by Abby Angel
Can he even go any deeper? I open my hands and put them to my side, pushing back with my ass and lifting it up. Apollo eases his pressure on me, leaning back as I go from laying down to being on all fours. He slaps my ass hard with the back of his hand, grabbing my ass as he thrusts his hips forward and restarts his assault.
“Fuck…” I growl out. “It’s so… fucking good.” Now, I’ve never been big on cuss words but there just isn’t any other way to say it. It’s fucking good, screw being polite.
I want him to go harder but, even before I have the chance to beg him for that, he leans forward and starts pounding into me with so much force I have to grab the header of the bed so that I won’t fall back on the mattress. My fingers are grasping the wooden panel so intensely that I can feel the wood straining and cracking under my hand. If he keeps going like this, I’m going to rip the fucking thing out.
Two slow and deep thrusts and I let out a scream so loud I’m sure the whole of Manhattan has heard it. I jut my ass back into him as needles of pleasure stab each square inch of my body, like fireworks going off underneath my skin and lightening up my mind.
“I want you to come…” I purr. “I want you to come inside of me, Apollo…”
He leans into me, his lips against my ear. “I will,” he whispers, pulling his cock out and making me roll over on the bed. Without allowing me even a second to reel from the orgasm, he grabs my legs and puts them over his shoulders. I bend like a willow tree as he sheaths his cock inside of me, its tip hitting that sweet spot of complete destruction. I scream as he goes back and hits it again, my limbs jerking erratically as if I’m being tasered.
“Don’t stop! DON’T STOP!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my voice bouncing back on the walls and filling the whole room as he keeps hitting that tiny and yet so powerful spot inside of me. My whole body trembles as he grabs my legs and leans with his whole body into me, his tip tightly pressed inside of me and completely demolishing me.
I come so violently that even though my eyes are open I can’t see. I cry in pleasure as his cock jerks and gushes a river of cum inside me, his fingers hooked in my thighs like the sting of a scorpion.
I close my eyes, bells ringing in my ears. Am I dead? Is this heaven? His cum drips down my legs like an endless stream, warm and delicious as it slides down my skin. I don’t know if I’m still alive, but this must be heaven.
My whole body, as well as my mind, is numb. I can’t feel a thing, aside from the pleasure that burns in my veins like a drug, of course.
I feel him collapse on the mattress next to me, his breathing hard and ragged. We don’t move for minutes, simply lying there in silence as we reel back from the best sex anyone has ever had in the whole history of mankind. I’m not even kidding.
I roll to the side, my body close to his, and rest my arm over his chest. He looks at me with those serious eyes of his, two windows into the soul of a man I know I will love for the rest of my life.
“I never thought I’d love someone as I love you,” I whisper, my heart now beating more gently inside my chest. I feel like crying; I’m so happy it simply seems unreal. He grabs my hand, squeezing it lightly.
“You’re my everything, Ashley…” In his voice there’s no lightness; each word is charged with the intensity of a truth so powerful it’s almost devastating. “I will take care of you, I will love you, I will make you the happiest woman in the whole Earth. I swear it.”
“Just stay by my side, always…” I whisper, knowing that Apollo is now my whole life. There is no me without him.
“Always, Ashley. Always.”
86
Epilogue
"Oh my God, babe!" I squeal as Natalie walks into the bar.
It's after work and I'm sitting with my friend Alicia at Sir Harry's at the Waldorf Astoria.
Sure, everything about this bar screams older man taking a younger woman out on the town before he has really bossy sex with her...so that's probably why we're here after work.
"Alicia?" Natalie says as she sees us. "Oh my God, girl how have you been?"
The two hug and then Natalie turns to me and gives me a hug as well.
"I've missed you so much!" she squeaks.
"I mean, because the last time we got together was like so long ago...like last month," Alicia says, rolling her eyes.
Oh, right. I forgot to tell you. Alicia can be kinda a smartass sometimes.
"Are we drinking, ladies?" Natalie asks, playing the part of the older and wiser person even though she's actually six weeks younger than me.
"We already started babe," I tell her as I sit. But I can't just keep it at that. "Tell me all about your new job!"
Right. I should just give you a rundown of where we are a year after the day that Apollo made me squirt...errr, announced he was buying the magazine.
Okay, so let's see. What happened.
Blush began hiring back all the people that got laid off up to Apollo's announcement. That made everyone happy. Apollo also stuck to his word and completely upgraded the equipment we all used as well as gave each department more control over its budget. We expanded our online presence too, and a whole new group of people for that too.
And I'm serious it's like business just boomed. Almost like someone put something in the water, people started to focus even more on their jobs and it started to show.
We began to win awards. Circulation shot through the roof. We began to hire people to keep up with all the things that Blush was doing.
I think six months ago is where we moved to newer offices. Still in Times Square but now in a sleeker building with the rest of the companies that were controlled by Apollo. Although this one, he controlled himself so we didn't have to put up with all the other corporate bureaucratic nonsense.
