by Abby Angel
Lizzie
“My shallots,” Darcy growls in complaint, even as his lips curl against mine while he steals a kiss.
I steal that kiss right back, only harder. This time, with tongue.
“Fuck your shallots.”
Darcy laughs, dipping his lips down to my neck. “I’ve never met a woman with such a vendetta against root vegetables before.”
“Yeah? Mmm,” I moan. Darcy is using his teeth, ever so lightly, on the soft part of my throat. It feels fucking divine. “Just wait until I regale you with the atrocities committed by the malicious chive.”
“Can’t wait,” Darcy deadpans. He cups my tits in his hands like he’s comparing two equally gorgeous cantaloupes. Suddenly, I get the feeling that he’s not talking about listening to me rant about alliums.
I lower my hand to his thigh and find the gorgeous bulge in his pants that verifies.
“Can you?” I ask, giving his hardening member an encouraging squeeze.
“Not in the slightest. Get your fucking shirt off.”
Smirking, I fumble with the buttons. I’m wearing a chic little white linen button-down that ties at the waist. It’s paired with a red velvet pencil skirt just long enough that it’s hard to tell if it’s made for business or pleasure.
In Darcy’s case, it’s both. Always both.
When I’m not fast enough getting my tits out for him, Darcy’s strong fingers push my hands aside. He rips it open, sending little golden buttons flying in all directions.
“My shirt,” I faux-pout.
“Fuck your shirt,” Darcy growls, burying his face in my cleavage.
I whimper in protest and he pauses, looking up at me with dangerously handsome hooded eyes. “I’ll replace it,” he reassures me gently. “Now get your fucking skirt off before I ruin it next.”
Darcy’s warm, minty tongue licks in the valley between my tits as I unzip the skirt and shimmy it off my hips. He puckers his lips and blows a stream of cool air on wet trail of saliva he’s left there. A full-body shiver jolts through me. If my nipples weren’t hard before, now they couldn’t be harder.
“God,” Darcy pants, drawing back. “You’re a vision in lingerie, Lizzie.”
“This old thing?” I smile up at him, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt now too.
Of course, the lingerie set is brand new: a goldenrod yellow lace bra that cups my big, heavy breasts perfectly and the matching panties that follow the curves of my ass like it was graphed there using a sexy geometry equation. I bought it specifically for this occasion.
But Darcy doesn’t need to know that.
He pulls his shirt over his head, obviously displeased with my unbuttoning skills once again.
“Don’t play coy,” he says, discarding the shirt across the room with gusto. “You know you’re fucking hot, Lizzie.”
He captures my lips again, cradling my jaw in one hand while he pulls my body against his with the other. I feel hot. The rock hard bulges of his muscles are cool against my skin. I arch my back so I can be even closer to him.
“I guess I am,” I laugh against his lips. “What are you going to do about it, stud?”
“Cool you off,” Darcy says without missing a beat.
The next part happens so fast, it’s hard to track how he even pulls it off. One minute, I’m standing in front of the stove in Darcy’s kitchen, kissing this billionaire dream boat while we banter back and forth. The next, he has the door to his freezer open and my body bent over two pints of what looks like very expensive gelato.
Vanilla caramel with himalayan pink salt and dark chocolate with sicilian almonds.
I guess I found dessert.
As Darcy pulls down my panties and kneels behind me, I guess he's found dessert too. Unfortunately for his gelato-loving ass, my pussy is totally dripping with cream.
"Mm, well, don't you look like a treat?" Darcy asks, obviously admiring his handiwork.
Fuck. I know he must be right. From his angle, I'm a long pair of slender, shapely legs in a pair of black heels. The heels only serve to push my ass up so I'm practically presenting him with my needy holes on a silver platter.
My yellow lace panties are around my ankles, and my hot cunt is slick with so much honey, if he licked me he'd get a sugar rush.
Darcy kisses up my thighs while the freezer pours icy cold air down my neck. My already aching-hard nipples, propped up on their gourmet ice cream pedestals, only get harder in the sub-freezing temperature. The tip of Darcy's handsome nose traces up the crook of my thigh, mere inches away from my clit, and I exhale steamily. The freezer is so cold, my breath billows out around me in a frosty cloud.
