by Penny Wylder
“Had to makes it sound like I’m high-maintenance,” I respond, grinning as he holds the back door open for me and I climb inside. I’ve never been in a limo – for prom we just used my uncle’s old beat-up Cadillac. The inside looks just like I’ve seen on TV shows though, all sleek leather interior seats and a sidebar with crystal glasses and a shelf of liquors.
“Not at all.” Cassius climbs in behind me, settles on the seat beside me and wraps his hand around mine, possessive. He’s constantly touching me, whether it’s to pull me onto his lap during movies or wrap his arms around me from behind while I’m cooking. I love it. I’ll never get tired of the feeling of his strong arms around me, his hand in mine, our fingers intertwined. “I’m the high-maintenance one.” His eyes sparkle as they meet mine. “I insist on spoiling you at every opportunity.”
“Hmm. Well, you are definitely succeeding.” I grin and tilt my chin up for a kiss. He kisses me slow, soft, deep. The kind of kiss that will never get old. The kind of kiss you can lose yourself in.
As the car starts to move, his hands slide around my waist, pulling me across his lap.
“Mr. Anderson,” I gasp in fake outrage, as I position my knees on either side of his hips. His cock is already hard, pressed against the thin fabric of this fancy dress he bought me. “Why, this is very improper.” I feign a high-brow accent, and he only just manages to avoid laughing as he catches my mouth in another kiss.
“Mm, I had the impression that you liked impropriety, Ms. Cross.”
“Maybe,” I admit slowly, wriggling my hips against his, so his cock rubs against my pussy. Shit, at this rate, I’ll soak this lacy thong I put on in no time.
“Only maybe?” Cassius raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, in that case.”
He slides me off his lap again, just in time for the limo to take off, and I actually huff in frustration. Damn him. He loves doing that—getting me all worked up, and then delaying, delaying, delaying.
To be fair, though, when he does make me come, he more than makes up for all the time I’ve spent waiting. I shiver with delight at the memory of last night, when he spent an hour lathering me up in the shower, before he finally pinned me against the cool tile wall, lifted me off the ground, his hands digging into my ass, and fucked me against the shower wall, the hot water cascading down over us. He knows just how to angle it so his cock hits my G-spot every time, and pinned against the shower wall like that, his groin dug into my clit too, making me come doubly fast. When he decided I needed to come more than just once, he slid a hand between us to finger my clit as he continued to fuck me. I made it to three orgasms before he finally came inside me, his hot cum coating my pussy walls, a warm rush of sensation that always made my pussy tighten in pleasure.
I love feeling him come in me. I love the way his cum drips down my thighs after we’ve finished, the way I can still feel the proof of his lust for me, sometimes even hours later.
Not to mention, I love how hard he fucks me. He’s not afraid to make it hard for me to walk the next day, and I appreciate that. I might be a lady in the streets, but I like it rough in the sheets.
I’m still daydreaming about last night when we glide to a stop. The windows are tinted, so I can’t see where we are yet, but judging by the grin on Cassius’s face, it’s somewhere good. It’s always somewhere good. The man has perfect taste in everything, I swear, from apartment décor to food to… well, me, I guess. Maybe I’m feeling biased.
I am definitely feeling biased right now.
He weaves his fingers through mine as we exit the limo, and my eyes widen when I see the restaurant. It’s the newest place in town, ultra-exclusive, so popular that even I have heard of it, and I’ve been in near total baby induced isolation for the last few months. Last I heard, the waiting list for a table here was months long.
But of course, Cassius found some way to swing it. I glance up at him, smirking, as we glide through the doors.
The restaurant is fine dining, a fusion of traditional Japanese-style food and Southern cooking. I’ve never tasted anything like it before, but I am instantly in love. Every plate of food is more delicious than the last, and though I can’t even pronounce half the ingredients, I savor every bite.
As for Cassius, he seems to be enjoying himself too, though his eyes drift over to me more often than the food.
I savor that, too. It’s been a while since a man looked at me like that. A lifetime, in fact.
“So,” he says, as we’re between courses. “What makes Manila Cross tick?”
