by Jenika Snow
I explored the room more. There was an armoire across from the bed, and when I opened it I could see clothes lined up. The clothes he wanted me to wear for him.
I ran my hands along the soft, silky material. I pulled one of the dresses off the hanger and held it out to look at it. It was definitely expensive, formfitting, and exquisitely beautiful.
Heels were on the floor, all lined up, all looking so expensive.
After putting the dress away I turned and faced the bed. It was massive, and I had no doubt about the intimacy that would happen on it—the raw and filthy things Jackson would do to me.
A flush stole over me at those images. I was a virgin, and had absolutely no experience in that department. Would he be disappointed? Or would he be the type of man who would teach me what he liked, what he wanted me to do to him?
It was then that I saw the box on the bed. I’d been so enamored by everything else that I hadn’t even noticed it. I moved closer to it, opened the box, and stared at the dress inside.
I felt my heart beat faster. The dress was gorgeous, but it was the fact that I was dressing for Jackson that made me so nervous. He’d specifically picked out this outfit for me, probably envisioned what I’d look like in it… and out of it.
The heels that sat beside the dress were stilettos—ankle-breaking heels.
I picked one of them up, ran my finger along the smooth white arch, and turned it around to see the red underside. They were gorgeous, and something I’d never actually worn before. Hell, I didn't even think I could walk in these.
They were fuck-me shoes, definitely.
I sat the heel down and picked up the dress, the material feeling heavy in my hands. The detailing was delicate, the beadwork along the bodice and hemline feminine. The white material was sheer. I knew the slip underneath wouldn’t hide much.
Chills moved along my arms. I had no doubt that tonight he'd take the dress off my body, tear my panties and bra from me, and devour every inch of me.
I lifted my hand and touched my lips, my mouth still tingling from the kiss he’d given me in the limo. He’d been so brutal, so forceful. And I’d gotten so wet because of it.
I wanted him that way, wanted that intensity, that masculinity that I knew only he could give me.
I might not know what was in store, or had any clue what I was supposed to do tonight, or for the next week. But what I did know was that I wasn't as opposed to the idea of being with Jackson as I thought I should be.
I anticipated all he would do to me, because I knew once it was said and done I wouldn’t be the same woman.
I took the items to the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. I had to ask myself what in the hell I was thinking. Although truth be told, it wasn't like I had much of a choice.
If I hadn’t agreed to go with Jackson I would have been throwing my father under the bus. And if I did that, who knew what the hell would've happened to him in the long run? I didn’t know what lengths Jackson would go to make his point, but I didn't want to find out.
I didn't want to tempt him or test his power.
So instead I just took this experience with a grain of salt. I hoped like hell I didn't lose my heart in the process.
I told myself that in a week this would all be over with.
But it was that part of me, buried deep down inside, the one I didn’t want to acknowledge, that whispered it didn't know how I felt about those seven days ending. Because I had a feeling once I was really with Jackson there was no turning back.
I knew there would be no mending my heart once it was given to him.
Chapter 4
Jackson
“The first time I saw you, you were wearing white.” I watched as the words I said hit her. Even across the large dining room an audible gasp could be heard from her. When I walked in at first, I just stood and watched her. She was standing by the window, looking out over the grounds and the vision was so reminiscent of the first time I saw her, I had to tell her. The only difference was that night I’d gone home alone, to an empty bed and my hand. Tonight Megan would be in my bed and I would be so far inside of her she would feel me for days.
My words made confusion come across her face and once I walked closer I could see those blue eyes cloud with the same uncertainty. I saw more than just that, however. I saw the way her nipples instantly swelled, jutting against the delicate fabric.
“I was?” she asked.
“Governor Hasting’s black and white gala,” I informed her and then I waited while that news sunk in. I occupied the moments it took by letting my hand slide down her shoulders and farther down her back. I trailed my fingers over the indentation of her spine as if I were playing a delicate concerto on a piano—only stopping when my fingertips hit her ass, the dress protecting her from me—for now.
I lied. Another thing different about then were the dresses. Back then she wore an obviously secondhand dress, which revealed none of her body, and yet made her look ethereal and untouchable. The dress I chose for her tonight fit her like a second skin. It clung so tightly to her that I literally saw the outline of her breasts. This made me happy. I’d left her a note asking her to wear only one thing under the dress. I had to wonder if she’d followed my instructions and my cock jerked with the need to find out. When she let out a small gasp of surprise, I brought my attention back to her.
“He hasn’t been governor for—”
“Over three years,” I confirmed. “I’m well aware, Megan,” I added. The scent of her hit me. She reminded me of the honeysuckle that vined uncontrollably on my estate. Wild, sweet and addicting. That was Megan.
And she was mine.
Her long blonde hair was worn loose. It fell in waves down her back. I curled my hand into it so that it pulled her head back just enough to expose her throat. I leaned in close, unable to resist her scent. She trembled against me and my cock pushed hard against the fabric of my suit. I was surprised when the material didn’t tear. Her effect on me was that strong.
