by Alexa Riley
I’m determined not to lose the battle this time. I will be a wonderful wife—that’s the plan, anyway. I talked to some of the girls at the agency before I got picked up. I asked a lot of questions about what I should do and what American husbands like from their wives. Most of the things they told me were sex related but I took all the notes I could. After all, most of the woman were call girls. If anyone should know how to make a man happy, it would be them. The agency not only did mail-order brides, they also housed women men could rent by the hour. Some of the women tried to talk me into staying. Saying that I would be freer there, rather than trapped inside a marriage. I had my U.S. citizenship because of my mother, but I wanted protection. And love. They laughed at the idea of a happy ever after, saying I was naïve, and that if a man had to get a mail-order bride then there must be something wrong with him.
I figure maybe he’s just lonely. But what if he’s a cruel man? my mind keeps asking me. Logan, the driver, seems nice enough. We may have only spoken a few words to each other, but he put me at ease. Would such a nice man take me to someone who would cause me harm? Maybe I am naïve just having these thoughts.
Drawing my eyes up to the rear view mirror, I see Logan looking at me. Embarrassed at being caught staring at him, I go back to looking out the window. The sun is almost fully down now and instead of green fields as far as the eye could see, now there are hundreds of trees that block everything else out.
“We’re almost there, sugar,” Logan says in a slow drawl, pulling my eyes back to him once again. “You sure you wanna do this? You look like you’re about to bolt from this car. You must be new. I’ve never seen you before.”
I’m unsure what he means. Has my future husband been married through the agency before?
“Has Mr. Stone been married before?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
Logan releases a bark of laughter along with his forceful no.
I guess that means he’s been using call girls then. I’m not sure which is more unsettling, the thought of my husband using call girls, or that his driver thinks the idea of him getting married is laughable. These thoughts do not help the pounding of my heart.
“We’re here. Welcome to Creston Falls.”
Logan slowly pulls the car up to a big black gate that looks to be about fifteen feet tall. Rolling down the window, he punches in a code and the gate opens. As we pull up the long, rocky drive I take in the house. It almost looked like a castle out in the middle of nowhere. I have no idea how I’ll ever keep this place clean if it’s to be my home.
Stepping out of the car, I try to take it all in. In one of the windows something moves and catches my eye. Stepping forward, trying to get a better look, I see the shadow of a man back away from the window.
Turning to Logan, I ask, “Was that Mr. Stone?”
“He’s the only one home right now, so I reckon it was. Go on in, I’m sure he’s waiting for you. I’ll park the car in the garage over there,” he says, pointing to a large building to the left of the house. “When you’re done, have Mr. Stone call me or walk on over and I’ll take you back to the city if you like.”
Before I can ask what he means he jumps in the car, leaving me to my fate. Taking a deep breath, I take the final ten steps to the door and slowly open it.
Griffin
I hate the waiting more than anything else. The anticipation of someone new seeing my face for the first time. I use whores because even though I shouldn’t care what women think, I do. I pace back and forth in my bedroom, constantly checking the windows. I keep looking to see if Logan is back with the latest one. It’s been months since I last called the agency, and I am on edge. I hate this part of myself. This need for release I can’t seems to take care of myself. Sure, jerking off can get me by for a few months, but it’s just so goddamn empty. Even fucking a whore who could give a shit about me is better than fucking my own sorry, scarred-up hand.
Looking down at my hands and seeing the mangled scars does nothing to ease my anxiety. I know the looks this new whore will give me. Pity, disgust, revulsion… At least until she remembers what I paid to have her here for a few hours. Most of the time they just focus on the dollar signs. I’m not an idiot. I know what I look like. A monster.
I pace through the room again and check the window. It’s raining and getting dark outside.
I run my hand down the right side of my face, feeling the familiar jagged lines. I try to block the memories from my mind and focus on the present. I have enough to worry about without adding to my stress.
Light floods across the room and I look down in time to see Logan pull up to the manor. I watch carefully to see if it’s the same blonde from last time. At least a familiar girl wouldn’t take half the time I paid for pretending not to stare. I move the curtain to the side so I can get a better look. The car door opens and I see a dark-haired woman step out of the car.
My chest tightens and I am momentarily stunned. As her head lifts to look up toward where I’m standing, I’m shaken out of my daze. I step away from the window and clutch my chest.
“Fucking hell.”
She’s the most beautiful and innocent thing I have ever seen in my life. I barely caught a glimpse of her, and I somehow feel like I can’t breathe. Beauty. So pure and perfect.
Who sent that woman to me? Is this some kind of sick joke? The agency is pissed at me for going so many months without placing an order. This has to be their idea of a good fucking laugh. Send the scarred-up freak a new girl. Well, fuck them. I’ll send this girl back ruined. I’ll show them the monster they’re laughing at.
I burst through the double doors of my bedroom suite. I stomp down the hall and make my way down the stairs with a roar. When I get to the main entrance I am breathing hard and angry as hell. I go to the front door and jerk it open so hard it slams against the wall. The dark-haired angel standing outside my front door lets out a small sound of shock. I guess nobody let her in on the scarred monster joke.
