by Moore, M. K.
Grabbing her hand, I all but drag her into my bedroom, yet another room in my apartment devoid of color. She moves to my king size bed and lays sideways in the center of it. She spreads her legs for me, and I stroke my cock while staring down at her. I am in a fucking trance and the only thing that matters is getting inside of her. I have never had such a single-minded focus before. I climb on top her lush body, my lips connecting with hers. Her arms wrap around my neck, her body rubbing against me like a cat in heat.
“Fuck, Oakley,” I say with gritted teeth. My cock is so fucking hard, harder than it ever has been before. I am almost positive that it is at least an inch longer than it usually is.
Without warning, I slam my cock into her. I’m shocked that I break through her cherry. My mind is having a hard time registering the fact that she was a virgin. I never would have guessed. She’s so Goddamn confident and beautiful. A lethal combination. She gasps in pain and I still immediately.
I use my thumb to wipe the single perfect tear that slides down her right cheek.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” While I am sorry that I hurt her, I can’t believe my good luck that I am the only man to ever be inside of her. My caveman instincts are going batshit crazy right now.
“Don’t be. I should have said something. Please move. I need something,” she says, her eyes full of lust.
I don’t have to be told twice. I kiss her lips, savoring them. Dropping my forehead to hers, I continue sliding in and out of her. She gets the hang of my rhythm quickly and her hips meet mine thrust for thrust.
Looking down at my cock and seeing the evidence of her innocence has me taking her even harder. Goddamn, this girl is fucking mine. I can already tell that I won’t be able to let her go.
Pussy this good is meant to be treasured for a lifetime. Crazy? Yes, but ask me if I give a flying fuck.
Four
Oakley
I think I’ve come four times since he popped my cherry. He is still going strong, fucking in and out of me. God, every muscle in my body already hurts so good. His cock is amazing. Like I never want to stop riding it. The corded muscles of his arms are flexed as uses them for leverage. His chest is a work of art, and I am not just talking about his amazing tattoos. I memorize them, tracing my fingers over all that I can see. Shit. Can you fall in love this quickly or am I just cockmerized?
I have never felt this amazing or so beat up at the same time. We shift positions so that I am on top and like everything else I do in life, I rock the shit out of it. We roll around the bed, fighting for dominance as he rotates again so that he’s on top. My moans are loud and over the top, but I literally can’t help it. My tits are seemingly flying everywhere until he leans up, still inside of me and palms both of them. Tugging my nipples, he is causing sensations inside of me that I didn’t even know was possible. He takes me so expertly that it hurts my heart a little to think of how he got all of the know-how.
“Oakley, I am going to cum. I am going to fill your cunt with my seed. Stop me if you don’t want that,” he says through clenched teeth so tight his jaw has got to be hurting. I vaguely realize he never put a condom on and I most definitely not on birth control, but for some reason, I can’t define right now, I don’t say a goddamn word to stop him. I dig the heels of feet into ass and he slides impossibly deeper into me.
“Do it. Fill my pussy,” I say instead. He growls and does just that. I feel his hot sticky release filling me and it triggers another orgasm. I am wrung out, exhausted, and starving.
I don’t know what the proper one-night stand etiquette is, but I never want this night to end.
He collapses on top of me, placing little kisses on my sweaty chest.
“Jesus Christ, Oakley. I have no words.”
“Um… me either,” I say laughing as my stomach growls.
My eyes wander to his nightstand. The clock says it's ten-ten. I smile and make a wish, thinking of my favorite shifter romance novelist. I'm so superstitious I don't want to think about my wish for fear it won't come true.
“I need to feed you,” he says pulling out of me slowly. I suddenly feel empty and I don't like it. His groan as he does so tells me that he feels the same way. He hops up from the bed and goes into his closet. When he comes back out, he's wearing a pair of loose gray sweatpants. Fuck that's hot. He is carrying another article of clothing. He tosses it to me. I hold it up. It's a woman's shirt. I wrinkle my nose. He clearly has a type. I gotta get out of here.
“I fucked yours up. Sorry.”
“I am not wearing another woman's shirt she forgot here after she fucked you,” I say with a venom I didn't know I possessed. He looks genuinely confused but then realization dawns on him.
“No, Fantasy,” he says coming towards me, taking the shirt and kneeling in front of me. “It's my sister's shirt. She left in my dryer the other day. Her building doesn't have laundry, so she comes here while I am at work. She always forgets something. Anyhow, she's a little bit bigger than you and she’s definitely taller. I figured it's better than being cold while we wait for the pizza. Am I right about that fact?” He pauses. I feel like an idiot.
When I nod, he tugs the shirt over my head. Then he kisses me with an all to short kiss. I watch him walk out of the bedroom. When I stand, the t-shirt hangs past my knees but it's tight everywhere else. At least, I'm covered. I follow him out to the kitchen, where he's rifling through a drawer.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“Nah. I'm just looking for a certain menu.” That right there is why I love New York. Pizza delivery anytime and since pizza is life, it works out just fine for me.
I feel awkward just standing there. I fiddle with the hem of the borrowed shirt.
