“Oh my gosh, she’s so cute!” I exclaim. “Is that little Flannery?”
“It sure is,” Veronica says.
“Nice to meet you, little Flannery,” I say, immediately ascending my tone into a high pitched baby voice without even thinking about. “You really are so very cute.”
Wanna hold her?” Veronica asks. “I need to re-apply my lipstick.”
“Sure!” I answer, “although I’m rather surprised you’re trusting me with your baby when we’re still practically strangers.”
“Oh, please,” Veronica says, with a wave of her hand. I love how chill and laid back she is. “I know good mom material when I see it.”
“Great,” Gavin says, as Veronica passes Flannery to me. “We just got engaged and now she’s going to want a baby already.”
“Don’t be silly, honey,” I tell him, as Flannery smiles up at me and I smile back. “I don’t want a baby just yet.”
“Not just yeeee-eeeeet,” I repeat, tickling Flannery’s cheeks as she coos at me.
“Oh, I really can tell,” Gavin says sarcastically.
“We need to enjoy being newlyweds first,” I tell him, as Flannery starts blowing raspberries at me. “Before we settle down into the big responsibilities.”
“That’s what you say now,” Gavin says. “But just give it a month or two of being engaged.”
“Yeah, when is your wedding going to be?” Veronica asks. “Maybe we can come to that too.”
“You’ll definitely be invited,” I tell her. “But we haven’t set a date yet.”
Flannery laughs at this and I bounce her up and down on my leg, saying, “We haven’t set a date yet, we haven’t set a date yet, we haven’t set a date yet,” in a sing-songy voice.
“Well, I have to admit that’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” Gavin says. “I guess maybe we shouldn’t wait too long to have a baby.”
“See?” I tell Veronica. “I knew I’d convince him soon enough.”
“I think he was already convinced,” Veronica says with a wink. “Seems like someone’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”
“You mean Flannery?” Gavin says, reaching out a finger that the baby readily grasps. “Babies sure can be cute.”
“She obviously meant me,” I say with a laugh, waving my ring finger around. “Because clearly I already have this big rock wrapped around my finger.”
We laugh but then the music starts so all of us fall quiet, except for Flannery who is still blowing raspberries, oblivious to the seriousness and reverence of the situation.
Maxim walks down the aisle and stands waiting for Celeste. His groomsmen then join him. Maxim looks dashing in his tuxedo, but also kind of like a nervous little boy. I can’t really blame him. It’s obvious that he’s so in love with Celeste.
A pretty young woman walks down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of flowers. I look down at the program— Flannery tries to grab it out of my hands as if she thinks it’s a game— and see the name “Rachel” listed as Matron of Honor before Flannery manages to snatch it away.
I smile at her and shake my head “no,” but I let her have the piece of paper anyway. Gavin’s right. Flannery’s got everyone wrapped around her cute little finger.
The violin string quartet begins playing A Midsummer Night’s Dream and everyone stands up. Celeste is escorted down the aisle by her parents. She’s wearing a beautiful ivory dress that shows off her hourglass figure, hugging her curves in all the right places. She is simply breath taking.
As she stands with Maxim and they say their vows, I can’t wait for my own wedding day. I look down at Flannery still sitting in my lap and wonder what else is in store for Gavin and me in our journey. I can’t believe we ended up here from where we started, but I guess Celeste and Maxim are probably thinking the same thing right about now, and look at them.
The couple who started all of us off, getting married and making it official. And Gavin and I are next… eventually.
He takes my hand in his and I look down at my sparking ring, wanting to remember this day forever. As he winks at me while Celeste and Maxim are pronounced man and wife, I know he’s thinking the exact same thing.
We are a match made in heaven, even if our heaven was a little less traditional than most.
Chapter 9 – Gavin
“That was a great fucking wedding,” I tell Maxim, at his and Celeste’s reception.
“Thanks, Man,” he says, before Celeste pulls him away to go greet guests at other tables with her.
I meant what I said. I’m a dude, but even I know it was a great wedding. And this is an amazing reception.
This pavilion features floor to ceiling accordion glass doors with a beautiful view of the lake and mountain outside, where the couple just said their vows. There’s a live band and delicious food, and amazing weather. It couldn’t be a more perfect evening for a wedding celebration.
Jade alternates between dancing with little Flannery— rocking her in her arms to slow songs and bee-bopping and jostling her around to the faster tunes— and then with me. Just when I think it’s impossible to love her any more than I already do, she proves me wrong.
After dinner, there are toasts, and no one mentions the insane way that Celeste and Maxim met. But at one point Maxim thanks his guests for coming, including his new business partners “and everything we share in common,” and Celeste winks in the direction of our table.
I suppose true love can be found in the strangest places. Even at three different location of The Exchange.
Speaking of The Exchange, we’re technically supposed to be there for the retreat but I’m glad Maxim and Celeste decided to get married today and invite us, giving us an excuse to not have to be over there. Their reception here is so much better than whatever craziness is going on at The Exchange. It’s becoming clear to me that I’m going to have to balance the sordid club business with a peaceful, happy personal life.
