Taken by a Stranger (BILLIONAIRE BEHAVING BADLY SERIES Book 1) Page 2

  “You’re like a doll,” he said against my cheek. “Like a porcelain doll. So pristine.” His hand shifted now, moving down the bared skin of my sides, until they clasped at my waist. “Your body’s perfect,” he murmured into my mouth and the sentiment made me want to touch him. I only managed to run my hands down his back and around until they were under his suit jacket before he grabbed my elbows and lowered my arms to my sides again. “Faultlessly perfect…it makes me want to mark you with my teeth, to fuck you so hard that your pussy’s red raw.”

  He pulled back again, to look into my eyes and manoeuvred me until I was resting against the console table. “I want to make you come so hard you won’t even know where you are. Sit down,” he said, already pushing me back and drawing my feet up to rest on the edge.

  As I looked down at his hands rested on my knees I could see myself trembling but it was as though I was looking down at someone else’s body. I was outside myself from the lust I was feeling and the desperate need to be filled, both physically and emotionally. He gently parted my legs, moving my black skirt up my thighs until there was nothing between his eyes and my pussy. I went to draw my legs together, embarrassed to be on show but he held them firmly and pushed them wider until I felt myself open in front of him, the most intimate part of my body on display for this stranger.

  “So pink,” he said, licking over his bottom lip. I couldn’t stay still while he moved his hand, using one finger to stroke down over my clit and to the outside of my opening, drawing the wetness that was there to lubricate his journey. The slowness of his touch was exquisite torture, like the tickle of a feather, and I rested my hands behind me for stability. His finger continued to move, slowly, deliberately, until I could feel more wetness slipping out. Even though I was scared, all I wanted was for him to penetrate me and block everything with sensation.

  As if understanding from my moans what I wanted, he pushed first one finger in, then two, then three until I clenched my muscles around him and he pumped them in and out, pressing the sensitive spot inside me. “Fuck,” I said, spreading my knees even further, opening myself totally. He pressed his thumb against my swollen clit, delicate pressure which brought me closer to the orgasm I wanted so desperately. And then he pulled his hand away leaving me gasping.

  When I opened my eyes I watched him lick his fingers that were glistening wet from being inside me. “You taste as sweet as I imagined. Now get up.” I moved to stand, my legs weak with desire, and reached to unbuckle his belt. He grabbed my hands and pulled them away. “Take off your clothes,” he said and stepped back to watch me, slipping off his own jacket and tie, then unbuttoning his shirt. I reached behind me to unhook my bra and took my time pushing the straps down over my arm, relishing the dark look in his eyes as he watched. My nipples were so hard they made my small breasts look round and high.

  He slipped off his shirt and I marvelled at his physique; toned shoulders and chest meeting a firm stomach and those lines of muscle at the sides that pointed down inside the waistband of his trousers. I’d never seen such a beautiful body in the flesh, just in magazines and on the front of my favourite saucy romance books. My hands itched to touch but he was a stranger and it seemed as though he wanted to lead what was happening between us. In a way I was happy to follow because, honestly, I had lost my confidence since discovering what Jonathan had been up to on the side. It’s hard to feel sexy when you find out your boyfriend went looking for satisfaction elsewhere.

  “Your skirt,” he said, as he sat on the edge of the bed to slip off his shoes and socks and unbuckle his belt. I unzipped but held the waistband for a couple of seconds before leaving it to fall around my ankles. Stepping out of it was like casting off my old self and leaving behind her restrictions and morality. And then I was standing in front of him naked, feeling more vulnerable and aroused than I ever had before. I knew nothing about this man other than what I could see and he had such control over my mind and body that I felt like a yoyo dangling from his finger; one tug would be all it would take to hold me in his palm. He reached for me with one hand, grasping my hip and pulling me until I was close enough for him to kiss my belly. His tongue licked across my skin, leaving a hot and then cold trail as it passed; a delicious and maddening sensation.

