Dirty Seduction

Epilogue

TWO YEARS LATER

ROSIE

WHO’D have ever thought i’d be in an upmarket suburb in oxford on the eve of my twenty-first birthday, welcoming in my special day with a fifty-year-old man brandishing a whisk as a sex toy.

“Come on,” Julian said, with a smirk. “Call it a birthday present. An early one.”

The whisk he was holding was new, and bigger. He tapped it against his palm to make it rattle, and my pussy tightened at the thought.

“I’m not using that for the main cake, Julian!” I told him. “No way!”

“You’re not making your own main cake, Rosie. You’re making a little prebirthday dessert for just the two of us. Let’s ice it with something sweet, shall we? Something really sweet.”

As if I could ever resist him…

His eyes were full of filth, and mischief, and I couldn’t help myself. I never could. I shunted my mid flow cake making efforts to the side and hitched myself up on the worktop. The marble worktop. It was cold on my ass when Julian pulled my panties down and off in one swift motion. I put my heels up either side of me on autopilot, spreading my legs open wide without a care in the world, just for Julian savouring the joy on his gorgeous face.

I was Julian’s slut whenever I wanted to be now, and that was a huge amount of the time.

We both worked from the same home office. Him writing hot, dirty filth, and me blogging about it. A life of dreams.

I’d been almost nineteen when he’d hit publish on his first novel The Girl Downstairs, and it went viral on my nineteenth birthday, hitting the top one hundred with a boom. He’d written two since, both of them winners. He could say it was Lola’s cover design that had launched his career into the romance world with a bang all he wanted, and she deserved one hell of a lot of credit, sure, but that wasn’t it. His words were magic, just like her covers were. And so were his fantasies… all of them.

He tugged my dress up, a sweet white one I’d chosen on purpose, because I knew it drove him crazy. He ran the whisk up and down my pussy lips, and I sucked in a breath. It really was a big one. Much bigger than the last.

“You can take it,” he said, reading my mind. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I had no doubt of that. Fuck, it was going to stretch me open to a whole other level, though.

I spread my pussy lips for him, and he twirled his filthy tongue around my clit, driving me wild in seconds. I’d been desperate for it all day. Birthday balloons, and shopping for the visitors coming tomorrow, and making sure the guest rooms were ready had taken up hours, and now I was desperate.

Julian’s desperate little slut.

As well as his fiancee.

He’d proposed to me last year, just three days after his divorce had come through. That’s how sure he was of it. I was going to be his, on paper as well as in words. Undisputable.

He spat on his fingers before he pushed three right inside me, but it wasn’t enough. I begged him for more. More, more, more, always more, and he always delivered. Pushing me beyond boundaries I never knew I had.

His thumb was on my clit as he pumped his fingers inside me, and I heard my wet pussy nice and loud as I tipped my head back.

“More…”

“Take what you’re given, slut.”

I gave him a cheeky, slutty smile.

“It’s my birthday, Julian. Spoil me.”

“Not yet, it’s not. If you’re a good girl, you can get all the spoiling you want tomorrow.” I loved the sound of his voice, emanating pure lust. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“Yes. I’m always a good girl. Always.”

I braced myself on my elbows, relaxing into the way he worked me. Three fingers turned to four, and he twisted them deep, making me cry out. He loosened me like a master, but my pussy still gripped his fingers like a vice, muscles ready to clamp around metal spines.

The whisk had become quite infamous online. Luckily, my friends and family avoided Julian’s novels. The covers were more than enough for them.

“I need to see inside your beautiful cunt,” he said. “All the way in. Spread and hungry.”

“Do it, then.” I looked at him with needy eyes. “Make me take it.”

His tongue was the perfect accomplice to the work of his hand. I was a squelching, bucking mess as he got me ready, lying flat against the kitchen island as he used me. He bit the insides of my thighs, sucking to leave his marks. I knew I’d be dirty for him under my birthday dress tomorrow, with his filthy words and his love bites all over my skin. Our secret, dirty sins. “Fuck me…” I moaned. “Do it, Julian. Fuck me. Stretch me with that whisk like I’m a dirty little slut.”

“My pleasure.”

I knew it was bigger than the last one, but I had no idea just how cutting it would feel as he tried to work it inside me. I screwed my eyes shut tight, crying out as it strained, almost buckling under the pressure. Only I never would.

“Your cunt is so fucking pretty,” Julian said, and I knew he had his phone set to record, staring up at me with the camera aimed between my legs. “Here,” he said. “Hold it.”

