The President and the Starlet: A Forbidden Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And evidently, it was amazing for the billionaires as well. Because in a flash, we were in the back room of the plane, the private space where shenanigans happened. And oh god, but I was sitting on Nick’s dong, that big cock stuck up my ass, both of us facing forwards.

  “Oh!” was my breathless shriek, boobies bouncing wildly as that pole fucked my butt from below. “Oh!”

  God, it was hard to balance, but the men had more up their sleeve. Because Charlie came at me then, ten inches dripping heavily from the tip.

  “Lean back, pretty girl,” he rasped. “Lean back, shift your weight so that you balance against Nick.”

  And I did as told. With Nick’s cock in my butt, I tilted my hips back a bit, providing perfect access to my pussy. And Charlie crouched before me, that dicktip probing at my hole before sliding in.

  All three of us let out gasps.

  “Ahhhh!” I moaned, throwing my head back, unable to believe what was happening. Because I had a massive cock in my butt and another one in my puss, sliding against one another. My private parts were stuffed so full it was unbelievable, dirtier than the dirtiest porn.

  But Mr. Childs and Mr. North aren’t men who dabble. Because with a growl and a roar, the heavy fucking began.

  “Yeah baby,” grunted Nick, shifting his hips forward as Charlie pulled back. “Just like that, sweet thing.”

  “Aw fuck you’re tight,” ground out Charlie, big chest expanding, cock seeming to grow inside within me. “She’s so fucking small, that anus so tasty.”

  And after a few more hard plunges, their cocks rubbing against each other through my thin vaginal wall, it happened. I burst, screaming my ecstasy to the heavens.

  “Mr. North!” came my wail, head thrown back as both my pussy and ass contracted. “Mr. Childs, yes!”

  And the billionaires careened over the edge with me, my sweet form impaled on those heavy cocks.

  “FUCK!” grunted Charlie. “Aw fuck, it’s gonna blow!”

  But it was too late. Mr. North had gotten there first, unloading hot, virile jism into my ass.

  “Unnh!” he cried out, gripping my hips tight. “Unnh, fuck!”

  And both men went wild then, hot lashes of sperm drenching both my holes as I milked them desperately for more.

  “Oh oh oh!” was my wild scream. “Oh!”

  Because how could life be any better? I was with two charismatic billionaires who affirmed who I was and what I wanted to be. I was a beautiful, full-figured woman whom they appreciated, and this was their way of appreciating me. This was their way of demonstrating over and over just how valuable I was, a jewel to be treasured, cherished, and used over and over again.

  And I loved every moment of it. Giving into the ecstasy, my body pulsed, big boobies jiggling as my cunt and ass milked those heavy fuckpoles.

  “Give it to me,” I gasped. “Yes, yes!”

  And that’s how our flight into JFK ended. When most passengers are unbuckling their seatbelts, standing up to gather their luggage, I was in a different situation. I was slowly getting up, pulling my sated body off two giant rods, sticky and sweaty with cum. I was pulling my uniform on once more, the fabric crumped and stained, a sensuous flush heating my cheeks.

  But it was worth it. Because as we descended the narrow metal staircase towards the tarmac, both billionaires took my hands.

  “You’re perfect Joanie,” Nick growled, looking me full in the eye.

  “Better than we could have imagined,” asserted Charlie from my other side, blue eyes hot.

  And I giggled then. Because I had the two men’s sperm dripping from my pussy and asshole, the scent of their cum all over my body. And how many passengers can say the same? How many women can say that they’re a slave to six billionaires … and love every moment of the experience to boot?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nick

  Oh shit.

  I’m so fucked.

  Because Joanie’s supposed to be on a flight to Atlanta right now. She’s supposed to meet the twins for a dirty rendezvous, doing the two men any and every way they want.

  But I’m keeping her here in New York.

  Even now, Joanie’s in my guest en suite, taking a shower.

  She should be working. She should be on the G6, but instead it’s empty.

  Aaron and Andrew are gonna be pissed.

  Hell, I would be.

