Claimed by Him

by Red Garnier

  Busy getting ready, because tonight, she was giving her virginity to Graves Buchanan.

  And then at around 3 p.m., she got the best present of them all.

  A mysterious-looking present. When the maid let her know something had arrived for her, Chloe brought the package simply addressed to CHLOE to her room, still in her bathrobe. The package contained two gift-wrapped items: one small box and one flat envelope. The envelope contained a gemstone certificate, while the box contained a blue velvet ring box with a sparkling, dazzling white diamond nestled at the center. Also inside the box, a letter I on simple white paper had been tucked into the small dome at the top.

  An earthquake that would rate about a ten on the Richter scale went all through Chloe, because suddenly she knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that it was from him.

  Every ten minutes for hours, an identical present arrived, and each contained a gemstone certificate, an identical diamond, but each with a different letter.

  Chloe had never had such a splendid admirer and her womb clenched in frantic excitement every time she opened a box and stared at her new diamond. Two carats each, D color, internally flawless; Graves sent a total of twenty-five of them, each for a year of her life.

  Chloe knew that they were the cleanest, whitest stones, and with a GIA certificate and ideal cut for brilliance, they were the best his money could buy her. She also knew that it was difficult to find one D, internally flawless diamond, but twenty-five? She could only imagine how much time he’d spent having all of these located and then delivered for today.

  But the letters, she just couldn’t decipher them. One diamond had contained merely a period, but the rest just didn’t make sense to her.

  IIMLLICYUWUPTIDNAKOIGPHT.

  She scrutinized them for hours and tried to decipher what the letters meant, but she could not sort them out and ended up tucking each letter back into a diamond box. Then she waited and waited…fantasizing about him…becoming more and more aroused…

  Being a virgin somehow made you feel like you were missing out on something, like you were being left out of a special club only people who had sex were allowed into. Like any girl, she’d fantasized about her first time for years, always wondering how having a man inside you would feel, if your orgasms were different than when you had one by yourself, and more importantly, who her first time would be with. But Chloe had always known, in her gut, that last part. Many guys had tried, but she just couldn’t get into any of them; she just didn’t want them the way she wanted Graves.

  She was picky about her bed sheets, and her underwear, and her shoes. Always demanding the best. Her first time? You bet she wanted the best. And she wanted Graves Buchanan.

  She waited and waited into the evening, when she became so anxious she began answering some e-mails just to keep from pulling out her hair. Then she got a call from Lisa, one of the caretakers at the orphan home.

  “Chloe! You won’t believe what just happened, but please, please don’t tell anyone I called. It’s supposed to be under the radar, but there’s been an anonymous donation from a big corporation for fifty million dollars to the home. Fifty. Plus new computers from that top intelligence corporation that builds the robots like the one we saw. Oh, my God!”

  She rambled on about how the check had mysteriously arrived, but Chloe was barely hearing anymore, she was trembling with excitement and a rush of desire so great, she hardly knew what to do with it.

  Graves—because of course it was Graves—had made a whopping donation and Chloe thought that so damned hot she wanted to fuck him right then and there just to show him her appreciation.

  She loved how he made his donations anonymously, unlike Luke, who loved to take the spotlight.

  After that call, Chloe was so primed for Graves it wasn’t even funny anymore. The entire day knowing she would be with him had felt like foreplay, spent in a constant state of arousal, and now she stood before her full-length mirror, dressed and pretty and more than ready to see him. It was already after eleven, and her heart was close to breaking because he hadn’t come to see her. Her pussy clenched at the same time she gritted her teeth from the agony of it all. And when she could simply take no more, she cursed him under her breath, grabbed her car keys, stormed down to her car, and headed for his apartment.

  When she rang for his elevator, he didn’t answer for some time. At last she heard a gruff, puzzled, “Chloe?”

  “Oh, good, you remember me.”

  There was a silence like he couldn’t understand why the hell she was here. Damn him. She rode the elevator and once upstairs, she charged down the hall to his bedroom.

