by Nicole Snow
My fingers twitch, reaching for the source of this vicious delight. They curl against the back of his head, digging into his skull through his short brown hair, begging him to take me harder. “Please,“ I whisper, staring down at him, too red with need and heat to say more.
He closes his eyes. One big hand reaches up, cups my other breast, seeking my nipple between his fingers. It closes slowly while his mouth sucks its twin in deeper.
Oh! Oh, Fuck! My knees buckle.
I throw my hands on his shoulders. If it weren't for the bed behind me, alongside his steady arm, I'd flop down in a sexy mess on the mattress. He growls, moving his bristle against my cleavage, pushing his face into my breasts, taking over everything I've given him.
He takes possession. He takes control. He seizes my mind, and makes my writhing hips beg, shamefully and not-so-secretly hidden behind the frantic heat sweeping me.
I didn't know it was possible to feel so helpless, and also so enchanted. Grant takes my wrist in his free hand, holding me onto him, the better to suck my soft, pulsing buds harder, deeper, faster.
I'm moaning. What's left of my panties are so drenched they're pulling on my thighs, soaked in lust and need.
BASTARD, the tattoo on him says. My eyes flick to it every time I manage to force them open between new wild lashes from his tongue.
It isn't wrong. I couldn't have picked a bigger bastard to surrender my innocence to.
And tonight, he's my bastard. My sweet, bearded beast. My dark angel, sent to fuck me senseless.
I'm melting faster by the second, my legs shaking softly against his. He rises. Taking both my hands in his, he squeezes them, capturing me in his blue fire eyes.
“Lay the fuck down. These are coming off. Can't go on listening to you whimper while I suck your tits a second longer,” he tells me, pushing his hard-on into my panties. I feel his want, and oh baby, mine thickens. Doubles in no time, seething in my blood like molten steel. “Moscato, you've lived too long, holding onto these screams. I'll make you sing every damned second my tongue fills your sweet cunt.”
One push, his knees on mine. I fall backwards through the veil around his bed, bouncing on the softest mattress I've ever laid on. I'm grateful I'll be comfortable for the filthy things he's promised. I'm breathing so hard my body shakes each time I exhale, watching as he peels off his clothes, and joins me behind the silk curtain seconds later, naked and glorious.
The dim moonlight spills in, reflecting brightly off something attached to his cock. Something metallic that shouldn't be there...should it?
I do a double take, scampering up on the pillows when we lock eyes again. “Whoa, wait, what? Grant, what is that thing you're...wearing?”
I'm not sure it's the right word. He crawls on top of me, and lays down another kiss. He refuses to answer until his warmth, his heat, obliterates any second thoughts. His strength, his ink, his godly muscles remind me I don't care if his dick is half-machine.
“Guess you've never heard of a Prince Albert,” he says, grabbing his cock in a fist and crouching. “Go ahead. Touch it.”
“Prince Albert? You're royalty?”
He chuckles. “Sure. King Silas' long lost brother, specially flown in to fuck you tonight, princess. It's a thousand year old blue blood tradition.”
I'm quiet. He can't be serious. He's screwing with me, or the world's biggest play boy prince has a flaming hot twin nobody ever heard of.
“That's a joke, and this is a piercing, moscato. God, you're easy,” he growls, taking my hand, wrapping it around him. “Touch it. Feels nice against your fingertips, doesn't it? Nothing compared to how you'll feel once it's in, of course, but we'll take this nice and slow. Ample time to realize how good you're about to be fucked.”
Sweet Jesus. For a second, I'd forgotten I'm supposed to take this strange, beautiful flesh inside me. My fingers glide across the two metal beads attached to his swollen head, drifting down his very sizable length. He's so thick it's hard to even get my whole hand around it.
“I didn't know people did this,” I say, stroking him very slowly while my eyes drift back to his.
The way his dark pupils glow tells me he's enjoying it. He nods, urging me on, bringing his head closer.
