Single TV Dad: Billionaire Romance... Naughty Angel Style

by Alexis Angel

  “UHHH,” I moan loudly. The pleasure is running through my entire body. My eyes close and I’m soaking up the amazing feeling. My cum is shooting into her mouth and it’s so fucking hot. I grab her and pull her up. I take her head and place her mouth on mine.

  She hasn’t swallowed yet and I’m tasting the saltiness of my cum. It’s moving back and forth between our mouths. I fucking love it. It’s so taboo and so fucking hot. I pull back and my cock twitches as I watch her throat move as she swallows my cum.

  “Mmm. I love the taste of your cum,” she says.

  “I love you,” I say.

  “I love you too," she says.

  The crew is clapping and cheering once again and I’m pulled back to where we are. This whole time I was so into the way we were fucking that I forgot about everyone else. I was having a wonderful time with my soon-to-be-wife.

  “I can’t wait to fuck you like that every day for the rest of our lives,” I tell her.

  I wrap my arms around her and our lips meet for another kiss.

  44

  TV Roundup!

  Chase: Hello again folks and welcome to another delicious dose of TV Roundup! Your source for all the news, gossip, and speculation on today's top TV hits! I'm your host, Chase Worthington.

  Nadia: And I'm your co-host, Nadia Moore.

  Chase: Well, that’s all, folks. Another season of Manhattan Reign has finished and we’re all waiting for the next season. I gotta say, what a fucking rollercoaster.

  Nadia: Absolutely, Chase. Probably my favorite season to date. And I don’t know if it’s like a rollercoaster. I always get sick every time I go to Eight Flags because of the roller coasters.

  Chase: Oh wait, babe. You can’t talk about Eight Flags like that on TV. They might sue us.

  Nadia: Oh right…

  Chase: You know what though?

  Nadia: What? I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to talk about Eight Flags like—

  Chase: No. I mean, fuck it. Say whatever the fuck you want, okay? The FCC has a fucking problem with that, they know where I fucking live.

  Nadia: Ooh. Did someone learn something from Kane Parker?

  Chase: What a season, right?

  Nadia: You said it babe. And of course, all anyone is talking about is the new girl on the block who’s not so new and has really been around the blocks a bit.

  Chase: All that “Daddy” this and “Daddy” that. There sure was a lot of cum flying out this episode.

  Nadia: That’s right audience. Chase came a whole bunch. And it was all in my mouth because I don’t want to get pregnant yet.

  Chase: And tonight's episode had the wildest twist of all, I mean, our actors and our characters kind of meld on the screen and we can't tell who's who!

  Nadia: And that's been a huge part of the appeal of Manhattan Reign.

  Chase: The on air proposal. I mean, just wow.

  Nadia: The episode was more than perfect because none of us saw it coming—

  Chase: I saw you coming when Kane got down on one knee—

  Nadia: Anything Kane gets down on gets me wet!

  Chase: Did you like the on air proposal?

  Nadia: I thought it was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.

  Chase: Well, Nadia. Let me get down on one knee.

  Nadia: Oh my God, Chase! What are you doing?!

  Chase: Nadia Moore, it’s been my absolute pleasure to spend my entire TV Land life with you. Will you do me the honor of saying you’ll be my wife in front of the largest audience we’ll have in a long time?

  Nadia: YES!!!!!

  Chase: You’ve made me the happiest man on Earth.

  Nadia: And somehow, you’ve gotten my panties even wetter than they were watching the show.

  Chase: We should go celebrate our own Manhattan Reign, what you say?

  Nadia: Just add me calling you "daddy" and I think that's the recipe for a perfect night…and tonight’s episode was amazing. Every girl loves a good proposal, but audience, I gotta sign off now. The season is over. Everyone is happy.

  Chase: Now as you can imagine, we have my own happily ever after to take care of, thanks to our latest episode of...

  VOICEOVER: Manhattan Reign!

