by Abby Angel
“You’re my everything,” I tell both, feeling the warmness of their naked bodies against my own.
They wrap their big arms around me, holding me tightly.
“You are too,” they say at the same time and, right now, everything’s all right with the world.
Love—sometimes it really solves everything.
30
Natalie
Epilogue
“I have some big news for you two!” Sloane says as he walks inside the apartment, a bottle of expensive champagne tucked under his elbow.
I’m in the kitchen with Drake, taking care of dinner, and Sloane comes up behind us and smacks both of our asses at the same time. “I said I have big news,” he repeats, placing the bottle of champagne on the counter and grinning.
“Well? Out with it then!”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Dirty ‘Lil Angels just broke one hundred million dollars in revenue,” he says, barely able to contain his excitement. He grabs the bottle and pushes the cork out with a flick from his thumb, and it flies straight into the ceiling and then ricochets down to my feet.
“One hundred million?” I repeat, trying to do the math inside my head. That’s a lot of sales, especially for a company as young as mine. Well, I shouldn’t be this surprised; after all, my prototype was a complete success. But, still, one hundred million? I never expected to make that much money.
It’s been one year since launch, and a lot happened since then.
To start with, Mom is in jail. Federal charges of extortion and intent to defame were levied against her literally within hours after our press conference. We didn’t find out because…well, we were fucking. Remember?
She’s out of our lives forever.
Let’s talk about fun things.
About the companyI rented the whole floor of a building and set up a real Dirty ‘Lil Angels headquarters. I have almost two hundred people working for me now, and I figure I’ll have to open a new office somewhere in Europe soon. And perhaps another in Asia.
It’s crazy, I know, but that’s not even the best part. You see, we got married. Not in the States, of course, they’d never allow three people to love each other. That’d just be indecent. Yeah, right.
So, we did what we had to do. We flew to one of these crazy countries in Asia where everything goes, and held a private ceremony at the beach—close friends only. So, yeah, it’s not like the US government will ever recognize we’re married, but I couldn’t care less about it.
To be honest, I didn’t even care that much about getting married. But both Sloane and Drake wanted to walk up the altar arm-in-arm with me and, now that we did, I couldn’t be any happier. It was just a ceremony but, in a sense, it cemented what the three of us felt. And, besides, the ceremony was amazing.
After we returned state side, we all sold off our apartments and bought a bigger one at One57, the building where Sloane lived. Our apartment is so big that I sometimes lose myself in here—all right, all right, I’m exaggerating. But at three thousand square feet, I have to brag about it, don’t I? I mean, nine rooms? I feel like a princess.
“Let’s drink!” Sloane cries out, grabbing three glasses from the cupboard and lining them up on the counter. He fills them up, grabs one and then pushes another toward me. I just look down at the glass, hesitant, and then push it back to Sloane.
“I can’t,” I tell him, a smile creeping up on my lips. I guess now’s the time to let them know. Now, don’t look at me like that; I just found out this afternoon, and I’ve been thinking about how I should tell them. In the end, though, I guess I don’t need to be fancy about it, despite all of our money, we’re simple people, and that simplicity makes us happy.
“What? We’re celebrating! You have to drink,” Drake protests, downing his glass with one single gulp. And then his eyes widen. He takes one step back, looking at me as if I suddenly caught fire. “Holy shit.”
“What? What is it?” Sloane asks, looking from me to Drake with a confused expression on his face. Smiling, I place my hand on top of my belly.
“We’re having a baby,” I whisper, and Sloane grows so pale I think he might pass out.
“A baby? Like, you mean… You’re pregnant?” he mutters, his eyes widening as much as Sloane’s. “Gimme that,” he says, reaching for my abandoned glass and emptying it on the sink. Despite his bad boy persona, Sloane sure as hell can be the kindest man. “No more drinking for you.”
“And more for us,” Derek says excitedly, pouring himself another glass and laughing. “A baby! Jesus, can you imagine it? We’re going to be parents!”
