"Oh, my God, Maxim, that feels so good," she mumbles, as I pull her hair back and shove myself all the way inside her.
I push my cock in and then pull it out, over and over as she moans and groans. I lift up her dress and pull her panties partway to the side. I can see the vibrator fucking her pussy as she chokes on my cock.
"I'm coming," she says, humming onto my dick.
I want to come in her mouth and watch her swallow my load. But I can't take it anymore— I need to be inside her.
I pull her up and turn her around. Then I take my tie off and bind her wrists to the branch of the tree.
"You're still my slutty little girl whose virginity I bought," I tell her, as I pull her dress all the way up now. "I own you and I can do what I want with you, can't I?"
"Yes, Maxim," she nearly whimpers.
I slide her thong to the side and reach a finger into her pussy, alongside the vibrator. I can feel that she's soaking wet.
"You enjoyed the way that vibrator fucked you, didn't you?" I ask her, slapping her ass one, two, three times, harder and faster each time. “Even though it’s just a little egg- shaped wonder, not nearly as hard or strong or long or big as my cock, you love when I push it up inside you and make it fuck you?”
"Ouch," she cries out, but then— remembering where we are— she lowers her voice.
"Yes, Maxim," she answers, causing me to have to give her another spanking. “I love when you fuck me with the vibrator.”
"As much as you like when I fuck you?" I ask her.
"No, baby," she says.
I like that answer.
I spread her beautiful, curvy ass cheeks wide open and take some of the juices from her pussy and from the dildo half hanging out of it and rub it all over her ass hole.
Then I ask her, "Is my little girl ready for my cock in her ass?"
"Yes, sir," she says, grunting as I push my cock into her ass hole.
This is not the first time I've fucked her ass. I've taken her anal virginity just like I took her virginity that night in The Exchange. But I still love to do it. Especially in unexpected places and at unexpected times like this.
I increase the speed on the vibrator until it's working her pussy hard while I fuck her ass just as hard.
"Oh, my God," she cries out. I can tell she's as close to coming as I am, as I thrust in and out of her ass hole. "Sir, that feels so good."
Holy fuck.
This is mind blowing.
It's always mind blowing when I'm with Celeste but this, right now, as I'm on the cusp of coming, is so mind blowing I can barely stand it.
"Good, because when we're done with the wedding I'm going to take you to our hotel room and fuck your pussy so you can make me into a father."
I can't believe what I just said, but I blow my wad into her ass hole as I say it, and she was already squirming as she started to come on the vibrator. So we both come together and end up a panting, sweating mess.
I untie her. Then I try to pull myself together emotionally as well as physically: zipping up my pants and combing through my hair with my fingers. Putting my tie back on while she straightens out her dress.
All the while, I'm thinking: I have gone and done it again. I've blurted something out in the middle of having sex with her. Just like when I first said I loved her.
As we walk back to the reception, she hooks her fingers through mine.
"So, this talk about babies…?" she says, with a slight laugh.
I look at her and feel more love than I ever thought I could feel for anyone.
This is it. It's time.
"Yeah, about that…" I start to say, and then laugh as well.
We both laugh whole-heartedly, just staring at each other and chuckling.
"I wasn't exactly planning to do it this way," I begin again.
Now Celeste cocks her head at me and considers my words seriously.
"But I'm obviously not good at holding things back from you while I'm inside you," I continue.
She smiles. There's pride in her smile and I realize she considers this fact to be a strength of mine instead of a weakness. And that's just one of the reasons I love her.
"You know what I had in this pocket," I tell her, reaching for the remote control to the vibrator and holding it out to show her.
She nods, and chuckles a little bit once more.
"But you didn't know that I have something a little more romantic— or at least, romantic in a more traditional way— in my other pocket."
She looks at me with her eyebrows half raised, as if reminding me of something.
Oh yeah.
There's a certain way I was planning to do this, and it wasn't by showing her the remote control to a vibrator.
Now it's my turn to be on my knees for her.
"Maxim? Really?" she gasps, a smile spreading across her face before I can even get the words out.
"Really," I say, taking her hands in one of my own and then reaching into my pocket with my other hand.
I find the little blue box and then I hold it up to her.
"Celeste Sheffield, you have made me into the man I am now. The man I never even knew I wanted to be, but am so glad to have become. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
"Yes," she says, throwing her arms around me. "Yes, yes, yes."
I pick her up and walk back towards the reception.
"Wait a minute," she says, kissing me on my cheek from her position perched up in my arms. "We can't let anyone know until after Rachel's reception is over. I don't want to take the spotlight off of her on her big day."
"Of course not," I tell her, setting her down on the grass. "But after that I'm going to tell the whole world you're about to become my wife. You still have to be my slutty little virgin forever, though, especially when I have you tied up."
"Definitely, for sure,” she says.
As we approach the reception hall, the music is still blaring and everyone is still dancing.
"I guess we didn't miss much," I tell her.
