Baby Batter

by Alexis Angel

  She’s fucking hot as shit, but she’s untouchable. Wait, you are laughing, right?

  Normally there’s no girl on this planet that’s outside of my sexual grasp, but Piper…well, she’s a fucking exception, to say the very least.

  Piper hates me. Well, hate might be too strong of a term. But she sure as fuck doesn’t fucking like me or my “arrogant, egotistical maniac” personality or whatever the fuck she calls it.

  We run hundreds of contracts together throughout the year and spend a lot of quality time together, minus the quality. We seal the deal and get the job done, and we move about our merry little fucking way, acting as professionally as possible.

  My company has a major fucking contract to produce the lingerie that Piper’s company designs and sells. My mission today starts off innocently enough, I guess.

  Although I already have sex on the brain nine times out of ten, my business is the sole reason I come to Piper’s offices.

  Distraction set me off course, though, and in a big way. Walking down the hallway, I happened to run into these gorgeous models on their way out of the studio for a photo shoot.

  Using my most undeniable charm, of course, how could they say no to such a brooding, handsome man such as myself?

  They couldn’t, and they know I’m fucking loaded with stacks of cash in my fucking pockets, so of course they’re not going to fucking turn me down.

  So now here we are, fucking all over Piper’s desk. It’s a fireable offense, sure. But only for a normal person. I’m the fucking owner of my company, and nobody is going to fucking tear me down.

  I think about the brunette model being Piper instead and picture myself fucking Piper from behind. I can imagine her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders as I pull on it and come with a near violent explosion.

  I pull out of the model so I don’t get any splattering of my hot load inside of her.

  I groan as I come, and I grab onto my thick, throbbing cock as hot jets of my cum shoot out onto Piper’s desk. I make sure that I get nearly all the surface area of the top of the desk. I want to leave her a nice sticky present.

  “Holy shit,” I roar as I come. “This is a big fucking load.”

  The blonde model takes some of the cum off the desk and licks it as she stares at me in a tantalizing fashion.

  “That’s right, baby. You lick up every last fucking drop,” I groan.

  “What the fuck is going here?!” I hear in the next breath.

  At first I think it’s one of the models marveling at how much fucking cum I have inside me, but then I can’t help but recognize that gorgeous, sexy, seductive voice, even if she’s not trying to sound that way.

  I can’t deny that the thought of getting caught in the act excites me a little, and here I am, dripping cock in hand, staring Piper’s smoldering look in the face.

  “Piper!” I say, tossing her a sly wink as I jump back into my Gucci dress pants. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  She stands there, frozen in shock, unable to move.

  She’s looking at the large pool of cum on her desk.

  God, she’s so fucking gorgeous.

  I wonder who’s going to clean it up?

  Guess you’ll have to read to find out, won’t you?

  Just a warning, baby. You saw what happened just now. You still got a whole hell of a lot to finish. I’d go find someplace private if you want to keep going.

  Don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.

  2

  Piper

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I scream to the apparent…hang on, let me count…okay, I think I have it…foursome going on in front of me.

  Scratch that. Through my shock, I notice more facts about this situation.

  The fucking foursome is happening on my fucking desk. My fucking desk!

  And why should I be surprised when the only male out of the four turns slightly to the side and I notice from his profile that it’s none other than Zane fucking Tanner, a client I work with on a regular basis for the manufacturing of my products?

  Of course it’s Zane Tanner. Who the fuck else would have the nerve to have sex with three models from my lingerie advertising and media department?

  More importantly, how the fuck did he even get them to agree to come up here and get fucked on the CEO’s desk?

  In case you’re wondering, I’m the fucking CEO of this desk that’s getting quite the beating right now. I’m Piper Stewart, and I run Lacy Desirables.

  Those are my models, and I don’t appreciate the way their ass cheeks and pussy lips are spread as wide as the Grand Canyon across my desk. It’s not exactly the view I want to see right now.

