Olivia
The subject of my virginity, thankfully, doesn’t come up again. I can’t believe I even told him. After all, he’s not just my fake husband, but he’s my boss. I would die if anyone at work knew my secret.
But… there’s something different about him. He’s still just as commanding, just as authoritative, just as hot, but I feel like I’m really seeing a different side of him.
“Where are we?” I say, looking out the tinted windows. There’s a sea of tall trees around us. “It’s beautiful here.” There’s not another car in sight, nor a single building. We’ve completely left the city, and the suburbs, too, from the looks of it.
“There’s a really high end hotel in the Poconos,” he says. “That’s where we’re headed. And by the looks of it, we’re getting close.”
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, the limo glides to a gentle stop in front of a massive stone building that looks more like an elegant castle than a hotel.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I say.
“Well,” he says. “We’ve got to keep it realistic, right? My friends know that I always pay the extra bucks for the best of the best, whatever it is.”
“I guess that includes your brides?”
He laughs and looks down at me. That smile of his just kills me.
“Well,” he says. “Shall I show you your room, Ms. Master?”
I take his arm and giggle.
“So my name is really Olivia Masters now?”
“Yup,” he says. “And it has a certain ring to it, if I do say so myself.”
He leads me up to the hotel and checks in for us while I hang back.
Even at the front desk of the hotel, he takes charge. He doesn’t walk up there nervously. Instead, he walks up there like he fucking owns the place, and is going to take names and prisoners if anything doesn’t go exactly the way he wants it.
It’s nice not having to do that sort of thing myself. It’s not like I have a problem going into stores or walking up to people. Anxiety’s never really been a problem of mine. I’ve simply been too highly motivated to let something like anxiety get in the way of my goals.
But, partly because of that, I’m always the one who’s doing everything. Like with my apartment situation, for instance, I’m always the one who talks to the landlord when there’s a problem, instead of Sasha. I’m always the one who orders the take out food for the two of us, and I’m always the one… who basically does everything, really.
And here’s David Masters, my husband, simply taking care of things.
“All set,” he says, coming over to me, swinging an old fashioned key on his finger. This isn’t the sort of place that has key cards. It’s way too classy for something like that.
A bell man follows us up to our rooms, unloads the bags, and quite courteously explains to us the function of everything in the room.
“We get the idea,” says David, as the bell man’s monologue starts to drag on and on. “Here, take this and have some fun with it.” He shoves some crisp bills into his hand, and the bell man disappears.
“Sometimes it’s just a matter of paying them to leave you alone,” says David.
We’re standing in the doorway that separates our two rooms. There’s a door, thick and wooden, but it’s open.
“The room’s beautiful,” I say, admiring it, perhaps to ease the awkwardness that I suddenly feel being alone in this gorgeous honeymoon suite with my new “husband.”
But it’s true, the rooms are gorgeous. The walls are beautiful stone that’s fit together expertly, just like on the outside of this hotel. There’s also wood paneling that runs into the wood floor with a fine grain that seems to swim before my eyes.
“Do you need help with that dress?” he says, his eyes hungrily looking at my breasts.
“I’ll be OK,” I say. “I’ll change out of it and then we can go… get that massage or something.”
He nods and closes the door.
I’m left in my own room, but I’m only a few feet from him, separated only by a single wall.
Why was I so eager to suggest that we leave the room immediately?
Obviously, it’s because I’m terrified of my virginity, of the implication that’s hanging in the air.
Honestly, there isn’t a man in the world that I’d rather lose my virginity to than David Masters.
Just the mere thought of it sends a tingling sensation of excitement through my entire body, from my feet up to my head.
There’s a beautiful full length mirror on an elaborate antique wooden stand.
I stand before it and admire my reflection.
It sounds silly, but I’ve never been one of those women who can admire themselves in the mirror, complimenting themselves on their various features. I’ve always been too much into self improvement, driving full speed towards success, which leads to self-criticism. I normally can’t look in the mirror without seeing something that could be improved, some feature that could be better.
But today, I have to admit even to myself that I look completely beautiful. The dress is a type of dress that I simply would never be able to afford for myself. Well, maybe now I could, with my million dollars.
My skin and hair have never looked better.
It’s so weird to even hear myself think these thoughts.
It’s almost a shame to take the dress off, but I’m going to have to. It’s so pretty, I don’t want to damage it by continuing to wear it.
Twisting almost into a pretzel, I move my arms around awkwardly, trying to reach the zipper in the back that I’m sure I saw someone zip up earlier today.
But there’s no way I can reach it. My fingers don’t even contact anything.
Is there even a zipper here?
I sigh, knowing there’s only one person who can help me with this.
But inside, if I’m being honest with myself, I feel that tingle of excitement again. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I have an inkling of it.
The world seems to shimmer around me in that special magical way when you know something incredible is about to happen.
