by Alexis Angel
The sex scenes from every romance movie. The bit from Titanic where Rose’s hand presses against the window of the carriage. Half a dozen creampie videos—just the good bit at the end where the man’s cum is dripping out of the woman’s pussy.
Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis making out in Black Swan. Two busty porn stars armed with cans of whipped cream, spraying it at each other. The Notebook when Rachel McAdams comes in wet from the rainstorm and Ryan Gosling is there, ready and waiting for her—
“I want her to lick it out of me,” I gasp. “Make her lick your nut out of my cum-soaked cunt!”
“Fuck yes, Lizzie. Feel it! Give me more!”
“I want her to slurp it all up,” I whine, as I feel the orgasm surface. It’s so close. Soooo fucking close. I can almost taste it. I can almost—
“And I want her to…to spit it into my mouth! I want your hot, milky cum in my mouth, Darcy. Give it to me!”
“Take it, you whore!”
The orgasm hits me like a cockslap to the face. My whole body goes stiff as a board, and then it’s like I’m surfing wave after wave of pleasure. It’s like I was made for this. Maybe I was.
I’ve always been good at sex. Good at coming. But whatever Darcy has awakened in me takes it all to the next level. He’s a freak in bed, I realize, and that suits me just fine because so am I.
He moans, then growls. I open my eyes, releasing myself from the cummy lips of the fantasy woman, just in time to watch something truly fucking glorious happen.
Rope after rope of glistening, pearly cum launches from Darcy’s pocket rocket like fireworks. He unleashes a massive fucking load, and it lands absolutely everywhere.
On the lapels of his suit. Across his lap. Along the buttons of his dress shirt. There’s even a little bit glimmering in his hair.
“Fuck,” I breathe, watching him in total awe.
This must be how my fans feel all the time. Or at least, something like this. When I come for my fans, we’re separated by a computer screen and thousands of miles. I can’t even see them and how they look like when they come.
But Darcy is here. Right here. He’s close enough to lick—
Which gives me an idea.
“God, Lizzie. That felt…”
“Incredible?” I suggest, leaning forward. “Spectacular?”
“I was going to say fucking good,” he laughs. “But on second thought, I don’t think words can describe it.”
“No?” I ask, dropping to my knees. I place my hands palm-down on the floor of the limo, arch my back and stare up at him hungrily. “How about…unbelievable.”
He stares back down at me and bites his lip. After all, I’m giving him a hell of a view.
“No,” he whispers. “Just like in X-Files, Lizzie. I want to believe.”
“Okay, Spooky Mulder,” I joke, crawling forward. “What about irrational?”
“That’s a good word for how you make me feel.”
On my hands and knees, I make my way across the limo until I’m kneeling at his feet. His cock is still out, throbbing and covered in his seed, but his hands are free to pet me and stroke me as he pleases. I flutter my eyelashes up at him as he toys with one of my rogue curls.
“Sensational,” I suggest.
“You certainly do stimulate my senses.”
“Clandestine?”
I lower my mouth to his cock. In one long, lingering lick, I slurp up all of the cum clinging to the underside of it.
“Mmm. Doesn’t have to be,” Darcy lies.
Or, at least, I’m pretty sure he’s lying. At this moment, I guess I don’t really care about things like reality. Business deals. Social and financial repercussions. Breathing. All of that seems kind of irrelevant when I can take Darcy’s dick down my throat—so I do.
“You suck cock like a dream, Lizzie.”
He slumps back, surrendering himself to the pleasures of my mouth.
“You have dirty dreams, Mr. Darcy,” I purr as I pull back and kiss up and down his shaft. He hasn’t softened up yet, and it’s driving me wild.
“That’s true,” he chuckles.
Then, as I grab his cock and slap it against my outstretched tongue, that laugh turns into a delicious hiss.
“Lately, there’s been a particularly insatiable woman on my mind.”
“Sounds like a slut,” I mumble against the lap of his suit pants.
I’ve found the long, sticky rope of cum that he’s painted across them in my honor, and now I’m taking the liberty of licking it off for him.
