CHAPTER TEN
Jake
"Hey, baby." Amanda greeted me in the doorway of her apartment wearing barely anything at all. "I didn't think you were coming over so early."
"I had a few things to take care of at the office," I said dismissively, handing her a bouquet. My secretary got it, not me. I’m not the flower type.
Besides, my mind was still too full of Lacey. Her creaminess. Her sweetness. The way she gave herself to me, again and again.
Because I hadn't meant to, but after she came with my fingers crammed in her asshole, I ended up spending the night in her bed, squeezed next to that luscious form in her narrow twin.
Yeah, me Jake Mason, Mr. Billionaire. In a twin bed. In a dorm room. Sleeping next to the girl of my dreams.
Because after she came, Lacey was so tired. She seemed more vulnerable than usual so instead of taking her ass like I wanted to, I cleaned her off with a damp cloth and put her to sleep.
It was weird, to be sure. I haven’t been nice to a woman in ages. But with Lacey, it’s different. She was so young, so naïve, so innocent. So my heart beat hard as I watched her dream.
Did she deserve this?
Did any woman deserve this?
Hell no.
But against my better instincts, I got into bed with the girl, spooning that soft form against my hardness. And fuck, but it felt right. It was right to be together, peaceful and good.
But at the same time, my brain screamed. Because younger girls aren’t my thing. They’re generally immature and needy, and so goddamn fertile. Nearly every buddy of mine has ended up having kids he didn’t want, leashed to some chick after one night of pleasure.
But not me. I’m not gonna have unwanted kids, nor am I gonna be caught unawares. Frankly, I’m too old. At forty-five, a dog’s set in its ways, and no way can I handle some squalling baby with dirty diapers crying “Daddy, Daddy!” while a skinny harpy spends my money.
So yeah, I avoid the young chicks. They’re not my thing, and at first, Lacey was no exception. Not just because she was my stepdaughter, but because she deserves more than what I have to offer. She deserves a doting husband and dozens of kids. What she doesn’t deserve is an amoral asshole like me.
But now, all this has happened, unexpected and yet awesomely amazing. Who knew she’d be this good? Who knew that I’d feel this way? And now I’m stuck in a fucking, a cesspool of pure shit.
So yeah, here I am. After spending the night with the girl of my dreams, it’s harsh reality once more. And Amanda was an eye-opener, a dose of ice-cold water, cold enough to freeze your balls.
"You look nice," I told her, stepping into the apartment.
And she did look nice enough, her skinny but big-breasted body showed off in thong panties and a push-up bra under a sheer, floor-length nightgown of some sort. Whatevs. Not my thing.
"Thanks," the woman purred.
She took my flowers and put them in a vase in the kitchen and came back to join me in the living room with a glass of scotch for me and red wine for herself.
"You look a little tired," she cooed, sitting next to me on the couch. "Maybe you shouldn't work so hard." Amanda poured herself some wine and put the bottle on the coffee table. She leaned back and crossed her legs, strategically taking a deep breath so her boobs practically popped from the lace. Those red lips widened into what she probably thought was a seductive smile, but instead, the woman looked more like the Joker. Really fucking scary.
"I don't mind." I downed the scotch in one go. "It's work I enjoy."
But Amanda wasn’t listening. Like she ever does. Instead, the female leaned close.
“So, big boy. What do you want to do this evening?”
The woman was practically in my lap now, her hands trailing at the sleeve of my blazer, smoothing the fabric over my thick arm. Those nipples stood up hard and tight under the lingerie and she grinned diabolically, literally showing her teeth.
How long could I sit here and pretend I didn’t know what she wanted from me?
Short of taking off her skimpy little outfit and opening up her legs, Amanda was doing everything to let me know she wanted to fuck.
Why this change of heart all of a sudden?
Because since day one of our engagement, she’d been telling me about wanting to wait until our wedding night to have sex. And now, the female was hot and heavy and just about ready to start the show all by herself. Time to get a few things out in the open.
"You're an attractive woman," I said noncommittally as Amanda pressed her boobs into my chest. "But I thought you wanted to wait until after the wedding to have sex?"
The woman leered.
"I changed my mind. Isn't that a bride's prerogative?"
What? No. Not when I was sleeping with her daughter. But there was no sense in giving that away.
"Yeah, sure." I sipped my scotch and watched her, my own face expressionless. But I swear, that woman has the instincts of a snake.
"You're different these days," she cooed, stroking my chest through the shirt. "You used to be so cold all the time, so untouchable. But there's something about you these days that's frankly hot as hell. I decided not to wait until after the preacher gives us permission before I sample your goods." Her hands dropped to my lap to squeeze my bulge. "You're a sexy mofo, Jake. I just never really noticed before."
Oh really, never noticed? More like I started fucking her daughter, and she could sense it in the air, even if she didn’t know for sure. Fuck. What a mess.
