CEO impostor's

thrust. — Do you like my cock in that greedy pussy? I know I'm blushing, I always get that way with your insinuations and dirty words. My boss is waiting for an answer and this is what I give him: — Yes. — Yes, what? — he insists, fucking me harder. His fingers now digging into my hips as he pulls me closer to the edge of the table, changing the angle so he goes deeper. - Yes sir! Please fuck me. He gets out and turns around, pushing me bent over the table. I gasp as I'm penetrated from behind, Charles lifts my leg and holds it in the air, doing exactly what I asked.

Strong, vigorous, merciless. We cum together and he's still inside me, holding me, when he rests his chin on my shoulder. The kisses peppered on my back fill me with affection and hope. It's a shame that it's a fool's hope and that this was the last time we were together. CHAPTER 1 A Year Later There's a saying in Los Angeles that goes something like this: “you think you've reached the end of the barrel until you live on Skid Row.” I'm in the “city of angels”, but it's the part that doesn't appear on postcards of California, with so many homeless people in terrible hygiene and housing conditions that the UN even compared it to a refugee camp. This is where one of the biggest economies in the world operates, with people coming every day looking to be a movie star, shine in the world of fashion or start a multi-million dollar business. However, it is also the place of broken hearts and shattered dreams. It's common to walk through the ugly part of downtown, in the center, and come across actors, singers, CEOs and even medalists sleeping on the cold floor, these are people who lost everything and started to live in poverty. I thought I would be a music star, but that didn't work out either. I consider myself a lucky girl, because despite being yet another person whose hopes have been trampled, I can walk the streets with my son in my arms and know that I have a roof over our heads. I greet Carter, the bartender and owner of Texa's Club Bar, who stops what he's doing to tickle Noah's belly. My baby smiles at the tall man in a cowboy outfit and a look like he could beat anyone in an arm wrestle, as if he were his best friend. — It's going to be a long night, we already have half the tables full — he warns, which makes me check the main room of the bar and see that he's right. — I'll be back in ten minutes. I rush to Carter's office and lay my baby down in the seat that rocks whenever he moves, and tuck her into her playpen. Unfortunately, I don't have a babysitter to look after him, so I leave him safe with Baby Shark. I swap my sneakers for pink cowboy boots and quickly braid my hair, letting it fall over my left shoulder. I turn on the baby monitor and, with a kiss on my son's forehead, I go to work. When I was forced to leave my old job to get away from Charles Whitmore, I was left destitute and, unfortunately, I became part of the homeless population for a few days. I didn't want to worry my mother, so I delayed asking for help. I thought it would resolve on its own, but that wasn't the case. Mom is a Texan with a big heart who would have found a way to come to Los Angeles just to beat up my old boss, if she had known that the man promised to love me and then threw me in the trash. If she could, she would have given me anything I desired, but my family is very humble. I survive on subsistence on a small farm in the interior of Texas, near Houston, far from where I am. However, when she discovered that I was in need, she pulled some strings, spoke to everyone she had contact with and it was a church member who reminded her of Carter, an old childhood friend of my older brother. After a desperate plea for help, he let me live in the small room above the Texas-themed bar for cheap rent, as well as giving me a position as a waitress. Two months later, I found out she was pregnant. With all the stress, I wasn't paying attention to my period, and it took me a while to realize that Charles had left me with more than a broken heart. I was afraid that Carter would throw me out, as the bar is not a suitable place for children, however, he felt sorry and let me stay as long as I sang on the small stage without charging a fee. So here I am, a twenty-two year old waitress with a three month old baby. — What's the special dish, sweetie? — a rude man asks with an arrogant air. I know his suit is expensive, it reminds me of the ones Charles wore, custom made, added to his snobbish attitude, I'm sure he's rich. There's something about guys with money that makes them act superior. In an area like Skid Row, they really are. Which makes me question his presence here. His place is a fine-dining restaurant overlooking the sea. — Pork ribs and tomato soup. He tilts his head to the side and licks his lower lip suggestively, I don't need anything else to know what kind of client he is. Unfortunately, it's very common to have guys hitting on me and Leslie, the other waitress. Two of her friends, who are also wearing suits but somehow look less rich than the jerk, giggle. — Are you on the menu? Your joke is so expected that it doesn't take me by surprise. I had heard variations of this several times, except when I was working with my baby bump. My feet hurt from standing and I can't stand listening to Tim McGraw on the speakers