His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  CHAPTER NINE

  Robert

  Shit, she’s perfect. She’s so fucking perfect in every way, I can see why Chance fell for her. Anna is gorgeous, giving and sweet, not to mention ready to fuck on a moment’s notice.

  Because yeah, I’m doing her all the time now. At first, I figured it was just a one-time thing. I was gonna taste that snatch, I was gonna help myself to what every other guy in town was already getting.

  But shit, Anna was a virgin. The redhead had never been touched, and the realization set off a flurry of doubt in my mind. Because what Jezebel is a virgin? Anna should have serviced dozens, if not hundreds of men by now. And yet the slick of red on my dick was proof that she was untouched, no girl can fake that shit.

  So after that first night, I stalked off into the woods, determined to face my demons. Damn, maybe I had gotten the wrong girl. Maybe I’d picked up an innocent female, determined to teach her a lesson, and it’d all gone haywire. I shook my head furiously, pacing back and forth in the forest. If that was true, then I’d fucked up mightily.

  Enraged, I spent hours in the wild, storming back and forth, roaring with anger, belting my misery into the woods. And finally, a resolution came to mind. There was no mistake. Robert Morgan doesn’t make mistakes, certainly not giant fuck-ups like this, so I was keep going. Anna was my prisoner, and until then, we were staying in this isolated cabin.

  Except I couldn’t resist her. Stalking back to the house, I let myself into the darkened interior. The smell of some delicious stew hit my nostrils, but I steeled myself. So what if she could cook? Lots of females can cook, it’s not a magic skill.

  And locking myself in the downstairs bedroom, I sat on the bed, huge frame hulking. Go to sleep, my brain commanded. Go to sleep, tomorrow is another day.

  But my body just wouldn’t obey, and before I knew it, I was storming up the stairs, banging open the door to her room. And shit, but it was ON. We were fucking like animals within seconds, her pussy wet, willing and wild, my dick homing in like a missile on its target.

  Was I kind? Was I a giving, gentle lover, since the redhead was a recent virgin? Hell no. The animal in me took over and I fucked that sweet twat like it was last time ever, slapping her nips while pummeling that vag. And even worse, I made her drink my sperm. Yeah, I forced those gorgeous lips down to the bedspread and made her drink my jism like a cat licking up cream.

  I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. I’m addicted to the girl, and in the month since taking her virginity, everything’s been turned on its head. Anna’s no longer locked up in her room. Instead, I come to her bed every night and drill that pussy until it’s senseless. Yeah, you heard me right. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. I lose myself in her softness, her sweet, mewling cries, her cunt clamping around me again and again as she creams on my dick.

  And we’ve settled into happy domesticity to boot. Oh yeah, Anna cooks three meals daily, humming around the cabin, sweeping and tidying things, breaking only for a hot afternoon session in the sack. And then dinnertime comes around, and she serves me up another gourmet meal before we hit the sheets again, the female’s legs parting for a second dose of my cum.

  But surprisingly, the redhead and I get along pretty well. We have real conversation in addition to the hot sessions, which surprises the shit out of me.

  “So you’re a writer?” she asked one day, while ladling out some hot soup.

  I grunted, taking a deep breath, inhaling the tangy tomato aroma. Shit, the girl had made gazpacho from scratch and it smelled incredible.

  “Yeah,” I grunted, lifting the spoon to my lips. “Yeah, I’m a writer.”

  “Would you tell me your pen name?” she asked, sweet chin propped up on one hand. “Would you Robert?”

  I swallowed, brain kicking furiously. My author name is private, something that I don’t generally share. But what the fuck. We were already off the reservation with the kidnapping and imprisonment, what was there left to lose?

  So I grunted.

  “Robert James,” came my terse reply. “I’m also known as Robert James.”

  The girl gasped, eyes going wide.

  “You’re the Robert James?” she whispered, inhaling deeply, those big boobies rising. “The crime fiction writer? Oh my god, I’ve read all of your books!”

  I grunted again noncommittally.

