Size King

by S. C. Adams

  “I would love to,” she says.

  16

  Kate

  Things heat up, becoming more intense by the second. We don’t even kiss each other’s lips until many minutes of wrestling and horseplay in the back of his limo. We’re like two horny teenagers lost in the bewilderment that comes with raw sexual awakening.

  Once we get stuck in traffic, we decide to kiss each other’s eager lips. His tongue lightly spreads my lips apart to try and find my tongue. We hadn’t French-kissed that much up to that point, and immediately, I ask what the hell is wrong with us. That skilled tongue that he used to eat my cunt is also quite skilled with dancing. Our tongues perform maneuvers that I’ve never performed with another. It is so good that I almost want to strip off his suit and have him fuck me right there on the limo floor.

  Somehow, we manage to keep our clothes on for the entire ride back to his house. The heat from our hot passion doesn’t go unnoticed however, for the windows were all fogged and our hair is a mess. The desire is undeniable, and the spark we’ve begun with weeks ago is quickly developing into a roaring bonfire.

  “We really can’t stay away from each other or keep our hands to ourselves, can we?” I moan. “You weren’t lying. We’re hopeless around each other. I can’t resist you. I’m addicted to you, Aiden.”

  “I’m addicted to you too, Kate.”

  I have so many questions, so many lingering things I want to address before I ever give myself to him again.

  In the heat of the moment, I put aside the issue of him telling the world we are engaged without my proper consent beforehand. Even as it reenters my mind, I decide to hold off on discussing it for a while longer. I crave him too much.

  “I want you so badly,” I tell him.

  “Come to bed with me, darling,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

  He gets out of the limo first and stands outside his door, holding it open for me to follow him. I hurry out of the car, ready to cross into even further horizons with this glorious specimen of a man.

  He takes me to his bedroom in his glorious house without any further words or discussion about the insane world we find ourselves living in. We only concentrate on what our bodies can do for each other for the remainder of the day.

  He easily removes my clothes, tenderly massaging every newly exposed part of my body he finds. He claims my breasts, keeping a firm grasp on one as he rubs his thick, juicy cock on my face. The only thing I keep on is the engagement ring.

  “Have you ever tried anal, baby?” Aiden asks.

  I’ve suspected that Aiden might be into ass play. I’m surprised that he is initiating that dialogue so soon after knowing me. Truthfully, I have asked what it would feel like to be fucked in the ass before. I’ve been fantasizing about it actively since I had sex with Aiden the first time.

  I shake my head bashfully. “I’m afraid it’ll hurt too much.”

  “Would you mind if we tried? If it hurts too badly, we can stop.”

  “Okay, boy. If you want to fuck my ass, do it right and do it good.”

  And, right and well he does me. He brings out a bottle of lube to coat his shaft and trickles it along my tight, virgin asshole to help me take his impressive size. I worry that just the feeling of his tip attempting to puncture me will be enough to send me into frantic agony.

  Fortunately for us both, agony isn’t what I feel when he takes my anal virginity from me.

  I’m bent over his bed with my ass in the air, lubricant dripping down my legs, and so wet for him. He slowly, carefully, and gently pushes his enormous fucking cock up into my waiting hole, easily and with enough force to render me speechless.

  For nearly a minute, my mouth simply hangs open agape, unable to even emit a shriek or even a moan. The slow and arduous climb his dick takes while climbing farther into my ass is the most amazing and intense feeling I’ve ever experienced.

  I finally scream, emitting bursts of pleasure in between the bursts of pain. Once I know I’ve accommodated all of him, I bravely begin to back my ass up into him.

  He fucks me hard, dominating my ass like a warrior claiming his prize. He smacks my cheeks and caresses them while he plows into me, grunting and laughing while he tears into me.

  The intensity and sensation is so fierce that I never even know when I actually come, but him fucking my ass is enough to make me come multiple times in one sitting. I never even have to move from my spot.

  The orgasms become even more intense once he starts to play with my clit as he fucks my asshole. I’m having multiple ones back to back whenever he plays with my clit just right. I want to reach back and kiss him, but his fingers are busy going in and out of my mouth while he owns my ass.

  He empties his balls into my ass many times that night. We come together so many times, all while his dick expands my ass perfectly to fit him from now on.

  Late that night or early the next morning, after we’ve exhausted ourselves from all the vigorous sex we had together, I decide to get him while we were both vulnerable. We are still naked, both covered in fluids and cuddling.

  “So, how come you didn’t run the whole ‘me being your fiancée’ thing by me before you decided to tell the whole world?” I ask.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” Aiden says. “I just didn’t think the other story we were giving them would be enough, you know? I was trying to read the crowd, and in the moment I panicked, and I decided to go to extremes. I knew that was going to work, so I went for it, hoping that you were going to play along.”

  “Aiden, I’ve told you many times, I’m on your team,” I say. “I don’t mind being your ‘fake fiancée.’ I just wish you’d have run it by me first.”

  “I promise I’ll do that next time,” he says.

  “Why didn’t you ask? Were you afraid I’d say no?”

