CHAPTER FOUR
Evan
“Thank you, Mrs. Jones. Everything looks really good.”
“I’m glad.” The woman who’s been cooking for me for years, finished arranging two place settings on the table and passed me to go back into the kitchen for a vase of flowers.
Flowers?
Please. This is a bachelor apartment. I’ve got the giant entertainment system, the man cave out back, and a cook and household staff. I’m a single guy living in the lap of luxury.
But Mrs. Jones wanted to make things nice for my lady guest, bustling this way and that, fussily arranging things.
But it’s fine.
Because Maggie’s gonna play a key role in my life. For the next couple months at least.
After I left the pet store, I thought about taking her to dinner at my parents’ place. That’s what I was paying her for after all. To pull the wool over my dad’s eyes so that he relinquished control of the company. But common sense told me to chill and get to know Maggie before embarking on the grand tour.
Because Henry and Evelyn aren’t exactly dumb. My dad runs a billion dollar conglomerate and my mom’s led a couple charities in the last decade or so. So they’re not idiots, and bringing a new girl over without prepping her was full-on suicide. It’d never work.
So yeah, I needed to get to know Maggie first. And damn, but I was kinda looking forward to it. The girl’s easy on the eyes, and she’s got a sweet personality to boot. What could be so bad about this?
Savory smells filled my nostrils. Yum. Mrs. Jones went all out, making lemon butter salmon on a bed of risotto, along with some homemade sweet breads, rum punch, and a chocolate cake displayed nice and elegant in the center of the table. Oh yeah, all the stops were being pulled out tonight.
I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to eight.
My driver left to pick up Maggie about an hour ago, so she’d be here soon. And like a fussy idiot, I even leaned forward and straightened the napkins before my hands jerked away.
What the fuck?
I don’t do place settings. I don’t do flower arrangements.
And yet my fingers were itching, dying to make things perfect. What the hell? What the fuck was wrong with me? But at that moment, Mrs. Jones came out of the kitchen with her coat on and her purse on her arm.
“Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Lincoln. If you need anything else, please call.”
As long as I’ve known Penny Jones, she’s acted like a fifties sitcom mom, always smiling and always with delicious food to share. And after fifteen years together, she was more like a mother than a housekeeper, even if we did call each other Mr. and Mrs.
I nodded approvingly.
“Thanks for your help, Mrs. Jones. I appreciate that you did this on such short notice.” Of course, Penny was getting a big bonus for rushing the dinner. After all, everything smelled and looked good enough to be from a five star restaurant, just the way I liked.
And right on time, my phone buzzed.
“Excuse me,” was my polite nod.
As expected, it was my driver, Trevor, telling me Maggie was on her way into the building. Perfect timing.
“Thank you, Trevor. We’re ready up here.”
“Sure no problem, Mr. Lincoln,” his cheerful voice boomed through the phone. “See you in the morning.”
Meanwhile, Mrs. Jones was letting herself out the back door.
“Good night,” she smiled, eyes twinkling. “Enjoy yourself.”
I nodded, already distracted somewhat.
“Good night and thank you,” were my final words.
Because once the door shut, I double checked everything. It’s the perfectionist in me, I can’t help it sometimes.
The food was on and done. I was dressed in designer jeans and a black cashmere sweater, casual and relaxed. Didn’t want to scare away my pretend fiancée before things got really started. Plus, the most important part. After a lot of pushing and shoving, a mountain of gourmet dog food, and a long walk in the park, Bowzer was snoozing peacefully in the guest bedroom. Thank god.
Turning to the light switch, I fiddled with it a little, darkening the floor to ceiling windows. These things are pretty cool. The view to the outside was still visible, but no one could see within. Good. I didn’t want any of my neighbors catching an eyeful of anything that went on in my place tonight.
Not that I was planning shit, but I didn’t get to where I was in life and in business without being prepared for every possibility.
And like clockwork, a soft knock sounded on the door.
I surveyed the scene one last time before striding to the entryway and swinging open that massive slab.
Goddamn.
The air caught in my chest, squeezing my lungs, making it impossible to breathe.
Because Maggie was gorgeous.