  “Yeah, business has been good for the last couple years. Better than good, great.”

  Anna nodded furiously.

  “You’ve been on the New York Times bestsellers list how many times now? Six? Seven?”

  “Ten,” I said, smiling despite myself. “And hoping for an eleventh with my next release.”

  “Of course it’ll be a hit!” exclaimed the redhead, almost bouncing in her chair, she was so excited. “You’re so talented, the way you word things, the plot development, and the characters. Oh my god, I’m in love with Michael Phoenix, he’s so sexy.”

  I frowned then, brows drawing low. What the fuck, my baby girl was in love with another man? I shouldn’t have felt this way, after all Michael Phoenix is a fictional character, and my creation at that. But still, a sense of possessiveness rushed over my frame, chest going tight, blue eyes boring into those caramel pools.

  “Michael Phoenix is fake,” I ground out. “Plus he’s a pussy. He gets his ass handed to him in my next book.”

  The girl was contemplative.

  “Really?” she asked in a quiet voice. “That doesn’t sound right. He’s a double agent and the main character of your books. It would be weird if Phoenix suddenly became weak or spineless.”

  I grunted.

  “Well, he gets his ass handed to him,” I reiterated again. “Phoenix deserves it, he’s too fucking alpha,” was my final comment, hoping to halt the conversation.

  But Anna wasn’t having it. She rested her chin on her hand again, those big brown eyes limpid and warm.

  “Well maybe I could help you,” she offered. “Maybe I could read a first draft of your book, and give comments. I’m a secretary at a law firm, you know, so I’m used to proofing stuff.”

  No. Her place was in the sack and the kitchen, nowhere else.

  “Naw,” I grunted, shaking my head, spooning more of that delicious soup into my mouth. “No need.”

  But Anna wouldn’t give up. She took the empty bowl from me and walked to the sink, but then turned back, eyes resolute.

  “I can help Robert,” she stated firmly. “I can help. I know copy, and I’ve read all of your books. Give me a chance, you won’t regret it I swear.”

  A huge sigh came gusting from my mouth, eyes rolling, more to stop the conversation than anything. Was this really happening? Was my prisoner offering to become my employee? Shit, this adventure was taking crazy twists and turns.

  But then again, what harm would it do? If Anna was shit, then I’d just pull the manuscript, no harm done. Besides, it wasn’t like she had so much to do out here in the woods. So I gave in.

  “Fine,” I said as she pulled a savory pot roast from the oven. “Fine, be ready tomorrow.”

  I was hoping she’d forget, but after our morning sex session, Anna bounced out of bed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, my cum still dripping from that wet slit.

  “I’m ready Robert,” she giggled, big boobies bobbling. “Let’s get cracking, the early bird gets the worm!”

  And I groaned, rolling over in the sheets. But shit, the redhead’s enthusiasm was infectious, and soon I found myself downstairs, handing her a couple chapters from my new release.

  “Here,” I said, expecting nothing. “Take a look and let me know what you think.”

  The redhead was so cute, her hair in a messy knot in her head, a pencil tucked behind one sweet ear. But her look was serious, that brown gaze steady as she took the thick stack of papers from me.

  “I’ll do a good job, Robert,” she promised softly, and with that, the female disappeared into the den to do her work, as I took my customary place in my office.

 
And surprisingly, her edits and suggestions were good, thoughtful and meticulous.

  “So what’d ya think?” I asked casually at lunch, biting into a gargantuan sandwich. “Lots of typos? It’s this old typewriter I’m using, it jams a lot.”

  “I noticed,” she said slowly, taking a small bite of her own sandwich and chewing slowly. “You could do better with a laptop, Robert.”

  I shook my head.

  “Naw, no laptop necessary,” I grunted. “I hate that shit, technology has gone too far with the internet and games and all that crap. You get distracted instead of putting in good work.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “I know what you mean. People play Candy Crush for hours at a time, it’s incredible. But Robert,” she continued taking a deep breath. “I stand by my previous comment. You can definitely make Michael Phoenix vulnerable sometimes, but he can’t become a sniveling fool. It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t fit with your storyline.”

