by Lana Hartley
Leah's moans are picking up speed with my tongue, and I'm moving her closer to my face until I am breathing in her pussy and smothering myself in how good she tastes. Fuck, I could do this forever. I would happily die like this. And then I think about my cock buried in her pussy, and I'm driven mad all over again. I close my mouth over her clit and suck it hard, pressing my tongue into her folds and worshiping every inch of her perfect pussy. Her whimpers have become little cries, her breath catching in her throat, and I never want this to stop. I know I want her to come, though, and she's so close. Tonguing circles on her clit, I pull her body close to mine and flip up so that I'm lying her back onto the bed and her thighs wrap around my neck. Leah's making me some pretty goddamn fine earmuffs, and this is exactly what I want. "Fuck, yeah, Leah, come in my mouth and give me everything that sweet pussy has," I growl against her skin, loud enough for the vibrations to rocket more pleasure to her highly sensitized pussy.
I look up into her eyes, she's reaching out to fist my hair, and she's screaming out, trying to breathe. I bring a palm to her stomach, putting some pressure on her to increase her orgasm's intensity, and my other hand cups her face. Our eyes lock, and I'm fucking broken. She's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen. When I feel that orgasm is starting to roll in waves and it could fade out, I dial up the pleasure, careful not to overwhelm her in the wrong way. I want her to come again, not get overly sensitized. I lick around her clit and keep up the pressure on her stomach. "Breathe for me, Leah, good girl," I tell her and the way she looks at me I practically come myself. She's so fucking hot like this I’m convinced we might ignite. The heat between us is like nothing I've ever felt before. One taste and I'm addicted to Leah.
She rides one orgasm to another, and I keep licking and fingering her pussy, watching her sweet face shift through every sweeping pleasure I offer. Leah breathes for relief, and I take it away until she's come so much that she literally looks exhausted. Because I'm a fucker, that's when I lavish my tongue over every delicate and sensitive inch of her perfect skin. I kiss everywhere on her body, not just that beautiful pussy. She's pliant and silky soft in my hold, leaning against me while I milk every pleasure from her body. Leah's eyes meet mine, and there's a fire. A pang of hunger. Something like what I saw when I met her...except now she's had a taste of what I can offer her. I know that look. She wants more.
Not fucking her is hard as hell and my cock is rock fucking solid. The tip is glistening with my pre-cum, and I want to be able to watch her sweet mouth kiss my cock, my sticky arousal kissing her lips before her mouth wraps around the rod and sucks it. Fuck, thinking of Leah sucking my cock makes it twitch with need, a quick jerk but it makes me want to jerk the poor bastard so that he can get some relief. But the feel of her skin touching it when there's not a particular plan for my cock to be touched -- just passing by as I'm worshiping every inch of her perfect body -- I'm delighted by this special hell I've put myself in. But I have no intention of fucking her now. No, I knew when I came back for her that I wanted to savor this moment. Make this all a sensual tasting. I tasted her. She tasted how much I would make her come.
That's what I wanted. I wanted Leah to be able to savor every moment without worrying about anything. I'd never hurt baby girl. I wanted to worship every inch of her body with my hands...and my tongue. I didn't want to scare her with cock just yet. I'd even told her I wasn't going to fuck her...and she was able to get used to seeing the monster on my body that was coming for her later.
Yeah.
Definitely later. Just not here, not now.
And I liked the way the little princess was looking at me now. She was practically glowing, and not just from the sheen of sweat from how much she'd come. Leah was just goddamn beautiful. I could have looked at her all night; she was so goddamn gorgeous. Leah was mine. I would get her out of this hellhole forever and erase every last memory she'd ever had of this place. This would be her last memory of this dive her shitbag father called a home. Leah was the perfect princess for my not-so-little stone castle.
It was a shame, but when she'd curled up against me, pressing her little palm to my chest, I knew she was tired enough that I could take her from here. I'd already sent a message to schedule someone on my staff to pick up her things later, and I told her. "Anything you want right away, please let me know, and we'll take it now. Otherwise, you'll have everything in the morning."
