I say, “How’s your poor ass?” giving it a slap.
She cries out. Gets wetter. Goes up and down again. It feels so fucking good to have her cunt wrapped around me.
I grab her ponytail and pull her head back like she likes. My mouth goes to her nipple and I suck and bite again until she’s whimpering. I tug her hair harder and her pussy clenches around me.
She’s going to come.
She freezes, her body becoming one tense muscle. Then she’s whimpering and coming and her entire body trembles. She’s shuddering, crying out my name.
Carter!
She gives one final shake of her shoulders. She falls against me, spent.
But I’m still. Not. Done.
I press my hands into her hips.
She’s saying, no, I can’t take it, Carter. I can’t take anymore, but I know she can. I bring her up, then down, up, then down. The muscles of her sheath clench around me, once more. Her fingernails are scratching my back. A few more thrusts and she’s gushing.
“Oh, give it to me, Carter!” she cries.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than making her scream my name.
Now I thrust my hips up, at the same time, I pull her down onto me. I do this again and again. She’s moaning and screaming. Her breaths are short and come fast, one after the other. She’s glistening with sweat, she’s calling my name. Her cunt clenches tighter around my cock. She’s already so close to coming again—it never takes her long after a punishment. I think of the way her ass looked over my lap, her black thong up in her crack. The weight of her against my thighs. The jiggle of her spanked ass. The way she cries, yes, sir. The moan she gave when the bullet entered her.
The way she says my name.
Her pussy grinds against me. I feel a flash of heat, sweat. My mind leaves my memories and goes blank. I’m nothing but the sensation of being inside of her.
But I’m not ready to come. Not yet.
My hands find her hair and I give her ponytail one last good hard tug.
“Carter! Oh, my God, I’m coming... again!”
Her pussy is clenching and pulsing, and her nails scratch all the way up my back as she calls my name. She falls against me. I’m holding her, my cock still rock hard inside of her. I’m rubbing her back, calling her baby.
She thinks we’re done here. That it’s time for cuddles.
Not a chance.
It’s time I take her in the ass.
I tell her so.
She sits up, her eyes wide, her lip forming the word, “No!”
“Yes.”
I grab her, sliding her up and off of my dick. I bend her over the bed. Her ass is high in the air. I tell her to spread her legs. Her cunt is wet, red, swollen. Her ass still marked with angry stripes. The silver handle of the bullet peeks out from between her cheeks.
She shoots me a glance over her shoulder, unsure.
That look. Trust mixed with vulnerability.
I almost come.
I grab my balls and squeeze.
I rub her back, shushing her. I look down at her ass. In her little puckered hole is the plug.
I slowly pull it from her ass. She moans with relief and desire. I stare at her prepared bottom. Ready for me to enter it.
My cock is rock hard and still slick from her cunny. But I grab the lube from the bed and apply more, stroking it up and down my shaft. My hands go to her waist. I bend my knees and press the head of my cock against her lubed entrance. She gives the sweetest little whimper. I tell her I’ll be gentle.
I’m pressing past her unwilling muscles. It’s so fucking tight. The tip is all the way in and it feels amazing. Her ass tilts up just the littlest bit, telling me it’s feeling good to her. I push gently. She’s so tight, her muscles stretching to welcome me. I push a little further. She moans.
The sight of her, stretched out on the bed. The way my cock looks going into her ass. I give her bottom a slap. She squeals. I push in further. Her fingers grab at the covers and she’s burying her face in them. I ask her if it feels good.
She can’t speak but she gives a nod and a moan of pleasure. I thrust my cock hard, giving her ass my full length.
She calls my name. I pull my hips back and thrust again. She is squirming and panting, the sensation taking over her. Her ass tightens around my cock. I groan. I can’t last much longer. I pull back and thrust again. I give her ass another slap. My cock is throbbing, my balls tightening. I feel feverish, drenched in sweat. I close my eyes and behind my lids is a bright light.
