Come Back to Me_A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Vivien Vale

  He's in me as deep as he’s ever been. He looks at me, straight in the eyes, and kisses me. We can't get enough of each other and it's apparent.

  I feel a certain fullness, a sense of satisfaction that defies everything. With him in this moment, all is well and I am eternally safe, cherished.

  When we're fucking, life is perfect. All the problems melt away and all can see is him.

  I never knew this amount of loving someone was possible. I never knew I could be so hungry for just one man.

  He's staring at me with those deep, soulful eyes and I know he's as far into this as I am. This is only the beginning of our beautiful future. All the pieces are in place and I will be his in this way every day for the rest of our lives.

  It's amazing, a miracle really. This amount of intense love is awesome and he, so enduring, keeps pushing me to new heights.

  "Baby, I can feel you. I can feel every part of you," he growls into my ear.

  I circle around him so he can feel my pussy walls tighten. I'm so close to coming.

  He sucks my tits, happy with the view. When we're not kissing he's pulling and twisting my nipples.

  I hold onto his neck for dear life as the inevitable wave is about to crash. I've crossed an edge now that there's no arriving back from.

  "Baby, fuck. I'm coming."

  With one final thrust, I shatter around him in a thousand different ways.

  His lips, his chest, his cock. Everything melds into one, but the feeling of him inside of me is what sets me off and what causes multiple detonations of bliss within my body.

  My mind feels fragmented with images of him. It's bliss, a kind of paradise that can only be found with him.

  "Fuck, baby, you came so hard."

  "I know," I manage to mutter in between breaths.

  He lifts me off of him and turns me around in the water so that I'm leaning over the tub. He rubs my ass and it gives it a quick spank before pushing his cock deep inside me from behind.

  This immediately hits my G-spot and it's pulsing with so much pleasure.

  I let him do what he wants to my body because I'm floating in bliss. I've just had the most intense climax and I'm not ready for round two yet. But he doesn't stop, he doesn't cease. He does his thing, continuing to drive into me.

  He pounds into me, unable to stop his own release. Water's crashing over the edge of the tub. The pulsations are turning electric and soon he and I are coming at the same time.

  Radiant spirals of cool heaven emanate from within me. I've never had it like this. He's grasping my hair, pulling it gently as he emerges over his own cliff.

  "This is perfect," I say. "I don’t ever want to stop, Xavier."

  "Just think," he says in low, silky tone in my ear. "You have your whole life to look forward to this. It will always be this intense, Allie. You can count on it."

  Fuck me. This is my forever. And it’s better than I ever could have hoped.

  Allie

  I'm on the site of yet another photo shoot. I guess you could say I've been working like crazy these days. Fashion editors are clamoring for my attention on both the East and West Coast, and also abroad.

  What began as a public relations nightmare has ended in me being a social media influencer and an inspiration to all. My story, that of being manipulated by a viral video, seems to have humbled me in the eyes of the public and made me more relatable.

  I've come out as the heroine on top of a dark situation. The fact that Xavier put the whole weight of his company behind me and helped to sort out my image crisis, well it helped a lot.

  Now I have at least a million followers on Instagram and that is in itself profitable. I've shot ad campaigns for all the major fashion houses, and I'm working on one today.

  It happens to be in New York City, which is a treat because I get to be with Xavier instead of on an airplane.

  He's here watching me, as he always likes to do when he gets the chance. He's a control freak, really. He likes to make sure every outfit is perfect and that I look like the supermodel I now am.

  I love to have his over-the-top, domineering presence around. It makes me feel safe and comfortable. He's become more than just my lover—we're best friends now.

  I walk over to him for approval on my latest outfit, even though the stylist is technically in charge of that.

  "How do I look?" I say to him as I grab his arm and use my other hand to trace his rock-hard abs.

  I will never get tired of this. He's smoking hot, the guy every girl wants to have. And now, he's all mine.

  He sees a hungry look in my eyes.

  "You can't be thinking of that now. You have to work. You're gonna nail this shoot and they'll give you the cover."

  He can always tell when I want to have sex. Which is pretty much always.

  "Okay, Xavier, but you know what I expect tonight," I say to him with fire in my eyes.

  "Oh, baby, with you looking so beautiful right now dolled up in this outfit, tonight you can expect the very best," he says.

  This statement comes almost as a warning of what I'm going to experience tonight. Every day he takes me to new heights of pleasure and our connection is so deep that I never dreamed it was possible to love someone this much.

  He's very commanding, and something about that allows me to relax because I know he's got it all under control.

  "Okay, Allie, we're ready for you now," the photographer says.

  I reluctantly leave Xavier's side and return to the set. The theme is graffiti, street-style fashion photography. So the backdrop is a brick wall they've made in the studio that several graffiti artists have worked their magic on. It's super gritty, and super me.

  I'm excited to have this opportunity and I've been grateful every day since the crisis happened. I never dreamed I'd be on top of my career like this, at this level. But this shows that I earned it and I deserve it. You can't fake it at the top. You have to have real talent to be here.

