Cunning Linguist: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  “Now, baby girl,” Magnus growls, pulling me from his cock.

  The waves of my orgasm leave me in aftershocks, but I’m eager and lustful enough to be ready for his cum, his orgasm. I drop down to my knees and grab his full length instantly. He’s coated with my cum and I close my mouth down on the head of his cock.

  Magnus slams my head down on his cock so that I take him even deeper.

  His spurting cock shoots ropes of his seed down my throat, slickening my mouth and salting the tang of my own pussy juices on him. The creamy, musky taste of us together mingles on my tongue. I swallow it in my throat and eagerly I take him in. I suck, swallow, lick, and treat my stepfather’s cock like a lollipop. Like it is his mouth I am kissing. Like I’m drinking the elixir of everlasting life. I moan while I swallow him, the experience of taking him and taking him so far inside my mouth and throat and sucking in both our pleasure feeling like the most erotic experience of my entire life.

  A sting—like pain but somehow pleasurable—lights on my head as Magnus’s fingers wrap into my hair, squeezing and claiming my head, my sucking mouth down on his cock. He’s holding me tight, forcing me to stay there deep. I love this, though, even if he wasn’t holding me down. I feel small, fragile, at his mercy. And it's this benevolent mastery of his that I delight in because I'm content to be his slutty little daughter, taking every inch of his cock. Swallowing both our cum and tasting it slide hot down into my belly.

  Dinner was nice, but this devilish act is so much more satisfying going down. I feel him course through my veins and there’s something primal about this. I like being at his mercy, pinned to his cock, all in his limo while I shiver and ache so good from the way we fucked.

  Magnus is dressed and looks too gorgeous and put together like he always does. No one would be able to tell, save his free cock, which my mouth has captured, that he just fucked the daylights out of his slutty little daughter. Me? I look wrecked in the most delicious way. My nipples ache, and a low thrum in my belly meets the quickening pace of my heart. I can almost hear the blood rushing in my ears, I’m so aroused. I’m a shaking, shivering, sticky, sweating mess of lust. I want to suck his cock forever. And I do, sort of. I keep sucking long after I’ve cleaned off my cum and milked dry every last drop of his cum.

  Magnus keeps his fingers in my hair while I keep devouring every inch of his cock. That enormous rod keeps its steel hardness in my mouth. His moans are low in his throat. A deep appreciation for the way I’m touching him. My nipples are grazing the seat of the limo and the leather is hot and cold depending on where my nipples touch in proximity to Magnus’s body while I’m bobbing up and down his cock.

  The burning in my pussy rises like a flame that will destroy me utterly.

  Never in my life have I felt like I was in such a fluid, unending state of arousal. I almost fear I'll never come down from this high. My body is the least tense it has ever been in its life, yet I’m like a violin’s string pulled too taught and I could be plucked to a fatal pleasure at any moment.

  Magnus runs his hands down my back. “Don’t you need to breathe, Penny? You’re sucking my cock like it's your life support,” he says with a laugh. It's a belly laugh, something deep that makes me feel proud.

  I don’t know if I've ever heard him laugh so heartily, and, yet ... there’s a lightness to the moment. Something intimate we are sharing that we’ve never done before. Not in our relationship as stepfather and stepdaughter. Not as a one-sided flirting pair at dinner. The warmth spreading through my belly is something else. Something tinged with lust and something else I don’t quite know how to describe.

  I don’t answer him with words. I breathe through my nose and keep sucking on his cock. I want his overpowering strength when he decides he’s had enough. I feel his thighs jerking and I know I’m close to that edge of his.

  Finally, his hands pull at the nape of my neck in a predatory way that turns me on. I look up at him and I lean up to kiss him on the chest, above his heart. Never have I been fucked like this. I feel like there needs to be the right greeting card for this.

  One more time. My insides will be sore, but you only live once.

  I lay him back and climb onto him.

