“My turn,” he whispers against my ear, nibbling at my earlobe with his teeth. “I want your pussy again. But not in my mouth,” he grins at me, and I feel my pussy aching to have him in it again.
With a growl, Palmer takes his hands out of my ass and grabs me by the hips. He pushes me to the side, throwing me down on the couch, and I lay down. He spreads my legs open and lays on top of me, grabbing his cock and pressing it against my pussy in one single breath.
With a sigh, I cross my legs around his lower back and lace my arms on his neck, pulling him into me as the desperation to have his cock completely demolishing my pussy reaches the height of its intensity.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll forget your name,” he whispers before pressing his mouth against mine, kissing while he thrusts. My insides burn as his thickness pushes back against my inner walls, and I grip him hard with my legs around his waist.
He’s fucking me so hard that fireworks are going off behind my shut eyelids, and I already feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. He was right about what he said; if he keeps fucking me like this, I doubt I’ll remember anything at all.
He’s moving so fast that I no longer know when his cock is sliding out or sliding in and, to be honest, I couldn’t care less about it. All that matters is that I feel every single throb of his cock, the warmness of his shaft spreading through me and numbing every single one of my senses. Each thrust of his is like a pure blessing, and I’m already feeling the pressure mounting inside of me.
I open my mouth to tell him not to stop, but all I manage to produce is a weak croak. It doesn’t matter, though; he’s not thinking of stopping. Instead, he goes even faster, pushing me close to the edge and then forcing me to jump straight into a pool of pleasure.
“Oh, my, GOD!” I scream out, the sound of it crawling up my throat, clawing at my vocal chords and then exploding on my mouth like a bomb. My scream turns into a high-pitched scream, the flames of ecstasy licking at my skin from the inside out.
When my muscles finally stop twitching, Palmer lays one gentle kiss against my cheek and then whispers into my ear. “I hope you’re not tired already…” He says and, even though I’m already feeling as spent as I could be, I shake my head.
“More,” I simply say, running my tongue over my lips.
“Are you sure you can take more?” He teases me, pulling his cock out of me. “I won’t hold back.”
“I don’t want you to hold back… I want you to give me your all,” I tell him, the way the words roll over my tongue making the adrenaline race through my veins.
“That’s my girl,” he says, grabbing me by the hips again. He sits me up on the couch and then he lays down, looking at me with an expectant look.
“Come here,” he calls me with a grin. “I’m not done with devouring that pussy of yours.”
Grinning back, I climb on top of him and, placing my knees at the side of his head, I offer him my pussy.
He cranes his neck and, grabbing me by the hips, presses his mouth against my wetness once more. I sway my hips back and forth, thrusting against his face as he eats me out, all of his movements pregnant with a wild and insatiable hunger.
A deep certainty fills me and I can’t help but smile—somehow, I’m sure that when we are finally old and wrinkled, our joints and muscles a ghost of a time gone by, he’ll be as hungry as he is now.
And that fits me just right, if you ask me. I’ve been missing out for the last two decades; I have absolutely no intention of going without sex even one single day for the rest of my life.
What can I say? Now that I know how good sex is, there’s no way I can resist it. Plus, Palmer… he just makes me like this. I mean, I’m sure that he has this effect on pretty much every woman he comes across, but now he’s mine.
Just mine.
As I grind against his face, he moves his hands back to my navel and allows two fingers to fall over my clit. Pressing down on it, he starts rubbing it fast, his fingers tracing circles around it.
My body tenses up and relaxes, the orgasm washing over me with an ebb and flow. The tides of pleasure are lulling my mind, the high waves of this ocean of ecstasy lapping at my body and spending the few reserves of energy I still have inside of me. But I still want more…
And I want one last showdown before making him fuck me for the last time.
I lift my legs and turn around and, with my ass turned to him, I go on all fours on top of his body. I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, I point it straight at my mouth and lower my head.
At the same time, he hooks his fingers on my hips and forces me to ease my pussy down on his face. The moment I feel my wetness against his lips, I start to sway my body at a frantic pace, bobbing my head at the same rhythm.
We go like this for God knows how long, the whole concept of time becoming completely meaningless. With his mouth on my pussy, and my mouth on his cock, I can’t really focus on anything else. And, as he licks my clit with renewed ferocity, I feel my brain on the verge of shutting down.
Still, I manage to remain unconscious, only to have another orgasm explode inside of me, the shock waves of it rushing through my muscles and forcing me to take his cock out of my mouth.
Coming up for air, I scream as loud as I can.
Breathing so hard that I’m dizzy, I climb out of Palmer’s body and, without waiting to see what he wants me to do, I go on all fours on the couch. He gets up in a heartbeat, kneeling behind me, and smacks my ass harshly with the palm of his hand. He does it again and again, and only stops when the pain becomes so deliciously unbearable that I’m moaning in ecstasy and thrusting back at him.
I have my head bowed down, my hair cascading down my shoulders. And so while I can’t see him, I can imagine the wicked grin he has on his face as he presses his tip against my pussy.