“Parents,” Sloane whispers, more to himself than to us, allowing everything to sink in. I figure he never saw himself as a father, but the silly smile he has on his face right now tells me that he’s as happy as I am.
I smile inwardly, happiness flooding through me as I take in their reaction. I was a bit worried, you see? But that was me being silly. I was worried that they’d asked the dreaded ‘who’s the father?’, but I should’ve known better: they couldn’t care less about who’s the father. And, as far as they are concerned, they're absolutely right about that; they’re both the fathers of this child, and I know they’re both going to love him the same.
“Oh,” I cry out as Sloane sweeps me off my feet and picks me up from the floor. Carrying me in his arms, he walks out of the kitchen and then looks back at Drake over his shoulder.
“You comin’?” he asks him, “We need to celebrate.”
“I’m coming,” Drake replies with a grin, following us to the master bedroom. Sloane lays me down on the mattress gently—perhaps a bit too gently—and they both lay down by my side. I kiss Sloane and then Drake, and then I let a bright laugh slip out from between my lips.
My God, I’m so happy right now. And to think that just over a year ago my life was a complete mess: fighting my mother, trying to secure my company… And now, just look at me! I have more money than I can count and a multi-million dollar apartment!
But that’s almost insignificant, you know? Because I don’t care about money, wealth, or luxury. I’m not my mother, after all. There are only two things I care about in this world: Drake and Sloane. Well, three things now, since we’re having a baby.
Our family just keeps growing.
And so does our happiness.
A Note From Alexis
Well, that’s all folks!
Hope you had fun on Woman of the House!
I swear I talk to you more than the characters do in the story with all my notes and such.
Anyways, these books are like all-inclusive resorts. Which means I wanted to explore one of the tangents in the book with you.
So what I thought would be fun would be to include a MFM menage book that I wrote back in January as a bonus.
Also, I’m including a Mona Cox full length novella because if you liked this, you’ll LOVE Mona Cox. It’s a novella and a preview of another.
Oh, and added bonus. After that. An extended epilogue of the last thing you read, Woman of the House.
So, get comfy, keep those panties off if you’re by yourself, and get ready to have some “fun”!!
LOL.
I swear, I should be paying them to have this much fun!
<3 <3
Love,
Alexis
PS: O ya, if you ever wanna join my NL, here is the link! Naughty Angel’s Newsletter
Description
Red & Blue: A Dark MFM Romance
Take two of the most notorious men in politics and add one bad girl. Power has never corrupted so absolutely.
Liam Jeffries and Carter Andrews rule their opposing political parties. Both are leaders of men. Both can have any woman he wants. But away from the cameras lies a deep seated rivalry…
Until it explodes.
Now, with their careers on the line, and their names dragged through scandal, the one person who can save them may be more of a badass than both of them combined. Curvy
and confident Vivian Hawthorne, the youngest Senator in the history of the nation, has never met a bad boy she didn’t turn into a mewling kitten.
But can this Senator handle both their…agendas?
As Liam and Carter compete in a final showdown, a tantalizing new possibility presents itself - one that will change their lives forever, if it doesn't cost them the ultimate price.
Come raise your polls with this exciting new dark MFM ménage romance - filled with brooding bad boy alpha males and the one woman who can tame them! No cliffhangers or crossing swords, but it’s a scorcher with super-steamy scenes that you’ve come to expect from Alexis Angel. Happily Ever After? You know it.
31
Liam
THWACK!
I swear to fucking God that’s the sound that gets made when I slap Naomi’s plump, round ass. It sounds so lewd, so profane that I fucking love it.
Naomi moans and everything I said about lewd and profane is just multiplied by a factor of one hundred.
She’s a nasty woman, in a good fucking way. The kind that sticks her hand down your pants and starts massaging your cock in public. The kind that gives the wet, sloppy blowjobs that you need to clean up with a mop afterwards.
