by Dark Angel
I don't know how, but I turn off the switch to the remote and brace myself as wave after wave of electricity rushes through my skin. I'm shaking and trembling and moaning and I don't know what I'm saying. All I know is that I might not come out of this river of sweet pleasure alive. I might be lost in it.
Eventually, I'm able to grasp thoughts. I'm breathing heavily. I'm panting. I'm gasping. I'm drenched in sweat.
I'm exhausted.
As long as that machine is off, I take out the bullet, but just barely. I look down at the leather of the seat. It’s wet. Very wet. I don't care. I think it takes me all of one second to pass out.
When I come to, the car is stopped on the side of the street and Magnus is looking at me.
The bullet is on the other side of the car. I must've thrown it out.
My panties are somewhere over there too. My skirt is bunched up around me, my pussy on full view. My tits are popping out. I must've been trying to play with my nipples.
My pussy is wet—my thighs are sticky.
It’s pooled underneath me on the leather. The whole car smells like sex.
“Better now?” Magnus asks with a smile. “Work off some of those calories from brunch?”
I nod. I’m so sleepy. Post orgasm endorphins are sluicing through my body.
“Ready for Round Two?” he says with a grin.
It’s all I can do to keep from smiling as Magnus speaks into the intercom and the car revs up again getting into the traffic as Magnus picks up the bullet and gives me a grin.
Oh my God.
This man is insane.
Crazy.
Wild.
He’s perfect.
Magnus
“And now, it’s my pleasure to introduce our benefactor, Mr. Davion!” The host, a man with a thick moustache and a soft rotund paunch, announces me and then leads a round of applause. I get up from my seat in the front row, button my jacket, and then casually make my way onto the stage.
“Thank you, thank you,” I say into the mic, taking my position before it as the host steps to the side. Slowly, the crowd quiets down and I clear my throat, mentally rehearsing my speech.
It’s a crowded room I’m facing, rows upon rows of lower politicians and businessmen sitting across from me; occupying the first row on the right wing of the hall are a few dozen journalists. They snap a few pictures as I walk up to the stage, and I throw them a smile—my smile is meant, of course, for Penny. She’s sitting among the journalists, a New York Daily Journal badge pinned to her button-up shirt and a notepad resting on her crossed legs.
The big wigs are all seated in front of me, in the first row, and among them I can count my lovely ex-wife and her pal, Laurel ‘The Devil’ Trask. They’re probably cursing me under their breath right now, praying to the Devil for me to collapse on stage before I start speaking. They’d like that, alright.
“It’s a pleasure to be with you tonight,” I start, the hot lights trained on the stage making a few beads of sweat drip down my neck. God, I hate making these fucking speeches. It’s all theater, you see? Whenever you see someone in front of a mic and a crowd, chances are that they’re feeding some well-rehearsed speech laced with a hefty dosage of sweet bullshit. And that, dear ladies, just isn’t the way I roll. But Joyce has insisted we carry on with this good-boy strategy, and what can I say? Despite a few hiccups, it’s working.
“As we all know, Central Park is New York’s soul. With a history that now spans three centuries, the Park has always been one of the this city’s most prominent landmarks.” I go over a few of the most important dates on Central Park’s history, but I gloss over them as quickly as I can. People don’t give a fuck about random dates and facts; it’s all about emotion.
“Of course,” I continue, ready to finish my speech and escape the hot spotlights, “we owe much of what Central Park is today to the Central Park Conservancy. As such, I can’t tell you how humbled I am to extend a helping hand and give them some much-needed support. Thank you for all your hard work,” I finish, turning around to face the Conservancy's President and clapping my hands. The crowd takes my lead, and the sound of a few hundred people clapping their hands fills the whole auditorium.
With a final bow, I offer my hand to the Conservancy's president and let him shake it heartily. I just wrote him a half-a-million dollar check, to help with the maintenance of Central Park, so I figure his hearty handshake is a justified one. I finally make my way down the stage, glad that my part in this show is over; instead of walking back to my seat though, I pretend that I need to head out for a piss and walk all the way to the back of the auditorium.
