Finally, dinner is finished, plates are cleared, and Mom comes in with a plan. After talking about it with Dad in the kitchen, apparently. “How would you two like to come out for ice cream with us?”
I hold my stomach regretfully. “Oh, that sounds lovely, Mom,” I say, grunting from how full I feel, “But I’m too full. Anymore, and I’m going to need a second stomach to replace this one when it explodes! Plus, it’s really cold outside. Ice cream would just make it worse.”
Paul seconds my assessment.
“Okay.” Mom grab their coats and they put them on before holding hands. They seriously look like newlyweds. “Well, I guess it’ll just be us then, Honey,” she says, looking up at Dad. “What do you say to giving these kids” — Mom gives me a knowing, happy look — “a little alone time, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” says Dad, trying to look like he wasn’t looking down my mom’s blouse. “Sure, whatever works, Honey.”
“Bye, kids,” she says, dragging her husband to the front door and out of it. “Have fun! Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do. We’ll be gone about an hour!”
“Okay,” I shout back, snuggling into Paul’s arms and resting my head on his shoulder. We won’t say here at the table long, I imagine, but I’m fine like this until they leave completely. “Have fun.”
Now the house is completely ours. And it’s completely silent, except for the ticking of the cuckoo clock. I’m really glad I met you, Paul. I’m really glad I took a risk, I think, breathing in the scent of his cologne. I’m really glad I got out of my shell, and for that, I hope we last.
I sigh contentedly, but also nervously. I’ve never been in this serious of a relationship before. And this one has only lasted a few days. What the hell?
Paul leans in, nibbling my neck. “So,” he says. “Where’s your bedroom?” A calculated, heavy pause. “I want to fuck you in the room you slept in growing up. We need to christen it. I need to make it mine, just like I’ve made you mine.”
Blush is all I can do, before I get up and lead him to my room.
Even before I get more than a few steps down the hallway with him, I feel it. My pussy is beginning to drip. It’s as ready for him to take it again as I am. What a great Christmas season this has turned out to be.
Epilogue
Mariah
“We have to be quick about this,” I say, stripping out of my clothes as fast as my fingers and hands will allow. “When they say an hour, it’s really more like 45 minutes!”
I throw off my soaking underwear, feeling slick, gooey juice dripping from my pussy. It’s not even anywhere near his hands, and it’s quivering, at just the thought of him touching it.
I shiver, bringing a hand down onto my hair. My mound. My hood.
Paul is suddenly behind me, naked, taking my hand away. “You’re not allowed to touch that,” he says. “That’s mine, remember? I paid a pretty penny for that, and I’m not ready to let anyone else mess with it. Even you.”
With that, he slips his fingers into my folds and starts rubbing. Gyrating. Doing a “come hither” motion against my clit.
Almost immediately, I’m bending over because of the tender pulses shooting through my body. The sweet lightning shocking my system. I start panting. Moaning. Murmuring how good it feels. How sensitive I am. How much I want him to pet my kitty, and he obliges. But not by increasing the speed.
“I’ll pet your kitty, I’ll make her purr,” he whispers, “but you’ll have to ride my fingers like a cock if you want more stimulation.”
He slaps my ass with his free hand, taking a moment to play with my asshole.
I moan loudly, surprising myself. It’s a lusty, greedy sound and all my stuffed animals seem to scold me for it.
“I’m not your fuckboy or toy,” he whispers huskily. “You’re my toy, to play with any time I want. Get that straight, and ride my hand, Mariah!”
“Yes, sir” I cry, riding him hard and fast. The same way I’ve ridden many dildos and massagers. Until they break, but Paul’s hand doesn’t break. It just shifts and molds to my folds. My clit, growing bigger and hotter with every motion. Soon, it’s like I’ve got a small sun itching to become a supernova inside me. It burns like molten magma and devours like a black hole.
I thrust faster, surprised when the strongest, wettest orgasm goes through me and I ejaculate something in his hand. I spray a good amount of clear, sticky liquid, feeling like I’ve just peed. “Oh no,” I murmur, thinking I really have pissed on him.
“Oh yes,” says Paul, taking the liquid on his hand and using it to wet my holes. Particularly my pussy, whose lips are still tight and plump with desire. “You’ve just squirted. And it’s extra fun for me now.”
Quickly, as if I’ve just awoken the Jaguar in him, Paul hurries me over to my bed. As he does, his fully-erect cock pokes me in the middle to lower back. It’s like he’s got a dagger drawn. But unlike a dagger, I’m looking forward to being impaled by it. “Get ready, Mariah. My sword is drawn!”
But I’ve been ready for his sword since the last time he jabbed me with it. And I have a feeling I’ll always be ready for it.
Paul
I push Mariah onto her bed, head first. She lands in the perfect position for me to fuck both her pussy and ass equally. Easily. Unlike in the woods, I don’t need to lower myself to have access to her glistening and puckered holes. I just need to dive in.
I do dive in, glistening-penis-head first, but not before putting on a condom. I wasn’t sure I had one, but I found one in the back pocket of my pants before taking them off.