  A Special Treat from the Author

  I love ya my fab readers!

  I know that like we totes don’t say it enough but this whole thing is about you Angels.

  With that in mind, we want to share some more love with you.

  After this you’ll find six hot reads attached.

  100 Days by Alexis Angel

  Lust Muscle by Alexis Angel

  Blessed by Alexis Angel

  Brother of Law by Cara Angel

  Mr. President by Alexis Angel

  Man Chaser by Alexis Angel

  Thank you so much for reading!!

  xoxoxo

  Alexis

  100 Days

  *Think you’re a true player? Take the challenge and try not to fall in love for 100 Days…*

  100 Days – a matchmaking game for the wealthiest circle of New York City’s elite. Pay $100 million and enter yourself to find a soulmate. If you don’t fall in love with someone they send in 100 days, then you win the combined entry fee of everyone that’s come before you.

  No one has won. Love has conquered them all. The pot has grown to $4 billion.

  *But all that’s about to change. Because the game has a new player. Me.*

  As the wealthiest hedge fund manager on Wall Street, I got the cash. As a former SEAL, I’ve got the body. And with 12 inches of lust muscle between my legs, no one goes home unhappy.

  I don’t plan on losing. Until they send the creator of the game herself – Athena Hawke.

  This curvy blonde is sent to bring me down and make me lose. She opens up a side of me that I never even knew existed.

  Now I’m dealing with a lust and passion that could bring me and my business crashing down.

  I've never lost at anything.

  *But will I still want to win this game of love against Athena in 100 days?*

  Malcolm

  Her face is pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office and her breath is making fogged, heart-shaped patterns on the glass.

  "Fuck me harder," she purrs.

  I smile, grabbing both of her hips in my hands.

  "You don't have to ask me twice doll," I growl, slamming my cock balls-deep into her pussy. This is one hell of an intern—whatever her name is. Lacey? Or is it Lisa, or maybe Lana—I can't remember, and to be honest, I don't give a fuck.

  All I know is that she's hot—smoking hot—and willing, so here I am, bending her over the entirety of Manhattan.

  We're putting on quite a show.

  I wonder if anyone's catching a good look at her tits and face smashed against the window. Probably not, because we're 50 stories up, but the idea of it makes me even fucking harder.

  "You like that?" I ask her with a smile.

  It's a rhetorical question. Of course she fucking likes this. Who wouldn't? And by the way she's moaning and biting her lower lip, I know she agrees.

  Don't roll your eyes at me gorgeous. I'm rich—I could bounce hundred dollars bills off this woman's ass all night long, and I have a perfectly chiseled body, the kind you'd love to use your tongue to trace every ridge with. And with the snap of my fingers, I'm up to my fucking eyeballs in women.

  At any given moment.

  At any given day.

  They're pawing at me, and begging me with their eyes. Go ahead, I dare you to gaze into my breezy blue eyes that are the color of the Bahamas. I'm sure you'll fall just as hard and fast for me.

  Oh, you don't know who I am? Sorry, where are my fucking manners? Let's start from the beginning. I'm Malcolm Bane, and I'm one of the richest men on Wall Street. You've probably seen me listed in Forbes' list of top 30 under 30. I've made more money on Wall Street than most men make in their entire lives.

  And that's how I like it.

  Capitali
sm makes my cock hard … and so does this intern.

  Instead of responding, this woman suddenly reaches back, grabs my silk tie in her small, manicured hand, and pulls me close to her mouth until my ear brushes against her crimson lips.

  "You have no idea," she whispers, "how much I like this."

  There. See? I fucking told you.

  The way her warm breath runs across my ear and down my neck makes my pulse kick in my chest.

  I bring my hand down on her ass, giving it a quick slap, and piston my cock in and out of her pussy at a faster pace.

  Then I decide to change things up. I lift her into my arms and walk her over to my desk, pushing aside paperwork, along with my desk phone with one quick push of my forearm. It all tumbles to the floor.

