Girlfriend By The Hour

Girlfriend By The Hour

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Chapter22 (v.1) - The First Time

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 04, 2015

Reads: 1136

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 04, 2015

A A A

A A A

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Say it.”

She took a deep breath. “I want your cock in my ass.”

This kiss was rough and demanding and when she wrapped her leg around him, his cock slid beneath, along her core. Her panties and his boxers were in between, and it was too much fabric. When he released her he told her to finish undressing him, but she was already on her knees, stripping the last layer away.

His cock stood proudly for her, jutting up from the groomed patch of coarse, black hair at a sharp angle. Logic told her it probably didn’t stray too far from the average size, but she thought of the narrow, delicate plug inside her…

…Holy hell. This was downright gargantuan in comparison, thick and long and ridged with veins pushing against the dark, silky flesh. The head was blunt with a bead of cum already slipping down the slit, and she wanted to lick it off, feel his cock twitch on her tongue.

Andre’s cock. She wanted it to be hers. She wanted him inside her.

Before she could follow her impulse, Andre scooped her up and plopped her face down on the edge of the high, firm bed, the lap dance long forgotten. She didn’t have time to think about it before he’d torn her panties away, pulled the plug out of her, and slammed it back in once, twice, three times. She screamed, bucking wildly at the suddenness of it all.

When he stopped, she wanted so much more. “I want to feel you in my ass,” she moaned.

“Just a second.” He pulled from the nightstand a condom, wasting no time in slipping it on. Then he got rid of the plug, replacing it with two fingers. They slid in much more easily this time, but it was still snug. “This might hurt,” he warned her. “You’re still pretty tight.”

“I don’t care! Fuck me now!”

“Okay. And remember, I will never break a hard limit in here.”

She didn’t know why he said that until she felt his fingers on her labia, scraping up from her clit to her—oh no.

And the second the panic threatened, he skipped right over the bad part and spread her cum around her ass, just as he had the oil. He repeated the process with his cock, nestling the shaft into her folds and sliding up and down, digging into her clit and making her moan. She could get off just like this, but then what would have been the point?

Then she felt the head nudge against her ass. He held it there on the cusp for a moment before thrusting it in an inch.

She tried to push back, again warring over it being too much and not nearly enough, but she was lying flat on her stomach, immobile. “Deeper!” she mewled. “Don’t stop.”

He pinched her ass cheek. “I’m going to, but not because you said so.”

He went slowly but never stopped, even when the pressure built up. She could only lie there and whimper and dig her fingers into the bedspread as he filled her. “You are so goddamn tight,” he murmured appreciatively when his pelvis rested against her.

She clenched involuntarily, unable to find even ground between the pleasure and the pain. There was no longer a question of if it was too much or not enough. He’d split her open, and it would kill her, but it would be the happiest death imaginable.

“Kiss me,” she sobbed. That was how she wanted her last moment. She loved that he was finally letting her be a vessel for his pleasure, but every time he kissed her, no matter how light or brief, she forgot what this actually was. She forgot this wasn’t real.

And she wanted to die loved, even if it was a fantasy.

He had to reposition them to kiss her properly, a complicated set of gymnastics worthy of an Olympics floor exercise. Imogen was positive Andre did this to show his strength and control. He could have pulled them both to the floor in one easy movement, but no; he wrapped her legs around his strong thighs, slid her across the bed, and somehow got his knees up onto the mattress.

She found herself seated on his lap, still impaled on his cock. Never once did he pull out, and somehow each shift seemed to push it deeper, stretched her further, obliterating any thought. Except that she wasn’t going to die.

She was going to come.

With one hand he tugged her ponytail down, forcing her spine to bow. His other hand went straight to her clit, pinching and twisting it slightly. His lips sought hers, but it was another sloppy kiss—she came hard in his hand, her entire body seized by the rush, out of control. Her hands flew to her chest, grabbing roughly but unable to get what she wanted. Thankfully Andre was still steady and being much more lenient; he flicked down the first few hooks and guided her hands in before going back to her clit.

Only, he went right past it. Worse, he pulled out again, keeping only the tip inside her. She felt his hand tap lightly against her ass a couple times and his breathing hitched, and she realized the cum she’d spilt had leaked down, and he was smearing it on his cock. When he slid back in, it felt so much better, good enough her hips decided to take better control of this. She rose and fell on him as his hand slid back up her slit, collecting more of her never-ending gush so she could suck it off his fingers.

Before she could swallow the cum, his tongue was in her mouth, slurping it up.

They found a steady rhythm, and with his fingers off her clit—his hands now cupped hers through the fabric, encouraging her to squeeze herself—she thought she could do this all night and have the best night of her entire life. Her hole was stretching, making each thrust more pleasure, less pain. She could do this forever.

Until the yearning caught her again. She was okay, and then she wasn’t, tangled in the frustration of a plateau when the mountain was so much more enticing. “Andre, oh god Andre, I need to come again.”

