100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  There’s another pause.

  “Yes,” she says on the phone.

  “Yes, what?” I ask harshly.

  “Yes, sir,” she corrects herself. Good, she’s listening.

  “A man?” I ask with another question almost immediately.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fuck. My cock is twitching in my pants for some reason. I glance at the computer at the email from Gerard. It reads simply: URGENT. MOZOROV IS PRESSING HARD FOR COMPLETE BUYOUT.

  Whatever. I can’t give it the time it needs right now because my next question to Ashley is just, “Did you fuck him?”

  She’s either going to hang up, or she’s going to go along with what I’m saying.

  I decide to take it further and tell her, “I’m buying you right now, Misty. That means I own you. That means you do whatever I tell you to do. Tell me you understand.”

  Another pause. Has she hung up? Has she put me on mute?

  “I understand, sir,” comes her response. Her voice is soft. It’s not so sultry. It’s more real.

  “Good,” I say, unbuckling my pants and pushing them down. “Now, tell me the truth. Did you fuck him?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replies. “Yes, I fucked him.”

  “Did you cum?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” I say, not sure why I’m getting off to this, but I’m unwilling to fucking stop. “Are you touching yourself now?”

  Again, she responds without shame. “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to stop, Misty,” I say to her. I hear a whimper on the other end of the line. It sounds of disappointment. But I’m too far gone. My mind is in a haze of lust and it’s not controlling anything I say or do at this point.

  “Look south, towards downtown, Misty,” I tell her.

  “I am, sir,” she replies. “My apartment faces downtown.”

  “Do you see the spires of the city?” I ask. “Imagine the biggest one is my cock. Imagine my giant cock going inside of you. In and out. Fucking you.”

  I hear her moan.

  “Can I touch myself, sir?” she asks, a bit breathlessly.

  Jesus fuck. My cock is rock hard as I say, “No, not yet. Are you staring downtown?”

  “Yes, sir. Why am I staring out the window?” she asks.

  “Because what you see outside your window represents the highlight of human achievement, Misty,” I say to her. I’m not fucking lying, but I’m not sure why I’m telling her this. “When I was a kid in the city, my Dad would take me every Sunday to the Empire State Building so we could look out on the skyline. He would tell me that as long as I was willing to work hard, those buildings represented the idea that I could do anything.”

  “That’s sweet,” Misty says.

  Fuck. Her name is Ashley. I can’t forget that. I’m starting to think of her as Misty… as my Kitten. This is fucking dangerous.

  “Fuck sweet,” I tell her harshly, scared at how much I’ve given away. “I want you to picture my cock, Kitten.”

  “Yes, master,” she says and now I’m just completely hooked. Where the fuck did she get that in her head to call me master? “Is it hard, sir?”

  I grunt, my hand working my cock. “It’s veiny, thick, throbbing…” I start but Ashley interrupts me.

  “Can I put my mouth on it, master?” she asks. “Can I run my tongue over the tip?”

  Fucking Christ.

  “Can I run my tongue up and down the shaft, sir?” she asks with a sweeter voice and my body shudders. “Can I spit on it and then smear it over your big, throbbing head?”

  I can’t take any more, but she’s not done.

  “Can I lick the precum that’s coming out with my tongue? And then can I jerk your cock while you watch me?”

  I can’t answer. I’m too far into this fucked up world. I’m past the point of no return.

  Can I put my finger on your slit and smear that precum across the head of your cock, master?” she asks me sweetly.

  “I’m going to cum,” I manage to get out.

  “I still have my bra on because you wanted me to keep it on, do you want to cum on my tits?” Ashley asks. “My big, soft, firm, tits,” she adds for emphasis.

  “Urrgh,” I say out loud. Don’t ask me what I was trying to say because I have no fucking idea. My mind is in a state of paralysis as my orgasm rips through me and I shoot out spurt after spurt of thick, viscous cum out of my cock and onto the floor.