  I lie her down on the dark mahogany, grabbing her legs and draping them over my shoulders. I grab her thighs and pull her ass to the edge of the desk. Angling my cock back inside of her pussy, I give her a deep thrust. I watch as she grabs the edge of the desk with both hands and let's out a stifled scream. Her toes curl with the force of an oncoming orgasm.

  Her hands are grasping at anything to hold on to as I begin fucking piledriving into her. I’ve lost all fucking reason - all rational thought. I just need to fucking cum at this point.

  As I fuck her, I watch her tits bounce in rhythm with my thrusting, and I reach down, grabbing one in each fist.

  As hot as this intern is—as good as this fuck session is—it never seems enough.

  She’s trying to hold on. Her hands are all over the place. They’re grasping onto my keyboard, her cum-sticky fingers punching keys on my terminal and the 10 screens I have registering buy and sell orders based on her body jerks. But I don’t fucking care. I’m too in the moment of this fuck. My cock is starting to tingle. The underside of it is starting to crackle with electricity.

  If I'm honest, I can fuck hundreds of hot women, but at the end of the day, sex isn't capable of fulfilling anything more than a physical need. There's nothing emotional about it—and that's fine by me. I'm all about the physical.

  And the more that I think about it, I realize I'm a slave to my cock. I guess it's true what they say—that men can only think with one head at a time, and right now, that head is flushed a deep purple, and leaking precum.

  "Fucking Christ," I say, throwing my shoulders back. "You feel so fucking good."

  "Cum for me, Malcolm," she purrs, reaching down and caressing my balls with her fingers. "I want you to cum inside of me … yes, oh fuck, yes."

  I close my eyes and groan as a hot bolt of desire shoots down my body.

  I feel my balls tense … and then I see it. I'm getting text messages, one after another, on my cell phone.

  My terminal is going wild.

  A few faces pop on one of my video call screens at my desk (I have 10 screens in my workstation)

  They look fucking urgent, and when I glance down at the sight of my desk, I see wild orders placed from my terminal. A trader is trying to speak to me through the video call, but my ears are ringing with lust and I can’t hear. He sounds frantic though. He's at the trading desk, and he's telling me about a huge fucking trade happening right now. Coming from my desk. If I don't pull it back, I'm going to lose millions.

  But I can't fucking stop.

  Fuck, here I cum.

  I'm chasing an orgasm stronger than a rocket at lift off, and I'm about to fucking explode.

  "That's it—oh fuck yes!" the intern screams, and just as she does, I shoot rope after rope of hot cum deep inside of her pussy. I pull my throbbing cock out and she grabs it, milking me until I think I don't have anything left.

  She yanks the condom off my cock and her eyes widen at the Magnum of cum right in front of her. My cock is still dribbling cum but she takes my condom and empties it’s contents over her tits, letting it slide down her body in rivulets.

  “Something to remember me by,” she says with an evil grin.

  She locks eyes with me, and brings her fingers to her lips, licking off remnants of my salty cum.

  She's smiling, but as my pulse slowly returns to normal, the realization hits me—she's not the only one who just got screwed.

  I look over to the terminal.

  In the throes of our fuck, we must have messed with the trading system that’s wired into my desk. I can place trades from my desk that most people can’t - I mean come on, I’m the fucking CEO.

  And it looks like I placed a series of extremely bad bets.

  That’s what happens when you’re randomly hitting the keyboard with your hands because you’re in the middle of fucking.

  And those trades have gone south.

  I've just lost one of the largest amounts of money in a single day that’s ever been recorded.

  Fuck.

  People are rushing into my office.

  They don’t even care that we’re naked.

  The intern looks around, puzzled as her boss runs into the office. He’s frantic.

  People are fucked.

  If I don't fix this fucking soon, my entire empire—this firm, the palatial Manhattan apartments, all of the wealth I've worked so hard to build—it's all going to crumble quicker than a wave washing out a sandcastle.

