by Alexis Angel
“I love you,” I whisper in the darkness of the room, my hands roaming over his back and untucking his shirt. My legs are spread, lacing his waist and pulling him into me, his crotch pressed tight against my already wet thong.
“So do I, Amy,” he says, his hands on my shoulders. “So do I…” He pulls the straps of my gown down my arms, his lips laying gentle kisses on my shoulders, and then reaches for my breasts with one hand. I’m not wearing a bra, so he cups my right breast and squeezes it softly. Even though the room is swimming in the darkness of the night, I know our eyes are locked.
My nightgown comes off in a matters of seconds, and his shirt follows suit. With my back arched, I run my fingers over the contour of his muscled pectorals and abs, enjoying it in such a way that I can’t help but close my eyes and let out a chuckle fill the whole room.
“Hey, you’re going to wake her up,” I hear Parker’s voice say, and so I use the oldest trick in the book to silence myself. I crane my neck and crush my mouth against his, our lips dancing and wrestling as my hands go down to his pants and unbuckle his belt before moving onto the zipper and pushing it down.
It’s crazy to think about it, but it’s been like this everyday. Even though we’ve never been as busy (my business keeps on shattering profit records, Parker is always swamped in senatorial work and… well, raising a child is no easy task), we always manage to steal some time just for ourselves. The way I see it, a relationship is like a flower - and if you want it to keep on growing, it’s your responsibility to water it. Of course, it goes way beyond sex, but let’s not fool ourselves - sex is pretty important when a man and woman are concerned. Specially if you’re talking about Parker and I; I mean, sometimes I seriously think we might be addicts to each other’s bodies. It’s the good kind of addiction, though, right?
“That’s it, Mr. President…” I pant as I pull his pants down his legs, feeling the round curve of his ass cheeks. Remember when I used to call him daddy? Well, now I’ve taken to calling him President. I know he doesn’t really like it when I call him that, but it’s stronger than me - a lot of Senators are pressing him harder to run for the White House in the next elections, and the President, the one in office right now, even called Parker up for a private meeting.
I know he’s still trying to debate which path he’s going to take, though. On the one hand I know he sees the Presidency as the most powerful way to change the world for the best but, on the other, I know he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to see Natalie grow up.
Either way, whatever he chooses, I’ll stand by him.
“I told you I--”
“Yeah, yeah… No presidential nicknames… But I can assure you of one thing, you’d the most hung president ever,” I say with a smile, curling my fingers around his cock as it springs free from his boxers briefs.
“How can you possibly know that?” He asks, and the tone of his voice tells me there’s a wide smile on his face.
“Intuition,” I reply, moving my hand back and forth over the length of his cock. To be truth, it has nothing to do with intuition - I just don’t think anyone can compete with Parker’s twelve inches.
With one curious and eager hand, Parker pulls my thong down my legs; feeling the soft cotton sheets under my naked body, I let go of his cock and dig my fingers into Parker’s ass cheeks, forcing him to press his body on mine.
I gasp as I feel his cock parting my wet inner lips, and he’s all the way inside of me in a fraction of a second. I nibble at his earlobe as he starts to thrust, his rhythm a tender one, and it doesn’t take long for my body to start burning up from the inside out.
I twist my body under Parker’s as he thrusts, closing my eyes and allowing these past two years to flash behind my shut eyelids. I don’t think I know what I’ve done to deserve such happiness, but what matters is that I’m living the dream.
A beautiful daughter, a handsome husband. Everything I need.
Sure, we also have money in the bank, a new mansion in the Hamptons (the one where we are right now, just another one of our weekend escapades), and respect from the common American. But, really, while having all that is super nice, it doesn’t really matter in the great scheme of things - love trumps all, right? I know it might sound corny as hell, but now that I’m living these words, I just can’t help myself. I guess Parker, despite his bad boy persona and winner-takes-all attitude, has turned me into an helpless romantic.
He has changed too.
Well, not exactly changed - I think he just shed a few layers of the old Parker and assumed the kindness living underneath these layers. He has turned out to be the kindest father I’ve ever seen, and over-protective as well. Forget all about me being a mother hen; if there’s someone taking up that mantle, it’s Parker. And, hell, it suits him.
Of course, he keeps all that softness hidden away between fours walls. Whenever he addresses the Senate, or whenever there are tough decisions to make, you can count on him to be his old take-no-prisoners self. A lover when he’s with me, a warrior when he steps onto the battlefield.
And something else entirely whenever he picks up little Natalie, all the tension slipping out from his body as he holds her with his bigs hands.
“Never let me go, Parker,” I whisper into his ear, feeling that sweet pressure mounting inside of me, the fires of hell getting ready to be set free on my insides.
“Never,” he repeats after me, his deep voice coming out with a groan. I dig my fingernails into his back, feeling my muscles twitch and spasm; his cock does the same inside my pussy, pulsing hard against my inner walls as his seed fills me up to the brim.
