Billionaire Heir (Erotic Romance Bundle)

by Dalia Daudelin

  "Am I doing alright?" He smiled at the ceiling.

  "You're doing great, sweet girl." I tried to switch hands but my left hand felt strange, and didn't want to move the way I wanted it to so I switched back.

  "Try licking it, Candy." My stomach did a flip again, even though I'd pushed through so much nervousness before now it hit again, just as hard. But I swallowed my doubts and leaned forward, trying to keep moving my hand, but every couple pumps I would realize I had stopped again, so I'd start for a second before losing track of what I was doing.

  His cock tasted salty, like sweat, and the texture was odd, with the skin moving over the hard shaft. I looked up at him and he had that same look on his face, the look of pleasure. I took the initiative then--if I was going to debase myself like this, I was going to at least have him thinking I was good at it.

  I engulfed his cock in my mouth, taking the tip in and swirling my tongue around it. Then I bobbed deep and he set a hand on my head, playing with my hair while I sucked him. I came off to catch my breath, and as I was about to grasp his cock again to jerk it while I breathed, I heard footsteps outside the door.

  Mark had to have heard them, too. There was no way the scene was going to look natural, not with me that close to him. I had to hide, and there was nowhere.

  I ducked under his desk. I could hear the door open, but my breath sounded like it was on a loudspeaker, and when I heard my mother's voice I knew that she would find me in a second.

  Their conversation seemed never to end. They went on and on, talking about finances and the summer home in Switzerland, and then it happened. My mother's footsteps started to come toward the desk.

  "Hey, you want a little pick me up before you get back to work, babe?"I realized that she was going to come over and suck his cock, or fuck him, or something--and then she'd see it was already out, hard, wet, and I was hiding under the desk with a terrified look on my face. It was all going to go wrong and I knew this was a bad idea, but I did it anyways. So stupid.

  Mark saved me. He rolled his chair in and I could hear him pick up a pen, start writing, as he answered her.

  "No, Alice, not right now, ok? I'm in the middle of something, and honestly I've spent too much time talking already." You could practically hear the hurt in her voice when she bowed out of the room. Mark zipped his pants before he stood, went to the door, and closed it. I got out from under the desk in time to see him lock it, slipping the key back into his pocket. There was no way out now, I realized. The enormity of what I'd agreed to hit me for what felt like the dozenth time and I slumped into his chair. Big mistake.

  His voice was loud and booming, dominating and angry.

  "Get out of my chair right now!" He didn't have to say 'you slut' for me to hear its afterimage at the end of the sentence. I got up and he pushed me against the desk, pulling my pants down and revealing my thong-covered (if you could call it that) ass. His hand came down without warning, swatting me.

  "I'm sorry! I didn't know!" He didn't answer me except in the form of another swat, and another.

  "That's mine, Candy, and you know I don't like people touching my things!" Another slap. I wanted to beg him to stop, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. "Now stay there and think about what you've done, Candy."

  I layed there on his desk, my ass stinging bad for what felt like an eternity. It could have been an hour, or minutes, or even a few tense seconds--my sense of time was functionally gone. I stared into space, thinking how glad I was that the spankings were over, thinking how I wanted to get it all over with, thinking how much of a fool I'd been. His voice and the touch of his hand broke me from my reverie.

  "Now, Candy, where were we? I think you were going to hold up your end of our bargain."

  I dropped slowly to my knees. I knew what my end of the deal was, but he was going to make it last as long as possible. His cock was still out, flying at half-mast after the interruption.

  I wondered idly if he had wanted me to keep going when he was trying to convince my mother nothing was going on. Maybe I should have, maybe I could have made him cum, and then he'd come to his senses. I doubted that very much.

  I swallowed his cock, and I could feel it hardening in my mouth as I bobbed my head. He put his hands in my hair, told me that I looked gorgeous with my lips around his cock. Then he started to fuck my throat, pushing his hips forward so his cock would press deeper into my throat.

