Sexy Just Got Rich: Brit Babes Do Billionaires

by Lexie Bay, Victoria Blisse, Natalie Dae, Harlem Dae, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee, Tabitha Rayne

“I got you something.” She pushed up from the chair, her knees a little weak and her stomach doing somersaults. It was always that way when she saw him for the first time on a Friday, but this, the underwear, his birthday…

  She turned to face him, holding her belly in and puffing up her chest. He adored her curves and full round breasts, he’d told her often enough. “I’m afraid it won’t take much unwrapping.” She smiled and tried to look more confident than she felt.

  He surveyed her and the right side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “What if I’d brought clients back?”

  “You never have before.” She placed her hand on her waist and cocked her hips.

  He shot out his tongue and swiped it over his bottom lip. He was trying to look cool, unmoved by her standing there like that, but Marie knew if she cupped his groin his cock would be hard and straining at his suit pants.

  He took a step back and took off his suit jacket, revealing a pristine white shirt. After tossing the jacket to one side, he undid the cuffs on the shirt. Very slowly, agonisingly slowly, he rolled them up, each one receiving three precise turns.

  Marie stared at his strong forearms and wide, hair-coated wrists. She studied the way his slim navy tie moved just a little with his actions.

  He pointed at the sofa. “Over there. Now.”

  A tremble attacked Marie’s spine. She knew that tone. It was the no-messing, no-preamble, I-mean-business tone. She set down her shoulders and walked past him, being careful how she stepped in her high heels.

  He breathed deep, as though inhaling her scent, her perfume, her arousal.

  She hid a smile as she placed her hands on the soft sofa and tipped to a ninety-degree angle. He didn’t need to instruct her on that. She knew he wanted it this way. Bent over the back of a chair had been the way he’d fucked her that first time. He hadn’t said much then either, it had been all about the physical. And just like now, he’d carefully rolled up his sleeves; three rolls, each side.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. Anticipation and desire shot around her body. Had he been thinking of her all day? Planning this? She’d made it easy for him this week; usually he had to undress her.

  A sudden sharp tightening over her pussy lips drew a gasp from Marie. She jerked upwards onto her toes trying to get away from the acute discomfort but also not.

  Taylor had bunched up her new panties and pulled them, thong-like, over her clit and delicate folds and into her ass crack. The pressure on her clit was sublime, the sharpness on vulnerable flesh a delightful contrast. She wanted to sink onto it as much as she had the need to squirm away.

  He palmed her right buttock then squeezed and massaged. Not gently but not rough either, just thoroughly.

  Marie arched her back. She loved his adoring yet functional touch. Because although it was calm, she could sense his lust for her. It almost vibrated from him.

  He switched to the other buttock, jerked the panties some more and palmed her ample flesh. He slipped his hand over her skin and nipped and pinched, leaving no section untouched.

  Each sliding contact and sharp tweak shot a delicious spark of need deep into her pussy. “Ah, fuck, Taylor…” she said, staring at the coffee table, which held a large bunch of lilies. “Oh yeah. More.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” he said gruffly.

  She was about to retort that his patience seemed pretty lean but held her tongue. It didn’t do her any favours to backchat him when he was fully clothed and she was nearly naked. That might end in a game of orgasm denial, her least favourite pastime if she had to choose one with him.

  A hard smack landed on her left buttock.

  She hissed through her teeth and let the wondrous sting bloom. That was just the tip of the iceberg, but it whet her appetite and started the craving.

  “Spread.” He pushed at her inner thighs, urging them apart with his knuckles.

  She did as she was asked and was rewarded with another biting slap. As the heat spread she pushed back, wanting him, needing him.

  She didn’t have to wait long. His cock was at her entrance, butting against the panties.

  She groaned and shut her eyes, willed him to yank the material aside and forge in. She was so desperate, her pussy so wet and ready.

  The tension left the panties as he shoved them out of the way.

