My Ex-Boyfriend's Billionaire Daddy

by Ella Brooke

  My arms circle his neck as he carries me back to the bedroom—his bedroom, with the angel-soft sheets and heavenly view that I think I could live in forever, as long as this man stays with me. We kiss again, desperate and passionate, before he lowers me onto the unmade bed, parting my quivering thighs and slipping my soggy underwear off again in a slow, deliberate trail down my legs and onto the floor. Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he pushes aside the remnants of my red, rumpled gown and nudges my knees farther apart, gazing down at my naked, wanting woman’s core and sucking in a hissing breath.

  “God, woman, you are so perfect,” he swears, lowering his head into the valley between my spread legs, his hot breath caressing the skin of my inner thighs. My headache forgotten, I shiver with anticipation, balling the bedsheets into my fists as my clit begins to swell and throb, begging for his touch. I gasp as he nuzzles my pussy lips open with the tip of his nose, priming a path for even greater stimulation.

  A choked cry escapes my throat as Brent’s experienced tongue swaths across my sensitive bud, up and down, side to side, faster, then slower again. Sweet Jesus, I want to burst apart in an exploding bloom of carnal pleasure, but also want his marvelous manipulation to continue, to never stop, to keep me suspended in this sensual limbo between excruciating pain and exquisite ecstasy. He licks the entire length of my slick, sopping channel, up and back, and when his artful tongue pauses to dip inside my entrance, I lose it, orgasm rushing to overtake me like an oncoming wave, to break over my head and consume me in its depths.

  “Brent . . . !” I scream, my voice echoing in the heights of the tall ceiling above. “Oh, God, yes . . . make me come, baby!” He doesn’t relent, keeping the pressure on until I’m satisfied, until I drift blissfully back to shore, safe and warm and contented. Holy. Freaking. Fuck. I’ve never come so hard in my life, and I want to do it again . . . and again . . . and again.

  I hear his muffled, sexy chuckle as he breaks contact, imparting a lingering kiss to my satisfied pussy before joining me on top of the bed. “Only the beginning, baby,” he whispers, my scent and my juices thick on his face. I’m still panting for breath as I spontaneously kiss him. I experience my own flavor on his lips, and the sensation is so erotic my head spins as if drunk all over again.

  “I want you inside me,” I whisper with our lips still touching. “I want you to fuck me . . . now, today, tomorrow, and the day after that.”

  He smiles that gorgeous, soul-splitting smile an obliges me, his stellar, mature and masculine body moving atop mine, his magnificent, erect cock finding a home inside my eager feminine walls that are vibrating with happiness. And somewhere in between right and wrong, I think I’ve found my home, too: with my ex-boyfriend’s billionaire daddy, as he fucks me into oblivion.

  Heaven Can Wait

  Brent

  “Where do you want them, Mr. Baxter?” the company curator’s harsh voice stabs through my cell phone. “I’ll have to remove some existing installations if you want these two new pieces visible to the public.”

  Christ, what time is it? I didn’t notice when I answered the call. “Just, put them in storage for now,” I say, my voice thick with sleep. “I’ll let you know.” I disconnect and slide the device noiselessly back onto the nightstand. I don’t want Cassidy to wake, nor hear any of that conversation. I hadn’t really given any thought as to where to put her sculptures yet. In fact, I haven’t been to the office for three days—a magnificent, out-of-this-world three days.

  I roll gently to my side and feast my eyes on the curvy form of my very own Sleeping Beauty. Cassie’s golden tresses cascade over her nude shoulders and onto the pillow. I prop my head up on one elbow and watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes peacefully in and out. My goddess. I reach out and trace a fingertip along the contours of her lovely breasts, more to admire than stimulate. In a moment, she stirs and reaches up to catch my hand in mid-stroke.

  “Where you going with that,” she asks, with her eyes still closed, but a smirk on her face.

  “Mmm, same place we went yesterday,” I say, leaning down and planting a kiss on her knuckles. “And the day before that.” I kiss her right nipple. “And the day before that.” A kiss to the left nipple. The skin around them wrinkles and stiffens in excitement. She squeals softly and rolls toward me, reaching beneath the sheets. I smile as her fingers wrap around my morning wood.

