Boxers & Briefs: An MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  "Here we go," Ares says under his breath, a smirk on his lips.

  "Did you say something?" I ask, turning to him and staring him down.

  "No, not all," he dismisses me off-handedly, waving one hand into the air. "Carry on, I know you’re more than eager to bore us with your business acumen, Mr. Fire-Everyone."

  Respect and politeness—two marks of civilization that Ares has never heard of. Sure, people might call me Lucas ‘The Chainsaw’ Blake because of my aggressive stance once I take over a company. Some people, like Ares, enjoy portraying me as a ruthless businessman who lives for firing people and ruining lives. What they don’t seem to understand is that reducing costs, which unfortunately often translates as the need to fire some people, is what allows some companies to survive and live to fight another day.

  "That’s pretty funny, Ares. If it weren’t for the massive loans Strong Capital has incurred, I bet you wouldn’t even be sitting here with me. Do you even know how to run a business? Or is floating debt all you have ever learned?"

  "Pfft," he scoffs, now visibly annoyed. I guess even he doesn’t like when people take jabs at his credentials. "That’s pretty rich, coming from Mr. Spreadsheet himself. Chipping away at the numbers and firing everyone your spreadsheet tells you to. If that’s better than what I do, I guess your moral compass is pretty fucked up, buddy."

  "Please, Mr. Strong, remember we’re live and we have to maintain a standard of language that --"

  I don’t even let the host finish chastising Ares. I just cut her short, boiling blood fueling the anger inside of me. Ares used to call me Mr. Spreadsheet back when we both studied at Harvard, and I can’t look back to these times without feeling a stab of guilt and rage flooding me.

  "You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?" I say, lowering my voice until it almost becomes a growl. My fingernails are digging deep into the palm of my hands, both of them balled into fists.

  "At the very least I’m better than you," he chuckles, fiddling with the Rolex on his wrist.

  "Gentleman, I, ah, would like for us to go back to the topic at --"

  "Better than me?" I repeat his words, arching one eyebrow. "I knew you were arrogant, but I never thought you’d be delusional."

  "Just because you were a teacher’s pet at Harvard doesn’t mean you know everything, Lucas. There’s a real world outside of these walls, you know?" he says, casually waving his hand around.

  "I see that all those women you sleep around with have finally destroyed whatever intelligence you had. Tell me, outside of whisky and pussy, how do you even find the time to run your company? Do you have your interns do it?"

  "At least I don’t live and die by a fucking spreadsheet," he growls, his grin giving way to a scowl. "And why the fuck are you even talking about my love life, Lucas? Is that envy I’m sensing?"

  Samantha is now looking straight at the producer, a desperate look on her face. She has two billionaires on set verbally jabbing at each other, all of it happening live, while they use curses for commas. Still, I can’t stop myself.

  "Envy?" I growl, my voice sneaking out between my gritted teeth. I’m standing up now and, not a heartbeat later, Ares stands up as well. He’s as tall as I am, and our eyes are on the same level, electricity crackling in the air around us. "I don’t envy you. I pity you!"

  "Yeah? Why don’t you pity this!" he growls right back, swinging one fist at me. I try to step out of the way, but he’s too fast; his hand collapses against the side of my face, and I feel the metallic taste of blood over my tongue.

  If that’s how he wants it, I can play that game too.

  Turning around on my heels, I dive under his next punch and, cocking my arm, I connect my fist with his stomach. He bends over slightly and takes two steps back, a murderous look on his face.

  "Motherfucker," he hisses, and then just charges straight at me like a bull. He hits me across the waist with one shoulder and we both fly back against the host’s table. I hear the glass crack under my back and, just one second later, the table shatters into a million pieces and we both collapse onto the floor as Samantha jumps back with a yelp.

  The whole production crew rushes toward us and it takes almost ten grown men to split us up. By the time they’re done, there’s blood dripping down out of Ares’ nose and, judging by the coppery taste in my mouth, I’d say I’m not in a better state than he is.

