by Gina Whitney
Speaking of Ender; that Spic fucker was going to get his ass kicked. The minute I acquainted him of my arrangement with Gia, he’d best step the fuck off. Band or no band, friend or no friend, she was mine. Nobody fucked with my anything. He needed to be put in his place. I was getting real tired of him yanking my dick for attention. What I needed to focus on wasn’t Ender; it was this little minx in front of me. I needed to fuck her, feed her, and bathe her.
“You see this? This is your new parking space.” I patted my lap, and in response she smiled brilliantly. I loved that smile. I didn’t want to share that gorgeous smile with anyone else. She approached me carefully. I grabbed her and pulled her down on to me. I wanted that ass on me right that second.
“Someone’s happy with my new seating arrangement,” she cooed, giggling. Yes, my dick was real happy with the new seating arrangement. I was as hard as a lead pipe and couldn’t wait to get inside her tight pussy. Before finishing off my scotch, I offered it to her. She downed it.
That right there was why this girl was different. She caught my attention with her blithe, yet brash personality. Her vibe wasn’t a superficial one. She was just a real cool chick, a chick I could definitely get into. For now. My cock had plans for her. And was screaming for attention.
“Babe, take off your clothes. I want to see what’s mine. When you’re with me, alone, there is no reason for you to have them on.”
Before she rose, I grabbed her face to taste her, forcefully plunging my tongue into her mouth. Breathlessly, she disrobed, leaving her clothes piled at her feet. I stood up to eye-ball this beauty from head to toe. My blood pumped, raging to one extremity—my cock. After kissing the palm of her hand, I laid her out on the canopied bed. The chill in the air marbled her nipples, which beckoned me home. Taking my own clothes off in measured movements, I assumed the position between her legs. The Alpha in me wanted to become better acquainted with what was his. Her sweet pussy juice drove me wild. I was gluttonous when it came to her pussy. I am a man who loves pussy. I loved the way pussies looked, smelled, tasted, and how I made them feel. Lust, carnality, and eroticism were mere words that could only be used to describe what I felt with this woman. I would pay homage to that pussy. It would be my gift for her submission.
“Beauty, rest your thighs on my shoulders,” I commanded. Her thighs squeezed my face into her pussy. My arms gripped her ass from underneath, lifting her to face level. I inhaled deeply, intoxicated by this Aphrodite, my tongue parting her folds to expose her clitoral hood. Her clit was swollen and ready to be sucked. I drew it into my mouth, gently sucking.
The wet sounds of sucking carried in the air. She moaned and screamed. With my face sandwiched between her creamy thighs, the crescendo was building to atomic levels. Her clit pulsed in my mouth, but I had her under my thumb. I didn’t want her to come yet. I wanted to be inside her when she came. I wanted her to leave my cock thick with her come.
“Fuck, you give good head!” she shouted. “I’m about to erect a statue in your name.” She laughed breathlessly. A wide grin decorated her flushed face. She was perfect. I don’t remember the last time someone wanted to erect a statue in my name. Fuck, if that didn’t want to make me beat my chest. I scooped her up into my arms and headed to the bedroom. I needed a bed for round two.
“I’ve got you, Beauty,” I said, watching her wrap her delicate arms around my neck. She felt right in my arms. Leaning up, she planted a smoldering kiss on my pussy-juiced lips. She gave me a feeling that I’ve never felt before. It was undeniable. I sat her on the edge of my bed, grabbing for the fireplace remote. She was the perfect adornment for my bed. What more could a man want than a willing submissive? Especially with the spreader bar lying next to her. Either she didn’t notice it or she didn’t know what it was. Regardless, I would be using it tonight in our sex play. I had it specially made. It was tufted with supple leather and thickly padded. The cuffs were lined with quilted material so as not to chafe her wrists or ankles. Yes, she would learn quickly what it meant to be properly fucked, maximizing every nook and cranny God created. I would go deeper inside her than she ever believed possible. The thought of that made me harder than steel. My cock was already pointing straight up toward the ceiling. Now it was glistening at the thought of exploring her depths.
