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That's when the door to my office slams open.
I look up in shock. Only one person would have the balls to do something like that.
My assistant, Cheryl Maddox.
She's looking at me with a disapproving yet resigned smile as I grunt and groan and my vision blacks out momentarily as my cock spasms and my nuts twist and I erupt all over Cindy.
She restrains a smile as Cindy's eyes go wide and I unload rope after rope of gooey, hot, sticky, white cum on her tits and belly.
She waits patiently even as electric arcs travel through my body and my streams of cum cover Cindy's body.
I shiver as the last of semen dribbles out onto her. Cindy is looking at me with wide eyes filled with wonder. And lust.
We could probably go again, but I'm a busy guy.
Cheryl tosses me a towel and I catch it, beginning to towel myself off.
"Cindy, darling," Cheryl says and the intern turns around, startled that someone else is in the same room. She was getting fucked so hard she didn't even realize we weren't alone. "It's time you get yourself cleaned up and exit the building, dear," she says to Cindy.
Still in a shock, Cindy nods and begins to get up.
I hand her my towel and zip up my pants. I don't need cum stains on my desk or floor, you know?
"What's going on, Cheryl?" I ask, sitting down and leaning back in my chair.
Cheryl watches as Cindy collects her clothes, holds them to her body, and scampers out of my office.
"Another one, Sloane?" she asks me with raised eyebrows.
I shrug. "Perks of the job, Cheryl," I tell her, and turn on my computer monitors. "Can't fault me for tasting what's being offered."
There's a deep sigh from Cheryl. "Well, it seems like you're eating too much, Sloane, and the company is suffering," Cheryl says, putting a folder in front of me. "Do you realize that Hard Times has no new products in its investment lineup after our recent investment with Arsen Hawke?"
I freeze. Venture Capital firms need a steady lineup of companies and products to invest in. Without a steady stream of investment, we're just sitting on piles of cash that earn very little interest. And with salaries to pay and overhead, if I don't make money through investments, I'm fucked.
"What do you mean?" I ask in a panic. "I thought we had two or three products lined up?"
Cheryl shakes her head. "They either pulled out or stopped calling because they thought we lost interest, Sloane," she tells me. "I just discovered this after going through next quarter's projections. You need to find some solid products to park your money in. And you need to find them fast."
Cheryl is standing there, looking at me and shaking her head. She's not judging me, but I know she knows that this is how she's going to get me to do something. Because I fucking hate how she's staring at me.
"I'll start looking today," I say through clenched teeth.
"Well, you might as well start with family dinner," Cheryl says, and drops another folder onto my desk. I look up at her. She gestures with her eyes and I take the folder and open it.
"It looks like your stepsister, Natalie, has some major growth happening in her little company, Dirty Lil' Angels," Cheryl tells me. I scan over the info sheet that Cheryl has prepared.
A line of technologically revolutionizing sex toys. Wireless connections to Kindles. AI to anticipate when exactly to stimulate you, mimicking human partners.
"She just got a huge order and could soon be the next breakout product, but she's not going anywhere until she gets funded and can grow," Cheryl says out loud, to me.
I keep reading. This could be my ticket back in.
Natalie's mother married my stepdad several years ago. The marriage never lasted. This is after that asshole Drake, my stepdad, completely forgot about my own mom after she died. Completely forgot about me too. Ran into the arms of Natalie's mom, Linda.
I remember the first day I met Natalie and Linda. I was fucking pissed. But that anger turned to lust the moment I saw my stepsister, Natalie.
I mean, it was the first time I was meeting them and they were already part of our family. Drake never even sat me down and told me what was going on. Just that he had gotten married again. I still remember that day that he told me. I carried that memory of abandonment with me all throughout life. I used it to leave the house when I was 18 years old. To get my own scholarship to Yale. To graduate and find my own financing to start my own company. I never took a single penny from Drake Carlton. I even got rid of the Carlton name and went back to my mother's last name as soon as I could: Hardman.
