The Billionaire’s CamGirl

by Wylder, Penny

  “You seem like you’re pleased with how that went.” It’s my mother. This meeting was the final one before we sign the papers to officially become silent partners in this advertising agency. It’s a match made in corporate heaven. They need money for an international expansion and we now have an agency in our portfolio to handle our PR.

  “It’s a solid partnership, Mom. I was confident in all the details before this meeting. I don’t know why we had to have another with all three of us here today,” I say, gesturing toward Ryan who’s outside the conference room, leaning over the receptionist’s desk and leering at her.

  “Well we just wanted to be sure this went off without a hitch. A show of family unity, even if you can’t stand your brother,” she says. “So how have you been? It’s been months since we’ve really talked.”

  “Here, Mom?” I say, indicating the generic conference room we’re sitting in. “You want to catch up now?”

  “No time like the present. Dad told me you called him a week ago, asking about the Fifth Avenue apartment, wondering if you could move in, make it your home base. Are you sick of London suddenly?”

  “I’m looking for a change, that’s all. And with this new deal, it would make sense for me to be close by,” I say, not revealing my real intentions. To be close to Weaver.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” she says, but quickly adds, “Just run it by your grandfather. You’ll see him this week. He’s called me this morning and requested you go see him in Paris as soon as possible.”

  “No,” I shoot back without hesitation. “That won’t work for me. Send Ryan.”

  “He was adamant that it be you, Chris. You don’t have any choice here,” she says, leaving no room for arguing. “Don’t forget, you work for him. Without him, you wouldn’t have these opportunities to jet around the world and dip into a very deep trust fund. To change cities like most men change underwear.”

  “What good is any of it if my life is dictated by the old man’s whims?” I ask, frustrated that I’ll need to leave Weaver much sooner than I thought. “The last time I dropped everything to see him it was to approve a new paper stock for his business cards.”

  “If you’re worried about leaving your sidepiece behind, bring her with you,” Ryan adds helpfully, walking into the conference room.

  “Sidepiece?” My mother’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Ryan’s caught her attention. “First of all, Ryan, don’t be crude. Second of all,” she says, turning toward me, “do you have a girlfriend?”

  Four hours ago, I was walking on clouds on Central Park South, thinking about Weaver and all the plans I had once I moved to New York to be closer to her, and now I’m in hell. My mother won’t let me go without knowing every single detail and I have to leave New York immediately for France.

  “Thanks Ryan,” I say sarcastically to my brother, who’s grinning at me like the asshole he is. “Yes, Mom, I have a girlfriend. That’s actually one of the reasons I was thinking of relocating here.”

  “So it’s serious?” Ryan pipes up. I ignore him. The less Ryan knows about my life, the better. My mother is scrutinizing me, and I can tell she’s curious too. She keeps staring at me, waiting for more details, but I just stare back, silently. Finally, realizing I’m not volunteering any more information, she gathers her papers and briefcase and walks toward the door.

  “Christopher,” she says. My full name; that’s never a good sign. “It’s clear you’re not going to tell me about your mystery friend, so I guess I’ll just have to get the information first hand. Dinner tonight. Eight o’clock. The Supper Club. Bring her.”

  It’s not an invitation I can refuse.

  Two more useless meetings and a business lunch later, I’m back at the Plaza Hotel, practically running through the lobby and sliding into the elevator right before it closes. The older couple inside give me a peculiar look, and I smile back at them. Despite the change in plans tonight and the inquisition Weaver and I are sure to experience at dinner, I can’t keep a smile off my face. Weaver is positively intoxicating. I thought about her all day, and now that I’m minutes from seeing her, I can hardly stand it. We texted a couple of times during the day, and she said she’d be here at five after dropping off Kate at the airport, but I still feel anxious, like she may just slip between my fingers. It’s hard to believe that this is real.

