by Lily Love
Oh my god. Who was I?! Normally I didn't like guys who were too forward, but there was something about him—oh, and the fact that we'd just screwed sort of took the pressure off.
"Let me grab my things," he said, stealing another deep, demanding kiss before stepping back. My lips throbbed, and I didn't want the feeling to go away. "I've got some killer wine and pork chops ready to go at home, actually."
"Sounds perfect."
Well, I guess Joyce wasn't the only one leaving work early tonight. Sorry patrons, but the library was closed on account of mind-blowing sex and a gorgeous billionaire—and I wasn't the least bit sorry.
Never had I ever been in such a swanky place before without worrying security would kick me out. Kyle, the Matherson billionaire I'd had a steamy rendezvous with at the library only hours earlier, had a stunning penthouse in one of the tallest towers in the city. With modern furniture and art, the whole place looked like it belonged in a magazine—much like its owner.
Not only was Kyle a gorgeous physical specimen, but he could cook too. Perfectly seared pork chops, steamed vegetables, and sweet potato fries were all on the menu after we settled into his home, me with a glass of red wine in hand, him cooking with his jacket and tie off. I wasn't sure how I ended up here, really. While my body still ached wonderfully from the pounding it took against that bookshelf, my lips a little puffy from his harsh kisses, it was like all of that hadn't actually happened—like it had been a strange, but perfect, day dream.
Plus, it all seemed so unlikely. What did a billionaire who looked like Kyle want with a librarian who looked like me? My butt was big and squishy, usually hidden away by my wide array of patterned skirts, and my breasts were always uncomfortably up in people's faces. I understood hour glass, but my body was like a comically exaggerated version of the perfect prototype. But he seemed not to mind. In fact, over the course of our meal and stimulating conversation, I caught him staring—a lot.
It had to be a physical thing, but it just… surprised me. Someone like Kyle could bag model-thin women, but here I was, in his penthouse, sipping his wine and watching him clear the plates away long after we'd finished eating. The chatter never stopped either, which just added to the weirdness. On first dates, men struggled to keep up with my babbling, yet there was never a dull moment with Kyle. We discussed his company, his family, my job, and our college years. He always looked like he genuinely wanted to hear what I had to say, which, as a librarian who spends a lot of time trying to educate and encourage people with glazed over expressions, was pretty astounding to me.
As he invited me out onto his sprawling terrace, a hand on my lower back, his wrinkle-free white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, I bit back the question on the tip of my tongue: why me? Was fucking me just a spur-of-the-moment decision?
No. Don't ruin the moment. Rather than asking, I took a small sip of wine. I'd barely finished a single glass in the three-plus hours I'd been with him. In a way, this mysterious god amongst mortals made me trust him, but I wasn't about to get blind-drunk on his delicious wine. I wasn't an idiot.
"Oh…" My jaw dropped as soon as I stepped outside, gobsmacked by the view. There it was—our whole city. The twinkling lights of a starry sky clashed with the cityscape, billboards and windows and street lamps looking quite lovely from all the way up here. On top of the spectacular scenery, his terrace was littered with plants. Some were in pots, while others hung from the awning by the door. Trees. Flowers. Vines. It was his very own Garden of Eden, and in the remarkable silence of the night, we were a veritable Adam and Eve.
"That's usually the reaction I get," Kyle chuckled, strolling toward the railing, hands in his pockets. I followed slowly. "Best time to be out here is at night."
"I can see why," I said as I leaned my hip against the metal railing, my gaze wandering the city below. "It's incredible." I squinted toward the southeast quadrant. "And the library would be… somewhere over there."
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring, and when I raised a curious eyebrow, he looked away, shaking his head and grinning.
"It's nothing," he told me, "but… well, I always thought librarians would… you know, have a bit of a stick up their ass."
I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, my wine sloshing a little at the sudden movement.
"I don't blame you for the misperception." I sighed, heat rising to my cheeks as he continued to study me. "Mostly we just have sore backs from lugging books around and standing at a computer."
