The best orgasm I’ve ever had.
He pulled away and smirked at me as I panted. “Was it just like you have imagined?” He purred.
“Even better.” I thought though I would never say that aloud. He already too smug. It’s just as well, as he didn’t give me any chance to answer his apparently rhetorical question. His lips slammed down against mine and I gave a soft whimper. He felt so good against my lips.
His tongue was insistent and as his tongue entered my mouth, the taste of myself exploded onto his tongue. I had tasted my own cum before, after many a session of self-pleasure. I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted good before, but the taste of it as it glazed his tongue was a million times better.
That may just be him, though. I am sure he could make anything taste good. He could make Brussel sprouts taste good by just being in his perfect mouth. This man is so perfect and all mine.
All mine.
I kissed him back roughly, running my hands over his chest, tearing his shirt open. The extra buttons popped off but I couldn’t bring myself to care as I finally got to caress those rippling muscles. I’ve been aching for this chance since the day I met him.
They’re so beautiful.
He pushed me down on the couch. “Behave. Or you will be punished.” He purred in my ear, before giving it a rough nip. Ooh. I want him to do that again. Over and over.
“Punished?” I blinked innocently. I could feel it down to my bones. Some part of me wanted it. Wanted him to punish me. “What does that entail.”
“You’ll find out.” His gruff voice made me melt into a pile of goo.
His hands gripped my hips, opening my legs as he dropped his pants and briefs. I didn’t get a good look at his penis because he immediately pressed himself against me.
I know he must be huge by the sheer size of his girth rubbing against my opening, getting wet with my juices. He also took out a bottle of lube and began wetting himself, because there is never too much lubricant.
“Do you want me?” He teased me with his cock again. Next time we do this, I have to get the chance to worship his perfect body. I would demand it right now, but I was too worked up to properly explore his body.
I needed to feel his cock inside of me or I may just explode. “Yes. Please!” I practically begged.
“Hmm? I didn’t hear that.” He was smirking, this open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pearly white teeth. That douche.
Of course, I couldn’t control myself from begging. It felt so good that I was afraid I would start sobbing from need as my pussy throbbed in need.
“Please. Damian. I need to feel your huge cock inside of me! Please! I need to feel-” I couldn’t finish the barely coherent thought because I was moaning too loud. It seems he was pleased with my begging because he roughly thrust into me one time.
He set a too gentle pace, which was sweet, but annoying. He wanted me to feel good. But all I wanted was for me to bang me into the mattress so hard that I got rug burns from the comfy couch.
“Harder!” I ordered him, trying to thrust back against him. His hands went down to my hips and forced them still so he could be in complete control. He looked bemused by my efforts. “Faster!”
He sped up a little bit and I was torn between loving and hating it. I felt my nerves go crazy as he pounded into me, my hips twitching as I unsuccessfully tried to thrust back against him.
Right as I got to the cusp of my release, he slowed his speed. That made me cry out in protest and he just chuckled. My nails clawed down his back in retaliation and he moaned.
It wasn’t until after the third time doing this that he granted me my release. I saw stars as my body convulsed around him, screaming out my pleasure. I was always rather vocal with my pleasure and the orgasm denial made this orgasm all the sweeter.
I almost didn’t notice him grunting a few times, before releasing his hot load into my pussy. There was a lot of it, and as his flaccid cock came out of me, a trail of our juices combined left a stain on the couch under us.
We didn’t use protection. That could be a much bigger problem than it actually is if he wasn’t a werebear. Werebears have some mystical power that makes it so they cannot contract or pass on STD’s, and the chances of them impregnating a non-werebear are, like, 2%. So, it’s all good.
I mean, when did a two percent chance ever change anything?
Honestly, I should have assumed it would happen just from my own overconfidence that it wouldn’t happen. I guess that’s my hubris acting up again, huh?
But he was so warm and comforting and I didn’t want to move or think. He wrapped me in his big strong arms and, even as a nude, sweaty mess covered in fluids, I was able to rest. His scent and the scent of our lovemaking was too calming for me to get up and take a shower.
Chapter 5
The next morning was… upsetting, to say the least. And I completely blame Damian for that. I slept until noon, because of all the physical activity that my body wasn’t used to or genuinely prepared for. Maybe this is a sign from God that I should exercise more often.
I’ll put it on that to-do list that I have and yet never do a single thing on it.
He was awake, bathed and in a fresh suit, eating breakfast which he has ordered through room service as I awoke rudely to the overly loud sounds of him scarfing down bacon. I had a pleasant ache in body from all the pounding he did to me. His handprints were on my sticky thighs, in the form of a bruise from how hard he was holding them as we had sex last night.
“Ah, you’re awake. Wonderful. I’m going to drive you to your house. Get dressed. I put some of my old clothes that are roughly your size next to you.” It was an order. Pleasantly given and sweetly stated, but there was no mistaking the words for anything but a command.
“You don’t need to drive-” I started to say, before hearing a snort from him.
“You think you can walk?” His eyes darted down to my bruised thighs.
I huffed at him. “Of course, I can!” I argued.
