by Asia Marquis
“How'd you get that job?” I ask, skeptical.
“My dad worked for the FBI for a while before quitting to work on Wall Street. I'm in both worlds, and since I inherited everything my dad made, I'm also wealthy. I fund most of our investigations.”
I start to feel woozy.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah just...” I lean against the door. The man quickly snatches me up, pulling me fully into his arms and carrying me to the couch. I sit, resting for a moment to catch my breath.
“Sorry, I don't normally get like this.”
“It's alright. God, you're beautiful.” He leans over, hovering to see if I might protest, before kissing me. The kiss is sweet. “When you're feeling better, you should shower. I hope you don't mind, but I brought you a dress. I guessed your size.”
“Okay,” I say. He goes out to the car and brings back a box, silver with a red bow. He hands it to me.
“I'll wait for you, Aviona.”
“Okay,” I say again. “Wait, what's your name?”
“Bradley.” He smiles, a warm, infectious smile. This white man thinks I'm beautiful? Impossible. I've barely ever been able to get a date before, and never with a rich man. I find myself questioning this, everything about this, but unable to ignore one simple thing: He put the effort into finding where I live. He must be sincere.
Propping the box up on the bathroom counter, I undress and shower quickly. I wonder if I should try to do something with my hair, but I decide to just leave it wild as an afro. That's really how I look my best.
It's not until I get out of the shower that I finally open the box and see what's within it, and it's more than just a dress. There's a second box at the bottom that holds a beautiful necklace and a pair of earrings, as well as a certificate of their authenticity. Real diamonds. Real gold. I shiver. This guy must be loaded. Couldn't he have any woman in the world? Why me?
There's no price tag on the dress, but it's red silk is delicate and perfectly stitched together. I'm sure it wasn't cheap. Hell, it was probably more expensive than my house payment. Feeling like a fraud in something so beautiful, I slip it on and zip it up. It fits perfectly.
The red looks beautiful against my dark skin. I lotion my face and dab on some makeup before putting in the earrings. I try to do my necklace, but the clasp is too tight.
Coming out of the bathroom, I find Bradley lounging on my couch, reading one of my magazines. I admire him for a moment, before holding the necklace out to him. “Could you help me?” My voice sounds more frail and vulnerable than I expected.
Bradley looks up and smiles. “Of course I can help you.” Standing, he takes the necklace and moves behind me. He's so close to me that I can feel his breath against my neck. I try to hold them back, but goosebumps raise on my flesh as his fingers slip against my skin.
The intimate moment is intensified when he leans in and kisses along my spine. “You smell divine, Aviona.”
“Thank you...” I shudder.
“And you look even more stunning in this dress than I expected. Will you turn so I can see you, drink in your beauty?”
I turn and watch as his blue eyes devour me. I've never before experienced someone fucking me with their eyes, but this is undoubtedly it. That is undoubtedly what I'm experiencing.
His eyes suddenly flick up to mine. “Now, I have something to admit. I saw the pile of mail on your table, Aviona. Are you in trouble?”
My heart suddenly sinks. This isn't the conversation I want to be having. I don't say anything at all.
“It's okay. I just want to help. You tell me how much money you need, and you'll have it in your account by Monday. I want to take care of you. I want you to live a life of luxury, as a woman of your beauty should.”
I nod, and then tell him my debt. He makes a quick phone call to his bank and has the money transferred immediately to my account. Is this right? Should I be taking this man's money?
Moving out to the limo, Bradley takes my hand and helps me in. It's only now that I realize there's a driver up there, another white man. He's old with many wrinkles on his face.
When Bradley gets in, he nods to the driver, who rolls up the partition with a small grin on his face. Once his view is blocked, Bradley pounces, his body pressing against mine, his hands on my hips. He pulls me closer, holding me tight. I barely gasp before he kisses me hard and fast, his desire obvious and dangerous and powerful and terrifying. And I give in.
