by Adams, S. C.
“Unnh!” is my anguished cry, every part of me attuned to this man. “Oh god!”
He chuckles low in his throat, his tongue licking circles around my clit before giving it a light nip.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Carter coaxes before slipping his fingers back into my cunt. “Let go. Let yourself enjoy this hard finger drill.”
And with that, I scream. I can’t help it. This man has overwhelmed me with his charisma, his magnetism, and his powerful, commanding body. My cunt dissolves on his hand, juices pouring into his palm as I cry out, breasts heaving, every part of me craving every part of him.
“Oh Carter!” is my helpless. “Mr. Jones!”
His fingers pump even harder as he mouths my sweet opening, drinking my juices.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come on my face.”
And I do. I can’t help it. There’s nothing that I want more than to climb aboard his face every morning, begging him for this exquisite torture. Because it’s been ages since I’ve been with a man, and Carter reminds me of what I’m missing. Not just that but he drives me beyond the moon, coaxing more hot sweetness to spill from between my legs as my pussy clenches and clamps onto his thick digits.
“Unnh!” I moan again, knees spread wide with his hand in my twat. God, I’ve never been in such a compromised position, and yet I don’t feel ashamed at all. This is right. I belong to him, every part of me open and hot for him to do what he likes with my body.
And Mr. Jones savors every part of it. As my pussy spasms again and again, he licks it continually, drinking up my juices.
“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he rasps, giving me one final bite to my clit. I squeal again, juices gushing like a waterfall. He chuckles and pulls his fingers out with a wet squelching sound, but not before tapping my brownie playfully.
“What are you doing?” I murmur, eyes wide. The billionaire merely chuckles, massaging my pleats a bit as my knees come together in protest.
“No sweetheart. I’m not going to take you there tonight, but I want you to know that every part of you belongs to me. And that includes your bottom. Hear?” he asks, before bending down and pressing a kiss to my back hole. “All of you belongs to me, and that includes this.”
I almost melt from pleasure. Oh god, this is so dirty. I just came all over Carter’s face, his lips and chin wet from my juices, and yet he’s kissing my anus? Like a whore, I spread my legs wider so he can get down there, and the billionaire chuckles before lapping my dark star once again.
“That’s right sweetheart. Let yourself go,” he growls, gently easing his tongue in. I go stark still. Oh my god, can it be true? Do I really have an alpha male’s tongue in my rusty star, licking the interior walls of my bottom? But Carter merely laughs darkly again.
“You do,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “And it tastes good. Like I said, you belong to me. Your body belongs to me, and if I want you to come with my tongue in your ass, then you will. But not tonight, sweetheart. We’ll save that for later.”
And with that, he kisses me. I taste myself on his lips, savory and sweet, yet musky too. Oh god. This man is so dirty and it turns me on. All I want is more, so I gaze at him with a latent hunger in my eyes.
“Your turn,” is my coy purr. With fumbling fingers, I unhook his belt and slide his slacks to his ankles. My small palm closes over the root of his hardness and I moan at the contact. He’s so hot and big that my hand can’t even close all the way around that huge, veiny shaft. My fingers probe a bit, and he groans when I find the bead of pre-cum at the top, sliding my hand up and down so that his shaft is wet.
“That’s right,” he groans, eyes closing momentarily. “Oh fuck baby, you’ve got me leaking so hard.” And it’s true. The pearl of pre-cum has become a veritable river because there’s so much liquid oozing out of his rod. Coyly, I lean forwards to taste it, but he stops me, blue eyes flaring.
“No, sweetheart,” comes that hoarse voice. “Not now. I don’t want your mouth, baby.” And in a moment, I’m beneath him, legs spread and pussy willing. His tip presses at the opening of my soaked slit.
“Oh,” I moan. “Please, Carter. Fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command,” he whispers before guiding himself inside my waiting hole.
But we stop because he’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with, and I squeal in shock as his crown slides in so snug.