“Get inside,” I shout. I’m livid that she’s so perfect and this is all some game. I intend to get my money’s worth and show the agency Griffin Stone isn’t a man to fuck with.
She walks past me on shaky legs, trying to stay as far away from me as possible. She makes her way into the foyer and just stands there with big blue eyes looking at me as if I’m about to explode. She’s not far off the mark.
I slam the front door closed and start prowling toward her. She begins to walk backwards into my home, and I stalk her, step for step. I lower my head and I can feel the menacing smile on my face.
“They didn’t warn you about the freak at Creston Falls, did they?” I say.
She doesn’t answer me. She just continues to back up slowly and cautiously. Like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements. I look her up and down in that innocent yellow dress she’s wearing. I know she’s a paid whore, but she pulls off the virginal look well. Her black hair is so long and looks so soft. If I wasn’t so angry I would want to pet it. I would want to nuzzle it. But all I can see is her beauty mocking me, and it makes my blood boil.
“What’s your name?” I growl.
“Annabella,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“Well, Annabella, it looks like you’ve been sent here as a statement. But I intend to make a statement of my own tonight.”
My anger is flowing through me, but I can’t help but feel this incredible pull toward her. I know I’m livid, but I also feel like I should be protecting her from myself. It feels like she’s mine to watch over and not just a paid whore.
As she continues to walk backward she hits the end of the staircase. I have successfully steered her where I want her to go. Now it’s time to quit the cat and mouse game and get down to why she’s here. She stops when her feet can go no farther and looks at me with wide eyes.
“Turn around and go up the steps, Annabella. You’re about to get what you came here for.”
I can see her chin start to tremble, but she takes a d
eep breath and squares her shoulders. I can see that she makes a decision to be tough and do as I say. A small bit of pride makes its way into my chest when I see there’s still some fight left in her. She turns around and walks up the steps with her head held high. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll still be holding her head up high when I’m finished with her.
I follow her closely up the stairs and at the top I grab the upper part of her arm. When my hand touches her skin for the first time I can feel a current flow through me. It’s the strangest feeling of my life. A hand so scarred touches her perfect skin and all of a sudden I can feel my soul shaking with need. I ignore the feeling of her eyes on me. I know she’s staring at the scars on my face. Everyone always does. Why should she be any different?
Without pausing to think about it, I pull her by her arm to the wing my bedroom is located in. I always take the whores to a guest room because I don’t like to mix what I pay them to do with my private life. Something about Annabella makes we want her in my space. I’ll have plenty of time to think about the repercussions of this decision after she leaves. But at this moment I’m determined to have her in my bed.
The double doors are still wide open from when I burst through them earlier. I stalk through the room, practically dragging her behind me. I pull her to stand in front of the bed and release her arm. She jerks her arm away from me and raises her chin again. I’m ready for a fight. I’m ready to shout at the world over the injustice of someone so beautiful and perfect sent to me as a goddamn joke.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me in anger again!” she shouts.
I’m a little shocked that she spoke at all. Normally the whores don’t say anything. They do their job and leave. I can see Annabella is different. I can feel how different she is. I’m also so fucking hard I can barely walk. I love the challenging look in her eyes. This night might not be so bad after all.
“You can drop the innocent act. I plan on getting what I paid for. Now.”
Her eyes widen.
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed, Annabella. I’m tired of this bullshit act and I need to fuck. It’s been months since I’ve had any pussy and I’m about to fuck you through the floor with that attitude of yours.”
She looks shocked at what I’ve just said to her. Like she hasn’t been talked to that way before. I can see the tears start to form in her eyes, but they don’t fall.
“That’s how this is going to be, then?” she says softly. “This is what you want from me?” she barely whispers, and I can see she is fighting the tears.
“I said drop the act, Annabella! This isn’t some fantasy I requested. The agency clearly sent you as a joke. They’ll know better than to fuck with me once I’m finished.”
Finally, one lonely tear falls down her cheek. But she nods her head and begins to remove her dress. Part of my heart breaks as I see that she’s upset by what I’ve said. But I know this is all some elaborate scam and I need to remember she is being paid well for this dramatic act.
She removes her dress and stands before me in a white lace strapless bra and white lace panties. She looks like absolute perfection. Her skin is tanned and flawless. Not one small tiny mark on her gorgeous body. She’s thin at the waist but curvy everywhere else. Full breasts and wide hips. I’ve never seen a body more beautiful in my entire miserable life.
“Take off the underwear too,” I say in a raspy voice. I didn’t realize I was choked up just from looking at her.
Annabella unhooks her bra and lets it hit the floor. Her breasts are high and ripe and her dark pink nipples are hard. My mouth begins to water. I’m going to enjoy this more than anything I could imagine. She bends over and removes her underwear awkwardly, and I can’t help but wonder if her unpracticed skill is yet another act. When she straightens back up I look my fill at her pussy. It’s free of hair and I can’t wait to get inside it. It’s been a while since my dick has been inside the warm sheath of a woman, but something about this perfect beauty has me aching like never before.
