by Alexis Angel
I lay there, utterly and completely spent. Still, I know it’s not over. Oh, no, if I know anything about Derek Lowell is that it’s not over until he says so.
I roll to my back, forcing my eyes open, and look at him with a lazy smile. He’s still kneeling, holding his huge cock in his hand, a look of pure hunger in his eyes. He grabs my hand and sits me up; he sits in front of me and pulls me to his lap, our mouths finding each other in a heartbeat. I let myself get lost in his kiss, feeling his cock so dangerously close to my pulsing pussy.
Even before he makes a movement, I let my hands go to his cock and I raise myself up, pointing him at me. Slowly, I ease down onto him, pulling out from his kiss and moaning as I feel his cock feeding into me once again. I let myself fall on it, his length piercing me at once and forcing me to scream.
I’m crazy, I’m insane. I went to the edge and I jumped. His cock is a blessing.
I start bucking my hips as fast as I can against him, and he guides my movements with his hands on my ass. Sitting on top of him, there’s no escaping the length of his cock; all I can do is enjoy it for all I can, surrender to his gloriousness and let it consume me absolutely. Which, of course, is all that I want to do.
I take my hands to his chest, and wanting to have some control over him, I push him down onto the mattress. He lets himself go willingly, his hands never leaving my ass. Swaying my hips, I ride him with abandonment, accompanying the upwards thrusts of his body.
I lean into him and sway my chest over his face, enjoying the look on his face as my breasts jiggle right over him. He takes one hand off of my ass, and grabbing at one of my breasts, lifts his head and wraps his lips around my hard nipple, sucking on it with such violent passion that I can’t help but close my eyes and sigh harshly, the air leaving my body at once.
More, I want more.
Still with his cock in me, I lift myself up on the mattress slightly, raising my knees and supporting myself with only my feet. I’m squatting over him, his cock pointing straight up and ready to be buried deep inside of me.
Using the last strength I still have in my muscles, I start lowering myself on his cock and then going back up. I scream each time I go down, his cock so deep inside of me that I can’t help but force myself further down, wanting to have every single inch of him burning inside of me. I don’t know even know how I’m doing this, how it’s physically possible for me to have him in me.
I go at him faster and faster, his fingers curling around both my breasts viciously. I look down at him, enjoying the look of pure joy and lust on the hard lines of his face, and I redouble my efforts. Forget about running or going to the gym; you’ve never pushed your body to the point of exhaustion if you haven’t experienced Derek’s cock. And that’s the truth.
I feel his cock pulsing harshly inside of me, all of his body tensing up, and I make one last effort to not slow down. He’s gritting his teeth, and in an instant, his muscles become even more taut as his cock starts spasming violently inside of me, shooting his cum against my insides. My skin prickles as his warm cum fills me up and starts dripping down to my thighs and then falling in thick droplets on the sheets, but I don’t stop. I keep on going up and down on him until I can’t take it anymore, my whole body as tense as a nocked arrow.
I erupt in pleasure, ripples of it washing over me with such intensity that I simply collapse on top of Derek, my legs flailing as if they’re not mine to control. I bury my fingers on his chest as I endure the destroying force of my orgasm, surrendering to the perfection of it.
He holds me tight in his arms, and my body still reeling from all of it, I feel him kissing my forehead gently.
“That’s what I wanted to do to you the first time I saw you on the 6 train,” he whispers at me.
Oh, God. I can’t help but see myself in his words. I’ll confess; I would do anything for this man.
173
Derek
I'm trying not to laugh, but I think this is the third egg Alicia's ruined and the kitchen is so filled with smoke that I worry the fire alarm is going to go off and send panic through the entire building. She's trying to impress me with a nice, Saturday morning breakfast, and while I appreciate the effort, I think we should just go out to eat. Why not let someone else cook for us?
She walks back over to a bowl of heavy cream sitting on the counter and she places the hand mixer into the liquid and turns it on high speed. Specks of the cream fly onto her face and she winces.
"I never thought cooking could be so hard!" she says. "But I think if I keep this on high speed, I'll have made homemade whipped cream, and when I do, I just may want to paint your body with it."
I raise one eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Her playful tone dies down, and a frown forms across her face. "But it's not thickening up."
"I think your bowl needed to be chilled."
"Since when did you become an expert in the art of making whipped cream?" she laughs.
"I'm definitely not an expert," I say laughing. "You know where I stand on all of this … I prefer to let someone else do the cooking."
Cooking is just too much of a hassle … and too time consuming. Time is money, and I certainly wouldn't spend it cooking for myself.
"Oh no, not again!" she says, her attention diverted. She rushes over to the stove and grabs the frying pan by the handle and walks it to the sink. Something is burning. I watch as she scrapes burnt pieces of our breakfast into the kitchen sink. She isn't listening to me, and the frying pan looks like its seen better days.
I look over and see bits of broken egg on her spatula, and black specks of burnt bread. I walk over to her and wrap one arm around her waist. I kiss her neck gently, and reassure her that everything's going to be okay.
