Forced to Bloom, The Complete Series: (BBW Alpha Male Billionaire BDSM Romance)

by Alexis Adaire

  Then I finally heard a door shut and expectantly watched the little light. There was a rustling sound and I was alarmed to realize it was coming from the other booth, the one behind me with the glory hole.

  The one that was supposed to be out of order.

  3

  I froze. From where I stood, I could see movement through the glory hole. Someone was definitely in there. I supposed I should have been more frightened, but I knew the guy was in a separate room and chose to ignore him. Turning back to look at the light over the screen, I saw it was still not blinking. I opened the door and re-scanned the hallway, but saw nobody and quickly locked it again.

  I couldn’t resist peering through the hole into the next booth, but the last thing I wanted was to put my face to it and get a surprise penis-poke in the eye. Standing across the tiny room with my back against the glass buddy screen, I squatted to look through the opening. All I could see were dark pants and a dark jacket. I’d have to get closer to see more. I sat in the chair in the middle of the booth and turned it toward the hole. Now I could see a little better, and it appeared the man was wearing a suit. He was standing away from the hole, so I quietly scooted the chair closer to about a foot away and looked again. It was definitely a man in a business suit. I couldn’t see his face, but he had a good build and that suit fit him very well.

  As I watched, he reached for his fly and lowered the zipper. From his angle, he wouldn’t have been able to see me through the hole, so I assumed he didn’t know I was watching him. His hand vanished, then reappeared a moment later holding a semi-erect cock. It reminded me of the time M let me watch via phone video while he took his own hard cock out to show—

  Wait a second.

  Was that M I was watching through the hole? No way. It couldn’t be.

  Had he been counting the men and entered the other booth in order to be the tenth man? I didn’t know him well enough to know if that was the kind of thing he would do. Regardless, as I watched the man stroking his growing cock, I started to believe it could be M. I soon felt like I was watching M jerk off, and my excitement rose exponentially. Should I say something through the hole? Ask if it’s really him?

  The man turned to face the glory hole, his cock directly in front of me through the opening. I looked on as his hand moved back and forth on the long shaft and felt myself becoming extremely wet. I was still wearing just my panties, heels and an unbuttoned shirt. If I knew for a fact that it was M in the next booth, I would have acted on that knowledge. Not knowing, though, I was paralyzed. I remembered my phone and quickly sent M a text. I didn’t want to ask him if he was there, because he might not have wanted me to know it was him.

  9 down, 1 to go.

  I waited for a response and got none. The man in the suit must have moved, because his cock disappeared from view. Suddenly a hand entered my booth through the glory hole. I moved backwards in my chair out of his reach. His finger curled repeatedly, beckoning me to approach the hole. I wasn’t going to let this man touch me unless I knew for a fact it was M. I dashed off another text, a question this time, to force a response from him.

  Are you proud of me?

  The finger kept signaling me to come closer. No response came from M. I inspected the hand. It looked clean, with nicely trimmed nails. Manly, but not the hand of a laborer. Then I caught a glimpse of a watch and leaned in to see it better. I wanted to see the brand, to try to gauge its value, figuring that a billionaire would own a very expensive watch. As I moved closer, his knuckle brushed against the material of my shirt. I moved back again as he realized he’d touched me and extended his fingers for a better feel. If this was M, I wanted him to touch me, to feel my breasts. I sent a third text.

  Are you there?

  While I waited for him to respond, I tried to get a better view of the watch, but it was impossible.

  Unless…

  I reached out with my hand, touching the tip of my index finger to his palm. He held still as I took his hand in mine, softly stroking the back as I simultaneously turned it to look at his watch. It had a simple face and I saw the letters “IWC.” I didn’t really know much about watch brands, but it certainly looked expensive.