“I’ve been thinking,” he starts, still holding his long inches inside me, “what do you say we make another baby?”
“I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard today,” I reply without even stopping to think about it, my voice coming out ragged and spent. The words fly out from between my lips, echoing in the dark room, and I pull him into me and kiss him.
Forget about the presidency, and forget about paving the way into an IPO for my company. Right now, all my plans for the future have fully shifted into Mother-Amy mode.
I think there isn’t anything more worthwhile in the world than being a parent. To know that you’ve created a life, drawing it out from the nothingness in the universe. It’s magic. It really is.
And so is love. Whoever says I’m a dreamer, I’ll go right ahead and agree. Because there’s nothing better than believing in things such as love and magic, and then seeing it all come truth right in front of your eyes.
Never stop dreaming - if you don’t give up on the love, it won’t give up on you.
Alicia Vs. Billionaire - Preview
Like the one time I’m even slightly naughty, it comes back to bite me. Literally…
So what if I gave into a moment of weakness with a hot stranger on a train? Maybe did some things that would make my mom shake her head.
No problem, right? Go on about your way, right? It’s a big city…millions of people and you’ll never see them again, right?
Wrong.
It turns out this guy I let myself go with is my new client, Derek Lowell. Not only that, but of course he has to be a hot, single, billionaire and all, and obviously he has every woman at my job salivating over his ultra-ripped body with his 8-pack abs and beautiful, rugged face and his monster…uhmm…ego?
You know by now what all those alpha-male billionaires say in these blurbs. Like, ‘Oh I always get what I want and I want her, haha’ or ‘She doesn’t know it yet but she’s going to be on her knees begging me not to stop, haha’.
Ya, whatevs, dude. You wanna get me on my knees it better be because I’m about to sit on your face.
Oh, what’s wrong? Is the Big Bad Alpha-Male Billionaire scared of lil’ ol’ me?
Oh, now he’s mad and he says he’s gonna teach me a lesson. I think this is gonna be fun…
*** It’s the cute single girl versus the Big Bad Billionaire in this first
installment from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sexy, sassy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happily Ever After? Always, babe ***
123
Alicia - Preview
You have to be kidding! I look at my phone and see that it has a 20% charge. I'll never get through the day on that. I rush over and plug it into the charger for a few minutes while I continue applying my mascara—it's amazing what good mascara can do for a girl—and I count down the minutes till I need to leave for work. 15 minutes. I can feel every one of those minutes trickling down my neck like rain flooding a roof. If I don't get on the 6 train soon, I'm going to be late—and I'm never late.
I rush over and gather what I need in my purse, and pick out my heels for the day—black or beige? I'm going with black. Throwing them on my feet, I grab my phone, my keys, and run out the door. I make it out of my apartment with two minutes to spare and I'm feeling good. As I head to the subway station I stop at Starbucks. It's my one indulgence. I can't function without my skinny vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso. And it never fails that I always get some morning entertainment out of how they spell my name: Alisha, Aleesha, Alissya, and one time even Alisheé—do I look French? For the record, my name is the standard Alicia.
I pull my phone out of my purse and double-check the time. Shit. The slowest barista is working today and the line is backed up. Why would they put the slowest person behind the bar during the morning rush? I should be at the Midtown Manhattan offices of Carter Jeffries in a few minutes, but I can see now that I'm going to be late. Just as I'm considering skipping the drink, I hear my name: "A skinny vanilla latte with an add shot on the bar for Ashley!" I grab the drink and head outside, rushing to the 6 train from 81st street as fast as my heels will carry me.
A crowd is building for the train. It's the morning rush, so it's a familiar scene. As soon as the train pulls up, everyone is bumping shoulders. Every seat is taken, and most of the overhead handrails are taken as well. I look down and one guy is 'manspreading' himself across two seats, which is annoying, but I get lucky and lean up against a metal pole in the middle of the train with a sliver of space to spare. The train lurches with forward momentum and I accidentally bump into a guy standing next to me.
"Sorry about that," I say, waving at him apologetically. He gives me a sympathetic smile and says, "It's fine. Busy morning."
As he says this, I notice his face. He's clean cut, with soft brown hair and he smells good—what is that—smoky, woodsy, and citrusy? Oh god, and he has a million dollar smile. And those eyes—the color of perfect weather. He smiles at me a moment longer and then looks away. I suddenly feel drawn to this man. Is it my hormones? Maybe it's the fact that I haven't slept with a man in over a month, and the last time it happened wasn't a memory I want to relive. My ex—Michael—and I had just broken up—we agreed to remain friends and he suggested we go for one drink. Yes, one drink. I know, how stupid could I be? I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. One drink turned into three, which turned into a couple more and before I knew it, I was inviting him back up to my apartment. And let's face it; I don't think anyone makes their best decisions under the influence of five or more cocktails. So, there we were, making out and peeling our clothes off faster than you can scratch an itch. The sex was mediocre at best—okay, I'll be honest; it sucked. Michael was so drunk that he couldn't even finish, so even under the haze of alcohol we both laid there in an awkward semi-embrace.
