Two

Brad

“What the fuck?” I rage, throwing a sheaf of papers down on my desk. “Who the fuck does she thinks he is?”

My divorce attorney shoots me a grim smile.

“Joelle is the ex-wife of Brad Landry, CEO of Excel Properties. That’s who she knows she is.”

I’m not appeased.

“But still!” I rage. “What the fuck? We have a pre-nup! We signed it with witnesses present! How the fuck can Joelle think she’s entitled to a penny more? A five million dollar one-time cash payout isn’t enough for that bitch? We were only married two years too.”

Cameron shrugs, his features harsh.

“Five million is nothing to you, bud, and she knows it, and the judge knows it too. Hell, the whole world knows it. It’s a drop in the bucket to you, and yeah, now she wants more. Joelle’s probably going to get it too,” he adds in a mild tone. “The pre-nup was signed twenty-four hours before you guys tied the knot in Vegas. She’s saying that she signed under duress, and that she didn’t have an attorney look it over beforehand.”

“Yeah, but is that my fault?” I rage. “What the fuck, was I supposed to call an attorney for her, and pay him to review the pre-nup for her? What am I? Her servant?”

Cameron remains unperturbed.

“Some men do hire attorneys for their fiancées,” he says in a calm voice while steepling his fingers. “It’s a way to protect their wealth. They retain lawyers before any deal is signed, for both themselves and for their future wives. The optics are better that way,” he explains. “Not that your pre-nup is illegitimate. It’s plenty legit. The optics are just better if both sides have the agreement reviewed by attorneys before the document is executed.”

“Optics,” I spit, practically shaking with rage. “Fuck ‘em.”

My lawyer merely shrugs again.

“It is what it is. So what are you willing to pony up, my friend?”

“Nothing,” I say in an icy tone. “Not one penny more than what’s stipulated in the pre-nup.”

Cameron gets up then, unfolding his long legs.

“I understand that you’re angry, Brad. I realize you’re a reasonable man who believes in the enforcement of contracts, not to mention the rule of law. But divorce is never like that. There are emotions at play—”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” I growl. “And get the fuck out of my office.”

The tall man strides to the door, unfazed by my anger.

“I’m just saying,” he says in a smooth tone. “You can pay this problem to go away. It’s just money, and for a man like you with infinite resources, why would it matter? Just pay her. Then you’ll never have to see her again – or me.”

Then, my attorney strides out the door, leaving me in the silence of my massive office. I have to admit that the motherfucker has a point: money is in infinite supply for me. I have so much of it that it practically pours out of my ears. I own dozens of luxury properties, including vacation homes in Paris, Tokyo, Aspen, and Sedona; two planes; a super yacht; and even a helicopter to get me to work, not to mention a garage filled with high-end vehicles. So why am I quibbling about an extra payout to my ex? Who the fuck cares?

The problem is that I hate Joelle’s guts, and our marriage is one of the few times in my life when I let my dick do the thinking. Yeah. When we hooked up a couple years back, Joelle was a hot little piece of ass. Even at age thirty-eight, she looked more like twenty-five, with long blonde hair, winsome blue eyes, and a body made for sin. Sure, her tits were fake, but I’m okay with some nip and tuck. Sure, she admitted she’d had lipo in the past, but who isn’t surgically enhanced these days? The long and the short of it is that I was entranced by the sexy nurse, and fell head over heels in lust.

I admit that we didn’t think the marriage through. We were partying in Vegas with a couple of friends, and had too much to drink. It’s a hackneyed story, but I had her sign a pre-nup on a cocktail napkin. Then, around 4 a.m. that night, Joelle and I rolled into a drive-through chapel in our rental car and tied the knot. Yeah, we said our vows while still in the vehicle, with an Elvis impersonator leaning out of the drive-through window to officiate the ceremony. Even crazier, he had a burger in hand the whole time. It turns out that Elvis gets an appetite at 4 a.m., and he wasn’t putting down that Big Mac for anything.

But things went south soon after. Sure, we enjoyed some bouts of hot sex at the start, but it probably only lasted for a couple months. Then, Joelle complained that my dick was too big. Then, she said it was too small. Then, she said it didn’t “rub her right” on the inside. Soon, she’d only let me fuck her with a dildo, although she had no trouble handling a variety of dildo sizes with that sassy cunt. But soon, even the dildo was a no-go, and she always “had a migraine” or “was too tired from work.” What a load of bullcrap. Me, a fucking handsome, powerful billionaire, was being boxed out by my new bride.

