Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Billionaire Fairy Tale

by Amy Brent

  “And you do a fine job, Corporal Yates,” I said with a serious nod. He gave me a blank look for a moment, then forced a smile that quickly faded.

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and he licked sweat off his top lip. Poor bastard. He didn’t have a clue what he’d gotten himself into. Or more likely, what he’d let some slick recruiter talk him into. So many of these young guys came into the service thinking it was gonna be like some fucking video game where they could just hit RESET after a bullet tore off the top of their head. Yates reminded me of a frightened mouse who’d been dropped smack dab into the middle of a pack of wolves. I hoped he could get his ass back home to Iowa or wherever the fuck he was from without getting it shot off by a sniper or blown to shit by an IED. He was what I called a “One Tour Charlie”, meaning that one tour in a shithole like Iraq would be enough for him. He’d forget his delusions of being a soldier and go home to attend community college and get a nice safe job working on diesel engines or something.

  I slid sideways out of the Jeep and adjusted the Kevlar vest and made sure my ID was visible, hanging by a lanyard from around my neck. I turned the ID so my photo and name showed through the lamination. I nodded as I passed the smoking guards and went up the steps and through the front door.

  There was a small lobby and front desk with two more guards sitting behind it. One of them was reading an old copy of Sports Illustrated with Tom Brady on the cover and didn’t bother looking up when I came through the door. The other one, an older sergeant named Bean, was eating a sandwich of some kind. He had mustard on his chin. Without getting up, he grunted for me to sign the visitor’s log, then waved me on like I was a fly interrupting his dinner.

  Gratefully, there were gusts of cold air blowing from the overhead vents that ran the length of the hallway that led to Dickerson’s office. At least the military seemed to understand the importance of keeping the officers cool even as the rest of us baked like pot pies in a desert oven. I wiped the sweat from my forehead on the back of my hand as I went up the stairs to the second floor, then wiped the sweat on my pants.

  I found Dickerson standing behind his desk, staring out the narrow window that looked out over the back of the compound, gazing at a day that was so hot and dusty the world looked like it was engulfed in yellow powder.

  “Sir, you wanted to see me?” I asked, tapping the open doorframe with my knuckles.

  Dickerson turned with a deep frown on his face. He nodded and blinked at me, as if I’d just woken him from a long sleep. After a moment, he shook his head and gestured to the metal chair sitting in front of his desk. He walked around me to close the door, then moved to sit behind his desk.

  Dickerson was a hard-nosed old soldier who rarely smiled, or perhaps it was that he never had a reason to. This morning was no exception. In his late fifties, he sported the same crewcut he’d probably gotten the day he started boot camp forty years before. His skin was the color of tanned leather and looked to be about as tough. Even in the heat of the Iraqi summer, his desert camo was creased and perfect, the bars on his shoulders and collar polished to a high sheen and the sampling of ribbons he wore on his chest were perfectly aligned. He grunted as he lowered himself in the chair and rested his thick forearms on the desk. He laced his fingers together and cleared his throat.

  Staring at his hands, he took a deep breath and said, “Captain Ryder—I mean, Ben— I got a call from Quinn Blackstone a little while I ago. Apparently, he’s tried calling you on your sat-phone, but couldn’t get through.”

  I had the sat-phone clipped to my belt. I didn’t dare tell him it had been turned off by one of his soldiers so we would not be interrupted while we were fucking each other’s brains out.

  “Yes, sir, I missed his call,” I said with a frown. “I tried calling him back, but got voicemail.”

  “Yes, well, he asked me to find you and give you the news…”

  I frowned at him. I’d never seen Dickerson uncomfortable before, not even when he was chewing the ass of some Iraqi general or listening to bullets whiz by our Humvee. Little alarm bells started going off in my head. Something was up back home because Dickerson had never called me Ben and normally barked at me when he spoke. I had served under him when I was a SEAL in Afghanistan. He considered me a hot head, a pain in the ass cowboy, I think he called me. I thought he was an egotistical asshole who put his career before the safety of his men. We were probably both a little right and a little wrong. Still, I knew he hated my guts as much as I hated his, but he was looking at me with soft eyes, the way you’d look at someone before delivering bad news.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Dickerson said, his head slowly bobbing on his thick neck as he spoke. “It’s about your wife.”

  I felt heat rising from my collar, as if my shirt had caught fire and was spreading to my hair. It engulfed my neck and my cheeks. Sweat oozed from my pores. My mouth was suddenly dry. I licked my lips.

  “What about her?”

  “She was in an automobile accident last night,” Dickerson said quickly, like he thought he had to get the words out before he ran out of air. “I’m afraid she didn’t make it, son. She’s dead.”

  I blinked at him several times, my eyelids flicking like a slot machine. I shook my head to make sure I was hearing him right. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you just say?”

  Dickerson took a deep breath and blew it out in one long gust that fluttered the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. I could feel the hot air all the way on my side of the desk. It smelled like stale coffee and cigars.

  “You wife was killed in a car accident last night, Ben,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of details other than it was late and it was raining and she lost control of her car and hit a tree.”