  And I'm proud to say Xavier hasn't had to get me any of my jobs. I've earned them all by myself. And that makes me proud. In fact, I've haven't worked for his company at all since the scandal. It's not because I haven't wanted to, it's because I haven't had time.

  Usually, he's with me, jet-setting around the world. I feel strong in my power as a model, and I feel independent as a woman. All of that makes it easier for me to give myself to him. I know I rely on him for nothing. So I can give him everything.

  "Okay, Allie, let's take it from the top," the photographer says.

  The makeup artists that have been primping me scatter away, someone hits the music, and the camera starts to flash.

  I'm on.

  I give him my best moves and I carefully follow the photographer's direction. He's a joy to work with. This entire team is.

  He has me arching my back against the wall and doing a variety of photos that complement the outfit.

  I see Xavier watching me at a distance. His eyes are dark and I can only imagine what he's thinking.

  He always does this when I'm on a shoot. And the idea of him watching me turns the heat up on things so much. I think I'm a better model under his gaze.

  "Nice, Allie, good job, just like that."

  I'm trying to put emotion into my posing so that my eyes are not left empty. How could they be when Xavier is undressing me with his own eyes?

  His possessive nature turns me on so much and it comes out full force when I'm modeling and have so many eyes on me. He stares at me intently like he wants me to understand that I'm his, his alone.

  I move my body in a variety of ways. I smile, I frown, and I give the photographer any type of expression he requests. I crawl and writhe on the ground, and I jump through the air like a gazelle. Anything he demands of me, I do.

  And there's my man watching me the whole time. I know this gives him pleasure, and it certainly puts me on my A-game.

  At last, the shoot is over, and I rush over to him. I cover his beautiful, chiseled face with kisses and h
e pulls me in hard for a long kiss.

  "You did so well out there," he says, moving my hand down so I can feel the length of his cock pressing against his pants. “It’s so fucking hot watching you model.”

  I lick my lips in anticipation. If no one was here I'd be going down on him right now.

  Instead, he pulls me away and I say my goodbyes to everybody. Soon he's got me in the back of the waiting limo and I don't have to wait long for my fantasy to come true.

  I slide down to my knees and start to pull his pants off so that I can suck his giant cock.

  Before I can get him totally undressed, though, he says, "Allie, I should be the one down on my knees."

  "What?"

  He pulls me up so that I'm sitting next to him. He's suddenly so serious, and I wonder what's about to transpire. The next thing I know, I see him pull out a small jewelry box.

  What’s he doing? This can't be happening. He gets to one knee as comfortably as he can in the back of the limousine.

  "Allie, will you please do me the honor of being my wife? I want to be with you every second of every day for the rest of our lives," he says.

  I stare at the giant ring he's presenting me and say the only thing I can.

  "Yes, a thousand times yes."

  I jump into his arms and his hands are all over me. We're kissing passionately and I feel like this is just the beginning of my life.

  "You make me so happy, Allie. Now I can tell you where we're really going."

  "Wait a minute? Where are we going?"

  He pushes the button that lowers the partition between us and the driver.

  He says, "Okay, Henry, take us to the airport."

  "Where are we going, Xavier? Aren't you gonna tell me?"

  "No, I'm not gonna tell you. But I promise you're gonna love it. We need to celebrate our engagement."

  God, at the word engagement, it all sinks in as to how real this is. I am going to be a wife. Xavier’s wife.

  More than that, I'm going to be with the man I love forever.

  We've survived the complicated journey of being together, and that in itself means something. It means that we can get through anything.

  With a little transparency, all things are possible. I trust Xavier now more than anyone else on earth because I know he above all has my best interests at heart.

  He kisses me, and it's as if our engagement is sealed by that kiss. I already knew that I'd be his forever, but now he's just cemented our future together.

  It feels so good, and my future feels so right. Not one aspect of me is wondering if I made the right choice by saying yes. I know I have. He's my man and my biggest supporter. What could be better?

  I look at the beautiful ring he's slipped on my finger, and it's dazzling. I'd like to look longer and to appreciate the feeling of it being on my finger, but Xavier is slowly undressing me.

  "It's a long ride to the airport," he breathes as he trails his tongue along my inner thigh.

  And with that, I let him fuck me all the way to the airport, and that’s definitely me getting my happy ending.

  Big Package

  A Dark Vixens Novella

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

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  Michael

  It’s funny, the things that my failed hookups just don’t seem to understand.

  You’d think they’d figure it out eventually. Especially by the time I’m putting them in a fucking cab outside of my mansion and paying the driver to take them home.

  I guess there are just some truths women don’t want to accept.

  “Please, babe!” she begs. “Just give me one more chance! I can take it this time—I totally promise. I swear!”

