100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Malcolm sneers as I bite my lip. I bet he is thinking that I'm holding back a scream, but I'm trying to keep myself from begging. The slap against my tit just adds to the excitement of what is happening to me, but I have to be careful now. Malcolm has kept his voice low and the crashing of my desk clutter had been pretty quiet. The slapping skin was much louder. If I screamed or started pleading for Malcolm to fuck me I'm sure people would be crashing through the door in an instant to find out what the hell was going on in here.

  I move my hips sideways just able to graze my pussy against the tip of his hard cock. The lace of my thong scrapes against my clit and I silently curse the barrier between him and I.

  Malcolm pulls back from me. There is no way that I reach him and stay on the desk. Fffffffffffuuccckkk!

  I'm about to give into my frustration. I don’t care what I started out acting like because now I'm willing to beg, plead, bargain, anything. My mouth opens. The words are forming in my throat when his fingers slip under the edges of my thong.

  The air is rent open with the sound of tearing lace. The cold air washes over my pussy cooling against the wetness that has spread over my lips and thighs.

  He is blindingly fast when he wants to be. Consciously I don’t realize he is in me until I feel the tip of his cock slamming against the back of my pussy. I can’t help the gasp of relief. He feels so hot. I can feel the shaft of his cock touching every part of me. It feels like I could start on fire from the inside and there is nothing I want more in this moment than to burst into flames.

  Malcolm wastes no time. His cock slides out of me and he hammers it back in. Over and over he rams his monster cock into my pussy.

  “That pussy feels so good. God damn you are an amazing fuck,” he says not bothering to control his volume. The growing flame inside me takes control of my mind. I couldn’t care less if someone walked through that door right now. In fact it would make this even better if Ben Danvers were to be the one to come in.

  My hips start to buck. I set up a counter movement to his so that his cock is buried deep inside of me. We move apart and then together in time. His powerful thrusts are making me slide along the surface of the desk. I grunt in desperation because he's getting farther away. He isn’t able to get as deep into me as I want him to be.

  Malcolm must feel the same frustration too because he grabs my legs and drapes them over his shoulders so that my calves are bent down along his back. I use the leverage to pull myself into him. “Yessssss,” he hisses.

  “Fuck me, please. Don’t stop. I need you,” I can't corral the words any longer. I have to let out what I've been feeling for days.

  “Don’t ever, fucking, hide from me again,” Malcolm growls as he pulls his cock out of me. This man calling me a tease is the very definition of the pot calling the kettle black. How in the hell does he know the perfect moment to pull away from me? It's like I have a frustration-gauge on my forehead and when it hits the red zone he denies me.

  Using my legs as handles he pulls me toward him and off the desk. His lightening movements allow him to change his grip and catch me by the hips before I start falling to the floor. He twists my hips and before I can really process what is happening to me I'm bent over face-first on my desk.

  Malcolm kicks at my feet like he's arresting me. My legs spread just a little, but it is enough. Before I have fully settled my weight back onto my heels his cock is spreading the lips of my soaking pussy.

  The tip of his cock presses against that certain spot before bending and moving deeper into me. The top of his shaft slides along that same spot and the fire that had been growing inside me becomes an inferno. The shaking is starting in my feet and climbing up my legs. My knees shake. I'm totally addicted to this feeling.

  My fingers curl around the edges of the top of my desk as my whole body is wracked with convulsions of the most intoxicating high any woman could ever experience.

  “That’s it, Athena. Cum on my cock. I love it when you cum while I'm fucking that perfect pussy.”

  His words punctuate the undulating on my body. His cock pumping in and out of me driving the surging pleasure through the center of me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I draw out as the final and largest wave of pleasure rolls through me.

  My breathing slows. I'm still gripping the edges of my desk so tightly that I'm sure that if I bothered to look my knuckles would be white. Malcolm is still driving his cock into me with a vengeance. How the hell does he manage to last this long?

  His fingers are digging into my hips. It's another ten points of delicious pain. I'm slowly recovering and he's still having his way with me.

  His fingers curl into my flesh sending sharp pangs of pain through me. He buries his cock deep into my pussy. I can feel the surging of his cock as he unloads. I feel wave after crashing wave pass through his shaft. I'm filling up with his cum.

  “Fuck, Athena,” he growls, slowly sliding his cock out of my pussy. “I missed this… all of this.”

  “Me too,” I confess, shuddering as I feel his long inches moving out from inside of me.

  “I know…” he whispers, trailing off as he tucks a lock of hair over my ear. “I know.” All of aggressiveness and dominance had faded away, like the first breeze in a hot summer day, and now all that’s left is kindness and… something more.

  That’s one of the things that made me fall in love with him. The way he’s capable of controlling his aggressiveness – the way he falls in and out of control whenever he wants to, and the way he wields that to fuck me in a way that no other man could.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, you know? I wasn’t supposed to fall in love, and I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to surrender to him like this. But the way he handled me today, the way he put a stop to all of my hesitations… my God, I've never loved anyone like this.