  But at the same time, I can’t hate them for it, because part of me understands completely why they’d be here with Zane.

  He’s fucking hot as shit. I mean, I’m talking heartthrob of the century—could probably win a contest against Ryan fucking Gosling himself when it comes to being a chick magnet.

  And the way his ass cheeks dimple as he thrusts in and out of the lucky brunette girl? Damn. I have to plant my six-inch stiletto heels into the floor just to keep from falling over with the desire racing through my body.

  But I can’t let Zane know that. No fucking way. Not ever.

  He’s too fucking arrogant as it is; he doesn’t need any more icing on his fucking self-righteous cake.

  I’m crazy, wickedly turned on right now, and I can feel a tingle in my pussy that—thankfully—no one else has a clue about.

  That’s the beauty of being a woman. I don’t have to hide a throbbing boner from anyone. I will have to change my panties, though.

  I’m getting hot watching them, but I also know that I need to stop them. Apparently, they’re so wrapped up in one another that they don’t even hear me.

  I walk a few more steps into the office. “Excuse me!” I shout and point to the desk. “That is a very fucking expensive cedar wood desk!”

  They halt, and their passion ceases for a moment. The blonde girl and the other dark-haired girl stop touching themselves. They all stare at me as if they don’t know what to do next.

  The only one who doesn’t stop dead in their tracks is Zane. Of course.

  Zane is squirting his hot load of cum all over my fucking desk, totally ruining it. And holy shit, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so much cum. It’s like shooting out in massive amounts like there’s an unlimited supply.

  The only thing that remotely pacifies my anger is picturing myself underneath him, licking it up off the surface.

  He finally turns to face me. “Piper! What a pleasant surprise. Care to join us?” Zane waves me over as if adding on another participant to his sex-capades team is a true honor.

  But this isn’t the fucking Olympics. It’s a fucking workplace, and they’re taking up space in my office.

  My cheeks flush with both anger and lust. I want to fucking rip his head off on the one hand and suck the remainder of the cum off the tip of his oozing cock on the other.

  I shift my weight and scratch my head as I adjust my A-line black pencil skirt. “Um, Zane…could I have a word with you…in private?”

  “Private?” His eyes light up, and he grins with enough sex appeal to run a boy band. “I’ll gladly talk to you in private.”

  I scoff and give him a sour look as the models slowly dress themselves once again and begrudgingly scamper from the room like wet rats, murmuring incoherently and avoiding my eyes.

  I grit my teeth, trying not to swoon as I look into the beautiful hazelnut-colored eyes of Zane. Fuck, he’s fucking beautiful.

  Don’t get me wrong, I want to hate him…or kill him, or probably a combination of both. I even have the power to fire him and burn the ashes of our written contract in the fireplace of my Central Park West apartment, but that would mean I can’t see him every day.

  I can’t help but be attracted to him. He jumps back into his pants, and I watch as his gloriously gorgeous and huge cock swings around. Finally, it
’s gone, back beneath his pants where I guess for now it belongs.

  For now…

  Until he whips it out again for the next horny girl. I’m horny for him, but I’m not going to take his bait.

  “Zane,” I begin and hold up a lecturing hand, which of course he immediately rejects and interrupts me.

  “I’m really sorry about that.” He grins, flashing a cute dimple in his left cheek that gives him a deceptively innocent boyish charm. His biceps are so huge, and I try not to stare at them.

  “Sure you are,” I drawl sarcastically. “What the fuck, Zane?” I throw my hands up in the air as exasperation threatens to get the better of my effort to remain calm and graceful.

  “Oh, what, like you didn’t like it? I can see it in your eyes. You’re fucking turned on. Admit it, Piper. You want to be next, I just know it. I can show you a great time, sweetheart.” He winks at me.

  I roll my eyes, but secretly he’s right. My heart flips, and my pussy clenches at the sound of my name on his lips. But surely he can’t fucking read my emotions that well.

