by Alexis Angel
“Girl, you’re so lucky,” Christine squeals again, looking around the reception hall and walking toward one of the balconies. She steps outside and both Alicia and I follow after her. The balcony overlooks St. Albans' capital city, the streets sprawling underneath us as the lush green vegetation of the island meshes with the tall spires of the buildings. The sun is setting now, its warm light embracing us as we look at the city in silence, taking in everything that happened these last few months.
“I guess so,” I tell her, smiling. I still haven’t managed to stop smiling since Connor and I decided to be together. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing it.
“Guess? Now that’s some modesty right there,” Alicia teases me, bumping me with her elbow. “I mean, look at you! Soon enough I’ll have to start calling you Princess, uh? Princess Natalie D’Avington… That has a ring to it,” she continues, laughing merrily.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I start telling them, but I don’t really believe what I’m saying. I just don’t want to jinx myself, you know? But I know that Connor has been playing with the idea; I can see it in the way he looks at me late at night, both of us exhausted after ravishing each other. Still, I don’t want to think about it now. Let it happen when it happens, you know? What matters is that we’re together.
“So,” Alicia turns her attention toward Christine, “you better keep up, girl. When are you going to get yourself a man?” She teases her, but I know there’s no malice to her words.
Life has really taken us by surprise these last few months. We were just young silly girls out of college not so long ago, and now look at us… Alicia is the youngest Vice-President in a financial behemoth, and I’m living in a palace. As I look at Christine, something tells me that the she won’t break the trend; there’s something very special in store for her.
“Oh, I’m just focusing on work right now, you know?” Christine starts, faithful to her old “work hard play hard” mantra. “I’m waiting for the right guy to come along.”
“He will,” Alicia and I say at the same moment, and we all share a laugh, the sound of our voices carried by the window and into the city below.
It’s funny how life works, isn’t it? One moment you’re living in a tiny bedroom apartment in the Upper East Side, the next you’re being whisked away by a European prince and living in a palace. Christine’s right; I’m a lucky girl. No, let me say that again: I’m the luckiest girl on Earth. And it’s not because Connor’s a prince, or because he’s rich or anything… It has nothing to do with it. I’d love him all the same even if he was broke.
You see, while the whole world saw in Connor nothing more than a spoiled rich asshole, I saw past that. Under all his cursing, tattoos, and devil-may-care attitude, there’s a man capable of… love. And, though his love isn’t cheap or comes easy, it’s worth the effort. The moment those words came out of his mouth (I love you, Natalie), I knew he’d love me forever and that he’d do right by me.
And that’s all a girl can ask for.
Description
Man Chaser: A Secret Baby Dark Romance
She says she’s a Man Chaser. Well…they call me a Woman Tamer. Let’s see who wins, shall we?
Don’t worry. You read that line above just right. I tame women. Show them who’s boss. One night with Ethan Kane and these 8-pack abs, chiseled body and 12-inches of lust muscle hanging between my legs and they’ll do anything I damn well tell them to. So when Brittney tries to infiltrate my company to steal from me...when I see her trying to seduce me with her gorgeous curvy body and beautiful face...I know what I’m up against. And I’m not worried. At all. She thinks she can just shake that body and get me to roll over for her like a dog. She doesn’t realize that it’s going to be her that ends up on her knees as I tell her to beg. And when that happens, there’s only one question left to ask myself ... How badly does she need to be taught a lesson?
*** Come chase men with this exciting new standalone romance! No cliffhangers or cheating, but it’s a scorcher with super-steamy scenes that you’ve come to expect from Alexis Angel. Happily Ever After? Always, babe ***
127
Ethan
UNNGGH!
That’s the sound that Carla is making as I fuck the living daylights out of her. I raise my face to a nasty sneer and bring up a hand and slap her ass. Not hard enough to make her yelp, but just hard enough to make her fucking yelp as well as moan.
