by Jessa Kane
Wait. You have to wait.
My question still lingers in the cool air of the backseat.
“Do you understand?” I prompt her, snaring the tie of her bikini top between my teeth and pulling until her nipples pop free. My breathing turns ragged. “Do you understand that I’m going to get you pregnant, sweetheart?”
I panic when she hesitates to answer, but I will get what I want. I’m getting every inch of her. She’s had ownership of me for years and she’ll have it for the rest of her life. All I’m asking for is her to reciprocate immediately. Now. My madness dances on the razor’s edge when it comes to her. Does she realize that? Desperate to convince her, I close my mouth over one of the stiff little buds and rub it with the center of my tongue.
She gasps, her wrists jerking in my grip above her head. “D-Damian.”
I lick across to her other tit and give it the same attention, gratification storming through me when she writhes, her back arching off the seat. “Yes, Arya?”
“Am I…” She squeezes her eyes closed and blurts, “Am I supposed to be…wet?”
Christ. It takes the deepest reserve of my willpower not to flip Arya over and give her a rough fuck when she says that. I’ve never had intercourse, but I’ve studied enough to be prepared for this girl and my body always responds most intensely to the thought of Arya on her hands and knees, crying out as I thrust into her from behind. Goddamn. The things I’m going to do to this girl. Everything from making love to her in front of our fireplace to pounding her like a little toy against the hood of my car. And I have to stop thinking about that now or I’m going to act before she’s ready. Before I have control of myself. “Yes. It’s a very good thing, sweetheart,” I rasp. “Your body is making it easier for me to fit.”
She exhales with relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” I circle my tongue around her nipple and she seems to be enjoying it even more now that I’ve explained it’s a positive thing to be wet. Her ass shifts around on the seat, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “That feels so g-good.”
I have to know how wet she is.
Just need to touch. To taste.
I’ve let go of her pinned wrists and my hands are already fumbling with her bikini bottoms, my fingers shaking in my haste to get them off. This is a risky move when my cock is a stiff missile and precome is lubricating the tip, but I’ll never make the rest of the drive without seeing her pussy up close. Without meeting the part of her I plan to worship day and night and the hours in between.
She tries to close her legs out of shyness and I snarl at the nervous reflex, ripping the nylon down the center with my bare hands. “No, no, no, Arya. We do not play keep away with this pussy.” I spit and watch the moisture from my mouth travel down the perfect slit of her hairless sex. “It’s mine and I decide what to do with it.”
Her chest expands. “W-what are you going to do with it?”
“Right now, I just want to look.” The scent of her has reached me and I have no choice but to grind my cock against the seat, it’s so light and virginal. “I’m going to touch it and give it a kiss, too. I have no choice. It’s just too sweet.”
Arya’s thighs tremble as I settle my face between them, laying easy kisses along the moist valley that has yet to open and reveal her completely. Christ, I doubt she’s even fingered herself or used a tampon because I have to gently saw my tongue up and down several times before her lips will even part for me. And when they do, she whimpers, her honey dripping out in a slow rivulet that travels down toward her perfect, puckered asshole. I try to catch as much as I can with my tongue, licking her moisture back up and coating her pussy in delicious juice.
My God, my God, my God, this is what heaven tastes like.
She’s sugar and vanilla and musk and I’m never getting enough.
The seat rocks underneath us from the force of me humping the bench, and that swaying motion brings her up and back against my mouth. She’s sobbing, trying to lock her thighs around my head, but my hands keep knocking her knees wide, my mouth keeps diving deeper, sucking on her inner thighs, motorboating her swelling bud, giving her thorough licks of my tongue, asshole to clit and back for more.
“Tasty little girl, aren’t you?” I growl, wedging my tongue partway into her entrance and jiggling it, listening to her breath catch, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair.
“Damian. What…what is happening? I feel like I’m going to burst.”