I brought my head down and let the tip of my nose run along the fine tendon on the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. I could hear how her heartbeat sped and her breathing became ragged and I fucking enjoyed it. I was a predator and she was my prey. Soon, I would devour her.
“Jackson.” My name left her lips like a broken plea. I knew she was pure. I had been watching and wanting her for far too long to let another man slide in and take her from me. Whenever one showed the slightest bit of interest in her, I found a way to have him removed from the picture. The last man cost me two hundred grand. He thought he’d won the lottery. The idiot. I would have paid more. “Jackson.” She exhaled my name out like a question. Does she know that I’m the answer? Does she know that soon I will be everything to her?
I brought my lips to her skin and kissed the jumping pulse that hammered against her neck and then—because I could—because after all this time she was finally mine, I pulled her body into me and let her feel the hard outline of my cock pressed against her stomach.
“Your nipples are hard for me, Megan. Is that sweet pussy of yours just as wet?” I growled, my voice so low and guttural. It sounded exactly how I felt—an animal held too long in captivity, finally free to savagely fuck his mate and conquer her.
“I… Jackson, we shouldn’t…”
“Answer me and don’t lie, Megan. I own you now,” I reminded her. She might have been a virgin, but I would not allow her to shy away from me. From us.
“I am yours,” she admitted quietly, like a dirty little secret she shouldn’t reveal.
My hand in her hair tightened and I growled in her ear, “Say it. Give it all to me,” I commanded.
“I’m…” She gasped the word, whether from need, fear or pain from the hold I had on her, I didn’t know, nor did I care. I needed this from her. “I’m wet for you, Jackson,” she called out. Her words were stronger this time, soothing the beast inside of me.
“There’s my go
od girl.” I let go of her then, after placing a gentle kiss against her ear.
It took a Herculean effort on my part, but I reined in the hunger once again. My hand nearly trembled with the energy that took. I hadn’t had a woman since the moment I laid eyes on Megan. I hadn’t wanted anyone but her. Some might call that insane; I didn’t care. I was well past the age where getting my dick wet was the sole reason for fucking a woman. I wanted more. The moment I saw Megan I knew she was it. The woman I would claim, the woman I would plant my seed in—the one. It was that simple. It was that complicated.
I regretfully released her hair and let my hand drop to the base of her back. My fingers found that sexy line of her ass and rubbed against it. Soon I would let my tongue follow the same path.
“What are we doing?” Megan asked, clearly flustered, as I walked her to the table.
“We’re eating,” I informed her and I couldn’t help the smile that broke from my lips when she stumbled. It was refreshing to have a woman who did not know how to hide her reaction to me. Megan would never pretend with me. I wouldn’t allow it. Everything between us must always be completely real—completely open.
That thought brought me satisfaction as I found my seat at the head of the table and waited for the cook to serve us. There was some distance between us. She was at the opposite end of the long table. I’d planned it that way. Now when I observed the distance between us I had but one vision in my mind.
Megan crawling across the table toward me and then lying on it nude, with her legs splayed out, waiting to be devoured.
Suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted for dessert.
Chapter 5
Megan
I stared at the plate of food in front of me, my appetite nonexistent. How did Jackson expect me to eat after what he’d told me, after how he’d touched me? I fell so easily to his soft whispers, his hard body against mine. Even now I could still feel his hard cock pressed against my stomach, a testament to what would come, to what he would have deep inside of me.
“You should eat something.” He stared at me from across the table, his gaze seeming so dark, so intense.
I felt like he was touching me just by the way he looked at me. This shiver raced along my body and although I was chilled, I also felt flushed, overheated. This was like nothing I’d ever experienced, and I knew being with Jackson would only make it ten times worse… or maybe better.
“I'm not all that hungry.” I was being honest, but it didn't have to do with the fact I was full from earlier, but from the fact that my emotions were so turbulent, so consuming that they filled me.
He’d already finished his meal and pushed the plate away. Someone came and took the dishes, walked over to me, and removed mine as well. The glass of wine beside me sat untouched. I was thirsty, so damn thirsty, but I was afraid that drinking alcohol would only intensify my emotions, my arousal.
“Maybe you'd have an appetite for something sweeter?”
His voice was so dark and commanding that all I wanted to do was melt into it, let it consume every single part of me. It was the way he said those words, the way he asked me, that told me he wasn't just thinking about dessert.
Or maybe he was and I was said dessert.
I reached for my glass of wine, not caring if the alcohol did make my arousal worse. I took several long drinks from it, the red wine sliding down my throat, the sweetness covering my tongue, the flavors exploding over my palate.
When I set it down I glanced up at Jackson. He watched me with that commanding expression, that dominating persona. I felt the alcohol move through my veins swiftly and I knew intoxication was inevitable if I kept this up.
A second later another tray was brought out to the table. A plate was set in front of me with strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream all arranged in this delicate, fantastical way.
“You always did have a sweet tooth,” Jackson said and my heart started beating faster.