  I ran my fingers through his hair, needing the contact with him to steady me and groaned as his hands squeezed my arse. With a quick movement he stood and pushed me round so I fell onto the bed and grabbed my ankles to spread my legs so he could crawl up between them. Kneeling, he looked at me lying open and ready for him before he bent his head to kiss the inside of my thighs. I could feel his hot breath moving closer and closer to where I wanted him to be, his stubble grazing my leg sent shivers through me. When he finally reached my pussy he gently kissed my clit and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of pussy,” he breathed against me and my hips bucked to meet his mouth. He rose up and used his fingers to gently spread my labia, and watched as my clit swelled and poked out from under its little hood, seeking his tongue, the press of his fingers, anything to give it relief. “I can see how much you want this,” he said, stroking downwards until his fingers were coated in my arousal. “I can see how turned on you are by the idea of fucking a stranger.” His eyes met mine with a spark of electricity. “You haven’t even asked my name, have you? You like this anonymous, so you can give in to whatever you want without feeling anything tomorrow. You want me to control you so you won’t feel any guilt about opening your legs for a man that you might not recognise later on the street.”

  “No,” I said, ashamed at the truth of his words, trying to pull my legs together but he held them open.

  “Yes,” he said, slipping a finger just inside my opening and holding it there. My pussy fluttered around it as though it wanted to draw him inside, and he smiled. “Your pussy says yes.”

  He pushed another finger in just an inch and then turned them, pressing upwards. It felt so good that my clit burnt from lack of stimulation in the cold, conditioned air. I put down my hand to press on it to relieve some of the pressure but he pushed it away.

  “You want me in control,” he said, grinning wickedly. “You want me to decide when you get to come. You want me to make you.” He snatched his tie from the bed and grabbed my hand, reaching to secure it to my ankle. I struggled initially but then he bent down to gently suck on my clit and I relented to the bindings, wanting him to possess me in a way no one else ever had, to wipe away the feelings of failure I had inside me since Jonathan had cheated. His eyes sparkled darkly as he used his belt to shackle my other hand to the other ankle and then sat back to look at me, trussed up for his pleasure.

  His pleasure and mine.

  He slipped off the bed and I watched as he walked around until he was behind me, my neck straining to keep him in my line of sight. He languidly looked over the stack of papers I had left on my bedside table as some night time reading; pamphlets that I would be leaving with the client tomorrow. To the side was my passport which he picked up and opened. “Rebecca,” he said, and I nodded, wide-eyed. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.” My legs were trembling with anticipation, my hands gripping my ankles tightly, frustration ready to boil over as he looked around the room in no hurry at all. His eyes met mine again, and he grinned, leaning forward and pinching one of my nipples, running his finger from my breast bone up the slope of my extended throat before he pushed it into my mouth. “You look so fucking good like this.” he said, gently easing his finger in and out as I sucked on it like a lollypop. I knew what he was thinking about because I was thinking about it too.

  He walked around the bed again, standing next to my feet. “Wider,” he ordered, looking at my pussy again, and I spread myself open, feeling my labia parting and my wetness cool in the air. “That’s it. Open yourself up for me. I want to see inside your little hole. I want to see where I’m going to push inside.” He lowered his face, breathing me in again, his lips teasing at me before his tongue dipped into my opening making me writhe with pleasure. He probed at me, the hard tip of his tongue flicking at my clit then circling until I was trembling and mindless, pulling at my restraints. “I know how much you want to come,” he murmured into my cunt. “You smell so fucking desperate.”

  God, his words. I felt dirty for getting turned on by the way he talked; it was so sexy and so rough, like nothing I had experienced. He walked away again, opening the mini fridge and pulling out a small bottle of whisky, returning and opening the cap. “What are you going to do?” I asked, remembering the way the same liquor had burnt my throat. He took a sip and leaned over me, kissing me and letting some of the whisky trickle into my mouth. It was potent and the heat travelled over lips and gums and then down until it hit my throat. He watched as I swallowed, then he took another sip and bent between my legs. “No,” I shouted in a rush and he looked at me with a glint in his eyes.

