by Vivien Vale
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 exhausted 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 Sell
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2018 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
Liam
I’ve got her bent over my oversized, mahogany desk. The curvature of her back looks perfect, like a ballerina’s. I push open her legs further with my knee so that I can gain better entry.
“Liam!” She’s screaming out my name as I slide two fingers into her throbbing, wet pussy.
“Yes Trish, call my name, just like that,” I say through clenched teeth and ragged breathing.
“I want you so bad Liam, you’re all I think about.”
Of course I’m all she thinks about. I’m all most women think about, and my assistant’s no different. We started fucking a couple months ago, almost immediately after I hired her. I didn’t hire her to fuck, but she’s got a great ass, so why not?
I unzip and push my 12-inch cock deep inside her from behind. She’s crying out my name and holding onto the sides of the desk as I pound her hard. I pull her hair so that the arch of her back is even more accentuated.
I slide my cock in and out of her and yeah it feels good. But I’ve also had better. Trish is a placeholder, something to do to bide my time until the right one comes along. I don’t mean right as in marry, I mean right as in someone who will pique my interest enough to want to fuck her for more than a one-night stand.
Trish is lucky because she works for me, so I naturally want to fuck her more. I don’t have to get rid of her in the morning like the women I meet out at clubs. Trust me, she’s already knows what she has to do without me telling.
“Liam, I’m coming. Oh fuck, I’m coming so hard around your big cock.”
I can feel her hot cum around me. It never takes long with her. She likes to be taken roughly over my desk and she comes in about a minute and then I come, because what’s the point of holding out? And then that’s it. Back to work as usual.
Sex with her is part of her job, a task, like a paperwork she has to submit and leave at my table. When it’s done, it’s done. We don’t have to discuss it.
She’s bucking wildly underneath me trying to draw out the pleasure and I have to settle her down. I wrap my hands around her big, fake tits and then thrust into her brazenly, with no care for her comfort or feelings. I reach my climax easily and I gasp.
Then I pull out and spank her on the ass. Cum is dripping down her leg as she pulls up her skirt. She probably loves it, to be sitting at her desk, marinating in my cum all day. The little slut.
As for me, I’m over it. Trish is okay but she’s nothing spectacular. I want more, I guess you could say. I deserve more. I got everything a woman would look for in a man. Trust me, I am more than any guy could hope to achieve in his lifetime.
Now, you’d think in a city as big as Manhattan, that there’d be more women to meet my fancy. Not true. I’m as jaded as ever with the lack of options out there.
Is it so wrong to want someone with perfect tits, an interesting mind, and a reasonable amount of passion?
Every woman I meet feels like the same. They all run together as their personalities reflect nothing more than superfluous desires and surface talk. At this point in my life, I’m looking for something more.
I’ve reached the apex of my career. I own the most prestigious ad agency in town, Dignity Creative. I have more money than I can count, and I bed virtually every woman I want, like my assistant here, who’s effectively wiping my cum from her leg with a tissue right now.
So what is my problem?
I want more. I’m bored with life. Yes, this is a billionaire’s problem, but when you’re used to being handed everything on a silver platter, where’s the challenge and adventure?
Trish leaves and I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. I leave my penthouse office by a private elevator and tell my driver I’ll contact him later. Nothing refreshes a stagnant mind like the humming streets of NYC.
Women look at me from all different angles as I walk the streets of Manhattan.
I'm used to this kind of attention. The kind that comes with the territory of being this fucking gorgeous.
I'm tall and devilishly handsome. My eyes are green like the deepest recesses of a forest,, and my hair is sandy-brown, providing the perfect contrast. My light tan skin looks perfect grazing up against the Armani suit I'm wearing.
I like to peruse the different avenues in the city to just gain greater further artistic inspiration. It’s the city of dreams for a reason. You can find everything you need here, especially if you're the creative type looking for an inspiration.
Lately, I've been starting to feel a little bit bored with my company. Sure, I'm the CEO of the biggest ad agency in town, and I'm ruthless when it comes to business, but being at the top of the ladder suddenly doesn't feel so great anymore.
I got into this business to be creative and lately, it's just been business and more business. I'm forgetting what it is that made me join in the first place.
Unlike some people, money doesn't mean everything to me. I have so much, I could afford to take it for granted. I need to feel passion in my life and for what I'm doing or it's not even worth it.
It's midmorning and people are walking everywhere. I take in the sites and the sounds and decide to head back to the office. I have to do this presentation later for a lingerie company called Velvet Luxe.
Actually, Trish will be presenting my ideas but I’ll be there to make an appearance. I’m the CEO and no longer have to demean myself to making presentations for clients. They’d be lucky to have me.
I've done enough walking for today, so I call my limousine driver to come pick me up. He's there in an instant. My driver, Paul, knows me pretty well by now and he knows what I like and don’t like, including the fact that I don't like to be kept waiting.
He takes me back to my building in uptown. I own the whole damn thing. And the penthouse is my lair. I walk past Trish and toss her a slight nod of acknowledgement. She’s licking her lips like she already wants more.
“What time is my meeting?” I ask her.
“In about 15 minutes,” she says.
Fuck. I’m late.
“Come on Trish, grab the presentation, we gotta head downtown to Velvet Luxe.
Even though this lingerie company should be begging me for my business, I know it’s a big deal. Every company in town is clamoring to get their attention because they’re hot and trendy right now. I hear they’re gonna be bigger than Victoria’s Secret and I’ve seen enough in this business to know how important this company could be.
If we can land this c
ampaign, then it will make our star shine even brighter. We're already at the upper echelon of society but this will take our future even further. Who doesn’t want to stay at the very top?
Trish and I hurry to the limo. Doubtless I’ll be late, but that also means we can make an entrance.
Claire
The sunrise peaks out over the tops of huge skyscrapers and once again I wonder what I'm doing going to the office this early.
I’m way too committed to my job.
But every day, as I walk into the building and take in the look of the old brick façade, I feel grateful for my life.
What started as just a dream back in college has turned into an actual, viable company: Epica. We began as a brick-and-mortar store and haven't veered too far away from that, although we’ve been booking larger companies as of late.
I've worked very hard to achieve this little boutique ad agency. I strive to keep it small and simple, which I think is a niche in an otherwise saturated market overwhelming with huge ad agencies.
A new client is vying for our attention today—or rather, I’m vying for their attention. The lingerie brand Velvet Luxe is looking for new representation and I’m banking everything on scoring this campaign. They're very upscale and we have to win.
For me, it causes a flurry of nerves to swell and swirl in my stomach as I open the door to her office today. I know we have to book this job. I know our financial future is riding on it.
Plus, the prestige of working with this kind of a company would bring a whole new range of clients to our brand. And prestige is something we need because while my little company has made a mark on the world, we are on the verge of financial collapse if I don’t take on a big client soon.
I pull my blonde curls up into a loose bun as I power on the lights.
I've designed the office myself. It has a loft apartment kind of vibe. There are exposed bricks, beams, and industrial elements from the original warehouse shining through.