Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(207)

"Brings back some memories, doesn't it?" Ethan asks. "Reading about us."

He's right and just thinking back to what you've read in the last 75,000  words and actually remembering those experiences - I dunno - I don't  resist as I feel his hands grab my ass and pull me towards him.

In fact, I may actually be doing a little grinding of my pussy against his cock.

Whatever it is, it's enough to bring us in for a kiss.

And then one more. And another.

Until Ethan unzips the zipper on my dress and lets it fall to the floor.

I stand there in my strapless bra and black lace thong.

"Turn around and bend over," Ethan tells me. It's not a question. More a statement of what I'm going to do.

Which I am more than happy to comply with.

As I turn around, I see the clock on the nightstand.

Oh, fuck. We're going to be late. We can't do this.

But then I feel his cock against my ass cheeks.

That pulsing, throbbing, giant cock of his. I feel his hands squeeze my ass. My body begins to tremble with lust.

And you know what? I can be late.

I'd rather get fucked by this piece of gorgeous man meat right now than anything else in the world.

Alexis is a sweetie, though, so listen.

You've been with me this far. You've seen everything.

You've kept secrets when it was just me and you talking.

Can you do one last thing for me?

Can you email Alexis or tell her on Facebook that I'm going to be late? That Ethan and I are going to be late to her party.

Tell her, "They're busy fucking again."

She'll know what you mean.

Thank you so much, hun! Love you and hope you had fun!





Man Chaser is done!





Man Chaser was the first book that became a bestseller in its subcategory. After that came only more success lol.



Next is a copy of Wicked Lil' Brat by Alexis Angel.

After that, I have two short stories.

The 6 Train, which is a short story by Mona Cox.

Followed by Bain Vacation, another short story.

Both are never before seen and brand new. They will never be published anywhere else separately.

Our goal in this is simple.

To entertain you as long as we can to give you the best experience with  the words that we hold so dear. Because while we may be in various  corners of the world, the fact that we are sharing these brings us  closer together we feel.

Thank you so much for reading!



xoxo



Alexis





Wicked Lil' Brat: A Secret Baby Romance





Description



The best way to enjoy my lil' brat is to make her beg...



No woman can tame Mason Kane. Trust me, plenty have tried.

They get caught up with my bedroom eyes, ripped body, and massive...bank account.

But then I go too far.

Now I'm stuck in a loveless sham marriage to a soulless ice queen to save my company from the mistakes of my past.

But it gets worse.

There's a little brat running around the house.

Teasing me. Tempting me. Making me have forbidden thoughts.

So what if she's 16 years younger than me?

So what if we all sit around a table and share a wholesome family dinner every night?

Because it's only after dinner  –  when everyone is asleep - that this bad  boy of Wall Street is going to go up against his biggest challenge.

A wicked lil' brat.

Wicked Lil' Brat is a full-length standalone romance that will have your  naughty bits twitching with delight. No cliffhanger. HEA? You know it,  babe.





163





Mason





SQUELCH!

That's the sound that Stacy's pussy makes as my hard fucking cock drills her over the sofa she was sitting on.

Her grey skirt is bunched together and hiked around her waist. I already tore the panties off of her before you even got here.

"Oh my God, Mason," Stacy shrieks as I pull her hair back and slap her  ass like a fucking pirate. She's on her fucking knees and her hands are  holding onto the sofa cushions for dear life. Her blouse is unbuttoned  and her bra is unclasped so her tits are hanging free.

I don't really know much about this girl. What I do know is that her  name is Stacy Sawyer. She's an anchor for MarketWatch Journal, the  pre-eminent financial news organization in the world. And up until maybe  twenty minutes ago, she was finishing up yet another standard and  pretty boring interview.

Oh, right. Where are my own fucking manners. Let me introduce myself, as  long as you don't mind me talking to you with my cock up some slut. I  mean, I already know your name. No, don't roll your eyes at me. I know  who's reading me and who's not. And no, I'm not going to say your name  out loud just to prove to you that I fucking know it.

In fact, you know what? I'm going to call you Gorgeous from now on. You got that, Gorgeous?

Anyways, so who the fuck am I to take such liberties with you?