He pushed off the railing, and I stayed perfectly still as he moved behind me. "Why didn't you say so? I give a great back massage…"
"I wasn't hinting that you should… Oh yes," I moaned, eyes drifting closed as his large hands worked out the knots in my back. Really. I hadn't been hinting, but my god was it good to have him touching me again. I'd been itching for it ever since we walked into his penthouse, and so far I'd received nothing but a little bit of footsies under the table. This was perfect.
My body relaxed under his touch, and I only startled when I nearly dropped my wine glass—which Kyle took from me when it was clear I was too focused on the massage to keep holding it. If he wasn't a CEO, he could have been a top-rate masseuse. After he'd spent adequate time on my shoulders, working every sore spot until it disappeared, he started to move lower, and lower, and lower, until finally I was almost bent over the railing while he cupped my ass. My stance unconsciously widened as heat flared between my thighs, my only recently dried underwear dampening once more.
Damn, he was good.
He grabbed my shoulder suddenly and yanked me back against him, one hand reaching around to tease my breast, nipples aching to be flicked under all that pesky fabric, while the other went between my legs, rubbing so slowly that it was painful. A good painful, of course. My clit ached for more every time his palm smoothed over it, and I turned my head to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. He reciprocated ferociously, our mouths opening and tongues tangling.
There was a hint of naughtiness doing it out in the open. Sure, we were the tallest point in the whole city, but there was always a chance someone might see us. I groaned at the thought, helplessly succumbing to him the longer he rubbed and plucked and cupped me.
Kyle pulled away briefly to yank my white fuzzy sweater over my head. I wasn't sure where he'd thrown it once it was off, but good riddance. The smooth tops of my breasts prickled with excited little bumps as the cool night air lapped at them, and I gasped when Kyle yanked the bra cups down, exposing me to the whole city. Pinning me between his muscular frame and the railing, his quickly hardening cock straining against my full ass, he reached around and fiddled with my nipples, pinching and pulling hard enough to make me whimper. My head lolled back on his shoulder, mouth open and gaze fixed to the stars above. When he stopped what he was doing, stepping away from me, my nipples remained sinfully erect, and I couldn't help but rub them with my warm palms, desperate to touch myself elsewhere if only to give some relief.
But I refrained—something more interesting had just come along. I whirled around at the sound of a zipper, a flutter of excitement pulsing through my body as he freed that glorious cock. Even though I'd seen it once before, the sight of it still blew me away. Rigid and thick, I couldn't imagine it fitting in any of my holes, but I was keen to give it a shot.
His finger hooked my skirt's waistline, and he tugged me toward him. All he needed to do was glance down at his impressive shaft with those piercing blue eyes and I was on my knees. My hand could barely close around it, and he hissed when I tried. This… would be an accomplishment if I could actually do this. Determined, I ran my tongue from tip to base, eyeing the pair of beautifully round balls just begging for me to wrap my lips around. All in due time, I suppose.
So, gripping his thick shaft, I pumped my hand up and down, teasing the head with my mouth. My tongue swirled around the tip, a trick I knew put most men over the edge, but when I glanced up at him for affirmation, he just wat
ched me with those bright blue eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. Huh. Not willing to give up, I started taking more of him in my mouth, slowly, his cock filling me inch by glorious inch. His knees trembled a little when I nearly reached the base, and I tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum dribbling down my throat.
Then, just as I tried to get a good rhythm going, he rumbled, "Put your hands behind your back."
A shudder passed through me, straight down to my nether regions. Men were rarely involved in blowjobs—they liked to just sit back and enjoy the ride. I slowly realized, however, as I complied, that Kyle was not like most men. Standing tall, he grabbed my head to keep it in place, then started to thrust his hips. I blinked back my surprise, hands fisted behind my back, as he quite literally started fucking my face. He went slow at first, but no less deep than I'd managed, pushing his cock all the way back, then pulling it out. He gave me time to catch my breath, then did it again. And again. And again.
