100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I turn around and stick my tongue out at him and he chuckles, walking over to stand behind me so we can both take a look at our beautiful little baby daughter, Miranda.

  I feel Lucien place a hand on my shoulder and I reach up with my hand to grab his.

  We could have maybe stood there all night, watching our little daughter as she slept, but we’re interrupted by one of the town boys who runs up to the bar.

  “Senor Marshall!” the boy yells as he comes up to the open-air bar that Lucien owns. “Senior Marshall! You have a letter! From Estados Unidos!”

  Lucien turns to me and I shrug. Neither of us have been expecting anything from the US. Lucien never had much to look forward to since he was in jail, and once I sent off the paperwork to the attorney regarding his case, I had stopped looking for mail as well.

  So, it is with some haste that Lucien leaves my side and goes over to the boy, thanking him, and begins to read.

  I look to Lucien’s face to see what kind of reaction he’s having as he continues to read. But then again, I realize that this is Lucien Stone we’re talking about here. Rock sometimes has more expression than you can find on the face of this man.

  Bereft of an expression to tell me what Lucien is reading I go up to him, curious as to what he’s seeing. But he looks up at me as I arrive.

  “They’re dismissing all charges against me,” Lucien says. “They’re even awarding me a summary judgment for all the time and suffering that I’ve already endured. But basically, when they re-examined my case, they found that I wasn’t the killer who they had thought of at first.”

  “So, you're cleared?” I ask, clapping my hands.

  Lucien shrugs. “Well, they say I got an additional one year for inciting a prison riot,” he says. “But they’ve said that it’s started retroactively from the date of the riot.

  “But Lucien,” I say trying to figure out what’s happening. “That's….”

  Lucien nods. “That’s right. Even that sentence ends today.”

  The enormity of what is happening takes a minute to dawn. Lucien helps me along.

  “You did it, Kerri!” He says, grabbing me by the waist. “You looked at my case and found the problems with it and you sent it in to the lawyer. I would be absolutely fucking nowhere without you.”

  I blush to myself. I knew he couldn't have committed those crimes that he had been accused of and I remember myself thinking how amazing this man had been to me at the time. I think how amazing he really turned out to be. Like nothing I could have ever expected in any man.

  And sure, I’m also happy and satisfied that the man I had held as mine had stayed this long and been this wonderful.

  All this time, we stayed in Mexico because we could never go back home.

  But now, with his sentence basically over and the state awarding him money for wrongful imprisonment, Lucien Stone has many options open to him.

  I have become attached to the life we've built for ourselves. The bar on the beach. The sunsets over the Pacific Ocean. Moonlight strolls along the water as the tide rose. Sex on the beach every evening.

  Was I ready to let this go?

  “I don’t want to leave either, babe,” Lucien says, and I look up at him. I realize that he’s been staring at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  He smiles at me. “Just because I’m not running from the law doesn’t mean that we have to leave paradise, Kerri,” he says as he looks over at the room that Miranda sleeps in. “We have a life here. Friends. Purpose.”

  I draw myself closer to my lover. We hadn’t gotten married because we were technically illegal immigrants in Mexico, with fake papers. But we could even get married now. I smile, thinking to myself that at a time like this, the first thing that was going through my head was marriage.

  The two grandmothers finish their margaritas and wave at us, blowing kisses at Lucien as they leave the bar. The sun has set and dusk is now turning to night slowly.

  “I don’t want to leave here,” I tell Lucien, raising my head to look up at him. “I love it here.”

  He nods.

  “I’m with you,” he says. “That’s all that matters.”

  “And you’re free too,” I say with a twinkle in my eye. “You’ve been free down here.”

  Lucien looks at me for a long moment and then he smiles.

  “I may not have been in jail for a year, Kerri,” he says with a smirk. “But I can tell you that I haven’t been free since the day I fucking met you.”

  Smartass.

  I pull him close to me as we kiss. My hand descends down to his crotch for me to start squeezing his giant organ that's begun bulging in his pants.

  There’s no rush to decide anything. The world is our oyster.

  And for the first time, we’re free to do anything we like with it.

  It’s an amazing feeling. Being free as a bird.

  And making sure that you’re trapped with your soulmate.

  Hey, it could be a lot worse.

  But it isn’t. So, I’m glad.

  The End

  Now, something really dirty

  Now…something really dirty…. Scandalous, by Alexis Angel. This book is no longer published and provided for free with every copy.

  Then we have Client 5, by Alexis Angel. It has an added new epilogue as well! This book is no longer published and provided for free.

  This then has a copy of Man Chaser by Alexis Angel. This book is no longer published and provided for free.

  And finally, a copy of Gambling For the Virgin, by Dark Angel! This has never before been provided as a thank you until now!

  And then I have a very special treat. Completely brand new! My collected NLs!

  After that, I have two short stories.

  Athena’s Puzzle, a short story by Alexis Angel.

  All followed by, Malcolm’s Affair, which is a short story by Alexis Angel.

  Both are never before seen and brand new. They will never be published anywhere else separately.

  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

  Scandalous: A Secret Baby Dark Romance

  Scandalous: A Secret Baby Dark Romance

  Just looking at him is enough to melt my panties. That’s why I’m not wearing any around him.