  "Shut it down, shut it down!" I hear the producer shout into his earpiece, a desperate look on his face. I wipe the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and let out a heavy sigh.

  A brawl on live national TV.

  Just perfect.

  MarketWatch Journal

  All the money news you can pay for…at your fingertips.

  This Plane’s Got No More Fuel

  In hindsight, many believe that the writing was basically on the wall this entire time. After a lengthy and protracted public relations nightmare, Union Airlines today signaled that it was going to be putting itself up for sale on the auction block. Commenting through a spokesperson, the CEO of Union Airlines, Daphne Kane, stated, "While we are no doubt disappointed in this outcome, we believe that looking for a potential benefactor at this stage is the clearest and most obvious choice if our jobs are to protect both the airline and the thousands of people that work for it."

  Critics were quick to point out that Ms. Kane was seemingly copping out of a promise she had made upon taking control of the beleaguered airline. Supporters rejected this claim, and pointed out that a sale of Union Airlines was never off the table.

  The airline has encountered a massive drop in sales in the current fiscal year. It attempted to shutter newer routes in favor of existing and more profitable routes, but seat reservations dropped across the last seven months as the airline struggled to shrug off a viral video of a passenger being forcibly removed from their seat by airline security personnel.

  Ever since the Internet video sensation, Union Airlines has changed its fee structure in an effort to lure more of the customers that it had lost. It began to give generous perks. It employed a small army of public relations wizards to remake its image. It even sponsored a variety of events designed to tie itself to the good work in the community that it was doing.

  But Daphne Kane refused to do one thing that many critics today are saying may have saved the airline.

  She refused to apologize.

  Her supporters contend that she had nothing to apologize for. She was brought in as CEO two months after the horrific cell phone video showing the bloodied and beaten face of a priest as he was dragged off an airplane by private security.

  "I wasn’t here, and I’m not apologizing," Daphne would famously say during her press conference upon the announcement that she was leading the airline after its current CEO resigned unexpectedly. She went on to repeat the statement over and over again and it soon passed into the public consciousness. Daphne Kane did not apologize for her actions.

  Ms. Kane has been a wonder in the corporate world ever since she began her career. Known for being able to turn companies around quickly, Ms. Kane believed she would've exited Union Airlines in less than five months after taking the job.

  Now, more than one year later, she is offering a different path for the company from the one she had initially sought toward.

  "This isn’t a defeat, she commented through her spokesperson, but a re-evaluation of our priorities as a company. I’m committed to ensuring the best possible partner for Union Airlines and working in whatever capacity the owners will have me in upon finding a successful fit. After that, I look forward to the next stage in my career."

  One thing is true to all observers based on the figurative rabbit that Daphne Kane has pulled out of her hat.

  Union Airlines may be down, but it's far from out. And any potential buyer would do well to keep that in mind.

  Daphne

  There are few things better in life than waking up next to a willing man. And, of course, whenever I w
ake up next to a man he’s always willing.

  "Good morning," he whispers lazily, rolling to his side so that he’s facing me. He moves toward me as if he’s going to kiss me, but I stop him by placing my hand on his chest and keeping him at bay. My hand then slides down over his stomach, and I only stop when I find his hard cock.

  "Good morning," I finally tell him with a wicked grin, kicking the sheets back and letting my eyes wander down to his cock. He’s big (well, I’ve had bigger, but it’s not like I’m making comparisons right now) and he’s ready, so I use my free hand to push on him and force him to roll to his back again.

  "You’re an eager one, aren’t you?" he whispers, trying to play it off as if he’s smoothness made into flesh. I’m not in the mood to be charmed right now though; I just want to have some fun before I squeeze myself into a tight dress and head out ready to take over the world.

