chapter three TUTGBBMCSMB
The Unfeasibly Tall Greek Billionaire's Blackmailed Martyr-Complex Secretary Mistress Bride
You'll want to read chapter one and chapter two
Before you read my entry, a warning: I'm determined to win as many points as possible based on Tumperkin's system.
one point for every time:
- Molly indulges her martyr complex
- Nico mentions his belief that Molly's a whore
- Nico cuts Molly off mid-sentence
- You make a reference to the global hummus industry
ten points for every time you use one of the following phrases
- To her consternation, Molly's nipples hardened
- What was the point? Nico never believed her!
- He came, roaring his pleasure
Here are my instructions from the TUTGBBMCSMB Home Office:
Chapter three-the squicky first-sex chapter: be liberal with the cliches; should (if possible) include one of those weird internal hymens that romance heroines have.
You see? Not a lot of space for that plot schmlot stuff (I don't know how Carolyn Jean managed to squeeze in the plight of those orphans and that toothless customs guard. The woman has talent). As God is My Witness, I'm going to win that cheesy novel from Tumperkin.
Oh and I have had to edit. I thought I had everything but on rereading I see I'd forgotten "he gritted" and "he spat" so the piece wasn't up to my personal standards.
The tall Greek billionaire filled the entrance to the bathroom.
“A fast shower. Miss Ordinary.” His dark eyes greedily feasted on her flustered attempts to cover her naked dripping body with her hands. “You’ve been in here for at least fifteen minutes. We have work ahead of us. The global hummus industry never rests.”
She hung her head in shame. He was right. She had wastefully used so many gallons of hot water—but only because she wanted to look her very best for their charade. What was the point of explaining? Nico never believed her!
“Mr. Lefkas. I’m sorry if—“
“Work,” he repeated in a gruff, throbbing voice, “But also some play, I think.”
He boldly stepped toward her. She suddenly recalled that she stood, naked, streaming with water. The heated desire in his dark eyes awakened her own inexplicable excitement she’d never felt before she’d touched what weren't bags of talcum powder in the limo. To her consternation, her nipples hardened again. She quickly bent to retrieve the towel but he was there first, snatching it away with a low chuckle.
“No need to hide your body made for pleasure,” he gritted out. “And you must know it, the way you dress and flaunt yourself at work.”
“I?” she cried, stung. But perhaps she had been trying too hard to appear feminine and she should return to wearing the high collared shirts she’d inherited from her grandmother. “I have always tried to look like a profession—“
“A professional yes, but in which field," he spat. "I’d say in one of the oldest professions and that is not the global hummus industry, my dear.” His harsh laughter filled her with chagrin. She felt guilty for acts she’d never even thought of committing. Oh, but his rumbling chuckle made her imagine so many unspeakable acts. To her consternation, her nipples hardened.
He towered over her. “I have seen other captains of the global hummus industry look at you with lust. How many of them have you had?” he growled.
“Never. I never—“ she whispered but at that instant his mouth swooped down, crushing her lips with cruel rapaciousness. She gave up telling him that she never had a man, had never known true desire until she worked for him. What was the point of telling him the truth? Nico never believed her!
He seized her with hands roughed by years of work in the global hummus industry. Nico had started at the bottom, she recalled as he kneaded the flesh of her bottom. He’d begun life as a garbanzo bean sorter before rising to his dizzying heights as a captain--nay, admiral--of the global hummus industry. He was ruthless and cruel and she was in his grips now, literally. To her consternation her nipples hardened as he rolled one nubbin, then the other, between thumb and forefinger, as if testing the quality of two satisfactory chickpeas.
He moved back to yank off his own clothes, buttons popping and pinging as they hit the polished marble floor. Within seconds he stood before her, naked and unfeasibly magnificent.
She gulped at the sight of his tall broad iron-hard masculinity. “Please,” she pleaded. “Be gentle with—“
“Touch me,” he grated.
She tentatively stroked the rock hard silky softness of his love rod.
“More,” he gasped.
She grasped his proud purple-helmeted love warrior and watched as roaring, he came, filling her hand with love-cream.
A moment later, he swept her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than one of the many sacks of chick peas he’d carried on his broad shoulders. He strode to the palatial bedroom with windows that opened onto sweeping vistas, breathtaking views of garbanzo trees, the heart of the global hummus industry.
Nico tossed her onto the round bed. “Look at me!” he barked. She could see him in the mirrored ceiling and in the mirror headboard that surrounded the bed. “Into my eyes,” he rasped.
She stared into the dark pools as between her legs, something hard, much harder and larger than bags of talcum powder, prodded at her moist love nest.
“You are so tight,” he panted as, inch by inch, he sheathed himself in her slick love chunnel. Then he encountered the barrier of her maidenhood. His eyes darkened. “You slut! You should have told me you were a virgin!”
“I tried, Nico, but you don’t—“
“And now. Now! It’s too late,” he snarled as he pushed home. Two hard thrusts later, the excruciating pain filling Molly's love sheathe dissolved into pleasure. She clung to him in rapturous ecstasy. The stars echoed in her heart and her head as he pumped and she banged against a mirror. She lay on broken glass and held him tight as, roaring, he came.
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