Alastair: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Candy Quinn

  “Thank you, Master,” I whisper, and I let my tongue out to pass over his cock.

  It’s so warm, warmer than I remember it inside me earlier in the heat and confusion of the first time. I still can’t believe I could give my virginity to this godlike figure, this vampire in a stormy tower. And now his manhood is in my lips. The taste of his cock is incredible, and it isn’t long before I open my mouth wider to let my tongue roll down the bottom of it, feeling it stiffen more as I move it into my mouth.

  Lord Alastair never lets my gaze leave his, my eyes turned up toward him as my mouth stretches for his colossal girth. How did I fit all of this into my virgin pussy earlier?

  Just as his long shaft felt utterly right in my pussy, the taste of him on my tongue is sweeter than any wine could hope to be. I’m not shy when I wrap my tongue around as much of his cock as I can find, my hand going up to his balls and fondling the heavy things, and Lord Alastair’s mouth hangs open as I do, his chest rising and falling as his cock stiffens and pulses in my mouth.

  I may have found my strong suit.

  His twitching is compelling as I start to grow more invasive with my tongue’s probing, bringing as much of the cock into my mouth as I can, feeling the crown touch the back of my mouth, but I’m able to control my reflexes as if I’d been doing this for ages. As I feel a hard pulse in his cock, I withdraw just enough to taste the precum as it beads from his head, and I moan into his cock at the taste.

  Then he reaches around to my hair, giving me a gentle tug for me to withdraw, and I obey, albeit giving him a pouting face. He smiles, wagging a finger at me.

  “Don’t get greedy, darling. I will taste of you, first.”

  Before I can respond, he reaches down and picks me up by the hips, turning me around in his arms to carry me, one hand under my ass and the other at my shoulders. I can’t get over how tall and strong he is—I really am like a doll in his hands.

  He brings me over to a massive plush rug that’s sitting in front of the fireplace, but the heat I feel from its glowing embers can’t compare to the heat between my needy pussy and his whole body. I feel his cock on my ass, and it’s still as stiff as ever, his rock-hard shaft grinding against me and coming to life.

  He sets me down on my back, and I look up to him as if waiting for some new command, eager to please him, but he only glances my way before giving the faintest of smiles and reaching for my thighs.

  I catch my breath, expecting him to penetrate me, but instead, he leans in with his face, wetting his lips as he looks at my exposed, wet pussy, glistening with honey in the firelight.

  He’s so close to it I can feel his body heat, and I just want to push my pussy up into him, to open myself as wide as possible. “Please, Master,” I whine, my voice pleading, “do everything you want!”

  “I will, Maisie,” he states, his grip on my thighs gentle yet firm as steel. “But first, you need to learn what it is you want.” He doesn’t give me a second to ask what he means. He leans in, grinding his face against my pussy, and I feel the faint stubble of his face on my lips, and my pussy clenches, my voice squeaking as I feel my whole body cry out for him.

  He groans into my pussy, hands sliding down and toying with my sensitive inner thigh as he inhales, smelling my honey like he relished the aroma of his wine earlier. Then his tongue comes out.

  The long tongue strokes my cunny, the whole length of it, first plunging deep into its depths before lingering there, probing around and making my whole body convulse. Even his nonverbal commands carry weight, his authority heavy in the air around us. I can do nothing but obey his whims, and he desires that I put on a show for him.

  I bite my lip, pressing my hips up, and he rewards me by hooking his tongue up and teasing at the inner walls of my pussy. He’s more nimble than I thought any man could be with his tongue, and god does it hit just where I want it!

  Then he lets it trail up to the hood of my clit, toying around until it passes over my swollen nub, and I feel an orgasm wrack my body without warning, like he just summoned it up at will. It wouldn’t surprise me. There must be something supernatural about this terrifying, rapturous man.

  His tongue tortures my clit, darting out and in of his mouth in short, quick strikes, and I let out audible gasps and yelps as my body thrashes like a live wire under him. Yet he’s able to keep control of me, his grasp on my thighs tightening as I struggle.

