by Rowena
I usually present myself as strong but I am pathetically exposed right now.
He pulls me tighter and thrusts against me once, his erection poking me, then he loosens his grip.
I am horrified to find my eyes stinging with tears.
"I suppose you're right," he says lightly, like nothing just went down. "I look forward to bringing you home to stay, Stella."
I swear I see a darkness in his eyes I never noticed before and it makes me shudder.
"Well, I'm glad you like the way it all turned out," he says cheerfully, indicating the interior of the mansion with a wave of his hand.
Like I ever really had a say.
But this is my out—he's dismissing me for the evening.
I nod and turn to leave, and I am surprised by a sudden smack on the ass.
I don't turn around and work as hard as I can to stop myself from breaking into a run.
Something tells me he'd love the chase.
I calmly keep walking toward my car, wondering what the hell I really got myself into.
Part II
Stormed
6
Derek
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I last saw Stella and I’m losing my mind.
I felt unsettled overnight, and I’m guessing it has to do with my pent-up frustration.
I’ve had a taste of the goddess—her essence on her pussy lips, her warm mouth on my cock—and now I can’t concentrate for the life of me.
I know my need won’t ease till I see her again, but every time I do see her, I have a hard time afterward.
Blow jobs and hand jobs will soon stop easing the pressure and I’ll need more.
Maybe it’s time to switch up my music, try something else to help me focus, but for now, my cock is rock-hard, so I put everything down, whip it out, then close my eyes and imagine the goddess in my master bedroom, naked, her boobs high and proud, her skin begging for my touch.
I move my hand up and down my thick shaft as I imagine her crawling on my bed then lying on her back, spreading for me.
I suddenly remember the silky red panties she left me and stop to grab them from the canvas bag I tossed them in—the cleanest thing in my studio—to slide against my cock as I get back to the mental image, climbing over the goddess and lining our parts up.
Goddess is hot and ready for me, her pussy lips glistening with her wetness.
I rub the tip of my cock on them, teasing her and myself as I move it up and down her slick warm petals.
I know she’s a virgin, but this is a goddamned fantasy, so I place my cock at her entrance and plunge into her hard, invading her hot cunt until I’m balls-deep in her with one slide.
Then I start pushing in and out of her tight cavern, my thrusts making her glorious boobs jiggle, those crazy-making feminine sounds she makes when she’s lost in pleasure ringing through my ears.
My hand moves faster and faster over my dick as I fuck the goddess relentlessly in my head, slamming against her welcoming pussy.
She grabs me closer to her, pressing her soft boobs against my hard chest and meets my thrusts, pulling me deeper.
We grind against each other until we’re both ready to come, and my studio floor gets decorated once again with jets of my cum, some leaking on my hand while in my head I come inside the goddess, filling her with my fertilizing fluid.
As I sit there, recovering but frustrated still, I realize I’m in big trouble. We both are.
I can’t go on like this—clearly my usual rule has been inverted, and I won’t be able to get any work done until I bury myself in a warm, tight pussy—Stella’s virginal cunt.
I need the reward before the race this time.
I get ready to clean up, sad at the waste, but satisfied with the knowledge that it won’t be long now before I take what’s mine and make good use of my seed.
Surprisingly, that last hand job calmed me down enough that I got some work done and made significant progress on Mama Olu’s sculpture.
I finally checked out the contents of the package Stella left, read the notes, looked at a couple of the artistic representations and photos, then sketched out my own version.
It was easy as hell considering I know the woman and have a strong feel for her essence.
It is easy to translate.
I got a quickie lesson about orishas—goddesses in her mom’s culture—from the notes, and Stella basically wants me to make her mother into one in particular: Yemoja. Basically, this one is like the mother of all, and she’s associated with bodies of water.
I finish the sketch and I know it’ll take me less than a week to complete so I’ve got plenty of time.
Satisfied with my progress, I turn back to my billionaire client’s piece, but it’s not long before I am reminded of Stella and my cock starts hardening again.
I try to ignore it while I do some sanding, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about Stella and how much I need to bury my cock inside her.
I’ve reached my limit; I just can’t take it anymore.
I call her up, pleasantly surprised she answers instead of texting a response, and I ask her some bullshit about orishas.
I truthfully tell her my progress on her mother’s gift, inviting her to meet with me to approve the sketches.
I even throw in some official shit about the paperwork.
Obviously, that’s not why I’m really calling.
I tell her I don’t want her driving up to my studio again in case someone follows her, and that I’ll text her a meeting location.
She’s a smart girl—she knows how to use Google Maps, I’m sure.
She’ll see where she’s headed is residential, and she’ll instinctually know she’s coming to my home.
By then, she’ll know what she’s getting if she actually shows up here.
It’s why I picked the damned place—Goddess should have the dignity of having her cherry popped in my king-sized bed, not in some dusty-ass studio.
That is, if we even manage to make it to my bedroom.
I watch Stella pull up in a gray Aston Martin, wariness on her face as her eyes take in the residence.