  “Good. I like that place,” she murmurs into the hairs on my chest. I stroke her blonde head at the same time she strokes my cock. It feels fucking great; I haven’t felt this way since before . . . before I lost my wife. I realize I haven’t thought about Diana in the past month and a half, and its not a bad sign, nor a sign I’ve forgotten her. It’s a sign I’m allowing myself to heal, giving myself permission to move on. I know she would have wanted that for me.

  I lay back and just enjoy it, the feel of Cassie’s hands on me and the joy of blind, stupid, simple everyday happiness; it feels damn good. “Careful, sweetheart,” I chuckle. “I’m locked and loaded.”

  “Lethal weapon, huh?” she teases, squeezing my aching-hard rod and running her thumb over the head, spreading thick pre-cum over its tip. “Well, keep your powder dry just a little longer, soldier.” She pushes me flat on my back and kicks the covers away, then swings a gorgeous leg over to sit on top of me, straddling my groin. My stiff cock is poised upright like a flag pole between us. She bends over to caress my chest, running her fingers over every bump and curve of my pecs and abs, at the same time lifting her hips to nestle my throbbing dick in the wet, warm folds of her pussy. God, I can’t wait to feel those tight, sleek walls wrapped around my cock.

  I place my hands on her hips to ease her down on me, but Cassie isn’t so patient. In a flash I’m balls deep inside her and she’s bucking up for another deep dive, her face lifted to the ceiling and her hair flowing down across her tits. She looks like Lady Godiva and is riding me like her fabled horse. She rocks my rod like a Triple Crown contender, her knees lifting up and down like pistons, and I fucking love it.

  My arousal heightens at the sight of her lush, full breasts bouncing up and down with each stroke. I cup the delicious, jiggling orbs in my hands, flicking the nipples with my thumbs, my balls tightening in preparation for emptying their load like cannon fire into this wanton, wild, creature on top of me.

  “Fuck, baby,” I groan, my hips bucking upward to meet her downward thrusts with equal force, both of us galloping toward climax. My world dissolves into white hot nothingness, my body pumping out volley after volley of hot cum. For blissful, magical seconds I’m awash in the tide of ultimate pleasure, lost in that singular euphoria of sex, knowing the only partner I want is with me on the journey and enhancing it exponentially.

  Gradually, my breathing slows and my pulse decelerates. Cassie lays across my chest, planting little kisses along my bristly, unshaven jaw. I know its Monday morning, but I’m not ready to allow the real world to intrude just yet. Since the night of her art exhibit on Friday, we’ve spent almost every minute together. In fact, we’ve barely left my penthouse in all that time. Anything we needed I went out and bought, including clothes, treating my girl to special orders from Saks and any other store she ever dreamed of shopping in.

  Maybe its her new-found confidence at having sold all her sculptures, or the fact that Ryan is seeing someone else; either way, she and I seem to have come to a deep, wordless understanding that the attraction between us is inescapable and too powerful for either of us to resist. We’ve let our hearts and minds find peace in that, and allowed ourselves to just enjoy each other in the way all men and women were meant to since the dawn of our species.

  “Do you have to work today?” Cassie murmurs against my throat as she nuzzles the scruff under my chin.

  “I run the company. I can do or not do whatever I want,” I answer. “Is that a hint? I should make myself scarce for a few hours?”

  “Nuh-uh,” she giggles. “It’s a hint we should have another of your
delicious breakfasts to power up and do this all over again.”

  I chuckle aloud and stroke the soft skin of her back. “I think that can be arranged. May I shower and shave first?”

  “Mmm, I suppose I can give you time for that. But only if that shower’s for two.”

  “You may need two breakfasts, then,” I say, smiling up at the ceiling. I want to tell her how much I want her in my life; ask her to stay permanently. But it can wait until after breakfast.

  I top up two glasses of orange juice with a splash of sparkling wine and carry the drinks to the living room, where Cassie sits taking in the grand vista of the late-morning New York skyline. I’m enjoying the view as well, of her in a white satin and lace coverup from Victoria’s Secret that only reaches to her bottom, leaving plenty of opportunity for me to ogle her long, shapely legs.

