Buyer's Market: A Billionaire + Virgin Dark Fairytale

by Dark Angel

  After that, Simon began to try and nurse his depression and spent six months blowing through millions of dollars.

  I mean, he made even Ethan Hawke look frugal. But he was burning out. Constantly strung out and finding no one who wanted to fuck his coked up limp dick, he began to do more and more drugs. He got busted a few times with massive amounts of cocaine possession. The busts were so big that the authorities wondered how he was even still alive.

  They stopped wondering six months ago when his body went into a cocaine-induced overdose and he was found dead outside of his 3rd Avenue apartment building.

  He died poor. And alone.

  I never learned how he found out about Robert until Cheryl approached me a few weeks after the Times Square matchup.

  “I hope you know I had nothing to do with Robert and his untimely ending,” she told me.

  I looked at her, not believing her at first.

  “His wife was inches away from killing him,” she continued. “And when I first went out there, it was mainly to do research and see what we could do to pay him off or scare him.”

  I think I was a bit relieved when she told me this, but still a bit curious.

  “Sure, we were probably going to scare him,” Cheryl continued. “Like have him wake up with a dead horse head in his bed like the Godfather or something,” she said.

  I remember nodding, you know? As if this was the most normal thing in the world.

  “But apparently my visit actually pushed her over the edge,” Cheryl told me. “The constant years of lying and cheating must have taken their toll on the poor woman because literally one hour after I left, he came home and she killed him.”

  “So you didn't kill Robert?” I asked, too happy to express myself.

  Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad that Robert is gone. But if it were because of me, I would have felt really horrible.

  “No, but I helped her bury the body,” Cheryl said to me with a deadpan stare. “And if push came to shove, and I had to defend myself, there would be no question.”

  I remember thinking maybe that was the best I could hope for.

  And maybe to never fuck with Cheryl. Ever.

  So that took care of Simon. And Robert. Now, a year later from when the whole thing started I think I’ve turned a page in my life. That I’ve moved on.

  I look up at Ethan, who’s staring at me and smirking as he looks at me, contented and sitting on the sofa.

  “So,” I say, looking up at him. “I think since you interrupted my little session, you might be owing me something."

  “I thought we were waiting till the wedding?” he asks me, deadpanning.

  I pout. He’s right of course. Six months ago, as I was approaching my last trimester, Ethan proposed to me.

  He told me he wanted to make an honest woman out of me before we got married.

  I told him yes. I mean, come on, right? Why would I have doubts about marrying the man I love.

  But I also told him I wanted to wait.

  I wanted our daughter to be born first. And then have her at our wedding. I wanted to share the happiest day of my life with everyone that I loved, you know?

  Plus, get a chance to work off all the pounds so I could still turn heads.

  “You’re right,” I pout. Three weeks ago, we told each other that we’d re-virginize ourselves and not have sex till our wedding night.

  The only problem is, our wedding is still another seven days away.

  I know, stop rolling your eyes, hun. You’re probably asking yourself what’s seven days without sex, huh?

  Don’t lie.

  And just remember, seven days without sex may not seem like much, but when you’re living with the absolute hottest piece of man meat on the planet, every minute feels like a month.

  “You can do it, babe,” Ethan says with a laugh and gets up as I stare at his ass. “Besides, we can’t get too crazy. Cheryl and Walter are bringing Anna back from the park.”

  Anna. That’s our little baby girl’s name. She was 6 pounds and 3 ounces when she came out and she’s been the apple of her father’s eye since then. I’ve never in my life thought I’d see that day when Ethan Kane began to change diapers.

  But it’s true.

  Walter and Cheryl. That’s another surprise that I never saw coming. Turns out our assistants decided to follow the example that their bosses set and get together as well. Who would have thought it, huh?

  But they balance each other out. Cheryl is strong where Walter is thoughtful. He’ll come up with the plan and Cheryl will make sure its executable.

  Together they’ve been looking after Anna a lot and really taken to their godparent duties with gusto.

