Kara
Eric wasn’t fucking kidding about the spanking, as it turns out—not that I mind. On the contrary, I’m way too fucking into it.
I’m screaming, “YES, DADDY! MORE! SPANK ME HARDER!” and Eric is swatting my ass as he carries me over his shoulder until both my cheeks are burning bright pink.
I’m, like, never like this. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Like, yeah, okay. I’m probably kind of starved from two years of low fat, low calories and no dick to speak of.
But even before my great cum fast, I wasn’t this horny this often. With Ryan, we’d bang one out once every couple of weeks tops, and that was only if he wasn’t too tired, and I wasn’t too busy.
I had just as wild and crazy of a sex life before Ryan as anyone, don’t get me wrong—but this is different. This is more.
This is being within a hundred feet of a guy and immediately having a plan for exactly how I can get his dick in my mouth.
This is being spanked by a dude that’s technically, I guess, my boss—who I also happen to fuck sometimes.
This is calling him Daddy, for fuck’s sake!
I’m into it, though. I’m too wet to pretend otherwise. Like, literally dripping through the short little workout shorts I wore here today.
It’s just that the second I started chugging that Protein Plus shake, it was all over for me. A little taste of Eric’s cum with a dumb name slapped on the label might have satisfied one type of appetite, but in the process, it awakened another appetite completely.
I need Eric’s cum. NEED. He could have me crawling around the floor on my hands and knees fucking begging for him to cum in my mouth right now—but instead, he tosses me onto his big, cushy bed and lets me stare up at him with hunger.
To an outsider, we’d look like a couple of wild animals—chests heaving, fire in our eyes, staring each other down like we’re not sure if we want to kill each other or breed.
But the second Eric gets his sweatpants off and his cock out, I think it becomes pretty fucking obvious which conclusion we come to.
Breed.
Eric’s bed is fucking huge. It’s got the silkiest fucking sheets and the softest blankets I could have ever imagined, and enough pillows on it that I could sink down into them and never come back up.
This is a bed that I would gladly allow to swallow me fucking whole, I realize as I stretch out my arms decadently. It’s got four posts, one at each corner, and a canopy hanging over—
What the fuck?
Are those shackles?
When I look to Eric to try and figure out what kind of Red Room Christian Grey bullshit he’s pulling here, he’s gone. All that cardio must have paid off, because he moves too fast for me to stop him.
First, he secures my ankles—one in each leather cuff. Before I can sit up and deal with that, he’s got one wrist pinned, then the other.
“Huh,” he says, rubbing the fabric of my shorts between his fingers. “Should have undressed you first.”
“You kinky bastard!” I accuse, even though—fuck me—I’m so horny, I’m grinning from ear to ear. “Weren’t you going to ask before you cuffed me?”
“Would you have said no?” Eric shrugs, opening a drawer of his bedside table and pulling out a pair of sharp silver scissors.
I consider it for a second, keeping an eye on the scissors. “Well, maybe at first—”
“Of course,” Eric says, moving between my legs on the bed. “You don’t do anything without putting up a fight.”
“I like winning,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Really? I think you like to lose.”
I laugh. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
“Doesn’t it?” Eric slides the fabric of my cute little workout shorts between the scissors, and in one fluid motion, cuts them off of me on one side.
“I think you’ve been begging to lose your whole life, Kara,” he tells me. “I think you’re used to being too much for men—too smart, too funny, too intense, too fucking bright. You cast a wide shadow, and they get lost in it.”
“A wide shadow,” I whisper as Eric’s scissors snip away the other side of my shorts. “Are you calling me fat?” I tease.
“The only thing fat about you are those saucy lips of yours,” Eric says, pulling my shorts away.
And then there I am—with Eric and his huge fucking cock and his shirtless torso between my legs. My cunt is dripping, my clit is twitching, and he still has those sharp fucking scissors—which, for some reason, I also find hot.
“You’re wet,” Eric observes. “Or are we still pretending that you don’t want this?”
“Ugh,” I groan, bucking my hips toward him. “I want it. Of course I fucking want it.”
“Ah,” Eric sighs. He moves over me, stroking my pussy lips with his fingers. “So we’re agreed that I had every right to tie you up here—just so we’re clear.”
“Mmm,” I moan. “Fuck. Yes, okay, fine. I’ve just…oh god, right there—I’ve never done any of this BDSM bullshit before okay?”
