Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 37: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Thirty-Seven

My Master steps over the threshold, carrying me in his arms. My huge white meringue of a dress catches on the handle, and he struggles through the door with me and it together. I giggle, as he makes complex manoeuvres trying to get himself, me and the dress all through the door together.

“Welcome home, Mrs Haswell,” he says.

Smiling, running his hand over the bodice of my wedding-gown, his deep blue eyes are almost glowing. “You look beautiful in this dress, Elizabeth. But on the whole, I think I want to get you out of it.”

Sucking my lips in anticipation, “Yes, um, I think you’re going to have to help me.” The dress is boned, buttoned, laced and cinched in tight.

He looks the dress over from all sides. “Er, yes, I see what you mean. Not so much a dress as a construction. How did you get into it?”

“Francis helped. She did up all the buttons at the back. And the laces.”

He starts at the back, pulling at laces, trying to loosen the bodice. After several unsuccessful minutes, during which I become more and more giggly, he begins to lose patience.

“Think I’m going to need oxy-acetylene kit to get through these.” he mutters, then “Oh to hell with this! Bend over woman. Let your husband at you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Find out what you ‘something blue’ is.”

an Old Romantic

I’m going to make love to you. But right now, I need to fuck you.” His creamy voice is thick with lust, and

a feral passion I would not have credited

my dress over my head, followed by the train. Enwrapped in layers of silk, satin and lace, blinded in my strange white world, I can see nothing of what he is doing. I cannot smell the hot scent of his arousal, but I hear him quite clearly, an affectionate whisper through the filmy layers

now, I have a raging hard-on and a deep need to fuck my wife ‘til she bleats.” As he rummages through layers and depths

blue panties,” he comments. “Makes a change from green. But the

my pussy is warming to the thought of my Master, my husband, ‘fucking me ‘til I bleat.’ I can feel the ‘evidence’, the

the flimsy garment, unlacing first one side and then the other.

of pressure against my warming core, longing for more, my Master’s fingers wander inwards, parting the lips of my pussy, stroking and teasing. Under my silken tent, shrouded in

shall we? Get you coloured up. A nice red

a tease, a promise of what is to come. As soon as I lean back into his hand, to take him inside me, he withdraws,

you behave and spread yourself as

as I can from my prone position. Stretching my legs wide, I open myself as far as I am able,

back and kneel. Instead, he slides slowly down my body, pressing against me as he does so. The rough fabric of his trousers, his belt, the buttons of his formal shirt, all

open mouth against my sex, warm breath wafting over my tender, trembling nub,

rumble of lust and longing. I echo the sound, sighing my shuddering pleasure at the lapping tongue, which probes and

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255