Four Billionaires for St. Patrick's Day

by Sierra Sparks

  “Please do,” Jordan says meekly.

  I take him inside and close the door.

  “Though you don’t have to worry," he promises, "I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you.” He kisses my hand the same way he did when we first met. “Even without a leash, I’d stay right by your side forever.”

  “And I yours, sweet, sweet Jordan.”

  Epilogue

  Jordan

  In her room again, I feel like I’ve passed through the gates of Heaven. Been saved from my greatest sin by Bianca’s compassion.

  As she leads me toward the bed, the floor to ceiling windows give a sense of floating. Of being in the ether, between the blueness of the sky, and the whiteness of the snow.

  Besides stretching floor-to-ceiling, these windows also run the length of her room on one side, creating an open, vulnerable feeling to the space. Like there’s no wall. Just an expanse of trees and snow in the distance.

  “Come, my good boy,” Bianca whispers, acting like she’s going to set me on the bed and make me comfortable, “let me reward you for everything you’ve done today.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” I shuffle towards her, doing my best to appear submissive, but, at the very last second, I turn things around on her.

  Sensing this is what she needs, I grab her and kiss her deeply. I let her taste my tongue. I stand her up and begin moving her toward my goal. The windows.

  Once I have her back against the windows, I kiss her neck, her throat, her collarbone. I pay special attention to her chest, unbuttoning her blouse and bra as I go. I then move my lips down to her breasts and nipples.

  “You’re the one who deserves the reward, my lady,” I whisper, licking and nibbling at her. Every place I nibble and kiss is quickly freed of clothing. From her belly to her hands and fingers, everything is bathed in kisses and caresses. “Being back with you is the greatest reward I will ever receive, and the only one I need.” Saying this, I remove her bra and blouse completely, and kneel before her to begin undressing her bottom half.

  She gives me a happy, soft sigh. “What would I ever do without you, my precious boy? You know exactly what your mistress needs, don’t you?”

  I nod eagerly, happy that she’s allowing me to reward her, and I start pressing kisses on her tummy and pelvis. Then, as my mouth makes its way to the waistband of both her slacks and underwear, I move them down. Slowly, inch by inch, pressing my lips against her. My tongue.

  I mutter sweet words to her about how she is my gracious mistress. My compassionate, most-wise mistress.

  Through this slow, sultry process, I get an eyeful of her curvy hips. Then her thick and dark pubic hair. From there, I’m blessed with a look at her inner thighs, and the slightest whisper of pink hanging between her legs.

  Though I would like nothing more than to take a taste of her lusciousness, I don’t dare do it now. Not until she’s fully undressed, and right where I want her.

  “I want nothing more than to put my mistress on display,” I murmur, feeling her shiver as I kiss my way down her legs, and pull her slacks and underwear off her feet. Her panties are still damp from when we made out earlier today. As I remove them, I appreciate a pool of thick, dried whiteness there.

  I leave Bianca’s black high heels on because I love the shape they give her legs.

  “Would my Mistress object to being put on display while I pleasure her?” I move my position on the floor, so I can see her eyes, see the desire in them. “While I eat her for my lunch?”

  Bianca’s eyes sparkle mischievously. It’s as if she’s been waiting for me to ask.

  “If my mistress has no objections, of course,” I say, keeping my voice and posture submissive, though I know she can see the little curl to my lips.

  “I have no objections to either request, Jordan,” she says, guiding me off my knees and to my feet. “You’ve been a good enough boy today, you deserve nothing less. But don’t think I won’t punish you later for your behavior in the café.”

  “My mistress is very generous,” I say, grabbing for a nearby chair. Something to seat myself in once I’ve put her on display.

  I set the chair a short distance away, enjoying her look of interest. Intrigue.

  Once I’m satisfied with the distance and height of it to Bianca’s pussy, I push her up against the window. Her breasts are pressed against the cold, smooth glass.

  Immediately, I get the reaction I want. A startled, pleased moan. A squeal almost.

  And that’s nothing. The minute I sit down in the chair, scoot it up to her soaking, slippery pussy lips, and begin to eat, she cries out for her salvation.

  Bianca

  I’m up against the window, my plump and erect nipples pressed against the cold, winter-frosted glass. I squeal, feeling my whole breast squish into the clear, smooth surface.

  Never in my life have I allowed myself to be so vulnerable. So open to anyone and everyone seeing me. But I love it. I love the intense shyness I’m experiencing along with the voyeuristic thrill of it all. Add to that the fact that Jordan’s unyielding hands are at my back and shoulders, pressing me into the space.

  In the next second, Jordan parts my legs. They’re splayed wide as if he wants the whole wide world — every lonely heart still in Aspen — to see my hairy pussy. My big puffy lips. Mere moments after spreading my legs, he scoots the chair closer.

  Seconds after that, from behind, his mouth lands on me. On the opening of my pussy. I haven’t been eaten out here very much, so with his first lick—flick of his tongue—I squeal. Which is also not common for me, but I’m still feeling so open. So exposed. Any of the people driving on the freeway, or in the parking lot below, could see me if they happened to look this way.