  “We don’t have to get crazy if we’re quick,” I say to Ethan, standing up and sauntering over to him. He eyes me. I can feel his stare as it goes up and down my curvy body. I smile. I have him. “Besides, a blowjob isn’t sex, right? On the West Coast, they call it a California handshake.”

  Ethan grows as my body presses against him. It’s been a long time for him too, and I can feel his hard cock tenting his dress pants.

  “Oh, is that your cock, Ethan?” I ask as I rub up against his body. “It feels good, poking into my stomach. I want to run my mouth over the head. I want to lick it, suck it, and make it squirt.”

  Ethan’s hands grab me and in that moment, it’s better than any virtual reality I could have had. I have the most amazing man in the world. And he’s all mine. Forever.

  “Is that the best you got for me, Man Chaser?” Ethan asks me, pulling me close to him, his nostrils flaring.

  “You think you can handle any more of me, Woman Tamer?” I shoot back.

  Ethan smiles and I kiss him as he pushes me back to the sofa. My hands are grasping at his trousers and I unbuckle his belt and unzip him.

  Sure, we said we’d wait.

  But we’ll have plenty of waiting when Anna is back with Cheryl and Walter.

  For now, it’s all about celebrating the times to cum.

  Second Epilogue - As Told By Brittney

  I know it’s been a while now since you first met me, but you ever wonder if things like this could really happen?

  I do.

  Or at least I did.

  I mean, again, don’t tell Ethan, okay? But there are days where I literally wonder if I’m living in a dream.

  I have the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Who seems to have a cock that that can do its own bench presses at times with the power and intensity that it fucks me with. I have a beautiful daughter. Living a gilded life in the skies of Manhattan.

  But you know, none of this story would have ever been possible without Alexis.

  That’s why when I walk into the master bedroom and see Ethan still getting ready, I tell him to hurry.

  We don’t want to be late for the launch, that’s for sure.

  “You know, usually it’s the woman that runs late,” I tell Ethan, rolling my eyes.

  He glares at me. “You want to tell Cheryl that you have to go to a party when she’s going over the weekly schedule?”

  I shrug. Cheryl is a sweetie, and I know Ethan realizes that.

  “Besides, what’s this party for again?” he asks me.

  I swear, he may be handsome and intelligent and sweet, but sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t have selective memory. Or selective hearing.

  “Alexis invited us to the launch of her book,” I tell Ethan. “You know, like I told you at least three times this morning.”

  “Oh, fuck. You’re right,” Ethan says. “What book again?”

  Oh. My. God.

  I swear to…

  That’s when I see Ethan smile and give me his infuriating but charming smirk.

  “Got you, didn’t I?” he asks.

  Ugh. Sometimes I love him, but I just want to punch him.

  He comes over to me and stands close. “Here,” he says. “I got you this.”

  He pulls out an envelope and hands it to me.
<
br />   “What is it?” I ask even as I open it.

  “Alexis wanted us to have it in case our lives ever got interesting again,” he tells me.

  I look at it. Its a single paper.

  With a few contact details.

  Alexis Angel:

  Email: author.alexisangel@gmail.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexis.angel.754

  Newsletter: Naughty Angels.

  Newsletter Link: http://eepurl.com/cu4ET9

  I look up at Ethan. “Do you think our lives will continue to be as interesting?” I ask him.

  He smiles at me. I’m sure that our lives won’t be boring, but I wouldn’t really mind. As long as my family is around me.

  “Well, you know, after Alexis wrote Red & Blue and the Governor and that Mayor fucking the Senator, or Scandalous about the Mayor’s son fucking his hot stepmom, or Client 5 about Arsen and his phone sex business, she’s been pretty hot,” Ethan says.

  “I think the only thing I haven’t read by her is Jailbait,” I tell Ethan, rolling my eyes. This is old news to me. I’m the one that found Alexis, remember?

  “Yeah, but did you know she also writes in collaboration with another author called Erin Wright? They’re going to have a new pen name called Mona Cox,” Ethan tells me.

