Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(229)

"Get the fuck off of me," I snarl at her and push myself off the chair I was sitting in.

I flex my muscles and stand up; my only thought is to get out of this house.

Lorna goes to move, but apparently she's not fast enough because by the  time I'm standing she's still on me, and once I get off the chair, she's  sliding, falling ungraciously in a heap on the floor.

"I'm never going to fucking touch you, woman," I spit at her, not just  my mortal fucking enemy but the woman who on her own destroyed Becca's  childhood. "I suggest you stop trying."

That's all I have to fucking say to her. I start walking out of the living room.

Her voice stops me for a moment. "Don't think this is over, Mason," she  says to me, much more bitterly and spiteful than the purring she was  doing a few moments ago. "Don't ever think you can get rid of me so  easily."

I pause as I let her continue without turning back. "Your company is  going to be mine if you don't do what I say," she hisses like a fucking  witch. "And if you think you'll be able to stay away from me after that,  you've got another thing coming."

Fuck her.

"I haven't finished hunting you down, dear," she says as I exit. "You will be mine. I swear it."

I walk out the living room and through the foyer of the condo.

I know I should have stopped and seen after Becca, but I need to clear my fucking head.

A part of me is thinking of going back up once the elevator doors open  and let me out into the building lobby, but I realize that my temples  are still throbbing with anger.

No, I need to calm the fuck down first.

I mean, there's a lot of things women can do. They can be sweet,  innocent, and naive. Hell, they can be sexy if they want to and I won't  judge. They can even be slutty, and sometimes the sluttier the fucking  better.

But there's a fucking line between wanting to have sex because you enjoy  the human contact and appreciate the fucking beauty in people, and  wanting to have sex because you're a selfish leech that's looking to  satisfy your own dark fucking desires for power and control.

No, there's nothing fucking sexual about Lorna. She's more a nympho than a slut.

That's the realization I have as I get into the cab. I tell the cabbie to take me to midtown to the Kane Price offices.

There's one thing I need to do before I get home and try finding Becca.

I head into my office and pick up the phone.

I can't tell you yet who I'm talking to, because there's a chance that if Lorna finds out, she'll try to stop me.

"It's me," I say into the receiver.

Don't worry. The one person who was expecting my call knows my voice.  They know who I am if I tell them it's me. They stay silent as well.

"Lorna's probably going to go to war," I speak into the phone. "I want to be fucking ready in case she does."

Again silence. But that only means that they understand. Asking for a  vote of no confidence will mean war. It has the potential to tear the  company in two. I'm going to prevent that if I have to.

But right now, I've said everything I need to.

I quickly head out of my office.

I texted my driver and my limo is waiting outside of the entrances to  Kane Price and I hop in, telling the driver that I need to go home.

As the limo makes its way toward Seventh Avenue and One57 apartment, I look at my phone.

Becca hasn't texted. She hasn't called.

Does she think that Lorna and I started fucking?

Or is she just too distraught at what her mother said?

Fuck, I need to get home and sit down with a glass of scotch. Then I  need to figure out how to get to Becca without having to go back to  Lorna's house. There's gotta be a way.

I'm not thinking of any solution as I unlock the door to my condo and walk in.

But then, a moment later, I stop thinking altogether.

Because I don't have to; standing right in front of me is Becca Lowell.

She turns to me, and I try to figure out what the look on her face means.         

     



 

Is she hurt? Distraught?

"Becca," I say, dropping my keys on the table and walking over. "Nothing happened with your mom," I say.

She smiles at me. "I know," she says and takes a step over. Is it me or does she sound happy?

"I heard everything Mom said," she says and then stops herself. "I mean  actually, I guess I heard everything Lorna said. Since she's not really  my mother."

This is the part that I fucking dreaded.

"You heard that?" I ask.

"Mason, it's okay," she says to me and wraps her arms around me. "It  means I'm not related to that bitch. And, that I'm not fucking my  stepdad anymore since I'm technically not related to her at all. Thank  you for standing up to her."