  "I’m always eager," I shoot back, and then climb on top of his body, straddling him. He rests his hands on my ass, squeezing my cheeks, and then looks at my naked breasts hungrily. He cranes his neck, reaching for my right nipple with his parted lips, and then sucks it inside his mouth. I let out a heavy sigh and, at the same time, start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down the length of my wet pussy.

  "That’s it, babe," he pants, his voice growing heavier by the second, but I just ignore his small talk. I need a cock right now, not silky words. Raising my hips slightly, I fit the tip of his cock between my inner lips and lower myself slowly, my eyelids drooping as his cock slides inside my pussy. "Oh, that’s so good, babe," he continues, thrusting upward.

  I lean into him and he smiles, parting his lips as if I’m about to kiss him. Instead of kissing him, though, I just dig my fingernails deep into his pectorals and start swaying my hips back and forth, building a rhythm as I feel a sweet warmness spreading under my skin.

  "So good, babe," he repeats, and I can’t help but get slightly annoyed; if he refuses to shut up, why does he insist on repeating the same thing over and over again? "So good, so --" he continues, but I shut him up real quick by driving my fingernails deep into his flesh, hard enough to draw blood. A harsh groan replaces his words, and his cock quickly pulses inside of me.

  I start riding him as fast as I can, his cock sliding in and out of me rhythmically, but his hard member isn’t quite enough for me. I lean back then and, with a moan, take one hand straight to between my thighs. I press two fingers right above my clit and start rubbing it fast, matching the pace with which I’m riding him.

  My heart starts racing faster now, and my muscles tense up like a nocked arrow. Gritting my teeth, I feel my inner walls tightening around his cock like a hard vice and my moans turn into a long hiss of pleasure. Electricity shoots up from my pussy to my brain, turning my spine into fire on the way up.

  "Ah, God, that was good," I chuckle, and then roll to the side nonchalantly, his cock sliding out of me with a wet sound. He turns to me with a hungry grin on his lips, one hand trailing down the side of my body, but I just sit up on the bed and stretch my arms.

  "Hey, where are you going?" he asks me, his words filled with confusion.

  "Me? I’m going to have a shower," I tell him as I stifle a yawn. "There’s food in the fridge. Feel free to grab something before you leave." See? I’m not that bad.

  "Wait! Are you serious? What about me?" He sits up on the bed, his look of confusion turning into an angry one. He’s not a man accustomed to be denied; I guess I should've expected that.

  He hit on me last night, buying me drink after drink while he boasted about his brand new Porsche and his latest bonus as an up-and-coming lawyer. Paul Cooper, he introduced himself, taking the opportunity to mention that the name Cooper would be mounted on a wall next to more prestigious names as soon as he made partner at his law firm. I usually don’t have the time to put up with bullshit like that, but what the hell; I was bored and horny, and any distraction is appreciated whenever I’m like that.

  And so I allowed him to drive me back to my apartment, and then I fucked him to the point of exhaustion. And, no, I’m not exaggerating; he passed out by the third time we were going at it, his cock suddenly going limp inside of me. Most men just can’t keep up.

  "What about you?" I ask him, and angry lines grow around his eyes. "Do you want me to coddle you and lie about how good you are? Because, sweetie, I’ve had better." Now, I know you’re thinking that I’m such a hard bitch to talk to him like this, but trust me, you gotta knock men like him off their pedestal from time to time, or else their heads will just inflate and finally explode.

  Paul Cooper doesn’t like to be knocked off his pedestal, though.

  He jumps up from the bed, reaching for me with one hand and grabbing me by the wrist. "You fuckin’ bitch," he growls, expecting me to cower like a scared little girl. Instead, I move fast and reach for my purse, strategically placed by the side of the bed. I fish my mace can from the inside and raise it up, pointing it straight at his eyes.

  Surprised, he peels his fingers off my wrist and I take the opportunity, using my now free hand to grab his cock. I curl my fingers around it viciously, and he whimpers in pain.

