Page 3 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

I felt like a naughty teenager leading him up a flight of stairs to the darkened second story. I found an empty office and tugged him in by his necktie. The door closed, and, as the Immortal Bard said, the sweeter rest was mine.

Chapter Two

Mason

I woke up on silk sheets with only two and a half hours of sleep, but I had a big smile on my face.

My last thought before I went to bed was of Megan, the incredibly hot, incredibly cool woman I’d met at the Galleria. My first thought when I awakened was of her as well.

I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. The sun had yet to show his face, but a lightening out over the water heralded its impending arrival. Not the first time I’d awakened before dawn, and it wouldn’t be the last.

I could still smell Megan’s perfume on me. Both that kind that came out of a bottle and the kind that came from her pussy. It was with great reluctance that I washed both clean from my body.

After a close shave—a literal close shave, with my straight razor—I put on one of my favorite suits, a gray and charcoal two-piece with a so subtle as to be indistinguishable check pattern. Stan the Man calls it my Steve Harvey suit, but that’s just Stan. He’s kind of a douche sometimes.

The whole ride to work, I kept thinking about Megan. I’m not bragging, but with my size, appearance, and wealth, I don’t want for female company. However, I’ve always lost any interest after the actual consummation took place.

Not so with Megan. I’d done something different last night, something I’d never done with a wild hookup. I asked for her number.

And she gave it to me. No hesitation. I knew she was having fun last night. I’d had to clap my hand over her mouth to keep her screams from alerting the guests downstairs. Then, my little Megan had liked it even more.

The limo dropped me off at the skyscraper the firm called home. We leased out the top ten floors. The name of the building has changed about four times since we moved in. Stan wanted to buy the entire building, but Chandler refused to open the purse strings. He said that owning real estate in Manhattan was ‘redundant and unnecessary, and a bad investment.’

Since Chandler goes along with ninety-nine percent of the schemes we come up with, nobody wanted to pressure him on that point.

I stepped into the elevator, stifling a yawn. My eyes were sore and weary, and I obviously didn’t have enough sleep, yet I was filled with energy. My motor was rumbling on jet fuel grade Megan.

The doors slid most of the way shut before a hand thrust between them. Once they popped open again, a man and a woman stepped on with me.

“Good morning,” I said to Jonathon and Amelia.

“Good morning yourself,” Jonathon said. He squinted at my face. “Hmm. Dark circles under your eyes, and you’re wearing your favorite suit. You got lucky last night, didn’t you?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Amelia asked.

“Zing!” I did the finger gun at her. “And tell your husband that he has no idea HOW lucky.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I showed him my phone, Megan’s digits scrawled across the screen.

“You actually got her number?” Jonathon frowned. “I’m confused. Didn’t you already sleep with her?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you never bother with them after the actual conquest. What’s different this time?”

“Jon, don’t be a prick,” Amelia said.

“Are you kidding?” Jonathon laughed. “Mason here fucked with me when I was dating you, so now it’s my turn to fuck with him. Paybacks are a bitch, right Mason?”

I shrugged. “He’s right. I did fuck with him quite a bit.”

“Well, maybe you’re going to be the next one to get domesticated,” Amelia suggested, cocking an eyebrow.

I started to laugh, and then, to my shock, I realized the idea wasn’t as abhorrent as it should have been. In fact, the idea of waking up next to Megan every day seemed… nice.

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