“Carter, I think I’m going to come but it feels so different... I... I...”
“Come, baby girl. Come for me.” I thrust again and again, my hips rocking, my hands holding her, guiding her. She’s calling my name. Her ass locks around me like a vise.
I’m nothing but cock in ass as my entire body experiences the tightening tension of my impending orgasm.
She’s coming, and my cock is pulsing. It’s like an explosion and I’m filling her tight little ass with my seed. I give another thrust, groaning and every muscle in my body tenses, then relaxes. A soft, glowing contentment washes over me.
I’m completely spent.
I pull out from her, grab her. I sit on the bed, pulling her onto my lap. She’s dripping with me and her, slick on my leg.
She wants to stand. Her ass is so sore.
Not happening.
I give her a stern look, bringing her back down onto my thigh with the sound of our skin slapping together.
She winces, then gives me a long, adoring look. She’s kissing me, her hands tangling in my hair. She pulls back, looking at me as if I’m a god. “Oh, Carter. I’ve never felt anything like that. It was amazing.”
I position her so she’s straddling me once more. I grab underneath her thighs. Her legs wrap around my waist, her slick cunt pressed up against me. I stand up and her legs lock around me.
She loves to be carried.
Her hands wrap around my neck. I transport her as she giggles, straight into our huge, double-headed shower. I warm the water, then guide her beneath the stream. Put her down gently. She holds her head back, the water cascading over her.
She looks like a goddess. Dark hair running down her back with the water. Her small breasts high and proud, nipples still at attention from our lovemaking.
I wash her hair, her breasts, her red ass, her perfect little cunny.
When we’re both clean, I towel dry her off. Even in between her toes. We go back into the bedroom. Her white panties are waiting on the bed. She knows I’m going to make her wear them. She bites her bottom lip and looks to me.
My heart wells. God, I love this woman. I smile at her, kiss the top of her head. I sit down on the bed. She stands before me, waiting.
This is our little ritual.
I take the panties, opening the leg hole by her feet. Her hands are on my shoulders. She lifts her right foot, putting it through the opening. Her foot goes back to the floor and she steps into the other side that I am holding for her. I pull the panties up her thighs. Up over her bottom. Over her hips. I snap them into place. The little pink bow stares back at me.
My hands go to her bottom. I pull her toward me. I kiss her stomach. I run my hands over the ruffles on her spanked bottom.
I look up at her. She’s staring down at me, a look of love and adoration on her face.
My sweet girl.
I tell her to go get dressed. That she has a phone call to make.
She can’t wear her beloved spandex over these panties—the ruffles would show. Instead, she puts on a short, athletic tennis dress. One that I can easily flip up anytime I want to. And catch a glimpse of those pretty panties.
The ones I’ve made her wear.
She’s soft and sweet and once we’re both dressed, she comes over to the bed where I’m sitting, checking my phone for email.
She sits on my lap. I wrap one arm around her waist.
My good girl.
She has her phone in her hand. She gives me a sweet li
ttle smile as she calls Paige.
Sasha extends her congratulations on the engagement. Sasha offers her help with anything, everything. They make plans to have lunch together.
My very, very good girl.
Chapter Eight
Sasha
There is one little factoid no one tells you when you get engaged.
Weddings suck.
Well, for the bride at least. And her helpers. I helped Paige with her wedding and now, she’s off on her honeymoon. A long one. After never taking a vacation, Bronson has swept Paige off to a tour of private islands. Traveling, of course, by one of the family’s private jets—the one always on reserve for Bronson. Kind of the Bachman version of Airforce One.
I’ve yet to have the pleasure.
So I suffered through planning her wedding. And now she’s not here to return the favor.
Unfortunately for me, my now very dominating fiancé has demanded that I, too have a short engagement. Paige will be returning, sun-kissed and ravished, just a week before Carter and I are set to exchange vows.
