Bluff Like A Billionaire

by Suzie Nelson

  But, as he played with Rosie, exploring every inch of her most private places, he found that he enjoyed making her happy. It turned him on to see her writhing and panting as he sucked her clit or licked her pussy. Knowing she was having a good time got him harder than he’d ever thought possible.

  As he thought about this, he kept working on Rosie, bringing her clit back into his mouth and sliding two fingers deep into her. This time, he just thrust, enjoying the way her eager pussy tightened around his fingers and how she would whimper whenever his knuckles grazed certain spots. He started pumping them faster, his tongue licking her clit in time to his fingers’ rhythm. He wanted to watch her come again.

  This time Rosie helped him, using his shoulders as a brace as she thrust down onto his fingers, bringing them deeper into her. As their pace picked up, her thrusts became more and more frantic, and Lewis could feel her clenching around his fingers until, faster than he’d thought possibly, she was moaning his name and shuddering against his hand, her body quivering as she came on him.

  Lewis let go of her clit and watched her come, her orgasm making her breasts jump and bounce and highlighting the muscles in her stomach as she strained. He groaned at the sight and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer. Luckily, she was ready for him.

  “Fuck me,” she gasped as her orgasm faded. “Mm, Lewis, fuck me!”

  Hurriedly, Lewis pulled on a condom from his wallet and kicked off his pants. He was so desperate to be inside of the wet pussy he’d just spent so long playing with, he forgot to take off his socks.

  “Hard,” she whispered as he stood.

  Lewis nodded and flipped her over onto her knees. Spreading the smooth cheeks of her ass, he quickly dipped his head to give her pussy one last, long lick before he slid his entire length into her. Rosie moaned into the sheets, her fingers clenching in the blankets.

  Her pussy was so tight, and he’d been hard for so long, that Lewis almost came right then and there, but he reigned himself in and, slowly, drew his cock back out of her. Ignoring her indignant response, he eased himself back in. He did this a few more times, teasing them both, until he couldn’t help himself any longer, He rammed himself deep inside of her, thrusting hard and fast as she rose to meet him. Soon he was moaning too, the sound of her ass slapping against his stomach driving him wild. He felt the warm walls of her pussy contract around him and he drilled into her frantically, trying to last as long as possible.

  Rosie bucked against him, another orgasm rising. As it broke she swore, trying to muffle herself in the bed so that she wouldn’t wake Angelo. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she moaned as it overwhelmed her. Her orgasm pushed Lewis over the edge and he buried himself in her once and for all, his cock spasming as he came as well.

  When his orgasm finally subsided, Lewis drew himself slowly out of Rosie and collapsed onto the bed next to her. She smiled at him and brushed his sweaty hair off his face. “You must be pretty grateful,” she whispered.

  “You have no idea,” Lewis muttered.

  “Stay with me?” she asked.

  “As long as you want me,” he replied, tenderly kissing her forehead.

  ***

  The next morning Lewis woke up to the sun coming in through the still-open curtains. Rosie was looking down at him, her head propped in her hand. “Hey,” she said, smiling.

  “Hi,” he grinned back, stroking her cheek. He’d never felt so happy to wake up before.

  “Don’t you have a practice to get to or something?” Rosie asked, taking his hand in hers.

  Lewis shrugged. “Nah. I got permanently suspended when you resigned.”

  Rosie gaped at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God, Lewis! I’ll phone Ben right now and—”

  Lewis grabbed her wrist before she could go anywhere. “Don’t worry, Rosie. That’s not why I’m here. I don’t care. I don’t need baseball any longer. I had my time to shine. Now I just want to be with you and Angelo. Besides,” he shrugged, smiling, “I’m getting pretty old for the pro league.”

  “Really?” Rosie whispered, hope lighting up her face.

  “Really,” he told her, leaning in for a kiss.

  Just before their lips touched, however, Angelo came bounding into the room. “Mom! Mom! Let’s—Lewis!” The little boy noticed the man and grinned. “You’re still here! Can we go play baseball again!?” Climbing up onto the bed, Angelo flopped down onto Lewis’ stomach, his eager face inches from the man’s.

  Lewis grinned, gently wrestling with the boy. “You betcha we can.”

  “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Best Sunday ever!”

  “Breakfast first!” Rosie insisted, smiling as she watched Lewis and Angelo play.

  The two boys looked at each other. “Fine,” they sighed in unison.

  Laughing, Rosie threw her arms around them both and, for a moment, the three of them just lay there, happy to be together as the sun rose above the city.

  THE END

  Billionaire For Christmas

  Chapter 1

  I mean, it’s not like I thought Bobby was the love of my life. It’d been six months and the relationship was winding to an end. But, even if we weren’t going to get married and have four kids and a white picket fence and the whole thing, dumping your girlfriend three days before Christmas is still not exactly gentlemanly behavior. Who even does that? But, hey, I guess now I can really be sure that I’m better off without him. So, thanks for that, I guess, Bobby.

