by Gemma Weir
I lick a path along her sopping wet sex until my tongue finds her clit and I lap and flick the tip over the bundle of nerves while she mewls beneath me, her hands finding my hair and holding me to her.
My fingers spread her folds, and I spear her with two fingers, her arousal allowing me to easily fill her. Her internal muscles clamp down on the invasion, but I drag them back out, pumping my fingers in and out of her cunt in a steady rhythm while I lavish her clit with attention, sucking the swollen nub between my lips until her body arches up off the bed.
“Perfect, your cunt is so perfect,” I whisper against her sex, before I slide a third finger into her, stretching her out as I start slowly working her clit again.
“Make me come, I want to come,” she pants.
“Ask me, Peaches.”
“Please make me come.”
“Do you like this, baby? My fingers in your cunt, my tongue on your clit.”
“Yes, more. Please.”
Her fingers twine in my hair and she tries to force my face closer to her sex, but I refuse to move, lapping lazily at her clit as I slow my fingers, only giving her slow shallow thrusts, not the deep, hard pumps she needs to tip over the edge.
“This is my cunt isn’t it, Peaches.”
“No,” she shakes her head back and forth.
Lifting my head away completely, I pull my fingers from inside of her. Her eyes flash open and she looks down at me, confused. “What are you doing, why have you stopped?”
“I don’t touch pussy’s that don’t belong to me.”
Anger flashes in her eyes and she lifts her hand, shoving it between her legs. Grasping her wrist, I pull her away, pinning her arms carefully at her side.
“Nope, if I don’t get to touch, then neither do you.” Leaning down, I flick my tongue over her clit, once, twice then pull back. “Who owns this cunt, Cora?”
“Me,” she says through gritted teeth.
“But you can’t make yourself come the way I do. Not your fingers or any of those toys you own make you feel the way I do.” Blowing over her heating flesh, I feel her try to wiggle her wrists free, but my hold on her is restricting enough that I know she’s not going anywhere. “I could tie your wrists to your thighs, then your ankles to the bed. I can keep you just on the edge of orgasm until you’re mindless from need. But I won’t give you what you want until you tell me who owns this cunt.”
Closing her eyes, she hides herself from me, exhaling slowly as she tries to force the tension from her tightly wound body. “You don’t own my body. You never owned it when you had to lie to me to get it.”
Furious, I find her clit with my tongue and work it fast and hard, nipping it between my teeth until she’s screaming in a mix of pleasure and pain. Then I stop, glaring up at her defiant expression. “I owned your body, your cunt, your ass and your mouth long before I claimed your womb. But make no mistake I own that now too. I own all of you, mind, body and soul and I won’t ever give it up. We can stay here as long as we need to, until you understand that you are mine and nothing will change that.”
“No, I’m not yours anymore, Huck,” she vehemently denies.
“Don’t lie to me, baby.” Releasing one of her wrists, I force three fingers back into her cunt and she gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. Fucking her with my hand, I work her clit until she’s panting and moaning, her head thrashing back and forth. “Who owns this cunt, Peaches?” I taunt.
She’s silent for a long minute, fighting her body’s response, even as her hips roll and move, trying to get the friction I’m not allowing her.
“Who does this cunt belong to?”
“You,” she screams angrily, as I curl my fingers over that spot deep inside of her while I flick her clit until she’s writhing and trembling and she comes with a shuddering cry.
21
Cora
Anger and shame follow on the heels of my orgasm, stealing any joy it might have given me and replacing it with guilt for letting him play my body like only he can. Releasing his hold on my other wrist he starts to strip his clothes, but instead of watching, I roll to my side, giving him my back as I curl into myself again, disgusted that I let him touch me after his betrayal.
“Cora,” he calls, the mattress dipping as he kneels behind me. “What’s the matter?”
Closing my eyes tightly, I try to stop the tears that fall down my cheeks. I’ve cried more in the last two days that I think I have my entire adult life.
“Did I hurt you? Fuck, was I too rough? Have I hurt the baby?”
“You didn’t hurt me.” The words feel wrenched from my throat, but I keep going, needing him to understand. “But forcing orgasms from me aren’t going to make me forgive you and I’m disgusted by my own weakness.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”
“What?” I ask, rolling to a sitting position and turning to look at him.
“I don’t need to ask for forgiveness because I’m not sorry.”
My mouth falls open and I just stare at him, feeling like I’m dreaming, because there’s no way this asshole just told me he’s not sorry he lied and deceived me into getting pregnant without my consent.
Lips parted, I try to speak, but no words come, because honestly what do I even say to that?
“I’m glad you’re having my baby.”
He just keeps talking. Why is he still talking?
“I fucking love that inside of you is our child, that you’re gonna get big with our son or daughter. I told you right back at the start I wanted to breed you.”
Naked now, he crawls up the bed toward me, his hard dick bobbing against his stomach as he closes the distance between us. I don’t know how it happens, or when I even decide to do it, if I actually do make the decision. My fingers clench into fists as I push up onto my knees, turn to face him, then swing my arm as hard as I can and punch him in the dick.
