The needle lifts. Tattoo finished. It hurts a little, but I suppose some blessings do.
Lock stands before I can answer, motioning with one hand for me to do the same.
“Anyway,” he says, taking my seat, “enough chit-chat, it’s my turn.”
From the bulge in his pants, I can tell he’s not just talking about the tattoo.
“And when do these duties begin, darling?” I ask, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lock and I switch places. I lick my lips as we pass each other and I catch his scent.
“Oh…immediately,” Lock reassures me. “The sooner, the better.”
Want to know what happened to Lock and Sammi? The Marriage Mistake is out now on Amazon!
Triple Taught
A Billionaire MFMM Professors & Virgin Romance
By Daphne Dawn & Vivien Vale
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Prologue
Pop!
I swear to fucking God that’s the sound that Wanda’s mouth makes as she pulls her lips off my cock. Like a real-life actual fucking popping sound. Filled with lascivious suction. You know the kind. When you get your lips around a cock real good, and create a vacuum.
Maybe you don’t know the kind of sound I’m talking about. You do need a pretty big fucking cock to be able to help make that suction.
And baby, I know we just met, but if there is one thing you need to know about Elijah fucking Kennedy, it’s that I have just such a cock.
You rolling your eyes yet, darlin?
Not another one of these alpha hole billionaires with a fucking 12-inch cock, you’re saying?
Had enough? There really seem to be so many of them nowadays, doesn’t there? Can’t go down your Kindle store without them pulling their cocks out and trying to slap you right in the fucking face with them, huh?
Well, if I may say so, yours truly is a different breed of billionaire bad boy.
“I don’t know, Elijah,” Wanda says looking up at me as she blinks. She’s got a nice trickle of spit running down her chin and she blinks at me a couple times, trying to look slutty. Instead she ends up just looking fucking dumb. “You think we should keep doing this? It feels so right.”
I sigh. This little blowjob is starting to cost more than I’m fucking willing to pay. Like shut the fuck up, Wanda, and fucking open wide already.
“It feels wrong but that’s what makes it so fucking good. This is your last night of freedom, babe,” I say soothingly to her. “After tonight, you’re going to be married. And you’ll never be able to do this again.”
Wanda looks at me for a minute, all conflicted and shit, and I continue. “Wouldn’t you like to have one last suck before you tie the fucking knot?”
She nods.
Now I know what you’re thinking.
Who the fuck is this asshole getting a fucking blowjob from this woman who is apparently about to get fucking married.
I’m going to tell you. But first let me close my fucking eyes and let them roll to the back of my head as Wanda proceeds to wrap her lips around me one more time.
I know. I know. You got fucking questions.
Let me give you a proper introduction in case you’re not a frequent reader of the New York Daily News business pages.
Elijah Kennedy. Self-made billionaire. One of the three founders of the breakthrough biotech company, BioKin. I handle the public relations for the firm and own roughly a 33% stake in the multi-billion dollar enterprise.
I work fucking hard to make my money. Regardless of what the tabloids might fucking say about me, it’s simply not true that all I do is get drunk and fuck bitches.
I mean that part is true, too. But that’s not the only fucking thing I do.
I wake up at fucking 4 am every fucking morning to go for a run around the Central Park Reservoir. I’m in the office by 7 am every day. No matter how late I was up till the night before. And that’s where I start using my silver fucking tongue to sell the public on the marvels of laboratory built scientific miracles.
Fuck. It’s the fucking life, baby. I’ll be honest. You can’t have a much better life than me. Penthouse suites. A collection of Mercedes Benz that makes me the top fucking car collector in the fucking world. Private jets at my beck and call.
And a silver fucking tongue that spreads the legs and melts the fucking panties off of every girl I’ve ever fucking met.
Like slutty little Wanda here who’s moaning like my cock’s the best fucking thing she’s ever put in her mouth. Spoiler: it fucking is.
What the fuck kind of name is Wanda, you ask? And why the fuck is she sucking my dick like she’s never going to get some ever again?
Let me just put this out there—normally, I don’t fucking like cheaters. It’s one of the reasons I don’t keep girlfriends. I don’t give them a chance to fucking cheat on me. I fuck. And then I leave. I’m upfront.
But back to Wanda.
She’s sucking my cock like she’ll never get a cock afterwards—because she never fucking will.
“Oh God, Elijah, your cock is so fucking big,” Wanda moans. “Bethany would be so mad.”
And there you have it, folks.
Wanda is getting married, but not to a fucking dude.
If she goes through with it, this is literally the last cock she’s ever going to have in her mouth.
Ever.
So why not go out having the fucking best?
You know you would.
All happily comfortable in your little blanket as you read this? Or maybe out in public because you’re a bad girl and you like getting wet with people around you? Oh yeah, baby, I know your type. But if you were told tonight was going to be your last blowjob ever, you would fucking find me. And drop to your knees. Your fingers would rub your pussy as you open your mouth and take me in.
I fucking guarantee it.