Like me, she wore black. But that was the only thing our outfits had in common. The soft velvet material draped over her tits and hips, showing off every mouthwatering peak and curve, lush assets on display.
And yet the girl looked innocent and sweet. Maybe it was the small bow at the neckline that matched her pink pout. Soft white shoulders peeked out from some sort of cut-outs in the fabric, making my mouth water.
Shit. My dick stiffened in response, like a joystick ready to play. I’d give that slick pussy the ride of her life if the female was willing.
But that’s the thing.
She didn’t have to be willing.
These are my terms. My rules. And it was happening.
“You look real nice, Maggie,” rumbled my voice casually. No need to let her in on the thoughts raging in my head. No need to make her go running for the hills, screaming like a banshee. I’d have her screaming soon enough, for another reason altogether. “Come in,” was my soothing growl. “Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly. That voice was low and soft, and she brushed past me, curves jiggling, a hint of flowers tantalizing my nostrils.
But then she stopped, turning to look back at me with wide eyes.
“Wow,” came that awed murmur. “This place is amazing!”
Because my apartment is the bomb. It was the penthouse, and I had it furnished and designed by the very best in the business. A glittery chandelier hung from triple-height ceilings, the white furniture complimenting the view of the Hudson River.
So yeah, it was nice.
But looking at her was even better.
I’ve seen pretty girls before, hell I’ve probably had half of the ones in New York alone. But nobody’s ever gotten me this hard, this fast. Fake fiancée or not, Maggie was hot enough to taste over and over again, and I planned on doing everything to make it happen.
Forget that.
It was happening for sure.
It was just a question of when.
Discreetly adjusting my cock, I strolled to her side, taking one elbow gently.
“We’ll be eating in here,” was my low rumble.
And with a graceful nod, Maggie accompanied me to the dining room. But again, she stopped, eyes wide while taking in the spread.
“When you said we were meeting, I figured it was at your parents or at a restaurant. I never thought you’d cook.”
That made me laugh, head thrown back, bronze throat on display.
“Naw baby, I didn’t cook this. My chef did, Mrs. Jones. But if you like it, I’ll tell her.”
Her eyes went wide again.
“You have a chef?” she stammered.
I nodded, amused.
“Sure thing. She’s Cordon Bleu-certified, can make everything from the most delicious Italian to Asian fusion. Who knew? I thought Cordon Bleu meant French food only, but I was wrong.”
She nodded, cheeks flushing.
“I’m sure it’s amazing,” the girl murmured, looking at the chicken cacciatore. “It smells amazing.”
My chin nodded.
“Take a seat, sweetheart,” was my rumble. “Enjoy.”
And the brunette lowered herself gracefully into a chair, those plump curves lush and generous. But then she smiled at me.
“This is all really nice, thank you. I appreciate the effort.”
My heart thumped. How many girls take the time to thank you before a meal? Most ladies can’t be bothered, studying their nails critically or even worse, eyeing the food like it’s poison. But this brunette was totally different. She was grace and elegance, her sweet ways out in the open.
So I went for it.
“You should cook for me some time,” was my rumble. “I’d love to taste.”
Most women would be horrified. Ladies in New York don’t cook, they have jobs. Or they don’t like getting their hands dirty and nails chipped. But Maggie was completely different.
She blushed and dropped her eyes to her plate.
“I’d love to,” was her murmur. But then her eyes flew up to mine, sparkling with mirth. “But I’m all about comfort food. Casseroles, mac n’ cheese, sloppy joes. Do you like that kind of stuff?”
Please, I’ve got an appetite like a monster. That was exactly up my alley. You can eat at five-star restaurants sometimes, but not all the time. The butter and oil will kill you, cholesterol clogging your veins.
So I grinned.
“Sloppy joes are my fave,” was my low growl. “It’s been a while, but I used to always order them at school.”
The brunette giggled then.
“I can’t even imagine it,” she said. “Evan Lincoln, his chin covered with sauce? Seems impossible.”
Oh it was possible. And I wanted more than meat sauce covering my chin. I wanted her hot pussy honey, the nectar that flowed between her legs. My dick jerked under the table, making itself known once more.
