Backseat With The Billionaire

by Lilah May

  “Just makeup.” I make up an excuse, but I’m quickly losing conviction. Did he really just want me to put the ice cream back? I can’t risk losing Ava to child services or worse yet, lose her to Donald in the divorce.

  No matter how impossible it sounded, as of right now, everything sounded possible.

  “It’s pretty full for just makeup.” He’s not giving any ground and I’m starting to think I have to give up. He has me. He caught me red-handed. And the thought of my daughter being taken away from me has me shaking in my four inch heels.

  I’m about to break and start blubbering out my confession when I catch sight of a tiny flicker behind his unrelenting eyes.

  What was that? It was a small twinkle, almost as if he was having fun.

  Then, all of a sudden, he takes a step towards me and I almost bolt. If my feet would work. If anything worked. My body’s filled with hot, heavy lead, and all that’s on my mind is: I’m going to jail.

  He grabs my arm, my thin wrist disappearing in his meaty fist.

  “Hey, what’re you doing? Let go!” I automatically try to yank my arm away but it doesn’t budge from his steel tight grip, his long arm corded with muscle leading to wide bulging shoulders.

  “You’re coming with me.” His unforgiving tone leaves no room for argument. He drags me down the aisle, and I’m swept up by his forceful nature, overpowering me like a dingy in a hurricane.

  And when he moves, every motion is so graceful, at odds with his immense size and build. His suit glides smoothly over his thick limbs like liquid even while his formidable muscles strains against the seams.

  He pulls me through the employees-only door and down a deserted hallway as I stumble after him, my arm still attached to him like a leash.

  “Keep moving.” He commands and instinctively, I shuffle faster like his ward. Why am I not resisting? Shouldn’t I scream or fight? How does he hold such authority over me with only a few words?

  Before I know it, he throws me down on a metal folding chair in the middle of a cluttered office with barely enough room for me, much less me and this beast of a man. His huge body fills the space claustrophobically, taking all the air out of the room.

  I should be angry, being hauled into this room without so much as an explanation. I should be scared, panicking to be alone with this huge man who could overpower me without a word.

  “You have no right,” I stand up —

  “Sit back down!” His voice is harsh and abrupt, his words alone enough to knock me back into my seat.

  And there it is again! The same look quickly flashes across his face.

  This time I recognize it. It’s a look I’m very familiar with from when I used to volunteer at the animal shelter. Some dogs come in vicious from abuse and neglect so you have to keep them separated, locked up in a cage.

  Otherwise, they attack anything that moves. And when they spot their prey, they all had that look, that same look he had.

  The look of a predator. But this time, I’m the victim. That’s what he wants. Unconditional surrender. He doesn’t just want a part of me, he wants to take all of me. He wants me completely and utterly under his control.

  And without hesitation, I submit to him, one small movement showing my complete submission. My legs spread open, just a tiny bit, voluntarily or involuntarily, I’m not sure myself. But I want him and my body knows it.

  That subtle signal. So slight, someone ten feet away might not have noticed. But with how closely he’s watching me, he can’t have missed it. And he doesn’t.

  He pounces, his huge body so amazingly light and fast, like a panther, like the hunter he is. I don’t hear a sound, I can’t even see him move, just a blur before he’s on me.

  In less than a second, the chair is clattering across the floor and he has me off my feet, slamming my body against the wall behind me. He’s so violent and aggressive in his attack, he almost knocks the wind out of me, his savagery consuming me.

  In one smooth movement, he already has my arms pinned above my head with one hand while his knee digs between my legs, his thick muscular thigh prying them open.

  “You’re in big trouble, miss.” He looks stern, like a strict teacher admonishing me, his bad student.

  I feel so naughty and I want him to teach me how I should behave.

  My feet dangle off the floor as my weight is held up purely by his strength. My body is completely under his control and it makes me so hot I might cum just from a touch.