"Yeah, I was afraid of missing the bouquet toss," she laughs.
"Guess you won't have to worry about that now," I say.
And as we get ready to go in, I take her hand and hold it tight within mine.
"Oh yeah," I tell her, with a grin. "Just in case I wasn't clear earlier, I want to make a baby with you too."
"Awww, you weren't just saying that because you were about to come in me?" she asks, looking up at me with a naughty smile on her face, just like I like it.
"No, not just because of that," I tell her. "I know I'm good at blurting things out during intimate times but I want to make you sure you know that I love you."
"That's good," she says, smiling more sincerely this time. "Because I want to make a baby too. Let's hurry up and get married so we can do the cheesy chicken dance like these people."
We laugh as everyone at the reception flaps their arms and moves their body like barn animals, as if that's somehow related to two people getting married. I never did understand why anyone does the chicken dance at a wedding.
"Let's skip this circus and see if there's still any cake left," I suggest.
"Good idea. And Maxim?" she asks.
"Yes, Celeste?"
"I love you too. I'm glad you bought me that night."
"And now I own you," I remind her. "Forever."
"Yes, you certainly do."
Thank you for reading. Bonus books follow for your continued reading enjoyment, including more books in the Sold series.
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Celeste is a virgin and Maxim is going to change that. But first he's going to tease her- in public- until she just can't take it any more. Will he make her want him so badly that she'll let him take what he wants- her innocence- where he wants it- outside, in broad daylight? Find out in Juliana Conners’ Tease Me.
Sold on St. Patrick’s D
ay: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Dublin, Ireland – Early March
Chapter 1 – Jade
“Blaaaaaaaaarf!”
I hear the strange noise before I see the obviously intoxicated man who is making it. I gasp and jump out of his way as he’s lurching in my direction. His hair is sticking up like a mad scientist. His eyes are bloodshot red. He smells like a distillery.
His shoulders bump into mine but I manage to move out of his way. Doing so is a major feat that requires a combination step/turn like something out of the ballet classes I haven’t taken since I was young. But I pull it off just in time for him to vomit on the ground instead of all over my clothes.
He falls down and no one bothers to help him up. It looks like he could use a nap so after making sure that he’s still alive— although clearly in a drunken stupor— I continue heading the way I was going before he so rudely interrupted.
“You guys!” I complain to Tessa and Monique, but they’re too far ahead of me to hear me call out to them.
I shake my head, still a bit discombobulated. The last thing I expected to happen in a movie theater— even an outdoor one— was for a stranger to nearly knock me over and almost throw up on me. But I should have known to be prepared.
When people say the Irish like to drink, they’re not exaggerating. In fact, that might be a little bit of an understatement.
“This is why I didn’t even want to come out tonight,” I mumble, as I mostly catch up with my friends.
But they’re too drunk themselves— and too busy hurrying to join the line at the bar to order more alcohol— to pay any attention to me. At this point I’m just talking to myself, which is probably for the best.
I wish my friends would have witnessed my expert maneuvering out of the path of the drunken stranger and his barf so that I could have bragging rights forever. But I’m glad they didn’t hear me complain. I don’t want to be a spoilsport and ruin their fun even though this isn’t my kind of scene.
I didn’t come to Dublin to partake in the famed pastime of drinking oneself silly, but instead to study Irish literature. I’ve spent the last three months reading Joyce, Yeats and Heaney and exploring museums.
But this is my last night here on my foreign exchange scholarship and tomorrow I must head back to Boston. So I let my friends take me out with them for once.
They’re girls I met in my class back at Boston University. When we found out we’d all be studying together in Dublin, we formed an instant friendship, even though we are completely different people.
We’re all obviously bookworms— being literature majors— but I’m the nerdy one while Tessa is the strong, take charge one and Monique is the fun party girl. We became flat mates and I enjoy their company but I don’t enjoy going out.
I thought that agreeing to go an open air cinema for a showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off would be a fairly tame— yet cold— event. I was right about it being cold, but not about much else.
The projector and comfortable, plush sofas are set up in the middle of Meeting House Square, which sounds like a place where fancy events are held— and often is. It looks almost like the courtyard of a Roman building, with columns all around and tent-like fabric that fails to shield us from the cruel March weather.
Everyone is wearing sweatshirts and huddled up next to their friends or lovers for protection from the elements. Except, of course, for the people too drunk to notice the temperature— including Tessa and Monique, who didn’t even bother to wear jackets.
“Why bother getting dressed up to go out if we’re just going to cover ourselves up with coats?” they had protested when I’d suggested it before we left.
“Good point,” I had answered.
I was talking about a different part of their point than they were. The part where it made no sense to get dressed up in skimpy clothes to go outside in cold weather. And perhaps I would extend that part to make a further point that it didn’t make sense to go out at all. Renting a movie and making popcorn is more my idea of a fun night.
