Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day

by Juliana Conners

  “I’m gonna feed your pussy,” I say, covering up my gasp with some vigorous thrusts of my rod, “I’m gonna feed your pussy until you’re stuffed.” I press Jane’s feet into my sides, coming up closer to her so I can pound her more. Faster. Harder. So that my balls slap her right on her ass.

  Jane growls. Groans. Grunts. Like I’ve just awakened a wild animal. “I love it when you stuff my pussy, Sir,” she says, looking right at me. Fiercely. Challenging. “Feed my greedy little pussy.” She squeals as I reach my fingers deeper into her ass, and then add a third and fourth finger. It’s more than I did before, but she seems to take it well. She just growls again and tosses her head back.

  “Teach it good manners, Sir,” she adds, her voice like a streak of burning smoke.

  “Oh, you bet I will,” I say.

  I ramp up my speed even more, taking a moment to pinch and fondle a nipple with my free hand. She reacts to it, but she’s so taken by the rhythmic bouncing of her body, that she doesn’t realize where I’m touching. Just that I’m overwhelming her again.

  And that’s the way I always want it. For us to overwhelm each other. To suffocate and drown in each other’s bodies and minds. As I think these thoughts, I feel fluids stirring. My balls contracting. In seconds, I feel a rush of warmth pooling at the base of my cock and sprinting for my head.

  I press my free hand into Jane’s belly, and say, “Come, baby girl.” The moment I say “come,” I do

  Wildly, and in a burst of color and warmth. I’ve had a lot of orgasms in my life, but never one like this. It literally takes my breath away. I’m left gasping and wheezing, the same as Jane, who’s just twisted herself up in some hot ribbons of pleasure.

  I don’t know how long we float together in that space, but it doesn’t matter. All I’m aware of after point is her body underneath mine. The sweet sweat and musk marking my face from her intense orgasm.

  When we finally come out of our sex daze enough to think and function, I remember I have something else for her in my other back pocket. I pull it out for her, just as I finish untying her from the bed, and help her sit up.

  “You said you never wanted to be without me ever again,” I say, allowing my voice to shake. I know there’s no way for me to hide it anyway. “You said you didn’t want to live life without me.”

  Jane nods, eyeing the box, and before I’ve even opened it, I see tears waiting to fall.

  “Well, then, Miss Jane,” I say, hoping I sound and look like a gentleman from a bygone era, “will you do me the honors” — I open the little velvet box to reveal a giant, shiny engagement ring — “will you make me the proudest, luckiest man alive by becoming my wife?”

  “Yes!” Jane actually sobs this. “Yes, I will!”’

  She jumps on top of me, smothering me with kisses before I can say or do anything else. Somehow though, I manage to get the ring on her finger. When she finally needs to come up for air after all that kissing, my new bride-to-be finally gets a good look at her new piece of jewelry.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says, visibly shaking as she gazes at it.

  “Well, a one-of-a-kind woman deserves a one-of-a-kind diamond, and that certainly is,” I say and lay down to cuddle with her. As I kiss her. Nuzzle myself into the crook of her neck, I know I can’t stay forever. But I want to make it last all the same.

  ***

  Jane stands at the front door looking lonely already. And I haven’t even left yet. “I know you’ll probably be lonely, since your dad’s not going to be back until morning,” I say, feeling guilty, “but you have my number now.” I lean in to kiss her. “So, you can call me if you get lonely later tonight. Or you just want to chat.”

  She gives me a brilliant smile, but it’s not enough to dim the sadness in her eyes. “Yeah.”

  “I wish I could stay longer too, baby girl,” I say, walking carefully down the steps and toward the car I’ve parked haphazardly to one side of the roundabout, “but I don’t think your dad would take very well to coming home to me in your bed.”

  Jane smiles nervously. “No,” she says, “he wouldn’t.”

