100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  His lips go over every single inch of my inner thighs, carefully caressing my skin before he finally dives in: parting his lips, he fits them around my clit and sucks it in, circling it with his tongue at the same time. Feeling as if pleasure itself was stabbing me in the spine, I thrust, pressing my pussy against his mouth; he responds by opening it wide, placing it over my folds and sucking on them.

  Feeling my lungs and heart about to explode, I try to calm myself and breathe deeply, but that’s an almost impossible task. The more I try to do it, the more furiously he starts to lick me, his mouth completely ravaging me. As he starts to slide his tongue past my lips and into my pussy, he presses his forearm across my waist and his thumb over my clit, massaging it. Even though my soul is burning, I can’t fight the urges that beg my mind for more: I sway my hips back and forth and from side to side, rubbing my pussy against his face as I start to succumb again.

  For the millionth time since I entered his apartment, I come - I bury my fingers on his hair and keep him in place as I thrust as hard as I can, my pussy pressed tight against his mouth. I let the waves of pleasure crash against my soul, rapture enveloping me.

  “OH, FUCK,” I scream at the top of my lungs, my mind completely demolished. I didn’t even know I could have this many orgasms. I mean, how many of them can I have? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that surrendering my body to Malcolm would be this amazing. He knows how to work my body with the mastery of a man experienced beyond his years and, right now, I can call myself the luckiest woman in the world.

  And do you know what the luckiest woman in the world needs right now? She needs more.

  Turning around on the mattress so that I’m liying flat on my stomach, I then push myself up with my arms, positioning myself on all fours. I sway my hips, wiggling my ass as an invitation, and then look back at him over my shoulder.

  “Well?” I ask him, biting down on my lower lip. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” I tease him, and he just throws me a coy grin and, grabbing his shaft, kneels behind me and presses his tip against my pussy.

  “I never get tired when you’re around,” he says and, with a smirk, thrusts. As his cock strains against my inner walls on its way in, a violent scream climbs up my throat and explodes in my mouth, waves of ecstasy riding through me as Malcolm starts to fuck me viciously.

  I lose all notion of time as he thrusts, my body burning as my mind slowly drowns. My rational mind vanishes into oblivion, and all that’s left behind the wheel are my primal and savage urges.

  I thrust back at Malcolm matching the movements of his hips. My ass cheeks slap his thighs, the sound of flesh on flesh driving me even more crazy. I’m sweating once more, pushing my body past all limits and forgetting about the exhaustion that is seeping from my muscles to my bones.

  Gritting my teeth, I exhale sharply as he spreads my cheeks apart with his hands; he then runs his index finger over my crack, placing it against my hole. Slowly but steadily, he slides it in, a long moan tumbling out of my lips as I feel him go in. His whole finger inside of me, he starts to fuck me even more relentlessly - I’m not even moving anymore, I’m just there taking it in and trying not to pass out from all the pleasure.

  “Malcolm…” I moan, the way his name feels on my tongue like a perfect aphrodisiac. “Harder! Harder…! HARDER!” I shout as loud as I can, my lungs hurting from the effort. I come violently, a shiver of ecstasy going up my spine as he stops moving, his cock deep inside of me.

  My body still trembling, he pulls his cock out slowly, each inch that slides out between my inner lips making me tremble even more. The moment he lets go of me, I collapse on top of the mattress, seeing all black - I have to take a few deep breaths to steady myself, trying hard not to pass out. Who knew that obscene amounts of pleasure could make you pass out?

  I turn around on the bed again so that I can look at him and I realize that his whole body has turned rigid, his muscles becoming as hard as concrete. I look at him, see him with eyes closed and gritted teeth, and get ready to finish the job – I sit up on the bed and reach for his cock, gripping tightly with one hand. Taking a deep breath, I start flicking my wrist as hard as I can, stroking him hard and doing my best to push him over the edge.

  It happens fast.