“That’s right, you like how I’m fucking you, baby?” I ask her crudely, holding onto her hips as I fuck her doggie style. I’ve got her bent over a couch and all around us looks like your average upper middle-class suburban home. Some crocheting work in the corner where the woman of the house sits. A copy of the New York Daily Journal near the Barcalounger. Giant 52” flat screen TV on the wall. Nice little fireplace going. Pictures of the family all over the place.
It’s so fucking sweet it makes me fucking sick. But that’s what makes this shot you’re watching so fucking hot.
“Yes, oh my God, yes!” Carla yells out through clenched teeth as her pussy lips wrap themselves around my thick, hard shaft. You know the size by now, babe. Ain’t no way you’re gonna turn the fucking page if I’m any smaller than 12 fucking inches. Well, I have news for you. When I’m fully engorged, I’m closer to 12 and a half fucking inches.
Think half an inch doesn’t make that much of a difference?
Watch this.
I pull back, bringing my tip near to the exit of Carla’s pussy and give her one second to catch her breath. Then I come out just a little. Enough for the big, bulbous head of my cock to exist half way. She’s whimpering. She knows what’s coming next.
And without another word, I push myself back in, in one swift stroke. She’s frothing at the lips and her fucking cunt wraps itself around me like a long lost fucking lover. She’s shaking.
“Yes, what?” I sneer. She needs to say it, goddamit. I increase my strokes.
“Yes, Daddy, it’s so fucking good!” she yells. “Please keep fucking me!”
“You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since your mother married me, haven’t you?” I ask her back, thrusting and groaning.
“Yes, Daddy. I’ve been a horny stepdaughter ever since I first saw you,” she moans. I don’t even think she knows what she’s saying anymore.
Now before you get all in a fucking huff. Let me just tell you that we’re not fucking related, okay? I want to make that clear.
Although, if you actually come within 40 feet of me, I don’t think you’d care one way or the other, babe. That’s because your clothes would already be in a fucking heap on the ground. You’d be wiggling out of your panties and spreading your legs to entice me.
I’m fucking serious. All it would seriously fucking take is for me to be in the same 50-foot radius as you.
That’s not me being fucking arrogant. That’s not me being an asshole. That’s just me telling you the fucking facts. Because there’s only one thing that my 6’ 3” body, with it’s sculpted definition that would make the Greek God Apollo fucking jealous, it’s hard-as-steel biceps, it’s broad shoulders, it’s massively defined pecs, it’s 8-pack abs, is going to do when unleashed on your body. There’s only one result when you look into my deep cobalt-blue eyes, rugged face with its strong jawline. There’s only one conclusion when you feel the strength of my muscles as they wrap around you, protect you, soothe you, and caress you. As every fiber in my body works together to fuck you, only one thing will happen.
You will fucking cum.
You’ll cum so fucking hard you’ll probably black out. You’ll be in a fucking sex haze for days. You won’t walk straight. You’ll have a deliciously sweet and good feeling of soreness that’ll make you wet just thinking about why you’re sore. You’ll lose track of fucking time. You’ll be pushed into paradise. You’ll be in orbit.
Because you’ll never have had, or will have, another fuck like the one I’ll give you. I fucking promise you that.
The thing
is, I’ll have told you beforehand that while we fuck, you’re going to have to remember what I do to you—because afterwards, I’ll be out. Like a thief in the night. Sure, we’ll part ways amicably. But I’ll tell you this before I even fucking touch you. You’ll be so desperate to get your hands on me you won’t even care at that point. You’ll say yes to anything. Fuck, you won’t even realize till you wait by the phone the next day, wondering dreamily of when I’m going to call you only to realize that I’m not.
And that’s when you’re gonna start getting clingy. That’s when you’re going to find out that we had fun, and we had some good fucking memories, but all of a sudden you want more.
You want not just the body, but the fucking soul of Ethan Kane. You want me waking up next to you in the morning. You want to go for walks along the beach with me. You want to move into my multi-million dollar One57 penthouse in the skies of New York City. You want the billionaire bad boy. But you want him all for yourself. Fucking tamed.
