by Vanna King
I shake my head. I don’t know anything about mixed martial arts. It’s a brutal sport, and I avoid it on TV.
Mom looks like a starstruck teenager now. “You must keep that man, Leigh. He’d be able to help your father. He hinted at it.”
Oh. There.
I sigh inwardly, disappointed that they’re seeing Bron now as another Bill. But I’m comforted by the fact that they can’t manipulate Bron. He will see through them right away.
And speaking of, where is he? He hasn’t come back to dine with us.
Dinner arrives shortly. It’s a feast fit for royalty. Bron wants to impress my folks. Mom and Dad dive into it like starving children, chattering happily.
It’s quite surreal. Just hours ago, they were so mad at me I thought they’d disowned me. Now, they’re acting like no scandal happened in Chicago courtesy of yours truly.
But no matter what, they’re still my parents. Bottom line, I’m happy I still have them. Really, when all is said and done, we can’t choose who we love. We can just hope that they will change for the better as we continue to love them.
I have chosen who to be with for the rest of my life, too.
To give my everything to.
My love.
My devotion.
My trust.
My loyalty.
My passion.
And he’s waiting for me.
BRON
I can’t shake off the sight of her looking down from this height, her eyes so sad.
“It’s a long way down…and I don’t have Rapunzel’s hair. No one’s going to rescue me from this tower.”
God, just the thought of her jumping from this balcony kills me.
It would end me. I know it.
I’ve always taken what I wanted, discarded what I no longer needed and moved on to the next, uncaring of the women’s feelings.
Now, I care about my woman’s feelings. Yes, MY woman.
It’s important to me that she’s happy. My goddess looked so unhappy as she stared out into the distance. I’m keeping her here against her will. I was just deluding myself. She didn’t choose to be with me. I made her choose me. There’s a difference.
So I left her with her parents to really choose this time, of her own accord. She might not come back to me. She might decide to leave Vegas with them.
I hope not. Because I don’t know if I can keep my promise to really let her go. But I’ll try. No matter how it will kill me every day to exist without her, I’ll try to honor my word.
It’s not in my nature to wait. It’s my nature to take. To conquer. But I will. This time, I will.
I will wait for her to come to me.
She’s free.
Chapter Fifteen
LEIGH
I enter the door quietly.
The stillness of the living room welcomes me. It doesn’t feel like a prison cell anymore. It feels like home.
I see him immediately, seated at the center of the biggest sofa, lounging like the king that he is. My king.
He’d discarded his suit jacket, and his white shirt is unbuttoned at the front, revealing his muscled torso.
I walk toward him in my heels, stopping a few meters from him.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“No.” His voice is faint. But his eyes bore into me, intense, searing.
I know that look.
Hunger.
Ravenous hunger.
My core flutters in response. Clenching in need.
I lift my hand. “I brought you dessert.”
He doesn’t say anything. I go and kneel on the carpet, between his stretched legs. It’s a submissive action. But right now, I don’t care who’s the master and who’s the slave.
I’m free to choose who I want to be.
I’m free.
I open the little box. I asked the chef to prepare me a special treat. I told him it’s for Bron and he happily chose from the array of food porn in his refrigerated display counter. He put fruit toppings on the little cream filled tartlets and voila, food for a king.
I pick up a tartlet and bring it to his lips.
He slowly opens his mouth. I carefully slip the pastry in, smearing some cream on his lips. His mouth closes, trapping my thumb and forefinger inside.
He sucks on my fingers as he grinds the pastry in his mouth.
My pussy swells, throbs, leaking desire. My nipples push sensitively against my dress. I’m not wearing a bra because the bodice is padded.
I pull my fingers from his mouth. “Good?” I ask, my voice husky.
“Delicious,” he says, but I know he isn’t referring to the pastry.
“More?”
“Uh-huh.”
I feed him more. I lick the cream off my fingers. “Are you really going to take over Bill’s company?”
“What does the economist say?”
“Are you actually asking for my opinion?”
“If this is going to be a partnership, then I have to know what she thinks every time, especially in the major decisions that concern our business.”
I think I’m going to come in my panties sooner. “Uhm…If your motive for taking over is spite, that you just want to humiliate the guy or teach him a lesson or something, then I think you’re going to lose more money.”
“Why?”
“Takeovers involve more than a change of ownership and management. You’re going to infuse more money in hiring new people to handle the revamp. Or if you plan to break it down and sell it piece by piece, you’ll still just be cutting losses, not gaining profit. And you’re going to earn the hate of so many people who’ll lose their jobs. Your good image will be tarnished. Better win friends than enemies.”
“And the other option?”
I feed him another pastry before I speak. “I think it would be more practical to just help the guy get his company back on its feet, propose say a partnership, but let him handle it because he built it, and no one knows the ins and outs of his business better than he does. Just help him in crucial decision-making by bringing in consultants. There’s a bigger chance for you to recover your investments that way. You’ll be a stockholder, so you’ll not only gain interest from your original investment but profit from the whole company in the long run. And nobody’s going to be out of the job. The only thing you’ll lose is time, which you have the power to give anyway. Win-win for all.”
