by Romi Hart
He continues fingering my clit while I ride him harder. Even the way he rests his palm on my pubic bone, right along the extra-sensitive area of my pussy hair.
I groan like an animal as he begins slowly pushing me forward, forcing our bodies to gyrate together in opposite directions, creating a strong push and pull sensation that goes in sync with the way my pussy is pushing out. It’s a strange coincidence of perfectly timed patterns…and it’s making me fly around like a rag doll.
“YES! Oh God, Zander…yes...yes! Let’s come together.”
“No. This time it’s all for you.”
He steadies himself and relaxes his muscle. He breathes in deeply and lets it out, releasing all the tension. My breathing is only escalating. Within seconds of my G-spot being tickled into spasming orgasming, I’m panting and grabbing my neck for comfort. The shooting orgasmic pangs are almost too intense. I can feel my pussy engorging, gushing all over his cock, and just a few strokes away from another climax.
Just as I start spiraling out of control, he takes his free hand off my already painfully throbbing clit and puts it on my breast—right against my heart. The feeling of connection intensifies as I feel the energy pass from my spinning head to my thumping heart, to my pussy and even down to my curling toes. In the throes of orgasm, I grab his hair and yank him forwards, shoving his face between my tits and filling his mouth with my hard nipples.
“Ohhh, I’m cumming again!”
“Cum!” he says loudly, “Cum!” – programming me to be an obedient little fuck slave and why would I resist? I look up at the ceiling and pound his face against my breasts, holding on for dear life as an even more intense full-body orgasm ignites my soul and destroys all my senses.
In between screams and moments of pulling his hair, I try my damndest to break him. To ride his cock harder and make him cum with me.
But he won’t. He’s rock solid, this time, holding it in and controlling his breathing and posture perfectly.
I unleash a terrifying scream and then fall back to my side of the bed, my juices still dripping all over his cock and his legs.
I take a deep breath in, but I push out air rapidly through my aching lungs. Bright, heavenly lights seem to appear out of nowhere and make the whole room glow with pleasure. I start giggling and spacing out, my brain now officially jelly from all those wonderful, trippy love drugs.
I can barely breathe…but it’s all I have left in me to crawl on top of my sexy date and grab his still rock hard cock, now smothered in my wetness. Our bodies are sweating, our heads are damp with mad passion. But I have to use all the fight left in me to give him one last handjob to remember. To summon up that angry, rebellious and poisonous sperm and to shoot it all over the fucking bed like he’s my own personal fountain.
I yank his slippery cock hard and get him almost there…frantic by now and downright obsessed with breaking his balls of steel I start sucking the head of his enormous dick while stroking him as fast as I can. I can’t believe I’m tasting myself. Sucking in the same naturalness I just sprayed him with. God, the dirty things he makes me do…the vile things I want to do, just being in his presence.
He finally succumbs to me when I start rubbing his balls with my other hand. Finally, FINALLY, my monstrous lover tenses his whole body and cums in fury, shooting his seed into the air and all over my already soaked hair.
We both laugh as we collapse back onto the bed. More dirty deeds done and no doubt a lot more to go before the night’s over. This is the messy part, the greedy, selfish, erotic fuckfest that every naughty virgin girl dreams about growing up.
But all the sweet romantic stuff, like when he’s going to hold me in the shower and whisper sweet nothings into my ear while the sprinkling water cleanses us…or when he’s going to hold my nude body in his harms and caress me to sleep tucked into the sexy pillow of his rising and falling chest…something tells me there’s going to be a lot of that too.
Mister Troy, the bad boy, the sweet gentleman…the man of a million surprises.
Chapter 6
Zander
I’ve been texting Maya all day but I haven’t gotten any response. Of course, I’m well aware of the irony that I, the busy man, the lone wolf, am being played. I’m usually the one that never calls back. Maybe this is an aphrodisiac, to pretend as if last night wasn’t the most romantic night of our lives.