  "Oh, Candy, that's good." He fucked my throat harder, holding my head still so I couldn't get away, couldn't even participate. I thought that was the worst part, feeling like some kind of sex toy. So I pushed against him with my tongue, wiggling and rolling it so that the texture on his cock was constantly changing.

  He groaned hard, and I thought he might cum but he pulled out of my mouth and sat down, breathing hard. I could see his cock straining hard, and I thought he was very close. I smiled at my own skill, dare I say power, that I'd managed to bring him so close so quickly.

  I could feel my heart beating hard and fast, and though I still felt the nerves eating away at my resolve, I also could feel the arousal rising between my legs, and how pleased I was with myself bursting out of my chest. I decided I would press matters, keep him on the defensive. I would not let him win. I pulled my panties down, taking care not to lift my skirt too much, and making an effort to accentuate the motion of the garment down my legs as much as possible.

  I stepped out of them carefully; that was the riskiest time, when I could ruin the mystique at any moment by catching the tip of my toe on the band and fall to the ground. But I didn't, and instead I stood back up, looking at Mark through my eyelashes.

  I threw my panties into his lap. It landed on his cock, and he gave me a predatory smile between his deep breaths. I turned around, then and bent over his desk. I had been so nervous, before, but now my hands were practically shaking with anticipation. I lifted my skirt, barely an inch, and looked back at him.

  "You ready to have some fun, Master?'" I saw him stand up, his cock as hard as ever.

  "My, my, Candy. Did I flip the switch?" I ignored the comment.

  "No condom?" He just smiled, lifting my skirt. He touched my pussy lightly, softly. He pushed down on my back. He pushed my skirt up over my ass. I tried to stick it out as much as possible, to make him want me as much I could make him want me. He rubbed his cock, condom-free, against my unprotected pussy.

  "I don't know if you should, Master. You know I'm not on birth control." He didn't respond again, just rubbed his cock up and down my slit, spreading my juices and covering the head of his cock in my juices.

  My mind shouted at me to stop this, that he could knock me up and then I'd be in real trouble. But my pussy shouted at me, too, shouted not to stop the sensations on my clit, the sense of spreading and pleasure in my pussy when he pushed the tip in just a little ways. I closed my eyes and let the feelings overwhelm me.

  He pulled his cock away from me and I practically cried at its absence. Then he pressed two fingers against my hole and pushed them inside to the hilt. I screamed out in surprise and pleasure. He moved inside me, feeling for my G-spot, and when he found it my attempts to look powerful and sexual and independent fell apart. I needed him to make me cum, needed it like nothing before.

  "Please fuck me," I said, hoping in vain that the admission of weakness would afford me some kind of respite from his slow teasing. He pulled back out, and I thought he was going to put his big fat cock in me, but then he started pushing his fingers back in, slowly. Every time I started to feel it, he would slow further. I tried to push against him, and then he swatted my ass.

  "Not without my permission, Candy." I moaned in frustrated arousal.

  "Please!"

  He pressed my G-spot again, rubbing it softly, but persistently. I wanted his cock so bad I couldn't think straight. He kept pressing, massaging my G-spot. I could feel a pressure building between my legs, behind my eyes, in my whole body. My nipples stood on end, my skin tingled, and I could feel ev
ery strand of hair. I wanted to cum so bad.

  "Please fuck me, Master. I don't care if you wear a condom, I don't care, just fuck me, please." I was on the point of sobbing, on the edge of orgasm for so long.

  "But I might knock you up, Candy."

  "I don't care, just fuck my pussy, please."

  He pulled his fingers out and I whimpered. And then he got behind me, rubbing his cock on me again, slow and thorough to get into every part of the folds of my pussy.

  "Do you want me to put this inside you?" Mark's voice was barely above a whisper.

  "Please, Master, please, don't tease me like this." I could feel a tear fall out of my eyes, I wanted to be fucked so badly.

  "Ok, baby doll. I could never tell you no."

