A Busty Bride for the Billionaire (Contemporary Erotic Romance) (6 page)

“That... that was my mom's name, too.”

And with that, it all became suddenly, shockingly clear.

He talked for another few minutes. Not a lot, but enough.

Enough to get the picture that he was frankly terrified of girls, and of himself.

Enough to see that he could erect a wall of ice around his fear, which would for some reason make girls want to throw themselves against it… but that, in the moments of weakness after a disappointed sigh or an orgasm, it would melt away – leaving him hopelessly exposed, and running away as his only option.

And enough to see that, in the whole span of his life since his mother had died while he was still an infant, he had never known a touch of unconditioned tenderness, nor known how to begin to ask for an even partial acceptance.

And so I held him to me, as he settled into what was perhaps the first silence in his life which wasn't there to hide something.

He didn't fall asleep, but I think he rested, in a way he possibly never had before.

I don't know how long we stayed like that. All I knew is that I had never felt quite this way towards anything before – not even with the class hamster I got to keep over Spring vacation when I was ten, and would cuddle with every night before going to sleep. That made me giggle a little, at the thought of that hamster having grown to 6-foot-5, now that I was eighteen...

Eventually, though, I noticed that he was curled into a somewhat odd position. His head still nestled into the crook of my neck, and his legs were still taking up the bottom half of the bed, under mine – but between that, he had arched his back backwards, so that his butt was sticking out from beneath the sheets.

I reached around and pulled him towards the center of the bed, and he seemed too sedated to even react... until, all of a sudden, he tensed up.

I had pulled his crotch up against my knee... and felt something hard between his legs.

He immediately tried to push himself up and off the bed. But I knew that if I let him go now, all that had just happened would go to waste – and tomorrow, we'd be back to never looking at each other in the eye. And he would be go back to being totally alone.

So I didn't let him go. I wrapped both arms around his head, and kept him there.

Like before, there should have been no way a tiny girl like me could hold him back if he wanted to leave, but something kept him from using force against me.

I started to shush, shush, shush him again, and rocked him back and forth.

Each time I did, though, his hardened crotch pressed up against my knee – and his shoulders would tense up. It clearly disturbed him.

So, without a second thought, I untangled my right arm from around his head, and slid it under the covers, over his ribs and hips, and firmly onto the center of his shorts.

This caused another jolt to run through him, but I gently clutched a handful of his hair with the hand I still had on his head, until he quietened.

Then – slowly, so slowly – I started to slide my hand up and down against his shaft. It was almost as thick as my hand, and no matter how far up or down I went, it didn't seem to end... I guessed I must be feeling his pelvic bone or something, and put it momentarily out of my mind.

Speaking of my mind, I can't quite tell you what I was thinking at this moment. It's clouded with so much of the burning passion I felt later... but at the time, I think I really only thought “this is bothering him, so I'll rub it better, until it stops...”

His breath started to turn into little pants, and I felt it blow stronger and stronger against my chest, and between my breasts. That tickling, tantalizing feeling sent little pinpricks going up and down my spine.

I started squeezing at his shaft, and felt it respond with almost imperceptible little spasms. I reached around to grab his butt, and squeezed that instead, pulling him into my knee, and grinding it against him.

A gust of air escaped him at that, sending a rush through me.

Nothing had ever felt so right than giving him pleasure here. I had never been so certain of what someone else needed, and had never thought I'd want to give it from so deep within my being.

I slid my hand up his back, and then back down again, slipping my middle finger between his cheeks, and rubbing.

He moaned, and when his mouth closed again, it was to nibble at my bosom, where he had been nuzzling for so long.

I untangled my fingers from his hair, and lifted my arm from around his pelvis, putting a little distance between us.

He looked up at me, his eyes holding one part confused disappointment to ten parts utter, helpless trust.

Any doubts I had melted before those perfectly innocent eyes.

“You... want to suck on my breasts, don't you?”

He didn't even have to nod. His eyes just gleamed with an ancient plea.

With my right hand, I pulled my tank top up and over my breasts, bunching it into a thin rope beneath my collarbones. With my left, I guided his face down to me.

He took my nipple into his mouth, after drawing his lips across it, achingly. It had already stiffened – fat and broad – for him.

The moment I felt him wrap his tongue around it, my chest tightened, with a suddenness and force that stopped me breathing. It felt as if my heart had turned into molten gold.

He took my other breast in his hand – the perfect fit. My breasts were my favorite feature: soft, and full, with a generous give when I played with them at night... but never had I felt them held that way. I finally understood what they were made for.

He kneaded my breast, and dug into it gently with his fingertips, and sent goosebumps coursing down my back with the single-mindedness of his attention.