  "This is what’s going to happen," I start, still holding his cock. I push him back, using his cock like the rudder of a ship, and he starts walking backward clumsily, an expression of pain taking over his face. "You’re going to leave my apartment, and you’re never coming back. I’ll tell security to keep an eye on Mr. Paul Cooper, and let me tell you … the security in here is itching for some action. They’ll be far nastier than me."

  He starts to protest, but I cut him short fast.

  "Uh-uh. Keep talking and I’ll just break your cock." I reinforce my words by squeezing hard on his still erect cock, and he whimpers once more. He remains quiet, finally realizing who’s in charge here.

  I guide him out of my bedroom and into the living room. I make him walk back until we’re close to the door, and then I lower the mace can and open the door. Finally letting go of his cock, I place my two hands on his chest and push him back as fast as I can; he stumbles as he passes the doorway, falling flat on his ass, and I slam the door on his face.

  "Goodbye," I whisper to myself, feeling more cheery than I expected. One of the few things better than waking up next to a willing man, is putting a willing man back in his place.

  "My—my clothes!" I hear his voice from outside my door, and I can’t help but chuckle.

  "You can pick them up from the dumpster! Now get out or I’ll call security," I say, and then walk toward the bedroom. I pick his pants, shirt, and shoes from the floor; carrying them in a bundle, I open my bedroom window and just fling them all outside, the wind making his shirt dance over the street.

  I almost feel tempted to wait around and see him completely naked, trying to grab his clothes while surviving public humiliation; but I’m a busy woman and, as such, I just close the window and head into the bathroom.

  Forty minutes later, I step out of my apartment building and stroll toward the limo parked out front. My driver is already waiting, his hat tucked under his arm, and he opens the door for me.

  "Good morning, Charles," I greet him as I take my seat in the limo. I open up my cellphone and launch the email app, ready to start another intense day.

  Now, you’re probably wondering what kind of woman starts her day by kicking a man out of her apartment after threatening to break his cock, and then has a limo waiting on her. The answer is a simple one: my name is Daphne Kane, and I’m the CEO of Union Airlines. Also, I’m probably the toughest woman in New York. Men start shaking the moment they hear my high heels clicking across the floor.

  You’re also probably wondering why I’m in such a good mood, Union Airlines being knee-deep in a public relations nightmare and all. Well, to start with, let me just say that I’m CEO because I know how to solve problems better than anyone; I also love a good challenge. And if there’s a word to categorize this situation (aside from ‘clusterfuck’ that is), it’
s ‘challenge’.

  Buyers are already circling Union Airlines like vultures, ready to make a feast out of a rotting corpse, and the largest vulture of them all is the government itself. It seems like everyone has set their sights on us, but whoever wants to peck at Union Airlines’s body has to go through me first.

  By the time my limo halts in front of the Union Airlines office building I’ve already instructed my secretary to rearrange my schedule so that I can meet with the most important prospective buyers first.

  I take the elevator to the upper floors, and head straight toward my private office with a grin plastered on my face. Judging by the meetings I’ll be having this morning, this is going to be an interesting day. First on the list? None other than Ares Strong.

  Like I told you, this is going to be an interesting day.

  Ares

  Few things in life are better than a beautiful woman. And if there’s something that I know about Union Airlines, it's that their CEO is fucking hot. Most of the meetings I have are with old farts with too much money for their own good, so this feels good for a change.

  Still, don’t think I’ll allow her good looks to blind me. I’m not that fucking stupid, mind you. I’ve set my eyes on Union Airlines after their PR scandal, and I can smell an opportunity—oh, yeah, there’s some good money to be made. And if there’s something I love as much as I do women, it’s money. Yeah, I’m a fucking saint, nice to meet you too.

  "Ares Stone," I introduce myself, leaning over the receptionist’s desk. She’s a young one, probably still fresh out of college, and there’s that look of innocence in her face … the kind of innocence that turns into wickedness behind a closed door. Exactly the kind of innocence I appreciate.