Leah gulped. Her expression was startled like she hadn't studied for this test question. Maybe baby girl had forgotten that she was going home with me. It would have been a simple enough reaction. But the cursory glance that looked like she did it almost for show, plus her measured response, they all indicated that she knew that she didn't want to take anything from here before she spoke.
"There's nothing," her soft voice escaped her lips.
I tilted her face back toward me. "Well, we'll get you into something with more coverage, for now, and get you out of this hellhole. There's nothing for you here." It was true. She didn't belong with her lech father waiting for whatever prick he would use her to broker a deal with. I'd ended her father and taken her, making out with everything I wanted and saving her from whatever despicable bastard she might have ended up with.
I was going to be so goddamn good to her. "You're not trading one cage for another, Leah," I told her.
She gave me a half-hearted smile.
"I'm serious. You're a smart girl with your whole life ahead of you, and you're not going to be trapped and sequestered away at my home. Our home. I'd like you to work for my company." I realized after talking to her that I wanted to teach her the ropes. Something financial would be fine with me.
"Slave and slave labor?" Leah said and paused. She chuckled. It was a joke, but she was still nervous. For a good reason.
"You'll get a salary if that makes it any better," I offered.
"Doesn't that make me a whore?" Leah's eyes regarded me with defiance. The fire in her eyes licked at something in my soul that made me crave her even more than I already did.
"You aren't taking payment for sex. You're the payment in this arrangement with your father, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm saving you from a worse fate. I assure you that when I touch you again, you'll want it." I said, fisting my cock for extra menace. Because as much as she gasped now, as she looked horrified, I saw the hunger in how she looked at me. At my cock. Baby girl wanted what I had to offer.
I looked at her face, a mask of consternation, and I knew my work here wasn't done. "I don't want this life for you. You don't want it, either, do you?" I waved my hand around to indicate this room where her father kept her locked away.
"No, Mr. Renaud, sir," Leah looked down. She was trembling in part from her fear and in part because I was intimidating.
I sat back on her bed and waved for her to come closer to me.
“I told you earlier to call me Jacob," I said, even though the idea of her calling me 'sir' made my cock jump. I was going to be good and not fuck her, so right now making her come by riding me was all I would put on the menu. If she had the energy to sass me, to be stressed, then Leah had the energy and the need to come again. "Put my face between your knees and hold onto your headboard. I want you to ride my face until you're not so damn stressed, baby girl."
Her eyes widened, and she started to comply, but her legs were trembling. She was equal parts nervous and excited. I knew that when I rolled her sweet pussy over my face and let her grind into me, all her anxiety could fade away.
"Y-yes, Jacob," Leah stammered.
"This is about feeling good for you. You do what feels good. I want you to come until you don't want to scream for anything but pleasure. Then you'll come home with me."
Her eyes looked into mine as I pulled her pussy down to my face, locking my mouth against her and dipping my tongue through her folds. At first, she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut while she bit her lip. But Leah rolled her hips a little, feeling that, and her eyes looked into mine before she lo
oked up, her head falling back and her hands gripping the headboard for dear life. That moment where I see her dare me to give her what I offered. I feel her body go after that pleasure. It makes me desperate to pull her pussy down on my cock, but instead, I fuck her pussy with my tongue, worship her clit, and give her every pleasure. It doesn't take long for her legs to quake around me. My hand closes over the sensual column of her throat, the hum of her moans on my hand sending both our pleasures skyrocketing. I fist my cock with my other hand, desperate to come while I watch her face ghost through every pleasurable wave. I come into my hand, then wipe my load on the sheets. It is rather undignified, but those sheets are none of our concern anymore. When she finally comes down from her high, the orgasm bottoming out and her eyelids drooping with exhaustion, I scoop her into my arms, and retrieve a new gown from her dresser, sliding her into it. The day has really gotten the best of her, and she slumps to sleep against my shoulder. I feel odd with her in my arms like this. My possessive nature relishes this, but something else in me is changed. I don't know what has come over me, but I just know I don't want the feeling to go away. Kissing her forehead while she sleeps, I know the beast within will only have so much tenderness. Soon, I'll show her how I fuck and how I want to fuck her.
