Hard Liquor: Runaway Billionaires: Arthur Duet #2

by Blair Babylon

  His grip moved up, and he kneaded her ankles, one leg in each hand. His fingers rose up her legs, stroking over the thick muscles of her calves, draining all the stress and tension of her day and the weeks away.

  He stroked the insides of her knees, almost tickling.

  His fingers rested on her thighs, moving up her legs slowly. He was massaging, yet as he neared the apex of her legs, she wished he would continue rubbing her legs forever, and yet she was dying for him to touch her. Every time his fingers neared her center, her body responded, heating.

  With one finger, he gently stroked her clit, a slow shiver of pleasure.

  Her breath quickened in her chest.

  Using his thumbs and fingers, he massaged her folds and all the sensitive tissues in between, sliding his fingers inside her, the tension building until her elbows gave out. She fell, her butt still in the air.

  She heard him say, “You’re so beautiful. I desperately want to succumb to temptation and have you now, but I won’t.”

  Gen turned her head away from the cushion. “Because you’re British and have proper self-control.”

  “Because first, I want to do this to you.”

  “God, yes.” She wanted him to do it all to her.

  Something smooth and cool slipped through the lips of her pussy, sliding over her several bumps and nubs of pleasure there.

  Arthur said, “This is my little invention. I think I could patent it and make yet more millions.”

  “You can never have enough millions,” she mumbled, her face still half-buried in the cushion.

  “Now you’re speaking like a billionaire,” he said. “Good girl.”

  He slid the cool thing inside her core, filling her all at once.

  Gen arched her back and grabbed the couch cushions. The sudden fullness didn’t hurt, but the thing was ridged on the sides. It shuddered when he pushed it into her, the ridges stimulating her whole channel.

  Arthur said, “It has a handle here, so I could fuck you with it.” He pulled it back and slid it into her again. The friction inside her was almost unbearable, almost enough to send her over the edge in just those seconds. “But it gets better.”

  Gen didn’t believe that. It couldn’t get better than that delicious, slidey feeling.

  Arthur’s warm fingers descended toward her clit, slipping something softer, more pliable, between her folds.

  He said, “Good girl. I love the way that looks in you. My God, you’re sexy.”

  Gen was so open, so vulnerable and small, so utterly at his mercy, that she believed him.

  Arthur said, “One more. Relax. I’m going to make you come like you’ve never come before, pet.”

  After the last few weeks, she believed anything he said, even when he said something so absolutely impossible.

  His fingers touched her asshole.

  Her body clenched, and she jerked forward. Her pussy tightened around the thing in her vag, and it felt bigger, harder, inside her.

  “No, pet. Don’t move. Do this for me. Let me watch you.”

  She had really liked the last time he’d touched her there.

  Gen forced herself to move back on her knees, to relax.

  “Good girl.”

  His hands kneaded the cheeks of her ass, massaging the large muscles, pushing them together and spreading her ass cheeks apart. As he palpated her ass, her pussy moved around the hard thing, and she could feel that heavy roughness deep inside.

  She could feel that she was getting closer.

  Gen moaned.

  Arthur said, “Good girl. Show me you like it.”

  She gasped, and she grabbed the cushions harder, pushing back against his hands.

  He gripped the soft skin of her ass harder with his fingers. “Yes, pet.”

  “More,” she said.

  “Good girl.”

  Something slick and wet touched her asshole.

  “It’s a gel,” Arthur whispered, “on my finger. Push back.”

  She was terrified it would hurt and so desperate to do anything he wanted to do to her to push herself over the edge.

  Gen pushed back, and with a pinch, his finger slipped through the hard ring of her ass.

  “Good, pet,” Arthur said, his voice so low and hoarse. “Fuck it.”

  She did, rocking back and forth on his finger, and the slick lube quenched the burn. Even his fingers were long and thick, but within seconds, the friction vibrated up her nerves and turned to pleasure.

  Gen panted. Her asshole flexed around his finger, and she pushed back harder so that he fucked her ass deeper.

  The friction amplified as he rotated his finger as she rocked onto him.

  Every push back drove her closer, and her pussy began to pulse, gripping the hard thing inside her.

  God, if he would just rub his thumb on her clit, it would all break, but he didn’t.

  He grabbed her hip with his other hand. “Stop.”

  “I’m so close,” she panted. “I’m so close. Please.”

  He paused. “Go back now. Take more.”

  Gen pushed back, ready for the quick snap of pain, but something larger pushed at her asshole. She whimpered.

  “Two fingers,” Arthur said.

  Gen pushed back and gritted her teeth. She grabbed the cushion and pushed at the arm of the couch with her other hand to force her body backward. A sting this time as his fingers pushed inside her, and then the friction again, that grinding sensation of being deeply penetrated as his fingers rubbed inside her ass, and her pussy and core clenched around the hard thing.

  In seconds, she was panting, sweating, and so close to coming.

  “Good, pet,” Arthur said. His voice was as clenched as her core. “Slower. Wait. Not yet.”

  She slowed, letting his fingers press inside her and pull back, again and again, pushing inside her and pulling back. She trembled, her body so tight around his fingers and the hardness inside her pussy.

