ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (44 page)
Authors: Susan Fleming
Chapter 8
Him Who Strengthens Me
Abigail lay in bed, her body sore and her head reeling from lack of oxygen. Looking up she locked eyes with Nathaniel who stood over her with their young infant in his arms.
“It’s a boy!” He said with a smile. Abigail swallowed loudly and in a raspy voice she replied.
“We should call him Abraham, after my father.” Nathaniel nodded.
“Abraham Hendricks.” He looked down into his newborn son’s face and the child began to cry. Abigail laughed softly. “He gets that from you, you know. His daddy’s lungs wouldn’t make a noise like that if I tried.” Abigail smiled up at them both.
“May he be as steadfast as his mother and as devoted as his father.” Nathaniel leaned down and put the swaddled child next to Abigail in the bed. Abigail craned her neck down to look at his pink face.
“Could you help me sit please, Nathaniel?” Nathaniel nodded as he carefully leaned over the child to help Abigail to sit as upright as she could. Once she had found a comfortable spot, Nathaniel picked up Abraham and placed him in Abigail’s arms.
“You should feed him, we must make sure that he grows up to be a strong boy.” Abigail unlaced her nightgown and took out her breast. Nathaniel sat himself on the edge of the bed as he watched his son latch on to Abigail’s breast and begin to suckle.
Abigail looked down dotingly before lifting her eyes up to Nathaniel.
“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord.” She said as she clutched Abraham tightly. Nathaniel nodded as he brushed his son’s cheek lightly.
“And you, my beautiful wife,” Nathaniel raised his fingers to brush her cheek, “are far more precious than jewels.”
Abigail closed her eyes and leaned in to his touch.
“I love you Nathaniel Hendricks.” Nathaniel leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.
“And I you.”
This deliciously dirty story is a part of Susan Fleming’s super-charged, highly lewd collection of love and lust, written in 2015. Those who attempt to steal any part of this goldmine and take it as their own risk being a fiery, hot death from a hunk bearing copyright notices—and she’s not about to play with you.
This is a work of fiction—although we wish that people like this really existed, it’s nothing more than a figment of a very, very overactive imagination. Any resemblance to someone you know, a place you love or anything you hold dear to your heart is nothing more than a craving in your heart that these carnal desires and actions were true!
It goes without saying that this book oozes with erotic sex appeal, and is filled to the rafters with a smorgasbord of acts that you certainly wouldn’t tell your grandmother about. Bodice-ripping, panty-dropping and glasses-steaming, the scenes contained herein are wickedly naughty!
Although all the saucy characters are flirting with forbidden desires and sometimes taking the naughty fruit they really shouldn’t be, all are consenting adults over the age of 18 and not blood-related. What they are is passionate and eager to explore their carnal desires all day long.
In short, this book is going to get you very, very hot!
© Susan Fleming
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any many whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults age 18 and over. All characters represented are age 18 or over.
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1: A Perfect Life
Chapter 2: Blessed In Every Way
Chapter 3: Blast From The Past
Chapter 4: The Good News and The Bad News
Chapter 6: Vegas, Baby
Chapter 7: A War To Remember
Chapter 8: Daddy’s Little Girl
Chapter 1
A Perfect Life
My name is Blake. Blake Thompson. People call me lucky; behind my back, they call me a lucky bastard. I know why they do that, it is just jealousy. But it’s natural to be jealous. I mean how many people have billions of dollars in multiple bank accounts by the time they are 25? Not many.
If you ask me, it all comes down to chances. What were the chances of me ending up with a shit load of money if I was not the first-born or an only child? What if my father had remarried? What if I wanted something different from life? All those things have, or had, a 50% chance at the very least. None of that happened.
My folks died in a car crash when I was 25 and I inherited all of it. And that is all the jealous people see. No one sees that I worked really hard for it. There were people in my father’s company doing their level best to disqualify me, but I worked my ass off and didn’t let anyone get away with their diabolical plans. I still work hard and deserve every penny I own.
Now, another thing that leaves everyone’s jaws dropped is my home. To me, it is just home. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when someone says home? A small two-bedroom house with a nice view, a small kitchen, a tiny bathroom with barely any room to stand, and a small fenced garden?
Well, my home is an estate, a mansion with a 100 rooms, sprawling over hundreds of acres of land, a fenced boundary (electric fences), a stable (I love horse riding), a mini golf area, a vineyard, fastest and latest, even driverless cars as well as my fancy collection of the vintage ones, a helipad, and a runway.
Yes, you heard that right, a runway. With the position that I ended up in, you not only get a shit load of money, but also the right contacts in the government. So now my humble home boasts a runway and my own jets; don’t worry, I don’t take my plane to the grocery store.
But, I will admit, my wife does fly to Paris, Milan, etc. when she needs some retail therapy; and that happens more than once a month. I let her do whatever she wants, but she does not let me do whatever I want. But I have got myself a fair deal; she will give me an heir. We are trying. What’s my thing, you wonder? Well, more on that later.
