So my eyes blazing, I said a rough hello. And fuck, the conversation went off the rails from that very moment, there were no niceties, no “getting to know you” small talk. Because within minutes, the brunette was fucking herself with a coke bottle for me, pushing that green glass up her cunt, the bottle smeared with white as it moved in and out, and I was an animal in response. I grabbed my dick and went at it sixty miles an hour, spraying Lindy with blast after blast of slick semen, painting her torso, her boobs, her stomach with my cream, watching as arc after arc landed on the girl, glistening on those generous curves.
But the brunette was no newbie. Sure, she gasped when the first lash of sperm hit her tits, but soon she was massaging it into her skin, treating it like lotion, even pushing some of it into her cunt as she came all over the coke bottle, her labia gripping the glass tight, hugging and convulsing as she practically shot off the lounger. And oh fuck, oh fuck, we’d done it all within twenty feet of the remaining guests, fuck, within twenty feet of her mom and dad, muffling our moans, letting out silent screams, forcing our bodies not to betray us to the world.
So yeah, that happened. And shit, but the encounter has been on repeat in my mind since it happened, for sixteen fucking hours straight driving me crazy, and now I’m ready to ravage the girl again, abduct her from her parents’ house and bring her back to mine, tie her to a bed and make her cum until she absolutely shatters.
So what could I do? Seething with frustration, I ground my teeth until an idea popped into my mind. I didn’t get to be CEO without some ingenuity, and I realized the solution was right in front of my eyes. Because I didn’t need a reason. I’m Jim’s boss, I own that man, and fuck, if I wanted to go over there now and help myself to his daughter? It was fucking wrong, I was an asshole, a caveman, but so what? The blood was pounding in my groin and I jumped into my SUV, ready to take what was mine.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lindy
I was lying in bed re-living my encounter with Mr. Jones for the millionth time when tires squealed into the driveway. What the hell? Even though I’d been in the middle of lightly tracing my clit, absentmindedly stroking my wet cunt, I jolted up in bed to glance out my second floor window. And oh my god, but it was Chris Jones himself, the man of my dreams, his masculine form huge and assertive, stepping out of luxury SUV, the expression on his face grim.
What the hell? What was he doing here Sunday at six a.m.? No one in the neighborhood was awake, there were a couple birds tweeting, a couple rays of sunshine just starting to come out from behind the mountains, what the hell? This was insane, nothing good could come of this. So I rushed downstairs in my nightshirt, a big pink tee that came down mid-thigh with only my tiny panties on underneath.
“Mr. Jones,” I hissed opening the front door and poking my head out. “What are you doing here?”
He stopped for a moment, looking dazed as if caught momentarily unawares. But then recognition dawned once more at the sight of me and he charged up the stairs, seizing my wrist.
“Come on Lindy,” he ground out.
And god, but his big hand was so warm around mine, so commanding and possessive that I almost went with it, almost let him drag me off.
But reality got a hold of me, and I resisted, pulling my arm back, squeaking a bit even as I tried to keep my voice down.
“Mr. Jones!” I protested, “Stop! What are you doing?”
But with one thrust, he pulled me out from behind the door so that I stood with him on my front porch in nothing but my nightshirt. And that made the big man stop, eyes eating me up, running over every inch of my form, hungry, almost panting.
“What the hell?” I whispered angrily again. “You can’t just come and abduct me, what the hell?”
Chris shook himself but the look of determination didn’t leave those blue eyes, if anything they only got more intense.
“Lindy,” he ground out. “Come and talk with me in my car.”
I shook my head furiously. Hadn’t he just heard my outburst? I wasn’t about to be kidnapped.
“No,” I shot back, still whispering. “We can talk here.”
But the morning was cold and I was shivering, my arms and legs bare, the cold of the wood blanks beneath my bare feet seeping into my very being. And Chris knew it too.
