Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(44)

"Oh, God … " I whisper, his lips sucking my folds dry. He jabs at my  insides with his tongue, pushing it past my inner lips and using it to  lick his cum. Pulling back, he goes up to his feet, his eyes never  leaving mine. He doesn't say a word, he just leans into me with slightly  parted lips, his semen making his mouth glisten.

I close my eyes as he kisses me, pushing my tongue inside his mouth. His  salty flavor inundates me at once, and I just have to open my mouth  wide. I take all the cum he holds inside his mouth, feeling thick drops  of it dripping down my chin. When my mouth's full, I finally pull back,  my heart almost ready to burst.

"Swallow," he says with a wicked smile, drops of semen still hanging on  his lips. I don't even filter his command; I just do it. I swallow every  single drop of cum, feeling its harsh manly flavor burning down my  throat. "Good girl," he tells me, leaning into me for one final kiss.

Arsen Hawke, where the hell did you come from?





40





Arsen





The rays of the sun wake me up from probably the most relaxing fucking  sleep I've ever had in my life. I turn around and see the mass of  straight, blonde hair, and an arm wrapped around me. In any given  morning, you'd probably expect that this would be a normal occurrence.  But you'd be wrong. Because I would never have even let them stay till  morning.

But today?

Today, it's different. Today I actually smile when I feel Ashley's nails  lightly scrape over my chest. I let my mind wander as I feel her thigh  nestle itself against my naked groin. My cock starts coming to life as I  reach over and feel her tight, perky ass within arms reach. I can feel  her pussy pressed against my upper thigh. 50 million nerves are attuned  to the feeling of her folds on my skin. I could fucking get lost in her  body more than I've ever gotten lost in anything in my goddamn life.

But then I hear the beeping coming from the other room. I sigh. It's the  fucking video phone. Most likely it's Gerard. It must have been going  on for a while because the beeps, or rings, increase in frequency the  longer someone is trying to reach me.

As carefully as I can, I extricate myself from Ashley's grasp and get out of bed.

I look over at her beautiful fucking body still asleep. She's so fucking  cute. Like a button. Her mouth is slightly open as she breaths in and  out and all I want to do is wake her up and eat her pussy again. Then  fuck her with my throbbing cock until she passes out like she almost did  last night. Then cum all over her and have her suck me dry. God, all I  want to do is fuck her so badly. I can tell this is going to lead to  problems ahead. Can't you?

But guess what?

I don't fucking care. And yes, I had to say ‘fucking' in there. To emphasize the fuc … the point.

The beeping continues and jars me out of my sexual fantasy and I pad  over to the living room. I see who's calling and see that it is in fact,  Gerard. I accept the call and before you ask, yes I'm naked. But that's  fine because I arrange the camera to just capture my upper body; I  don't think Gerard is going to mind seeing me shirtless. But I wouldn't  want him to see my giant cock. He's my friend and I don't want him to  feel any level of insecurity or envy, you know?

"Sorry to call so early, Arsen," Gerard says once he comes on the  screen. I look at the clock. It's 7:30 am. He's already dressed in a  crisp suit and tie, sitting in his office downtown. The guy must wake up  at around 5 to get there from the Upper East Side.

‘It's not a problem, Gerard," I say as I leave the field of vision for a  moment to turn on the coffee maker in the kitchen. "What can I do for  you?"

"Actually, I have some good news, if that's what you're calling it,"  Gerard says as I come back into view. "Mr. Giannoni has come back from  his clients and he's stating that we might have a tentative offer on a  few more of the properties that we're looking to sell."

"Which ones?" I ask. This is key.

There's a pause from Gerard before he answers. "He's prepared to purchase the whole portfolio, sir."

The entire thing?

In one shot, I could be done with Dad's ridiculous smut business? I could free myself from the filth that he peddled?

"Everything, Gerard?" I ask again, raising my eyebrows. "In one swoop?"

Gerard shrugs. "He certainly seems amenable to taking the entirety of  your holdings. But if I would suggest an alternative, I would say that  we do it piece meal."

