Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless (3 page)

BOOK: Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless
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“Excuse me, ma’am. I want that thirty-five millimeter, mother-of-pearl face, Oyster Perpetual Rolex, please,” I sang. The woman’s face dropped. She was so surprised that I knew the name and style of such an expensive watch without even flinching. Little did she know my father had at least five different Rolexes. The woman slowly moved toward the watch counter, still seemingly taken aback, but she knew her commission depended on me.
“Honey, extend your wrist so she can fit it on,” I said snidely, holding eye contact with the woman. Eric raised one eyebrow but he didn’t hesitate to stretch his arm out. The old woman’s hands were shaking as she fiddled with the watch and Eric’s arm. She widened her eyes when she saw all of his tattoos. I was laughing inside. This lady was probably in brain overload trying to figure us out. Once Eric had the watch on I grabbed his arm to examine it. I sized it up, moving it into the light so I could see better or more like so I could rub the shit in her old wrinkled face.
“Do you like this one?” I asked Eric.
“You damn right. This shit right here is tight business,” he said, putting his arm in several different angles so he could see how it looked.
“We’ll take it,” I said, slamming my American Express plum card down on the counter. The old woman looked like she would faint. “Oh, did you need identification?” I asked, before the old bitch could even try to make a case that we were there to commit credit card fraud. She couldn’t even get her words out before I flicked my driver’s license at her. The old woman rushed around the counter trying to ring up my purchase. I walked over to the diamond showcase and picked out a bracelet for myself. I didn’t need it, nor did I really want it, but I had a point to prove. After the lady rang everything up and handed me my $14,000 receipt, I scribbled my name and smirked at her.
“You should never judge a book by its cover ... bitch!” I snapped as I snatched my bag and turned my back on her.
“You a wild girl, Megan. That ol’ bitch ain’t know what to do,” Eric laughed. I was glad he was smiling.
“Now off to the Westin ... I need some of that good good,” I said to him sweetly. All was good now.
I could barely keep my hands off Eric as we kissed and fumbled with each other’s clothes until we almost fell into the hotel room. I was hot and wanted him so badly. He backed me up until I was on the luxurious, king-sized, heavenly bed that only Westin was known for. Eric had his tongue almost down my throat. I was moaning, hot and heavy. He practically ripped my shirt off me and exposed my perfect tits.
“Wait ... you need these,” he said, stopping to pull a little packet of ex out of his pocket. Eric knew just what I needed to take me over the top. I laughed and grabbed the pills from him. I raced over to the little wet bar and cracked open one of the four-dollar bottles of water they beat you in the head for. I took three ecstasy pills this time, when I usually only took two.
“Whoa, whoa ... Don’t be OD-ing on those shits,” Eric warned.
I sexily began removing my jeans as if I was doing a striptease for him. I wanted the pills to hurry up and take effect so when he touched me it would feel electrifying. Eric stepped out of his jeans and pulled his boxers off too. I smiled. I dropped to my knees and crawled over to him like a lioness. He had his ten-inch hunk of manhood in his hand and I put my face right up on it. Eric swiped his dick across my lips, teasing me. I sat back on my feet like a dog ready to beg. He laughed. I started feeling real tingly. The pills were taking hold. I liked my lips seductively and then let a glob of saliva fall from my mouth onto his dick.
“Yeah,” he whispered. His words even sent chills over my body. Now the ex was in full effect. I opened my mouth wide and took every inch of his dick inside my hot lips. I gagged a little bit as Eric grabbed my head forcefully and began fucking my face.
“Mmm,” I moaned. I could feel my pussy pulsating. I wanted him and I wanted him badly. I moved up and down on his dick vigorously. He was moving his hips as well.
“Urgh,” he growled. I knew what that meant. I moved off him for a minute.
“Cum in my mouth,” I moaned out.
“Open it now!” he grumbled, and his legs seemed to get weak. I took him back into my mouth. “Aggghh!” he belted out as he let a hot load of cum into the back of my throat. I pulled his dick out and opened my mouth so he could see that his cum was on my tongue. Then I closed my eyes and swallowed it all. I licked my lips like a real porn star.
“You get down like a grown-ass woman,” Eric huffed.
I got up and got on the bed. I looked at him as I let my legs scissor open. Eric knew what that meant. He bent down and buried his face right in my pussy. I swear his mouth sent a million needle stabs of hot sparks all over me.
