by Alexis Angel
Chapter 8
Mira
The door practically busts off of its hinges as I fly into Owen’s house. I can’t seem to land my focus on anything. Every detail of this house, significant or minor, speaks ‘fucking loaded.’
From the crown molding throughout the rooms, to the marble countertops and the ivory sculptures, there’s no mistaking Owen’s wealth. And with that being so abundantly clear, I no longer want to fuck the daylights out of him; I want to get to know him.
I want to know what makes him tick and what lifts him up. And I’m dying to know what his upbringing was like.
God. He must have been born into all of this. He and Carl are siblings, of course, so that would make the most sense.
I’m so fascinated as I start fixating on various pieces of decor. There’s custom storage pieces, portraits, personal photos—woah. Personal photos.
Like pictures of Owen on vacation in what I can only assume to be the tropics. I grab the picture and bring it close to my face, scanning down that tight six pack and focusing hard on that sexy ‘V’ his hips cut into.
Motherfucker, why does this guy have to be so hot?
“Mira?” I hear him call out from behind me.
I gulp down the saliva that’s been pooling in my mouth. I turn to him as he studies what’s in my hands.
“What do you have there?”
“Oh, nothing,” I reply, setting the picture back down. “I was just wandering a bit, admiring your gorgeous house. I saw this photo and was trying to figure out where you were. Bahamas?”
“Hawaii, actually,” he corrects me. “Have you ever been?”
“No, I can’t say that I have,” I answer shortly. “My free time since I’ve launched my lingerie line has been non-existent.”
“Well, that’s not good,” he says lightly. “You have to remember to take care of yourself. I can respect the commitment to your work, but you really have to ease up once in a while.”
Ease up, huh? You have no fucking idea how easy I want to be.
“Y-yeah,” I agree quietly while tucking hair behind my ear, my nerves getting the better of me. “Maybe I need to see an example of what that’s like.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Well, you. Judging by your home and your pictures, you lead a pretty exciting life. Tell me about it. What do you do for fun? How do you balance it with your work life?” I prod.
I’m so genuinely curious about him. I could listen to him talk for hours, especially face to gorgeous fucking face.
“I love to travel,” he starts.
Of course, he does. He’s got pictures and souvenirs—and not the shitty kind from gift shops—literally everywhere.
“My most recent trip was to Japan, and it was honestly so breathtaking that it was hard to come back to the US.”
“Did you manage to bring anything home? You seem like an avid collector of foreign trinkets, at least from what I gather around here.”
Owen seems so happy to entertain.
“As a matter of fact, I did. It was the only thing that made it home with me. My luggage was lost at the airport, so I never managed to get the rest all the way back here. Hold on one moment,” he says as he walks out of the room.
I watch him stride away from me, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip hard and anticipatorily. He walks like a man who knows what a woman wants—how to touch and please her expertly. I want so badly for him to just storm back into the room and take me right here against this marble table, showing me all of his skills.
I want to feel my bare tits pressed against the cool stone as I’m getting rammed from behind by his cock. Just imagining it sends goosebumps all over my body. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
As I exhale, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I gasp and open my eyes abruptly to find Owen has returned with his single tangible Japanese collectible.
“Did I startle you?” he asks. “Apologies. I just was making sure you’re alright.”
“Oh, no. No problem. I’m absolutely fine,” I assure him.
“Well, good. Let me know if I’m ever overstepping any boundaries here. I would hate to lay my hands on you while you’re uncomfortable.”
“You are absolutely fine. Trust me,” I reply, slightly more aggressively.
Cool your jets, Mira.
I look away from him, hoping it’ll calm me down.
He’s being such a gentleman. It’s impressive how he can go from being so dirty one moment to this attentive man the next. I didn’t think it was possible, but it makes him even more attractive.
“Alright then. Now, you’ll have to promise not to laugh. This is pretty out there, and you’re not allowed to judge me for this,” Owen says.
“How bad could it be?” I say, an eyebrow raised to him, and a smirk stretched across my face.
“Promise.”
“I promise,” I respond, rolling my eyes playfully at him.
And now he’s being cute and coy. Damn him!
He smiles and pulls a pair of wrinkled, wadded up women’s underwear from behind his back.
“Underwear?” I ask. “That’s your big, crazy souvenir?”
“Well, they were from a vending machine. I felt like I had to get them for the novelty, you know?’ he explains.
“I think I can understand the temptation. If there was a vending machine with boxers in front of me, I just might buy them,” I say, now staring his physique up and down.
He falls silent, studying me. He watches my eyes travel, my lips twitch slightly, my cheeks tense and relax, and every other little movement my face can do. He’s searching for something.
He wants to know how much bark I have versus bite. I can sense it on him. He wants me just as badly as I want him, but he can’t admit it to me.
“I think it’s best we head off to bed, Mira. It’s getting awfully late, don’t you think?” he says, yawning and stretching.
“I am getting a little tired, I think,” I admit. “Where’s the bed?”
