Page 32

S arah

I’m modeling underwear for Big Boyd.

I’m still a little overwhelmed by it all, but I’m getting used to it. Getting used to what it means to be his . Being able to walk into a store and try on anything I want. Having my own personal dressing room and an attendant, ready to cater to all of my needs.

Except I think Boyd is the one who is needy right now.

I see the way he’s squirming on the couch.

See the hardness pressing against his pants.

My body is reacting to it, too. I’m not sure what they do with the underwear people try on and don’t buy, but I don’t think anyone would want the ones I’ve tried on.

I’m leaving a damp spot on every single pair of panties.

“Last one,” Boyd announces, narrowing his eyes and shifting on the couch as I walk closer. “Unless you want to pick out some more to model for me.”

“I think I’ve got enough,” I sigh, turning to show him my ass before I walk back to the table.

I remove the bra first and place it on the table next to the others. When my fingers move to the waistband of the panties, Boyd stands up from the couch. I watch him in the mirror as he walks behind me, pushing my hands away.

“I’ll help you take these off,” he says, putting his hands on my hips.

Boyd’s rough, callused fingers dig into my skin as he slides my panties down.

I gasp when I feel them peeled away from the wetness between my thighs.

Boyd traces his way down the back of my thighs, and I lift each foot so he can remove the panties.

His lips press against the back of my thigh as he kisses his way back up, but he doesn’t stand.

He puts a hand on my back, pushes me forward against the table, and I feel his breath on my folds.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I whimper.

“Giving you a little reward for putting on such a good show,” he murmurs, his tongue darting out and licking my entrance.

“Boyd, no,” I protest weakly, slapping back at him with no real force. “Everyone will hear.”

“Who gives a fuck?” His tongue moves to my clit before he continues. “You’re mine, Sarah. Any time, any place.”

I brace my hands on the table as Boyd’s tongue makes circles around my clit. I want to protest. Tell him to stop. But I can’t. His tongue feels too good. I whimper, groan, and push back against him, eager for more of his tongue after he works me into a frenzy.

“Oh, damn, Boyd,” I moan, gasping for my next breath. “This is so wrong. Doing this in public…”

But Boyd doesn’t relent. His tongue keeps moving with maddening precision.

Circling. Flicking. Caressing my clit, folds, and pushing into my entrance.

That’s enough to make my legs tremble until they almost give out.

I fall forward against the table, my arms getting weaker with every jolt of pleasure that radiates from my core.

He’s relentless, moving his tongue with so much speed it makes me forget where I am.

That we’re in a boutique. That the woman who brought me the underwear I picked out could return at any moment and hear everything, even if the door is locked.

That other customers could hear the noise coming from this dressing room and know exactly what is going on.

His tongue slithers to my clit and stays there while his fingers move to my folds, stroking them gently while I quiver. He knows exactly where to touch—and touching isn’t all he’s doing. A finger parts my folds and rubs my pussy before he pushes into me.

My breathing is getting heavier when he pushes deeper and starts moving his finger, curling it so that it hits the spot inside me that makes my entire body jerk. Heat pools in my core, building with every flick of his tongue. He pulls it away and his finger moves faster.

“You should see yourself,” he murmurs, his voice low with a hint of possessiveness. “Bent over this table. Trembling for me like a good girl. I think you need more than just my finger and tongue, don’t you?”

I try to answer, but the words catch in my throat as his finger curls again. My nails dig into the table, and I shudder, then get a stinging slap on my ass.

“Ow!” I squeal, clenching on his finger as he catches me by surprise.

“Answer me,” he demands.

“Please,” I whisper, barely able to find my voice as his finger continues moving. “Boyd, this is going to make me…”

He presses his mouth against me harder, sucking gently as his finger moves faster. His tongue presses against my clit and the sensitive bundle of nerves ignite again. The pleasure surges through my body until I can’t stand it anymore.

“Permission!” I squeal. “Permission to come, Boyd!”

“Permission granted,” he chuckles, his laugh vibrating inside me before I feel his tongue again.

The tension inside me snaps and I unravel with an orgasm that rocks me hard. I moan and writhe against the table as the waves of pleasure ripple through me like a current. I can’t think. Can’t move. All I can do is feel him everywhere as my body shakes with bliss.

Boyd keeps licking, sucking, and driving his finger into me until the orgasm subsides.

Then he stands and I know what is coming before I hear his belt.

There’s no reason to protest. No reason to fight it.

If Boyd wants me, he’ll have me, even here, bent over a table in the dressing room of a fancy boutique I’m still not sure I could pronounce, despite hearing it out loud when we arrived.

My legs are trembling. Boyd steadies me, one hand on my hip, the other gripping his cock. He rubs the head against my wet folds and immediately pushes in. I gasp and push back, welcoming him as he hilts himself inside me.