  The hand pushed further through the hole, finding my cleavage. This time, I didn’t move back. I desperately wanted that to be M’s hand, for him to finally be touching me. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers softly traced the skin between my breasts, slowly working their way under my shirt. I looked at my phone again — no texts from M, which would make perfect sense if he were busy jerking himself off while feel me up through a glory hole. God, I wished I knew for sure.

  By the time his hand found my breast and gently squeezed the soft flesh, I had already bought into the fantasy. In my mind, this was M. I slid the shirt off and allowed him to play with me. He brushed my nipple and it hardened at his touch. He took it between his thumb and index finger, gently rolling it and pinching it just the perfect amount. A quiet moan fell from my lips and felt a new flood of wetness to my pussy.

  The hand played with both of my breasts for a few minutes, and my own hand dropped down into my panties so I could rub my clit. I was surprised when he suddenly pulled his hand back through the hole and was afraid that was going to be the extent of our interaction. I started to say something, then saw the head of his cock appear in the opening.

  The blood in my veins pulsed rapidly as his erection pushed through into my booth. It looked like M’s hard-on, but I had only seen his on my phone’s screen for about a minute, and they all look alike to some extent. The now rock-hard cock in front of me, though, was gorgeous. As the man’s balls also slipped through the hole, I could see they were smooth and his hair was closely cropped.

  I hadn’t touched a cock in months, and here was one right in front of me. I looked once more at my phone and saw that M still hadn’t returned my texts. This had to be him, had to be his cock. That was the only reason why he wouldn’t have texted me. My brain engaged long enough to make a conscious choice about what was about to happen. I decided I would take this man up on his offer. If it was indeed M, as I wanted to believe with all my heart, I would finally get to touch him, even if it was through a glory hole. If it wasn’t M, however, I’d have to reconcile doing this with a total stranger — whatever “this” ended up being, as I didn’t know how far I was prepared to go.

  As I thought it over, I looked at the hard cock protruding through the hole. My burning desire for M and my intense craving to touch a man overcame me and I reached out, wrapping my fingers around the shaft. It was deliciously hard and soft at the same time. I dropped to my knees, thankful that M had demanded the booth’s floor be cleaned for me. For a while I just stroked that hard cock and stared at it. It had been so long, and I’d been wanting this since before M showed up in my life. When I saw a bead of pre-cum leak out of the opening, I leaned in and rubbed the tip of his cock against my nipple, coating it with the silky liquid.

  As I continued stroking him, another drop appeared at the tip and without thinking I licked it off. When I heard the man moan, I squeezed his shaft tightly, starting at the base and moving toward the head. When more pre-cum oozed out, I licked it again, tasting it as it hit my tongue. I felt myself moving past the point of no return and opened my lips slightly, giving that cock head the gentlest of kisses. My tongue traced down his shaft to his balls, which I also kissed, then licked. I took one into my mouth and softly rolled my tongue over it, then heard a louder moan.

  At this point, I could no longer consider the possibility of this not being M. To do what I was about to do, I had to believe.

  M was about to get the blowjob of his life.

  I opened my mouth wide and took him in, coating the head with saliva as I closed my lips around him and began massaging his shaft with my tongue. I don’t know if I’ve ever been that sexually excited before and the more I heard his moans through the wall, the wetter I became. I took his balls in one hand and the base of his cock in the other and gree
dily, hungrily sucked him. I pulled back until the head was barely touching my lips, then pushed forward, driving his length far into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat. I continued, stroking his length with my mouth and deep-throating him as best I could. He must have felt the enthusiasm in that blowjob because his moaning quickly increased. I heard his muffled voice cry, “I’m gonna come!” and I felt his cock swell between my lips as I anticipated his orgasm.

  At the last minute my common sense kicked in — I couldn’t let him come in my mouth. He grunted just as I pulled my mouth off his cock and a forceful spray of hot cum hit my lower lip, ricocheting off onto my shoulder. I pumped his shaft with my hand and aimed it downward. His loud moaning intensified my excitement as stream after stream of the thick white liquid landed on my breasts. Rubbing the head of his cock against my nipple, I smeared his cum over the sensitive area, driving me crazy with lust. I squeezed the last of the cum out of him, then immediately put him back in my mouth and resumed sucking him. I didn’t want to let go of that cock, to give it back to its owner. That was my cock.