  I’m panting as electric shocks of pleasure race through my body and by the time I’m done I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep holding onto the phone.

  Ashley is waiting on the other end of the line. I can sense a smile on her voice as she speaks to me.

  “Can I touch myself, now, King?” she asks.

  Fuck me. I’m going fucking crazy for this girl.

  Ashley

  It’s a pleasant evening and I look out toward the Hudson River from where Arsen and I are sitting at dinner. We’re at an outdoor restaurant called Southwest New York that serves Tex-Mex near the South Street Seaport. With our table literally right next to the water, it's been a pleasant evening.

  I look at Arsen. He’s staring back at me.

  God, he’s so freakin hot. I swear, just staring into his smoldering eyes is enough to get my panties wet. The way those eyes seem to look into my soul. The way that face is shaped—it’s so lean and tight. And then there’s that body. You’ve heard me go on and on about his body before, I know, but it’s so good it’s worth saying again and again. If I could, I’d tell everyone I know. I mean, I wouldn't tell my Dad or anything, but aside from him, I’d shout from the rooftops how much I enjoyed Arsen’s bulging biceps, his 8-pack abs that are oh so defined, his powerful legs, his wonderful pecs, or his strong back.

  But while his body is great to run my hands over and lick, I think what is completely unforgettable is basically that 12-inch cock that dangles from his legs. When that thing gets hard, I can barely wrap my hands around it. It’s as thick as my wrist. And it's so painfully delicious when it stretches my insides out.

  “What are you thinking?” Arsen asks me, reaching across the table and taking my hand. I can see the tattoos go up and down his arm. “Tell me.”

  I take his hand and smile at him. I’ve never had a man sit across from dinner and ask me what I’m thinking. To take an interest the way that Arsen has.

  He’s wealthy, cute, and considerate.

  How is it that I'm not head over heels in love with this guy?

  I can’t believe I’m sitting here complaining to you about this. I must sound like the world’s most spoiled girl or something.

  But it’s true; I can't say that I’m in love with Arsen. And I know the one major reason for that.

  Henry. Client 5.

  It’s been two days since the last time we spoke at noon. Two days since I’ve heard his powerful, commanding voice. A voice that basically says fuck the world—these are his rules and you can either obey them or get off the bus. Two days since he basically made me his over the phone.

  Do you want to know something? I haven't told anyone yet, because I’ve kept it a secret.

  Two days ago, when we were together on the phone, when he told me he wasn’t going to let me touch myself, I got so turned on just listening to himself telling me what I could or couldn't do. When he forced me to call him “sir” or “master” or "king," and started telling me to imagine Lower Manhattan and imagine his cock and how it would feel to have him plunge into and out of me, I swear to God I was dripping wet. I was panting. I could tell my heart rate had increased just from hearing his voice.

  But that’s not what I have to tell you.

  What I have to tell you is this. As I got him off with my words, it was turning me on like nothing else too—to the point where listening to my words and the effect it was having on him was only making me hungry to hear more. When he finally came, my body was a quivering mess. I hadn’t been allowed to touch myself and it was like desire was ov
erwhelming every aspect of my body.

  When King Henry finally let me touch myself, I desperately brought my fingers to my clit underneath my panties. And it took me maybe five seconds and three flicks before I exploded.

  That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last 48 hours. What kind of a man can get me so keyed up, so on the brink already, that it took absolutely nothing to push me over the edge?

  It’s like he can make me cum with just the sound of his voice.

  You’re probably shaking your head at me. Thinking I’m just a stupid little girl, but I swear to God, I honestly think that if he wanted to, he could get me to cum just by talking to me.

  But it's not just about cumming. He said something to me the last time we talked. He talked about how his Dad would take him out to the Empire State Building to give him a view of the city. Telling him that anything was possible. It sounds almost like…

  “It’s like you’re a million fucking miles away,” Arsen says again and I snap back to reality.

  I shake my head and smile at him.