  I walk closer to my car, careful not to slip on the freshly fallen snow. “I promise we will go to the ski resort before they close for spring.” I open my car door and slip inside the driver’s seat, all without breaking eye contact. “And while we’re there, I promise we’ll be able to take our time. Spend as much time with each other as we like. We’ll do it properly, with all my fun little black bags to help out.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, knowing this will help take the sting out of our separation.

  It does, as she finally looks like she’s not going to break down when I leave. Or come running after me.

  I close the door on my car and buckle up. But I quickly put the keys in the ignition and roll down the window as she runs up to say something. “It’d better be in time for Valentine’s Day,” she says. “Now that I have a boyfriend, I want to celebrate not being single.”

  I laugh, giving her a kiss on the cheek through the window. “We’ll see,” I say, and take my foot off the brake.

  From there, I make my way carefully around the circular driveway, and out onto the street. In the rearview mirror, I see Jane waving. Blowing me kisses.

  God, am I glad I went on that skiing trip. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have her to spend the rest of my life with.

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  Thank you for reading. Bonus books are included for your continued reading enjoyment, including Sold on Christmas Eve, which is Mariah and Alex’s story, as well as more books in the Sold series.

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  More Books in the Sold Series

  Sold on Christmas Eve: A Virgin & Billionaire Romance

  Copyright © 2017 by Juliana Conners and Sizzling Hot Reads.

  To my husband, with thanks at Christmas time and always,

  for your gifts of love, support, and for believing in me.

  Chapter 1 – Mariah

  December 23

  Should I study or should I sleep? Or maybe I should masturbate.

  Isn’t this the eternal dilemma of every 19 year old nerdy, overweight college virgin? Or, no. Maybe it’s just the eternal dilemma of this 19 year old nerdy, overweight college virgin.

  Not by choice, mind you. The “virgin” part is not by choice but more due to circumstance. The “nerdy” part— and probably most of the “overweight” part— is from having to study so damn much. Which I really should be doing right now.

  I wrap the warm woolly blanket around me tighter, hating how cozy the damn thing is. Between its comforting weight and the easy give of the couch, I know I’m fighting a losing battle. In the battle between studying or sleeping, sleeping will win out. And I’m too tired to even get turned on enough to masturbate.

  The fact that I can see snow falling outside only makes me fall more in love with the plush cushions underneath me. I snuggle deeper into my self-made cocoon, adoring the way the fluffy drifts of snow kiss the window.

  A little ways away from the window I have my TV on, enjoying the soft murmurs and colors that the screen emits. Much like a digital cup of hot cocoa, there’s something about having the TV on during a dark and cold night that just makes it all the more warm and fuzzy.

  I know I should be studying, I murmur to myself, bringing the blanket up to my nose and my feet up on to the cushions more. I know I should be getting ahead in my reading for next semester, but I don’t want to!

  There’s a whine to my voice. Like I’m nine, inste
ad of 19.

  But if I don’t, I think, feeling my breath on my cheeks, the quality of my work might suffer. My grades may drop, and if they drop I might lose my scholarship!

  From under the blanket, I’ve started to chew my nails. A bad habit. One Mom would get after me about, but she doesn’t know how hard it’s about to get for me.

  Can’t have that. School’s expensive as it is, even with the help my scholarship provides. And still I’m going to have to start working to afford everything on my own next semester.

  I bring the blanket down off my face, feeling overheated and a bit irritated at myself.

  And I’m not even sure if I can work and go to school at the same time and maintain my flawless academic reputation. Which is why I need to be studying, even if it is winter break, I grumble, deciding there will be no more breaks for me. Not this winter.

  Until I see his face on my TV screen — the face belonging to one of my most favorite actors. In that moment, every other thought flies out of my head. Studying. Grades. None of it matters, in the face of such rugged beauty.

  He’s an older actor. I can’t remember his name, but I’d know his wrinkles anywhere. The sexy smile lines around his eyes. The way his lips curl just that way when a reporter asks him a personal question. Oh, that’s the thing that always melts me. Combine that with his cool amber eyes (I always think of a Jaguar when I see them), and you have me completely distracted.