  After a few moments I felt him losing his erection and I slowed my sucking, then opened my lips and released him. I continued to kiss that cock, planting sweet pecks on the head, then down the shaft. He pulled it back through the hole and I saw him stroke it a few times, then put it back in his pants and zip up. I was afraid he’d leave and wanted to see his face, so I leaned forward and put my face to the hole, tilting it upward. I could only see up to his neck, though, his red tie and collar not ruffled in the slightest. His cum ran down my chest as I craned my neck for a better look. Then without so much as a single word, he turned and opened the door of his booth.

  He was leaving.

  I couldn’t let him go without seeing what he looked like, without asking if he was M. I hurriedly slipped my pants on then grabbed my shirt and ran out of the booth. There was one man in the hallway, not wearing a suit. He stared in amazement at my cum-covered tits as I ran past him while pushing my arm into a sleeve. I entered the main part of the store still trying to wrestle the other sleeve. Several men dropped what they were doing to gawk at my exposed breasts, but none of them was in a suit. M must have gone outside. I ran to the store entrance, throwing open the door and bursting out into the parking lot just as I closed my shirt over my breasts.

  There was nobody wearing a suit anywhere in sight. Two men outside in the parking lot looked at me like I was crazy, and I must have seemed it. Wet spots formed on the front of my silk shirt as I struggled to button it, out of breath and fingers shaking. M’s driver saw me and approached to make sure I was okay. I wasn’t okay, though; I was a weird mix of still-excited, disappointed and suddenly ashamed as he escorted me back to the car and held the rear door open so I could climb in.

  We pulled out of the parking lot and onto 82nd Street, then onto Division heading back toward town. My shirt was a total mess. I’d buttoned it, but that just accentuated the wet spots from the cum. I slid off my wig and tossed it on the seat next to me, then heard the Pink Floyd song “Money,” signaling a text from M. I fished the phone out of my back pocket.

  I had to deal with something. Are you still there?

  “Had to deal with something”? What did that mean?

  I’m in the car now.

  His response came seconds later.

  10?

  I sent him back a simple “yes.”

  Good girl.

  I wanted to know if it was him. I needed to know.

  Where were you, M? I texted you.

  His response confused me.

  Something came up. Emergency conference call with Beijing.

  Before I could process that, he followed up with another text.

  I have to get back to it now. Have Martin take you home. I’ll call later.

  I was fine with leaving my car in the parking garage at work. I could take the MAX in the next day. I instructed the driver to take me home and gave him my address. I wondered what he must think about taking me to a porn shop and me coming back out with my shirt only half on. Maybe he’d seen this sort of thing before, but this was definitely new territory for me.

  I sunk down into the back seat and closed my eyes. The image of the mystery cock coming through that glory hole flashed through my mind and I relived the most intense blowjob I’d ever given. I could still smell the cum on me. Had M been the man in the bookstore booth and was now trying to pretend it wasn’t him?

  Or had I actually wasted the best blowjob I’d ever given on a complete stranger?

  4

  I managed to get back to my apartment without being seen by anyone. The wet spots and the cum would have been hard to explain. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry when I left that booth, I could have used paper towels to wipe it all off before getting dressed. I’d been obsessed with the idea of seeing the man in the suit.

  I took a shower, then ate a late dinner and waited for a call from M that never came. It was the first time he’d ever failed to call when he said he would. Of course my imagination ran wild and I pretty much convinced myself that it had been M in the booth — but was he was testing me to see if I was slutty enough to blow a stranger? I finally fell into a fitful sleep around 3:00 a.m., and it seemed like only minutes later that my alarm clock went off.