  “I was just thinking about work,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. I don’t want to lie to Arsen. I don’t want to throw away what I have with him. Because it's good. He’s a good man. He may have been a bad boy before this, but I know he’s trying for my sake to rein it in.

  We haven’t had the conversation yet about being exclusive. And I’m glad. Because as much as I like Arsen, I can’t explain it but my mind keeps going back to Client 5. To Henry.

  “You mean the guys who call in to talk to you?” Arsen asks and gets up.

  We’ve finished dinner and decide to take a walk down the waterfront. It’s a nice evening and the water is peaceful.

  “I have maybe about 6 regulars who call in,” I tell him as I grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

  I may not be completely sure about Arsen, but he’s here, with me, right now. The sex is phenomenal. I would have never imagined sex could be this good before I met him. And he’s kind, considerate, and open. I don’t want to lose him because of Henry, who I’ve never met.

  But I’m still looking forward to the Client 5 call I have penciled in for tomorrow morning.

  “Well, you’re regulars probably see you the same way I do,” Arsen says, looking at me. “They probably know a girl like you doesn't come by every day and they’re doing whatever they can to hold onto you.”

  It’s like he’s not jealous at my job at all, and that’s the surreal part. Does he know that my words are supposed to get other men’s cocks hard? That I tell them the nastiest things I can think of so that these men shoot loads of cum all over themselves? That even more than porn, the act of talking dirty over the phone is perhaps the most intimate one can get before actually having sex in person?

  “It’s such a nice night tonight,” I say out loud, trying to change the subject.

  Arsen looks around, and humors me with a smile. “Ever since they finally finished construction around the Freedom Tower, this area has gotten a lot nicer without so much construction,” he says to himself.

  “Did you follow the construction or something?” I ask him. “I’ve never really had strong opinions on it one way or other.”

  He sighs. “I’ve always wanted to build things,” he says out loud, more to himself than anyone. “I just never got the chance.”

  I’m silent for a moment, but I think about Arsen. A son who wanted to do so much, but raised by his father in a completely different way and now managing reluctantly a family business he wanted no part of.

  I squeeze his hand. “Well, soon you’ll have sold everything your Dad left you, and you’ll be able to spend your time the way you want to,” I tell him as we slow down and he faces me. “Maybe you can go build a building somewhere somehow.”

  Arsen looks at me as I smile at him. I’m trying to make my face look cute. He breaks into a bittersweet smile and takes a step closer.

  “I want to spend that time with you,” he tells me and I can feel his breath on my face.

  I want him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close to him. To hold me and never let me go. I want to squirm against his body, feel his cock grow hard. I want it to poke into my crotch. I want to feel it against my ass. I want to boil his blood with my body. To tempt him. To tease him.

  All that may happen with this kiss.

  But then, there’s always going to be Client 5 in the back. Because no matter what I do with Arsen tonight, no matter how many ways I give myself to him—no matter how much I let him own me, in the morning I’ll be rushing out the door to take the call from Client 5.

  Arsen brings his face down to meet mine.

  And I take a step back.

  He looks at me with concern and tears start to come down my eyes.

  There’s only one thing for a lady to do in this situation.

  I turn around and start to run away.

  Arsen

  What the fuck just happened? I say something nice—and true—and she bolts on me? And crying! I look in astonishment as she runs down the sidewalk, my body frozen by surprise. Wake up, Arsen! I can’t let her go like that!

  I start running down the street, my feet flying over the pavement as I close in on her. Her heels are clicking, the sound getting louder with each step I take. Then she looks over her shoulder and, realizing I’m following after her, cuts into a dark alley.

  What the hell is she thinking? Running into a dark and deserted place like that this late? Now I really can’t let her go.

  I reach for her, my fingers curling around her wrist as I pull her in. She turns to me, her makeup slightly smeared from the tears. With one hand around her waist I take the other one to her face and brush her cheeks gently.

  “What were you thinking, Ashley? You can’t wander away like that, it’s dangerous,” I say, waving at the deserted alley, the pale lights of the street barely reaching us.

