by Alexis Angel
Reeling in a new client is always particularly exciting, especially if they’re new money. They step out of the company limo all dazzled, and then I make them cream their fucking pants by wining and dining them in restaurants they couldn’t conceive of.
I have no right to bitch. The money is burning a hole in my pocket like always. I could get all the whiskey, entertainment, and women I desire. Those fancy doors aren’t locked against me—I’m the one choosing not to go through them.
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been bored in my life. Except for those brief moments when I’m waiting for another drink because some dick waiter forgot.
It’s against one’s best interest to let Will Ambrose’s glass go dry.
I rake a hand through my hair and walk away from the buildings into a small park. It’s warm here; the sunlight, mostly blocked by the tall buildings, is leaning through to make the leaves and flowers bright.
I usually avoid these places—all the families and shitheads seem to congregate here.
I don’t know. I need something different.
I’m trying not to admit it to myself. That fucking bimbo isn’t interesting me. I feel my mouth twist in a scowl, causing a woman nearby to shepherd her children quickly past me.
Yeah, I know my tantrum face is pretty bad. I don’t blame you, Susie homemaker.
Keep your kids away from the angry man.
Angry. Frustrated. Fucking pissed.
I just fucking want Kat. I want those velvet golden eyes drinking me in, holding me in her gaze, staring straight at me as I slide my thick cock into her. I want to feel those velvety thighs against my hips.
I long to lose myself in that thick, dark hair. I want to hear that deep laugh as she tells me in the most sensual way possible what to touch and how.
I’ve never been with a woman like her before. I’m used to limp dolls who blink obligingly as they get on their knees or open their legs and can’t even say more than ‘oh’ as I get them off.
Kat tears into me with her nails. She grips me hard with her thighs. She looks at my cock like it’s a big carton of that really fucking fancy ice cream, and she’s going to eat every single bit, even as gorgeous creamy drops spill over her lips.
Oh, fuck—now I’ve got a boner.
Shit! This isn’t helping!
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I draw it out, answering it immediately.
It must be Kat.
Okay, I want it to be Kat.
I look down with anticipation at the screen. It’s my fucking sister.
I’ve barely tapped the green light on the screen when her voice comes screaming out—she must’ve started chewing me out even before I answered. That’s a fine Ambrose rage she’s got going on.
A couple of seconds go by, and I’m still not sure what I’m in trouble for this time. I sigh and blast right back.
“If you don’t chill your tits, Medusa, I’m going to hang the fuck up and shatter my phone right here and now! Speak to me like a human being, or I swear I’m going to fuck off so hard, your screaming won’t be able to reach me!”
A few parents and kids nearby start hurriedly packing up and rushing away, the moms shooting me glares.
Fuck off.
Sarah breathes heavily for a few seconds. Trying to remember the beginning of the rant so she can start again, I bet. She has total recall and one-hundred percent comprehension so I’m not worried she lost her train of thought.
“What the literal fuck, Will? You fucked her, didn’t you? You seriously did fuck her! Already?”
I can’t resist. It’s got to be done. Actually, this is the first time I’ve smiled all day.
“Who?”
“Kat, you fucker. You absolute fucking dick! Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”
Oh yeah. This smile feels good. It’s getting bigger too.
“What business is it of yours?”
“William,” Sarah snaps at me in a deep, controlled voice now. It scares the fuck out of all our employees when she’s too mad to yell. It’s not new to me though.
“I worked very hard to find and secure this woman. I’ve performed several projections based on her abilities, and this is the future of the company. In only a couple of days, she has significantly increased profits. You should see what she’s done with the Paxton account! I literally cannot believe you’ve done this! None of the other candidates had anywhere near her potential. I don’t have a backup plan here, Will. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
My grin is ear to ear. “No fucking clue.”
She actually growls, one of those angry exasperated growls that ends in ‘Ra!’
“Do not fuck this up, Will. I’m warning you. Don’t scare her away. You haven’t looked at the books in years; we need her.”
“Okay,” I respond. “Yes, I get that. I need her. Ambrose needs her. No argument here.”
“You can’t just see every woman as your personal fuck toy. I seriously don’t understand you.”
I’m tempted right now to tell her that it was her fucking fault all this happened in the first place. But I don’t want to argue anymore. I just want the call done; it’s not fun anymore.
I’m starting to question myself, and I hate that.
“And by the way, Will, you’re not the only one sending her flowers. It looks like she has quite a few interests and is keeping them all where she wants them. She’s a different sort of woman to the ones you’re used to—you might find she doesn’t succumb to your cock like a little love puppy.”
Sarah hangs up without goodbye, and I’m standing in a park that’s getting darker and colder by the second, feeling like I just got shot in the chest.
I check the time.
If I want to meet Kat as she gets home from work, I have to go—right now.
I start walking, but I’m not rushing, not yet. Conflict is blooming in my chest and starting to attack me right in the balls.