  A jolt of pleasure, and his fingers were gone. “No!”

  “I have better for you,” he growled.

  “My God, please!”

  “Now, take this.”

  She glanced behind herself, but Arthur was sitting back on the couch, his pants still fastened.

  Damn it, she was so starving for him, so close to an orgasm and dying for it, that even if he had been holding his enormous cock behind her asshole, she would have slammed herself backward. The pain would have made her come.

  The look on Arthur’s face—the intense hunger and burning in his silvery eyes—that almost did the trick, too. Her core squeezed hard around the thing inside her.

  “Back,” he said.

  Gen did. She wanted everything.

  More this time as she pushed back on something hard and wet, and with a sear of pleasure, it slipped inside her. “Oh!”

  He didn’t fuck her with it, though. Her body strained with it, the hardness and the fullness of it inside her ass and the other one inside her pussy.

  “Good, pet,” Arthur cooed as he massaged her ass and thighs. “God, you are so sexy with the plug in your ass and the dildo in your pussy. I could fuck you all night with these.”

  “Please,” Gen whimpered. Her body shook, oscillating between tension so close to tipping over into orgasm and overwhelming fullness that verged on pain.

  “Good,” Arthur said. His hands left her ass, and he was standing beside her. He opened his hand near her face. “Off the couch. On your knees.”

  “Wha-at? I can’t. Please, Arthur. Touch me.”

  His voice lowered. “On your knees.”

  Gen struggled, getting one knee off the couch and her foot on the floor. She grabbed Arthur’s hand and steadied herself, and he held her by her hand and shoulder until she was safely on her knees. He used her hand to lever her back so she was sitting on her heels.

  She braced herself on her knees, panting. Her body was still shaking, and all her skin was so sensitive. Her breasts were swollen until they hurt. The soft thing
between her folds rubbed her clit when she moved, almost stimulating, but it was too soft.

  “Knees together,” Arthur said.

  Gen adjusted her legs. Pulling her knees together forced the things higher in her ass and her pussy, and the soft thing nudged her clit every time she breathed.

  Arthur reached down and took a handful of her hair, turning her face up to look at him. He took his phone from his pants pocket.

  Dear God, he wasn’t going to make a phone call while she was waiting, trembling. Please, God, no.

  Gen was nearly crying, almost dying, her fingernails clawing her knees with need. Her body was a rope tangled in a massive knot, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Arthur—”

  “New app,” he growled and turned the screen toward her. He let go of her hair.

  Three white dots were visible on a sea of black on the phone screen.

  Arthur brushed his finger over the top one.

  The soft thing pressing against her clit buzzed, “Oh,” nearly striking the match of her orgasm.

  He touched the middle one.

  The hardness deep in her core vibrated, driving into her and tightening the knot. God. So close.

  Arthur pressed the last one, and the thing in her ass shivered deep in her bowels, shaking her body.

  Gen cried out and fell forward onto her hands.

  The vibration stopped.

  Arthur said, “On your knees.”

  She pushed herself back. “Please, Arthur, please.”

  “Yes, pet,” he said. “Open your mouth.”

  He had set his phone on the arm of the couch, easily within his reach, and he was unbuckling his belt.

  My God, he meant to fuck her mouth, too.

  Gen stared up at him, shocked and too dazed to speak.

  Arthur’s voice was more commanding, “Remember, your safe sign is to touch your ears with both hands. Open your mouth, pet.”

  He unzipped his fly, and his long cock flopped out, hard and thick and ready.

  He grabbed her hair, forcing her head back. “I said, open.”

  Gen opened her lips.

  Arthur pushed his cock into her mouth. The heady, earthy taste of his skin flooded her mouth and nose. His cologne lingered on his clothes—warm spices and wood—but his own masculine scent was darker. She pushed herself forward, opening her throat to take all of it that she could.

  A strong buzz stroked from her clit to her pussy and ass.

  Gen grabbed the couch for balance and brought her mouth down on him until he hit the back of her throat, and he swiped his phone screen again, sending another wave of pleasure through her from front to deep inside.

  She went down on him, sucking his cock into her mouth and licking it, and he rubbed his hand over his phone. His touch lingered in places, pushed harder, deepening the vibrations in her pussy and ass until she was crying out around his cock.

  Arthur grabbed her hair and fucked her face, hard, his cock sliding in her mouth and down her throat.

  He brought his whole hand down on the screen, and all of the things tremored, an earthquake inside her body.

  The thing crammed in her pussy shook her, the vibrations crescendoing and falling off, driving her closer and closer to the edge with each surge.

  His hand fisted in her hair shoved her head forward in time with the peaks, ramming his cock far down her throat.

  Arthur’s cock swelled in her mouth and spilled warm salt down her throat.

  The thing throbbed faster in her pussy, harder against her clit, deeper in her ass, until she reached the edge and flew over.

  Waves ran up her body, bliss and fire and the edge of unconsciousness.

  Gen couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  She was gone.

  Waves of pleasure coursed through her.

  And subsided.

  And fell away.

  The world refocused.

  Arthur was holding her in his arms, a blanket wrapped around her naked, shivering body, and he was rocking her. “There, pet. Good, pet.”