“Oh, she is,” he reassures me. “Sluttiest woman I’ve ever met.”
“One orgasm just isn’t good enough for her,” I add. Now I’m licking the cum off his shirt. Beneath the linen fabric, I can feel his perfect abs. They’re warm and hard beneath my tongue.
“Nothing is good enough for her.”
“I bet she drinks only expensive wine too.”
“Completely empties my wallet,” he agrees. “But she’s worth it.”
“Is she?”
I raise my eyes to him, and hold his gaze as my fingers grip the lapels of his suit jacket. Slowly, very slowly, I lick up the delicious stream of cum clinging to it. I stick out my tongue and show it to him before I swallow.
“Absolutely,” he breathes.
“And why is that, Mr. Darcy?”
I’m practically sitting on his lap now, and I feel his hands curl beneath me to grip my ass.
“Because,” he says, shifting his hips. Suddenly, his dick is cradled perfectly between my pussy lips. I can’t help but whimper as it presses against my swollen, horny clit.
“She lets me fuck her like this.”
What does like this mean, you ask? In Darcy’s case, like this means grabbing me by the ass and painstakingly lowering me onto his cock. Inch. By. Inch.
The first inch is just the tip. Darcy’s cockhead is fat and sensitive, and despite the workout that I regularly give myself on camera, I’m still almost too tight for him. He moans as he sinks into my pussy. It’s the sexiest sound in the world.
The second inch. He’s biting his lower lip with that cocky Darcy confidence. The kind that could get him any woman in the world he wants. He could seduce any woman in the world to take his cock. He could afford to pay any woman in the world for the same thing without even half the effort.
But he doesn’t want just any woman. He wants me.
That thought makes me hump my hips toward him, trying to drive him deeper inside me and end this prolonged agony of waiting. But Darcy has a cruel streak, and worse—he has a plan.
The third inch. The fourth.
Now I’m whimpering and cooing like a total slut. He’s so close to sliding up against my G-spot that it makes my teeth ache.
The fifth inch. The sixth.
Finally, I feel the thickness of his dick stroking my pussy exactly the way I wanted it to just a second ago. But instead of feeling satisfied, I only want more.
The seventh inch.
“Please,” I whine, rocking my hips back and forth in his hands.
“Please what, you little cock addict?”
SMACK! He slaps my ass and lowers me onto inch #8.
“M-m-more,” I beg.
“Patience.”
The ninth inch.
He’s as deep inside me as any other man has ever been. Nine inches is usually something worth bragging to your girlfriends about, over brunch and mimosas the next morning. Darcy makes nine inches look like nothing more than an appetizer.
Ten inches.
My whole body’s shaking. I put my mouth on his, desperately kissing his lips. I need to be fucked. Roughly, thoroughly fucked.
Instead, Darcy is teasing me by giving me everything he’s got in the most measured way humanly possible.
Eleven inches.
I don’t even know how I’m taking all of this cock. All I know is that the second he lets me, I’m bouncing up and down in it until I’m fucking cross-eyed.
I inhale s
harply, bracing for impact. Inch #12 is coming up any second, and I know what happens when I get it.
First, I’m going to feel him slam into my cervix.
Then, I’m going to orgasm so hard that the limo blows all four tires at once.
“Fuck, Darcy! Fuck me already!”
He holds me steady, one tantalizing inch away from the best orgasm of my life.
“Are you sure, Lizzie? You fucking want it?”
My lips are trembling as I look down on him with the sweetest, sluttiest gaze I can muster.
“I need it.”
“Shit. That’s fucking hot,” Darcy swears.
I feel his cock throb inside me while my honey slides down that damned final inch.
He gives it to me while staring deeply into my eyes.
Just like that, we’re gone. Playtime is over. No more games. He starts to pound away at my tight, dripping pussy like it’s his sole fucking purpose in life. The orgasm I’ve been begging and pleading towards, hits me like a fucking bus.
I go full-idiot for a second, while it takes over my entire body. I don’t have words for how fucking good it feels. Only moans.