  My mind whirled but I made myself stay calm, taking another big bite.

  “Why not?” I asked casually. “What’s wrong?”

  Anna took a deep breath and looked at me seriously.

  “Michael can’t have a personality change in the middle of a book, it’s too weird. He can go through trying times, the situation can change around him, but essentially, he has to be the same person. Otherwise, you’re basically writing a book where the main character has two personalities. And you don’t mean to do that, do you?”

  Of course not. Phoenix wasn’t a schizophrenic, he was a former FBI agent drawn to the shadier side of life. He was ruthless and cunning, sure, but essentially an honorable, upstanding dude.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said casually. “Maybe I’ll re-write some scenes.”

  And the little girl smiled then, making my heart jump, insides going queasy. Fuck! What was it about Anna that did this to me? Somehow I’d become the prisoner, and not her. Because when she speaks, I listen. When she smiles, I smile, and shit, when she says jump, I’m the one who’s asking “how high?” What the fuck has happened? Why has this happened? I’m supposed to be the master in control, but instead I’m the puppy dog obediently following along on his leash.

  But the thing is I didn’t want to analyze the situation because what would it say about me? It was just easier to take it day by day, enjoying the redhead’s body while working on my book. Besides, that curvy figure was beckoning now and my dick jerked immediately in reply. Standing abruptly, I looked down at her hungrily, blue eyes blazing.

  “Come on,” I growled, my huge boner visible, the ridge insistent as it curved down my leg. “Upstairs, pretty baby, Daddy wants his real lunch now.”

  And the redhead tittered then before getting up, bouncing those assets. She sashayed towards the stairs, hips waggling this way and that, before looking at me coyly over one slim shoulder.

  “Okay Daddy,” she breathed, shaking those red curls. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  And fuck, but the fuck session was good. Anna’s the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot. She’s responsive, enthusiastic, and always so wet. That pussy drips non-stop, ready to harbor my dick at any hour, any minute, and I’ve been partaking around the clock. Why not? She’s there and she’s my captive.

  But again, it’s not so simple. Because something’s happening, stirring my soul, drowning me in a sea of confusion. And Anna knows too, the little girl is smart. She’s able to read me, to anticipate what I want and how I want it. I see her looking at me thoughtfully sometimes, words in her eyes, but then she bites her lip, turning away, thinking second thoughts.

  So yeah, I dunno what to do. The redhead’s under my skin, intelligent without being annoying, sassy without being abrasive. Her suggestions to my book are spot-on, and her edits are that of a professional. I looked over the red markings and shit, but I should pay her for this work because she’s better than my real editor. Shaking my head, I turned back to my typewriter. The redhead is more than I imagined, a thousand times smarter, better, and sweeter than some nothing from the street.

  And that’s why I have a surprise planned. Because I need to test Anna. I need to see what she’s really about. I’ve sated myself on her body, again and again, and her mind has turned out to be fertile ground as well, stimulating and sensitive.

  So I need to test her. Yeah, I’m like that, a fucker who puts the screws to his women. Will the pretty girl be able to handle my surprise? Will she survive or will the shock drive her over the edge until she’s a shattered mess? Involuntarily, my dick jerked at the thought of sweet redhead. She better survive … because there was no exit without going through me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Anna

  I woke one morning, stretching luxuriously in bed. Oh god, life is so different now. My pussy ached deliciously, thighs slightly sticky from Robert’s cum. But instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, I stretched again, raising my arms over my head and inhaling, breasts rising, before smiling like a satisfied cat.

  Because I’ve become a complete slut for Robert, letting him use me any which way he wants, plowing my insides, coming in me again and again. It’s insane. I’m supposed to be his prisoner, I’m supposed to be tied up and locked away, but instead, we’ve settled into a routine. Every morning, we have coffee together downstairs, Robert like a huge, silent bear before he gets his caffeine. But then he loosens up and we discuss his writing for the day.

