Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  Getting off the bike, I find I'm not disappointed at all that I didn't win. The dildo slides out of my pussy with a naughty sound. I look down at my seat, its leather soaked with my juices, before turning to Max. I watch him stand up and dismount the cock in his ass.

  Biting my lip, I feel a twinge in my stomach. It is so hot to see my boyfriend with something in his ass. His cock is fully at attention, and he is ready to cum soon.

  Max comes up to me, pulling me into him. His fingers press against the inside my thigh, sliding up it. I shudder. He takes his fingers, now covered with my juices, and places them in his mouth. My boyfriend sucks on them, slurping up my girly juice excitedly. He turns, and I follow him into the club, absolutely mesmerized.

  In the great hall, we find a large selection of sex toys, and I know exactly what's in store. Nothing has to be said. Immediately, there are couples and groups writhing on the floor, fucking each other at full force. Max takes my hand and pulls me to the ground on top of him.

  “Fuck me,” he commands. I use my small hand and take his huge pecker, guiding it into my depths. Hissing, I fall down onto his huge cock. His hands go to my breasts and massage them while a few other people watch us. He pinches and flicks my nipples.

  I can't help but cry out at the delicious attention. I work my hips, grinding on his cock as it moves even deeper into me. Lifting himself up, he pulls me down and bites my left nipple.

  Before we can really get into the sex, the petite Asian, Chikako, wanders over to us. She stands above me, her pussy right in front of my face. I can smell her; I want her. I grab her by the hips and pull her forward, shoving my face into her cunt.

  I lick deep within her folds while grinding on top of Max. She squeals in delight as I nibble on her clit, Max moaning as his balls tighten up. His groans garner everyone's attention as he spills his seed deep within my womb.

  I get off him, horny as fuck, and push Chikako to the ground. I munch on her cunt with my ass in the air, and Carly's husband comes up behind me. I expect a normal fucking in my cunt, but instead I feel him spread my ass cheeks and brace myself for a new experience. I've never done anal before, but I am more than excited to be trying it now. As his thick but short cock penetrates my bowels, I nibble and lick at Chikako's cunt, her moans and mewls pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly, Max has a dildo and is pushing it into my cunt. Now that my ass and cunt are both being fucked, I am sure to cum soon. When I do, I scream into the Asian cunt I am lapping at, and can feel my pussy twitch and spasm in pleasure.

  A year later, I've really become the perfect girlfriend. The yearly bike race has turned into a monthly bike race, organized by myself and Carly. Carly and her husband have become regular visitors at my house. Her pussy is as sweet as any honey, and watching her get fucked by her husband while I'm fucked by my boyfriend is hotter than any porno could ever be.

  Hunted

  Paranormal Western Romance

  Leila Sables

  Here's a glimpse at the hot sex scenes to cum come:

  "What if I said I didn't care?"

  "Then you're an idiot."

  She noticed herself leaning into him, and she noticed that he wasn't pulling away from her, in spite of what he was saying.

  "Then I guess I'm an idiot."

  She pressed her lips into his, softly. Even the light graze of his lips against hers was electric and arousing.

  "Don't do this," he said softly. She brushed another kiss across his lips.

  This time he wasn't arguing with her. They separated for a moment, Ashton giving her a hard look, and then a powerful hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a third kiss. This one was deep and rough, his teeth almost chewing on her lips, leaving little bruises that she didn't know that she wanted to go away.

  Cora pressed herself in against him, wanting anything that he was ready to give. She could feel him pressing back, the feminine softness of her body molding itself to his hard lines.

  "We shouldn't do this," he said in between kisses.

  "You always do what you're supposed to?"

  Ashton pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him. "No."

  Cora let him work the buttons on her dress. The feeling of his hands trembling with impatience and arousal as he tried to work them was like a drug, going straight to her head.

  Then he had them apart and she slipped the dress down her body, leaving her in her chemise and, she noted, very little else. Ashton didn't wait long to move his weight over, pressing her onto her back.