With one simple thrust, he’s in me again, stretching me as wide as only he can do. I moan and scream, the sound of it blending into something almost inhuman. My voice caresses my eardrums and then claws at it, all while a firestorm rages inside of me, threatening to consume everything that I am.
Maybe I’ll die of pleasure now; maybe my final orgasm will be so intense that I’ll stop breathing, my heart will stop beating, and then my brain will shut down. My soul will float away into the afterlife and, if all this happens, I’m sure that I’ll be going with a grin on my face. I mean, to go out with Palmer’s thick cock ravaging me wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it?
No… no, it wouldn’t.
When I finally come, there’s no screaming or moaning; I throw my head back against the couch and just hiss like a rattlesnake, my throat too ruined to carry on. I almost think that Palmer’s done, but when he pulls his cock out of my pussy he keeps its tip pressed against my inner lips.
Oh, sweet God… I think I’m really going to OD on pleasure.
“Do it… Do it…” I beg him, and he starts to push his cock back inside me. It moves in at a slow pace, but it goes steadily all the same. Even though my throat has given up on me, I force myself to scream one more time, the pressure of Palmer’s cock on my insides too good for me to remain in silence.
“Hard… I want it hard,” I continue, and he doesn’t need any further instructions; he starts to thrust as if his life depended on it, ravaging me like he never did before.
He buries his cock so deep inside me that I have to scream again. At the same time, he slides one hand around my waist and presses down on my clit with two fingers, immediately stroking it at a furious and almost too violent pace.
It doesn’t take long for me to come undone — one more thrust of his cock and my mind snaps, my soul shattering into a thousand little pieces with it.
I thrust back, forcing him to push his cock deep into me, and then I hold that position as a violent convulsion takes over me. My muscles are burning, my skin is boiling, and both my heart and lungs are working overtime to keep me alive. It’s a wonder that I still haven’t passed out… I feel ex
hausted enough to fall unconscious, but I refuse to do it as pleasure still courses through my veins.
Even though Palmer and I have a lifetime ahead of us, I don’t want to waste one single second of what I’m experiencing now.
“I want you to come,” I find myself telling him, my brain seemingly having no say about what words leave my lips. As if my voice has a magical effect on his body, his cock starts to spasm and, half a heartbeat after that, it throbs violently and I feel the warmness of his seed filling me.
Instead of gushing all his load inside of me, Palmer pulls his cock out and, still on his knees, starts to stroke himself. I feel his thick ropes of cum cover my lower back, beads of it sprinkling my skin.
By the time he’s done, all I can do is roll around so that I’m lying on my back. I take a few deep breaths, and then I sit up. He’s sitting up as well, his head thrown back against the couch as he tries to catch his breath.
Slowly, I run my fingertips down his forearm and take them to his hand. I tangle my fingers on his, and then lean into him and press my lips on his face.
“I love you,” I whisper again, somehow knowing that I’ll never grow tired of these three words. As silly as it might sound, I feel like I’m the luckiest woman on Earth.
“I love you too,” he whispers back at me, his fingers tightening around my own. My body grows cold suddenly, and perhaps feeling it, Palmer reaches for his discarded shirt on the floor and makes me wear it. He dresses me as one would do to a small child, and I keep my eyes on his as he does it, just enjoying the delicate way he’s handling me.
For a man capable of such dominance and raw power, I can’t help but be surprised at how kind he truly is. I can’t believe I used to see him as someone cold and heartless, a total asshole even.
To say that I was wrong doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Standing up, his large shirt covering most of my body, I make my way toward the large windows of his living room.
“Where are you going?” He asks me, picking his boxer briefs from the floor and getting inside them. He goes up to his feet and then joins me by the window, his arm laced around my waist.
“The city… it looks so beautiful from up here,” I whisper, not even knowing why I’m saying. At ground level, from the windows of the Old Tale, the city is nothing but a blend of smog and dirty concrete. But from up here, there’s a certain magic about it all.
The streets have an orange glow at night, and the tall spires of office and apartment buildings rise up in the air like Christmas trees. And though I know that no one really sleeps in a big city, right now it feels so… calm.
It’s almost relaxing.
“It does,” Palmer agrees with me, and then he’s the one brushing his lips against my cheek. “But only because you’re here with me.”
I look into his eyes, but this time I don’t say anything.
Sometimes, words just get in the way.
Smiling, I go up on tiptoes and kiss him, closing my eyes as I let the memory of this moment be forever imprinted on my mind.
Love—sometimes it’s even better than what we imagine it to be.
Hard Luck
A Billionaire Second Chance Romance
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2017 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.
Vivien Vale
Sienna
I take a handful of my thick, long golden hair and twist it tight, securing it in place with pins.
Then I ease on the wig and adjust the glossy black bangs so they sit at the top of my brow. I make sure the part is straight, as if it were made by a knife. I smooth down the hair around my face, moving my head from one side to the other.
