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January On Fire: A Firefighter Fake Marriage Romance by Chase Jackson (53)

9

Foster

I woke up the next morning with a smile on my face. I stretched my arms and welcomed the morning sun upon my face just as the soreness began to trickle down to my toes. I could feel the bruises on the backs of my thighs from where Ella’s fingernails had dug into my skin, but I could also smell her beautiful pussy still on my lips. She had tasted just like I thought she would, but I still didn’t get to feel those long legs wrapped around my waist. But, the moment she hit her knees and wrapped her lips around my cock, I knew I couldn’t resist her.

The contrast of her crimson red lipstick against my tanned skin drove me wild. Her lipstick left streaks on the veins of my cock that were throbbing against her teeth, and the moment her eyes raised to connect with mine I knew I had her. She wanted to service me, wanting to gobble me down and never let me go.

I reminisced in how her tongue wrapped around the tip of my cock while my naked body laid there in the sunlight. It twitched at the mere thought of her lips being wrapped around it, but the part that got me was how she took me all the way back. She felt my body giving way-- like she’d been with me for years-- and she sucked me back and let me pump myself down her throat. I got to watch her crimson red lips touch my pelvis. I got to see her lips stain my skin with the red from the pair of lips that were swollen from sucking my massive dick.

I raised up and looked down at my skin and smiled when I saw the red hadn’t faded from my skin just yet. It was a reminder of what had transpired. A reminder that it had actually happened. That I’d brought the mesmerizing stage performer to her knees while she sang around my cock.

But I still wanted to feel her legs around me. I wasn’t ready to let her go, not just yet.

I got up and threw on some jogging clothes before I headed down to the gym. The state of the art gym in my building housed every single piece of equipment you could imagine. It took up an entire floor of the building, and every single time I walked in there was something new to be seen. Last week they had upgraded all the treadmills, and this week it looked like they had replaced all the weights for the weight lifters. I interchanged weight lifting to keep my muscles lean and strong with cardio to keep my core as ripped as I could. Today was a cardio day, but there was a part of me that simply wanted to crawl back into bed and keep daydreaming of Ella.

Ella and her lips and her long, long legs.

“Were you at that party last night?”

“I wasn’t, but the guy above me was. Apparently, the man wasn’t even there.”

“Wait, the host of the party wasn’t at his own party? The fuck’s that about?”

I listened to the conversation going on in front of me. I had my earbuds in, providing the illusion I wasn’t listening, but my music was paused so I could hear them better. There were rumors that circulated about the billionaire that lived in the penthouse suite of our building. Rumors of sex parties and endless libations that flowed until people either got sick or passed out. Some of the people in the building had personal stories of sleeping on the man’s cloud-like carpet while others had stories of the crazy things they would encounter while they were there.

One time, there were rumors that the billionaire up top had a horse flown in specifically to take pictures with. Just had it fucking airlifted onto the top of the building. But, that was the thing about him: no one knew who the fuck he was. No one knew what he looked like, his name, or even if it was a man. No one knew who lived at the top of this fucking building, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. Why all the secrecy? If you have money and want to flaunt it by airlifting a fucking horse onto the floor, why the hell would you want to keep that secret? The pussy that man could slay if women knew who he was would be astounding.

For someone who didn’t have issues spending money, he sure as hell had issues with people knowing who he was.

“Do you think the owner has ever been to one of his own parties?”

“I don’t even think someone lives there. It’s probably just an old room people rent out to throw parties. Remember that massive orgy last month? I bet it was someone’s idea but they didn’t wanna claim it, so they blamed it on some ‘mystery tenant’.”

“You think people are renting out the penthouse suite and throwing parties they’d be embarrassed of?”

It was honestly a decent opinion. It was a hell of a lot better than some of the other rumors that circulated sometimes. For awhile there, people thought an ugly-ass hunchback had secluded himself from society. When I first moved in, people were convinced that spies were outfitting the penthouse to spy on them and take their money.

At least this man’s nonsense made sense.

“Think about it. It’d be a good way to get your rocks off with other people however you’d like without owning up to it. It’s like their own little slice of secrecy.”

“By playing off of ‘someone else’s’ secrecy. Hmm. That’s actually not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll throw a masquerade party and give out dildos to use on each other while everyone’s there drinking.”

“Well, now you’ve ruined the surprise and I’ll know it’s you.”

I smirked before I turned on my music and continued running. Honestly? It was probably just an area of the building that was rented out for parties. I didn’t know about the whole secrecy thing--billionaires weren’t really afforded that type of lifestyle-- but it did make sense in a way. I couldn’t think too much on it, though, because I was about to be late for work.

I finished up my run before I showered and changed. I got to work just in time for another dumbass last-minute boardroom meeting, but this time they hit me with something I wanted direct input on.

“We either have to negotiate better with the tenants or kick them out.”

“Run that by me again, Dan,” I said.

“Would you just call the man by his name, Mr. Dobson?” someone asked.

“When he earns it, sure,” I said. “What’s going on with the tenants?”

