Capturing the Goddess Page 3

  “What’s wrong?” Trevor asked, a small look of concern on his face. I had just become aware the I’d stopped kissing him and must have looked a little frightened.

  "It's too big," I whispered. He laughed and kissed me again.

  “For you my love, it’s the perfect size.” He raised himself up and stood beside the bed and began to unbutton his shirt. I sprang to my knees to face him, furiously kissing him again and clawing at his trousers. His member sprang forth as his boxers sank to the floor and my jaw dropped. It was the biggest penis I'd ever seen. In school, I must have sketched dozens of naked men with penises of all sizes in varying states of arousal, but I'd never seen one this huge. I was able to stack both hands around with inches of shaft leftover topped with a massive head from which a thick, clear sticky fluid dribbled. I instinctively leaned over and lapped up the clear juice and heard Trevor groan with pleasure. I began to lick around the head of his big beautiful cock, and his moans increased.

  "Yes, my little goddess," He moaned. "Your mouth feels so good." Encouraged by his words, I enclosed the entire head in my mouth and began to work my way down his massive shaft, moving my head back and forth, taking in more and more as the tip traveled further and further towards the back of my throat. He entangled his large fingers in my hair, guiding my face closer and closer to the base of his manhood, moaning my name and the word yes.

  Suddenly, without warning, he pushed me down on the bed and parted my legs. He climbed on top of me, and I could feel the tip of his engorgement pressing against the opening between my legs threatening to tear me apart. He looked into my eyes, and I could feel the question burning in his eyes. I drew in a deep breath and nodded once before feeling Trevor Edwards pressing into me slowly. I closed my eyes relishing the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. I felt a tear slowly slide down the side of my face immediately follow by Trevor's lips kissing it away and whispering in my ear.

  "After tonight, no pain, my love, only pleasure." I felt him hit my maidenhead again and withdraw. I was terrified that he would stop himself again as he did at the gallery but instead, Trevor called my name and when I turned to look into his eyes, only inches from mine, he said the three words I'd longed to hear since I first left this townhouse. With a final thrust, he claimed my virginity, my heart, and my soul. As he began to move himself in and out of me rhythmically, I felt the pain give way to waves of pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist and began rocking my hips into his taking more of him inside me with each thrust.

  It wasn't long before I'd taken the fullness of Trevor Edwards and his pace quickened as he began slamming into me stimulating my most sensitive place every his hips crashed into mine. I started moaning again, and I knew what was coming possibly stronger than what I experienced balance atop Trevor's shoulders, leaning against the wall of the gallery.

  "Go ahead and scream as loud as you want, baby," He growled. His voice rumbling in my ear sent me over the edge, and I could feel myself succumbing to the first wave of an earth-shattering climax. Moments later I felt my lover’s entire body clench as he roared, shooting hot ropes of seed into my waiting womb. We rocked and shuddered together for what felt like a blissful eternity, our mouths hungrily exploring each other’s as though we’d never be satisfied.

  When the last surges of titillation subsided, Trevor rolled to the side slowly sliding himself out of me, stimulating aftershocks which cause my whole body to twitch with delight. My entire body was buzzing, but I was exhausted. I had never felt this amazing in my life, but it wasn't only the sex, although if I'd known it would be like this, I might have tried it sooner. But sex wouldn't be like this with anyone else. There was only one for me.

  "Trevor," I said for the first time. He turned his face towards me apparently delighted to hear me say his name. "I love you, too."

  He grinned wickedly before climbing on top of me and kissing me again. I could feel him harden against my thigh. He pressed himself into me again, and this time the sensation was only pleasure. He pressed me close to him, rolled onto his back and suddenly I was on top of him with his strong hands guiding my hips up and down the length of his shaft. I began to set my own rhythm, rising and falling on to him and he began to explore my body with his hands; he cupped my breasts with his hands, gently pinching and caressing my tender pink nipples. He ran his fingers through my hair, before trailing his fingers down my waist and rubbing my clit with his thumb. I could feel my face contort with pleasure and I began to moan.

  “So beautiful,” he groaned before digging his fingers into either side of my hips and slamming me down on his while he experienced his second climax of the evening. I quickly followed, screaming in ecstasy while grinding myself into his hips, catching every rope of hot sticky cum.

  I collapsed on to his chest and slid to his side to nestle myself into the crook of his arm as he caressed my naked body with his fingertips, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of my flesh.

  “So,” I began panting heavily, even more exhausted than before, which I didn’t think was possible. “I guess I’m not getting the nanny job.”

  He smiled and replied, “No, I think not, after the way you behaved in that interview. I’ll have to remember to punish you for speaking to me that way.” He playfully swatted my behind with his hand.

  “Please, do.” I smiled and kissed him on the nose.

  "Actually, I was thinking of a different position for you. If you're interested…"

  “I am.” I purred, sure that he was referring to something with me on all fours, my face buried in a pillow to muffle my screams. To my surprise, he rose from the bed and I watched his chiseled behind and rippled back muscles cross to the door, open it and return with a small silver tray I was sure wasn’t there when we came in, although I was hanging upside down at the time.