Leah
The next day, I woke with a hazy mind that had absolutely no idea about where I was. I didn't recognize any of my surroundings because I'd never seen them before, but I knew with utter certainty that I was in Jacob Renaud's home. A cursory glance in all directions after rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and without a doubt, I knew that I was in his bedroom. The opulence somehow present in the understated elegance was everything about him. The dark, rich wood walls were a sharp contrast to the gaudiness of my father's ornate wallpaper in my room. The simple, stark white and rich taupes of the art in the room were a tasteful addition to smart places within the room. The black, stone and metal furniture in the room was stunning against the nice canvas and cloth on other parts of the room. The plush silk sheets against the cream bedspread were a delicate contrast to the rich oaken bedframe surrounding where I had slept.
The ceiling was the height of splendor, vaulted high and an understated gray color that made me feel something in my heart I couldn't describe, a strange fluttering consideration that was neutral but impossible to ignore. Taking in the room, I felt it was something deeply personal that was said about Jacob when I looked around me. What it was, I wasn't sure, but it was a beautiful room. A little harsh, not quite livable. It seemed like a museum exhibit or storeroom showing off what a classy living space could be, but it had no warmth. No hominess. Not inherently. But the feel of the mattress beneath me and the delightful soreness in my muscles to remind me of the incredible orgasms I had the night before implanted a feeling of home in me instantly. Breathing in, there was a saltwater and clean scent with something spiced, woodsy, utterly around me. I could enjoy that and the comfortable ache in my body because, for now at least, I was alone.
It came back to me now. I remembered that Jacob had said that he was taking me here. I wasn't wearing the gown I'd been wearing before. Instead, I was in something silkier. A gorgeous, breathtaking pink-red that brought out the natural pinks in my ivory skin in a stunning way. The bodice of the negligee was such that my nipples were visible through it, and the pink-red hue of them was undeniably sensual.
Jacob had put me in this. He'd done this while I was sleeping. It stopped my heart to think that he could take me from what was supposed to be my home.
Because my father sold me to him. Used me as payment in a business deal.
He could take me from my home and not worry about someone finding out. Jacob could undress me and put new clothes on me, and there was no one to stop him or protest. I'd been asleep. I thought about his fingers placing me into this gown, and it should have disgusted me. Some part of me was horrified. But another part of me felt my breathing get shallower, felt my heart start to race. He would see how my breasts looked in this. Did he cup them, outline their form through the lace? As my thighs were so bare in this gown, did he lightly touch me, or press his fingers against them with a firm touch that left a mark? I could see the fingerprints still imprinted on my body from the intensity of last night, shadows of passion playing out against my skin, and I couldn't help but imagine him kissing, touching, claiming every inch of me where he'd been, and where he hadn't been.
The man hadn't fucked me yet. I squirmed. He wouldn't have done that while I was sleeping, right? After all, he hadn't fucked me while I was awake and told me that would come later. Surely he wouldn't have done it in my sleep. I would feel it, feel different if he'd fucked me. It seemed vulgar, which shocked me. After all, he may have gotten my consent through some level of my own volition, but he owned me. Why did one invasion feel shades darker than another?
Sighing, I stretched my arms in bed, closing my eyes and splaying out across the bed. I heard the light sound of footfalls. I debated whether or not to keep my eyes closed or to open them. I assumed the sound was Jacob entering the room from the master bathroom,judging by the direction of the sound coming from the bathroom doorway at that end of the room, rather than the entrance to this room far in front of where the bed was. Knowing he was nearby made me want to open my eyes and see him as much as it made me want to squeeze my eyes shut more and pretend that I hadn't been practically kidnapped.