He stares at me, eyes smoldering.
“Take off your panties.”
It’s a command. A command I’m so willing to obey.
I wet my lips with my tongue. The bulge in his fly is massive. I want it. His big, hard cock. Want it in my mouth. In my pussy. Whichever comes first.
I stand up and slowly shimmy out of my black thong. I drop the little garment on his chest. He grabs it and brings it to his face, inhaling deeply.
“Bring that box and sit on that chair.” He gestures to the big armchair nearby.
I walk toward the chair, box in my hand, the cheeks of my ass sensitive against the silk of my dress. I feel so hot and itchy all over. I need his hands and lips on me. I sit on the chair and put the box of pastries on the side table.
He stands up and removes his shirt. “Lift your legs and put them over the armrests. Show me that tight pussy.”
I obey him, opening my legs wide for him. I raise my dress to expose my most intimate part to his eyes. My cheeks are flaming like the rest of my body. I know I’m so wet and I can’t possibly hide it.
“Spread that sweet cunt. Let me see how you’re dripping for me.”
My body is on fire now. My fingers creep between my legs, pulling my nether lips further apart, exposing everything to him.
My shame has been swallowed whole by my need to have him inside me again. “Bron…”
His eyes are between my legs as he pushes his pants down his hips, along with his briefs. He stands up, his penis bouncing, pointing upward, thick and long. The head is swollen and wet, as well. I know he feels the same way I do.
He walks closer until his cock is just two feet from my face. He grips the thick base. “You want this?”
I nod eagerly.
“Smear cream all over it.”
I know what he wants. I dip my fingers into a tart, scooping cream. I rub it gently on his shaft.
“More,” he commands.
I put more until it’s slathered in white from his balls to the tip. My mouth is watering, my entire body breaking into a sweat in my excitement. Oh god, this is so scandalous! So dirty!
“Now, you know what to do, goddess.”
BRON
I’m getting my wish, after all.
I watch her lick me off, polishing my sword with her little tongue, my legs going weak in teeth-grinding pleasure, my ass cheeks clenching hard and my heart melting, transforming into something I’ll never wholly own again. It’s now hers. Fucking hers.
I hold chunks of her thick, silky hair away from her face, mesmerized as she sucks my balls, making little sounds in her throat. Then she takes my length in her mouth, and I die in pleasure, in incredible joy. She’s a novice at this, and she can’t possibly take my entire length deep down her throat, but she tries. Fuck she tries, her eyes watering as she fights not to gag.
I’ve been sucked a million times by the most experienced women, but none of them made me feel like I wanted to worship at their feet in gratitude for sucking my cock. For loving my taste.
For loving me.
She loves me, too. I know it. I feel it.
My cum boils like lava in my core, ready to erupt. I pull out from her eager mouth before I explode down her throat. I want to come in her sweet pussy. No other place but there.
She protests, making a whining sound, but it’s my turn to kneel between her legs and worship at her altar.
Her pussy is so beautiful, pink and ready for me. I didn’t dare touch it earlier, or I would have come like a boy in my pants.
I scoop cream from the box and rub it on her clit. She mews, her hands holding on to my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin.
“This pussy is mine. It’s going to cum for my fingers, for my tongue, for my cock. Say it, goddess.”
“This pussy…is yours…Ohhhh…”
I lick her, swiping along her slit from her hole to her clit. Again and again. I grip the base of my shaft in one hand, holding myself from coming. Christ, how can a pussy taste this good?
I swirl my tongue in her little hole, preparing her for my entry. “Say it.” I push a finger inside her.
“It’s going to cum for your fingers…Oh god, Bron!” She humps my face, and I suck her clit harder.
“Say it.”
“For your tongue… for your cock! Bron, please, I want you…!”
“You want my cock?”
“Yes! Fuck me. Please, fuck me!”
I lift her hips and guide myself at her entrance. I rub at her slit a few times, coating my shaft in her wetness. “Here, baby. Take me.”
I spear her, driving all the way inside her, feeding her every hard inch of me.
Her legs leave the armrest and wrap around my hips. My lips slam into hers, kissing her hard.
I begin hammering her, lifting her off the chair with the force of my thrusts. Her pussy latches tightly on my cock.
I lift her and stand up, bouncing her on my cock. Hard and fast, savaging her tight pussy. She holds on to my shoulders, her sweet moans echoing around me, her pleasure surrounding me, intensifying my own.
“Bron, Bron, Broooon!”
She goes rigid in my arms, throwing her head back wantonly, her orgasm so beautiful that my legs turn to jelly.
I drop her on the sofa and fuck her harder, gunning for my own peak.
I kiss her lips, our tongues clashing. “I’m cumming, baby. God…!” I breathe out a feral groan.
My cum shoots inside her in furious waves of mind-numbing ecstasy.
Every single drop goes into her depths.
Hers to keep.
To nurture.
To turn into sweet, little angels like her.
I swim in utter bliss, totally lost in this piece of heaven. I don’t care if I’m never found again.
“Bron?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want to share.”
I smile in the crook of her shoulder.
“Neither do I, goddess.”