Obviously, I was out of my mind with anger and disappointment, and demanded that she move out. Joelle rolled her eyes and refused, but after one too many blowout fights, she finally agreed to move her shit into a cottage on the outskirts of my property. Then, I demanded a divorce. It was the natural next step. There was no fucking way I was going to stay in a sexless marriage. That shit is for losers and sad sacks, and there was no way I was going to stay leashed to such a fucking bitch.

But shit gets even more fucked up then. I decided to serve the divorce papers myself. Why not? Cameron begged me not to, but I wanted to see the look on Joelle’s face when she realized we were dunzo. Yeah, she was going to lose her housing; give up her car; and make do on her nursing salary. Hell, her daughter would likely have to transfer schools too because I’d been footing the tuition bill for Minnie. Frankly, I looked forward to delivering the news. It’s sadistic, but there you go. I never said that I was a nice guy.

My mood buoyed, I strolled to Joelle’s cottage, papers in hand. But after pressing the bell, to my surprise, her daughter answered the door.

“Hey Mr. Landry,” the teen girl greeted, just as startled to see me as I was her. “I didn’t know you were coming over. My mom’s not here right now.”

I stopped for a moment because was this Minnie? Little Mary Amelia, whom I met a few times after Joelle and I tied the knot? Holy fuck, but she’d changed because the old Minnie was a scrawny thing with arms and legs like sticks, and frizzy hair that stood up at all angles. I barely noticed the child, to be honest, with her scabby knees and glinting metal braces.

But the woman at the door was altogether different. For one, she was no longer a little girl. Instead, the new Mary Amelia was buxom, with giant DD breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips. Shining golden hair flowed down her back, and her legs were long and slim, clad in cute pink sneakers paired with a flowery sundress. Not only that, but her features were innocent, despite her voluptuous shape. Big blue eyes stared at me, paired with a perfect ski-slope nose, and glossy pink lips.

“Um yeah, hi Minnie,” I managed in a croak. Then, I cleared my throat. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’ve been around beautiful women my whole life. Hell, since I was fifteen and hit my growth spurt, females have thrown themselves at me like I’m the last sentient man on earth. So why was I suddenly behaving like a nervous teenage boy?

Get a grip, the voice in my head rasped. Think with your brain, and not with your dick.

Right. This is my stepdaughter, or soon-to-be-ex-stepdaughter. I needed to take control.

“Hey Minnie,” I tried again, my voice more normal now. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were home.”

The young blonde nodes, her eyes a bit wary now.

“Yes, I’m visiting because school’s off right now. You know that I’m at Evergreen College, right? Near Purchase, about forty-five minutes from here.”

In fact, I did not know. I’m sure Joelle told me, but I’d forgotten because her daughter’s whereabouts were never very important to me. Out of sight, out of mind. But I smiled and nodded.

“Right, Evergreen. And how’s school treating you?” I manage with what I hope is an interested-but-not-too-interested nod.

Minnie smiles then, so beautiful that it’s like the sun radiating beauty and warmth on a gorgeous afternoon. She’s so breathtaking, in fact, that my cock literally jerks in my pants, reacting of its own accord to the presence of the young, ripe female. I want to fall to my knees before her, before pressing my face against the vee of her thighs and licking up that sopping cunt. Then, I want to suck those tits, playing with the nipples, before sliding my dick deep into her vag and watching as the young girl falls apart, breathing my name with ecstasy.

What the fuck is wrong with you? the voice in my head snorts. You’re here to serve her mom with divorce papers. After that happens, you’ll never see this woman again.

The voice was right, and I forced myself to focus. I literally blinked a couple times, trying to break the reverie, only to come out of it to find Minnie shooting me a worried look.

“Are you okay, Mr. Landry?” she asked. “You look a little faint. Can I get you a glass of water? It’s unseasonably warm today.”

I almost said yes. I was tempted to follow the curvy girl into the shaded cottage before shoving the door closed and forcing myself on the buxom teen. She’d love my dick, and I hadn’t had a tight twat wrapped around my cock for a few months by then. But I managed a tight smile.

“No, I’m good. I’m sorry – when did you say your mom will be back?”

Minnie smiles, again so radiant that my knees go weak.

“Joelle’s at the dentist’s right now, so maybe forty-five minutes or so? She sees Dr. Henley, over on Marriott Street, and that’s not far from here, so it could be even sooner. But can I give that to her for you?” Minnie asks, with a nod at the yellow folder in my hand. “There’s no need to stop by again. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

I immediately shake my head. Holy fuck, these are divorce papers! No way am I handing them off to Joelle’s daughter.