  All I can do is squirm and rock my hips, but that just grinds my growing clit against his bulging leg, making me moan as my naughty pussy leaks all over his expensive suit.

  He doesn’t care. His eyes never leave mine, watching me like I’m an experiment as I slowly break down in front of him, my pupils growing foggy with lust.

  But I’ve been a bad girl tonight and it’s his turn to punish me. To break me. Whether I want it or not.

  His hands are all over me and I can’t do anything to stop him. But for some reason, it only makes me wetter. He could take me right now, ram his cock inside me even though I never whispered the word yes.

  But both of us knew there’s no mistake that my body is saying yes over and over again.

  His free hand is in my dress, sliding under my bra, groping my heaving breast, mauling the soft flesh, making me whimper from the onslaught.

  I wish he would kiss me, so I could taste him and swirl his tongue around mine. But all I get is his fingers, which I suck on greedily, running my tongue across his sharp knuckles.

  I want to touch him, to feel his firm chest, to squeeze his tensed biceps that hold me steady. But I can’t. I’m his to control. I can only move if he wants me to.

  I want him to strip off his suit so I can see every hidden part, the ridges of his abs that lead to the sexy abdominal V, the brown nipples sitting low on his pecs.

  But he won’t. And I love it. I feel so bare, so naked with him clothed.

  Instead, he takes his fingers away from my mouth, leaving it feeling so empty, and yanks my strapless dress down, revealing my lace bra which he doesn’t give a moment of consideration before tearing it down as well.

  He wants what’s underneath, he wants my body and anything that gets in his way, he’ll rip it apart. It makes me feel so needed, like I’m the only thing that can satisfy him and with the way he looks at me, that hunger in his eyes, I know I’m all he wants.

  He pauses a second, eying my exposed breasts, taking them in, as if appreciating their size, their weight, his intense stare burning my skin, causing my nipples swell and stiffen.

  Finding them satisfactory, his fingers spread my own saliva around my tits, tracing the light brown circle of my areolas. The cool air drifts across that wet, sensitive area causing my nipples to twist into knots.

  Suddenly, he pinches one of the puffy nipples, twisting it hard, and pulls, the sweet agony extracting a loud groan from somewhere deep inside me. The way his eyes twinkle when he hears me in pain makes my pussy spill.

  He loves to discipline me. To punish me. And I deserve every ounce of this sweet, sweet pain. He’s going to teach me exactly how much I can take and I shudder at the thought of it.

  A thrilling pain shoots up my spine and my back arches, inadvertently presenting my breasts to him, offering them to his hungry mouth.

  And immediately, his lips are on them, sucking, his tongue dragging across my nipple, teasing me, easing the lingering pain, the rough friction of his tongue somehow stiffening the hard nipple even more.

  But he’s only preparing me, readying me for what comes next.

  He starts with light nibbles, then increases the pressure, biting down harder and harder on the nub. I scream, not from the pain, but from the pleasure as I buck my hips on his leg, dragging my engorged clit up and down his bulging thigh.

  My panties are completely soaked through, leaving a glistening trail on his pants. He’s building me up and all I can think about is my wet and willing slit, pulsing for his cock.
>
  I start to feel those familiar waves of an oncoming orgasm rolling over me. His fingers are back in my mouth, this time delving roughly as he pulls on my cheek stretching it outwards.

  I whimper, slurping at his fingers, begging him to give me more. And he does. He presses his fingertips down on my tongue as he pushes them steadily deeper inside.

  He starts to bounce his knee, the angle forcing the hard ridge of his quad to vibrate against my pussy, the sound of my wetness filling the room.

  He’s spurring me on, prodding me closer to the edge, forcing me to cum. His nimble tongue flicks faster over my nipple as he sucks more of my tit into his mouth.

  His fingers slide in and out of my mouth, stroking my soft tongue, pinching it, squeezing it. My head spins from his expert manipulation and I want more of his fingers in me, the size of the digits spreading my mouth wide. I’ve never felt something like this before, the exquisite sensation as if my tongue is having sex.