“Shh, I gotcha.” He straddled her clit with two fingers, spreading her lips and sliding the fingers in the channels between her inner and outer labia, carefully avoiding her hard limit while exposing it to the lick of cool air.

The gentle stroke pushed her to an orgasm that wasn’t so much tumbling off a mountain as it was floating down. What they were doing was undeniably dirty for a girl who’d spent adulthood hiding from sexuality, but with her tits hanging free and her core engorged and soaked and exposed and his cock deep in her ass, she felt divine.

But she felt dirty, too, so she decided to tell him how much she loved his cock. She started to say it, but only, “I love you…,” came out before she ran out of breath. She tried again but didn’t make it any further.

She didn’t want to think about what she’d just said, so she tried to continue sliding up and down his length.

Andre grabbed her hips, holding her in place, coming to a grinding halt that was neither coming nor grinding. She’d said something she shouldn’t have, even if she hadn’t meant it. Love was not part of their arrangement.

Crap.

“I want to come inside you,” he said.

What? Wasn’t that the point? It must have been random impulsive talk—like her accidental sort-of confession—but she was pretty sure his brain hadn’t melted nearly as much as hers had. After all, he’d managed to stop thrusting into her.

She managed to swivel her hips, creating a new and awesome sensation. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He tightened his grip. “No, I want to take the condom off so I can shoot my load inside you.”

She cringed.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really want to.”

He let her go enough that she could sit up and ease some of the pressure off her brain, and she noticed his breathing was ragged. She twisted to look him in the eye and found his gaze to be undeniably primal. He wasn’t nearly as steady as she’d thought. “Just…phrasing. It sounds…icky like that.”

“Oh.” He kissed her shoulder. “Then I want to take the condom off so I can come inside you.”

She knew she was supposed to say ‘no’. College had told her that over and over again. But she definitely didn’t have any diseases and Andre seemed like the type of guy who took his sexual health seriously. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Awesome, do you want it in your mouth or ass?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I thought you were the Master.”

The devil danced in his grin. “Get on all fours; I’m about to fuck you so fucking hard.”

He wasn’t lying. The moment the condom was gone, he slammed into her. As stretched as she was, the friction from the exposed, velvety skin of his cock and the force of his thrust made her cry out and collapse onto her elbows.

He didn’t stop. There was a word if she needed it, one so far gone she couldn’t remember it and wouldn’t say it anyway. He took her hips, guiding her into the thrust. Every assault was punctuated by the wet slap of his balls pounding her gush. His smooth words fell into guttural grunts, matching her squeaks in a much lower octave.

At the rate he slammed into her, she expected him to explode immediately, but he didn’t. He just kept pushing until she couldn’t even hold herself up on her elbows anymore and face planted on the mattress, letting the bed spread absorb her sobs.

It was too brutal, too primal. His stamina was too much for her, rubbing her raw. Ditching the condom was for the best if this is what he needed—that would have made him go even longer. And she wouldn’t deny him, definitely not now, but it was overwhelming.

The only thing she could do was escape with a fresh orgasm, and it wasn’t going to happen at his hands this time. She reached between her legs, finding her clit and worrying it with a feathery tap until her muscles locked up, fighting against his thrusts as the last of her passion released and she was done.

Absolutely, unequivocally done.

Andre wasn’t, but she had her own bag of magic tricks. She reached further back and on his next push grabbed him and squeezed his full testicles just enough.

Andre froze for a beat, then finished his thrust. With a low moan, he emptied himself deep inside her. She felt him twitch as the last droplets spilt before he slid out and laid down next to her.

“Fuck,” he grunted as his arms flopped up over his head. “Fuck.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, straightening her legs so they hung over the edge of the bed. What little of her brain functioned felt guilty for having to end it like that, but she’d barely had the strength to grab him. If her hand hadn’t already been on her clit, she thought she would have passed out before she got to him.

“What? No! That was…fuck. Holy…holy shit. Fuck.” And then his lips spread in a wide grin. He started laughing hoarsely. “Holy shit, Ima. Come here.”

He snagged her by the waist, but she yelped weakly when he tried to pull her in. Everything hurt. Not necessarily in a bad way—okay, there was definitely some bad way on her backside—but even the rise and fall of her lungs was making her dizzy.

Andre’s smile faded instantly. “Oh God, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just don’t move me. Hold me, though. I think I’m falling apart.”

~..~

When he finally lifted her off the mattress and carried her to Heaven, she was limp as a ragdoll. But she protested being laid down on the bed. “Chair,” she murmured without voice.

“Anything you want.” Which was what she deserved. He’d been too rough with her. Fuck, he’d been out of control. The message he’d received during the opera—computer equipment with sensitive data had been stolen from Midas’ home—had set him off, but he’d absolutely planned for a gentle first time with Imogen. He’d wanted to show her how much he appreciated how hard she’d been working at subservience, and he’d held himself steady until her little confession.

Not even a confession. Meaningless babble. Even he’d said it before in the heat of the moment. But it had knocked all common sense from him, pushing him into that stupid caveman brain that told him to mark his territory the worst way possible.

