I liked the sound of that.
Lying back on the table, he approached, pushing his dark hair back with his fingers. He gripped my ankles and forced my legs back as far as they would go. Then, without warning, he slammed his big dick up me.
“Oh, my God,” I cried, as he pushed deeper, hitting my spot. “Screw me like the dirty whore I am, you horny fucker.”
Orgasm after orgasm exploded within me, and I reached forward raking my nails down his muscular chest, drawing blood.
He let out a long moan and continued to hammer me in multiple positions for hours.
I was deeply impressed by his level of fitness.
“I’m gonna cum,” he finally cried.
I looked up and noticed the veins in his muscular arms bulging. I was so turned on and didn’t want him to stop pummelling me. “Look into my eyes.”
He did as he was told. His green eyes met mine.
“FUUUUUCCCKKK.” Zander’s back arched and he roared, emptying his load deep inside me.
Collapsing on top of me, I laid my head back and kissed him briefly, feeling fully satisfied. I’d never experienced multiple orgasms before and wanted more.
“I’d heard the rumours about you, but wow…”
He lifted his head, panting. “What rumours?”
“About how much of an animal you were between the sheets.”
He eyed me curiously. “I haven’t gotten you between my sheets – we didn’t make it that far.”
“You know what I mean,” I said. “But having that reputation can’t be a bad thing.”
“It’s better than women saying I’m a shit shag.”
I laughed. “I’d happily dispute that.”
“So, you ready for round two?” I wanted him inside me again.
“You’re a freaky bitchy,” he said. “My kind of freaky bitch.”
I struggled to get out from underneath him, and he eventually rolled off me. “I love sex, what can I say?”
“Nothing wrong with that, Cammie.”
I walked across the room, to the antique rug in front of the fireplace, and dropped to my knees, before assuming the doggy style position. “Come on, big boy – time to fill me up again.”
He needed no further encouragement and stood up, hard, and ready to rock.
“You think I was rough last time – God help you now.”
He knelt behind me, gripping my hips, teasing my cunt with the tip of his cock.
I reached round to feel it, but he slapped my hand away.
“All in good time, slut.”
“Give it to me,” I begged.
“Oh, you’re going to get more than you bargained for.”
He pulled me out of the doggy position and slid inside me.
I squealed as the girth of his cock stretched me. It felt amazing. “Fuck,” I said.
He reached around again and pinched my nipples, harder than I liked, but I didn’t want to stop him. I loved the fact he had total control over me. “I’m gonna bite them.”
“Do what you want to me,” I moaned.
“You might live to regret that.”
He kissed my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
Slowly, he pulled his cock in and out of me, and I could feel myself building to an almighty climax. The length and girth of his cock was a perfect fit and as he fucked me, he massaged my cunt walls at the same time.
“Harder,” I said, as I felt the flush rising in my cheeks. “I’m gonna cum.”
He did as I asked, pushed me forward again into the doggy position and banged me until I could hardly breathe.
This time, my own legs buckled, and I flopped forward, not able to take any more. He was the only man ever able to beat me in the bedroom, He wasn’t finished.
“I need to cum,” he said, pulling out of me.
“Over my face,” I said.
He knelt beside my head. I looked up as he slowly pulled his foreskin back and forth. “You ready for it?”
“Yes,” I said as he slapped his cock about my face.
Seconds later, with sweat dripping down his muscled torso, he exploded, covering my face and lips with his hot spunk.
I licked my lips.
He tasted good.
Minutes later, Zander was standing under the power shower.
He sniffed his fingers, still able to smell her sweet pussy.
His cock hardened at the thought of burying his tongue deep inside her, and he was ready to go again.
“Cammie, come and join me,” he called out, but there was no answer.
He turned the shower off, grabbed a towel, tied it round his waist, then walked into the spacious penthouse sitting room.
Cammie was nowhere to be seen, but rather than allowing anger to creep in, he only smiled.
Sneaky!
She was just the type of woman he needed – one that wouldn’t tolerate his selfish behaviour and would keep him on his toes.
He pulled the towel off, and used it to dry his face, neck and hair. Picking up his phone, he pressed the quick dial key and waited for an answer.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today?”
“Have the jet fuelled and ready to go.”
“Where are you flying off to now?”
“Manchester Airport.”
“What’s in Manchester?”
“Nothing, but I’ve decided to head home for the night before my trip to Nice.”
“Do you want me to join you there? It’s been a while since I’ve been at the old place.”
Zander rolled his eyes. He had no attachment to his childhood home. Yes, it was grand, and totally to his taste, but it was only bricks and mortar and would suffice for what he had planned. “Yes. I need you,” he said. “Meet me at Stanstead and we can fly up together.”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll drive up alone. Just text me and let me know what time you’re due to land so I can collect you.”
“Fine,” he said, ready to hang up, before remembering the other reason he’d called. “Oh, before you go, find an orchestra, and have a gazebo set up in the gardens to house them in by tomorrow night.”
“What? An orchestra?”