I can feel him laugh as he dips his lips to my stomach, kissing across it and lingering in between lip prints. “Is that so? I’m surprised, Kara. You’re a difficult girl to pin down.”
I don’t know if it’s the tickle of his lips against my stomach—I’m not used to being kissed there—or if it’s the bad bondage joke, but either way, he leaves me giggling as he kisses his way down to my cunt.
Tied to a sexy, buff billionaire’s bed. I wish I could tell Fat Kara about this, because she wouldn’t fucking believe me.
This isn’t some smutty romance novel. Girls like me aren’t supposed to get the dude (or dudes, for that matter).
And yet…there Eric is. Mouth poised between my legs. The humidity of his breath lingering over my clit.
“Are you going to lick that, or do I need to call you Master first?” I sass down at him, because Jesus fucking Christ, Eric. I need an orgasm like, now.
I’m literally going to die if he doesn’t lick me soon—there’s no way he only tied me up so he could fucking look at my pussy!
“You’ll call me Eric, slut, and you’ll like it.”
“Oh…fuck, Eric,” I moan as he finally gives in and makes out with my wet, soaked cunt the way I fucking want.
He teases my clit with his tongue. He sucks it between his lips, rolling it back and forth until I’m whimpering like a bitch. He presses it gently between his teeth, and then he does something.
I don’t know what it is, and I probably never will—because when he does it, my whole body goes rigor mortis for a second, and I realize the real reason Eric has leather cuffs attached to his bed.
It’s not just so he can lure innocent models into it and then keep them from escaping, no.
It’s because when he licks my cunt, I lose full control of my body. Whatever he’s doing to my clit makes my arms and legs twitch and thrash and strain so hard against the cuffs that I know in an instant that, if I wasn’t restrained, I’d be in danger of hurting him—or, more likely, myself.
That first orgasm hits me hard. Like being punched in the face—only by, like, a train or something. It makes me scream and moan and hyperventilate, and just when I think it might let up, I realize it’s actually arrived at this panty party with a fucking friend.
Two orgasms like that, one after another, would normally be enough to exhaust me completely. But that’s nothing compared to what Eric has in store next.
“Tell me how you lost your virginity,” Eric commands.
I swallow hard. I’ve barely returned to reality from the orgasmic plane, and he’s asking me questions? The fuck, dude?
“I’m not sure I still know English right now,” I laugh.
But then his thumb is on my clit, and fuck, fuck, fuck! This is a man who really knows how to get a girl to do his bidding. If he keeps rubbing my clit like that, he could ask me to speak fucking Finnish for him, and I’d find a way.
“Fuck—uh…oh, god, please, Eric!” I whimper.
“Answer the question.”
I want to fight him. I want to snarl and hiss and sass and call him names.
But here’s the thing: I can’t think of fuck-all while he’s rubbing my clit like that except for how to please him and how to get more.
“I was eighteen,” I say, getting it out of the way as quickly as I can. “My boyfriend at the time—right after graduation—I told him I wanted him to fuck me, and he did. The end.”
“Did you orgasm?”
I laugh. “I was eighteen, Eric, not fucking stupid.”
“Good girl,” he says, and if he says anything more, I don’t hear it. With just a twitch of his thumb, he has me orgasming again. It’s even harder this time—so hard that my fucking ears pop.
When the orgasm subsides, Eric’s cock is rubbing up against my clit. I realize I’m straining my wrists against the cuffs and moaning against his lips.
“What’s your favorite thing about sex?” Eric asks me, and I know better than to try and fight him this time.
With Eric, it’s all about giving in. To pleasure. To the experience.
Bending to his stupid fucking macho billionaire will.
“The other person,” I whisper with every ounce of focus I have to spare. His cock is catching my clit with every thrust, teasing me with brief, sharp moments of sensation that leave me desperate for more. “The feel of them—their smell—their body against mine, oh my god, just like that, just like you’re doing now—”
Eric’s fingers twist into my hair as he positions his cock against my entrance and presses into me. My cunt is twitching wildly at that point, like it’s trying to swallow him up. It succeeds—because I take Eric’s gigantic, fat 12-inch dick more quickly and easily than I ever have before.
“Do you like that?” he asks, his voice strained and urgent.
