Playboy Ever After

by Chance Carter

  I walked up to the front desk of her building wearing the friendliest smile I owned. Her doorman had long ago taken a dislike to me, and I expected it was because my mother used him as her own personal sounding board for whatever was distressing her at the time. Usually, I was the one distressing her.

  He called to let her know I was there, but the look on his face told me immediately that she was not okay with my visit.

  “I’m going up,” I told him, and then left before he had a chance to argue with me. As much as it was his job not to let unwelcome visitors into the building, even my mother’s doorman knew not to tell me what to do.

  I banged on Paulina’s door a couple minutes later. She did not answer. I groaned in frustration, wishing she could be just a touch less dramatic for once in her life. Would it kill her?

  “Mother,” I called through the door. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

  Silence.

  “How would you feel if I just refused to talk to you?” I asked.

  Still silence.

  “If you don’t answer this door right now, I’ll call your book club and tell them what you get like after a few too many gins.”

  There was a shuffling from the other side of the door and then it opened to reveal my mother’s pinched, angry face. I pushed my way inside, careful not to do so too forcefully and risk inadvertently hurting her.

  “You never want to talk to me when I want to talk to you,” Paulina sniffed. “But as soon as you want something, look where you come running! It’s outrageous.”

  “What’s outrageous is the fact that you’ve been ignoring me for the past week because I told you I have a girlfriend.”

  She closed the door and walked purposefully over to the kitchen to pour herself a gin and tonic. She didn’t offer me one, but then again that would have been the polite thing for her to do. Mother was only ever polite when it suited her. She never saw the irony in placing such a high premium on the manners of others.

  “It’s not that you have a girlfriend, Maximillian. You mustn’t be so dramatic,” she chastised.

  Now I was the one being dramatic? The woman was unbelievable.

  “Then what is it?” I asked. “Is it that she’s my assistant?”

  She finished measuring out the gin and practically slammed the bottle back down on the counter. “She’s your secretary,” she snapped. “And beyond that, she’s completely unsuited to you and you know that. You should be with an educated young woman of your own station. I wish you’d grow up and stop chasing the shortest skirt and start looking for someone to settle down with.”

  “How is it any of your business which skirt I’m chasing?”

  I clenched my fists and stormed over to the counter, trying to keep a lid on the rage bubbling in my chest. This confrontation had been a long time coming. All it had taken to push me over the edge was my desire for Emma.

  “And for the record, Emma is not just some little skirt. You know her. Hell, you like her, which is saying something for you.”

  She set her nose in the air as she took the first sip of her drink. “I like lots of people.”

  “You like lots of people with money,” I corrected. “The list of people you like that don’t have money is actually quite small. In fact, I’m fairly certain it consists only of Emma and Haddie.”

  “Used to consist of Emma and Haddie,” she snipped. “Now it’s only Haddie.”

  My rage grew.

  “So now you suddenly dislike Emma just because she wants to be with me? Are you insane?”

  “I dislike Emma because she’s clearly trying to get something out of you,” she countered. “You may think it snobbish of me to take an instant dislike to the women in your life who come from average means, but it’s just common sense. People always want what they don’t have, and if they don’t have money, it makes sense for them to do everything they can to try to get it. Including tricking my son into a completely inappropriate and ludicrous relationship.”

  Ah, so that’s what this was about. I should have guessed. Mother always tried to pretend that my father’s numerous affairs didn’t bother her, but they did. They always had. She considered herself to be above the women he took to bed, which made it hurt all the more when her husband chose them over her.

  In most cases, Father’s lovers cared more about what he could give them than who he was as a man. I knew Paulina considered him a fool to give in to such immoral motivations. She’d built herself an ivory tower a long time ago from which to look down upon the peasantry with disdain. I hadn’t realized until now how problematic it was going to be if I let her stay there.

  “She’s not tricking me, Mother,” I said gently, reaching out to rest my hand over hers. “She had similar concerns and I ended up having to convince her that this was a good idea. I’ve thought this through, I promise you.”

  “I just wanted you to have a good wife and a secure legacy,” she said miserably. “Is it so bad for a mother to want the best for her son?”

  “I understand that, but none of the women you tried to set me up with would have been the best for me,” I replied. “They bored me, Mother. Do you want me to end up bored for the rest of my life?

  She sighed. It was a long, dramatic sigh. “No, I don’t.” After a small pause, during which she downed the rest of her gin, she continued. “And I suppose Emma will make a suitable wife. Perhaps even a good one.”

  My triumph at having gotten my way was cut short by her last comment. I shook my head.

  “I’m not marrying her.”

  Paulina’s eyes snapped to mine. It always amazed me how a woman who was half drunk a good share of the time could always produce such icy stares. “What?”

  “I’m not marrying anyone,” I said. “I still have no plans to marry. This isn’t news to you.”

  I had told her a few times now that I had no plans to ever marry. It wasn’t my fault she never listened.