I laugh into my wine glass, but then I look up to find him studying me, and realize he’s serious. I set the glass back down, thoughtful. “Depends what you mean by tick, I guess,” I reply after a while. “I mean, I love my children, I enjoy my new job…”
“I’m not talking about the present.” His foot hooks around my ankle, tugs on my leg. I foot-wrestle him under the table, grinning at him the whole while. “You know, what are your sore spots, how did your childhood screw you up, all that jazz.”
I burst out laughing. Our eyes meet over the rims of our wine glasses as we toast. “Mm, well… Childhood-wise, growing up with my mom was pretty… tough.” Unwillingly, my gaze drifts toward my cell phone, face-up on the table just in case Lisa calls about the twins. “I guess that’s why I wanted to have kids of my own so badly.”
He tilts his head, questioning. “Because things were hard growing up?”
I sigh. “Because Mom was hard, honestly.” He waits patiently for me to elaborate, holding eye contact. I can’t lie to that clear steel-gray gaze of his. “She left me alone a lot… She was a single mom too, which I know is hard, but like… She’d leave me to cook my own dinner by age 5. I already knew how to operate the stove by then, and how to make pasta, hot dogs…”
His eyes widen, his lips clamping into a tight line of disapproval. But he doesn’t interrupt. He lets me talk, getting this off my chest.
“When I got older and started going to school, she’d never come to any events. She skipped parent-teacher conferences, wouldn’t pick me up from any extracurriculars… My friends’ parents fed me more often than not, driving me to their houses from soccer and letting me stay over, especially when Mom would go on a bender. They didn’t want me coming home finding her passed out in a pile of her own vomit.” I grimace and close my eyes. Why am I telling him all this? He’ll judge me. Think I’m just like her.
But then I feel his warm hand close over mine on top of the table. When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me carefully, concerned and sympathetic all at once.
“I know how that feels,” he murmurs, and my heart aches in my chest, seeing my pain mirrored on his face. “My parents weren’t around much either. Dad was always working, and Mom was sick when I was younger… She passed away when I was only twelve.”
I lift my free hand to fold his hand in mine, squeezing gently. Like he did, I don’t interrupt, just wait for him to get this off his chest, the way he let me have space to talk.
He shakes his head. “I guess that’s why I always wanted kids, too. I wanted to do a better job than they did. To raise a generation better than ours, to show my kids that parents can be a great thing to have.”
By the time he finishes, we’re squeezing one another’s hands so tightly it hurts.
Too soon, the meal is ending, and we’re still finishing an after-dinner glass of wine when Cassius leans close to me around the table. The restaurant is packed with other diners, but he makes sure to pitch his voice so that only I can hear.
“I hope you saved some room for dessert.”
I bat my eyes at him, grinning. “As long as you’re on the menu, I’ve always got room for more.”
He leans in to nip at my ear lightly, and I gasp as his teeth graze my sensitive skin. “Don’t worry, Manila. My appetite for you is utterly insatiable.”
After that, despite how delicious dessert was, I couldn’t wait to get the check. The limo, which met us outside the restaurant, having
waited for us all throughout the meal, didn’t take us home. Instead, it drove us farther downtown, to the entrance of one of the most expensive hotels in the city.
“You didn’t,” I murmur, eyebrows rising, as he leads me through the front door.
“Checking in,” he tells the front desk without responding to me, though his hand tightens around mine, and his fingers caress the back of my palm. When he glances back at me, his eyes sparkle with mischief. “We have fun at my house,” he says once we enter the elevator, luckily alone, “But you haven’t lived until you’ve absolutely destroyed a hotel room by having hours of sex in it. Not to mention, I want you screaming loud enough to disrupt all of our neighbors…”
I swat his arm, but I’m also shivering with desire at the thought. Mm, hell yes. Make me scream, you naughty man…
9
We reach the top floor, our floor, in no time. The room is gorgeous, of course, and well decorated. But I barely have time to register anything before he’s throwing me against the wall, pinning me to it while his hands rake over my sides, pressing hard through the thin fabric of my dress.