“Yes,” I breathe back. “God, fuck yes, Eric. Fuck. The hell. Yes.”
He withdraws slightly, then thrusts deeper. The leather around my wrists is suddenly a problem—because something has shifted between us, something even bigger and heavier than Eric’s huge fucking cock—and I want nothing more than to hold him. To wrap my arms around his body and feel his muscles rippling as he feeds my pussy more and more of his enormous length.
He’s not just fucking me. He’s making love to me. He’s thrusting his huge, throbbing man meat in to my cunt with the utmost love and care, giving me exactly what I told him I wanted.
The feel of him. The smell of his neck as I trace the tip of my nose from his collar bone to his jaw. The impossible length of his cock as he penetrates me, driving himself deeper and deeper until, oh god, I’m coming again—
“ERIC!” I cry out, trashing against my bonds and sobbing against his shoulder. “ERIC! ERIC! ERIC!”
“Kara,” Eric growls through his teeth. “Fucking Christ—Kara! Kara! Kara!”
He releases a torrent of cum inside me. I can feel myself getting filled, then his cum leaking out, then being filled all over again.
I don’t think he’s ever going to stop coming. I think he could come inside me for forever.
In that moment, I think I want him to. I don’t want the orgasm to stop. I want this moment to last.
When he finally collapses on top of me, he doesn’t take his cock out. No, Eric’s massive dick stays nestled safely inside my cunt—exactly where I want it.
What he does do, though, is move his fingers to my wrists, uncuffing me so I can hold him. If it wasn’t for all the mind-blowing orgasms he’s just given me, I would say that there’s no sweeter release in the world…
But, well, you can’t really knock multiple orgasms, honestly.
Holding him feels pretty fucking good anyway.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him like I’m afraid that if I let go, he’ll leave.
I don’t know whether I want to cry, or scream, or just fuck him again. I mean, like, honestly…probably the last one, and maybe the other two at some other point in the night.
I want to tell him I love him, is the real thing. I want to tell him that I love him, that I’m falling in love with him and every moment I spend with him is like an orgasm without all the screaming and the pussy-throbbing…
But I can’t. I won’t. You don’t just spring that on a guy after sex, y’know?
That’s how you make a guy never want to see you again. And even if it wasn’t for the pageant, I kind of want to see this sexy hunk of a man between my legs every day for the rest of my life.
Instead, I just kiss his collar bone and nuzzle his neck. That’s harmless, right? Totally fucking acceptable.
Nobody can blame me for kissing on the dude who just made me come so many fucking times.
Except, I can blame me. I know what I want to tell him, and it’s fucking killing me to hold it in.
Actually, you know what? Fuck it. Fuck it all.
I’m going to tell him, and whatever happens after that will happen.
I didn’t lose all that weight just so I could live a half-life out of fear.
Fuck it.
“Eric,” I say, turning my lips to his ear. “I—”
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Kara,” he whispers to me.
And, like, holy shit.
I don’t believe what I’ve just heard.
I’m not sure that Eric believes it himself.
“Wait, what? Really?” I stutter, stunned.
“I’m sorry if that’s moving too fast,” Eric says. I can feel him breathing in my hair, kissing the waves and tracing his nose against my scalp. “I’ve never done this before—I’m just making this up as I go, really.”
“No!” I say, laughing. “No, Eric. Babe. It’s just…I think I’m falling for you too. Is that insane?”
“Considering your ankles are still strapped to my bed,” he admits, casting a glance down to the leather cuffs still at my feet. “Maybe a little.”
“Well…I still mean it,” I say stubbornly. “And not just because of the orgasms, either.”
“I could always give you more orgasms,” Eric offers. “Just to be sure.”
“Mmm,” I say, imagining. “Fuck, I don’t even know if I can handle more.”
Eric drops his lips to my breasts, kissing across them with burning hot lips.
“You’d be surprised what you can handle, Kara Gilmore,” he purrs against my nipples. “You can always handle more.”
And then his cock is out of me and he’s kissing down my stomach again, apparently prepared to prove his theory.
“God,” I moan. “You must be hungry, Eric.”
He smiles up at me from between my legs. “After the workout you just gave me? I’m starving.”
It’s a cheesy fucking line, and it makes me giggle. But it’s not long before those giggles dissolve into moans, and those moans dissolve into…
Well, what can I say. When Eric Hale is right…he’s really fucking right.