  Her face grew stern, then cold. When she spoke, it was with the angry rasp she used to use on my father, which had always reminded me of a growling cat. “You’re a selfish little twit, aren’t you?”

  She knew she couldn’t force me to get married, which meant the only viable response was emotional blackmail. Not happening.

  “What I choose to do with my life has nothing to do with you,” I said, trying to stay calm. “The sooner you get that through your head, the sooner we’ll start having conversations that don’t end in shouting.”

  “I’ve never shouted at you a day in my life!” she shouted. “You’re just like your father, except at least he had the decency to continue the Westfield bloodline to protect the company.”

  “Protect the company? Are you fucking serious?”

  “Don’t you swear at me!”

  “I’ll fucking swear if I want! You’re being ridiculous.”

  Paulina took a step back and tilted her head so that, despite me being much taller than she was, she could still glare sourly down her nose at me. “Get out.”

  I didn’t need her to tell me a second time. For a moment, it had looked like we were going to resolve our issues, but now we were just fighting about something else. I’d had enough.

  I slammed the door on the way out and cursed all the way to my car. Anger rolled off me in waves, making my skin hot and my thoughts churn. I was so tired of dancing around my mother’s moods and whims.

  I needed to let off some steam. I needed to let off some steam or else I was going to explode.

  Emma flung open the door with a wide smile, a smile that immediately slid off when she saw the look on my face.

  “What’s wrong, Max? Everything—”

  I cut her off, pushing my way into the apartment and slamming my mouth down on hers. I kicked the door closed with my heel and pushed her further inside, practically tearing the clothes from her body.

  “Max...” she moaned against my lips. “What...”

  “No talking,” I commanded. “Not until after I’ve fucked you senseless.�
��

  She groaned and allowed me to continue guiding her to the bedroom. There still wasn’t much furniture in her apartment, so even though my cock was threatening to punch out of my pants, I would at least have to wait until we made it to her bed. The only furniture she had was a small desk holding her laptop and an open bag of pretzels.

  Once in the bedroom I pressed her against the wall and ripped down her shorts, taking the panties with them.

  I wasn’t wasting any time.

  On my knees in front of her, I anchored my hands on her delicious ass and pulled her pussy against my face. She moaned, and I started lapping up her sweet nectar, watching her tits rise and fall with each ragged breath. She grabbed the wall for support as I upped my assault, sucking on her clit and getting her nice and wet for me.

  I didn’t have time to give her the attention she deserved today. I needed a rough, brutal fuck and I needed it now.

  She whimpered when I pulled away a couple minutes later, clearly disoriented. I didn’t blame her. I tossed her naked body onto the bed, face down, yanking her hips up before dropping my pants and boxers to the floor. My rod stood straight and proud, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip. I’d been thinking about her the whole ride over and it showed. Thank God she was on birth control and we’d both gotten tested already. The time it would take to put on a condom right now might have killed me.

  I pulled my shirt off and then covered her body with mine, kissing and biting along her neck and shoulder as I tested her slick folds with my fingers. She was dripping wet, just like I knew she would be. I groaned.

  Her body felt so good, so hot and tight, and perfect. I lined my cock up with her entrance and thrust in to the hilt, eliciting a shocked cry from my quarry. I didn’t give her time to adjust, pulling out and sinking in again before she even had a chance to catch her breath.

  Emma’s moans filled the room as I rammed into her over and over again. My fingers sank into the flesh of her hips, a visual that I’d remember until my dying day. I squeezed as hard as I could and fucked as hard as I could. Her moans mixed with the slapping sound of skin against skin, creating a symphony of sex that was music to my ears. My balls tightened, and the pleasure became so powerful that I knew I was only moments from erupting. But Emma hadn’t cum yet. I’d have to do something about that.

  I slowed down and wrapped my arms around her torso, kneading her plump breasts in my hands. I pinched and flicked her tight buds, making her moan even louder. My teeth dug into her back just the way I knew she liked. In that moment, I was more beast than man. Something dark and wild surged through me, and Emma responded to it. Her pussy clenched around me like a vice and I roared as I sank into her again, finally reaching my climax as the last spasms of her pussy began to subside.

  She collapsed onto the bed. I lay down beside her, spent.

  “What was that about?” she murmured a moment later.

  I opened one eye to see her staring at me, a questioning look on her pretty, blushing face.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  She groaned, “You know I’m going to.”

  I rolled her underneath me and held her, willing the questions out of her mind with my lips against her forehead. I couldn’t tell her about my fight with Paulina today. She was already so spooked about what kind of future we had together, and telling her about the content of our argument would only spook her more.

  For now, I held her and all my frustrations flushed away with my breaths. A small thought kicked in at the back of my head, one I’d never expected to have.

  Would it be so bad if this was for the rest of my life?

  Chapter 21

  Emma

  The lines twisted on the page, forming something abstract that I hadn’t quite figured out yet. The best drawings, in my opinion, didn’t take shape until they were already halfway done. I liked sketching still life as much as the next artist, but for me it was all about how the lines blended, strayed, and worked together on the page to eventually form a picture.