You sure as fuck wouldn’t want a chance to go through life missing my 12 inches of pussy pleasing lust muscle.
And apparently, neither does Wanda.
I put my hands on her head and start to guide her as I close my eyes.
It’s my good friend Chuck who invited me to this fucking joke of a wedding retreat of Wanda and Bethany’s, and I came here only because Chuck wanted to hit on one of the bridesmaids from the brides’ side. I was already confused as fuck which side that could be, so I didn’t even bother to ask questions, but from the moment I saw Wanda staring at me across the room licking her full lips, I knew what was going to go down.
Now, we’re at the rehearsal dinner.
Yeah, it’s risky.
But nothing adds more to the fun than this.
I even made sure we do it here in the kitchen – while the organic vegan rehearsal dinner is happening in the dining room of the fucking restaurant.
What can I say? I can’t be fucking bothered to go out of my way just for some head. Doesn’t matter who’s giving it.
Besides, a few more sucks and I’ll be done. I can already feel my balls start to tighten up and I know I’m fucking close.
I groan. This is going to be a big fucking nut. Wanda is going to remember this spectacular moment for the rest of her fucking life.
Consider it an early fucking wedding present.
And that’s when the door to the kitchen opens from the dining room.
“Surprise!” a half dozen people yell as they bring in the cake.
Holy fucking shit!
What the fuck is going on?
I see a
large cake being wheeled in. That’s the fucking wedding cake. Made from fucking wheat germ and gluten free granola or whatever the fuck. Made for fucking wimp ass hippies.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Let me tell you about this cake. Fucking organic gluten and dairy free unbleached rice flour bullshit. I bet it tastes like fucking dirt.
“We thought you’d want to be the first to see the cake!” someone yells out and starts to film. “What are you doing in here anyways, Wanda?” someone else says.
See, at first people don’t realize what’s going on. The possibility that the bride would be on her knees, furiously rubbing her puss while sucking me off is incomprehensible to most normal people. So they think she’s doing what? Maybe just picking something up from the ground or some shit.
“Wait, Wanda?” someone asks.
“Wanda!” a bridesmaid (I don’t know whose) yells, pushing her thick black-framed glasses further up her nose. “Get your mouth off that cock this instant!”
Wanda moves her mouth off and the “pop” this time is almost fucking louder than ever.
“Sorry,” she wails. “I just couldn’t give up one last cock!”
She’s saying this, but she’s jerking me off and my eyes are going fucking cross-eyed.
I’m trying to keep it together in front of the thirty or so hipster assholes who are pushing in the newly arrived wedding cake into the kitchen as they stare at me in shock.
Holy fucking hell.
I’m going to cum.
The last thing I can make out is seeing Chuck and Bethany look at me in a state of horror as I give out a guttural groan.
Wanda never stops jerking me off.
I could wonder why, but I don’t.
I don’t fucking care.
Because I’m fucking cumming like a fucking racehorse.
Ropes of salty, sticky cum shoot out from my cock.
She’s still jerking me and I dimly realize that she’s aiming it.
At. The. Cake.
Fuck me. It’s one thing to get a blowjob from the bride.
But now, I swear to God, I’m cumming. And it’s landing on her cake.
But my shit is potent. I’m a strong fucking shooter.
I groan – unable to help myself – as jets of cum fly out and shoot onto the fucking five-layer wedding cake from hell.
There’s two brides in white on the top.
A cum blast to the body of one knocks it off the cake.
Let’s just say the other one is still covered in white.
Fuck.
This is fucking insane.
Eventually the cum stops shooting out. I must have emptied a fucking gallon of that shit.
Everyone is looking at me in horror as post orgasm endorphins sluice through my veins.
This shit is surreal. The silence by which these fuckers look at me.
I look back.
They’re horrified.
But you know what?
Fuck them.
I never wanted to be here anyways with these goddamn fake-cake-eating assholes I don’t even fucking know.
They want to judge me, they can fucking get in line to suck my cock.
You want to judge me?
Is it because you want to suck my cock now, too? Take all my baby batter in your mouth?
Well, maybe I’ll let you.
This silence is unreal. I lift my pants up and zip up and start to leave through the other exit as people, including Wanda, look at me in undisguised disgust and loathing. What the fuck ever.
“Let’s just call that fucking icing on the cake, shall we?” I ask as I leave their pretentious asses staring after me.
Like I said, you want to judge me?
Then do me a favor.
Give me the chance to fucking show you the real Elijah. Take you on a ride you won’t ever forget.
Only one way to do that, baby.
Turn the fucking page.
Sofie
“Oh my god. You look like a hooker!”
I stop midway through applying my eyeliner to grin at Chloe in the mirror. Her reflection smiles back at me.
“Don’t be a bitch. You know I look good.” I go back to finishing my eyeliner. I don’t want to put on too much, but I’m still going for that Fuck Me look.
I finish my eyes and put a light layer of rouge on my cheeks. Just enough to emphasize the contours. Normally, I don’t wear this much makeup, but this is a special occasion. I take one more appraising look in the mirror and blow a kiss at my perfect reflection. Then I turn and shoot some shade back at Chloe.
