Her silky touch.
That innocent tremble in her voice as she begs for it.
Her thick, soft, strawberry blonde hair.
Those pleading blue-green eyes shining at me.
Her creamy skin that glows under the dim light.
The way she gets so fucking wet for me.
I’m probably enjoying this too much. This is for one night only. We aren’t even a thing. There’s just one problem with that original plan. It was all well and good before I touched her, but now that I’ve laid my hands on her, I’m tempted to play for keeps.
That’s a first.
No other woman ever got me this keyed up, this possessive, this urgent temptation to own her for more than just one night. To feel this way before I fuck her, well it’s not just rare. It’s impossible. Or it was, before Cherry showed up at my doorstep. And that’s the problem. I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. Which is why between now and the end of the night, I need to figure out how to ensure we’ll go our separate ways. I’ll make the most of tonight and relish every second, every square inch of her, and then, I’m cutting her loose.
For now, I’m itching to lock her thighs around my head and devour her until she can’t stand it. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pick her up with me as I stand and turn to face the bed. She clings to me with her legs tight at my hips, her arms around my neck, her head pressed up to my temple, her breasts on my upper chest, and her slick cunt at my belly, reminding me of how badly she wants it. Fuck, it’s hard not to keep holding her like this. It takes me a second to lower her onto the bed, but when I do, I grab a pillow and tuck it under her ass. I get in between her legs, spreading her apart at the knees. She’s in position. My cock is throbbing, dying to be the lucky dick to make a debut inside Cherry’s sweet virgin hole.
Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss on her flat stomach. Her belly flutters in response, and she hisses out a whimper of my name as she absently laces her fingers through my hair.
“Cross your hands above your head,” I remind her because rules are rules. I call the shots in the bedroom, and she needs to get used to that. Okay maybe she doesn’t, as this is a one-night deal, but whatever.
She gets the message and slowly makes a show of being told by taking her sweet time of running both hands up her body in the most fucking seductive way possible. My eyes are riveted to her fingers as they crawl past each nipple and slow down even more at her collarbone and neck. Then she places one over her lips, kissing it lightly before finally following orders.
She’s taunting me.
It’s mild defiance, playful disobedience. I’ll let slide for now, but one way or another, she’ll pay. Tonight. Resuming, I kiss, suck, lick and nip my way down to her pelvic bone. I grip her inner thighs, holding her still. I spread her out wide so I can look at her pussy. I take a handful of ass cheeks in each hand as my inspection continues. She’s a bright shade of pink, with a light crimson clit and deep red outer lips, already swollen from all the foreplay. Squeezing her ass, I part her open more widely, revealing even more irresistible, pink virgin core. Untouched by any man’s cock until now.
Her trimmed bush invites me closer, so I nuzzle my nose to her hood. The heat and sweet scent radiating from her core make my dick even harder. She’s so fucking tight, I want to swallow her whole.
Lowering my mouth those few extra inches, I get my first taste of her sweet, tangy, virgin juices. And Cherry moans out my name, hips still doing their best to writhe under my touch as my tongue dips between her folds. A quick glance up one side of her body gives me a view of her hands making fists above her head. She’s gripping the fabric of the sheets until it’s taut. I’m harder by the second with every sound she utters and every move she makes as I trail my tongue along her pussy, tasting what’s mine for tonight.
As I taste, tease and devour her, I massage her ass cheeks to extend her pleasure. She can’t stop calling my name, and it’s fucking addictive to hear her send each letter of my name across her lips, but I also want to hear something else.
“Call me Daddy,” I groan against her cunt.
Her thighs start to shake, and her stomach flutters and tightens as she closes in on what will be one climax of many tonight. But she doesn’t speak.
“You heard me, kitten. Say it now.”
Cherry moans out a sound that can’t be words. She rocks her hips, grinding against my mouth, but I don’t hear the word. So, I lift up and away from her core, removing the thing she’s enjoying so much, taking away the distraction of her pleasure so she can pay attention.
She raises her head off the bed and gazes at me as I wait.
“Call. Me. Daddy,” I repeat, separating each word with a pause.
She shakes her head. “But… I can’t. I just can’t, Jace. Please, keep touching me.”
“Say it,” I bark.
“I’ll do anything you ask, but please don’t ask me to say that.”
“There’s always the door. My place, my rules.”
“But—” she starts, except there are no ‘buts’ or explanations allowed here.
“Say it, right fucking now.”
“Please Daddy,” she says in the smallest, shyest whisper, relenting like a good little girl at last.
“Go on. Please what?”
“Please taste me, Daddy…make me come.”
That’s what I want to hear.
I don’t hesitate to smash my face against her tight heat, alternating the sucking and tasting her sweetness. I’m hard as granite, ready to take her as soon as she quakes into oblivion. Her orgasm is right on the brink. It’s so close I can fucking taste it. I’m tongue-fucking her hard, pulling her body into my face with sharp jerks for extra pleasure. And a second later, her sighs, moans, and whimpers culminate into a hiss-like sigh. Her body contracts and convulses as she comes with a close to impossible force.
For a virgin.