“They do when they're dirty. And newsflash, little girl, I don't do it any other way.” Grant presses his forehead into mine, teasing my lips with his hot breath. He buries me in another sultry kiss before he speaks. “You've got a lot to learn about fucking, Bekah. It's adorable, frankly, and I'm a world class teacher.” He pulls away and smiles, leaving me to bristle.
Little girl? Teacher? I can't tell if I'm offended or excited, but there's adrenaline in my blood, and only one obvious way to calm it.
“I'm not clueless,” I lie. “I'm no angel. I've read things, seen them on the web...”
He smiles straight through my BS and pushes my hand off his throbbing cock. “Sure. Like watching another broad get bent over and pounded is the same as doing it.”
He rolls his eyes once. My cheeks are about to burst into flames.
“You're right about playing Ms. Innocent, though. I see right through it. You're a little tease, love, and that has a stiff fucking penalty with me. You'll pay my fine in screams. A good girl wouldn't distract me from eating her pussy to the moon and back.”
Grant reaches between my legs, stuffs his fingers in my panties, and his smile disappears. “Open wide for sir,” he orders, jerking my bottoms down so fast the force lifts my butt in the air.
Sir again! I don't know whether to be disgusted, or turned on as he buries his face against my soft belly a second later, throwing my legs over his shoulders, and pinning them down with his arms.
He's right about one thing: there's a lot I don't know about the world he's thrown open the door to. But I have a feeling by the time this weekend is over, this rich freak with the beard will give me the grand tour.
I roll my head, trying to relax when his tongue goes to work. He kisses down my belly, a slow and steady trail to my inner thighs, lower and lower before he heads back up.
Sugary anticipation runs up my spine. His breath hits my steaming folds, electric and inspired, calling fire to my clit.
Holy...mother...yes!
He doesn't take it just yet. Oh, no.
This man doesn't call me moscato for nothing. He savors me sweetly, gradually, only applying the full strength of his mouth when he's located the trigger points causing me to squirm and ache and whine for more.
I can't keep my legs shut. The instant my thighs drift too close to his head, or wriggle too much for his liking, Grant snarls, rips them open, and locks them around his head.
Exquisite agony makes need in my womb. His tongue dashes through my folds, a little deeper with every lick, slow and steady and hellbent on bringing me off whenever he chooses.
Sir isn't so crazy at all. He's in complete control.
My body belongs to him. Every raw sensation warms my blood several more degrees, sends me a little closer to the merciful release every muscle begs for, louder with every lick.
His growls fade in the desperate sounds leaving me. My moans become shrieks, and I say the same word over and over when my pleasure doused brain remembers how, so shrill it doesn't even sound like please!
Begging doesn't help. There's no reprieve until he's good and ready, on his own terms.
Eventually, he's had his fun. Grant moves to my swollen clit, draws it into his mouth, and holds it for his tongue to spank again and again.
I'm ruined when the ecstasy builds, breaks, and comes in a deluge.
Ten minutes ago – or however many it's been – I didn't know a thing about what a man could do to me.
Every calculated stroke of his tongue brings a new lesson, makes my body his willing pupil.
Now, I'm his canvass, his instrument, his other half to mold. Prey at the most primal level, and it feels so fucking good to let go when the heat surging in me ruptures.
“Grant!” His name
comes in a hot flash whimper as his tongue work quickens. My clit burns, and my hips drag themselves against his face, desperately grinding their way to nirvana.
His fingers tighten on my thighs. His face pushes into me, so deep and undaunted I don't know how he's still breathing.
He's pleasure incarnate every second my O approaches. My totality. Okay, maybe even sir.
His beard and tongue become one with my oozing flesh. Fire singes nerves in my pussy I didn't know I had. My clit twitches beneath his circling tongue, smothered in the pleasure that's like a key, opening the door to climax with two, three, four more rampant licks.
Yes, yes, and fuck, yes!
I always thought my first O with a man would be like falling down a waterfall, tingling sweetness touching me from every side.
This is more like becoming the waterfall itself.
I'm too breathless. Too smitten. Too fucking gone to even scream.
Muscles tense, twitch, and blaze in my pelvis, forcing every other part of my body to mirror them.
Sweat beads out of me in a humid, streaming mess.