  “Oh, Master,” I gasp, a tear in my eye as the sensation nearly overwhelms me, “Master, I don’t know how much more I can take!”

  “Then I will push you to your limits,” he growls, rising up, and I know I’ve made a terrible, delicious mistake by testing him so, because his cock is thicker than I’ve ever seen it before, and he’s stroking it.

  Rising just enough, he impales me with his cock, and I let out a scream of bliss as an orgasm ripples through me, the swollen cock reminding my body of what I’d just started to suspect was mere fantasy. But now, I can see it, my eyes straining to look down my lacy outfit to the trunk of the massive cock now balls-deep in my swollen pussy.

  The mere sight of it nearly makes me pass out from stimulation. I’ve touched myself before, explored the depths of my body a little, but nothing, nothing is anything like what this...this aristocrat is giving me.

  His cock turns up as he starts to buck into me, his hand going under the small of my back to lift me up and let his crown start to strike my g-spot, that now-familiar golden spot he discovered and claimed as his own, and just like that, I’m useless in his grasp, my exhausted body spent from so many orgasms in one day. Still, though, my pussy offers him more of my honey, his shaft doused in glistening passion as he bucks harder and harder.

  His thrusting and grinding never relents, a practiced talent that he seems to wield like a master artisan with a paintbrush. His fingers dig into my back, and I feel him lifting me up slowly. Finally, he hoists me up, leaning back and letting me rest upright on his stiff cock, where he bounces me effortlessly.

  I feel something more welling up within me, something stronger and more powerful than what I felt before, and it’s written all over my face. I clench my eyes as his bucking pushes me closer, closer, until…

  ...he stops.

  My eyes spring open, and I see a devilish look in his eyes as he holds me still, his hips arched and leaving me perched atop his cock like a trophy. “Please,” I beg, “please, don’t stop!”

  “What was that, girl?” he says, taking a bunch of my hair in his hand and tugging it back, making me gasp. I start to grind against his cock desperately, but he gives me another tug and pushes his cock up farther, immobilizing me. I bite my lip, feeling my body so tense, so desperate, my toes clenching as my whole body cries out for him.

  “Master,” I gasp, “please, Master!”

  He regards me coldly, his eyes looking me up and down, his cock unmoving, solid. My heart pounds out of fear, wondering what he’ll do to me for missing a step. Is this what they meant by his being a harsh man to work for? Hard bosses I can deal with, but this kind of tension…?

  Finally, he nods his chin to the rug. “On your knees,” he orders, and I feel his hands going to my hips and lifting me up.

  My body does the rest almost against my own will. I turn onto my hands and knees, and I arch my back down, pushing my ass up to him like an offering, looking over my shoulder at him and biting my lip at the sight of his looming, massive cock gleaming in the firelight.

  “Maybe there’s potential in you yet, Maisie,” he says, and I feel a sharp slap on my ass that makes me cry out before he enters me fiercely.

  His cock feels so different at this angle, yet just as fulfilling, if not more. Do I like this more? I can’t decide, it’s like being asked to choose between gold and silver settings for a diamond necklace! I justs know that I need him, and I need him bad. My head is swimming with lust, and I won’t be myself until he gives it to me.

  But now his bucking is unrelenting, rewarding me for my obedience with fierce,
hard motions, his ramming so perfectly suited to my pussy that it’s less than a minute before my head is sinking to the floor as my arms go weak, feeling my long-awaited orgasm coming closer, so much closer.

  “Not so fast, girl,” he hisses, and I feel him grab my hair, pulling me back and arching my back so much that his cock bucks into a new part of me, and I’m blown away.

  I scream. An honest-to-goodness scream of passion, all the tension of years of being pent-up in that podunk little town, all thanks to this unbelievable man using me for his dark purposes.

  My joy, my utter bliss has an effect on him too, and I feel his balls stop swinging as they tighten until his seed bursts into me, a deep groan escaping his chest.