  “Chocolate chip waffles?” I inquired. I suddenly realized I was also starving.

  “Not this time.” He wore his signature dimpled grin that left me weak.

  He lifted the lid to reveal a small wooden display, which held the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. It was a four-carat pear-shaped emerald ring, flanked by two one carat emeralds and set in platinum.

  “Is this…” The rest of the sentence got lost in my throat, afraid if I spoke the words it wouldn’t be true.

  "It is if you'll have us." The laughter was gone from his face. He was serious. After a long pause, he continued, "You see, the three emeralds represent…"

  “You and Liam and Eloise.” I sighed, and their sparkling green eyes, I continued to myself, unable to take my eyes off of the ring.

  “You didn’t strike me as a girl who’d want a giant diamond, but if you don’t like it, we could…” How could I not like it? Aside from Trevor being right about me never wanting a diamond engagement ring, this was the single most perfect gift anyone had ever given me; both, the ring and what it symbolized.

  "Yes," I whispered. I felt the hot tears stinging my eyes as he slipped the ring on my finger, a perfect fit. "But how…when?" His mischievous grin returned. This was what he was texting about on the way home. He somehow managed to design and commission a one of a kind ring and have it delivered in mere hours.

  “I would move mountains for my little goddess.” He said while pulling me back into the crook of his arm, where he covered us in a thick duvet and resumed lightly caressing my skin with his fingertips, “And this is only the beginning.”

  THE END

  Also by Lucy Eden

  Melted

  Conquering the Goddess

  Athena

  My very first assignment and I was running late. It was my first real job out of grad school, and I'd worked my ass off to get here.

  One would think that after graduating at the top of my class in undergrad and earning a master's degree by the age of twenty-three, I'd have my pick of job offers. There were only three: content editor for a mommy blog, beat reporter for a celebrity gossip rag and the one I chose, junior features writer
for Capital Exchange magazine, a decades-old finance magazine looking to revamp its image and stay relevant by hiring young journalists. It was quite obvious that I was a token hire, and much wasn't expected of me, but I was determined to work hard and prove them wrong.

  Choosing Capital Exchange wasn't about the money. Frankly, the mommy blog offered me more, but if I wanted to be taken seriously, so home facials and the top ten strollers for twins wasn't the place to start my career.

  I finally reached The Strathmore at precisely ten am, but I still needed time to get to the offices on the 42nd floor which meant I was late. I cursed myself as I dug my driver's license and press credentials out of my messenger bag to show the security detail before being directed to the elevator bank which contained a least a dozen elevators. My head started to swim.

  "Type your floor number on the keypad, and an elevator will open!" called the security guard from the desk. He must have seen my frustration and took pity. I found the keypad, typed in the number forty-two, heard a ding and saw the third elevator on the left open with my intended floor number flashing overhead. I rushed inside, had barely stepped in when the doors slammed shut and zoomed upward. It came to an abrupt stop, and the doors slid open.

  I rushed through the open elevator, through the glass doors reading Winters International Corporation and stopped at a large half-moon shaped desk where a half of a dozen receptionists sat busily fielding calls and typing into keyboards.

  "Hi!" I called, a little more frantically than I hoped. One of them looked up. "I'm…"

  “Athena Anderson.” A stern looking woman in her late fifties called to me. She must have been standing by the desk the entire time, but I hadn’t noticed. “Mr. Winters is expecting you. You’re late.” I glanced at my watch. It read 10:04 am.

  "I know, I'm sorry I just…" the rest of the sentence got lost as I stopped myself. My father was an Army lieutenant general and never had an ounce of tolerance for lateness. There were no excuses, you were either on time, or you weren't. Today, I wasn't.

  She led me down a corridor of glass-walled offices full of people in business attire at desks clicking away at computers or pacing back and forth screaming into earpieces.

  At the end was a pair of large wooden doors. She pushed them open to reveal a massive office. The far wall was floor to ceiling windows. At 45 stories the Strathmore was the tallest building for miles, so the view from the 42nd floor felt like standing in a cloud.

  Grant Winters stood framed in the celestial view of his office window, looking like one of the gods from the myths my father used to tell me at bedtime. He was a tall, imposing figure that looked chiseled from marble. Leaning forward, he was supporting the weight of his massive upper body on his knuckles atop an enormous black mahogany desk. I heard the disembodied buzzing of a voice coming from the telephone on its surface where he focused his attention.

  He briefly glanced at us with a mild look of annoyance, before motioning us inside with two fingers.

  "He'll see you now," the woman said, almost pleasantly as she guided me into the office. I felt a tremor of fear and excitement as I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and stepped forward.

  “Good luck…” she called in a sing-song voice before closing

  Grant

  Because I obviously didn’t have enough shit to do in one day, my PR rep set up with an interview for a bullshit puff piece with Capital Exchange Magazine. It was a decades-old dried up rag, which people kept on their coffee tables to make them seem intelligent but nobody read anymore.