“Y-e-s!” I hissed. I was moving my head in circles because the ecstasy had me “rolling” now and I couldn’t help it. All of my senses were heightened. Eric was devouring my clit. Then he moved his head down and inserted his tongue deep into my pussy hole. “This is why I won’t ever let your ass go!” I screamed. I was panting now. I was pushing my pussy onto his tongue with vigor. “Mmmm,” I moaned out. I could feel an orgasm welling up inside me. Just as I was about to cum, Eric stopped. I popped my eyes open, but before I could complain he drove his dick into me so hard my pussy made a loud farting noise. Eric began slamming into me and it hurt so damn good.
“Whose pussy is this, rich girl?” he huffed. At first I didn’t answer. My tongue and my brain weren’t even on the same page. But, the more I kept my answer to myself the harder Eric pounded into me. “I said whose pussy is this, rich girl?” he barked. My words got caught in my throat. He slammed even harder into my pelvis.
“It’s yours, Eric! It’s your pussy!” I screamed out after my brain finally sent the message to my tongue. Every nerve in my body could be felt. It felt so good. I don’t know how I ever had sex in the past without the use of ecstasy. “Ahhhh!” I screamed as I busted my own nut. Eric followed right after. He collapsed next to me. When his dick fell out of my sloppy wet pussy, I got up and jumped right back on it.
“Damn ... you’re like a fuckin’ fiend when you on that ex ... a niggah can’t keep up with you, rich girl,” he huffed and puffed.
“That’s okay ... I can keep up with you though,” I whispered as I slid up and down on his dick. He smiled and let me take control. Just how I liked it.
2
 
My Fair Warning
 
T
wo years had passed just like that. I was now twenty-three years old and under all types of pressure from my parents. They continued to make threats and I continued to do my thing. I would slow down for a minute, but as soon as they let their guard down I’d be back at it. Soon enough, every day was a constant power struggle with them. They were continuously hounding me about college and about learning to work the family business. The day my father found out I had been lying about attending college all of that time, he hit the fucking roof. Education was the single most important thing to his ass.
Too bad I wasn’t interested in becoming the CEO of his fucking gas station and real estate empire. Why would I learn the business? I didn’t plan on working a day in my life. My father had seen to it that I wouldn’t have to, at least that’s what he always promised. I couldn’t understand why he was changing up the game on me and hounding me to go to school. Honestly, my main concern had become the boatloads of cash at my disposal and keeping Eric laced with cash and gifts. Making him happy in turn made me happy. I was used to living a life where I did as I pleased. My parents weren’t going to change that shit now.
Unlike my parents, I was sure school just wasn’t my thing. I had no aspirations to go back, although I told my father that I had gone back for a few classes so I could keep him off my back. He wrote a check to the school and I got it right back in a refund since I didn’t register for any classes. I was also not interested in anything that remotely resembled or even seemed close to work. My job was to shop, hang out all night at nightclubs, get fucked by Eric, and trick a little dough on him so he stayed put. Period. Eric was now the regular driver of the Range and because of that very fact I got to see him much more often. We had been going strong for two years ... a miracle for me since I never had a man past three or four months. I must admit, being with Eric was like being in a money pit. I must’ve spent close to a million dollars on him in the first year we were together, so imagine the totality of the damage I had done in two years.
 
BANG! BANG! “Megan! Open this door right now!”
I was jolted out of an alcohol-induced sleep. I heard my father yelling from outside the estate guesthouse, which is where I had been residing for the past year. With my parents being extra strict and on my back, I had moved out of the main house so I’d have more privacy and freedom to come and go as I pleased. My father was banging on the door again like whatever he wanted couldn’t wait.
“Ugghh,” I winced as the pounding in my head became readily apparent as soon as I forced my leaden eyelids open. He banged on the door again. The sound sent a reverberating quake through my skull.
“Shhh,” I hissed, although I knew he couldn’t hear me. The feeling in my head and my stomach was what I would imagine near-death to feel like. Can you say hangover? I squinted and looked around. The room was semidark, all of the shades were pulled, which I was grateful for since the sun would’ve probably sent the sick feeling I was experiencing over the top. I touched my chest and legs as my father pounded again with even more force than the first time. I was still in my party clothes—a very skimpy miniskirt and an even skimpier tank. I couldn’t let him see me like that, but it was clear he wasn’t going away. Somehow he knew I was at home, although my car wasn’t parked outside.