  Those thoughts seem to make me more sensitive because it isn’t just the first lick that has me being noisy, it’s every subsequent movement. Every follow-up wiggle and penetration of his tongue into my hole.

  In no time, I’m building up to my first orgasm. A tight, snappy thing — something that has me wanting to reach down and touch myself.

  But, like how Jordan was when I had him up against the wall for his punishment, I keep my hands pressed against the glass.

  As if sensing my desire for some frontal stimulation, Jordan brings a hand around, and plays with my clit, hitting every bit of hungry flesh. Every bit of folded skin.

  As he touches me, he buries his mouth deeper into the back end of my pussy. He licks deeply, deliciously. The combination of being eaten and fingered is overwhelming.

  Before I can even register it, my orgasm is on top of me. Consuming me. Dragging me under until I’m gasping for air.

  “That’s it, Mistress.”

  My body convulses against the glass. My screams fill the room. Shudder after shudder wrecks me. Jordan keeps tonguing and fingering me, taking everything I have to give.

  As my first orgasm clears, I’m already climbing to my second one because, in addition to licking and sucking on my lips, Jordan has, without my being aware, eased a thumb into my ass.

  He doesn’t do much more than wiggle it around. Shake it like a mini vibrator on my rim, but that’s enough to bring about my second orgasm.

  As it rolls over me, I’m so drunk on Jordan — so hot and bothered by what he’s doing with his tongue, fingers and now voice (he’s started making humming noises, as if my pussy’s juices are the best thing he’s ever eaten) — that I have to do something to cool down. To satiate my hunger for him. Curb my desire to ask for his cock in me right now.

  A third orgasm builds as Jordan asks me how I like the sensation of the cold glass on my nipples. He rolls his thumb over my clit thoughtfully, adding, “How do you feel standing in front of the window like this? Standing where anyone could see you naked and panting like a porn star?” His observation is right on. I am panting and moaning against the glass like a porn star, and it makes me even more turned on. Even more sensitive to his touch.

  “I like being on display,” I answer, trying to
keep my voice even. Steady. Commanding in some way. “Your mistress doesn’t mind who sees. Just like her good boy doesn’t care who knows how much he loves to submit.”

  This riles me up even more. Just thinking about Jordan kneeling the way he did at my door. Sounding the way he did — so brokenhearted and lost — makes me stiffen. My clit swells, despite feeling that I’ve already gotten as big as I ever will.

  Thinking about what a good boy Jordan is, and how lucky I am to have him, my fourth orgasm grips me. The way it rips through me is like sweet torture. It’s not light or floating. It’s hard and fast like I’m taking flight. As I come, my breasts and nipples slam against the glass. The coldness is oddly arousing.

  As I climax, Jordan says “You're amazing, my lady. How many times does that make? Four? Five?”

  “Four,” I gasp, a fifth on the way. It sings through me almost immediately. Once again, Jordan’s doing that thing with the head of my clit and my hood. Rubbing them together. Jerking me off.

  My legs jelly and convulse with the intensity of this orgasm.

  “Five,” I amend. “This has never happened before” Even as I talk, pleasure races through me. Through my hips and clit, ending in my ass. Even though he’s not fucking me, it feels like he is. “I’ve never had so many one right after the other.” As if to prove my point to him, I come a sixth time just from thinking about that fact. Just from talking to him.

  “You’re so amazing, Jordan.” I shiver, feeling hungry and yet satisfied simultaneously. Even after having six separate orgasms with my clit and pussy, I’m hungry for Jordan. His cock.

  “Take me,” I practically beg. “Fuck your mistress.”

  “I’ve eaten my fill,” Jordan whispers, as if, once again he can read my mind. “Is my mistress hungry?” He pauses. “If she is, I would be happy to have her pussy devour me.”

  “Yes, Jordan!” I say urgently, letting my inner-schoolgirl out, “Yes, my good boy! I want your cock! I want all of it! I want to eat until I’m full.”

  “Sit on me, Mistress. Fill your pussy with me,” Jordan answers.

  I don’t waste any time. I back myself off the window and impale myself on his naked cock.

  The second I do, his girth and length wash into me like a fleshy ocean. I enter Nirvana. Ultimate bliss.

  All my hunger is instantly satisfied.

  At least until I start riding him.

  Jordan

  When Bianca impales herself on me — on my rock-hard rod — I’m not prepared for how pleasurable it is. How sensitive I am to each whisper of her lips. Each dance of her ridges on my length. I moan out loud. The kind of moan I tried to keep her from hearing earlier. But this time, I just decide to let her hear it. Let her hear what she does to me.

  I already confessed my love for being dominated and punished by her. What more is a moan? A soft, possibly higher-pitched one than most guys would utter?

  When she rides my cock, bounces up and down on it like she’s riding a wild bull, I just about lose my head. Lose my entire load right there, but I force myself to keep a grip on it. Hold it back for a little longer because I know how much she’s enjoying it. I can tell by the way she has her head thrown back as she moves. By the way her fingers clench my thighs and hips in the seat. And by the sounds she’s making.

  Reverse cowboy never looked or felt so good as it does with Bianca. With her beautifully curved back twisting above me. Her large, shapely ass bouncing and jiggling in front of me. On my legs and pelvis.