“Well, I don’t have a guest bedroom that’s really available right now, so you can actually just take the c—”
“Right side? Great. That’s where I sleep in my own bed, too. I’ll be perfectly comfortable,” I say, cutting him off.
“In bed? With me? You’re sleeping in my room?” Owen asks, a little caught off-guard.
“Yeah, why not? Is it really necessary to force someone onto the couch when it’s clearly not as comfortable? And besides, it’s one night.”
“I-I suppose,” he answers again, nervously. “Well, follow me.”
I walk with him through the house and to his room. He sleeps on a king-size bed, with a very soft, deep red comforter and metal bedposts that look like a really fun bondage tool.
As I walk over to my side, I start tugging at my dress, getting ready to pull it down. Owen stops me.
“What are you doing?” he says, alarmed.
“Getting ready for bed?” I respond. “I sleep naked.”
I can practically see his boner trying to escape his pants right now. But he’s fighting me. And he’s fighting hard.
“I’d be a lot more comfortable if you kept your clothes on,” he says.
“But it’s warm,” I argue. I think for just a moment while giving him a chance to change his mind. “Here, I’ll compromise. I’ll keep my panties on.”
“Sure,” he replies, happy to negotiate.
He goes into his closet and grabs one of his white undershirts and throws it over to me. I catch it and pull it over my head as lady-like as possible and slither out of my dress with the shirt covering me.
I keep my promise, dressing in a shirt with panties still on. But I feel a little sense of victory knowing that this white fabric barely hides the effect he has on my nipples.
But to my disappointment, his eyes avoid me, and he stays fully clothed in a pair of sweats and a similar white shirt.
We crawl into bed, and I slither under the blankets.
Let�
��s see if he can avoid me now.
Chapter 9
Owen
My throbbing cock has the worst timing that it could possibly have.
Right now, seeing Mira in such a peaceful and perfect state, I should be thinking, Awe, what a perfect step-niece.
But instead, my head is filled with visions of all the ways I could ravish her.
From sneaking her panties down and just sliding myself right inside of her, hearing her gasp as my cock penetrates her tight little cunt, to forcing her face into a pillow and gripping her hips tight and pulling her against me as I plow into her. All I can seem to think is that. Mira and I have the perfect opportunity to get to know each other a whole new way, right here, right now.
But I can’t fucking do that.
I’m her uncle. Well, step-uncle. My brother is the investor for her company. All this would do is to make things really fucking awkward among all of us.
As her eyes flutter in fatigue, glimpses of a smile forming against the side of her mouth as her lids open and fade as they close, it’s as if every time she sees me gazing at her, she’s happy. It’s truly the most darling sight.
Goddammit, Mira. Why did you have to come here?
Mira is going to get herself into serious trouble by staying here. The fact that she’s in my home at all is enough for Carl to fly off the handle. I’ll have my work cut out from me, explaining it if he ever finds out.
A few hours ago, Mira was just this cute little slut blowing me, working my cock so fucking well that I’m still mad we never finished. I bet she looks like a perfect, dirty angel with a load blown all over her face.
I could find out. All I’d have to do is whip it out, and I know she’d be on it so fast my head would spin.
She’d just wrap her plump lips around my swollen cock head, slide her tongue down the shaft, and work her mouth all the way up and down my huge cock, all with a smile in her cheeks. I can already see her piercing eyes staring up at me, forcing me to see the hunger and appreciation in her eyes.
There’s no better little slut than one who can look you right in the face, unashamed and confident that they’re the best lips you’ve ever had curled around your fucking cock.
Mira’s body nestles into the mattress, getting comfortable, and unintentionally creating the best view possible. Every curve is so defined.
I study her prominent hips that link with a cute, narrow waist, all the way up to her lovely, sizeable breasts. It would be a sin to not give those perky tits the attention they so rightfully deserve.
“Owen,” she says, corrupting our perfect silence and dissolving my thoughts, for a moment anyway.
“Yes, Mira?” I respond quickly.
“What are you doing? Aren't you going to come lay down? You're not…afraid, are you?” she utters, taunting me.
God, you dirty girl. You have no clue just how badly I want you.
“I'll be in bed soon; I just have a couple of things I need to do before I fall asleep.”
“Oh,” she replies, disappointed in my explanation.
I touch her shoulder gently, just grazing her skin lightly. As my fingers travel down her bare arm, goosebumps form against her skin.
I pull away, knowing full well I don’t want to ruin the future she’s building for herself and her company. If I let things go too far, she’s going to lose everything. Carl will pull his money out like that if he knows something happens.
Knowing she’s just as willing as I am, makes this even harder.
I need to get away from her for a moment. I need to clear my head. Having her right here is too tempting.
I pull my silk sheets over her torso and step away from the bed. I quietly walk out of the room and through my house.
I find myself in the living room, planting myself on the couch in front of the fireplace, sipping Maker’s Mark and staring into the flames. Normally, I wouldn’t be drinking so late, especially alone.
However, tonight is a special occasion. I’m stressed enough between what’s going on in my head and my pants that I literally can’t decide what I’m supposed to do here.
