6. Dex
6
DEX
I swing around, my heart making a bid for freedom via my mouth and ribcage simultaneously.
She cowers, as though I might be angry with her for saving her cherry for me. Nothing could be further from the truth. My sweet Miss Berry, giving me her first bite.
“You’ve never had sex.” I feel I need to clarify this, because it’s not every Tuesday afternoon that all your dreams come true. “Were you waiting for marriage?”
I thought I was the old-fashioned one, but was she keeping her first time for her husband to breach her on her wedding night?
“No, not really. I’m shy,” she whispers. “I just didn’t find the right person.”
She has now, or if she hasn’t that’s bad luck. I will take her virginity.
Grey eyes. Tall. Rich. Short beard.
Look, it’s probably as she said, a generic list. But she wouldn’t have written those attributes down if they repulsed her, would she? No.
I can work with that. I’ll get her addicted to the feel of my length inside her and orgasms from my hands.
And if I need to pretend that I’m left out of the London Mafia Syndicate in order to convince Sophia to marry me, that’s what I’ll do. It’s not true, but not entirely a lie, either. I’ve gone from irritated by the number of vomit-inducingly happy couples that are part of that group to something very like jealous.
My virgin bride. Fuck. She has no idea she just made the next ten days impossibly hard. Hypothermia will be a constant risk with the number of cold showers I’m going to need. But I won’t jerk off to remove the edge. It’s critical we have a baby to tie us together permanently.
“We can take it slow and gentle,” I reassure her. And I will. Even if it kills me.
“Oh.” She twists her lips as she thinks. “The thing is, I don’t want the only time I have sex to be when I get pregnant.”
I nod slowly and sink back onto my chair, even as my heart does some sort of idiotic dance move. A jump, or a hop, or a flip.
“I want to learn about sex, so when I do get pregnant it won’t be a second-place event to sex being new. I’ll be able to appreciate…” She covers her face with her hands. “Oh this is ridiculous! Forget I said anything.”
“Enjoying getting pregnant for its own sake, not just the sex.”
She peeks around her hands. “Yes. Is that weird?”
My girl has a breeding kink, and hell, I didn’t think she could be any better matched to me, but this goes to show how limited my view was.
“It’s not weird to me.”
“So you don’t mind?” Lowering her hands, she regards me anxiously.
“You want to practise and learn?” I will teach her. No problem.
“But you said no sex.” She bites her lip.
“Is that what I said, darling?”
“But…” Poor confused girl, she blinks, trying to figure it out.
“We can have sex without me emptying my balls into you and filling you up with my seed.”
The gasp like she’s a maiden in a period drama is belied by a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Once she’s my wife, I’ll take pleasure in getting her pregnant. Until then, I will make it so good she can’t see straight.
“You’re going to marry me.” It’s a question, or at least, she interprets it that way, and nods. “Then let’s start your lessons.”
“Now?” she squeaks.
“Come here.”
She pauses.
“You can lock the door first.” There’s no chance of anyone interrupting us, but I intend to see a lot of my assistant and I won’t have any shyness. I push back in my office chair, and watch her as she turns the key. She’s so sexy, I don’t think she has any idea how fucking hot she is in that demure outfit that tries to hide everything but makes her an intriguing present.
“What about…?” She glances over at the windows.
I nod slowly. “Close the blinds.”
Sophia is methodical, and my cock is getting harder by the second. She returns to her place before my desk instead of coming to me, and I’m momentarily disappointed. I want her on my lap.
I lean back in my chair.
“Show me what a good girl you’ll be as I breed you.”
She blinks. “How?”
“Take off your clothes,” I demand hoarsely, and I think it surprises me as much as it does her.
Her hands tremble as she reaches for the hem of her top.
Then it’s my turn to shake as she pulls it over her head, exposing a plain white bra and perfect skin. I grip the arms of my chair to prevent me from going over right then and mauling her.
“Go on,” I say with more calm than I feel.
Her skirt drops after the longest seconds of my life and she’s there like a sweet, corruptible angel, in white cotton panties and that simple bra.
“Very good.” My voice definitely gives me away this time as she regards me from under her lashes, her blush tinting her chest with pink. I bet her nipples are gorgeous little berries.