"When was the last time that you cooked? Let's just go to Balthzar," I suggest. I can tell she's flustered, and disappointed, but I'm trying to make light of it all.
"But I've been working so hard on this," she pouts. "I can't believe it's not working out this morning!"
"Warm croissants, champagne, fresh berries, an omelet—let's have someone else make our breakfast today. Doesn't that sound nice?" I say, pleading my case.
"I like Balthazar, but we're always eating out," she says. "I just wanted to cook for us for a change, Derek."
"And your effort speaks volumes, babe," I say, kissing her again, but this time on the corner of her mouth. "But get dressed. I'm treating you, and that's final."
It takes her a moment, but she finally agrees to go out for breakfast.
"You win," she says. "But next time, I'm cooking."
I don't understand why she's so adamant about cooking for us, but that's fine.
"Deal," I say.
"Speaking of deals," she says, growing serious all of a sudden. "Have you made any new business deals lately?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. "That's a strange questions to ask. My business is always evolving. I'm sure I've brokered something new."
"Well, I was just curious. I realized that I still don't know a whole lot about what exactly you do."
"It's complicated … and boring," I say, trying to change the subject.
"Do your global holdings include business in Russia?" she asks, and the question takes me by surprise.
"That's specific," I say. "What do you care about Russia?"
"Oh, it has nothing to do with the country really," she says. "I'm just curious. Do you also have holdings in North Korea and Iran?"
I can't help but laugh. Where is she going with this? Russia? Iran? North Korea?
"This sounds like a game of 20 questions," I laugh. "Are you planning on doing global business with someone?"
But when I ask this she gets quiet. She's not sharing in my laughter. She's not looking into my eyes, and seems to be focused on something else.
"What's wrong?" I ask. I walk up to her and run my fingers through her hair. I try to draw her close to me, but she seems distant.
"It's nothing," she says.
&nb
sp; "You know you can tell me anything, right? Because this doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me," I say. "You're holding something back."
But as soon as I begin to probe, she changes the subject.
"My curiosity just got the better of me. It's really nothing," she says walking over to the dining room table and sitting down. We're both sitting at the table now, directly across from each other, and just as I'm about to tell her that I don't believe her, and that I think she's still holding something back, I feel her foot near my cock.
She's dragging her foot up my leg and has it nestled in between the crevice of my thighs. I look over and she has a devilish smile on her face. She then reaches under the table and grabs my cock ... not a soft grab, but like she means it. It's now hard as a fucking steel pipe and twitching in my pants.
I no longer care about her global holdings questions because I'm too focused on the throbbing in my pants. So, I decide to drop the subject.
"How can one woman be so sexy?" I ask.
She just smiles and squeezes a little harder. "How can one man be so delicious?"
If she keeps this up, we may never make it to Balthazar. I'm tempted to bend her over this dining room table and take her as my main course.
"So, what do you say? Would you like to spend the weekend with me?" I ask.
"Let's see … considering that I already expected to, I'd say so," she says as her fingers wrap themselves tighter around my cock.
I smile.
This is going to be a better morning than I expected.
174
Alicia
Okay, so I know that there are like a million evil lil' calories in this lamb gyro from the corner food truck, but you know what? I really don't have any desire to be healthy when I smell the food being handed to us.
But I mean Ashley is thinking the same thing as me I think. Because she looks at me as we sit down on the steps of the Seagram's Building and she says to me with a pretty authoritative voice, "You know, babe, we're going to have to stop eating like ten thousand calories for lunch."
Oh. My. God. As if she's not the one who Facebook'd me earlier this morning and asked me what I was doing for lunch. Sure, I may have suggested the food truck, but only because that's our go to spot. Where we used to sit and eat greasy meat. And stare at the meat walking by on Park Avenue we wanted to...you know, get greasy with.
Okay, okay, yes, I've been saving that one for a while now. I honestly thought it would be more fun when I said it than it was, so if you're rolling your eyes, I didn't deliver it right, okay?
Besides, with everything going on with Derek and Nadia and Carter Jeffries and the money trail, I'm not sure I want to get greasy with anyone till I figure this out.
"Oh my God, are you sex daydreaming on me now?" Ashley asks out of the blue, her mouth chewing lamb gyro.
Now I really roll my eyes and look at her. "Is that all you're focused on, Ashley?" I ask her. "Just how much sex I'm having?"
It takes a moment for Ashley to swallow before she can reply. "Well, I'm certainly not having any sex," she says to me. "And it's been so long for me, I think my pussy is just closing up, you know?"
I'm rolling my eyes again, but inside I know the feeling. I wasn't getting any until Derek showed up.
And completely upended my life.
To the point where I don't know if he's being completely honest with me. But a part of me wonders if this is even a big deal. I mean --
"Hey," Ashley says, eating a piece of lamb that fell from her gyro as she looks at me. "You still with me?"
"Yeah," I sigh. I don't know what else to do. And I guess Ashley realizes this because she goes from looking at me with a snarky mouth filled with lamb gyro to concerned.