Right around when we moved was when Natalie got a really sweet job offer to work for a Public Relations firm on the East Side of Manhattan. Apparently they did a lot of work with the United Nations and since she had studied Comparative Politics in college this was right up her alley.
"The new job is actually good," Natalie says as the waiter brings over the cosmo that she ordered. She takes a drink and continues, "Although I think they're going to be placing me as the liaison for Prince Ian from St. Albans, sooo....not really looking forward to that."
"Oh my God, you're going to be working with Prince Ian Carrington?" I ask Natalie, my eyes widening. The guy is a celebrity just for being a celebrity.
"He's so fucking hot," Alicia chimes in and the three of us nod sagely. I mean, I have my Apollo, don't get me wrong. He's the love of my life. And I wouldn't trade him for anything.
But Ian Carrington is just a different sort of guy that makes you wonder. He's cocky, arrogant, and built like a war horse, and...
No, I'm totally happy with Apollo. Besides, I haven't told you about...
"I mean, I would totes have sex with him if I had never met Derek, you know?" Alicia says and I roll my eyes.
Ever since she met and fell in love with her billionaire client over at Carter Jeffries, she can't help but go around telling anyone and everyone how much the two of them are in love.
Barf.
I have a first hand experience with this because I remember sitting with Alicia as we had lunch and all she would do was talk about Derek this and Derek that.
Gimme a break. It's kinda like...me with Apollo.
Okay, fine. So Alicia is in love. But I have something better. I just need to get a word in to be able to tell...
"I guess, but I mean the guy just seems unstable from what I see of him on YouTube, ya know?" Natalie says, downing her drink.
Alicia and I see Natalie's empty glass and both instinctively finish our drinks as well. I guess it's going to be one of those nights. We're probably going to regret it in the morning, but whatevs, it's a Saturday. And the worst that will happen is we'll be hung over.
I know when I get hung over I usually get horny. So good thing I have Apollo to scratch that itch.
<
br /> See? There I go again, talking about Apollo. Apollo this and Apollo that.
It's like I should probs just write a book about him and I and get it all outta my system, right?
One of those romance novellas that Natalie and I were talking about back at Agave when I first fucked Apollo. Yes, I remember all that, okay? I remember everything about the two of us.
"So what's been up with you, babe?" Natalie asks me as the waiter places a fresh round of drinks in front of us. "You've been so quiet."
Oh my God. Doesn't she realize that being quiet is what people do when they're in love and they don't want to talk about it 24/7? Or is that just me? Wanting to like keep my happiness inside afraid that if I say anything it'll burst.
But both Alicia and Natalie are looking at me, and I just can't keep the news to myself.
I smile at them, and decide now is as good a time to drop the news.
I reach into my purse and pull out the box I was saving it in and slip it onto my finger as I hold up my hand.
"Mrs. Apollo Kane!" I squeal, with a 24-karat $120,000 diamond encircled ring flashing on my fingers. "He proposed yesterday!"
Both Natalie and Alicia squeal and jump up to hug me.
The other people at the bar look at us. They're probably annoyed at the three of us.
But whatevs. I don't care. Not tonight.
Tonight, the world is my oyster. And Apollo and I are going to spend our whole lives sucking it down with a champagne chaser.
Just watch.
Also By Mona Cox
Alicia Vs. Billionaire
Ashley Vs. Boss
Natalie Vs. Prince
Christine Vs. Professor
Kim Vs. Stepbrother
Lisa Vs. Outlaw
Carla Vs. Cowboy
Description
87
Fiona
“Oh my God, look at that one!” Christine is waving furiously, pointing at one of the guys on the field. I place my hand over my eyes, narrowing them into slits and trying to see the man Christine is pointing to.
“Which one? There are hot guys everywhere, Chris,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. I don’t know what it is about football players, but they just look so hot and indecent. The kind of men you don’t want to tell your mom about ... but exactly the kind of men you want to climb in through your bedroom window.
To be honest, I’m not a big football fan; Christine is. When I look down at the field, I barely have any idea what’s happening. All I see are hot men running around and crashing into each other, their corded muscles rippling on impact, and that’s just fine with me.
“Look!” Christine punches my shoulder without even bothering to look down at me. She’s standing up now, pointing frantically at one of the men standing close to us in one of those wonky formations right on the 50-yard line. That’s right, we’re this close to the action, right behind the platoon of photographers snapping photos of these hot pieces of—ahem, of the players. Ashley hooked us up with tickets, just one of the perks of having a man who’s a billionaire.
“Oh, I see him!” I squeal, finally realizing who Christine is pointing to—Danny Manning, the New York Nailers quarterback. You’ve heard of him, right? He was the Nailers' first pick two years ago, and now he’s on the fast track to earning his team its first Super Bowl ring in like ten years, which totally makes sense considering he’s the hottest piece of ass in the league.
“God, just look at that…” Christine trails off, finally sitting down. Her mouth is hanging slightly opening, and I don’t even want to think about the kind of stuff she’s probably imagining right now. Not that I can blame her. There’s a lot of indecency going on inside my mind as well. But, hey, I’m single.