Coming! My O is a roar, a fire, a ruthless bearded wave owning every inch of me for the next several minutes.
Nothing distracts him from his job. He's a growling, relentless, tongue-fucking animal, and he doesn't stop before my vision goes white. He's lightning, and my heart pounds like a heavy axe hitting wood the entire time.
The high lifts me up, slams me down, and brings me back to Earth like I'm riding a stray feather when the gods of ecstasy decide I've had more than any virgin should get her very first time. They send me home to him, into his strong arms, which close around me in a protective shell. A thick hand guides my cheek to his chest when I'm still halfway outside my body.
We lay together. He licks the last of my cream off his face. The bed smells like sex and the last musky embers of a fire. And, oh, his pierced cock is still rock hard, jutting up between his legs, leaking pre-come down his shaft in several sticky translucent trails.
In case I'd forgotten, it's far from over. I'm not really a woman until I've had him up inside me.
“You come like a goddamned rocket, moscato.” He laces his fingers through my hair, smoothing it against my head, bringing a new blush to my face when I imagine what a mess I must be. “Do I have to fuel you up for the rest of our trip?”
His lips brush mine. Moaning, I kiss him back harder, amazed I want more after that white lightning. “Worry about fueling this,” I say, reaching below the tight valley of his abs, grabbing his length.
He growls into our next kiss when I stroke him. Thick fluid spills out of him, flowing between my fingers, coating the silvery beads attached to his flesh like a well oiled machine. “Careful. You don't know what you're doing when you tease me like that,” he says. His eyes are ice blue and serious when he gazes into me.
“Show me, sir,” I purr, smiling.
For half a second, he bares his teeth. I'm reminded how rough and animalistic sex can be when his hands return to my body, helping himself to virgin flesh as he moves between my legs, shoving his throbbing cock to my wet entrance.
His fingers play while his lips take mine. His kisses come in waves, perfectly tuned to the rhythm of his hands tweaking my nipples. One hand glides between my legs. He tests my wetness, spreads my labia, and my breath catches hard in my lungs.
“That pretty little mind, moscato? I'll blow it. You'll feel every inch, baby girl. You'll enjoy it. You'll fucking come for me over and over and over. Do you understand how completely you're mine, as long as I want you to be?” He waits for my nervous nod because I'm too stunned to speak. Butterfly lust numbs me again. “Christ, I almost forgot...”
He lifts off me just long enough to reach through the curtain around the bed. The drawer to his nightstand opens, and he returns with a condom in hand, tearing the foil corner with his teeth.
“Roll it on me. Nice and easy,” he says, pushing the slim rubber into my hand. I tilt my head and watch, holding my hot little fingers to his cock. His hand goes around mine, guiding me down his smooth length.
I don't know why it's so hot. This intimate gesture floods my blood with fire. I think I'm panting when he takes his position between my legs again, tilting my chin up with two fingers so I meet his eyes.
“When I take your cherry, you look at me. One good, long look, moscato. I'm not some clumsy fucking kid sneaking into your dorm room to get his rocks off and pass out. I'm a man. I'm your sir. And you'll remember me for the rest of your life after I've torn you up.”
Bold words. Bold, and so true I feel their weight in my bones.
I'm not scared when we lock eyes. I'm admiring him the same way a woman sees once-in-a-lifetime art or a wonderfully assembled delicacy before a chef's tasting. Grant takes my hands, brings them high over my head, and holds them there, slipping my fingers through his.
“On three, beautiful,” he says, letting me know it's coming. Just one hard thrust away from what I came here for. “One...”
“Two,” I say softly, closing my eyes.
“Three.” The last word, we count together.
Then his hips edge mine. His thick cock slides into me, and keeps on going, so long it seems like it's going to go on forever before he hits the end, just short of my womb.
Some say pain is the other side of pleasure. With losing it for the first time, I think they're right. There's a sharp tearing sensation, the remnants of my virginity stripped away, and then a duller, angrier heat as my pussy stretches to welcome his size.
Sweet agony. There's a pleasure behind the pain, a strange, wanton desire that says keep going, even when it aches, and my fingers pinch his so hard I think they'll break.
