His Price(5)

I wonder how they would look draped over my cock? Would her tongue twist and turn as tightly as her curls? Would she let me pull her hair till her neck couldn't bend anymore? That's all I wanted to do, and it took all I had to not try then and there.

My cock stiffened just imagining her ass again. The way she bent over, touching her toes with ease. She was flexible and I wanted to wrap those legs up around her ears, slam my dick deep into her pussy till she was numb all over.

Copper was going to help keep my world running; she had to.

I wasn't giving her a choice. If she didn't do what I needed her to, I would lose everything.

And I wasn't about to do that.

I won't do that.

Closing the door to my silver Porsche, I revved the engine. Turning out of Tigress, I made my way down Thames street. The road was lifeless, no other cars were in sight. Hopping onto Route four, I pushed the engine hard, my heel hitting the floor, speed climbing with each shift of the throttle.

The pounding of my chest matched the hand rising on the dial; fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour, and still going. Every breath was filled with excitement and cold oxygen as it purged through my body, turning my veins to ice.

I loved driving fast. The feel of the air in my face and the power under the hood; it was the next best thing to a good fuck. I guess you could say I chased the rush, and it'd been that rush I kept grabbing for.

That feeling, the moment your veins harden and you think they might just pop beneath the surface. I couldn't get enough.

I had my fair share of issues with street racing and the cops. But, when you're a twenty-five year old guy and son of a billionaire, people know who you are. Which helped multiple times to get me out of a shitty situation. It only took that one phone call— my dad had the best lawyers— I never spent more than an hour in the holding cell.

And as far as a record goes, that didn't exist either. Money talks and my family had plenty of it.

It also helped that my dad wouldn't stand to have our name corrupted or tainted with any rash decisions I made. It would look bad for the company, and especially bad on him.

A man with his power should have a son that bears the same respect and reserve that he does. The problem was...

I didn't and I never would.

I wasn't a suit wearing jackass, who spent more time in the office than enjoying life's pleasures. What kind of life would that be?

All desk and paperwork with no pussy? No thank you.

My father loathed who I was and what he thought I'd become, I was pretty much sure of that now. After the news he'd given me, it was cemented in my head.

He hated me.

Which is probably why he had dropped a fucking bomb on me a few months back, also on my fucking birthday. “Hegan, it's time you start thinking about your future. Your legacy.” My father's words had sent chills across my spine.

I was an only child, an only child who was going to inherit a shit load of fucking money. Enough to last me three lifetimes.

Legacy? I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but he didn't sugar coat it much more than that. He swirled his wine, inhaling the aroma, a gentle sip spilled into his mouth.

My father had gone on to say, “You need to do something with yourself. You can't spend life just walking around on air. I didn't work this hard for you to eat up everything I made. I want a grandchild, Hegan. And if you don't have an heir for me, you're cut from it all. You will get nothing further from me. Nothing.”

Happy birthday to me, right? A fucking kid!

He expected me to have a kid!

That was something I'd never thought of. I eat pussy like it's a buffet for one; I loved women, all women. And he wanted me to give him a grandchild!

I couldn't believe he had the balls to ask me for that.

At first I'd thought he was joking. A guttural laugh exploded from my throat; my head had fallen back; a hand came down and slapped against my thigh. He can't be serious! I thought.

It wasn't until he showed me the legal papers from his lawyer, the papers that had me locked out from everything if I didn't produce a child soon; that's when I knew he was serious. This hadn't been a sick joke, or a wild ruse to get me to find a job.

He was sitting stone still, eyes firm as concrete, lips thin as a single sheet of paper.

And my mother, she stared at the floor, breathing in imaginary gasps of water. Her throat gurgled with each swallow, fingers trembling in her lap.

My jaw had dropped, heart racing with disbelief. How could he do this to me? How could he place this weight on my shoulders?

The papers made it clear. I was to give an heir to the family. If I didn't then my piece of the company would become owned by his lawyer, his best friend. His dick of a lawyer, Gerald, would be in charge of everything that was meant for me. And I would be left picking up scraps and with no more access to the funds.