She knows something’s up and she actually stops walking after a few paces, like she’s about to change her mind and turn around.
Can’t have that.
I’m in nothing but cargos, but I grab the sketches and rush to the front door.
“Goddess!” I say with a wide smile as I open the door.
She stands there, staring.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say with a slight bow.
It takes a second, but she starts walking toward me again, looking less cautious.
"Come on in," I say, making a sweeping hand gesture backward as she nears me.
Is it possible for another person's shudder to run through you?
It must be—I can feel Stella quivering with excitement.
Her eyes keep running over my naked shoulders, my bulging arms, my hard chest, my washboard abs.
She knows what's up, all right, and she's ready for it.
"Your place is very beautiful," she says as she steps inside.
“Come on, you know what beautiful is,” I say pointedly.
She gives me a look—like she doesn't believe me, but she must know by now I’m not feeding her a line?
"Why here? Why not your studio?" she asks.
"I'm working from home today," I say thickly.
Damn it, my voice is betraying me already.
No doubt, so are my eyes.
Stella jumps a bit as I close the door behind her.
She flashes me a nervous smile.
I lead her to the living room and sit her down to go over the sketches.
Her guard drops immediately, and she is overwhelmed by what she sees, sucking in her breath, a perfectly manicured hand on her chest.
"Derek, these are amazing! How did you...?"
She stops when she sees the way I'm looking at her, I guess.
It’s all I can do now.
"Derek..."
"Goddess, you know why I really called you here, don't you?"
"To approve the sketches, discuss payment..."
I shake my head.
"There's no way you're that naive. I want you, Stella, and I'm going to have you."
She moves her butt back a little, putting all of two extra inches of distance between us. At best.
"Derek, you know we can't—I'm engaged."
“That wasn't a problem when you let me lick you till you came on my face. And it wasn't an issue when you milked me the other day with your mouth. What's the difference?"
"I already told you—I'm a virgin! I promised myself I’d wait for marriage..."
"I'll be gentle, goddess," I say as I reach for her blouse and pop it open, buttons flying.
"Derek!"
I move closer to her, pulling her top all the way off, getting an eyeful of the swell of her boobs atop her black bra, salivating in anticipation of ripping that away from her too and watching the release of her lovely jugs.
My cock is already raging.
Damn, I'll try to take it easy on her—I really will. The last thing I want to do is hurt the goddess.
I grab her slender hand and place if over my stiff, bulging cock.
"You see what you do to me? It won't go away. I can't stop thinking of you, Stella. I need you. Now.”
She is still conflicted—I see the hesitation in her eyes despite how much I know she wants me. But she has probably already soaked my couch through her skirt with her juices.
Once her hand starts moving up and down my shaft, I stop wondering what else is on her mind because my brain has shorted again.
I can't think anymore—I need to bury my cock in Stella Miller, and I need to do it now.
I unhook her bra, and I'm barely aware of her intake of breath as her tits are suddenly on display, begging for my lips.
I go for one, enclosing it in my mouth and flickering my tongue over the soft flesh, her hardened nipple.
She leans back as she grabs my head, and I move to the other, licking and sucking and trying like hell not to lose complete control.
I gently push her down on the couch and work her skirt and panties off, and the sight of Stella's glistening pussy before me nearly deranges me.
I tear my pants off in record speed and I cover Stella with my naked body, planting myself between her legs so that she is open to me.
This seems to worry her again.
"Derek!" she says breathily, looking into my eyes, her own filled with both fear and desire.
"Yes, goddess?" I say as I graze her thumb with my cheek, still poised to enter her.
Then I drop my head to her neck, kissing the hot flesh there, nibbling it and making her moan.
She arches, her bare pussy grazing my throbbing cock, and I have to take a moment to restrain myself.
I continue kissing her neck, her shoulders, moving down her chest, her flat stomach.
I find myself faced with her slick pussy and my mouth goes for it, kissing them as if they are the lips on her face that I suddenly realize I haven't yet touched.
I suck on her delicate folds, darting my tongue over her heated surfaces, flickering into her hidden parts.
I concentrate on her bud for a moment, and that action seems to unhinge her.
She is practically thrashing with need now, bucking and arching, moaning deliciously in the way that threatens my sanity.
I need to put us both out of our misery.
I climb back up and stare into Stella's begging eyes.
She wants to plead for it so badly, but she's biting her tongue and doing it with those gorgeous dark peepers of hers.
I'm just making sure she remembers this moment in detail—that the face of the man about to own her pussy is burned into her memory for life, that the moment she became mine in every way is crystal clear until the end.
I line up the head of my cock with her drenched opening, and then I start pushing into her, my grateful cock getting swallowed by her tight wet cunt at last.
I ease my cock all the way inside, popping her cherry, and when I've fully buried my throbbing shaft in her snug cavern, I pause, staring into her eyes again.
She's dealing with adjusting to me filling her, but her desire is still strong, though she looks a bit shy now.