  His cock starts to spasm and a thought crosses my mind – moving fast, I lean forward and wrap my lips around his cock just in time, a torrent of cum filling my mouth at once. Cupping his balls as he comes, I stay in place while he empties his whole load inside my mouth. His flavor is salty and raw, manly like everything in him.

  He keeps cumming for what seems like forever, his cum gushing inside my mouth with no end in sight. I feel my mouth becoming full, but even then I don’t pull back - I remain still, strands of cum dripping down my lips and chin. It’s simply too much for me to hold it all in my mouth, and it keeps on coming. Thick drops fall to my breasts, my chin covered in his semen… Only when I’m a wet mess does he finally stop, pulling his cock out of my mouth with an exhausted grin.

  Proud of what I just did, I smile at him, opening my mouth and showing him his own cum.

  “Beautiful,” he says, leaning forward. His lips touch mine and, before I even know what I’m doing, I’m pushing my tongue inside his mouth, opening my mouth wide and swapping his cum with him. It’s crazy, and it’s absolutely naughty – and I love every second of it. I mean, how couldn’t I? What we’re doing is dirty and kinky but, on the other hand, it’s just so intimate.

  When our kiss finally ends, I open my eyes and lock them on his; I lick my lips wantonly, scooping whatever cum I can, and just swallow it. He looks at me as if he were entranced, the expression on his face one of pure delight.

  When I’m done, I simply collapse on the mattress, spreading my legs and arms to the side, exhaustion suddenly filling every fiber of my being.

  “I love you, Malcolm,” I find myself saying, my voice just a whisper. Oh, I’m so in over my head right now.

  Oh God. It just dawns on me.

  How fucked am I?

  17

  Athena

  The cold air of New York’s night wraps itself around me, caressing my skin with its cold embrace and my mind with whispers of doubt.

  I snuck out of Malcolm’s apartment as he slept, doing it just like a thief afraid of getting caught. I simply couldn’t remain there. Lying by his side, I remained wide awake as he fell into a deep sleep. I stared at the ceiling for God knows how long, just hearing the beating of my own heart and Malcolm’s soft breathing.

  And then… I just couldn’t take it anymore.

  I pushed the sheets back and, moving as silently as I could, I slid out of the bed and got dressed in the darkness of his bedroom. I left on tiptoes, careful not to wake him, and glanced one last time at him before I left the room. The sheet covered half of his body, hiding his cock from sight but allowing me a glimpse of his rock hard abs, his chest softly rising and falling as he breathed.

  I can’t even start to tell you how hard it was to leave then. I was just seconds away from taking my dress off and crawling under the sheets once again. I bit on my lower lip as memories of everything we did flood my mind but, somehow, I find the necessary courage to do what I have to do. And so I turned on my heels and left, silent as a mouse. Why? Because I’m a fraud.

  I’m a liar.

  I’ve been lying to Malcolm all along, seducing him because I was worried about my company… and now I’ve fallen in love with him, and I’ve fallen really hard. Karma is a bitch, right? Worst of all, I have no idea what I should do now.

  If Malcolm admits he’s in love with me, I’m sure Ben will use that to ruin him… But if I just step out of this whole mess, removing myself from the equation to try and save him, Ben will leak the tapes and drag me and my company through the mud until there’s nothing left but ruins.

  But I can’t lead Malcolm on.

  I can’t ruin him like this.

  The woman I was before getting to know Malcolm
would do it in a heartbeat, but that woman had ice running in her veins. Malcolm melted all that ice and now… Now I can’t destroy him.

  I’ve parked my car around the block and, the moment I see it, I open the door with one click of my keys. Sitting behind the steering wheel, I lock myself inside and throw my head back against the headrest. I take a deep breath, trying to think of a solution; then, with a sigh of resignation, I take my phone out of my purse and go through the call log. Finding what I’m looking for, I press the Dial green button and press the phone to my ear.