“You’re too big!” is my panted gasp. “I can’t do it!”
But the alpha male merely presses his lips to my mouth, swallowing my small cries and whimpers.
“Sweetheart, you can,” he urges in a low voice. “Relax. I know your pussy will stretch. Just breathe, and it’ll feel better, I promise.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as Carter waits within me, letting my swollen folds adapt. It’s hard because I feel like I have a soda can jammed between my legs, except it’s so much better because this is a man who needs me. This is a male who thinks I’m hotter than the sun, and whose dripping member has already let me know that he craves my body more than life itself.
“Unnnh,” is my slight moan. “Oh god.”
And with that, Carter begins easing forwards again. It’s not easy and I continue to writhe a bit, unable to help it as my pussy is stretched beyond what I thought was possible. But Mr. Jones coaxes and urges me, whispering in my ear even as his body pushes forwards, that huge shaft seeking its finish.
“Oh fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight and wet. Your twat’s soaked sweetheart, and so ripe for a man’s penetration. Shit.”
And with that, Carter moves forward once again, and suddenly, he’s in to the hilt. That giant rod is buried in me balls deep, my cunt leaking wetly as it drips down his sacs.
“You know how special this is?” he rasps in my ear. “I can’t get it all the way in even with the most experienced women. But you, sweetheart, you’re taking me like a professional. I’m proud of you, and goddamn, it feels so good.”
To emphasize his point, Carter kisses me again as he pumps his hardness into my soaking pussy. “You feel so good, baby. So tight.”
I moan ecstatically, hardly able to believe this is happening.
“You’re huge, Carter. You fill me up all the way.”
He rocks into me like this for a few minutes, and to my surprise, I feel myself getting close. At the beginning, it seemed impossible but this man makes me feel so good that I’m already trembling and on edge. But Mr. Jones can sense it, and he stops.
“Not yet, baby,” the man growls before flipping us over effortlessly. “I want you on top when I finish. We’re going to come together, sweetheart. Now ride that my hardness like a joystick, baby. Lift yourself up and down and make yourself feel good.”
The problem is that he has me stretched so wide that I’m not sure I can move at all.
“But I think I’m stuck,” is my panted gasp, boobies heaving as I balance my palms against his broad chest. “What do I do?”
Carter reaches his head up and suckles at once breast, while his hand snakes between our bodies and starts caressing my clit. Hot jolts of lightning rocket through my form, my pussy convulsing by itself as I cry out.
“Move,” he breathes against my nipple. “Raise yourself up and down.”
And slowly, I begin to lift. It’s hard. He’s stuck so tight in my cunt that at first, I’m not sure I can budge. But slowly, my pussy lips drag upwards, caressing every inch of that male pole inside.
“Yes,” he hisses, eyes a gleaming blue as he watches that giant horse cock emerge, glistening and veiny, from my straining folds. “Yes, just like that.”
As waves of pleasure surge over my frame, I begin moving up and down his pole in earnest. Every push in makes me moan, while every delicious drag outwards makes my cunt gush even more.
“Carter, Carter, Carter,” is my hopeless chant, eyes closed and chin tipped backwards. “Oh god.”
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasps, big balls drawing up close and tight. “Keep going
because I’m about to spew. FUCK!”
It happens then. Mr. Jones is having such a good time that unexpectedly, huge gusts of white blast into my tightly clamping channel.
“Oh!” is my simultaneous scream, my pink slit spasming hard in order to suck all his virility in. “Oh yes!”
Like that, we remain glued together as waves of pleasure roll over us for several heavenly minutes. Man juices squirt all over my insides, and it feels so good that my cunt clenches again and again, desperate for it all. It feels like we’ve been together forever, kissing and moaning as fireworks go off.
“That was amazing,” Carter rasps when we finally catch our breath. “Shit your slit is tight, baby. It feels like it was made for me and fits me like a glove.”
I lay my head on his shoulder, completely spent. “I know,” is my drowsy reply, already snuggling close to his chest, totally at ease. “And it feels good with your seed leaking out of it now.”