“They’re wanting prices too low for what we can afford to renovate for. We either have to renegotiate with them or we have to kick them out and sell their property for what it’s worth.”

“Right now, it’s not worth shit. And the lower prices was my thing,” I said. “If they’re gonna purchase from us, it gives us advertising mouths to use. People who are already living there who can attest to enjoying it and the amenities we will be installing. Think of it as an investment in the overall financial future of the building.”

“It’s highway robbery and we won’t even break even on the renovations,” Dave said.

“That’s why it’s an investment in the advertisement. Pull the excess from the advertising budget to make it even, then go from there,” I said.

“I’ve already pulled the money from the budget to work on commercials as well as advertising fees for real estate agents. There won’t be enough,” Dave said.

“Well, Daniel, that’s not my problem. Again, one of those things you should’ve run by me before you executed anything.”

“You went and changed the rules without even consulting this board about them.”

“Because you didn’t say that was something I needed to consult about. You said any interior changes I wanted to make I had to bring to this board. You said nothing about price, Djembe.”

“Holy fuck, It’s ‘Dave’!”

“I made an executive decision and I’m sticking to it. If you end up overdrawing the budget, that looks bad on you, not me. I’ve already shaken these people’s hands and gotten their prices and wants together. I told them we might not be able to deliver on all of them, but that we would take what they wanted into consideration.”

“You should’ve come to this board, Foster. We know what you’re trying to do,” someone said.

“It’s ‘Mr. Dobson’ when we’re in this room, and since when did this board get to boss me around? Did any of you people pull this shit with my father?”

The room fell silent and that was all the answer I needed.

“We can’t afford to take that type of monetary hit,” Dave said. “Just take a quick look at the numbers. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

He slid a piece of paper over to me and the first couple of lines told me everything I needed to know. Between all I wanted to upgrade, the amenities in the building I wanted to add, and the cost of the construction companies and interior design experts, we wouldn’t just be losing a couple thousand dollars on each room.

We’d be losing close to fifty thousand.

“Shit,” I groaned.

“We gotta renegotiate, drop down the materials we use in their condos, or find better tenants willing to pay the price.”

“What if we just rented those renovated condos out to them? By those numbers and a few quick calculations, it would only up their rent by two-- three hundred dollars at the most. It would provide us with a monthly revenue, though-”

“It would be negligible at that point. It’d take us years in order to recoup that money if we did it that way.”

“There’s gotta be some way-”

“Mr. Dobson, just go back and talk with the tenants. Take the numbers if you want to. Give them some options to decrease, like renovating what’s already there or downgrading the materials we use and see how they react. But, you’ve backed yourself in a corner and you have to own up to that.”

I raked my hand through my hair before I picked up the piece of paper. I walked out of the room without even dismissing the board, but I didn’t care what they did. I didn’t wanna take on this fucking project from the start, and now they were talking about how I was ruining it. Maybe they should bring me better projects! Maybe they shouldn’t make fucking decisions without me being there!

“Maybe I just need a new fucking project manager,” I murmured as I entered my office.

If I had to renegotiate, that meant going back to see Ella. I’d have to tell her what was happening and I’d have to watch the disappointed look on her face form. I didn’t want to compromise all that was happening between the two of us. I couldn’t fucking get her off my mind and I wanted to ask her out again. I wanted to take her out for dinner and play with that beautiful pussy underneath the tablecloth. I wanted to take her to the symphony and run my fingertips up her leg in the box seat. I wanted to sink my dick into her body and feel her legs draw me closer before she begged me to pound into her.

Fuck her stupid.

Ruin her body for any other man to come.

But, I knew if I doubled the price she wouldn’t have the money. Even with the better money she was making at The Rose Club, that place wouldn’t pay her near enough what she would need in order to buy her home back. She’d have to move and I’d get the brunt of her anger. She’d probably blame me and accuse me of wielding my prominence just to sleep with her.

And that wasn’t the case. Not by a long shot.

I didn’t know how I could make this work for her, but part of me didn’t understand why I wanted it to. The numbers simply didn’t allow me to do what I wanted to do. So what? It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t like I was fucking her in exchange for leaving her home or anything like that. I fucked her because I could. Because I wanted those lips and that pussy, and that body pressed against mine. With a little romance and a few easy compliments, she melded into me just like any other woman did.

But, before I could take a breath and settle down, an unsettling thought popped into my mind.

I guess I could buy her condo for her.

Hell, I could buy her whatever condo I wanted.

What the fuck was I thinking? I’d only taken her out to lunch. Her skin was soft, yes. Her lips were sweet, yes. Her juices were intoxicating, sure. And holy fuck, her sounds. But buying her a condo? What kind of voodoo-deep-end bullshit had this woman thrown me into? What spell had she cast over my mind?

And yet, I found myself turning over the idea before another realization hit me.

She wasn’t the only person I was going to have to inform of this change. I had the signatures and layout guidelines of fourteen other tenants that had declared intent to purchase their renovated condo back.

What was I going to do about them?

 

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