Second Chance on St. Patrick's Day: A Billionaire Romance

by Mia Ford

  I saw the man every single day, including weekends when we went to our parents for events and cookouts. Spending that much time with my brother was a bit overwhelming in nature, especially when he had become the biggest douchebag I ever met. I was no saint, by any means, and never really had a steady relationship with any woman, but I was upfront and honest about it. He dragged his wife, Tiffany, through the mud and back. Jordan had fallen for Tiffany before they had ever spoken a word, not that I could blame him with her gorgeous blond hair, green eyes, and a body that belonged in a pinup ad, but it wasn’t until his father hired her on that he really got close to her. Everyone was ecstatic when they announced their engagement, she was one of the sweetest girls I’d ever come across, and Jordan actually seemed like he was settling down and becoming more patient and caring. Well, that lasted an entire three months, and now, we had to deal with this divorce that literally came out of nowhere.

  The door swung open behind me, and Jordan’s smug laugh rang out as he greeted the bartender before slapping me hard on the shoulder. He pulled up a stool next to me and ordered a beer, a maniacal grin on his face. It was late, I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was to listen to him gloat about his impending divorce. I hoped he was worn out from the day, but that was too much to wish for.

  “It’s almost over,” he chuckled. “On Monday, we will officially not be married any longer. Thank God, I have some good lawyers.”

  “You mean dad had some good lawyers,” I grumbled, scooting his hand off my shoulder. It looked like I wasn’t going to be very good at holding back my opinion.

  “What’s up with you? You seem a bit more tense than usual,” he said looking over at me. “And that’s saying a lot for you.”

  “Just tell me,” I said turning quickly toward him. “Why the fuck would you give up on this girl after chasing her for so long?”

  “She can’t have kids,” he said smugly. “I didn’t sign up for that shit.”

  “You’re a fucking dick,” I said nodding to the bartender for my tab.

  “How?” He turned to me angrily. “When I wanted a kid, to carry on this legacy because God knows you don’t have any prospects, she wouldn’t be able to give me that. It wasn’t what I thought it would be, so how is our marriage supposed to even work? What’s the fucking point of it?”

  “So, what? You just said the vows and didn’t think about what they really meant? You know there's more than one way to have a child, dickhead. You could adopt. There are thousands of children out there who need a good home.” I threw cash down on the bar and stood up, drinking the last gulp of my beer.

  “What the fuck does it matter to you? Why are you so bent out of shape? Do me a favor, Jason,” he said, glaring, “shut the hell up and stay out of my damn business.”

  “You never deserved that girl anyway,” I said grabbing my jacket and walking toward the bathroom.

  My brother was such a dick, and here I was, giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking she had cheated on him or something. But no, he’s broken up a home, ended a marriage, and broken a girl’s heart over something she had zero control over. I really felt for Tiffany. She didn’t deserve any of this. He was so stupid for throwing away a life with this girl. She would have done anything for him, and she’d kept him in line. Maybe that’s what it really was. He didn’t like someone else being in control, not that she was in control of this situation either. She couldn’t have kids. It was probably devastating for her to find out, and then, she goes to her husband, who is supposed to be caring and supportive, and he turns his back on her. I suddenly felt embarrassed that cocksucker was my brother.

  I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom, stopping suddenly at the sight of Rose, the girl I had been messing around with for months. She was a hot little number and instantly all my cares flew right out the window. There was nothing better than getting some frustrations out through some tight ass and a little playtime. She had no misconceptions, and in reality, I was pretty sure she didn’t want to be any part of our fucked up family.

  “Hey there,” she said, grabbing me by the shirt and yanking me forward. “I was looking for you.”

  “Oh, yeah? What for?”

  She bit her lip and looked up at me with her dark brown eyes. I chuckled at her lack of subtlety and looked around quickly as she reached down and cupped my balls. I pressed my hand to the wall behind her head and leaned in, dipping my tongue between her soft, poised lips.

  “Where are we going this time?”

  She giggled and grabbed me by the collar, pulling me into an old stock room in the back. It was obvious no one ever came into this place, and it was the perfect scenery for our normal debauchery. She clicked the lock closed and turned to me with trouble written on her face. She grinned, biting her lower lip and pulling her shirt over her head. I put my hands up chuckling at how forward she always was. She reached back and undid her bra, letting her big, round tits bounce all over the place. She pulled my shirt from my pants and dropped down on her knees, unbuckling them and yanking them down to my ankles. I leaned back against the dusty pillar and put my arms over my head, waiting for her lips. She pulled my boxers down and grabbed my shaft as it bounced free from the fabric. This girl had me going before she ever took her shirt off, but then again, I knew what she could do with those lips and those hips.

