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8 months ago

Wanted Big Bad Single Dad

Aaron My laptop is my

Aaron My laptop is my fucking life. No, but seriously. It’s how I keep my business at the top of the industry. It’s how I stay ahead in the game. My laptop is key to who Aaron Bennett is. And I, Aaron Bennett, am the fucking king of the internet. Self-proclaimed, of course, but my opinion goes a long way if you ask the people closest to me. And I don’t even have to pay them to say it. It’s early morning, and I’m leaning over my marbled white granite kitchen counter, my laptop screen casting a white glow over my face. What’s a billionaire doing, slaving over his laptop while the sun is barely up, you ask? Well, let me tell you. Billionaires don’t become fucking billionaires for nothing. Not unless they’re born and bred in the back pockets of their filthy rich parents, learning to read balance sheets before they’ve begun reciting the alphabet. No. The reason I’m a fucking pro at my job, the reason I’m drowning in more cash than anyone needs in one lifetime, is because I work my ass off. I guess you can say I like micromanaging my own business. But that’s how I roll. I employ the very best to do their very best―but I still dip in the waters, treading to make sure there isn’t any trash in my sea of people. My self-assigned job is to catfish unsuspecting, pussy-whipped billionaires. I know, I know. Can’t imagine a fucking CEO doing the dirty work, can you? Well, you haven’t met me. And I’ll be the first to tell you, if you did, you’d have the same reaction to me all the women do. You know, ready to drop to your knees at the snap of my fingers. Anyway, back to my job. I fucking love it, even though I’m a dude. Think of it as being an actor, only I’m behind the scenes. I talk to high-rolling losers who are both new and regular clients of my website, making sure they’re not treating any of my female clients like shit or taking advantage of my employees. That’s the kind of fucking CEO I am.

I’m here to make sure Thebadboys.net stays afloat, with the competition trailing far behind. Preferably drowning and close to death. I also have a standard to uphold. Thebadboys.net isn’t the premier billionaire dating site in the world by mistake. No, I make sure we only host the best of the best clients. Which is why I’ve developed my online persona to lure them in. It’s quality assurance, plain and simple. Yes, I’m both the owner and a “client” of Thebadboys.net. And yes, it’s exactly like it fucking sounds: dirty shit in the sexiest ways possible. Besides, it’s good for the brain. So much better than Sudoku. It helps let my creative juices flow in the cover-up name I’ve built from the ground up: Ms. Winters. She’s a seductress, a temptress, and a sexy ass bitch―but she’s one-hundred percent made up. If I’m being honest, that’s part of the thrill of the job, getting a kick out of cat fishing these assholes and making sure they keep throwing money at my feet. Well, Ms. Winters’ feet, at least. I’ve just finished checking my e-mails and making sure I’m not missing anything. It’s a free day―the rare, once-in-a-year day that I don’t have any fucking meetings. Usually, I’m being whisked away in my limousine from one restaurant to another, meeting investors and advertisers and other big money men in black suits, looking to make bigger money so they can buy more black suits. But today, I’m off. So I decide I can stop being Aaron Bennett early and start my day as Ms. Winters. I log onto the site as soon as I close my e-mail window. My morning routine is the same ritualistic bullshit that probably mirrors ninety percent of executives out there in the workforce. I yawn sleepily and scratch the scruff on my face. I guess I need to shave pretty soon. I glance at my reflection through the screen, at my dark straight hair tousled almost artfully. It’s a little chilly in the room, the cold air touching my abs and making me shiver. I sleep naked, since that’s always how my bedroom guests want me, anyway… What do you expect from a workaholic CEO with washboard abs and enough money to buy any-fucking-thing I want? Of course women come knocking at my door all the time. Wait, that’s not accurate. They schedule appointments with my executive assistant first.

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