“Would you hand me the spreader bar, Beauty?” I asked in a low, commanding tone.
“And what and where would that be?” She laughed as if I were joking, looking around. She was now leaning up against it. Maybe she thought it was a pillow?
“The black roll you’re lying on with the cuffs.” I motioned toward it with my chin. I had to laugh to myself. I normally didn’t do girls who were “cc’s”—cute and coy. Rockers don’t do cute. Fuck that shit. But Gia had my head all fucked-up. Not in a bad way, but in a what the fuck am I thinking way. She pulled it from beneath her, holding it up to me.
“This thing?” she asked. “I actually thought it was a neck roll pillow. I didn’t notice the shackles on the end. Nope, I’ve never seen one of these in my life. But it sure is comfy.”
She smiled up at me. Comfy? Really? I purchased the foam one with padding as to not chafe that creamy perfect skin of hers. I was just going to have to show her what this bondage restraint was all about.
“Babe, it’s for bondage play. I figured I’d ease you in. Now lay back with your arms at your side and knees bent. I’ll show you what this is all about. I promise you’ll be begging me for it in no time.” She inched backward, doing as she was told. That pleased me; no questions, no fucking weird looks or comments—just total compliance.
I placed the spreader between her lush ass and feet, then attached her wrists and ankles. There were no words between us—just the look of curiosity on Gia’s face, as if she were taking everything in and filing it away. She tested the restraints by pulling. She was securely fastened in. That made me happy. She was curious. The cuffs were padded as well. I had taken every precaution to avoid marring her flawless body.
Seeing her bound before me, with her unquestioning trust and willingness to please me, spurred me on. Even though she was probably scared shitless right now, she never said a thing, but her eyes were speaking to me. They told me her truth. And her truth was that trust didn’t come easy for her. Her supplication therefore made it all the sweeter.
It was time to claim my prize. Her lustful gaze was focused on the pre-come on the head of my cock. Umm, my girl wanted to sample my flavor. Grabbing my cock with my left hand, I squeezed the head, producing more of my juice. Rubbing my thumb over it, I then fed it to her, and slowly and deliberately, she sucked it off, moaning as she did. And then her thighs clenched.
“God, please kill me now. I can finally die here and now,” she cried out.
“That’s right, Beauty. Pray to your God.” Stroking my cock with my hand leisurely, I crawled onto the bed, never letting go of my monster, and never taking my eyes off my beauty’s pussy. Her skin was covered in goose bumps as she waited for her Master to bottom out in her sweet cunt. With my cock still fisted, I parted her folds with my fingers and rubbed the head slowly over her clit. She was soaked. Her little pants and sighs were driving me insane. She didn’t have a clue. I didn’t know what I wanted more: her mouth on me, or my mouth on her—that delicious cunt of hers, or her ass. I decided I would have them all.
I inched forward toward her face. “Open your mouth, Beauty. Let me watch you taste yourself on my cock.” I demanded.
Her pink tongue poked out, stabbing for a taste of my slit before opening wide to accommodate all of me. Fuck, her mouth felt good. I straddled her chest, lifting up her face for deeper penetration. Her eyes were wide with tears as she started to gag. I loved when a chick gagged on my cock. I started to feel that tingle in my balls. I was about to blow my load too soon. She had a wickedly talented tongue and worked my loops like a ninja.
“Fuck, Beauty,” I huffed. “I’d much rather come in that sweet cunt of yours.”
She moane
d at my declaration. I got off of her to kneel between her legs. I wasn’t going to go slow. “Babe, remember this moment. This pussy is never going to know what rest is. Throbbing and clenching for me is all you will come to know. Begging me for time to recover between climaxing. I’m just going to be living inside of you from now on. Your pussy is my new favorite thing,” I said, stroking and smiling.
“You are one cocky motherfucker. I’ll give ya that, Abel. Put up or shut up is what I always say,” she quipped back, mockingly.
“You have no idea, Beauty, no idea.” I winked. I was in awe of the fine piece of ass in front of me. Not that I would ever utter those words out loud. Truth be told, there was something more with her. She had a little something extra the others lacked. I slipped into her hot pussy with a loud groan.