  Because we made a pact long ago. Elite Air was here for pleasure. There were no attachments. The girls we hired were used, and then paid out with rivers of cash. How much honestly didn’t matter. There was more than enough to go around.

  But it’s joint possession.

  None of the girls “belong” to any of us individually.

  They “belong” to the group, like a common good.

  So I’d violated the rules. Joanie was supposed to be on the circuit now, banging my buddies as she flew around the United States. Her extended stopover in New York was wrong. Illegitimate. Off limits.

  But fuck if I cared. So what were they gonna do?

  Make me pay a fine? No prob bro, charge me double. I got more where that came from.

  Boot me from Elite Air? Please assholes. I’m one of the founding members. It’s not that easy to vote me off the island.

  Take Joanie away from me? Naw, not possible. Finders keepers, and I had her with me in New York now.

  Hell yeah.

  I was gonna have a ball.

  I was gonna make sure she had the time of her life.

  Because the brunette’s something special. There’s a sweet air to the girl despite everything that’s happened. Most females we’ve worked with in the past become total hos within hours. They’ve got the make-up spackled on like a clown, extensions clumpy on their heads. They’re all about the cheesy smiles and fake tits, all the while eyeing our wallets.

  Hey, I don’t blame them. We don’t mind women who want to make a buck. That’s what we pay them for after all.

  But Joanie wasn’t that at all. First, her motivations were completely different. The girl was put in this position because of financial difficulty, not because of choice. College costs an arm and a leg these days, so it was smart to save up before taking on a load of student debt.

  Second, the brunette had different aspirations. Yeah, most girls we work with are wannabe actresses and models. And believe it or not, some ladies even want to be porn stars, baring their all to the camera for cash. We don’t judge. We don’t say what’s right and wrong, you live your own life. And if they hit it big, then goodie for them.

  But Joanie’s not like that at all. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever considered a career in front of the camera. Instead, this girl wants to be a research scientist, working with mice and rats and god knows what else in a cold, sterile lab. It sounded bad to me, but hey, I have to respect her for it. I have to respect someone who’s willing to put their nose to the grindstone, studying for years and years just to work with test tubes.

  Because it’s not easy for a woman. Science is male-dominated, everyone knows that. There isn’t exactly an established path for female chemists, but Joanie wanted to try. She wanted to walk her own way, and we were going to help her do it. How exactly isn’t clear yet, but we’re six CEOs. We can make things happen.

  As I mused, big form draped on a couch, the brunette appeared in the doorway. Her hair lay in damp ringlets around those slim shoulders, cheeks rosy and scrubbed clean. Hell, she was insanely beautiful. Ripe and round, dressed in a fluffy white robe.

  Patting her hair with a towel, the brunette shot me a smile.

  “Nick, I don’t have any clothes,” she said. “All my uniforms are wrecked, they’re stained and torn.”

  I grunted.

  “No worries sweetheart. We can wash them here, I have a housekeeper. She’ll mend your stuff as well.”

  Joanie nodded.

  “Thanks, but what do I wear now?” she asked teasingly. “I can’t just wear a robe while in New York. This is a city of stylish
folks. I need to be dressed to the nines.”

  That was true. Manhattan is the center of fashion in the United States, and it was common to see ladies strutting about in outfits that cost six figures. I wanted the same for Joanie.

  “We’ll order you some clothes, sweetheart,” was my growl. “We’ll get whatever you want.”

  She blushed again.

  “Thank you, I appreciate it,” Joanie responded. “But my first questions still stands. What do I wear today?”

  And honestly, I had no clue. Fashion has never been my forte. Getting dressed is simple. I order a dozen suits every season from my tailor. He cuts the shit from whole cloth, draping the fabric so that it highlights my powerful frame.

  But when it came to women’s clothes? Who knew? So in a minute, I was up, striding to the closet in the foyer.

  “Nick,” Joanie called after me. “Where are you going?”

  A solution was at hand. This was terrible, but there was a fur jacket in the hall closet, left over from one of my lady friends a long time ago. Okay, maybe not so long ago. It’d been a month. But still, Katrina was long gone, I’d paid her off. Her fur jacket was mine now.

  I pulled out the luxurious mink.