He forces my legs apart. I gasp as he pulls me up into his lap, his mouth on my neck now. He bites and kisses until he pulls the top of my dress down, revealing my breast. No bra. It wouldn't work with this dress. The seams pop, but he doesn't stop. He pulls harder, tearing the front down so that now both of my breasts are free.
I press my mound against him, feeling his growing manhood in his pants. His hands grip the small of my back, forcing me to grind against him until I do it all on my own. My ass moves fast, my clit crying from the friction and the need to be touched.
“God,” he says, mostly a groan in my ear. “You're so hot. I can't take it. I need you now.”
I moan, the words dripping down my back with a shiver. I stand, only to fall to my knees on the floor of the limo and crawl up to Bradley. His eyes burn into me as I unbutton his pants and pull them down just a bit. Just enough to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock.
And this white man has a big dick. I don't let myself ogle it for too long, though. I open my mouth and take it deep, sucking him hard. I revel in the salty precum on my tongue, which moves and pulsates to please him. His hand presses against my head, forcing me to go deeper. I take him down my throat, only coming up long enough to gasp for air before going down again.
I worship his dick. I love it, slobber on it, suck on it. I taste every bit of it. My hand massages his balls, which are clean shaven. He smells like manhood and sex. I make sure I suck hard, because I want to impress Bradley. I want him to see me as an ebony goddess, a black sex idol.
He grabs my hand suddenly and pulls me up, turning me around. In an instant he pulls up my dress, pushes my panties aside, and forces his cock deep into me. I cry out a moan as the limo turns and I nearly fall off of Bradley. He holds me tight, though, and fucks me deep. His hands spread my ass cheeks, unless they're grabbing my tits that are still swinging free.
“Oh... god...” he moans, not meaning to but unable to hold it back. Holding himself still, he tries to get used to the tightest cunt he's ever had. He can't stand not moving for long though, so with slow, long strokes he fucks me. I move, too, making sure I get the full length of his amazing white cock.
I push my ass down, drawing him closer to me and taking his big cock deep within me. “Fuck me harder,” I demand, opening my eyes. “I want you, Bradley. Please fuck me!”
He pulls almost completely out, surprised, but then his eyebrows furrow and he slams his member back into me so hard that I scream. He hits my cervix hard. Bradley covers my mouth so I won't be too loud as he pumps into me harder, and harder, each time sliding against that soft spot, my G-spot. I turn over, so that I'm facing him now, my legs wrapped around him.
I can feel pleasure building in me, fast, and know I won't be able to contain myself. I dig my nails into the skin on the back of his neck, driving myself down onto his cock. My first orgasm rolls through my body, my pussy letting loose a squirt of girly liquids! They splash on his pelvis and stomach as he fucks me harder, driving his hips against me as I scream and gurgle with passion.
My body goes numb and I black out for a second. Bradley never stops fucking me while I orgasm. He's never experienced a girl who can squirt before, and he likes it. With a growl, his mouth latches onto my black neck and he bites hard. I squeal and feel my insides twitch again with a smaller orgasm.
He grips at my hips and humps me hard, completely allowing animal instinct to take over. His thrusts go shallow and fast, his balls tightening as he prepares to explode. The animal in him desperately wants to scream, to call out a cr
y of victory, but he holds it back.
Thick, hot streams of cum shoot into my womb, making my fingers and toes curl. “Ooh, mmm...” I coo from on top of him. We're both soaked with my juices and sweat. I stand up, feeling some of his cum slide down my thigh.
I fall to my knees and back onto the limo's floor, desiring nothing more than to worship this man's beastly manhood. It's so big, I have no idea how it ever fit within me.
I lick my salty juices off of his soft skin, sucking on his balls and kissing his shaft. I suck on his dick until he's as hard as he was before.