  “Yeah?” I hear Ben’s voice on the other side of the line and, with that, loud music. The asshole he’s probably partying in some club right now, not giving a fuck about me or anyone else. That’s Ben for you—a complete sociopathic asshole. “What the fuck do you want, Athena? Did Malcolm admit he has fallen for you?” I can hear the eagerness in his voice, and I have to struggle against the urge to simply end the connection. But no, I just take a deep breath and try to rearrange my thoughts.

  “Ben … this isn’t going well,” I start to stay, praying to God that my words come out truthful. “Things aren’t working out between Malcolm and I, and I --”

  “Oh, please, Athena,” he cuts me short, his tone one of amused annoyance. “Feed that bullshit to someone else. You’ve always been a shitty liar.”

  “It’s not a lie, it’s --”

  “Shut up, Athena. Remember what I told you; do your fucking job and everything will be okay. Don’t, and you and your company we’ll be fucked. For good. I can do more than just release these tapes, you know? Just like I have dirt on you, I have it on other people as well … and some of them are reporters. Can you imagine the kind of bullshit a reporter would print just to get rid of me?”

  This time I don’t say a thing. I know exactly the kind of shit a reporter would print in a situation like that. I mean, I’m working on the ruin of the man I’ve fallen for, and that because I’m being blackmailed. Printing a smear article is nothing when compared to that.

  “When did you turn into such a bastard, Ben?” I ask him, anger replacing the feelings of frustration I was feeling just minutes ago. He’s lucky he’s not here right now, because I’m not sure if I’d be able to suppress the urge to kick him in the balls.

  “I’m not a bastard, babe, I’m a realist. And I’ve always been this way… It was you who thought I was some kind of fucking Prince Charming. You’re a hot woman, Athena, but you really gotta pack those rose-colored glasses of yours.”

  I’m about to tell him to fuck off when I hear the voice a woman.

  “Who're you talking to?” I ask, and Ben says something I can’t quite hear. Then, just like that, he ends the connection. I throw my phone over to the passenger seat and close my eyes; I rub my temples with my thumbs, already feeling a headache brewing inside my skull.

  I have some choices to make, and all of them have consequences. On one hand, there’s my company; on the other, there’s Malcolm. And sitting right at the crossroad is Ben, watching my every move, his finger hovering over the Destroy Her button.

  Yeah, I’ve had better days, no doubt about that.

  Trying to take my mind out of the pool of desperation it’s falling into, I turn the engine on and place my hands on the steering wheel. I turn the radio on, and a soft jazzy voice immediately fills up the car.

  Michael Bublé.

  Fucking great.

  18

  Malcolm

  Roast beef, cheese, mustard, rye—normally all the makings of a good sandwich, but today I can't eat. Just looking at food makes me queasy.

  I chuck it into the wastebasket, disgusted with not only the food, but with myself, and with my life in general.

  What was I thinking, falling for a woman like Athena, especially given the high stakes? Of course she snuck out of my apartment—no good bye, no 'hey, it was fun, but I gotta run,' and not even a text. Karma? Luck? Fuck if I know.

  And that's what really gets me. How hard is it to send a text message?

  I've been calling her like crazy, one call after another, and texting too, but now she's giving me the silent treatment. Like I don't exist. For all I know, maybe she even had my number blocked.

  It's as if she doesn't know me.

  Her silence makes me feel feral in my vulnerability. One minute, I'm confessing my love for this women—a dangerous fucking thing to do considering this '100 Days' contest isn't even over and I have everything to lose—and the next, she's vanishing quicker than a ghost.

  I'm like a wild animal locked in this office.

  I swear I'm losing it. I'm even hoarding small things that remind me of Athena—it started out simple, keeping a small cocktail napkin from our first date, and then holding onto an earring she left behind in my bed sheets.

  Who have I become?

  I pull my cell phone from my pocket and dial her again. I listen to the phone ring, and ring, and ring before going to voicemail.

  I end the call in disgust. I refuse to leave another message.

  Then I buzz my secretary.