  I pause at the door and listen for any sounds inside. It’s silent. I slide in my keycard and hold my breath, opening the door slowly. It’s dark inside, and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust. But there she is, standing by the window, completely naked. She looks as beautiful as always. Her soft features are glowing in the light from the street, her hair frames her face gently, light waves across her forehead. And then she does me in. She turns toward me, and even though her body is fucking fantastic, it’s her smile that has me stalking toward her across the room. The way she looks at me with complete acceptance and warmth and promises. Sexy promises and playful promises. Promises I’m too afraid to speak yet, unless I jinx them.

  “I thought I told you on the bed,” I say, tossing my briefcase aside and taking off my jacket in the few steps it takes to reach her.

  “I couldn’t resist this view,” she says. “I love watching that horse down there, around and around the park he goes.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and look down to where she’s pointing. The handsome cab is pulling up in front of the park, and as one couple climbs down, another waits to climb in.

  Her skin feels so warm under my fingers, and I squeeze her extra hard, convincing myself that she’s real, she’s mine. “I particularly like this view,” I whisper in her ear, looking down her neck, at her breasts, her nipples hard from standing so close to the cold glass. “I haven’t thought about anything else all day, you know. You ruined me for business today.” I press my lips to her neck and feel her pulse beating steadily beneath my lips. She smells fresh, like the citrus soap in the hotel shower. “You smell so good,” I say, nibbling the shell of her ear and feeling her skin come alive under my touch with goosebumps and shivers. “Come with me.” I pull her backwards until I feel the bed behind me. I turn her around and kiss her, my tongue delving deep into her mouth and then seeking her neck, kissing up and down in the way she loves that has her grabbing at my ass and pulling me closer. But I’m not ready. Not yet.

  I push her backwards onto the bed. She lays there, propping herself up on her elbows and watching me expectantly. I don’t plan to disappoint her. I take my time undressing despite the growing need in my cock. She’s laid out for me, a perfect feast, and the longer I wait, the better it will be. Her eyes are on me and they’re hungry. I unbutton my shirt slowly, enjoying the tension I see growing on her face. When it’s off, I throw it aside. I’d planned to take off my pants, so I can feel her completely, skin to skin, but then I see it. The way she quirks her head a bit to the side, the way her lips are parted, the way her hips dip into the bed, as if there’s something urgent happening between her legs. And I’m helpless to ignore that need, those signs that she wants me, that I’m affecting her like that. I don’t wait. I drop to my knees at the side of the bed and pull her halfway off of it by the ankles. She squeals in surprise, but it quickly turns to a moan as I latch my mouth over her pussy. I spread her open with my fingers, and lick her from top to bottom. I rest my mouth over her, letting her earthy scent fill my nostrils, her flavor bathes my tongue. I moan into her and she jumps, her hands flying to my head and grasping at my hair. I swipe at her clit with my tongue and feel her jump underneath me. I press a hand flat against her stomach to keep her still. I lick her again and feel her abs tighten beneath my palm. Again. And again. Another lick, but this time I look up at her, and see her watching me. The expression on her face, the unabashed lust, makes my cock strain against my wool pants, and I have to reach down to stroke it.

  I catch her clit between my lips and circle it with the tip of my tongue, swirling one way and then the other. The way she tightens her grip on my hair
tells me exactly the spot she likes. I concentrate on the left side, stiffening my tongue and stroking there, feeling her clit grow firmer and fatter. She’s humming, and every once in a while, I see her shoulders jolt forward, and I know I’m on the right track. I pull back then, not wanting her to come too soon, and slide my fingers inside her, pumping in her wet pussy and stroking up, feeling the spongy spot that drives her wild. I stroke slowly there, and watch her lay back down, luxuriating in the slow build-up. She’s so wet her juices have dripped down my palm, and I can’t resist tasting her again. I keep fucking her with my fingers while I devour her, alternating the speed. Just as I feel her thighs tensing around my head, I slow down, until I hear her humming again, low in her chest. I bring her close to edge, and then back down again, over and over until her head is lolling and her fingernails are like claws on my scalp.

