This, in fact, I was not expecting. I went still, stunned by his brazen declaration.
Before I could fully recover, he pulled me down onto him as he murmured into my ear, “Yes. I love you, honey girl. I want you. I need you. You’re all I can fucking think about. I love the way you taste. You drive me crazy. I love the way you feel. You haunt my dreams and you inspire my days. I love your mouth, your skin, your eyes, your lips. Is that what you want to hear?” The head of his huge, hot cock parted the folds of my pussy and pressed into my slippery entrance. I was definitely no longer a virgin, but I was still exceedingly tight. His thickness slid insistently into me, filling me and stretching me in a total, sensual invasion. “I love the way your tight, luscious little pussy grips me, like you can’t get enough of me.”
Oh, hell. This might have been a bad idea. I didn’t know if I could suppress the moans that rose in my throat. He was so big, so deep inside me I went instantly wet around his rigid bulk. I shifted very subtly from side to side, adjusting to the slight discomfort of his substantial invasion. He smoothed my skirt and the tablecloth to cover us. One of his large hands gripped my hip, pulling me closer as he reared deeper into me with understated insistence. “Or is this what you want to hear?” he whispered, his voice low and darkly graveled. “I want to take care of you. In every way I know how. I want to pamper you and pleasure you. I want to give you everything you want. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I want to keep you safe and use all my power and money to protect you.” He nipped at the lobe of my ear. Very, very quietly, he added, “And possess you.”
If it was music to my ears, there were one or two notes that had the encroaching potential to be off-key: a thought that held then faded before it was fully formed.
“Don’t look now, sweetheart,” he said, “but here comes the waiter.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. My inner muscles clutched involuntarily around him as I sat up straight, as though primly poised on Alexander’s lap, the picture of innocence. I turned as the waiter approached our table with several of the entrées Alexander had ordered. The waiter took the chilling champagne from its ice bucket and topped up our glasses. “How is everything, Monsieur Wolfe?” he asked, in perfect English.
“Everything is perfect. Absolutely perfect. Thank you.”
My body didn’t seem to care that Alexander was too big. That in this position, his possession was both nearly uncomfortable and practically divine. That we were having sex in a crowded restaurant while holding a conversation with an attentive waiter. I was rippling around him, wetly combusting, quivering on the very verge of orgasm. If Alexander had touched me with his fingers, I would have come right then and there. But he didn’t. He held my glass of champagne to my lips and I took a sip of the bubbling liquid. The waiter left us to it.
Alexander held me in the locked gravity of his gaze. He was beautiful, all that virile, darkhorse splendor rousing me even further. I wished I could straddle him and ride him into the sunset like a slowride rodeo hero. I wanted to bite him and suck on any part of him. It took all the self-control I had but, instead, I kissed him very lightly, while squeezing him in tiny, rhythmic pulls with my clenching core.
There was something so wildly carnal about the way we were fully clothed except the most intimate parts of our bodies, which were lusciously connected, joined in a secret, fluttering communion.
I couldn’t help it. I had to move. I was so close. Too close. Too close to be cautious or restrained. But when I lifted myself up in a careful attempt to gain some of that slippery friction that might give me release, he clamped his hand tighter at my hip, holding me in place. “No,” he said with authoritative bite that stoked my lust to fever pitch.
“Alexander,” I whispered so quietly he was watching my mouth with a glazed, lust-drowsed expression, as though reading my lips. “It’s so good. You’re so beautiful. I want to pulse around you as you look into my eyes. Right now. I want you to come so hard it blows your mind. Right here at the table.”
“Ah, fuck,” he groaned quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. “Ah, fuck,” he said again. “He’s here. It’s Etienne. I just saw him walk past the window.
Oh, God.
Alexander gently lifted me off him, adjusting himself and his clothing quickly as I slid back to the seat next to him. I felt ragged, bereft, and so intensely aroused I thought I might do something crazy. Like pin him down or drag him back to the hotel, bigshot editor-in-chief be damned.
