The Russian Billionaire

I know something is not right about her, about this situation we are in, but I’ll figure it out later.

Without taking my eyes off her enormous sapphire eyes, I yank her knees apart roughly. She inhales sharply, but again she doesn’t object. Little goosebumps appear on her skin as my fingers move higher and higher up her thigh. Then I slide my hands upwards while pulling her dress along until it ends up bunched around her waist.

She is wearing a sexy black thong.

I slip my fingers under the scrap of lace and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from making any sound. Carelessly, I rip the delicate lace, pull it off her, and toss it away.

Her eyes fill with surprise and excitement, but she says nothing, does nothing. Just looks at me from those beautiful, beautiful blue jewels. I look down at her pussy. Spread open. Blonde curls. Pink. Swollen. Dripping. Delicious. Her smell fills my nostrils, and the desire to lick that sweet slit is shockingly strong, but I bring my eyes back to her face and lean closer to hers. I don’t want to miss any change of expression from her.

My fingers dance along the soft skin of her inner thigh as I watch her pupils widen, and her mouth parts as her breath comes faster.

My hand brushes against the neat, soft triangle of fair hair. She squeezes her eyes when I touch her clitoris. It is engorged with blood. I’m not sure what’s really going on in the background, but one thing is for sure, she is just as aroused as I fucking am.

I let my fingers wander lower to the slickness. My thumb remains on her clit, until without warning I plunge two fingers into her slit. She gasps, her eyes snapping open with shock. Her eyes stay glued to me as she tries to control her breathing. She doesn’t expect my fingers to move so deeply inside her.

I’m not gentle. It’s not what she wants. I’m the guy she detests. The guy that’s perfect for a one-night stand. She’s loving this rough.

I thrust my fingers in and out of her, hearing the loud sucking sounds of her wet juices on my fingers. Every few thrusts, she grunts or takes in a gasping breath.

With one hand I hold her steady while my other fucks her harder and faster. The walls of her pussy begin to tighten. She is so close now. I stare at her. I want to see the look on her face when I bring her to orgasm.

Finally, a low moan escapes her lips.

My thumb rubs against her hardened clit while two fingers search for her G spot. The way her eyes widen and become glassy tells me that I’ve found it.

She grabs my shoulder and squeezes. I know that she can’t contain herself much longer. She clenches her jaw and looks away momentarily, only she can no longer control herself. Her eyes roll back. Her body becomes limp for a moment, but that doesn’t make me stop, because I know that she’s ready for something bigger.

Soon she will… come again.

And she doesn’t disappoint. She lets out a loud scream and her body buckles and then shakes uncontrollably. Her thighs crush my hand, and her toes curl. She gushes onto my hand as the waves come and come, but I don’t cease the hard thrusting of my fingers, not even for a moment. She groans and begs me to stop, moans that she can’t take it anymore, but I don’t stop.

I know she can take more.

Her body is still shaking as her pleading drops to soft whimpers. Her body becomes limp and her breathing is heavy and ragged, but now I notice that as much as she is trying to avoid staring at me, she can’t. Our eyes lock. There is a strange expression in her eyes. I extract my fingers from her pink pussy.

I want to taste her orgasm from my fingers, but doing so would make me want to fuck her. I am fully erect, but I choose, I force myself not to do anything about that. Not now. Not yet. Not until I know what her game is. I remove a few tissues from the holder and calmly wipe between her legs.

This is called self-control.

She does not move. She just stares at me with half-closed eyes. Her legs are still spread wide open and I can see her pussy and how beautifully swollen it is. It takes all of my self-control to not fuck her right there. Instead I pull down her dress.

“We’ve arrived at your place,” I murmur.

She turns her head in surprise, then turns bright red.

“I’ll send someone to pick you up tomorrow at 8.00am.”

“What?”

“You’re spending the weekend in London with me.”

“I… er… I can’t. I have to work.”