I can’t stop to explain it to her. She tastes too good. My lower body is slamming into the seat now and I pretend she’s face down on the front lawn of our estate. Her hair is wound around my fist and I’m showing her everything I’ve toiled for, just so I could give it to her one day. And she’s opening her legs in lust, in love, in gratitude, eager for the pleasure only I know how to give her right. Jesus yes.
Now, her pussy starts to spasm around the tip of my tongue and she makes a sexy mewling noise, her hips lifting off the seat. “Oh my goodness,” she moans.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I groan, worrying her clit with the pad of my thumb. “Let me carry you over the threshold of our home for the first time with your come all over my chin. Let me carry you inside looking like you just got drilled.”
Her body seizes and she screams, a shocked, euphoric sound that I want to hear every second for the rest of my life. Her cream sluices out and I lap at the source with my tongue while squeezing her taut little ass cheeks in my hands. I rub my nose side to side against her clit, then slowly suction my lips over the top of it, suckling gently and pushing her into a deeper orgasm, turning her scream to a hoarse chant of my name.
Everything I dreamed she would be…has far been surpassed.
There are parts of being with Arya I didn’t know enough to imagine. The silkiness of her inner thighs on my cheeks, the way she reaches for me like I’m the cure for everything. The addictiveness of her whimpers. Even her come is exquisite—and it’s all mine. I’m the only one who will ever experience the warm rush of this girl on his tongue.
My lower abdomen twists violently with the need for release, but I push my own need to the side and pull Arya up into my lap sideways, tucking her head beneath my chin. She pants, her eyes unfocused, and I kiss her mouth over and over again, telling her I love her.
“Damian, that was…that was…the best thing I’ve ever, ever felt.” Her head lolls against my shoulder, a smile playing around her lips. “Do you…get to feel like that?” she says shakily, testing my erection with a twist of her butt in my lap. “Do you, Damian?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I say hoarsely, stilling her hips with a firm hand. “You’re going to do things to make me feel that good. Frequently. You’re going to wrap your pretty mouth around my big bad cock so often, it’s going to taste like home. You’re going to ride it, get ridden, get it up your tight ass and no matter what I do, you’re going to cry for me to go harder.” She looks up at me with lust banking in her brown eyes. “But not until you’re ready. Until then, I’ll find a way to take care of…” I blow out a breath when yet another wave of hunger slams into me. “I’ll find a way to handle it.”
In hindsight, I’ll have wished I’d chosen my words more carefully.
4
Arya
I wake up in the middle of an unfamiliar bed, more boneless and comfortable than I have ever been in my life. There is a mirror on the ceiling and my reflection is unrecognizable. I’m naked and my dark hair is spread out around me in disarray. Red marks decorate my neck and throat and shoulders. Are they the result of Damian sucking on me?
The last thing I remember is falling asleep in his arms in the back of the SUV, his stiffness wedged between the cheeks of my backside. He was in pain. Somehow I sensed that, but I didn’t know how to free him of it. Nor did he seem inclined to explain it to me, shushing me with hard kisses every time I asked.
My fingertips trail up and over my sensitive nipples. I gasp when there’s a corresponding tug between my thighs. Have those two body parts always b
een connected? I once found a big floppy toy in my mother’s sock drawer and wondered what she used it for. After Damian’s explanation, now I know. She put it inside herself to simulate…sex. And in doing so, she must have experienced that same mighty tide of relief Damian gave me with his mouth. Otherwise, why would she do it?
Why do people do anything unless that hot whiplash of relief is the end game?
Wow.
Wow, it was amazing.
I want to feel it again.
More, I want to give that release to Damian.
Where is he?
I stretch my arms up over my head and sit up, yawning as I take in my surroundings.
Geez, this bedroom is even nicer than mine back in Manhattan. There is a huge window overlooking the ocean and a gentle breeze lifts the light blue curtains, sending them reaching toward the bed like elegant fingers. A ceiling fan turns lazily overhead and the bed, my God, it’s enough to fit eighteen people, let alone one. Everything is decorated in blue and white and turquoise, the plush rugs and furniture designed for comfort.