But I would prefer to go to a movie over a bar so I was glad they had chosen to come here. I didn’t know, however, that on occasions such as tonight Meeting House Square was transformed into both an outdoor movie venue and a bar.
Nor that my friends planned to go bar-hopping all around Dublin’s Temple Bar Square area— which offers plenty of options for that goal— as soon as the movie ends. They have since filled me in on such plans.
I join Tessa and Monique in line but by the time we reach the front of it the movie is almost over.
“Three shots of whiskey with Coke backs,” Tessa tells the bartender, and my mouth drops open.
“Tessa, this is my first drink of the night,” I protest. “Can’t we start off with one of those girly martinis you made me last week while we were watching Shameless at the flat?”
“No way,” she says. “It took you forever to drink that and we need to hop on over to a bar.”
She pushes the shot glass in my direction.
“Hurry up and down this before Ferris’ parents come home and find him sound asleep in his bed,” she commands.
“Hey, no spoilers,” Monique says.
“Oh come on,” Tessa says. “Like we haven’t all seen this movie a thousand times.”
I roll my eyes, but I down the drink and then quickly chug the soda to chase down the bitter taste that burns my throat. I had planned to have fun tonight and so far I haven’t so I guess I should loosen up and this drink should help.
I deserve to have a fun last night in Ireland, I think, as I finish off the soda. And I also deserve to celebrate my escape from nearly being puked on.
I don’t know why I have to be so antisocial all the time. All night I’ve been wishing I could curl up on one of the comfy-looking sofas and read a book on my Kindle.
I didn’t dare speak that thought to my friends, however, and I know that they would rightfully make fun of me for having them. It’s supposed to be Girls’ Night Out. It’s supposed to be fun.
“Come on,” Tessa says, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction of the street. “Movie’s over. Time to party.”
The credits are still rolling and we didn’t get to the part where Ferris emerges from his room and tells everyone to go home. But clearly there are more pressing matters at hand. Like partying. And whatever else the night has in store.
Chapter 2 – Jade
“Where to?” Monique asks, as we walk away from the open air cinema. “I’m down to do whatever tonight.”
“We have got to take her to Temple Bar, of course,” Tessa says. “After all, what would Temple Bar Square be without Temple Bar?”
“Just another random square,” Monique answers, and laughs.
“Or maybe a circle?” Tessa proposes.
They crack up and I laugh some too but they think it’s a lot funnier than I do because they’re a lot more wasted.
“You guys have been here before?” I ask, looking around to try to figure out exactly where we are.
There’s a party atmosphere that feels vibrant and busy. I’m glad it doesn’t seem like a sketchy place but it also doesn’t feel super safe.
Not being much of a partier— or any sort of partier at all— I’m not familiar with this area of Dublin. I want to make sure I know where we are. I have a feeling I’ll be leaving a lot earlier than these two party animals will be.
“Of course,” Monique says. “We come here all the time.”
“They have live music,” Tessa says. “And great food.”
“That’s good,” I nod. “I am getting hungry.”
“If I eat anything I’ll burst out of my dress,” Monique says. “I need to save my calories for more alcohol.”
“But Jade’s calorie meter is nearly on empty,” Tessa says, “Because she has barely had anything to drink all night.”
We enter the pub and I fin
d that they were right: the band is great and the fish and chips are even better. I even order a pint of Guinness and a glass of Bailey’s to go with it because the waiter tells me that no Irish meal is complete without it.
We hit the dance floor and have a fun time trying to dance to the unfamiliar Irish music. After a couple more drinks I feel a bit woozy and I remember why I don’t like alcohol. I hate feeling out of control.
Monique and Tessa start flirting with some guys they keep calling “Irish lads.” But I hang back, always feeling shy and unsure of myself around men or anyone other than friends and family members with whom I feel comfortable.
When they start locking lips, I decide it’s the perfect time to take a break. I’m a sweaty mess from dancing and I am starting to get tired. I think about calling it a night but I decide to go sit down for a little while instead.
“I’m going to head to the little lassies’ room,” I tell Monique and Tessa, but they’re too busy making out on the dancefloor to pay me any attention— and once again I’m glad.
I go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. I sit down on a bar stool near the exit, trying to decide what to do. My fingers instinctively reach into my purse where I keep my Kindle. I’m in the middle of a great book— William Trevor’s Love and Summer— and suddenly it seems a lot more appealing to me than making out with random strangers like my friends are doing.
I start to pull the Kindle out from my purse, wondering what kind of comments people might make about how lame I am, but just then Tessa comes up and grabs my arm. I nearly drop the Kindle but instead it falls back into my purse.
“Come on,” she says. “Gotta get out of here.”
I’m only too happy to oblige.
We run back into the square, Monique and Tessa laughing loudly and drunkenly.
“What’s so funny?” I ask. “Why did we leave?”
“Oh come on, like you care,” Monique practically snorts. “I saw you itching to read your Kindle in a bar.”
She erupts into another cackle of laughter.
Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day Page 42