  The casual dominance of it sent another shiver through her. She wasn't sure what she would be able to do if she wanted to stop him. She wasn't going to try.

  His kisses shifted lower, his teeth grazing the soft skin of her neck before he sucked on it hard, pulling a soft moan from her lips before she could stop herself. His hands were already exploring her body, pressing into her soft breasts, one hand helping her dress to ride up her spread thighs.

  The fly of his jeans was pressed into her thigh, sending signals to her sex-addled mind that told her everything she needed to know about what was going to come next. Everything she knew she wanted, and everything she needed.

  She reached her hand down between them, feeling for that hardness that pressed against her. The fly came apart with some difficulty. Who had ever made buttons so stiff and so difficult to open? The zip came easier, and then she reached inside for her prize.

  It was hard and soft at the same time, and where the rest of his skin was still a little chilled, giving his kisses a pleasurable, otherworldly quality, this was burning in her hand.

  "We have to stop."

  "Fuck me," Cora purred in response. For all of his protests, Ashton didn't need to be told twice. He let her guide his hardness up to her, and then pressed himself inside. Cora felt the invasion as a fullness that couldn't be described, and one that she couldn't ever get away from again.

  He held himself still, looking into her eyes. Cora lifted her head to claim a kiss from him. He closed his eyes a moment, forcing himself to stay still, pulling her chemise up and over her head. It joined his shirt on the floor, and he dipped his head to pull one plump breast into his mouth.

  Then he started to move, and every memory that Cora had of how much pleasure he had given her in that cave was overwritten by the difference that she was feeling now. She hadn't known a thing about pleasure until now, her entire body going into fits with every delicious scrape of his hard cock against her insides.

  He took long, hard strokes, hitting deeper and deeper, moving faster and faster, harder and harder, until the sound of flesh slapping on flesh filled the room along with the moans that Cora couldn't stop herself from making.

  "Oh God—I'm going to—"

  Cora couldn't finish her thought before her muscles all tightened at once and stayed that way as he moved inside her. Her legs wrapped around him, trying to hold him in as deep as they could. He fucked her harder still, spiraling her somehow into greater and greater heights, until it seemed as if she had always been cumming.

  She felt him twitching inside her as he came and let her eyes drift shut with the new, impossible pleasure that she was feeling. So many of her older, married lady-friends had complained about their husbands, and about what they did in the bedroom. If they'd had this experience, Cora thought, then they would never have complained.

  She laid back on the pillow, gasping for breath, feeling Ashton's body-weight pressed down onto her, pinning her to the bed. A moment later he withdrew from her and moved off to her side, claiming another kiss from her lips.

  Cora let her eyes close, let her tiredness overwhelm her for a moment. They would figure out what to do next later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the moment, all the feelings running through her. Even the warmth that he had planted inside her.

  One

  Ashton hated sitting in his office waiting for someone to walk through the door, especially on such a nice day. He preferred walking in the morning af
ter a job, and having Lee tell him that there were three messages waiting for him. Jobs ripe for the picking. Then he could get right over to someone, and put out a message to one of the boys for the others.

  He didn't have anything waiting for him this time. Perhaps it was because he had finished too quickly this time. It was a problem that most would have killed for, but then every one of the men he had grown up with had it.

  Too experienced to get anything really juicy, especially if you wanted a cushy life back east. He'd asked for this when he decided that he didn't want the craziness of hunting out on the frontier. Devils aplenty there. Big ones, old ones. The sort of thing a hunter has nightmares about, or dreams about.

  Ash didn't wake up in a cold sweat when he dreamed about the frontier. But the challenge of hunting out there, where the Devils really knew enough to bite back, it was offset by the costs. Sure, he would have plenty of jobs, and the kind of jobs that a town might put together ten, fifteen thousand dollars for—but at the same time, giving up the comforts of the city to go live in the damn desert wasn't appealing.