  “Trust me,” he said, “You’ll like it. Hot and cold is the perfect combination.” I wriggled to get away from his whisky covered tongue but he held my knees and then pressed it against my clit. I felt the chill of the liquor first and then as he rasped harder, the heat of the alcohol burnt against my clit.

  “Oh fuck,” I groaned, writhing as he continued to lick, harder and harder. Then I felt the freezing press of the bottle against my cunt. I bucked my hips, slamming into his mouth but it wasn’t enough to get away. The glass slipped just inside my pussy and he pressed upwards until it nudged against my g-spot. It was the naughtiest thing anyone had ever done to me and I came like I was possessed, shivering against his mouth and the cold hard bottle, moaning so loudly I didn’t recognise the sound of my own voice.

  “That’s it,” he said, pulling back to watch the way my cunt was pulsating, pulling my labia apart to expose my sensitive clit. I almost came again from that alone. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

  “Oh god,” was all I could get out as I watched him push off his trousers and boxers and fist his cock. It was huge and hard, and he stroked it slowly like he was calming a dangerous thing that had a mind of its own.

  “I’m not finished with you yet.” He began to undo the bindings and I stretched out my legs and arms, relaxing until he rolled me over. “Give me your hands,” he ordered and I did as he asked, placing them at the small of my back. He had freed me once and I knew he would free me again. It was all part of his wicked game and I was so mindless and horny that despite the risks I wanted to play.

  When my hands were tied he grabbed a pillow and pushed it under my hips, forcing my arse in the air. My face was pressed into the bedcovers, my swollen wet pussy up in the air for his visual pleasure. I couldn’t see him but I could hear when he tore a condom wrapper and rolled it over himself, I could feel when he knelt up on the bed between my legs and I was frozen with the anticipation of what was to come. The press of his cock was too much and not enough. I was desperate for him to fuck me, to open me up and take me as hard as he had promised but he was going too slowly. I nudged my hips back but he pulled away. “Wait for it, baby. It’s so much sweeter when you wait.”

  I groaned in disapproval but stilled my hips. When he finally shifted closer again I stayed as still as I could, letting him work in slowly, first pressing in the head which opened me up like a fist, then inch after inch of his length, burning as it spread me wide until his hips were against my arse, my pussy lips pressed flat around his cock. His fingers dug into my sides like clamps as he started to move. “Fuck you feel good,” he grunted. “Look at your pretty little pussy, wrapped around my cock. God it looks so dirty, so fucking hot and wet. Your cunt’s dribbling for my cock isn’t it?” He grabbed hold of the cheek of my arse and squeezed hard. “You’re so pretty and porcelain perfect but in your heart you’re a bad, bad girl. You love getting fucked hard by a stranger, don’t you?”

  I groaned in agreement, hips bucking to meet his thrusts, hands clasped uncomfortably behind me. He pulled at my wrists, holding me so I couldn’t move, slamming into my pussy harder and harder until I was sore, clit straining for relief. “I want to come,” I rasped. “Make me come.”

  “You’ve been a good girl,” he grunted, pounding mercilessly as he found my clit and rubbed just above it.

  “Oh…oh just like that,” I groaned, “just like that, don’t stop.”

  His hips sped up, slamming into me, pushing my body higher until my toes were digging into the bed for some kind of purchase.

  “Come on, baby. Let it go, I wanna feel your pussy clutch at my cock. I wanna see you dripping for me.”

  “Oh god.” He leant right over me then, pushing me hard into the bed, fucking my pussy raw.

  “You’re going to be so sore tomorrow, aren’t you? You’re going to go to your big important business meeting and when you sit down you’re going to flinch and think of me. Ah baby, you feel so good. Give it to me.” He pressed hard against the top of my clit and I came seeing stars, moaning like as animal, feeling his cock pulse and his body seize with his own orgasm.