  “Was breakfast all you hoped it would be?” I ask, handing her the stemmed glass.

  She turns her head and smiles up at me. “Yes. Perfect for the after-breakfast workout.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I say, touching our glasses in a toast. I may have to start visiting the corporate gym on a regular basis to keep up with my little nymph. We’ve had incredible sex in pretty much every room and piece of furniture in the place in the last seventy-two hours. I suspected our age difference would create some challenges, but I didn’t think stamina in the bedroom would be one of them. Ah, to have such terrible problems!

  Cassie returns her gaze to the window as she sips her mimosa. “I’ve been thinking,” she announces as I join her on the sofa, clad only in a pair of board shorts. “With the money from the sale, I could lease some storefront space. A few months’ worth, anyway.” She turns to me, her beautiful blue eyes alight with excitement. “I could have my own gallery!”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise, but her sense of ambition turns me on, if I could be any more turned on by her than I already am. We aren’t so different after all. She’s got business instincts not unlike my own, and I find that extremely sexy. “You can do anything, Cassie. You’re educated and talented. If that’s what you want, you should go for it.”

  “Like you do?” she teases, tracing a fingertip over the muscles in my forearm. I think she’s just found a new erogenous zone. “Go for what you want, no matter the consequences?”

  “Anything worth having is worth taking risks,” I move my arm to wrap around her shoulders and draw her close. “Don’t you think?”

  She nods silently, a naughty twinkle in her gaze. “Since we’re completely in agreement on that point,” she says, her voice dropping to a sexier octave. “There’s something I want right now.”

  “Is it something I’m in a position to give you?” I say, playing along.

  “Well, it’s about positions, so you’re mostly right.” She takes our drinks and sets them aside, returning her hand to my crotch and giving my privates a firm squeeze. I’m already at attention even without her touch. She starts to unlace the waistband of my shorts. “There’s something we haven’t done yet.”

  “And that is?”

  She giggles mischievously. “You’ll know what to do.” She squirms free of my hold and climbs onto her knees on the seat cushion, facing the back of the couch. Bending forward, she pulls the lacy hem of her garment upward, giving me the full view of her fantastic ass.

  “Oh my,” I say, feigning shock. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

  She winks at me over her shoulder. “The kind who’ll make me come hard while he fucks me from behind.”

  Holy. Fuck. I loosen my shorts, my cock swelling to painful proportions. “You’re a great judge of character then,” I growl, getting to my feet and letting the pants drop to the carpet. I fondle the two perfect creamy globes of her ass cheeks, a groan of pleasure escaping my throat. I can’t believe this beautiful, sexy, talented, adventurous woman is mine, all mine. I reach around front to entertain her clit as I settle my cock into the slick channel between her legs.

  “Ohh,” she gasps. “Yes, make me come, baby.” She starts to rock forward and back, encouraging me. Her wet pussy makes little smacking sounds as I finger her plump little bud, and the noise launches my arousal off the scale. Her juices coat my dick, and I slip easily inside her, syncing with the rhythm she’s set. Fuck, I will never get tired of feeling her tight, hot inner walls around my hard cock. I pick up the pace, thrusting in and out, spanking her ass with each pass, hearing it echo in the large, open room.

  I close my eyes, reveling in the sounds of our lovemaking; of skin on skin, of Cassie’s breathless moans as I coax her to climax. A rumbling growl vibrates in my chest, threatening to explode like the roar of the goddamn MGM Lion. I’m pumping hard but holding back until I satisfy her first, clinging to my last strings of restraint, when I hear an unwelcome new noise.

  “Oh my God, what the hell is going on here?”

  I freeze in mid-stroke, my eyes snapping open at the angry, blood-curdling shout. Cassie lets out a strangled cry. Horrified, I look into the eyes of my son as he stands rigid in the entrance hall, his face contorted in an expression of sheer hatred. Oh, fuck no. What is he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to return until the weekend. I step back immediately, allowing Cassie to collect herself. She cowers down behind the couch cushions, covering her face with her hands.

  “Ryan, calm down,” I say, reaching for my shorts. “Everything’s alright, just let me explain.”