Etienne appeared at the table, flanked by two young, pretty, exceptionally French-looking women. They had short boyish haircuts and wore matching skimpy outfits of very-short shorts, high heels, sequined tops and whimsical scarves, like they’d dressed for the evening together, coordinating their looks. Etienne himself was tall and handsome in a familyman kind of way. I guessed him to be around thirty-five. His hair was longish and stylishly unkempt and he wore John Lennon eyeglasses and one of those scarves you usually associate with the Middle East, wrapped bulkily around his neck. He gave the first impression of being creative and eccentric, but also keenly intelligent.
Introductions were made as Etienne sat next to Alexander and the two young women sat next to me. I hoped that we weren’t showing any outward signs of our very-recent activities. Alexander’s lap was partially covered by the table cloth and my skirt was appropriately rearranged. But the throbbing, juicy memory of his big, thick cock inside me made me feel half-mad with desire and ready for anything.
“This is Monique Junot,” Etienne said. “She writes a column for the magazine, and she runs her own business. And our mutual friend Mia Bellamy. A very talented masseuse who runs a successful establishment of her own.”
“This is Lila Carmichael,” Alexander said, to which both Etienne and the women began to spout what I thought might be along the lines of ‘enchanté’ but taken to the extreme degree of flattering enthusiasm. Their French was a whirl of lilting expressiveness, all of which was almost entirely incomprehensible to me. I now wished I’d paid more attention to foreign language study when I was scrabbling my way up the academic ladder. At the time, I’d never thought I’d travel, or do anything beyond camping out in stuffy (warm) east coast libraries until I could secure my place in an upper middle class existence. It also did not escape my notice that Alexander didn’t bother to follow up his introduction with my title. Maybe now that he’d not only thoroughly consummated his lust for me but also confessed his love for me, he didn’t want me to be his assistant anymore. I, however, still wanted to be his assistant. Badly. I could be his lover without being merely his toy, I thought, and my own defiance on the subject surprised me.
“I’m Alexander’s new assistant at Skyscraper in New York,” I added.
This inspired a new raft of gushing admiration which extended, on the part of the girls at least, to touching my hands and my hair. “You’re so pretty,” said the one named Mia, whose eyes were a distinct shade of sky blue. Her full lips had been painted fire-engine red. I thought the colors of her were somewhat outstanding: the blue and the red against the pale white of her face and the flags of pink across her cheeks. The touch of their hands was reminding me of my unrequited lust, which still pulsed in a lingering echo.
“You’re pretty, too. Both of you.”
Both girls had dark hair, but Monique’s was jet-black, and shiny. Her features were petite, pixie-like. They seemed good as a team, satelliting off each other with their lipstick, their thin, elegant arms and their flicky schoolboy haircuts. And their enthusiasm bounced off each others’, compounding the effect of youthful, sexy frivolity. They were very tactile, touching me often, running their hands along my arms as they spoke and tracing the neckline of my top. I wondered if it was a French thing, if getting a literal feel for someone was a part of getting to know a new acquaintance. I didn’t mind this at all. As Alexander was now deep in discussion with Etienne, I was enjoying their company. It had been a while since I’d had a girlish conversation. The past tw
o weeks had been intense, to say the least, and wonderful, but it was nice to take a break from all that heavy masculinity for an hour or two and savor the soft, lively company of these women, who weren’t much older than I was.
They spoke English well but with an accent heavy with z sounds. I got the impression, from their manner and their touchy-feely coquettishness that was somehow laced with deeper intention, that they might bat for both teams. Or at least dabble in the occasion round of unbiased sexual experimentation.
“What kind of business do you run, Monique?” I asked.
She smiled at Mia, and leaned closer to me, as though to share a private joke. “I design sex toys.”
I felt my eyebrows rise.
“She writes a column about her new designs in the magazine,” Mia said. “What’s hot, and what’s even more hot. That kind of thing.”
“Oh,” I heard myself say. “Wow.”
“Would you like to see my newest design?” Monique said. “It’s going to be featured in next month’s edition. It moves in a number of new, innovative ways, and the vibrations are rhythmic.” She reached into a small shopping bag and pulled out a box with a clear front, showcasing a pearl-colored vibrator. “Have you ever used one?”