But these thoughts were wrong. It was too early. Maggie deserved a good meal before the scene got raunchy. So I plastered a smile on my face, even with my dick stiff as a rod beneath the tabletop.
“Please, eat.”
I poured some rum punch for both of us. And only once she picked up the fork, did I start on my own food.
“So, tell me about yourself,” was my invitation. Perfect. The girl would never suspect that I was dying to pound her right now, to split open that creamy snatch and make it mine.
“Me?” she murmured surprised. “Well, there’s not much to tell,” she blushed. “I’m at community college to get my degree so I can one day be a vet.”
She had ambitions beyond the pet store. Nice. My dad would like that.
“In the meantime,” she continued, “I’m working at DoggyMart part-time. I know, I know,” she laughed, holding two hands up. “The store name is so ridiculous.”
Hey, DoggyMart was no worse than K-Mart. Customers knew exactly what they were getting.
“Do you like it?” I asked curiously. Most women hate their jobs, hoping and praying for a prince to sweep them off their feet so they can quit. Strike that. They’re waiting for a sugar daddy to set them up so they can quit.
But Maggie was different.
“I love it,” she admitted shyly. “The animals are so innocent, it’s impossible not to love them. They just want to be taken care of by a nice family. And it’s terrible that more people don’t feel the same way. We get a lot of strays because DoggyMart is also an adoption clinic,” she explained, “and not just a pet store.”
The girl opened her heart, talking about her dreams in life. She was caring, sincere and genuine, wanting to make a difference in the world by taking care of ailing animals.
And fuck, I loved it. Because maybe she didn’t have money, but she had a lot of what counts.
Good values.
Good priorities.
An open heart.
So I leaned back, idly tapping my wine glass.
“It’s great your so into dogs. Bowzer loves you already, that’s clear.”
She blushed and looked down, smiling. Those long lashes rested pretty and dark on those ivory cheeks.
“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “By the way, where is Bowzer?” she asked, craning her head around. “I haven’t seen him yet tonight. Did you lock him up?”
I let out a short bark of laughter.
“Hardly. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep that dog chained up. He’s sleeping in the guest room,” I explained. “Out like a light after a meaty dinner and a long walk.”
The girl’s laugh tinkled, making my balls hum.
“See? I told you,” she teased. “He’s a good dog at heart, nothing like the big monster you make him out to be.”
But then her tone went serious.
“So what about you, Mr. Lincoln? Why are you doing all this? You were kind of vague back at the pet store with this- this fake fiancée stuff,” she stammered.
What a question. But it was only fair, right? I dragged her into this. My life should be an open book. Or at least somewhat of an open book because I wasn’t going to scare her with the raunchy parts quite yet.
But how to describe my life without seeming like a douche? Because I’m the guy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. From birth, it’s been privilege non-stop. Private schools, yachts, college, the obligatory European tour, and then a job at my family’s company. From the outside, it looks like I was handed everything. But nothing is ever that simple, and I work hard for this shit.
Because Henry Lincoln is a hardass. When I described him as a human form of Bowzer, that was an understatement. He’s Bowzer times five. Or times ten. He’s a ruthless businessman who doesn’t know how to turn it off when he steps away from the boardroom. Thus my current predicament. Marriage for control of the Lincoln Corp.? What the hell? The two had nothing to do with one another, but Henry doesn’t see it that way.
So I explained it to Maggie in broad brush strokes, leaving out the worst parts.
“My dad’s an ass,” I said smoothly. “He wants to control my life, but it’s just a ruse. In reality, he doesn’t want to give up the CEO position at our family company, so he’s made it impossible by demanding that I get married.”
Maggie paused.
“But why is that impossible?” she asked with a puzzled gaze. “There must be tons of women who want to marry you,” she murmured, cheeks coloring.
It was a good question.
“There are,” I confirmed shortly. “The ladies love me, but I need something different. I need to get married and then divorced immediately, no fuss, no muss. I want this to be a business deal, and that’s why you’re in the picture.”
The brunette nodded slowly.
“You don’t have any female friends that would do it?” she asked. “That’s why you need a stranger?”
I nodded curtly.