  Janice, of course, is over the moon. She’s convinced that this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and that now I’ll move home to Oregon. And, while I love my sister and all of her adorable children (And they really are adorable: curly brown hair, big blue eyes. It’s outrageous.), moving home to Oregon is not exactly one of my new year’s resolutions.

  “Just come out here for Christmas,” she said when I told her the news. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  “Except with your husband and three children,” I responded.

  “Well…yeah. Almost just like old times,” Janice laughed. “Come on, Amber, you can’t spend Christmas alone in New York. Just come home. It’ll be fun.”

  “Look, Janice, I appreciate it, but at this point, it’s a bit impractical. Ticket prices will be through the roof.” This was true, but it wasn’t the real reason I didn’t want to go home. If I went home all my relatives would want to give me their condolences and sympathy and whisper behind my back about how I’m not getting any younger and when will I finally settle down with a nice boy? I can already hear Aunt Bettina discussing my dwindling prospects with Great Aunt Gigi over a plate of panettone.

  It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them: Zia, I’m only twenty-five, don’t worry, there’s lots of time.

  Not to mention, my prospects are just fine. I’ve got a good job with Random House Publishing and a cute, rent-controlled apartment in the lower East Side, right around the corner from New York’s best deli, which I share with a gray cat named Rufus who likes his food warmed up slightly, thank you very much. I’ve even already paid off a quarter of my student debt. But none of that counts as far as my very Italian aunts are concerned.

  They just sigh and shake their heads and take my hand in theirs and say things like: “No one wants biscotti that someone else has already taken a bite of, if you know what I mean, Amber.” Or, “Yes, but men like young women, Amber.” They mean well, but it’s enough to do a girl’s head in.

  All of which is why I will not be flying across the country to spend Christmas with my family. A fresh break up is enough of a bummer already. No one needs their family rubbing salt in the wound.

  “I suppose tickets will be a bit pricey,” Janice replied. “But I just hate to think of you over there all alone on Christmas, Amber.”

  “Don’t worry, Janice,” I reassured her, sensing victory. “Loads of my friends are staying in the city for Christmas. I won’t be alone.”Again, not strictly true. It depends on whether or not you count the cast of Buf
fy the Vampire Slayer to be a company or not. Because, at the moment, my options are 1) go home or 2) cuddle Rufus while watching a Buffy marathon. At least Buffy will make me feel good about my life – after all, at least it’s not as shitty as hers.

  Janice sighed. “Okay, well, if you’re sure. Tim sends his love.” Tim is Janice’s unbelievably upbeat husband who’s always spouting mini pep-talks at the drop of a hat. Yet another reason not to spend Christmas in Oregon.

  “Give him and the kids a hug for me,” I replied. And that was the moment that I realized that I hadn’t put anything in the mail for the kids. Shit.

  So here I am, three days before Christmas, newly single, and wading through a chaotic shopping mall trying to find presents for my nieces and nephew. I can’t wait until they are old enough to read (the nieces – twins – are two and the nephew is four, so not exactly reading age yet). Then I can just send them new releases from work.

  As it is, I’m trying to decide if Janice will think I’m trying to give the girls a complex if I buy themBarbies this early. And, to be honest, looking at these things as an adult does make me question the wisdom of giving them to young kids. No one has tits like that. I put the dolls back on the shelf. Maybe a nice stuffed animal? Or maybe a coffee break. Yeah, that sounds about right.

  I head up to the food court and buy myself the fanciest, most ridiculous latte the coffee shop has. One of those enormous flavored concoctions that are topped with half a bottled of whipped cream and cocoa powder. My boyfriend just broke up with me, I tell myself. I deserve a treat. If only the café sold shots of baileys too.

  Happily scooping up chocolate-y whipped cream with the end of my straw, I take the elevator back down. It’s one of those glass ones that let you look out at the mall below you and feel superior to all those other shoppers scurrying around on the ground floor like chumps. And feeling superior always makes me feel better about everything else in my life.

  This time, the feeling doesn’t last long, unfortunately. As the elevator arrives on the ground floor my phone rings in the depths of my purse. Shrugging one strap off my shoulder, I look down, rummaging around for my phone as I step out of the elevator. It’s amazing how big the inside of your purse is when you’re trying to find something, but how small it is when you’re trying to stuff your laptop into it. I feel like the purses do something tricky with time and space that scientists still haven’t figured out. Or maybe I just watched too much Mary Poppins as a kid.

  Anyway, there I am, rummaging and walking at the same time (I should have known!) and all of a sudden I’m doing neither – I’ve walked straight into a man trying to get onto the elevator. So, instead of rummaging and walking, now I’m staring in horror at my beautiful latte, which has spilled all down his very expensive-looking suit.