  I reach around and pinch her nipples between my fingers. To increase her pleasure, and to distract myself further from my desire to come.

  Without a condom on, I’m feeling twice the warmth. Twice the texture, and twice the love and devotion coming through her.

  With every bounce of her hips and ass against me, I float. Getting closer to my sweet, warm paradise. The itch of pleasure starts in my shaft, practically melting into my balls and up toward my head.

  I grunt, giving her nipples one last good pinch. Tug.

  Seconds later, I realize that was probably a bad idea because that one action sends us both quickly climbing toward orgasm. And I realize once again that I’m not wearing a rubber, any protection for my mistress.

  “Bianca,” I growl, “I’m not covered! Don’t let me shoot—!”

  Just as I go to say “shoot in you,” Bianca orgasms. Cums hard and fast, popping herself off me just in time for my thick, hot milky-white cum to splash harmlessly across her ass cheeks, not anywhere in or around her pussy.

  A noise barks out of my throat as I lose it. As I squeeze the shit out of my shaft, in order to make sure that if I shoot anymore, it’s aimed at her ass and not anywhere else.

  For a good solid minute after that, neither Bianca nor I have the energy or strength to say anything. All we can do is hang on each other. Gasping for breath. Kissing and marveling in each other.

  When we’ve recouped enough from our exercise, I make a decision, but the decision means I have to head out for a little while.

  After I lay her on the bed and tuck her in, I throw on some casual clothes.

  As I put on my baseball cap and put the ridiculously big coat Paul made fun of me for (I’ve kept it in her closet since going to get it during our time between breakfast and lunch), I say, “Gonna head out for something real quick.”

  Bianca raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

  “Something special, for when I get on my knees again later tonight.”

  “Oh?” Bianca, Queen of Domination, looks surprised. Curious. “Is it something I don’t have in my repertoire?”

  I nod, fighting the urge to tell her she won’t find it in any pink bag. Just a little black box.

  “Be back soon, my lady,” I say, and leave her.

  From her room, I hurry to the nearest jewelers.

  Bianca

  While Jordan’s gone, I can’t stop thinking about him. About what he means when he says he wants to get down on his knees again for me tonight; that he is going out to get something special in order to do that; something that’s not in my bag of tools.

  Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and I’m drained emotionally. Taking him back and forgiving him for his actions in the café was the right thing to do for both of us. I can’t imagine my life without him and I don’t want to. I believe him when he says he wants to serve me and that he loves me.

  I hug the blankets around my body, sighing at the tenderness between my legs. Being a good mistress means knowing when to allow your sub to take control, to let him think he’s in charge.

  My mind wanders back to why my love had to leave in such a hurry. I want to have my mystery solved right now, but I have no choice but to wait. No choice until he comes back. So, I settle back on my bed and watch another made-for-TV movie.

  This one’s not as good as the last one I watched. Mostly because Jordan isn’t here to share it with me, but I try not to dwell on that.

  Finally, after what seems like an eternity, there’s a knock on my door. Then, “It’s me, Mistress.”

  At those words, I practically jump out of bed. I’m lucky I don’t get caught in the sheets and break my leg with how fast I move.

  I fly to the door and open it, not caring that I’m still naked.

  Jordan sneaks past me, keeping the sides of his big fur coat out of arm’s reach.

  I shut the door behind him and lock it, already excited by what the evening has in store for us. For whatever he’s hiding from me.

  As I turn around, Jordan’s on his knees, exactly as promised. “Jordan? What--”

  Before I can finish my question, he jams his hand in one of the big, almost-invisible pockets on his coat and fishes out a small black box.

  Holding it in his palm, and positioning his other hand dramatically over it, he looks at me. Already, even without a word uttered, my heart beats faster. My breath quickens, and my mouth dries.

  “Bianca, Goddess of My Heart, Lady of My Will and Life,” he says, prying
open the top of the box, “over these past few days I have been blessed. Reborn by getting to know you. Love you. Serve you as no man has ever served you. And will never serve you if I have my way.”

  He opens the box the rest of the way, revealing an obnoxiously big solitaire. If I’m not mistaken, this ring is least twice the size of Jane’s big shiny nugget.

  “My lady. My love,” Jordan murmurs, scooting closer and taking my hand in his, “will you marry me?”

  When he says, “marry me,” I cry. I burst into tears, nodding. Somehow, I manage to croak, “I will.”

  “Will you make me your Forever Good Boy?” he asks, making me cry even harder.

  “Yes! Yes, baby, I will!”

  Wordlessly, Jordan puts the ring on my finger. “Then consider this my contract. My agreement of submission until death do us part.”

  I pull Jordan up off his knees and kiss him. Shower him with all the love and affection my inner schoolgirl has been dying to give to him all weekend.

  Jordan giggles under all this, but I don’t stop. I keep kissing him until my mouth is numb.

  Then and only then do I cease, and that’s only so we can make wedding plans. “

  So,” I say, guiding him over to the bed, “how do you feel about Hawaii? I hear it’s perfect for a wedding in June.”

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