“Baby,” he ground out smoothly. “I’m not here to abduct you, trust me,” he said, his eyes darkening. “I just want to talk about yesterday and we need to do that in some privacy without your parents hearing. Come on, into my car,” he jerked his head towards the SUV again. “We won’t even drive, let’s just sit in the cab and be warm at least.”
And I stood, trembling, practically naked on our porch, weighing my options. On the one hand I could ignore him and slam the door on him, but I had a feeling he’d just pound loudly and wake my parents, he wasn’t giving up. So that was out. Or I could go with him and get in the car, and hopefully have a productive conversation about yesterday. Because yeah, I wanted to talk about it too, I wanted to figure out what the hell had happened, how in the world had I just bared my cunt to a forty year-old man, an alpha male more than twice my age?
So wrapping my arms around me tight, I nodded.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll go with you, but no sounds.”
And Chris nodded silently, agreeing. Slowly we crept over to the silver SUV and like a gentleman, he held the door open for me as I clambered into the passenger seat, trying to keep my nightshirt down as I got comfortable. God, why were these SUVs always so high up off the ground, you practically needed a footstool to get into one of these things.
But Chris just chuckled deeply in his throat, his eyes appreciative as he eyed the backs of my creamy thighs, the obscene length of leg exposed as I sat down.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl,” he remarked low in his throat before shutting the door behind me. And circling the car, he got into the driver’s seat, only to start up the ignition.
“Chris,” I said sharply, my eyes turning towards him again. “We said we were going to talk in the driveway.”
“I know,” he ground out even while pulling the car away from the house, “but I’m gonna go around the corner and park so we don’t alert your parents. Here, look,” he said as the SUV rolled to a stop. “We’ll stay right here.”
And my heart beating furiously, I nodded. My thighs were shaky, trembling a bit, and my insides were getting melty again in his presence. I couldn’t understand it. The big man had acted like a fucking caveman, driving to our house at 6 a.m., forcing me to come outside, and then forcing me to get into his car for crying out loud. It was so crazy, like he’d lost his mind.
But the thing was that I’d lost mine too. Because I was the one who hadn’t put a robe on, who didn’t grab a jacket before coming downstairs, who’d willingly got into the car on the flimsiest of excuses. And now that we were alone again, I found myself mesmerized by him, that big frame, the muscled arms, the strong thighs and long legs.
“Chris,” I breathed slowly, “what is this about?”
I turned to face him over the center console even as his hands gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. And slowly, he turned to look at me.
“Lindy,” he growled in reply. “I wanted to see you again.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, my insides flushing.
“Really?” I murmured. “There are easier ways you know, you could have called instead of coming to my parents’ house at 6 a.m. on a Sunday.”
And he shook his head as if to clear it again before fixing me with a hot blue gaze.
“Oh I know what I’m doing,” he drawled. “I just wanted to make sure it got done right.”
Done right? What was he talking about? I shot him a curious glance and he chuckled deep in his throat in reply.
“You know, I hear college is really expensive these days,” he drawled, nonchalant. “You making your parents’ proud? Doing well at school?”
And I colored then because the tru
th was, college wasn’t going well. I’ve always studied hard, always been a good student, but unfortunately, I wasn’t that good, not in high school and not now. I dunno, maybe I have dyslexia or something but I’m more of a B+/A- student so I wasn’t able to get a very big scholarship, more just pocket money. As a result, my parents were forking over a sizeable chunk this year, and things weren’t looking up for the next three either based on my freshman grades.
But Chris didn’t know any of that, so I bit my lip.
“I’m doing okay,” I said quietly. “Yeah, my grades are okay, why?”
The big man looked at me speculatively.
“I hear Hudson University’s expensive, that’s all,” he drawled. “Tuition’s something like thirty thou a year right?”
I colored. It was forty plus living expenses on top of that, and I bit my lip again. Jim and Brenda were paying most of my bills and I knew it was a strain, my parents had taken out a second mortgage because of me.
So I gulped, looking at the big man again.
“Why?” I asked quietly. “Is there a scholarship or something I could apply for? Is United Electric sponsoring a grant for students this year?”