Until finally the real fucking began. His pace quickened, cock slamming into my mouth as I tried my best to keep up. Occasionally, his balls slapped my chin, and the ache between my thighs had grown too frantic to ignore.
"Hands behind your back," he commanded when I tried to slip one under my skirt, desperate to push a finger or two between my slick folds. Begrudgingly, I returned it to its place behind my back, scowling a little. He smirked. "Good girl, Anna. That's it. Take me all the way in."
He had some serious stamina: any other guy would have come all over my tits by now. Instead, after a few more rough thrusts, he pulled out of me and reached for his wallet. Although my eyes were watery anyway, I could have cried when I saw him pull out the condom. Sniffling, my jaw a little sore, I licked my lips as he rolled the sheath on, his cock as rigid and intimidating as ever, and then scrambled to get up when he grabbed my forearm and pulled me to the railing.
I was putty in his hands, and did I ever love it. I moaned as he bent me over the railing, the height, making my stomach do a few loops, and then flipped my skirt up. He tugged at my underwear's elastic, snapping it against my ass cheek a few times—and each time I flinched, my arousal growing impossibly stronger.
"Just fuck me already," I pleaded, glaring at him over my shoulder, and he gave me a light spank and laughed.
"No patience."
I almost had a retort ready, but it was gone when he yanked my panties down and shoved that impressive cock into me, filling me right to the hilt. I leaned over, gripping the railing as he slammed into me over and over again. There was no starting off slow this time—it was straight to the main event, and my whole body was singing. Adrenaline pumped through me, a mixture of fear and lust, fear of the height, lust… well, that was a given.
As I climbed my way up to an earth shattering orgasm, my clit throbbing, I felt a thumb, wet with what I assumed was saliva, slip into my ass. I tensed a little, stunned by the intrusion, but after a few seconds the act only seemed to heighten the experience more. His thumb pumped in and out slowly, a sharp contrast to the rough way his cock handled me, and within minutes I was biting back a scream. After all, I didn't want anyone to see me, tits bouncing over the edge of a billionaire's penthouse as he fucked both of my holes.
"No, no, don't hold back," he growled. "I want to hear you, Anna."
I wasn't sure where he got his energy from, but as my orgasm broke, he fucked me harder and faster than he'd done all night. My hips slammed into the railing as ecstasy washed over me, and, despite my reservations, I let out a little scream. Well, more like the sound was forced out of me. I had no control—my body was totally his at that moment, dependent entirely by his actions, and I reaped the rewards selfishly.
He came with a noisy grunt, stilling as he emptied himself into me, holding me so tightly that I was sure I'd be bruised tomorrow.
"So," he said, both of us panting as my limp figure hung over the railing, too satisfied to move a single muscle. Kyle, meanwhile, leaned backward against the metal, facing the penthouse. We were both covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Same time next week?"
I somehow found the energy to laugh, and without thinking, I replied, "Hell yeah."
"Pleasure to see you again, Miss Franklin."
I breezed by Kyle's doorman with a nod. Considering how many arrogant rick jerks lived here, I felt it best to look like I belonged—even if one look at the sprawling lobby with its gorgeous chandeliers sent my stomach into knots. Knots of anticipation, excitement, nerves. Every Friday night was different with Kyle and I, and I never knew what to expect. I did know, however, that we had a standing date each week for the last two months, one that usually involved good food and amazing sex.
I could picture him already as the elevator doors closed, waiting for me in his penthouse, well-dressed and refined as always. He'd probably have my glass of wine poured, dressed in those pants that sculpted around his perfect ass, and a crisp button-up with sleeves rolled to the elbows. Most of the time, it was me taking my clothes off, but I almost preferred it that way: feeling the silky material against my skin was oddly arousing, pushing me onward and upward in the heat of the moment.
At this point, I could count Kyle as a friend—with benefits, I suppose. When we talked, the conversation was always pleasant, though a little neutral. No dark secrets came to the surface. No horrible childhood agonies rehashed. We chatted about city gossip, our jobs, and the basics of our lives. We'd each been tested and could forgo the condom now, and he'd admitted, inadvertently, that he wasn't seeing anyone like he was seeing me.