Wide and long red drapes hang from the upper balconies, covering everything with bright crimson; I lean against one of the walls and hide from view, standing behind one of these drapes. Two or three minutes later, Penny joins me in my improvised hiding spot.
“That was amazing,” she whispers, but the only reply I give her is one long kiss.
“No, but this is,” I grin as I pull back from her, my hands casually resting on her hips.
“I’m serious. You were amazing up there. You have a knack for it, Magnus.”
“I seriously doubt it. I hate these fucking things. It feels like I’m bragging about my generosity, which kinda defeats the purpose.”
“So… you’d prefer to just donate anonymously?” she asks me, and I can’t help but pretend to be offended by her question.
“Of course! I have more money than I can ever spend, and I sure as hell don’t mind spending it to help people… I just fucking hate this grandstanding bullshit. This is all for show, and I can’t stand it.”
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t me, Penny. I don’t give a fuck about playing nice. I just prefer to deal with things head on, and that’s how I deal with everyone and everything. I have no patience for subtlety or politics.”
“Maybe that’s one of the reasons the Equinox deal still hasn’t moved forward? Maybe that’s what you’re lacking—subtlety.”
“Maybe, but it’s not like I can turn into this smooth guy from one day to the other. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Should I be reading self-help books?” I snort, but Penny just grabs me by my shirt and pulls me into her, her soft lips brushing against my own.
“No… Just use your brain,” she whispers at me, and I have to struggle in order to keep listening to her; my cock is already twitching hard, and soon enough there’ll be no blood left in my brain. “People want to be understood, Magnus. Respected and valued. Just repeat their owns words—their dreams, fears, and prejudices—right back at them. They’ll think you understand their position, and that’ll give you a foothold when trying to bring them to your side.”
I stop for a moment, narrowing my eyes and looking at her.
“You know, that actually makes a lot of sense,” I tell her, and she just offers me a whispered laugh.
“You know, I’m more than a pretty face,” she kisses me again, nibbling at my lower lip before she continues. “I know how to use my brain.”
“And what else do you know what to use?” I ask her, my hands trailing down the side of her body. I let my fingers go over the curve of her ass cheeks, and give them a hard squeeze, pulling Penny into me. My cock is already as hard as a fucking tent pole, and I forget all about the place where we are right now. Who cares if the fucking hall is packed with hundreds of people? I want her right fucking now.
“I know how to use these lips,” Penny teases me, brushing one fingertip over her crimson lips. She looks around and, certain that no one can see us, she tugs on the red drape and closes ua off completely from sight.
Moving slowly, she places her two hands on my chest and then goes down to her knees, her eyes never leaving mine. I hold my breath as I watch her go down, and my lungs only remember they have to take in air when she starts unbuckling my belt. Carefully, she opens the top button on my pants and then pulls the zipper down, my hard cock pushing against the fabric of my boxer b
riefs.
Fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this.
Still looking into my eyes, a wanton smile on her lips, Penny hooks her fingers on my boxer briefs and pulls them down, only stopping when my pants and boxers are all bunched up around my knees. My cock springs free eagerly and, a fraction of a second later she has her fingers curled tight around my shaft.
“This is fucking insane,” I whisper, looking down at her, and her smile turns into a wicked grin.
“It sure is, daddy,” she whispers back at me, and my cock throbs so hard I feel dizzy for a fucking second. Flicking her wrists, she starts stroking my cock with the soft and constant movements of her hand; leaning in, she never breaks eye contact as she parts her lips and then wraps them around the tip of my cock, her tongue dancing in soft circles around it.
“Fuck,” I groan as she pushes her lips down the length of my cock, my shaft rolling over her tongue. I rest my hands on her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, and hold my breath as she goes all the way down, only stopping when her lips are touching the skin at the base of my cock. Sweet mercy, this feels so fucking good; I never met a girl as talented as Penny is with her mouth.