  And I ride. I ride every last drop of his cum surging from his cock into my pussy and moan along with his insistent groans, taking him deep until we’re both breathing heavily and holding each other.

  Jesus Daddy. You just wore out your stepdaughter’s pussy.

  It doesn’t get any better than this, ya know?

  The New York Daily Journal

  Bad Boy Reformed?

  Gossip Central on Page Eight. From the Desk of Vicky Durner - All the gossip you never even knew you needed to know!

  Well, well, well. Looks like a certain bad boy billionaire of New York is trying to be more of a man and less of a frog. But is this just an act?

  Good morning Gotham. That’s the question that millions of people around the city are undoubtedly asking themselves after seeing real estate mogul Magnus Davion in an environment that he’s not normally associated with—a charity gala.

  That’s right New Yorkers. You read that right and you’re eyes are not playing tricks on you. Magnus Davion – self proclaimed bad boy of New York City – was spotted at a charity gala. He didn't get into any fights. He didn't pull down his pants and wave his rather large … appendage … in the faces of the elite. He didn't get drunk and fall asleep. He didn’t even do anything that makes watching him so revoltingly addictive.

  Instead, he behaved himself as he mingled with the crowd, often charming and engaging those around him. He spent a fair amount of time according to my spies with his mystery date—a woman who we still haven't been able to figure out an identity for, but know was very good looking. And he delivered a speech that received a standing ovation.

  Excuse me for saying the obvious, but that behavior is not acceptable for someone who wants to be known as a loud, obnoxious, boorish clown. It’s also not becoming of the poster child for immature man-child.

  So, could Magnus Davion be growing up? Could he be evolving into a higher level of consciousness – the kind of higher level consciousness that usually occurs as people grow out of adolescence and become adults?

  Citizens of Gotham, let's not hold our breath.

  What's more likely to this jaded gossip columnist is that Magnus Davion is trying to clean up his image. Trying to make himself more palatable to the millions of hard working, decent, and God-fearing New Yorkers who have to put up with shenanigans on a day-to-day basis. And that public relations executive who got the Magnus Davion account probably put together a portfolio of charity galas, dinners, fundraisers, and photo ops all designed to make us think that this man is really a good guy instead of just another rich asshole.

  And you know what? With enough of these, we probably will think he’s a good guy.

  We’ll probably forget how Magnus Davion got drunk one night and urinated in a restaurant fountain as people were eating dinner last month.

  We’ll probably forget how he was filmed receiving fellatio in his Maserati as he sped down Fifth Avenue earlier this year.

  We’ll probably forget how he got upset at a cable company call center representative who was unhelpful to him, which led him to buy the cable company itself just to fire that individual. It happened last year, but I bet you’ve already forgotten, haven’t you, New York?

  I’m willing to bet that’s the plan, New York. We’ll just have to see what happens. You can bet we’ll keep reporting.

  Until then, keep your ears to the ground, New York. I'll be listening!

  Magnus

  “Magnus to Earth! Magnus to Earth!” Joyce says, repeating that sentence over and over again until she finally slams the palm of her hand onto my desk. I sit up straight, cough into my hand, and nod at her, trying to pretend I was listening to her all along, which I fucking wasn’t, of course. After that night with Penny, focusing on anything is just outright impossible.r />
  “I’m here,” I tell her, and she just sighs and throws the latest New York Daily Journal on top of the desk. She looks at me with a self-satisfied smile, pointing at the newspaper.

  “Like I was saying, it seems that the tides are turning.”

  “Indeed they are,” I whisper, leaning back against my chair and propping my feet up on the desk. I grab the newspaper and head straight to the Gossip Central column. I’ve already read the newspaper on my way to the office, but a second pass won’t hurt. It feels good to read something different; usually all I get is hate. “You were right, Joyce, this gala thing really helped out.”

  “Of course I was right. That’s what you pay me for,” she says, slightly offended, and then she smiles. “Anyway, you’re pretty cheery today. Anything you wanna share?”