  “I was going crazy, you know?” he continues, taking his hand to my pussy and softly caressing my inner lips.

  “With… what?” I pant, my body trembling as I feel the touch of his fingers.

  “You disappeared and I… fuck, Athena, I was afraid you were gone. And I can’t stand that thought, I just can’t,” he whispers, and his words are so genuine that I feel as if my mind is prickled by them.

  Here he is, opening his heart to me… and he has no idea that I have Ben snapping his jaw at my heels.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally tell him, not knowing what to say.

  “It’s alright.” With that, he goes down to one knee and, leaning forward, he opens his mouth and takes it straight toward my pussy. I arch my back and surrender to the touch of his lips, throwing my legs over his shoulders and allowing him to lick and suck to his heart’s content. And that’s exactly what he does, scooping up the thick strands of cum dripping down from my pussy.

  Without a word, he goes back up to his feet and, tangling his fingers in my hair, he keeps my head in place and crushes his lips against mine. I open my mouth and allow his tongue inside of me.

  We kiss in a wild frenzy, a blanket of cum covering both of our tongues; for a moment, I leave all problems and doubts closed in the dark vaults of my mind.

  When I pull back from his kiss, I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. Pressing my head against his chest, I let myself fall into a deep silence as I listen to his heartbeat.

  Oh, God, what am I going to do?

  20

  Malcolm

  Henry is driving me back to my office and during the car ride I can't stop thinking about Athena's cum-soaked thong.

  The way she smiled at me when I instructed her to wear it for the rest of the day and not take it off. The way I had her in the palm of my hand, molding her like a piece of clay. The genuine smile she gave me the moment I told her to unbuckle my belt.

  Her hunger for my cock was undeniable. You just can't fake that.

  Is she still wearing that thong?

  Can she feel me between her legs during every meeting she takes, and every phone call she makes? And i
f so, does it make her stop mid-sentence and cause her words to catch in her throat?

  Can she smell me as she moves across the room, like something wild beneath her skirt?

  As these thoughts flash through my head, I can't help but smile.

  Victory. Sweet fucking victory.

  But just as quickly as that smile forms on my lips, it vanishes when my car pulls up to the front of my office building.

  There's eight million fucking people walking around this city, but I catch a glimpse of a familiar man walking into my building, and it doesn't take much for me to recognize him. I could spot those high-arched caterpillar eyebrows from a mile away.

  Ben Danvers.

  What the fuck is he doing here? I watch as he enters the building.

  He claps the security guard on the shoulder and by the way they're laughing, they seem to be sharing some private joke. Who the fuck does he think he is?

  The way Ben is walking in, his chest puffed out in an exaggerated swagger, he's acting as if he owns the whole fucking place and that makes my blood boil. He has no business here.

  I thought the fact that I nearly broke his face the last time he decided to come into my office would've been enough of a deterrent for him to never show up here again.

  But I guessed wrong.

  I hop out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me, and decide to follow him in, keeping a safe distance between us. That way, if I need to confront him, I can catch him off guard. Besides, my mind is raising about a thousand red flags and a hundred more alarm bells.

  He's up to no good. I feel it in my bones.

  Why else would he be here?

  But despite my trepidation, I make it back to my office without an incident. I have no idea what floor he's on, or whose office he's visiting, but it isn't mine.

  After he went up in the elevator, I never saw him again.

  Not that that leaves me feeling any better.

  In fact, it's just the opposite. My mind is fucking reeling.

  As soon as I sit down at my desk, I flip open my laptop and begin opening up old files on my hard drive. I spend an hour sorting through folders that I haven't bothered opening in months, and then I see something that stops me cold.

  It's an old news clip that I saved. I can't believe I forgot about this.

  The headline reads: "Two CEOs Create Powerhouse Partnership."

  What the fuck?

  When I squint down at the picture, I see two people sitting at a table, staring at each other starry-eyed and locked in an embrace.

  Those two people are none other then Athena Hawke and Ben Danvers.

  Nothing in my life has prepared me for this feeling. I'm a man who needs to be in control. I need to control my environment—every fucking piece of it.

  Seeing this feels like I've just stepped on a land mine, and came within inches of blowing myself up.

  If it's one thing I don't have right now, it's control.

  The realization solidifies in my mind. Athena and Ben were … a couple. It appears that they made some of the biggest business deals together in this city's history.

  So, what's she doing with me?

  I ball both of my hands into fists, and slam one hand down on top of my desk. The force of it makes a cup of pens clink against each other, and a stray piece of paper slides off the mahogany and onto the floor.

  How could I be so fucking stupid?

  Ben has always wanted to get back at me. Is this how he's finally succeeding in doing it? Is he using Athena to bring me down?

  Are they both sitting back, and collectivity laughing at how gullible I've been?

  I keep a heavy set of weights in my office for times like these—when I'm so fucking pissed I need to release it without breaking something.

  I walk over to the weights and grab them, one in each hand. Then I tighten my muscles and curl, one rep after another until my biceps are burning and swollen under my button-up shirt. Even then I don't stop, rep, after rep.

