by Mona Cox
How did this happen to me? I never thought it would be possible to become this obsessed with a man! But I am becoming completely crazy for him, each second his body isn’t on mine painfully tortuous.
Parting my folds with two fingers, he rams his cock deep inside me and my arms lose all their strength at once; I collapse onto the seat, only my backside still raised up at him. He thrusts into me hard and unforgiving, handing sweet punishment in the most lovable way possible. He reaches for my hair, grabbing it in a bunch and making me raise my head.
I’m moaning… I’m moaning so hard it’s unbelievable. I do it until I feel my throat becoming sore, and then I do it some more.
I start rocking my hips back at him, the pendulum motion of his cock becoming faster and faster.
I’m so spent even my soul is numb.
He reaches around my waist, finding my clit and rubbing on it as he keeps pounding into me mercilessly. I try to scream in delight but even my throat is completely exhausted. I simply lay there as he brings me once more to the edge of delirious rapture and throws me down into the abyss.
Hooking his fingers on my hips, he pulls back and makes me turn around. I lay back on the seat, opening my legs so that he fits right between them. A shiver goes up my spine as I lay eyes on the perfectly sculpted muscles of his chest.
Leaning into me with his whole body, I feel the tip of his cock brush against my pussy. Soft and careful, he holds his position there until I can’t take it anymore; I thrust my hips toward him, my pussy lips parting and engulfing his tip. I bite my lower lip as I feel him enter me again.
Now there is nothing but ecstasy for me. As I feel him slide in and out, his thickness straining and pushing against my inner walls, I’m taken to a place so perfect and dreamlike that I’m not even sure if whatever what is happening is real. It's way too perfect to be real.
I notice him looking at me, eager to know if I’m alright. I respond in the best way I can, with a deep moan that climbs up my throat and cascades down my lips with the ferocity of a wild animal. How could it be any other way? His cock inside of me feels like completion, a pleasure so intense it verges the mystical.
He goes in and out softly, my legs wrapped around his back and pulling him inside me. My eyes are closed, my mind only capable of processing the gentle thrusts of his cock as if there is nothing else in the world but it. And, as far as I’m concerned, there isn’t.
His body rocks against mine, the most delicious ebb and flow of bodies taking over until I can’t resist it anymore. The muscles in my legs make me tighten them around his back like a vice, and with both hands grabbing at his hair, I sway my hips from side to side uncontrollably as mind-numbing electricity takes my body by assault.
He keeps thrusting, rubbing my clit with suddenly erratic movements, I feel him ready; I summon what little strength still lives inside of me and I tighten my hold on him. He stops then, his muscles so tense he seems made out of marble.
When his cock spasms harshly inside my pussy I can’t help but submit to that wildfire inside of me and scream. Pleasure crashes against my soul as I feel his cum gushing in a torrent once more, an earthquake of climaxing delight attacking both our bodies.
I can’t hold any longer so I just collapse completely on the seat; he falls with me, his cock still buried deep in my pussy. I moan, feeling his thickness still spasming as he lays on top of me, cum dripping down my thighs.
We stay like that for… I don’t even know. One minute, one hour? We stay like that until our exhausted bodies become capable of moving, time becoming just an abstract concept.
He rolls to the side then, his hand resting on my lower back as he caresses the dimples there. I turn to him, struggling to open my eyes. He’s looking at me, a gentle smile on his lips.
“This was…” I try to say, but I can’t find the word to describe it. I don’t think any dictionary or language in the whole world has a word that fits the description of everything I just felt. It’s just impossible. It’s more than sex, it’s more than love. It’s everything. “I love you, Derek… I love you so much.”
“I know, Alicia… I love you too. You know that,” he tells me, stroking my lower back softly. With a grin, he continues: “We have a whole life of this ahead of us.”
Yes, a whole life together. Me and him, till death do us part.
Oh, how I love this man.
18
Epilogue As Told By Alicia
“So you scared?” Ashely asks me as we sit down across the street from work at Il Fornia Deep Dish.
“Scared about what, babe?” I ask Ashely, rolling my eyes as I lean back and let the waiter place our personal deep dish pizzas in front of us.
“Duh, you only got promoted today Alicia,” Ashley replies back giving me an eye roll of her own. “I mean like one year ago you basically almost lost your job.”
“Oh my God, you remember Nadia Moore?” I ask her, shuddering. “I can’t believe she stole all that money from Derek.”
Ashley takes her knife and fork and starts cutting into her deep dish pizza with gusto. She ordered the Italian Sausage and I got the pepperoni and bell peppers. It’s greasy, cheesy. And it tastes so good. But…
“By the way, babe,” Ashley says to me as she pops a piece of pizza into her mouth. “I know you’re like the youngest Vice President in the history of Carter Jeffries now, all promoted and whatnot and still in your 20s, but we can’t keep eating like this.”
Gimme a break, you know?
I mean, sure, I’m popping the pizza in my mouth, but it’s not like it was my idea to go get deep dish pizza.