We made gentle love…pure. I almost felt innocent again. I almost felt like a teen losing my virginity, if not in body than in mind. Never before had I ever been so unprotected, so vulnerable with a woman before. She’s young but she has so much heart. She is the antithesis of my corporate world, this disgusting universe of self-indulgent monsters we call capitalists. With her life is perfect. Life is something attainable. Something beautiful.
Still…it’s been an entire day and still no word from Maya. I’m starting to think this isn’t a waiting game. Could I have done something wrong? I always forget that when dealing with Maya, I never seem to know where I stand with her.
Sometimes she’s offended. Sometimes she’s aroused. Sometimes she seems as if she’s really into me…but her eyes are deceptive. Her smile is always hiding something, like the Mona Lisa. Like Aphrodite, she casts a spell. She’s a hard to read animal, that’s for sure.
Finally, she answers me…
SORRY BEEN BUSY
Too busy for me?! I almost text back a fit of rage…but try to control myself. How dare she say she’s BUSY. She’s not busy, I am busy. I’m the one running an empire! Good God, this girl is impossible to please.
CAN WE MEET LATE TONIGHT? KIND OF WANT TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING.
That doesn’t sound good. Women never want to “talk” unless it’s bad news. I’m still racking my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. I was hard for the whole second encounter. I didn’t break, I made her orgasm until she wanted no more! I know my dick is long enough, that’s NEVER been a complaint. I was sweet, I was gentle. I spoke of love, did I not?
But I already sense something is off. Is it possible my extravagant lifestyle scared her away? I know I’m not as PURE as you are, Maya. But have I not a heart? Am I not a man-child, looking for love as earnestly as a pauper would? I don’t understand this game you’re playing.
But maybe that’s the game. Maybe your intent is to always keep me guessing. God damn it, Maya. I’m not a pet. I’m not a cat or a pig. You can’t train me. You can’t change me or force me to be your fucking high school quarterback. I’m not a poor boy, I’m a success. I’ll be the best thing that ever happens to you, that’s for sure. I don’t even…
Oh, another message is incoming.
YOU’RE A REALLY NICE GUY.
Oh shit.
“I don’t understand,” I say, dueling her eyes, which seem entirely removed from the conversation. “I thought we felt something together.” Maya has agreed to meet me at the Nicens Steakhouse, one of the priciest restaurants in the city and my personal favorite. Oddly enough, she seems underdressed for such a formal place. Does she not understand dress code or…
“We did. We really did.”
I lean back in my booth, not quite sure what’s coming.
“Look…I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh?” she says, her beady little eyes looking up.
“I can’t change my history. I’m not a good boy, I’m not your boyfriend from high school. I’ve done things, I’ve done terrible things. With many women. Terrible things. Things I can’t even tell you…” I laugh nervously. I probably shouldn’t go into detail about this. “Umm yeah, anyway, I know I’m a bit much. But I think I showed you last night that I really AM a good guy. Just like the hero on the TV. The persona behind the camera. He is part of me, you realize. He is the other side…”
“Zander,” she says with a pained face. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Of course not. Honesty is always my preferred wording. Hold nothing back.”
“I’m glad we have that in common
,” she says with a smile. “I really enjoyed last night and it was everything I dreamed it would be.”
I smile in relief.
“You were gentle, romantic. A really awesome guy. Sweet…caring. Just like I always knew you were deep down. You were the Valentine’s Day gift I always wanted. Even though we didn’t actually last till Valentine’s Day.” She laughs. “We both kind of lost all control of ourselves and made love like ten times or whatever…”
“Thanks.” I smile stupidly. I’ve had lots of practice. No, don’t say that. That’s a terribly unromantic thing to say!
“But here’s the thing…” She loses her smile, as do I. “I always thought, you know, that sex with a billionaire bad boy would be a little more…WILD. You know?”
“What?” My face goes pale white. This is definitely not a good sign.