Carter merely chuckles and gently kisses the top of my head, his breathing steady. I trace the hard lines of his defined chest with a lazy finger. We were in such a hurry that I didn’t get the chance to admire his body, and it’s a damn good body without a shirt on. If there’s a next time, I want to explore every inch of this chest with my lips.
One last thought crosses my mind before I drift off. Caitlyn and Jessica might worry about me if I don’t come back to the room tonight, but I can’t imagine leaving this bed after what just happened. Besides, who knows if they’re even back in our cabin? Seeing how they were writhing and gyrating before I left the club, it’s totally possible that none of us will be sleeping in our assigned bunks tonight.
And you know what? I’m totally okay with it because this is what a cruise is for. It was supposed to get me good and relaxed after six months of non-stop work, and I’d say that with this man, the magic is incredible beyond my wildest dreams.
6
Carter
Abby’s hair is clinging to my shoulder when I open my eyes. Oh shit. I hadn’t intended for her to stay because I never let women stay after sex. But I also meant what I said to Abby last night, hokey as it is. For some reason, she’s different.
Her eyes are still closed, so I take a few minutes to study her sleeping form. Was I really between those thick thighs just a few hours ago? Damn, it was amazing and it’s clear what makes her different. Her beauty. Her innocence. The lushness hiding behind those big brown eyes.
Because this woman is gorgeous. The rays of light peeking in from the curtains fall over her body like an extra blanket, bathing her in a glowing light that makes her look like an angel.
Perfection.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes from the pile of clothes on the floor, making me start. What time is it? Have I been staring at this woman like a hungry madman since I woke up?
I’ve never done that before. Normally, women are gone by the time I wake up. The very rare times that they’re not, they make their exit when I get up to use the bathroom because I’m growly and dour like a grumpy bear. I definitely don’t admire their bodies in the light of the morning.
So this is different for sure. Especially when a new feeling rushes through me, practically taking my breath away as my heart beats hard. It takes me a second to identify it.
Happiness.
I’m happy that Abby is still here in bed with me. We barely know each other beyond our first names, but I feel grateful and amazed just watching Abby’s chest rise and fall with steady breaths. She’s incredible and I feel lucky to be with her.
The thought scares and exhilarates me. Shit. What’s happening? Usually, I’m counting down until the woman beside me leaves, and can’t wait to see the door slam after she’s gone. But with Abby, everything’s different. Ms. Porter has me begging for more, and I have no idea what’s going on. It’s unsettling, to be honest.
Carefully, I toss away the covers to find my phone and slip on a pair of boxers from my drawer. I bring up my friend Steve’s number and shoot him a text.
Shit.
He immediately texts back.
What’s the problem, man? Too many hot women? Oooh, I feel sorry for you.
Hardly, I text back. I just met a really sweet one, and she’s still here.
He sends me a frowny face. You having trouble kicking her out of your bedroom?
I pause for a moment. What do I say? Abby looks so peaceful and lush, slumbering in my sheets. Her pinkness peeks at me, and I can’t believe this curvy goddess is mine to enjoy.
No, I text back. I like having her here.
His reply is immediate. Then what’s the problem?
I guess there’s no problem, come to think of it. After all, this cruise is going to end, and then Ms. Abigail Porter will be out of my hair for good. Yet, the conflict I feel inside at that thought has me confused. What do I want? This slew of emotions is all so new, and I admit, I’m feeling pretty lost.
Suddenly, my phone dings again, but it’s not Steve. My secretary, Flora Havisham just sent me a text.
High stakes poker during island stop. Buy-in paid.
I curse under my breath. Damnit. I’d forgotten about the tournament. We have an exclusive casino on the island that hosts high-dollar, high-stakes tournaments. Obviously, there are reasons for the casino. For one, private islands aren’t hampered by any sorts of rules and regulations with respect to gambling and wagers. Countries get high handed and terrifyingly detail-oriented when you say you want to open a casino for guests to gamble away their money. But when you own a private island? Everything goes, and as a result, we invite our most elite customers to join. Hell, whenever I’m on the island, I throw down a hand or two. The ante is enormous, but what’s a couple million to a billionaire?