  She wasted no time going straight to work, gliding her mouth over the tip of my cock and down my hard shaft. I groaned at the feeling of her tongue whipping wildly around my erection and looked down at her bright red hair as it bobbed back and forth. She slowly reached up and massaged my balls while sliding her head all the way down, taking the entirety of my cock into her throat. She pressed down hard, her lips touching the base, and I could feel her sucking at the back of her throat. She was so fucking hot, and to make it even hotter, she had a tongue piercing, leftover fashion from ten years ago. The soft gel ball rolled along my shaft and pressed right underneath the head of my cock, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I groaned as my hips moved forward, meeting her mouth and then pulling back. I grabbed onto her red hair and shoved her down, watching a smile curl at the edge of her lips. Her eyes glazed up at me, watering and wild as I continued to push my hips toward her face, fucking her mouth hard. She reached her hands up and groped her breasts, bouncing them up and down as I pleasured myself with her mouth. She spread her legs apart and reached up under her skirt, rubbing her clit, rolling her eyes, and moaning with my cock in her mouth. I could feel the vibrations of her voice against my shaft, and immediately, all I wanted to do was fuck the hell out of her.

  My eyes moved around the dusty old room looking for a good place to bend her over. Finally, my eyes came to rest on an old oak desk in the corner. I smiled lecherously as I pulled her head back and off my cock. I motioned to the desk and she laughed, not seeing me reach down and grab her by the waist. I pulled her to her feet and turned her around, shoving her toward the desk. I pushed her down over top and flipped up her skirt, happy to find she wasn’t wearing any panties. She looked back and giggled as I shoved three fingers into her pussy and leaned forward over top of her. I moved them in and out fast and watched as she groaned loudly.

  “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you,” I whispered into her ear.

  “What the fuck are you waiting for?” she moaned.

  I smiled, pulling my fingers out of her and grabbing a condom out of my back pocket of my pants. I ripped it open and threw the package to the side, pulling the condom down over my cock. It twitched and pulsated, waiting for her soft, wet pussy. I grabbed her by the hips and slowly slid my shaft through her juices. She reached forward and grabbed the edge of the desk, spreading her feet apart and bracing herself. I teased her at first, going slowly in and out, feeling every ripple of her wet, soaking pussy. She groaned and pushed her hips back, reaching for more.

  “Harder,” she pleaded.

  I widened my stance and grabbed her by the hips, the anger from my brother earlie
r still surging through my chest. Instantly, I thrust forward as hard as I could, driving my cock deep inside of her. She screamed out, lifting her hand to her mouth to stifle the sounds from the bar outside the door. I closed my eyes and started to pound her deep and fast, feeling her tight ass in my hands. I slapped her cheek and listened as she moaned over and over to the rhythm of my thrusts. Her pussy grew wetter and wetter, and I knew she wasn’t far from coming all over me. I leaned forward and pushed my hips short and fast into her pussy, wrapping my arm around her waist and giving it to her real good. As my thrusts shortened but grew in intensity, I could feel her body lurch, and she screamed out, throwing her head back, reaching her peak. Her warm juices flowed steadily over my shaft, and I stood up, took hold and fucked her as hard and fast as I could until I felt my raging cock grow even larger. I leaned over and grabbed the other side of the desk and pushed up on my toes, lunging deep inside of her. I took in a deep breath and let my cock explode, ripples of pleasure surging through my entire body.

  As my orgasm began to recede and my hips stilled from the movement, I could hear her giggling under her breath. I pulled out and slapped her ass, smiling as she turned around. She leaned back on the desk and crossed her legs.

  “What got into you?”

  “Just a little family quarrel,” I said, zipping my pants.

  Chapter 2

  Tiffany

  Three months, that’s how long my marriage managed to last. Every other couple in the world was still having sex three times a day, snuggling in the honeymoon period of their relationship. But me? I was sitting in a meeting room at the courthouse, waiting to finalize my divorce. I still couldn’t wrap my hands around how I got here. A couple years ago, I was beaming, being hired by the hottest media company in the world, working my way up quickly to supervisor of the management department, and falling in love with Jordan Banks, the most eligible bachelor in New York. It was like my life had turned into a fairytale, something definitely different from my life growing up. I was born and raised in New York, but my parents had been junkies, and they did nothing but steal to get high and leave me and my brother to fend for ourselves. My brother pushed me to be better than that, showed me every single negative thing about their lifestyle, and made sure I got good grades in high school. When I graduated second in my class, I was offered a full ride to NYU, and though I wanted to get away from the city and all its bad memories, I couldn’t afford not to go to NYU. So, I stayed, working through college so I didn’t have to live with my parents. My brother joined the Army and shipped off immediately, after making sure I was safe and secure.

  After that, it was like one amazing thing after the other. I kicked ass in school, I had amazing friends, I was offered the internship that would eventually turn into the career at Banks, and I, in my Senior year, met Jordan. He was so sweet and loving and was absolutely gorgeous on top of it. He had told me he had a crush on me since Freshman year, and I couldn’t believe the son and heir of Banks Media Corp wanted me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I jumped at the chance, what girl wouldn’t? After a few months, I realized I had fallen in love with him. His ambition and charm were intoxicating, and his family was amazing. His parents, Lily and John, took me into the family immediately, and for the first time in my life, I got to experience what a real family was like. We had Thanksgiving dinners, weekends at their estate, Christmas morning presents, and everything else. In a way, I didn’t just fall in love with Jordan, I fell in love with his entire life. That made all of this so much more difficult. Not only was I mourning the end of my marriage, but I was also mourning the loss of an entire family as well, all because of something I couldn’t help.