  He lined up his cock at her pussy and thrust in—balls deep on the first penetration.

  Marie shouted out—it was incoherent. He’d filled her so fully, so perfectly. She stared at the stamen on a lily, her blurred focus on the stalk with its powdery orange tip. Taylor’s cock stretched her widthways and lengthways, and the stitch of pain mixed with pleasure was heavenly. His cockhead butted her cervix and generated a powerful and deep tension in her womb. They fitted so well, she’d never experienced anything like it.

  “Taylor,” she gasped.

  He gripped her hips. His fingertips would likely leave beautiful bruises. She was already looking forward to seeing them.

  She clung onto the sofa and prepared for a wild ride.

  He pulled out, steamed back in.

  She grunted as the air was knocked from her then groaned as her G-spot received a wonderful, solid thickness against it.

  Again he withdrew, stormed back in.

  Marie bent her knees a little and her clit caught on the material of the sofa. “Oh yeah…”

  Taylor slid back so just his cockhead was seated, then, after a heartbeat pause, buried deep again, his pubic hair scratching her ass.

  Marie whimpered as her clit caught on the hard fabric. Every section of her pussy was being stimulated. She wanted to come. It wasn’t far off.

  A harsh grip in her hair tore her attention from the lilies.

  “Come,” he demanded, pulling more and making the nerves in her scalp scream with delight. “You may come for your Master.”

  Marie screwed up her eyes. Her neck and back were harshly arched. He had tight hold of her hip. He owned her. Every piece of her. She was tense, primed like a bowstring, yet she relaxed into his hold and allowed him to push on and on into her. The size of the building orgasm was scary in its intensity but it was okay. He had her. He’d hold her together.

  Fuck, I love him.

  “Ah, ah, Taylor… I’m coming…” she cried; red, black and gold flashing over her shut eyelids. “I’m coming.”

  He pinned her to the sofa and jerked into her in rapid thrusts. It was animal-like, primitive, it was all so desperately wonderful.

  Marie gave into climax, allowing it to consume her and topple her into bliss. She held her breath, clamped her pussy around the cock in her cunt and gave in to the outpouring of release from her clit. Damn, it felt so good. It always did.

  She bucked onto him, dragged in a breath. Flung herself forwards and back within his grip.

  “Yeah, yeah, fuck…” He groaned. “Fuck like that. Fight me.”

  She was aware of him releasing his load. Spurting his pleasure into a condom. His cock twitched and jerked against her sensitive, still-spasming pussy. She adored this moment. Taylor always seemed so in control but gave it up for a few seconds, a few, perfect, sacred seconds that she felt privileged to witness.

  He relaxed the tension on her hair.

  Marie let her head fall as far forward as he allowed. Exhaustion washed over her. A day thinking about orgasming, wanting to come but abstaining, meant that she was wrung out now that it had finally happened.

  “Good girl,” he said, slipping his cock from her and releasing her hip. He kept a hold of her hair. “Now stay like that and don’t move until I come back.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured, licking her dry lips. She missed him inside her and hoped he wouldn’t be long.

  He stroked his hand over her head, down her back and put her new panties back into position. His body heat left her and his footsteps told her he’d walked away.

  Her scalp still tingled. Her back ached in a sensual hum and her pussy gave a final pulse.

  A few
moments later the shower came on, at first a constant stream of water then the sound interrupted by his body.

  Marie waited in her ass-up position. She didn’t move, didn’t want to move. Gradually, her heart rate returned to normal, as did her breathing. But she kept her eyes closed, inhaled the faint scent of shower gel mixed with steam and enjoyed knowing that soon he’d be back. He wouldn’t leave her wet and wanting. They’d only just started. Barely taken the edge off their needs.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d dozed off or gone into a bit of a trance, but suddenly Taylor was in front of her.

  He stroked her cheek and rubbed his fingers over her jawline.

  “Marie, little one, come back to me.”

