Trapped With My Fiancé (2)

A hot, demanding kiss that stole the air from her lungs. The kiss sent shockwave to her pussy as she felt her juice pooling out.

She gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. He tasted like wine, dark and addictive. Fuck. He kissed like he owned her, his hands gripping her face, holding her still in place. The anger melted, replaced by a primal need.

She kissed him back, tongue wrestling in ecstasy. Her hands flew up, clutching at his white jacket, dragging him closer.

A low chuckle vibrated from his mouth. He walked her back until her shoulders hit the cool metal wall of the elevator. His body pinned her there, the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach through their clothes.

“You feel that?” he murmured against her lips, grinding himself against her. “That’s what you do to me. That’s my answer to all your fucking rumors.”

She wasn’t wet now, she was dripping.

“Fuck,” a moan slipped from her lips.

He kissed her again, deeper, messier. One hand slid down from her face, passed her throat, down to the neckline of her dress. His fingers dipped beneath the lace, finding the soft swell of her breast. He squeezed it, his thumb rubbing rough circles over her nipple until it was a tight, aching peak.

“You wore no bra, you wanted to be fucked right.”

She should have felt angry but instead she felt hotter.

“Alistair,” she moaned, shamelessly.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth trailing hot, kisses down her neck. He bit the sensitive cord of her shoulder, not hard, but enough to make her cry out. “I want to hear you say my name while I’m buried inside you.”

His words were filthy, insulting. They sent a fresh flood of wet heat between her legs. She was soaking her panties, the silk clinging to her swollen folds.

“Alastair…” she whispered.

His hands reached behind her zipper as he pulled it down to get waist, baring her tits to the cool air and his hotter mouth. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue lashing the sensitive tip. She felt the effect on her cunt. She whimpered, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.

His hand slid down her stomach, over the lace of her panties. He cupped her there, his palm pressing against her aching heat. “Fuck, you’re drenched for a stranger,” he groaned.

“You’re my husband,” she trembled.

“Is this all for me? This sweet, hot cunt?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He hooked his fingers in the lace and ripped her panties aside. The sound of tearing fabric was obscene. Cool air hit her exposed pussy, followed immediately by the scorching heat of his hand. One long finger slid through her slick folds, gathering her wetness, then pushed inside her.

Her knees buckled. “Oh, God!”

“Not God. Alistair.” He added a second finger, stretching her, curling them inside her. “Your husband. The man who’s going to fuck you senseless in this elevator.”

He pumped his fingers, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. The pleasure built fast, a coil winding tighter and tighter. She was panting, her hips rocking against his hand, chasing the feeling. “Please… Alistair, please…”

“Please what?” He bit her earlobe. “Tell me what you want. Use your words, wife.”

“I want your cock,” she gasped, the vulgarity shocking her even as she moaned it. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”

He withdrew his fingers with a wet sound. She heard the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of clothing.

“Not so fast, not before I get a taste.”

She whimpered but when he went down on his knees,

lifted her dress as he slipped under her gown,

pressing his face into her pussy as he started to drag his tongue over her clit.

She cried in pleasure

There was no build up or teasing, he just wanted to see her defeated. Working his tongue around her clit in tight circles he pressed his fingers into her pussy and started to work them in and out of her, tilting his fingers up to try and find that spot that he knew would drive her crazy.

“F—fuck,” she cried.

He was so good, better than her ex. The aloof billionaire was down on his kneels eating her like she was the tastiest meal he’d ever had. The thought made her pussy clench.

Threading her fingers through his hair she gripped it tight, rocking her pussy against his face, her juices coating his mouth and chin as he licked her out good. Eloise shook with pleasure, her thighs trembling as he started to push his fingers more firmly into her. 

She couldn’t hold back any longer, she gripped his hair and grind agains his tongue, as his fingers and tongue moved faster, pleasure driving him crazy as he worked his tongue around her clit until she cried louder, her moans loud as she bucked and came for him. Tipping

He didn’t stop only avoided her sensitive as he continued licking around her folds. When she felt him on her clit again she didn’t believe she could take it again but he skillfully handled her, she felt another orgasm building again.