“That’s exactly why I need an unknown,” were my clipped words. “Female friends develop feelings. Pretty soon they want clothes, jewelry, and worst of all, time and attention. But this isn’t a love thing,” I said, my voice a little cruel. “This is as far as you can get from love. This is a business deal.”
The female recoiled a little, but then she nodded again. Good girl. The truth stings, but it’s better to get it all out there in one go.
“Okay,” she said, the word drawn out on her lips before taking a deep breath. “Mr. Lincoln,” she said more firmly this time. “I have to ask about the parameters. What do you expect from me? What exactly?”
A black brow raised.
“As in?” was my drawling inquiry.
The brunette flushed.
“I mean, do I just play the role of your fiancée around your parents? Or is this a 24/7 thing?”
A grin flashed.
“My parents are smart honey. It does no good to act like lovebirds in front of them and then cool and controlled around everyone else. It’s a 24/7 thing for sure.”
She nodded, cheeks going pink once again.
“And when do I get paid?” she asked quietly.
My eyebrows shot up this time.
“I thought you already got paid,” was my smooth growl. “The ten thousand dollar check? Or was that a mirage?”
The girl bit her lip then, her pout going rosy. Fuck. How I wanted to devour her right now. That honey pot was waiting to be plundered.
But Maggie had to get her say in first.
“I just mean,” she began slowly. “That I didn’t realize this was a 24/7 thing. If it is, then I need to ask for more,” she said in a rush.
My surprise didn’t show on my face. Because I’m a seasoned negotiator, and hell, I respected her for raising her price.
“How much are you thinking?” was my low drawl, blue eyes calm. “What’s your number?”
And Maggie bit her lip again.
“Ten thousand,” she blurted. “Ten thousand over what you’ve already paid.”
I tapped my fingers lightly, like I was contemplating the proposal. But shit, the female had no idea. Twenty thousand was nothing to me, my rent on this penthouse was one hundred g’s a month alone.
But hey, I didn’t get to this point in my life by caving at the merest pressure. So I turned a cool, assessing gaze her way.
“If I pay you twenty, do I get extra?”
The girl’s eyes went wide.
“Well no,” she stammered a little. “Other than my time, no.”
The perfect segue.
“Well, I think I deserve a little extra, don’t you? Twenty thou is a lot, even for me,” the words came sliding out between my teeth.
Maggie nodded slightly then, hands trembling.
“Well, what were you thinking?” she whispered. “What’s on your mind?”
But there was no need to spell it out. Instead, I looked. My eyes roamed over those sassy curves, taking in the big breasts, the wide hips and the long, lovely legs below. I didn’t even bother to hide my erection this time.
“You,” was my curt word. “You in my bed, every night. In the mornings. In the shower with me. Whenever I want, however I want.”
It was brutish, but to the point. I wanted to fuck this girl all the way to heaven and back, to make her scream as she took my dick.
And those brown eyes went wide then, pretty pout parting for a moment before snapping closed.
“Me?” she asked disbelievingly, her voice a little choked. “Me?”
But I’m a man who conquers.
“You,” I rasped this time, blue eyes intense. “You, bent over every which way, any time I want. Total access around the clock to your sweet body.”
The blood drained from her face before rushing back in a beautiful pink shimmer. Those big breasts heaved and trembled, caramel eyes wide pools of shock.
But then the girl nodded.
Shit, my little filly was on board.
“Okay,” she whispered. “For twenty thousand, I’ll do it. But only for a month. And only if ….” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes?” was my low growl. Shit, my dick was gonna burst any second now. The little girl had no idea how my cock ached and twitched, dying to be inside.
Her cheeks colored once more, but Maggie met my gaze with a determined one of her own.
“We have to use protection,” she stated, voice a little shaky but still firm. “I’m eighteen, ripe and fertile. We have to use protection each and every time.”
“Absolutely,” was my smooth drawl. “Wouldn’t have any other way.”
The brunette shot me a sharp look.
“Good,” were her firm words. “Because I’m not on birth control.”
And I almost fell out of my seat then. What modern woman isn’t on birth control? Don’t all females get on that stuff at fourteen to regulate their periods or something? I swear, I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t popping the pill on a daily basis.