  She stopped at the threshold and tried to calm her breathing, but her emotions ate her up like piranhas. Through a haze of lust mingled with anger, she noticed a dozen roses lay atop his bed next to a sooty black jacket, and then she saw Graves—delicious, unattainable Graves—stroll out of his bathroom in dark black dress pants to match the jacket and in the process of buttoning up the last buttons of a crisp white shirt. He was so beautiful her heart ached and her overstimulated body screamed in fury and need.

  He reached for his jacket and then paused when he spotted her at the door, his face going blank as he assessed her in her emerald-green Herve Leger mini bandage dress. He gaped at her, motionless as a marble slab. “My God, Chlo, I can’t even fucking breathe.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and her entire body trembled with mixed emotions. “I thought we said my birthday.” She panted, finding it impossible to still her erratic pulse. “It’s almost twelve!”

  He signaled to the clock that said 11:46 on his nightstand, brows furrowed in confusion. “I was about to go get you.” His voice, husky and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness through her, and it only annoyed her more.

  “I waited all day, Graves,” she gritted out, but she could smell cologne in the air.

  Through the crack of his bathroom door she could see the mirror was fogged from a recent shower, and the thought that Graves may have been making himself handsome for her, just like she had been beautifying herself for him, made her pussy clench.

  Graves cocked his head, as though truly confused about why she was so angry, and his tone was so tender she wanted to cry. “I had to wait, too, Chlo.” His moves were painfully slow as he draped his jacket over the back of a nearby chair, his muscles rippling under his shirt so sexily she felt quakes in her tummy. “I thought you’d like to enjoy your family, your friends?”

  “I wanted to be with you. I blew off all my plans because I didn’t know…didn’t…was waiting for you like some nincompoop.”

  He picked up the roses from the bed and started for her.

  Desire like she’d never known welled in her throat. She saw him and wanted all of him, all over her, right here, right now. Her heart raced, and her stomach hurt from so much hunger for him she thought she’d fold over.

  His lips curled softly into an amused smile, and his eyes glowed as he approached. “The letters said midnight. Didn’t they?” He spoke softly, with quiet emphasis, but she was infuriated and horny out of her mind.

  She spoke in a suffocated whisper. “I’m not good with codes, Graves, you could’ve just—”

  “I WILL PICK YOU UP AT MIDNIGHT—that’s what it read. I sent the diamonds in order, Chlo.”

  “You did?”

  That threw her for a loop. She’d been so excited opening her diamonds, viewing them, and receiving the next, that the letters had gotten all mixed up.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling inept.

  He reached for her and lifted a hand to cup her face in his warm palm, his smile gone. Emotions swirled in the depths of his eyes like lightning, and the desire in them made her pussy get soaked. “Did you have a good birthday?” he asked thickly.

  The raspy arousal in his voice and tender touch disintegrated all her frustration until she was left a mass of quaking, vibrant desire. She could barely even swallow. “I am now. Thank you for my gifts. And—” When he extended to her t
he lovely red roses, an emotion that felt a lot like love unfurled inside her as she clutched them with trembling hands to her chest. “Thank you for these.”

  She knew they may only be having sex, but the fact that he was doing all these things for her touched her in ways she’d never imagined.

  “You’re welcome.” He took the roses from her and almost as soon as he’d put them down, he went to his bureau and pulled out another several dozen. She swallowed when he grabbed each rose in his fist, pulled, then spread out all the silken red petals over the bed.

  He was making…a bed of roses for her…?

  Piercing lust assaulted all her senses. She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning in pain, primed and ready and shaking uncontrollably as she watched this exhilarating man spread out each and every rose petal over his bed for her.

  She had never expected or imagined anything even remotely romantic from a man like Graves. But the fact that he’d thought of this after showering her all day with diamonds made her want to…die.

  Now she would never forget this night as long as she lived.

  Now no man would ever compare.

  No man would ever hold a candle to him.

  Oh, God, she was so screwed.

