The Billionaire’s Wayward Virgin Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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I had no idea how many spanks Christian had given me, but my screams had subsided into ambiguous little sobs when he suddenly brought his hand down on my pussy and kept it there, instead of raising it again.

My fingers clutched convulsively at the backs of my thighs.

“It’s time, Rebel,” Christian said.

The words seemed to come from a million miles away, and at first they made no sense. Christian waited. His fingers moved between my thighs, on the place he had punished so thoroughly, squeezing very gently so that I whimpered softly. Somewhere a purely instinctual part of me, a kind of thought process that came straight from my body, understood that whimper as a plea I couldn’t imagine ever speaking aloud.

It’s time. Rebel.

He had called me that a few moments before, hadn’t he? Had this billionaire… this arrogant, gorgeous, wealthy man… the man who had just delivered the first real punishment of my young life… had he just given me a nickname?

It’s time.

“Time for what?” I asked in a whisper. My voice came out in a croak. I swallowed hard at the sound of it, the way it reflected just how deeply Christian’s shameful training had affected me.

He pulled his hand away. I watched him raise it and bring it down sharply, his movements seeming to happen in slow motion in the picture window. The sound, and the sting. I yelped.

He lifted his right hand again.

“Sir!” I cried. “Time for what, sir?”

The hand came down softly, held my bare pussy gently.

“Time to decide, Leah,” he said. “If you ask me to be your sponsor, I’m going to fuck you, just the way you need so very badly despite all your defiance—or more likely because of it.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned, as he added his fingertips’ soft rubbing on the hood of my engorged clit for emphasis.

“But that will also mean accepting my rules, and giving me control of your apartment so I can come and go as I please.”

Come… and go… The shred of rationality in my head could measure Christian’s power over me by the images the words conjured up in my mind’s eye—those simple, basic words: come… go… come and go…

I need to come so bad… so, so bad…

I need him to come and go… there, where he has his hand, as if he owns my pussy and my bottom…

Because he did own them, didn’t he? He owned all of me, had spent good money to acquire all of me, but he had dressed my pussy and my bottom specially, in my first lacy lingerie, so that he could use me properly.

I had closed my eyes, but a new sound made them open again, wide and staring, to see that Christian’s left hand had gone to his fly, and the noise had come from him pulling it down, so that…

“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Oh, please.”

I had never seen one in person, but the billionaire who had just offered to keep me in comfort in exchange for full rights over my body held his rigid penis in his hand in the reflection as if he deflowered wayward young women every day. He stroked it slowly up and down, his attention focused on my backside. He took his right hand away from my pussy, drawing an involuntary sigh of frustrated need from my chest. I saw a smile creep onto his lips as if in response to the humiliating noise—to the unmistakable evidence that he had not lied, when he had told me he knew what I needed.

From a million miles away, it felt like, I watched Christian move around, to stand directly behind me. He bent his knees a little. His right hand descended again, to rest on my back, just above my tailbone. I heard myself let out a little puppy whimper, and then it became a moan as I felt the firm softness of the tip of my sponsor’s cock against the opening in me that nature had made… fashioned for a man like him to invade and to fuck, for his enjoyment.

I bit my lip as my hips jerked involuntarily—not away, as I would have begged them to do if I had retained any willpower at all, but back and up, toward the man who had punished me and taught me my lesson for hesitating to obey his demands. Such a little thing… to tell him about my underwear… that had started it all. I had refused to tell him about my panties, there in the elegant bar, and now here I lay over the back of my couch with a spanked bottom and a spanked pussy, and an enormous, hard penis ready to claim my virginity.

In the reflection, Christian’s eyes rose to mine, and I gasped at the utter transparency of his expression’s meaning. Down below, I felt him rub the head of his manhood up and down gently, just parting the petals of my inner lips. For the first time in long moments I remembered that my own hands remained on my thighs, spreading myself so that my keeper could play with me in that obscene, teasing way. His face made me recall that degradation, because his face said, “I can do this for as long as you need me to, so that you have time to understand just how badly you need this cock.”


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