  Which I am. As I hear him murmur something about how he likes his women smart and driven, I imagine that he’s talking to me. Mariah, he says, leaning close to me, you’re a smart and driven young woman. You work hard for what you want, don’t you? As he leans in further, I imagine I’m smelling his cologne. Like bourbon and marshmallows blended together, but sharper. The collar on his dress shirt caresses my cheek, just before his hand does. I bet you’d like it if you had a man who worked hard for you, wouldn’t you?

  On “hard” I realize my hand is down the front of my pajamas, and already buried deep in my pussy. My clit is already rock-hard, and licking at my finger like a lollipop. A light touch sends a shiver through me, despite the layer of blanket. “Yes,” I murmur.

  Oops. Guess masturbation is the option that’s going to win out. Thanks, famous actor.

  In my head, said famous actor has taken off his suit jacket and tossed it nonchalantly to the side. On his chest, he wears a trio of gold necklaces — the perfect addition to his dark silk shirt. He closes the distance between us again, beginning to pull away the neckline of the shirt I imagine I’m wearing with just his touch.

  In my mind, his rough-around-the edges fingers begin to eagerly seek out my bra, and the nipples underneath. All your other boyfriends have been just that, haven’t they? Boys. As I imagine him saying this, I feel part of a bra melt away. Bend away, as his fingers caress a full, plump nipple, rising to meet him. They’ve been too interested in playing their little video games, haven’t they, Mariah?

  At these words, I imagine he’s the one who pinches my naughty fat nipple, not me. I pinch it again, imagining he chuckles at the squeal I give. Oh, you’re so much more fun to play with, Mariah! Such a thirsty girl!

  I rub my fingers in and around my clit, with more attention. More deliberate strokes. I keep to one side of my clit, knowing it’s more sensitive than the other. Already, even after just a few stronger rubs, and a bit of tapping near the head, I’m feeling that delicious itch. That hot, almost rashy sensation I get when my clit gets bigger, and my pussy lips fatten.

  They didn’t want to play with me, sir, I say, enjoying how my pussy is sucking on me. Holding onto my fingers, the way I wanted to hold onto my boyfriends’ cocks. But we never got that far. They were all good boys who thought I was too “forward.” After a while, I gave up on trying. But you want to, don’t you?

  I dig my fingers deeper into my wet, drooling hole, and up the tempo on my penetration. My acrylic nails give me an extra bit of smoothness and texture, and I lean into it. I let it stimulate individual ridges and places along my lips.

  You’d like to fuck my virgin pussy, right? I flick my hot and heavy clit, crying out at the surge of pleasure that goes up through my belly. It’s nice and tight for you, sir. I increase the speed of my finger movements, adding another finger this time.

  Three fingers. What I imagine my favorite actor’s cock size might be.

  Oh, yes, Mariah! says the man of my dreams, in my mind, sucking on both of my nipples that he’s freed from the shirt and bra. I’d love to play with your hungry, young pussy. He’s unzipped the fly on his fancy slacks, and reveals a long, straight cock. The ridges and veins in it are as exciting as they are unnerving. I press my thumb into the body of my clit, rubbing furiously.

  Almost immediately, I feel my toes beginning to curl. My back beginning to arch against the couch.

  I’ll be happy to give it some experience points. It all plays out so wonderfully in my fantasy. As he speaks, I watch him stroke his long, muscled member. He bends it a bit while stroking. More ridges and veins appear, and his balls suck in seductively. Just turn around, Mariah, and leave the driving to me.

  Obediently, I present myself to him. I don’t see what I’ve leaned against, but it doesn’t matter. I shove a fourth finger in my already-stuffed pussy, imagining it’s his large stiff cock. I rock into my fingers, imagining he’s pulled me into his hips, slapping my ass.

  With this thought, and an extra finger in me, I feel the tremors starting. I feel my lips and hips shaking, and I imagine he does too. I imagine he feels it and says, Good girl, Mariah. Take it all in.

  In my head, I imagine that my fingers, make up the ridges in his shaft. I ride them, feeling every change. Every contour. Every inch, he says, filling me with his full-length. He presses into my womb, making my belly ache.

