The Billionaire's Secret Love Child(22)

They made it in through the front door and into the foyer before Greg turned to her and was kissing her. She let him, placing her hands on his chest, and his strong hands found her hips. He tasted of the wine they had drunk at dinner, and of the gum which he had been chewing since. She parted her lips to him, and their tongues met and danced briefly together, and then he was breaking the kiss, and Dana found herself disappointed. The disappointment didn’t last long. Greg moved one hand up, fingers trailing over her dress along her stomach, up over a breast until he reached her skin. Then those fingers curled into the front of her dress and pulled, forcing the material down, and freeing both of her breasts. She wore no bra, the dress wouldn’t allow it, and Greg bent, and his lips were on one of her rosebud nipples, and she felt it harden against his tongue.

“Oh,” she said, a long moan as he sucked on her nipple. His hand found her other breast, fingers pinching and rolling the nipple there. She reached for the back of his head, fingers sliding through the short curling hair there. “Bed,” she groaned.

“No,” he said, straightening and looking at her. The front door stood open behind him, and he was framed in silver moonlight. Behind her was a grand staircase, leading up to the second floor. The ground here was hard; it looked as though it might be polished marble, and Dana almost balked when he commanded her. “On your knees,” he said.

But she didn’t resist him. She knelt down, her bare knees going to the hard floor. She reached for his fly, knowing what he wanted, but he slapped her hands softly away. “With your mouth,” he said after he used one practiced hand to unbutton his fly.

Dana leaned forward, her large breasts heaving in the dim light, the breeze coming in through the door causing her arms and chest to erupt in goosebumps. Her lips brushed against the fly of his jeans, and then she curled them back and used her teeth to take his zipper and tug it down. She reached up again, but he grabbed her by the back of the hair and pulled her away.

“Don’t touch my cock with anything but your mouth or your *, do you understand?”

Dana nodded. She looked up at the man as he reached down and pulled his cock out through his open fly. His member was massive, throbbing in the air, red and angry with veins running along it.

Greg still had a hold of her brown hair, and he tugged her close. The bulbous head of his cock pressed against her cheek. He pulled her into a better position, and it pushed against her lips. He was pulling her hair so hard it hurt, and she felt her eyes water. She didn’t want him to stop. She opened her mouth, intending to tease him, intending to take him slowly into her wet oral orifice, but the rich man had other ideas. She knew he wasn’t a man used to waiting; she knew he was the kind of man who would always get his way. He was rich, a self-made billionaire, and he was going to f*ck her mouth.

He held her head still with one hand and thrust his hips forward. His cock was buried in her mouth, pushing against the back of her throat. She gagged, mascara ran down her cheeks. His balls slapped against her chin, and then he was pulling out of her mouth. Before he fell fully away from her lips, he thrust forward again. He was using her, f*cking her mouth roughly, the way a man who couldn’t contain himself would f*ck a *. She slobbered and cried and wanted it. He was using her, Dana, the vanilla sex girl who owned a sex shop, who was always on the bottom, who always spit and never swallowed. He f*cked her mouth, and she loved it.

She thought he would finish that way, thrusting in and out of her mouth, feeling her pillowy lips on the sides of his massive penis. But then he pulled away from her, a long string of saliva connecting them for a minute, the spit stretching from her bottom lip to the head of his cock, which bobbed once more in the air. He was still gripping her by the hair, and he lifted her up, so she was standing. He kissed her, her wet mouth, slick with her spit and his own precum, their tongues playing in the mess together.

And then he was pushing her backwards, towards the staircase, and she thought he would take her up it, to his bedroom, but he didn’t do that. He turned her around just as her heels came into contact with the bottom stair, and then he pushed her over. She went to her knees on the third step, and he knelt on the second.

Her * was wet, slick, yearning for his cock. He pushed her dress up roughly and pulled her panties away with such force that the small thong ripped. He tossed it to the side and grabbed her ass. She felt his hard cock against her slit, and she reached down between her legs, so she could guide him into her. As soon as her fingers brushed the skin of his cock, however, he reached forward and grabbed her hair, tugging her head back so violently and painfully that she screamed out.

“I said don’t touch my cock with your hands, you slut,” he whispered, and she nodded as best as she could since he was still holding her hair. She moaned and whimpered, and he let go of her hair. He reached down, taking his dick, wet with her spit, and he pushed himself into her.

He filled her up, his massive cock pushing into her tight wet snatch. She groaned, moaned, buried her face into the carpeted stair. He pounded her, no desire to be nice or sweet or take it slow. His hands were everywhere, strong fingers gripping her ass as it slapped against his pelvis, and then he had her hair again, and then he was pushing forward to grope at her tits.

She came quickly, the young girl screaming out as an orgasm rocked her, wet warmth spreading from her loins to the rest of her body as her * walls tightened and contracted against his cock. And still he f*cked her.