“Bend over and stay on your hands and knees,” he commands. I obey. With my ass in the air, I look behind me at his cock, ready at my entrance. He slides himself into me again, immediately hitting all my most sensitive spots and forcing me into yet another orgasm. The limo turns again, then slows to a stop. The driver doesn't roll down the partition, undoubtedly because he can hear my passionate cries.
I press my face into my hands on the floor, screaming and moaning as loud as I can. I spread my legs, arching my back to lift my ass high as he fucks me silly.
Before long, I'm yelling, “Fuck! Fuck, oh god, fuck yes! More! Fuck me harder! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” My ass humps back onto his cock, my pussy engulfing him and massaging his prick as it twitches from my orgasm. He cums in me again, this time with less force but still pushing me into yet another Earth-shattering orgasm that leaves me a shaking, gibbering mess for minutes while Bradley cleans himself up with a tissue hidden in one of the cabinets in the car.
He pulls me up and kisses me again, this time sweeter. “I would love,” he says the last word in a low tone, full of lust and desire, “to taste your dark skin every day. I am begging you, Aviona. Let me take care of you. Let me buy you everything you desire, I would do anything to have access to you every day.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and straddle him again. My dress is ripped and my makeup's a mess, but how can I say no to such a passionate man? “I'll let you take care of me, if you let me worship your cock forever.”
“Perfect,” he says. He kisses me hard, and my stomach flutters.
His Chocolate Obsession
BWWM, Billionaire Romance
Looking around me, I'm a bit mesmerized. The chains hanging from the ceiling, the table that's slanted with leather cuffs bolted to it. The windows are covered with thick black curtains and on a dresser is an assortment of dildos in a myriad of sizes. Who knows what's in the drawers of the dresser. Could be anything. My guess is that it holds more sex toys, whips, chains, butt plugs.
Oh, hell. What have I gotten myself into?
My name is Jazmine Malik, and I'm a 19 years old proud black woman. My mother came from Nigeria when she was only 8, and has taught me my culture since the day I was born.
I started college this year after a gap year where I spent time in South Africa with my mother. I was 18, then. It was ostensibly a missions trip but we spent most of our days on the beach and very little time in the hospital where we were meant to be entertaining children. It's not like we're slackers. The nurses kicked us out because we were in the way.
We ended up in a little house on a beach with soft, white sands. It was rare that we would see anyone else on this beach except past the huge rocks where the public portion was. Our small house was next to a few others, and then down the way was a huge house with a dog that was always on the balcony, watching us and barking when we passed by.
Every morning that same balcony had a man, his white skin strange to see in this land though of course not unheard of. I wondered often if he was a doctor, but he didn't have the same late hours as most doctors in this country.
Even though he was far away, I could tell that his cheek bones were high and defined and his nose and chin were both strong. He had the look of a wealthy man summering away from an overbearing mother and a business that would have him dead at 35 from a heart attack.
On my morning runs I'd sometimes wave to him. He'd chuckle and wave back, but for a long time that was the extent of our interaction. It wasn't until I missed my morning run that I finally got to speak to him... and more.
That morning, my mother had suddenly come down with a mystery illness, and I had to rush her to the same hospital where we were meant to be working. When I left her there in the late afternoon, I was starving and my face was puffy from crying. At that point, I still didn't know if my mom would be okay so my features were contorted with worry and pain.
“You don't look so good.” The words came from behind me while I was in line at the only fast food place in town. “Are you sure you should be eating fast food instead of soup?”
Turning around, I find the man from the balcony behind me. His face is as chiseled and perfect as I thought it would be, his black eyes burning into my soul. I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to reach out and touch his face, but I hold myself back.
“I just need to eat. We don't have a working stove in our little place.”
“Come with me, I'll make you something at my house. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I have a recipe my maid taught me when I was ten.” He takes my arm and leads me out of the restaurant and helps me into the passenger seat of his car. It isn't brand new and the wheels are dusty, but it's still definitely a wealthy man's car.
A white man who learned to cook from a maid. I didn't want to trust him, but I wasn't in a position to deny him.
