Page 168 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
Panic, sharp and unexpected, claws at my throat. I’ve never… not ever…
If any of my past boyfriends had even suggested that, I would have told them exactly where they could shove it. Literally.
This feels… incredibly vulnerable. Exposed in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“Christopher…” I start, my voice shaky.
“Shh,” he murmurs, noticing my sudden tension.
He brings the plug closer, letting me see it. It’s smaller than I initially thought, sleek and non-threatening, almost elegant.
“Just something I thought… we might explore. Together.” He brushes a kiss across my lips. “Something new. But only if you want to, Lucy. Only if you trust me. Tell me no, and it disappears.”
I look into his eyes. No pressure. No demand. Just… offering. An exploration, together.
And beneath the initial shock, beneath the mortification… there’s that absolute trust again.
With him? Maybe… maybe I could. Maybe Iwantto, just because it’s him asking, him leading.
“I trust you,” I whisper, the words feeling huge. I take a shaky breath. “Okay. Yes. Okay.”
His eyes flare with possessive heat, and pride even, but his touch remains incredibly gentle as he reaches for the lube on the nightstand.
He places the hand towel beneath my butt on the bed, and prepares me slowly, carefully, murmuring reassurances, his fingers working magic until I’m pliant, open.
The insertion is… strange. I flinch as the plug enters. It’s a feeling of fullness, slight pressure, and intense vulnerability. Not painful. Just… intenselythere.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I manage, my voice breathless. “Better than okay, actually. Just… different.”
Definitely different.
He smiles, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “Good.” Then, he reaches for the silk scarf. “Now for part two.”
He carefully ties the blindfold around my eyes, plunging me into darkness, heightening every other sense.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Blindfoldedandplugged?
This is officially the craziest, most vulnerable thing I have ever done.
But the trust holds. It’s Christopher.
I lie there, senses on high alert, listening to the sounds around me. The rustle of sheets. His soft breathing.
Then, the distinctive crackle as he rips open a condom packet. The faint slide as he sheathes his cock.
My pussy clenches involuntarily, already slick with anticipation, the pressure of the plug inside me aconstant, throbbing reminder of my vulnerability, my surrender.
Then his hands are on my thighs, positioning me, spreading me open. I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my entrance. Hot. Hard. Huge.
He enters me slowly, deliberately, filling me inch by agonizing inch. I gasp as my body stretches to accommodate both him and the plug. It’s… impossibly full. Tight. Almost overwhelmingly intense.
“Are you okay?” he asks again.
“I am,” I tell him. “It feels... intense.”
Finally he plunges the last little bit, and I flinch.