Rolling her lips back, she then starts bobbing her head back and forth, moving as fast as she can. She finally closes her eyes, surrendering to the moment, and I do the same; I throw my head back and sigh heavily, my heart racing so fast inside my chest I think it might fucking burst any second now.
“Fuck, I think I’m gonna --” I start to say, but the words die in my throat as a mighty spasm takes over my cock. My shaft throbs against Penny’s tongue and the inside of her cheeks, and a second after that I feel my cum burning its way out of my cock. I explode inside her mouth and she stops moving at once; she remains frozen in place, her knees on the floor and my cock inside her mouth as she takes every single drop of cum into her mouth.
Once I’m finally done, she takes her mouth off of my cock and, looking into my eyes, she swallows. I feel a shiver going up my spine as I watch the muscles in her neck move, and I can’t help but grin as I see a strand of cum hanging from her lips. I reach for it with my thumb and wipe it off; I then grab her right hand and pull her up to her feet.
“That was fucking amazing,” I tell her as I tuck my shirt inside my pants and zip up my fly.
“Of course it was,” she teases me, wiping her mouth with the back of her right hand. “Now let’s go back before anyone notices we’re missing.” Without waiting for a reply, she pulls the drape to the side and heads out; I follow after her, head held high and completely unable to wipe a satisfied smile from my face.
And that’s when I fucking see her.
Rhoda’s between two rows of seats, and she's walking straight toward Penny and I.
“Where were you, Penny?” she asks her daughter, stopping just a few feet away from me.
“Rhoda,” I greet her coldly. She doesn’t even respond or acknowledge me. Which is pretty fucking funny, me being the keynote speaker and main donor of this fucking event.
“We were just having a chat,” Penny chirps happily, and then goes on her tiptoes, leans in, and kisses her mother on the cheek, her breath a very probable blend of cock and fresh cum. Fucking hell.
“Just having a chat,” I repeat, my cock twitching inside my pants. Without waiting for her mother’s reply, Penny walks past her and continues on her way. I follow after her, my eyes taking in every delicious step she takes.
Fuck, now this is a wicked girl.
Penny
Two months.
That’s how long we’ve been together. It’s crazy, right? Just a few months ago I thought that my stepfather was the Devil himself, and now here I am, sleeping next to him more times than I sleep alone in my own bed.
It’s funny how these things work out, isn’t it? I’m not one to believe in destiny, fate, or all that hocus-pocus … but damn, it seems like both our paths were meant to cross.
Of course, all this cozying up to the ‘enemy’ (or so my mom would say) isn’t really doing me any favors. But what did I expect? It’s not like I can go against my boss (which is also my mom) and the mayor without being reprimanded along the way.
Twenty-seven.
That’s the amount of face-to-face meetings I’ve had with my mother and Laurel. And, let me tell you, these things are forsakenly exhausting. Just imagine spending two hours locked in a room with two women with tongues so sharp they could use them as knives, and they aren’t pleased with you. Yeah, doesn’t feel great, does it?
But that’s how it goes for me, at least twice a week. And, if they’re feeling generous, one more time over the weekend. ‘Have you found out anything yet, Penny?’ they always ask me, and my answer is always a timid ‘perhaps he isn’t the kind of man you think he is’. Yeah, I don’t need to tell you that this isn’t what they want to hear.
They want Magnus’ head on a platter, not to hear my pleas for fairness and ethical journalism. All that just falls on deaf ears.
Look, I get it; in a way, Magnus represents a lot of what’s wrong with America nowadays. He doesn’t seem to have a conscience, especially when it comes to his female counterparts, and he’s richer than God himself. America loves to hate on people like Magnus; but on the other hand, this reflects a rather nasty truth about ourselves: we love to hate the ones who can’t hate us back.