I’m not familiar with such things. I was raised in chaos and debauchery. But I’m determined to make a better life for Jade and myself— and, I can’t help but think, as I see her twirling little Flannery around in her arms— whoever else might eventually join our family.
Jade and I slow dance to a haunting rendition of Garth Brooks’ “To Make You Feel My Love” and then Veronica and Isaac tiptoe over to us, a sleeping Flannery resting in Isaac’s arms.
“We’re going to head out,” Veronica whispers.
“Good night,” Jade says back, her voice low.
She hugs Veronica and Isaac and gives Flannery a gentle kiss on the head.
“I’m so glad I got to meet her,” she says. “And you two!”
“Yes, if we don’t see you guys tomorrow before your flight back, have an amazing rest of your trip,” Veronica says.
Isaac shakes my hand and then it’s just Jade and me. The newlyweds are dancing and other guests are heading out.
“I suppose it’s time we go to our room,” I tell my new fiancée.
I had reserved a room here at the resort so that we don’t have far to go to celebrate everything good that’s happened this weekend, privately.
“I suppose it is,” Jade agrees.
We go over to Veronica and Isaac and say congratulations one more time.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Veronica says, hugging us.
“Good job, man,” I tell Isaac, nodding to him before leading Jade away to our private escape.
We have one more night in Arizona and I’m going to make it live up to the sweltering desert heat’s reputation.
Chapter 10 – Gavin
Jade’s already taking her dress off as soon as we get to our room. She knows what I like. But she’s not expecting me to pick her up and carry her into the bathroom of our hotel suite.
“Where are we going?” she asks me.
“You’ll see,” I tell her.
“You’re just full of surprises lately,” she says.
“That I am.”
> I don’t let go of her until we’re in the marble tile shower— or should I say shower room. It’s big enough for ten people, the most luxurious shower I’ve ever been in. I sit her down on the ledge and turn on one of the faucets.
I lift up the handheld shower head and say, “Surprise.”
“You really do have the best ideas,” she says, smiling.
She blushes a bit, still my slutty virgin.
“Spread your legs,” I command her.
“Yes, Sir.”
She opens them wide for me, so I can see every inch of her beautiful pussy.
I hold the shower head up so that the pressure of the water hits her where it counts.
“Yes,” she says, that looks on her face that shows she’s in the midst of extreme pleasure immediately showing up, just as I had hoped.
I watch her face turn into different phases as ecstasy as the water continues to hit and massage her pussy.
“Oh, my God,” she cries out, leaning her head back onto the tile. “Gavin. I’m coming.”
“Come for me,” I tell her, getting excited myself.
I hand her the shower head and say, “Let me watch you come some more.”
As the water makes her come again and again, I take my cock in my hand and stroke it. It grows to its full length and wide girth, and all I want to do is explode.
But not yet. I need to be in her.
I pick her up, soaking wet and slippery, and carry her to the bed. I notice there’s a bedpost, so I grab my tie and constrain her wrists.
“Time for you to be my slutty little sex slave,” I tell her. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her ass is sticking up in the air for me as her wrists are tied to the bedpost. I grab my belt next and quickly lash it across the pale skin of her ass.
“Ouch!” she cries out, but then she quickly says, “More, sir. Please.”
Whap, whap.
I hit her again, watching welts appear as she cries out in both pleasure and pain.
“That hurts so bad, Gavin, but it also feels so good.”
“Oh, my poor baby,” I tell her, coming closer and grabbing hold of her ass cheeks. “Do you need me to make you feel all better?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, and I spread open her ass cheeks nice and wide.
Without any warning, I plunge my large, hard cock into her ass hole, and she cries out, “Oh, my God, Gavin, that hurts.”
She jolts away from me but she can’t get far because she’s tied up. Mine for the taking, now and always.
“Does it hurt too much?” I ask her, rocking inside her tight little asshole, stretching it to its limit, but already knowing the answer.
“No,” she says, whimpering. “No, Sir, it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Good,” I answer. “Because I’ve been wanting to fuck your ass again ever since I proposed to you.”
I reach around and play with her clit while I fuck her ass hole.
She continues moaning in both pleasure and pain while once in a while saying, “Oh, Gavin,” slow and deep.
“Yes, my slutty little fiancée,” I tell her, as I feel her juices gushing out into my hand. “Does your ass hole hurt while you come for me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, grinding her teeth.
I stick my fingers in her mouth and she bites them to muffle her screams as my cock tears up her little ass hole. But soon she must feel better because she’s desperately sucking my fingers that were just in her pussy, saying, “More, Sir, More,” as I plunge myself in and out of her ass.
She begins to rock her whole body, grinding her ass against my cock, while I play with her clit with my other hand.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she calls out, in the throes of desire fulfilled.