“I’ve been waiting all night to tear this off of you,” he growls. I lift my arms, and he pulls the dress off in seconds, impatient. Underneath, I’ve worn matching lingerie, a set he’s never seen before, that I was saving for a special occasion. To judge by the hungry light that flares in his eyes as he cups my breasts through the lacy bra, I made the right call wearing it tonight.
He kisses me, hot with need, and then draws back to gaze into my eyes for a moment. “You are so damn sexy, Manila, do you know that?”
“You definitely make me believe it,” I murmur, my eyes raking over his body. I reach for his belt, start to undo his pants. “Let me taste you,” I whisper.
He steps back, spreading his hands to allow me access. To let me do whatever I want to him. In one swift motion, I yank his pants to the floor, and push his boxers down after them. That cock of his, that glorious, gorgeous cock I love, springs free, already hard as hell.
I grin and drop to my knees in front of him. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” I say, as I lean in to kiss the side of his cock. He’s tense already, and groans faintly when my lips touch his sensitive skin.
“Your wish is my command,” he says when he has control of himself again.
I grin up at him. I’m not letting him maintain that control for long. He digs his hands into my hair, and I lick along the length of his cock, first one side, then the other, slow and teasing. He groans faintly, his hands tightening, pulling my hair until it’s almost painful. I love the sensation.
“God you have the sexiest little mouth,” he murmurs as I grip his cock in one hand and suck on his balls, rolling them around between my lips. “You fucking love this, don’t you? Having my balls in your mouth.”
I moan a little, and he tenses as the vibrations pass from my mouth to him. My fist tightens around the base of his cock, and my other hand slides up his thigh to scratch at his skin.
“Show me how hungry you are for my cock,” he says, his voice gone dark with command.
I part my lips and swallow him whole. For a moment, he lets me maintain control, easing into it, sliding back and forth on his length as I press his cock farther into my mouth, my tongue tracing the vein on the underside. I love the way he tastes, heady and masculine, all salt and hormones. I can smell his lust, and it’s driving me wild, getting me wet before we’ve barely started.
“Look at me, Manila,” he says, and I tilt my head to meet his eyes as I keep sucking his cock. He thrusts deeper into my mouth, almost to the back of my throat, his eyes on mine the whole time, hot with desire. “You are so fucking hot.” His voice is throaty, tight.
I part my lips wider, take him fully into my mouth, my hands toying with his balls, rolling them between my fingers. I love watching him while I do it, seeing the reaction on his face, the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. He slides out of me, slowly, and adjusts his grip on my hair.
“I’m going to fuck that naughty little mouth of yours now.”
I moan again in agreement, eager for him. He thrusts into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. It almost makes me gag, but I’ve been practicing. I take a deep breath and my eyes flutter shut as I surrender control. I love this part, the way he takes me without apology, using me for his own pleasure. He fucks my mouth, and I keep my tongue pressed against his cock, my lips tight around him, savoring every inch of him.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he growls, and I clench my hands around his tight, muscular ass, pulling him against me. He thrusts into my mouth once, twice, and the third time, there’s a hot rush as he comes in my throat, groaning, his whole body tense. I keep going, sliding my mouth along his length, swallowing every drop of his cum. When he finally leans back against the wall, his breathing heavy, I part my lips and let him go, only to trace my tongue along him once more, licking him clean.
He laughs faintly through gritted teeth, jumping as my tongue touches his sensitive tip.
“Fuck, Manila,” he finally says when he recovers his breath.
I grin and slide to my feet beside him. “Hot enough for you?”
His eyes flash, dangerous. “Not even close.” Before I can react, he lifts me off the floor. Carries me across the room and tosses me down on the mattress, pushing my legs wide apart.
“My turn,” he says, his gaze hot.
Yes, please.
He slides between my legs, and before long, that strong, broad tongue of his is making me scream. I wrap my legs around his shoulders, fist my hands in his hair, let myself go. There’s no one around to hear—at least, no one I mind overhearing. No neighbors or babies sleeping. We can be as loud and as wild as we want.