I graze her cheek with my thumb again, and then I finally—finally—lean down to kiss her.
When I take her lips with mine, invading her mouth with my tongue, Stella suddenly gets even wetter, and I start moving my cock inside of her, pulling it out and pushing it back into her tight, warm depths.
I thrust into her while kissing her, one of her hands on the back of my head, the other one holding one of my arms.
I plunge into her pussy harder and faster, pulling my cock out and shoving it back in with a force that makes her soft boobs jiggle against my chest, her hardened nipples brushing against me.
The tight squeeze of her cunt and her feminine moans are killing me, and I can feel my balls drawing up.
I smash into her harder, that grip of hers about to take me for all I've got.
"Derek," she whispers, as our mouths finally pull away, her words tickling my ear canal, her lips grazing my ear and sending an electric jolt through me.
She starts meeting my thrusts, and that's that—my body tightens as my balls draw up, my ass cheeks clenching so hard I might pull a muscle as climax wrecks me.
My toes curl and I go sort of deaf and blind as I stay buried deep inside Stella, her own orgasm drawing mine out even longer as her tight pussy squeezes my cock tighter, then starts pulsing against my throbbing cock as it shoots my cum into her, jet after fertilizing jet.
I realize I might have just impregnated my woman and a strange sort of joy fills me, a different type of satisfaction.
This is the life.
This is all I need right here—Stella in my home, milking my cock, incubating my progeny.
I finally collapse on top of her, her soft breasts smashing deliciously against my hard chest, her slender arms wrapping around me.
Warmth floods me again as my cock continues kicking up inside her.
7
Derek
Stella’s soft hand is rubbing my back and it’s one of my new favorite things.
I prop myself up a bit to look at her.
“You know there’s no way you can marry him now, right? Not after that. I won’t let you.”
“Is that so?” she says, sounding exhausted.
Still recovering, I guess—zapped from her first time climaxing with a dick inside her.
“I can’t just up and leave him either. He won’t let me. He’s got stuff at stake, and he’s made an investment.”
“Well, so do I—I have plenty at stake, and I’m definitely invested,” I say with a pointed look down at where we’re still joined.
She covers her face.
“Oh, my god,” she says behind her palms.
I gently pry her hands away.
“Stella, if you think I’m letting you marry that guy, you’re off your rocker. You belong to me.”
“Is that so?”
“Damn right. Why were you going to marry him anyway? You obviously don’t love him. I mean, besides the fact that he’s loaded. But you don’t really strike me as the gold-digging type; if you were, you’d be far more excited, and you’re clearly unhappy about the whole thing, like someone’s making you do it.”
She lets out a heavy breath.
“You’re right. But how many people do you know who, if they stumbled across a billion-dollar jackpot ticket, would just throw it away? It’s not really about the money for me; there are benefits besides the obvious. For example, I really want to help out my brother, Aaron. You know how he had that accident and lost his leg? Well, he’s really frustrated with his prosthetics, and he’s been talking about this bionic upgrade he’s excited about, but it costs six figures. I want to get it for h
im. And my mom has coronary heart disease. I want them to feel secure again in every way, and this deal will take care of that.”
“So that’s it? I mean, they’re noble causes, but you sure as hell don’t need a billionaire to help deal with them.”
She shrugs. “One happened to offer, that’s all.”
Oh yeah?
Well, I’ve got plenty of money myself, and if this is what’s bugging Stella the most to drove her to make such a decision, I’ll most certainly help her out.
But for now, I’m curious as fuck how she even stumbled across this guy.
“So how exactly did you hit this jackpot?” I say with a spiteful push against her pussy, reminding her my cock is there, and that she broke so many promises to lie here underneath me taking my dick.
It’s softening now, but I know it’s nowhere near done with her for the day.
“I know you haven’t been keeping up with me, but I’ve been working the beauty pageant circuit for a while, and my last competition got me a bit of publicity. It came out then that I was a virgin and saving myself for marriage, and apparently, Harold became aware of me through that broadcast. He started courting me and proposed marriage after a few dates. I was taken aback, of course—it’s not like we were super into each other; I just obliged him because everyone was like, ‘just go on the dates! How often will you get the chance to date a billionaire? Eat that caviar, yolo!’”
I’d been burning with anger and jealousy when she mentioned his name but I find myself chuckling, imagining the pressure.
I can see it so clearly—everyone around her living vicariously through her, encouraging her to seize an opportunity for a new experience, and I don’t blame her for trying out some fancy restaurants on his dime.
But the fun’s over now—I can take her wherever she wants.
“Obviously, things work a little differently at certain levels and being in love is not a requirement. In my case, I eventually found out that he had certain ventures planned that the optics of our marriage would help him out with, so it’s definitely a mutually beneficial arrangement beyond the surface. You’d think funding and support wouldn’t be an issue for anything with guys like him—that hidden scandals and morality wouldn’t affect his prospects, but in this case, having a black wife helps him somehow for an initiative of his—I don’t know the details. Though, of course, not just any black wife would do.”