His lips curled into a smirk. “Go ahead then. Get up.”
Trying to get up was a stupid idea. My legs were like jelly and I immediately fell back onto the couch. He was trying to hide a snicker.
But I saw it! And he didn’t even seem to really be trying all that hard to hide that stupid snicker. Jerk.
“Fine.” It was a whine, as I got up to go take a quick shower in his bathroom before I pulled on the outfit he gave me to change into.
The shower was nicer than anything in my house, but I was too annoyed to appreciate it. Couldn’t he be a little more romantic today? Last night we made love, and he was acting like it didn’t even matter!
Most of my anger dried up as I saw the way he just choked, seeing me in his clothes. Maybe I’m a little too harsh on him. He might just not be a morning person, but he definitely worshiped me like a goddess. And if that doesn’t earn a bit of leeway nothing does, honestly.
He worships me and sees something in me that nobody else does. It’s so good I could almost begin to cry.
“Well? Hurry up. Let’s go.” I couldn’t help but rush him. I just wanted to go already.
“Would you like me to take you to get breakfast?” He offered.
“No, Thanks,” I told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. I had a million ideas and my body was almost twitching with inspiration. I knew exactly what I wanted to create, and I didn’t have time to waste on silly things like a meal.
I could have breakfast with him anytime, after all.
Is it just me, or did my reaction make him look... crestfallen. For a split second, he looked so disappointed, I just wanted to wrap him in a hug and never let him go.
The emotion was hidden just a moment later, so fast that I’m sure I just somehow made it up.
“Very well.” He stated his voice kind. “Let’s go then. I have a gift waiting in the car for you.”
“A gift?” I almost squawked. “There’s nothing else I need from you and I would feel-”
> “Oh trust me, you’ll love it.” He told me, practically dragging me to the elevator. “I’ll bring it up to your apartment and you’ll open it when we get there.”
Oh no. He’s going to see my apartment. But I can’t even… now I just… I can’t change my mind. He might think something shady is going on if I keep outright refusing to show him my apartment.
Ugh. Fine. For the sake of our relationship, he can see my stupid apartment. And of course, he’s going to be disgusted and I’ll be humiliated. Gah. Let’s just get this over with.
I found I was right, just looking at the grimace on his face as he saw my graffiti-covered apartment complex made my stomach twist in the worst way. Oh god no. Why is this what my life is like? Why is this guy so much better than me?
He’s used to a nicer life. Higher quality of everything. And then he goes and chooses a substandard failure of a girlfriend like me! Gah!
He said nothing. Which I guess is as tactful as he gets? Simply grabbing the presents and walking three flights of the stairs to my apartment because the elevator was busted again. Dammit! As if that’s anything new. The elevator is always busted and I hate it, but it’s even worse with my boyfriend here.
When I opened my apartment and the stale scent of the air wafted out of the room, his grimace of disgust just became more pronounced.
“You live in this filth?” He demanded, dropping my gift on the table that I put my keys on as he stalked into the apartment as if he owned the place. His patience seemed to be at its limit. His nose pointed up in the air like a caricature of a snob. Better not mention that particular observation to him. “How can you even live in this squalor?”
“Hey!” I argued, feeling offended. Squalor? How dare he! My home might now be perfect. But it is a home. “This is my home! And I like it here!”
“It’s awful. You deserve so much more than this.” He declared pompously. I know it was supposed to be a compliment in his mind but I was too offended on behalf of my home to see it that way.
Calm down, Clarissa. You know what this is. It’s just his stupid Werebear instincts. He wishes to protect you from anything, even your own poverty. He wants to provide you with a better life. Just don’t get angry. Relax!
Be calm.
“Not even the air is right.” He huffed.
Calm down.
“Your furniture looks like it’s been here for the better part of a century!”
Don’t say something you regret.
“Move in with me, immediately.” He ordered. “You must agree my home is better than yours!”
Clarissa. PLEASE!
“Clarissa!” He was upset I wasn’t responding.
Fuck it!
“Who do you think you are?!” I barked out, my face red with fury. “I don’t need anyone telling me how to live my life. I’m perfectly happy here as I am. And you have no right to tell me what to do or how to live. Just leave me alone!”
That was too much. I could just tell, the way his expression dropped. It went from angry and possessive, to hurt. Like a kicked puppy looking up at their master. “Fine.” He hissed, leaving and slamming the door behind him.
Is he going to come back? Is this it for the two of us? Because I couldn’t keep my yap shut, I lose the best thing in my life?
“Damian…” I reached my hand towards the door. As if I could just will him to return to me. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have that kind of power in any way. “Come back.”
I growled and my arm shoved everything off of that same table in a childish fit of rage that would have horribly embarrassed me if anyone else was around to see me freaking out like this.
The beautifully wrapped gift he set down fell to the ground. As it broke open, the contents spilled all over the floor. It was as if in slow motion.
They were… my favorite brand of paint supplies. A new set of brushes. And dozens of small tubes of acrylic paints.
I was complaining that I wanted to get back into acrylics but I was focusing so much on watercolors that I hadn’t restocked my acrylics in a while.
