by Alexis Moore
Zachary turned her over and propped her up against two oversized pillows. She opened her legs as he took off his boxer and prepared for a good deep, hard shafting. Instead he straddled her and freed her breasts from the top of the costume. They still glistened from the oil that had been massaged into them earlier and the nipples hadn’t fully subsided from the woman’s expertly plucking fingers.
“Perfect,” Zachary growled and pressed them around his erection which looked at bursting point. He started to thrust smoothly back and forth, tweaking her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.
Samantha lay back and enjoyed the sight for a minute or two before she remembered the rest of what he’d said the first night when he’d mentioned wrapping her breasts around his hardness. Bending her head she caught the tip of his hard shaft in her mouth on his next forward thrust.
“Oh fuck yeah, baby!” Zachary moved further up the bed, until she could take more of him inside her mouth. After a long while he abandoned her breasts and held her head as he pumped into her mouth. “Take it deeper, sweetheart.”
Samantha moved the restraining hand she had instinctively clamped over the base of his shaft a few millimetres backwards.
“And deeper,” he commanded. “You can take more, sweetheart.”
Samantha took in a tiny bit more of him with each thrust until she couldn’t do so without gagging.
“Soon I’ll have your virgin little mouth taking all of me,” he threatened, but as before he didn’t try to go deeper than she was comfortable with.
Suddenly his thrusts became erratic and she knew that he was on the verge of coming. Rather than let go, so that he could bury himself within her and spurt his cum deep inside her, as usual, she cupped his balls and held him tighter. His eyes widened when he realized what she wanted him to do. Then he stiffened and gave her the first spurt straight down her throat. “Yes, taste me, baby. Drink every drop.”
Samantha swallowed as fast as she could, looking up at him, the way he liked, and licked the remaining drops from his crown when she was done.
“God, baby, that was intense!” Zachary cupped her face and kissed her.
With a sigh Samantha tried to pull him downwards, intending to have a short snooze.
“No, no. This is our last night. Let’s make the most of it,” he said, pulling her upright.
Taking her hand, he dragged a chair behind him on the way the mirror. She let him lead her, feeling in a sated stupor, her centre already throbbing in anticipation of having his wonderful length crammed inside her. He sat on the chair and she started to swing her leg over his, intending to straddle him. Zachary shook his head and turned her around.
“No, my little dancer, I want you to watch me fill your tight little pussy.”
Samantha turned around obediently and sat on his lap.
“Place your legs over the arms of the chair,” he instructed.
She lifted one leg and then the other onto the comfortably upholstered chair.
Zachary pushed the panels of loose fabric aside and revealed her throbbing wetness to her gaze. With maddening deliberation, Zachary spread her nether lips with the fingers of one hand and showed her the small aperture of her vaginal opening. “Look at that, honey. Do you see how beautiful it is. Look how tiny your opening is. Do you see that, sweetheart?”
Samantha nodded mutely. She had never examined herself up close and personal before. She found it arousing. Her breasts still poked out over the skimpy top and were pushed higher in her chest than normal.
She looked a wanton—a total whore…and she liked it.
He kept her nether lips open as he took his engorged erection in his other hand and aimed it a few millimetres from her entrance. The disparity was extreme and for a moment even Samantha wondered how he would possibly fit inside her.
“Do you see the size of my cock? Do you see how hard it is?”
“Yes, Zac,” she responded, breathlessly waiting.
“Now watch it sink deep inside you and fill you up to your womb.”
Seeing the head of his erection press against her entrance, be denied and then press again more forcefully until it breached her tight entrance was arousing enough—his words added another dimension and Samantha found herself right on the verge of another orgasm.
“Rub yourself for me, baby.
She strummed her nub lightly with a middle finger and hissed softly through her teeth as she watched his shaft force its way inwards until it all but disappeared into her silken sheath.
“Don’t move. Just sit there and feel my hardness inside you.”
Zachary brought his hands up and covered her breasts, pinching the nipples firmly and making her vaginal walls clench even more tightly around him. He felt huge inside her—a hard column that filled her to the utmost extent. She moaned softly at the pleasure-pain, until she couldn’t resist moving and slowly circled her hips against him.
“Don’t move,” he repeated and held her hips still.
Deliberately, she fought against his hands, wanting to provoke him.
Zachary stood up from the chair taking her with him. “As you can’t obey instructions, I’m going to punish you.”
He marched over to the bed and placed her on it. She raised her arms and then her legs obediently as he quickly stripped her skimpy top and the bottom off. She didn’t resist as she placed her facedown, her bottom in the air, and climbed up behind her. Without warning he penetrated her with a firm slam of his hips.
“Ah!” She moaned as she was filled more suddenly and deeply than ever.
Zachary paid her no notice. Grasping her hips, he started a fast, smooth, tantalizingly rhythmic movement with his hips.
Samantha gasped as with each deep plunge the slight curve of his shaft seem to hit her G-Spot. In less than a dozen stroke she was grasping the covers and screaming his name as she climaxed.