  I look over at him. Big, hulking, cut, ripped, whatever you want to call it. He’s talking to me about fucking romance novels.

  “Since when did you start reading the works of my author friends?” I ask him.

  He smiles. “Since they started writing about the fucking hot as hell sex we have, babe,” he says to me.

  He takes a step closer and I can already feel that giant monster sized cock of his poking me. I mean, 12 inches. It’s going to reach me before the rest of his body does if it’s hard.

  “You know we have a party to go to,” I murmur as Ethan nuzzles his face on my neck.

  “That’s what I’ve been doing the last half hour was reading her book about us, babe,” Ethan says. “And holy fucking Christ we are fucking hot.”

  Oh, don’t I know it. Remember, the whole thinking I’m in a dream?

  “Brings back some memories, doesn’t it?” Ethan asks. “Reading about us.”

  He’s right and just thinking back to what you’ve read in the last 75,000 words and actually remembering those experiences - I dunno - I don’t resist as I feel his hands grab my ass and pull me towards him.

  In fact, I may actually be doing a little grinding of my pussy against his cock.

  Whatever it is, it’s enough to bring us in for a kiss.

  And then one more. And another.

  Until Ethan unzips the zipper on my dress and lets it fall to the floor.

  I stand there in my strapless bra and black lace thong.

  “Turn around and bend over,” Ethan tells me. It’s not a question. More a statement of what I’m going to do.

  Which I am more than happy to comply with.

  As I turn around, I see the clock on the nightstand.

  Oh, fuck. We’re going to be late. We can’t do this.

  But then I feel his cock against my ass cheeks.

  That pulsing, throbbing, giant cock of his. I feel his hands squeeze my ass. My body begins to tremble with lust.

  And you know what? I can be late.

  I’d rather get fucked by this piece of gorgeous man meat right now than anything else in the world.

  Alexis is a sweetie, though, so listen.

  You’ve been with me this far. You’ve seen everything.

  You’ve kept secrets when it was just me and you talking.

  Can you do one last thing for me?

  Can you email Alexis or tell her on Facebook that I’m going to be late? That Ethan and I are going to be late to her party.

  Tell her, “They’re busy fucking again.”

  She’ll know what you mean.

  Thank you so much, hun! Love you and hope you had fun!

  Man Caser Over, On To Jailbait

  Jailbait was the first thing we published!

  Normally offered for 2.99, given now for free!

  Then…

  Our goal in this is simple.

  To entertain you as long as we can to give you the best experience with the words that we hold so dear. Because while we may be in various corners of the world, the fact that we are sharing these brings us closer together we feel.

  Thank you so much for reading!

  xoxo

  Alexis and Lana

  Jailbait

  Jailbait: A Secret Baby Bad Boy Romance

  I’m a bad man. That’s why I’m in jail. And I’m gonna use her as my ticket out…

  She’s sexy, sassy, and cute. But she’s never met anyone like me. I should have no trouble getting what I need from her and moving on.

  I’ve done it before. Broken hearts when I left ‘em after I got what I needed. I can do it again.

  I can’t let that curvy body sway me from my goal. I can’t let those wide eyes and beautiful lips make me forget what I am – an inmate looking to escape.

  Ain’t no way I’m falling in love while I’m using her if I know what’s good for me.

  There’s just one problem. I’ve never done what’s good for me. That’s why I’m in jail, remember?

  Incarcerate yourself with this secret baby bad boy romance—filled with brooding bad boy alpha-males and the women they love! No cliffhangers, but it’s a scorcher with super-steamy scenes. Happily Ever After? You know it.

  Kerri

  The house is quiet. I place my keys on the dining table and walk through the living room. It's dark, but I hear the steady hum of a fan. He must have left it on and then got called into work because I don't hear him, I think to myself. But then I hear a noise coming from an upstairs bedroom. Was that a giggle or a cough, or maybe something else? I can't tell. The sound is too far away.