My wife has two children, my stepchildren, a boy of thirteen and a girl of nearly nineteen. They are good kids, got the looks from their mother, and very spoilt. In spite of what people think about me, I never had it easy. My old folks made me work for everything, and, now I see, it was all for my own good. I wouldn’t have had what I have today if it wasn’t for them and for what they taught me.
So, naturally, I don’t want my stepchildren to have it that easy either. I don’t want to spoil them. I want to make them work for things and I want to make them learn, but my wife does not make that very easy for me. I let them get their way with little things, but nothing like Mercedes for a birthday, like my stepdaughter has been begging.
My wife, Natalia, is a Victoria’s Secret model. She’s 38 but can easily pass for 25. She’s tall, sexy, fair, blonde, blue-eyed, and gorgeous in every sense of the word. She does her Kegel exercises regularly, stays fit, and, well, rewards me with a tight pussy every time.
Now, I knew what I was signing up for, and you know what models are like. I let her have her way as long as she parts her legs for me. Hey, don’t take it the wrong way, I do love her very much. But there is also an awful lot about her that I ignore.
I mean all those shopping trips to Paris and Milan? She can as easily order them; we have the contacts, and have them delivered. The fuel for her trips costs more than her designer dresses. But, boy, is she hot! She does this thing, when she returns from her shopping sprees, she tries on what she’s bought, gets dressed up and ready, make up and all, for me to see. When she returned from her last trip, she came out with her hair dishevelled, wearing brownish makeup, you know the look, multicolored eyeshadow, in a fur coat and Jimmy Choos. No shit! That was actual fur! And that’s not even the best part!
Because, right after that, she struck out a pose, her chin up and head held back, a leg out of the coat (I knew I was in for a treat), and asked, “How do I look?” Boy was I on fire then!
“Babe, you look so fucking hot, I wanna fuck you right now.” I took the hint from the leg she struck out of the coat.
That’s when she parted her coat and gave me a glimpse of heaven. That gorgeous pair of Double D’s, I could gobble. And down below, her tight pink warm pussy; shaved, hot, wet, and ready.
She came on in with that coat on, she’s wild that way. And the even better part? (Because the best parts don’t seem to end here.) As I lay on the recliner, drink in my hand, she got on her knees (we have Iranian rugs), took my hot shaft in her mouth, arched her back, and graced me with a view of her tight ass. As she sucked my cock, she looked right into my eyes, and I leaned forward, running my hand through the fur coat on her back, straight to the parting where the coat ended and her ass began, and plunged my horny finger in.
Chapter 2
Blessed In Every Way
Given everything that I have told you about, and all the things that I have not told you about yet, I am a blessed man. I am blessed in every sense of the word. I’m 6’3” tall, very toned, and well built. I could have worked out more and gotten buffed up, but I chose not to. I work out regularly, got the toned abs and the six-pack I wanted, and now I work out to stay that way. I mean, honestly, I have no desire to get so ripped that I become ugly, if you know what I mean, like those weird ass wrestlers on those supplement bottles.
So, I am perfectly content with my muscular and toned body. I inherited my father’s grey eyes and my mother’s rich brown hair. I have pretty much the same hairstyle and locks as Dr. Derek Shepherd, only mine are brown, so my wife, Natalia, calls me Mc Chocolate. Oh well, she did go out with Patrick a few times around the same time as we met, and now that she is my wife, I am sure you know which one of us is hotter and dreamier.
Going a little below the belt, I am sure you will want to know about the Falcon. Falcon is the name my wife has for my cock. Why, you ask? Well, Falcon 9 is actually a two-stage rocket designed by Space X company. Zoom in on two stage, please. My cock, at nearly 9 inches, 8.7 inches to be exact, well, you can’t wank it with just a hand. That is why I do not wank at all.
When Natalia is in the mood, or wants me to get in the mood, she strokes it. And, to do that, she needs to use both hands. Even both hands do not cover the entire shaft, but, anyway, that should explain the Falcon.
Initially, when Natalia and I started having sex, she could not really take it. The sex was not as good because I had to take care to not go all the way into her. She had to see her gynaecologist for that. There was no problem though, she was told to learn to relax and practice.
I know what you are thinking, and yes most people can easily take a nearly 9-inch cock, but people are different and my wife was not used to it. It is perfect now, though. Now that we have been trying for a baby for the past 2 months, the fucking is at an all time high.
On those days when Natalia is out of town, shopping or whatever, I miss her terribly. I and the Falcon both miss her. I can talk to her, Falcon can’t. I am not a big fan of having to jerk myself off with both my hands, and without her tight pussy, it is nowhere as close to pleasure as it should be. I am more of a fucker anyway, I do not like masturbating. I need the lips of her pussy to stimulate me.
It was during one of those nights when my wife was out of town for a week and I was horny as fuck and went to hangout with my mates. They are all rich bastards like me, so. Anyway, one of them noticed the tent in my pants, and you know how big a tent a 9 incher can make when you are not wearing any boxers, and asked me to relieve myself or something. I told him the same thing as I have told you, that my wife is out of town and jerking off is no fun for me. And it was then that he told me something I did not know I had secretly wanted since as long as I can remember.