  “Explain?” he shouts, his voice choked. “What, that you’re a sick, perverted bastard? I’ve got that covered.” He drops his knapsack and takes a few menacing steps forward. “What is she doing here?” He juts his chin toward Cassie.

  “Stay back, son. Don’t make things worse,” I caution, lacing up my shorts.

  “Worse? How could they possibly be worse?” he screams. “You’re fucking my girlfriend, and you think things could get worse?” He paces in a circle, running both hands through his hair as if he’s going to rip it out by the roots. “How could you do this?” he asks, stopping to glare at me, then turning his back, stomping his way out. “Never mind. I don’t want to hear a word from you. You make me sick, both of you!”

  The next sound is the front door slamming shut. He’s gone. I’ve lost him. What the fuck have I done? I look down at Cassie, curled into a ball and crying silently. “I’m sorry . . . he wasn’t . . . I didn’t expect . . .”

  She looks up at me, silencing me with frightened, hollow eyes. “I’m not his girlfriend,” she blubbers. “I’m not anyone’s girlfriend. I’m a silly, stupid . . .” She leaves her sentence unfinished, wipes her eyes and sits up. “I’m leaving.”

  “Now hang on,” I say, sinking down next to her. “You’re upset, I know. So am I. But we have to talk about this. It’s important.”

  Cassie pulls away and gets to her feet. “No. I don’t need to talk about this. It’s too much. It’s over. I need to get my things and go.” She turns and bolts for the bedroom before I can stop her. I let her be. She needs a minute. Just a minute, and she’ll be calmer. Then we can talk. This won’t be the end. I know her; I’ll wait.

  I listen to her rustling around in the bedroom and then hear her footsteps coming toward me. “Cassie.” She doesn’t look my way; just slips on her shoes and makes for the door. “Cassie, please,” I call after her. She doesn’t look back. “Wait!” I shout, starting to follow her.

  For the second time this morning, my penthouse door slams shut, as if to punctuate a sentence that says “fuck you, asshole” with a final, noisy period.

  Ya Gotta Own It

  Cassidy

  “I can’t believe you’re still moping over him.” Candice says.

  “I’m not.”

  “The hell you’re not. You haven’t moved from that couch in an hour. And you haven’t left the apartment since you came back here. Which, by the way, was two days ago already.”

  “I’m not moping over him,” I insist, shifting position on the sofa. “I’m moping over the whole, sad, pathetic situat
ion. I should never have looked at the man twice, never have taken that stupid job. It’s caused everybody so much pain. Why did I not see what a bad idea this all was?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Cass. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted how shit would go down. If anyone’s at fault it’s Brent Baxter. He should have taken the hint at the show and left you alone. Hell, I’m at fault, too, for letting you go off with him that night.”

  I curl up into a fetal position on the couch. “No. I’m to blame. I could have stopped it all,” I whimper, hating myself for being so weak. “Oh, Candice. If you could have seen the look on Ryan’s face when he walked in on us. Like I was something he’d scraped off his boot.”

  “So now it’s Ryan you really care about? Not Brent?” Candice says. “Flip a coin, girl. It can’t land on both sides.”

  Her words give me pause. Is that it? I want my cake and eat it too? No. I broke up with Ryan. I’ve hurt him, but I’ve hurt Brent as well. And I don’t know how to make it up to either of them. I don’t know how to fix things. That’s why I’m sitting here hiding, avoiding them both. Avoiding the truth: I’ve fallen for the wrong Baxter. But when I was in that penthouse, it felt so right. A text pings on my phone. I reach for it, glancing at the screen. It’s not who I though it would be.

  Hey Cass . . . can u meet 4 coffee this aft. Need to talk.

  I sit upright so fast I’m almost dizzy. It’s Ryan. Now he wants to talk? He didn’t have much to say the last time I saw him, but I owe him, as well as myself, a chance to explain this whole mess. I type a single letter in reply.

  K.

  “Thanks for coming, Cass,” Ryan says, nervously twirling his coffee cup between his palms.

  I take a seat opposite him at the little coffee shop we used to frequent when we were dating. “I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again.”