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A few faces pop on one of my video call screens at my desk (I have 10 screens in my workstation)
They look fucking urgent, and when I glance down at the sight of my desk, I see wild orders placed from my terminal. A trader is trying to speak to me through the video call, but my ears are ringing with lust and I can’t hear. He sounds frantic though. He's at the trading desk, and he's telling me about a huge fucking trade happening right now. Coming from my desk. If I don't pull it back, I'm going to lose millions.
But I can't fucking stop.
Fuck, here I cum.
I'm chasing an orgasm stronger than a rocket at lift off, and I'm about to fucking explode.
"That's it—oh fuck yes!" the intern screams, and just as she does, I shoot rope after rope of hot cum deep inside of her pussy. I pull my throbbing cock out and she grabs it, milking me until I think I don't have anything left.
She yanks the condom off my cock and her eyes widen at the Magnum of cum right in front of her. My cock is still dribbling cum but she takes my condom and empties it’s contents over her tits, letting it slide down her body in rivulets.
“Something to remember me by,” she says with an evil grin.
She locks eyes with me, and brings her fingers to her lips, licking off remnants of my salty cum.
She's smiling, but as my pulse slowly returns to normal, the realization hits me—she's not the only one who just got screwed.
I look over to the terminal.
In the throes of our fuck, we must have messed with the trading system that’s wired into my desk. I can place trades from my desk that most people can’t - I mean come on, I’m the fucking CEO.
And it looks like I placed a series of extremely bad bets.
That’s what happens when you’re randomly hitting the keyboard with your hands because you’re in the middle of fucking.
And those trades have gone south.
I've just lost one of the largest amounts of money in a single day that’s ever been recorded.
Fuck.
People are rushing into my office.
They don’t even care that we’re naked.
The intern looks around, puzzled as her boss runs into the office. He’s frantic.
People are fucked.
If I don't fix this fucking soon, my entire empire—this firm, the palatial Manhattan apartments, all of the wealth I've worked so hard to build—it's all going to crumble quicker than a wave washing out a sandcastle.
I'll be nothing.
I'll leave nothing.
I'll be a washed up joke.
And there's no fucking way I'm going to let that happen.
Wanna come help me fix this, babe?
2
Malcolm
"You look like you could use another drink," Andrew laughs, refilling my glass with a ribbon of amber-colored whiskey.