  "Stacey, re-schedule all of today's meetings."

  "No problem, Mr. Bane. Is everything okay?"

  "No, but it will be."

  I let go of the intercom button, and send a message to my driver.

  If Athena won't take my calls, I'll come to her and catch her off guard at her office.

  There's no way I'm going to forget this ever happened because none of this makes sense. What if she's hurt? What if something terrible has happened and I don't even know about it?

  That seems unlikely, but still … at the very least, I deserve to find out what's going on. Because at this rate, it feels like my fucking life is on hold.

  Athena has consumed me. I can't think about anything else to the point that nothing else exists.

  No amount of masturbating, working out at the gym, or whiskey drinking will erase her from my mind.

  I walk to the curb outside and see my driver standing next to the car, holding the back passenger door open.

  "Afternoon, sir. Where to today?"

  "Thanks, Henry. Take me to Millionaire Matches, Inc. headquarters."

  "Right away sir."

  Within moments, the car is pulling into the steady flow of traffic, and I sink into the soft black leather, closing my eyes.

  With my eyes shut, I can smell Athena's hair—sweet and exotic and faraway from the city—Mandarin oranges served on a slice of salty ocean. I can almost feel the way her pulse flutters in her neck, like a caged butterfly against my lips.

  Athena—the ancient Greek goddess of wisdom and war. Yes, that seems to ring true—even for this modern-day Athena.

  Before I know it, the car is pulling up to her building. It's a marvel of architectural achievement—all steel and glass as far as the eye can see.

  I thank Henry for the ride, and walk toward the building's elevators. I ride them all the way up to her office, the whole time wondering if she's going to be here.

  I walk out of the elevator, and into her office.

  "Excuse me, sir?" her secretary says, and I blow right past his desk.

  I don't have time for niceties.

  When I reach her door, it's open, and I see her.

  She's sitting behind her desk, her slender legs crossed, in a tight black skirt and blazer. She raises her eyes, and looks at me. It's not a look of surprise. In fact, her look doesn't tell me anything.

  Is it indifference that I'm sensing?

  "Where the fuck have you been?" I say. "I was worried. You slipped out of the apartment without a word, a note, a text—nothing. And then you've been refusing to answer my calls. What's going on?"

  She shrugs. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm a busy woman."

  I laugh. Two can play this game.

  "Too busy for a text?"

  "What, Mal—do I need to be at you hand and foot now? Because if that's what you think, you're talking to the wrong woman. That's not me."

  "Stop, that
's bullshit and you know it. You know I'm not asking for much."

  She shrugs again. "I don't know what you want from me."

  "You know what this is?" I say.

  "Is this a thing?"

  "That's right; it is. Your head versus your heart—your whole body is rebelling. Look me in the eyes and tell me that's not true."

  She looks at me for a second, but refuses to hold my gaze.

  And in that moment, I know I'm right. About this. About everything.

  I walk toward her, closing the distance between us and my heart is kicking in my chest.

  The way she's holding her lips slightly open, the way her tits are sitting in her blouse, like two scoops just begging to be eaten, and the way the sun from her floor-to-ceiling office windows is lighting her hair around her face—it's all making my cock throb.

  I know she can feel this too. She isn't moving. Isn't speaking.

  I'm now standing in front of her, and I brush my fingers against her lips, and drag them down her throat. I touch her lips again, and this time she opens her mouth, sucking them with her warm, velvet tongue, and it sends a bolt of electricity traveling down my spine.

  With uncontrolled lust, I grab her throat, bringing her closer to me.

  “Unbuckle my belt.”

  19

  Athena

  “Nice to see you again,” I whisper, my heart feeling like a hand grenade inside my chest. His words have awakened something visceral inside of me, and I can’t wait to obey him. Images of Malcolm taking out his frustrations on my jacket, my skirt, my blouse, my bra, and oh dear God my thong. I want him to destroy my thong. I'm getting way too far ahead of myself.