Craving Daddy's Little Bride

“Welcome to Santorini, sweetheart,” Edward Hawke, my new husband of fifty-something years, said, smiling as he pulled me closer and pressed a kiss on my cheeks, his hands on my waist. But I found a single deep-crimson leaf tumbling lazily from the maple more fascinating than the kiss he was so intent on giving. I watched it keenly, paying no attention to an old guy’s warm lips on my cheeks while I let my hands clutch the Hermès Himalaya Birkin bag we had just purchased, instead of holding his body as he grabbed my waist. Without warning, Edward lifted his lips from my cheeks and inched closer, aiming for my lips. But I pulled back reflexively, evading his lips before even realizing I did it, then offered him a polite smile before pulling his hands away from my hips, putting an end to whatever he was trying to do. "Greece is such a beautiful place to be." I breathed, flashing a feigned smile, trying not to make my reluctance obvious. He didn’t realize how badly I hated what I was doing. He never did. And with the look of things, he never would. Edward was too far gone celebrating the new chick he had just bagged after divorcing his ex-wife a few years ago, when he caught her cheating. Heartbroken, Edward put her away and remained single for four years before he met me. But the problem was me—a twenty-one-year-old degree holder who had just finished college before this middle-aged billionaire in town chased me everywhere in time, finally getting me to agree to be his little wife. The thing was, if he wasn’t a billionaire, if those girls back in college weren’t swarming around him begging for a chance to claim even a moment with him, I wouldn’t have spared him a glance the first time he spoke my name. At Stanford, where I was a top student, I never really experienced what it meant to be truly loved since all I did was chase after a coursemate who cheated brutally on me until he eventually dumped my dumb*ss, making me drive deeper into my books since I had nothing else to hold on to. It paid off—at least I was a top student. I never really lived the wild side in school—no clubbing, no s*x, no one-night stands, which most girls bragged about. I was just a student, chasing after degrees, vowing that once I graduated with a top grade, I’d dive into every worldly pleasure without holding anything back. Not a picture of myself with a man fifty-plus, much less marrying one. But see, he wasn’t just a man fifty-plus, he was one of the most powerful billionaire businessmen in town, and marrying him meant I was his cute little new wife, and I guess that was the sweetest reward after all. “Nia.” His voice called out, stopping me from exploring the house further—a five-star resort in Greece where we were having our honeymoon. “You like the setting?” he probed, making sure I loved everything in the suite he had ordered. “Yes, my love,” I lied, giggling as he reached for my pant, hands tucked in, heading for my c**t. “You ‘bout to get f****d tonight, you know,” he bit my ear, grabbing my butt cheeks. I squirmed as my hands went around his waist, preparing my heart to finally be f****d for the first time—not by a young guy, but by a man old enough to be my father. I wanted it to be as fast as possible. My new whip was waiting for me as soon as we hit New York. I had never been touched before, but my curiosity for s****l pleasure made me own a pleasure stick, as I called it. But tonight, I was about to get a real taste of c**k. Edward would buzz my phone with those naughty text messages, promising dirty things he’d do to me on our first night, and here we were—the D-day. He grabbed my full chest—luckily, I was fully endowed, curvy in all the right places. Even though I didn’t have the face to match it, as people would say, I had a curvy body with a pretty innocent face as a contrast. He slid my breasts out of my lingerie, and my skin tingled too much as I watched the way he stared at me while he undressed me slowly. It felt too sinful. I was leading the old guy on. But he loved me anyway, and I wasn’t stealing anything—not his wife, they were already divorced; not his money, I was now lawfully his wife and willing to stay, whether I personally liked him, or it was for his wealth, or it was what I actually wanted. He loved me, and that was all that mattered. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I kept on reminding myself as he slid his hands into my c**t and sucked my breasts passionately. I felt a new wave as my knees weakened under his touch. Edward wasn’t in a hurry—he took it gradually. Maybe he was everything he had threatened to do to me on our first night. He peeled my lingerie off completely and pressed me against his bare body, palms gripping my huge **s hard as his lips locked onto mine in a slow, passionate manner, devouring me like he couldn’t get enough, leaving me trembling in the feel of it. Yes, Nia, give in, enjoy yourself with one of the richest billionaires in town. Make sure your first time is the best, I urged myself as I slowly loosened up. But the curve of his belly stood between me and the pleasure I ached for, dulling everything I was meant to feel. Before I even had the chance to adjust or catch my breath, my head landed on the soft king-size bed covered with rose petals, and I found myself sprawled across the bed, legs apart. It was fine—if I would marry Edward, I should be able to adjust to his physical features or how he liked his s*x. I threw my legs apart, inviting him in. He teased my c**t with his fingers first before inserting his c*ck. His body followed, pressing down on mine heavily. My breath was gone. Every thrust weighed me deeper into the mattress, and instead of making my first-ever moan with a human being—not a dildo, not alone in my apartment trying to satisfy my s****l urge by myself—I was gasping for air. Fair enough, Edward was groaning in pleasure, eyes shut, hands on my full breasts, squeezing them softly while he thrust deeper, unaware of the fact that my slender frame was almost suffocating under him. Alright, this was his pattern, this was human. I needed to adapt and ignore his weight, enjoying every bit of it. After all, some luxuries come with a price. Maybe this was the price for flying around continents in a private jet, cruising around cities in luxury cars, spending nights in private villas, and shopping in luxury boutiques. I let the old guy do his thing while my legs stayed wide only for him, allowing him to take control. My face flushed, long hair spilled across the sheets, some falling over my pale face, lipstick in a messy smear, eyes half-lidded but distant, staring at nothing but the luxurious rooftop in the suite, while my lips parted enough for breathless moans and whimpers to be heard, making him think I was enjoying it—while inside, I felt nothing but emptiness, hoping he’d be quick so at least I wouldn’t die from the effect of his weight.