“Uh-uh, Chris, stop it. You already have Professor Hung just for yourself, leave a few men on the table, will you?”
“Looking isn’t sinning, that’s what my mom always said,” she simply shrugs, and I know she means it. She turned into a hopeless romantic after she started dating Anders Trask, her former college professor. He’s hot as hell and, according to the ‘rumors’ (well, we egg Christine on to tell us all the dirty details), he’s also huge; I don’t have to explain that last one, do I?
“I don’t know about your mom, Chris, but I’d be down for some sinning with Danny…” I mutter, unblinking as I watch him position himself behind the offensive line. He has just instructed his team on some play, and now he's trotted to his position, his hands on his knees as he bends over.
When the ball flies into his hands, he’s on the move. He takes two steps back, sidesteps a linebacker with a graceful movement of his hips, and then cocks his arm back. The whole stadium seems to drown in silence as the ball leaves his hands and flies in an arch. There’s a roar as the ball finds its way straight into the hands of the Nailers’ wide receiver on the other end of the field, and the whole crowd goes insane as he dives into the end zone.
I know this happened because of the gigantic screen right in front of me, but in reality, my eyes have never left Danny Manning. Sweet Jesus, just watching him is enough to make my insides clench. He moves with a powerful dexterity, the muscles in his body working in perfect symmetry. And it’s quite a thing to witness; unlike some of the other players, Manning is all built on lean muscle, his skin stretched tight over his hard muscles. And I’m only talking about the parts that I can see… Just imagine how he must look under all that gear.
That’s when I notice it; Danny Manning’s looking straight at me. His whole team is celebrating a much-needed touchdown, and he’s just standing in the middle of the field, one hand on his hip and staring straight at me. Right now, I don’t know if my blood is flowing straight to my face or to between my thighs. I just stare back at him, completely dumbfounded, and only when he looks away do I realize that I was holding my breath.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Christine yelps, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “He was looking at you! Danny Manning was looking at you!”
“He was,” I smile, suddenly feeling light headed. My eyes follow him as he sets up another play. “Look at him, Chris. He looks so… So… So fuckable!” I cry out, that warmness between my thighs turning into an uncomfortable wet feeling.
“Totally,” Christine agrees as Danny runs close to the sidelines, just a few feet away from us. “How big do you think he is?”
“I don’t know… But I wouldn’t mind finding out.” He runs past us again, and I turn my neck, following after him and devouring him with my eyes. By now, I completely forgot about the game. I don’t even know who’s winning—and who cares, really?
“You know, Chris,” I say, turning to her and looking away from Danny for the first time in a long while. “I’d totally fuck him if I had the chan--” The words get lost in my throat as I hear a few of the photographers close to us crying out. I turn to see what all the commotion is about, and I do it just in time to see a tall Nailers player crashing through the line of photographers and stumbling toward us, the ball clutched tight to his chest.
It’s Danny Manning, and I’m right in his way.
To read more, go find Fiona Vs. Football player from Mona Cox or click here!
88
Danny
Three passing touchdowns in fewer than thirty minutes. I’m on fire, baby.
“Alright, guys,” I tell the team as they form a circle around me. “We’re gonna go with a flag play. Get me the ball and I’ll throw it far and wide. Just make sure you catch it,” I tell Anderson, the wide receiver, rapping my knuckles against his helmet. He grunts in response and then we’re back in formation.
By the time the balls gets to my hands, I’m ready to go. I take two steps back and, watching one of the Miami MILFs’ linebackers rush toward me, I sidestep him. I scan the field quickly and, the moment I see Anderson closing in on the end zone, I draw my arm back and just shoot the ball in an arch. I can feel everyone's eyes in this stadium following the ball’s trajectory, but a fraction of a second before it left my hands I alrea
dy knew where it was going to land: right where Anderson is now. I smile as he grabs the ball and makes a run for it. There’s nothing the MILFs' defense can do now; by the time Anderson is a few feet away from the end zone, he jumps forward and crashes after the line.
Touchdown! And now that makes it four passing touchdowns in fewer than thirty minutes. Yeah, this year I’m going to smash every single team on my road to victory, and I won’t stop until I’m carrying this year’s Super Bowl trophy in my arms. What? I’m not being cocky; I just live to win, babe, whether you like it or not.
I start to run toward the end zone, ready to join in as my whole team celebrates another six points, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. There are two girls sitting by the 50-yard line, close to the reporters, and the blonde one is looking straight at me. Has she even seen the touchdown? She’s probably the only person in the whole stadium paying zero attention to the game.
Her eyes find mine and, in a fraction of a second, her whole face turns comically red. She looks cute, actually—bright eyes and an easy smile, not a trace of those faux high-maintenance qualities I’m so tired of. She looks like the perfect girl next door.
Okay, fuck. Enough of this. I have a game to win, I can’t be thinking of women right now. I turn my attention away from her and head down the field, mentally gearing up for the next play as our kicker snags one more point by kicking the ball between the uprights. But when I walk past the girls I can’t help but overhear a few snippets of their conversation, and they’re sure as hell not talking about football. Did I hear the word fuckable?