Fuck, he’d actually taken the condom off. Who did that? Who put the damn thing on just to pull it off again when it was most needed? A goddamn lunatic.

He wanted to wrap himself around her, hold her tight and apologize repeatedly, but she protested that, too. She came to life—groggy, grunty life—scooting around until she’d plonked her rear down to straddle his thigh and slumped her chest against him. It was incredibly awkward, but he didn’t argue. He did lift his other leg enough so she could tuck her knee under it, though; the last thing he wanted was for her to flinch and knee him in the groin.

She dug her core into his thigh, and he couldn’t resist smiling at the wet warmth. He rubbed her back to calm her, but she couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mmm. I just didn’t…this feels weirder than I thought it would.”

“I’m sorry, I should have been gentler. Has it been a while since you--?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

Andre’s heart sank. So stupid. He’d never considered she might have agreed to anal without previous experience. Any stupid male pride he may have had a moment ago for claiming her so roughly—god, Ima wasn’t gonna be able to sit right tomorrow—was neatly squelched into cold, sweaty shame.

He was the biggest asshole on the planet.

But he wasn’t going to say anything about that. He knew she’d get embarrassed if he made it a big deal. Instead he offered to get her some lidocaine.

“No, it’s okay. I just need to…” She wiggled some more. “Ulk.”

When he figured out what she was trying to do, he smiled. “Hold on.” He popped the recliner out and pushed his foot into the rest, propping his knee up. A bit more squirming and she was nestled into the crook at his hip, her sore area pressing snugly into his thigh to relieve some of the burn.

Despite being just as awkward as before, she found peace here. She sighed happily and thanked him.

“For what?”

“For…you know…”

“I swear to God, Ima.”

She buried her head in his shoulder and whispered, “For fucking me in the ass.”

He sighed. That was what he needed to hear. Not those exact words—but yay—he just needed to know she was okay with it. He massaged her neck, and she purred. “Anytime.”

“Promise?”

She was so still after that he thought she might be asleep. Her deep breathing, her even heartbeat against his, her sweet, floral scent mingling with her natural, earthy musk. He told himself to feel guilty over his mishandling of her, but how could he?

She’d said she loved him. The circumstances didn’t matter. And she’d been okay with him marking her as his territory, even if she couldn’t possibly have interpreted it like that.

She flinched. Her eyes fluttered open in alarm.

He felt a new dampness on his thigh and locked his arm around her waist.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“Not yet.”

“I have to, umm, pee.”

He smirked. Maybe she did, but that wasn’t what freaked her out. “What did I say about lying?”

She pouted, even resorted to a trembling lip.

“Yeah, totally immune to that.”

“Please!” she begged. She squirmed as the wet spot spread. “Oh god, this is super embarrassing.”

He kissed her forehead. “Maybe for you. For me it’s a badge of pride. Of dominance. So for just a couple minutes you’re going to let me muse on the fact that there’s still a bit of me inside you, even if it’s now on my leg as well. And then I’m going to bathe you properly where you’ll let me.”

He didn’t mention where she wouldn’t. That was something else that made his heart sink—he was starting to think her unusual limits weren’t because he was a man or because they weren’t in a more traditional relationship.

She was sound asleep by the time he was ready to clean her up. Instead of waking her, he stretched her out on the bed and went to the Ocean to clean himself and retrieve a wash cloth and a basin of warm water.

He took his time wiping her down. She murmured softly as he cleaned away the sheen of sweat from her arms and brows. She pouted when he wiped those puffy, bruised lips. He unfastened the rest of her corset and took a completely shameless moment to appreciate her full, natural bounty.

When he kissed one of the soft, flattened nubs, she curled a little.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

He worked his way down to her pelvis before he eased her onto her stomach. She fought this, attempting to curl into the fetal position. He hushed her and straightened her legs as he wiped them down as well. Once on her belly, she mindlessly bunched the bedspread up for a makeshift pillow and started snoring lightly.

Perfect.

He wiped her back down, loving this rare softness in her relaxed shoulders, and spent an extra minute memorizing the deep curves of her wide hips. When he nudged her legs apart he frowned. Poor thing. He’d really done a number on her.

He was as delicate as possible scrubbing away the remains of their evening. Her sleeping form attempted to defend itself several times by clenching up or pulling her legs together, but he persisted. When he was satisfied, he cheated and massaged some lidocaine in.

For some reason he closed his eyes when he cleaned between her pink, clean-shaven folds. He shouldn’t be there but he had to. In the contract he’d promised to take care of her when they were in Heaven—and everywhere else, although that wasn’t stated—and this was part of that.

Then he carried her up to her room and laid her on her bed. He tucked her in under a mountain of blankets, just how she liked it.

She’d been so brave for him tonight. She must have been scared, and he’d been a monster. Not just at the end, either. She’d looked positively terrified when he threatened to leave. He really had planned to walk out, but it was all a stupid temper tantrum. He could make amends for this, at least.

He crawled under the stifling pile of fluff and eased her head onto his chest.


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