The method doesn't really matter to me. If I can get rid of everything, then this is something I should totally look into.

But one thing bothers me.

"Gerard, who does this lawyer represent?" I ask. If I'm going to be  giving up Dad's life work for some cash, I want to know who I'm selling  it to. Despite the fact that it's all X-rated smut, I want to make sure  at least that I'm not fucking over the people who do the work day in and  day out. And that could easily happen if I end up selling to someone  shady.

"I can certainly find that out, sir," Gerard says. "However the buying  party is going to be an LLC based out of Delaware, most likely."

That makes sense. You want to know the easiest country to launder money  in? It's not fucking Switzerland, or the Bahamas. It's right here. The  United States of America. With our secretive banking laws and the  ability for one company to own another, anyone can buy anything while  still remaining fucking hidden from the world.

"I'm not comfortable selling the entire fucking company if I don't know  who I'm selling it to, Gerard," I say into the video monitor. "I just  want to know where all these people's livelihoods are going to end up."

"I agree, sir," Gerard says. "We wouldn't want to sell to someone who is  completely disreputable, but I also want to point out that there will  be a certain level of … "

"Seediness?" I ask with a smile.

Gerard smiles at me. "A certain type of character who will come to  define the market, yes," he agrees with me. And yeah, he's got a fucking  point. I mean, you're not going to see blue chip companies like Disney  try to buy the Sex Palace on 3rd Avenue that my Dad built in 2010, or  the Swinger's Club in Miami. That's not going to be purchased by  Coca-Cola. But still, I want some type of fucking standards.

"I mean, who is this guy representing? Is it a company? Or a person?  Something, anything, is all I'm looking for," I tell Gerard.

"Maybe we should start our transactions with a limited subset of  properties then and try to ascertain more information," Gerard suggests.

That's a pretty good idea. Give this Mr. Giannoni something and then  dangle the prize in front of him in exchange for more information.

"I like that," I tell Gerard. "Why don't we sell the entire strip club portfolio first and see what we can find out?"

I'm not worried about selling the strip clubs. The only real employees  in a strip club are the managers and the bouncers and they're all tough  as fucking nails. Dad had strip clubs from Myrtle Beach to San Francisco  to New York City. Even if its fucking ISIS buying these clubs, the  girls will all be able to simply move on and the guys that work  there-heaven help anyone that tries to fuck around with them.

"Agreed, let's get the paperwork sorted on that. And what do you think  the earliest we can prepare for signature would … " I don't get a chance  to finish because Gerard interrupts me.

"I think we can discuss this a little later on today, sir," he says and  my eyes flash up to see him on the monitor. He's looking past me,  somehow. "I didn't realize I was bothering you, Arsen. Thought you  normally slept alone."

I turn around and see Ashley standing at the door to my bedroom. She's  looking into the living room, wearing one of my collared shirts.

God, she looks so fucking cute.

I barely get a chance to register as Gerard says goodbye and hangs up.  He probably felt a bit awkward, which is a fucking riot considering that  we were talking about selling off pieces of a sex empire.         

     



 

But who cares about business deals when the hottest fucking girl is  standing just a few feet away from me wearing nothing but my shirt?

"Who were you talking to?" Ashley asks, as she takes a step closer to me.

"My lawyer, Gerard," I say, desperately aware that my cock is starting to harden and stick up. Ashley notices too.

"I overslept," she says, rubbing her eyes.

"That's okay," I say, standing still. "I was going to come back to bed  … "

"No, that's okay," Ashley says and I can see her hands come up and begin  to fiddle with the buttons. She's got a bit of bed head, and for the  millionth fucking time I think how goddamn cute she looks.

"What was he talking about?" Ashley asks me, coming up to me. "Selling strip clubs?"

Oh. Fuck.

Here it is, isn't it. I never fucking told her what I do. Where all this money comes from.

But what have I always told you?

That I'm going to be fucking honest. No matter what.