  I thought he had spent himself earlier. I didn’t realize a man could have so much in him, even if he was pent up for weeks. Not Lord Alastair. His orgasm was just as voluminous, seed gushing from his throbbing cock so furiously, so blissfully hot and virile, and it doesn’t stop coming. Shot after shot of it empties into my pussy, planting his seed in me, and I’ve never felt so alive, so fertile, so ready to accept everything. All of it.

  When I feel the last shot about to empty out, he pulls out, massaging his cock and gasping as the last spurt of it shoots out across my back and into my hair. It’s like a whip across my back, but sweet and hot rather than painful. A mark.

  I collapse, his seed trailing out of my pussy as I revel in the feeling of him all over me. I listen to his heavy, satisfied breathing, and I close my eyes, ready to fall asleep right there. I want nothing more than for him to scoop me up into his arms and put me to bed with him, just like this.

  But then I hear him rising to his feet, closing his pants, and I turn over just enough to see him regarding me coolly. “Go,” he says simply, and I blink in confusion.

  “Did I-” start, thinking maybe he’s angry at me for not responding to him quickly enough, but he offers me a smile, shaking his head as though reading my mind.

  “You’ve performed excellently, Maisie,” he says simply, folding his hands behind his back. “And now, you will return to your quarters. Do not wash,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the mark of his seed on my back as I rise to my feet uneasily. “You will sleep with that on you.”

  I swallow hard. I should be infuriated by this absurd man, and in some way, I am, but that part of me is overwhelmed by my lust. Something primal in me is warmed by the feeling of his seed in me, and I know I need more.

  So I cross my feet and bend my knees in an awkward curtsy, and he smiles bemusedly before turning to the fireplace, just as distant as the last time he left me. Hastily, I gather my shoes and scurry out the room, my head swimming.

  This is just the first day.

  5

  It’s been a month since I got hired at Lord Alastair’s estate, and god almighty, has it awoken something new in me!

  I’ve learned more than I ever thought I would about housekeeping work in my time here so far, short as it’s seemed, but I realized very quickly that actual domestic work was definitely the secondary reason I was hired, if that.

  I’m here for Lord Alastair’s needs. His urges that that masculine, virile body has to act upon. And every second of it has been bliss. The other employees were all right in that Lord Alastair is a demanding employer, but I’ve grown into my role like a natural. I’ve started to learn what he really likes, and the meanings behind his commands.

  Of course, I owe it partly to him that I’ve learned so quickly. The first day was only average—he’s fucked me four times in one day on occasion, and never less than once.

  He’s such a mysterious man! Even when he holds charity events, he presides over the little dinners from the shadows, running things and planning with other important figures like a phantom. Everyone who talks about him speaks of him with reverence. But nobody knows what the two of us have, I don’t think, but he makes no show of hiding my body. For public events, he has me dress in my usual maid’s outfit, which draws more than a few eyes. None more than his.

  He’s swept me away into the shadows on more than one occasion while entertaining guests to finger me, eat me out, even come inside me between acts of a play he hosted last weekend.

  And I haven’t failed to notice that he’s learning about me, too.

  After he dismissed me from his room the first night, I assumed this was going to be the usual employee-employer relationship. And for a few days, it was, but he kept prying me about my life, asking what kind of person I was between sessions of emptying himself into me. As our sex got more familiar, he seemed to look at me differently.

  I started finding gifts in my room. Outfits, always skimpy and lacey ensembles—he’s fond of fine cotton and bows—would be laid out on my bed with notes instructing me when and where to wear them. Then came sex toys. First, they were strictly for us: a riding crop, a blindfold made of handwoven silk, or Florentine leather bindings. Then I found things for private use, like dildoes and vibrators that I’d seen online for more money I could dream of. I even found some vintage designer clothes that seem to be just for me—a genuine, personal gift!

  Whether he really feels something for me other than primal lust, I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. What has me more worried is whether I’m starting to feel that kind of thing for him.

