by Abbott, Alex
Is this what was happening?
I was coming? How did he know and I didn’t?
I had read about it in Fifty Shades of Grey. I assumed that was what they were doing in the two porn movies I watched. However, they were so mechanical that it was hard to determine exactly how felt.
“That fucking arse just turns me on. Especially in that red dress.” He whimpered as he lifted my leg and shoved his fat cock into me one more time. Then he rocked back and forth. I held onto his butt, and it was only at then that it dawned on me that he had not removed any of his clothes. Here I was naked, and he was fully dressed, probably so he could make a quick exit after he had finished.
His hands were hungry over my body. One minute they were gripping tightly onto my arse, the next they were fondling my nipple, and other times they were holding my breast—or as much as he could scoop in one hand. He was hungry to fuck me, and I was ready to receive him. I started to sweat, but I got the impression he was doing most of the work.
I had the same feeling take over my body. I began to jerk as I realised it was happening again. It excited me but frightened me at the same time. I realised that for the first time in my life, I was actually going to climax.
I bit his arm hard, and he screamed and then laughed a wicked laugh. Just then, I felt his cum as it shot straight up inside of me. I released him, because I felt all my energy draining from my body as I climaxed. I licked my lips and thought how twenty minutes ago, or maybe longer, I was a virgin—and now I no longer fit that category.
“What about Mrs Sparks?”
“Why do you think she only has boys here every year?”
“Oh,” I replied as he spooned me in his arms and ever so lightly, I felt him rest, still in his suit but with me wrapped in his arMs I fell asleep too, knowing this was the best night of my life before I went to university.
***
I’m not sure what time he left, but I got up in the middle of the night and saw that I was naked on top of the bed. Some part of me felt vulnerable wondering if Mrs Sparks saw me like that. Then I thought, if she did, she wouldn’t be able to resist squeezing my boobs.
The next day, I couldn’t stop smiling until in the evening when I went to the library and picked up Great Expectations again. I love the book and the movie. I couldn’t resist reading some of it knowing it was my last night in the house.
As I picked up the book, there was a note. Come downstairs, 2585. No signature and I wondered how long the note had been in the book, but I couldn’t stop my curiosity, so before all of these things became irrelevant, as I wanted to find out if it were meant for me. I wondered if on my last night in the house if I would get a repeat performance of last night.
I could still feel his lips and the way I felt last night. It was almost as if I were a different person. I relived every anxiety. Anything that was in my mind, I let go. It felt good to do that. I never had such an experience and I wanted more.
I felt like a drug addict. I wanted more, knowing it was wrong and the consequences of anyone finding out. Yes, I was not naïve to say I didn’t know what was going on, but for once in my life, I really didn’t care.
I dropped the book. I stopped and looked at it lying on the couch. I had picked up the same book the first night I was in the house. It had no note! So I knew the note was for me, and this pleased me even more. This was growing more exciting by the minute.
I raced to go down the stairs to put in the code to see if it worked.
CHAPTER NINE
As I entered, his cold smile turned into a warm, loving one.
“What am I doing here?”
“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
“Thought you did.”
“No, that was just a taster,” he replied, which sent shivers down my spine. “I will have you screaming for more.”
I wanted to scream ‘yes, please.’ I just simply nodded. I began to grow weak and wet at the anticipation that he would enter me one more time.
He took my hand and led me to his bedroom, which was a large room with mahogany posts on either side of the bed and a large gold lace curtain tied to each post. The first thing that came to my mind was it was more of a woman’s bed than a man’s type of bed. It was huge, and the idea of lying on the golden bed turned me on, especially with the hottest man that I’d ever met so near to me.
He took my hand and led me to the bed. I took off my shoes in anticipation of him exploring me once more. I got excited at the thought of what he was going to do to me. He reached for my hair and loosened it from my usual ponytail.
“That’s better. Why do you insist on keeping your lovely hair in a cage?”
I had never thought of it like that. I just tried to keep it off my face. Not that I wanted everyone to stare at my face, but with my shortsighted vision, I needed as much visibility as possible.
I was a slave to his commands. Next, he gently used his arms to lower me onto the bed. It felt nice to be treated so well. He knew how to make a woman feel special, and right now, I did not feel like a woman. I felt like a lady.
He gently nibbled on my ear and said, “You are mine tonight.” I did not respond but merely closed my eyes with hot anticipation. This time, I watched his every move. He stripped for me slowly by taking off his t-shirt, and I watched as the ripples of his six-pack were revealed.
Oh, my, I really am in seventh heaven.
I wanted to taste it and touch it. As he took off his pyjama bottoms, I moved closer. I had never touched a cock before, I thought as I caressed it. He moaned as I squeezed it and put his hand at the back of my head, encouraging me to go forward.
