Sexy Just Got Rich: Brit Babes Do Billionaires

by Lexie Bay, Victoria Blisse, Natalie Dae, Harlem Dae, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee, Tabitha Rayne

  The walnut cupboard door opened. She knew it was that one because it had a tiny squeak, like a mouse, just audible.

  Her heart rate picked up again, the way it had been when he’d collected the champagne from the kitchen. Although this time she knew exactly what he was getting.

  The flogger.

  The beautiful flogger. It was bright red, scarlet. The handle made of woven leather and the tails soft suede. But the tails didn’t feel soft, not when Taylor wielded them fast and hard on her skin; they bit and stung, the sensation blazed across her flesh and also penetrated deep into her muscles.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  He trailed the flogger over the soles of her feet, softly, sweetly, contradicting the burn they could inflict.

  “Yes…”

  “Sure?” He swept the tails up the back of her legs, hovering over the sensitive spots behind her knees.

  “Yes, Sir, please, Sir.”

  Thwack.

  She jerked as the first strike hit down. She’d expected a bit more teasing.

  Thwack.

  Again he hit, opposite buttock this time.

  She clenched her ass, quickly unclenching as the plug seemed to slip higher and press harder against her insides. Damn, that was new. She hadn’t taken the flogger with anything in her back passage before. It was intense.

  He hit again, twice on each cheek, fast and hard.

  Marie groaned. She hadn’t wanted to squeeze her ass cheeks but hadn’t been able to stop herself. It was instinctual. When she did she was treated to such a deep internal massage it spiralled her in on herself. Into a dark world behind closed eyelids.

  “Oh yes,” he said, smoothing his hand over her cheeks. “Such a nice birthday present to see you pinking up for me so prettily.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed, her tongue feeling heavy as she let herself ride on the pain.

  He hit again, more, over and over. Marie relaxed into it. There’d been a time she worried why she liked this heated torment so much, why it wasn’t humiliating, but those worries had gone now, she liked what she liked. End of.

  Her skin was beginning to take on the burn she adored, the hits fogging into one, each strike adding substance to the last, making her hotter, digging deeper. Her clit had swollen and she squirmed her mound onto the sheet, gaining some stimulation from doing so. The need to come was building.

  Taylor struck her shoulders, taking the heat higher, then down over the backs of her thighs.

  She shifted her head, groaned thickly, her throat heavy the way it always became when endorphins flooded her system. Her heart was beating rapidly but her breathing was slow, steady and deep. The rest of the world faded, there was only her and the pain and Taylor. An orgasm was within reach, she just needed…

  “Turn.”

  The flogging halted and she found herself spun over onto her back. She kept her eyes shut as her arms crossed, still harnessed above her, and Taylor spread her legs.

  “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, arching her back as tender skin made contact with the sheets. “No, Sir.”

  “Open your eyes,” he said.

  Marie did as she’d been instructed.

  Taylor was kneeling between her thighs, naked. His chest was puffing up and down as he breathed deep and fast. The muscles on his belly were taut and his erect, sheathed cock jutted from a nest of pubic hair.

  “Master…” she said, her breasts shifting in their side sloping position.

  He was so beautiful, the epitome of a man.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he said then set his jaw determinedly.

  “Yes…ah….”

  He’d shoved in, not full depth but halfway. He leaned over her, hands either side of her head.

  She stared up at him—there was something about the way he was looking at her, desperate, needy, almost…frightened. As if this was their last time.

  No.

  She shook her head.

  Please no, not that.

  He curled his hips and penetrated her to full depth.

  Marie wanted to shut her eyes, retreat into sensation, but she didn’t. If this was their last fuck she wanted to commit it all to memory. She studied his eyes; wished she could stroke the locks of his hair back that had swung forward; wished she could trace the shape of his beautiful lips.

  “You feel it?” he asked, his mouth barely moving because his jaw was so tense.

  “Yes, all of it.” And she could, not just his cock but the plug too. It was all filling her so much, so absolutely.

  He withdrew, pushed back in, his pubic bone catching on her clit.

  “Ohh…” she said as the air was pushed from her lungs.

  “You like it?”

  “Yes, oh yes.” An orgasm was there, so close.

  He stayed buried deep and circled his hips. Rubbing over her, round and round.

  Her clit bore the brunt of the orbiting pressure. It was there, the orgasm, she couldn’t…

  “Come,” he ordered. “Come now, then come again and again and again.”

  She let it explode. Pleasure pulled her in every direction, each nerve in her pussy firing out bliss and sending it through her body.

  She fisted her hands till her fingers hurt, wrapped her legs around his thighs and curled her toes. On and on he rotated over her clit with his body, extending the pleasure.

  “God, you’re beautiful when you come,” he said.

  Marie looked into his eyes, wanting to see his soul, knowing he could see hers. Where could she hide? Nowhere—he owned her.

  He slowed then stilled and her orgasm faded.

  She panted and clenched her pussy.

  Now it was his turn—she wondered if she’d come again.

  But instead of hammering into her and taking his pleasure, Taylor sat back on his heels, his cock still inside her.

  He shifted her thighs wider and tilted her pelvis upwards.