I don’t mind waiting as she rides my face through wave after wave of her climax. Soon, her body calms. She stretches out her legs on either side of me, and I make full use of the time by climbing out of bed.
My cock wants in on all that tightness. The next time she comes, it’ll be from the heaven and hell I’ll create inside her when I take her virginity.
Cherry’s eyes are half-closed, but I notice her perking up as I drag every shred of clothes off my body until I’m naked. Those aquamarine eyes widen and pause. She seems to take all of me in. Her eyes dart from one body part to another, starting from a visual exploration of my face and shoulders, to somewhere around my upper abs and chest, much lower to my mid-thighs. Finally, they come to an abrupt stop in my groin area, eyes feasting on my member.
I’m used to that double-take response from the ladies. Eleven densely-packed inches will do that to a woman. Some aren’t so brave, and are easily scared off when they take it all in at once with their eyes—and other places.
But Cherry isn’t one of those fickle chicks.
She’s brave.
Brazen as fuck.
Which is how she ended up at my place, in my bed.
Even with a view of my fully erect glory, she lies there, mouth slightly parted as she licks her lips for about the eleventh time—one for each inch I’m about to bury into her. She wants this, and fuck, I’m going to give it to her good.
Right. Fucking. Now.
I’m back at the side of the bed a moment later. There’s a split second where I’m torn between flipping her over onto her hands and knees, and taking her missionary style. I need her to look at me and only me as I claim her virgin pussy for the first time. But I throw out both options in favor of where we started earlier. Me on the bottom. Cherry, sitting in my lap, riding me. Raw preferably.
“Are you on the pill?” I ask as I get into bed beside her.
“I just picked up my first prescription, so not yet,” she breathes out. “But I have a morning after pill just in case. You don’t plan to… to do this…without protection, do you?”
It’s true, although that doesn’t mean she should bite.
Still, Cherry chokes out a squeaky, “Okay,” but I know I’ve terrified her.
The fear of God is in her eyes. If anything, she’s talking herself out of going through with my eleven inches at the eleventh hour. Not that I blame her. Going from never being with a man to having me as her first is like skipping training wheels entirely for a toddler’s bicycle, and putting the poor little tyke to sit on a twenty-seven-speed mountain bike. It’s not recommended. Highly discouraged.
She swallows hard, and the sound of her gulp is audible. But she’s still here, and she doesn’t run away when I turn to her and pull her into my lap. Like I said, brazen as fuck. Cherry stares at me as my hands stay firm at her waist. She doesn’t say a word as I lower her down to the right position.
Her soft, slick, tight opening.
The smooth tip of my rigid cock.
I. Can’t. Fucking. Wait.
Neither can Cherry, because she quickly grabs hold of my shoulders and rolls her hips in a figure eight motion, lowering herself down, easing my cock head into her. Every instinct is calling for me to make one sharp thrust and take her in an instant.
She wants it.
I fucking need it.
So what’s stopping me?
The answer to that is a deep-seated, irrefutable awareness of two ideas that continue to play like a broken record on my consciousness in spite of everything I say, think or do to deny it.
Cherry means something to me.
Our lives are forever connected.
If I give those notions any more airtime, I’ll be the one tearing out of the bedroom.
Thank fuck she’s on board one hundred percent. She contracts her stomach and relaxes it, and in the next moment, I feel exactly what she’s done. The entire tip of my dick is inside her now. I’m wedged into her, tight like puzzle pieces laying on a tabletop, practically worlds apart until someone puts them together with a snap.
I’m officially Cherry’s first.
And it’s driving me to fucking insanity. Of course, I’ve stretched her tightness to the limit to achieve this fit—or she has, with her bold move.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Tight, stretched, but good,” she moans into my ear.
“We can slow it down,” I lie. It’s a fucking lie. I can’t. There’ll only be one speed and one level of intensity when she gives me the okay.
Fast and hard.
“I’m okay,” she tells me. “I asked for this. I want this, Jace.” Then she surprises the fuck out of me and adds, “Fuck me, Daddy.”
I’m at a fucking loss for words, but my body knows what to do as she gives me total control. With one hand now buried in her hair at the nape of her neck, and the other cinching her tiny waist, I graze my lips on hers, kissing her gently for a contrast as I jerk my hips back, then shove forward. The rough, punishing move drives my cock to her very depths, causing her to shriek from what has to be more painful than pleasurable.
Then she begs me to keep going.
Pulling out slowly, I let my mind go blank and savor each fucking inch of the satisfaction as I sink in even deeper. I draw out again, and this third time, Cherry’s hips match my movements. Again and again, in and out, I fuck her, slamming her hot, wet, tight inner walls hard, pistoning into her, kissing her lips softly, until she whimpers into my mouth that she’s coming.
For the first time in my unholy life, the sound of a woman’s voice makes me lose every fucking measure of control. It’s as if her vocal chords are hardwired to the nerve endings that draw my balls in tight and force me to cum. I can’t shake the madness, and as her tight as fuck cunt begins to contract around my shaft and flutter from her orgasm, I throb inside of her, eyes snapped shut to avoid blacking out as she forcefully milks my load out of me. I’ve never cum this abruptly. Words don’t form in my cloudy, maddened brain, so I rest my head on her shoulder and take it for what it is.