  He’s calling my bluff, but I have to maintain my strong poker face.

  “Please save it, Zane. I have definite cause to fire you over this.” I cross my arms in defiance.

  “You sure look pretty today. I like that sexy top. You’re showing just the right amount of cleavage to leave something for my imagination.” He licks his lips and slides closer to me, ignoring my comment.

  The fucking nerve of this fucker. I instinctively pull my blouse closed. “Stop it, Zane,” I say and look up at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Ouch, a sting from the ice queen,” he jokes, but I hate the way he’s so fucking confident all the fucking time. Why is he never rattled or embarrassed?

  I take a deep breath. “Just get out,” I snarl.

  “Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He stops to breathe into my neck, and I can smell his cologne. It’s spicy and sexy and fills my nostrils with desire.

  Fuck.

  As I walk down the hallway to my apartment building, I know in my mind I don’t really have the guts to fire Zane. For one thing, I need him to manufacture the lingerie I sell. I don’t have time to hire a new manufacturer if I want to meet my distribution deadline for my new line.

  Secondly, I’m imagining his hard cock ramming into my wet pussy with vigor and force, and it makes me want to give up any shred of self-control.

  I go to unlock my door but notice that the deadbolt is already unlocked. Hmm, that’s pretty fucking weird. Maybe my boyfriend, David, is home early from work and just forgot to lock it back properly.

  I walk inside, and I can hear rustling in the back bedroom.

  “David?” I call out and toss the keys onto the kitchen counter.

  I slowly walk down the hallway to my bedroom. The door is partially cracked. I can hear soft moaning.

  Holy shit, am I about to find my boyfriend jerking off to porn? I’m horrified at the thought, but I have to find out.

  A sudden image of Zane tugging on his rock-hard cock flashes through my mind, and I briefly wonder why the fuck that doesn’t horrify me—in fact, it really fucking turns me on. Yet the idea of David doing the same things leaves me feeling way fucking less than excited.

  I pounce through the door, ready to catch him with his cock in his hand and a box of tissues on the bedside table.

  Only to my horror, my worst nightmare unfolds before my eyes, and for the second fucking time in one day, I catch people having sex in my personal space.

  “David?” I shriek with a sound that I can only describe as one of a fucking velociraptor.

  “Piper?” His face turns as white as the sheets he’s currently wrestling around in.

  A girl I don’t recognize tries to hide herself and scurries to the corner of the room with my sheets still attached to her.

  “Oh, gross!” I scream. “You can keep those sheets, you nasty slut!

  “Calm down, Piper.” David raises his arms defensively as if he wants to explain himself, but I think I’m reading this situation pretty fucking clear.

  “Get out!” I roar and point to the open bedroom door. “And take your shit with you!”

  He frantically dresses himself, as does the fake boob cunt. I don’t care who she is, I just don’t want to fucking see her anymore.

  After David leaves, I slam the door behind him, fury pulsing through my veins.

  This confirms it. All men are assholes, and they can’t be trusted. As if I didn’t already fucking know that.

  In an instant, I change my mind.

  Zane has to go. Stat.

  3

  Piper

  “I mean, can you fucking believe that prick?” I huff as I gulp down another enormous scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It’s my favorite flavor, but it’s also my emotional security blanket when I’m feeling low or depressed.

  I’m feeling an extra crush of spirit today, so I’m helping myself to the entire gallon container. And I don’t give a shit about how many fucking calories I’m swallowing whole. It’s better than swallowing one more gulp of David’s hot cum. Ugh. That fucker is long gone now, and I’ll be damned if I ever let him step foot in here again.

  “I know, sweetie, but it will get better. I promise.” My best friend and confidant, Molly Pinkerton, rubs my back consolingly. “At least you two aren’t married yet or anything. If you ask me, you have a free pass.” She laughs at the irony of the situation.