“ I’m cumming,” she cried.

He stood up then. “Now taste yourself from my lips.”

With that he kissed her roughly again. She could taste her juices from his hot lips. Then his hands were on her hips, lifting her, pressing her back against the wall. The thick, blunt head of his cock nudged at her entrance. He was huge, stretching her just at the tip.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She forced her eyes open. In the profound dark, she could just make out the faint outline of his face, the intensity of his gaze. He held it as he pushed forward, sinking into her in one slow, devastating inch.

She cried out, a ragged sound of sheer fullness. He was so big, splitting her open, filling her completely.

“All of it,” he growled, and slammed the rest of the way home.

The force drove the air from her lungs. He was buried to the hilt, his pelvis grinding against her clit. He stayed there for a heartbeat, letting her feel every inch of him, letting her cunt flutter and clench around the massive invasion. Then he pulled back and thrust again. Hard. Deep. A pace that was relentless from the first stroke.

“This cunt,” he grunted, pounding into her, “is mine. Coming to this wedding? It’s the best fucking deal I ever made.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes…yes, please fuck me.”

The elevator wall was cold against her back, his body was burning hot against her front. The slap of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, his guttural curses—it was a mix of filth.

He fucked her like a whore, his hands gripping her ass, controlling every drive of his hips. Each thrust hit a spot inside her that made her see stars. The coil snapped.

Her orgasm ripped through her without warning. A silent scream tore from her throat as her body seized, her cunt clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, milking pulses.

A hot gush of fluid erupted from her, soaking his trousers, dripping down her inner thighs. Squirting. She’d never done that before. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of release that left her trembling and boneless.

“You’re making me squirt,” she cried, breathing ragged.

“That’s it,” he snarled, his pace never faltering. “Cum all over my cock. Fucking soak me.”

He drove into her through her climax, prolonging the shudders, then chased his own. His thrusts became erratic, brutal. He buried his face in her neck, his breath coming in hot gusts. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna pump my cum so deep inside you.”

With a final, grinding thrust, he slammed home and held. A ragged groan tore from his chest. She felt the hot, thick pulse of him deep inside her. It wasn’t a trickle. It was a flood, a massive, endless release that filled her, a warm, claiming rush that seemed to go on and on. He kept spurting, his cock jerking inside her, until she felt impossibly full.

They stayed like that, locked together, panting in the dark. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the slow, wet drip from their joined bodies.

A loud bang echoed from above. Muffled voices. The lights flickered once, then came back on, blindingly bright.

He carefully lowered her, his softening cock slipping from her with a wet, obscene sound. He tucked himself away, zipped his pants. He looked immaculate except for the damp patch on his trousers. She was a wreck.

A metallic screech sounded as the elevator doors were forced open from the outside. Daylight and concerned faces appeared at the top of the shaft.

“We’ll have you out in a moment!” a technician called down.

“Did they hear, “ she feared, suddenly aware of everything.

Alistair smoothed a hand over her hair, his touch oddly gentle now. “Go fix yourself up, Eloise,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll see you at the altar.”

Flushed and trembling, she gathered her torn dignity and her dress. She couldn’t look at him. She let the technicians help her out, excusing herself to find a bathroom, her mind reeling, her body still humming. That… wasn’t a man who’d never dated. That was a man who knew exactly how to use his cock.

Fifteen minutes later, her dress straightened, her face carefully composed, she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. The chapel was beautiful. Her eyes found the front.

And stopped.

Her fiancé stood there, waiting. He was devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored…

Black suit.

A black suit with a black bow tie.

Her heart stopped. Ice flooded her veins.

Standing right beside him, smiling warmly, was a man who looked exactly like him. The same sharp jaw, the same stormy blue eyes. He was wearing a brilliant, stunning white tuxedo.

The man in white winked at her.