  I guess I should have seen the signs when a month into our marriage, Jordan was hounding me about getting pregnant, but in my love haze, I just thought it was him wanting a family with me. So, I agreed and set an appointment to have a full work up done at the doctors to make sure I was physically ready to carry a child. I remember not feeling nervous at all as the doctor came back into the room, a somber look on her face. She showed me pictures, spouted off numbers, gave me possible treatments, but in the end, all I could hear were my dreams of a family slipping down the drain. Apparently, I had some rare condition that made getting pregnant almost impossible. Everything stopped dead in its tracks, and I rode back to our home in silence, just wanting Jordan’s arms wrapped around me. Little did I know, that would not be his reaction. Instead, he lashed out, screaming that I had tricked him into a childless marriage, that I couldn’t give him what he wanted, that I was a failure and less of a woman.

  He moved out that night, packing up to stay at his apartment in the city. I sat quietly in shock in my living room, watching the flames of the fire trickle down to nothing, just like our relationship had done in the blink of an eye. The next week was like a dream, where I was floating in and out of emotional states, trying to get a handle on my life. Just two days after that, I received the divorce papers, which were embarrassingly delivered to my office instead of our home. I signed for the papers, looking up to see Jordan scowling at me from the corner. Since then, it’s been nothing but hell, and though I was completely heartbroken that the man I loved ditched me over something I couldn’t control, I just really wanted everything to be over. I looked up at the clock and sighed. Jordan was late as usual. The silence in the room was deafening, and his lawyer looked up at me with a half-smile. I focused on keeping it together, not breaking down, and not letting him see any more tears from me. He didn’t deserve to bask in my pain, and I realized I didn’t even recognize the man who wanted to end our marriage. I wanted to go home and be alone, where I could start to reassemble my life and get back to normal, whatever that was.

  The sound of the clock ticking on the wall was echoing through my brain. Where the hell was he? He was the one who wanted this divorce in the first place. Why he couldn’t be here on time was beyond me. Technically, he wanted an annulment, and I wasn’t sure what the difference was. It didn’t matter to me what the title was. All it boiled down to was that I wasn’t the girl he wanted because I couldn’t give him children. I felt like the King’s wife, having been found sterile, banished to the towers to live her life out in shame.

  “We’ve waited long enough,” my attorney said. “I think we should just go ahead and move forward.”

  “Agreed,” the other attorney replied.

  Just then, the door opened and in sauntered Jordan, no hurry or worry on his face at all. I shook my head at his arrogance and placed my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to even look at him, and I realized quickly how anger toward him had turned him completely undesirable to me. Besides, I knew he wasn’t out there mourning the loss of his marriage. He was a playboy through and through, and he had probably started sleeping around before I even got the papers. I grimaced at the thought of being married to a man like that.

  “Sorry I was late,” he said arrogantly. “I had a meeting.”

  “A meeting you didn’t need to go to,” I replied. He had forgotten I was the supervisor of his floor.

  I kept my eyes glued on the table in front of me, not wanting to look at him for even a second. I could feel his eyes darting back and forth across the room as he, too, tried to avoid all eye contact with me. It was horribly awkward and painful to sit through, especially when, three months before, we were gazing into each other’s eyes and committing our lives to one another. I shook my head, thinking about our wedding day, wondering what had happened to make the sweet and kind man I had married turn into an obnoxious primidone with no heart. Then again, maybe it was all for show. Maybe he was never that kind loving man I thought I knew, and after getting married, he realized it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I had heard stories about Jordan before we started dating, but his personality and those stories never seemed to match up. I shrugged them off as nothing more than gossip or jealousy. Now, though, looking back and comparing the stories to this stranger sitting across from me, it all made perfect sense. He was a
coward, and I couldn’t believe I’d fallen so hard for his ridiculous lies. There was no way you could love someone the way he said he loved me and then dump them on their ass the next day as if they never meant anything to you. It was cruel and harsh, and I was tired of being treated with no respect.

  “Alright,” his lawyer began. “Both parties have agreed this marriage has reached its finality. In regard to their personal belongings, seeing as the couple was married three months prior, they have agreed to the following terms: The house in the Greek District, purchased by Ms. Wells prior to their marriage, will stay in her possession, including all items minus Mr. Bank’s personal effects. The apartment in Manhattan, purchased by Mr. Banks prior to marriage, will stay in his possession, including all items minus Ms. Well’s personal effects. Each will continue to possess their personal vehicles purchased before the marriage. In regard to the joint bank account started two and half months ago, Mr. Bank’s has relinquished all rights, and the money has been signed over in the form of a cashier’s check to Ms. Wells.”