His Captive

Don’t ask me about the funny names, but does it really matter? Because with a tall, dominating alpha male, I wouldn’t care what he was called. I wouldn’t care if he wanted to fuck me backwards, forwards, on the side, or upside down. I’d be happy as long as … well, you know. Down below, I want him to be massively huge.

So with a secret smile on my face, I let go for the first time all day, my hand creeping down to my pussy, stroking those soft folds. Unnnh, oh fuck it’s good, and my puss juices wetly. Shit, I always have so much cream, and struggling out of my panties, I looked down at myself. Sure enough, my slit’s already bright pink, lips puffy and full, beginning to drip.

Might as well go with it. Leaning back on the couch again, I tease myself, legs spread as my eyes flutter shut. Unnnh, Donegal, Donegal. Yes, Daddy, give it to me. Yes, Daddy take me, feed me that cock, stuff me full. Because the truth is, I’ve never been with a man, but it’s coming for sure. There’s a guy out there who’s ready to fuck me, who’s ready to take a curvy virgin, it’s just a matter of time.

So what if I’m home alone on another Friday night, masturbating to a dirty romance? So what if I’m reading books, letting an imaginary alpha taste my insides? Because it’s right around the corner. I know the man of my dreams is coming and with a sigh, shudder and gasp, I give in. My snatch creams wetly, spasming hard and I cry out once more, back arching off the sofa. Oh god yes. Come to me Daddy. Come to Anna … because I can’t wait any longer, my pussy needs you.

CHAPTER TWO

Anna

The next morning at 6 a.m., it was like a dream. Had I really passed out last night after orgasming a couple times? Had I really gotten completely naked in the living room, frigging my cunt again and again, dreaming of my Scottish highland lord?

But yeah, it’s true. Because I’m a dirty girl. I’d gotten super into it, spreading my legs wide, pussy dripping like a faucet as I touched where his dick would go. Oh god yeah, it’d been awesome. It’d been so amazing to see my puss spasm and clamp, clit waving stiffly in the air. There was even a stain on the sofa from my creaming cunt, I’d gushed so hard while screaming “Daddy, Daddy, fuck me, fuck me good!”

But now it’s like it never happened. I’m in the kitchen making coffee, sunlight streaming through the window, everything spic and span. Last night was some kind of hedonistic getaway, a hazy dream from Neverland. I blink again, shaking my head. Shit. It’s gonna take something a lot stronger than tea to get me through the next twelve hours at the office, what with memories of Donegal still flitting through my mind. It’s Saturday, for crying out loud, and yet I’ve been called to the office for some “emergency assignment.”

As I take a tentative sip from my steaming travel mug, breathing in the silence, keys jingle outside the door before Ann-Marie pushes it open.

My sister practically falls inside, bursting with giggles despite the fact that it’s six a.m.

It would be a boldfaced lie to say I am surprised to see her returning from a night out at this hour. This is right up her alley so I don’t even bat an eye at her rowdy entrance. Because Ann-Marie likes to party hard. And her job as a model basically requires it, industry shindigs lasting into the wee hours of morning.

“Good morning, Anna!” she greets me, far more cheerful than I could manage even though I’ve had a full night’s rest.

“Morning,” I reply, eyeing her movements carefully. She seems sober, just really, really happy.

I want to roll my eyes when I realize that despite a full night of partying and God knows what else, Ann-Marie still looks fresh and beautiful.

“Guess what?” Ann-Marie squeals, leaning over the counter to snag a crusted piece of toast. She chomps on it, mouth full, while I look on silently.

“What?” I finally ask.

“I’m engaged!” my sister declares gleefully, unable to keep still. She dances around the kitchen and even bumps her hip against mine to get me to join in the celebration.

But instead of taking her cue, I grab her thin arm and bring her left hand into my line of vision.

There’s nothing on her ring finger, but from the smile on her face you would think she was sporting a ten-carat custom diamond ring.

“Engaged to whom?” I ask, raising my eyebrow as I drop her hand.

Positively overjoyed, Ann-Marie giggles and starts gushing about some guy named Chance.

“I met the sexiest man at the Grand last night. And guess what?” Her voice has heightened to a shrill. “He’s LOADED!”