by Linnea May
She smiles at me and whispers the most exquisite words. “Thank you, Sir.”
I take her hand and pull her closer.
“Undress me,” I command her. “But don’t rush it.”
She nods eagerly, and her hands wander along the seam of my suit jacket, while her eyes are locked onto mine, as if she’s still seeking permission, even though I just granted it to her.
Sybil Young is more than I could ever have asked for.
Chapter Six
Sybil
Undressing him is a time-consuming task, especially since he warned me not to rush it. If it were up to me, I’d rip this suit off of his inarguably sculptured body, because I can’t wait any longer.
But he told me to be careful and to not do anything in a rush, so I do as I’m bid. Still, I don’t bother to suppress a sigh with awe when I get rid of his shirt and his muscular chest is revealed in front of my undeserving eyes. This just proves how far this man is out of my league. My fingertips trail along his well defined six pack and the v-shaped canyons that lead down to his groin. I’ve never seen, let alone touched, a man who looks like this.
My hands are trembling when I reach for his belt, wondering if he might use it tonight. Maybe if I misbehave? A part of me wants to test him, but for now I’m a good girl, aiming for praise and the reward he promised.
I unbuckle his belt and open his pants, dropping down onto my knees before I pull them down. He told me not to rush things, but I still dare to remove everything at once, so that his prominent erection springs free right in front of my face.
He’s massive! My eyes widen at the sight of his enormous member, causing him to chuckle.
“Now, that was a little too eager, don’t you think?” he says, and my heart jumps.
I let go of his pants and gasp in surprise when he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head and pushes me forward, forcing his length inside my mouth.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he says, as the tip of his impressive cock pushes against the back of my throat. “You’re not the only one who’s tired of waiting.”
A desperate gag is all I can respond with, but he doesn’t need me to speak anyway. Just as I think I might actually choke on his length, he pulls me back by the hair, leaving me just a second to gasp in air before he pushes himself between my lips again. I hold on to his athletically defined pelvis as he continues to fuck my mouth like no one has before him, especially not on a first date. If this can be considered a date at all.
Saliva is running down my jaw by the time he’s done with me. I cough and gag while he pulls my head back to force me to look up to him.
“Good girl,” he praises. “You took that like a champ. Now, let me return the favor.”
He lets go of my hair and steps aside.
“Get on,” he says gesturing toward the chaise lounge behind him. “On your back, make yourself comfortable and spread those pretty legs for me.”
My body obliges on its own accord, while my mind is still struggling to process what just happened. I climb on the chaise lounge, the collar biting into my neck as I lay down and hesitantly spread my legs for him, exposing my wet entrance. The shame has long been overrun by my impatient longing for him. I don’t care about anything but pleasure right now, and I know he can provide just that.
To my surprise, he gets down on his knees in front of the chaise lounge, bringing his face so close to my glistening lips that my lust is overshadowed by embarrassment for a moment. He looks at me, casting me a naughty smirk before he places his hands at the inside of my upper thighs, spreading my legs even further before he leans forward.
I yelp when his tongue meets my most sensitive spot right away. I’m so wet, so aroused by everything we’ve done so far, and so ashamed by my arousal at the same time.
He doesn’t care about any of that and starts drawing circles around my clit while his hands glide along the side of my waist up to my ribcage and finally settle on my breasts, where he zeroes in on my erect nipples all too soon. He takes them between his thumb and index finger and starts pinching and rolling them, sending electric shocks of faint pain through my body mixed with the pleasure his tongue is bringing me.
I groan in ecstasy, closing my eyes and arching my back, egging him on to torture my hardened nipples even more. Nothing else matters, just his touch, his skillful hands and his seasoned tongue working its magic between my legs. I could come like this, any minute, but I don’t want to. Not before I’ve felt him inside of me.
“Fuck me,” I beg, pressing my eyes shut in shame.
He answers with an extra hard pinch on my already tender nubs and a gentle bite on my clit. It almost sends me over the edge, but he withdraws just in time.
“Naughty girl,” he comments, and for a moment I fear that he might postpone it even longer. But instead, he reaches to the side, producing a condom from a drawer in the coffee table. I hear plastic ripping a second later and breathe in anticipation as he rolls the condom over his length.
He positions himself on top of me, his tip teasing my wet entrance when he commands me to look up at him.
I obey and meet his eyes just as he starts pushing himself inside of me, his considerable girth stretching me like no man has before. My eyes instinctively shut as I relish the feeling, but he protests.
“No, look at me!”
I lazily open my eyes just enough to see him on top of me, his well-defined muscles tensing as he shoves himself inside.
“You need to see who’s doing this to you,” he breathes, his excitement apparent. “I want to see your beautiful eyes while I fuck you senseless, Miss Young.”
Him calling me by my last name reminds me of the taboo connotation of our relationship, and it fuels the raging lust for him. We shouldn’t do this, not here, not now – and yet we are, and it feels so damn right.