  “Yes.”

  We both laugh. He holds me closer to him, hugging me to his firm chest. I run my damp hands across his wet abs, enjoying his muscles.

  “I can’t believe you just said we were engaged like that,” I say in disbelief. “I can’t believe that even entered your mind! Since when does a guy ever think about getting married?”

  “Not often,” he confirms. “But it happens.”

  “Did you tell your grandparents you were going to propose?” I ask.

  “Well, it’s a fake proposal, right? I guess I just didn’t feel like trying to explain the insanity to them; they wouldn’t have understood or approved. They’re pretty bad with technology, too. I almost imagine that maybe they haven’t even heard about me being engaged yet.”

  “Aww, well my parents and friends are all having collective heart attacks. They can’t believe that I’m engaged and that it’s to you.”

  “Did you tell any of them the truth behind the façade?” he asks.

  “I did not,” she says proudly. “I’m a professional. This is, you know, for our job security and everything. I can’t tell my parents we’re faking it and just hope they won’t tell someone else. My mom talks to her sisters a lot.”

  “Are your parents happy for you?” he asks.

  “I think so,” I tell him. “It’s kind of hard to tell. I’m happy with being engaged to you, though. I’ll keep up the charade for as long as you think is best. We may end up eternally engaged.”

  “Nah, if we’re not married by next year, I’ll dump your fine ass,” he says playfully. “When should the wedding date be?”

  “I think we should decide on fake weddings a little later,” I say. “Let’s enjoy being newly taken off the market.”

  “Good, although I could write poems about your fine ass, you know,” he says blissfully.

  I can’t keep it on the backburner any longer. “So…”

  “So?” he says.

  “What’s the story with the ring?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “Well, it’s meant for someone else, no?”

  He is unable to hide the truth from me. There is pai
n on his face, and he clearly isn’t comfortable discussing it.

  “Aiden, have you ever been in love before?” I ask while I play with the ring.

  “I’ve never been in love before,” he says in a monotone voice. “And there is no story with that ring. It’s yours now.”

  “I doubt that you’ve never been in love,” I press. “I think you had this ring for a while. You didn’t just go out and buy this. I’ve been with you the whole time. You were ready to say something entirely different just minutes before; unless you were lying, and you’ve had this planned all along.”

  “I swear to you, I didn’t have this planned from the beginning,” says Aiden. “I only thought about it right before it was time to talk to the press.”

  “So, you did go out and buy this?” I ask in confusion.

  “I did buy that ring,” he says cryptically.

  “Right, for someone else,” I surmise. “I’m just curious!”

  “Maybe I just had the ring on standby for emergencies,” he says.

  “I don’t like talking about my exes, so I’m not asking you to talk about yours,” I say. “It’s just, it’s an engagement ring.”

  “So, if you don’t want me talking about my exes, why are you prying?” he snaps.

  “Hey, I just want to know the story behind this thing I’m going to wear around my finger for the next however many fucking months!” I retort in aggravation.

  We both grow quiet. We are still holding each other, but there is now a heat growing between us that makes us both uncomfortable.

  “Let me ask you something,” I say. “How do you feel about me?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks while obviously trying to figure out how best to answer me.

  “It’s an easy question, Mr. Billionaire,” I say. “How do you feel about me? Just be honest. I’m already your fiancée. You don’t have to worry about losing me.”

  “I thought we were just enjoying ourselves while we battled through the storm,” he says.

  “Well, we are enjoying ourselves, but that’s not what I’m asking.”

  “You want a label on top of another label?” he asks dickishly.

  “What?” I ask, finally sliding out of his clutches to sit up in bed. “I just want to know how you feel about me. That’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all,” he says angrily. “You have an answer you want to hear.”

  “I am asking you this because I want to know,” I say as clearly as possible. “I don’t know how you feel about us! We’re engaged now, kinda! I want to know what you think and feel.”

  “Honey,” he says condescendingly. “Let’s just have fun and not overthink things, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not cool with that.”

  I get out of bed, annoyed and bothered. I start getting dressed, struggling to get my clothes on with all the sticky residue that covers my body.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

  “This stopped being just fun when you decided we were engaged,” I say. “Your attitude is awfully unattractive right now, especially considering what I’m going along with. I don’t know where this is coming from.”

  “Where I’m coming from?” He laughs. “Why are you asking me all these questions? You know how I feel about you. I tell you about it every day!”

  “I know that you like having sex with me,” I say while I put my shoes on. “I want to know how you feel about me. You said up at that podium that you were falling for me. Is there, you know, any truth to that?”

  “Babe,” he says like a tool. “Come on. I don’t get what you’re even asking.”

  He gets what I’m asking, but he’s choosing to play it off like a typical guy.

  “As long as you want to evade real talk with me about our feelings, maybe it’d be best if I went back to my place,” I say as I pick up my purse.

  “Darling, come on,” says Aiden. “Kate, please.”

  “I’ll see you at work.”

  And with that, I leave Aiden’s house and get an Uber home. How I manage to avoid the wandering eyes of the nearby paparazzi outside, I don’t know.