  “How is this feeling?” he asked, pulling the butt plug a little way out of her asshole.

  “Ahh…okay…” she said, trying to catch her breath.

  “Only okay?” He raised his eyebrows.

  She noticed a sheen of sweat on his brow. “More than okay, it’s nice.”

  “I can feel it against my dick,” he said, “inside you.”

  “Yes.”

  Her thighs trembled and her belly tightened as he pushed it back in to its full depth.

  “I want to feel you come around my cock again,” he said, holding up a small golden bullet vibrator. “More than once, it feels fucking fabulous.”

  Marie stared at the bullet. He’d used it before. It was only small but wickedly intense.

  He turned it on then smiled at the low buzzing noise that came from it. He held it up and tipped his head to the left. “Ready?”

  Marie had hardly recovered from the last orgasm, her third already of the evening. How many more could she take?

  He didn’t wait for her to reply; instead, he ran the shivering vibrator over her stomach, dipped it into her navel then ran a circle with the tip over each of her nipples.

  She shifted her pelvis.

  He pushed his cock in deeper, his balls pressing into her. But her clit was exposed in this position, exposed and swollen.

  He held her thigh, his fingertips digging into her skin, and traced a line down to her mound.

  The vibrations over her hairless skin sent tickles darting across her flesh and a tremble attacked her spine.

  “Come now.” As he’d spoken he’d applied the vibrator to her clit.

  Marie bucked beneath him, fought with her binds and shifted her hips. It was so much, too intense.

  But he held her still. “Come.”

  “Oh, but…”

  “Come.”

  She did as he’d ordered. She couldn’t have helped herself even if she hadn’t had permission. The vibrator was so powerful it built up the pressure in seconds
and it erupted out of her.

  “Ahh…” she cried out—the sound of her own shout was loud inside her head and raged from her chest. “Ahh…” It was pleasure, yes, but so raw, so edgy. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Move the…” She paused, gasped for breath. The vibrator was still hard on her clit. Her whole pussy was contracting and releasing from her climax. “Move the vibrator…”

  “But I love it,” he said, “seeing you come, feeling you come, oh God, yeah, you’re squeezing my dick against the plug, it’s so damn tight in here.”

  She opened her eyes, feeling blinded for a moment by the light. He’d thrown his head back, the tendons on his neck taut, and seemed to be relishing the way her pussy was dragging on his cock.

  “But…” She wanted him to move it, but…another orgasm was steaming towards her. How could it? Already. “Fuck,” she gasped then screwed up her eyes.

  This time her orgasm was like a punch in the stomach—it came hard and fast, her pussy producing powerful grips that elicited groans from Taylor.

  Her heart thumped furiously as she pulsed through the sensations screaming around her body. She thrashed her head from side to side; it was too much. She couldn’t go on.

  “More…” he said. “More, we’ve only just started.”

  “Oh, God,” she cried, pulling on her arms and trying shift away from the vibrator. She tightened her abs; crunched forward, it didn’t make any difference.

  He shifted the buzzing bullet slightly and it seemed to increase in intensity.

  When will he have had enough?

  Marie was aware of tears forming. Her clit felt painful now, and not in a good way, it was too much. This was too much. “London Bridge,” she gasped. “London Bridge.”

  “What?” He stared down at her.

  In an instant, she saw his expression change. Gone was the Master, the man seeking to take them both to the edge, and Taylor was back, sweet Taylor, who cared for her so beautifully.

  “Fuck,” he said, tossing the vibrator aside. “Fuck.”

  Marie blew out a breath and let the tension go from her legs. Thank goodness for that.

  He went to withdraw his cock. His face was twisted with worry.

  “No,” she said. “Please no…stay in me.”

  “Baby.” Frown lines ploughed over his brow.

  “It was just that thing,” she said. “Please, make love to me.”

  He leaned forward and caught her mouth in a gentle kiss. His tongue stroked over hers and his lips danced softly.

  After a moment he looked at her. “Are you sure? We can stop.”

  “Don’t you dare.” She tugged at the binds. She didn’t want to stop—she wanted it all, she wanted to feel him come too.

  He stared at her hands then reached behind her. In one smooth move he released the intricate knots. “Hold me,” he said.

  Marie swallowed and stared into his face. He’d never asked that of her before. Was this really the end of them? Had she safe-worded on their last ever time together?

  “Please, baby,” he said.

  She slid her hands over his wide shoulders and locked her ankles at his lower back, clinging to him like she’d never let him go—she didn’t want to. She loved Taylor Ward, she knew that now, could admit that now. He was everything she ever wanted and more.

  He began to fuck, watching her carefully as he worked his cock gently into her pussy, withdrawing only a small amount each time so the movements were small, delicate, but oh so deep.

  “I didn’t mean to…” he said.

  “It’s okay…” she said, loving the feel of his cock and the plug together, so thick, so intense.

  His eyes glazed slightly. His cock swelled then he pushed in a little faster, a little harder. Full depth. “That’s it…” he said, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. “Fuck, that’s it…this is it.”

  She stroked down the length of his back and pressed on the final point of his spine between his butt cheeks.

