o absolutely pummel her pussy from behind, digging the fingers of one hand into her hip and the other into her shoulder.
“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”
“Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “Ride this fucking cock, babygirl. Ride it until you can’t fucking take it anymore…”
She braced herself against her headboard as I ramped up the pressure, hilting myself over and over against her thick hips until she began to shiver against me.
“Oh god, I’m coming, I’m coming…”
I started fucking her harder now, feeling her entire body whiplash against me with pleasure until she was an incoherent, babbling mess… but one still wrapped around my fierce cock.
This was one of the few things I derived pleasure from anymore. I’d grown to accept that I was pretty much just going through the motions of my life at this point, at least for the next few years. But when the Carlyle Fortune was mine and I was free to do whatever I wanted…
I’d sucked it up for eight years and learned some valuable life skills along the way – along with a nice fat stack of change that sat in my bank account, just as a soft back-up plan.
But it was nice to know that, despite how stale and robotic the sweet art of hardcore fucking had grown, I could still derive some pleasure from watching and feeling a woman reduced to convulsions against my body.
She held herself taut as I felt her body undergo a nice long string of shuddering orgasms. Groaning with eyes tightly shut and her lips wide open, I watched the young woman ride out every last drop of pleasure until her strength left her wobbly limbs.
Satisfied that she was done, I kicked things up to the highest notch, intent of taking my own one-way ticket to Climax Junction. It was time that I got my own quick fix of brain chemicals.
After all, I’m a gentleman; ladies always come first.
With a few last bucks against her hips, digging into her so deeply that I knew the marks would be there days later, I let loose a great, throbbing burst of milky-white release. Neatly caught within the condom, I roared with passion and emptied my great, big balls deep inside her exhausted body.
Just once, I’d love it raw, I thought to myself.
But I played it safe every time, and I trusted nobody else… especially not during sex.
A string of heavy pants of air later, I tugged my cock free of her slickened, satisfied chasm.
“Oh, that was so good,” she murmured, slumping down to the mess of sheets and covers beneath us. “You’re so fucking hot in bed…”
I almost chuckled when I noticed her roll onto her back to make room for me. Of course, I wasn’t sticking around.
Instead, I stepped up, wandering to her adjacent bathroom to drop the condom down the drain. After flushing the toilet, I briefly showered, drying myself quickly and leaving the damp towel on the counter.
To her apparent confusion when I stepped back into the room, I didn’t dive into bed to discuss our feelings. Instead, I merely began to tug on my boxer briefs… followed by my folded slacks and my button-up, which I was now deftly clasping back together up my chest.
“Wait, where are you going?” My latest lay asked, glancing up at me sadly. The woman had a distinct layer of But what about the cuddling? plastered all over her face.
Sliding my watch around my wrist, I took a quick glance at the time. I could still make it.
“Banquet.”
She leaned up from the bed, confused. “You’ve got a banquet to go to? How awesome is that? Can I come?”
Before I had a chance to answer, she was leaping up out of the bed, diving into her overflowing closet to rummage up something. It was almost endearing, maybe, how this latest conquest clumsily tried to include herself.
“No,” I answered, cutting her off as I slipped on my shoes and tied the laces. “I’m afraid it’s an exclusive thing… and besides. This was fun and all, but you’re definitely not accompanying me to a banquet. You’re not the right material for that.”
The girl’s jaw dropped. “You’re a real asshole.”
“You knew what you were getting into,” I smiled sardonically as I slipped on my blazer. “But that’s okay. This was fun. I’d say I’d call you sometime, but… you know.”
With eyes full of venom, she quickly tugged around in her closet for a shirt and a pair of panties. I wound up being the quicker dresser, and I was already diving into my shoes and closing the door behind myself as she prepared to slap the shit out of me.
I heard the door rip open, but I was already descending the stairs and around the corner.
“Dammit, Dalton!”
I grinned to myself. My latest lay apparently didn’t want to make a half-naked scene in her apartment complex. Even if she tossed on a pair of jeans, my power-march was going to keep me out of sight all the way to my car.