I pause. Becca's happy. I guess I can understand, but a part of me stirs when she says the word stepdad.

"I guess we're just two people then who aren't related at all," I say slowly.

Becca unwraps herself and takes a step back. "But it's so dirty to still imagine it, isn't it?" she asks me with a wicked grin.

I feel my cock twitching just looking at her. It's filthy. It's taboo.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asks me. And then slowly she says the word, "Daddy?"

I have no idea how she got here before me. But when she pulls her pink shirt over her head I stop caring.

She takes a few steps back and I follow. She takes a few more steps back, and I follow again.

We end up in the guest bedroom.

I'm staring at her.

She wears a black lace bra, her round breasts a perfect match for the  almost transparent fabric. Still holding my gaze she takes her hands to  her back and unhooks the bra, allowing its straps to slide down her arms  and the whole thing falls onto the floor.

I want to reach toward her breasts, feel her already hard nipples under my fingers, but I restrain myself.

Becca doesn't want to have anything to do with any kind of restriction,  though. She closes the distance between us again with a quick shuffle of  her feet and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. My  naked torso calls for her, her eyes coveting my solid pectorals.

"Let's take some of these clothes off," she says, looking up at me with wicked eyes. "Daddy."

Fuck, I need to have her.

Her tongue runs over her lips in anticipation; she leans forward into me  and I respond, my mouth pressing into hers, sweet electricity  discharging all over our bodies. They're like two coiled springs  yearning for release.

I raise one hand to her waist and embrace her figure, pulling her down  onto the bed. Her breasts feel my warm skin as she presses them against  my naked chest. Needing to feel me all over she takes her hand to my  crotch and pushes down, her heart skipping a beat as she felt something  as solid as rock there, something aching for her.

"Oh, Daddy, is that for me?" she purrs into my chest.

What the fuck is going on? Why is my cock harder than it's ever been before?

She groans lightly as I suck on her tongue, my hands going down to her  backside and pulling her closer, the friction between our bodies enough  to start an all consuming fire.

Taken by an impulse I grab her hair and pull her head back, exposing her  bare breasts. I takes her nipples into my mouth, softly sucking each of  them, my tongue tracing their outline with care. I feel my cock  hardening even more and, for a fraction of a second, I almost throw her  onto the ground and pull down her tight pants, having at it there and  then.

You don't have to be a fucking scientist to see how I'm aching to fuck  her; I know it, you know it, and most importantly she knows it.

She gets up from the bed after squeezing hard on my cock, and takes her fingers to her waistline.

"Should I pull this down, Daddy?" she asks me.

The anticipation in my eyes is self-evident. Happy to indulge me, she  pushes down, her tight pants sliding over her toned legs in a slow  hypnotizing motion. My cock tenses up against my boxer briefs at the  sight of her small black thong, my heart almost in pain with desire. How  I want to fucking reach for her underwear, slowly pulling it down with  my teeth and feeling her scent taking hold of me …

Like a wild cat she approaches me, her movements charged with lust and  hunger; her hands dart to my pants and pulls them down with my boxer  briefs, her fingertips scratching at my skin harshly. My cock rises up,  all 12 hard, thick inches saluting her expectantly.

She doesn't need instructions.

Her knees touch the floor and, before I can breathe out, her lips wrap  around my hard cock. As if pushed back by an invisible force I fall on  my back, spreading my arms wide on the mattress.

She spreads my legs apart, stroking my inner thighs with the tip of her  fingers; my breathing grows harsher as she starts sucking me, one of her  hands cupping both my balls and playing around with them.

"Am I delicious?" she asks with a sweet smile.

"Fuck," I groan.

"What did you call me, Daddy?" she asks sweetly. "Say it."

I can't believe this is fucking happening to me.

"Am I delicious, Daddy?" she asks.

"You're fucking delicious," I say and she keeps looking at me expectantly. "Baby girl."

I've let go.

I've lost control.