“No thanks,” I say in a smooth tone. “I’ll just wait until your mom gets back.”

“Sure thing,” Minnie murmurs with another sweet smile. “It was nice to see you, Mr. Landry.”

I stand there for a few moments, staring at her like a vapid fool, but then jerk myself back to the present.

“You too, Minnie. Enjoy Evergreen.”

With that, I turn my back and stride purposefully down the garden path and back to the big house. What the fuck just happened? Why did I behave like a teenage boy instead of a hardened alpha male? What the fuck did that young girl just do to me?

But I put it out of my head because I need to serve my wife with divorce papers ... and her daughter was merely the collateral damage.

* * *

Unfortunately, the service did not go smoothly. After leaving the cottage, I strolled by the garage still thinking about Minnie. Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. Young, vibrant, and so fucking sexy with that big bust and long legs. Just the way she said “Mr. Landry” made me go hard, and I know I want to see her again.

Yeah, but how? the voice in my head scoffs. Are you really going to start dating the daughter of your ex-wife? How fucked up is that?’

I merely shake my head. I’m a fucking billionaire, and billionaires do what they want. They go to Mars. They rearrange the federal government. Fuck, they even get involved in European politics. Fucking a young girl who happens to be an ex’s daughter is the least of it.

At that moment, I stroll by my massive garage and see Henry, my chauffeur, wiping down the yellow Lambo.

“Mr. Landry,” he says courteously. “Can I take you anywhere?”

I’m just about to say no, when an idea strikes. Why not serve these goddamn papers and get it done with? I know where Joelle’s dentist works. I’ll swing by the office and serve her in front of some people she knows, embarrassing her in the process. Of course, my ex is a shameless whore, so maybe she won’t care, but I want to get this shit done. I’m through with her, and getting this divorce on the road is key.

“Actually Henry, yes,” I say in a smooth tone. “I need to get to a dental office on Marriott Street. Dr. Henley.”

Henry nods and immediately straightens.

“Certainly, sir. I know the place. Shall we take the Bentley?”

I nod.

“Yeah, definitely.”

Then, within minutes, the vehicle pulls into the small shopping plaza where Jacob Henley, DDS, practices according to a sign hanging from the awning.

“Shall I wait here?” Henry asked, turning to look at me from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, I’ll just be a second,” I grunted before getting out of the car. Once outside, I stared at the small building. It was boxy and nondescript, with two big windows in the front. Joelle’s Mercedes (purchased with my money) was parked in the front, as well as a shiny Dodge Ram pickup. Interesting. I had no idea that Stuart Henley was the type to drive a pickup, but whatevs. Maybe the dentist liked off-roading in his free time.

With confident steps, I strolled to the office and let myself into the waiting room. The office was silent. Too silent, in fact, although the fluorescent lights were on, and magazines scattered about the coffee table. But there was no one at reception, and an alarm went off in my head. What the fuck was going on?

“Hello?” I asked to the empty room. No one answered, surprise, surprise.

Moving quietly, I opened the door separating the waiting room from the office itself, and passed into a dimly lit green-carpeted hallway. Damn, this office was ugly and industrial, but through several slightly open doors, I could see dentist’s chairs in a reclining position, with the requisite adjustable lamp above them, as well as trays of glinting silver tools.

Silently, I moved down the hall further into the office suite, and that’s when I saw it: my wife and a handsome dental hygienist fucking like dogs on the floor of one of the offices. Joelle looked good, to be honest. The woman was buck naked and on all fours, her big breasts swinging as she was reamed from behind by a young buck with a muscular back and fake tan.

“Yeah,” he moaned in a muffled voice. “Fuck yeah.”

Then, something weird happened. He held his hand to his face and inhaled deeply through a clear gas mask before leaning forward with the gas mask to cup the plastic over Joelle’s face. My wife inhaled as well, her eyes fluttering shut as the mist hit her lungs.

“Oooh yeah,” she moaned. “Hit me, Brandon. I need it.”

Holy fuck! The two were getting high on laughing gas as they fucked! What the hell? I get that people have kinks but I had no idea my ex was so fucking sick. This was straight up drug usage, on the office floor too. I doubt Dr. Stuart Henley would appreciate knowing that my wife was fucking his employee while sampling his store of medicinal gas. I almost wanted to laugh because it was so absurd, but then, my wife started talking and the words were insane.

“I hate him so much,” she began, her sentences punctuated by breathless “oomphs” as she was forcefully reamed from the back. “He’s such a fucking douche, with his private plane and his money. He thinks his money protects him from everything.”