  I checked my phone and found no messages from M. While getting dressed, I again wondered if I’d done something terribly wrong. Had I been so starved for sexual contact with a man that I’d convinced myself that man was M just to absolve myself of a sin I desperately wanted to commit?

  My fears were alleviated a bit when I stepped outside to walk to the MAX stop. M’s black limo was parked outside of my building, Martin standing next to it. He saw me and opened the back door.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he said, nothing on his face indicating that anything the slightest bit strange had taken place the previous evening.

  “Rachel,” I said. “Please call me Rachel.”

  “Good morning, Rachel,” he replied.

  “Have you been here all night?” I asked.

  “No ma’am. I was sent here this morning to take you to your office.”

  “Who sent you?” Maybe, just maybe.

  “I think we both know I can’t tell you that,” Martin said, smiling. Dammit.

  “But we also both know I had to try,” I laughed as I climbed into the car. A thought occurred to me: If M had been there the previous night, did Martin know? And if it wasn’t actually M in that booth, did Martin tell M about my condition when I emerged from the store with cum all over me?

  When I walked into my office, I saw a stunning arrangement of red and white peonies sitting on my desk. The card said simply, “M.” His way of apologizing? If so, for what? Was this a reward for a job well done, including the blowjob he received? Or was that even him?

  I spent most of my workday Friday as confused about my new relationship as I could possibly have been. I wanted desperately to text or call M, but waited for him to make the next move. I was uncertain about everything regarding what had taken place the night before.

  Late in the afternoon I got a text from him.

  Didn’t mean to disappear on you. Will make it up to you.

  I fired back.

  How? Taking me out to dinner?

  I couldn’t resist sending a follow-up text.

  Or meeting me at a glory hole?

  A few minutes passed and I began to worry that my sarcasm had pissed him off. Then I received his response.

  Still trying to sort out this Beijing thing. I’ll call you at home later.

  A second later another text came in.

  You were amazing last night.

  It was him in the booth! I knew it!

  I spent the next couple of hours on cloud nine, deliriously happy that I’d shared an intimate moment with my new man. And better yet, that he’d been thrilled with my sexual performance.

  On the drive home, though, as I crossed the Hawthorne Bridge, doubts bega
n to creep in. M may not have been referring to the blowjob when he said I was amazing. He might have just been congratulating me on beginning to come out of my shell, on showing off my naked body to ten strangers for their sexual gratification. Maybe he was just proud that I followed his orders like a good sub is supposed to do.

  It might not have been M in that booth — and in my mouth — after all.

  5

  I was a bundle of nerves all over again by the time I got home, my little oasis of comfort about M having been nothing but a mirage. After dinner and a long soak in the tub I felt a little better, but remained anxious about M’s call. Would he want to talk about last night? If he wasn’t the man in the booth, was he aware of what I’d done? This man was making me crazy, but at the same time, I also felt so much more alive than I had in ages.

  It was nearly midnight when my cell phone rang. I had been curled up on my couch with Mingus, my cat, watching TV.

  “Hello, M,” I said, attempting to sound sexy instead of rattled.

  “Rachel.” That was it, only one word, but it sounded so seductive coming from him that my heart immediately beat faster. After a long pause, he continued, “Tell me about last night. Every detail. I want to know everything.”

  I recounted my evening, beginning with the act of unbuttoning my shirt as I approached the bookstore. M interrupted me with questions immediately. “How much of your breasts could the clerk see?” “Did that make you excited?” I provided as much detail I could remember. M wanted to know everything and repeatedly asked how I had felt about what I described. He seemed particularly interested about my intense interaction with the tattooed man with the hot body and giant cock.

  As I continued with my story, looming in the very near future was the blowjob I’d given to the tenth man. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that. Should I lie? Tell the truth?

  By the time I finished telling him about the seventh or eighth man, I had come up with a plan. In my sexiest whisper voice, I said, “M, can I ask you something?”