“Everything all right?” she questioned in the crook of my neck. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Fuck, babe, it’s more than all right. You feel fucking perfect,” I declared, as I started to slip in and out of her. “Your cunt’s got a death grip that I’m lovin’ right now.”
My hips picked up momentum. Christ on the fucking cross, she was nice and juicy, giving my rings a smooth, effortless ride. Her screams filled the air. Her fingernails ripped the shit out of my thighs. And her clenching cunt gripped my dick like a lifesaver. Fuck yeah. Nirvana. I was the deepest I’ve ever been in my life, hitting places inside her pussy at depths I didn’t believe possible. The slapping sounds of our flesh meeting resonated through the air. I barely recognized my own voice as I rutted her good. The fact that she was trying to break free drove me even higher. My hair was a sweaty mess. The bed was saturated with our sweat and fluids. I placed ravenous kisses up and down her neck column, sweeping across her perfect tits. I took one tit in my mouth, and squeezed the other with my hand. I pumped like an Olympian, shooting my load deep into her pussy, pumping a few extra times for good measure. I was still coming. This had to be one of the hottest orgasms ever. Lifting my body off of her, I gently released the shackles and rubbed her limbs that were no doubt aching. She lay limply, exhaustion smothering her. Amazed, I brushed her soaked hair off her face while softly kissing her forehead. She needed to be cleaned up, so I went into the bathroom and grabbed a basin under the sink, filling it with warm soapy water. She trembled under my touch, taking little breaths, as if in pain. My insides squeezed with fear. Did I hurt her? Oh, fuck, I’m one demented dude. What’s wrong with me? I didn’t even realize …
“I’m fine, Abel. Actually, better than fine. That was un-fucking-believable. I actually feel spacey from it. Kinda here, but not? Ya know?” She laced her fingers through mine. My heart stopped for a moment. Yeah, I knew exactly how she felt. But again, I wasn’t going there, I wasn’t in to sharing.
He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles while his eyes burned into me. A moment was shared between us. But it was gone in a flash and Broody was back, being direct and to-the-point.
“I’m starved,” he said, rubbing his thickly corded abs. “Wanna grab a bite?” His stomach growled. How could I ever say no to that man for anything? My eyes roamed over his body; he was one fine fucking specimen.
“You keep looking at me like that, Beauty, and we’ll never leave.” He leaned in, planting a kiss on my lips.
“We should shower. We reek of sex,” I said, concerned. “And there’s no way in hell I’m putting that club dress back on.” I put my hands on my hips. He laughed, a full-on rumbling belly laugh. I didn’t think it was funny. I was miffed. What the fuck was so funny about that?
“And that’s hysterical to you because …” I shot back, half-annoyed with his outburst. He had a nice laugh, too. Nothing weird or unappealing. It was deep and made me dizzy from swooning just hearing it. I couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile. God, it took a lot of effort not to flirt with him.
“I’m laughing because it’s just such a typical girl thing to say. Besides, I like smelling like you. And I sure as fuck love you smelling like me.” He walked into his closet where I heard a series of electronic beeps being keyed in. Was that his safe? I was about to gather my clothes from the terrace. What time was it, anyway? It had to be 2am. Where could we go at this hour? To dinner?
With a dimpled smile, he approached me with a neatly folded pair of sweatpants and a Soundgarden tee-shirt—and a handful of cash.
“Wear my clothes. They’ll be big on you. But I’d rather see you in my clothes than the tight mini-scraps of a dress you had on tonight. Don’t want to get into a fight, because some cocksuckers are looking at you and that fine ass of yours.” He wrapped his hands around my waist, his eyes burning with intensity. I decided to put the damn clothes on and not say a fucking word. That had to be one of the hottest possessive edicts I had ever heard. Damn. I retreated to the bathroom to freshen up. I popped my head out the door quickly.
