DILF: A Secret Baby Bad Boy Romance
Page 31
As the elevator opens with a gentle ding, I step into the hallway, walking steadily toward Arsen’s front door. I’m still a few feet away from it when it swings back on its hinges, Arsen standing behind it with a grin on his face. My heart immediately feels tight inside my chest, my pussy already wet—yes, I’m this desperate to feel his body on mine, I’m not ashamed to admit it.
“Ashley,” he greets me, stepping back so that I can enter his apartment. He closes the door behind me as I turn to face him, a smile on my face.
“Arsen,” I say, taking one step toward him. We’re close now, just a few inches between our bodies. None of us move though, we just stand still, enjoy the way the air around us seems to grow heavier. We are looking into each other’s eyes, sparks of electricity flying across the distance that separates us.
God, I might not be able to stop thinking about King Henry, but whenever I’m this close to Arsen… Everything else just fades away. I don’t even know if it’s because he’s the best man I have ever met, or because he fucks me like a God. Either way, he just makes me melt like butter on a scorching hot day.
“I’m glad you texted me,” he starts, cutting through the silence. “I spent all morning thinking of you… And thinking of last night. I can’t wait to get you out of those clothes.”
A shiver goes through me as I imagine him, alone in his huge luxurious apartment, thinking of me and getting hard. Has he ever masturbated while thinking of me? And the panties he stole from me last night… Has he already given them any use? Just thinking of that makes me even wetter, if that’s even possible. The memories of what happened near Freedom Tower race through my mind and I bite my lower lip, wanting an encore. But then, something that King Henry said to me crosses my mind; it’s weird, but both Henry and Arsen have talked about the very same thing, and using the exact same wording… While talking about the area around Freedom Tower, the two of them mentioned it looks a lot nicer without the construction. I know, it’s probably just a stupid coincidence, but I have to wonder…
“Have you ever called one of your phone operators? From the sex line?” I find myself saying, still unsure if I should even be mentioning this. I don’t want him to think I’m some kind of psycho.
“What? Why would I?” He asks, taking a step back and raising one eyebrow at me.
“I don’t know. Maybe you wanted to see if they were doing their job…” I say, feeling more and more unsure of what I’m saying. Christ, why did I even bring this up? I’m feeling more foolish by the second. He bridges the distance between the two of us, his hands on my waist as he grins at me.
“Why in the hell are you even asking these questions, Ash?” He’s right, you know? Why am I grilling him like this? They said the same thing, but that was just a stupid coincidence, right? Right?
“I… I don’t know,” I reply, sighing and looking up into his eyes. “It was just something silly, it doesn’t matter. What matters,” I continue, placing my hand against his chest, “is that I’m here right now.”
“Oh, yes, you are. And I’m going to make sure that coming here was the best decision you made today,” he grins at me, pulling me in and pressing his mouth against mine. I close my eyes, reacting by instinct and surrendering to his kiss, his tongue sliding inside my mouth and dancing around mine in soft circles. His hands go from my waist to my ass and, grabbing it harshly, he squeezes both my cheeks in such a way that I pull back from his kiss, sighing heavily. We’re just kissing, and I already want him inside of me, his thick cock pulsing against my insides. Why do I become such a wet mess whenever our bodies are pressed together?
I reach for his cock, my fingers curling around his thick shape but, before I can grab it as harshly as I want, he stops me. He grabs my wrist and takes my hand out of his crotch, a devious grin on his lips.
“No,” he simply says, pulling back from me and taking one step back, his eyes never leaving mine. “This time, you’ll do what I tell you to, when I tell you to.” I’m taken aback by his words, boiling blood raging through my veins, but I manage to nod at him. I almost say “yes, sir,” but I caught myself before I did it. “You’ll obey, and you’ll only come when I tell you to come. Understood?” I shiver, King Henry's whispers of dominance during our calls turning something very, very real right in front of my eyes.
“Yes, Arsen,” I tell him, my heart starting to gallop. His grins turns wider and, the moment he speaks, my heart almost jumps right out of my chest.
“No, don’t call me Arsen. You’ll call me… sir.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, the words tumbling out of my lips easily. I lick my lips, suddenly feeling dizzy. Am I really talking with him as I talk to Henry? What’s going on here? And why am I getting wetter and wetter?
“Good,” he continues, that maddening smirk on his lips. I have to fight hard against the urge to just walk toward him and rip his clothes out of his body, push him into the ground and ease myself on his huge cock. But, only God knows how, I manage to restrain myself.
Turning his back to me, Arsen walks across the living room and sits on his couch, crossing his legs and leaning back as his eyes wander up and down my body, mentally peeling off my skirt and blouse.
“Come closer,” he tells me, my feet immediately carrying me toward him until he tells me to stop. “Good. Now, take your blouse off.”
My fingers dart to the hem of my blouse and I pull it out over my head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. I want to keep going, to unfasten my bra and let him see my breasts and hard nipples… But, obedient, I wait for his commands. I know—what the hell happened to me? I’ve never been one to care about the whole bedroom dominance thing… But since Arsen and King Henry entered my life, I can’t help but crave it. And to think that I was used to being the dominant one, in and out of the bedroom!