My knuckles feel light on the door as I knock on it.
“Who is it?” comes David’s deep voice, booming through the thick wooden door.
I laugh. “Who do you think?”
“Are you armed? Should I be scared?”
“I need help with my dress.”
“Just a minute.”
I can hear him in his room, moving something around.
He opens the door just a crack. The room is dark, but there’s a small flicker of light coming from somewhere that illuminates just enough of David for me to see that he’s shirtless. Through the sliver of the open door, I see his rippling abs and his bulging shoulder muscles, and I actually have to suppress a gasp of surprise.
“You didn’t expect to see your husband?” he says, leaning his head down towards me as he opens the door a little more.
“What’s going on in there? Why are all the lights off?”
He ignores me, and says, “You said you needed help with your dress?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I can’t even find the zipper. Do you think you can unzip it for me?”
“Why don’t you come in?” he says.
“I don’t know… I really need to get this dress off. I don’t want to damage it.”
“Don’t worry about that. Come in.” He says this more like a command than a request.
“OK,” I say.
He opens the door wide, and I suddenly see that the room has been lit with a couple dozen candles, which are scattered around, on the bureau, on the floor, on the window sill.
The flickering candle lights cast beautiful shadows on the stone walls. The room feels cozy and romantic.
“Wow,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
…but not as beautiful as David Masters, who I can now see completely.
He’s buck naked.
I can’t keep my eyes off him. They travel do
wn from his massive chest to his cock, which is growing hard as I look at it, getting bigger and bigger, apparently never stopping.
I actually let out a gasp, and he chuckles deeply.
“I was in the middle of changing when you knocked,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, conscious that I’m going to avoid the obvious implications of this scenario. “So do you think you can help me with this dress? Or… maybe I should go.”
“Stay,” he says. “Don’t worry about the dress.”
“It’s so beautiful,” I say. “And it looks expensive.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Again, it’s more of a command than anything else. “We can always get a new dress if we… ruin it.”
“You’re going to ruin it? I don’t understand.”
I’m talking like I don’t know what’s going on… but why would he be putting all these candles up? I don’t mention them.
“Sit on the bed and I’ll see what I can do with the dress,” he says.
I do as he says and sit on the very edge of the bed, with my hands folded in my lap.
He moves in front of me, his massive cock fully erect. The head itself is enormous and swollen and his shaft is thick as it runs down to his incredibly girthy base. It doesn’t swing as he moves, but stands pointed upward, massive and stiff.
My breathing is increasing… shallow, rapid breaths.
My nipples are hard, and I can feel myself getting wet… very wet. I’m going to soak right through my panties and ruin this beautiful dress.
“I thought we were going to go to the massage…” I say vaguely, feeling awkward because neither one of us is saying anything.
David doesn’t respond.
“Get on your stomach,” he says. “Lie down.”
“Why?” I say, startled.
“I need to find the zipper.”
I do as he says, positioning myself so that I’m on my stomach with my hands awkwardly lying straight at my sides.
The mattress is incredibly soft and plush, like no mattress I’ve ever felt before. My breasts sink into it underneath me. I feel the mattress shift as David gets onto it, his weight shifting the mattress much more than my own.
“You’re tense,” he says. “There’s no need to be tense.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and digs them deep into my muscles, moving them like he’s giving me a massage.
I’m incredibly conscious that he’s buck naked and that I’m very aroused. How could I not be aware of it, when his cock is so obviously erect. I can’t see him, with my face pushed into the mattress, but I can palpably feel the presence of his cock so very close to me.
“So you’ve never had sex?” he growls at me. “Is that really true?”
I nod my head before realizing that he can’t see my head moving, since it’s sunk down in the mattress and the comforter.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice timid and meek, the complete opposite of his.
“That’s incredible,” he says.
“I can’t talk like this,” I say, sitting up.
I try to keep my feet straight, my toes pointed out towards the edge of the bed, so as not to wrinkle the dress any more than I have to. But parts of it have already been caught underneath me as I moved around the bed.
“I better get this off,” I say. “Or I’m really going to ruin it.”
“Who cares about the dress?” he growls.
“I do,” I say. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s nothing compared to you.”
Before I know what’s happening, he’s leaning in towards me. His already naked body is giving off heat, and as his shoulder presses against me casually, I feel something like an electric charger that seems to connect our bodies together.
His eyes are only inches away from my face, and he’s staring right into mine.
I don’t know what makes me do it, except for the incredible attraction I feel for him. It feels like my body is drawn towards him.
It’s something deep inside me, something instinctual, some kind of primal attraction.
My lips gingerly touch his, and for a moment his own lips are completely still.
My eyes are closed, and the next thing I feel is his mouth smashing against mine, his lips pushing hard onto mine.
His hands move onto my breasts, cupping them gently.
David pulls his mouth away from me, and moves it towards my neck, kissing me gently.
