Spy Games: A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  Part of me knew it didn’t really taste good, but the memory from last night was so delicious and nasty. Flavor burst over my tongue, making me moan and wriggle all over again. My twat juiced from just that single sample and I slid a finger inside then, writhing again.

  Did I have time to rub one out? Maybe some dirty ass play while pinching my clit? All of it with visions of the stranger’s face and thick, hard cock, dancing before my eyes?

  But a quick glance at the clock told me no.

  Dammit.

  Reluctantly, I slid out of bed.

  Because as usual, my mom was ruining my good time. Amanda is really something. My mom had me young, so she’s still young herself, about forty or so. But she doesn’t act like a mom, not by a long shot.

  Because my mom is getting married again … for the fourth time. Carefree and irresponsible, Amanda has a way of making men fall for her. It’s pretty ridiculous actually, how they moon at her curvy figure, the too-tight clothes, and stiletto heels.

  So yeah, even though I had exams to study for, there was this stupid engagement lunch. Did I mention this is her fourth marriage? Plus, they’d probably be divorced in six months anyways.

  So why bother?

  Four husbands in sixteen years, including my dad.

  Roy left when I was two, and I barely remember him. But my aunts said he wasn’t even worth the money my mom paid to divorce him, a real douchebag who knocked up a teen girl and then walked away.

  Ed was husband number two, a chain smoking asshole who always had a cigarette burning between his fingers, even when he was pumping gas into the car. He cooked with a cigarette in his mouth, which made everything we ate taste like ashes. And since mom was always working to support us, Ed cooked damn near every meal.

  Loser number three was Perry, a sleazy douchebag who looked at me like I was a piece of juicy female steak. I never told Amanda about that, but I always made sure never to be around him alone, staying busy with band practice, math clubs, and junior poetry slams. Clearly, being a nerd has its payoffs because it kept that creeper’s hands off me.

  But if it wasn’t me, it was someone else. Because sure enough, Perry slept with Mom’s best friend, and Amanda lost her shit then, kicking him to the curb. A divorce was in the works before you could even say “boo!”

  I was so glad when he left.

  And now, there’s number four. Jesus. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to see him much, just a day or two during winter break, or a week or so during the summer.

  Hopping into the shower, I quickly scrubbed myself but not too well, only washing the outside of my asshole and my pussy, cleaning away the slippery juices that had dripped from my pussy while I dreamed. Because nasty as it is, I wanted to remember the dark alpha. The feel of that jism, spraying again and again. Oh shit, it’d been like a fire hose full of cum in my ass.

  But one thing led to another, and as I scrubbed, my finger began playing with my sore bottom on its own, rubbing and trying to duplicate the feeling of dick inside. Pretty soon, I had a small digit playing in my asshole while simultaneously stroking my clit under the steamy water.

  Fuck!

  Oh god, yeah!

  In my ass, big guy! There, there!

  Holy shit. Exploding, I screamed in the shower, letting out a cry that practically shook down the walls of the small stall. Oh shit, oh shit, pussy juices flooded everywhere, and desperately, I pushed them into my back hole, pretending it was the man’s cum. Oh fuck yeah!

  But all good things have to end, and after the tremors subsided, I jerked the tap shut with a trembling hand. Oh my god, did that just happen? Clearly, yes. It was too good to be true, my private parts so sensitive.

  Slapping on some make-up, I hauled on an outfit, and smoothing my curls into a wet ponytail, hopped into a cab.

  Because despite my self-play, miraculously, I wasn’t late to the lunch. The taxi dropped me off outside the fancy hotel and I gaped upwards at its towering spires. Really? For marriage number four? This seemed expensive and all too unnecessary.

  But at least it wasn’t on my dime. Climbing out, I rearranged my skirt and took another deep breath. Oh shit, my body ached everywhere, asshole still pulsing. When would the feelings stop? When would I get back to normal?

  At that second, my phone rang. It was my favorite aunt, Jillian.

  “Hey, Lace. Where are you?”