“You feel so fucking good, Sarah,” he rasps, the hand on my hip moving my shoulder as he settles into position. “You don’t have to ask permission this time. I’ll be disappointed if you don’t come multiple times, considering how hard I’m about to fuck you.”

“Boyd…” I groan, whimpering as he starts to move inside me.

“This is your fault,” he says playfully, leaning forward and kissing my back.

“Because I gave you a good show?” I mewl.

“Because you’re you ,” he answers.

The first few thrusts are gentle, but then they start taking my breath away every time he goes deep.

The table rocks forward and backwards, the wood creaking beneath me.

I don’t think it can take much, especially considering how much Boyd is speeding up, but I can’t focus on that.

Furniture. Doors. Stairs. Me . Nothing is safe from Big Boyd.

I might be the only thing he hasn’t figure out how to break—yet.

“Oh, fuck, oh, sweet mercy,” I mutter, his thick length hammering my tightness. “I’m about to come!”

I don’t have to tell him. His needy thrusts and the way his cock throbs inside me confirm that he feels it.

The orgasm tears through my body and I struggle not to scream.

I’m too noisy for these thin walls, but there’s no way I can suppress everything.

The whimpers. The moans. The loud squeals that are basically screams with my teeth clenched.

“Mine, all fucking mine,” he snarls, driving his dick into me until another orgasm make me clench. “That’s it, show me you’re mine. Every time you come, it’s another promise that you are.”

“Boyd!” I cry out, still shaking from the orgasm as another one hits.

I feel the table buckle beneath me, but Boyd’s grip tightens on my shoulder. His other hand digs into my waist, keeping me suspended in the air as the table crunches and gives out. Boyd keeps me safe, my toes barely scraping the floor as he pounds his length into me.

“You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you,” he warns.

I brace my hands against the mirror, finally looking at my reflection and the determined face behind me. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are wide and wild. I see the emerald-gold flicker with what is coming, and I shudder with another searing orgasm as he pulsates inside me.

“Oh, fuck!” Boyd roars, the pulsations turning into hard throbs as drives himself deep and erupts, filling my pussy with cum while my quivering walls milk him dry.

Our pleasure subsides, but Boyd doesn’t release his grip. He pulls out of me gently, then gathers me in his arms, carrying me to the couch before he puts me down. I sink into the cushions, feeling like I would pass out if I let my eyes flutter closed again.

“You can relax for a few minutes,” he says, handing me the glass of water, which I gladly accept. He zips up his pants before walking over to the rubble, gathering the underwear I tried on. “I’ll get some replacements for these and have everything packed up for you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, sipping the water.

Boyd leaves me alone in the dressing room and I take some time to catch my breath while I sip the water.

Once I’ve had time to recover, I get dressed on shaky legs, my hands trembling with aftershocks with every movement.

I glance at my reflection and sigh. I definitely look like I just got fucked in a dressing room.

Red face. Pupils dilated. Messy hair. I make sure I’m presentable before I step out of the dressing room, unable to look anyone in the eye as I pass them.

Boyd is waiting at the front of the store, holding multiple bags. Way too many bags for what I picked out.

“Um…” I tilt my head slightly.

“You didn’t specify which color you liked, so I got them in every color.” He shrugs. “You don’t have to wear the ones you don’t like.”

“Boyd!” I shake my head. “It was only supposed to be five!”

“Don’t argue. Let’s go,” he growls, pushing the door open. “There’s still plenty of shopping to do.”

“What do you mean?” I ask apprehensively as I walk past him.

“I’m taking you on a date tonight. A real one. Let’s find you something to wear,” he says, letting the door close as he steps outside.

“You’re supposed to buy me dinner before you take advantage of me,” I tease, looking back and dodging his hand when he tries to swat my ass.

“Before, after… during,” he mutters. “All the same to me.”

I stand on the curb and puff my vape while Boyd puts the bags away. A date. A real one. I’m not sure what that means, exactly. It’s hard to imagine Boyd going on dates. Then again, I haven’t been on many, either. I’m sure an evening with Big Boyd will be a lot better than any of those.

Thankfully, Boyd doesn’t do more than touch during the rest of our shopping. As tempting as it is, I can’t bring myself to go into Christian Louboutin, until Boyd practically drags me through the front door. I can’t help peeking at a sticker, but Boyd swats my hand away as a warning.

By the time we leave the shopping pavilion, the clothes he’s bought me are easily more expensive than my entire wardrobe back home.

“So, where are you taking me tonight?” I ask curiously, looking over at Boyd.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. “I’m going to drop you off at Salvalagio and I’ll pick you up at seven. Try not to be late this time.”

“I won’t be late,” I laugh, still a little terrified of being woken up by him if I am. I don’t think we’ll make it to our date if that happens. “I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby.”

Another adventure with Big Mafia Boyd.

And I get to spend the entire day with him tomorrow, too.