  His weight crushed me against the bed but I couldn’t have moved anyway. My entire body was wrung out from pleasure, limbs aching and my cunt so sore that when he pulled out I went rigid with the pain. Even when I was empty I could still feel him inside me. I heard him deal with the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and then he slowly loosened my wrists and rolled me over. Sweat cooled against my hair-line and at the back of my thighs where his skin had pressed so tightly against mine. He was sweat-slicked too but still looked magnificent as though someone had oiled him for an expensive perfume advertisement. He stroked over my forehead and cheek with such gentleness I had trouble reconciling his actions with the man who had just been inside me. His eyes seemed soft too as he swept my hair back and then rested his palm over one of my tits possessively.

  “Are you okay?” he asked and I nodded and smiled so fleetingly that he might have missed it if he wasn’t looking directly at me. “Did I succeed?”

  I must have looked puzzled because he smiled. “Did I succeed in giving you something to remember?”

  I nodded again, still breathing deeply from exertion and pleasure. “I seem to have fucked the words right out of your mouth, Rebecca.” He grinned and I rolled back to look at the ceiling. I needed time away from his penetrating gaze that seemed to see too much; at least more than I wanted to share.

  “I needed that,” I said, wanting to take back my motivation for fucking him. He had been so in control and seemed to get off on the extra level of coercion. That was fine in the moment but not now. It was important to me that he knew I had wanted it all; every last thing he had given me.

  “Then I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time to deliver.”

  He leant in and I let him kiss me deeply, the smell of my pussy coating his face making it sweet and dirty at the same time.

  “You’re a good girl aren’t you, Rebecca? A good girl who likes being bad.”

  I smiled again but didn’t directly agree. Life wasn’t so black and white and the things that lead us to act in certain ways were not easily explained. He could think what he wanted now. Good girl or bad. He was a stranger to me after all. One I wouldn’t be seeing again when he left the cocoon of my hotel room.

  He licked down between my breasts, pushing my legs apart again so he could take one last taste of my pussy. His tongue was like sandpaper against my over sensitised flesh and I flinched. “Stay like this,” he said, positioning my legs so they were spread wide. “I want to look at your pussy while I get dressed.”

  As he pulled on his clothes, he kept his eyes between my legs and I couldn’t control the way my pussy moved, clenching for his cock. My body wanted to fuck him again but in reality I was way too sore. Anyway, he was fully dressed by that time and it seemed he was going to leave me wanting.

  As he was about to depart he ran his hands between my thighs and pressed a finger just inside me again. I was so swollen it felt as big as a cock. “I won’t forget this,” he said and I sighed. He pulled his finger out and put it to his mouth, tasting my arousal before walking to the door.

  “I think you probably will,” I said quietly. “But I won’t. I’ll never tell a soul about what we did but you’ll be the star of all my fantasies…my dirty little secret.”

  He turned and his eyes seemed so fierce I felt as though they might have the power to devour me or turn me into dust. I thought he might come closer again or try to have the last word - he seemed to like to have the upper hand – but he didn’t.

  And he didn’t say goodbye.

  When he closed the door quietly behind him, I got up, took another bottle of whisky from the mini fridge and spent a while savouring the flavour, thinking I would always recall the taste of him whenever I drank it. I went to sleep naked, relishing the slip of the sheets over the sharp points of my sore nipples as I remembered the feel of his tongue, his mouth and his cock.

  The next morning I woke feeling bruised around my hips and in my shoulder joints; delicious reminders of what had happened with my stranger. I lay for a while in my tangled sheets, remembering his face; those eyes that could be soft, intense, focused and domineering within a minute. His hands were huge and strong but soft against my skin, his fingers creating nerve tingling sensations wherever they caressed.

  And his body.

  God his body had been something else. My other three ex’s looked like boys in comparison. He was lean but muscular; large biceps, gorgeous rounded pecks topped by small dark nipples and a stomach that an army of women could have washed their ‘smalls’ on for days. He just hadn’t given me a chance to touch him, to appreciate what was on offer for my visual perusal. For the first time in my life my tongue actually longed to lick a man’s skin. I bet he would have tasted delicious. He’d smelt amazing; his cologne must have been something with an ocean-fresh undertone, but beneath that the smell of his skin had been intoxicating.