Hung (Under Revision)

16: Billionaire Story

Liam

That was the sweetest pussy I've ever had. It's like this is what I've been looking for in all those other women. And a virgin. Skye's pussy is mine and mine alone. No one else will ever taste her sweet nectar.

I don't know what it is about her that makes me think things like that. I've lived my life convincing myself I don't need anyone. That I didn't want anyone because all they wanted out of me was my money.

An issue Skye clearly doesn't have. But even if she did, I'm not convinced I'd mind.

I lay on the bed beside her, my hand grazes over her perfect peach of a body. The body I'm claiming.

Pulling the comforter over us, I turn out the light and pull her close to me.

I don't wake up until nine. That happens when you're up fucking half the night. The noises I drew out of her are enough to make me hard just thinking about them.

Skye is still asleep. She'll probably be asleep for some time, I doubt she fell asleep until very late. It isn't every night you lose your virginity. I still can't believe she didn't tell me beforehand. My dick twitches again just thinking about it, and I adjust it to get it to behave.

After a quick shower, I head to the kitchen and start making breakfast. In anticipation of having Skye here, I gave all my staff the weekend off and ordered them to stay away from the house.

I don't want Miss The Rich Are Evil to lecture me about having them. She'd probably demand proof I'm paying into their retirement funds.

It's the kind of attitude that pisses me off when I see it on the news, but when it comes out of her, it doesn't. Nothing that ever passed through those full lips could offend me.

While I'm frying up some bacon, Skye appears in the kitchen doorway.

"Good morning," she says.

"You found me."

"I followed my nose. I'm starved."

"Perfect."

"I'm amazed you know how to cook," she says when I set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her.

"I'm not completely useless." I know she's implying that she thought I'd have a cook, what with all my money. And I do have a cook. But I decided before our date that I'd avoid the topic of money today.

We talk while eat our breakfast, the words flowing fast and easy between us. I'm surprised to learn she's estranged from her parents, but don't push anything. That's her business.

"More coffee?" I offer.

"Always."

I'm about to gesture with my hand to my housekeeper to pour us more coffee, but I realize I've given her the day off and quickly pull my arm back, hoping Skye hasn't noticed. I jump up and get the pot, and pour us each another cup.

While still standing, I ask her, "Would you like a tour of the house?" Everybody always wants a tour.

"I'm good. I don't need a tour of some shrine to the one percent," she says, staring straight at me. Here we go: the topic I wanted to avoid.

Sitting, I say, "The world wants to give me a billion dollars and you think I should turn around and say thanks but no thanks?"

"Oh, the world just handed you the money?"

"I didn't rape anyone for it, if that's what you're asking."

"Not directly, anyway."

"Whereas you paint for the masses. I suppose after you finish at Kelso's, you'll be heading down to your local housing project to hand out your work for free."