It smelt so good, and I just had to taste it in my mouth. I envisioned that I was sucking a lollypop and did the same movements I would do if I were sucking one. I put it in my mouth making sure I did not bite him. He groaned louder and pushed my head even more onto his thick cock as I sucked him harder and harder.
I was pleased that he was enjoying it, I was becoming wet from the noises he was making, and my panties dampened. Oh, yes, I wanted him in so many ways that were unspeakable. I just wish this wasn’t the last night.
I removed these thoughts from my head as I sucked until he came in my mouth. I swallowed it, and he responded, “You are a good girl, you sucked me dry.” He laughed while panting at the same time.
What was the big deal?
I wanted to satisfy him, and I wanted to make sure I did.
Like a hungry wolf on the hunt, scavenging for their feed, he wanted to feed me with sex and I was helping him.
“No, I will do it all. It’s my turn to satisfy you.”
He wanted to gratify me. Didn’t he realize that everything he did to me did that alone? I did not need more from him. He did that with his smile, his touch, embrace, and most of all, by making love to me. Yes, I came to the right place at the right time to discover that I do belong somewhere, in his arms and in his life.
He turned me on all fours. I felt like a dog, and then he slid his two fingers up my arse. At first, it really hurt, but the more he did it and rocked me, the more I discovered it was not too bad. He was lying in between my legs, and as my breasts dropped further down, he would try to capture them in his mouth sucking them and laughing every time he managed to capture one of them in his mouth.
It was a game to him and he liked it.
Afterwards, he stopped me and forcibly made me sit on his fat dick. He used his hands to manoeuvre me forward and backwards. It hurt at first. I wasn’t sure if it was because his dick was so big or because I had only lost my virginity the day before.
As the movements became deeper, I enjoyed it more, but I could feel the same sensation as I did the day before. I was climaxing. I could not believe that this feeling was something that I had never felt in my entire life. I had heard about it, saw it a few times on television, but experiencing it was an utterly new experience. It felt so good, too good in fact.
I reached my arms up into the air and began to
arch my back. I felt the thrill of a rollercoaster ride, and I wasn’t going to stop until I felt ecstasy. I started to scream and so did he at the same time.
“Yeah, baby, come to papa.”
As we both screamed in pure joy, I felt a shot of cum come up my spine. I then fell on top of him. He laughed as he brushed my back the same way he did two days before when we were taking the photos. He smiled and shivered at the same time.
I listened to his heart beating rapidly and felt pleasure knowing that I had caused him to do that as we were enjoying our bodies next to each other. The door swung open. I couldn’t believe that he never bothered to lock it, and there was Mrs Sparks standing by the bed with a fury all over her face.
I didn’t know what to say or do. I was in shock. No one was talking. I looked to him, and he still had his eyes closed, I couldn’t believe it. I spoke out of fear. “He told me this was all right, that you often had boys here so you could sleep with them!” I screamed as she started to hit me under her husband’s legs.
He was laughing at the same time. I felt humiliated and used. Did he do this to me to get back at his wife? She seemed more annoyed then upset that her husband was having sex with another woman.
“Oh, dear, why do you have to be a bore? You could join us!” he shouted at the top of his lungs while reaching for his glass of whiskey.
Was this a sick joke?
Did they do this on purpose?
“You whore!” she screeched as she slapped me in the face. I did not know if I should retaliate. I mean this was all new to me. I lost my virginity to a married man. I ran out of the room. I didn’t know what to make of the whole trail of events. Tomorrow, I was due to go to Oxford. After this, I thought maybe I would be going back to Mum’s house or even worse, back to Tesco’s.
I ran to my room and cried. I cried for being caught. Cried for sleeping with a married man and even cried for Grandma. The hot passion I had shared with Mr Sparks felt like a lie. He had taken my innocence and used me. I felt violated. I felt sick.
I needed Grandma´s warm embrace around me, to protest my innocence and protect me from all that I was surrounded by, especially when the door barged open and Mrs Sparks shouted, “I´m not done with you yet.”
To be continued…
***
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Belonging (Book Two)
Belonging (Book Three)
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J. S. Wilder
About J.S. Wilder, Author:
J.S. Wilder has spent many years working in the IT industry. She has left the computers behind and taken up her passion of writing. She loves to write romance and still believes in fairy-tales.
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***
A Billionaire’s Dangerous Secrets
By Laurel Adams
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
Chapter One
KATE
“He’s so young, and virile and sexy, Kate. You can’t even imagine the things he does to me or the places he takes me. He says I’m his now and that he’d kill to keep anyone else from touching me. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, but his insane jealousy makes it hotter.”
These were the last words my mother ever said to me.
I’d cringed at the time, uncomfortable, as I always was whenever my mom talked about her sex life to me. Not that she noticed, or cared if I was uncomfortable. She always said that she thought of me more like a sister instead of a daughter—probably because she was only fifteen years old when she had me.