“I’m just so excited for your first auction! There are going to be a ton of guys there. And you know you’re getting a super high bid, right?” She leans over my shoulder to put on her lipstick, and I feel her hair lightly graze my neck. “So, what are you going to wear?”
I grab my dress from her bed and hold it up in front of me. It’s a modest little number from a fall catalog of a store I can’t remember. I like the colors, and I think it will make me stand out a bit tonight.
Chloe isn’t impressed.
“Huh. And you think this whole granny image is gonna work for you? You got some butterscotch candies in a big bag you keep with you, too?”
“This is the sexiest thing I own. What’s wrong with it? I think it’s cute!”
“Girl, you’re not going to attract a dragon cock with that thing on! More like a droopy cock. If you want these boys to bring out the fat stacks, you’re going to have to give them something worth bidding on, babe. You have to get them all hot and bothered so they feel like they have to have you!”
I hold up the dress to look at it.
“And…I can’t do that in this?”
“Sure, if this was 1957.” She rolls her eyes. “Fuck no, woman, you can’t do it in that! Let me ask you something: do you feel sexy when you’re wearing it? Like you’re ready to be fucked? Or do you feel like you’re on your way to a librarian’s convention?”
I giggle and blush a little. God, Chloe doesn’t hold back, does she?
“Maybe I’m not aiming for sexy. It’s a smart choice because I want to stand out, and I thought it would make me look classy and intelligent. You know, since it’s a charity thing.”
“Sweetie, they’re not bidding on your brains. It’s okay, I can fix this. Let’s see what Miss Chloe has for you.” Chloe looks through her closet.
We’re pretty close in size, both having a somewhat lithe frame. The biggest difference in our bodies is that my chest is bigger. My breasts are large enough that I should have a bra on, but young enough that I can still get away without it. And babe, let me tell you, I’m going to get away with that shit as long as I can.
“Mmhmm, this will do just fine.” She pulls out a simple little black number, but it’s cut high and fits tight in all the right places.
“It would look perfect with my black lace La Perla. But, I can’t wear your dress tonight—the top will be so tight that I’ll burst right out of it.”
“Girl, the only thing you can’t do tonight is show up looking like a fucking granny!”
Fine. Taking the dress from her, I pull it on over my head, if only to appease her for the moment. Chloe has a little more junk in her trunk than I have, so I don’t expect it to fit perfectly.
At first, the cool fabric gently hugs my curves. It takes a bit of effort to get my breasts seated in the right place, though. I know I’m going to stretch it out, but I can already feel that it’s totally worth it.
I look at my reflection in the mirror and am amazed.
“Oh, wow. Okay. I do feel…kind of sexy.” This dress could probably make anyone look good, but I’ve been blessed with a lot to work with. I look fucking amazing.
Chloe gives me another once over, spending an extra second or two really checking how the dress sits on my ass and tits. Even though it’s only Chloe, it feels kind of good to have someone really look at me, to feel them drink my body in.
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I bend over to start fastening the straps on my black six-inch stilettos, and I can feel the bottom of the dress ride up and expose my panties. I notice she’s still watching me.
“Mmhmm, babe, you look totally fuckable. They’re gonna love you! But you better not bend over in that dress, or they won’t even have to bid!” Chloe laughs and turns back to the closet to finish getting herself ready.
“Maybe it would drive the bids higher.” It’s bad, but I sort of like that idea.
Sitting in front of the mirror again, I lightly tease my shoulder length, wavy brown hair. With just enough product, I can perfectly hold this sexy-casual look of not really having done anything with it at all.
I do look sexy. I know that this charity date auction is to raise funds for children, and I’m really hoping to make a good impression with the charity, but the only thing I can think about now as I look at myself in the mirror is this insane feeling: I could totally get laid tonight.
Which reminds me…
“What do you think the men are going to be like?”
“Old and rich.”
What the fuck? Here I am getting myself psyched up for some hot guys to bid on me, and Chloe’s totally popping that bubble.
She sees the look on my face, and starts laughing.
“There may be some old people there, but most of the time it’s the young trust fund dudes who’ve never had to work a day in their life, or the rich workaholics who don’t have time for a relationship. Those are the ones that show up. One type is just in it for the fun, the other for the tax write-off. Either way, their pockets are deep and they’ll have plenty to spend. Might make for a very memorable date.”
That’s exactly what I want to hear. I want tonight to be a great night for both us and The Fostering Angels Charity. They only do a few of these date auctions a year, and I want this one to be a really big pay-out for them.
Plus, I’m hoping that once I graduate, I can get a good job and donate money there myself. If I make a good enough impression tonight, maybe they’ll remember me.
It wasn’t easy being a foster kid, and I am sure it’s not any better for them today. I want to do my part to pay it forward, and give these kids a chance at happiness. Not all of them will get chosen by a great family like I did.
The King's Virgin Bride Page 24
