The Billionaire’s Kitten

That made Kitty stop, just staring while biting her lip. Because yeah, I’ve been getting it on with women since I was fifteen, and my first time had been with Vivian and Mary in my childhood bedroom. It’d been amazing until my mom opened the door unexpectedly, interrupting as I pounded two sweet teen pussies.

So yeah, Rhonda’s not exactly shocked when she catches me doing the nasty. After all, I’m forty-five now and unmarried, a hotel magnate with women salivating over my body. So why not indulge? Why not take hot pussy if it’s offered? It feels good and it’s not like there are any commitments. Sex is sex and I make it clear to the women that’s all that’s on the table.

But Katie wasn’t listening. She grabbed her dress and began pulling it on.

“I can’t believe this happened,” the brunette panted, brown curls flying everywhere. “I can’t believe this happened.”

I watched, amused. The uniform at the Club is nothing more than a purple tube dress, and on my sassy girl, it was about three sizes too small. Oh yeah, my baby was having a hard time getting into it, the top kept slipping off, showing her cream, or the hem kept popping up, revealing that wet slit.

“I think you need a different dress,” I remarked lazily. “This one is a little small.”

Kitty whirled on me then.

“Your goons gave it to me to wear!” she cried. “People who work for you said I had to put it on!”

I chuckled, leaning back on the couch, dick still out, heavy and thick against my thigh. Fuck, she’d pumped me good, the pole was slick with a mix of our juices, a few last drops of sperm oozing out. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come so hard, or so much. But right, the dress. Right now, Kitty was concerned about her dress.

“That’s true because the girls get better tips if they wear practically nothing,” I remarked, stretching lazily now. “Show a little boob, wiggle that ass and the money comes raining down. Speaking of which, what about the cash?” I nodded to the bills on the table.

Kitty jerked, like she’d forgotten about the money.

“What about it?” she panted, still struggling to get into that dress. “It’s mine isn’t it? I da- danced for you,” she choked, “so it’s mine.”

I laughed again, a deep, dark chuckle.

“That’s right baby girl, it’s yours,” I ground out. “Every cent of that is yours. But how about if I make you a deal?”

The brunette shook her head wildly even as she scooped up the bills.

“No, absolutely not,” the girl replied. “Every deal with you goes crazy. I mean, what was that about? Fiancée? That woman was your mom?”

I nodded lazily, although suddenly, every sense was on alert.

“Yeah, that was Rhonda at the door, mother dearest. Don’t worry about her,” I said smoothly. “Trust me, she’s seen a lot worse.”

Again, I thought about the time years ago when mom caught me in a threeway, one girl’s pussy on my mouth as I dicked another woman in the ass. But that wasn’t gonna get us anywhere, so I tried again.

“Like I said, baby girl, let’s make a deal.”

But Kitty was stuffing the money into her purse now, lips trembling.

“No absolutely not,” she huffed. “I’m not making a deal with you. Absolutely not.”

Okay, it was time to pull out the big guns then.

“Seems like you need that cash a lot, pretty baby,” I remarked idly. “With the way you’re cramming it into your purse, it’s practically manna from heaven.”

The brunette stopped then, jerking her eyes up to me.

“Don’t be mean,” she said in a low voice, chin trembling now. “Don’t be mean. So what if I need money? Not everyone is like you, Mr. Hotel Billionaire,” she choked, looking down then.

And oh shit, were those tears in her eyes? Had I really hurt my baby girl? Aww, shit, what a motherfucker.

“Baby, don’t cry,” I rumbled soothingly. I wanted to take her in my arms but any touch right now was likely to set the brunette off. “All I’m saying is that if you need money, then you’re in the right place. Because I’ve got a lot of it.”

But Kitty was on a roll now. She didn’t look at me, instead swinging her purse over her arm.

“Where are my shoes?” she gasped. “Where did I leave my shoes?” she almost panted, glancing around the office desperately.

I could see one sky-high stiletto peeking out from under the couch, but nudged it back with my foot. I wanted to talk with her a little, to get her on my side.

“Like I said,” I rumbled again. “Seems like you need cash. You just banged a man for fifteen grand, aren’t too many girls on the Strip who’d do that.”

Of course, it was a lie. There are a ton of sluts in Vegas who’d give it up for a lot less than fifteen grand. Heck, you could get a blow job just five minutes away from here for a measly thirty bucks, but Kitty didn’t have to know, she was an innocent.