Spreading My Legs Wide Open

21: My p*ssy's begging for attention

~ Evie ~

Marcus just won't shut up about how beautiful I am. He's going on and on, like he's trying to convince himself more than me. "Evie, you're stunning. Those eyes, that smile - God, you're perfect." I smile back, but inside I'm rolling my eyes so hard they might fall out. Yeah, sure, buddy. And you're not bad-looking yourself - tall, dark hair, that sharp jawline that screams money. But looks don't mean s**t if you can't back it up in bed. And let's be real, after last night, I know the truth: this guy's d**k is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

No way am I signing up for this long-term. Marriage? A deal? Hell no. I can't live without getting f****d. Like, properly f****d - rough, hard, the kind that leaves me sore and begging for more. Marcus? He's got the wallet and the d**k - thick, heavy, exactly the monster size I’m addicted to - but one pump and he’s done. Useless after that. I’d rather gargle broken glass than lock myself into a lifetime of throbbing, unsatisfied c**t. f**k that.

The door swings open, and in walks his PA - some slick guy in a suit, carrying an envelope like it's the nuclear codes. "Mr. Poole, the tickets you requested." Marcus takes them, grins at me like he's about to change my mind. "Evie, I planned a little surprise. A private getaway. Beach destination, VIP all the way. City escape to paradise."

I take the tickets, scan them. Holy crap, it's a two-day thing - Saturday to Sunday. Private chopper, five-star everything. I feel that rush of wealth hitting me, like fortunes are raining down. Okay, that's kinda hot. I've never flown in a chopper before. It's funny, actually - me, the girl from a regular house, suddenly living this rich b***h life. I laugh a little, picturing myself in sunglasses, wind whipping my hair like some movie star. "A chopper? For real? That's insane."

He nods, all proud. "First time? You'll love it. Sweet life of the rich, baby." He pulls me close, kisses my neck soft. I let him, but my body's not reacting. No spark. All I can think is, Jack would have me bent over by now, his hands rough, d**k hard against my ass. But hey, maybe this trip fixes things. Maybe Marcus loosens up away from the mansion pressure.

We pack quick - well, I do; he probably has people for that - and head out. The chopper's waiting on this helipad in the backyard. Backyard helipad? Who even has that? I climb in, buckle up, and we lift off. The city shrinks below us, all those buildings turning tiny. It's exhilarating, my stomach flipping like a rollercoaster. I grab his hand, squeeze. "This is wild! I'm flying in a private chopper for the first time. Me! Like, what is my life?"

He laughs, pulls me closer. "Get used to it. This is just the start." We land at this exclusive beach spot - white sand, turquoise water, no crowds. It's like a dream, a total city escape. VIP bungalows, private cabanas. I feel the wealth wrapping around me, fortunes at my fingertips. We spend the day lounging - drinks with little umbrellas, sun on my skin. It's Saturday, and everything's perfect on the surface. But under it? I'm horny as hell. My p***y's begging for attention. Marcus looks good in his swim trunks, all toned and tanned, but I know what's coming... or not coming.

Night falls, and we head to the five-star suite. The ride there's in this automated car - no driver, just us cruising smooth through the resort. It pulls up to the hotel, doors open on their own. Fancy as f**k. The suite's insane - ocean view, king bed, jacuzzi on the balcony. As sweet as all this sounds, I'm desperate. I need a d**k inside me. Now. Jack's texts are burning a hole in my phone from home: "Miss your tight pussy." "Come back soon." Dirty, needy. God, I miss him too - his thick c**k stretching me, making me scream.

Marcus pulls me onto the bed, kisses me deep. "Ready to try again?" he whispers. I'm really ready to take it easy with him this time. Even if it's just a minute of penetration. A minute hard ride. A minute thrust. Anything. I nod, strip down fast, spread my legs wide. "Come on, baby. f**k me."

He fumbles with his pants, breathing heavy. I see the bulge - okay, progress. But then... s**t. He comes in his pants. Right there, before his d**k even springs out. A wet spot spreads, and he groans like it's the end of the world. I'm not surprised. I expect it, honestly. After last night, what else is new? But damn, it's funny in a sad way. Here I am, naked and dripping, and he's done before takeoff. Again. But the tension's killing me - my c**t's pulsing, needy.

"f**k, Marcus," I mutter, half-laughing, half-frustrated. "You gotta warn a girl." He looks mortified, face red. "Sorry, Evie. I just... you're so hot." Yeah, sure. Blame me. But then he drops to his knees, pulls my hips to the edge of the bed. "Let me make it up." His mouth on my p***y. Tongue diving in, lapping up my wetness. Oh God, yes. He sucks my c**t hard, fingers sliding inside - three this time, pumping rough. I buck against his face, moaning loud. "Eat it, yeah - f**k me with your tongue." It's good, better than expected. He swirls around my c**t, fingers curling deep. I come fast, shaking. He keeps going, eating me like he's addicted.

We do that twice more - him going down on me, making me come with his mouth and hands. It's a great weekend of wealth demonstrations: private beach walks, gourmet dinners, more chopper rides. But no d**k f**k. Not once. He tries again Sunday morning, but same story - comes too quick, then eats me out like a champ to compensate. It's hilarious, really - Mr. Billionaire, king of the boardroom, but his c**k's on permanent coffee break. I'm satisfied, kinda, but not really. I need that deep, hard thrust. The kind Jack gives me, pounding until I can't think.

By Sunday afternoon, we're heading back. The chopper lands, and I'm already itching to get home. To Jack. His texts have been nonstop: "Need to f**k you raw." "Your p***y's mine." Dirty promises that make me wet mid-flight. Marcus kisses me goodbye at the door, all sweet. "Think about us, Evie. I can give you everything." Yeah, everything except a proper f**k. I smile, hug him. "We'll see." But inside? No chance. I can't wait to go back home to Jack. To sneak into his room, climb on his c**k, ride him until we both explode.

The car's waiting to take me home. I slide in, wave as we pull away. My phone buzzes - Jack again. "When you home? I'm hard already." I text back: "Soon. Get ready to wreck me." God, yes. This weekend was luxury, but empty. No real d**k action. Marcus is sweet, rich, but useless where it counts. I need rough. Hard. Jack. But what if the families push harder? What if I have to choose for real? f**k, the tension's killing me. I squeeze my thighs together, already aching. Home can't come fast enough.