It was possible, sometimes local businesses chose a student to support in return for an internship, maybe as a marketing gig more than anything else. And I’d be a perfect fit, the kid of an employee, I’d grown up in this community with strong ties to the school, to other families, it’d be fabulous advertising for United Electric.
But Mr. Jones just rumbled in his chest, smiling slightly.
“Yeah, a little like a scholarship,” he said. “Kind of, but not exactly. Because you know Lindy, I fired your dad last week, gave him a month’s notice but after that he’s gone.”
I sat stock still, stunned for a moment. What the hell? My dad had been perfectly fine this last week, maybe drinking a little more at night, but he’d made no mention of being let go. And why did Mr. Jones come to my parents’ twentieth anniversary party yesterday if he’d just fired my dad? That was like rubbing salt into the wound, making my dad feel even worse on his special day.
As if reading my mind, the big man answered.
“Your dad asked me to come,” he said casually. “I wasn’t going to, but he didn’t want to ruin your mom’s day.”
And I gasped again.
“So this entire week, my dad’s been fired and he’s just been putting on a show?” I asked, my cheeks coloring.
And the big man shrugged.
“Yeah, pretty much. Jim’s got one month before he’s gone for good.”
And at that, I began struggling to get out, futilely yanking the latch, trying to unlock the door.
“Let me out,” I struggled, hissing. “You’re an animal, treating my dad that way, I hate you!”
But my struggles were futile, the big man had locked the doors and I was stuck inside, the dark tinted windows shielding us, the big silver SUV rock steady even as I thrashed inside.
“I can’t believe it!” I shrieked again. “You fired my dad!? Jim needs his job, my mom doesn’t work, I’m in school, how could you do that to him?” I cried, my eyes welling up with tears. “How could you?”
And I was about to throw myself bodily against the door, go crazy and escape somehow, some way, from this confinement. But Chris grabbed my shoulders and turned me to look at him, gazing deep into my eyes, his blue ones piercing, arresting.
“Listen to me Lindy,” he said roughly, giving me a small shake. “I didn’t want to fire your dad but Jim was stealing from me,” he ground out. “Hear that? Stealing, caught red-handed, admitted the whole thing.”
And I was stock still now, gazing at the big man with shock, tears streaming down my face now. Stealing? My dad? Oh no, it couldn’t be. But in my heart, I knew it probably was. Times were tight, I was in college now and my brother was starting soon, my parents had two giant mortgages and my mom hadn’t worked in years, she was sick. So yeah, maybe Jim took a little, but it was all for his family, for us. And I choked on my sobs, my tears streaming uncontrollably as the strength went out of my body, my head dropping, the fight dissipating.
“Oh please,” I said, begging Mr. Jones, and suddenly my hands were the ones grabbing at him and not the other way around. I took his big forearms in my small palms, holding tight onto the muscled strength as if for dear life. “Please,” I pleaded, “give my dad his job back. We’re so dependent on him,” I choked. “I work but it’s just at the coffee shop on campus and you know my brother starts school soon, too, please, Mr. Jones, please.”
And the big man sighed wearily, sitting back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, ruffling the black strands attractively. I was ashamed, like I was betraying my family even noticing his looks at a time like this, but he was just so gorgeous that my body’s reaction was instinctive, growing soft and desperate in his presence.
“Please,” I begged again, my hands grabbing one his big ones again, squeezing the square, strong fingers. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just ask.”
And there was silence in the car, my sniffles the only sound until slowly, Chris turned his head towards me.
And the fiery burn in his look took me aback, made me catch my breath. Because he wanted something, wanted something that only I could give and I could feel it deep in my bones, deep in my hotly throbbing pussy.
“Anything?” he growled, his fingers tightening reflexively around mine, boxing in my little palm with his big one. “Anything?”
And I nodded again, confirming my offer.
“Anything.”
And the burn skyrocketed from warm embers to a flaming blaze because suddenly Mr. Jones was ON, his eyes seizing mine, devouring me, his big body tense, hard, in the driver’s seat.