  17

  Aiden

  After Kate leaves my house late that night, I don’t see her for three days. I haven’t spoken to her in three days, either. All of her business with Tech Wreck is handled through my Chief Operations Manager, and there is no critical situation for her to tend to.

  By Friday, it seems as though most of the media has come around. Many still wonder aloud about whether our engagement is truly genuine and legit, but since no one can know for sure, many decide to give us some space. My publicist is able to get every major news and Internet site to stop playing the sex tape of Kate and me, and people are no longer attacking me for having sex, since now it’s with my fiancée.

  I try calling my fiancée many times after our spat. I want to get her talking with me so desperately. I’m texting and leaving so many voicemails that she must think I’m an obsessed crazy person. I attempt to get a hold of her every day since we parted, but she always refuses to answer.

  I start misbehaving and imply via text that there are work-related matters she has to tend to. However, once it’s proven (and it always is) that I’m just trying to talk to her about us, she freezes up and stops responding to me. She remains rigid and I remain stubborn.

  With the weekend only a day away, I know that I have to act quickly if I want any chance of seeing Kate. I can’t go the whole weekend having her be angry with me.

  I leave her a voicemail, asking her to meet me for lunch so that I can discuss work I want to get done next week. I want to discuss next week with her, but to discuss work will entail discussing our new arrangement.

  I tell her I fear that if we stay apart for too long, the calm media might turn on us. She assures me that we are okay as far as the media is concerned. I choose to believe that assertion, despite not presenting much evidence to back that up. I want to believe we are okay, but I’m afraid of jinxing it.

  She doesn’t get back to me, so I’m not sure if she’s going to show up. She is ghosting me so harshly lately that I expect her not to come. I’m hopeful but expect nothing.

  I’m taken aback but remarkably relieved and excited when I see the familiar face I’ve been longing for. Kate comes in, heading toward my office in a button-up shirt and short khaki skirt. She is smiling and greeting people as she makes her way, but I worry that smile won’t last for long once she is with me behind my closed door.

  I stay sitting behind my desk, intending to appear as uneager as I can. She knocks on my door and enters.

  “Hi,” says Kate.

  “Hey,…” I say. “Come on in. Close the door.”

  She does as she is told. She only takes a few steps forward, not taking a seat. I’m tempted to offer her a seat anyway, but I know she’ll say no.

  “What did you want to meet up for?” she asks. “I thought you said you wanted lunch.”

  “I didn’t know what you wanted,” I say matter-of-factly. “I hired a chef for the day. He’s downstairs and will prepare anything I ask for. He’s one of the best in New York. He’ll treat us like royalty and we won’t even have to leave the office.”

  “Aiden, no offense, but I can’t stay here for too long,” she says defensively. “I’ll eat, and we can discuss things. What did you have in mind for next week?”

  “Nothing,” I admit. “That’s where you come in.”

  “I’m under the impression that you had ideas you wanted to discuss,” says Kate.

  I don’t blame her at all for having her guard up with me. I don’t think I deserve to be ignored, but it is clear that I’ve hurt her, and I feel bad about it. She is definitely all business, and there isn’t anything I can do about it during this one lunchtime.

  “Kate, I’m sorry,” I begin. “I was hoping you had something to tell me. You’re my image consultant, and I haven’t been hearing much.”

  “If there is something you need to know, I
would tell you, Aiden,” she says. “You should feel good. The news is barely reporting on you, me—barely even Sarah.”

  “Then, let’s talk about you and me over lunch,” I try.

  “So, this really isn’t about work after all?” Kate laughs in annoyance. “I knew it, and yet I came anyway.”

  “We need to work through our differences here, Kate,” I practically beg.

  “I don’t need to hear anything,” she says with her hand up. “I accepted what this is. It is my fault for adding anything else to what this is. I don’t know why I’ve been convincing myself that something deeper is growing beneath the surface.”

  “Kate—”

  “I’m a fun fling, and I’m a great way to spend your time,” she says. “I enjoy spending time with you, too, and I’m not entirely opposed to us hooking up in the future, but for now, I just need a little distance, okay?”

  “What? You don’t think you’re just… another PR girl I had sex with?”

  “That is what I think,” she says with tears forming in her eyes. “I’m the newest, latest PR slut you got, and this is the game you’ve made with me. You and Sarah? I don’t know what your game is, but you and I? This is a mind game.”

  “No, I swear to you it isn’t Kate,” I say, standing up from my desk. “Please—”

  “I accepted it, it’s okay,” she says, giving me no chance to complete a sentence. “I’m a professional. I think I’ve more than proven that by now. I will keep doing my job. Really, now that the controversies have cooled down, there’s no need for me to be here every day like there was before, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “You’re my fiancée.”

  “I’m your fake fiancée,” she argues. “I became your fiancée without even being proposed to. We’re both busy people in New York; we don’t need to see each other every day of the week.”

  “I want to see you—”

  “I’ll keep doing my job well, and you just keep your dick in your pants,” Kate again interrupts. “I feel like a real idiot now, so I’m just going to be on my way.”