He makes me come three times, alternating between that sexy tongue of his and his fingers, curling them inside me expertly to hit just the right spot. By the time I finish the third time, he slides to his feet, his cock hard as a rock again.
Sometimes I think getting me off turns him on even more than getting himself off. There’s something so sexy about that, about how much he loves my orgasms.
“I want to try something new tonight,” he murmurs, when he’s leaned over me to kiss me deeply, my taste still on his tongue.
I smile up at him, flushed. “Your wish is my command,” I echo him from earlier, eager to do whatever he asks. In the last few weeks, Cassius has proven that he knows my body better than I do. Whatever he wants to try, I’m in.
His finger slides along my cleft, soaking wet already from his ministrations. His hand drops lower, lower… And circles my ass, pressing against the tight bud there.
“I want to take every inch of you.” He pushes a little harder, his forefinger wet with my cum. I gasp, tensing, even though I know I need to relax. It takes effort, but I force my muscles to still, to let him have what he wants. His finger slips past the ring of my ass, inside me, just the very tip. Enough to send a shiver of pleasure mingled with pain through my body. “I want to fuck your tight ass.”
I’ve never tried anal before. Plenty of ex-boyfriends asked for it, but I always refused. Then again, none of those ex-boyfriends were able to make me come the way Cassius does. None of them went down on me for hours at a time. None of them put my pleasure before their own. They just wanted to check off their bucket list: fucked a girl in the ass, check.
But I trust Cassius. I trust him to want this for my pleasure, not his. I lock eyes with him, and behind the lust and desire, I can see the genuine care in his gaze. He wants me to enjoy this.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Take my ass. It’s yours.”
He lifts me almost reverently, kisses me again before he flips me over beneath him, a pillow under my hips. He lies along my back, kisses his way down my spine, his tongue sending shivers to every inch of my body. He parts my ass cheeks with strong fingers, and keeps going, slides his tongue along the cleft of my ass. I shiver, half in pleasure and half in anticipation of what’s to come.
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When I feel his dick press against my ass cheek, I start to tense again, nervous. But then he leans down beside me, runs his hands through my hair, brushing it away from my face gently.
“Relax, Manila,” he whispers. “Trust me.”
And I do. My whole body goes limp, pliable. I hear him open a bottle, spread lube on his cock. My smile widens as I realize that he planned this, too. He knew what he wanted tonight, because he’s always thinking about me, all the things he wants to do to me.
When the head of his cock presses against the tight purse of my ass, it feels cold at first, wet. I gasp. But he doesn’t give me time to get worried again. He’s already pressing into me, past the ring. A loud moan escapes my lips as he slides farther and farther into me. My hands fist around the sheets, and the sensation feels like nothing else, pleasure and pain at once, like he’s completely filling me up.
Finally, he slides all the way inside, his balls tapping lightly against my pussy, already sensitive from my multiple orgasms earlier. I arch my back against him, but he remains still inside me, waiting.
“Tell me how it feels, Manila.”
“Fucking amazing,” I pant, still trying to catch my breath.
“Do you want me to fuck you now?”
“Yes. Please, Cassius, fuck my ass.”
He slides out of me, slow, slow, an inch at a time. Then, without warning, he thrusts back into me hard. I writhe against the sheets, crying out in pleasure. He works into a rhythm, pulling out slow, slamming in hard, and soon I’m digging my fists into the pillow beneath me, my body rocking with every thrust, completely under his control.
He slides one hand beneath me to finger my mound, just above my sensitive clit. I’m so sensitive from earlier that only a few circles of his finger have me close to the edge again, panting at the conflicting sensations. Soreness in my ass, pleasure in my clit, my pussy, the entire rest of my body.
I scream when the orgasm hits me, shouting Cassius’s name, profanities, begging him to keep fucking me. He obeys, thrusting hard and deep inside my ass until I’m writhing against the sheets. Then his hand grabs my hair, yanks me back so I lean up off the bed, moaning as he continues to fuck me, his other hand tight around my hip, using me for purchase, slamming into me again and again until—
