by Ruby Forrest
“I bought it furnished, so I’m not exactly sure. You can change anything you don’t like.”
She tried to swallow the bubble of joy that wanted to burst out of her at those words. He acted like she’d be here again, often enough that she could redecorate if she wanted to.
It was beautiful, but very cold. Grays and whites and blacks with very little color. If she’d had to choose, she would’ve opted for some bold color slashes to break up the monotony, maybe some fur to make it feel more homey. She was already making notes in her mind, just in case this really did work out and this Cinderella fairy tale became her actual life.
“Would you like a drink?” He asked softly, coming to stand behind her.
She shivered. “Yes, please.”
He went over to the gray and white kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the shelf and a bottle of wine from the under-counter wine fridge. “Is white okay?”
“It’s perfect.” And it was. Everything about him and this place was perfect. She felt like she was in a dream, but she didn’t want it to end.
He poured a few inches of wine into the glass and handed it to her. She took a sip, letting the fruity sweetness caress her tongue. When she licked her lips, he groaned, throwing the glass with the wine into the stainless-steel sink where it splashed and clunked but he paid it no notice.
He stalked to her like an animal, his eyes boring holes in her own. She could barely swallow the wine that she’d taken. He came to her, slowly and carefully, and stood just before. “Last chance.”
“For what?” She gasped.
He smiled secretively. “Once I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”
She moaned, every sense in her vibrating, her panties wet and her nipples hard. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“Tell me you want me, Bronte.”
He was just a breadth away from her, his eyes on her mouth. She could barely breathe, let alone keep talking, but she gave him what he was looking for. “I want you, Brett. So much. It’s driving me mad.”
This time it was he that groaned and crossed the invisible boundary. His lips crashed down to meet hers. She shuddered with the intensity, but gave back everything she received. His tongue searched for entry and she granted it, opening her lips so that their tongues could slide intimately against each other. She felt his hands caress her waist then higher, until he was at her ribcage.
He picked her up, setting her on the beautiful countertop. The marble was cool against the fabric of her dress and she welcomed it against the heat that she was feeling from him and her attentive skin. “Spread your legs.”
She heard his order behind her closed eyes, and did as he asked, feeling the air caress her heated core and her lace panties. She smiled when she heard his whispered expletive.
“Tell me you wore those just for me,” he growled.
Suddenly, the impulsive move to wear a garter belt and black lace panties paid off. In this moment, she felt like she was the most beautiful woman in the world and the knowledge that he wanted her so much that he was on the verge of losing his famed control, turned her on more than anything else ever could. “I did.”
She opened his eyes and saw his gaze down at her crotch. He thumbed the edge of the garter belt and she reached down to help him remove it, but he brushed her hands away. She flushed, knowing that he wanted her to keep them on. God, he was hot. She didn’t think she’d ever been so turned on. She felt like the moment his hands touched her, she’d be lost forever.
His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her even wider and bunching her dress higher on her hips so it gave very little resistance. She was spread completely out for him in the bright light of the kitchen, nothing to hide or protect her from his gaze. And she didn’t want it any other way. She didn’t want to hide from him. For the first time, she felt no insecurity, felt no desire to be in soft lighting or under the covers. She felt sexy, confident, and above all…she wanted the same from him. She wanted to see everything about him and his body. Didn’t want to close her eyes and miss anything.
She gasped when she felt his fingertips slide higher, caressing the crease of her leg and over the top of her lace-covered mound. She couldn’t stop a moan when his warm hand started to fondle her clit through her panties. She saw him kneel and then he tugged her to the end of the counter. She threw her head back in arousal when his finger made an exotic trail up and down until she was panting and wet.
When she felt his mouth cover her through her underwear, she nearly screamed. Oh god. He was really doing this. She could feel his tongue through the lace and it was a frustrating mix of wet and warm, and the material that kept increasing the friction and preventing his full mouth from settling on her. She was so close, but she couldn’t quite get there…didn’t want to without feeling the full force of his wet onslaught.
Finally, when she was just about to beg him, he moved the edge of her panties aside with his finger and he suckled her clit directly. Her entire body froze, caught in the sudden urge to instantly cum, but she wanted to draw it out, didn’t want it to end.
She felt his tongue lick and suck on her, making circles against her clit. She couldn’t think about anything else, knew she wouldn’t last if she stopped to think about what he was doing, what they looked like…her spread over his kitchen counter, him kneeling in his thousand-dollar suit, uncaring of wrinkles or stains. In this moment, her orgasm was all that mattered to both of them. She opened her eyes to see him watching her face, his eyes glassy and the pupils dilated.
Something about seeing him, watching his mouth move over her vagina, it tipped her over the edge. She threw back her head in ecstasy, a moan ripped from her throat as her pussy started to quiver and clench. His tongue danced around her clit, prolonging her shaking orgasm until she was boneless and quaking.
When she was finally done, she couldn’t believe it. She’d never cum that long, never been that out of control where she didn’t think she could’ve stopped the orgasm even if she’d tried – not that she’d wanted to. She probably would’ve kicked him if he’d stopped. Her entire body felt sated and relaxed, but when he gave one last lick, she shuddered.