“Now your bra,” he continues, and my fingers going to my back, obediently unhooking my tight lace bra. I push the straps down my shoulders and arms, the cups slowly drooping over my breasts; I tremble slightly as I feel the fabric brushing against my hard nipples before finally falling down to the floor, his eyes immediately hiking down from my face to my tits. Even from here, I can see the hunger in his eyes, and more than that, I can see the gigantic bulge inside of his pants. There’s no better feeling in the world than to know that a man like Arsen is taking this much pleasure just from seeing my breasts, that’s for sure. “Grab your tits, Ash. I want you to play with your nipples.”
I don’t even think about it. I grab my breasts eagerly, squeezing the soft flesh between my fingers before I brush the palm of my hand over my nipples. I bite my lower lip, taking one hard tip between my thumb and index finger and gently rubbing it. I bite my lip harder, but it’s stronger than me. I part my lips and let a soft moan fall from my mouth, my body burning in a state of frenzied desire and anticipation. Arsen is playing me like a maestro plays his orchestra, and he knows it.
He gets up from the couch, and my eyes immediately dart to his crotch. I try and suppress another moan, but it’s simply impossible; the sight of his tented pants is almost enough to make me lose my mind. God, I just want him to tell me to go down on my knees and take his thick veiny cock inside my mouth.
With slow deliberate steps, he walks toward me, and stops a few feet away. If I just reached for him I could grab his cock... But I don’t. As hard as it is, I’m doing my best to submit. And it’s hard. Very, very hard. Almost like as if you haven’t eaten anything for three days, and then someone sits you down at a buffet, telling you that you can only eat when they tell you to. Sure, you might be thankful, but you just want to devour everything in front of you. I have to be honest here, though: as painful as it is to be this close to him while restrained by his commands, I have to admit it makes me as hornier as I have ever been. I can’t explain it. Maybe I might just have never met a real man, one that could truly dominate me, but I never felt like this before. Only with Arsen… and King Henry.
God, why can’t I stop thinking of a man I have n
ever met? And, of all times, when I’m here, half naked in front of Arsen? Still, it doesn’t seem wrong. In fact, it seems pretty adequate, since he’s treating me in the exact same way Henry uses to drive me utter and completely crazy.
Arsen extends his arm, reaching for me with his outstretched fingers. He stops before he touches me, his index finger just an inch away from the valley between my breasts. The corner of his lips turns upward mischievously, and then he slowly lowers his fingertip over my skin. I shiver almost instantaneously, my eyelids drooping as he touches me. I can even feel my heart pumping warm blood to my pussy, and all this just because he has laid one finger on me. Is this really happening? If he’s making me shiver with just one fingertip, I don’t even want to imagine what he’s going to do to me with the rest of his body.
His fingers slide down from between my breasts to my navel, and then back up again. This time he traces the contour of my left breast, going up its curve and circling my nipple. I tremble slightly, swallowing hard as I use all of my willpower to keep still. I just want to jump on top of him and be fucked as hard as humanly possible, but I don’t want to ruin this - I mean, the anticipation is completely murdering every hint of rationality in me, but I can’t say I’m not enjoying this… and in a most wickedly indecent way. Maybe I just like being tortured like this.
Pinching my nipple gently, he keeps the pressure there for a few seconds, and then lets go of it, his finger once again going down and over my stomach. I almost start praying for him to go lower, to caress my labia on the way down, but his movements don’t take him near my pussy: he simply moves his finger up and down from my navel to my breasts, caressing my nipples every time he gets near them and making me breath so hard I don’t even know how in the hell I still haven’t passed out. My skin is prickling, my muscles burning with so much desire I might just spontaneously combust any time now.
“You want more, don’t you?” Arsen asks, still grinning as if he owns me, and damn, right now he does own me. “You want my cock in that tight little mouth, don’t you?” I nod, moving my head up and down with anxious movements. I must look desperate right now. But it’s true, I really, really want his cock… No, I need it. “Take off your skirt,” he says with that commanding tone of his, his fingers still caressing one hard nipple. I hook my fingers on my skirt and, swaying my ass from side to side, push it down and let it fall on the floor at my feet. His eyes go from my breasts to my thong, and I can almost feel him peeling it off of me just with the power of his mind. Unconsciously, he licks his lips, almost as if he wants to devour me like he did yesterday.
“I can’t wait to bend you over and feel my cock deep inside of you... But first,” he leans toward me, his lips against my ear as he speaks, “you’ll have to come.” As the words roll out over his lips, he slides his finger all the way down to my thong, pressing one fingertip over my clitoris in such a way that I simply see red. My muscles spasm and jerk, and I feel my knees buckling under my weight. Holy hell, is this really happening? One touch of his on my clitoris and I’m already coming, waves of pleasure crashing against me in a devastating way. How is this even possible?