  So he'd set up shop in Ohio. Easy enough work, but he didn't like being separated from Samson. They had been the closest, and they had barely seen each other since Ash had moved on from New Orleans. He hadn't even heard back from him on Christmas.

  Well, Ash thought, it wasn't as if he was being slighted. The man had always worked hard, and if the separation had anything like the effect on Samson that it had on Ashton, then he wasn't taking it well.

  So now he was sitting in the office that said "Ashton Lowe, Devil Hunter" on the fluted glass window in neat little letters, painted there by a local guy who did great work. And instead of thinking about his next job, because there wasn't one, he was thinking about the guys he had left behind in the bayou.

  Then, as it always seemed to, things started moving. The wheels started turning, and Ashton was able to get out of the office that he hated, but had to keep to make sure that jobs kept coming.

  Lee knocked on the door. "What is it?"

  He peeked his head in just enough to be seen. "Mr. Lowe, there's a man here to see you. He says he's got a job offer."

  "What's the job?"

  "He says he'll give you the details if you can meet him, but he's busy, it seems. He's just sent a messenger and ten dollars for a ride over to Leo's on Rockwell."

  "Ten dollars?"

  Lee shrugged.

  "I guess the man's serious. Best not keep him waiting, then."

  Ashton pushed himself up from the chair and started moving. The fare wasn't necessary to get him moving. Five times the fare was even less necessary. He wanted to be moving yesterday. Sitting around waiting for a job was the worst. He made the street in five minutes and was in a hansom cab within two more.

  He watched out the front as they moved, watched the streets. Things were quiet in the city. They always were, it seemed. Folks didn't start to settle down in an area with plenty of Devil activity. It was only after the activity slowed down that they would even dream of it. People, ultimately, wanted to live. It was smart of them.

  It wasn't smart, however, for a man who made his living from dealing with spooks. Then, living in the city meant that jobs were few and far between. On the other hand, it meant you could find a decent tailor on near every corner, instead of maybe two or three in the state otherwise.

  A real quality set of clothes, that was a good thing to have, for a hunter as much as for anyone. Their needs were only a little different, and once you found someone who you'd trust with an expensive suit, they could usually be trusted to get the adjustment to working clothes with a few example pieces and some drawings.

  So it was a life of compromises in the city, at least as far as Ashton was concerned. Maybe other folks had a harder time staying out. There were plenty of mundane jobs to be had. Ash had considered working as a private detective, at one point. But it wouldn't work out.

  He couldn't go sneaking around to take dirty pictures of a man's wife dallying with the milkman. It wasn't that he was morally opposed, but the reality was that he wasn't cut out for it. Too big, too loud. He could use his head when he had to, but then he'd had practice with it. Every hunter needed to use his head, or they'd find themselves up a creek before too long.

  They pulled up and he paid the man. Two dollars, keep the change.

  There were a half-dozen booths in the place. Small, but not too small. He looked up and down the row while the woman behind the counter watched him with a disinterest that almost bordered on curiosity. As if she could take or leave what he wanted to eat.

  After a moment a man's head cocked up at him. The fellow looked like he could do to lose twenty pounds, and then the only way you could describe him would be 'nondescript.' The suit he was wearing, on the other hand, was anything but nondescript. The stitching left nothing to be desired, and in spite of his bulk it fit as well as anything that Ash had seen.

  "Mr. Lowe?" The big man raised a hand to wave him over.

  "I'm sorry, my assistant didn't give me a name."

  "I didn't send one," the man answered. "I thought we should do introductions in person."

  "Well, you have me at a disadvantage, then, but I'll start." He had dealt with customers before that had to have every detail dragged out, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time. "My name is Ashton Lowe. I was born here, but I was sent south at a young age to live with my teacher, a Mr. King Peters. I spent twenty years—"

  "That's all I need, thank you." Ashton smoothed over the frustration that threatened to boil under the man's presumptive attitude. It was a job, and the man was clearly paying. He had the look of a man who was willing to spend on something he wanted. "My name is Arthur Little. I'm in banking, on the board of a certain national banking company. I would rather not get my employer involved in this problem."

