Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Her smooth, slippery cunt rides my girth with such vigor that I know I don’t have much longer to hold out.
“Come for me,” I tell her. “Let me feel that pussy come on my cock.”
“Yeah?” she whimpers as her body begins to seize up. “You want me to, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby,” I tell her. “Do it, baby. Do it.”
And she does.
Whitney’s whole body goes tense. Both of her arms flail to the side—one grabbing the couch and one slapping my papers off the coffee table—and her legs go so tight around my waist that she starts to squeeze the breath from my lungs.
And then her pussy contracts on my cock, setting me off inside her. And boy oh boy do I go off.
I thrust one final time, driving my shaft as deep as I can go before filling her with my warm cum.
“Oh God—” Whitney exclaims, her voice choked. “You’re coming in me!”
“Fuck yes I am,” I growl, snatching her in my arms and tugging her into a mounted position on my lap as I continue to empty my balls into her wet virgin hole.
“I can feel it,” she whimpers, bucking against me, her firm teenage ass grinding against my thighs. “God, that’s so hot…”
And fuck if she isn’t right. It is hot. Her pussy milks my cock like a hand with a firm grip determined to tug out every last drop. It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced or anything I ever could have imagined.
Finally, we both begin to come down, and I feel Whitney’s body relax. She leans against me, pressing her hot tits against my chest. I take her head and cradle it against my shoulder.
Yeah, this is where she belongs. Right here.
“Ethan,” she whispers, “I’m not on any kind of birth control…”
“That’s okay,” I reply. “I’ve got money for child support.”
She gasps and brings her eyes to mine, but when she sees I’m only joking, she relaxes. “But you…you know what could happen, right?”
“Of course I do.” I smile. “I took sex-ed in school.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to say more but stops herself. I guess maybe she decided this moment is too perfect and she doesn’t want to ruin it, or maybe she just doesn’t know what she wants to say it yet. So I take her head in my arm and cradle it back against my shoulder.
Whatever the outcome, if she does get pregnant or not, I’ll be there for her. Because I know it now; this girl is the one for me.
Whitney
One week later…
The ceiling looks familiar now when I open my eyes. Only this ceiling isn’t the ceiling of the guest room; it’s the ceiling of Ethan’s bedroom. Well, maybe I should call it our bedroom now, because it’s been being shared by the two of us for the last incredible week since I’ve been staying here.
To say my life has changed would be the understatement of the year. My life has done a series of flips worthy of a gold medal in the US Olympics and landed directly on its head.
Thankfully, however, the landing didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt incredible, and I’ve been going about the last seven days feeling better than I’ve felt in recent memory, and honestly, I can’t look at Ethan and see the mean, shady billionaire I used to see anymore. I see a whole new man.
True to his word, he hired me to work as a sort of secretary slash personal assistant, and that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s a bit of a catch-all position. I do anything from answering phone calls and e-mails to going over files and contracts (that I can understand) and looking over proposals from other companies looking to do business with Newhouse International.
In many ways, it’s all new to me, and I’m still learning. But what it has done is given me a glimpse into the inner workings of his company and the way he does business and convinced me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the horrible things I heard about him in the press were absolute lies. Just like he said.
I’ve seen firsthand the documents that show all the charitable works and donations Newhouse International is engaged in. In fact, I’ve helped him make changes to some of them myself. Just last night, I helped him finalize an enormous donation of shoes to children in Africa, only this time I convinced him to hire a PR firm to combat some of the bad press put out by Justin Hathaway.
It was difficult, as Ethan likes to keep his good works private and “not flaunt them,” as he says, but he finally gave in once I made him understand.
He’s an incredible man, and it hurts me to think about how mistaken I was about him before we met. It hurts me deep in my chest where that ache has begun to form—that ache that I wake up with, that swells when I see him during the day and intensifies when he has to go to the office and leave me alone at the house.