I let her stroke me for a few seconds, just to see if I could get into it and fool myself. But no, my snake stayed asleep.
"Naw, no go. I’m tired,” I said dismissively. “Maybe it's all the energy I've been putting into building up my company here in New York. It drains a man dry."
The woman frowned at me like she didn't understand why I wasn't throwing her down on the couch and ramming my dick into her pussy. Shit, I didn't even understand it myself, not entirely. Lacey was too young, so I should be going for this instead, right?
But instead, my expression remained neutral.
"I'm very committed to my business, as you know."
The woman leaned away, watching with surprisingly perceptive eyes. Amanda may have been a big, slutty blonde, but the female didn’t get to the top of the food chain in New York real estate just by giving good blow jobs.
"Things are still on track with us, right?” she asked slowly. “You haven't changed your mind about the wedding?"
To be honest, I was having doubts. Serious doubts. But no sense in telling her if I wasn’t sure. So I shrugged.
“Yeah, we’re on.”
That was a curt reply for sure. Not exactly the words of a man in love. And Amanda’s eyes narrowed, green and cat-like.
“Is that the truth? Because it looks to me like you’re not as into it as you were in the beginning.” She gave my cock another squeeze but backed off quickly. “I can tell so don’t bother to deny it.”
That was true. Because when we first agreed to get married, I’d been into her. Her dick-sucking lips, hot body, and mature woman’s experience got me going in no time flat. She was just my type. Older and sexy, not interested in having more kids. MILF to the max.
But then, after weeks of flirting and teasing, Amanda pulled that crap about waiting until after marriage. I just about lost my shit. We were both in our forties. We’d both fucked a lot of people before so sex was no mystery. Why hold back like some precious virgin? I was convinced she was playing games, angry as all get-out.
But when god closes one door, he opens a window somewhere else. And whaddya know, but then came Lacey. Seeing her daughter was just the thing.
Except now, there are complications.
Huge complications.
Fucked up tangles that I’m still trying to wrap my brain around.
Except that I haven’t figured it out yet, so may as well go with the original plan.
"We're still good for getting married," I reassured the blonde. “The wedding’s still on.”
But the thing is, I wasn’t attracted to Amanda anymore. I only wanted her daughter. Sweet, innocent Lacey who got my motor running like no other female, young or old.
But Amanda was relieved.
“Good,” she said. “This marriage is just as valuable for me as it is for you. So don’t screw it up, and we’ll be back on track,” she added sharply.
Then the blonde stood and stretched, showing off those curves. Unfortunately, they did nothing, leaving me cold.
But Amanda is a manipulator, and she didn’t care, not really. With a shrug of those narrow shoulders, the sheer robe slipped off her body. “You can have all the second thoughts you want, so long as you get it up for me tonight. Are you man enough to do that, big boy?”
What the hell? Why was the woman doing this? I thought we’d reached a truce.
But the blonde couldn’t be stopped. She turned around to show off her ass in the thong panties, wiggling this way and that. Gross, that ass was flat as a pancake, even a little saggy. You can’t fight the years, and compared to Lacey, this woman was skinny and dried out.
But a man’s mind goes where it wants. Because even though it was fucked up, I imagined Lacey in Amanda’s place, standing in front of me in the same outfit, turning around so I could see her thick ass and lush curves.
And shit, but the blood rushed to my dick.
“So you can get it up,” Amanda purred, gratified. “You can do it, big boy.”
She climbed back on the couch and started crawling towards me like a cat. But no. Hell no. I stood and moved away, distant and forbidding.
“I can get it up fine, I’m just not in the mood,” came my dismissive reply. Buttoning my blazer, I nodded curtly. “We can stick to your original plan and just have a hell of a wedding night. I’m all for that,” came the glib lie. Yeah right. Our wedding night was gonna be hell for sure, but the bad kind, that much was clear by now.
The blonde opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind, snapping it shut instead. Trembling, those thin fingers reached for the wine bottle once more, pouring herself a full glass before downing it in two gulps. Shit, the female was so sloppy. Red liquid splashed on her chest, smearing her lips and making her look like the Joker all over again.
“Right,” she cooed, voice raspy from too much smoking. “I’ll see you at the wedding then.”
My nod was curt once more.
“At the wedding,” came my grunt.
And I left then, closing the door softly behind my big frame. Shit, the situation fucking sucked. Because leaving the apartment, images of Lacey danced before my eyes. I’d just turned down a hot MILF in favor of a sweet, innocent teen. But that was against my best business interests. To make it in this city, I needed Amanda’s connections. I needed her contacts, to meet all the people who were worth meeting in the real estate world. And Lacey had none of that.
So why did my chest ache? Why was the air burning in my lungs? Fuck, life was so fucked up … but I’m a billionaire who knows how to make a buck, and the wedding was still on.