  Gen reached her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Shakes still ran through her, aftershocks so intense that they were almost painful. She could feel that the things were gone from her body, and she was empty and sore. Her stomach cramped from the intensity of it.

  “Good girl,” Arthur murmured, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her.

  Gen felt more than used. She was used up. She was devastated and destroyed. She wasn’t sure she could ever be the same blithe, scared woman who had met Arthur a few months ago. He had changed her, deepened her, fucked her until she was someone new.

  “Good, pet,” he whispered.

  She nuzzled closer to Arthur’s warmth and strength.

  He rocked her for minutes, holding her and murmuring to her. He stroked her hair and told her she was safe.

  “I can’t even fathom what just happened,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Good girl. You’re okay.”

  “I think I died.”

  “I don’t think so, but the intensity can be overwhelming.”

  “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I don’t even recognize myself.” She held onto him as tightly as she could.

  His arms wrapped more tightly around her body. “I’ve got you.”

  “I don’t know whether to cry or scream or faint.”

  “You’re safe with me.”

  “I know. I know I’m safe with you. I wasn’t scared. You’re the only one I feel safe with. I wanted more the whole time. I was willing to do anything.”

  “That can be frightening.”

  “Is that what being a sub is like? Like tonight? To be destroyed like this?”

  “As my submissive, you would be mine to feed, mine to use, and mine to fuck any way I want to. Do you see how it would be now?”

  “Yes,” Gen said. She saw. Oh, God, she saw.

  He asked, “Do you want to be my submissive?”

  “Yes.”

  His Submissive Little Fucktoy

  WHAT have I done?

  That was Gen’s first thought when she woke up the next morning, lying on the soft chaise lounge in her bedroom. She snuggled down harder in the blankets, unwilling to get up.

  The door to her closet was ajar, which was weird. She was sure she hadn’t left it like that.

  And her ass was a little sore.

  Not anything painful, not damaged-like, just a little sore.

  For that matter, so were her boobs, her pussy, and her knees.

  She wiggled her legs in the fuzzy blankets.

  Jesus Christ, her knees.

  Gen hadn’t been on her knees that much since her Texan grandmother had taken her to a revival when she was twelve. Her mother had put a stop to that.

  Okay, her knees were going to require a little aspirin.

  She imagined her body would learn to adjust to that if she was going to be Arthur’s submissive, kind of like getting used to exercise. Her thighs and calves had been a little achy when she had started taking Ruckus for walks.

  She would have to acclimate to it because that was what she agreed to, not to “training,” not to “playing around,” but to being his submissive.

  She didn’t regret saying it one bit, but maybe he hadn’t meant it like that. Maybe he just meant three or six weeks of training or something.

  Maybe he didn’t mean that he wanted her.

  She should talk to him about that.

  Gen wiggled on the chaise lounge, looking up above her head to where Arthur lay on a very long couch, pushed to rest perpendicular to her chaise. His fingers were entwined with hers, though he was still asleep. A blanket wrapped around him, though it was pushed down so that she could see his pale blue tee shirt. It looked sort of like the British posters for The War, with a crown of St. George on top and writing that read, KEEP CALM AND CODE ON.

  That was geeky.

 
The way that the cotton stretched across his broad chest and rounded pecs and shoulders didn’t look geeky. When he breathed, the material and words over his chest stretched.

  Gen watched the way his muscles moved while he breathed for far too long.

  His tee shirt’s sleeves had ridden up above his strong biceps, and his arm muscles rounded under his skin. The wispy ends of the red and blue tattoo on his back peeked out of his sleeves.

  One of his forearms had that tattoo of three shields surrounding the Celtic knot triangle: the blue shield with three crowns, the orange one with the white lion, and the one with the red diamond-checkerboard pattern.

  She wanted to see him all-the-way buck naked, strutting for her, so she could see that ink on his glorious flesh. Even though she had been around him for months, he was still stunning. Looking at his square jaw and burly physique still felt like a solid whack to the frontal lobes of her brain.

  She was craning her neck, and her fingers twitched.

  Arthur’s eyes fluttered open. He squinted in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Morning, love.”

  That must be a British thing. It had to be a British thing. Didn’t all the BBC shows have people calling each other love?

  If he called her Guv’nuh, it wouldn’t mean that she was a police constable.

  “G’morning,” she said.

  Arthur stretched on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the blankets at the far end.

  He stroked her arm, pressing it harder against his stomach.

  Gen squeezed him around the waist, reassuring him. Now that she knew why he tried to make her hold him more tightly—because he had been trying to make his dying mother hug him when he was a child—she realized that he did little things like it all the time.

  He said, “We should pack. The plane for Paris leaves in—” He picked up his phone, which had been balancing on the back of the couch all night, evidently, and glanced at the screen. “Oh, God. Three hours. Come on. We need to be in the car in an hour and a half.” He rolled off the couch. “Graham already has our clothes for the reception packed, but the rest of it has to be done. Christ.”

  He bounded off the couch, frowned at the half-open closet door, and pressed it closed. “These things are all defective.”

  Gen struggled to get up, her legs snarled in the blankets.