After opening the condom and putting it on, I spread Mariah’s lips and cheeks, getting a good look at her silky pinkness. I hum at it. “Delicious,” I say, “I’m going to enjoy tasting this.” I plunge my cock into her pussy, enjoying the instant feedback I get. The squish of her folds, as if she’s nothing more than an overripe peach. Then there is warmth. There’s also gripping along my head, and then shaft, as my cock slides easily into her, all the way up to my balls.
Mariah’s already moving, curling her toes cutely on the rug underneath her, and wiggling her hips. She has a very happy pussy, and I’m about to make it happier. I grab her hips, and push the head of my cock into her a bit more. Just enough to spread the tightest, smallest part of her hole open an inch. I succeed, enjoying a small little “kiss” on my tip from her furthest reaches. Mariah groans under this attention, but doesn’t tell me to stop.
I pull back, murmuring in her ear, “Your parents could come home early,” I warn. “You want to stay quieter than that, if you don’t want them seeing you shamelessly splayed out like this on your childhood bed. On the bed I’m sure your daddy read a lot of innocent, sweet stories to you on.”
I don’t waste any time starting a rhythm with her. Unlike our first time, I’m not slow or gentle. Instead, I’m methodical. I just start ramming my cock in and out of her, enjoying the way she whines. The way she shrieks when a particularly good spot inside of her.
“You naughty, naughty little girl. Just think of what they would say, Mariah, if they could see you with me right now.”
I spank her hard on each cheek, before grabbing her hair and holding onto it while I continue to ravage her swollen lips and hot, textured hole.
“I’m so bad,” agrees Mariah, sounding like she’s speaking on a cloud. She’s obviously feeling as if she’s in heaven.
“Punish me!” She rubs her silky, slightly-chilled ass cheeks against me. “Punish me please, Paul!”
“You want me to fuck you in the ass, is that it?” My whisperer is hot, heavy and combative. “Is that the kind of ‘punishment’ you want?”
Mariah nods, unable to verbally acknowledge that she wants that kind of sex. It must be from being at her parent’s house.
“I will,” I say, taking my dick out of her pussy, and making sure the condom is on still. It is, covered from tip to base and white and clear juice from her. Slowly, carefully I line my penis up with her puckering, puff
y asshole. “But only because you begged me, and because you are such a naughty girl.”
Mariah squeals at this, and her asshole makes a kissing motion at me as I spread her cheeks in preparation of entering her. Seconds after spreading her cheeks as far as they will go, and angling my hard cock in the right direction, I dive into her. I slide my rod into her all the way without stopping.
We both sigh/groan in response to the quickness of the tight, sucking sensation. The kaleidoscope of texture that we both feel.
“Just like in the woods, Mariah,” I say, pumping her in her full, delicious ass, “you’re going to have to stay quiet. Well behaved, if you don’t want to get found out.” I pinch and squeeze her ass with each in and out move.
Before long, even with me increasing my speed, grabbing on to her hips, Mariah is hungry. She begins to slam her ass and hips down on to me. After a few clumsy thrusts, she matches her rhythm to mine, and it’s a quick climb to pleasure.
In seconds, I feel my balls clench, and fluid beginning as race toward my tip. I feel Mariah clench with me, and I know the muscles in her ass are clenching. Experiencing the same kind of pleasure as she might when needing to use the bathroom.
But she doesn’t evacuate. She shudders, saying, “Fuck me in my hungry ass!” Her words waiver in time with my thrusting. “Oh, yes! Yes, I’m such a filthy girl, getting my hole plundered!”
“Oh yeah, baby,” I growl, feeling semen shoot into my condom, but imagining that it’s in her ass for real. “Take this, dirty girl!” With that, I stiffen, savoring each pump of my cock.
I stay with my orgasm, pushing into her a few more inches, before pulling out. Now I feel thoroughly milked. Spent.
Upon pulling out, Mariah has a small, but powerful orgasm. It shows up as a small tremor.
I gather her up, and place her on the bed properly. As I do so, I kiss her on the mouth. Deeply, and with tongue. She responds favorably, pulling me so that I’m more on the bed with her. I gladly give in to her pull.
“That was even better than earlier today,” murmurs Mariah, kissing me square on my lips. “Especially since now I get to dream about having that with you whenever I want.” She makes little doodles in my hair. Of what, I don’t know or care.
I’m just happy to lie with her here for as long as I can. Which isn’t going to be for much longer.
Mariah
Sooner than I want it to be, it’s time for Paul to leave.
He’s dressed and ready to brave the snow. I’ve seen it start to fall like crazy from the window in my bedroom. “I wish you could stay for longer, babe,” I moan, reaching out for him. “I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye yet.”
Paul walks into my arms, stroking my hair. “I know.” A pause, as he messes tenderly with an ear lobe. “But I can’t. Your parents are going to be here soon, and I don’t want to give them any time to ask questions about why I look so rosy cheeked.” We share a laugh, but I feel Paul moving away. I hate it, but I know it has to happen. “There will be a next time, Mariah. And next time, we’re going to do it right. I’m going to tie you to the bed again and fuck your brains out without worrying about being rushed.”