Howling with pain, Huck collapses onto the bed, his hands clutching his dick and balls as his face twists into anguished pain. Jumping up, I quickly pull on my pants and shirt, not taking the time to find my underwear and then start to root through his jeans pockets for his car keys. I might not enjoy being behind the wheel of a car, or be very good at it, but right now my need to get away from him is greater than my fear of driving. Unable to find them in the bedroom, I pad back out to the open living space, checking the small kitchen table, counters and couch.
Unable to find the keys, I throw open the front door and pad barefoot out to the car, wincing when I stand on a pebble and feel the sharp stone pierce my skin. The car’s open, but the keys aren’t inside and I turn to head back into the cabin. Huck appears in the doorway to the bedroom wearing his jeans unbuttoned at the waist and a scowl.
“You looking for these?” he asks, holding his hand up and showing me the car keys dangling from his finger. “Neither of us are going anywhere till we get things sorted.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“Sure I can. We’re in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the mountain, miles from the next closest property. I’ve got your cell and the car keys, how exactly are you planning on leaving?”
“I hate you so much.”
“You don’t hate me. You’re pissed at me and I get that, but you don’t hate me. I’ve text your mom and Bonnie and told them I’m taking you away for a few days to make up. They don’t know where we are, and I have no intention of telling them.”
“What about food? You planning on starving me as well as keeping me hostage.”
Smiling at my accusation, he pads over to the wall and starts messing with a cabinet. “Food’s on its way. I pay a local couple to clean in here a couple of times a month and keep the path clear so I don’t have to bring tools out and start cutting down overgrown bushes and trees every time I come up here. They’re dropping off enough food to last us at least a week and if we run out, they can fetch anything we need for us.”
As he speaks, I watch him open the cabinet
on the wall, pull my cell and the keys from his pocket and place them inside, before he shuts the door and beep sounds. “This is my gun cabinet, the lock has a six digit code that only I know, and that’s where your cell and the keys will stay until we go home.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I can and I am, Peaches. I love you. We’ll get past this road bump, and then we’ll go home and start looking forward to our baby making us a family.”
“A road bump. You call this a fucking road bump? Answer me this, Huck, how am I supposed to believe a word you say to me, when you’ve been lying to me so effortlessly for the last five weeks?”
“I’ve never lied to you, Cora.”
“Bullshit. The interloper taking root in my womb says otherwise. Every day you’ve handed me that pill like the good little responsible boyfriend, and every day you’ve known I thought it was medicine to stop me from getting pregnant. Then you’ve fucked me and filled me with your cum hoping to ruin my life.”
His lips settle into a hard line. “Our baby hasn’t ruined your life.”
“You don’t know what I planned to do with the next eighteen years, you never asked. Just because you’re rolling downhill towards middle age doesn’t mean I wanted to be barefoot and pregnant at twenty-one. You took my choices away from me, Huck, do you even understand why that’s so wrong?”
Without me even realizing, he’s moved… his huge palm covers my stomach, the heat of his touch making me flinch. “Tell me you don’t want this baby, that you don’t love him or her already. We made a baby, me and you. If it’s a girl, she’ll have your hair and beautiful eyes, she’ll be smart and feisty and I’ll be chasing boys away from her for the rest of my life. If it’s a boy, he’ll be a Barnett boy, huge and loyal and sometimes stupid, and I’ll tell him what his grandaddy told me about meeting his woman and knowing from the first moment that he’ll do anything to keep her, to hold her to him and never let her go. It’s ingrained in our DNA to wait until our woman comes along to settle down. But once we find her, it’s forever.”
My heart drums a staccato beat in my chest as he talks about our baby like he’s spent a lifetime thinking about what our children will be like. I know I shouldn’t, but my heart that feels like it’d been turned to stone, softens a little.
“Be mad at me all you need, I can take it, but don’t say that our child has ruined your life, because even though it’s a shock right now, you’re gonna be the best mama our baby could ever wish for.”
Strong fingers tip my chin up, and Huck leans down, closing the distance between us and presses his lips to mine, dominating my mouth like he always does. I know I should push him away, I hate him, but I love him just as much, and when he touches me I’m powerless to resist this all consuming need that fills me.
Huck is my kryptonite, he makes me want things I never have before. How do you fight that? How do you fight someone who is so single-mindedly prepared to convince you that you’re his? Submitting to him, I accept his kiss, moving my lips against his because I’m weak and unable to resist.
“Let me fix this, let me make this right,” he says, dragging his mouth from mine and focusing his lips on the pulse in my throat. Strong hands curl around my hips, gripping me possessively, but not tight enough to bruise. His leg pushes between mine, his thigh seeking out my sex and grinding against it, causing the most delicious friction.
Every touch, every move, every kiss is deliberate, to bind me to him, to confuse me with pleasure when he’s caused me so much pain, but I’m mindless, too lost to him to fight back.
“I’ll never let you go, never let you leave.”
His words are like a bucket of ice water being doused over my head. Is that what this is? Am I here because I’m his? Is this just a game to him, a game of ownership? He called me his sex toy, but am I really just a toy, a possession to be claimed and owned. Does he think this so called ownership strips me of my rights, or my ability to say no?