  "That's understandable."

  "It's my sister that concerns me, you see." Ash nodded. "She's got it in her head that she's going west."

  "That's a dangerous proposition, between the Indians and the Devils."

  "That's why I've contacted you, Mr. Lowe. I'm told that you have experience with both."

  Ashton raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that's true. What were you hoping to spend?"

  "Fifteen thousand, should you see her to our family home in Detroit safely."

  "When do we leave?"

  Mr. Little looked at his wrist, at a watch that looked like it cost fifteen thousand dollars by itself. "A little over thirty hours ago, Mr. Lowe. I believe Cora was headed for Utah. I think you ought to get moving."

  Ashton cursed softly. There wasn't much time to ask for details, then. The man was absolutely right. He ought to get moving.

  Two

  The westbound Union-Pacific took off from Cleveland at 11:30 a.m. on March 28th, and Ashton had just enough time to get on board by the time he'd finished the breakfast with Arthur. A little under two-thousand miles away, and only a few minutes' difference, and Cora was getting off her train in Salt Lake City.

  She looked up at the tall buildings that lined the streets. It wasn't quite so fine as Detroit, but then few places ever were. The place was a shining beacon of manufacturing, after all. New York, perhaps, but she had no special interest in going to New York City.

  After all, she didn't know anyone in New York. Then again, she didn't know anyone in Salt Lake City. Nor did she know anyone a little ways outside of Salt Lake City. She didn't know anyone who would write her a letter, telling her about the new place that the writer had just bought for themselves.

  But Cora Little knew her mother's handwriting, and she knew that the letter had every sign of being from her mother. It hadn't made any sense, since Arthur had always told her that mother was dead. That she had gone West, and gotten killed. They'd had a funeral for her. Cora had cried in spite of herself, in spite of knowing that her mother would have told her not to cry over a little thing like death.

  Death was a journey, she would say. Death isn
't the end, you'll meet each other after death in Heaven, so enjoy your life. Your mother wouldn't want to see you crying when she looked down on you from heaven.

  But Cora didn't have the strength her mother had. She'd never had it. At least, she had never had that sort of strength. It had only been through her mother's strength that she made it this far. But at the end, there was no 'Mother,' nor a signature at all. It just rambled about the place she way staying, about her new life.

  As if she had been writing all this time, and was just updating her daughter on only the recent events. No explanation for where she'd gone. For why she'd gone there, why she had left Cora and her brother behind after their father had died all those years ago.

  She needed answers, and she was going to get them, no matter the cost. Cora promised herself that. She would get her answers. Somehow.

  She took in a deep breath and turned to one of the porters pulling her luggage behind. "Excuse me, if I needed to stay a night in town, where would you recommend?"

  He knitted his eyebrows together. "I suppose, for you, I'd look into stayin' at the Royal, ma'am. Finest hotel in Salt Lake City—or so they tell me, ma'am. I ain't never been inside."

  He gave her a broad smile, and she returned it, along with a curt nod. "Can you take me there, please?"

  "Of course, ma'am."

  She followed along. The place, thankfully, wasn't far. She walked in like she had always walked into hotels, like she owned the place. It was somewhat easier when her brother did, indeed, own them, but it wasn't so much different now. She was just here alone, out West.

  She had heard plenty of stories about how bad it was. They were all fairy tales, she knew. There wasn't going to be any danger out here. After all, Salt Lake City seemed only a little bit less advanced than most any place else. Only a few miles outside of Detroit, the farms went on for miles, and they were perfectly safe in Detroit.

  How different could it be?

  She talked to the man behind the counter with her best voice intended to impress. He took her name down without remark and handed over a room key. The porters helped get her luggage up the stairs and into her new room, one night only, single bed for one. Then she paid them, fifty cents a piece. They seemed suitably impressed by this.