“Megan Rich! I’m giving you one minute!” he barked, hitting the door again.
“Fuck!” I cursed with the incessant pounding in my head growing worse. I got up as fast as I could with that horrible headache and scrambled to the master bedroom for my robe. I couldn’t let him see me dressed like a damn streetwalker. I was a saint in my father’s eyes and that’s how I wanted to keep it. I rushed from the bedroom toward the sound of yet another barrage of door poundings. “I’m coming!” I screamed, but immediately regretted it when the pulsating in my head and the pain hit me. I pulled myself slowly through the house and barely made it to the door. I snatched it back with a mean scowl on my face. “Why are you banging on the door like you’re crazy?” I growled with my eyebrows furrowed.
My father had the fist of his right hand balled up and something in his left hand. His face was contorted in a way I had probably never seen displayed before, except of course, when his stocks and investments took a dive. He looked scary as hell. I think I could safely say he was angrier than I’ve ever seen him before. He stormed his six-foot, two-inch, slightly overweight frame into the guesthouse, almost knocking me over. His cheeks were flamed over and his eyebrows were so furrowed together they looked almost like a unibrow.
“We need to talk to you right this minute, young lady!” my father barked. That’s when I looked behind him and saw my mother standing there too. That wasn’t a good sign—the two of them coming together to speak to me. I could tell that my mother had been crying. She had crumpled tissues in her hand and no makeup on. She never came outside, even to get her newspaper, without a face full of makeup. When I saw her, coupled with my father’s raging look, I knew some shit was up.
Oh boy. What now?
I said in my head.
“Look at you! You can try to hide behind that robe all you want, your face tells it all. Mascara smeared all over your face ... look at you! You’ve been partying again, right? You’ve clearly been drinking and you smell!” my father continued his tirade.
He was so close to my face that his breath was blowing straight up my nostrils and the stale cigar smell threatened to make me hurl. I stepped back from him and turned up my face in a rude display of disapproval. I rolled my eyes and flopped down in the recliner. I put my head down on the arm of the chair, letting them know I was not interested in the bullshit they were popping so early. I buried my nose in the arm of my robe and just listened to my father continue his rant. He was going on and on and I buried my face further and further. It was all I could do to keep from throwing up. My mother would chime in every so often.
Finally, I grew tired of them and lifted my head up a little bit. I was trying to keep it together, but I couldn’t help but look at them like they were crazy. They never showed this much interest in me before. All of the questions they were throwing out there and all of the sudden parent concern was new to me. In fact, from the time I could remember, both of my parents were into their own worlds. They would take long, expensive trips and leave me with a nanny when I was younger. My mother would take me a few places here and there, but that wasn’t until I was much older. They threw money at me to keep me happy but they didn’t really spend that much time with me or tell me they loved me. I could never remember my parents taking me to birthday parties or family outings, aside from expensive trips, but even the nanny came on those and I would spend most of my time with her. My parents had fucking audacity. They didn’t have grounds to question me! They had made me into the monster that I was, so in my mind ... they were going to have to fucking deal with it.
“Explain this right now, Megan!” my father barked, shoving a stack of papers into my face. He had been yelling the whole time, something about my so-called reckless behavior and money mismanagement, blah, blah, blah. I hadn’t been tuned in until he pushed those papers into my direct line of vision. I crinkled my face and recoiled like he had just put a pile of shit under my nose. I barely looked at the papers but I knew immediately what they were—his credit card statements.
I looked at him and them, still trying to seem uninterested.
So what!
I was saying with the look on my face, but in my head I was saying,
Oh shit, he is clocking my spending
. My father had never complained before. He had always told me money was no object, so what the fuck was the problem now? I knew I had probably doubled or tripled my spending, but that was how I was raised ... spending and throwing money away carelessly.
“This is more than just regular college girl shopping and spending, Megan!” my father screamed with more of a worried look on his face now than angry. “What are you doing out there? These bills are rolling in faster and faster and getting higher and higher from month to month. This is not normal at all, Megan. The accountant pointed out some things to me and I have questions! What is a girl your age doing charging expensive bottles of champagne at several different nightclubs? What are you even doing in nightclubs so often? And what are these hotel suites with room service? You live here in Virginia Beach in an estate almost as big as a hotel! You have your own space! More than some adults have and you need to charge luxury hotel suites? What are you doing? I want answers now, Megan!” he screamed. Blood had rushed into his entire face, casting him a deep red. I could see a large vein that showed up green against his light yellow skin, pulsating in his neck.