After a few minutes of feeling utterly satiated and completely bewildered, I look into her eyes.
“That was so fucking good,” I admit. “But don’t let it get to your head.”
“I liked it too,” she tells me.
“How are you feeling now?”
Cherry rests her forehead on mine. “Sore…in a good way.”
I lift her chin with one finger and stare up at her again. We’re here. Together. I’m inside her, and there’s nowhere else I want to be right now. Which is a big fucking problem, because the ‘don’t shit where you eat’ saying exists for a reason. If we’re as connected as my gut tells me, we need a safe, respectable distance. And stat.
She won’t like what I’m about to say, but it’s necessary. “I’m glad you picked me for this…task, but I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s a one-night deal.”
The spark in those mesmerizing eyes of hers dulls with my announcement. Her face falls. Her shoulders slump. Then she places her hands beside my legs and lifts herself off me.
“I understand,” she says, climbing off the bed.
“You don’t have to leave right this second.”
“No. I should.” Dejected, she reaches for her clothes on the back of the armchair near the window, and makes a beeline for my master bathroom. Not even a full minute passes, and she’s out again, fully dressed. She stalks toward her bags. As she lifts it to her shoulder, I see the red in her eyes as she holds back approaching tears. “Thanks, Jace. I really mean that.”
Fuck. I know I needed to shut Cherry down to avoid giving her false hope of more, but I feel like shit for being the biggest dickbag in a hundred square mile radius.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I offer, wrapping the cotton sheets around my waist as I follow her out.
“No. It’s fine. Really.” Cherry waves me off dismissively and speeds up. She gets to the door, unlocks it at lightning speed, and scurries to her car before I can get down the first step of my porch.
Shit. I really fucked up that finale.
So much for a pleasant, memorable first time for my sweet Cherry.
8
Cherry
I loved him right up until I hated his guts.
That arrogant, fucking prick.
Best of times, worst of times for real.
Shakespeare's opening line of A Tale of Two Cities must have been written just for me. Or was Charles Dickens the author? I'm no English major, so whoever wrote it must have been channeling all the emotions competing for air time in my heart, my head, my stomach, hell, everywhere I can feel. I give my scattered brain the distraction of doing an internet search on my phone to find out who was the actual author. Right. Charles Dickens.
That diversion doesn’t help. I’m still mad as hell.
I know I agreed to a one-time deal, but hell, did the son of a bitch have to take it to that extreme? I was still sitting on his insanely huge dick when he practically showed me the door. How could he end such a good thing in such a sour note? The sexy bastard couldn’t give me five minutes to catch my breath or come to my senses? But fuck, I’m wide awake now. I feel awful. My core still tingles as I rush out of his house. The blaze of passion is all over me, and now I’m driving on the fucking interstate, so fucking sore, yet so goddamned aroused.
I take responsibility for putting myself in this situation, but that last fifty seconds are all on Jace. He did this to me, lifting me up to a level of desire I’ve never known, then dropping me down like a sack of potatoes.
If the phrase ‘mixed feelings’ ever gets its own definition in one of the top-shelf dictionaries, I won’t be surprised if I find my picture beside it.
This feeling may pass. I loved every second right up to that one where he opened his mean, motherfucking, cunt-pleasing mouth.
And right this moment, I hate Jace Knight.
Three Years Ago
9
Cherry
/> “Damn, it’s hot!” I tell Vanessa as we lounge beside the pool at my father’s house in the Hamptons.
“Yeah, but I need all the UV I can get. Have you seen my pasty white skin?” She glances down her body and snaps the spaghetti straps of her teal bikini top. “Pathetic.”
“It’s not like I’m in better shape.”
Vanessa reaches down for her beach bag from her spot and checks inside. “I should have brought over Mom’s tanning reflector for our faces at least.”
“Do those things even work?”
She leans back on the lounge chair and closes her eyes as she centers her head on the backrest for more even sun exposure. “No idea, but Mom swears by it. Want me to go get it?”
“Nah. Bring it tomorrow, if you’re still coming by. Oh, and we can dress for that get together at Club Zen.”
“Are we still going?” she asks. “It’ll probably be a ghost town, now that most of our friends have jobs in the city.”
“True. Yes. We may as well go. We can always leave if it’s dead.”
“Dylan’s around. He and Caleb figured they’d schmooze with some of their potential clients while they’re vacationing in the Hamptons too. They’ll probably have more down time and be more relaxed than in the city.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah. So that means Jace and Jackson will be around too,” she says playfully.
“How’s Jackson doing these days?” I ask, ignoring her mention of Jace’s name.
“He’s turned the corner with that whole irresponsible, grungy, shit-disturbing, drug-experimenting phase.”
“That’s great! I’m really glad to hear that. I wonder what led up to the change,” I ponder aloud. “Maybe one of those ah-hah moments, because I didn’t hear a peep about him going into rehab or anything.”
Billionaire Daddy's Virgin Page 5
