing me so fiercely that I almost believe he’s going to rip me apart just like he did to my underwear.

“What about you? Can you handle me?” I ask him, reaching back with one hand and feeling my way over his body until I’m feeling his balls, swinging back and forth as he thrusts. Curling my fingers, I grab them both and squeeze them, and that’s enough to make him groan.

“Fuck,” he exhales sharply, slamming his hips into me so harshly that I almost crash against the wall. I place my hand back on the wall, letting go of his balls, and take a deep breath, smiling as I feel happiness rushing through my body.

It feels good to be just happy.

I was happy before today, but there was always that deep rooted anxiety, that fear of the future… But now that my mother’s out of the picture, the world is my oyster, and you can rest assured that I’m going squeeze life out of all its worth.

“Don’t—oh God, don’t stop,” I find myself saying, the words taking their shape on my lips before my brain has the time wipe them up. It’s an unconscious process, one born out of the tidal wave of ecstasy that looms on the horizon of my mind, ready to crash against me and drag me into the depths once more.

Taking his mouth to my neck again, Parker bites on my tender skin while he pounds me hard, fucking me without an ounce of mercy. I come in an instant, that giant wave of pleasure engulfing me in a fraction of a second. I scream; this time I’m sure I’m screaming, not simply moaning—all that pleasure turning into sound and filling the whole bedroom.

“I fucking love the way you scream,” Parker whispers, all of his cock’s inches lodged inside me. Moving his hips back slowly, he slides his cock out and I turn on my heels to face him, breathing so hard that there’s a wheezing sound in my throat.

“Well, I love the way you fuck me,” I shoot right back at him, taking my arms to his shoulders and pushing him back until the back of his knees meet the edge of the bed. I force him to sit down, and then I go down on one knee; I take off his shoes one at a time, my eyes never leaving his, and I throw them to the side before I grab both his pants and boxer briefs, both of them already hanging around his knees, and pull them down his legs.

I slide my hands up his legs then, reaching for his cock, and I curl all ten of my fingers around his mast. He grins at me, all his focus on my movements, and I just pull his cock toward me and lean in; parting my lips, I let my tongue out and use its tip to circle his cock. I run my tongue around his tip over and over again, and then I let it trail down the length of his shaft until I reach his balls.

Opening my mouth wide, I suck one of his balls in and lap at it with my tongue, pressing against it before switching to the other one. I do it until he places both his hands on my head, and then I run my tongue back up his shaft, but this time I wrap my lips around his cock right away. Moving fast, I lower my mouth over his shaft, impaling myself on his length and making him groan.

“Fuck,” he blurts out, his fingers turning into claws as he runs them through my hair. Enjoying the plea