“This…whatever we have, is going to be exclusive. I want that in a contract.”
I grin wider. Our union is going to be filled with little clashes of wills and I know I’m going to be lapping it all up like a junkie.
“Table’s open for negotiation, baby.”
She clenches her pussy around me. My semi-dead cock comes alive in a fucking flash.
“You were saying, my love?”
I groan. Jesus, this one’s going to wear me out before I’m even old and wrinkly. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“That you love me.”
She falls quiet.
I lift myself to look in her eyes, willing to concede on this one. I’m bursting with it. My heart, my soul, my cock is aching to love her until there’s no longer any doubt in her mind that she’s all that I want, that she’s all that I need in my life, now and until we’re both old and gray.
“Leigh—“
“I love you.”
I’m not a sentimental fool. I haven’t been since my mother died, but I feel my eyes grow hot in what could only be tears.
I kiss her lips tenderly.
“I love you, too, my sweet goddess. There’s only one you in my life. Only you.”
I never thought those words would mean anything to me. But they do. They mean everything to me.
Everything at all.
Epilogue
BRON
“I leave for a month, then come home to your wedding.” Luc is shaking his head as we watch the festivities happening within the grand ballroom of the Golden Crest Hotel and Casino.
I grin. Luc arrived today just in time for the wedding ceremony. Now everyone’s halfway drunk, dancing the night away, including Leigh’s parents and relatives who are having the time of their lives. The Spencers came to Vegas in full force.
“It’s about time we reproduce, brother.”
Luc snorts. “No, thanks. You do the honors. After all, you’re older.”
I don’t mind the dig. I didn’t know, but I’d subconsciously longed to have my own family. I felt the most powerful urge when I met Leigh. I can’t wait to start our brood. I hope she’s already carrying one in her belly. With the frequency of how I shoot my load inside her, I’d be shocked if she’s not pregnant next month.
Leigh’s laughter waft toward us.
“Where did you meet her?” Luc asks thoughtfully, momentarily glancing in her direction.
“At the club.”
He looks at me in horror. “The Boudoir?”
I chuckle. “The Luxuria, idiot.”
“Isn’t she too young for you?”
I throw him a hard look. “She’s old enough. In fact, you’d be surprised at what goes on in that pretty head if hers.”
He grins at me knowingly. “I just bet. She got you KO’d in the first round, I can tell. She’s proudly wearing your precious title now. Mrs. O’Riordan.” He shakes his head as if in wonder. “I have the feeling you’re never going to get it back.”
I pick a flower from the table arrangement and throw it at him. He ducks, chuckling. “Asshole,” I grumble good-naturedly. Fuck, I’ve missed this motherfucker.
“Seriously, she’s lovely, Bron. A Spencer, too. Not bad, brother.”
“I know.” My wife laughs again. I’ll recognize her laughter anywhere, even with my eyes closed. It’s the sound I could probably never live without now. “Did I tell you that she was engaged to Bill Peyton last month?”
“The fuck…?”
“Yup, I stole her at the altar as she was about to say ‘I do’. You’ve been holing up in Macau for far too long
you missed my grand comeback in the rags.”
Luc’s mouth is agape. “Wait, there’s more you’re not telling me, are you?”
“Leigh has a proposal about Peyton—“
My brother stares at me then bursts out in a laugh. “I’ll be damned. You’ve been pussy-whipped, brother. Next thing I hear, she’s commandeering the flagship.”
I just grunt in response.
We both see Leigh coming toward our table, breathtakingly beautiful in her wedding gown. She sits on my lap in a heap of white, looping her arms around my neck. “What were you two laughing about.”
“Uhh…”
“I was just telling him how lucky he is, Leigh.”
Leigh smiles at Luc sweetly, and my brother turns to putty in her hands.
Then she turns to me, tracing my lower lip with her forefinger. “I’d like to hear him say that after a year of…wedded bliss.”
My cock sure knows her magic words now, even the cheesy ones. It’s jerking into attention at the sound of ‘bliss’.
If my brother weren’t sitting there watching us, I’d suck her digit. My hand would disappear in between the thick folds of her wedding gown, and no one would be any the wiser.
Before I could carry out my perverted thoughts, Leigh’s parents come to our table and sit with us.
“So Luc, are you married?” Mrs. Spencer asks.
“Uh, no, ma’am.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five, ma’am.”
“Mom, quit bugging Luc,” Leigh chides her mother teasingly.
Mrs. Spencer tut-tuts. “We should find him a lovely young woman.”
“I’m too busy for that, Mrs. Spencer,” Luc replies, amused.
“Nonsense. Nobody should be too busy for love. Look at your brother. Happy as a clam.”
Luc bursts out laughing. “I can very well see that.”
“Luc, tell me about Macau. Bron mentioned that you’re building a casino there,” Congressman Spencer pipes in, finding an opportunity to talk shop.
I watch my brother who’s now caught in my in-laws’ opportunistic web with mild amusement. My new wife is especially embarrassed about it, but Luc and I might just find it lucrative, business-wise, to be related to a Spencer, after all. Having relatives roaming the halls of Capitol Hill or the White House is always an advantage.