“A vibrator? Uh, once.” I remembered it well. The night of the poker game. At the time, Alexander had gone easy on me.
The girls tittered at my obvious inexpertise. “Would you like to try it again?” Monique said. “This model is worth trying, trust me.”
“Sure,” I said, feeling the blaze of heat on my cheeks.
Mia smoothed the back of her cool hand along my cheekbone. “You are very beautiful, cheri. Your hair is so golden.” Her hand glided down my neck, to the upper curve of my breast, then back to my shoulder, which she kneaded gently.
“You should let Mia give you a massage, Lila,” Monique said. “She is very good at it.”
“Monique’s good at it too,” Mia said, smiling coyly.
“I’ve never had a massage before.” That wasn’t precisely true. Alexander was somewhat creative with his hands. “Not a professional one, at least.”
“Oh, you must let me,” Mia said. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” These girls were offering more than a massage. With the lingering warmth of Alexander’s public possession still moistening my deepest depths, and my nipples now beading from Mia’s gentle touch, the suggestion intrigued me. I was curious. More than a little tipsy from the diet of champagne I’d been living on, newly administered, I was as horny as I had ever been. Not only that but I was reborn, after all, in so many ways it was difficult to negotiate all that new emotional terrain. I felt loose, reckless and up for some experimentation. Slightly surprised at myself, I found I wanted to feel the soft glide of these girls’ fingers, as Alexander watched. “Yes,” I said. “Tonight.”
Alexander
The girls were playful. A little bit drunk. Lila had invited them back to our hotel for a drink after Etienne had left, which I had no problem with. She seemed to be enjoying their company and at this point, I was powerless to deny her anything she asked of me. The one named Mia had offered to give her a massage, she said, and she was excited. I had a feeling there was more at play here than that, which was intriguing, to say the fucking least. All I could think about was finishing what we’d started in the restaurant, and if Lila wanted these girls to join in, then I was hardly averse to the idea.
They circled Lila, feathering their small, soft hands over the low-cut fitted silk of her dress.
I took a seat and watched.
“I am going to massage you, Lila. But first, can I kiss you?” Mia cooed. “I’ve been wanting to kiss your lips. They’re so perfect, like pink rose petals. And your teeth are so white. Can I kiss her, Alexander?”
“That’s up to Lila,” I said, as my cock roared to full attention. “Whatever Lila wants, Lila gets.”
“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Lila said, looking at me. But she was curious, I could tell.
“Try it,” I said. “See if you like it.”
“It’s fun kissing girls,” Mia urged softly, touching her fingertips to Lila’s lips, parting them. “I kiss Monique all the time. It’s nice. Different to kissing a man. So soft and delicate. Let me show you.”
Monique was fingering the neckline of Lila’s dress. She was easing the fabric off Lila’s smooth shoulders. “I want to see your breasts, Lila,” she teased, all sultry and hot. “They’re so full and so rounded. Can I see?”
“I –” Lila paused, as though this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. “All right,” she finally said softly.
Mia touched her lips to Lila’s at the same time Monique eased the fabric of the dress over the swell of Lila’s breasts.
Christ.
Lila’s nipples were unbelievably rosy and gorgeous, tightening visibly as they were exposed to the air and to the adoration. Monique let Lila’s dress fall to the floor. Lila stood naked in her high-heeled sandals. She knew she was beautiful. She could feel her own sensuality. I could tell this from the way she stood, with her languid, long-limbed stance, all coquettish and falsely demure. Her breast were perfectly shaped, with that plump, graceful curve. Her little ass was rounded and golden, her back barely arched to accentuate every shadow and every hollow. And her pussy was blushing and lightly swollen, glossy with the beginnings of her arousal.
Mia gently kissed Lila’s lips, making little mewing sounds as she fed on Lila’s moist, plum mouth.
“Look at your body, Lila,” Monique gasped. “You’re gorgeous. Your Alexander is a very lucky man.”
“And Lila is lucky, too,” giggled Mia, who looked over at me. Lila followed her gaze. “I think Alexander likes watching me kiss you, Lila. He’s getting excited.” That was the understatement of the fucking century. My cock was so painfully erect it was rubbing uncomfortably against the zipper and button of my jeans, all the way to my belt buckle. “Alexander wants to watch me kiss you some more, don’t you, Alexander?”
