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With the musky scent of her cream pervading his senses and turning his cock to iron, Josh had never been more ready to fuck in his life. Yet, as small and tight as she was, he knew he needed to be patient. He needed her to be ready, or else he would hurt her. He’d never hurt her.
He’d waited for this for so long, he wouldn’t ruin it now. Not now, not when she was finally his. And she was his. If only for this one night. She was his, his wife, his Sonja.
So it was only when he felt her come undone that he acted. Pulling free of her death grip and rising over her, took himself in hand and prepared to slide home.
Blurry eyed and still trembling from the force of her climax, the first thing Erica noticed was the blur of Josh’s body looming over her. Then, piece by piece, he slid back into focus, and she realised he was smirking, obviously pleased with himself. Rightly so, in her opinion, the smug bastard had certainly paid her back, and she had to admit, the look suited him.
Then she felt something hot brush over her clit, sending tingles sizzling outward, and her eyes shifted downward to see him aimed for penetration. Despite herself, she couldn’t help wondering if that thing was actually going to fit inside her.
He must have been able to sense her hesitation, however, because he paused, and that cocky grin faltered. "Erica, if you want to sto-"
“No!” she gasped, fisting the bedspread, desperate and beyond caring about anything but feeling him sinking balls deep. “Do it! I need your cock… please… I’m ready… I’ve never been more ready… stick it in and fuck me with your big, perfect co-oh!”
One quick push was all it took for his broad crest to part her folds and press home. Erica’s back curled at the feeling, her eyes going wide and her hips bucked up to meet his.
“Fuck… Erica…” Josh panted, trying to push down the urge to cum right then and there. Somewhere, deep down in the forgotten halls of his head, he knew he should wait, give her time to adjust before pressing on, but he wasn’t sure he would last that long. He couldn’t help himself. She was just so fucking slick and snug. He needed to feel her cunt wrapped around him.
And Erica was right there with him. She loved the feeling of him filling her, of being stretched and stuffed, of having him inside her. It was everything she’d imagined, and so much more. She wanted more. More of these feelings, this ecstasy. It was like a dream she never wanted to wake up from. She was sharing a level of intimacy with someone she never thought possible to reach. And she loved every fucking second of it.
“Oh God… Josh… yes… that’s it… Mmm… feels so good…” she panted, her head rolling back as her body opened up and took everything he had to give. Yet just when she felt ready to burst, his hands were seizing the back of her knees and hiking them up onto his shoulders as he leaned over her. Then he started circling his hips, pulling out, then driving back home hard, setting off supernovas in her core. “Oh, fuck… Oh my God… So big… Oh fuck… Fuck… Fuck me… Fuck me…”
Josh loved hearing her say such dirty words. For him, there was nothing sexier than a posh bird talking dirty. And his little Erica was the poshest bird there was. A proper little London socialite, the cream of an expensive English education. Yet here she was. Spread out beneath him, naked and begging for it like a greedy little sex kitten.
“Mine,” he growled, his voice deep and bestial with desire, dropping one hand down to thumb her clit.
“Yes!” she answered, looking him dead in the eye so he would see the truth in her words. That she was his, now and always. "Yours, all yours- Oh-oh my God, oh my God. I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum again…" Her words trailed away as she apexed, yet she refused to look away. He was close, too. So very close. She could see it in his eyes and was desperate to feel him, to feel them take that final step together. She moaned, “cum for me, Josh! Fill me up with all your cum!”
And that was the final straw.
He took her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss, swallowing her needy moans as he crushed her to him. The V of his hips spread her open, his cock sinking all the way to the root on that final plunge before she felt the rush of heat flooding her centre, branding her as his and his alone.
They could have stayed like that forever. Bodies entwined. Mouths locked. Their souls and hearts joined as one. They might have, or it could only have been a few minutes. All they knew when they finally separated was that it ‘twas the night before Christmas, and all through their penthouse, not a creature was stirring.
Still tingling with the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm, Erica snuggled into his side, draping an arm and leg across him, and slowly curled a lock of his chest hair around a finger. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
“Minx,” Josh snorted. But, rather than taking the bait, he threw an arm around her and drew her close. “You’re not too old to go over my knee, you know.”
“Oh… promises, promises,” she teased, but lacked the energy to carry the game any further. So instead, they just laid there together, and if only for those few precious moments, all was right with the world.
They should have been laying low, keeping a low profile, but there was little chance of anyone noticing them here. It was the sort of place that no one asked questions. The club was as underground as it was possible to get.
With the bright LED beams bouncing off the reflective disco ball, the walls seemed to shake as the rock music screamed out from the concealed sound system in a maelstrom of sound that had the patrons dancing with renewed life.
Encircled by Luke's strong arms, Sophie felt like she was floating on air and her body seemed to be moving of its own accord as she revelled in the sensation of being so close to this man.
It was stupid and reckless. He was her guard, her protector, the man her father had charged to keep her safe. If they were discovered, they could both be killed, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d seduced him.
She’d seduced him because when she was with him, she wasn’t just Mr Larry’s daughter. She wasn’t just an underworld princess or the daughter of the East Coast’s most notorious gangster. With him, she was just Sophie.
With Luke, she felt alive. Alive and free of her gilded cage-
“Sophie.” The warning in Luke’s voice shattered the moment like the fall of a sledgehammer. Looking up, she realised that the music had stopped and none of the other people on the floor were dancing anymore.
“Luke... What's happening?” she asked, but Luke wasn't listening. Instead, a stern look had come over his face as he looked past her. Not accustomed to her lover ignoring her, Sophie followed his eyes to the club’s main entrance. There, flanked by a pair of goons, a man in his early forties, with neatly cropped salt and pepper hair, dressed in a tailored and very immaculate Armani suit and leather coat, was talking with the doorman.
Sophie recognised him immediately as her father’s consigliere. The right hand of God.
“We’ve got company.”