Now that you know my sex life—or lack of one—over the last month, can you blame me for wanting this cute guy next to me? We're already standing pretty close to one another, but I decide to scoot in closer. I mean YOLO, right?
Without pausing to think about how much my mom would be disappointed in me right now, I move in casually, looking in another direction, and I gently rub my ass against his crotch.
Oh my God! This is like the craziest thing I’ve ever done!
It’s morning rush hour! On a packed subway! But this guy is hot, and desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Can you blame me?
I scooch back just a lil bit more. He doesn't move, and I can feel him looking down at me. He's tall, maybe 6'3", and I'm 5'4" so I come to his shoulders, and I continue to grind my ass into his lap. First, in gentle, delicate strokes—I'm testing the waters—and then I continue with increased bravery—my touch becomes firm and I can feel him harden underneath me. His bulge feels massive—I'm guessing he has a 12-inch cock.
He reaches up and places his hands onto my hips, guiding my movements. He's enjoying this, and if I'm being honest, I am too. His consent spurs me on. I feel so wet. My thong is soaked and my pussy is throbbing for more. Much more, I realize, than I can get on this train during rush hour.
"59th Street-Lexington Ave," the overhead says, and I feel the train glide to a stop. As it stops, I turn around to face this handsome man, we lock eyes, and an electric current travels down my spine. He leans down, placing one strong hand behind my head and gently brings me to him, placing his lips on mine. Actually, he kisses the corner of my mouth at first, and then nibbles on my bottom lip, bringing it between his perfect teeth. I melt under his touch and open my mouth, eagerly taking him into me. Our tongues press together, one on top of the other in a fervent embrace, and our warmth travels from each other like an electric current.
It's not until 51st street that I realize where I'm at. I need to get off this train and go to work. My mind snaps to the present, and I back away. The doors of the train swoosh open and without saying a word, I turn around and leave. I don't look back. I can't afford to. I can hardly believe the whole encounter, and I'm now running as fast as I can. My mind is reeling. What exactly happened? I chalk it up to an only-in-New-York experience, collect myself, and head into work.
The offices of Carter Jeffries are bustling. I don't even make it to my desk before I'm approached by my Managing Director, Nadia Moore. She’s tough as nails but she’s always been fair to me. She’s climbed the corporate ladder and I kinda wanna be just like her when I grow up – powerful and strong. But something about her sorta scares me. Like she traded in her soul.
I don’t know if I want to do that to myself.
"Where have you been?" she asks.
"I know; I'm sorry I'm late. It's been a crazy morning," I say. Crazy is an understatement, but it's the word that immediately comes to mind. I mentally tell myself that I'll have to fill her in later.
"It just so happens that our client is late too, so you're in luck, but you should hurry."
I thank her and walk to the conference room, reviewing the main points of today's meeting.
Remember, this is an ultra high net worth individual, I tell myself. I know that I have a golden opportunity to help this client grow his wealth and plan it accordingly.
I mentally review his portfolio performance.
I've spent the last week preparing for this moment. I suspect he'll want to discuss tax and estate planning as well, so I make a mental note to bring this up with the client.
And just as I enter the conference room, a secretary buzzes me on the intercom and alerts me that the client has arrived. "He should be there any moment," she says.
And true to her word, I see that he's not alone. With him is an entourage of lawyers. Serious looking men in black suits. They file into the conference room and begin sitting at the long mahogany table. I'm wondering to myself which one of these men is the client—could it be one of these serious looking men in a black suit?—when another, younger man enters. He's clean cut, handsome—wait… I know this man.
No way… This can't be! He's the man from the train. This is the billionaire client. He walks into the conference room with that million-dollar smile lighting up his face, when he turns and sees me. Our eyes lock onto each other with a knowing gaze.
Have you ever been so nervous that you felt your heart in your throat?
That's me right now.
To keep reading, just click here: Alicia Vs. Billionaire
&
nbsp; Also by Alexis Angel
Wicked Lil’ Brat
Man Chaser
Red & Blue
Scandalous
Client 5
Jailbait
Python
12 Inches
Co-Writing As Abby Angel
Men of the House
Woman of the House
Co-Writing As Dark Angel
The Virgin Market
Co-Writing As Mona Cox
Alicia Vs. Billionaire
Ashley Vs. Boss
Natalie Vs. Prince
Christine Vs. Professor
Kim Vs. Stepbrother
Lisa Vs. Outlaw
Carla Vs. Cowboy
Fiona Vs. Football Player
Becca Vs. Biker
Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero
Rory Vs. Rockstar