  Her mind was foggy, as if she’d dropped into a rainbow mist. “Mmm, yes, Sir.” She opened her eyes. He was sitting on the sofa, twisted so his face was level with hers. He had a concerned expression on his face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She pulled in a breath, her breasts squashing against the cushions, and blinked several times.

  “Sure?” He frowned.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” She smiled and studied the flecks of navy in his pale blue eyes and the way his lashes still held moisture from the shower, making them extra dark. He hadn’t shaved and still had that adorable shadow of stubble she loved.

  “Good.” He tipped his head. “Now why don’t you show me this present properly.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She stood, waited for a moment as a slight headrush attacked her, then she smoothed her hands over the cups of her bra and straightened the front of the panties.

  “Come around here.” He pointed to the opposite side of the sofa, next to him.

  Marie beat down a wave of nerves. She knew he liked her body, her curves turned him on he’d said, but still. She wasn’t like the Victoria’s Secret models.

  She concentrated on his expression. His eyebrows were pulled low, a small muscle twitched in his cheek and his lips were shiny, as though just licked. He wore a black t-shirt and grey sweats, the opposite to the smart suit he’d had on when he’d arrived home.

  Damn, she’d take him any way. Tailored suit, relaxed lounge pants or utterly naked—it all worked for her.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a sweet birthday present,” he said, standing.

  “I hoped you’d like it.”

  “I like it all.” He dropped his gaze to her red shoes then drank her in with a long, lingering look that floated back up to her face. “Every last bit of it.”

  He stepped close and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I’ve had the week from hell; it’s taken me days to close what should have been a done deal. But when I come home and you’re here, like this…” He paused and shook his head. “It all fades into the background. It doesn’t matter, it’s just work.”

  Marie stared into the depths of his eyes. In the high shoes she was the same height as him. “I’m glad I can help.”

  He huffed. “It’s more than help. Don’t you see?”

  “See what?” She placed her hands on his chest over the outline of his pecs.

  “That what we have is special.”

  “Well—”

  He cut her off with a kiss. A deep, soulful, toe-curling kiss.

  Marie clung to his shoulders and let herself mould against his body. He was so strong and sturdy, he held her up, supported her.

  He tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

  She tangled her tongue with his. Kissing Taylor was as much fun as all the other stuff they did, because damn, the guy could kiss. Gentle but firm, his tongue explored then teased. And his taste—mint and man, desire and heat, everything she needed in her life.

  Chapter Three

  The kiss warmed Marie to her bones and when Taylor pulled back she sighed in a way that tugged at her soul.

  “I have something for us to celebrate with,” he said softly, tucking a curl of her hair behind her ear.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Come and sit over here for me.” He took her hand and led her back to the chair she’d waited for him in.

  He pressed his hands on her shoulders and urged her to sit. “I’ll be back in one minute.”

  She nodded and crossed her legs.

  “Oh no, not like that.” He scooped his hand beneath her right thigh and separated her lower limbs. “Like this.” He parted her legs, good and wide, so that the only things stopping them going wider were the sides of the chair.

  Marie nodded and watched as he stood and looked down at her. A flash of desire crossed his face and she knew that their fun had only just started. They had hours together yet and she could hardly wait.

  He went into the kitchen. She couldn’t see him but heard the fridge door open and shut then the clink of glassware on the marble surface. After a few seconds of silence there was the pop of a cork. She pictured the white froth escaping from the end and sliding down the bottle. It made her think of Taylor coming, ejaculating on her, releasing his pleasure over her belly, chest, face, whichever part of her body it pleased him to claim.

  Her nipples tightened, her pussy quivered. Again she wondered what he had planned.

  She spotted a helicopter in the sky, way out in the distance, and watched its progress as Taylor’s footsteps moved into the bedroom and back.

  What has he collected from the toy cupboard?

  It could be anything. He had many instruments of pain and delight in the polished walnut dresser that stood majestically on ornate brass legs.

  He was back in front of her. He held a small silver tray and a neat leather bag.