“I dunno. Part of me really liked what we did. But like, the other part of me was wondering…why is he so gentle? I just thought it would be a little bit crazy, you know? Like ‘oh my God’ crazy, freaky stuff. But that’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh my God.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“It’s fine! Really!”
“Gentle? What are you talking about? I am wild! I am insane!”
She shakes her head and rumples her chin. “If you say so.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I did all that romantic, slow-moving shit for you! I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It’s cool. I guess we just have different ideas of…you know…sexual experimentation.”
“Oh, fuck that. No way, no way. I am WILD. I’m extremely wild. I’m a Wildling!”
Maya laughs. “If you say so, baby. I mean, I just thought…you know…”
“WHAT?”
“That billionaire pervert guy…the guy my parents hated…the one everyone says is pure evil…I just thought that guy would be into more crazy things. That’s all.”
“You want crazy? You want crazy?”
“Nah, I don’t.” Maya pats my hand and I stare at her fingers…she’s giving me the tap. “I just wanted you. To be the real you. And you were awesome.”
Who the fuck does she think she is? “I am insane! You’re the fucking virgin girl trying to tell me I’m not wild enough for you!”
“Well, thanks. But I’m not a virgin anymore. Still sore too.”
I grin sarcastically. “Yeah and you would have been a lot sorer if I wasn’t being so damn gentle for you!”
“I appreciate it…I guess.”
“Well then give me another chance.”
“No, no, Zander. I wanted the real you. And I was happy to meet that guy.”
“So are we through? Is this it?”
“Well, we were never exactly together…”
“But I like you. I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you, Zander. But I thought you, of all people, would realize…”
“Yes? What?”
“After two people have sex, you know, it’s not their real heart talking. It’s all the oxytocin, you know? The love drugs. It’s like we’re high. We’re not thinking rationally. I figured YOU would be giving me this speech! Kind of a role reversal.”
“Yes, but…” I laugh in disbelief. “I get it, I do. The whole pheromones, endorphins, yeah that does sound like something I would say. But…I think in this particular instance…”
“What I was saying was, I just don’t want to commit to anyone right now.”
“Commit? I’m the one who should be talking to you about my fear of commitment!”
“I’m sorry I stole your thunder,” she says with a smirk. “I just don’t want to be tied down to anyone. I’m young. I don’t want my first lover to be my only lover. That seems like a really lonely existence.”
“Yeah, neither do I!” I reply in venom. “I have sex with lots of women!”
“Go you,” Maya says sarcastically. “And I look forward to doing the same. Er, with men, obviously.”
“Lots of girls, lots!”
“Good, so we agree. We’re both happier just hanging out. You know, as friends.”
“But not…friends with benefits?”
“Well…it would be kind of weird, wouldn’t it? I mean you have your billion-dollar life. All those models and groupies and such. And I have my job here and…you know, two different worlds.”
“But I like you, Maya,” I say earnestly. “Sex isn’t what I want from you. I mean…”
“Well, sex isn’t what I want from you either,” she says calmly. “Not anymore. I think we crossed that road. And now here we are. I want sex, you don’t.”
“I can give that to you.”
“I think I can manage,” she says with a wink. “So let’s just try being friends. Maybe we can chat and text and stuff. You know, like cool people do?”
Motherfucker! She wants to be text buddies? Like I’m a fucking Riverdale teenager? I’m fucking Zander Troy! I have more money than Donald Trump and more connections all over the world than Richard Branson. George Clooney wishes he had the kind of girls I get every weekend, especially now that he’s an old married fart.
I am NOT your texting buddy!
“You know, Maya?” I say spitefully. “Forget this. Forget all of this. I don’t NEED this shit. And for your information, I wasn’t born yesterday like YOU. I already know you better than you know yourself.”
“Oh really?”
I laugh in supervillainy, my heart still racing at the very thought of being rejected by a nobody. “I know what you really want.”
“Yeah…because I just told you?”