I felt something silky over both my wrists, capturing them in place over my head, and my eyes shot open.
Leah
Jacob Renaud bound my wrists in a red silk rope and gave me the darkest, most sensual look that a man or god could make. He was a wicked Adonis. I followed his gaze down my body. He noticed how my nipples looked and he liked it. I noticed his other hand had a toothbrush in it. "Everything is ready for you in the bathroom. Do you need to go now, or can we take care of something else first?" The question was about as loaded as an assault rifle. I knew what he meant, and I couldn't breathe. The room around me seemed to close in. The soft silk on my wrists was intense even though it was so gentle, and the very outline of his chiseled, toned body was like a hot neon sign for the sin he offered. I wanted every second of it, and I wanted to resist.
"I...I want to go the bathroom first," I said, hoping to free myself, if only momentarily.
Jacob smiled. He dropped the toothbrush between my thighs. Everything that was sped up was now in slow motion. Leaning over me, his chest close enough to my face that my lips grazed his bare skin, he untied the ropes he'd so quickly encapsulated my wrists in. "As you wish." He leaned down, and his face is just far enough away that our noses almost touch, but they don't. For only a second. He gets off the bed and waves his arm in that direction.
Picking up the toothbrush, I pull the sheets further down to free my feet and step out of bed, a plush rug contrasting against a hard floor as I pad to the bathroom. I wonder if Jacob will follow me, and part of me is terrified he will. Part of me is numb and heading into the bathroom, with or without him, to do something as simple as brushing my teeth. Thankfully, he doesn't follow me, and I close the door behind me.
I look in the mirror and wonder who is looking back at me in the mirror. The negligee looks more expensive than any of the old cotton sundresses I regularly wore at home. I'm older, somehow. I'm practically glowing if I'm honest, I know because of just how much I detoxed the shitty life before me with the ridiculous number of orgasms I had and moving into this fancy house. I pee, wash my hands, brush my teeth, , and then I decide I'm going to take a shower. I don't know if he's expecting me or if he's gone. I just know that I have a few moments of freedom, and I want to feel hot water against my skin. I'm a shower thinker. I know that when the hot water hits the top of my head and soaks through my hair, I'll start to feel better, no matter what's before me.
The bathroom is gray and white, and the shower is the size of my entire bedroom. There's an enormous tub in the room as well. I'd love to soak in it some time, but for now, I'm happy to figure out how t
o work the nine showerheads in this massive bathroom.
They're pointing in every direction, and they're not even all shaped the same way. I'm overwhelmed with the knobs and the sheer number of them. I slip out of the nightie, watching it slink down at my feet. I start to fiddle with the shower and figure out how to get some hot water going. I'm alone and there's nothing but the sound of water and my thoughts...and then cello. That's what that is.
There's a speaker system connected in the shower, and I saw a speaker by the sink, and inside the bedroom. A light cello sound filters into the room at a very light volume; I could almost miss it. The cello is my favorite instrument because it sounds like so many things in every bellow. He couldn't know this. It must be a coincidence. But it ruffles me. I'm not sure why everything that I should be pleased with upsets me and everything that should upset me turns me on, but I'm not here in the shower to feel more confused. I run the hot water through my hair, feeling the full length of my hair getting hot. There's a showerhead that's pointing to my stomach. One on my back. Several on my shoulders. I can relax like this and I should.
So why is everywhere the water heating making me imagine what it would feel like if Jacob were touching me instead?
Maybe because he's going to fuck me soon. I know that's what's coming afterward. I might get to eat breakfast first. I might not. I don't know if I can eat right now, though I should be hungry. I normally eat very early. I run my hands over my stomach, and that natural hunger that I would have after waking isn't there. I know it will be soon. I listen to the music and run my hands over my body. I know I'm imagining Jacob touching me, and why not? I should soften myself up for what's coming.