  I was enjoying Max’s gift, which he had brought back to my place earlier this week. I hadn’t been able to enjoy drawing for a long time, and somehow his support and encouragement had gotten me out of that funk. Max Westfield was my muse. I chuckled to myself as I wondered what he would think if he knew that.

  Unfortunately, there were things about my relationship with Max that I wasn’t enjoying. Namely, the uncertainty. He seemed all about me now, but how long would his attention last? Surely he’d grow tired of me eventually.

  With that in mind, I’d been trying to hold back emotionally. That was easier said than done when he kissed like the devil, but treated me like an angel. I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to end it if I needed to, if it started to become obvious how much more involved and committed I was than he was. It was a sad thought, one I felt guilty for having. Still.

  My pity party for one was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was surprising, though not too much so. Willow had a key to the building, though it was unlike her to drop by unannounced. I laid my drawing down on the desk and walked over to the door, already wondering if I had enough wine in the fridge for the two of us.

  The familiar face that greeted me was not nearly as welcome as Willow’s would have been. I glared at Lance and tensed, ready to slam the door in his face. As if reading my intent, he shot out a hand to stop me.

  “Wait,” he said. “Can you just listen to me for a sec?”

  I pushed against the door but it wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than I was. I didn’t dignify his question with a response and instead tried body slamming the door. Nothing.

  Lance barged right through me, like I was nothing more than a bag of twigs. For a guy as skinny as he was, he knew how to throw his weight around when he wanted to.

  “Lance, I don’t want you here.” I held the door open as he started circling the small living room, looking at my sparse furnishings with more than a hint of disdain on his face.

  “Tough.” He stopped in the middle of the living room and faced me, hands folded over his chest. “I’m not leaving here until you talk to me.”

  He had the same determination in his eyes that he did when he was playing a particularly tricky level on his X-Box. I knew then that he wasn’t going to leave, so I closed the door and gestured for him to start talking.

  Lance cleared his throat. “I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you, but I needed some time apart to see that.”

  I scoffed. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have said the things you said.”

  “Which things?”

  “Any of them!” I threw my hands in the air. “The insults, the breakup, the manipulation! You’ve been horrible to me for longer than we’ve been broken up, but you’ve been extra horrible to me since then and I’m tired of it. I don’t know how much clearer I could be about not wanting you in my life!”

  It felt good. Damn good. It was the first time since we broke up that I knew I was completely, one hundred percent over him. There was no ache anymore, no hollowness. I’d stripped away all traces of need for Lance, leaving only anger.

  Righteous, bloody anger.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You’re confused. I hurt you, I know that. But I can make things better, baby.”

  He stepped toward me and I took a pointed step back.

  “No.” I put up my hand to stop him. “Don’t come any closer to me. I don’t want you. I don’t love you. I just want you out of my sight.”

  Visible irritation crept into Lance’s features, pinching his mouth and creasing his brow. For someone who couldn’t hold down a job for more than a couple months, he took failure very hard. Maybe it was because this scene was altogether too similar to how he’d dumped me in the first place. Served him right.

  “You’re making a big fucking mistake,” he spat. “You’re just a cheap slut from the wrong side of the tracks. You’d be nothing without me. You’d be back in Illinois if
it weren’t for me, probably with a few kids hanging off you. You should be grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”

  While it was true that at the beginning of our relationship, Lance had helped me transition into city life, and he had gotten me through a couple rough spots, but I never would have gone back. There was nothing there for me. There never had been.

  “I’m making a mistake?” I scoffed. “That’s rich. You’re the one who made the mistake and you know it. You’re just pissed because you’re alone and I’ve moved on.”

  “Moved on? Is that what you’re calling your little tryst with that pompous douchebag?”

  This was getting ridiculous. I didn’t know whether it was his allergy to success or just a side effect of getting older, but the bitterness that had steadily crept into Lance over the past year was reaching its peak. At least I hoped it was. I couldn’t imagine him being any worse than this, and if I tried to imagine it, all that came up was something quite scary.

  “It’s not a little tryst,” I took a step toward him, showing him I wouldn’t be bullied. Not in my own home. Not ever. “We’re a couple, and he treats me better than you ever did.”

  “Of course he does,” Lance sneered. “He’s some spoiled brat with a silver spoon in his mouth. I bet all he has to do to get you wet is open up his wallet.”

  “He’s a good man, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “And he’s rich.”

  “What’s your point?” I asked. “I don’t care about that stuff. I never have. You’re the one who’s always been so obsessed with money, but you can’t keep any around long enough to pay the bills. You probably only want me back so you don’t have to get a fucking job. I stood by you and supported you without a single complaint, even though I had plenty to complain about, and you tossed me out on the street. If you think for one second that there is anything you can do or say to hurt me or gather my favor, you’re even more out of it than I thought.” I pointed to the door. “Get out.”