  “A tree, sir…”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s dead…”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so…”

  “What was she doing out late at night?” My voice suddenly sounded hollow and far away, like I was listening to myself through a pipe. “In the rain?”

  “I don’t know, son. Quinn didn’t seem to have a lot of details. He said he’d call you when he had more. In the meantime, he’s reserved a first-class ticket for you at Mosul International. You can pick it up at the Turkish United desk.” He glanced at his watch. “The flight leaves in an hour. Yates can take you back to your hotel so you can pack, then ferry you to the airport. I’ll call the airline and make sure they hold the plane for you. It’s a long fucking flight, but you need to get home as quickly as possible.”

  “My son,” I muttered, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. My young son’s smiling face flashed through my mind. I felt a sense of panic wrap its tentacles around my heart. I felt it start to squeeze. “My son, Cody… Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “It’s my understanding that your son is safe with your wife’s sister, Emily,” he said, holding out his hands, patting the air with his palms. “He was not in the car at the time of the crash. He was spending the night at your sister-in-law’s house. He is safe and sound.”

  “Cody loves Emily’s twins,” I said absently.

  “Well, yes, that’s good to know,” Dickerson said with a serious nod. “He’ll be fine till you get home.”

  I put my hands on my knees and pushed myself out of the chair. A thousand thoughts and questions were running through my mind. At the forefront of it all was my son. Cody was just four-years old. A real mama’s boy. He had no choice to be anything but because I’d been gone most of his life. He knew who I was, but just barely. He wouldn’t understand that his mommy was dead and gone. He needed his daddy. And I needed him. My only priority at that moment was getting home to my son.

  “I’m sure Quinn has someone in route to take my place,” I said, knowing that even in the worst of circumstances there was no detail that got past Quinn, especially when money was involved. “If they have questions t
hey can call me in the states when I’m home.”

  Dickerson grunted as he got out of the chair and came around the desk with his beefy hand out. “That’s fine. No worries there.” He held out his hand and I shook it. “You have my condolences, Captain Ryder. I know you’ve always considered me to be a pain in the ass, but you’ve always taken good care of me. I appreciate your service. You’re a damned good SEAL.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s good to know that I’ve taken care of someone.” I let go of his hand and walked out the door.

  * * *

  Once the plane was at cruising altitude and the pilot had turned off the seat belt button, I made my way to the first-class lavatory and locked the door. I stood at the tiny sink and splashed cold water on my face. When I looked at the man in the mirror, he gave me a disgusted look and said, “Your wife is dead, you fucking piece of shit. You happy now?”

  The words echoed in my ears. The fact that I’d spent the night and most of the morning fucking another woman while my wife lay in a drawer at the morgue or in the basement of some funeral home in Arlington was not lost on me. Our relationship had long soured and was probably over for good, and I’d take my part of the blame for that, but I should have honored my vows until the divorce was final. I was sure Bethany did. That was just her way. Goddammit. I was a fucking SEAL. I lived and died by a strict code of conduct that revolved around discipline, ethics, and honor. Sadly, those things were left in the hallway outside my hotel room door while I was fucking Bonita Anderson inside.

  A heavy blanket of shame and grief draped itself around my shoulders and squeezed until my lungs could no longer take in air.

  I lowered myself onto the tiny toilet and put my head in my hands.

  With the water running to help disguise the noise, I broke down and sobbed like a fucking baby.

  The sad thing was, I really wasn’t sure who or what I was crying for.

  Chapter Five: Lolita

  I lost my virginity three years ago, when I was sixteen, on September 12th. I knew the date because I had written all about it in the locked diary I kept hidden in my nightstand. I had written the words while his cum was still moist in my cunt. I could still smell the sweat from his body, taste the salt from his lips, hear his low groans in my ears as he shot his load inside me. Sometimes, I take out the diary and read the words as I make myself cum as my fingers plunge deep inside me, imagining that its Jerry’s thick cock bringing me to orgasm. It’s like my own personal erotic novel, only every word is true. I get hot just thinking about it.

  It was a Friday night and my mother was out with some of her work friends and I was home alone. Jerry showed up around seven, saying that he just thought he’d stop by to make sure I was all right. He knew I was home alone. Fuck, I was always home alone. I knew the moment I opened the door and saw him standing there with an innocent smile on his face that we were going to fuck. That’s why I let him in. My cherry swelled at the sight of him. I literally felt like I was going to pop.

  “How late do you think your mom will be out?” he asked as he followed me into the kitchen so I could get him a beer from the fridge.

  “She’s usually out pretty late when she’s partying with her girlfriends,” I said as I set the beer on the bar that separated the open dining room and kitchen. He slid onto a stool, picked up the beer, and took a long drink. His eyes took me in as he drank. I leaned back against the sink to give him the full view.

  He was making small talk, but I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. There was a heat in my cunt that was burning its way through my body. My tits were large by the time I was sixteen. I felt my nipples plumping in my bra. My panties were moist. I could smell my scent wafting in the air. I wondered if he could smell me like I wanted him to. I wanted him to sniff the air and pounce on me like a lion on the prowl. I crossed my ankles and squeezed my thighs together, but it did not diminish the fire that was smoldering there. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel his cock in my hand and in my mouth and in my pussy. I was a horny teenager who had never had sex with anything other than my own hand and my mom’s vibrator that she kept in her bedside table. My cherry was ripe and ready. I wanted Jerry to pop it before it burst on its own.