I thought back to three years ago, to that first time I’d met Jackson, that first time he’d seen me. I’d been an eighteen-year-old girl, so vulnerable and innocent, so naïve. I’d let the world around me consume me.
The party that my father had taken me to was unlike anything I'd ever experienced or seen before. I was swept away in the Cinderellaesque moment, taking in the wealth and beauty that surrounded me.
I remembered trying all the delicate little sweets. The treats had been set up on silver trays, the colors vibrant, beautiful. Was that the moment Jackson was referring to right now? Was that the sweet tooth he was speaking about?
“Come here, Megan.” The way he said that was so dominant, so commanding that I actually found myself standing on instinct.
I wanted to obey him, to do what he said. Not just because he wanted me to and probably derived pleasure from it, but because I wanted to go to him.
I walked over to him and when I stood right before him, my heart beating faster, I couldn't help but look down and see the stiffness of the erection that pushed against his slacks. He was huge, thick and long, but then again I’d felt that pressed against my stomach earlier. What would that feel like thrusting into me, taking my virginity, claiming it as his own?
He pushed the chair back, spread his legs, and gestured me forward. I stumbled slightly, my nerves taking over, this experience totally new for me. I wanted to be with him desperately though, wanted to be his in every way possible. I should hate this man, loathe him and everything he represented. He was using me because of my father... making me the payment.
And the truth—my dirty little secret—was the fact I was soaking wet for him at that knowledge. The fact he wanted me, had for the last three years, and would clearly do anything to make that possible. It made me drunk from it all.
Before I knew it was happening Jackson had his hand on my knee, his thumb slowly moving in circles around my skin. I was tense, I could feel it in every part of me, but I didn't want this to stop. In fact, I wanted it to go further.
I was breathing so hard, my breasts pressing against my dress, my nipples so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if they tore right through the material. And then he started moving his hand up, curling his fingers along my inner thigh, making me shiver from the inside out.
He had his hand so close to my pussy, so close to the part that I wanted him to touch the most. But he didn't. Instead he leaned in close, our mouths only inches apart. I stared into his eyes for long seconds, wondering if I should be the one to make the move, to kiss him.
But before I could act on that, he had his mouth on mine—this brutal, possessive intensity coming from him. I braced my hands behind me, the table the only support I had at the moment.
While he continued to kiss me, I felt him move his fingers underneath the minuscule panties I wore. I found them under the dress after I'd fully pulled it out of the box. The scrap of lace and silk barely covered me, but made me feel so sexy, so desirable.
He was mouth fucking me. There was no other way for me to describe what he was doing. He pulled away far too soon, gripped my chin with his forefinger and thumb, and looked into my eyes. He didn't speak as he pushed the edge of my panties aside and stroked my soaked folds.
He started kissing me again as he teased his finger over my clit. I gasped against his mouth, the pleasure rising inside of me. I was wet, embarrassingly so, but the grunts he made and the way he kept teasing my pussy told me he liked it.
When he pulled back, I couldn't breathe. My lips felt bruised but in a good way. He pulled his hand out from under my dress, brought the glistening fingers up to show me, and started sucking the cream off. He hummed low in his throat, and I watched as his pupils dilated.
“I knew you'd taste so fucking good.” He gripped my chin again, tilted my head back, and claimed my mouth once more. He shoved his tongue into my mouth and made me taste myself on him, a sweet and musky flavor that invaded my senses. “Tell me how you feel,” he said against my lips.
“Breathless,” I responded hones
tly.
He tipped my head to the side and ran his tongue up the column of my neck, stopping at the pulse point beneath my ear and licking the skin roughly. “When I’m done with you, breathing will be the least of your problems.” He moved his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickling the shell. “When I’m done with you, Megan, you won’t be able to walk straight or sit comfortably, and all you’ll be able to think about is how my big cock claimed your virgin pussy.”
I gasped at the brutality of his words, the crass nature in which he spoke.
“But most of all,” he whispered, “you’ll be mine irrevocably because I’m not letting you fucking go.”
Chapter 6
Jackson
Megan was so young and naïve. I doubt she had any idea that with those words I laid all my cards on the table. It was not something I made a practice of doing. Yet, what did a man do when the one thing he has wanted for three years becomes his? Apparently he loses his fucking mind.
Tonight I had a plan. I was taking things slow. I was planning on teasing her, making her body crave what only I could give it—train her to need me, and keep her on the edge for days, all before I finally gave her relief.
Instead, I didn’t even make it through dinner before I told her I planned on keeping her. I was the one supposed to have all of the control here. Yet when I felt how wet she was for me, I lost it.
The first rule in business is to never lose control, but then Megan was not business. She was my woman, and her virginity my greatest prize.
I cleared the table behind her, shoving my plate so hard it flew across the slick surface, almost making it to the other side before ending up short and falling onto the marble tile with a loud crashing noise. The glass of wine by my plate had fallen over and the deep red liquid seeped onto the glass and then dropped down on the expensive white marble. I could only stare at it a moment. It reminded me that soon my cock would be covered in the innocence of Megan. My balls tightened at just the thought of it.