“Good girl,” he whispers. “But it’s not enough. I need more.” With that, he grabs my thong and pushes it against the side of my outer thigh, ripping it off of me in one sudden and violent movement. I let out one loud moan as I feel the fabric tearing and then sliding over my skin, the cool air caressing my drenched pussy. He throws my thong to the floor and, pulling me in with one arm around my waist, he presses two fingers against my clit and starts to rub viciously, my muscles tensing up and charging with electricity. I almost fall into his embrace, my knees still week from the orgasm; I’m like a ragdoll, supported only by his strong arms.
Pressing my head against his chest, I shut my eyes and simply surrender to the devastation he is unleashing inside of me. I can’t see or hear—the whole world is nothing but a blur to me, the only thing in existence right now being his fingers on my clitoris. And, sweet Jesus, does he know how to use them! He rubs them in fast circles, applying just the exact amount of pressure to make me moan as if I’m losing my sanity.
“Come,” he whispers, and I feel my body starting to convulse. My muscles spasm and all the electricity they held inside of them rages free through my body, taking over every single one of my nerve endings and flooding my brain with an ocean of pleasure. “More,” Arsen whispers again, turning his wrist and letting his fingers slide down from my clit to my labia. Without even letting my orgasm subside, he slides his two fingers inside my pussy, moving them in a hook motion and guiding them all the way toward that sweet maddening spot inside of me. His fingertips pressed tight against my G-spot, he starts rubbing me there, pressing on my clit with his thumb. “I love the way you moan when you’re coming, Ashley,” he says, moving his fingers in and out of me at break neck speed.
I don’t know how I’m surviving this. I truly don’t. A few flicks of his wrist and I explode again, my mind a nuclear wasteland. I don’t even moan this time. I simply let my body be taken over by a seizure of ecstasy and throw my arms over his shoulders, supporting myself as my knees grow weaker.
Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to my lips. I’m breathing hard, my muscles still twitching as he brushes his wet fingers over my lips; my own scent inundates me, and I almost lose consciousness—seriously, my brain can’t even process how much I want Arsen to fuck me right now. To feel this much desire should be illegal.
“Please…” I mutter, my voice sounding as if I’m so weak I shouldn’t even be speaking. “Please, Arsen.”
“I love how you beg,” he says, his hands running through my hair. “But what are you begging for? Tell me."
“I want… I want you to fuck me, Arsen. Please, fuck me,” I beg again, my trembling fingers starting to unbuckle his belt. Somehow, I manage to do it, and then I automatically unzip his pants. His massive cock strains against his underwear, pushing at my fingers, and I turn my wrist around so that I can grab it. I’m so high in ecstasy right now that his cock seems even bigger, almost as if I can’t even grab it with just one hand; I tug his boxer briefs down and, taking my other hand to his shaft, grab it as harshly as I can. “Please” I repeat, stroking him with both hands as I breath hard against his chest. My body feels so weak I can barely lift my head.
“Since you’re asking so nicely,” he says, picking me up from the floor with a sudden movement. I place my arms around his neck as he walks across the living room; he puts me down in the couch, and I summon whatever strength I still have inside of me and go on all fours, jutting my ass back at him as I sway it from side to side.
I let out a loud moan as he smacks my buttocks with the back of his hand, the pain travelling upward to my brain and turning into pleasure somewhere along the way. He does it again and again, the sound of his hand against my flesh a maddening sensual song.
When he stops, my back is arched and I’m thrusting my hips back at him. He brushes two fingers over my labia and then, pressing his glans against my inner lips, he thrusts with one quick and masterful movement. With one arm around my waist he places his two fingers over my clit as he starts to thrust, his cock pounding into me in the most sweet and savage way. Somehow, these two things aren’t contradictory; Arsen knows how to fuck and make love at the same time. The best of both worlds. It really makes me wonder… Why did I waste so much time with losers like Peter? A 5-inch cock? Please! And, besides, Arsen is much more of a man than my loser ex will be ever be… And, unlike how it was with Peter, I really love Arsen.
Wait—what did I just say? I love Arsen? I could lie and tell you that I just thought this because my brain is all scrambled from the way he’s fucking me… But I won’t do that. It’s time to admit it: I’m falling in love with Arsen Hawke. The problem is that as I finally realize this, I realize something else as well—King Henry is as much in my mind as Arsen is. In a way, I’m falling for him too. Now you truly must think I’ve lost my mind, I know.
His hands are on my ass as I sway my hips, and I close my eyes and bite down on my lip, imagining the way he must be looking at my ass cheeks bouncing. I throw my head back, my hair falling down my shoulders, and I cup my own breasts, squeezing them eagerly as I moan. I ride him as hard as I can, my muscles aching from the effort; I can already feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, so I take that as a sign that I’m on the right path.
“You look lovely from here,” he says, and I can’t help but smile. I was right; he was really staring at my ass as we fuck. I never actually cared if the men I've been with looked at me while we fucked, but with Arsen I relish that. What could be better than having the man of your dreams looking lustfully at your body while his cock is buried deep inside of you?
My skin boiling, I feel sweat on every single pore, beads sliding down my spine as I jump up and down on his cock. I ride myself into oblivion, and I only stop when I feel my pussy tightening around his cock; my whole body tenses up and, gritting my teeth, I scream as loud as I can, my voice bouncing off the walls with enough strength to shatter glass.