He starts fucking me, shoving in and out in brute thrusts that shake my entire body while I hold on to the backrest, my eyes never leaving his while he fucks me into oblivion. I needed this. I had no idea how much I needed this until now.
His massive cock continues to stretch me with every shove, testing me, owning me. I’m reminded of his ownership every moment by the collar that’s pinching my skin every time his member fills me with its daunting length.
“Come,” he tells me.
I want to protest, but he doesn’t give me a choice as he uses his thumb to tease my swollen clit while continuing to thrust inside of me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t resist. My climax was imminent even before he added this extra push, but now it rolls over me with relentless force. A blinding wave of bliss takes a hold of me and for a moment I lose myself, closing my eyes shut as I groan and quake, helplessly surrendering to this release he’s forcing out of me. My muscles are clenching around him, sending him over the edge as well and causing him to moan as he finds his own release inside me.
Chapter Seven
Landen
“That was quite something, Mr. Stark,” she whispers.
“Call me Landen.”
She chuckles. “Okay, Landen. Please, call me Sybil.”
We’re sitting on the chaise lounge, naked and wrapped up in a blanket. Neither of us has spoken a single word since we climaxed in unison. I’ve collected her in my arms, gently stroking her hip while giving her some time to calm down.
“It was,” I agree. “More enjoyable than working overtime, I hope?”
She giggles. “Oh, way better than that.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. “But you should know, I’m not done with you.”
She looks up at me, her makeup smeared and her hair ruffled in a postcoital mess, looking absolutely beautiful.
“Not done?” she asks.
I shake my head. “This is just the beginning. If you’re up for it, that is.”
She smiles shyly, unsure of what to think of my words. It’s understandable. I’m her boss, after all. Until tonight, we’ve never exchanged any words that weren’t strictly professional
and related to our work. I’ve always vowed to stay away from my employees, but I couldn’t stay away from her.
I thought it would be easier once I’d had her, but now the opposite appears to be the reality. I need more of her.
“I… I think I am,” she breathes. “But I don’t know… it’s just so-”
“I know,” I interrupt her. “It’s complicated, but let’s not worry about that tonight.”
I squeeze her and she sighs, while snuggling up to me. It’s weird how right this feels. Usually, this is the part where I can’t wait to get away, or get the girl out of sight. But with Sybil, it’s different.
“For now,” I add. “Let’s worry about dinner. I’m starving, how about you?”
She chuckles and nods.
“Yes, me too,” she whispers. “I was going to make myself a microwave dinner just before you showed up.”
“On Christmas Eve?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It would have been okay.”
I place my finger below her chin and force her to look up at me.
“I want more than ‘okay’ for you,” I whisper. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll treat you to a real Christmas Eve dinner. Anything your heart desires.”
Her eyes lighten up and she smiles at me in disbelief.
“Is this a dream?” she asks.
I shake my head and smile.
“Merry Christmas, Sybil.”
Thank you for reading!
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Also by Linnea May (selection)
TAMED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
BARRED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
Master Class: A Billionaire Romance
Silent Daughter: A Dark Billionaire Romance
VIOLENT DELIGHTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
VIOLENT CRAVINGS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
VIOLENT HEARTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
VIOLENT DESIRES: A Dark Billionaire Romance
… Curious to read more?
Turn the page for a little sneak peek to Master Class.
Master Class
A Billionaire Romance
Blurb
"Every school has a student like her. Diligent & obedient - with a strong desire to please. Ready to be broken by me.“
College dropout & self-made billionaire. That's me, the infamous Jackson Portland.
And now they want me to teach a bunch of graduate students the secret of my success?
Oh, I'll teach them a lesson alright.
One of them may require a little extra attention.
Lana Harlington, the good girl. Diligent, beautiful, and obedient.
She thinks I'm not fit to teach her anything.
That arrogance needs to be spanked out of her...
But she's more than meets the eye, more than just an impertinent model student.
She's a surprise I didn't bargain for.
PROLOGUE
LANA
"Did you do as you were told?"
His mesmerizing green eyes paralyze me. I’m unable to move as he angles his sharp gaze down at me, clenching his jaw to retain control. I can tell that he is holding back. He has had to restrain himself for so long, watching me in the classroom from afar, sitting across the table while we were engaged in our little banter. Taboo was always written all over our intimate relationship, which made it all the more exciting.
His strong jaw is dappled with black stubble, framing the hint of a smirk as he studies the reaction on my face. I know I'm blushing, fighting to maintain eye contact with him, as I try to find the words he's waiting to hear. My lips part as I prepare to speak, but no sound comes out.
"Did you obey my orders?" he asks again.
Even though he hasn’t moved it feels as if he just took a step closer, closing a hand around my throat and choking me. I feel suffocated and elevated at the same time, my insides swirling with deep-seated emotion and completely at his mercy.