  “I’m always fucking cheery, Joyce.” I stretch my arms, taking my feet out from the desk and swiveling around on the chair. I look out into the vast New York skyline; the concrete jungle sprawled right under me. Joyce would fucking kill me if she knew what I was up to last Friday night. I mean, she’s a fucking lawyer, she knows how to get away with murder.

  “Yeah, I’m just asking because when you’re this happy … that usually means trouble is heading our way.”

  “Jesus, you’re such a fucking killjoy.”

  “That’s what you pay me for as well.”

  “Really funny, Joyce, you should’ve been a comedian instead of a lawyer.” She starts replying, but by the time the words get out of her mouth, my mind has already drifted off again.

  I can’t stop thinking about Penny, about how it felt to brush my fingertips over her smooth (and oh-so-very-naked) skin—my hands on her hips, my cock deep inside her tight pussy, the warmness of her body, the strawberry flavor of her kisses. I want that again—no, I fucking need it, even more than I need air to breathe. Even though I know we shouldn’t have crossed that line, I can’t stop myself from wanting to do it again.

  You must think I’m a terrible guy, huh? To go around fucking my stepdaughter and all that. But you saw what she did; Penny’s not innocent in this whole affair. I should’ve resisted, maybe … but fuck, I’m only human.

  “Magnus? Are you even here?” I hear Joyce’s voice again, her words cutting through the fog that’s clouding my mind, and I turn to her.

  “I’m right here, babe.”

  “I told you already, don’t call me --”

  “Yeah, yeah, Miss Political Correctness, I got the memo. Anyway, it’s Sunday, what are you even doing at the office?” Joyce’s a hard worker, but sometimes she crosses the border and veers into workaholic territory. You might think I’m an asshole, but I actually care for the people around me. And besides, being one of the main pillars supporting my company, I consider Joyce to be family. Oh no, don’t even think about making a fucking joke, alright? Just because I fucked Penny, it doesn’t mean I’ll go on a rampage and start fucking all the women in my life.

  “I just came in to work on some of the paperwork on the Equinox deal… And then I saw the article about the gala and came to check up on you,” she suppresses a yawn, trying to hide how tired she is, but there’s no hiding the bags under her eyes.

  “Yeah, that was fucking glorious, wasn’t it? I don’t really like bragging about my donations, but I gotta give it to you… It fucking worked.”

  “Of course it did,” she tells me, pride making her swell up.

  “But seriously, go home now. Don’t make me fire you.” She gets up with a tired smile, picks up the newspaper from the desk and tucks it under her arm.

  “You’d be lost without me,” she says, turning around to leave. She walks all the way up to the door, but then stops and looks back at me. “You should rest too, you know? Like you said, it’s Sunday.”

  “Yeah, maybe I will.”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “When have I ever done anything stupid, Joyce?” I tease her, but I feel a stab of guilt in my heart, memories of Penny’s naked body flashing behind my eyes. I lean back against my chair as Joyce leaves, closing the door behind her, and I close my eyes for a moment.

  Penny’s moans bubble up to the surface of my mind, and I grin to myself as I remember how it felt to be inside of her, her pussy lips wrapped tight around my cock. I don’t think I’ve ever been that hard for a woman. But, then again, Penny’s not just any woman, is she? There’s something special about her, something that draws me in just like a moth is drawn to a flame.

  My fingers twitch as I remember how it felt to squeeze her round breasts, her hard nipples between my fingers, and I feel boiling blood rushing to my cock once more. I become hard in a matter of seconds, my shaft straining against my boxer briefs, and I sit up straight. I reach for my phone, grab it, and scroll down my contacts list until Penny’s name is on the screen.

  Maybe I should call her. It’s Sunday, and she’s probably free. And Joyce’s right, I need to take a fucking break.

  I’m about to press the Dial icon, my thumb hovering over it, when I stop myself. What the fuck am I doing? I’m not the kind of guy who calls a woman after fucking her. I mean, we were together Friday night, and it’s only Sunday… I’m not some fucking desperate dweeb. That’s just not my style.