  “Oh fuck,” I say. Not my most elegant response to be sure, but I’m in shock. At least my phone had finally stopped ringing. “I am so sorry! I—” Then I catch sight of the guy’s face. “James? James McEwan? Holy shit!”

  “Hi, Amber,” James replies with a smile that is every bit as knee-weakening as I remember it to be. “I see you’re as clumsy as ever.”

  “What? No, my phone was—oh, you’re joking. Ha. Ha. And you’re as much of a smart Alec as ever too.” Then I sigh. “I really am sorry about your suit.”

  “It’s okay,” James shakes his beautiful head. I swear to God, the man has only gotten more gorgeous since I last saw him. “How have you been, Amber? Long time no see.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, remembering the last time we spoke and blushing. That had also not been one of my finest moments. “I’m…I’ve been good. I’m in publishing now. At Random House.”

  “That’s perfect for you,” James smiles. “You always did have your nose in a book.”

  “And you?” I ask. My stomach is doing some seriously impressive acrobatics. Looks like it gets more out of our yoga classes than I do. Glad one of us is learning something.

  James shrugs. “I’ve followed in the family business. Investing in this, investing in that.”

  I nod. It’s always been a bit of a mystery what James’s father did for a living other than move frequently. “Your parents must be proud.”

  James nods. “They are.” He gets this funny little smile suddenly and asks, “What are you doing for Christmas, Amber?”

  “Uhh,” I stall, trying to come up with a convincing lie. Waterskiing in the Caribbean? Mountain climbing in Nepal? Anything to keep him from thinking I’m a lonely loser who spends Christmas alone. “Nothing, to be honest. I’m on my own this year.” Or, you know, that. Mentally, I groan. I’ve always been terrible at lying.

  “Really?” James asks, having the decency to look surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t you come over? I’m having a Christmas party for some international business friends who are here working in the States.” He pulls a business card out of his pants’ pocket. One corner is brown from coffee. I wince. He either doesn’t notice or pretends not to and hands me the card. “That’s the address. First floor of the building. It’d be great to catch up.” Amazingly, all things considered, he seems sincere.

  “I…thanks, James,” I reply, taking the card. “That’s really sweet of you. Look, can I buy you a coffee? Or maybe a tea or something, if you’ve had enough of coffee for today?”

  He chuckles but shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. And, to be honest, I want to get out of these clothes as soon as possible.”

  “Right,” I agree. “Of course.”

  “But come to the party,” he says, his gold-flecked eyes even more beautiful that I remember them to be. “Really. I’d love it if you did.”

  I nod. “I will,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Though, if you want to pay me back, maybe don’t spill anything on me at the party?” he smiles.

  Even though he’s joking, I can feel a blush rise in my cheeks. “I’ll do my best,” I reply.

  He looks at me for a second then, very quickly, leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek, his hand touching my arm. “See you there, then,” he says and disappears into the elevator, leaving me standing frozen in the middle of the mall, wide-eyed and holding my breath like a total idiot. Holy shit, did he smell nice. How is it even possible to smell that good?

  Finally the last of his after shave fades and I snap out of my reverie. Looking down at my empty coffee cup, I grimace and flop onto the nearest bench. Setting the cup down beside me, I let my head fall into my hands. God, that was so embarrassing I could literally die.

  The thing is James isn’t just any old random acquaintance. He was my senior year boyfriend back in Oregon. I loved him like a crazy person. Hell, I lost my virginity to him! I’ve never loved anyone like I loved James, and, as my aunts would be the first to tell you, there’ve been many guys since.

  But James’s father worked for a multi-national investment firm and, one day in February of our last year of high school, his firm decided that they needed him in Germany. A week later the whole family had moved to Frankfurt. James told me they were moving a mere eight days after we had sex for the first and only time.

  We thought we were going to be together forever. I’d never been one of the popular girls in high school and, for me, losing my virginity had been a pretty big deal. But we’d been going out for six months and, like I said, I was totally crazy for him. I thought he was The One. You know how high school kids are. So, long story short, I did not take the news well.

  We were out for a “walk” when he told me. In Portland there are lots of great forests criss-crossed with chip trails for walking, running, and/or making out in. I’m sure you can guess which of those we were doing.

  We’d strayed from the main path a bit and were lying down on the bank of a stream. The ground sloped down to the water so people on the trail couldn’t see you if you were down there, which is exactly what you want when you’re seventeen and desperate to have your boyfriend’s hands up your shi
rt. We’d brought along a blanket because the bank of the stream was all pebbles and debris from the trees and no one wants to stop the mid-make-out session because a rogue stick is jabbing you in the spine. It’s not very romantic, trust me.

  So there we were, just us, the water, and a whole lot of greenery and James was doing something amazing in my mouth with his tongue when suddenly he pulled away and rolled onto his back, looking up at the faraway tops of the trees. Surprised and more than a little put out, I sat up, readjusting my rumpled top.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. At seventeen, something has to be pretty serious to get in the way of getting it on.