I thought she was into me for more than just my cock…
It really felt that way.
Maybe it was all fake. Maybe she was just having a good fuck. She said she doesn’t believe in love.
I come out of the park, looking towards the taxi drivers waiting.
Further up the street, bars are just starting to come alive.
Maybe Kat is better off without me. Maybe she doesn’t give a fuck.
The truth is, she doesn’t need me, and that hurts more than I thought it could.
Katrina
I haven’t had a chance to touch my phone all day. I had literally no space between calls to talk to Will…and I was actually really looking forward to chatting with him.
Now, while I’m rushing home, all I can think about is how he’ll smile when I walk through the door. I can’t wait to see that award winning, pearly white smile.
And maybe I’ll just throw myself on my knees and rip his pants down the second I walk in the door. I’m already missing the taste of his cock and the look of complete wonder he gets as I slide it down my throat.
I’m a woman with a hunger, and I know exactly what I’m craving right now.
Despite my talk with Sarah, I want to see him. I’m not totally sure what her game is, but I know enough about playing to just be cool and wait for the true motives to sift to the surface.
Maybe she’s super protective of Will. Maybe she thinks I’ll screw up the company if I’m busy fucking him. It doesn’t matter though—he’s the one I need to see, and this is on my own fucking time.
I’m having a great time with his body—and it’s not like I expected a man like him to be anything short of drowning in pussy.
But now? I own that dick now. It’s all mine. I paid enough for it—and just based on how things have been between Will and I, I’m confident that I’m going to keep it, too.
But as I come through the front door of my apartment, I can tell straight away that the place is empty.
A sudden burst of anger or maybe just utter disappoint
ment blooms in my chest.
Gone.
All that sending him away I did at first…
Not calling him all day.
The shit with Sarah…
Why the fuck did I let myself even hope?
I know better than this.
Did I think just because a guy is delivered to my door tied up with a bow, he’s going to be perfect?
Well no, I honestly didn’t. I tried to keep myself out of it emotionally.
Just because the sexual chemistry is fucking insane, doesn’t mean I have to go and develop feelings for him.
I stand there, conflicted. I don’t want to admit to myself that this sharpness in my chest means I’m missing him, and not just his cock.
My eyes burn, but I don’t let myself cry. Fuck that.
I sit down at the coffee table and pour a whiskey. It burns, but I hardly feel it. The spreading warmth in my stomach offers a strange sense of relief.
Everything is okay. It really is. I know the truth about love, about men—I just forgot it for a short time.
Nothing wrong with a fun ride on a nice dick—and boy is it a nice, hard dick.
I let myself slip into thinking he’s something he’s not, and now, this situation is entirely on me.
I know I don’t have time for these ridiculous romantic entanglements. I know how they all work out. I was right the whole time, and I let my whole guard down over it anyway.
I pour another whiskey as I open the laptop.
I guess I’d better put my mind to something more useful than wondering about Will. I can get some work done real quick.
I’m planning a little research on company resources to track our competition, when I find myself lingering over the search bar.
All my life, I’ve found the answers myself.
I don’t listen to what people say, or at least, I don’t make my decisions based on their opinion.
I always get the facts.
I can’t fucking resist. Quickly, I type in ‘Will Ambrose’.
And there it is.
Photo after photo of Will with different models on his arm. Sometimes two at once.
Party pictures, half-naked on a yacht, opening a restaurant—all with different women in every picture.
I scroll down and find a few threads from some of these girls—Twitter feeds and Facebook rants.
‘We had the best sex, and he never called me back.’
‘I woke up naked on the beach.’
‘He left the hotel without saying goodbye.’
Page after page of results, I see the same things, almost all from different sources, and that’s when I know I can’t kid myself anymore.
How many of these can be real? Page after page of results, I see the same things, almost all from different sources, and that’s when I know I can’t kid myself anymore.
Fuck. I feel really fucking stupid now.
I’m reaching for my phone—when I hear the buzzer.
I can feel that icy calm coming over me, the one that hits me in board meetings and scares the living fuck out of every old, fat businessman I’ve ever seen.
It’s like controlled adrenaline, and I almost hope Will isn’t the one buzzing. It’s not going to be pretty.
I open the door, and there he is, Mr. Hard Cock, with glinting wolf eyes and a cheeky grin.
Oh fuck. My heart softens. I feel it.
Fuck you, traitor! I’m not ruining my life for a man!
Certainly not for this one.
“Honey, I’m home!” he says, walking in past me. “Miss me?”
I turn slowly, closing the door. I cross my arms and follow him to the kitchen counter where he starts unloading containers of Thai food and pulls a bottle of wine out of the bag.
“I thought I’d bring you dinner—and wine. Expensive as hell, but worth it. You like red, don’t you?”
He’s standing there, stupidly holding up the bottle and staring at me, realizing something is terribly wrong.
“What’s up, Kat?” he carefully inquires.