  She says nothing, her wide eyes staring into mine as if she truly doesn't know what to say. My heart is beating like a motherfucker, making my bones rattle. I can’t lose her! Fuck, I can’t even believe I’m saying this—me, Arsen fucking Hawke. But it’s true… I can’t stand the thought of losing her. I need to say something, to make whatever hesitancy she holds inside her heart go away… But, just like her, I can’t find the words.

  She’s breathing hard now, her body so close to mine I can almost feel the warmness of her skin through her clothes. Fuck, my cock is already twitching just by having her this close. There’s something about her that makes me lose all control… And even though we’re outside, I can’t help but let instinct take over. I push her back against the wall, my hands on her waist as I lean in to kiss her.

  I swear, I just wanted one more kiss. But now that my lips are on hers, there’s no way that we’re going to be able to stop. No fucking way. Her hands are already on my back, pulling me in, all of her hesitation thrown out of the window. I let my hands go up her side and, grabbing a handful of her beautiful blonde hair, I yank on it; she throws her head back, opening her eyes and returning my gaze. One look and I can already tell she’s as hungry as I am for more.

  Who cares if we can be caught going at it? Who gives a fuck, really? If anything, it only adds to the moment.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” I tell her, breathing as hard as she is. My blood’s boiling, my heart’s drumming and my cock is already hard as steel. I’m ready for battle. “Right now,” I add, leaning forward and pressing my lips against her neck. Her hands slide down my back and she traces the contour of my belt; then, stretching her fingers wide, she grabs my cock harshly, all of her desire contained in that one simple motion.

  Still kissing her neck, I let one hand fall to her chest and I squeeze her right breast, feeling the perfect fleshy curves molding to my hand. My other hand goes around her waist and I cup her ass, the memories of her naked body flooding me at once as I grab her. My cock pulses against her hand, so strongly I wouldn’t be surpris
ed if it just ripped its way out of my pants. Yes, I want to fuck her this bad.

  She curls her fingers even more tightly around my shaft, slightly moving her wrist up and down and stroking me over the fabric of my pants. Acting as if it had a will of its own, the hand I have on her breast falls down her chest and goes straight to between her thighs; bunching up her dress, I flatten the palm of my hand there, cupping her pussy harshly over all of her clothing. There are layers of fabric between the two of us, but the anxious way she’s breathing already tells me she is soaking wet. And, fuck, just thinking of that makes me want to go down on my knees and taste her right here. And why the fuck not?

  Both my hands go to her waist and, pinning her against the wall, I go down. My eyes never leave hers, a spark of desire flickering in her face as my knees touch the floor; she knows what’s coming, and she can’t wait for it. I throw a quick glance to the side, making sure there’s no one around to see us, and I go for it: I hook my thumbs on the hemline of her dress and lift it up to her waist, pressing my mouth over her thong at the same time.

  The moment my lips touch the wet black fabric, I breathe in. Her scent hits me at once, sweet and intoxicating… Just like a drug, it makes me fucking high. I forget all about where I am; the only thing my mind can process is the perfect wet pussy right in front of me. I suck on her over the fabric, her juices hitting my tongue immediately; swear to God, I suck so hard I think her thong goes dry. With a flick of my fingers I push it to the side then, my lips meeting her labia. I close my eyes, savoring her most intimate parts with my mouth. How can a woman taste this fucking amazing? I could eat her out for hours and hours.

  Slightly tilting my head sideways, I suck her folds inside my mouth, her juices coating the inside of my mouth. I part my lips, letting my tongue run over the length of her pussy, and then I circle her soft clit. She trembles slightly, her hands now on my head, disheveling my hair. I place one hand under her ass, forcing her to lift one leg up; she does it willingly, placing her leg over my shoulder. Grinning, I pull back just for one second, my eyes opening as I look up at her: she has her eyes closed, her back against the wall as her chest rises and falls softly. God, she looks so fucking sweet.