“What should I do now, Mr Streatham?”
Fuck, the breathy way she says my name hardens my cock more than believed possible.
“Sit here.” My knuckles almost break as I remove one hand from the chair arm and slap my thigh.
She’s heaven as she approaches around my desk, slips off her shoes, and then stops as her gaze angles down at my lap.
I’m sporting a massive hard-on.
“Ignore that for now. Sit across my knees.”
There’s a tentativeness in her movements that I want to end forever. Part of me that dares to dream that one day we’ll do this sort of thing, and she’ll push me back and eagerly straddle me to take what she’s owed, or kneel to cover me with her mouth.
That day is not today. She sits gingerly, as though trying not to be too heavy.
“Miss Berry.”
“Yes.”
I love you and I want this to be everything for you, as it’s going to be for me.
“Forget that this is a marriage of convenience for a moment.”
She huffs sceptically.
“And that we’re in my office.”
“And it’s a Tuesday afternoon.” She looks over at me and that little edge of sass that I adore is playing at the corner of her mouth.
“Right now, all that matters is this.” I hold my breath as I take her nearest hand and guide it up to my shoulder, so she leans into me. “I’m your fiancé. I’m going to give you a baby if you’re a good girl, and practice very well.”
“Yeah. That’s…” She swallows and nods. “Sensible.”
I reach for her other hand and bring it up, so we’re palm to palm. We both look down at our hands.
Hers is tiny compared to mine, with smooth, creamy skin. My rougher knuckles with black hair at my wrist make me seem exactly the opposite of her lightness. My cock throbs. She’s dainty and small, and I simultaneously want to crush and ravish and protect her.
“Kiss me.” It comes out a growl, and she freezes.
“Come on, fiancée,” I taunt her softly. My lips are tingling with how much I want this.
“Uughgh.” She wriggles and looks down, and her cute, peachy bottom almost touches my rigid cock. We both stop moving.
A second ticks past.
“I don’t know how,” she confesses.
“You’ve never kissed anyone?”
“I have, but not…” She shakes her head. “Not recently.”
“Been busy?”
“School, university, work. It’s a lot.” She shrugs and I brush my thumb over hers. “And my latest job is far too hectic to have time for dating.”
“Sorry.” There isn’t a hint of sincerity in that word. “Your boss will make up for it.”
Her gaze flicks down again. “When you said ‘staff’, I didn’t expect…”
“I know.” She thought I was exaggerating. I wasn’t. “We’ll get to that. A kiss first.”
Those pretty, hazel eyes, like a dappled summer forest, melt into trust and she eases closer and closer, until I’m almost cross-eyed. Then her soft lips brush mine.
It’s exactly the sort of kiss I’d have expected from her. Gentle and hesitant, as though she thinks she could hurt me.
“Your beard…” she says, drawing back.
“You want me to shave it off?” I tighten my hand around hers.
“No.” She leans in. “I like it,” she whispers, and kisses me again. I let her explore, slowly, then begin to guide her. I nibble, and urge her lips apart to slip my tongue inside in an echo of what I’m going to do to her soon. And this time, she doesn’t pull away. Not when one of my hands finds her waist and pulls her close, pressing her tummy against my erection. Not when my other hand slides into her hair and tightens, pulling it just enough to make her gasp before she presses her mouth harder onto mine, so the tension increases.
Everything about her is silk. Her hair that’s falling out of that neat up-do, her skin. Even the edge of those innocent cotton knickers.
We kiss for a long time, until she’s making whimpering sounds, and her hands are sneaking under my suit jacket and tracing over my neck. I take that as permission to start my own exploration of her body. The soft curve of her waist, the graceful plane of her shoulders. I have to bite back a moan as I cup her little tits. Every caress makes me need her more.
When we break our kiss, both gasping for air, I glimpse my hand on her ribcage and the contrast is obscene. Underneath this expensive suit, I’m coarse and heavy. Whereas without her pretty clothes, she’s fragile and beautiful as a butterfly.
I sweep both hands up and down her torso and it’s almost too much. I don’t deserve all of her goodness on my lap like this, but I’m a selfish bastard and I’ll take it.
