5. Megan
MEGAN
I splash my face with cold water for the second time, close my eyes, count to ten, then open them, expecting to find myself back in my apartment with Derek banging on my door, ready to kill me.
Instead, I see my reflection staring back at me in a spotless mirror hanging in a bathroom big enough that you could park a Hummer in it.
This can’t be real.
The last couple of days have got to be a dream. It just doesn’t make sense that Orson Brooks, the most eligible bachelor in the city, would spend half the day showering me with gifts like I’m some kind of supermodel or something.
Not to mention our naughty behavior in the dressing room…
Just to make sure I’m not losing my mind, I grab my phone and dial Trish. She picks up on the first ring.
“Girl, where have you been? Did you not see my texts?”
I glance at my alerts and realize I’ve missed at least ten from her.
“Oh, sorry. I’ve been…busy.”
“Busy? Are you kidding?” She sighs audibly on the other end. “I legit went by your apartment and you weren’t there. I thought you’d been kidnapped or something!”
I can’t help but laugh. “No, not kidnapped…” I muse, twisting my hair around my finger. “Just…moved into a new house.”
There’s a long pause before Trish responds.
“What?”
Giggling, I toss myself onto the bed. My body is still buzzing from the orgasm Orson gave me. The dresses and heels he bought for me today have been laid out by my walk-in closet. I pinch myself just to be sure—but nope—I’m not dreaming.
“Let’s just say…the date went really well.”
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Trish snorts. “I had to persuade you into even going on this date, and now you’re telling me you’ve moved in with the guy?”
“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds weird…”
This time, it’s Trish who bursts out laughing. “Okay, spill it.”
Humming with excitement, I go through everything. And I mean everything. Once I finish, Trish says nothing. I can just imagine her sitting there in her room, running her tongue over her top teeth, wondering if I’m making it all up just to mess with her.
“And you’re not screwing with me?” she asks.
“I’m not,” I reply. “In fact, you should come visit me!”
There’s a knock at the door, and I turn to see Orson standing there, hands in his pockets, a dashing smile on his lips. How am I so lucky?
He raises his chin—a simple gesture conveying everything.
“Listen, Trish, I gotta go. Talk later?”
“Wait, you can’t just spring this on me and then vanish—”
I quickly hang up, leap off the bed, and throw myself into Orson’s arms. It feels so right. So natural. Like we’ve been doing it for years.
He lifts me up with ease. He doesn’t even need both arms to do it. We kiss, and he runs his hands through my hair, sending a delicious shiver up my spine.
I love when he does that.
“You’re so strong,” I whisper, giggling as heat swells within me. Orson just grins.
“I want to show you something.”
I flutter my eyelids at him and glance…down... “Oh, yeah?”
He chuckles. “Not that. Not yet.” I sigh dramatically, just to tease him. His gorgeous green eyes sparkle back at me. “It will only take a second. Then we can get to the fun stuff.”
Fun stuff…
My cheeks start to prickle. I’m blushing, only this time, I’m not embarrassed. It hasn’t even been two days, and I’m already ready to bare my soul to this man.
My dream man…my king.
“Okay,” I say, kissing the scruff on his jaw. “Show me.”
I lean my cheek against his enormous chest as he carries me gently down the hall. I’m greeted with streams of golden sunlight as he opens the door into what can only be described as the most incredible art studio I’ve ever seen.
It has everything: tables, easels, stools, drawing boards, canvases, pencils, rulers, every paint imaginable. It’s mind-blowing. But what’s even crazier is every one of my pieces are here too, finished and unfinished.
My heart is racing. “What is this?” I ask—probably the dumbest question I’ve ever asked, but I don’t know what else to say.
“What do you think?” Orson chuckles. “It’s your new studio.”
He sets me down and I walk slowly through everything. It’s like I’m floating as I stare down at the paints—all of them premium brands—and all the brushes and pencils I could never afford.
There are professional artists out there who would be envious of this.
“What do you think—?” he starts to ask, but before he can finish, I’m leaping back onto him, kissing him like the only cure for my hunger is his lips.
His rugged hands grip my ass, and he wastes no time pulling down the hem of my shorts to get to my flesh. I moan into his mouth as he kneads it firmly, sensually, making me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.
Without thinking, I reach between his legs.
There it is. A bulge I can’t even get my hand around.
The heat within me swells. My heart pounds like a drum beneath my ribs. We just started kissing, and he’s already hard.
That’s when I realize it: I’m ready too.
I squeeze, feeling the outline of his enormous cock through his pants. He presses his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeper, and turns to carry me out of the room. But I stop him.