  His cock pressed against my hole and he pushed into me, slowly filling my most intimate places. I could hear my own breathing, hard and ragged, and I could feel my pussy stretching to accommodate him, the sensation of fullness and being owned overwhelming me. But beyond that there was nothing--no future, no past, no present beyond the feelings in my pussy.

  I was no virgin but I felt like it was the first time, like his cock was reaching places that had never been tantalized by any other boy's cock. He pushed all the way in, to the base, and stayed there, as if he knew I had to accommodate his girth.

  I wiggled my hips, trying to get whatever sensation I could. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure, as if the pain of stretching and the stinging in my ass weren't there, as if they didn't hurt--in fact I thought that they even added to the pleasurable feelings spreading through my body. I gasped out my pleasure.

  And then Master pulled out of me, pulled out so much that I thought he'd come right out of my pussy, but he didn't. He held it, with just the ridge of his cock-head barely inside, and then I almost forgot I had even felt so stretched, so full, only mourning the loss of some nameless satisfaction. He pushed back in, fast and hard and I cried out. His hand slithered down my body and fit over my mouth.

  "Shh, baby doll, we don't want anyone hearing." I tried to shush, but when he slammed into me again I moaned into his hand. He sighed in pleasure or frustration and pressed two fingers against my lips, and I let them my mouth and sucked them, playing my tongue between and around them, the feeling of raw sexuality permeating my entire body as he continued to pound his cock into me. I could feel him speeding up, filling me and satisfying my lust. I moaned out more than one orgasm as he fucked me like a stud, taking me in every sense of the word.

  "Where do you want my cum, baby?" He took his fingers out of my mouth, twirling my hair around his fingers and pulling it, raising alarm bells around the roots of my hair that only served to make the feelings in my pussy even better.

  "Ohhhh I don't know, Master, I don't knoooow," I moaned out. "I want you to cum in me--but you shouldn't."

  He groaned, then, the loudest sound of pleasure he'd let out. I moaned with him, trying to keep my voice as quiet as I could. He fucked me harder, rougher. His hand came down on my thigh, a hard spank.

  "I'm gonna cum, Candy."

  "Oh God, please don't cum in me, Master."

  His breathing got harder, ragged, and I knew it was coming, but I was powerless to stop it, and I wasn't sure that I would have if I'd been able. Mark let out a loud groan and pushed into me, deeper than I thought possible. His cock was pressed right against my womb, and he grunted out that he was cumming.

  I felt a thick, warm sensation spreading throughout my pussy, through my stomach, warming me up from the inside. I could feel my stepfather twitching inside me, could hear his breathing, still ragged and deep.

  "Oh, God, that was incredible." I wanted to smile at his complement, but I couldn't move my face. I could feel him pull out, feel his cum spilling out of me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move much but my eyes. In and out. I tried to breathe, slowly regaining control of my body. I pushed myself back to my feet, leaned back against the desk.

  I could imagine the look on my face, somewhere between confusion, fatigue, and silly grinning. Mark was closing his fly again, tightening his belt. He's resumed his controlled, collected image, other than the redness in his cheeks and the labored breathing. He looked up at me and smiled. "You look like you've been through a hurricane, Candy. I'd run a comb through that hair before your mother catches us."

  I chuckled. I wondered what the protocol was on bringing up the promise he'd made me, but before I could say anything, he answered my worries.

  "So what was it you said? Two thousand for plane tickets? I'll get you four, you'll need money for food, too. Maybe some clothes, I know a nice place in Paris that tailors a great dress, you should find a few hours while you're there. Tell them I sent you--they'll know what you need, and they'll put it on my tab."

  I couldn't let him see me surprised, so I turned back around, facing the heavy double doors.

  "I'll see about it, text me the name of the place and I'll ask around. If I have time."

  My stepfather walked up behind me, I could hear his footfalls on the wooden floor. He drew me into a tight embrace, kissing my neck.

  "You'll see, Candy. There are certain advantages to having me in your corner, and you're going to experience all of them. Especially," he nibbled on my neck and I voiced my pleasure. "Especially if you are willing to do me certain favors from time to time."