  My aunt’s voice sounded bored, almost laid-back, but I knew she was as frustrated with mom’s bullshit as much as I was.

  Was I late? I looked at my watch and frowned.

  “I’m outside. The cab just dropped me off. Why?”

  “You know she wanted you to come early so you could meet the latest husband-to-be. His name is Jake.”

  I don’t give a shit what she wants.

  I just had the best night of my life.

  But I’d never say something like that aloud, especially not to Aunt Jillian.

  “I’m on the way,” I chirped and got a move. I may not have been happy to be part of this foolishness my mother called a fourth marriage, but there was no sense in putting it on Auntie Jillie. For her, I would try to be at least somewhat gracious about the situation. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  After she hung up, I stuck the phone in the pocket of my dress, glad that the pockets were at least deep enough. Mom bought me the dress a few days ago and insisted I wear it. Of course I hated it, it was so not me.

  Purple and short, it was more suited for a fourteen-year-old fifteen pounds lighter than me. The bust was obscenely tight across my big Double Ds, the skirt hugging my ass like a second skin.

  Plus, the fabric itched, and annoyed, I scratched at my thigh, hiking the material up even higher. But it wasn’t worth fighting over. I’d just burn this damn thing after the lunch was over.

  Sighing, my feet trudged towards through the marble and glass lobby of the hotel toward the elevators.

  Although it was a much nicer one than for the previous wedding, this hotel reminded me of the luncheon for marriage number three. Pretentious and unnecessary. As usual.

  And honestly, we’d probably be going through this same bullshit again in another two years. My mom’s turnover rate was so high that marrying her was like doing time at a retail store. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

  I didn’t understand why she didn’t just take time off between husbands to figure herself out. But last time I even suggested that, Amanda bit off my head, saying that “I’d never get it.”

  Plus, this latest guy was supposedly some billionaire tycoon, which would completely change our lives. Or so she claimed.

  More like he was an internet marketer, someone who bragged about being worth ten figures on paper. Real cash in the bank? Naw, there was none.

  Besides, our lives didn’t need the kind of change money could bring. Instead, Amanda needed to change the way she hung on to these losers, thinking they’d bring her happiness. She was definitely not a good example for an impressionable young girl, aka me, to follow.

  Sighing again, I shook my head. But there was nothing to be done. The deal was sealed already, the dude’s ring on her finger. And taking a deep breath, I stepped into the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. Yep, fancy. Although they weren’t married yet, mom was already spending a ton of this alleged billionaire’s money. Might as well spend it while you have it. They’d be divorced soon.

  A voice greeted me on entrance.

  “There you are!” came a friendly call.

  Dressed to nines like a glamourous movie star, Aunt Jillian greeted me with a smile and quick hug as soon as the elevator doors opened. “Amanda is ready to take center stage and she doesn’t want you to miss it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”

  My aunt and I exchanged a smiling look. Of my mom’s three sisters, she was closest to me. Recently turned forty-five and with her twin sons off at college in Europe someplace, Auntie Jillie was enjoying her “empty nest” years. She and my uncle were always traveling
now and it was rare to catch her in town. If not for the wedding, she would probably have been in South America or India someplace with the same man she’d had since college.

  Jill was sophisticated yet down-to-earth and always made sure I knew I had a place to stay, no matter what crazy stuff my mom was up to. I would always be grateful for that.

  But my aunt was also realistic.

  “Is that the dress Amanda bought you?” Jill frowned at the tight fabric and the way my boobs were practically popping out.

  “Yes.” I rolled my eyes again. “I tried to exchange it at the store but they didn’t have any more in my size.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if your mother knows you’re not twelve anymore.”

  “I know, right? I swear, Mom thinks I’m a scrawny adolescent. It’s more like I’m a size twelve, not age twelve,” came my harrumph, rolling my eyes. But this was par for the course. Mom has a habit of ignoring me when she’s on the scent of a new man. Or when she was with a man, period.