“I…I thought you were gone.”
My voice is dangerous and low.
“I popped out for dinner, Kat. Nothing more. It’s fucking cute that you were worried, though. Wanna eat?”
The look on his face is sweet—apologetic, even…
But it doesn’t make up for the chat that I had with Sarah earlier.
Or all those comments about him online.
“I had good reason to be worried,” I admit to him. “I’ve been hearing…a lot of things about you, Will.”
“Good things, I hope. Why don’t you get naked, babe? We can eat in bed if you want.”
I think that’s what does it.
Why don’t you get naked?
It’s like he knows exactly how to say the wrong thing at the exactly wrong time.
“What even are we, Will? Friends? Lovers? Employer/Employee? Am I just some kind of challenge for you? Is your sister in on it? Is this a family joke?”
“Whoa, baby, I don’t know what crazy train you’re on—”
“I’m not crazy, Will. I’ve seen the pictures on the internet! With the catty way your sister broke the news to me, I get the feeling she’s not thrilled with me either, but I can’t say I give a fuck.”
Will’s face falls. “Sarah talked to you, then.”
“That’s not the fucking point. The point is you come in here, ready to make another notch on your bedpost when I’m trying to make a fucking career for myself. How carefully did you plan this? Was it all just so you could have a laugh at the meeting the next day? Getting between the legs of your new CEO so you know you’ve got her tamed by your cock? Did it emasculate you too much to have a woman do your job?”
As I come down on him, his face slowly gets darker and darker.
His eyebrows lower, his jaw gets hard, and those gorgeous eyes go as dark as the sea before a storm.
“Look, Kat. You bought me. I don’t know where all this is coming from—but I have a fucking guess. Sarah has you convinced that this is some kind of conspiracy against you—but I need you to take off your tin foil hat for a second and listen to reason. I’m innocent in this. I don’t like being blamed for things I didn’t do. I should at least enjoy the sin, if I’m going to be accused. And you get this crazy side of yours back in the box, or this is not going to work.”
I lean forward, putting my hands on the counter.
If I take them off the counter, I don’t know what I’ll do next.
Kill him. Kiss him. Rip his fucking clothes off.
“I’m not fucking crazy,” I tell him, finally. “You’re the one with your playboy reputation splattered across the fucking internet—and your nasty little sister running around trying to tell me what’s what.”
“What are you saying, Kat?”
“I think you should go,” I tell him solemnly. “Until, at least, we’ve both sorted our shit out.”
He puts his hand on his forehead for a second and shakes his head.
“What the fuck is even going on right now? What’s your fucking problem?”
It breaks my heart to see him like this…but the way that everything is compounding, I know that we both need space right now.
“Look, this is my fault. I let a good fuck go too far—and it won’t happen again.”
“This was more than just a good fuck, Kat—and you know it,” he says, his voice shaking. “But if you want me out, I’ll go.”
As he walks away, he has the look of a puppy dog that’s just been beaten with a newspaper.
For a split second, I think I might be wrong.
But I can’t be. He’s a player—considering his reputation, it was only just a matter of time before I found myself played.
Right?
William
I can’t win. She won’t let me stay and explain. She won’t let me leave.
As I stare at her, all I feel is a dark, hollow cave opening in my chest.
I knew it, or I should have k
nown it.
A woman good enough to intrigue me with both her mind and body won’t even look at me.
My playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite me in the ass.
I’m fucking hot, loaded, and my cock stands up six times a night just to remind me it’s there.
I’m in the top circles surrounded by women.
Some of those women are downright fucking nasty, too. They’re looking for a millionaire husband, and fuck me, does that make it hard to trust a smart woman.
So yeah, I did start to slide towards the dumber ones who just want to ride on the yacht or go to the big parties. They’re super fun to fuck, and they don’t complain when I ditch them.
Even if they get upset, they aren’t going to chase me down over it.
I had to embrace that playboy shit.
Once it starts, there’s no point trying to clean up. No one’s going to fucking believe it.
I had a different kind of woman here in Kat. Smarter than the smart ones.
How was I supposed to know that I’d wind up fucking falling for her?
Kat can see through me—or so I thought, when she was grinding herself against me, looking straight into me with those gold eyes.
She’s even more beautiful right now, kicking me out the door.
Her skin is flushed, her muscles are rigid.
Her back is straight so she can look me right in the eye.
She’s blazing like a warrior goddess, and even now…I want to fuck her silly.
I want to grab her shoulders and kiss her, while she’s still yelling at me.
As I slip my tongue between her lips, I’ll reach down with the other hand and feel how she’s getting wet just from my lips on hers…
But none of that is going to happen. .
This was something different for me, I thought she knew that.
But to her, I’m nothing but a fucking street dog, sniffing around anything warm, hoping it’ll let me lie on top of it for a while.
She doesn’t even fucking realize how she’s changed me yet.
How that life is behind me.
How fucking bad I just want to be hers.