My hands find his chest and I push him as hard as I can. He doesn’t move an inch, but his physical assault stops, his hands stilling, his lip dragged from my skin.
“Stop.”
“Peaches.”
“No, just stop,” I pant, wiggling free of his embrace and taking a step back. “I’m not a possession.”
“What?” Confusion furrows his brow and if I wasn’t so angry and lost, I’d probably find it adorable.
“You keep saying I’m yours, that you own me, that I belong to you. But that doesn’t mean you get to strip me of my choices, you don’t get to control me.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” he says, his voice rough and low.
“Aren’t you? You wanted me to move in, so I did and now I’m stuck on the side of a mountain, completely reliant on you if I want to leave.”
“That’s not—”
I interrupt him. “You wanted to make sure I could never leave, so you swapped out my birth control for the placebo pills, then fucked me every chance you got hoping that I’d get pregnant, knowing a baby would tie us together for the rest of our lives.”
His lips part, but no words come out.
“I left to get some space and come to terms with everything and instead of giving me time, you kidnapped me and bought me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. You refuse to let me leave and now you’re trying to use sex to make me compliant.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he spits, his tone icy, the barely restrained anger lacing each word.
“Isn’t it? Tell me which part of what I just said is the lie? Which one of us is lying?” I’m not shouting, in fact, even to my own ears I sound eerily calm.
“You make me sound like a psycho.”
“If the shoe fits. You’ve got me so drunk with all the sex and how easy it is to just jump on the rollercoaster that is being with you, that it isn’t until I spell out all that’s happened in the last five weeks that I realize how crazy it all is.”
“You forgot one really important thing in your little tirade,” he says, edging towards me slowly.
“What’s that?”
“That I fell completely in love with you.”
The words come from his mouth so easily that I don’t realize that all the air in my lungs has evaporated until I try to gasp and immediately feel like I’m drowning. He just said it, he just threw out an I love you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Maybe it is.
Wasn’t I lamenting about how much I loved him only a day ago while I was sobbing and lost from his betrayal? Wasn’t I thinking about how impossible it would be for me to truly walk away from him when I love him so inexplicably?
I try to speak, but no words come out. I’m not sure how I’m even still breathing because my lungs feel empty, my throat dry and all of the things I could say have just been stolen from me.
“You look shocked, Peaches, but you already knew even if I haven’t said the words. I know that you love me too, I see it every time you smile at me. I see it in the way your eyes go soft the moment you see me. I see it when your body reacts to mine, even from the softest of touches. I know you love me, because you show me in a thousand different ways, even without saying the words.”
His lips tip up into a half smile as he cups my cheek in his massive palm. “I know you see that I love you too, but maybe the way I show it is a little more extreme. I show you I love you by hating being away from you even for an hour and needing you close. I show you by wanting to make a home for us, by wanting to never wake up without you. I show you by needing you to be safe. I show you by wanting to spend the rest of our lives being blissfully happy, surrounded by beautiful babies that look like us. Maybe my methods aren’t as delicate as yours, but when you’ve found the very thing that makes every single day the best you’ve ever had, waiting just seems so wasteful.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away. Everything he’s saying is so beautiful, so perfect that I want to relent. I want to throw myself into his arms and tell
him that I love him as much as he loves me.
Closing the distance between us completely, his palm spreads over my stomach, the heat of his touch warming me instantly. “I’m not sorry that I did this, I’m not sorry that you’re pregnant. I love you, Cora, and I love our baby. I’m jealous, possessive, overbearing and yeah, maybe even a little crazy with the way I love you. I’m gonna do things that drive you crazy because I want to consume you. I want you to feel like you can’t survive without me, because I know that I can’t survive without you.”
Swallowing thickly, I stare up into his eyes, instantly getting lost in the sincerity that’s reflected back at me.
“You’ve been gone for less than two days and my heart feels like it’s been ripped from my chest. I won’t let you leave me; I won’t let you run, because I don’t exist without you, not anymore. I’m not a man who’s going to beg for forgiveness, or grovel on my knees, that’s just not who I am. Instead, I’m going to ask you to look at how I’ve handled things and ask if anything I’ve done has been about anything but love. I might own you, Cora, but you possess me. Every beat of my heart belongs to you, every rise and fall of my chest. You belong to me, but since we met, I don’t exist without you. “
The tears I’ve been fighting to hold back, spill over, rolling down my cheeks as I stare up into the face of the man who apparently loves me even beyond sanity. It’s clear now that he is completely crazy, but I’m not scared. I should be. I should be terrified by the lengths he’ll go to, to keep me, to own me. But with his confession came a sense of power.
His behavior should be making me run for the hills, but instead of screaming and trying to flee, all I want to do is let myself melt into my crazy, possessive, possibly insane man’s arms and let him make me feel better, the way he always seems to be able to make me feel.
“I love you too.” The words escape from my lips without permission, but I don’t regret saying them.
His lips find mine and he kisses me like he’ll die without it and I dissolve into him, letting him consume me, letting him take ownership of me, even though it’s stupid and dangerous and ridiculous to give myself over to someone who will devour me if I let him.