For six months only, if I lose my bet.
Shit, I cannot think about that.
Instead, I bring my hands to her hips.
“Say yes, little one. Say you want my big, brutish fingers in your virgin pussy to get you ready for my cock.” My tone is harsh, almost trying to put off.
Her response is to wriggle closer. She’s worked her way around so she’s practically sitting face-to-face with me, and I’m so greedy I still need more. Her words.
“Tell me what you want, little one,” I rasp.
“I can’t say those things!” she whispers.
“Say, ‘touch me where a man of almost forty shouldn’t touch his pretty, twenty-three-year-old assistant’.” My desperation is increasing and making me filthy. “Say, ‘Please teach me about sex’.”
“Please touch my virgin pussy, Mr Streatham.”
Oh fuuckk. Precome leaks out of my cock. I’m going to have to go slow when I make love to my girl, because I could easily shoot off too soon and ruin my chance of getting her pregnant. And that is the only important thing. Give her the baby and family she wants, so I can keep her.
“Dexter. Call me Dex.” I sound like I’ve run a marathon. “Streatham will be your name very soon.”
“Please put your fingers inside me, Dex.” Her breathy voice asking me to defile her is hot beyond my wildest dreams.
I slide my fingers down her abdomen and into her underwear. I think how it will get firm and swollen with my baby, then lower, lower. Over her mons, then down, and then… That hidden flower is open for me.
My fingertips meet a drop of moisture, then more. She’s slippery.
“You’re wet.” I breathe the revelation in disbelief. She wants this. The prickle of unease that I was seducing her disappears, the relief instant like pulling out a splinter.
“I…” She tries to hide from me, glancing away.
“No.” I grab her chin with my other hand and turn her, so she has to face me. “It’s a good thing, little one. You’re such a good girl. But I was looking forward to licking you to get you ready to take me.”
Her tongue nips out and moistens those other perfect, plush lips and I suppress a moan. How did I survive six months of working with my assistant without bending her over my desk?
“Sorry?” Her tone has a hint of cute brattiness.
“And you’re not robbing me of that honour.”
Dragging her mouth to mine, I touch our lips together in a deceptively sweet kiss. I hope she remembers that, because I’m about to be ruthless.
I wrap my arms around her waist, and continue kissing her as I lift her up. She gasps and holds on, and I purr in approval as I set her on my desk, amongst all the papers, trailing kisses over her jaw.
I’m fucking starving, and I have to eat. I have to get my mouth on her.
I can’t come, but I want her to quake like I’m a force of nature. Like I’m shattering her and making her anew. I reach her chest, and the swell of her tits makes me feral. Shoving the cup of her practical bra aside, I suck her nipple into my mouth. And my sweet girl moans, grabbing my head and I didn’t think I could enjoy this any more than I was already, but yeah that’ll do it.
I worship her breasts as they deserve, and caress her back, and arse, and sides with my hands until she’s shaking and murmuring my name.
“Dex.”
“Take your knickers off,” I order her, not breaking contact with her skin. I don’t sound like myself. I’m hanging on by a thread and my cock is trying to break out of my trousers.
“Yes, Mr Streatham.” Within seconds she’s managed to wriggle out of her underwear, and I drag it down her long legs and stuff the trophy into my pocket. My fingers dig into both her knees as I lower myself, watching her surprised expression as I push her thighs apart.
Then I look down.
“Fuuuck, little one.”
“What is it?” she asks, with a hint of worry.
“You’re so pretty everywhere. But here?” I can hardly breathe. “Sophia, you’re perfect.”
Virginity is a concept I’ve never cared about before, and hymen is an ugly word. But Sophia rewrites every rule for me. I am so possessive of this girl. I want to claim her like an animal would his mate, with a bite, covering her with my scent, and getting her round with my offspring.
Tucked in the middle of her soft pink, slick folds is my prize. Her bud of a clit is swollen with need. And below, her entrance is tiny, and the edge of her hymen smooth. I’ll be the one to stretch her out. She’s mine .
I drag my gaze from her pussy for a second to find her wide-eyed.
“I’m going to lick you until you come all over my face,” I tell her firmly. “To get you ready to take my cock.”