My heart was hammering in my chest but I didn’t really know why. I couldn’t say that I was scared of him at all. My father’s bark was always worse than his bite. I had to admit though, this tirade seemed different, more serious than I’ve ever seen before. I still was going to hold on to my spoiled girl bit and act rude.
“So what. I stayed at a hotel with Krista. We partied a few nights ... so what! Were you around? No. You and Mom were off traveling or whatever old people do,” I screamed rudely. I didn’t care about having respect for them. I was telling straight lies and trying to flip the script right back on them. I was so used to manipulating them and throwing tantrums to back them off of me that it was now like a way of life for me. “Why all of the questions all of a sudden? Why do either of you even care?” I continued. My little tantrum didn’t seem to sway either of them at all.
“You need to stop the lying, young lady,” my mother interjected. “You have not seen Krista. You are lying so much that you don’t even know that Krista is traveling around Europe for her last year in college. Not like you. You disgust me. All you want to do is spend money, party, and be a failure!” my mother screamed, tears rolling down her face like crazy. I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth at her. She was making me want to jump up and curse her out. The nerve of her selfish ass. Who did she think taught me everything I knew?
“I don’t have to lie! I wish both of you would just leave me alone!” I spat, covering my face to hide my tears. I knew they were right and just them being there had kind of touched me and caused me to cry. I wasn’t going to let them see me cry though. Showing weakness wasn’t a characteristic I was comfortable with.
I could hear my mother sobbing. To me that bitch was pathetic. If she hadn’t always been so busy trying to keep my father from cheating with his little whores maybe she would have had time for me. Our little dysfunctional family! If my mother and I weren’t getting plastic surgery or shopping for something for her to wear at one of their “exclusive events,” my mother would never have spent a minute with me. Anything she did with or for anyone else had to benefit her. I was just like her and I was starting to hate her for it.
“Don’t tell us you’re not lying! You are definitely fucking lying, Megan Rich. Look at this bill. Look at the things my accountant highlighted. It was your card being used to buy these things. Men’s clothing? For who? You even charged two men’s thirty-five millimeter Rolex watches from Reed’s Jewelers when we got on you for buying one two years ago! What are you doing out there, Megan! And why haven’t I seen any grades since you say you went back to school? What the hell are you doing, little girl?” my father belted out. His face was as red as a cooked lobster and even more veins were visible now. I thought he looked like he was about to stroke out at any minute.
He had never checked my credit card statements line by line before. This was something out of the ordinary. That fucking accountant was so nosy. I suddenly felt hot all over my body. I felt like the world was closing in on me. My reckless behavior was catching up to me. I was craving for some ecstasy or purple haze at that moment. Even a bottle of Hen-nessy would’ve done the trick. Any kind of substance that would’ve taken me out of that moment. I wished Eric would swoop in and whisk me away right then. Or at least swoop in and give me some of the drugs he was always supplying me with.
“And where the hell is your car?” my mother asked out of nowhere. I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up and mind her own business. I hated her even more now. We had grown farther and farther far apart in the two years since Eric and I had started dating. She had become like my archenemy because she was always acting suspicious of every little thing. She always had ulterior motives so I had to think about her actions for a minute. I had it all mapped out in my head within a few minutes. My mother was bringing the attention to me because she knew it would keep my father at home. He was always all about me and she knew it. I could remember so many times she used me to get my father to come home early from one of his many business trips. I truly believe I am the reason my father stuck around with her so long. My mother knew that bringing this stuff to my father’s attention would make him worry about me so much that she would be able to keep him close to home a little more often and a little longer at a time.
They went on yelling for a few minutes, but nothing had prepared me for what my mother did next. She stalked over to an accent table that was near the wall by the front door of the guesthouse. My eyes grew wide and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead when I noticed where she was heading. I jumped up, but it was too late. My mother had yanked the drawers out of the accent piece and she began dumping the contents of the drawers onto the top of the table. Sure enough, out fell my stash.

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