  “Fuck Chris,” she’s repeating, and my name turns into deep moan that fills the room. The sound of her voice and how rough she’s getting send an animalistic surge through me. I have to be inside her. I speed up my fingers inside her, and with my other hand, I pull back the hood of her clit and make direct contact on the sensitive nub with my tongue. She bolts up and pins my head in place, grinding into my face and chanting, “Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop. That feels so good.” I feel her the walls of her pussy clench around my fingers as she comes, and she gets wetter, her moans are turn into a low, guttural grunt. She falls back on the bed and I pull out my fingers, thoroughly drenched.

  I can’t wait a second longer. As I stand my hands are already fumbling with my belt and zipper. I push down my pants just far enough so my cock springs free. I don’t think I’ve ever been harder, and I stroke the top of it, spreading precum around the head and hissing from the sensitivity. I catch Weaver’s eye. Her chest is rising and falling, her entire body glowing. I reach down and lift up her legs, rubbing up and down her smooth skin, from her knees up to her toes. I kiss her ankles and the insole of her foot. Her pussy is spread out below me, and in one swift motion I plunge into her, pleasure searing through my body. I fuck her like this, her legs pressed tightly against my chest, her tits bouncing as I pound into her with full force. I lift her a little higher, so her hips come off the bed, and sparks shoot behind my eyes because this angle is perfect and I’m hitting her deeper than I ever have before. I’m in complete control of her, using her body however I want. I imagine I could do anything to her right now and she wouldn’t object, and a surge of power goes through me and I thrust into her even harder.

  “I want to come inside you. I want to fill you up with my hot cum,” I say, my voice strained because I’m getting so close, to the point of no return. “Can I?”

  “Fuck, yes,” she moans. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  My energy feels coiled to a central point in my body, and when she tells me she wants to feel me come inside her, everything comes into sharp focus. I can feel her pussy squeezing me so hard, I hear the wet slap of my balls against her ass, and hugging her legs close to my chest, I thrust my hips, hitting her over and over until I feel the first spurts of cum shooting into her. I hold her hips tightly against me as I explode, jerking erratically, throwing back my head in a growl. I stay there, buried inside her, loving the way my cock feels soaking inside her.

  When my vision comes back into focus, I fall onto the bed beside her, completely spent. We’re both staring up at the ceiling, panting, catching our breath. The desire to see her face is undeniable and I roll onto my side, kissing her lips, feeling her shallow breath beneath my mouth. “You’re amazing.”

  “That was all you,” she laughs. “Can I assume that’s the ‘girlfriend treatment’?”

  “You can,” I say. I lower my hand to her pussy and feel my cum mixed with her own juices dripping out . It’s so fucking hot playing with it, spreading it over her pussy lips and dipping down to her asshole. Her eyes are starting to roll back in her head, and I know if I don’t stop soon, I won’t be able to have the conversation I need to have with her

  I pull my hand away and she huffs a little sound of disappointment.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, spreading some of the moisture around her nipple to see it glisten. “I’ll get back to that in a minute. But there’s something I have to talk to you about. Ask you about, really.”

  Her pretty face is clouded with a look of concern, and I immediately try to reassure her. “It’s nothing bad, I promise you. Don’t make that face,” I say, trying to smooth the little creases that have formed between her eyes.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “Well, I saw my mom today, and Ryan, and he mentioned you. To her.” I pause, because even though things seem to be going great between us, I’m about to take things to a whole other level. “There’s no other way to say this. I told my mother about you and she wants to meet you. She wants to meet my girlfriend.” I smile, because even though I was nervous to say that, it actually feels fucking great. “My mother requests she meet my girlfriend,” I say it again.

  “You like saying that, don’t you boyfriend?” she says, rolling onto her side to face me. “Boyfriend. Girlfriend. You know, you’re kind of romantic. You’re a fucking animal in bed,” she says, reaching down to my cock that stirs the second I feel her fingers, “but a very romantic animal.” She’s stroking me now, her hand easily gliding over my cock, still wet from fucking her. Everything in the world is starting to fade away except for her steady hand on my dick. I lay back to enjoy it. “You like this, baby?” she asks.