I took hold of the phone, smiling with dirty joy as I held it in position to film my own pussy getting stretched. He had hundreds of videos, and thousands of words, all about me and what he’d done to me and fantasies of what he wanted to do next. He was still offering me chapters every day.

I didn’t think I could take it when he gave the whisk a little twist until the wires were at their widest. The stretch was the biggest I’d ever felt, and I knew he’d be able to see right inside me.

“Just beautiful,” he said, staring at my stretched hole. “A gape of pink, with your lips spread wide. A wet tunnel spread open by a metal cage. Filthy, but divine.”

His words made me smile, despite the pain of the stretch.

“You know what to do,” he said, letting go of the whisk and taking the phone from me.

He aimed the camera up close and I took hold of the whisk, wincing at the stretch.

“Take it,” he said, “fuck yourself.”

I bit down and I took it. Nice and slow as I eased those wires into me, the look of pure pleasure on Julian’s face was all I needed.

I gasped as my pussy finally gave and the whisk sucked into me.

“Good girl,” he said. “Very good.”

“It feels good,” I told him before he asked, because I knew he would.

His smile was infectious. “Pain into pleasure?”

“Yes,” I said, “God yes,” and fucked myself some more, rocking against the pressure until Julian stilled my hand. He put the phone aside.

“If you’re this filthy at twenty-one, just imagine what you’re going to be like at thirty,” he said, then leant in and teased my clit with his tongue.

“I’ll be the filthiest girl in the world,” I told him, holding his head to my pussy. “You’d just better make sure you use me.”

I didn’t need to worry about that.

Julian fucked me with the new whisk, and probed my ass with the long, thin handle of the wooden spoon I’d been using for my cake mix, and fuck it, the sweet Victoria sponge really would be ours only.

Julian slopped cold cream all over my thighs and pussy, and ate me out as I squirmed and screamed, and I was lost to everything but the man who’d unleashed my soul and set me free.

I had no restraints anymore. Not for anything.

Not outside the bedroom. Luckily there were still plenty of restraints in there…

I came for him with a whisk in my pussy and a wooden spoon up my ass, gasping as he stared inside me, moaning out loud.

“Give me your cock now, please,” I said, but he shook his head.

“Not yet. You’ll get it when I give it to you. Your first birthday treat.”

“Spoilsport.”

He licked every wire of the whisk clean before he dropped it back on the kitchen side, along with the dirty handled spoon. I had to brace myself as I slid off the worktop to carry on with my baking. Ouch. That was quite a beast of a stretching.

I carried on making my pre-birthday birthday cake while he scanned through the video I’d taken of myself as he fucked me. I watched him smirking as I whisked the cake mix.

“When am I getting your cock, then?” I asked him.

“Midnight,” he laughed. “Your first birthday present.”

“Meanie. I want it now.”

Our filth had become so natural that it was a blessing, veiled behind the scenes while we were around others, but wild in our home. The home we’d moved into from Crenham. The home with French doors leading from the kitchen to an enclosed garden. The home with a four-poster bed and an ensuite bigger than our old living room kitchen combined. The home where we worked and lived and loved in pure happiness. The home I’d be happy to stay in forever more.

“I’m going to be very sore for my birthday party,” I said with a giggle.

“It wouldn’t be a very good birthday party if you weren’t. Don’t tell me you won’t be sharing the details with Lola as soon as you get the chance.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

I grinned at the mention of her name. My party would be a crowd of my favourite people. Lola and Peter, Mum and Tom, Trisha and Ramsay. Jayden and his new girlfriend, Amy. And Molly the friend I’d felt confident enough to make contact with after all these years.

Just a shame Julian’s family wouldn’t be there to celebrate with me, but slowly, slowly, the bridges were being built in tiny little blocks, but they were being built, day by day.

Julian went out with Grace and Emily for lunch sometimes now, and Emily called him on video every evening to say goodnight, even when I was in the background. Ryan went for pub drinks with Julian occasionally down their local, and Julian always stuck to beer without even a drop of whisky. And Michael was there in his world, too, hovering on the outskirts. They’d meet and chat business and work, and occasionally they’d go and watch rugby together.

I was so pleased that Michael listened to me enough on the Crenham Drive stairs to get in touch with Serena, the girl from Grace’s gym class. I was glad she’d been honest enough to admit the truth about how she’d wanted Julian, and had chased him, as had so many girls after her.