  Lance Anders. He’s cocky. He’s arrogant.

  He’s too beautiful to be real.

  But…he’s entirely forbidden.

  I’m in a forced marriage to his father. A prisoner in a literally loveless partnership that only exists through blackmail. I have too much to lose.

  Besides, I’m 15 years older. That makes me wiser. And my brain tells me to stay far away from him when he comes to visit for the summer.

  He’s too risky for me to touch. Too taboo for me to taste. One touch of this Devil’s lips and I know I’ll be damned.

  Then why am I captivated by those deep, soulful eyes?

  Why can’t I get enough of that shirtless body? And that bulge in his pants. Is that really his…?

  Maybe Heaven can wait…

  Scandalous is a full-length standalone romance that will have your naughty bits twitching with delight. No cliffhanger. HEA guaranteed.

  Lance

  SLURP!

  I look down at the sight of the nasty slut sucking my cock greedily and I grunt with a self-satisfied air. She’s getting into it. Her body isn’t the best, but I don’t fucking care. She’s the President’s only fucking daughter, and she’s giving me head while my bare ass is resting comfortably on the President’s chair.

  That’s right. I’m sitting in the Big Chair itself. Right behind the President’s desk in the Oval Office. It’s night of course, and no one else is in here.<
br />
  Here’s a history lesson for you. The President’s desk is called the Resolute Desk because it was given as a gift to the United States from the HMS Resolute from Her Royal Navy.

  If Abby doesn’t have good aim, it’s also going to be called the Lance Anders splatter pad for when I cum all over it after this blowjob.

  Lance Anders, that’s me, alright. And that’s probably the only reason that Secret Service hasn’t hauled me away from here, or building security hasn’t been set on me yet.

  Because I’m supposed to be here.

  Allow me to introduce myself if you haven’t been keeping in touch with CNN and Politico like the other Washington DC junkies that surround this place. My name is Lance Anders of the New York Anders Family. My father is Michael Anders, the billionaire scion of the media empire bearing his name—Anders Media.

  Before you think what a great man my dad is though, let me just correct you real quick. It was my grandfather who built the fucking company to what it is today. Starting with newspapers, and then moving on to radio. Then magazines. Finally television and film. And toward the end of his life—the man worked till he died—the Internet.

  My dad, well, he just built on it. Went into fucking politics. He says it's to protect the family business. Whatever. He just probably likes the power. I don’t remember much, when he and my mom were married - I think I was 2.

  Oh right, I call him my Dad because he’s all I’ve ever known. My mom died shortly after marrying that asshole. He became my legal guardian. But we’ll talk more about how I haven’t talked to him in forever. Right now I’m fucking this bitch.

  She moans again lewdly and I think I love politics. My Dad said I should go into politics too. That’s basically why I’m here as a White House Intern right after my senior year at Yale. My dad’s the Mayor of New York City, and with a few favors and a few strings pulled, he’s put his son in at a job where he can sit in the President’s chair and get a blowjob from the First fucking Daughter.

  Speaking of which, I look down. Holy fucking shit! Abby is bobbing her head up and down my shaft like a fucking pro. My cock is in a world of it’s own. It’s throbbing so hard, ready to cum that it must have it’s own fucking heartbeat. Yeah, my dad definitely wouldn’t approve of this.

  But you know what? He probably wouldn’t approve of a lot of things I do. Definitely doesn’t approve of the line of tattoos gracing my arms and chest that I got in college while playing football. Definitely doesn’t approve of the fucking assembly line fucking I do of the female species. Although, there’s nothing I can really do about that. The women, they seem to throw themselves at me.

  And hey, can you fucking blame them? I’m 21 years old. Young, with blue eyes and dimples. A ripped fucking body. The body of a fucking Greek god. A fucking gladiator. 8-pack abs. I bench twice my weight easily. I have a body fat index of 5%.

  But that’s what brings the ladies to me in the first place. First year co-eds, sorority sluts, graduate student assistants, professors, housewives, and now First Daughters. They coo with lust as I take my clothes off and kiss between their neck and their shoulder. Then they get my pants off.

  And their eyes bug the fuck out.

  Because they see it.

  My cock.

  12 fucking inches of lust muscle. Veiny, and thick as your wrist. With its head that turns an angry color of purple, and at first they’re afraid.

  “Lance, I don’t know….” they say out loud with fear and trepidation in their voices. They try jerking it, but they usually need two hands. I get them off once with my fingers and tongue. And then no matter their protests, I get them to take just the tip.

  I’ll probably only be able to sink in half way into them. But by then they’re clawing at my back and screaming for Jesus. They’ve blasted off and gone into orbit, their minds no longer on this level of existence my cock is so good. By the time I’m done with them, they’ve forgotten their fucking names. They’ve forgotten their boyfriends, lovers, spouses, parents, you name it.

  All they know is Lance fucking Anders. All they want is Lance Anders.

  I grunt savagely as Abby continues her ministrations on my cock. I need to fuck, just thinking about all these women.