  I was just a stupid teenager, but I was old enough to know better than to fuck my mom’s boyfriend. But I could tell that Jerry wanted me, and I think he realized that I wanted him, too. I saw his eyes go over me as he sipped from the bottle. I was wearing a pair of pink gym shorts that showed off my long legs and a green crop top that showed off my flat stomach. I was barefoot. My toenails were painted bright red. My long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. My skin was a golden brown from lying in the sun. I smelled like coconut oil and soap. I wondered if Jerry thought I looked sexy. The way his eyes lingered on my tits and pussy, I figured I did.

  “Are you and mom getting serious?” I asked innocently, as if it would make a difference in what was about to happen.

  Jerry took a long drink and wiped the beer from his lips with the back of his hand. He gave a long sigh and shrugged. “Honesty, I think we’re about done. Your mom’s hard to read. Sometimes, I think things are going good and sometimes, I think she’d just as soon see me gone. Between you and me, I think she’s already moving on. She broke a date with me to go out with her friends tonight.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said with mixed emotions. “Mom can be pretty flaky sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s life.” He held the beer bottle in one hand and scraped at the label with a thumbnail. He glanced up at me, then glanced back down. “Has she said anything to you about me? How she feels or what she’s thinking?”

  Now, mom talked about Jerry all the time. Sometimes she said he was the best man in the world and other times she wished he’d just go away. She said he was sweet and generous, but was getting possessive, always wanting to know where she was and who she was with. He texted and called her all the time to check on her and she was getting sick of it. That was the one thing mom wouldn’t tolerate; a man who tried to keep tabs on her and thought he could tell her what to do. I knew she wouldn’t put up with it for long. Maybe that’s what drove me to say what I did. Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself when I start feeling guilty for fucking Jerry behind her back.

  “I think mom’s seeing someone else,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a complete lie. Mom had been fucking her boss, Ralph, for years, and on those nights when she didn’t have plans with Jerry she hung out with an old boyfriend named Stevie Vaughn. Poor Jerry got a look on his face that could have been hurt or relief. Either way, it made me want to take him into my arms and make him feel better.

  “Fuck, I knew it,” he said, his handsome forehead furrowing with lines. “I guess that’s it then.”

  “Do you love her, Jerry?” I asked, hoping that the answer would be no, but determined to fuck him either way. I couldn’t help myself. My brain was no longer in control. They say guys think with their dicks. I’m here to tell you that girls think with their pussies. At least girls like me. My panties were soaking through to my gym shorts now. My nipples were pushing through the bra. The scent of my juices hung in the air like perfume.

  Jerry stared at my feet and pondered the question for a moment, sitting with his shoulders hunched, his elbows on the bar and the bottle between his hands. The label was peeled off completely now. Little scraps of paper littered the bar. I saw his eyes slowly drift up my legs and settle on my pussy. I saw his nostrils flare. He could smell me. He shifted his weight on the stool. I wondered if his cock was hard just from looking at me and smelling my scent.

  “I thought maybe I loved her,” he said quietly. His eyes drifted up to my tits. My nipples were like hard little stones. They pushed out from my bra and crop top like they were begging for him to touch them. He blinked a few times, then took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

  “You don’t think you love her anymore?” I asked, as if his answer would change what I’d set my mind to do. />
  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you think she loves me, Lolita?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I don’t think she loves you, Jerry,” I said, letting my bare shoulders go up and down. “I don’t think she’s really capable of loving anybody.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” he said, setting the empty bottle on the bar. He licked his lips and offered a sad smile. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.”

  “That’s what she said,” I said, putting my hands on the counter behind me to push myself up. I could feel something warm running down the inside of my thighs. I gave him a look that I hoped was seductive. “She said you were all kinds of fun, Jerry. All kinds of fun...”

  “Well, glad she enjoyed the ride,” he said. He braced his palms on the bar and started to push himself up, then lowered himself back onto the stool when I pulled the crop top over my head and dropped it to the floor. I was wearing a black bra that barely contained my big tits. Jerry’s mouth dropped open as he watched me unhook the bra in the back and let it slide down my arms. My big boobs bounced free.

  “Lolita, what are you doing?” he asked quietly. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His eyes were glued to my tits. I cupped my tits and massaged them where the bra had cut in. I brought my fingers to my nipples and gave them a hard squeeze. I thought I was going to cum right then and there. My cunt gushed hot juices, lubricating my pussy in anticipation of my first cock pushing its way inside me. Mom said Jerry had a cock like a summer sausage. I couldn’t wait to see and touch it for myself.

  “Do you want me, Jerry?” I asked, squeezing my tits, pinching my nipples until they turned purple. My breath was started to come in gusts, the words drifting out in sighs. “Do you want to fuck my tight little pussy with your big meaty cock?”

  Jerry licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder toward the front door. He lowered his voice as if he was afraid someone might hear. “Lolita, how old are you?”