  “Come on,” Aunt Jill said with a shake of her head. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  With her arm looped through mine, we walked through the crowd on the sun-lit rooftop. The restaurant was nice, decorated in an expensive modern style with a view of all of midtown Manhattan. I knew almost everyone gathered here: friends of my mom’s who’d been around since I was little; a few of her business connections as one of the top realtors in the city; and my other aunts, with their husbands. Nearly everyone looked at my dress and shook their heads at me knowingly. Of course, they knew Amanda was to blame.

  “Now come on, let me introduce you to the other half of the couple of the hour so you can go about your business then slip away as soon as you’re able. I remember you mentioned studying for a big midterm exam.”

  At least my aunt was up on my study habits.

  “Oh, there they are,” she pointed.

  Slowly, I turned. Sure enough, there was Amanda. My mother looked beautiful as usual in one of her slutty/classy dresses. It’s a talent she has, skillfully not quite crossing the line between princess and whore. Her outfits usually highlighted her still youthful and slender figure, as well as a natural set of big tits. That body of hers still drew the men to her like flies. At forty-two, she was gorgeous. If nothing else, seeing her like this meant that hopefully I’d look good in middle age as well.

  And next to her stood a dark man. Squinting, I could see broad shoulders, an expensive suit, and—

  Oh shit.

  My mouth dropped open, going bone dry. Stumbling, I gasped, and it was only my aunt’s grip on my arm that kept me upright.

  “You all right, honey?” were her concerned words. But I couldn’t speak, my mouth opening and closing silently.

  Because the dark man with Mom was obviously her fiancé. Her long, red-nailed hand rested possessively on his arm although he stood with his own hands in his pockets like he didn’t belong to anyone. That face was harshly handsome in the sunlight, clean-shaven, with a dimple in the center of a strong chin.

  And he looked right back at me, cool and expressionless, eyes giving away nothing.

  My heart knocked hard in my chest as my aunt dragged me closer to the couple. The sun was suddenly too bright on my face and my legs felt heavy. Even more, there was hot cum dripping from my asshole, trickling in slow and steady drips downwards. Oh god, oh god!

  Because it was the man from last night. It was the dark stranger, it was his cum seeping from my private parts, his dirty kisses and nasty finger that I’d dreamed about.

  But it was too late. We were already in front of the couple, a frozen smile on my face.

  “Amanda!” Aunt Jill got my mother’s attention. “I found her.” She dragged me closer, even though I was stiff as a board.

  Mom turned from her one-sided conversation, flashing a sweet smile.

  “Hi Mom,” came my strangled choke. Oh god. It came out like a frog croaking on a lily pad.

  “Lacey. I thought you’d come earlier,” Amanda said airily. She stepped toward me with one of her theatrical smiles, white teeth on full display, pressing her cheek to mine for a society kiss. “Come meet your new step-father, Jake.”

  My stomach dropped at her words. Oh god, oh god. This was really happening. My mom’s heavy perfume rose in the air like poison, the cloying scent making me faint. I tried to smile again, even as my soul died inside.

  But this was no way to behave in public. Get with it! the voice inside my head screamed. Put on a show!

  And the voice was right. There were people watching. So taking a deep breath, I met the billionaire’s eyes.

  “Hi,” I said to the guy who’d fucked my ass raw and taken my anal cherry the night before in the middle of a crowded club. “It’s good to finally meet you. Welcome to the family. I’m Lacey.”

  Those blue eyes pierced my soul, making me die a thousand deaths. Because even here, at my mom’s engagement lunch, all I could think about was my future stepfather’s big, fat cock. What was going to happen now? All I knew was the situation was crazy … and about to get crazier.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake

  No fucking way.

  Frozen, I reached out to shake the girl’s hand like nothing was wrong. But internally, my mind went into high gear, racing along at sixty miles an hour. This was the sweet filly I butt-fucked raw last night. In a crowded night club to boot.

  Yeah, that’s me. Filthy and disgusting. I won’t change, ever.

  Except now she’s gonna be my stepdaughter?

  Holy fuck, no.

  But there was no sense in letting on in front of the crowd. Besides, I’m a master of disguise. I don’t show my emotions unless absolutely necessary.