Honestly, after the shindig we Bachman Beauties—as Paige has taken to calling us—threw for the king and queen of the family, nothing that I could pull off would live up to it. And seeing the two of them up there, exchanging vows, it hit me in the core of my stomach—the wedding is not about the party.
Ever since I have committed to the lifestyle, I find myself thinking of others first. Carter’s discipline has opened my eyes to how self-absorbed I’ve been. Always fighting to get what I want, right when I want it. I’m ashamed to think of how I first acted when Paige told me her and Bronson were engaged. Throwing a fit because I wasn’t going to be the next one down the aisle. I’m so glad that Carter spanked that notion out of me.
My face burns just thinking of the other things he did to me.
Since Carter introduced me to the lifestyle, I’ve made other changes. I’m nicer now, too. I haven’t lost my independence or my tough streak, I just don’t feel the need to tap into those characteristics as strongly or as often as I did before. I can recognize that Carter cares for me, protects me. That the rules of the Village are in place to keep us safe. Happy.
Mary couldn’t be prouder.
Over tea one day, I tried to get the story of how she was when she first came to the Village. The trials John had hinted at her putting him through. She just smiled and waved her hand in the air, dismissing the notion, and saying, that’s a story for another day.
I would love to have been a fly on the wall for the early years of their marriage. Was Mary as sassy and defiant as me? Did she give John as much of a run for his money as I did with Carter? I guess I’ll never know because instead of spilling the beans on her past, Mary and I ate brownies and talked about my upcoming wedding.
She asked what I’m most looking forward to. And I told her the truth—the exchanging of our vows.
So unlike me.
The old Sasha would have been online shopping for dresses. Tasting cakes. Ordering champagne towers.
All while completely ignoring her groom.
Now, all I want to do is spend time with Carter. I love the way his eyes shine when I enter a room. The way he protects me, cherishes me. The way his hand smacks my ass every time I walk by him.
I can’t wait to make him my husband.
I don’t even care about the wedding—I just want to hear him say those words, to have and to hold from this day forward.
But I’ve got to give the family something to look forward to. We are a party people, after all.
I’m taking things in a different direction. The classy candlelit rooftop event of the year has already been taken. Why even bother going classy? Instead, I’m surprising the Bachmans with something altogether different.
I’ve decided to close down Barbells for the day and having the ceremony there. After Brett’s heart attack, Carter and I have been trying to find ways to encourage the family to get into the gym and work out. Try to explain to them that though they may be billionaires, one thing money can’t always buy you is your health—you have to put in the work. That even though they may look gorgeous and fit, that doesn’t mean they don’t need cardio in their lives.
We’ve been unsuccessful.
So we will have our wedding at the gym, and they will all have to come.
I’ve told them to wear spandex and be prepared to sweat.
When their faces looked back at me, etched with uncertainty, I told them there would be Michelangelo’s pizza and kegs of beer afterwards—to balance out the exercise part. They still looked a little unsure. Then I told them Mary was baking the cake.
That hooked ‘em.
I’ll be wearing white, the blushing virgin that I am. It’s a very short, spandex workout dress that I found online. It’s cute, funny, and I’ll be able to teach my class in it. I’m doing spin for the ladies; Carter is teaching CrossFit for the men.
Then we will celebrate the only part that matters to me, our ceremony. Afterwards, all the pizza, beer, and cake you can imagine.
I can’t wait.
* * *
Sasha
Carter asked me—let me rephrase that—Carter threatened me with a paddling to make me comply with going on the honeymoon before the wedding. He’s told me that with his new job, it’d be better to take off sooner rather than later; apparently the brotherhood’s busy season is coming up.
A honeymoon before the wedding isn’t conventional, but I’m okay with it. I guess.
Carter and I are flying via the family’s jet to a destination unknown. He’s even insisted that I wear a blindfold and earplugs during certain parts of the trip so that I’ll have no idea where we are until I step off the tarmac.
It’s thrilling.