  He shuddered and his cock pulsed again, releasing more semen into the condom.

  Marie kissed the side of his head, over his hair, smoothed her hand up his back. She’d never get enough of this—his smell, his taste, the feel of his skin and his weight over her.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, speaking into the pillow.

  “Don’t be sorry.” She kissed him again, his hair tickling her mouth. “Please don’t be sorry, that was amazing. The best.”

  He lifted up, concern etched on his features. “How can you say that when I made you gasp ‘London Bridge’ like that?”

  “Because you took me right there to the edge, you found my limit. But then you stopped—when I got there, to the edge, you stopped and brought me back.”

  He was silent for a moment. “And it seems that three forced orgasms is it. Your edge.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I guess that’s it.”

  He smiled too and some of the worry left his face. “As long as you’re okay.”

  “I always am if I’m with you.”

  He slid out and reached for the sheets, tugged them free then wrapped them both up. “Do you want me to take the plug out?”

  “No, it’s okay, nice actually.” A small tremble shook her. “I keep getting aftershocks.” Another ripple of residual orgasm washed through her pelvis. She fought the temptation to let her eyes roll. It felt so good.

  He chuckled, his chest rubbing hers. “So you do.”

  Marie closed her eyes as exhaustion swept through her. She was in heaven pressed against her Master like this. He was fiddling with her hair, smoothing it down her back. His legs were wrapped around hers and his wide, strong arms held her firm and close.

  She was weak and limp, her skin highly sensitive, every touch of the sheet, of his skin, exaggerated. She began to float, losing herself in the high of being flogged and fucked, wrung out but wrapped up.

  A deep and dreamless sleep ensued.

  When she woke, Taylor was sitting on the side of the bed. He wore his sweats and was staring out towards the window. New York was shrouded in darkness, the distant twinkle of lights rising into the sky beyond Central Park.

  Marie shifted onto her elbow and studied him. Her hair slipped over her bare skin and the sheet drifted down her body, exposing her breasts.

  Taylor was utterly still; his wide shoulders glowed slightly golden from the dim light in the room and the shadows sliced across his side profile.

  She should go. It must be late. She’d never stayed the night.

  She sat.

  “You’re awake,” he said, continuing to stare out of the window.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get dressed.” She went to sit and remembered the plug. “I won’t be a minute.” She slipped from the bed and went to the en-suite. As she shut the door she noticed he hadn’t moved. He was still staring out of the window.

  Had she displeased him by sleeping so long?

  Quickly, she removed and washed the plug, freshened up with a quick wash and tapped down her wild hair. She could be gone in five minutes. He likely had business to attend to tomorrow. Even though it was Saturday, he still had meetings and work to give his attention to.

  She stepped back into the room.

  Now he was standing, right by the window, hand on hips, feet apart, his gaze seemingly on the distant skyline.

  God, I love him. I always will.

  She went to the corner where she’d stashed her cleaning outfit when she’d got changed, stooped and began to step into her skirt.

  “Come here.”

  She halted at the stern tone of his voice.

  “Marie. Come here.”

  She straightened. Did he want to play more? Whatever it was she wouldn’t refuse him.

  He tilted his chin. She heard him suck in a breath. Did he think she would disobey?

  “Okay,” she said hurriedly, padding on the soft carpet to him. She stopped with her shoulder nearly but not quite touching his upper arm.
She studied the view, below her the park stretched into the distance, dark and a little creepy. “I’m sorry I slept so long. You should have woken me, I’d have gone home.”

  “If I’d wanted to wake you I would have.” He turned to her. “But you were so peaceful. So…at home in my bed.”

  “I’ve never slept so well as I do here…in your arms. Even if it is only for a few hours.”

  He rubbed the palm of his hand down his face—the sound of flesh on scratchy stubble loud in the quiet room.

  “What’s up?” she asked, her heart wondering if she wanted to know the answer. Was this it? Was this where he told her he was moving out of his brother’s apartment, heading to Hong Kong or Rome, or wherever else it was he had business interests?

  “I’m…” He glanced out of the window and pushed his hand through his hair.

  “What?” she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, tell me. I can handle it.”

  “But can you?” He snapped round to face her. “Handle me, that is?”

  “I think I’ve proved that over the last few months. I can handle you just fine.”

  “I don’t want you to go.” He’d blurted the words out—they’d almost toppled over each other.

  She ran her hand down to his wrist then up again, to his shoulder. “Then I won’t, not tonight. I’ll catch a cab in the morning.”

  “I don’t want you to go in the bloody morning either.” He shut his eyes. “Fuck. I’m messing this up.”

  “Taylor, what is it…you’re worrying me.”

  He stared at her. “I don’t want you to go at all.” He paused. “Don’t you get it?”

  A balloon of hope swelled her chest. Could it be? Did he? She couldn’t bear the thought of that balloon of hope getting popped. “Perhaps you should explain,” she said quietly.

  “I want you to stay, tonight, tomorrow, the next day.” He reached out and curled his arms around her waist, pulled her close so her naked body moulded to his. “I can’t live with only seeing you on Friday and then you disappearing as soon as you’ve recovered from our scene. I just can’t, it’s killing me.”