And so it is with Magnus. He’s an easy target for women like my mom and Laurel, working in the shadows. The way I see it, they aren’t even working against Magnus; they’re just trying to topple down an image of him that they've built inside their heads. Because, truth be told, the Magnus I met is quite different than the one I always believed him to be.
And I guess my fellow New Yorkers see it the same way.
Ninety-three.
That’s Magnus’ approval rating. That’s right, ninety-three percent of New Yorkers approve of the work my stepfather is doing, and they are fully supportive of the Equinox deal. I guess every city dweller wants to say they live in the city with the tallest building in the world, right? And Magnus is just the man to make that dream come true.
Besides, it seems that New Yorkers love his crazy antics. Sure, he might be a bit unruly and rough around the edges, but I think that it just adds to his natural charm. Besides, it seems he has even won over the political-correctness brigade after he toned down his bad boy image and started contributing to the city’s welfare with his hefty donations.
And I gotta say, more than just win over his fellow Americans, Magnus has won me over as well.
Two hundred.
Now, this is just an estimate, but that’s how many times Magnus and I have been together. And you know what I mean by together, don’t you? Okay, I’ll be crass: we've fucked two hundred times over these past two months.
If you’re making the calculations inside your head, let me help you with that: it means we’ve fucked more than three times every single day. Sounds a bit unbelievable, doesn’t it? Don’t worry; I’d be thinking the same if someone told me something like this. No, scratch that, I’d just call them a liar.
But it’s the truth; Magnus is an animal between the sheets (and out of them as well, being that we often get frisky without a bed in sight), and I have no choice but to try and keep up the pace. My body demands it, you know? I just can’t get enough of him and of his twelve-inch cock.
Of course, pleasure often has consequences, and it didn’t take long for them to manifest.
One.
One simple test, and I flunked it. Or, if you want to be optimistic about it, I passed with flying colors. It really depends on the perspective. If you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about, let me blunt about it: I’m talking about a pregnancy test. And it came out as a positive.
Now, I haven’t told a soul about this, so I trust you to keep this between just the two of us. I know, I know… I should tell Magnus about it, and I swear I’ll do it soon. I just can’t bring myself to do it right now. I have no idea how he’s goi
ng to react and, besides, he’s already too busy with the Equinox deal as it is. He has a lot on his mind right now, and I don’t want to add more drama to the mix and distract him.
But, yeah, I get it. The road I’m walking on has a dead-end. Sooner or later, the world is going to find out about Magnus and I. There’s no other way around it, not with a child in my belly.
I wasn’t exactly expecting for this to happen, and it sure as hell didn’t happen at the best time. My mother and Laurel are sharpening their knives, trying to destroy Magnus’ company, and I’m stuck right in the middle of it. But I guess pregnancies don’t wait for the best or right times; they just happen when they have to happen.
And, between you and me, I gotta say… I had a smile on my lips the moment I held the test in my minds and it turned out positive.
Of course, I know that this changes things. And, sooner or later, the truth will have to come out.
I just hope it’s later rather than sooner.
Magnus
Lawyers, accountants, state legislators, hardened politicians - New York’s finest under one roof. And, of course, two heavyweight contenders sitting across one other, each with their personal armies ready with expensive pens and stacks of documents. I’m talking about yours truly and, of course, Laurel Trask.
This is our most important showdown in months, a meeting where the future of Equinox Tower is going to be decided. And it’s already over; truth be told, it was already over before it even started. I came into this affair prepared, and it showed. Laurel had her lawyers pull every trick in the fucking book to try and bury the deal, but she didn’t have a chance - Joyce’s leading my legal team, and there’s no beating Joyce.
Things got heated up for a moment as Laurel tried to goad me into arguing with her, but I managed to not fall into that trap. I deflected most of her questions easily, and made her look like an out-of-control psycho. She isn’t too happy about that, that much I can tell. But there’s nothing she can do right now - the committee has already took a break to deliberate, and now all we can do is wait for their response. Which I’m pretty fucking sure is going to be a favourable one.