  “You wanna wear this sweetheart? It’s the only women’s clothing I have on hand.”

  Joanie stared at me, mouth slightly open before shaking her head firmly.

  “No,” she stated. “Absolutely not. That belongs to another woman.”

  My shoulders shrugged.

  “Naw, sweet thing. That other woman’s long since gone, I haven’t seen her in ages. Come on, try it on.”

  But the girl’s got her pride, and she stood firm, arms crossed over that luscious chest.

  “Nick,” she said, lip jutting out. “No way am I putting that on. No. Way,” she emphasized once more.

  And what could I do? Force her onto it, sliding that luxurious garment over those smooth shoulders? She’d fight me like a hellcat gone wild, an animal in the cage. I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t put on some other dude’s pants even if my own were on fire.

  So I stared right back.

  “What do we do?” I rumbled. “Spend the entire day here in the apartment?”

  She shrugged.

  “I guess so. At least there’s a beautiful view of the city from your window,” she said, moving to the floor to ceiling glass. That was true. I have an apartment overlooking Fifth Avenue and the Park, one of the best in the city.

  But that wasn’t doing right by my girl. Joanie should get out and see this magnificent town. Of course, I was only too happy to keep her indoors and all mine for the next day or two, ravishing those curves, but she deserved better. So unbelievably, I strode to the back bedroom, opening a chest of drawers and pulled out a set of sweats.

  “Here,” I said, holding them out. “You want to try this?”

  The brunette picked them up, eyeing the cotton skeptically.

  “It’s about five sizes too big,” she murmured. But then her smile flashed. “If this is the best we can do, then it’s the best we can do,” she said. “Come on, I’ll get dressed and we can leave in a jiff.”

  And when the brunette reappeared, I didn’t know what to think. Because the sweats were enormous for sure, but nothing could hide her assets. Those big breasts pressed against the college logo, her hips wide in the soft grey cotton. Honestly, the girl didn’t look half bad. Really cute, actually, with her hair up in a ponytail, a bright smile on that beautiful face.

  Was she really going to stroll around NYC wearing gray sweats? Was the female open to bucking the trend, prizing comfort over fashion? But the answer was clear.

  “Come on silly,” she tossed over one shoulder, grabbing her purse. “Come on, last one to the elevator is a rotten egg.”

  And I laughed then, a weight lifting from my shoulders. Because this girl had the right priorities. She didn’t need stilettos and make-up. She didn’t even need a pair of designer jeans, happy with my sweats. So I laughed for real then. It’d been a long time. There are a lot of grimaces, or even polite half-smiles. But laughing like we were kids? Only Joanie could do that.

  Our tour of the city was magnificent. We just did the normal stuff. Strolling in the park, watching the electric boats sail in the fountain. Marveling at all the locations recognizable from multiple episodes of Law and Order. Stopping by Times Square, where Joanie squealed upon seeing the M&M store.

  “Come on!” she gestured again. “I love Nerds and they’ve got giant-sized boxes.”

  My eyes rolled. Really? Because giant was to put it mildly. These things were about two feet tall and one foot wide, filled with pink and orange sweet and crackly candy.

  I was about to put my foot down. Absolutely not. There’s indulgence, and then there’s over the top. What the hell were we going to do with ten pounds of Nerds?

  But Joanie threw one look my way, and I couldn’t resist. My wallet was out, the girl bouncing up and down with excitement.

  “Thank you Nick,” she burbled, eyes bright. “Thank you, you won’t regret this.”

  I groaned, watching that curvy figure exit the M&M store, a huge box of candy clutched in her arms. But it was refreshing to be honest. I felt like we were at the County Fair, and I’d just won my girl a huge teddy bear by slamming the hammer down on the scale. Worth every cent.

  So we strolled through Times Square, bumping into strangers, that beautiful face lit with enjoyment, eyes taking in everything.

  “Thanks for taking me around today,” she breathed, staring at the Jumbotrons advertising everything from Japanese alarm clocks to Italian merino wool sweaters. “I know I was supposed to be on a flight to Atlanta, but you let me catch my breath.”

  I raised my brows.