Zachary on the other hand seemed to be just getting started. He spread his legs and tilted her bottom up even further, ready to resume.
Needing a minute to catch her breath, Samantha looked over her shoulder and caught his gaze..
“I’m sorry I disobeyed you, honey.”
“Are you sure you’ve learned your lesson? Shall I fuck you some more just to make sure?”
“No, baby. You fucked me good enough already,” she admitted. “You punished me good.”
Samantha knew the last sentence would do the trick. Zachary smiled and released her hips. She slid off his erection and onto the bed, feeling a little worst for wear.
“Okay, but we’re not done yet.” Zachary turned her over onto her back and covered her body with his.
Grasping her hands and pressing them against the bed high above her head, he kissed her deeply, rubbing his erection tantalizingly against her slippery clitoris.
She still ached from the force of his thrusts, but almost immediately she felt her need building—the need to have him buried to the hilt inside her. Sometimes she wondered if Zachary had deliberately made her his sex slave. She seemed to want him day and night, even when she was exhausted or thought she was too sore to receive him, a few skilful touch of his hands and she was on fire again. How she’d ever waited this long to have sex was a mystery to her.
“Fuck me, honey,” she begged as he broke the kiss.
“Not yet.”
He tongued, nibbled and suckled her nipples in turn.
Desperate Samantha spread her legs wider and reached for his erection herself.
He kissed her as he slid all the way in, stifling the moan she would have made. Zachary held himself still for a moment and then lifted his head.
“Hurting?”
“A little, but I want it,” she admitted.
“Come on top of me then and take control.” Zachary wrapped his arms around her and turned over. “Ride me any way you like, fast or slow…hard or easy. Just make both of us come, baby.”
Samantha braced herself on her arms and raised herself off him until only the very tip of hi
s shaft remained inside her. The discomfort was momentarily obliterated.
Clenching her vaginal walls for the downward slide, she noticed Zachary grit his teeth. She held the position and squeezed her inner muscles again.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned and tried to pull her downwards.
“No, no,” she reminded him. “This is my ride. I’ll hold the reins, thank you.”
Samantha stayed there as long as her thigh muscles supported her, holding the entire crown of his erection in a tight clasp and circling her waist as though she was polishing it.
Zachary’s half-closed eyes focussed on where their bodies were joined, the gleam of his teeth brilliant white through his grimace.
She finally slid down half his length, her abused leg muscles crying out. He immediately wrapped his lips around her right nipple and started to thrust his hips upwards. She threw her head back and ground her hips into his, gasping as he filled her but ignoring the sweet, dull ache. Mindlessly she lifted herself onto him again and again as he came up to meet her. The sound of moans and groans blended and filled the room. Then Zachary pushed her breasts together and flicked his tongue over her rigid nipples, immediately sending her spiralling into spasms and quickening her impending orgasm. It started deep in her womb, just as he pressed her hard against him and erupted, calling out her name harshly.
Reaching for the covers several minutes later, Zachary pulled it up over both of them and said, “Baby, you can ride me any time.”
***
Chapter Eight
“I can’t wait until we get home,” Zachary whispered into her ear as the Rolls Royce limousine made its way from the airport.
Samantha laughed softly and arched her neck, her hand moving up his leg to stroke the huge bulge his trousers couldn’t hide.
“Neither can I.”
It was impossible that they would want each other so soon, but her entire body seemed to be crying out for his. Her nipples ached for the flickering lash, the suck and nibble of his lips, tongue and teeth. Her centre was so wet, she feared she would leave a wet spot on the soft, supple leather car seat. And Zachary didn’t help matters by having an erection as hard as a steel bar.
“We will go back to Dubai soon—for a month and this time we’ll take in the sights.”
“Perhaps we’ll have company the next time.”
“Maybe in here.” Zachary touched her stomach, his eyes softening. She hoped she’d already conceived—he’d be a wonderful dad. “I’m going to clear my diary over the next two months and we’ll return for a month of pleasure.”
“More than we’ve had this week?”
“Much more. And there are still parts of you I need to explore.”
“You’ve seen every inch of me!” she retorted.
“On the outside—I want to look deep inside you.” He placed his hand over her breast, over her heart. “Here. And there’s a matter of a little virgin hole that may or may not want to be fully fucked. It needs a chance to make up its own mind without distractions or outside influence.”
Samantha couldn’t decide whether or not she wanted to engage in anal sex or not. Zachary had said that he wouldn’t push her, but he felt that she might be missing out on the pleasure of the act just because she thought it was taboo.
“It can’t make a decision in the UK?” she asked, with a laugh.
“No. I want all your firsts to be in Dubai. In that same room and on that same bed.” Samantha didn’t even want to think about what their honeymoon had cost. “We will be away from the world and its rules and regulations—just the two of us and the rules we make up for ourselves.”
“And if I decide that I want you to wear a butt plug?”