  “What do you mean?” I wipe my runny nose. I hate that I’m reducing myself to tears right now, but I’m only fucking human, and I still have feelings that get hurt.

  “Just think about it.” She crosses her legs and faces me on the couch. “At least you didn’t spend a fortune on a wedding and then catch him dipping his wick in a candlestick it doesn’t belong in.”

  I spit my ice cream out and it flies out of my mouth and splatters on the floor a few inches away. “Oh my god, Molly, what the hell? But, high five,” I lean over and slap my palm to hers. “You’re too funny,” I say and laugh hysterically.

  That’s the beauty of having a best friend like Molly. She’s sarcastic, blunt, and full of colorful expressions like that.

  I’m lucky to call her my best friend for thirteen years now. I still remember rush week at college. Desperate to fit in way back then, and still now, it seems.

  We both share the true bond of sorority sisterhood for the rest of our lives, along with the amazing memories that still live on to this day in our hearts forever.

  “What?” She tosses a pillow playfully at my leg. “It’s so true and you know it.”

  I calm down from my hyena fits of laughter and nod. “I guess you’re right,” I say and place the tub of ice cream on the coffee table.

  “Are you finished eating your feelings now?” She grins at me, and I chuckle.

  “For now, I guess.”

  “I still can’t believe that asshole Zane Tanner has the nerve to fuck three models at once on your desk. How obscene!” she yells and picks up her phone to scroll through her news feeds.

  “Yeah, well…that’s part of his glorious social butterfly personality.” I roll my eyes sarcastically and wrap my arms around my knees.

  “You need to totally kick him to the curb too, girl,” she says to me and snaps her fingers playfully.

  “I wish I could,” I sigh. “But I really need him.” I place my head in my hands. “He’s the best manufacturer out there.”

  “The problem is, he knows it,” Molly adds.

  “Isn’t that the fucking truth,” I snort with laughter. It’s a frustrating situation, but part of the reason I don’t want to give him the axe is because I’m secretly attracted to him. Ugh. Fuck me, right?

  I stand up and look out the window overlooking the western portion of Central Park. It’s nighttime, and the moon is in a lovely, glowing crescent shape. I can faintly see a handful of people walking dogs or going for a n
ight run, but it’s hard to really gauge any details from this high up when there’s not much light outside.

  “I’m thinking I need to mop myself up off the floor now.” I turn to face Molly, giving her a sheepish grin.

  “That’s my girl!” she says with a burst of enthusiasm and stands up too.

  “I’m cute, right?” I ask and jut out my hips.

  “Of course you are. You are damn sexy, girl,” Molly says and tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder.

  We always joke because I have blonde hair and she has nearly jet-black hair—the color of ink or midnight. We call each other yin and yang, although we’re too alike to be opposites.

  I always think of Molly as having more of an ethereal beauty type quality. But maybe it’s because she still wears choker necklaces and long flowing hippie dresses. I always tease her at Halloween and tell her she looks like she’s auditioning for a remake of that movie Hocus Pocus or some shit.

  “So do you think it’s the guys who are the assholes and it’s not just me?” I glance at her.

  “Of course I do,” she says and glides toward me to give me a hug. “You need to forget about those fucking assholes. They don’t deserve you, and you deserve way better than them.”

  “I’m an asshole magnet,” I say and grin. Then I start to giggle, which in turn makes Molly giggle too. “Assholes can’t stay away from me. I’m like their docking station,” I joke, and we roar with laughter.

  Then I have a sad thought. “It seems like every guy I know can’t keep up with me intellectually and has the brain capacity of a plant, or it’s the guy who is equally as smart but is banging three chicks on my desk at once.”

  “I know. It’s so unfair,” Molly agrees and takes a bite of ice cream straight from the tub.

  “David never satisfied me,” I whisper more to myself than to Molly as I stare out the window in a daze.

  “Because he has a teeny tiny cock?” Molly jokes and stands next to me.