"Make a habit of this, and your energy bill is going to singlehandedly destroy the planet," I quip, trying to hold myself together as Darcy unclasps my bra. I'm about three seconds away from begging Darcy to shove his big, fat popsicle into my ice cream cone.
Maintaining our line of banter is the only thing keeping my half sane right now. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to leave the freezer door open?"
"Mm. Yes, I'm a dirty, dirty capitalist consumer. I'll write a check to Greenpeace when we're done here to atone for my sins," Darcy says, grabbing my ass and spreading it like I'm an ice cream sandwich just begging to be licked. "For now, my little environmentalist minx...why don't you chill out?"
As Darcy's hot, probing tongue slips into my soaking wet slit, chilling out is the last thing on my mind.
My whole body is starting to get ice cold. My skin is all goose-bumps, and I'm shivering. But as Darcy licks up my dripping cunt in long, luxurious slurps, those shivers turn into knee-knocking shakes.
He's lapping me up like I'm a creamsicle on a hot day. Every time takes another taste of me with that insatiable tongue of his, I melt a little more.
Soon, the chill of the freezer is met with a building sensation of a red-hot heat deep in my womb. Darcy's long licks turn into dangerous little flicks of his tongue as he focuses his efforts. My clit is throbbing for him and his mouth just won't quit.
"Oh my god," I whimper. "I'm gonna come!"
I've said those exact same words so many times on camera, they shouldn't mean anything anymore. But somehow, saying it to a frosty bottle of Grey Goose wedged against the ice cube trays just makes them all the sweeter.
My whole body tenses up as I cream against Darcy's mouth. My pussy throbs, sending its heat all over my body until I'm panting steamy clouds of passionate breath so hard into the freezer that I'm pretty sure the ice cubes are going to melt.
“Fuck, Lizzie,” Darcy breathes against my quivering sex. “You have the sweetest little cunt I’ve ever tasted.”
“Oh, honey,” I breathe back, my chest heaving. “That was just a sample. Now that you’ve had dessert first...”
“How about the main course?” Darcy finishes.
I yelp as his teeth sink into the meat of my ass. Laughing, I turn around to playfully slap him for it. But Darcy is too fast for me; he catches my hand before it finds his cheek.
“Hmm. No? Then maybe we’ll have an apéritif.”
Darcy picks me up effortlessly and sits me down on the kitchen island. The marble countertop should be cold beneath my ass, but my whole body is so freezing that it’s pleasantly warm.
I watch as Darcy retrieves the Sav Blanc from where he abandoned it near the stove. He runs the lip of the bottle tantalizingly beneath my nose, teasing me with its scent.
It’s faintly grassy in a way that reminds me of summer. Fresh cut lawns. The great outdoors after a much-needed rain. There’s something fruity, almost tropical about it, too.
It smells fantastic. When Darcy pulls it away, I lean forward along with it.
“We’ll make a lush of you yet, Lizzie,” Darcy says.
I gasp as he slips two fingers into my pussy and lowers his mouth to the sensitive peak of my right breast.
“Mm,” he moans, sucking my nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a satisfying pop! “Your tits are so cold,
Lizzie… but your cunt is burning up for me.”
Darcy places a heavy kiss on my lips before staring at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Tilt your head back and open your mouth,” he says.
As his fingers twitch inside my pussy in a delicious come-hither motion, I do exactly that. Eagerly. With another orgasm just on the horizon, I’m totally prepared to do whatever Darcy says, no matter what sinister things he has planned for me.
The more sinister, the better, baby.
“Taste,” Darcy whispers, bringing the bottle of wine to my lips. He raises the neck of the bottle so he can trickle the wine onto my tongue, bit by bit. I lap it up greedily, but not fast enough. While the sweet, light, dry flavors coat my tongue, the overflow bubbles up over my lower lip and spills down my chin. It rivers down my neck and between my breasts, where Darcy’s mouth is ready to lick and kiss and slurp it all up. Meanwhile, Darcy’s fingers are fucking me faster and faster, until I’m gripping the countertop with blind need.