The molten gold in my heart starting to slide into my stomach, kindling a warmth in me that spread downwards.

I clutched desperately at his hair, and moved my hand onto my mound, sliding over the folds of my pussy through my pyjama-shorts a few times, before inevitably rubbing circles over my clit.

He pressed his face between my breasts, squeezing them around his face, and nibbled at my other nipple, before sucking on it hard, letting it spring from his mouth with a popping sound.

Then he started to gnaw at them with a growing ferocity, forcing me onto my back as he pressed his face ever more insistently against me, until he ended up straddling me. His knees were on either side of my hips, and his hands were on each of my shoulders, pulling me up into his mouth just as he pushed me downwards with his lips.

I pulled my leg up, and hooked my big toe around the waistline of his shorts – pulling them over his butt and down his thighs.

His manhood finally sprung free.

It felt as if the world had just stopped spinning.

Nothing could have prepared me for this.

No porn videos watched clandestinely on my smartphone. No amount of times googling “largest penis size possible petite girl”.

It was perfectly, ramrod straight, rising up into the air to bulge ever wider at the end, almost like a baseball bat. Its size had something of a baseball bat quality to it as well, for that matter...

A thick drop of precum shone at the tip of his shaft, a trail of it dripping down it, catching the silver glint of the moonlight entering through the window.

“Ja–... Janice... can I?”

Oh... Oh God. There's... there's just no way... Wait, how did it even get to this point? Why am I lying under my gargantuan lunk of a stepbrother, and why are my breasts glistening with his saliva? Why am I wet for him – so wet I'm rubbing my thighs together, to relieve some of it... Why the heck would I think of losing my virginity to this... callous idiot... this insensitive tool... this... this...

Then my gaze moved back upwards – away from that impossibility sprouting between his legs, and up to his face. His frightened, vulnerable, child-like eyes. His trembling, desperate mouth. The creases of anticipated rejection furrowing his brow.

I felt myself smile, and saw the warmth of it reflected in his eyes.

I felt myself pull his t-shirt up his chest, over his head and the steely arms he lifted in succession to let the last remnant of his clothes slough off him. That left nothing but his tight, textured mass naked above me – covering me like a Cathedral over its congregation.

I felt myself uncross my legs, and work them to either side of his own, my ankles sliding against his bunched calves.

I felt myself nod.

And then, I felt him slide my pyjama-shorts to one side, and press himself against my entrance. It felt as if the head of him covered my entire slit, much wider in circumference than the hole which was supposed to contain it. But slowly, he worked his thumb between us, and teased out my labia, causing me to arch involuntarily upwards, and a gasp to escape me.

I didn't feel him enter me.

All I remember is the bucking rush of my orgasm... and then, as the throes of it faded... I remember the foreign feeling of his apple-sized head inside me.

I had only had my fingers before. One, sometimes two – and, once, the handle of a hairbrush.

Luckily, all the air had been expelled from me in a long, low grunt when I came. If it hadn't, then our parents would have heard me shout, and our lives would have been over.

As it was, I don't understand how they didn't hear the rasping intake of breath which Jonathan drew from me when he pushed himself deeper.

He had his arms wrapped around my torso, and at this point, he lifted me into the air.

My head hung limply back, my hair fanning across my pillow.

My breasts and stomach were pressed against the uncompromising firmness of his pecs and his abs.

My ass was pulled towards him until it would eventually come to rest against his thighs, as he knelt.

He had me effortlessly hanging under him and over the bed, encompassing me wholly, while he took from me an intimate sustenance which no one had ever thought to give him before.

When I couldn't hold my screams back any longer, I found the strength to bite against his shoulder, feeling the taste of his blood in my mouth. The only thing going through my mind was that there was nothing I could do to save myself anymore, and that this was the only thing I could do to save him – from himself, and from the guilt of the pain he was causing me.

Some eternity later, I felt him crush against my cervix, and he pulled back out and then pushed back in – what must have been agonizingly slowly to him, but felt like a piston at full throttle to me.

He might not have actually moved, in fact – just rocked me away and then toward him, while he remained rock-still.

Then he moved his knees back and fell with me – on me – onto the bed. I felt the full weight of him press down on me, all over me, my mouth leaving bite marks across his chest when he heaved back and forth.

I felt his hips grind against mine, my clit leaping to life, a pinprick of pleasure which hurt, like a blessing, even more than the crashing waves of agony around it.

That pinprick became a ray, became a flood of light...

I felt myself coming closer to it...

I felt myself begin to lose my sense of self...

I felt my mind and my body shut down in anticipation of it...

And then it came.

I orgasmed with a power I couldn't contain.