by Eva Luxe
“Thanks, Dad,” Gregory says, almost visibility swelling with pride. “She wasn’t the princess I was going to marry. I pulled a last minute switch.”
“Your mother told me,” the King says, laughing softly, which causes more wheezing. When it calms down, he says, “You about gave her a heart attack. But I think you did the right thing. Which is what I had told you to do— follow your heart.”
“You’re right, Dad,” Gregory says. “I followed my heart and it steered me to Ella.”
The King gently pats my hand. “That’s great. Exactly what I would have wanted for you both.”
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“I’m going to give Ella a tour,” Gregory tells his dad. “We’ll be back later.”
“Sure, Son,” his dad says. “I appreciate you dropping in. Come back whenever you want to play some Gin Rummy,” he says to me, with a wink.
“I sure will,” I promise.
Gregory is quiet and somber for a moment as we leave. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about his dad in front of him.
But as we get further away, his tone becomes more playful.
“When I told my dad I was giving you a tour, I didn’t mean of the Palace,” he says. “Nor the Castle. Not just yet, anyway.”
“Oh really?” I ask, loving the mischievous sparkle in his eye.
“Really. I need to give you a tour of the beach first.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
As we walk outside and around the garden and courtyard, I’m amazed at how much land the Palace sits on. And yet also how close to the ocean it is at the same time.
“This is gorgeous,” I say, looking at the blue expanse of ocean, clearer than I’ve ever seen it look anywhere.
“Just like your eyes,” Gregory says, pulling me close and kissing me.
I’ve never felt so comforted as I do in his embrace.
“Well, I promised you sex on the beach,” he says, leading me to an enclave in the sand, in between two large rock formations. “And the good thing about being royalty is that this is private, secluded land.”
“Oh darn,” I joke, as he begins removing the blouse I’m wearing. “There goes the excitement of wondering if we’re going to get caught.”
“Oh,” he says, as he drops my skirt down in the sand, falling beside me shirt. “I wouldn’t say that. There are still a lot of people who can come on the beach. Family and friends of family. Trespassers. Groundskeepers.”
“I see,” I tell him, as he traces his fingers down my stomach and back up again, before taking off my bra and panties, and my shoes. “I figured you would like it better that way.”
“Mmmm,” he says, kissing me as he begins to rub my nipples. “I like it any way with you.”
He lays me down in the sand and the water begins to lap at my legs. His tongue travels up the expanse of my thighs, until it rests on my clit. Then it makes slow circles, teasing, taunting me, drawing it out until finally he’s sucking on it hard and fast as the waves pound our bodies.
“Yes,” I tell him, feeling electricity running all throughout my body. “That feels so good.”
I grab his head and move it up and down while he licks and sucks me to the rhythm. He alternates playing with my nipple and then fingering my pussy.
“Yes,” I cry out, an orgasm causing my whole body to spasm. “Oh my God, Gregory, yes!”
I lay panting in the water for only just a minute. Because then he flips me over so I’m doggy style in front of him, with my legs spread open, ready to take him. He takes off the clothes he was still wearing and puts on a condom.
“Are you ready?” he asks. “Here comes your sex on the Baltic Beach.”
“I’m ready,” I tell him, my pussy throbbing for him, aching for him.
He plunges his cock into me, filling me up completely. I grab ahold of some sand and rocks, anything to steady my balance while he pounds me like the waves are pounding both of us.
“I love to fill your tiny, tight pussy hole with my cock,” he says, thrusting in and out of me.
I reach underneath me and grab a hold of his balls.
“Oh yeah that feels so good,” he says. “I love it when my good little princess is so dirty and bad.”
He squeezes my ass and then slaps it.
“You’re being such a bad little girl,” he says, spanking my ass over and over again, to the rhythm of the rocking ocean.
I grit my teeth, loving the pleasure mixed with pain as he plows into me.
“I love how your big cock fills me up,” I yell out, so that he can hear me over the waves. “It’s all the way inside me.”
“Yeah,” he says, “stuffed deep and tight in your pussy. It’s a perfect fit.”
I look around to see if anyone else is approaching the beach. They’re not, but Gregory’s right—it’s exciting to think that they could walk up and see him fucking me, making my whole body shake with an orgasm.
“I’m coming,” I yell out, up into the sky, out into the ocean, my screams joining those of the waves and the seagulls. “I’m coming on your cock.”
“Good,” Gregory says, thrusting into me, and then I can feel him throbbing inside me. “Because I’m coming too.”
He grunts and groans, and says “Oh, my little Princess, you make me feel so fucking good.”
And then we both collapse into the sand, letting the sea meet our most intimate areas, mixing dirt and little rocks and seashells into our hair and our legs.
“I love you, my Prince Charming,” I tell him, as he reaches his head over to kiss me— deeply and passionately, which is our new rule.
“I love you too, Princess Ella,” he says. “And I’m so glad I found my perfect fit.”
THE END.
*
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Sold on Christmas Eve: A Virgin & Billionaire Romance
Copyright 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Published by Sizzling Hot Reads. Cover Design by 11 Online.
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, instead 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 s
he 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 halfheartedly 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 dragging 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.”
After that, we all just sit back and enjoy the music. The roads are clear for the most part, so driving is smooth. Effortless. We travel like that for what seems like fucking hours.
Somewhere in the middle of it we change from jazz to classical rock, but the biggest change comes in the scenery out the window. I begin to see more snow and ice. More hills. But finally, after what seems like another hour or two, I see mountains.
Not just any mountains, though. The best mountains for skiing. The ones in Aspen, Colorado.
