But right now, I just wanted to get her out, squeezing her hands tight behind her, making her squeal with a bit of pain, arching her back.
“Oh Nick!” she cried, “I had no idea you were so bad!”
“That’s right,” I growled menacingly into her ear, “You have no idea who I am, what I’m capable of.”
Because I’ve done some messed up shit in my life, taken advantage of others, pressed every edge for what it was worth. All’s fair in the business world and I didn’t get to where I am by being Mr. Nice Guy. Fucked-up shit goes on every day and I’ve contributed more than my share to the pile.
But the blonde just giggled breathily, her face smushed against the wall now, her voice slightly garbled.
“Do it then,” she hissed. “Do it, do it.”
But I realized I was playing right into her arms. Jeanette loved this stuff, was eating it like an anaconda devouring its prey. I was falling into her trap and shook myself, standing up straight, letting her hands go.
I stepped back, took about five steps back, putting a mile of distance between me and the viper.
“Get out,” I said harshly, my blue gaze an icy polar gust, the temperature in the apartment dropping about fifty degrees. “Get the fuck out.”
At least the blonde did as told this time.
“Oh you want it,” she huffed and panted, smiling at me sassily. “I know you want it, alpha males like you always do. You act so hard to get, like you’re too good for me but I know your schtick. Your mind’s in the gutter, you’re looking for a whore in the ghetto, not some fake princess.”
And I stopped for a moment. That was true, I was looking for a whore from the ghetto, just not this particular whore. The whore of my dreams had big brown eyes, jouncing boobies and a sweet disposition, with none of the deviousness and diabolical cruelty that rolled off the blonde in waves. So I didn’t even bother to answer.
“Get the fuck out,” I lashed out again, rage building in my body, my face tight. “Before I have security come and escort you.”
“Fine,” smiled the blonde sweetly, her expression full of malice. “But stop acting holier-than-thou, you’re just as bad as me, Nick Martin.”
And with a quick flip of her head, she was out the door in a second, her high heels leaving imprints in the plush carpet.
I sank back onto the couch, exhausted from the exchange. What the fuck had just happened? I’d been accosted by Jeanette for the second time in months, she was so fucking wily and ambitious. I was going to have to find some way to steer clear of the bitch, at least until I got her fired for good.
But her words stuck with me too. Because I knew she was calling it like it is. I can be a dipshit, a complete asshole to people I don’t like, people who are asshats, people who are just fucking annoying. And when she said that my mind was in the gutter, it was true. Look at all the things I’d made Tammy do. Ride the Tool Box even though she’d just lost her virginity. DP her with the Tool Box as my partner, thrusting my dick in her ass as the Tool Box fucked her pussy. Fuck, popped both her cherries within days of knowing her. Shit, I was lucky Tammy hadn’t reported me to the police with the way I used her body, bent her over and made her my fuck slave.
But that was the good part of it. I knew the brunette loved it, the way her body trembled, the way it shook, jiggled and creamed, the way fluid ran from her pussy in a river, streaming down her thighs, coating everything worth having. And she let me know it too, gazing at me with limpid eyes, gasping with every nasty thing I did to her, panting, “Mr. Martin, yes!”
And so I resolved to have a talk with her. Tammy was everything I was looking for and more, and this encounter with Jeanette had only made it even more obvious. Move into my apartment? Shit, that wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to make Tammy mine … permanently.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tammy
I tiptoed down the hallway wearing nothing but bootie shorts and a sheer tanktop. It was cold in the hall, the A/C on high but I didn’t care. I’d be in Nick’s apartment soon enough, his big arms around me keeping me warm, his hot dick inside me like an internal heater.
So I giggled a little, making my way silently down the hall. Ever since moving into Le Meridien, life’s been a dream. I still see Nick at work every day, showing up to his office via the secret passageway, engaging in all sorts of raunchy acts that would make a virgin blush. Oh yeah, I’d taken the Tool Box up my ass next, letting it pound me from behind, and then sucked off the toy as Nick watched with avid eyes, the ass to mouth so dirty and depraved. But we were only getting warmed up because that night I showed up at his apartment and we did DP with the Tool Box again, the dildo pounding my cunt as Nick creamed wetly in my ass. And this time the big man sucked the fake penis, licking my beautiful pussy nectar off the toy.