I denied him anyway. “I really shouldn't be doing this.”
“Nonsense,” he says as he slides into his seat.
“I don't want to impose.”
“You're not imposing. I invited you. I practically dragged you into my car. If you continue to fight me on this, I'll assume you hate me.”
I shut up. And then, as we get close to his house, I think of my mother. The hospital will call my cell phone if something happens, but her face was so pale and she threw up so much. She could die. She could die away from Dad and the rest of the family.
I feel sick, but I also start to cry. Softly, silently at first, but then the tears grow heavier and so do my sobs. The man doesn't say anything, he just drives and lets me cry it out. I'm thankful for that. It would have been embarrassing for him to try and comfort me.
When my tears finally stop and I'm just a sniffling mess, he finally asks me what happened.
“My mom is in the hospital. She's very sick.”
“I'm so sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do, let me know.”
I nod and he pulls in front of his large house. “Do you live here alone?”
“During the summer, yes. This is my time away from work.”
“I see.” I watch the house quietly for a few minutes, the dog wagging his tail and barking down at us. “I don't even know your name.”
“It's Richard.”
“And your dog's name?”
“Sassy.” He smiles. “Come on, you should meet her. I think she'd like you.” He jumps out of the car and before I can even get my seat belt off he opens my door for me. I'm surprised by how much of a gentleman he is. He helps me up the steps to his door, which he unlocks and then lets me step inside. The front room has a leather couch and smells like cinnamon and smoke.
“Sorry for the smell, I was burning incense while I meditated.”
“You meditate?” Usually it's the Asian doctors here who are spiritual. The Christian missionaries are much more utilitarian than that.
He nods. “During the summer. I should all year, but I never have time. I was actually using cinnamon because I was trying to draw a woman into my life.” He glances at me from the corner of his eyes and my face grows hot.
“Uh, so, what do you do for a living?”
“I'm the Director of Operations of Wallif International.”
I gasp. “No way! The media company?!”
Chuckling, he nods and opens the door to the balcony. The blonde lab skitters into the room, her nails clicking against the hard wood floor as she rushes up to me and lic
ks my fingers. I pet her head. “The one and only. I'll get the soup going, you can sit here and get to know Sassy.”
The dog is a sweetheart. I brush her soft hair with my fingers, sitting cross legged on the floor. Petting her calms me down, even though I am still horribly worried about my mom. I check my phone, but there are no text messages and no missed calls. Hopefully that's good news.
I'm gnawing on my bottom lip when Richard sticks his head back into the room. “Ten minutes before it's done. Are you old enough to drink?”
I consider lying, but shake my head. “No.”
“Well, that's okay. We're not in America. You're over eighteen at least?”
I laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I am. Can I help you with anything? Setting the table or... whatever?”
“No, make yourself at home. This is going to be the worlds most informal dinner. We're going to eat on the table in the living room and watch TV, if that's okay with you.”
“Sure!” I say, happy that I won't have to try to remember table manners I was never really taught. I mean, I wasn't raised a savage but who knows which fork is used for the salad, right?
Pushing myself up from the floor, I flit over to the couch and turn on the TV. I pull my long hair away from my neck and over my left shoulder as I channel surf.
Richard comes back into the room and stops dead in his tracks, a tray with two huge bowls in his hands. “Wow.”
Looking up at him, I furrow my eyebrows. “What?”
He shakes his head and moves to bring the soup to the table. “It's just, with your hair to the side like that you look really stunning. I mean, you already do, but you'd look really nice with your hair tied like that.”
I laugh in disbelief and roll my eyes. “Alright, turn down the charm.”
He chuckles. We both sit on the floor, our legs crossed under the glass table. When he shifts to sit a little closer to me, our pinkies touch and my whole body goes hot. He glances at me again, his thick eyelashes hiding some thought or maybe... a desire? I can't tell. When he moves his hand away again, the moment fades and we both blow on a spoonful of soup.