Not gonna fucking happen in this lifetime, babe. Sorry. But I will have already told you that. I’ll have given you my entire vision. Its not my fault you were too fucking horny, dripping wet and ready to fuck, to pay attention.
“Oh Daddy, fuck me harder,” Carla moans, and I fucking oblige her. She’s not the cutest, but she’s got the face of a porn star, that’s for sure. She’s got a nice ass, and some solid tits. Definitely good for an afternoon fuck. Let’s put it like this, I got her bent over and she’s moaning my name, calling out to God in various languages as her pussy is contracting around my cock. I can tell she’s cumming and that she’s cumming hard. I can feel her body go limp, and I reach my hands over to hold her in place as I put in my last couple of thrusts.
Fuck, this is going to be a lot of fucking cum. I can tell already. Not for anything that Carla’s doing. But because my balls are the size of fucking tennis balls. I haven’t jerked off all fucking day.
“Argh!” I roar savagely as I feel the beginnings of my orgasm build up. My nuts tighten up and a jolt of electricity is shooting from my cock all the way up my spine.
I pull out and rip the condom off in one smooth flourish. You can barely even see it and that’s the fucking point. I turn Carla over with one arm and she turns willingly, a hungry look in her eye as she sinks down to her knees in front of my cock.
That’s right baby. Just like that. Come to fucking Daddy.
Carla looks at me with eyes clouded by lust and opens her mouth wide. She sticks out her tongue and I can’t control myself anymore. Just the wild abandon in this woman. The sheer depravity of the situation is too much for me. Just how fucking wrong it is. So fucking taboo. So fucking delicious.
I exhale and grunt as I fucking cum.
Shivers of pleasure wrack my body as thick, white ropes of cum shoot out. It hits her face and chin before she repositions herself and gets the remaining shots directly on her tongue and mouth.
I groan lewdly as she brings her mouth over and wraps her lips around my head, giving me a final couple of sucks.
My eyes roll back.
And that's when I hear it.
“Cut!” the sharp call of the director.
I open my eyes.
Carla is on her feet. She looks to me as she wipes her mouth with a towel. “That was fantastic, Ethan,” she says to me. “Only, I wish we had a chance to do it in private.”
I shrug. What can I say? I’m a busy fucking guy, and no way I’m going to make special time for an employee.
“Good luck with the rest of your shoots today, babe,” I tell her, and she smiles at me as I turn away.
Yeah, I know, you don’t need to tell me that she’s still looking. She’s staring at my naked ass. Wondering if there’s anything she can say.
“Ethan?” she calls out. Told you.
I turn around.
“You think that maybe….” Carla trails off because right at that moment my assistant, Cheryl walks up to me. I’m putting on my boxer briefs. But Cheryl doesn’t care. She’s seen everything already. And fuck you, no, I’ve never fucked her. But she’s been there for me since I was a kid.
Before I inherited all this. Before Illicit Entertainment was a globe girdling media company.
“I see you still insist on doing these movies, Ethan,” Cheryl says in an exasperated voice as she barely pays Carla any mind. Carla stands around for another minute, but decides that being naked at this point in time as everyone moves around her is just silly.
“You didn’t get the head shots, right?” I ask Cheryl.
She shakes her head. “No, everything was caught from the neck down,” she confirms. “It’s ready for beta testing on the product. We can head to the developer meeting right after this.”
Cheryl turns and starts walking to the door. She expects me to follow.
Oh right. The product. Haven’t told you what that is, babe. But trust me, you’re going to love it.
But before you head on in, let me just give you a fucking warning, okay?
You’ve seen what my fucking monster cock can do.
There’s a lot more fucking coming up. Seriously, either take your panties off now, or get ready for them to get drenched. And I’m talking wet enough that there’s no passing it off.