I’ve never had such a raw attraction to another person. It so happens that the woman who was on my cock, working it like it was made for her, turned out to be my new step-niece.
Fuck.
The worst part is that I could get past all of it if Carl wasn’t my brother. If he and I had any relationship other than what we have, Mira would be under me right now, screaming my name and begging to come all over my thick cock.
But he’s so ready to turn her into a scandal to make me look bad, even willing to sabotage the thousands of dollars he’s invested in her, just for a chance to shoot me in the foot.
Am I going to have to leave the fucking country to get away from these feelings?
Because, I’ll fucking do it.
Madrid this time of year is particularly lovely. I’ve also heard wonderful things about Berlin culture, though I haven’t the slightest familiarity with the German language.
I take a gulp of the spirit swishing around in my glass.
Alright, Owen. Enough bullshit.
I know what I have to do. I don’t like it. Not one bit.
But it’s what’s best for everyone.
Mira and I are going to need to part ways and never acknowledge our attraction ever again.
I can’t let her lose her business. I can’t afford to lose my reputation. A fling with her wouldn’t outweigh the consequences, despite how fucking spectacular she is.
And I know deep down, she understands it too.
I take another sip of my drink, only to notice I’ve practically chugged it already. I set my rocks glass on the coffee table, prop my feet up on the couch, and lay my head back, letting my eyelids succumb to gravity and eventually close, pulling me into a deep, restful slumber.
THE CAPITALIST CHRONICLE
Drama and Diamonds: Behind the extravagant wedding of the now Mr. and Mrs. Westbrook
By Lis Langley
New York—No diamonds were left unpolished for the extravagant wedding this past Saturday at the Westbrook’s family estate. The venue was beautifully designed to shine light on the love between the newlyweds and the money they’ll soon share.
Dripping in silk and delicate lace, the ageless Carol Wilder walked down the aisle towards her dashing new husband, Carl Westbrook who was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo. Both appeared starry-eyed and lovestruck.
The guests complimented the stunning night, donning their finest white-tie formalwear—women in floor-length evening gowns and men in black tailcoats, each looking as if they were attending the Met Gala, not a backyard wedding.
But this was far from a simple backyard wedding. The lawn and gardens were impeccably kept, and they shined against the opulent, almost gaudy decor—deep red and white roses with glimmering Swarovski crystals. It screamed wealth and glamour.
Crystal chandeliers and porcelain china clinked and chimed in the air as the newlyweds entered their reception, which was held in their exquisite ballroom, and the live band and string quartet welcomed the lively guests to dance and mingle the night away. The night was fit for royalty, a suitable scene for the billionaire couple.
However, a source of mine witnessed a more scandalous version of the night. Like every other fairytale, there’s always another, perhaps darker side to the story.
Unbeknownst to the party-goers, the Mr. and Mrs. excused themselves to their wedding suite only to return red-faced and noticeably tense less than an hour later. Carol, with her arms glued to her chest, stormed away from Mr. Westbrook. Being the loyal and supportive husband, Carl trailed behind her with his head hanging low, looking very disheveled.
Soon after, Carl’s half-brother, Owen Westbrook, unexpectedly appeared from the same wing. He immediately left the estate without a second glance and was followed by an unknown and very attractive blonde.
One wonders: did the Bastard Billionaire and this mysterious blonde cause the appar
ent riff between the newlyweds?
Or are their sour faces due to the disappearance of Mira Wilder? Rumors have it that she left early without informing her mother, or anyone, of her departure. She was seen earlier in the night dancing with Owen, her now step-uncle, but vanished shortly after.
What would have caused the daughter of the bride—who outwardly supported the marriage—to leave the wedding so unexpectedly?
There is one person these two accounts have in common, and that’s Owen Westbrook. This reporter doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it’s hard not to point to and question the obvious.
Is Owen responsible for turning the blushing bride crimson and for the sudden disappearance of Mira? What did he do to cast such a dark shadow over the joyous occasion?
He is known for his scandalous reputation, after all. So perhaps it is his name and his salacious ways that are now causing a feud between the family so soon after the newlyweds exchanged their vows.
One certainly hopes not. But it does look like there’s more to the polish and decadence of Saturday’s nuptials than meets the eye. And I’m dedicated to finding out what’s boiling underneath the Wild West family’s sparkle.
Stay tuned as I’ll be working diligently to keep you, my dear readers, up-to-date on all things related to Owen, Mira, and the whole Wild West affair.
Chapter 10
Mira
I force my eyes open, and memories from the night before fade in and out. And the realization of whose bed I’m waking up in hits me.
I look over at the other side of the bed, and I’m met with a faded imprint. Where’s Owen?
Shit, I must’ve fallen asleep. Ugh…
I roll my eyes, feeling annoyed with myself. I’m pissed that nothing happened and that I didn’t make a more forward move as I laid next to him in his bed. Every part of me wanted to fuck him—and still does—despite everything that happened.
I want that twelve-inch cock in me. And I almost had him. But nope…of course, I would fall asleep.
My ears perk up, hoping to hear some movement in the master bathroom or sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen. But there’s only silence.