Mr. President: A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiancé Romance

by Alexis Angel

  "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.

  Shit.

  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.

  If you have already read all this stuff in the past, then fear not. I have two new pieces of content that I am putting
in for your enjoyment!

  The 6 Train, which is a short story by Mona Cox.

  Followed by Bain Vacation, another short story.

  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!

  xoxo

  Alexis

  The 6 Train

  By Mona Cox

  198

  Adrienne

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  I practically snarl the words over my shoulder as I elbow my way past the sweaty, greasy man in front of me. My new—and now equally greasy—red Louboutins hit the platform at the bottom of the stairs leading into the Thirty-third Street station, and I keep up my pace, not bothering to listen to the offensive words spewing from his mouth.

  I don’t have time for this. My boss already kept me late in the office going over my new position as an executive marketing consultant at Dover Street Market. Normally something I’d be totally cool with. But today I have an appointment to view a new apartment and I cannot be late. It’s a good one, guaranteed to be snatched up if I miss my appointment. And with my current lease ending in a matter of days, I need to grab it fast.

  I swipe my metro pass through the turnstile and break into a run—not an easy task in my impractical and now filthy designer heels. A stream of people is already pouring onto the 6 Train. I manage to slip through the doors just before they slide closed and slump against the edge of the seat next to me.

  “Well, that’s just perfect,” I mutter, bending down and examining my shoes. Mr. Greasy McNasty left a huge scuff on them in addition to the grease marks. I want to be charitable and accept that it was just an accident, that anyone could have lost their balance and almost knocked me down the stairs in the crowded rush hour terminal. But then I notice that he somehow snagged my thigh-high silk stockings. There’s a giant rip going all the way from my ankle up past the hem of my pencil skirt. How the hell?

  I stick my leg out as far as I can on the crowded train and trail my finger up the tear, lifting my skirt to see just how bad the damage is.

  Dammit! All the way to the top where my garter belt is clipped onto it. This is how I’m going to arrive to try to score one of the best apartment deals on the Upper East Side that I’ve ever seen—Adrienne Rhodes, a complete and utter hot mess.

  Not if I can help it!

  Knowing this is the only chance I’ll get to undo some of the damage, I turn back toward the door and reach up my skirt and unfasten the clips on my right thigh. I glance furtively around, hoping no one is paying attention. Yeah, I’m on a crowded public train with my hand up my skirt, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when a killer apartment is on the line.

  I slide the stocking down my leg and slip my foot from my damaged shoe, pulling the tattered silk off and stuffing it in my Prada bag. Just as I start to slide my shoe back on, the train jerks to a stop at Grand Central, throwing my already precarious balance way off. I grab for the pole next to me, but it’s too late.

  I’m falling.

  I’m about to land on my ass on the floor of a subway train. As if I don’t already have enough ruined clothing for one day.

  Realizing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, I close my eyes and brace for the impact. But then they fly wide open.

  Big hands grasp my hips, and I find myself shifting in a new direction, the impact of my fall broken by a lap that is suddenly right under my ass. A very hard, very erect lap.

  My breath whooshes from my lungs in a gasp that is half shock, half lust. A gasp that sounds suspiciously like a moan. Because oh my god, I am totally sitting on some random stranger’s raging hard-on. And if feels really damn good.

  The people around us move, some getting off the train, some shifting to make room for new passengers.

  The hands on my hips clench as the train moves again, fingers digging into me, and I’m mortified to find myself wriggling, some naughty part of me hoping I might move just the right way to relieve some of the sudden pressure that’s quickly building between my legs.

  “You okay?” The deep, gravelly voice should pull me to my senses, but instead the sexy rasp only makes me wetter than I already am.

  Pull it together, Adrienne. Am I really getting off to some guy I haven’t even seen? Almost as if my body has a mind of its own, I twist slightly on his lap, the movement making my breath come faster as it pushes me harder against his dick.

  Then my eyes lock on his, dark, depthless and smoldering.

  Oh my god. It’s him.

  “Hey,” I say breathlessly, unable to move. Unable to think.

  Because it’s my train guy. The guy I’ve been eye-fucking for the past two months on my ride home after work.