My pussy is throbbing so hard, I can feel it in my abs. My mouth is slick with saliva. My heart feels like it’s about to pound its way straight out of my chest. My body feels light and airy, like I could float up out through the moon roof and into the stars.
Darcy’s my only anchor. He holds my hips tighter and slams all twelve glorious inches of his cock into me over and over again until my body collapses against his.
“That it, Lizzie,” he growls. “Take it! Take my fucking cock in your hot little cunt!”
I feel like I’m fucking glowing. Like there’s pink neon coursing through my veins.
Darcy sinks his teeth into my neck, then kisses the spot where they’ve bruised me. I’ll have to apply like, seven layers of concealer if I don’t want my viewers to see it on my next show.
Hell. Maybe I’ll let them see. They can all know that I’ve been taken by a better man. A richer man. A way, way sexier man. A man with a better brain and a bigger cock than they would even dare to wish for.
“Come with me, Lizzie,” he rasps. His gaze has gone all dark and sexy now, like he’s completely out of control.
“Make me,” I growl back. “Make me, Darcy! Make me come!”
I arch my back and he pulls my dress down, then buries his face between my big, bouncing tits. Darcy runs his tongue between them, licking the salty sweat from my skin. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, then pinches the other.
In my pussy, pink neon love-hearts are radiating, pushing their way through my whole body. When Darcy bites down on my nipple, thrusting his iron-hot man meat into me all the way to the hilt, I explode into a fucking star burst.
“Darcy!” I scream. “YES! OH FUCK, DARCY! YES!”
“LIZZIE!” he shouts. “AAAH! TAKE IT! TAKE MY CUM!”
I feel his balls tense up as he fucks me with a dozen hard little thrusts. Each of them showers my pussy with another burst of hot, creamy cum. All the while, we’re holding on to each other like we’re been tossed a vast ocean of pleasure without a lifeboat, and if we let go, we’ll both be lost.
“Oh my god,” I say when I can finally catch my breath. “Darcy…that was…”
“The best sex you’ve ever had?” he grins.
I laugh. He’s still inside me, and I can feel my cunt clench tight around him again when I do.
Darcy moans. I guess he can feel it too.
“Yes,” I admit. “But you don’t need to be so smug about it.”
“You like me smug.”
He pulls me down into a deep, passionate kiss.
If this was a romance movie, there would be doves flying in the background and a moon overhead so big, you could practically pluck it from the sky and eat dinner off of it. Instead, the limo hits a pothole and Darcy’s still-hard dick bounces deeper inside me again.
I gasp.
I’m pretty sure if Darcy makes me orgasm again, I’m going to go into some kind of coma.
Judging by the way that Darcy is smiling up at me, he wants exactly that.
“You’re so fucking insatiable, Lizzie,” he says with a million-dollar smirk. “I love that about you.”
My mouth drops open into a soft little O. Did my ears just deceive me, or did Darcy just use the L-word?
Not lust.
Nope. Not lesbians.
Love.
But if Darcy realizes that he’s said it, he plays it off cool as can be. I hear a weird motorized sound overhead and look up to realize he’s opening the moonroof.
“Stand up and pop your head through,” he says, moving me off his lap. His cum-glazed dick slides against my inner thigh as he slips out of me, marking me with even more of his seed.
“Then spread your legs.”
“I’m not some teenager on prom night,” I tell him, even as I follow his instructions. “This isn’t my first time in a limo, you know.”
The night air is cool on my cheeks as I stand upright, knees trembling. Darcy has fucked me so hard that standing is not like, the easiest thing in the world right now, but the streetlights are gorgeous as they pass us by.
“It’s your first time orgasming in one,” he points out. “I want you to remember this forever.”
He’s not wrong, but he’s also selling himself a little short. After the fuck we just had? I’m pretty sure I’ve permanently memorized every vein of Darcy’s huge, throbbing dick.
But then I feel him move between my legs. And that’s when I realize: he’s not done with me yet.