“Ya babe, I’m so with you, we gotta do better eating wise, because I don’t know how many more hours of Pilates we can really do before we end up just passing out.”
Alicia laughs to herself. Is she laughing at me? Oh my God, I can’t believe it!
“What the fuck, babe?” I ask her.
“Like, I think you can eat as much greasy food as you want with all the fucking you’re getting from your billionaire boyfriend,” she teases me. “If you get him an extra 10% return will he maybe do anal?”
Ya, in case you were wondering, I’m still an anal virgin. I haven’t given it up.
But I mean, it’s not like it’s been boring sex.
Far from it. OMG. It’s like life-altering sex. It’s like we’re one person. It’s like everything I could have dreamed of.
“Seriously babe, it’s like you're like living in a romance novel or something, “ Ashley says to me and looks out the window. “I just hope that I’m as happy as you one day.”
I mean, I know that Ashley is the first to tease me and such, but something about her in this instance lets me know that she’s genuinely happy for me.
And you know, it does feel good. I’m so much better off than I was a year ago. I have a man who totally loves me. I have my career. It really does seem to be possible to have it all.
It’s been a great year. Just in case you need a quick rundown of what happened to my life over the last 12 months, let me just let you in on the key details.
So, Nadia Moore is in jail. She lost her securities license. Then she got indicted for fraud and grand larceny as well as conspiracy.
I kept working at Carter Jeffires. Ashley went to work for a fashion magazine in Times Square called Femina.
I still live in my apartment but spend most of the time with Derek. I mean, I should probably not renew my lease when it expires next month. I’d probably save some money.
Work? It’s been good, I guess. I mean, being part of the team that brought down an international con artist and thief put a lot of wind behind my sails. I’ve traded nods with the CEO because he’s recognized me.
I know, right? It’s insane. Like I’ll be walking down with my co-workers and Preston Cabot and his Managing Directors will be walking by and he’ll recognize me and nod and be like “Alicia,” and I’ll nod and say, “Hi, Mr. Cabot!”
Totally raises your street credib
ility among your peers.
And I guess it doesn’t hurt that Derek goes golfing with Preston and we’ve all gone out to dinner and various social events together. Maybe it doesn't help, but I mean, it probably doesn’t hurt that my guy is his client/boss.
But enough about me. I need to get Ashley off her subject and on something else. Plus, I wanna know about her new job.
“How is the new job at the fashion magazine?” I ask her. “Any cute guys?”
Ashley shrugs. “The managing editor is a dick,” she says with enough matter-of-fact to let me know she’s made peace with it. “But the commute is good.”
“Yeah, but what about the guys?” I ask again. “You’re not answering the question.”
That’s when it dawns on me. “Oh my God. Did you already fuck someone?”
Ashley looks startled. “No!” she squeals back to me. Then, as if considering. “But there might be someone I saw in the building,” she answers quietly.
Yay! It’s like my good fortune is rubbing off. Because if anyone deserves to be happy, its my Ashley baby.
“You need to wear that skirt you have from Forever 21,” I tell her. “The one that looks totally sweet and slutty.”
“Uhm, no,” Ashley says to me. “I don't wanna look like a slut in my first month to get some guy. Besides you borrowed it and never gave it back.”
Oh right. I totally forgot that. I borrowed it to go to a Yankees game with Derek. He owns a skybox and I remember wearing that skirt. It was great because he was able to lift it up in our skybox (it was just us) and fuck me so hard during the 7th Inning Stretch.
I’m smiling at the memory, getting so hot that I reach over to get a drink.
Ashley sees me.
“Oh. My. God. Babe, get the fuck out!” she says to me and I see her eyes widen.
Oh, yeah, I may have forgot to tell you Derek proposed to me on Saturday.
I promise, it’s not like I was hiding it from you or anything. I swear!
It’s just that I got promoted today also! It’s been like a really intense week and it’s only Wednesday.
“Get out!” Ashley says. “How did you not tell me?”
I decide that I really should have told Ashley, but when you’re getting proposed to on the top of the Empire State Building and…
“Tell me all about it, babe,” Ashley says and her eyes narrow. “Now!”
I smile.
She’s so sweet when she’s insistent.
But hey, fuck it. I’m a VP now. I guess I can take a whole hour and talk about how I got proposed to.
“So ya, we totally woke up and he took me to this amazing romantic brunch at the Boathouse in Central Park,” I say.
“Oh my God, I love the Boathouse,” she jumps in.
We both take a bite of our pizza and I look out the window. People walk to and fro.
I smile and realize that Ashley is right in a way.
Life can’t get better than this.
I can’t wait to see what else is to cum.
<3
Fiona Vs. Football Player
This quarterback? Total opposite of deflated "footballs"...
I don't even like football!
But I like Danny Manning....
He's hot. With an insane body. Just looking at it makes me melt.
When he talks to me, it makes my head spin in excitement.
And when he touches me, it makes me sigh in pleasure.
I can't get enough of the guy! And he knows that!
Sure, he's so famous that it's a bit hard to adjust.