  “Oh yeah,” I say. Then before I lose all sense of time and place, I remember to add, “We just have to make sure to be wrapped up in time. The reservation’s at eight.”

  14

  Weaver

  I’m a whirling dervish in my bedroom. Clothes, purses, jewelry are thrown everywhere, as I search for the perfect “meet the mother” outfit. If Chris thought I’d spend another hour in bed with him after he sprung these last minute dinner plans on me…well he was right. So now I’m fucked (literally twice fucked and figuratively) because I have twenty minutes to hop into a cab and get to The Supper Club, a fancy midtown restaurant, to meet Mrs. Beliem.

  This morning at breakfast with Kate, I laid it all out for her. I told her about my date with Chris last night and how when we parted this morning, he let me know he was serious about me. And I admitted to her that even though I know it’s fast, I feel like this could lead somewhere. Kate’s duty as best friend is to be my cheerleader, but also to be pragmatic when she sees I’m floating three feet above the ground. She told me she was happy for me, that she hopes it leads somewhere good, but she also warned me to kick him in the balls and run if he dropped to a knee and proposed anytime soon. I laughed and told her not to be ridiculous; we’re just dating. But now I’m zipping myself up into my cute little shirt dress, looking for my conservative heels and purse, and although it’s not “kick him in the balls and run” time yet, things have escalated quickly.

  I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m trying to strike a good balance between hot girlfriend and respectable to meet mother girlfriend. I nailed it. My red shirt dress falls below my knees, but the buttons running down the front end just above them, leaving a nice slit the rest of the way down. I leave the top button of my dress open, and it reveals just enough that you’d have to be sitting very close to me to catch a glimpse of my matching red bra. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, apply a light swipe of lip gloss, and add my favorite gold hoops from high school for good measure. I’ll look like the girl next door to his mother, and the girl of Chris’s teenage wet dreams.

  Chris insisted on picking me up even though it’s out of his way. I protested, but I’m glad he didn’t listen to me. The idea of arriving before him and sitting alone with his mother really left me sweating. I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, she’d have to be to have raised such a terrific guy like Chris, but considering our odd courtship all these months, well I’m just not confident I’ll be able to navigate the conver
sation on my own.

  But as we head downtown, I forget all about our weird history as Chris informs me of the various family dynamics he wants me to understand.

  “The way you make it sound,” I say, “your grandfather is like some bizzaro quirky puppet-master, man behind the curtain who controls all of you?”

  “In a nutshell,” he says, holding my hand in his lap. “Really it wouldn’t be so weird if Grandad was a little more…er…well not so eccentric. He’s always been an ideas man, and it served him well. He built up his company from nothing. He had an idea and he went for it. But now that he can’t travel, and the business dealings fall on my brothers and Mom, well he has an idea and we have to move on it. And most of the time he strikes gold. He has a good nose for business. But other times…” He breaks into laughter.

  “What? You have to tell me,” I say, poking his side so he’ll let me in on the joke.

  “There was this one time when he heard about a man in Mumbai who was sitting on a brilliant idea. I don’t know how he got this information, but he called me and told me I had to fly out and talk to him. See if he was looking for investors. He knew it was some type of entertainment company and he had dreams of Bollywood or something. Really, he’s a tyrant but he’s also a character, Grandad. I fly to Mumbai, wander around this market street looking for the guy. The locals point me down a road and I arrive at this small house with the wildest noises you’ve ever heard coming from the window. The guy comes out, a monkey on his shoulder, totally confused by what I’m doing there. He trained and rented out his monkeys to perform for tourists around the city.

  “I had a cup of chai with him, pet a few monkeys, and then headed back to the airport to fly home to London. When I told grandad, he just said, “Better luck next time.” It didn’t even faze him I’d flown almost 5,000 miles for a cup of tea. That’s the way he does business. And back then, it was fine, a funny adventure. But when I look to the future, I just don’t know how it’s all going to work out.”