“You want a beer?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. He goes to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Samuel Adams Boston Lager. I take it from him and sip it greedily. My throat is dry from our vigorous activity.
“How old are you?” I blurt out. I’m a little awkward when I’m nervous.
“Thirty. You?” He asks chuckling.
“Twenty-one. I'm sorry. I don't know the proper one-night stand rules.”
“One-night stand?” You think this was a one-night stand?” he asks setting his beer down and coming from around the counter, now standing in front of me.
“Well, yeah. What else would it be?” I question setting my beer on the counter as well, looking up at him.
“I just filled your pussy with my seed, Oakley. I assume you aren't on birth control.”
“No, I'm not,” I say quietly.
“Gorgeous, you are mine.”
He kisses me as though his very next breath depends on it. It's raw and so real I feel like I might cry.
“What was that for?” I ask when he pulls away.
“I was claiming you,” he says simply.
“Oh.” Is all I can muster.
He grabs my hand and pulls me back to his bedroom.
I can honestly say that pizza was the furthest thing from my mind, for the first time ever.
Before I know it, it's early Monday morning and we haven't left his apartment even once. Being dicknapped is not something I'd ever thought would happen to me. If I didn't have a call time of five this morning, less than two hours from now, for a photo shoot, I wouldn't be getting dressed to head to the location. My mom has been blowing my phone up with texts since Friday night. My parents live with me in the eight-bedroom apartment, I bought when I was sixteen. They made everything in my life possible and it's my turn to take care of them.
The first few, which I answered, were obligatory “mom” questions. How are you? Where are you? Who are you with? Are you ever coming home? Then came the momager questions, which I didn't answer. I look over at Luke, still sleeping. I hate sneaking out, but I really have to go, and he looks so peaceful. I'll need to sit in a makeup chair longer this morning due to my lack of sleep. We already exchanged phone numbers, so I text him and slip quietly into the living room whe
re I take the elevator down to the lobby and hail a cab.
I feel as if my heart is breaking, though I’m not sure why since we already made plans for tonight but still every step I take is getting harder and harder.
I don't have a lot of time to think about it because I'm a boss bitch and I got shit to do today.
Five
Luke
I vaguely hear my alarm going off at six-thirty. I reach over to snooze it and realize her side of the bed is both cold and made. Did I dream her? Did I imagine all of the ways I owned her the past couple of days? Her perfume lingers in the air like it was recently sprayed and I need her back. It’s absolutely insane how much I want her here, both in my bed and in my life. I don’t know her completely yet, but I will. The minute I met her I felt this spark that can never be duplicated. The moment she sat down I knew she was mine.
I never thought that I would be pussy whipped, but for that pussy and the woman attached to it, I’d do absolutely anything.
I haul my body up from the bed and head into the bathroom to take a hot shower. I have to be at work by nine for the opening bell at nine-thirty.
Fuck, just thinking about her makes my cock hard, so hard that I have to jack off in the shower. Twice. With as many times as I filled her over the weekend, I am surprised that have any jizz left to give.
I get ready in my everyday uniform of a tailored suit and tie and hit the bricks. Money doesn’t make itself.
By noon, I’ve given up any hope of being productive today. I tried, I really did. All morning, each time I set out to do something, I’d think about her and the way her thick thighs gripping my hips as I pumped into her juicy cunt. The sounds of our skin slapping together are going to be forever burned into my mind. I think back to how I literally couldn’t stop fucking her last night. Her moans spurred me on as I took her again and again. I give up and head out of the office onto the busy street. It’s lunchtime, so there are people everywhere. Who am I kidding? There is always a lot of foot traffic in the area.
Now that I am not inside that sweet pussy of hers, I am wondering what she’s doing and if she is thinking about me.
Once I hail a cab, I climb in giving the driver my home address. Like a lovestruck teen, I pull out my phone and text her. God, it hasn’t even been six hours. I know just how fucked I am in this moment.
Me: Hey.
God, I am an idiot. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the three little dots pop up letting me know she is responding.
Oakley: Hi ;)
Me: How is the shoot going?
Oakley: Boring. Want to stop by?
Me: Is that allowed?
Oakley: Yeah. I’ll put you on the security list as a part of my entourage. I don’t have anyone other than my mom here with me, but she is leaving soon. I never do. My little sister has a drs appt. Sorry TMI. Should I add you?
I chuckle. I like that she is comfortable enough to talk to me like that and reassure me that there are no swinging dicks hanging around in her entourage.
Me: Absolutely. Where should I tell the cab to bring me?
Oakley: The weird colored building at the intersection of 7th ave and 40th st in the Garment District.
Me: I am twenty mins out depending on traffic
Oakley: Can’t wait to see you. Breaks over, find me when you get here.
I tell the cab driver the change of address and he turns around at the first chance he gets.
When I get to the maybe chartreuse colored building, I smile. She was right. It is a weird color.
After showing my ID to the security guard at the door, I am let in. There is techno music playing and lights flashing. There are girls everywhere in various states of dress. I skim over all of them looking for my girl. I spot her. She is wearing a short black nightie practically making love to the camera. Fuck, she is beautiful. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes until she spots me.