  “I…you didn’t need to do that. But thank you, Graves.”

  He set aside the stems and then he started toward her. His walk burst with male purpose, and her heart thumped like a mad thing as she watched. Dadump dadump dadump.

  “It’s nothing compared to what you’re giving me.”

  His tender words electrified her. Magnetized her. She’d never wanted anything so much, had never been truly willing to die for something.

  Her voice barely made it past her constricted throat. “Graves…please touch me.”

  “Come here, princess.” He scooped her into his strong, capable arms then easily carried her across the room, toward the bed. She felt him bury his nose in her hair and inhale her, and a wanton shudder racked through her overheated body at the gesture.

  When he lowered her at the foot of the bed and purposely let her slide down his deliciously ripped body, Chloe’s eyes widened. His cock stretched out so long and huge against her abdomen, she moaned instinctively and pressed her body into his, undulating suggestively up on her tiptoes.

  The way she caught him staring down at her knocked off her breathing pattern.

  Graves had never looked at her with such unabashed lust. His flaming eyes promised her that he had every intention of taking her in all the ways a man could take a woman tonight. Liquid heat rushed into her panties. The pain in her breasts intensified, and she licked her anxious lips. “Graves.”

  He slid his hands all over her curves as if memorizing her shape while those golden eyes trekked across her face—her nose, her cheeks, her eyes—then he lifted his hand and touched the pad of his thumb to her lower lip as though he wanted to taste her there. With one slow, sinuous swipe, that thumb caressed across her lips, and she bit back a moan as her tongue snaked out to wantonly lick him. “Graves.”

  His eyes were fire on her face, his voice a terse rasp. “I want you so much, Chlo.” His features hardened with desire as he inserted his thumb into the depths of her parted mouth.

  She latched onto the offering and suckled with all her thirst and hunger. His taste was salty, his eyes almost animal wild as she twirled her tongue around him, pretending his finger was his tongue or his cock. Arousal made her tremble. A wash of cream coated her pussy at the thought of going down on him. She was so wet now she was afraid she would leak.

  Graves retrieved his thumb and dragged it wetly down her curves, then his fingers splayed on her buttocks and flattened her up against his hard length, molding her against him. “I want to lick”—he bent to lick her bare shoulder—“and suck”—he gave a hot, hungry suck at her neck—“and fuck you until you scream.”

  “Please do it fast, do it now.”

  His unapologetic stare glazed with desire as he undid the zipper on the side of her bandage dress with a look that promised her untold ecstasy.

  She let him. Had dressed today only with the sole thought, the sole reason, of him undressing her. Her skin pebbled when she stepped out of her dress in her new Agent Provocateur underwear, the thong panties transparent through the lace and almost nonexistent. Her bra was tiny as well, merely covering her nipples with a black lace flower.

  The lustful spark in his eyes and the tightening of his face thrilled her as he reached behind her to unhook her delicately laced black bra. Her breasts bounced free, and she ached to hear him say something, but he was without words, looking at her in an almost raw, primal way.

  Wobbly on her feet in only her Jimmy Choos and her teeny tiny panties, she nervously extended out her wrists, her voice cottony. “Put your handcuffs on me.”

  He stilled for a moment, as though caught off guard by the offer. He shook his head and surveyed her breasts like he planned to devour them. “No, Chlo.”

  He cupped one full globe and circled it with his thumb, his eyes glimmering like a tiger’s as the peak pebbled for him.

  Unexpectedly he pinched the tip and a shot of pleasure arrowed straight to her core, tearing out a gasp, her pussy rippling. She pushed her wrists out again, her knees liquefying with his manual stimulation. “Put them on me. I’m afraid my hands will get the best of me. You’re so beautiful and I want to touch you so much. Please, Graves.”

  They stared at each other. His breathing was deep and slow, hers fast and nervous. She wanted to please him so badly and she ached for him to enjoy this night as much as she knew that she would.