So this threw me for a loop because of course, I had no intention of wearing condoms. I spurt into pussy bareback, it’s just my way. But this wasn’t the right time to bring that up.
“Of course,” was my growl. “No worries. But don’t you want to go to the doctor?”
She shook her head tightly.
“I don’t like chemicals,” she said. “My body’s worked fine for eighteen years, and there’s no reason to mess with the system. Besides,” she added. “I don’t want to get fat.”
My eyebrows raised again.
“Sweetheart, you look amazing,” was my drawl. “You’d look even better with an extra twenty pounds in my opinion.
But Maggie flushed and shook her head.
“No Evan,” was her firm reply. “I’m already big, and I can’t get any bigger,” she said. “It’s not going to fly.”
I wasn’t gonna get into that now. Ladies can be sensitive when it comes to weight, and clearly Maggie fell in that category.
But I’d had enough of this. There’d been enough bargaining, enough back and forth. I wanted my money’s worth, and it was time to get it, dick in cunt style.
“Come on sweetheart,” I rumbled, standing and holding out a big hand. “Come and play.”
Her chin tipped upwards, eyes meeting mine, startled. But yeah, it was on. The time for eating and talking was over. It was time for her to get cock in her pussy, cramming that sweet bod full until she creamed.
And still flustered, the girl took my hand.
But that one gesture was enough. Like a caveman, I swung her into my arms, holding that curvy body close.
“Evan!” she squealed, clinging desperately to my neck. “Evan!”
“Mmmm, baby, I love it when you scream my name,” was my low growl as I planted hot kisses on her throat. “Do it again.”
But Maggie was already lost. Those curves undulated in her velvet dress, lush and ripe. She moaned, tilting her head back to give my lips better access. And the angle did it because suddenly, one heavenly tit popped out of her neckline, beckoning to my mouth.
And like an animal, I was on it. I devoured that sweet pink nipple, running my tongue around her areola, the girl mewling and crying helplessly in my arms.
“Oh god, Evan!” she panted breathlessly. “Oh, it feels so good!”
With that, it was on. In long strides, I was into my bedroom, dumping the girl onto the massive king size.
“Oh!” she squealed, curves flying this way and that. “Oh!”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” was my low growl. “Get naked. Now.”
And Maggie took me by surprise. Because I thought she’d be a librarian with grey granny panties and serviceable stockings, the cloth thin and worn. But instead, that caramel gaze held me, staring into the depths. And never dropping eye contact, the female slowly reached behind to pull the zipper of her dress down.
Because she was nude underneath.
Naked as the day she was born, pink curves flushed and lovely, like Venus rising from the sea.
Oh shit, oh shit.
What slut doesn’t wear panties?
What whore asks for it the first time?
Because her tits gleamed from my saliva, perky and taut.
But it was her cunt that did me in. That sweet snatch glistened wetly, leaking hot juice from her innermost parts.
“Yes Evan,” she purred throatily, chocolate eyes fixed to mine. “Come get it big boy.”
And what man can resist an invitation like that? In a flash, I knelt before her, head moving between those wide thighs.
“Aw fuck baby,” was all I could manage. “Aw fuck fuck fuck.”
Because the cunt smell was overpowering. It rose like a heady aroma, filling my nostrils, making me dizzy with lust. And I dove in head first, lapping at those wet folds, pulling her labia between my teeth to make her squeal.
“Unnh!” came that delighted shriek. “Oh oh!”
But that wasn’t enough. I ran my tongue in circles around her clit, alternately sucking and licking the hard nub, tasting her insides.
“Oh!” Maggie screamed again, thighs dropping wider to give me better access. Oh shit, a stream of juice trickled down my throat then, the pussy cream so copious and hot. “Oh!” came her helpless cry again as she tossed below me. “Oh god, Evan!”
And shit, but I was lost. I’ve fucked dozens, even hundreds of women. I’ve been inside so much snatch that it’s nothing new. I can hold out for hours without coming. Days even.
But it was all different now. Because tasting that sweet vag nectar, her pussy so responsive and tight, drove me over the edge.