“That was, by far, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he admitted, letting her panties drop back over her wet center.
“You should’ve felt it,” she laughed, breathing hard. Their fingers intertwined on the countertop and she enjoyed the moment. When she looked up at him, she was surprised at how out of sorts he seemed. She was the one that had just had the most incredible orgasm of her life, and somehow it was him that looked like he’d just run a marathon. He was flushed, hair rumpled (although that was probably her doing), and if the tent in his pants was any indication, still rock hard.
Suddenly, she wanted more. With the edge off, she could focus on the rest of the night. She wanted him to feel as out of control as she had. She slid off the counter with his help, but left her skirt up around her thighs so he could see the garter, her stockings, and her shoes. He seemed to be obsessed with that, so she let him view it. After all, she’d worn all of this for him.
“What are you doing?” He asked hoarsely when she stepped closer to him and then dropped to her knees.
“Returning the favor,” she said, pulling at his button and zipper.
His hand stopped her. She looked up at him, surprised. “Bronte, I can’t.”
“You can’t…what?” She asked, hesitating for the first time tonight, unsure. Was he telling her he couldn’t sleep with her? Oh god, was he married or something? She knew this had been too good to be true.
He chuckled. “Bronte, stop thinking. I can see the thoughts pouring through your pretty little head, but it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” She asked softly.
He looked embarrassed, but let her see his face, feel the truth. “I won’t last, and I want desperately to be inside of you when I cum the first time.”
A rush of heat slid from her pussy int
o her panties. “Oh my god.”
That was probably the hottest thing she’d ever heard, and she was instantly wet again. She felt crazed, desperate for him to be inside of her. He pulled her down the hallway into the master bedroom. She didn’t even get to take in the black and grey bedroom, but was appreciative of the huge California king that took up the center of the room.
While he took off his shirt and pants, she dropped her coat on the floor turned towards him, pushing her hair to the side. He took the hint and stepped toward her, close enough where she could feel his hard-on pressing against her lower back. He unzipped her dress, letting his knuckle graze her heated skin where he’d uncovered it. She shivered when he got to her lower back, wanting him so much it scared her. She stepped out of the dress and heard his groan. She smiled a woman’s smile, glad for the yoga four times a week that kept her butt firm and her body toned.
Enjoying his gaze, she swayed over to the bed, wearing only a thin demi bra, garter belt, panties, stockings, and heels. When she bent over to take them off, she felt him come behind her. She paused, incredibly aroused by the sensation of him pressed against her lace-covered ass, her bent over and exposed and his hands holding her against him at her naked waist.
“Leave the shoes,” he ordered, his voice low and firm. She shuddered. Clearly Brett had a little shoe fetish. Well, she would gladly wear all of her fuck-me heels if it meant getting to have this every night. She stood back up, arching her back against his torso and enjoying the feel of his mouth on her neck and ear, his heavy breathing indicating that he was just as turned on as she was. Maybe even more so, since at least she’d gotten to cum once.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded.
She didn’t even want to say no, something about her enjoying his dominant side. She put a knee up on the bed, then the other.
“On all fours,” his voice sounded behind her, strained.
She shivered, letting his voice pour over her like warm oil. She dropped to all fours, spreading her legs, arching her back, and letting him take in the view. He swore, and she added a little hip wiggle just to tease him.
“Bronte…” he warned, his voice so low that she almost didn’t hear it.
“Yes?” She asked, her mouth quirking up in a smile that she knew he couldn’t see. She heard his footsteps behind her, felt his legs touch the edge of the mattress, and she started to pant, waiting for him to move and touch her.
He waited a moment, just long enough that she was quivering in anticipation of what he’d do. Then she felt his hand on her butt, sliding down to fondle her clit through the lace. She was already turned on, and she gasped at the sensation of her exposed clit rubbing against the scratchy material. He moved the underwear aside and thrust one full finger up into her. She cried out, unable to stop from arching her back and thrusting backwards until he impaled her even more.
He added a second finger and she wanted to weep at the pure sensation. She was so wet and turned on that she knew she couldn’t deal with much more before she exploded again. “Brett, please…”
She felt his other hand reach around her body to fondle her nipple through her bra. It was like an arc of lightning to her core. Her nipple was already hard, but his warm touch was driving her crazy. “Please...”
She felt him get up on the bed behind her, her entire body strung tight waiting for him. Instead of entering her immediately, he let two fingers begin a rhythm of thrusting into her, and with his left hand, pulled down her bra so both breasts were exposed but lifted high from the underwire. It felt exotic and naughty, almost hotter than just being naked. She looked down and could see her breasts were thrust upward like a wicked offering. His finger was tweaking and pulling at first one nipple, then the other.
She’d always had sensitive nipples and the mixture of his roughened hand pinching them, and his large fingers pushing inside of her, had her so hot and bothered that she was suddenly pleading with him to cum.
She could hear his breath, heard him heaving just as much as she was, just as turned on. But when she’d get close, he’d back off or stop. She was a trembling mess and wanted nothing more than to explode in pleasure, but she wanted him inside of her when she did it.
