Gambling For The Virgin:A Dark Billionaire Romance(105)

Perhaps it's the way he's asking-questioning my sanity, or maybe it's  because I feel as if I've been interrogated for nearly an hour straight,  but just then, I lose it.

"I'm in love with a girl!" I snap, slamming my fist down on the  conference table and flashing my snarled mouth at Gerard. "There, I've  said it. Are you fucking happy? Is that good enough for you, Gerard?"

He's taken aback, clearly not expecting this to fucking tumble from my mouth.

"Arsen, I don't understand. What does you being in love with a girl have  anything to do with the sale of Simulated Pleasures LLC?"

"She's one of the phone sex operators."

He stops for a moment, and a pregnant silence fills the air. For a few  awkward moments, neither of us says anything, and then I continue, "She  doesn't know."

I see a wave of understanding come across his face and he finally speaks. "You should tell her."

"Who are you, my fucking therapist as well as my lawyer?"

"I mean it."

"What good would that do?"

"Well, for one, are things getting serious?"

I think about that question for a moment. Have things gotten more  serious between Ashley and I? It feels like it certainly can, but am I  imagining that? Where exactly do I want this to go? Where does she want  this to go? I love her. That much I understand.

"I don't know," I say, and that's the truth. I grab the glass of water  sitting on the conference table and take a sip. My face is pensive.

"If you think things will-or can-get serious, you should tell her," he says, noticing that my mind is pre-occupied.

I don't say anything, but I nod my head in agreement. Of course he's  right, but that's easier said than done. It's one thing to sit here at  this conference table and say these things-and even agree with them-than  it is to approach the woman you know you love about a secret that  you've been keeping from her. Things are working right now. We're  fucking happy. I don't want to fuck it all up by coming clean. If she  finds out that I've been masquerading as King Henry, there's no telling  how she'll react.

"It's not something you want to hide forever," he says, breaking my train of thought.

"I don't know what I want."

"Oh come on now," he says, almost laughing. "Quit kidding yourself."

"Says the man who's strong arming me into selling the one business I'm adamant on keeping."

"It's just obvious to me that you want the girl, so do something about it."

I look at him and know he's right.





79





Ashley





If Arsen is going to keep feeding me like this, I'm going to have to  start spending an extra hour at the gym. I mean, seriously. We're  sitting on his terrace balcony, overlooking Central Park. He has a  massive table that's laid out with breakfast. I have my choice of  scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, slices of white or wheat bread, fruit,  yogurt, granola, and croissants.

Oh, there's also pancakes. There's coffee, tea, orange juice and cereal.

Apparently, the building concierge has been instructed to prepare a  breakfast spread every day for Arsen since I've started spending more  and more time with him.

Arsen however, is just eating some bacon and a croissant, with some  coffee, and reading the New York Daily Journal. The sound of taxis and  delivery trucks wafts over to our little terrace in the clouds and I  look over at my handsome breakfast companion.

"You live very well, Arsen," I tell him, smiling. He looks over at me  and smiles. Last night he took me to the MOMA where we saw the unveiling  of some new Frederick Hart sculptures that hadn't been released to the  public after the sculptor's death. Variations on Three Goddesses and  Cross of the Millennium on both bronze and acrylic resin. I look into  the room. Arsen bought one of the pieces and it's sitting in the living  room, purchased and now forgotten. Which would be fine if it was a dress  from Bloomingdales, except that this tiny sculpture costs around  $150,000.         

     



 

After we got home, he wasted no time in celebrating his acquisition by  unzipping my black dress and kissing my neck. Actually, if we're being  completely honest here, I was already wet when he pulled me over at the  MOMA and whispered into my ear, "I want to fuck you senseless right now,  Ash. Just rip your fucking panties off and shove my cock inside of you  and pound you till you scream so loud that only the fucking birds can  hear you."

I mean, sure, I had splurged a bit on the dress. It was backless and  showed off my ass pretty good. But work has been great. I got a $500  bonus this week. So I mean, I didn't mind that I was having that effect  on him.