  “Hey, get up,” I command. She looks at me for one second but them I pull her up with my arms. She squeals as I turn her over and bend her on her daddy’s desk. I lift up her skirt and yank down her panties. Fuck, I may have ripped those panties. But they were boring cotton briefs. Not really worth the loss, if you ask me.

  Abby squeals again in excitement and juts her ass out. I waste no time and put on a condom and position my head into the mouth of her pussy and shove into her canal.

  “Oh my fucking God, Lance!” Abby moans out loud.

  She starts squirming on my cock, like a bug pierced by a needle—her arms writhing all over the desk. I don’t notice because I’ve closed my eyes and I’m imagining all the various girls I’ve fucked over my short lifespan.

  Is it a lot? Sure. I won’t lie. But I’ve always taken care to be safe and I’ve always been honest with the girls. I’ve told them that I’m young. I’m not looking for anything permanent. Hell, I’m looking for one night. Maybe two if they’re really good and I’m in the mood. A week is the absolute max. Two weeks? Fuck that. After that, we’ll be friends, but they have to remember my motto: One and done.

  Sure when my cock is going in and out of them like it’s doing to Abby they nod their head and bite their tongue. But as soon as they cum? As soon as they recover from that amazing fuck? They’re getting all clingy. They’re making plans to go up to the Cape to meet their fucking parents. They’re renting hotel rooms in the middle of the afternoon where we can go and fuck.

  Listen, I don’t know what to say if you don’t believe me. Take a look at Abby right now, if you don’t think I’m telling you the truth. She’s going crazy, grunting and groaning like a fucking animal in heat. Her eyes are clouded up with fucking lust. Her hands are desperately trying to grab hold of something. Anything.

  She hits one of the phones along the side of the desk. I don’t know which one. But whatever, she actually feels pretty good. She’s a bit of a slut—at least that’s the word around the West Wing. She’s not tight. I’ll grant you that.

  “Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you so hard!” I tell her.

  Is it me or is she talking in a very low voice? I bend over closer to hear her without breaking my stride.

  “Oh unggggghh, baby, it’s so daaaa….good,” she moans again.

  I close my eyes, and go back to imagining the women I’ve been with. So much I’ve wanted to do with them.

  “Tell me how much you want it,” I tell her. I hold onto her hips and increase my tempo.

  “Oooohh,” Abby coos. “Eeeeee,” she pants. At least that’s what it sounds like. I haven’t opened my eyes yet. Just going by auditory impulses.

  “Tell me how much you fucking love my cock,” I say, getting closer and closer.

  “Khee bhol cho…” Abby says and I have no idea what she’s saying now, but I’m not going to lie – I’m not really paying attention. I’m maybe five seconds away from exploding. A veritable geyser of semen is going to shoot out from my monster cock.

  “I’m going to cum all over your fucking face,” I grunt as I slow down my thrusts.

  “Kheee,” Abby says in a high pitch voice. She’s speaking garbage now. Unintelligible. But that’s just the effect I have on women.

  I finally open my eyes and look at her. Her eyes are wide and she’s looking back at me in fear.

  Three more strokes. Two. One.

  Fuck, no time to turn her around.

  I pull out and whip my condom off.

  “I’m gonna cum,” I say with a nasty sneer of pride.

  The door bursts open.

  I look up.

  It’s the President of the United States. He’s being followed by three Secret Service people.

  But its too late for me. I’m cumming. Bo
lts of lightning and electricity have seized my body and paralyzed my muscles. My nuts have tightened and twisted and I feel myself spurt. All over his daughter’s ass. I unload rope after rope of thick, viscous white cum on his daughter’s ass cheeks and lower back. Despite the fact that this 22-year-old First Daughter just got caught in the Oval Office with a White House Intern’s cock inside of her, and despite the fact that her eyes tell me she’s afraid of something, which has to be my cock because she can’t help but sigh in pleasure as thick, heavy spurts of hot jizz land on her lower back and ass.

  I grunt like a savage and start looking at my handiwork. The first shot hits the right ass cheek. I moan lewdly as I see it. I can’t help it. The second shot hits the left. The third rope hits her lower back and pools right above her ass before trickling down her thighs. The fourth shot hits right on her crack, dribbling downward. The fifth shot goes and smears the right ass cheek again.

  “Fuck,” I gasp, as my orgasm subsides and my cock starts to dribble cum out.

  In a fog of sex, I’m vaguely aware that the President has rushed to the desk. I’m slowly becoming aware that the Secret Service agents are standing at the entrance to the Oval Office.

  What I don’t understand is why the President doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to Abby and I. Is his daughter that much of a slut that he’s basically given up on her?

  That’s when I notice he’s saying something.

  Fuck, he’s talking into the phone.

  Wait, he’s talking into the phone?

  The phone was on?

  “Dimitry, please understand that this in not a provocation of war!” the President yells into the phone and that’s when I snap back to reality. “America is not looking to fuck you and cum on Russia’s face!”

  Oh. Fuck.

  “Kakvo Kazvash!” the voice yells on the other end.

  “He says the missiles are ready for launch if you’re lying,” a voice says and I notice that the President’s Russian translator is behind him. I didn’t even notice him.