The wine. Darcy’s mouth. His fingers. My cunt.
I’m on the precipice of orgasm again, and I’m about to fall right over the edge when Darcy slams the wine down on the counter next to me.
Unzips his pants.
And shoves his massive hard-on into me.
Immediately, I come. I come so hard, I feel fucking drunk.
Not on the wine—I’m not a fucking lightweight, okay?
I’m drunk on him. Will Darcy. Mr. Big.
Billionaire. Playboy. Proud owner of the huge, demanding cock that’s currently rocking my fucking world.
“Darcy!” I moan in that high-pitched little whine that you just can’t fake.
“That’s it, Lizzie,” Darcy says. He’s pretty close to moaning himself. “Come for me. Come for me, you little slut.”
And when Darcy calls me a slut, I am one. I so am. My hips thrust against his, so our bodies are moving together in perfect, desperate rhythm. His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing gently, then so hard I nearly come for him all over again.
My hands are tangled in his hair, stroking the silken darkness of his thick waves.
I moan again, louder this time, and then his mouth is on mine, and then my lips are too busy to do anything but kiss him. I lick at his tongue like a fucking animal, and he forces his own tongue into my mouth like he needs to show me who’s in charge here. His teeth sink into my lower lip as he forces all twelve glorious inches of his iron-hot man meat into my glowing little pussy, and it happens.
I’m orgasming for him, unbelievably, again.
“God! FUCK! DARCY!”
“That’s right, Lizzie. Say my name. I’m the only man who can make you come like this—over and over again, with no end in sight and no relief.”
“DARCY!” I scream again.
“And you will, Lizzie. You’re going to orgasm for me over and over again now. Until your sanity blurs. Until you’re not even a person anymore—until you’re just a fucking pleasure doll, made to take cock and feel good and nothing else.”
“Oh my god, DARCY!” I whine. Maybe beg. Maybe plead.
Because right on the edge of the last orgasm, there’s another. And another. I’m coming so much, so hard and so fast and in such quick succession, one after another, that I’m not going to be able to make words soon.
Even now, every time I try to search for something to say back to him, my head only produces fragments:
Please! Fuck! Darcy! OH! Pleasepleaseplease—
So that’s what I say to him.
It only makes him fuck me harder.
“Those are whore words, Lizzie,” he growls, sinking his teeth into my neck. “Are you a whore?”
“Y-yes!” I cry. “I’m your whore!”
“Goddamn right you are.”
Darcy slides both hands beneath my ass, picking me up. My legs wrap around his waist as he spins us, slamming the freezer door closed and fucking me against it. The force of our bodies hits so hard, the refrigerator door swings open in response, and in a moment of clarity in my desperate orgasming, I see it.
Right there in the door.
So close, I can fucking reach it.
Oh my god.
No way.
Will Darcy might have filled his apartment with futuristic furniture. His kitchen might be totally stocked with expensive gelato and fine wine. But everyone has their weakness, and I’ve just found where Darcy keeps his.
He might be too good for cooking wine, but apparently he’s not too good for Reddi-wip.
Just as I feel Darcy’s balls tighten and his cock throb inside me, preparing to pump my pussy full of his cum, my fingers curl around the red and white can. Darcy’s mouth opens to moan my name, and that’s when I do it.
While Darcy’s balls empty cum deep, deep inside me…
While his cock sprays my cunt full of his thick, creamy cum…
I aim the nozzle of the whipped cream into Darcy’s sexy mouth and I fucking blast him with it.
The space between us explodes in sweet, creamy goodness: in Darcy’s mouth. Across his cheek.
In his hair.
God—in my hair. It fountains up over our heads and rains back down on our bodies.
For a moment, Darcy almost looks annoyed. But then I see that dark, sexy, signature Darcy grin shine through it, and he starts fucking me even harder.
As Darcy forces what must be every last drop of his cum into my tight little cunt, our bodies couldn’t be any closer. The whipped cream smears between my breasts and his perfect chest while we grind against each other.