“That’s perfect, Oakley. Give it to me. That’s it. Good girl,” the photographer says causing me to clench my fists. Does every other man on this entire fucking planet think they can talk to her like that? I briefly wonder if this is the dickbag that touched her on Friday. “Alright, take twenty and come back in the pink one.” Oakley nods and makes a beeline for me. I am sitting on a window sill, waiting for her.
“Hi,” she says. She looks and sounds exhausted, so I move so that she is sitting on the sill and I stand between her legs, which she wraps around me loosely. I lean down and kiss her plump lips.
“Hi,” I say after pulling back from her slightly, keeping my face near hers.
I hear some gasps from the other girls in the room and a camera clicking away, but I don’t pay attention to them until the photographer comes closer to us, getting in our personal space, snapping away.
“Oakley, who is this? Dude, nuzzle her neck.”
“I’m the boyfriend,” I say harshly.
“Well, whatever. Do it. The way the light is coming in the window beaming down on you two, I need this shot.”
I look up into Oakley’s eyes. She smirks and gives me a little shrug, so I do it. I nuzzle her graceful neck while he takes pictures.
I notice her nightie has risen to unacceptable levels and I try to tug it down, but it’s no use. Oakley laughs.
“Oakley undress him. Slide his coat down his arms. Excellent,” he says as she does so our lips tangling while she does. She then loosens my tie and slowly unbuttons my crisp white dress shirt and it too goes into the pile, our lips never parting. When she opens my belt, the photographer stops us. “Perfect. Now stand Oakley. Lose the nightie and pull on his shirt. I start to protest when she does so, but I stop short when I see she has some sort of flesh-colored bathing suit or something on under it. “Pull the shirt closed, fluff out your hair, really mess it up and stand in front of him. Boyfriend pull her back to your chest and wrap your arms around her waist. You two have so much chemistry. Tell me I have permission to use these?” I watch her bend over and mess up hair. It looked like that Saturday morning after I fucked on my kitchen counter. We then pose as he asked. “Kiss her neck again. Fuck this is really excellent.” He doesn't speak again as he takes several more pictures.
When he is done, he just walks away leaving me shell shocked.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask.
“I am not sure. Paolo has never done anything like that before.”
“That isn’t the fuck from Friday, is it?” I remember.
“Oh God, no. Paolo is a professional, through and through. He’s happily married to Candy over there with the thirty bags of lenses.” I follow her gaze and sure enough, they are making out in a corner.
When she is ready to leave for the day, Paolo and Candy come over to us. Candy has some forms in hand.
“I can use the photos, right?” he asks looking hopeful.
I look over to Oakley.
“It’s up to you,” she says smiling.
“Yeah, of course,” I finally say.
“Sign these, please,” Candy says, handing me a pen and the papers. I glance over them. It looks like a standard media release agreement, but it looks like I will get twenty-five percent of the profits along with Oakley. Seems like a good deal to me, but what do I know? I sign the papers with a flourish and hand them back.
“I’d like to book another session with the two of you. I have a marketing campaign for an adult toy line on the books and no models have caught my attention quite like you two have. This would be separate from your contract with Greta’s, but I don’t think you have an exclusivity clause do you, Oaks?”
“I don’t”
“I’ll have to think it over,” I say honestly.
“We understand. We’ll be in touch,” Candy says. Oakley drags me by the hand to her dressing room. She is carrying my tie and jacket. She looks incredible in my shirt. It's too tight, but it works for her.
“Oh my God. That was exciting.” Her smile is huge and her green eyes sparkle.
“It was,” I agree.
I know right at this moment that I will do the photo shoot for the adult toys. I would do anything for her and to see her happy is something I will duplicate for as long as she’ll have me.
Oakley Riley has fucking ruined me for other women and honestly, I don't even care.
Six
Oakley
Once in my little dressing room, I take his shirt off and hand it back to him. He tosses it on the back of the huge sofa in the room. This is my normal studio and this room is my home away from home. The room is hot pink and full of pictures of me and my sister. She's my only friend. A lot of former friends don't like how famous I got after I was discovered in a New Jersey Lane Bryant when I was fifteen. Fuck 'em. I don't need those bitches.
I watch as he walks over to the door and flips the lock.
“What do you call this thing you are wearing?” he asks huskily returning to stand in front of me.
“A body-shaping suit,” I reply breathlessly. I could feel his huge erection the entire we were being photographed together. It drove me fucking crazy. I wanted him to take me, but I knew he never would in front of all those people.
“How does one open this contraption?” he demands, and I smirk. I know he won’t be able to resist when I tell him.
“Two. Teeny. Tiny. Little. Snaps. Right at my crotch,” I say slowly, needlessly pointing down. I know that as soon as he reaches the apex between my thick thighs, he will find out just how wet I am for him. Only ever him.
“Here?” he asks skimming his fingertips over the drenched fabric. I moan at his light touch. He groans and concentrates his attention on the wet spot.