She still has to swallow before asking, "What's wrong, babe?"
I sit there, chewing absently for a minute. I don't actually know where to begin. I mean, how do you describe the vague feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach?
"Is it Derek?" Ashley asks, her concern evident now.
Awww. I mean, we snark at each other sure, but the moment there's something wrong with me, I know she's going to drop everything if there's a hint of trouble with me.
"Alicia," Ashley asks, her voice now serious. I know it's serious because she puts down her gyro. She's not eating it anymore. For Ashley or I to put down food during lunch, when we only have like that little time before scurrying back to our desks, is a big fucking deal. "How are things with you and Derek? For reals," she asks and I know I'm gonna have to tell her the truth.
"Babe, I think he's hiding something from me," I say to her and look down. "Something pretty big. Maybe really illegal."
Ashley is silent, putting her hand on my shoulder.
"There's not much I can actually say about it right now, because it involves work too, but every time I try to steer the conversation toward trying to find out more, he plays it off or changes the subject," I say, the words tumbling out of me at this point. "Just the other day, we were having brunch at Balthazar and I thought I'd finally get to the bottom of the whole thing and get the truth. He totally just changed the subject and then when he couldn't change the subject he just made me forget."
"What?!" Ashley asks. "How did he make you forget what you were talking about?"
I almost feel like crying. Not because of Derek actually. But because I'm going to sound so blonde right about now.
"I dunno, Ash," I say to her in a pleading voice. "He just kinda swept me off my feet. Whisked me away to the Caribbean."
Ashley looks at me. "He didn't like your questions, so he flew you off to the Caribbean?" she asks me.
I nod. Then to just dig my hole a bit deeper, I add, "He has a private island."
To her credit, Ashley doesn't do anything right away. I mean, she takes bite of her gyro and chews thoughtfully before looking at me.
"I mean, this one time I was dating this guy who worked at Dow Jones," Ashley says. "I went through his phone one morning and saw his texts with this ho from his office. He was fucking her on the side," she says. I nod at her, wondering what her point is going to be.
"Anyways I totally flipped out on him," she continues. "He made it up to me by taking me to Red Lobster. So I guess I know what you're talking about with your billionaire. Red Lobster to him is a romantic private island in the Caribbean."
Is it me, or is Ashley just sighing?
"So why can't you bring it up at work?" she asks me.
That's it, isn't it? That's the part that makes this situation so fucking sucky.
"Because I love him, Ash," I say quietly. "Or at least I'm falling in love with him so hard right now."
We sit there for a moment. For a moment, the both of us are quiet. The cars and people pass us by. Park Avenue continues to bustle and I look to my left, to the MetLife Building looking down on the entire Avenue from 42nd Street.
"Looks like you need to make a choice, babe," Ashley tells me after a moment of looking at me. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t envy me. That she actually feels for me. "It sucks, but you need to figure out whether you wanna risk your career by keeping something potentially illegal to yourself for love, or risk losing the guy you’re falling in love with to keep your job with a faceless corporation run by a bunch of dudes."
Wow.
When you put it like that, no mater what I do, I'm kinda fucked. And not in a way that I'm gonna cum, either.
175
Derek
30 million.
That’s how many dollars whoever in Carter Jeffries is stealing from me has taken so far. They’ve been quiet. They’ve been sneaky. And they’ve been very, very careful.
But they don’t know who they’re fucking with. Just because I live in a rarefied world of money doesn’t mean that I’ve lost touch with the world. I’m a shark. I know when there’s blood. I can take a scent. And then stalk my prey. Until I catch them and tear them limb from limb.
Right, sorry for getting carried away, but I get upset,
I hope you understand. I have billions of dollars and 30 million isn’t that much in the big scheme of things. But being taken from me means that it can't be used in other operations. That’s the salary that could go toward many people who come look to me for jobs. That’s health insurance money. That’s retirement money.
What I’m trying to say is that money isn’t just mine. It’s money I would have spent that would have directly helped another person’s livelihood.
But like I said, I'm tracking it down based on the scent.
And I think I’ve found it.
All I need to do now is wait. Control myself from jumping in and letting my emotions run my judgment and just wait.
Four.
That’s how many weeks Alicia and I have been dating. When I first told her I didn’t do the whole boyfriend thing, I was telling the truth. I’m a mid-thirties self-involved, intelligent, good-looking, hard working loner. My sexual tastes border on the voracious. No woman has ever been able to keep up.
Except Alicia.
She seems to find it amusing in tempting me and then resisting just long enough to make it exciting for both of us.
Like the other day. It was a weekend so she was spending the night at my place. I was in the living room reading some reports when she walked by toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. Normally, this isn’t something that can cause me to lose focus, but she walked by in black stockings, a black lace thong, and a matching bra. She walked slowly, swaying her hips. I noticed. My cock began to twitch and I pretended to busy myself in my reports until she began to head back.
But here is where her innocence and naïveté show through.
Instead of walking by nonchalantly, she peeked around the wall dividing the kitchen and living room.