  Engage.

  Curl.

  Burn.

  Release.

  I can picture them now, Athena and Ben sharing a laugh over an over-priced cocktail. I can almost hear Ben saying, look at this guy, we laid a trap and he walked right into it. Who knew it was this easy pulling the wool over his eyes?

  Curl.

  Burn.

  Release.

  Yes, Athena must be working for Ben. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I'm such a fucking idiot.

  Curl.

  Burn.

  It seems to be one woman after another that tumbles my life into chaos. But I need to stay focused. I refuse to let them sit back and have the last laugh at my expense.

  I curl the weight in my arm, and instead of releasing it I hold the weight, feeling my muscles tense and burn across my entire bicep.

  It looks like my cock has gotten me in trouble again. How many times am I going to allow that to happen?

  21

  Malcolm

  "Lifting weights again, I see?"

  A familiar voice snaps my mind to the present, and lifts the fog from my thoughts. It's amazing what kind of clarity you can get when you're not alone with your thoughts. I look up and see Andrew standing in the doorway. He has his arms crossed over his broad shoulders and is leaning against the frame of the door. He's still wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses over his eyes from being outside, and he reminds me of a Tom Cruise circa Top Gun.

  "Just blowing off some steam," I say.

  "Well, I may have the solution to your problems," Andrew smiles, removing his glasses now. I watch as he folds them and hangs them off of his shirt pocket.

  "Fat chance," I say, shaking my head. "I'm now in shit deeper than the Grand Canyon, and I don't see a way out of this fucking mess."

  Andrew narrows his eyes at me. "Since when did you become such a pessimist?"

  "Since I found myself falling for a viper disguised as a vixen," I say, and just as quickly as I say it, I wish I hadn't. I honestly don't want to talk about her right now … especially not with Andrew.

  Just thinking about Athena causes me to pick up my weights again. I grab a barbell in each hand and begin lifting to stem the flood of anger that is threatening to surge back into my blood stream.

  Andrew eyes me up and down before proceeding. "Look, before you get yourself worked up over some woman and fall off the deep end—which is uncharacteristic of you by the way—there's a mystery investor, and this person wants in."

  I stop curling and look him in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that we have a solution!" he says, throwing his arms up as if I'm not listening. "Don't you see? This investor is willing to put in enough capital to solve all of your problems."

  "All of my problems?" I say, and the crease forming across my forehead says I'm skeptical.

  "Look, I can't speak for your lady troubles, but this empire of yours," he says, spinning around the room and pointing at all four walls of my office, "will be saved. And that's been the goal from the beginning, right?"

  He does have a point. I need to forget about Athena. The whole reason I met her in the first place was to save my company, and the people in it. I thought the '100 Days' contest was going to be easy, and it was … until I met Athena.

  "So, what now?" I say. "Where do we go from here?"

  "I'll be honest with you," Andrew says, his tone growing serious, "the margins will be razor thin. But with a few good trades, you'll be back in business and at the top in no time.”

  “Who’s the investor?” I ask sharply. Who would swoop in now? “Why don’t they just wait till after the company is bankrupt.”

  “All we can piece together is that they want to be a silent investor and they believe in you as an investor,” he says to me.

  "Maybe," I mumble.

  Andrew folds his arms across his chest. "Maybe? Did you just say maybe? Where's your fire? Where's your confidence? C'mon Malcolm. You're good—almost too good. You make Wa
ll Street tremble—you've always made grown men quake beneath their silk ties. You need to take this bull by the horns!"

  I shrug. "I guess."

  "Unbelievable. I'm standing here telling you that we have an investor—a solution—and I get the sense that you're not happy."

  "No, it's great … really, it is," I say. I put the weights down and take a seat behind my desk. I sink into the leather and tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

  "Why do I not believe you?"

  Andrew's my best friend. He's always had my back, and he's like a fucking brother to me, but I'm not in the mood for his poking and prodding.

  "Jut let it go—it's fine," I say, swiveling in my chair.

  Andrew shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong. Your fire is gone, man. I'm just hoping there's a few embers left that we can fan and turn into flames again."

  "That's fucking dramatic."

  "Just man up and tell me what's wrong," Andrew says.

  I decide that now's as good a time as any to pull out the bottle of whiskey that I keep stashed in my desk drawer. "Want a glass?"

  "Fill 'er up," Andrew says.

  I pour two ribbons of the amber liquid, one in each glass, and slide one over to Andrew. I take a gulp, allowing the liquor to burn a fiery trail into the pit of my stomach.

  "I think Ben Danvers is up to something."

  Andrew laughs. "Nothing new there. When is that bastard not up to something?"

  I shake my head. "No, I mean, I think Ben is plotting against me … with Athena."

  Andrew releases a shrill whistle between his lips. "Well, now. That changes things. What exactly do you think is going on?"

  "It's not worth talking about," I say, shaking my head. "It's a non-issue now that we have an investor."