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After giving me a moment to fully recover, Max turned me over onto all fours. Keeping a hand lightly on my bare hip, he stroked the head of his cock against my pussy lips, making me hum with wonderful contentment.
Then it happened. My beautiful man slipped his cock all the way into my tender young pussy, filling me up to the absolute limit. Making me whimper softly. I kissed him enthusiastically, letting him know he hadn’t hurt me. I had just been overwhelmed by the absurd amount of pleasure that had just hit me all at once.
Giving me a moment to let my pussy adjust to the sheer size of his huge cock. Taking me softly by both hips, he started to move. He worked his magnificent member deep inside me. My pussy lips held on, not wanting him to stop. Not that he was going to anytime soon.
With tender love and careful measure, he gradually gained in speed and intensity until he was fucking me so hard the headboard started banging up against the bedroom wall. The rhythmic slamming of oak on plaster was the last thing I heard as I started to cum.
I came to in the bath, surrounded by soothing bubbles. Max was on his knees beside me, gently massaging my thoroughly fucked pussy. I could still feel his cum inside me.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir. I’m more than okay. I’m so happy. You make me feel like happiest woman in the world.”
“Good. Because you make me feel the same way. I love you. Always.”
“I love you, too. Always and forever.”
THE END
Under His Suit
Love Under Lockdown, Book 15
Chapter 1
The AirTrain whisked above stagnant streams of traffic on the Van Wyck below, carrying a few passengers over rows of dark Uber cars flecked with the bright yellow and green of regular cabs. As the modern monorail passed through the suburban sprawl of Nassau County, the sky was clear enough to allow the gleaming heights of New York City in the distance to bound into view.
Victoria Stadler stood with her carry-on bag at her feet, gazing out at what lay ahead with a degree of expectant mirth. A junior at the University of Wisconsin, she had been invited to Nextthing.Net’s Headquarters to receive an award for a Virtual Media Design Contest she’d won for a multimedia presentation she’d been working on ever since High School.
Contest winners had reservations at the W Hotel in midtown. Tory planned to check in, have dinner and get some rest. In the morning, she and the other winners would be joining Nextthing.Net’s design team for a series of interactive workshops. The next day they would recreate their presentations for the Media and Marketing Design firm’s elite team of designers and CEO’s during the day and then attend an awards ceremony in the evening.
It was her first trip to New York City without family and Tory, as she preferred to be called, had been given some warnings about men and New York City, first by her mother and then by Jude Coleman, whom she had known ever since freshman year.
At 5’8” and Blonde, Tory was hard to miss. She was a robust and curvy size 14, which always seemed to draw a lot of attention to her ample bust and buttocks. Her eyes were a light blue green, her lashes practically translucent, often invisible in the afternoon sun.
Although she merely wore a pair of blue jeans, a light blue suede jacket and her favorite boots, she could feel the shameless gaze of a man whose eyes followed the slightest movement and shift of her curves as if he were deriving something essential to life merely by looking upon her.
At the Linden Blvd. Station, a driver took her bag and walked her out to his car after she found him holding up a small dry erase board, which had “V Stadler” written on it in boxy green capital letters.
As the car got closer to the city, Tory became excited seeing the hustle and bustle of New York City as soon as the black car emerged from the Midtown tunnel. It was late afternoon and already she could see the bars opening, happy hour signage being propped up, groups of friends laughing. In slower traffic, she’d gaze out at the confident stride and trendy heels worn by her much more fashionable peers.
At red lights, her eyes would linger upon the gestures of effective-looking successful men as they gave orders remotely to people by phone while strolling the city browsing bargains and people watching.
There had been talk of the Coronavirus back at Bascom Hall on her college’s campus. The epidemic was spreading rapidly in New York City, making her wonder how she’d spend her free night and day before going back to Madison.
Living at home through her college years didn’t often afford her the kind of space for serious personal exploration that she’d prefer to have. There were many parties to go to on campus, but she had often preferred the solitude that allowed her to focus on her work. In many ways, she considered the private time the trip itself presented her with as some small recompense for the years of studious pursuit and valued as much as the prize, her hometown’s accolades and the lavish ceremony to come.