“Oh, Liam, that feels so good!” Naomi moans again, jutting her ass back against me and shucking herself against my tree trunk of a cock that’s going in and out of her like a fucking piston.
That’s right. I’m fucking the shit out of her doggie style. Not what you expected America’s youngest Mayor to be doing at the World Mayor’s Day conference in Paris, did you?
And, no, I’m not going to mimic the sounds that are happening when my cock is diving into her pussy. The slurping, sucking, slapping sounds that are coming from the two of us as my monster cock ravages this poor heiress’ pussy.
That’s right. Heiress. Scion of the Boltiador family fortune. You’ve heard of them, right? They control nearly all the fucking gold mines in the Philippines and the copper mines in Indonesia. Not just that, but the fucking oil wells off the cost of Singapore and the coal mines in Australia.
So what right? That’s probably what you’re wondering. What does an heiress’s family business have to do with me fucking her?
“Oh baby … oh baby … oh ba … ughh!” Naomi groans loudly as my cock brushes up against a delicate cluster of nerve endings inside of her, pushing her over the edge. Her lithe body trembles in my hands and I feel her knees give way. I can feel the walls of her pussy spasm and tighten against my cock. She’s cumming. Hard.
I’m not that far away from cumming myself. But before I spew obscene gallons of cum into this Trojan, let me go ahead and introduce myself to those of you who haven’t seen my chiseled face and deep icy blue eyes on the cover of Time Magazine and Newsweek. My name is Liam Jeffries.
If you just did a double take darlin’ that’s okay. Yes, I am that that Liam Jeffries. The motherfucking bad boy Mayor. America’s Youngest Mayor at 32 years old. Heartthrob of millions of women around the world who see me with my fucking ripped body – my cut pecs and my 8-pack abs. That same self-made billionaire who talked his way into Harvard University even though he came from dirt-poor backgrounds. The 6’ 3” wet dream that you have every time you see me on the news. That’s mainly because the news reporters love covering me. You should see the female reporters drool every time they interview me. And they try to find any excuse to talk to me. We’re installing a new stoplight in New Kingston—that’s the city I manage—and they’ll come to my office for an exclusive. Cat got stuck in a tree—they need to do a breaking news sit down. They're all hoping for some one-on-one time to get my rugged face on their show. And once the cameras stop rolling, if they’re female, they get on their fucking knees. They hike up their prim and proper skirts or throw off their pantsuits and moan, and start polishing my knob. They moan like a slut as they impale themselves on my monster fuck stick.
Just how big are we talking about, Liam, you’re probably asking. You’ve heard the rumors. You’ve seen the hour-long special on Access Hollywood and Extra. I think they called the show something like Liam’s Legend.
Well, it’s no fucking legend, I can tell you that. It’s fucking 12 inches of cock that swings between my legs. That’s right. Once you go Liam, you’re in a whole new world, baby.
But if you think I’m bragging, then you’re absolutely fucking right, I am. Don’t like it? Think I’m a cocky fucking asshole? Well, guess what baby? I completely agree with you 100%.
Don't get me wrong. I’m not being cocky just to be an asshole. Although that would be fun. But I got good cause to act like I own the fucking world. I came from absolutely nothing. We used to fucking live on one meal a day. My parents made sure we went to school so we would get the free lunches we were so fucking poor. I grew up in the Andrews Estate in New York City. Toughest fucking place to grow up, out of the entire city. Located smack dab in the South Bronx, I had absolutely nothing.
And now I strut the world like a fucking colossus. Because I am.
“You like that, darlin’?” I ask Naomi and she’s biting her lip as I thrust one last time before pulling out.
Naomi doesn't waste any time as she gets on her knees and takes my cock with both hands. She knows what I like. She’s heard the stories before. From the Hollywood starlets I’ve banged who still want to get in on the action. The models. The pop stars. The porn stars that swore up and down that if I ever entered the industry they would only work with me.