  On the tray were two glasses of what appeared to be champagne. Next to them a bowl of strawberries. She had no way of knowing what was in the bag.

  “Good girl,” he said, observing the fact that she hadn’t moved from the position he’d left her in.

  The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She did what she was told when they were playing out a scene.

  He set the tray on the table that was just in reach of the chair. He then placed the bag on the floor near her feet.

  “I’ve been thinking of you all day,” he said, “in the back of my mind, whenever I had a second to pause, breathe, you were there. “But now…” he gave a half smile that mellowed his often stern face, “this is better than any daydream.”

  He sank to his knees then unzipped the bag.

  Marie’s heart was hammering. He’d thought of her. The way she had him.

  Maybe? Could there be more?

  But she didn’t linger on her hopeful thoughts. Instead, she stared at the two lengths of rope he was pulling from his bag. It wasn’t scratchy brown hessian this time but soft, silky and black. She’d seen it before, been tied with it before, and she knew it felt gentle on her skin but could hold her like a vice.

  He shuffled forwards, still on his knees, and took hold of her right ankle. He butted it up to the chair leg with the back of her shoe hard against it, then began to wind the rope around her foot and calf, loop after loop, securing her ankle and calf to the chair. He went beneath the shoe, around the heel, over and over until she was well and truly attached.

  Marie enjoyed the sensation of being captured, harnessed. Handing herself over to him. It calmed her, released a tension that followed her around at every other moment of the day.

  He repeated the action on her other leg with the second length of rope.

  Peace seeped over her. She was his now. He was responsible for her pain and pleasure, everything she needed. If only for this scene, her Master was in charge.

  Once his task was complete, Taylor looked up at her. “How does that feel?”

  “Like I’m home.” The words had fallen from her mouth. She hadn’t meant to be so honest but it was what had tripped from her tongue.

  He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head.

  “Like I’m where I’m meant to be,” she said quickly, “here…with you…”

  “You are.” He nodded slowly. “Meant to
be here.” He reached for the two glasses of champagne. “Let’s drink to that.” He held one to her lips and one to his own, raising them both.

  He kept his attention firmly on Marie as she took a sip.

  The bubbles popped on her tongue and the liquid slid down her throat. She’d only drank champagne twice before and the flavour was unfamiliar yet delicious.

  When he pulled her glass away a drip fell from her lower lip and landed on her cleavage.

  “Whoops,” he said, watching the drip slip between her breasts. The side of his mouth twitched.

  He set down the glasses then tipped forward, tongue out. He licked the droplet onto the end and sucked it in. He then kissed over the top rise of her breast before darting his tongue back into the gap between them.

  His stubble scratched, his tongue cool and wet. Marie released a trembling sigh. His touch when so light and gentle turned her on as much as his rough and tough caresses.

  He continued to kiss and adore her breasts, palming them through her bra and tweaking her nipples.

  She stared at the top of his head, at his neat hair and the way it swirled from his crown. She itched to touch it, run her hands through it, but she didn’t dare without permission, not now she was tied up and his.

  “This is convenient,” he said, finding the front fastening on her bra.

  The weight of her breasts tugged as he released it, freeing them from their containment.

  “Yes,” she managed, observing her pale flesh. Her nipples were large and powdery pink, the ends taut from stimulation.

  “So pretty,” he murmured, taking her left nipple into his mouth and pinching the right one between his thumb and forefinger.

  She relaxed into the sensations, adoring the way he brought her nipples to hard points. Harder than she ever thought they could go.

  “You’re ready,” he said, dipping his hand into the bag.

  Ah, now she had an idea what was coming. She wasn’t complaining.

  He lifted up a gold nipple clamp. An elegant, slim peg with rubberised ends and a single diamond dangling on a chain from the base. She’d enjoyed it before, come with it in place before.

  He kissed her right nipple again, flicking it with his tongue, ensuring it was good and erect. He then gently attached the clamp.