  My team had been working on a multibillion-dollar deal, and the other parties involved were concerned about my private persona or a lack thereof. I didn't spend a lot of time in the public eye. I didn't party every night, fuck models and snort piles of cocaine. I didn't publicize my charitable donations, write "get rich quick" books, or judge a reality tv show. I worked like a fucking dog and expected my professional accomplishments reflect my competence as a business leader, but that's not how it works in today's world.

  So after declining interviews for over a decade, I sold a piece of my soul to Capital Exchange Magazine for public visibility and discounted ad space for our commercial real estate sector.

  I had almost completely forgotten about it when Gwen, my executive secretary opened my office doors accompanied by what could not have been a reporter for the magazine my buddies, and I used to swat flies in business school.

  The mystery girl was a tall, statuesque beauty with the palest skin I’d ever seen. It looked like porcelain. She wore tight black jeans, and a matching t-shirt with a v neck that displayed a hint of the curves of her small, perfect breasts. Her fiery red hair was pulled into the messy bun you see on women at the gym, and I couldn’t make this up, there was a pen sticking out of it. The glasses she wore did nothing to hide the large emerald green eyes that glittered like jewels or smattering of freckles scattered across her cheek. I wanted to kiss every single one. This girl was young, she couldn’t be older than twenty-five, but her face displayed a hidden fierceness that made me curious. She also wore dog tags around her neck. They were tucked into her shirt, but there was no mistaking the steel ball chain and two rectangles outlined below her chest under her tee. She finished the look with black combat boots.

  I felt myself getting rock hard at the thought of taking this woman, and I was simultaneously pissed that the magazine hadn't bothered to send a real reporter. After all the begging, bargaining and scheduling, they sent a cub reporter, barely out of school who couldn’t even bother to be on time.

  I almost sent her away. I was on the phone with one of my lawyers hammering out the details of this never-ending headache. It was a bad time. It was always a bad time these days, but I figured I needed to get the damn thing over with so I could focus on important things and I wanted to spend more time with this reporter, a lot more time if I had my way.

  Read More…

  Tessa

  First days are always anxiety-inducing for me. Today, I was entirely beside myself. Charles Kerwin recently acquired our company and decided to move his headquarters to our office. There had been a fair amount of downsizing, and I felt lucky to have made the cut, but in a strange turn of events my boss was transferred to another office, and I was assigned to Mr. Kerwin, himself. The position came with a hefty pay raise, and I'd have my own assistant. I would be an assistant with an assistant, which I struggled to wrap my head around.

  I had spent the past three weeks taking a Charles Kerwin crash course with his outgoing executive assistant, a formidable woman in her late forties, named Tanya. She had worked for him for over ten years and was promoted to the CEO position as part of the acquisition. Her last duty as an assistant was to make sure I was ready to manage the life of one of the busiest, and wealthiest men in the world.

  I was smart, organized and a quick learner but I struggled to keep up with all of Tanya's instruction. She was a whip-smart, no-nonsense woman, but also kind and patient. She assured me that I was ready and I believed her. She also gave me all of her contact information in case I needed her help. I had a feeling I'd be using it often.

  Of course, Tanya was keeping her assistant, so I had to find my own. I had the perfect candidate in mind, but I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision, so I tossed my work husband, Dustin's resume in a pile with four other great candidates and asked Tanya to help me choose. I wasn't surprised when she recommend I hire Dustin and he and I spent the final week completing Tanya’s Charles Kerwin Bootcamp.

  Dustin and I started at the company at the same time. I assisted the CEO, and he assisted the CFO, who had been laid off. We hit it off immediately, and we work together well. We had a lot in common and became close. I've even played the third wheel with Dustin and his fiancé, Mark, who is always trying to set me up with one of his personal training clients. I'm not good at dating and painfully shy. I guess that's why I make such a great assistant. I prefer to be behind the scenes.

  Something else about C
harles Kerwin that's making me dread my first day is that he's absolutely gorgeous. I know it's incredibly unprofessional to have these kinds of thoughts, but since the moment I laid eyes on him at the networking event in Manhattan, my former boss made me attend, I haven't been able to get him out of my head. The thoughts I had about him had no place in a corporate setting, even though they often involved him bending me over his desk and swatting my ass with a rolled up file folder.

  Seeing a photo in a newspaper or watching an interview on TV doesn’t begin to compare seeing the real thing standing mere feet from you.

  To call Charles Kerwin, a tall man would be like calling Mt. Everest, a big hill. He easily towered over every man huddled around him jockeying for position, and was built like a grizzly bear. He had pale blue eyes, like ice which starkly contrasted with his dark brown hair. We locked eyes for a moment, and I froze in place. It felt like someone knocked the breath out of my body. I quickly turned and began to walk away, quickening my pace the further I got away from him. It was like he had a gravitational pull that got weaker with distance. The feeling excited me but also terrified me, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to feel it again.

  I left New York the next morning sure that I would never see Charles Kerwin again. Five days later, it was announced that he had purchased the company. Two days after that, I discovered I was chosen to be his executive assistant and would have to see him every day.

  I couldn’t understand why a man like Charles Kerwin would even be interested in a company like ours, much less want to work out of an office in the middle of Pennsylvania. I supposed billionaires could work anywhere they want.