Before I know it, Naomi has taken off my condom and is jerking my pole with one hand as she starts massaging my balls with another and using her tongue to stimulate the underside of my tip. Jesus fuck. This dark-haired heiress is going to make me cum.
She’s not the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but I’ve seen so many that it doesn’t matter to me anymore. At least that’s what I’m starting to believe. Naomi doesn’t even have a tight pussy. You can tell all of those evenings getting fucked in Cannes and then Park City and Monaco are starting to take their fucking toll on her.
I feel a shudder travel up my spine.
“I just felt your balls tighten,” she tells me, looking up at me and giving me a slutty smile.
She’s good, I guess. But I gotta tell you, I’m not really completely here in the moment with her. A lot of sex with a lot of women, all of who compliment you on your fucking Apollo-esque body, your two arms covered in tattoos, and your monstrous cock, will leave you with a crazy detachment from the act of sex itself. This woman means nothing to me.
That’s not to say that when she wriggles her tongue on the base of my shaft and brings it up and wraps her lips around my tips and begins to suck that I don’t feel anything. Fuck, I feel enough to push me over the edge.
“Fuck,” I groan loudly and feel my body go. This is it. An arc of electricity paralyzes me as it shoots from my loins and seizes my muscles in my body and I feel my cum racing out. I see my cock explode a moment later.
Thick, long, gooey ropes of cum blast out of my slit and they make a mess on Naomi that I can tell will need a fucking beach towel to clean up.
The first shot hits her square in the forehead. It literally splatters. She angles my cock slightly down and the second shot hits her cheek and nose. The third sails into her open mouth and lands on her tongue, but it starts rolling out and dribbling off her tongue and onto her chin and her smallish tits. The fifth and sixth shots hit her chin and neck.
Fuck, just watching this woman coat her body with my cum is enough to get my cock twitching again. I’m still dribbling the last spurts and Naomi wastes no time, swallowing what’s left in her mouth and wrapping her lips around my tip, sucking again.
She tries her best to empty me out, and after several swallows, finally lets my cock free with a loud popping noise.
She starts scooping up the cum that's running in rivulets down her body as she looks at me with wanton eyes of unbridled lust.
“I think Mr. Mayor,” she coos, “That if you can help me ge
t cleaned up and get my clothes back on so we can look somewhat presentable at the rest of the conference, that I can guarantee those factory jobs in New Kingston.”
“That’s the entire refining and semiconductor operations that you’ll set up there, right? No fucking tax breaks—just a property tax abatement?” I ask, making sure about our deal.
She nods at me happily, her eyes glazed over as she takes my body in. My muscles are twitching and my cock is still at half-mast, which really only means it's shrunk to 11 inches.
“We can announce in an hour … if I get cleaned up in time.”
You remember when I asked you if you were wondering what I was doing at this World Mayor Conference? What I hoped to get by coming here?
That’s what I came for. To seduce and get 10,000 good paying manufacturing jobs to come to my city. Each job is a union job, which means fucking benefits and at least $50,000 salary with paid vacation and sick time.
In hindsight, this was a walk in the fucking park. I could have probably bargained with her for a few weeks and gotten this. But I fucked her instead and got what I wanted. It was a fun distraction to whatever those boring old geezers are talking about right now.
I mean, I’m just letting you know how I fucking roll, baby. It’s going to get a lot hotter from here on in, so either take those panties off now, or maybe get a free pair ready. Maybe also get BOB all set and make sure he’s got the batteries to last, because I’m thinking you’re gonna need it soon. I don’t lie about shit like this, not when it involves my glistening body. Not when it deals with the tattoos on my massive, muscular body—tattoos that were crafted by the most gifted artists the world over. Because this body is going to make you cum. Either it’s going to get you hot, or you're going to jump your significant other after you’re done reading about me, or if even that doesn’t happen then I fucking swear to God I’m going to come out of the screen and stand in front of you. Naked. Ready to bone.