"Well, I'm sure it's nothing, sir," the man obviously lies, trying his best to be professional while making sure his rich troublemaker client doesn't get offended. "Just … Uh, make sure you don't make too much noise."
"Sure, thank you," Arsen responds, ready to throw the phone on the ground again.
"Uh. And have fun, sir," the man finally adds, this time his voice with an edge of genuinity to it, if not a bit of jealousy as well.
Arsen ends the call and winks at me devilishly.
"He's right, you know? We're going to have fun." No more words from him, he pushes his cock inside my pussy again, thrusting furiously as if we had never stopped. He pounds me mercilessly, my hands running up and down his back until I finally place them over his firm buttocks, urging him to keep up the rhythm. And that's exactly what he does; he keeps the pace until my moans turn into an all-out scream, all the "keep quiet" admonishments from the hotel manager long forgotten. Who cares about a little noise when I'm having the time of my life right now?
I scream so hard my throat burns, my mind exploding as I come. My hands run erratically all over his body as a violent shiver goes up my spine, the pleasure of climax infecting even my soul.
"More," I pant, my body still reeling from the orgasm. Arsen pulls his cock out of me, and moving as fast as my buckling knees allow me to, I climb down from the table and move up to the wall, turning my back to Arsen and placing both my hands at shoulder-height. I jut my ass back and not a second after he smacks my buttocks hard with the back of his hand. He does it again and again, my ass cheeks burning. Well, this is going to leave a mark.
Arsen grabs me by the waist and, with one simple thrust, he starts fucking me again, pistoning into me as if we only had minutes to live. I move my hips back against him, trying to match his rhythm; even though it's impossible to do so, this time I don't quit. I do my best to keep moving, my ass slapping against his thighs as the sound of flesh on flesh blends with my moans.
"Don't stop … " I mutter. I can't even hear myself say it, the sound of our bodies collapsing against one another drowning out the sound of my voice. "DON'T STOP!" I scream at the top of my lungs. Arsen doesn't need my directions, but it just feels good to say it out loud. "Don't stop," I repeat a third time, the words only a whisper now. But it's all it takes for me to come again, the fires of hell racing through my veins as they scorch every single one of my nerve endings.
Even though I'm coming my brains out, I keep pushing my hips back at him, eager to drive him to the edge of insanity. Maybe it's the way I'm screaming, or maybe it has to do with how I keep thrusting back at him, but Arsen's cock starts to spasm violently inside of me almost immediately.
"Cum inside of me," I hear myself saying, his member pulsing with a vengeance as it sprays my insides with his warm cum. I stop moving now, allowing him to empty his whole load - it takes forever, his cock spasming and throbbing as an endless fountain of semen fills me up to the brim. His juices start dripping down my thighs, thick strands of it going down my legs. And still he keeps going.
I grit my teeth and move as fast as I can, taking his cock out of me and turning toward him as thick strands of cum fly everywhere. I go down to my knees in the blink of an eye, grabbing his cock and aiming it at my face - just a few seconds after that and my face is coated in his fluids, thick ropes of it on my tongue and lips. I jerk him off, moving my hand back and forth as I drain of every single drop he holds inside of him.
His spasms dying down, I slowly peel my fingers off of his cock. I lean forward, reaching for his shaft with my tongue and licking it dry as I lock eyes with him. When I'm done, he joins me on the floor, kneeling in front of me; he places his hands on my chest, smearing his cum all over me as he squeezes my tits hard. His hands slide over my soaked body easily, his own semen acting as lubricant.
"This, everyday. For the rest of our lives," he tells me, his expression one of love and wickedness. "That's what I want."
"No," I tell him, struggling to get the words out as my lungs work hard to get the air in. "That's what I want."
"And that's exactly what you'll have," he responds, leaning toward me and laying his lips on mine. I brush my tongue against his lips, and he sucks it eagerly, cleaning it of the cum that covers it.
"I'll hold you to that promise, Arsen."
"You better."
This right here … This is perfection. Happiness. And if I can have it, anyone can. Just make sure that if you want to go on a quest for a perfect man to stay away from Arsen Hawke … This man right here is mine, just mine. And I'm just his. And that's exactly how it's supposed to be.
Happy endings-oh, yes, they are very real.
60
Epilogue - Ashley
"Hi, I'm Tricia Loomis with Good Morning Manhattan, and today I'm at the company headquarters of Hawkelane Media Inc. where we catch up with two of New York City's most dynamic and successful couples, Arsen and Ashley Hawke," the news reporter says, standing in the center of the product display room.
Is it me, or is she being slightly condescending?
I'm in the product display room today of Hawkelane Media because Arsen and I are being interviewed by the television show Good Morning Manhattan regarding the runaway success of a revamped adult entertainment company.
Oh right, I may have forgotten to explain, this is one year after that evening at Del Frisco's. In case you were wondering, my showing up actually was for the best. That's right. I didn't come in and ruin everything.
Actually, Mr. Mozorov couldn't have been more understanding about it. Once he understood that Simulated Pleasures was only profitable because of me, and that I was going away, he lost complete interest in the phone sex outfit. When he realized that a majority of the profits had been created because Arsen was calling me, he also began to shy away from the industry in general. But through it all he was a very charismatic and friendly old Russian man. It was kind of surreal actually, one moment listening to him as to how he was going to bankrupt hundreds of women into sexual slavery and the next moment hearing him tell us stories of his growing up in St. Petersburg during the age of Perestroika.
But that was a year ago. Arsen and I were together. And back then, that was all that mattered. Its all that matters today, too. After that night where we were reunited, there was seriously at least a month or two where I wanted to be by his side every minute of the day. We had sex like five times a day until both of us were worn out.
But once that period ended, Arsen looked at me one day as we lay in bed after having a marvelous afternoon lovemaking session. I was still breathing heavily with my face nestled on his chest when I felt him play with my hair and move my head slightly so he could look me in the eyes.
"What do you think I should do with the last piece of Dad's legacy?" he asked.
I looked hard at him. "Well, have your reasons for selling it changed?"
Arsen shrugged at me. "I used to feel that there was something wrong with openly hawking this stuff and that's why Mom wasn't around, even if she was dead," he said. "But I get it now that this brings happiness to people's lives. With my MBA, I could easily make Dad's operation viable again," he said.
I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at him. This is the man that I had fallen in love with. "And with my Art History degree, I could handle most of the creative branding," I told him.
"You wouldn't want to work the lines?" he asked me with a smirk.
I used my free hand to tickle him. He squirmed, and I moved lower. Without realizing it, my free hand grabbed onto his cock, and I began to squeeze it.
Within minutes, the idea of a reborn Hawke Media Group was being consummated quite noisily on that bed.
"Mr. Hawke, your company has really blazed a trail forward in bringing adult oriented entertainment even more mainstream than it has ever been. Many people call you a visionary. Others call you a smut peddler like your father with fancier technology. What are your comments to them?" the reporter asks Arsen as the news camera points to him. I'm standing to the side, content to let Arsen take the interview.
But he doesn't listen to my directions.
"I couldn't have done it without the help of my wife, Ashley," he says, gesturing towards me. I gasp as the news camera swivels and takes a picture of me. "She's the one that had the idea for a FaceTime app for our services, a Skype app, and a Facebook Live daily feed. She's really harnessed social media."
"Mrs. Hawke, any comments?" Tricia the reporter asks, looking at me. She's looking triumphant. I don't understand why she wants to make us uncomfortable.