  “Need some help?” he says, a smirk on his full lips that makes me want to dive in and suck them right into my mouth, bite down hard and then lick them better.

  “What?” I shake my head, not comprehending his words. Nothing making sense past the sudden throbbing in my pussy.

  He leans down and grabs my forgotten shoe, sliding it slowly onto my foot. His eyes never leave mine as he trails his fingers up my bare leg.

  I swallow hard, wondering if I’m dreaming. Because every late-night fantasy I’ve had lately stars this guy right here. This dark-haired mystery guy that I see on the train two or three times a week, his stubbled jaw inciting thoughts of what it might feel like scraping against my thighs as he licks me to orgasm.

  Oh yeah, I’m totally dreaming. Because when his hand reaches the bottom of my thigh, it travels over to the other leg to continue its journey upward. His eyes go impossibly darker before they drop down, and I follow his gaze.

  Somehow in my struggle to remove my stockings and my subsequent fall, my skirt got hiked up. Way up. I can see the lacy top of the other one where it is still held in place by my garter clips.

  His fingers trail higher still, brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he deftly unclasps the hook. Hooking a finger inside the thin silk, he drags it down my leg, removing and replacing the other shoe after he bares my legs completely.

  I can’t look away. This is probably the most erotically charged moment of my life, and it’s happening on an overcrowded rush hour train.

  “That better?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck, and I swear I feel him get even harder beneath me.

  I nod. But it’s not. I’m so wet that I wonder if even my skirt will be soaked through when I stand up. The only thing that would make me better right now is for him to do something about fierce need taking over my body, making me lose all sense of propriety.

  The next span of time passes in a blur as the 6 Train flies through the dark tunnels of New York. I want so badly for him to touch me, to slide his hand back up my skirt. But he doesn’t. He keeps his hands firmly in place on my hips, though, not letting me leave the torturous pleasure of the hardness of his lap.

  When the train finally pulls into my stop, I remain seated, not wanting the moment to end. But somewhere in my mind I find my motivation. The apartment. Right.

  Staggering to my feet, I give my train guy one last regretful look. I can only hope we end up on the train together again tomorrow. Because I need to see where this could go.

  Almost as much as I need this new apartment.

  199

  Reese

  I drag a hand over my face as I emerge from the Seventy-seventh Street station. What the hell was that?

  I almost want to cancel my appointment and hunt her down. But it’s certainly too late. She took off and was lost in the crowd before I could even get off the train. I scan the street and don’t see a trace of her anywhere.

  That’s fine, I think
as I make my way down the street. There’s always tomorrow. After seeing one of the most intriguing women on the 6 Train a couple months back, I made a point of seeing if it was a chance encounter, or if she rode at that time regularly. It was the latter. Maybe it’s kind of creepy, but I try to time my afternoon commute with hers.

  I’ve never approached her because he doesn’t really look like my type. All prim and proper and cool perfection with her designer clothes and perfectly applied makeup. Long blond hair that gives the impression she’d be upset if a hair was out of place. And I definitely want to mess up all that perfect. Tangle my fingers in her hair as I smear her bright red lipstick all over my cock.

  I like my women a bit on the wild side. Up for anything. She doesn’t seem like the type to be down with getting dirty, so as much as I enjoy watching her watch me over the top of the Kindle she pretends to read on her commute, I just haven’t gone there.

  I thought I had her figured out. Now I’m rethinking everything. The last thing I expected was for there to be a sexy little minx under those designer clothes. But fuck, when she reached her hand up under skirt and I caught a glimpse of that lingerie, all I wanted was to drag her off the train and see if there was a hidden little sex kitten dying to come out and play.

  My cock is aching by the time I get home, and I glance at the clock, cursing when I realize I don’t have much time to do anything about it. I change out of my suit quickly, unable to resist taking my throbbing dick in my fist as I remember the way she wiggled that sweet ass on top of me, imagining what it would have been like to slide inside of her right there on the train.

  I’m so fucking close already that it won’t take much, but I bite out another curse when the doorman buzzes.

  “Yeah?” I grit out through the intercom after I throw on jeans and a roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt, removing my tie and unbuttoning the collar.

  “Your appointment is here.”