I stick my tongue out and lick the cream off of Darcy’s face.
“Yum,” I giggle.
“Yum,” Darcy agrees.
He presses his tongue into my mouth as we kiss, lapping the whipped cream up off my own tongue and swallowing it instead.
We’re a mess. Both of us. We’re both covered in whipped cream and wine.
Beneath all that, Darcy still has my honey smeared all over his lips and face. My pussy is so full of his cum that it’s threatening to flood out any second and make a mess of my thighs.
But I feel like I’m fucking sparkling. I feel like a goddamn fairy princess. Maybe it’s just the orgasm talking—or maybe Darcy is just that good.
His big, fancy penthouse. His huge, throbbing dick. Darcy leans his forehead against mine, and I realize we’re both laughing.
“God, Lizzie. You’re so much fun.”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” I joke.
And just like that, Darcy’s laugh dies in his throat.
“Is that what this is to you, Lizzie? Strictly business?”
“What?” I pull back, confused.
“I’ve wondered…but now you’ve actually said it.”
“What the fuck are you going on about, Darcy?”
“I have to know, Lizzie. What is this? What are we? Is this just some kind of fucking—I don’t know...ploy? Some kind of trick you’re using to get me to raise my bid on Bennett Babes?”
Leave it to Will fucking Darcy to turn something totally lovely into something that’s offended his idiot pride. While he’s still inside of me, no less.
“You’re a smart man, Darcy,” I say. I can feel his words cutting me right through my chest. “But that’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Tell me it’s not true, then,” Darcy says.
I look into those gorgeous eyes of his and realize that as much as I’m hurt right now…I’ve hurt him, too.
He’s an idiot fucking billionaire who can’t take a joke.
But he’s my idiot fucking billionaire. Or at least…I’d like him to be.
“I want you,” I tell him. I know he can see the conviction in my eyes—because what I’m saying right now is the dead truth. “Not your fucking money or your contracts or your business deals. I want you. Just you.”
Beneath my body, I feel Darcy relax in a sigh of relief.
Then, I feel it. Deep in my puss
y. His cock hardening in a different emotion completely.
“I want you, too,” he says darkly, pulling me close. Darcy’s tongue slicks up my neck all the way from my collarbone to my jaw. “Here—let me show you.”
In one fluid motion, Darcy has me up off his cock and cradled in his arms. He carries me off to the bedroom like Prince fucking Charming.
With all the whipped cream on my body and cum in my pussy…I guess that makes me Snow White.
Darcy carries me not to the bed, which is huge and beautiful and so opulent-looking I could cry, but instead through the doorway to a room just inside his boudoir. My first inclination? Darcy has a sex dungeon.
But as it turns out, no dice. Just a really gorgeous bathroom with some sinister, slate-grey floors.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Darcy says, lowering me to my feet.
The floors are heated, which I approve of. I'm still cold from our little fuck against the freezer.
I am sooo making Darcy feed me that ice cream after this.
"Cleaned up?" I ask. "I thought you wanted to fuck me again, honey."
"I do," Darcy says, and he pumps his cock in his fist to prove it. Just a glance at that and my pussy throbs, sending Darcy's cum leaking down my thigh.
Fuck. He's not kidding.
"Don't like me dirty? And here I thought that's how you preferred your women."
"Oh, I love you dirty," Darcy says with a wolfish grin. "But I intend to take you to bed after this, so we'll have to clean you up first."
He pinches one of my nipples just hard enough to make me yelp and to send another glob of his cum down my thigh all at once. When he pulls his fingers away, they're coated in whipped cream.
He sucks them clean in like, the sexiest way possible. All succulent lips and noisy tongue.
"Bath or shower?" I ask,
Darcy rushes at me, gathering me up in his arms. When he kisses me, he tastes creamy and sweet.
Whipped cream or my wet pussy? Could be either, but I have the express pleasure of knowing that it's both.
Darcy's kisses turn into more fingering, and the fingering turns into Darcy pushing me around his master bathroom by the sensitivity of my clit.
He has me up against the wall. Bent over the sink. Perched on the edge of the bathtub.