“Well there is something you could do,” he drawled.
“What?” I breathed, holding my breath expectantly. “Just tell me, I’ll find a way.”
And I’m not sure what I was expecting really. The hot session between us had set off a storm in my body, lit me on fire in a way I’d never expected, making me run moist and creamy, but at the same time I was a virgin and ridiculously naïve. So when he said “anything,” I was still thinking along the lines of some casual kisses, maybe a little petting, even some fun with the coke bottle again.
But Mr. Jones was an experienced man, an alpha male who dominated and gave with no quarter. So his demand took my breath away, never in a million, zillion years would I have expected this.
“Move in with me,” he ground out. “For ten days, you’ll belong to me, and after that?” he said, his eyes dark, possessive. “Your dad can keep his job.”
I paused for a moment, my heart fluttering.
“Mo-move in?” I stuttered, “You mean, cook for you and do some light housekeeping, that kind of thing?”
As embarrassing as it was to admit it, I kinda wanted more kisses and fondling, exploring this new side of myself, so I was devastated that all he wanted was a glorified maid. Oh god, it was so shameful that I was even thinking this, that I’d been envisioning the big man with his clothes off, learning his body, tracing that massive, thick dick with my hands, my tongue. My imagination had gone completely off the tracks, and I shook myself sternly. All Mr. Jones wanted me for was my cleaning skills, not anything like a girlfriend.
But that was all put to rest in a second, squashed like a fly. Because in a low rasp, Mr. Jones made his intentions clear.
“No baby,” he drawled, “Not as my maid. As my fuckdoll.”
And my face flushed, my body growing hot as my heart pumped a million miles a minute, my cunt growing wet and steamy, the liquid running moistly from my untouched hole. His fuckdoll? As in fuck + doll? Oh my god, oh my god … yes, I wanted it.
CHAPTER SIX
Chris
Lindy was so exciting, practically naked again in the close confines of the SUV with me. Because yeah, this car was huge but somehow we’d wound up right next to each other in the front seat, the brunette’s cu
rvy, nearly-nude form pressed up right next to me, making my dick jut out with nothing more than her presence, her nearness.
Because oh yeah, the teen looked that good even first thing in the morning. She was positively delectable, her brown curls in disarray, a glorious mass down her back, her curvy body covered by nothing but the thinnest of cotton, a nightshirt that was indecent, bra-less, those big boobs jutting out, huge and pendulous. And fuck, but I could almost see her pussy through the cotton, the pink, threadbare material doing nothing to hide those luscious lips, the outline of her puffy flesh practically visible through the filmy material.
So yeah, my fuckrod was on full attention the minute I saw her, the minute I touched her hand on the porch. And I couldn’t control the animal within, she made me that crazy, that alpha, that I couldn’t even act the gentleman. Because yeah, I propositioned Lindy like she was a whore, and not an innocent teen.
“A fuckdoll,” I confirmed. “You come to my house, stay with me for ten days, and let me fuck you every which way,” I ground out, never letting go of her eyes, her caramel ones penetrated by my deep blue.
And she gasped, the color rising to her cheeks, so beautiful, so delicious that I almost spurted right there, almost let it go right there in the cab of the car. But I forced myself down, willing my dick not to give it up so soon, so close to winning.
And with a slow, trembly inhale, Lindy spoke.
“Mr. Jones, are you sure?” she whispered. “Because,” and here she paused. “Because I’m a virgin,” she stumbled a bit on the words.
Now it was my turn to be astonished. A virgin? The teen girl before me was a virgin? How could any woman with a body like hers, the huge tits, the soft, strokable tummy, the luscious thighs and pink cunt, be a virgin for crying out loud? How was it possible that no man had ever breached this beautiful acreage, had never pushed his dick into that tight cunt, never been milked by her inner walls? I practically fell out of my seat but forced myself to stay calm, my breathing ragged even as I stared at her.
Beg Me: Sold to My Dad's Boss Page 3