His cum is still leaking out of my pussy as he kisses my thighs. Darcy is an alpha male. A billionaire. Hotter than anyone has any right being. It’s not often that anyone gets a man like him on his knees. In the boardroom, the bedroom, or otherwise. But before I can go totally mad with power, he reminds me that he’s still in control of the situation.
He sucks my clit into his mouth hard and fast. A crash of pleasure hits my body so violently, I have to cling to the edge of the moonroof just to keep myself upright.
“Oh fuck,” I whimper. “D-darcy…that’s soooooo so so good. You’re going…oh shit. You’re going to make me scream!”
“Scream then.”
I feel his teeth nibble at my thigh. Then they nibble at my clit. His fingers slip between my pussy lips, filling the space that his dick occupied only a few moments before, and his tongue does things to me that make my eyes roll back in my head.
“Darcy…”
“That’s right, Lizzie. Say my name.”
“Darcy!” I gasp.
“Scream it, you whore.”
That’s what does it.
Those two words: you whore.
That’s what makes me undeniably lose my mind.
I come.
“DARCY! OH MY GOD! WILL DARCY! FUCK ME! DO ME! LICK MY FUCKING CUNT! YES! YES! YE—”
Suddenly, he’s behind me. One hand wrapped around my waist, holding me against him. The other, wet with my juices and his cum, is clapped over my mouth.
“You’re going to get me in trouble, Lizzie,” he laughs, pulling me close.
I consider the ramifications of my actions and decide I don’t care.
I lick his fingers until he slips them into my mouth. Once I’ve sucked them clean, I relax against him, my lips slick and smiling.
“You’re good at going down, Will Darcy. The whole city ought to know.”
“And now they do. Christ. Your neighbors are going to hate me.”
“They live next door to a sex mansion. They knew what they were getting into.”
The night is cool, but his body is warm. I press my back against him, just relishing the way he feels. Normally, when the sex is over all I can think about is how I’m going to get my partner out of my bed. But Darcy…Darcy’s different.
Darcy, I just want to get into my bed.
It’s not until we’re on the front steps of the Bennet B
abes mansion and he’s kissing me goodnight that I realize the night is finally over.
Worse…I realize that I don’t actually want it to end.
Lizzie
“Yeah, just come on in. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
Jane’s busy kitting a steel-grey scarf in her famous jet-black rocking chair. She is not a fan of my barging in without knocking.
Despite her sarcasm, I do make myself at home by plopping down on her deep violet velvet dining chair. I throw my head back and let my hair fall over the back of the chair. She simply shakes her head and gets back to work. I sigh loudly.
“Lizzie, just say it.”
She’s not having any bullshit, as usual. She slurps a sip of her Earl Grey tea.
“Say what?”
I have so much to say, but I just hold it in for a while, listening to the jazz station playing gently through Jane’s ancient, tube-powered radio. The soothing sound of soft electric piano drifts through the air. I feel the music wash over me, making me feel even more ecstatic from head to toe.
No garden variety bullshit daydreams for me—this is the afterglow of a fantasy brought to life.
“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever.”
Jane continues knitting like a madwoman.
There’s only one poster on her wall that I recognize. It’s bright pink and decked out with 1950s-era home appliances and housewares: a vacuum cleaner plugged in somewhere out of frame and an icebox with a giant, metal latch handle taking center stage. A Pacific island-inspired floor lamp completes the picture.
I only recognize that poster because of the band name—The Cure—but the rest of her posters are nonsense to me. Sisters of Mercy? Bauhaus? HIM?
On the other hand, I always love to take in the Celtic tapestries and Jane’s own drawings of sprites and pixies hanging on the walls and pasted to the ceiling. She sometimes drags a piece or two of décor to her workspace as show props and to add a bit of character, but her actual room encapsulates her passion for the arts.
“Hi, my name is Lizzie…”
“Hey, Lizzie!”
She’s quick. Let’s see if she knows where I’m going with this.
“…and I’m a Darcy-holic.”
I hear her knitting needles stop moving for half a second. They start up again before she speaks.