  “Any time sweetheart. You feel tired, just pipe up. There’s plenty of room for relaxation, we’re not taskmasters cracking the whip.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. We are demanding motherfuckers because there was only one succulent female. Fighting for her time and body was paramount, the girl on call 24/7.

  But Joanie didn’t have to know. She was too happy right now, and I didn’t want to burst her bubble. Besides we’d meandered all the way to the Empire State in Midtown, the brunette craning her head back to look skywards.

  “Oh wow,” she breathed, hugging the box of Nerds to her chest. “Just like the movies.”

  And again, I was struck by just how different this girl is from the rest. Here we were, at a tourist trap, Joanie dressed in gray sweats carrying a giant box of candy. Any other woman would have insisted that I buy her a designer wardrobe first, and then wobbled around town in stilettos, complaining about the heat, crowds and pollution. Not Joanie. Not my girl.

  But even more amazing was the brunette’s sense of wonder. That’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. A lot of folks in my line of business are jaded as fuck, they feel like they’ve seen everything. Maybe it’s because I’m from New York. Maybe it’s because they’re just jaded people period. But Joanie’s sense of awe was eye-opening, making my heart pump with renewed life, energy flowing into my veins.

  “The Empire State!” she exclaimed again, face lifted to the spire. “Amazing! Come on, let’s get a bite.”

  I laughed then, pulled along in her tow. Because in the bottom floor of the Empire State Building is a microbrewery slash gastropub, and evidently my girl was hungry.

  As the doors closed behind us, I grunted.

  “Dark in here,” was my comment.

  Joanie flashed a smile over her shoulder.

  “Not that dark,” she pointed out. “It’s seven p.m. now.”

  I nodded. Evidently we’d been traipsing around the city for hours, but they’d gone by quick. I haven’t had such a good time since I was ten years old and practicing skateboard moves at the local park.

  My girl smiled again, pulling me deeper into the crowd.

  “Come on silly,” she laughed again. “It’ll be fun.”

  And with
that, we found ourselves spots at the bar. Or more accurately, there was only one seat at the very edge in back. So I let the brunette take it, my bulk looming behind that curvy form.

  “Thank you,” she said, seating herself on the stool. “You’re very chivalrous,” she teased.

  What the hell. Chivalrous is the last word I’d use to describe Nick North. But hey, everything was new today, even my gentlemanly manners.

  “No prob,” I grunted, surveying the crowd. It was pretty packed already, people here for happy hour, talking loud and gesturing as three different football games played from three different flatscreens. Typical sports bar, fake wood paneling, harried servers scurrying about with heaping trays of fries and giant steins of beer.

  And at that moment, the bartender appeared.

  “Get you folks something?” he asked, face sweaty. I felt for the dude. Bartending during happy hour must be fucking stressful. Glad I didn’t have the job, since it probably only made minimum wage plus a couple tips.

  “IPA,” was my grunt. “Sam Adams.”

  The bartender nodded silently. “You?”

  Joanie bit her lip for a moment.

  “Just an iced tea please.”

  And the man nodded, gone in an instant.

  I turned to look at the brunette, brow raised.

  “Sweetheart, what’s with the iced tea?” I drawled. “You dry for some reason? What’s going on?”

  Joanie blushed, biting her lip again.

  “No, I’m not dry. Well, I am, but not by choice. Because I’m not twenty-one yet,” she confessed. “So I can’t drink legally.”

  Aw shit. I’d forgotten. We’re playing with an innocent teen, one who hasn’t even lived two decades yet. Fuck fuck fuck. By contrast, I was a forty-five year old hardened male, who’s been drinking since age fifteen. My cock twitched, entranced by her naiveté.

  “Sweetheart, I’m sure they wouldn’t card you here. Trust me, they’re too busy,” I said, looking around.

  “Maybe not,” the brunette acknowledged. “But I’d be so embarrassed if they did. Because when was the last time you were carded?” she asked. “Probably not in forever right?”

  Fuck, probably not in three decades. Because I’ve always looked older than my real age, huge and hulking by sixteen. So yeah, carding was a thing of the distant past.