I may or may not have let it all go to my head.
Now I'm playing with fire by becoming the media darling.
But it's a double-edged sword. I could end up going from America's Sweetheart to Public Enemy if I'm not careful.
But being careful is something I'm not good at.
Not when I'm around him.
We'll just have to see how much trouble this tight end and quarterback combination gets up to, won't we?
*** It's the cute single girl versus the Big Bad Football Player in this installment from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sassy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happy Ending? Always, babe ***
19
Fiona
“Oh my God, look at that one!” Christine is waving furiously, pointing at one of the guys on the field. I place my hand over my eyes, narrowing them into slits and trying to see the man Christine is pointing to.
“Which one? There are hot guys everywhere, Chris,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. I don’t know what it is about football players, but they just look so hot and indecent. The kind of men you don’t want to tell your mom about ... but exactly the kind of men you want to climb in through your bedroom window.
To be honest, I’m not a big football fan; Christine is. When I look down at the field, I barely have any idea what’s happening. All I see are hot men running around and crashing into each other, their corded muscles rippling on impact, and that’s just fine with me.
“Look!” Christine punches my shoulder without even bothering to look down at me. She’s standing up now, pointing frantically at one of the men standing close to us in one of those wonky formations right on the 50-yard line. That’s right, we’re this close to the action, right behind the platoon of photographers snapping photos of these hot pieces of—ahem, of the players. Ashley hooked us up with tickets, just one of the perks of having a man who’s a billionaire.
“Oh, I see him!” I squeal, finally realizing who Christine is pointing to—Danny Manning, the New York Nailers quarterback. You’ve heard of him, right? He was the Nailers' first pick two years ago, and now he’s on the fast track to earning his team its first Super Bowl ring in like ten years, which totally makes sense considering he’s the hottest piece of ass in the league.
“God, just look at that…” Christine trails off, finally sitting down. Her mouth is hanging slightly opening, and I don’t even want to think about the kind of stuff she’s probably imagining right now. Not that I can blame her. There’s a lot of indecency going on inside my mind as well. But, hey, I’m single.
“Uh-uh, Chris, stop it. You already have Professor Hung just for yourself, leave a few men on the table, will you?”
“Looking isn’t sinning, that’s what my mom always said,” she simply shrugs, and I know she means it. She turned into a hopeless romantic after she started dating Anders Trask, her former college professor. He’s hot as hell and, according to the ‘rumors’ (well, we egg Christine on to tell us all the dirty details), he’s also huge; I don’t have to explain that last one, do I?
“I don’t know about your mom, Chris, but I’d be down for some sinning with Danny…” I mutter, unblinking as I watch him position himself behind the offensive line. He has just instructed his team on some play, and now he's trotted to his position, his hands on his knees as he bends over.
When the ball flies into his hands, he’s on the move. He takes two steps back, sidesteps a linebacker with a graceful movement of his hips, and then cocks his arm back. The whole stadium seems to drown in silence as the ball leaves his hands and flies in an arch. There’s a roar as the ball finds its way straight into the hands of the Nailers’ wide receiver on the other end of the field, and the whole crowd goes insane as he dives into the end zone.
I know this happened because of the gigantic screen right in front of me, but in reality, my eyes have never left Danny Manning. Sweet Jesus, just watching him is enough to make my insides clench. He moves with a powerful dexterity, the muscles in his body working in perfect symmetry. And it’s quite a thing to witness; unlike some of the other players, Manning is all built on lean muscle, his skin stretched tight over his hard muscles. And I’m only talking about the parts that I can see… Just imagine how he must look under all that gear.
That’s when I notice it; Danny Manning’s looking straight at me. His whole team is celebrating a much-needed touchdown, and he’s just standing in the middle of t
he field, one hand on his hip and staring straight at me. Right now, I don’t know if my blood is flowing straight to my face or to between my thighs. I just stare back at him, completely dumbfounded, and only when he looks away do I realize that I was holding my breath.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Christine yelps, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “He was looking at you! Danny Manning was looking at you!”
“He was,” I smile, suddenly feeling light headed. My eyes follow him as he sets up another play. “Look at him, Chris. He looks so… So… So fuckable!” I cry out, that warmness between my thighs turning into an uncomfortable wet feeling.
“Totally,” Christine agrees as Danny runs close to the sidelines, just a few feet away from us. “How big do you think he is?”
“I don’t know… But I wouldn’t mind finding out.” He runs past us again, and I turn my neck, following after him and devouring him with my eyes. By now, I completely forgot about the game. I don’t even know who’s winning—and who cares, really?
“You know, Chris,” I say, turning to her and looking away from Danny for the first time in a long while. “I’d totally fuck him if I had the chan--” The words get lost in my throat as I hear a few of the photographers close to us crying out. I turn to see what all the commotion is about, and I do it just in time to see a tall Nailers player crashing through the line of photographers and stumbling toward us, the ball clutched tight to his chest.
It’s Danny Manning, and I’m right in his way.