“You heard.”
“Why the hell do you need an orchestra, or a gazebo in this weather for that matter, we’re in a heatwave?”
“I don’t have time to discuss it right now and will explain when I land in Manchester.” He didn’t like having to explain any of his decisions. “This is important. Sort it any way you want, but make sure you do.”
“I dread to think what you’re up to now, Zander.”
“Just do what I ask and keep the next few evenings free – I’ll need your help.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
He marched into the bedroom, placed his briefcase on the bed, then opened it.
Inside was a file, clearly marked in big bold black letters;
Camilla Childs
Private & Confidential
He knew everything there was to know about her.
When Rich Bitch first appeared on his radar, he googled Cammie.
Instantly attracted, he paid a Private Investigator to dig up all he could on her, and her company.
Realising how big a deal she was in the fashion world, it was a no brainer for him to put a bid in to buy the company. He was surprised to hear back from her, and even more so, when she agreed to sell. There was a catch. She’d sell to him for the price he offered plus twenty percent. As well as being classically beautiful, she was shrewd and smart.
He took out the pictures of her from the file.
Beautiful.
His cock was hard within seconds.
Standing up, he carried the photograph to the table, laid it flat, taking his big cock in his hand.
He’d loved shooting over her face earlier, and if he couldn’t have the real thing, then on this occasion, he would settle for second best.
It didn’t take long to cover the picture of her with his hot load.
Chapter
Three
It was a struggle getting to my front door.
I was glowing, which is another way of saying, I was sweating like a pig.
According to my mother, women didn’t sweat, they glowed, but if she could see me now, there’d be no mistaking what my glow was. Still, what did it matter what she said. I took little notice of her anyway. My mother was old fashioned to the point of subservience and believed a woman should be at home, running around after the husband and kids, not playing CEO of a successful clothing design company.
Bugger that.
The stay at home cooking and cleaning role was never going to be my thing. I had ambitions, wanting to do something more with my life than she had done.
I didn’t have any specific plans mapped out, which was also something for her to criticise.
“You’ve got no direction in life,” she often said. “Settle down, have a couple of kids, and you won’t need anything else.”
My mother really didn’t know me at all.
Neither did my husband, Liam. He wanted kids and thought they would cement our marriage. I disagreed and decided if kids were on the horizon for me, they wouldn’t be the band aid type.
Then, just as I’d hit a particularly low point, my life changed drastically, and for the better. Nothing was pre-planned. Things happened organically, which was just the way I liked it.
Literally from nothing, I’d built a hugely successful company, Rich Bitch, using my own talent, initiative and designs.
I had no idea how successful it would become.
Purely by chance, one of those reality TV starlets I couldn’t stand, spotted me strolling around Maida Vale and asked where I had bought my dress. I didn’t buy it. I’d designed and sewed it myself. And it was as simple as that. She commissioned me there and then to make a dress for her, paying me handsomely to do so, and as luck would have it, both starlet and dress appeared in OK Magazine’s Best Dressed List.
My life snowballed from that moment, and suddenly my designs were in demand by pop stars, presenters and big screen actresses worldwide. I was jetting here, there and everywhere. One of a kind couture was big business.
On the back of my initial success, it wasn’t long before I took the plunge and opened my first boutique in a posh part of London.
Within two years, I had boutiques in select areas across the UK and many more worldwide. Success came too easy from then on, and I admit, I got lost in my own world on occasion, scribbling designs night and day, which probably added to my marital problems.
Rich Bitch was my baby, but I needed fresh challenges, so when the offer came in from Shaw Enterprises to buy it lock, stock and barrel, I jumped at the chance. They wanted me to stay on and run it for them, even offering me a seven-figure salary to do so, but the point of offloading the business was to start again and find excitement with something new. I still had an extensive client list that would follow me wherever I went, but for now, I could enjoy the trappings of wealth and breathe, if only for a little while.
When it came to the crunch, selling my company was harder than I thought it would be, but I was keen to leave the past behind me. Just a few more business and personal issues to deal with and I was free to do as I pleased.
After that, who knows where I’d be headed? I fancied a nice lone break – maybe I could live my dreams and follow the sun.
Number 1 on my list of To Dos was to purchase a new set of luggage.
Wobbling up the path in black hooker heels, I cursed out loud. One of the wheels on my suitcase had fallen off at Manchester Piccadilly Station, meaning the last leg of my journey home was more difficult than it should have been. As well as dragging the wonky suitcase behind me, I tucked my laptop and case under my armpit, and stupidly, I’d stopped at the local store for the largest bottle of vodka they had in stock.
I didn’t intend to have a drink, but on the train journey from Euston Station, I’d received a voicemail from Liam, asking when I was intending to sign the divorce papers. I seethed at his bare faced cheek. He really thought I was playing for time – that I wanted him back. He made it perfectly clear he was moving on with his life and I should too. That suited me. I just hoped the divorce papers were there when I got home.