  That’s where this Sunday morning finds me, dreaming of him taking me onto his yacht across the Irish sea, and I feel his tongue stroking my pussy as Dublin looms in the distance, my naked back pressed against the railing as salty water fills my nostrils. I’m dressed in some old dress I fantasized about in a book, restored and glorious as my Alastair claims me, tasting every bit of me I have to offer…

  And I awaken to the sound of the door being thrown open, feeling my wet fingers between my thighs, massaging my clit in my dream’s arousal.

  My heart starts to race as I look up, and my eyes widen. Lord Alastair is striding into my room, closing the door behind him, but as soon as he sees me as I am, he flashes a wicked, triumphant grin.

  “Well good morning, Maisie,” he says charmingly, his long legs carrying him forward before he throws the sheets off me just as I withdraw my hands, but my fingers are incriminatingly wet. “My my, we’ve been rather bad this morning, haven’t we?”

  “L-lord Alastair, I…” I stammer, blinking awake and only just now realizing he’s carrying a covered outfit on a hanger in one hand. But he sets it aside and kneels on the bed, glowering down at me with a dark smile. “I wasn’t expecting-”

  “Wasn’t expecting me to catch you, dove?” he says, stepping towards me and I start to cover myself, but as soon as I see his hungry, accusatory eyes, I feel myself wanting nothing more than to open myself to him, and I feel a smile play across my face as I let my hands slide to the sides.

  “I was dreaming of you,” I confess as he puts a knee next to me, looming over me and making my heart pound ever faster. Wordlessly, he reaches down and takes a handful of my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my neck, and I feel him lean into my neck and breathe softly, hungrily, a rumble in his chest.

  “You thought you could get away with that without my noticing, did you?” he mocks me, and I can feel the grin on his face. “Shame on you, girl.” The next thing I know, his fingers are at my already wet pussy, and my eyes spring open.

  “W-what are you doing?!”

  “Finishing what you started, my shameful little bird,” he growls, and I whimper as his fingers hook into my pussy, his thumb roving over my clit and rubbing in a circle. As his teeth start to graze my neck, I’m suddenly back in my dream, swimming in my bedsheets as Lord Alastair toys with me, tormenting my clit and sucking at my flesh. I know it’s going to leave a mark, and when he comes to me this early, he won’t give me time to put on makeup to cover it up.

  Whatever we’ll do today, everyone will know what I did with him. What he did to me. And the thought sends chills up my back, my whole body waking at his touch, revitalizing, all grogginess leftover from the night flee
ing me at his presence.

  I’ve grown to crave his touch over the past few weeks. If I go too long without him brushing against my back, without feeling his hardness, without his lips locked with mine, I start to feel...needy. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move on from this job — or if I ever will.

  My heart races at the thought as he feels me up, his greedy hand exploring my body invasively, groping at my thighs on his way up my back, then to my neck, where he turns me around however he pleases, torturing my poor clit.

  It isn’t long before his touch in the haze of the waking morning makes me start to feel tight, and warmth grows in me more rapidly than I thought it could. Suddenly, I feel myself clenching, and honey floods his hand as I come, gasping for breath as he moves his thumb around my clit, then brings his wet fingers up to it to massage it more as pleasure ripples through me.

  The sun’s hardly up, and I’m already breathless and blushing in his hands.

  “Th-thank you, Master,” I say obediently as he rises up, licking his fingers of my honey and looking down at me with a satisfied smile. I’m surprised he doesn’t take me with that outlined bulge I see in his pants, but I can tell he has something special in mind for today when he walks over to the outfit he’s brought me again.

  “Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he says, a simple command. He unzips the outfit to reveal, to my surprise, an old-fashioned riding outfit, complete with a stylish, slim-fitting coat, high, tight pants, and tall boots. “We’re going riding.”

  My eyes widen as I look the outfit up and down, feeling the comfortable, rich fabric before glancing up to him. “I’ve never been riding before. Won’t I need a crop?”

  He grins as though reading my mind. “No. I’ll be providing that.”

  Less than an hour later, the sounds of hooves beating against the soft, dew-covered moors is filling the air as Lord Alastair and I ride.