  God, what else could he to do to me, if he wanted.

  He can tell I’m close when I bite down on his fingers and my entire body tenses against the wall, my hips freeze as his knee digs deeper between my dripping pussy lips, spreading the drenched hole open as my juices spill out on to his leg.

  I’m losing control, losing my mind, and all I want to do is cum.

  He nudges my legs wider, prodding me to spread them and I listen. I want more of him touching me, I want the silk of his pants to rub my sensitive clit directly.

  My panties are a soaking mess and soon my desire is plain to see all over his leg.

  It’s too much. He’s incredible. How does he make me feel like this? I look at him, and he’s grinning roguishly, his dark eyes dancing and I realize he’s enjoying himself.

  He’s having fun torturing me, exploiting me, manipulating me like some plaything.

  And that fact makes me cum even harder.

  I convulse, shaking wildly in his firm grasp, my pussy clenches around nothing as I bite harder, moaning into his fingers, the overwhelming pleasure electrifying every single part of my body.

  That’s when he jams his fingers down my throat, making me gag, stifling my scream, while he takes my tit into his mouth and he bites.

  Hard.

  His teeth digging into the soft flesh, his tongue swirls my nipple around. I can’t take anymore. My vision goes white, all my senses numb until only the pleasure of his touch remains.

  He’s my master and I’m just his toy, his plaything.

  My core clenches and the warmth fills me up and exploding outwards to the tips of my fingers.

  “God!” is the only word I can breathe out before all the strength leaves my body and I collapse onto his strong shoulders.

  My head hangs forward, my ass propped up by his leg, my arms still nailed to the wall as the little remaining shivers still dance through my body.

  What the hell did he just do to me?

  I’m sweating, panting, dripping juices down my leg, but all I can see is his eyes, arrogantly satisfied. No matter how much I tried to flip the situation around on him before, he knew once he had me like this up against the wall, there’s no question who was in control.

  How can he look so pleased with himself when his pants are straining to keep that monstrous cock in check.

  Because. I didn’t even think about it and I still crashed so hard like a wave onto the rocky bluffs.

  What would happen when he penetrated me with his fingers, when he pierced me with his cock? What then? He had expertly manipulated me like his instrument, without even bringing out his full mastery.

  He knew every part of my body and knew exactly how much pain I could handle.

  I see he wants more with his wolfish grin, but he knows he holds the power, he can save it and make me wait, build my lust, enhance my fantasy next time.

  Next time! The thought makes me shudder and I realize I’ve fallen right into his trap.

  This man stands above all others. Womanizers and playboys are nothing compared to him.

  He’s built to hunt and conquer his women, to not just defeat but vanquish. He’s a primal alpha, brutal and unyielding in the modern day of the soft and tolerant man.

  And it makes me so fucking wet.

  He keeps watch over me while I get dressed, like he’s my warden and I’m his prisoner. I don’t know why that turns me on so much, the idea of how much power he has over me, how to him I’m just some toy he can play with: wind me up and watch me cum.

  “It felt so impersonal.” I find my voice again. He had taken me so hard, he stole my voice, my ability to refuse, to ask, to beg, all of it. And he had just stared at me, wordlessly, his body doing all the talking.

  “It was impersonal.” He replies flatly. It’s true. We only talked for five minutes before he had me against the wall, dress off, and less than a minute later, shaking like a fresh leaf in his arms.

  “I don’t even know your name.” I want to know. Not just his name but everything about him. Who he is, which company he owns, what planet he’s from. Because I can’t imagine any man on earth could fuck like that.

  “Let’s keep it that way,” he refuses without mercy. He likes it like this. He wants it like this. Purely sexual. Nothing else.

  “You’re so cruel. I didn’t even get a kiss.” I pout, trying to act cute by feigning hurt. Why am I acting like a flirty young girl when this boy was half my age? But he’s no boy. No boy can touch me like this, exploit me in the backroom of a grocery store.