It was only when I kicked on the ignition and glanced at the time that the warning bell in my head finally went off. I looked back at my Rolex. I’d failed to notice that it had stopped earlier, roughly forty minutes ago… Goddamned old world technology. I must have forgotten to wind it.
Aw, shit. I’m gonna be late after all.
Arrogant Brit
Chapter 2
We’re never really told upfront what these banquets are actually for. The only things I knew about this particular event were the following: (A) it was a late evening affair, (B) the event was going to fill the room with a whole bunch of marines, and (C) apparently it was sort of a big deal.
That’s why I was plenty surprised to find out that they had only put twelve of us on the payroll for the shift. I’d expected something kind of small, given that server count. Most of our banquets were under a hundred people. Our usual ratio was one server to every ten guests, waiting on them hand and foot.
But this event seated over four hundred misogynistic Marines, half of them lecherously watching our asses as we strolled around.
Oh boy, did they love keeping us busy.
We were divided up to take roughly thirty-two Marines apiece, seated in groups of eight at large round tables. They’d specifically requested female servers, which hadn’t struck me as anything I’d necessarily label a good omen.
But, you know, whatever. It’s a gig. Another couple of hours’ pay in my back pocket, although I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the cleanup phase. I wasn’t expecting to get out of here until midnight.
Not like I have a life, anyway.
At least it took some stress off of me about visiting my Mom. She had met this guy something like half a year ago, and they’d really hit it off. I’d spoken to him over the phone awkwardly a few times, but this was the big one. This was the part where I had to go physically meet him, him and his son.
I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that. Moving into the city for school had successfully put an hour between us, and I’d been enjoying the degree of separation.
I mean I had lunch with her all the time.
Well, every two or three weeks.
Did I say weeks? I meant months.
Point is, I liked not having her stress over every facet of my day-to-day life, or following me around the house and venting about the most inane shit I could fathom.
Living on my own had been stressful and terrifying in its own right, but it seriously helped that I lucked out with the best roommate in the world – my rich bitch (I say that affectionately) best friend, Natalie. Her parents had put her up in a high-rise condominium apartment that gave her a stunning look over the river, under the condition that she not live alone. Natalie, through virtue of being my friend since late junior high, offered it to me first.
Reluctantly, I said yes. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the arrangement and didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness, so I spent a lot of my free time keeping the place spic and span from top to bottom.
In fact, that’s pretty much what I’d spent my morning doing while she was out trying on new clothes and shopping with her rich friends. There was a distinct parallel t
o the way my work life lived… always getting to see that world, but never interact with it.
Sure, I lived in a nice apartment with a great friend who came from a super wealthy family… but none of that really belonged to me. It just wasn’t my place in the grand scheme of things.
While I raced around to accommodate my guests, I started to grow flustered. The Marines were running me completely ragged, although I couldn’t fault very many of their requests… it seemed like they were just particularly needy.
From the start, I noticed that there was a conspicuous missing person from one of my tables. As I filled a few glasses of water at their side, I snuck a peak at the tri-fold placeholder on the table:
LCpl. Dalton Carlyle, 184th Steel Division.
“Lieutenant Corporal Carlyle should be joining us shortly,” the disgruntled leader of this table’s cozy little wolf pack told me. “He appears to be running late.”
“Maybe a little bit,” I replied, topping off his glass with the most professional grin I could muster. “Your man’s already twenty minutes behind.” I expanded my attention to the rest of the table. “Your salads will be out shortly. Does anybody need anything else?”
“No, ma’am.”
“No, thank you.”
“Negative.”
“Very well then,” I nodded politely, scampering off to fill up other water glasses with one hand, and sweet teas with the others.
I’d lucked out with most of my Marines. There were a couple of randy types, checking me out or watching me as I strolled away, but nobody had openly engaged me in harassing dialogue.
Even with that false sense of security…
I really should have seen it coming.
It was while I was handing out salads that he strolled in, his suit slightly rumpled and a bounce in his step. The late Marine looked startlingly handsome, with a broad build and strong jawline. Other tables paused to watch as he confidently sauntered towards my area, taking his seat nearby with a chirpy smile.