<div class="floatright">(http://cdn.superbwallpapers.com/wallpapers/male-celebrities/chris-pine-11495-400x250.jpg)</div>'Fuck', the curse, though hurled in the safety of a  mental dialogue still reflected in his demeanor. His dark eyes burned from frustration that was nigh relentless. His jaw was set, purveying a grimace that fit the unkempt nature of his hair. Alert to the looks he had hoped not to attract, Eric Porter adjusted his disconcerting behavior. 'Luck of the draw, eh? One goes your way, the other knocks you on your ass'. A due assortment of sympathetic laughter and nodding occurred. One slapped his shoulder and spewed an appalling excuses for wisdom to which he politely smiled, watching the hapless bastards be lured by the house and its tricks. He became part of the crowd in the exotic Cloud Nine hotel and casino and for now, that was exactly how he liked it.<br/><br/>What did he have to do to get into her goddamn pants?! It was driving him nuts.<br/><br/>Porter's fascination with the mass of humanity screaming and hooting, whilst their life's savings were flushed with each throw, spin or toss of a tiny plastic ebbed away. He was grateful for their doldrums or celebrations or just simple weak wills. He wouldn't have a profession were it not for their compulsive instincts- if CEO of Cloud Nine enterprises could be termed so loosely. Weariness soothed his anger and he wanted nothing more than to empower it. A double scotch on the rocks would do wonders in that regard. His barkeep was most gracious and he tipped his drink to her, 'To easy women', he murmured, summoning his pathological greed and toasting the one thing not in his grasp.<br/><br/>It was an efficient ally at the best of times. A loathing with the present, matched only by his craving for better future has propelled him from a juvenile delinquent to managing a multi billion dollar company. Of course, it didn't hurt to have manipulated his "girlfriend", rather his "fiance" as of forty five minutes ago, into loving him. Greed featured prominently in that endeavor too, but recently it had become a double edged sword. His better half led a life of morals. Her dearest wish was to find her husband's bed in the purest state, but only on her wedding night. Blinded by the prospect of a virgin, an emphatically beautiful and rich one at that and his greed, of course,  he had proposed to her. All looked well until his fingers trailed beneath her dress. His breath had misted at the feel of her creamy thighs and he had all but screamed "Hallelujah" when her back arched to his caress. He was going to have her. After four years of painstaking effort, he was going to fuck Sophia.<br/><br/>But the bitch had regained her prudish mind and squirmed free of his wicked touch, her eyes dancing coyly whilst she paraded the same old dated sentiment. She was virgin for him now. They were practically husband and wife, considering that giant rock glinting on her finger. Why the hell wont she fuck him?!<br/><br/>He jutted his forefinger out to signal for a refil. 'Drowning your sorrows , sugar?', asked the barkeep, her voice refreshingly kind for someone whose appearance was fit to kill. 'Oh, more like a small disappointment', he smirked, feeling a lovely glow persuading his facilities to relax. 'Keep em comin, Stell'. She nodded and with a bit of an ironic smirk, topped his glass off with the most girly umbrella in her tray. 'You're gonna pay for that'<br/><br/>'Its been a long time since you made me pay, Mr Porter', her voice was liquid honey and her eyes had melted beneath a viciously passionate gaze.<br/><br/>Courage bubbled forth and he permitted his Macallan 1939 to cloud better judgment. He wanted pussy tonight. What did it matter where he got it from, especially when his charming wife clung to her self-righteous bullshit. But this was not the place to exercise illicit activities. Porter had just upgraded his surveillance system. No nook or cranny was safe courtesy the nanotech strips teeming with millions of minuscule robotic recording devices.<br/><br/>'Anotha' time, homie', he grunted and Stella's eyes shot up. The only time Eric had ever used street slang was when he had dirty talked to her. He nodded to the chocolate skinned goddess, capped off his tab and trudged outside.<br/><br/>But keeping with the trend of the evening, his head of security wedged himself between him and his desire. 'What?', he barked<br/><br/>'Sir, I think there's something you need to see', said Brock Kiennar<br/><br/>He sidestepped the former military alpha team tactical expert, 'Sir, its about the nanostrips in the penthouse'<br/><br/>Porter hit a dead halt. 'Was anyone with you?', he demanded. Macallan had relented in the wake of his greed, which had precipitated into lust.<br/><br/>'No, Sir. I was making my routine personal check-'<br/><br/>'Seal the Cockpit. None are authorized to enter until I have made my diagnostics', Porter yelled, for he was already yards ahead of his lieutenant. The only reason for the sheepish concern in Brock's voice was if the nanostrips had recorded something they should not have. And the only people authorized in the penthouse suite were himself and his wife.<br/><br/>'Holy crap'<br/><br/>Apparently his mother-in-law had access too. And so did the family's legal council.<br/><br/>'You dirty little slut!', a broad, corrugated smirk unfurled on his lips as he watched his fiance's dear, perfect mother begging for it up the ass, 'You're mine'