  Oh, good girl! Gently, slowly, I imagine he pulls back some, letting my pussy enjoy everything all over again. Good girl, Mariah. I imagine my movie-star boyfriend pumping me vigorously. I imagine him moaning. Groaning. Oh, such a lusty pussy, he says, I don’t know how your boyfriends passed this up!

  Fuck my lusty pussy, I whine, feeling my body twist and tremble. Like a slingshot, a last bit of tension builds up before releasing. Like a cork from a wine bottle, my pussy contracts, forcing my fingers out.

  The moment my acrylic nails leave my lips, I cum. It’s hard and spasmodic. I squeal, imagining his thick cock unloading a white Christmas on my ass cheeks. He lets it run in and over my asshole, bragging about how he’s just taken my virginity and is seeing the proof right in front of his eyes.

  I cum a second time, feeling my bladder and tummy tuck in and then jolt out. As they do, I feel a glob of something wet and warm slide into my pajama bottoms.

  I let it sit there, feeling delirious. Satisfied.

  As I come down off my buzz with a few deep, happy breaths, one thing has become clear to me. I need a man older than those I’ve been half-heartedly trying to date. Someone with more skills in the bedroom than high scores in his video games.

  I’ll get on OkCupid, I think, pulling my soaking wet hands out of my pants and out from under my shirt. I’m gonna do that tomorrow, and find a man who’s worthy of me. I grin, still smelling cologne. After I’m done studying, of course.

  Chapter 2 – Paul

  I’m in a car zooming down the highway. My brother Alex is driving. His friend, and my abductor, Jordan, sits shotgun. We haven’t been driving long. Only a few minutes. But it’s long enough for me to know we’re not just going to a local bar or strip club. We’re heading on to too big of a freeway for that.

  But that’s fine by me. I’ve been to enough bars and clubs over the past several weeks, dating just about any girl who’ll let me put my hands on her.

  It’s all to forget about her of course — to forget about commitment and what that used to mean to me — but it seems my brother and his friend have other ideas.

  “So” — I fold my arms behind my head — “now that you’ve succeeded in dr
agging me out of my house and stuffing me in your fucking car, mind telling me where we’re off to?” My question is mostly directed at Alex, who I can see in the rearview mirror.

  “It’s a surprise,” he tells me. I hear the smile in his voice, and see it reflected in his eyes. They have those stripper-pole-elf twinkles in them.

  While part of me appreciates his attempt at being coy, another part of me hates it. It still wasn’t my idea to go on a road trip today. “I don’t like surprises.” Not after what Darla put me through, I add silently.

  “You’ll like this surprise, yo,” says Jordan, turning around in his seat. As he does, he lights up a cigarette. By the sweet smell, it’s one of those expensive ones. With less nicotine in them. “Think of the place we’re taking you to as an early Christmas present.” He pauses, looking at my brother for backup. For a moment, it looks as though they share an inside joke. Eyes back to me, he says, “Better than what that hoe Darla gave you, man.”

  I sigh, turning my eyes back to the rearview mirror.

  My brother’s gaze meets me there. “Trust me, my brother.” His eyes soften. “Think of all this as an opportunity to get out. Get away from typical watering holes and basic bitches. Where I’m taking you, you’ll think you died and went to Heaven.”

  He flicks on the radio, bringing up a bit of jazz. Maybe to relax me. Maybe to get me in some kind of mood. Whatever the reason, I’m suddenly surrounded by saxophones and softly beating drums. “Just sit back and enjoy the next few days. Jordan and I have your back.”

  “You are the only straight guy I know who likes jazz,” I tease him.

  But something about the music and Alex’s words relax me. The entire aura of the car melts tension from my shoulders and lower back. Places I didn’t even know were so fucking tight until they weren’t. “Whatever you say, Alex. I’m counting on you.” I prop my feet on the back of his seat, making sure he feels a bit of jiggling. “Don’t fuck this up.”