There was the potential for romance, sure, but as I gently knocked on his front door, my cunt already pulsing with anticipation, I decided I liked the thrill of our Friday night sexcapades too much to push for something more. Plus, I didn't need a boyfriend. I worked a lot. I had a small group of friends. My life didn't have some gaping void that needed to be filled by a significant other.
Other voids could be filled, however. Repeatedly. Every Friday night.
"Hello, beautiful," he greeted as soon as he opened the door. I grinned: sure enough, he had my glass of wine in hand. "Come on in."
As I shed my coat and shoes, he asked about my day, which I regaled him with in as much detail as I could remember. He always enjoyed hearing about my days at the library, though I couldn't imagine why.
"Joyce keeps whining about having to work the closing shift on Friday nights," I sighed from the plush leather loveseat, halfway through my red wine, all my muscles seeping into much needed relaxation. It helped that Kyle had been massaging my back since I sat down, his masterful hands working out any knots I'd accumulated since last Friday. "But she owes me big time… She can take the stupid Friday night shifts."
He grunted his approval, his own glass of wine sitting on the black coffee table, a little more than half-finished. The coaster was crystal, apparently, and I'd always been too afraid to set my glass down on one.
"I'm always pleased you can make our Friday nights," he murmured, his lips so close to my ear to that my skin erupt with excited little bumps. I licked my lips, sensing a shift in the air, and took what I assumed would be my last sip of wine for a little while. "I was hoping we could try something a little… different tonight."
"Oh?" I set my glass down, pretending I didn't see the crystal coasters, but he wouldn't let me turn around to face him. Instead, he kept rubbing my shoulders—not that I was complaining. "What did you have in mind?"
He stopped finally, and I stayed facing the opposite direction, though my ears strained when I heard him fiddling with something. Moments later, he swept my hair to one side, and I flinched when he slipped something around my neck. My fingertips trailed over smooth leather once he pulled away, and I quickly realized he'd attached a collar of some kind. I looked over my shoulder and found him studying me with the same collected expression I'd grown accustomed to.
"So…"
"I thought it might be fun," he mused, hooking a finger under the collar and tugging me forward, "to try a little dominati
on tonight."
My eyebrows shot up: I'd always liked a throw-you-on-the-bed kind of guy, but I'd never done anything official about it before. The longer the idea marinated around in my brain, the more appealing it became. On cue, heat rose between my thighs, and I clenched tight, encouraging the sensation.
"Nothing crazy," Kyle continued, though I noticed the way those clear blues had taken on a lusty darkness. "We'll stop anytime you want, no matter what we're doing. Fair?"
Without hesitation, I nodded, trusting him wholeheartedly to take care of me and my needs.
He tucked my hair behind my ears, then offered me a small smile. "Good. Now get on your hands and knees."
I bit back a smile—it was hard not to find some of this stuff silly sometimes—but did as I was told. I'd worn one of my usual floral skirts with thick gray tights today, topped off with a black turtleneck. The floor hurt my knees, but I said nothing, waiting, instead, for direction. Kyle smoothed his hand over my round bottom twice, then gave it a light slap.
"Follow me," he ordered as he stood and stepped around me. I quickly realized I was meant to crawl after him, and at first I tried to do it seductively, with a little sway in my hips, but it was too difficult to keep up with his brisk pace that way. The soles of his perfectly polished dress shoes flashed at me with each step, and I soon realized he was taking me to his bedroom. We'd been there many times before, making good use of his bed, his writing desk, and his spacious ensuite bathroom.
This time, things looked a little different. My mouth dropped at the various… toys scattered everywhere: whips, riding crops, handcuffs, dildos, paddles.
"Like I said," he rumbled as he rounded back and tilted my head up with his finger beneath my chin, "nothing crazy… this time."
Again, I tried to hide my smile, but he smirked at the other obvious telltale signs of my arousal: flushed skin, fluttering eyelashes, shallow breaths.