Teen motherhood can’t be helped when you’re an early bloomer, she’d chirped, calling herself a Lolita. Irresistible to men. Irresistible to my father…whoever he was.
That’s how dysfunctional our conversations were.
But I guess she wasn’t just boasting. In spite of humble beginnings in Kentucky, mom made her way to Hollywood to work as an actress and was “discovered” by a British billionaire media mogul before she’d even uttered a line auditioning for a toothpaste ad.
The aging, but super-rich Thaddeus Kenyon wanted my toned, beautiful, bimbo of a mother for a trophy. And my mom wanted his money. His title probably didn’t hurt, either.
I think she loved him, actually. At least at first. Though I was only fifteen when my mom got married to His Lordship in a lavish London extravaganza, I was the maid of honor.
Glowing in her designer bridal gown, my mom had said, “Remember, Katie, if anyone of the guests ask, you tell them that you’re my little sister.” Then, seeing my face fall, she’d hugged me close and cried, “I always wanted a sister!”
But I wanted a mom.
A normal mom. Not that I ever got one. Not really. And now the only one I’d ever have was dead. Prescription pill overdose. That was the official story. Not that I believed it. Nobody else did either. There were already hints in the media outlets that it was suicide. Well, all the media outlets except those owned by the Kenyon family, anyway.
As I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way through Heathrow Airport, having arrived for mom’s funeral, I guessed they’d have sent a car for me. His lordship was a cold man. A distant stepfather. He’d never made any pretense at thinking of me as anything even remotely like a daughter. Which was fine with me, because he seemed like a pretty shitty dad to his own sons.
I’m sure the Kenyons all thought I was my mother’s inconvenient accouterment. But they were Brits, so they were usually polite about it. Except for Jeremy—the younger son who was smoking’ hot and just about my age. I’d lusted for him secretly since the day we met. More than lusted for him, actually. I’d always thought there might really be something between us.
But when your mom is a notorious gold-digger, you really can’t do anything that will make you look trashy—like falling for your own stepbrother. Besides, Jeremy was way too broody and brusque for comfort. Even for a billionaire bad boy.
Anyway, I was pretty sure the Kenyon family would send a limo to pick me up for my mom’s funeral. They’d put me up at a fancy hotel. They’d utter meaningless platitudes about family. Then, when my mom was buried, they’d probably tell the driver to take me wherever I wanted to go, relieved at the thought of never having to see me again.
It didn’t take my psychology degree to know that their polite generosity would relieve them of their guilt.
Well, fuck the Kenyon family. Fuck their fake politeness. Fuck their limos. And fuck their driver too. That’s what I was thinking when I saw the smartly dressed chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it.
KATE ASHTON.
Yep. That was me. And I’d have saved some money, maybe, if I’d gone with him. But I had other plans, so it wasn’t just in an act of defiance that I walked right past him and the sign, stepped out onto the street, and hailed a cab.
~~~
The Kenyon family had a butler. A real, old-fashioned, properly trained butler, and a formal uniform complete with white gloves. His name was Albert, and he was pretty much the only really nice human being I’d ever met at the manor house in which my mother had breathed her last.
I probably should’ve changed out of my torn jeans and punk tee shirt into something a little dressier, but my clothes sometimes felt like armor, and showing up at the Kenyon residence uninvited made me feel as if I might need it.
&nb
sp; “Miss Ashton,” Albert said, ushering me into the grand entrance with warm regard, and no apparent censure for my attire. “What a delight it is to see you again. I’m only sorry it’s under such sad circumstances. Please accept my heartfelt condolences for your loss.”
I started to say something dismissive about how my mom and I were never that close and that everything was fine. I almost shrugged a shoulder, too. That’s how I dealt with things. It’s how I’d always dealt with things—by being a tough girl. A bad ass. The kind of girl who gets kicked out of boarding schools and doesn’t give two shits about anything.
But the genuine kindness in Albert’s voice took me off guard, and a lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t cried when they told me she was dead. Hadn’t shed a tear. Told myself that I never would. But somehow, standing in front of the huge marble staircase over which hung a garish portrait of my mother in a skin-tight sequined dress, I nearly broke down and sobbed.
Shit. Was I going to lose it? Right here? In what I’d always felt was enemy territory? Seeing my lower lip wobble, Albert seemed to take pity on me by asking a question. “Will you be staying with us, Miss Ashton? His lordship isn’t at home, presently. Today is the first time he’s gone out since the lady…” He broke off uncomfortably. Since my mother’s passing, he meant. “I think it must have slipped his mind to expect you, but I can see you to a guest room.”
So, my stepfather, His Lordship, had been grieving. He’d loved her—sometimes to the point that seemed obsessive. And my mother loved him too, though I think she mostly loved the idea of being called a lady.