  But Graves shook his head once more, his temples working as he clenched his jaw hard. He curled his fingers around her hip and squeezed. “It’s your first time, Chlo. I’m trying very fucking hard for sweet and easy here.”

  “No, I don’t need sweet or easy. Put them on me. Please!” Need consumed her, like a powerful cyclone sweeping her off her feet.

  She could make out his straining muscles under his shirt and her breasts throbbed for him. She needed him to fuck her and fuck her now, any way he’d like to.

  But Graves clamped his lips in disapproval and seized her hands in each of his warm ones and placed them on his shoulders, where he softly said, his gaze blazing into her, “You can hold onto me but don’t rub me, please.”

  “No, please, Graves, please. What if I forget?” she said.

  The troubled look on his face made her want to wrap her arms around him, hold him, love him. But he didn’t like to be touched. So she waited, pleading with him with her eyes to tie her up and have his way with her.

  The line of his jaw was squarer than ever. “Damn, Chlo…the handcuffs could hurt you if you writhe too much.”

  She panted. “Please. I want to do it your way. Your way.”

  He waited a moment, then he walked to his closet and came out less than ten seconds later. Her eyes scanned down the length of his corded arms but she was disappointed to see no handcuffs in his hands. Then she spotted the Hermès tie, the same orange one she’d seen him wear, and her womb gripped with pure female thrill.

  He guided her wrists together and all the time watched her expression with possessive eyes that made her bones feel like butter. He ducked his head as he tied her hands gently in front of her, and as he did so, his scent stormed through her like a windstorm. He smelled manly and expensive and her lungs burned for more of his scent as he at last secured a firm knot that kept both her wrists together.

  “Too tight?” he asked softly, his lips so close to her temple that she felt them brush against her skin as he spoke.

  She shook her head, said in a low, sultry voice, “Just right,” and then he scooped her up again and finally set her down in the center of the bed. She stretched her arms above her head and buried her hands under the feathery pillow behind her, his sheets soft and silky against her skin.

  She could hardly believe that at last she was here, in the exact place she wanted to be. With rose petals un
der her skin, silky cotton sheets…and him.

  Oh, God, she wanted this man so much she would implode with it.

  She wanted to pleasure him, to drive him so crazy, to make him want her as badly as she wanted him so that he would never, ever, deny her again…

  “Are you planning to join me?” she urgently whispered while goose bumps broke along her flesh as the cool air of the AC caressed her skin. Expectation swam through her, lust hotly soaking her vagina until she was certain she couldn’t stand one more minute of being alive without having him inside her.

  Graves stood at the side of the bed and caressed her with proud, appreciative eyes, starting to undo his shirt, button by button, his gloriously muscled chest revealed as he smiled in a way that that undid her.

  “Unless you want to change your mind—yes, Chlo. Today is the day you stop being a virgin. Tonight you’re mine.”

  Mine…

  My God. The sight of her, tied and naked, in her panties, in his bed, was going to give him a heart attack.

  Quick and easy was flying out the window so damned fast Graves just didn’t know if he could be gentle with her. Holy God, she was so beautiful. So damned beautiful his eyes blurred as he took in her adorable, desire-softened expression, her delicate curves, her perky breasts with the puckered pink nipples begging to be licked and sucked and kissed, and all that silken gold hair spreading out behind her over his Sferra sheets. His chest moved with emotion, and when he finished unbuttoning his shirt, he almost tore it as he yanked it off, anxious to be rid of his constraints.

  She watched him with eyes darkened with need, writhing on the bed with her hands tied above her. “Graves, please fuck me, I feel like I’m dying.”

  But Graves was sure the one dying was him.

  He leaned over her as he worked on his belt, and her eyes were pools of desire as she glanced up at him. “I’m not only going to fuck you, Chlo,” he rasped in a thick voice once again, tossing the belt aside with a clatter, and allowing his thumb the luxury of memorizing the texture of her plush bottom lip. “I’m going to lick up all your cream…and when you’re squirming for me to lick more, I’m going to suck you up until you feel every pull of my tongue up to each of your little fingers.”