  Do I want him again? There’s no doubt.

  I want to know more, not just about him as mysterious as he was, but about myself. This man, this stranger, brought something out of me tonight. Something I never knew was inside me, something I could barely comprehend. But with him, I felt I could explore it, learn it, what it meant.

  “I don’t kiss on the first date,” he smirks, watching me wipe my own juices from my leg. But something else makes my heart leap into my throat. Did he say first?

  “So this was just the first, huh? How many more times will you grace me with your dazzling presence before you dump me like the rest of the girls on your long list of conquests?”

  “You talk too much. Here,” he tosses me my phone, his number already typed in. How did he bypass the lock? Ugh, genius CEO of software company, how cliche. “Up to you” This is exactly what I want, what I need. To get Donald out of my system and to rediscover that fire that came out of me with one touch. By him. Only him. Only he can show me what that was again, and I’m desperate to find out.

  I walk out of the office and down the empty hallway, no one to observe my walk of shame through the storeroom full of boxes and packages.

  Well, except for the man stalking behind me. I can feel his presence looming over me as I exit through the same door he hauled me through minutes earlier.

  The bright fluorescent lights of the store blind me for a second before I can finally see clearly. And right in front of me is Patty rolling a shopping cart full of every type of snack in the store, evidence of her extremely successful raid and pillage of the candy and chips aisle.

  She sees me, stops and smiles at me, “Hey, Lisa! Where were you? I was going to call the manager.”

  “Uh, no. You probably shouldn’t do that.” Definitely, not the manager. Patty eyes me suspiciously. Does she know what I had been up to?

  She glances behind me and I look back, hoping to god the man isn’t there. And he’s not. Whew. He must’ve made his exit...when? I didn’t even notice. Just like that he’s gone, the only evidence of my wet, hot experience in my phone, a number with no name.

  “Well, we should probably be heading back.” Patty says, looking around while scratching her head. “Bobby can’t even call me back. I guess he’s not showing up, my wonderful son.”

  CHAPTER 8

  LISA

  When I get back home, Ava is waiting up for me. Good thing she’s only 13 because I swear Patty smelled sex on me as soon as I walked out those doors. But with
no man, there was no evidence.

  “Hey, sweetie! What’re you doing up so late?” Seeing her freckled face peeking over the couch, her braces peeking through her frown, and her favorite pink headband peeking through her hair makes me smile.

  “Don’t you hey sweetie me. I heard what happened from Dad.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry! I should’ve been here when you got home. I got…distracted.” I really have no explanation to give her. God, I’m a horrible mother. What the hell is wrong with me? And why the hell is Donald calling her? “Are you OK? What did he say? Do you want to talk?”

  “Nothing really. Just that he wasn’t coming home.” If he was going to talk to her, why couldn’t he just say everything. “Is that right?”

  “Sorry, sweetie, but yea. He’s probably not coming home for a while.”

  “You guys are getting a divorce, right?” She’s too smart for her own good.

  “Oh, you don’t have to think about that right now. You’re still a kid and even I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. He cheated, right?”

  “Well, it seems like you already know everything.”

  “I’ve watched enough Scandal to know that it was pretty obvious.”

  “Well, fuck me. Everyone knew except for me. Oh, woops. Sorry, sweetie.”

  “Stop it, mom! Stop calling me sweetie! I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m thirteen. And stop acting like everything’s OK! Say fuck if you want. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck Dad and his cheating ass. Fuck this family. I don’t want to pretend like things were normal cause they weren’t. I for one am glad you guys are getting a divorce.”

  “I’m glad one of us is happy.”

  “You should be too, mom. You hated him. You just were too nice to say it. You always kept your mouth shut. That’s something I never liked about you.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ava. Anything else you want to hit me over the head with?”

  “What I’m trying to say is I’m glad you kicked him out. I still love him and he’s still my dad, even though he’s a cheating bastard — ops!”