But not as exciting as the suitcase of toys I caught him packing.
Yummy.
I can already picture myself, lying on a deserted beach, wearing a black string bikini, Carter massaging oil into my warm back.
Sigh.
Two workdays to go, then we are out of here. I can’t wait.
And I’ve got a little adventure planned for myself before we leave. One tiny stunt to pull before I become an official family member.
I’m going to show the brotherhood that women don’t need to be Maid Marian all the time. That sometimes, we too can be Robin Hood.
* * *
Carter
It’s two days before our trip—the secret ‘honeymoon’ I have planned. Just one more quick mission, a couple of days at the gym, then we’re off.
John’s driving the van. I’m riding shotgun. It’s nice to spend a little time with my brother since I’ve been so busy between taking on my new role for the family and planning a wedding. We’re off to break into one of the private offices in the government building on West Street, do a little snooping. Find the ‘package’—a brick of cash that has been swapped for a brick of confiscated cocaine—and head home. In and out, thirty minutes tops upon arrival.
A piece of cake.
John and I are going over logistics. Having a nice ride, cracking a few jokes about the dumbasses we’re about to pull one over on. The politicians will be caught in a classic ‘who done it?’ with no foot to stand on, seeing as you can’t report the theft of drug money.
John had big plans for the money we’ll be pulling in tonight. He runs an operation in some of the rougher parts of the city to help teens stay off the streets and get job training or help with college entrances. Well, he doesn’t run it. He rarely has time to visit—he’s more of a silent benefactor, I guess you could say. And now, with Brett’s inheritance, John’s plans for those kids have grown. But while he’s waiting for Brett’s assets to get washed, he needs funding now.
We’re halfway to our destination, smooth sailing, but now, John’s suddenly slamming on the brakes as he yells, “What the hell is that?”
I look into the headlights and see a tiny gray tabby kitten darting across the road.
“What is that?
A baby raccoon?” John asks, disgust in his voice. My brother—the animal lover.
“I think it’s a kitten,” I say. “What should we do?” By this point the poor little thing is sitting on the double yellow line, just looking up at us, his big, shiny green eyes reflecting in the headlights.
John scoffs, “We keep going. What do you think we do?”
A voice rises from the back of the van. I almost jump out of my skin in surprise. “Aww! Look at that pretty kitty! Oh, he’s so sweet! John, why are you so coldhearted? You brute. We have to take him home! Just look at the pitiful thing!”
You have to be kidding me. We’ve got ourselves a stowaway.
Sasha.
Well, isn’t this just some shit.
I knew being a Bachman was risky, but I thought I was only risking my safety.
Not my sanity.
To be fair... Sasha’s made tremendous strides.
For her.
She’s given her full effort to our lifestyle. Become as submissive as she can.
But she’s still Sasha.
And I love her, exactly the way she is.
Even when she challenges the wellbeing of my mental health.
My love for her doesn’t make my current situation any easier.
Before I can speak, I see the look on John’s face.
Ice cold.
He turns so slowly over his shoulder, he’s barely moving. When he speaks, his voice is low, lethal. “Sasha... what the hell are you doing in this van?”
I turn around. Her olive skin is pasty white. Her brown eyes huge.
Caught.
Her bottom lip trembles when she speaks. “I... I... I heard you guys talking about the mission. How the money was for the kids at the program. You know how much I love them—every Saturday Carter works, I go down there and hang out with the girls. Paint their nails, give them ideas for nutritious meals on their budgets, bring them shoes and clothes I buy. I wanted to help. John—you said you guys needed to be quick, stealthy. You both know how fast I am. You’ve seen me at the gym. I wanted to come. To show you guys—”
I ignored the pang I feel in my heart. She’s a strong woman living in a man’s world. Wanting to do a job I know she can do. But rules are rules. And there is no need for us Bachmans to put our precious women in danger... imagine if she chose a different night to stow away, say the night John and I had sought our revenge.
Carter: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 13