So yeah, we’ve been going at it regularly now days and nights, and it’s elevated our game, made us into the most disgusting pair living in New York, our sex fluid everywhere, going at each other non-stop. And I love it, I absolutely love being his fuck doll, taking him as he took me, finding ecstasy in each other’s arms.
Take last week for example. After a particularly hot session, he’d collapsed on me, his big body practically burying me in the bed.
“Ooph!” I’d cried, my voice muffled in the sheets. “You’re heavy.”
“Sorry baby,” he’d rasped, not shifting an inch. “You’ve literally worn me out, drained me of every drop, I can’t move, you’re just going to have to live with it.”
And I’d giggled from under him, slapping his bicep with a small hand. Truth was, I didn’t want him to move just yet, didn’t want him to pull out, his hot dick felt so good inside.
“Mmm,” I moaned into the sheets, gyrating my hips slightly. “That’s true, you feel hard still, big boy.”
And the big man had just laughed into my shoulder, his massive body shaking with tremors on top of mine.
“You’re such a slut, you know that? With such a slutty cunt.”
Mmm, I loved when he talked nasty to me, it made me burn, my insides churning with lust. So I just smiled back and purred, “But it’s your slutty cunt, this slutty cunt’s all yours.”
And his eyes immediately flared again, hot streaks appearing across his cheeks although it was close to morning and we’d been going at it tirelessly, stopping only to catch our breaths before tearing up the sheets once more.
“That’s true, isn’t it?” he murmured into my neck, his hand wandering down to stroke my snatch, the fat lips still surrounding his cock, gripping it like it was the best candy. “This is my beautiful pussy, I own it.”
And I just moaned against him, stretching, before placing a deep kiss onto his mouth, a soulful exchange that had both of us panting and gasping for more. I felt like my heart was about to explode from my chest, showing him with my kisses, my actions, that he meant so much to me, that I loved being with him.
So it was with excitement that I padded down the hall to Mr. Martin’s apartment later that day. I knew beyond a doubt that we’d be locked in each other’s arms in a nano-second, my clothes off and his dick in, making me shudder and scream with pleasure.
Except something was off, my senses on high alert as I drew closer. I’d gotten back a little early today and had decided to come by his apartment early as well, before our usual time of 10 or so. Surely, an hour or two extra of hot sex was right up his alley?
I stopped before the door, my hand up to knock but something made me pause, my spidey sense tingling. What was it exactly? The scent of some heady fruit, like citrus, or pineapple, or coconut, I wasn’t sure what. But Nick definitely didn’t use cologne or aftershave that smelled like that, his stuff was woodsy, all man.
And sure enough, a woman’s voice rang out from inside.
“Mr. Martin,” it purred, “I had no idea you were so bad.”
And what followed was a muffled shriek, a small bang against the wall and then Nick’s unmist
akable low growl.
“You’re a fucking slut,” he rumbled through the door. “A fucking slut.”
And the woman let out a low whine then, her pleasure maximized as she panted heavily.
“I’m a slut but you love it,” she breathed in return. “You fucking love it.”
And I stood completely still in disbelief, my hand still raised to knock, dressed in nothing but the flimsiest of outfits outside the door. Was this really happening? My pulse fluttered wildly, beating at a million miles a minute as my stomach dropped like a lead weight, a sudden wave of nausea overcoming me.
Because was it possible? Was it possible that Nick was sleeping with multiple women, that I wasn’t his one and only? Was it possible that I was nothing to him, merely a typist for hire, a faceless girl among the millions that he regularly banged?