“You okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine, holding himself in me until I nod.
“Please, Grant. Fuck me,” I whisper, channeling my lust. It helps me survive the next sixty seconds while his huge, pierced cock glides out of me and then plunges in again. This time, deeper.
He stifles my desperate moan with a kiss. I brush my tongue across his, feeding his hunger.
We work for our rhythm. My hips move, timed to his next few thrusts.
It isn't long before pleasure dominates all sensations. I wonder if it could be any other way when there's a man this gorgeous between my legs, holding me tight, telling me I'm sexy, secure, and entirely his every time he strokes to my depths.
Faster. Harder. Deeper.
Oh, momma.
My eyelids flutter shut. His hands move over me when they're not pinning me down by the wrists.
We caress. We fuck. We find each other in every stroke, every kiss, every tangle of our limbs.
His cock lifts me high and throws me down again, harder every time. His hips crash into mine, quickening as he grunts his pleasure. Another fireball deep inside me rises up, catches my throat, and leaves me panting.
His thrusts own my every breath. His shadow engulfs me, swallows me in, as deep as my body pulls him into me. I'm almost undone.
“Come for me, moscato,” he says. “Come on this cock. Let sir suck your little screams down his throat.”
His mouth rules mine. I can't hold on, can't keep up, can't resist this fresh kiss of ownership.
The tension builds. Craving, wanting, needing release.
It races through my veins, electrifies my nerves, sticks in my throat. New pleasure cries roll off my tongue and onto his when my second O comes, harder than the first.
Yeah, fuck, yeah, he mouths, sweeping his tongue over mine. His pubic bone dives low, creating a delicious friction on my clit. Moans become screams as my pussy hugs his cock, pulling him into me, begging his cock to join me in messy release.
No. He isn't through with me yet.
When my eyes stop rolling and ecstasy releases its hold, I'm eye-to-eye with him again, taking in the sultry sight of his huge chest bulging. Whole landscapes come alive on his chest, guardians and demons in ink, each fighting for a chance to own me tonight
. His lungs pump harder, seeking precious oxygen, all the better to fuck me harder, longer, delivering more.
More. My body shouldn't want it, but it does. It's like he's cast a spell over me, and now I can't stop, crashing back into him with a ferocious swing of my hips each time he puts his full length into me.
If he meant to teach me lust – frenzied, desperate, all consuming need – he's succeeded several times over.
“Moscato, you're burning up,” he says, slowing his strokes when I'm about to give up another climax, laying his palm on my cheek. “You want my come this much? Every drop for your parched little cunt?”
“Yes!” I hiss, barely recognizing my own voice. “Please. Come with me!”
His eyes dive into mine, narrowing, considering the plea. His hands move to my ass, picking me up, bringing me down on his cock. I've seen this position a hundred times in the old Karma Sutra books I used to sneak peeks at in our library, whenever our servants weren't looking.
Who the hell knew it felt so natural? So good?
He rests me on his lap, fingers digging into my ass, guiding me up and down.
Up, down, everywhere on his obscene cock. It isn't hard for a man his size to move me. His soft beard scrapes my neck, dives to my cleavage. He kisses his way up my throat, jerking himself off with my whole body.
I'm on the verge when he slows his hips, reaches up, fists my hair, and twists my neck so my eyes beam into his. “Say the magic word if you don't want to come alone this time,” he growls.
“What word?” I'm playing dumb, but I already know it.
His cock moves in me again, shallower strokes, more insistent than before. His eyebrows quirk in a warning, and the unthinkable is on the end of my tongue, something I swore I'd never consider.
“Please. Please, Grant,” I try. No, not good enough. My eyelids pinch shut, his thrusts achingly close to carrying me to bliss again. “Sir, please!”
“Fuck!” His curse rumbles low as his thrusts pick up.
My pussy tenses, squeezes his whole length, and I'm almost swept away before I notice how he stiffens, how he swells deep inside me. He's coming.
Grant fills me with such a furious heat I swear I feel it through the condom.