  I slowly make my way up the stairs. "Hello?" I call out. But I don't receive a response. Maybe Jonathan is home and taking a shower. I approach our bedroom. The door is closed but there is a light on. I turn the knob and push the door open. The stereo is on and I hear our familiar song playing its soulful melody:

  "If the stars don't shine, if the moon won't rise, if I never see the setting sun again, you won't hear me cry, this I testify, please believe me, boy, you know I won't lie, you and me, you and me…"

  I blink back the light of the room as my eyes adjust. At first nothing seems amiss. I notice our rumpled white comforter on the bed and it's moving rhythmically. "Jonathan?" I ask. But before I hear anything else, I now know what I'm looking at, and I'm having a hard time believing it. My eyes burn, and I blink, but when I open them again, I know everything is now changed. My life is irrevocably altered.

  "Babe, what are you doing home? I thought you were working?" Jonathan stammers, holding the comforter up to his chin.

  At first, I'm too stunned to say anything. And then I scream, and once I open my mouth, I can't stop. Words spill out of my mouth like water from a fire hose. "Get out! You bastard, get out! Now! Just get out!" Hot tears are spilling out of my eyes, and I hate myself for crying. I should be stronger than this. My strong-willed mother raised me, and if she were here right now, she'd tell me to be tougher than this. I can almost hear her voice in my ear, with its deep, serious tone, telling me that this man doesn't deserve me. He isn't worth crying about. But I'm devastated—there is no question about it—and the hurt that's coursing through me drowns that all out.

  "We can work this out," Jonathan pleads. He's getting out of our bed, naked, and holding a pillow in front of his erect cock. His hair is a mess and he runs his fingers through it. His face is flush; he seems scared, but he's forcing his mouth into a smile, and I can't help but look at his rows of perfectly white, straight teeth. I used to think they were a thing of beauty, and now I think they make him look fake, like a real-life talking mannequin, which reminds me of a horror movie. He extends his hand to mine, but I don't let him touch me. I sw
at it away and turn my body before crossing my arms defensively.

  Before this moment, I thought he was the perfect man, even the man of my dreams. I believed that the fairy tale was possible—I bought into the Disney dream that said everyone had their soul mate—their hero on a white horse would come along, so long as you waited for him. I pictured us in this house with kids. I pictured the wedding. I even found myself day dreaming about what kind of flowers I'd use for our arrangements. Hell, I even thought we'd eventually have the mini-van and the weekday soccer practices. It was such a clear picture.

  "I made a mistake," he pleads. "I swear this'll never happen again." I snatch his pillow and throw it across the room. I want him to feel just as exposed and vulnerable as I do in this moment.

  "You're joking, right?" I ask, not waiting for an answer. "It's over."

  And then I look back to the bed, and I see a woman looking for her bra. Her hands are fumbling through the sheets. She's trying to hold her beasts in her hands, but her bra is on the floor and when she finally sees it, she has to reach down and pick it up. Her breasts spill out and I am disgusted with how perfect they look. She refuses to make eye contact with me and her discomfort is palpable. Her hair has that "just fucked" look and she doesn't bother touching it. She's not the one I'm mad it. It's clear she's an unknowing victim.

  "Get out!" I scream again. It's the only thing I can say. It feels as if the walls are crumbling around me—the home Jonathan and I built together, the rainy nights spent in front of the TV cuddling up to a movie, the laughs, all of the good memories—that is all replaced with what feels like a punch to my gut. Everything feels dead and the only way I know how to staunch the pain is to remove these people—to get them out of my sight for good.

  They scramble for their clothes, and hop around the room on one leg, quickly trying to pull their bodies through jeans. They aren't moving fast enough and I can't stop screaming. I'm seeing and feeling red. My entire body is pulsing. "Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!" The minutes seem like an eternity and they finally leave with their shoes tucked under their arms. The woman runs down the stairs, and Jonathan follows after her. He stops mid-way and looks back at me one last time before leaving the house for good. It's a pathetic look and I hate him for it.