Oh my god. He was listening to me. And he was thinking about me enough to get me such a perfect gift.
That’s so thoughtful and I just…
What’s wrong with me!
Chapter 6
I wanted to apologize, really, I did. Don’t look at me like that! I can’t just do it. I didn’t have any idea how to form the right words, and I’m not just going to move in with him. Just because he wants me to is not a good reason for me to just give up all my principles and move in with him.
I don’t want to owe him any more than I already do!
I am self-sufficient. I am an independent woman…I am... I am an adult. A fully functioning adult! I don’t need someone else to spend their time taking care of me! I’m doing fine all by myself.
I don’t need him.
Apparently, misery was just as much an inspiration in my art as any other. All day I created pieces that emotionally chart my brooding emotions, each stroke of the brush filled with my sorrow, anger, annoyance, sadness, and anger once more.
When it was finished, I just dropped my body onto my bed and slept. It was finished when I was exhausted when the muscles in my arms cried out with the strain and my eyes struggled to stay open.
It didn’t even occur to me that I didn’t eat a thing all day until the next morning.
That morning, my stomach snarling is what woke me up. Oh yeah, food. I sort of need that in order to continue thriving. I always forget that when the artistic mood strikes me. Even so, I first checked my phone. My heart jumped into my throat.
He texted me back!
I read and reread the short text several times, making sure I was completely aware of what it meant and not missing any deeper meaning. That was a dumb idea, that there would be some deeper secret meaning to the text he sent me. He is always straightforward, and that’s usually one of my favorite things about him. But I couldn’t help but hope, maybe, just maybe, he did have some deeper meaning.
The text was… long for a text. But short and concise for his usual messages to me.
[Damian <3 <3]: I apologize for my outburst. Work has been stressful and it got to me. That is in no way an excuse, as my behavior was clearly inexcusable. I would like to give you my assurance that it will not happen again.
Work? Was work the trouble? Is this just an excuse? Or is it the truth? Is his work hard? What? He can’t just send that and not follow it up with any greater explanation about what on Earth he thought he meant!
[Clarissa]: I understand. I’m sorry for my response. I should have been more understanding.
[Damian <3 <3]: Don’t even think this is your fault for a second. I am the one at fault here.
I smiled softly at that. He’s so sweet and understanding and oh my god, how did I ever go one second allowing him to think I was really mad. I sighed dreamily and then quickly typed in the question I’ve been dying to ask.
[Clarissa]: What exactly… is work? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.
A risky test, I know. But come on! Don’t I deserve to know? I mean, he knows everything about my work. Now he knows everything about his life. But I can’t even know what he does? That’s not even fair.
Come on! Why hasn’t he texted back yet? God damn it.
Come on, Clarissa. Just chill. I mean, he’s probably just busy with something. Maybe he shut his phone off to charge. Maybe he read it and won’t respond. He doesn’t have read receipts on, so I physically cannot know for sure either way.
Why can’t he have read receipts on so I don’t have to freak out?
Chill Clarissa. Put the phone down for right now. Be an adult like you tell yourself you are so often. Go get some food, post your most recent works to your website to see if anyone wants to buy it, and then just watch TV or something. Enjoy your day off, don’t be hung up on him all day.
How do I make it seem so easy? Just ignore it. Like that isn’t so much easier said than done! I me
an, he doesn’t even ever really respond. And when he does his bullshit way of responding, it is hours later! Literally, five hours later and I get this bullshit message! I can’t believe it.
[Damian <3 <3]: Anything that keeps me away from you is work, Love.
Can you believe that bullshit?
[Clarissa]: That’s not an answer!
[Damian <3 <3]: Then I’m sorry.
[Damian <3 <3]: I love you too much for time away from you to be anything else.
I growled and threw myself onto my bed. God damn it! Why can’t he give me a single straight answer?!
[Clarissa]: He’s so obnoxious!
[Kitty]: Sure, he is. But you love him. What’s the problem anyway?
[Clarissa]: He won’t tell me what his job is!
[Kitty]: Idk. He might be a drug dealer, honestly.
I rolled my eyes at the comment and didn’t even bother to reply.
[Kitty]: Maybe he has an embarrassing job? Like a caddy. He might be embarrassed.
I laughed at the response.
[Clarissa]: You always make me feel better, Kitty.
[Kitty]: I know. I’m the best.
Chapter 7
It’s been months. We have been together for months! And he still won’t even give me one straight answer about what his work is or anything about his work.
Well, if I’m being honest, that’s a lie. He told me where his work is, gave me the address while he was half asleep last time we had sex. He didn’t expect me to be quite as crazy as I am, I suppose. Or else he wouldn’t have given me this single hint if he genuinely hoped I would not find out.
Oh well. I guess I’ll find out soon. He’ll forgive me. I mean, I brought him my special brownies. No. Not special in that way if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s merely my own secret recipe that no one on earth can possibly resist. I added several scoops of nutmeg above what the recipe called for.
Serving the Billionaire Boss: A Secret Baby Billionaire Romance Page 13