  Still, I need to see her.

  My cock needs her, and who am I to deny my cock anything?

  Penny

  “I’m very, very disappointed with you, Penny,” my mother says, rubbing her temples. I purse my lips, staring at her image on my laptop, and then Laurel joins the chorus.

  “Very disappointed, Penny,” she repeats after my mother, a small square with her picture popping up next to my mom’s. “This is not what we agreed on.”

  Sunday night and here I am, sitting in front of my laptop and being grilled by my mother, the editor in the chief of the NY Daily Journal, and the New York City mayor. This is not how I expected to finish off the weekend.

  “Look, I’ve just started this investigation and, besides --”

  “What the hell are you talking about Penny?” my mother cuts me short and leans into her computer, her face appearing on my laptop like a bad dream. “Have you even read the article you wrote? You were supposed to destroy him, not help him build up his savior image!”

  “All I tried to do was be fair and balanced, mom. That’s what a good reporter should do, right? Look for the truth?” I say, getting the words in before my mother continues with her diatribe. I can’t believe they’re this pissed with me because of the article I wrote. What were they expecting me to do? Smear Magnus just because they have a grudge against him? I’d never stoop that low. I accepted this job because I thought that, yes, Magnus needed to be knocked off his pedestal, but I never thought of achieving that by sacrificing the truth.

  That’s just not me.

  “The truth?” Laurel asks me before my mother can reply, her voice soothing, but not enough to hide how angry she really is. “Penny, you’re still a young woman … I know you hold all these ideals of justice and fairness, but that’s not how the real world works. And I can assure you that’s not how Magnus works either.”

  “I don’t think I’m as naive as you think. I’m capable of making my own conclusions, and I stand by the article I wrote. You asked me to do this job, and I accepted it because I thought you wanted the truth… I’d never say yes if I realized this is a personal vendetta.” God, I can’t believe I’m talking to the freaking mayor like this. I really am getting more and more pissed off by the minute.

  “Magnus is playing the whole city, and now he has played you as well,” Laurel tells me, and this time there’s nothing soothing about her voice. She’s a Trask alright; I can imagine her dominating a conference table full of politicians and billionaires with just a few words.

  “How can you say he’s playing the whole city? I might not know much about him yet, but don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?”

  “Penny, dear,” my mother jumps back into the conversation, perh
aps feeling the tension rising between Laurel and I. “If there’s anyone in here qualified to talk about Magnus, that’s me… And listen to me when I tell you, he’s not what he seems. That man doesn’t care about anyone or anything, and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

  I take her words silently, trying to reconcile the image of Magnus I hold in my mind. Are they right? Is Magnus playing me, and the whole city? From what I’ve ever heard about him, that’d make sense … But after having dinner with him, after sharing a night with him, I find it hard to believe we’re talking about the same man.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell them both coldly, the words coming out of my mouth harsher than I expected. “But I won’t lie about him without a valid reason.”

  “No one in here is asking you to lie, Penny,” Laurel says, and something in the way she pronounces her words sets me off.

  “It sure seems like it. Because I’m doing my job and duty as a journalist, and all the two of you seem to care about is how much dirt I can sling at Magnus!” By the time I finish speaking, I realize that I’m leaning so much into my laptop that my nose is almost touching the webcam. My hands are balled into fists, and I’m breathing hard already.

  “Watch your tone, young lady,” Laurel whispers, her eyes cold and shark-like. “We’ve given you a chance to play in the big leagues. You’d do well to pay attention and do your job like you were instructed or --”

  “I was instructed to be a reporter, not your errand girl,” I say into the phone. “Sorry if that goes against your plans.”

  “It’s not just me you’re crossing, little girl,” Laurel hisses and it strikes me as odd that when I hear the words ‘little girl’ from her it makes me shiver as opposed to when I hear it from Magnus.