"Yes," I finally reply in a hoarse voice.
"What did I tell you to do?"
Oh, please, God, no! Don't make me say it out loud!
My face burns with shameful heat, and I have to suppress the strong urge to close my eyes. I can't look at him when I'm feeling like this. Exposed, vulnerable, confused - and so freaking turned on. I'm ashamed of my heightened arousal, and I know how much he enjoys seeing that vulnerable feeling written all over my face in bright red color.
"Lana, you know we don't have a lot of time," he urges.
This time he actually does take a step closer to me. We're standing in the middle of his temporary office, surrounded by everything that reminds me of how wrong all of this is. The shelves are mostly empty, and so is the desk next to me. I'm familiar with the dark, wooden surface. A lot more familiar than any student should be.
In the background, I can hear the murmuring voices of students walking by outside in the hall. So close, yet so far away.
"You told me to...," I whisper. The weirdly low tone of my voice confuses me. I don't sound like myself. I sound like a distant and faded version of myself. My voice is not only soft, but it’s shaking, as if I was scared.
I'm not scared. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
You don't scare me, Mr. Portland.
But he does.
I clear my throat.
"You told me to...," I begin again, still sighing with that flat voice, but determined to finish the sentence this time. "...Put the toy inside of me."
A dark smile graces his handsome face. "And is that toy inside your delicious cunt right now?"
I nod, pressing my lips together as if I had to keep myself from speaking.
"Say it," he demands. Of course.
I start chewing on my lower lip instead of obeying his command. I've said enough, so why doesn't he just let it go?
Because that's not how it works.
"How does it feel?" He asks now, stepping closer. He places his hands on my shoulders, holding me in a secure grip as if I was about to run away or faint in front of him. His touch feels so familiar, so right. My core shivers at the memory of his marvelous hands between my legs.
I want more. I've been begging for more for weeks, which is why I’m in this predicament. I'm not doing this for him, but for me.
"Tell me, Lana, how does it feel?" He repeats his question, leaning forward and so close that our lips almost touch.
I instinctively stretch and get up on my toes, hoping for a kiss, but he evades me.
"Answer me," he insists. "How does it feel?"
"Good," I reply.
Obviously, that answer is not good enough for him.
"Tell me," he says, letting go of my left shoulder. His right hand travels down to my core, caressing the fabric of my skirt above my mound. "Can you feel it inside of you?"
I nod. "Yes, Sir."
He casts me that dark and up-to-no-good smile I've come to love and fear so much during the past few months we’ve spent together. His hand moves further down the skirt he ordered me to wear today, despite the cold weather.
"Show me what a good girl you are," he whispers, as his hand trails further, lifting my skirt up and traveling along the inside of my thigh.
He pinches my flesh through the pantyhose, signaling for me to spread my legs apart. I obey, widening my stance enough to grant him access to my center.
A moan escapes my quivering lips when he presses against my labia, his palm covering my most sensitive area.
"Can you feel it inside?" he asks, his voice hoarse and husky.
I nod. "Yes."
He called it a vibrating egg, but it looks more like a thick, pink thumb, not more than two inches long and about as wide as two fingers. I know he has a remote control for it,
but he didn’t give it to me. When I agreed to do what he wanted me to, he just handed me the little pink toy and told me to place it inside myself for the last class of this semester.
His hand is still at my entrance, applying pressure on it through two layers of fabric. Even this subtle touch is enough for me to tremble with lust. I can't wait for this upcoming class to be over.
"Just imagine what it feels like when I turn it on," he adds.
I blush at the thought and prepare myself to get the first taste of what it feels like. I expect him to turn it on right this moment, to show me. But he doesn't.
Instead, he removes his hand from beneath my skirt and straightens up to his full height, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You will go to class now," he commands. "And you will sit through my last lecture like a good girl, without letting anyone around you know about our little secret. Do you understand?"
I nod. "Yes, Sir."
The smile that charms his handsome face is enough of an acknowledgment, but I eagerly welcome his lips when he leans forward to kiss me.
My last class with Mr. Jackson Portland will prove to be one of a kind - and I intend to end the semester with a bang. Literally.
CHAPTER ONE
LANA
"Where is my calculator?!"
My voice has that shrill tone again. The tone that too closely resembles my mother's voice. I hate it when I sound like her, but sometimes it is unavoidable. Times like today. I am late for class, the first class of a new semester, my last semester. I am just a handful of classes, and that dreaded thesis, away from finishing my Master's degree, and my lazy roommate isn't making things any easier.
Celia has been sharing a room with me for almost a year now. Her bed is just a few feet away from mine, but her stuff is scattered all over the room, cluttering up pretty much all of the space except for the tiny area around my bed and desk. I have fought for those areas to remain free of her mess, but she still manages to make my belongings disappear whenever I need them most.