Fiona had had a boyfriend once who liked to be plugged and she’d told Samantha about it. She had found it amusing, but for the life of her, she couldn’t meet the man’s gaze after that bit of information.
Zachary looked at her in surprise for a moment and then laughed. “Perhaps.”
“You wouldn’t,” she accused.
“Perhaps we’ll both explore our virgin little holes and see what they like—fingers, plugs or something larger.”
Samantha knew that he wouldn’t renege on the promise. And though he had admitted that his motives for exploring the prospect of anal sex weren’t altogether altruistic, he’d said it was more about her experiencing pleasure in all its forms than him receiving it. The two fingers he had employed the night she had danced for him had been very satisfying. She didn’t know if she wanted any more than that.
“Perhaps I’ll strap on and fuck you,” she challenged, deliberately.
His eyes sparked and she knew that she was in trouble before he growled in her ear, “Are you looking for a spanking?”
Samantha laughed out loud and nodded.
“Okay, you’ll get one!” Zachary double checked that the privacy screen was in place and pulled her across his knees.
Samantha loved how he responded to being challenged. He was like a dormant volcano—erupting whenever she provoked him. He had mellowed in the glorious week they had spent together, but he would never lose that dominant streak or the need to show her who’s the boss whenever she stepped out of line. Yet, he’d shown that he respected her opinion and she knew that he would let her have a say in the important things of their marriage. She had no desire to wear the trousers—he filled them quite nicely with his taut butt and muscular thighs.
She hadn’t yet decided what she wanted for the future—a career of her own or to be free to travel with Zachary all over the world on his business trips. It seemed a waste of her medical training, but she’d seen more death and devastation in Rwanda than most doctors would see in a lifetime. Zachary hadn’t asked her to make a decision, but he’d said that he would refit his plane or buy a newer, more luxurious model if she’d be accompanying him on his business trips.
The idea of being apart from him made her heart ache. It was ironic that he had married her so that she could keep her childhood home and in one short week she’d realized that it wouldn’t be home without him. A persistent idea had entered her thoughts on the flight home. With the stair lift that had been installed during her father’s convalescence, Rosewood would make the perfect rehabilitation home for recovering cancer victims. She could loan it to Cancer Research for a few years at first…and see how that felt. Later she could make a more permanent decision.
***
Sixty-five-year-old Mahoney, expertly driving through the narrow streets of London, would have been oblivious to the fact that his employer had first spanked his naughty wife and then made her climb onto his lap and ride him for daring to challenge him.
Unfortunately Zachary had forgotten the intercom.
The driver covered the journey trying hard not to laugh, his erection fuller and more rigid than he remembered it being in years. He would give his wife a little surprise when he got home later and perhaps maybe a few experimental spanks to see how she reacted. She had the perfect bottom for a good spanking, he mused, licking his lips in anticipation. Her high round derriere had caught his attention forty years ago and it was still the sexiest thing on her trim body.
His boss’s marriage was off to a great start, he thought, and if he could keep a straight face and the intercom on discreetly, he might just pick up a few tips.
Which fool was it, he wondered, who said that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks?
The End
Thank you for making this purchase. I do hope you enjoyed reading Curves for the Billionaire as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review!
Regards,
Alexis Moore
Excerpts from other books by Alexis Moore
MY DAD’S BOSS
It was a Mr Hudson, but not the one I expected. This was his good-looking bastard of a son, Nicholas.
His eyes opened in surprise, then he smiled and said, “Hi, Bruiser!”
I hated that name! It was a painful reminder of the first time
we’d met. I had still been wearing the stupid dental braces my mother had insisted I needed, though I’d thought my teeth were fine. People tell me I have a killer smile now, so I guess the pain and embarrassment at the time were worth it. But that hadn’t been the most embarrassing thing of meeting him that day. I had bumped into my friend, Gemma, in gym class the day before. And, I mean bumped into, literally. She was shorter then so her hard head had connected with my left eye. I hadn’t wanted to attend the stupid company picnic with an eye the colour of a rainbow, but my father had insisted, saying that I was too young to be left at home on my own. And, added to all that, I had woken up with my first ever teenage spot that same bloody morning. I had looked and felt like hell. I felt even worse when I met Mr Hudson’s eldest son, who just graduated from Cambridge and was off to work in the States on a four-year contract, the next week. He’d been dressed casually in a polo shirt and black jeans, but he’d looked so worldly and sophisticated, I’d felt like a ten-year-old and I’d wished he had bloody gone to America a week early.
He looked suave and even better looking now, sitting behind his father’s desk and wearing a light grey shirt which perfectly matched his eyes. I stared at him stupidly for several seconds, realizing in horror that except for the top which occasionally rode up and showed the undersides of my breasts and the short skirt my mother often threatened to burn or give to the twelve-year-old girl next door, I was naked to his gaze.
“So, Bruiser, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to see your father.” My voice came out wobbly.
“My father retired three months ago. He and Mum are currently on a Caribbean cruise.”
“So who’s in charge?” I asked, hoping that I was mistaken in thinking that he was.