“I want you,” she cried. He grunted in acknowledgement but kept up a punishing rhythm.
She tried again, needing to complete the sentence. “I want you. Inside me. Please!”
She felt his body shudder at recognition of her words. He pulled his fingers out of her wet heat and knelt behind her. He moved her panties down, so they were caught at the top of her garter. She waited impatiently to feel him.
She wasn’t disappointed when she felt him seeking entrance into her. When he sank inside of her in one thrust, she cried out, filled. He groaned in agony, and she understood the feeling. She’d never experienced this before – this perfect feeling of completion. It was as if they were one body, one mind. He started to thrust in and out of her, her back arching and helping him by creating even more friction. He tilted forward against her back, both hands reaching around to pinch her nipples and create a sweet torment.
Her pussy was sensitive and wet, and after only a few minutes, she couldn’t stop the orgasm that ripped through her entire body. She sobbed with her release, but he kept thrusting right through the clenching. She could hear him moaning behind her, trying to avoid the same release she’d given in to. And part of her could appreciate that he wanted to keep it going as long as possible. She apparently didn’t have the same resolve, and her orgasm lasted for what felt like hours as he kept burying himself inside of her.
When her orgasm was finally done, her entire goal was to make him feel the same insane amount of pleasure. She started to circle her hips, forcing him to begin a frenzied set of thrusts that told her that he was getting close. She clenched around him, causing him to curse and frantically bite her shoulder softly. She shivered, the sensation of cool air blowing on the wet love mark he’d just left on her. She was his now, his property. She knew it, respected it, and wanted it. Craved it.
“Brett, cum in me. I want your cum in me,” she cajoled, begging him to release. She wanted to know that she had done that to him, that she’d caused him to lose control. She could feel a tightening of his body, heard his grunting behind her. After one last circle of her hips, he finally exploded, letting out a cry of pure pleasure as he came inside of her, his body jerking and spasming.
After he was done, they both collapsed onto the bed. He rolled over, pulling her on top of him so that she was half lying on top of his naked body. They both were heaving, bodies spent and shaking.
“That was…” He started, unable to finish. She nodded against his shoulder.
“Good work,” she responded, gasping for air. She held up a hand for a high five and laughing, he smacked it softly.
“Bronte, you’re incredible,” he said softly. She wasn’t even able to laugh at it, so sweet and earnest was the sentence.
“Right back atcha, Brett,” she responded, meaning it. He was amazing. She couldn’t remember ever cumming that hard, and especially not twice like that. Her eyes closed, feeling his fingertips caress her over-sensitized skin. Even that felt amazing. She could feel him beneath her, feel his hair-roughened skin under her. She didn’t think she could ever remember a time that she’d felt this happy, this sated.
Her breathing slowed, and she could hear his heart, beating a soothing rhythm that lulled her to sleep.
Chapter 4
Brett woke first, his body stretched out and comfortable. He opened one eyelid, then the next. It was still early and dark outside, and he yawned silently. Looking down, he saw Bronte still laying on his chest, although at some point, she flipped over so she was laying on her stomach, half on top of him. Her hand was splayed across his chest and he could feel each one of her fingertips pressing against his heart. A part of him actually hurt to see how beautiful she was.
Her legs were entwined with his and he could feel thei
r sleek softness against his rougher skin. Her eyes were closed so he could take in her beauty without her bashful look. She really was an amazingly lovely woman. He’d never seen anyone quite like her. Her blonde hair was still in loose curls, spread out across his black Egyptian cotton sheets. She shouldn’t look as good as she did this early, especially after the activities they’d done last night, but she looked fresh and soft and feminine.
He could see the making of a small bruise on her shoulder and vaguely remembered biting her at some point last night. He wanted to feel bad, but a part of the protective animal side of him was satisfied that he’d marked her for others to see. She was his. He’d tried to keep her away, but now she was a part of him. The best he could do was try to protect her from seeing his shapeshifter side. He wouldn’t put her in danger like that.
He moved his leg to stretch it out and she whimpered in her sleep and grabbed at him. He wrapped his much larger hand around hers, fondling and squeezing it. Apparently satisfied, she stopped moving and let out a big exhale, her cute pert nose rubbing into his chest like a cat.
He thought about his day, wondering if he could move some things around so he could spend it with her. Suddenly that’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to do something crazy with her, to have some new experiences, to share things with her that she hadn’t seen before. He wanted to spoil her rotten, one of the perks that came from being indecently wealthy. He could offer her things that she hadn’t seen or experienced. Take her places she’d only ever dreamed of going. And, in exchange, all she had to give him was herself.
He knew he had no right to ask it, but what he really wanted from her was her loyalty, trust, and maybe one day…her love. He already suspected what he felt, but it was too early to put a name to it and tell her that. He didn’t want to scare her off.
At the thought of scaring her off, some part of him was wondering if she’d leave him if she knew that he was a shapeshifter. Of course she would, you moron, his subconscious mind lectured him. This wasn’t a fairy tale where the beast turned into a handsome man. It was the opposite. What would she do if she knew that his human form sometimes didn’t feel like his real form? When he was his bear form, it was when he felt the most free…the most himself.