And my face flamed, my mouth snapping shut with a click. Of course. I was no one, had never been anyone. An eligible bachelor for decades, Nick probably had a black book as thick as an encyclopedia and I’d been the flavor du jour, nothing more. And when he got bored all it took was a phone call, a few words, and another woman was at the ready.
My face flamed, shame and humiliation coursing through my body. My hand dropped limply to my side and I backed away from the door like it was a nuclear waste site, filled with toxic materials and leaking fumes. My chin trembled and to my utter shock, hot tears began coursing down my cheeks, my nose starting to run as my mouth blubbered silently.
I ran the rest of the way down the hall, back to the safety of my own apartment. I couldn’t stay at the Meridien anymore, I had to find another place even if it meant moving back to the Bronx, my old neighborhood with the high crime and shady neighbors. I didn’t care what it cost me, this job, this apartment, my future, I just had to get out, the pain unbearable.
But as I fumbled for my key, the door to Nick’s apartment opened and Jeanette pranced out, her hair a mess, clothes askew, her red lipstick smudged like she’d just sucked a dick. I ducked behind a pillar, not breathing, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t see me.
And evidently she was so delirious with her orgasm that she wobbled on her heels, giving the man inside a small wave.
“Bye big guy,” she purred, licking her lips lasciviously, making that red pout positively glisten in the low lights of the hall. “See you tomorrow.”
And slowly she turned and walked down the hall to the elevators unsteadily, even pausing to brace herself against the wall as if her cunt was sore, achy from a pounding sex session.
Without uttering a peep, I waited until she was gone before letting myself into my apartment. Oh my god, what had I just witnessed? Jeanette? Really, Jeanette? That woman was the opposite of me, tall, blonde and nasty, always shooting dirty looks at anyone who took a moment of her boss’s time. What did she have that I didn’t?
But the little voice in my head spoke then. She has a ton that you don’t, it said. You were just a momentary distraction. Jeanette’s been with Nick for years now, he’s been trashing her pussy for years. And now that he’s tired of you, it’s back to his number one girl … the blonde. Not you, her.
And I collapsed limply on the couch, blind to my luxurious surroundings, blind to the beautiful orchid on the coffee table, the original watercolors that hung on the walls. Because it all belonged to Nick … and I couldn’t stay here anymore, not when my heart was breaking.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tammy
I rolled out of bed, my head pounding, my body aching like I’d been buried alive under two tons of dirt instead of sleeping in a comfy feather bed. Heaving myself up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was dull, my curls oddly limp, a lifeless expression in my eyes.
Because sure, I’d spent eight hours lying in bed but hadn’t caught a wink of sleep. Instead, I’d tossed and turned, my skin alternately flaming and then going coldly clammy, the shock hitting me again and again. How was it possible that Nick didn’t love me? That I was nothing more than a fuck toy to him, one of a few women in rotation?
But that’s the thing. Even I’d repeatedly referred to myself as a fuck toy, his sex doll, his slave willing to do anything, get on my knees and worship at the altar of the billionaire. So I’d brought it on myself. I’d asked for it, treated myself like nothing more than a fuck toy, was it so odd that he treated me that way as well?
I shook my head, miserable. There were no answers, I had no answers. Instead, I put on a drab shirt and skirt, not caring that the clothes were slightly wrinkled and stepped into a pair of shabby flats. Since moving to headquarters I’d tried to do better with myself, wearing heels, doing my make-up carefully each morning, styling my hair so it was a gleaming mass on my shoulders.
But it didn’t matter anymore. I was nothing, a piece of garbage only, and so I grabbed my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail, snapping the rubber band harshly around the curls. My face looked wan and ghastly, dark circles under my eyes, the lids puffy and swollen but I didn’t care. I hurt and couldn’t be bothered anymore.
Slipping a pair of sunglasses on, I stumbled downstairs through the lobby and onto the sidewalk. As usual, Max the chauffeur waited.
“Miss,” he said, gesturing to the car behind him with a white-gloved hand. “At your service.”
And I shook my head slowly.