I'm Mason Kane, billionaire CEO and founder of the investment bank Kane Price.

That's right.

That CEO that you see pictured on the cover of TIME Magazine saying that he's going to change Wall Street.

The CEO they made the movie about. Where they called me the King of New  York. Funny how that name fucking stuck. Everyone seems to know it.

You probably saw the movie, but you're probably rolling your eyes at the  over-the-top lifestyle that I live in. Everything I have around me is  larger than life. My personal fortune stands just shy of $30 billion  dollars. Sure, a good solid 85% of it is tied to the performance of the  stock in the company I started-the investment bank and private equity  shop known as Kane Price.         

     



 

That's right. I started Kane Price with nothing. Built it up to a  massive, globe-girdling corporation that today employs over 300,000  people all around the world with offices and operations in over 180  countries.

The Mason Kane that you see on the cover of People Magazine. Yeah, they  love taking pictures of me, trying to figure out which fucking slut I'm  currently banging, or if I'm doing more than one at the same time. I  mean, they've covered me with everyone, from that one chick that won the  fucking Oscar for Best Picture, to the first female Senator from  Hawaii, to those billionaire twins, to even a pop singer. I mean the  fuck list goes on and on.

Sure, the press inevitably find out about the women. Hell, the women are  the ones that go to the fucking media. . After they get told by my  assistant that I'd received their messages and would call them back when  I was free, and they never hear from me. They go running to the  newspaper and the press goes on to report to the nation how I made yet  another one of America's Sweethearts cry because she missed my cock.

Yeah, just to make sure you have the right Mason Kane, I'm the one with  the gigantic 12-inch cock. The one that Playboy called the foot-long  gift from God to all women of the planet. Swinging between my legs, its  the first thing people glance at when they know who I am, and are  meeting me for the first time.

Seriously, I shit you not. People I've never met before-male and  female-will shake my hand as per protocol and their eyes will try to  pass briefly over my crotch. But they'll notice the bulge, and how it  continues, and they'll forget all the rules about staring and their eyes  will go wide.

The women at least will start trying automatically to get me out of my  fucking clothes. Some of them succeed; I mean they say a fuck a day  keeps the doctor away, right? Not that I really need a doctor, to be  quite perfectly honest. I'm like the pinnacle of human evolution.

I stand fucking 6' 3" tall. I've got broad fucking shoulders and a cut  fucking body with defined pecs and a set of 8-pack abs that ripple with  enough power to make any man feel inadequate. My eyes are cobalt blue  and they penetrate deep into your soul when I look at you.

But you're not noticing all of this if we're in a room together.

Just like Stacy, you'd be salivating as I took off my shirt and showed  you my ripped body. Your eyes would look over my defined pecs and 8-pack  abs. Seriously, you probably haven't seen that many guys with an 8-pack  of abs. Those guys that they have on the covers of other books don't  have 8-packs. You gotta train hard to get it. And that's what I do. My  body is a temple for fucking.

Yeah, Gorgeous, your panties would be fucking wet and you'd be taking them off.

In fact, why don't you just take my fucking advice and take your panties off right now?

I fucking guarantee you that it will save you the effort later. You won't have to do laundry on another pair.

You might want to also go somewhere a bit more quiet so you can fucking read; you know what I mean?

Get that fucking vibrator out and get ready, because this shit is about  to get real. My 8-pack abs are about to start caressing your body as I  start fucking kissing your neck.

The party is about to start, so fucking feed your family and go get in bed.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Although, I don't think I need to warn you.

I know you'd have a bit more class than Stacy did during our interview.

All during the interview, Stacy made no secret of the fact that she was  in fucking heat. She wanted to shuck herself on my flagpole.

"So you really are bullish on the market then?" she purred during the  interview and I remember fucking smiling. I mean, it wasn't hard to  figure out what she wanted all throughout the interview; her eyes were  already undressing me the moment I walked in. Sure, it was a boring  interview to watch for the viewer, but for me, watching her cross and  uncross her fucking legs got me hard. And Stacy could see it. She  watched as my cock came to life, began to twitch, and then started to  bulge on my trouser leg. She smiled as she asked me, "And what are your  predictions about banking stocks in the next quarter?" as she gave me a  fucking lascivious stare.