  He grabbed my ass and gave it a squeeze. It was clear what he meant he wanted from me, and we both knew that I would give it to him, especially after my display of lust. He kissed my ear, nibbled my ear lobe.

  I left for Paris three weeks later. My friends couldn't believe the money I had--one joked I had to have sold myself for it. They didn't know how true it was, but I told them the better truth:

  "You guys just don't know Mark that well. He's a great guy," I said, "once you get to know him."

  Miss Witch

  Seduction, Witchcraft and Romance

  Wren Winter

  I'm standing in the middle of a wooden shack. The boards are far enough apart that from the East side slats of light shine in.

  A circle drawn in red paint rests partially below my bare feet. I step into the circle, carrying my sword, my Athame, with me. Inside the circle closed, I kneel on my naked knees, sweat dripping down my breasts and glistening in the morning light.

  I take a deep breath and raise the knife to the sky, then to the ground. I trace the circle with it, reaching around my leather-bound black book and unlit rainbow of candles. I draw the circle closed, and then I sit. I sit in the silence, and simply exist.

  This is my morning meditation, before I head to work every day. I've been a pagan since I was 15, though I wasn't really serious about it until I turned 18. I'm a solitary practitioner, devoted to the goddess Lilith.

  Even though it feels like I was only kneeling for a few breaths, my alarm brings me back to reality. 30 minutes gone, and and my soul is steady. I stand, break the circle, and cover up with my robe before walking up the path from my little slice of the forest and into my house.

  I'm a professor of Folk English at a local community college. It's small enough that I have the chance to really get to know some of my students, which is a great joy for me. For a while I taught high school, but it was too wild for me. The first time I burst out of my classroom crying was also my last.

  I was lucky that I found a job at a college as easily as I did. Most of my day is spent reading, since that's how most of my classes are spent as well. Folk English is a class about the spiritual and magical writings of Europe, mostly Britain. It's a personal obsession of mine, and I try to give each of my students that same excitement.

  My classroom is on the second floor of the three story building. I carry copy of an ancient spell book in my right hand, my purse and keys in my left. All three are thrown onto my desk as I prepare for my first class, which will arrive in a half hour.

  On the white board, I write 'Welcome to Folk English', then my name. Eleanor Dogwood. Today I'll be greeting a new class, a ne
w group of bright eyed youngsters eager to learn. Or at least, willing to pay to learn.

  With all my papers set up and the whiteboard filled up, I pull out a huge box of books from the closet. These I set on one of the desks. My classes are never full, so I usually have room to spread out.

  Glancing at the clock, I smile. People will start filing in any moment. Opening up my laptop, I glance over the attendance sheet. 14 students this time. Not bad! Last semester I only had 10.

  Over the next 15 minutes, young men and women start shuffling into the room with me. I'm not exactly old, I'm only 30 after all. It's just that facing 18 years olds every day tends to leave you feeling like you're 80, especially when they talk about their parties and sex lives.

  That last one is especially painful for me. In my youth, I had my fun. I even almost got married! But then he found someone else and 5 years later, here I am. Celibate, eternally sexually frustrated, and tempted every night to go to a bar for a one night stand. Of course, I wouldn't ever do that because I'm too shy, but I want to.

  I glance over the room. A small group of people have clumped together at the front, towards the door. They laugh and talk, texting their friends. There's always a few people who join just to have a class with their friends. I'm sure it gets around that Folk English is an easy class with no homework, since that's exactly what this is. It's basically quiet time for adults.

  The rest of the students have spread themselves out evenly, none of their desks touching and none of their eyes meeting. I do a quick count of heads. 13. Class is about to start. No reason to wait for that last person.

  “My name is Eleanor, thank you all for joining me for Folk English. Each class will be spent reading and discussing the spiritual traditions and folk stories of Europe. I'll introduce myself, but since you'll never have any group assignments I'll skip the awkwardness of forcing you all to introduce yourselves.” I pause and smile. That's when I notice the dark figure standing in the doorway, blocking out the sun streaming in from the big glass windows in the hallway.