“Be right out, baby,” I cooed. Ugh, I was starting to nauseate myself with my mushiness. His bathroom was adorned with monochromatic tumbled marble and handsome brushed nickel. Did I expect anything less than a bathroom fit for rock royalty? In my lifetime I would never have imagined I would be standing there right then—even with all my daydreaming. I refreshed my makeup, then put on his sweatpants. I had to roll the top down a few times. His clothing didn’t have that fresh scent of dryer sheets. No. They smelled of him: a heady, musky, woodsy scent that I wanted to bathe in. All men should smell like him. But he wasn’t like all men, was he? No, he wasn’t. I rushed out of the bathroom, remembering something very important.
“Abel, we left the spreader on your bed. You should put it away before Chance sees it. I’d be mortified if he saw.” A cleft smile graced his face. I wanted to grab it and kiss him to death or ride it hard. Good God, either one would do.
“Babe, who do you think bought it?” he said, walking to the elevator. No? He put his key into the elevator, pressing the down arrow. We stood silently for a few minutes, enjoying the nothingness. There was a lot to learn about Abel. But what I did know was he had a heart—a big one. He wasn’t as impervious as he would have people think. Yes, he was a famous, hot-as-fuck rock-star, but he was also passionate about everything he touched. I could see myself having a great life with him. I would join him on the road, party the night away, shop until I dropped—and get my mother off my back. I would do just about anything short of committing murder to get that bitch off my ass.
We took the limo. Security explained to us that the traffic from the festival would make it a nightmare for us if we took his Harley instead. They wouldn’t be able to protect him in all the commotion. And that meant he couldn’t protect me. All of a sudden, that seemed to be paramount. After a moment of posturing, Abel readily agreed, saying he didn’t want to take any chances with me.
I had never felt this adored in my life. My heart was full, and I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about that. I wanted it … that feeling, but I couldn’t help the guilt that crept into the smallest fissures of my being. He sat with his legs gaping wide open, with his fingers threaded through mine. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I was there in my body, but my spirit was floating somewhere above. Heartache seemed to follow me wherever I went. Some of it I caused, but most of it I didn’t. I only prayed to God I’d be able to keep this feeling forever. But my mind knew better. My heart already ached for the potential hit it would take. Fuck it. I would live in the moment. We weren’t guaranteed tomorrow, were we? Today was all we had. I was certainly there with a famous rock god. And I had certainly shared his bed with him. And that was all I knew for sure.
On the way to our late-night snack, he kept mad-texting someone. That had me wondering and insecure. I tried not to focus on the angry faces he was making as he returned the text. However, I couldn’t help it. Finally, we arrived at a local Italian restaurant with a gorgeous view of clear, starry skies with snow-capped mountains in the distance. I was introduced to the owner, a family friend. The restaurant catered to the wealthy. Not many of us locals could
afford a few hundred dollars for a meal. Apparently, the staff was willing to stay late as a favor for their A-list clients. The owner never refused. He was happy to accommodate. The dining room was draped in baby blues and creams with a ceiling painted akin to the Sistine Chapel. We were shown to our table, set with neatly pressed linens, Noritake china, and Edwardian chairs that looked to be heirlooms. The place had a very Renaissance meets New World feel. It was really quite beautifully elegant, and was definitely the most chic place I had ever graced. The Maître de moved in back of me to pull out my chair until Abel stopped him.
“I’ve got it. Thank you,” he said, pulling out my lushly upholstered chair.
“Of course you do,” the thirtyish-year-old handsome man responded. Something passed between them. For the life of me I didn’t know what. So I decided to not be one of those annoying girls who questioned everything. Arte de Dello’s restaurant didn’t exist for my kind. This certainly wasn’t where normal people went for a late night bite. But, then again … this was in no way normal, was it? His gaze never left me. I couldn’t help but blush. He was just so intense. I usually played a better game. But with him, I had to work on my game constantly. How in the fuck was I going to swing the momentum back my way?
While I pondered that, the same Maître de poured sparkling water. I thanked him kindly. He licked his lips, his gaze burning into me. Not good. Tension rolled off Abel with hurricane force. My breath came in light pants. I didn’t understand, it wasn’t like I had done anything wrong. And yet, I felt I had. With a crash of his fist on the table top, Abel stood.