Standing at the front door, fumbling in my pocket for my keys, I decided to just drop everything inside, and go straight upstairs. I was physically and mentally exhausted, craving the comforts of my own bed with my own pillows.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, placing the Vodka on the shelf above the radiator cover.
I’d officially declared this last week a total nightmare, compounded by the fact I’d been stuck in London on business longer than anticipated, dealing with the hustle and bustle of our capital city.
As well as that, a boardroom full of boring men in pinstripe suits was my idea of hell. I’d only expected to be meeting with Zander Shaw, not the whole circus.
I was certain they were there to rattle me. To make sure I caved into Zander’s demands. Not one of them spoke a word during negotiations. But, they were typical, leering men, not interested in my skills as a business woman, more what was underneath my clothes.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
One look at me, and the randy heterosexuals of the male species usually thought one of two things;
I really wanna fuck her
She’s pretty with blonde hair and big boobs (DUMB)
Yes, I may have big boobs and dark blonde hair, but I was far from dumb and inside this pretty head of mine was a first-class brain, which had served me well in the male dominated business world I spent so much of my time in.
To underestimate me was at your own peril, as Zander Shaw realised to his cost.
It was a case of First Class Brain (Me) vs. First Class Wanker (Him).
Zander (a pretentious name, if ever there was one) assumed I’d be a pushover in the bedroom, as well as the boardroom.
I showed him what I was made of in both arenas.
Now, don’t get me wrong, one-night stands weren’t usually my forte. I was more a lady, than a tramp, but as of late, I’d been itching to be a tad more adventurous, and after trying to shaft me in the boardroom, he thought he’d try in the bedroom too.
Big mistake, Zander Shaw. Big mistake.
I made certain he wouldn’t forget me in a hurry. I wiped the floor with him in the boardroom – my negotiation skills were better than I realised, but I had the sneakiest of feelings he acquiesced quicker than usual, much to the surprise of the board members present.
He’d never forget my talents in the bedroom either, and much to my dismay, I wasn’t ever going to forget his, or the weapon he was packing between his muscular thighs.
Yes, he was a sight to behold, but I refused to feed his already out of control ego. He had a dark buzz cut, stubble, green eyes, totally drop dead gorgeous, square jawed, chiselled, tanned, abs, and the most humungous cock I’d ever set eyes upon, let alone sat on.
He was the ultimate alpha male, or so he thought.
Zander hadn’t been banking on my own sexual prowess, but I hit him right between the eyes. The man didn’t often give praise, but I could tell I left an impression.
In the last few months, single life had taught me a lot, and Donkey Cock was the beneficiary of those learnings. Lucky him. I will say one thing for him… he almost gave as good as he got.
Still, as hot as it was, that was done and dusted. I’d never see him again.
Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I sighed as I noticed the pile of mail bunched up behind the front door.
My week was about to get worse.
Overdue bills cast aside for another day, I focused on the bulky envelope I knew contained my divorce papers.
That fucker just couldn’t wait to be free, so he could marry his pug faced bitch.
Well, I’d sign the bloody papers and ram them up his arse, but first, I’d make him pay for every one of the fourteen years he cheated on me.
Divo
rce at thirty-four was a grim reality, but one I had to face.
I was twenty and stood at the altar, believing my marriage would be forever. I loved Liam, otherwise known as Dribble Piss, wholeheartedly. What a bloody fool I was. Thank God we never had children. I was raised in a one parent family, an absent father I still miss to this day, and that life was something I’d never want to inflict on any children I might have had.
Pug face had the greatest of pleasures informing me she was pregnant.
He was putting off telling me the sordid details, but she was impatient and wanted to stake a claim to what she believed was now hers. I deftly kicked him in the bollocks and while he was out for the count, the snarky side of me wished her luck. She’d need it as Liam was obsessed with two things in this life;
Cash
Cunts
In what order he preferred them, I wasn’t certain, but that’s Liam in a nutshell. He thought he was in for a huge payday when I told him I was selling Rich Bitch, well, that was until I reminded him both of us signed an iron clad pre-nuptial agreement, protecting both our assets. There was a cheating clause that invalidated either side of the agreement, and as Liam had done the cheating, and plenty of it, he had to pay up. His face was priceless when I drew his attention to said clause. Once I’ve signed the papers, my legal team will deal with him, then, I won’t give him another thought.
Ripping open the letter, I had the strongest urge to wipe my arse on the front page and mail it back to him. Maybe I should do a Sharon Osbourne and send Dribble Piss and Pug Face a gift-wrapped Tiffany Box, with a little something from me inside.
Potpourri – Erm, I think not!
Potpoohie – most definitely.
“Be classy,” was a motto my mother always lived by, and I do try, but I’m not sure what she’d make of my Debbie Does Dallas behaviour of late.
My mind flew back to Zander. I was on top, and he looked up at me, his face a mixture of wonderment and awe. It felt like my first rodeo and I used every ounce of strength in my thighs to grip hold, not wanting to fall off until I was ready to.
By Invitation Only- The Series Page 2