“No. Here.”
His eyes flash as he looks back at me. “Not in the bed?”
I shake my head. “I may be innocent, but I’m an artist, Orson, and we’re just a little bit crazy.”
I smirk back at him as I squeeze him again, so hard he actually jumps. A brief look of shock comes over him, which is exactly what I was looking for.
The next thing I know, I’m on my back on the floor as he tears my clothes off me.
First my shorts, then my top. Thankfully, I’m not wearing any of the designer brands he bought for me today. But then again, would it really matter? Orson could buy the whole store if he wanted.
I lie naked beneath him, my thighs burning as I watch him strip out of his shirt, revealing the straps of muscle that adorn his body. The veins of his arms bulge as he tugs off his pants. He kicks them aside, and his cock springs out, slapping hard against my pussy.
I yelp playfully, laughing as he leans in and starts to kiss me all over.
“You don’t know how badly I want you, princess.”
His words are like gasoline on a fire. My thigh muscles quiver, and my hands move on their own, reaching out for his thick arms to pull him closer.
“Orson,” I whisper before he kisses me. “You know I don’t want you for your money, right?”
His lips form a line, and he nods, his eyes soft. “I can’t know for sure,” he says, causing my heart to tremble. “But it’s what I believe.”
“Good,” I reply. “Because it’s the truth. Even if you were living in a tent in the woods, I’d still love you.”
My heart stops. His pupils dilate, and a line in his jaw flexes.
Love…did I just say that?
I did. And I didn’t even think about it. It just slipped out of my mouth as naturally as could be. And it’s not lost on Orson.
“I love you too, Megan.” His reply shakes me to my core. My body temp rises so quickly that I start sweating. Only this time, I don’t care. Because I know he doesn’t. “And if I had to live in the woods with you, I would. And I’d be happy.”
I reach up and run my fingers across his strong chin, admiring the strong lines of his face.
“I’d live anywhere with you.”
He kisses me, and my nipples turn hard.
“But having everything you could ever want doesn’t hurt, does it?” His lips twist into a rakish smile, and I blossom inside. Before I can reply, his lips crush against mine, devouring my mouth with a hunger I echo.
His stiff arousal presses against my slit, and his words from the dressing room replay in my mind.
“You’ll lie back, spread your legs for me, relax, and I’ll slide inside…”
He was right.
My arousal cascades down through me, and my legs fall apart in submission. My desire for him overtakes me. I need him inside me, and I need it now. I don’t care if it hurts at first.
“Take me, Orson,” I whimper, grabbing his strong waist and pulling him close. “I’m yours.”
He groans strong and deep and presses the tip of his cock against my hole. I draw a deep breath, preparing myself for what comes next.
“You’re so wet, princess,” he growls.
“And you’re so hard.”
His green eyes pierce through me, as if to touch my soul. “All for you, angel. All for you. Now take this cock.”
A whirlwind of sensations tears through me as he penetrates me.
His massive girth spreads me, and a sting of pain causes me to cry out. But he pushes farther, deeper, taking what he wants. Me.
And it’s just like he said: An overwhelming wave of pleasure takes over.
My jaw drops, but my voice catches in my throat. His lips grace my neck as he showers me with kisses. My walls stretch around every one of his inches as he gives them to me. It’s like I’m a piece of clay and he’s molding me to his fit.
“Christ, angel, you’re even tighter than I’d imagined.” He thrusts, and I cry out, but he’s moving slower and gentler than it was at the store. And that’s when he was just fucking my thighs. “You feel so good I can hardly take it. I already want to come and we’ve barely gotten started.”
His words electrify me, sending shivers through my body and causing my thighs to tremble.
He’s inside me. I’m not a virgin anymore.
“It’s okay, Orson,” I whisper. “It feels so good…”
My pussy stretches again as his cock flexes inside me. He growls deep, and the muscles in his jaw clench down. He shakes his head.
“I can’t hold out, angel. I’m gonna come!”
The shock of him pulling out is a massive loss. But I don’t even have time to process it.
I look down as he strokes himself, balls to tip, and sprays rope after rope of cum all over my tummy and tits. It’s like thick white paint fountaining out of his swollen tip, landing everywhere.
“Oh my God…”
“You sexy little brat,” he grunts, every muscle in his body twitching as he unloads. I watch in awe as I swell with pride.
That’s for me. I made him do that.
I may not know much about sex, but Trish is always talking about how guys basically just pass out after coming. So I reach out to cradle Orson as he lies down on top of me.