  “Look, sweetheart…”I gently disentangle her fingers from the collar of my button down and push her hands away. “It’s cute that you think you can handle it, but—”

  “I can,” she insists. “I really, really can. It’s just…it’s so big, babe. Maybe if we tried with more lube or something…”

  The driver gives me one of those looks in the rear view mirror. All I can do is shrug and slip him a couple of hundreds for the inevitable sob story he’s going to be hearing from this girl the whole way back to Long Island.

  “You’re really not going to let me try to take it again?” she whimpers as I help her into the cab’s back seat.

  “Don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her. Which is true.

  I push the door shut. I don’t even bother watching the cab drive off.

  What can I say? Some women just can’t handle big packages.

  Unfortunately, this happens more often than I’d like to admit. They try to suck me off. They try all the angles, hoping that maybe, somehow, they’ll get my massive, fat cock inside them.

  More often than not, the effort doesn’t amount to much. I usually settle for giving them a dozen orgasms or so before sending them on their way.

  The one thing that really smarts is these failed experiences usually lead to a raging fucking boner. Like right now. If it presses up against my slacks any harder, I won’t only be in the market for a new woman; I’ll need a new pair of pants, too.

  Porn it is, I guess. Better than giving myself the worst case of blue balls ever.

  Walking back into my living room, I slump into the plush leather sofa and boot up my laptop. Propping it up on the ottoman, I reach down to finally free this bulge with one hand while navigating to a site with the other.

  Let’s see…what am I in the mood for today?

  Porn stars don’t usually hold much attraction for me—or else I’d be dating one. Call me old fashioned, but when a woman is mine, any other man who so much as looks at her is going to be picking his teeth up off the floor.

  You have to hand it to them, though—these women can really take dick.

  I hover over various video clips to see the preview, slowly stroking my cock as I go. Finding one of a beautiful blonde giving a blowjob, I press play and lean back.

  It’s exactly what the doctor ordered. I’m instantly impressed with the way her head bobs on the screen. She’s taking this giant dick in as though it’s nothing more than a gherkin. Where do I find me one of these?

  I’m rock hard now, totally in the moment, and I’m pacing myself with her movements. When she slows down, so do I. When she speeds up, my movements intensify. It’s the ultimate cock-tease, and before long, I’m tensing up and twitching uncontrollably.

  As this bodacious babe gets covered, I reach my limit. I groan loudly and throw my head back as cum spills out all over my hand, happy to have my release.

  Fuck, that feels good.

  I sit there panting for a moment before wiping up my hot, sticky mess, using up damn near an entire box of Kleenex.

  Relieved at no longer being pent-up, I’m about to close the browser when I notice a flashing ad on the sidebar.

  I never pay attention to these because, let’s face it, first, I have no problem getting women, so I don’t need to sign up to fuck granny down the street. Second, I have the cock that every man dreams of, and I don’t need any special pills or toys.

  This one, though, has my full attention.

  GET THE WIFE OF YOUR DREAMS! CUSTOMIZE YOUR MAIL-ORDER BRIDE TODAY!

  Mail-order bride? Hmm, I’ve never thought about going that route before.

  Maybe I’m still in that post-orgasmic state or maybe I just want to believe that this shi
t isn’t a huge fucking scam.

  Maybe I’m just a fucking romantic—or maybe I’m the exact opposite of one.

  But a man can dream, can’t he?

  This could work.

  Sure, I’m widely known for my one-night stands, but it’s not like I do that on purpose.

  My drive is the real thing. When a woman can take my cock, I’m insatiable. I can fuck for hours. Dusk to dawn is what I’m all about.

  The problem is most women can’t handle what I have to offer. In turn, I can’t handle the fact that I tire them out after one fucking round.

  They fall asleep, and I’m left to my own devices because it’s simply not enough. Being a doctor means I’m always under pressure, and I need that release. It’s not their fault, but I’m over these one-night stands and short-lived flings.

  I have no aversions to marriage. On the contrary, I want a wife to come home to that I can bang after a grueling day. I want a family that I can play with outside and go on vacations with.

  Time, however, presents the biggest burden. When you’re performing surgery after surgery, and you’re on call all the time, it leaves little room for finding Ms. Right.

  A struggle I know all too fucking well. Hell, I can’t even find Ms. Right Now—I just sent the latest off in a cab for Christ’s sake. Add to that my ridiculously high standards.

  It’s no wonder I’m still single.

  Back to this mail-order bride ad. I click on it, and the ad brings me to a flashy website that looks like it should’ve went out with the Y2K era. I half expect the page to stop loading midway through like the porn of yesteryear.

  Thank God for fiber optics.

  Now I’m looking at a pretty lengthy survey attached to the order form. I start going through the questions one by one.

  Hair color?

  She’s gotta be a blonde, no doubt about it. Nothing gets my motor revving more. The longer, the better.

  Eyes?

  Blue, but not because I’m looking for a blonde-hair, blue-eyed bimbo. This woman’s gotta be intelligent.

  Yeah, I want hot, passionate sex all over the place, but any woman worthy of being my wife has to be able to carry a conversation. That shit would get old, otherwise. An Ivy League education is preferred.