I didn’t bother answering and Mia didn’t wait for it. She licked lightly at Lila’s lips, for my benefit.
Monique was undressing Mia. Unbuttoning her top and peeling it off her shoulders. Unlatching her lacy bra. Pulling off her little shorts, which Mia stepped out of without stopping the little wet kisses she was giving Lila’s mouth. Mia’s body was petite and cute, but far less slimly voluptuous than Lila’s. Then again, every woman’s body was less slimly voluptuous than Lila’s.
“Mia, rub your nipples against Lila’s,” Monique coaxed, unbuttoning her own dress. “So Alexander can see. You’ll like this, Lila. It feels so good.”
“Oh, Lila,” Mia said. “Your breasts are so full, so lovely. Do you want me to touch you? You do, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Lila said shyly. Then she looked at me, as though unsure about how I felt about all this. “Alexander?”
“He’s fine,” Mia giggled again. “Go unzip him, Monique. He’s going to burst out of his jeans when he sees this.”
“No,” said Lila.
Monique laughed and touched a finger to Lila’s nipple, rotating a tiny circle. Then she pinched gently, causing Lila’s mouth to open into a round little O. “Don’t worry, cheri. He’s all for you. We won’t touch him. Not much. We just want you to see how turned on he gets watching us. Please? It’ll be fun.”
Lila was placated enough to let Monique walk over to where I sat. She reached for my belt buckle and I let her unfasten it. She pulled on it. “Stand up,” Monique said and I did, watching Lila’s eyes. “I’m just going to undress you,” Monique said. The bossy type. I didn’t mind. As long as Lila was cool with it, the little French mistress could boss me right over the edge. “Then you can watch until we’re ready for you. All right, Lila? You want to see his big, muscled body, don’t you? You want to see his cock getting even harder as we massage you and kiss you and get you ready for him? He’s all yours. Only yours.” Monique was unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it off and I let he
r. “I’m not touching him, see? I’m unzipping his jeans and pulling them down for you. Mon dieu, he’s so big!”
“And so hard,” Mia said. “For you, Lila. All for you. Watch this, Alexander.” Mia touched her nipples to Lila’s, rubbing in small, rotating circles against Lila’s full breasts.
Fuck.
“Oo, you feel so good, Lila,” Mia said. “Your breasts are so beautiful. I want to suck them. Can I taste you a little? Just a little.”
I was fully undressed now and Monique guided me with her small, cool hands back into the chair. “Wait here,” she said. “We’re going to get her very, very ready for you.”
Mia leaned in and took one of Lila’s nipples into her mouth, swirling it with her tongue. Lila moaned softly and closed her eyes. When Mia pulled her mouth away, Lila’s nipple was wet and glistening. “You taste so good, Lila. So sweet and fresh and young.” Mia swirled the moistened nipple between her fingers, squeezing the hard nub as she sucked the other. Lila barely swayed on her feet.
Monique, who had now stepped out of her dress, took Lila’s hand. Monique’s body was slim, almost boyish. “Let’s move her to the bed, Mia. You’re making her knees weak. Come, Lila, we’ll arrange you so Alexander can see you. All of you. We’re going to massage you. Would you like that? Mia is very good at it.”
The girls led Lila to the bed and she followed willingly. I could see that her pussy was already very wet, swelling and opening in that flowery way it had. She seemed a little disoriented and she looked over at me as she crawled onto the bed. I was holding my cock in my hand, rubbing lightly but without intent. “Alexander?” she cooed.
“Right here, honey girl.”
“We’ll bring him over soon,” Monique said. “First we’ll make you comfortable. Lie on your stomach, and spread your legs a little.” The girls arranged Lila’s body, smoothing their hands over her skin. Very gently, they spread her legs, arranging her for me.
“He wants to see you, Lila,” Mia purred in that accent. “He wants to see your pussy getting silky and wet as we rub you with oil. He wants to imagine how it’s going to feel when he pushes his big cock into you.”
BILLIONAIRE (Part 5) Page 4