I’m assessing myself, critiquing my reflection.
My new hair shines under the overhead light of the hotel’s dressing room. The cut hits under my chin, a dramatic frame for my face.
My gaze moves down, taking in how the soft gold silk dress I’m wearing hugs my hips and falls around my legs, rippling when I move. I look as if I’ve been dipped in honeyed ambrosia.
The dress has turned my hazel eyes to gold.
I planned my look this evening especially carefully. I want to walk out of this room onto the casino floor and into my new life as part of Roger’s Inner Sanctum, the elite escort service I’ll be working with from now on, and to exude power and mystery.
Of course, it’s my bad luck that my debut has to take place in the back rooms of the Alchema, the sleek and elegant hotel and casino owned by none other than Leo fucking Asher.
Leo’s come a long way from the boy who raced around the grounds of my father’s estate.
His father worked for us; his mother lost a battle to cancer when he was a toddler. Growing up, Leo and my brother, Jax, would spend their days teasing me and racing around the grounds of our California ranch.
We grew older.
Jax went east to boarding school; Leo won a scholarship and followed.
I stayed behind.
When the boys came home on holidays, Jax’s teasing turned into sharp jabs at my expense. His friendship with Leo had cooled significantly.
Maybe it was simply a case of growing older and growing apart, but I don’t know what happened. Jax would get annoyed when I’d ask and Leo would ignore the question completely.
By the time they went to college, neither one was speaking to the other, so Leo turned his attention to me. He would call me Golden, because of my hair and eyes. We would talk or sit together quietly for hours.
Then, ten years ago, he left California and transferred to Harvard. He only came home to visit once. It was the summer I turned eighteen.
Three months before my father had to shutter the mines that made the Reids the prominent family we were.
Five months before the beginning of the legal wrangling that left my family broke.
We lost everything.
Meanwhile, Leo made a name for himself in New York. Opening bars and then clubs, he had the golden touch because every establishment he worked on was a wild success.
Now, at 30, Leo Asher is a hotel and casino magnate. He not only owns the 55-story Alchema Hotel in Vegas, but the Nocturne in Monaco.
If I see Leo, I want to be the opposite of the girl he must remember: she was young, gentle, eager, shameless, and curious.
I try to assure myself that I won’t see him because otherwise I won’t maintain my calm.
Ten years ago, when I was eighteen and hungry to explore the things he made me feel, Leo ran his finger across my jaw one afternoon.
I let him see me shudder.
He called me Golden, and I opened myself to him.
Gave myself to him.
Gave him everything.
The memory quickens my pulse. I can see the flush on my cheeks reflected back to me in the mirror, feel the heat on my skin as it reddens before me.
My nipples harden under my dress, the fabric feeling suddenly restrictive, invasive, and giving me attention I don’t want because I memories I can’t forget.
I exhale and try to push the thought of him out of my head, angry that he still has this effect on me after all this time.
Control is exactly the thing I don’t want to grant him; it is precisely the thing he has over me now.
I want control of my body, but my reactions leave me as helpless as if his hot breath was between my thighs right now while he looked up at me, searing my soul with that wicked blaze in his eyes from that night.
“You won’t see him,” I say aloud to remind myself that even if I do see him, he won’t recognize me because I’m disguised.
It is his hotel. He’ll be busy tending to guests and putting out fires as comes with running a business.
He won’t
recognize the woman I’ve become...beneath the disguise, or through the years.
I reapply my lipstick and draw a sharp nail across the bottom of my lip to catch any color which may have bled. It’s unnecessary. My lipstick is perfect.
I smile at myself in the mirror.
There’s a knock on the door—two short raps and then the sound of the electronic card beeping entry.
The door opens and Roger walks into the suite, moving towards the dressing room.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered. His clear blue eyes are sharp under black brows, and his white hair is clipped neatly. He looks and acts decades younger than his seventy-seven years.
The only concession to his advancing age is the silver-topped mahogany cane he’s forced to use.
“Hello, Sienna, my darling,” Roger says as he stands behind me.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. His left hand caresses my arm, moving up and down. It’s a familiar gesture, one that’s meant to comfort…and excite.
I smile at him.
“Hello, Roger.”
“Are you ready for your debut?”
I nod. My heart’s racing so fast, I worry it’s vibrating my skin and he can feel the thrum through the skin of my arm.
Roger bends and kisses my neck.
“You’re absolutely beautiful tonight,” he says. “They’ll be lining up for you.”
The other escorts told me to expect this.
“He’s harmless ,” they all promised.
“He thinks of us as his daughters,” one girl told me.
He’s a pretty fucked up father.
I watch his eyes move over my body. Taking his time evaluating me.
When my eyes meet his, he smiles.
I hold my breath as his hand travels down the side of me and over my curves, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
“They’re going to love you,” he says. He skips a beat and looks to the door.
This is the opening, the break in his actions that lets me move on and I start to breathe again.
“Shall we?” he asks.
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