“I’m about to blow my wad in your ass hole,” I tell her, overcome with passion myself. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum.”
It bursts out of me, feeling like more than I’ve ever shot into her in my life.
“Yes, yes,” she gasps, collapsing as much as she can— in this position and with her wrists bound— down onto the bed. She gasps and pants and I watch my cream pie fall out of her ass hole before I join her.
“This is everything I’ve always wanted,” I tell her, petting her sweaty hair before reaching up to untie her wrists. “I can’t believe I’m going to have it for the rest of my life.”
“Me too,” she says, still panting. “And me neither.”
We both laugh as we realize that didn’t make a lot of sense.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “You completely blew my mind tonight. I can’t even think straight.”
“Blowing my wad into you sure blew my mind too,” I tell her, and we laugh again.
“I love you,” I say, seriously, looking into her earnest eyes.
“I love you too, so much. Let’s get married soon,” she says. “You already made me wait forever and a day before you proposed.”
“Anything you want,” I tell her, wrapping her up in my strong arms, determined to never let her go. “You may have sold me your body, but you stole my heart.”
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Bound by the Billionaire
Copyright 2017 Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Chapter One – Paige Matthews
The holiday windows at Saks Fifth Avenue usually filled me with Christmas cheer, but tonight the twirling sugar plum fairies did nothing to calm the category-five hurricane twisting its way around my stomach. I should have known better than to take a cab through Midtown the week before Christmas. The invitation to the masquerade party said eight o’clock sharp, but thanks to the sloth-slow traffic, I would be late. That was the last thing I needed or wanted because I was about to go undercover for a story I knew would kickstart my journalism career, something I desperately needed.
On the third floor of Expose Club, a few blocks from Fifth Avenue, was a sex club. The sort of place celebrities, politicians, millionaires, and billionaires frequented when they wanted to get their rocks off, and I planned to reveal to the world exactly what happened there.
Over the past month, I’d spent countless evenings at the club staking it out both inside and out. I knew that the first two floors were regular clubs where people went to get drunk, dance, and pick up people to have regrettable sex with. But I’d also witnessed politicians, movie stars, rappers, and pop singers walk through the first-floor club to the secret elevator by the kitchen that would take them to the third floor.
Last Saturday night, I’d slipped a couple hundred bucks into a bartender’s pocket for the chance to wash glasses and watch the elevator. But I hadn’t been able to discover what was behind the proverbial curtain, or, in Expose’s case, see what was on the other side of the elevator door. I wanted more than to watch people get into an elevator; I wanted proof.
My plan was to do an exposé on Expose Club because the world deserved to know about the double lives the men and women they worshiped and voted for lived. It didn’t hurt that by shining the light on their dirty little secrets, I’d also make a name for myself.
Uncovering the kinks of the rich and famous wasn’t how I’d expected or imagined I’d begin my investigative journalism career, but my editor-in-chief, ironically named Henry Miller, left me no other choice. I had to prove my worth to him, and going undercover at a sex club was how I planned to do just that.
Ever since I’d gotten a job at The New York Reporter, Henry insisted I write the agony aunt column because, in his words, a pretty young thing like me didn’t belong on the streets investigating anyone. His overprotectiveness was because back in the day he had been my dad’s senior editor and since my dad was killed by a hit-and-run driver while working on a story, Henry felt he had to look out for me.
He didn’t. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.
For crying out loud, I was a journalism graduate from Emerson. During my last two years there, I was the news editor for The Berkeley Beacon where my responsibilities included finding stories and managing reporters. I didn’t bust my ass or live on caffeine and no sleep for four years so I could advise desperate housewives on how to bring the sexy back into their dead marriages.
Plus, after my dad’s death, I’d vowed to follow in his footsteps and become an investigative journalist at The NY Reporter. Being an agony aunt was not how I intended to honor him or spend my days.
I didn’t care if getting my story meant I had to pretend I was a submissive in a sex club. I’d researched the lifestyle enough to know I could act the part. Sure, some of the naughty books I’d read turned me on, and some of the video clips had left me more than a little wet, but it wasn’t like I’d actually have to participate in anything tonight. I was attending the party as an observer only.
The thought of being cuffed, chained, or tethered didn’t do a thing for me, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of being spanked didn’t send tingles to my clit. I’d never had sex at all before but maybe one day, if I ever found a man I wanted to sleep with, I’d ask him to spank me. I had zero interest in any other type of punishment or control, though. No thank you!
The lack of romance in my life wasn’t because I wasn’t pretty or because men found me unattractive. I was what most people described as the girl next door. With my long blonde hair, green eyes and curvy body I got my fair share of appreciative glances and invitations to dinner, but so far, none of those dinner dates turned into anything more. I guess most men didn’t like my ambition or my competitive nature. Their loss.
Getting an invitation to the party wasn’t easy or cheap. I went to Mike Russo, one of my dad’s old contacts and asked him to help. Mike was the kind of guy who could get anything for anyone… at a hefty price tag.
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