I pull my eyes away from between her legs as she turns to get on the bed. I let out a groan at her round ass. It’s curvy like her hips and has that unbelievable sexy cup where her ass meets her legs. An ass like that belongs on a goddamn shrine. I’ll definitely be fucking her doggy-style tonight. If we’ve got time before she takes off, I might even try and get inside her ass. I haven’t done that with anyone from the agency before, but surely it’s on the menu?
She climbs on the bed and lays down in the middle. I can’t take my eyes off her as I remove my clothes. I quickly pull off my dress shirt and slacks, throwing them haphazardly behind me. I walk to the side of the bed and remove my boxer briefs. Annabella is staring at me and I know she only sees my scars. They start on the right side of my face and continue down my right arm and torso. I see her gaze land on my dick.
“Looks like the girls forgot to tell you about something other than my scars.”
My dick is big. I know it is. I’ve scared away enough of them before to know that not all women believe in the “bigger is better” mantra.
“Please, Mr. Stone. I’m…I’m… I don’t have experience, and you look angry and so big.”
I smirk at her. If this is the role she wants to use tonight, I’m more than willing to play along.
“So you’re the innocent virgin and I’m the big, bad wolf come to take you? Is that scene we’re acting out tonight? This works well, because I can’t wait to eat you, my dear. And you can cut the ‘Mr. Stone’ shit. It makes me sound like my grandfather.”
I climb on the bed and make way between her legs. I grab her ankles and jerk them apart roughly. I need to see all of her.
I never, ever go down on any of the women from the agency. I feel that’s fair because I don’t ask them to go down on me either. Normally I get in a quick fuck before they run out as fast as they can.
I don’t like people touching me. It’s been years since I had a woman outside of a paid professional, and I can’t remember the last time I put my mouth on a cunt. But this delicate beauty—this angel who’s laid out before me has the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen. I run the tip of my index finger along her soft, slightly swollen lips. They’re covered in a shiny dew that is making my mouth water. Her scent is intoxicating. She smells like a delicious drug I can’t stop trying to breathe in. I stretch out on the bed and shoulder my way between her legs. My hard cock is pressed into the mattress and I begin to thrust my hips into it as I lower my nose to her pussy.
I fill my lungs with her scent and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Fuck. You smell good.”
I can feel her legs tense and try to close, but my wide shoulders force her thighs to stay open for me.
“Relax, Bella. I need this. I promise I’ll make it good for you, but if I don’t bury my face in your cunt right this second, I might die.”
The second her slick petals touch my mouth, I eat it like I stole it. I feel as though I can’t get in close enough, fast enough. I wrap my arms under her ass and pull her hips down closer to me. I need her entire pussy covering my face. I lick, suck, nuzzle, and devour every single inch of her. I have this overwhelming panic that she’s going to take away my treat, so I do everything I can to attach her pussy to me.
I hear her moans, and feel her hips trying to undulate with my chaotic rhythm. She runs her fingers in my hair and I smile thinking her previous hesitancy is now out the window. This is a woman driven by her pleasure. She’s letting her body follow where I lead.
Her cries are growing louder and I pull her tighter to my mouth. I focus on her clit, sucking it into my mouth and finally biting down on it just a little.
That does the trick.
I can feel it when her orgasm seizes her body and her pussy pulses on my face. I thrust my rock-hard dick into the bed while she grinds out her pleasure against me.
I leave her sticky-sweet honey covering my face as I slide up her body, preparing to fuck her. I want
to kiss her, but I know this is a line I can’t cross. The girls from the agency have a strict no lips to the face rule, and I have to abide by it. Instead, I lay my body on top of hers and lean down to her ear. I’m consumed with the need to be inside her as fast as possible, but I need the intimacy, the closeness, more. I can feel the energy pulse between us like a current. I reach down and position my dick at her entrance.
“Be sure and shout out Griffin next time, baby. As a matter of fact...feel free to scream it.”
With that, I slam into her with all the force I have. In a split second I am buried balls-deep and I realize two things at once.
One: she was a virgin.
Two: I am so fucked.
Alexa Riley
Mom, wife, and business woman by day and smut writer by night. I specialize in the Dirty Date Night reading. I wrote my first book, Owning Her Innocence, because well, I just couldn’t find any daddy books to my liking. So I sat down and just started writing, bringing the fantasies I find myself often dancing to in the dark of night to life, one page at a time.
Alexa Riley is my alter ego. I can’t let the other soccer moms know what I’m up to or the guys at work for that matter. Little do they know that they’ve got nothing on my dirty talk.
I’m here to give you a quick fix of filthy dirty smut. Got a few hours to kill? Then I’m what you’re looking for.
Find more about upcoming releases at: http://alexariley.com/