“I need you, sweet thing,” came my hoarse rasp, head flicking up to catch her eyes. “I need you now.”
The girl didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes, Mr. Lincoln,” she gasped, holding her folds wide so that I could see inside, those pulsing walls ruby red and streaming with fluid. “Yes, now.”
And in a flash, it was out. I like to give my girls some prep, I like them to visually inspect me first, even take me into their mouths before feeling me in their puss.
But there was no time with Maggie. Because I needed this female so bad that there was simply no more waiting. I brushed my tip against her hole quickly, already beginning to surge.
“I’m sorry honey,” was my strangled growl. “It’s fucking coming.”
And the shove of my hips was brutal for sure. She was small, and I’m a monster, the kind of Whitezilla that makes chicks cry. Maggie’s eyes flew open in surprise, curvy body jerking beneath me, a choked scream on her lips.
Because shit, she was a virgin.
But Maggie didn’t tell me, I swear.
My big dick punched through tissue that was unexpectedly there, the virginal proof of her innocence.
What the fuck?
What the fucking fuck?
Don’t all girls lose it by fourteen these days?
I cradled her face in my hands, breathing labored, dick twitching between those sweet, tight walls.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I rasped. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Her lids closed, tears brimming beneath the lashes.
Oh shit. Shit shit shit. I didn’t mean for this to happen.
“Why?” I rasped again. “Why didn’t you say something?”
And finally, Maggie’s eyes flickered open, the brown swells enough to pull me beneath the waves.
“Because,” she says on a choked whisper. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
The answer left me thunderstruck. What the hell? What guy wouldn’t give his right arm for a virgin? Especially one as sweet, hot and tight as my little girl right here.
“You’re wrong,” is my raspy reply. “But sweetheart, I can’t talk now. Because … oh SHIT!”
And it happened. The squeeze of that tiny cunt, the realization that Maggie was an innocent, threw me into overload. And after one thrust, I began to come. Holy shit! This has never happened before. Not in thirty years of fucking women have I released so soon.
But climax rolled through my body then, an unstoppable earthquake.
“FUCK!” was my ragged roar. “Shit shit shit!”
Because wave after wave of hot sperm blasted into her cunt, filling that sweet pussy with virile male seed.
“Fuck!” I grunted again, trying to control it. My abs strained, even as my thighs clenched. But it was impossible. My balls were bent on unloading into the innocent female, and they pulsed mightily, dick shooting lash after lash of baby batter into that tight, fertile snatch.
But Maggie was into it too. Sure, it was her first time tasting dick, but the female took it like a pro. And with a whine and a twist of that curvy body, she started coming too.
“Oh!” was her helpless cry. “Oh Mr. Lincoln, yes!”
And her pussy milked me hard, rhythmic contractions pulsing around my pole, squeezing every last drop of seed out.
“Ohhhhh!” came that sweet moan, eyes shut as her body got its first serving of massive male cock. “Ohhh!”
But suddenly her eyes flew open and a different kind of “oh!” came out.
Because we didn’t use protection.
Of course not.
I wasn’t planning on it, and the one-second ejaculation took me by surprise.
The girl struggles beneath me, but it’s futile. She’s skewered on my shaft, insides spread wide and open even as that sweet body pulses some more.
“Oh!” is her panicked cry. “Oh god, Evan!”
Obligingly, I pull out. My cock isn’t finished pumping yet, there’s cum dribbling from my dick, her pussy a mess of white cream and faint streaks of red.
But Maggie leaps into action then. Squatting on top of the bed, knees wide, she pulls her pussy lips open and jiggles her hips furiously. The sight is incredible. A beautiful woman, luscious assets on display, with my cum dripping from that just-fucked hole.
“Come out, come out!” she gasps with panic, boobies flying this way and that as a cream pie oozes nastily from her sweetest spot. “Come out!”
White liquid falls from between her legs in a long, gloopy strand, a wet spot forming on the bedspread.
But it’s futile.
It’s pointless.
Because shit, Maggie can try. Maybe she’ll even succeed in getting some of that sperm to drip. But what the female doesn’t realize is that there’s much more where it came from … and she’s getting it all.