Secondly, our guests expect this sort of thing. Too many people have seen the James Bond movie Casino Royale, not to mention some of the old Roger Moore and Sean Connery flicks. They expect the opportunity to dress up in tuxes and to masquerade as a high roller, even if they’re only putting down ten thousand, tops. But it doesn’t matter. My cruise line seeks to provide a getaway from real life, and with these poker games, my company answers those longings to live a secret James Bond life.
I text Miss Havisham a thanks and check for other emails about work. There are a few updates on the new ship, some questions about executive decisions from the board members, and examples of new ads we’re going to run. It’s business as usual and terrifyingly familiar to me. After all, I started this shop from the ground up doing everything myself, so I like to have a hand in all of the different parts even now. Of course, I no longer look over every tiny decision like I did when I bought my first boat, but I still have a lot of say in what goes where. I care about this outfit more than anything in the world, and I want to know that I’m doing what I can to ensure its success.
Plus, it’s worked out well for me thus far. I’m not about to change the habit now.
Once I’m caught up on work, I use the bathroom and make a move to climb back into bed with Abby, but her open eyes startle me.
“Morning,” she says, her voice cloudy from just waking up. “You been up long?”
“No.” It’s not technically a lie. I’ve been up less than an hour, which isn’t long in the grand scheme of things.
“Good, good.”
An awkward silence settles over the room. No. It shouldn’t be awkward with Abby. If it is, she might leave.
“Are you hungry? I can order room service.”
She stretches. “Not right now. I’m going to use the bathroom.”
Her naked body slides from under the comforter and sways into the bathroom. I keep my eyes sealed on the door even after she disappears. To say I’m turned on would be the understatement of the century.
I try to get my blood pooling somewhere other than my crotch with a few deep breaths and naked grandma thoughts. It works until she walks out of the bathroom as nude and sexy as she was when she walked in.
Abby takes her crumpled dress from the floo
r and slips it over her head. It lands slightly askew but still hugs her curves exactly the way a dress should.
There’s no point in trying to hide my growing erection at this point.
“I should get going,” Abby says when she’s fixed her dress. Her nipples pebble beneath the fabric. She didn’t bother to put on her bra.
I close the distance between us and gently hold her arm. “Stay for breakfast, at least.”
She searches my eyes for something. I assume she finds it because she settles on the edge of the bed instead of walking out the door. I take the breakfast menu from the counter and hand it to her.
“Order whatever you want,” I say.
Abby studies the menu for a few minutes. “Pancakes and eggs sounds delicious. Weird, this isn’t the room service menu we have in our room.”
“Pancakes and eggs it is.”
I call the direct line to the kitchen and place our orders. “Ten minutes, max,” the person on the line assures me. Good. I don’t know how much longer I can keep Abby from leaving without it getting weird. I want her to stay, but I won’t force her to.
“Being the cruise line owner has its perks,” I tell Abby. “Like getting to order pretty much whatever I want from room service.”
“Must be nice,” she sighs. “You’re going to ruin me, though. Tomorrow, when I go to breakfast with my friends, I’ll be expecting the same high quality food we’re about to eat.”
“True. I’m a little biased, but the food at the buffets isn’t bad. I eat there more often than I eat in my room.”
Abby laughs. “Good to know.”
“So, what are your plans today?” I ask.
Her face lights up. “I’m so excited to see the private island. I grew up in South Florida, so I’m used to beaches and hot weather, but I’ve never actually been on an island before. I’ve never even ventured out to the Keys.”
“Seriously?”
She nods, looking embarrassed. “We didn’t take a ton of vacations when I was growing up. Then I went to school, and then I got a job as an accountant. I guess I just ran out of time.”