“No, that’s not what you want. You’re playing me. Because you WANT me to commit to you. You want me to be this love-sick guy that holds gushy stupid love signs waiting for you at the airport. You want me to get on my hands and knees and propose to you like some poor schmuck. Well, that ain’t going to happen, doll face.”
Maya nods in sarcasm. “Oh yeah, that’s what I want. Not just sex, like I just admitted in complete honesty. Not some strange cock that I really, really want to feel. I really just want you to be a super nice guy and propose to me. And have like, twelve of your babies. Yeah, totally figured me out, bro.”
“…Fuck you!” I say in wide-eyed surprise. “I have to be somewhere. No, I have to be in someone else! That’s where I have to be.”
“Me too,” she says with a widened smile. “Have fun.”
The slut, the tramp, the bad little de-virginized vixen mocks me! From my vantage point, I can see everything, including the foolishness of those mortals below me on the dance floor. Maya is dressed to kill. A sexy cleavage-bearing black plunge dress that showcases her flawless figure. She wears heavy makeup and high-heel shoes. She’s dressed to tempt, to seduce…all to spite me and my lack of sexual perversity. Ohhh, if she only knew!
Maya came to Ernie’s, the club on 58th Street, the hottest club in town. No doubt to sample the selection of “available men” who aren’t me. Not that any of them could compare to me. I could buy this dump and kick everyone out if I wanted to. But I’m halfway curious to know what Maya plans to do. Her intent is obviously to meet a stranger, let him be charming, and then have sex with him.
Don’t bother making him WORK FOR IT like I had to do. No, just give it away for free like you’re a fucking buffet, Maya.
But the point, of course, the point, is to compare HIM to ME. To see if every guy is as perfect as I am. If every guy is as thick and hung as Zander Troy. To see if just ANY old schmoozer could afford my amazing life. No, Maya. They can’t. And soon enough, you will realize that.
I am in the Troy dynasty. I’m not just a man of the world, I own the world. I gave the world its perversities. I lent the world its whores, I invested in its polyamory, and I hosted its orgies of defilement. I am the Devil himself. And my cock is just as red as that lesser evil bastard!
I watch impatiently as Maya converses with the locals. There are a few guys here and there. Black dudes, country music rej
ects, military guys and hipster nerds. But none of them are me. None of them are special, none of them are gods. I know Maya, probably better than she knows herself. She doesn’t want a strange cock, in her own words. Numbers mean nothing to Maya. She wants something special. She wants emotional connection. She wants to feel something new and liberating. She wants corruption, that’s what she wants.
Only one man has her attention in the bar right now. His name is Antonio. He’s a big, burly guy, but he has a certain animal magnetism about him. His power over women is incomparable, well, next only to me. Just looking at Maya across the room with his big dumb Italian smile is already capturing Maya’s attention. I knew she would pay the most attention to him. Because all the other guys have only mastered the dialog. They haven’t mastered the presence. And Maya is all about the energy of the moment.
From my perfect seat, I can overhear everything they’re saying.
“I’ll buy you a drink. Yes? Order yourself a drink.” His accent is thick, but the novelty charm of a foreigner is only sweetening the deal for Maya. “You look thirsty.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You’re dressed like you’re thirsty.” His eyes are killer. Maya can’t help but respond to his sexual energy. He knows exactly what he wants and his alpha pheromones start to interact with hers, promising something amazing.
“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” she says, already sucking in air, her heart racing at the anticipation. The man is so horny for her, she might not even make it out of this bar before getting mad-fucked.
“Teasing, of course. I think you’re beautiful. The other women here spend lots of money just trying to look like you do when you first wake up in the morning. You’re a natural beauty.”
“Thank you.” She sighs breathily. She already senses there’s something dangerous about him. Antonio doesn’t have to flex nuts. He’s already oozing masculinity and excitement. His gangster lifestyle is palpable, it’s in the air, it’s in his breathing. The world begs for his permission, begs for his attention. All a woman needs is a command to suck his dick.