I take a piece of toast and bite into it, thinking back to last night.  It had been a nice night, so by the time his clothes were off and my  panties were … I don't actually know what happened to them. Either he  ripped them off or I took them off, but we threw them somewhere and I  can't find them this morning. I think I saw my bra in the kitchen sink.  Oh well. Where was I? Oh yeah, by the time I was naked, we actually  ended up on the terrace. He lay me down on the table and proceeded to  defile me in the most delicious ways possible.

Seriously, having sex with this man each time is like having sex for the  first time with him. I cum at least once for sure, but as many as eight  times. Although by then, the orgasms are all ripping up my body in one  wave after another. There have been times I've blacked out for a few  minutes because it's just too much pleasure. And then afterwards, I'm in  like some sort of post-orgasm coma, where I just sit there blinking and  enjoying the endorphins going through my body.

"What are you up to today?" Arsen asks me looking up from his paper with  a look like he just remembered something as I look at him. I've never  really made a big deal about our schedules, telling him that my schedule  is pretty flexible-I mean, I can work whenever. But still, out of habit  I pull out my phone.

And I freeze.

I have a meeting with Client 5 on my calendar. Oh my God!

How could I have forgotten? I thought it was yesterday.

No way I'm letting him go to another girl. Not because I'm worried about  losing the fees. No, more because I want to talk to him.

As sexed up as Arsen has gotten me, King Henry hits another spot in my  brain and in my heart. Because we only talk for little bits, I crave the  time I have with him jealously. I need him.

But the meeting-or call-or whatever is scheduled in ten minutes.

I look over at Arsen, wondering what it is that I can say. I mean, what  can I even say to someone, anyone, if I have to leave in 10 minutes?  Like, sorry I didn't realize but I have to go have phone sex with a  client? To the man who is feeding me breakfast?

How did I ever end up in a situation like this? Where I'm lying to two men?

"Ash, I need to go do something real quick that I forgot," Arsen says  not looking me in the eyes. I nod absently, wondering how I'm going to  get away. "You think you'll be okay having breakfast for like half an  hour or so? I just need to pop out real quick but I'll be back, I  promise."

Wait a second! He's giving me an out. This is almost like Divine  Providence or something giving me an opportunity. Although later on I  need to remember to make sure and find out where he's going. Under  normal circumstances I'd be pretty curious where he was off to, but  right now, I'm not going to take a gift horse and look it in the mouth.  Not this girl. I'm smarter than that.

"I'll just go lay down for a little bit then," I tell him with a coy smile. "Still a bit exhausted from last night."

I give him my best innocent smile and kiss him goodbye thinking to  myself how ironic this situation must be because normally I would be so  curious where he's off to.

But not right now.

Now, in this moment, I've already started getting wet thinking of King  Henry's deep, gravelly voice. Within a minute, Arsen is out the door. I  rush inside and it takes me just a few seconds to slide off my yoga  pants and whip off my tank top. I lounge on the bed in my bra and  panties, my heart trembling at the call that will get re-routed to my  cell phone.

Four minutes to go. They seem to last an eternity. My heart rate  increases with each passing second. I feel the dampness in my pussy and  can tell that without even talking to me, King Henry has gotten my  panties wet.

At last, the call comes and the phone vibrates. It startles me and for a  second I'm scared. But the fear doesn't stop me from accepting the call  and with a shaky voice filled with excitement I speak into the phone.

"Hi this is Misty, who am I speaking to?" I say, seeing Client 5 on the screen and holding my breath till he speaks.

There's a pause and a rustle and finally, "Hi, Misty, where are you?"

Now it's my turn to pause. I don't know what to answer.

"Are you at home?" he asks me.

"N-No," I say.

"No what?" he retorts.

I close my eyes. "No, King Henry."

"Good, you remembered."

"Yes, King."

"Where are you? Are you with someone? At their place?" he asks me and I close my eyes.