“No, not today Max,” I said. I would be damned before I took another thing from the billionaire, I was getting to work and logging onto Craigslist immediately to find a new apartment, a new roommate, a new job. I wasn’t getting in Nick’s car, no way no how. So I turned resolutely and started walking. It wasn’t bad, the apartment complex was just on the other side of Midtown, the walk would be thirty minutes at most.
But a horn tooted behind me and Max leaned out of the window, his jaunty cap askew.
“Miss Jones, please get in,” he pleaded in his vague Eastern European accent. “Please.”
I kept walking, ignoring him. I wasn’t taking another thing from Nick Martin under any circumstances.
But Max was insistent.
“Miss Jones, I’m going to be in big trouble if you don’t get in,” he pleaded, still trailing me in the black car. “Please, Miss.”
And at that, I stopped. I didn’t want someone else to suffer because I’d been a dunce. It wasn’t his fault he worked for Nick, he was just trying to do his job, make a living and support his family. And so I sighed, slowly backtracking.
“Thank you Miss Jones,” said the chauffeur once the door slammed shut behind me. “Thank you for understanding. Why didn’t you want to drive today?” he asked. “The weather’s not so nice.”
That was true, it was overcast with quite a few clouds in the sky and I didn’t have an umbrella just in case.
“It’s nothing,” I said quietly. “Just thought I’d get some exercise.”
Max’s eyebrows flew off his forehead. A thirty minute walk through Midtown wasn’t exactly the nicest walk, I’d be dodging piles of garbage bags on the sidewalk, dog poo left by lazy owners, not to mention the ominous weather. But the old man didn’t say anything, merely went back to driving, navigating the crowded streets.
Suddenly, I had an idea.
“Max,” I said. “How many people do you drive?” I asked, sitting up on the seat. Surely he was escorting several of Nick’s women around, chauffeuring them to various events.
But Max was puzzled.
“Just yourself and Mr. Martin,” he said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “But I don’t see much of Mr. Martin, he takes the SUV with Walter sometimes, or even his helicopter.”
And I sat back, perplexed. That wasn’t the answer I’d expected, I thought he’d say “Oh, I drive you and Amanda, Tiffany, Brandy, and Renee,” if not more. But maybe I wasn’t being crafty enough.
“Max,” I tried again. “Have you driven women for Mr. Martin in the past?”
And the old chauffeur just smiled at me, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror, his gaze kind.
/> “Miss Jones, I know what you’re getting at. You’re trying to find out if Mr. Martin is seeing other women and the answer is that I can’t tell you. It’s not my business, it’s not your business, it’s not anyone’s business but the boss’s. I’m so sorry I can’t help,” he added, slightly reproving.
And I sat back, ashamed of myself. I’d tried to trick Max into telling me information that he shouldn’t, the elderly man could lose his job if he blabbed. And so I colored, apologizing.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “You’re right, I was on a fishing expedition and it won’t happen again. I just feel … I dunno,” I said unhappily. “I just don’t know,” I finished with a soft, sad smile.
And Max hummed gently, looking back at the road, his hands on the wheel, saying nothing.
But as we pulled up in front of Luxor Corp., the old man jumped out to open my door, sprightly despite his advanced years. And as I maneuvered myself out the car, he leaned in to whisper.
“But I will say that I’ve never seen Mr. Martin so happy,” he said with a wink. “I’ve known Mr. Martin since he was a young man, and the boss is happy with you. So take that for what it’s worth.”
And I smiled ruefully again, arranging my crumpled clothes as best I could.
“Thanks Max, but Nick Martin does what he wants,” I said quietly. “Even if he’s happy, there’s always more happiness out there, you know what I mean? The on-going pursuit of more and more and more,” I added with another sad smile. “Thanks for the ride.”
And with that, I walked slowly into the huge building, dread filling my stomach, making my insides churn.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tammy
Except it didn’t quite go as planned. Instead of getting an email from “Nick Smith” and secretly tiptoeing through the secret passageway, I was actually summoned to Nick’s office by the queen herself.
The Billionaire's Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 24