  “Drama this afternoon,” he grunted recently, eyes fixed on the paper. “Phoenix gets thrown in jail and escapes, only to be double-crossed by his female lover.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Agree, totally agree,” came my murmur. “But what do you think about being double-crossed by his sidekick instead? I like Amanda, and I think their relationship humanizes him. If we write her out of the plot, then he goes back to losing that facet.”

  Robert frowned, staring at his manuscript. But he answered.

  “We’ll see,” grunted the big man. “We’ll see. Now let’s get crackin’.”

  And he disappeared into his study, the door only slightly muffling the clack clack clack of that ancient typewriter as I sat at the kitchen table, going through his latest chapters.

  They’re good, they’re really good. Robert may be a man of few words in real life, but his words on the page are amazing. They roll off, so well-written and illuminating that sometimes I’m gasping by the end of a chapter, unable to get enough.

  But sure enough, we inevitably pause for lunch and some lighthearted play. Okay, lighthearted isn’t the right word. More like Robert gives me a deep dicking, sitting me down on that fat cock, and I love it. My screams come out, begging him for more, chanting his name as I come again and again, accepting his seed.

  So I expected more of the same today. Luxuriating in the sheets, I sat up, sniffing for the rich aroma of coffee from downstairs, but instead, a slam caught my ear. What was that? It sounded like a car door. Did we have neighbors? Was Robert expecting someone? This was weird.

  I flipped off the comforter and tripped over to the window, pulling the gauzy curtain back to look outside. And what I saw made my breath catch painfully, the bile rising in my throat. Because it was Ann-Marie. That’s right, my baby sister was here, perfectly made up even at eight a.m., that golden-red hair like a lion’s mane, blue eyes sparkling as she laughed.

  “Hello Robert!” she cried out joyfully, waving from the car. “Hello!”

  Because my man was downstairs, that huge form hulking, powerful and masculine as he strode towards Ann-Marie. For sure, he was going to run her off his property right? She was an intruder, she didn’t belong here!

  But instead, Robert was mesmerized, already under her spell. He stepped towards the car, leaning down to kiss Ann-Marie on the cheek, but my sister is cagey. Instead of a perfunctory peck, she moved her mouth at the last minute so their lips locked, sensual and passionate. And Robert didn’t turn away either. He growled low in that throat, big hands coming up to rest
gently on her hips.

  I literally sat down on the floor then with a hard thunk, losing my balance. Oh my god, was this really happening? My mind couldn’t compute. I’d literally just serviced this man last night, taken his dick deep inside, let him pump me full of semen. In fact, that creamy jism was leaking out of me right now, the bubbly faintly warm and viscous, escaping from my secret spot.

  So how could this be happening? My head spun and I leaned forwards, trying to get some air. No! my brain screamed. No no no! This has to be a mistake.

  But from the giggles outside, followed by Ann-Marie’s trilling voice, there was no mistake whatsoever. My sister was flirting with my lover like there was no tomorrow, and the low rumble from Robert proved that he was eating it up, drawn into her devious plan.

  No! my brain screamed again. Oh god, no! Not the only man in the world I’ve ever loved! Don’t take him, leave me with something.

  But it was too late because the front door banged and Robert’s voice rang up the stairs.

  “Anna,” he rumbled, a muffled female laugh mixing with that deep, masculine tone. “Your sister’s here.”

  Oh god, this was my worst nightmare. Ann-Marie must have no idea what we were up to right? And mind spinning furiously, I rushed into some clothes, pulling on whatever was around. My curls sprang out tangled and wild, my face was pale as a sheet. But I was going to face this with as much dignity as possible, I was going to walk out of this with my head held high, knowing I’d done nothing wrong.

  So descending the staircase like a queen, I faced my lover and my sister. Immediately, my heart sank. They looked perfect together. Ann-Marie was so lithe and supple next to to Robert’s imposing frame, her light hair and features the perfect foil to his male darkness. Oh god. This was the Twilight Zone come to life, Ken and Barbie fitting together perfectly, me Humpty Dumpty next to them.