The Clothing Mogul by Aubrey Parker
Release Date: December 6th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
“You have to fall in love,” Alyssa suggests. And then, because she’s my publicist, she adds the key word: “Publicly.”
My name is Ashton Moran, and I’m CEO of the $2.2 billion Hurricane Apparel company. You’d think that’d be enough, but it’s not. Not for Alyssa. She says my public image sucks. She says my being a womanizer is hurting Hurricane’s brand.
So she found this girl, Jenna, who I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with for the press. I’m not supposed to sleep with any other women for as long as this farce goes on. Only with Jenna — if she’s into it, which she will be.
I understand what Alyssa is trying to do by making Hurricane more “family friendly,” but … Me? In love? With only one woman?
There’s no way this is going to work.
The Clothing Mogul is part of the Trillionaire Boys’ Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of one of the Club’s powerful members … and you’re going to want to collect them all.
She looks me in the eyes. No words pass her lips.
“I’m going to fill your pussy with my cock, Jenna. I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll do whatever I say and then thank me.”
I’m tired of her bullshit. “Take out my cock. Now.”
She hesitates, so I slip two fingers inside her. She must be on a hair trigger, because she almost validates my threat on the spot. A gush touches my hand and she buckles against me.
She won’t come unless I keep going. Not until I let her.
“Do it, Jenna.”
Her hands fumble at my jeans, shaking but urgent. My fly is open in seconds. I gasp as she grips my shaft and brings it into the open air, her small hand in a ring around it, jerking me, rubbing my balls and the underside.
“You’re disgusting,” I say. “You’re a fucking slut.”
She licks her lips and stares into me. I can see how much she hates me. She’s pumping my cock, glaring at my eyes. Her grip is insane. If she keeps up the pace, I’m going to shoot my load all over her.
My balls tighten. My shaft throbs, cock head red and swelling.
“You want me to fuck you. Tell me you want it.”
“Go fuck yourself.” But she’s pushing up next to me, her hand now rubbing my dick against her slit. It’s clumsy as hell. I feel like I’m being used to paint a fence. Her sexuality is aggressive — a turn on.
“I’m going to fuck you instead.”
“No, you’re not.” Then she opens her legs just enough to let my head pop inside.
I don’t like how Jenna thinks she’s in charge.
I turn her around, hard, and press her face against the side of the utility shed. Her ass, as my cock paints wet lines across it, is perfect. My hands spread her cheeks. My fingers explore her from behind, plunging in and out. I watch her knees threaten to surrender as waves shake her body.
But she won’t be coming alone.
I put a hand on her back, pressing her chest flat. Her ass is still out, her wet pink slit still open and waiting. I lean in close, my lips inches from her ear as I pull her shining brown hair back and growl: “I’m going to fuck your wet cunt until you cry, Jenna. I’m going to show you whose rules we’re going to play by. I’m going to make you beg for more. And tomorrow, you’ll be dying for me to do it again.”
Before she can respond, I bury my cock inside her.
My balls press against her bare snatch. She moans. I grip her hair in one fist. My lips graze her ear, breathing words into it as her hot tunnel grips my cock in tight, peristaltic waves.
“You don’t walk out on me. You don’t bluff against me. Because I know how much you want me to fuck you. I know how hard you want it. And I know that nobody can do the things I’m going to do to you.”
“You’re a pig,” she says, her face pressed to the shed.
“Tell me how bad you want it.”
She reaches between her legs. She alternates rubbing my balls and strumming her clit.
I take long, slow strokes. “Beg me. Beg me for it.”
Her own hand does the job, and she’s coming all over me, her slippery juices coating me, her pussy squeezing my dick like a fist.
I fuck her harder. Faster. My thighs slap her bare ass. I tug her hair. My other hand grips her ass cheek. Then I let go of her hair and grab the other ass cheek; I slam into her, giving her my full length.
Jenna shakes, almost violently, her moans coming faster and harder, out of her control.
“Beg me to come. Beg me to fuck you harder!”
Between panting breaths: “Fuck me harder!”
“You like it dirty, don’t you? You like it rough?”
“Fuck me, Ashton!”
I smack her ass. She contracts against the small pain, her pussy tightening. I can’t hold back. But I don’t want to come inside her, so I pull out just a little and pump my thick load into her wet folds, intermingling our juices.
My seed drips down her legs. It pulses from her greedy little pussy, running into her pulled-down panties.
I step back as the waves subside, and see Jenna’s hand still working between her legs. She comes again, harder this time, calling out something that might be my name.
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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