I smile, hearing tenderness in the way he says “fuck your brains out.” He’s not being the tough out alpha male right now, and I run with it. I look up at him, saying, “You really are smitten with me, aren’t you? You really are hopeless around me.”
“Sure.” He kisses me on my cheek, before heading to my bedroom door and opening it. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way, baby.” He turns toward me. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard wedding bells in our future.”
He gestures like he’s listening carefully. Bells, like those on a reindeer, have just sounded out my window. “The Christmas bells are ringing, Mariah. You know what that means, right?”
I do.
“Yes, sir. It means there will be more bells in the future. And it means my dreams have come true.”
“It means you’ve made my dreams come true, too,” he says.
With a smile, he adds, “And they say money can’t buy happiness,” and we both laugh, knowing that in our case, it bought hot sex, deep love and a very happy ever after.
Thank you for reading. More sizzling hot romance books follow for your continued reading pleasure, including more from the Sold to the Auction series of billionaire and virgin auction romance books.
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Sold on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance
Copyright 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1 – Celeste
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who looks the most elegant but is actually the sluttiest of them all?
I stare at myself a little too long in Rachel’s full length mirror, repeating this silly phrase I’ve just made up in my head and trying to remind myself that it’s really me in there.
Plain Jane Celeste Sheffield. Tomboy, nerd, misfit.
Except that right now I look like a knock out. Rachel’s been telling me that for the past hour, and it’s starting to sink in even though I don’t even recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
From the looks of what I’m wearing you’d think I was going to a fancy party. All the details are in place.
I’ve donned a shiny black and silver evening gown accentuated with a tiny diamond necklace, which was a gift from my mom for my high school graduation.
My red fingernails feature dainty pink hearts that the nail stylist had painstakingly painted on earlier today.
The same stylist also did my hair: adding volume to my normally flat, thin blonde strands and piling them all up on top of my head with tightly- rolled curls spiraling down in a style reminiscent of my high school Prom.
Where I almost lost my virginity, but didn’t.
That’s still intact, although my pride was wounded if not completely broken that night. And now that I’m going to a dinner club where I’ll be auctioned off like cattle, there’s not much of my pride left of which to speak.
Rachel says that only my companionship is being auctioned off. Not my body, not my virginity. But it still feels wrong.
I can’t take my eyes off the mirror. My look is one that someone would wear to a luxurious ball. But I feel like I might as well be wearing a cheap dress that rides up my ass and shows too much cleavage.
“I still can’t believe you want to whore me out,” I tell Rachel, as I pick up my red satin clutch and rifle through it.
I’m making sure I have everything I might need. Even though I have no idea what I actually need for a gig like this. Except maybe a drink, which at nineteen years old, I’m too young to even legally purchase.
“And I can’t believe I’m going along with it,” I add.
Rachel shakes her head and laughs at me.
“Celeste, calm down,” she practically snorts. “I’m not whoring you out.”
She’s supposed to be my best friend— which is the whole reason I agreed to this gig— but right now I don’t appreciate her making light of a very serious situation.
“Well not really, anyway,” she says. “It’s not like you actually have to sleep with them. Some girls choose to, but many don’t. I don’t.”
She shrugs and says the last two words as if pronouncing herself Mother Teresa.
“So, what exactly are they… bidding on… then?”
I can’t even believe I’m asking this question. The whole concept still seems so surreal.
Sure, I already knew that Rachel has a crazy job working as an escort to rich, older men at an exclusive undergrou
nd dinner club called The Exchange. I know everything about her. But I hadn’t exactly wanted to hear about all the details before.
This kind of job suits her a lot better than it would me. We’ve been friends since we were young girls who met in church Sunday School, and she’s always been the adventurous, rebellious one. I’m usually the one observing from the corner, taking notes and writing about it all later.
“Oh, come on, Celeste,” Rachel says.
She looks annoyed now, which is rich, since I’m the one doing her a big favor tonight.
“You know that there are a lot of guys in Phoenix looking for female ‘friends’ for different reasons.”
“That’s for sure,” I agree. “There are as many rich lonely men here in Phoenix as there are tumbleweeds.”
Celeste laughs genuinely now.
“You and your… what are they called? Similes?” she asks me, shaking her head.
“Metaphors,” I answer.
“Yeah, those. Well, anyway,” she continues. “Sure, some of these guys want sex. But others might be completely impotent and need to keep that fact a secret in their social circle. Some might just want arm candy for whatever reason. Or companionship. Or to keep up with their boss or business partner by bringing someone even more attractive than whomever the other guys is dating to the company party or dinner event.”
“Okay,” I tell her, still feeling hesitant.
“I do need to warn you about something, but don’t worry,” she says, which immediately causes me to worry. “Some guys will bid up to the amount required to take you to dinner— which is all you have to do— but they like to view it as a challenge: they might try to get you to go out with them again or sleep with them, when they’ve only paid for the dinner escort option.”
“How much is the… ‘sleep with me option?’” I ask, my stomach turning into knots.
“A lot more than the dinner option,” she says. “And it just depends on how high the bidding goes.”
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