  So sticking out a fist, I took that sweet hand in mine, and shook it like we’d never met before.

  “Jake Mason,” was my smooth reply.

  Lacey blushed at nothing in particular. Or maybe at our touch. And fuck, but it set me off, because the girl is so goddamn beautiful.

  Last night should have been nothing. It was a way for me to blow off steam before putting on another show for the woman I was marrying in a few weeks. Amanda wasn’t giving up the pussy, and I’m horny guy 24/7. Even at forty-five, my dick needs a work-out at least once a day.

  And shit, did it ever get one last night.

  With my fiancée’s fucking daughter no less.

  God damn.

  “Why so formal?” Amanda cooed, smiling fakely. “We’re going to be family now. You guys should at least hug.”

  Lacey looked like she’d rather run the other way than put her arms around me. At least not in front of her mother. Because last night, she’d thrown her arms around me while screaming, that anus drilled so deep.

  Damn.

  Hot shit, man, real hot shit.

  Last night had been one the best experiences of my life. Despite being horny as fuck, I hadn’t gone to the bar to score some ass, not really. That dive wasn’t even the type of place I normally like. It had too many Jersey girls and lame ass guidos with their gelled hair and gym muscles, all competing to fuck the same tired neighborhood chicks.

  But I’d been bored after a shitty work trip that hadn’t gone well. Fresh from the airport, I was too out of it to tell the driver to drop me off at the high-class members only joint I usually frequent. So after a short walk from my apartment, I ended up at the dark and crowded dive.

  The VIP area had been laughably cheap with worn carpeting and cheesy purple velvet loungers. Really assholes? You think this is what class looks like? They needed to fire their interior decorator stat.

  At least it gave me a chance to stretch my legs and watch the rest of the place. But it wasn’t long before I regretted even stepping foot in the shit hole. The club was wall to wall muscle heads sprinkled with stick-thin girls practically falling over from fake boob jobs. Yeah, top heavy in a bad way.

  But then I saw her.

  Cute and curvy, Lacey was more librarian than the usual par
ty girl. Her curly brown hair surrounded a face that was too sweet for a place called Sizzles. But those huge tits and thick hips made me want to taste. Oh yeah.

  And when she walked over, it was like a dream come true. My cock stiffened as her mouth opened. But then she asked me to dance and I practically bust my gut laughing. Dance? Holy shit. What was this, junior high? The only kind of dancing I’d do with a girl like this was between the sheets. Hard and fast. Deep and rough.

  Yeah, I’m not exactly a good guy.

  Not by a long shot.

  Because in a few weeks, I was getting married to Amanda. Ring on the finger, and all that bullshit. Not exactly the love of my life, not by a long shot. But even if it was more business arrangement than old-fashioned attraction, I should’ve kept it in my pants.

  But fuck that. I hadn’t had pussy in weeks, and Lacey was a ripe peach inscribed with the word temptation.

  Watching the female, I had a vague thought of inviting her into the club bathroom so I could ream her ass in semi-private but she’d licked those full lips again, nipples poking out at me through the cloth. So the bathroom was out. Right here was real good, thank you very much.

  Because in an instant, I’d dragged her onto my cock like a starving dog, making her hump my dick with dancers whirling on the floor below. I’d parted those thick thighs and fucked right into her waiting hole, groaning at the tender squeeze.

  And even though my future stepdaughter was staring at me now, clearly trying to act like nothing was wrong, there was no regret at all. Did I feel bad? Naw. If anything, I felt fucking powerful and confident, eyeing that curvy frame once more.

  My only real problem was not dragging her off for more of what I had last night. Her ass was so fucking tight and she’d responded like a wet dream to the deep-dicking. Aw shit. Just thinking about it, my meat got hard again, right there with her mom and aunt a few feet away.

  Fuck my life.

  If only I could taste her again.

  If only I could get her in private.

  But the thing is, Lacey was freaking out. Her façade was crumbling, and I needed to put a stop to that.