The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress

Her breasts had always driven him crazy. They were more than a generous handful, with big, rosy nipples that responded to the slightest sensation. Like now. Even though he hadn’t even begun touching her, he could see their nubs, stiff with arousal, as she drew closer to the bed. He knew that if he put his hand where it wanted to go, over the little garter briefs, he would feel her honeyed moistness through the thin cotton, telling him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She sat next to him on the bed and he pulled her down, rolling her to her side so that he could position himself over her, all rock-hard, towering male strength. His kiss was like a release and he lost himself in it, covering her mouth with what started as a lazy exploration but rapidly turned into a blazing assault. She was sweetly, wildly irresistible, and he groaned as their tongues entwined. He felt as uncontrolled now as he had the first time he had ever touched her.

As he brought his questing mouth to her neck, she closed her eyes on a whimper and arched back.

‘I’ve reached heaven,’ Alessandro groaned. He fanned out his hands under her breasts, pushing them up, getting them ready for his mouth as he administered his attentions further down, along her shoulderblades and over the gentle pale slopes under which he could feel the rapid beating of her heart.

Unable to stand the exquisite torture, Megan brought his head to her nipples and half opened her eyes to watch as he began suckling on first one then the other, dividing his attention so that neither was spared the abrasion of his tongue as he laved them, or the delicate nipping of his teeth as he drew them deep into his mouth.

Her legs were spread as he straddled her, and his flat, hard stomach rubbed against her, sending her into a giddy, wild response that threatened to have her reaching orgasm when she wanted so badly to wait.

It was almost a blessed relief when he raised himself slightly, as though fully aware of how close she was to the edge. But the relief lasted barely a second as he left her breasts and began to work his way downwards.

His hands slid to her waist.

She had never been much of a believer in working out or going to the gym, but for all that her body had never seemed to need any such attentions. She was soft and feminine where she should be soft and feminine. A man could drown in the glory of her full breasts, and her waist was small, but not so slender that he could feel any protruding hipbones. Just small and soft and rounded, and Alessandro couldn’t quite believe how he had managed the past seven years without her body. He was so much taller and bigger than her, and yet they had always fitted perfectly together.

In comparison, the tall, leggy women he had endeavoured to replace her with now seemed like stiff, unyielding mannequins.

He lifted himself up for a few seconds to gaze at her flushed face, and when she looked back at him, he said roughly, ‘Enjoying yourself, my darling?’

‘You are so smug, Alessandro,’ she said, and smiled lazily back.

‘I like you being hot for me…’ Unbidden came the agonising thought that she might have been equally hot for the other men she had slept with. Sure, they had been losers, or else one of them would still have been on the scene, but still…

Alessandro had never felt a second’s worth of jealousy when it had come to any of the other women in his life, but the full weight of it slammed into him now, like a rampaging monster.

He didn’t like it, and he steadied himself by remembering that this was simply something of the moment for both of them—sex to be enjoyed without the hassle of commitment. After all, look where his last step to commitment had led him. He would enjoy her, because in some undefined way this was something he had been waiting for. Her eager, pliant body writhing and squirming under his.

He would give her the best sex she had ever had.

He placed his hand between her legs and rubbed. Her soft moans were like music. Then, easing his body back down, he heard the soft moans become more urgent, and felt her body buck against him as he slid his tongue along into her, feeling out her small, sensitive bud. She tasted like honeyed dew, and weirdly it was as though the remembered taste had survived somewhere in his memory bank, waiting for just this moment to come rushing back to him.

He raised his eyes. She was arched back, and her breasts were bouncing as she moved under him. Her nipples stood up, erect tips standing to attention.

He needed her right now, but he had come unprepared. With a groan of frustration, he asked her whether she was on contraception, and was almost disappointed to be told that she was.

He didn’t want any accidents—of course he didn’t! But neither did he want this ferocious jealousy at the thought that she might have been readying herself for another man.