  I'll be nothing.

  I'll leave nothing.

  I'll be a washed up joke.

  And there's no fucking way I'm going to let that happen.

  Wanna come help me fix this, babe?

  Malcolm

  "You look like you could use another drink," Andrew laughs, refilling my glass with a ribbon of amber-colored whiskey.

  "You know me all too well," I smile, grabbing the glass and downing its contents in one swig. "I'm in some deep shit."

  I look out the windows of my office, across the city skyline, and over the steady river of traffic snaking between buildings. It's one thing to look out across the city from 50 floors up, and a whole other thing when you're viewing it from a cardboard box on a street corner. If I don't fix this shit I'm in, I'll be that guy on the corner, with one foot from the fucking gutter. Just thinking about this causes a thin film of sweat to pool on the nape of my neck.

  "You may be in some deep shit, but if you don't slow down, you'll be under this desk, drunker than you've been," Andrew chuckles, slapping his hand down on the mahogany, "instead of bending another intern over it."

  "What makes you think I have plans to bang an intern today?"

  "Are you kidding?" he says, eyes wide. "We've been best friends since college. That's long enough to really know a person. And I think the real question is: When do you not have plans to bang an intern?"

  I watch as Andrew laughs again, this time, the laugh is deep enough to make his belly shake.

  "Are you telling me you've never bent anyone over your desk?" I ask.

  "Not like you, man. I don't think anyone can keep up with you. What's the official count now? 100—or maybe 1,000? Don't tell me it's more than that."

  We both laugh and slam back another shot of whiskey.

  "I'm just giving you a hard time," Andrew smiles. "But I'm not shocked its come to this. And you're like a brother to me, man. The last thing I want is to see you hit rock bottom. Sure, you play hard, but you work equally hard. I know that, and so does everyone else. I've watched you build this empire. I don't want to watch you lose it too."

  He says this with a sincerity in his eyes that's touching.

  "Unfortunately, I think I have more than a few enemies—unhappy rivals in the world of business, and any one of them would be more than fucking happy to see me fail," I say.

  "I'm sure it's not that bad," Andrew shrugs. "It can't be all doom and gloom. You're painting a bleak picture, but I'm sure you'll think of something. You always do."

  "This time is different," I say, shaking my head. "I think this time … I'm out of fucking options. I'm fucking serious."

  Andrew sits back in the soft leather of my couch, deep in thought. He's flicking his wrist, swirling a few pieces of
his remaining ice in his glass. It's making a repetitive clinking sound.

  I've known him long enough to know that when he's deep in thought, it's best not to break his concentration. The man has always been a deep thinker, which is why he's one of the best attorneys this city's got.

  I pace the office, quiet but tense.

  Finally, Andrew breaks the silence. "I might have a solution."

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Really? If so, I'm all ears. Give it to me."

  "Have you heard of Athena's company?" he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

  "Wait, you mean Athena Hawke? The Athena Hawke of Millionaire Matches, Inc.? Of course I've heard of her. She eats men for breakfast. She's ruthless, which explains why she's so successful."

  "You scared of her or something?" Andrew laughs.

  "Of course not. I'm Malcolm fucking Bane. Women don't scare me—not even women like Athena. It's just an observation."

  "Good, because her entire business model on matchmaking is like a contest you could enter.”

  "Contest?"

  "She calls it 100 Days," Andrew says. "And only Manhattan's richest are invited to play."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because the buy in is $100 million per person," he smiles.

  I let out a shrill whistle. "Pretty steep for a contest. You gotta to be fucking kidding me, Andrew.”

  "I'm serious as a heart attack," Andrew says. "Of course, you're supposed to be going there to find love … but you can be like those people who go to her to play this like a game. “

  "I'm in no fucking position to be playing $100 million dollar games, Andrew. C'mon, man. This is serious. I need to make money, not spend it."