“I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before,” he whispers in a low growl right into my ear. I can feel his hot breath me. “Don’t you want to feel pleasure and don’t you want to please your husband?”
“I thought this was just a fake marriage,” I say, my voice faint and far away, completely lacking in any type of conviction.
“It still is,” he says. “But let me show you what sex is really like. You’re missing out on so much.”
He doesn’t need to convince me. I already want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
I throw myself against him, forgetting my concerns about ruining the wedding dress. The white fabric is bunched up all around me as my body slams into his.
But he doesn’t get knocked over. His body is solid and strong, like a pillar of muscle that presses back against me.
The next thing I know, I’m on my back, and he’s on top of me, gazing down into my eyes.
“I’ll be gentle on you,” he growls.
“Take me,” is the only thing I can say.
I can’t take it any longer. The tension of my virginity is simply too much to bear. And I want him so badly, like I’ve never wanted anyone before in my life.
“Be careful with the dress” is the last thing I remember to say before he kisses me again.
He’s on top of me, ignoring my pleas to keep the dress unruffled. He’s crushing it, destroying its pure original state.
His hands are on my breasts, and now they’re squished between me and the mattress, looking for the zipper.
He growls as he gives up on the zipper and goes right for the shoulder straps, which he tears off me. It doesn’t hurt me, but the sound of it surprises me.
But I could care less.
He yanks the top down the front of me, exposing my breasts. I don’t have a bra on, since the dress isn’t made that way.
I gasp, and he growls at me, diving his head down to my breasts.
My nipples are rock hard and his mouth sinks down on them, sucking on them, cupping his rough, strong hands underneath my breasts.
I’ve envisioned what my first time would be like… at least a thousand times. I never thought it would be anything like this. I never thought it would be on my wedding night, for one. But most of all I never thought that it would be so… intense.
His cock is raging hard and pressing against my leg. I’m painfully aware of it, and I’m aching for it.
My hand slides down between us, gripping his cock. It feels even thicker than it looks, and he grunts lightly as I squeeze it.
David nibbles my ear lobe and kisses my neck.
He gets up off me, on his knees next to me on the mattress. His cock is in his fist, which is gliding up and down along his shaft.
He doesn’t need to tell me what to do. I just do it.
I’m flipping over on my stomach again. I never imagined sex would involve so much moving around, so much changing positions… weird thoughts like this pop occasionally into my head, but they’re drowned out by the sheer intensity I’m feeling.
His cock and his fist are an inch away from my face. I can smell his manliness, the scent filling my nostrils in a delicious way.
David places his strong hands gently on the sides of my head, digging them into my hair, which is becoming more undone with each passing minute, slowly guiding my head towards his cock.
But I thrust my head forward, ignoring his guiding hands, and his cock enters my mouth.
He chuckles deeply as I almost gag on his massive cock, which hits the back of my throat, com
pletely filling my mouth. If it felt thick in my hand, it tastes even thicker.
I pucker my lips, tightening them around his shaft.
I’m vaguely aware in the back of mind that I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t let that stop me or hinder my enthusiasm for his massive member.
David groans and tightens his grip on my head. He’s bucking his hips now, thrusting his cock into my mouth.
The air is thick with the scent of his manliness, with sex.
My dress is still half on me.
“I want you flat on your back,” he growls at me. There’s a look of intense determination in his eyes. It’s almost a glare.
At this point, my dress is completely soaked. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been.
I’m simply dying to feel him inside me.
If it was this good so far, penetration must be way better.
I’m panting as I flop myself eagerly down onto the mattress.
I yank the skirt of my dress up above my legs, pulling it so that it covers my torso, revealing my long legs.
“Take me,” I say. “Fuck me.”
It’s so unlike me to say something dirty like that. Or is it? Maybe I’ve just never had the opportunity. After all, it’s not like I can use that line at work or at the grocery store.
“Not just yet,” growls David, giving me a wicked grin.
He jams his head between my legs suddenly, but he doesn’t touch my pussy yet. Instead, he runs his tongue along the inner part of my thigh, sending a strange sensation of longing coursing through my body.
I’ve never experienced anything like this… I’m dying now for his tongue to simply touch me, to simply make contact with my clit, which is intensely swollen, almost to the point of pain.
Finally, he licks me, a long, broad stroke that seems to savor me, seems to intensely take me in.
I gasp as his tongue slowly moves across me, finally reaching my clit. It sends shivers of intense pleasure from my toes up to my head.
But my clit’s as swollen as it’s ever been.
“Fuck me,” I moan, anxious for his cock.
“Not just yet,” he says, pausing for a moment.
His tongue hits me again, this time concentrating on my clit, quick jabs of intense pleasure as he flicks his tongue expertly across me.
Daddy's Bought Virgin: A Fake Marriage Romance (Innocence Book 2) Page 9