Make sure you’re by yourself. Get the fucking batteries ready. Get the fan. Fuck. Do whatever.
Because you’re about to go for a ride that’s gonna fucking rock your whole world.
Just don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you, babe.
I turn around and slip my shirt on and follow Cheryl out of the studio.
128
Brittney
I check my face in my compact mirror one last time and get out of the car. I get a few looks from the people on the street—a door to a limo usually has the driver opening it, but no way I’m going to waste Walter’s time doing that right now. He absolutely has places to be and he needs to go focus on that. Besides, I’m a big girl. I’ve been a big girl for a while now.
I tug the sash around my trench coat and hold my head up. This is going to be easy. This is going to be fun.
My heels click and clack on the shiny marble floor as I walk into the global headquarters of Carter Jeffries—the storied investment bank. It’s located in midtown Manhattan, on 52nd and Park Avenue. I head straight to the security desk and look the overworked schmo in the eye.
“Brittney Roman to see Carl Ketchum,” I tell the security guard. I don’t pay any attention to the guy. I need to let him think that I think I’m too good for him. That I’m too busy looking at my phone, looking at my nails, doing anything.
I know how to pull it off. I’ve had to pull myself out of worse before. Hell, there’s not a day that doesn’t go by where I don’t look back at my life and wonder how I ended up here, owning my own company that's worth millions of dollars at the age of 27.
When just four years ago I was in Los Angeles and seriously wondering if I was going to be alive the next day. If it was better off to just die.
But no, I’m sorry hun; I need to focus. I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?
Right now, I need to smile perfunctorily at the guard as he scans my face and asks for my ID. I need to look to the side so he can stare at my profile in what he thinks is a sneaky manner.
I need to loosen my trench coat just a little bit to give him a peek down into my tits. That always works for men. Not much trouble getting them to say fuck it with protocol and let me in if I show some boob. He doesn’t care if I’m not on the list. I’ve smiled and flirted and I even touched his hand an extra second longer when I gave him my ID. But then I went back to ignoring him.
I’m sure subconsciously he’s thinking if he makes this fast for me he's going to have some kind of shot when I come downstairs. Maybe I’ll go back with him to his studio apartment in the Bronx and suck his dick.
Too bad I don’t leave Manhattan. Or suck loser dick.
And that’s just what he is. A fucking loser. Because two seconds lat
er he does everything I told you he would. He hands me a temporary pass. “45th floor, Miss Roman,” he says to me and I nod sweetly. Let’s keep the hope alive. Without hope, we’re all dead anyways, right hun?
Oh, yeah, okay, fine. I’ll even shake my ass a bit side to side as I walk to the security turnstiles. Keep his stare for a bit longer.
The elevator ride takes seriously just under a minute. That’s because the elevator I get into serves only the first floor, and floors 40 to 50. I guess those investment and private equity bankers can’t wait, huh? They have to get to work at their desks screwing over the country as fast as they can.
I walk out of the elevators and enter the lobby of the 45th floor. This is the Private Client floor for Carter Jeffries—one department among dozens that operates as a company within a company.
The receptionist looks at me and smiles.
“Hi Brittney,” she says sweetly.
Bitch better be nice to me. She thinks I’m already fucking the big boss.
But no, not yet.
I smile back. “Is he in?” I ask.
She nods. “I think he’s on a conference call,” she says to me.
I shrug and keep walking toward Carl’s door. The fact that he’s busy doesn't stop me. That’s never going to stop me.
I know you’re probably rolling your eyes at me, hun. I don’t blame you. I’m not behaving like a good little girl. Good girls don’t act and say the things I’m doing and saying. But that’s because I’m not a normal girl.
What am I?
Oh, you're in for a treat.
Because I’m a bad girl.
I don’t mean like the bad boys you’re reading about on your Kindle. I’m not filled up with tribal tattoos. I don’t turn into a dragon. I’m not part of some underground MMA club. I don’t play football on the field, and fuck off the field. I’m not your Domme.