I came to a full-stop, my jaw dropping. Fuck, Joelle was talking about me! Since when do people discuss their exes during sex with other people? But the laughing gas had loosened her inhibitions, and Joelle began spilling her guts.

“I hate him so much!” she squealed, still getting fucked from the back like a bitch in heat. “I can’t stand his touch! He’s such a fucking user, and he got me pregnant! What the fuck! Me, Joelle Moreland, age forty, pregnant by a fucker like him. Ummmmmph!” she screamed with outrage.

I blinked, surprised. What the hell? Who got her pregnant? Did Joelle have another boyfriend that I didn’t know of? Perhaps my wife maintained multiple toy boys, all of whom were fucking her on the reg. It certainly wasn’t me because I wasn’t aware of a pregnancy.

But Joelle continued to speak, her words slurred together by the laughing gas.

“So I aborted that fucker!” she squealed with rage, her face going red. “No way was I having a baby by Brad Fucking Landry. No fucking way!”

Then, she came. Yeah, while my ex cursed my name, she literally orgasmed.

“Unnnh!” Joelle screamed while convulsing on the dental hygienist’s cock. “Fuck Brad Landry!”

But I didn’t give a shit about her cursing. Hell, I don’t give a shit what Joelle thinks about me at all. Instead, my ex-wife had revealed her treasonous actions in the heat of the moment, and that’s what made all the blood drain from my form. She had my baby? She’d been pregnant with my child? When was this?

I had half a mind to stalk into the room before shaking the woman and screaming in her face. I wanted to confront her about the abortion, but I stood there like a statue, frozen in place with cowardice. Even crazier, Joelle’s orgasm reached new heights as I watched, and it was fucking scary. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, showing the whites, as her thin body convulsed in an epileptic fit. I swear, there was foam frothing at her mouth and I had half a mind to call 9-1-1.

But then, Brandon the dental hygienist leaned forward to press the gas mask over her face again, and Joelle inhaled. This seemed to help a bit because the convulsions diminished, her bony shoulders going still as her chest expanded with oxygen. Even her color looked a little better, her skin plumping up a bit instead of being the color of death.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Brandon groaned, still pumping his hips wildly into her scrawny frame. “You’re good. Don’t choke on your saliva, baby, because I want to ride through this. I haven’t orgasmed yet.”

Holy shit! What a fucking prick. My ex likely was having a medical emergency, and yet this fucker was focused on his own pleasure. Sure enough, the asshole adjusted something on the dials of the canister of laughing gas, hips still working like an automaton against my ex-wife’s flat rear end.

“You’re going to be fine,” Brandon hummed with pleasure. “I’ve lowered the dosage. Yeah, maybe the hits were a little too strong this time, but I fixed it.”

This time? I stared, unable to believe my ears, but then began to back away. Holy fuck. Obviously, this wasn’t a one-time thing. Joelle had been hooking up with the dental hygienist for a while now, and they often used laughing gas to enhance their sex life. But again, I don’t give a shit about what they do in bed. If my ex wants to fuck while contorting wildly, drooling and looking ghoulish, that was her business.

Nor did I care about her cheating ways. Hell, I don’t even care about the insults directed at me. What I care about is the baby. Joelle conceived my child, and then terminated him or her without saying a single word to me. What the fuckity fuck?

I strode from the office, barely able to breathe. My fingers trembled, the divorce papers still clutched in my hand. Shock, anger, and disbelief poured through my veins as I sweated wildly, stepping into the parking lot before clambering into the waiting Bentley.

“Everything okay, Mr. Landry?” Henry asked, turning to look at me from the front seat. “If you need some water, there’s a bottle on the right hand door.”

I couldn’t answer. I merely stared straight ahead, speechless. A child. My child. What the fuck?

Suddenly, rage took over, as well as shock, horror, and disbelief. I’d never seen myself as a family man before, but that’s my choice to make, and that bitch took the option away from me. Goddamn her!

Seething with fury, I came to a decision: Joelle wasn’t getting a penny more than what the pre-nup stipulated. There was no way. But it’s not even about money for me because I have plenty of coin. What’s more important is the loss of autonomy because we’d conceived a child and now, he or she was gone. Poof. A vanishing in the night. My vision grew red and a desire for revenge rose in my chest. It was so thick and powerful that I had difficulty swallowing while shaking in the backseat of my car. I was going to make my ex-wife bleed and suffer ... no matter the cost to myself.