The Rich Life

8

a/n- i hated writing this chapter idk why it felt so useless icl

ADAMS POV

I don't know how I expected to turn a girl on and not get damn horny myself. That fucking angelic look on her face when I touched her just gave me a semi instantly. She smelt of rose and vanilla, the sweetest scent in existence. I need to get her out of my mind. The first rule of this art I like to call "Being a gentleman" means playing around with no strings attached. I called up a girl on my seemingly endless list of playboy bunnies, socialites, models and actresses. I even had a princess in those contacts. Their reputations were on the line as much as mine so obviously they wouldn't expose our encounters.

I met at the same hotel, I usually go to, paid off the staff not to spill a word, threats, the usual. And I went to the room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"No talking," was all I said. It was easier to detach, than to hear some bitch ramble on about her life. I opened the buttons to my shirt but kept it on. She stared in awe at my chest. I rolled my eyes. Abs were just fucking abs. Bulging muscles which I spent years at the gym for and it all comes down to these moments of pleasure.

I ripped her clothes off. There wasn't much to take off anyway. Flimsy pieces of lace. I went to retrieve the condom from my pocket. I don't want any damned kids running around with my DNA. Once I roll it on, I bend down to rub the head against her slit. She closes her eyes, clearly in ecstasy.

I slowly pushed in, inch by inch. The gentle curve of my dick felt her wetness. Familiarity was sweet and it's not like I've been getting action for the past few weeks. I pushed through her hot and soft opening, sinking in as far as I could go until I was almost balls deep. She sighed and said "I forgot how big you were,"

I replied with silence and an impassive look. I start to fuck her, gaining speed until I'm ramming my dick in and out of her, her grapefruit-sized breasts bounce with her movement, her nipples hard. Nothing else mattered except the point where I was connected to her. I feel that familiar build-up of pressure and with a last deep thrust, I reached the climax. Her hips were still jutting up and down, the movement reverberating through the bed. It smells like sex and sweat. I felt loose and relaxed, my mind calm.

I go to my clothes and button the shirt back up, slip on the expensive tie, zip up the tailored trousers. I throw away the condom and she still laid on the bed. I went to the door and I heard her say, "Will you call me?"

I looked at her with disbelief. Did she just say? Fuck's sake. The worst part is when they catch feelings, thinking that they're the only one. Unfortunately, I take a sort of pleasure in telling the girls that we can't be but leave enough charm that they always come running back or stay hopeful.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nothing but a slut to me. This is casual," I said harshly and left the room. But I still thought of her and her fucking angelic black hair.

AMARAS POV

I didn't go into Worthington's the next morning, instead as requested by Mr Rosen and Mr Dervishi I went to Zajmi industries. It was right in the centre of New York and it stood out in the skyline. It was a huge building, made of pebble grey stones and I made my way upstairs, all the way to his office. Everything looked so sleek and designer that I felt worthless.

Zajmi Industries was founded in the 1950s by Adam's grandfather, producing cutlery and international food goods. Now they've expanded to include technology, laptops and phones, becoming a multi-faceted company- one of the first companies of its type. Even my frying pan has the word ZAJMI emblazoned in the middle.