Eager to find Damian and see the rest of the house, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and go to the closet, finding a short, white silk robe with an A embroidered on the pocket. The wings of my heart flap in my chest at Damian’s thoughtfulness. At everything he’s done to bring me here. To make me feel wanted and safe.
Maybe moving to a strange place with a self-proclaimed criminal who blackmailed my father should make me nervous. But he’s been such a huge part of my life, even while silent, for years, that this journey feels inevitable and right. I’m where I’m supposed to be. The steady beat of my heart is telling me so.
I belt the robe around my naked body and turn to leave the room—
That’s when a terrible thought occurs to me.
On the ride to the Hamptons, Damian said he needed to feel good.
That he would find a way to handle it until I’m ready.
But…I’ve never been able to make myself feel good by myself.
Does that mean he has to find another woman until I’m ready?
Jealousy spikes in my chest and the tantrum comes on before I can stop it.
One second, I’m the calmest I’ve ever been. The next, I’m seeing red.
My fingernails dig into my palms and pressure shoves outward from the center of my throat, leaving me right on the precipice of screaming. And I do scream, I let it out loud enough to shake the chandelier above the bed when I picture another woman’s hands on my Damian.
I stomp out of the room and pick up the first breakable item I can find—a vase on a pedestal—and throw it down the hallway, letting it smash on the marble floor.
“Damian!”
Damian
I’m pacing the floor of my office when I hear breaking glass, followed by a scream.
My heart stops.
I lurch toward the door with unthinkable visions in my head. Arya hurt. Arya bleeding. Fuck. Fuck! Did someone get into the house? I’ve made it impossible. Every inch of the grounds is surrounded by fifteen-foot-high wrought-iron fences and patrolled by ruthless guards toting semi-automatic weapons. There is no way. No one could have gotten to her.
That’s what I tell myself, but I’m gasping for sanity by the time I get up the stairs, my blood frozen in place. If she’s hurt, I’ll throw myself from the roof. I won’t be able to live knowing she was injured or worse in my care. Please, no, please let her be…
She wheels out of the hallway, a righteously pissed off angel with a vendetta and I rock back on my heels, sucking down droves of air. She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s…
Mad as hell.
That makes two of us.
“Why would you scream like that, Arya?” I shout, storming toward her. Not only to chastise her for giving me a heart attack, but to touch her, reassure myself there isn’t a single nick on her skin. “I thought you were being hurt!”
“I am! You are hurting me!”
Hurting her? No. I almost drop to my knees. As it is, I double over, a dagger of denial twisting in my stomach. “What? How?”
“Is there another woman here?” She lunges for a statue resting on the landing bookshelf, picks it up and hurls it—at my head. “I will kill her. I will kill her!”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Arya? There has been no woman in the house but you.” My mind spins. “Are you actually jealous? I live for you. I built this house for you. I’m being burned alive every second of the day for you.”
“You said you would find a way to feel good without me,” she sobs, tears clouding her eyes. “How are you doing it?”
“The same way I’ve been handling it since you became a woman, Arya.”
She stomps her foot. “How?”
With an angry bellow, I stoop down and throw her quivering form over my shoulder, striding back toward the bedroom. She pounds her fists on my back and I don’t try to stop her, too furious to do anything but focus on where I’m going. What I’m going to do to her. Her parents couldn’t teach her a lesson or thwart her tantrums, but I’m in charge now. I’m God, Daddy, Lover, Disciplinarian and Bodyguard to this girl and she’s about to feel all of them.
I throw Arya down in the center of our bed, untying the belt of her robe and throwing it open, raking her nakedness with my eyes. I’ve been pacing in my office for an hour trying to bring down my erection and nothing worked, not with her finally in my home, in my bed, and my cock hardens even more now at the exquisite sight of her. Those rosy little nipples and her horny pussy taunt me, clench my teeth.
“You want to know how I handle being hard for you twenty-four fucking hours a day, sweetheart?” I yank down the zipper of my jeans and wrap a fist around my throbbing dick, pulling it out and beating it roughly. Finally having it touched makes me groan up at the ceiling, my jaw hinging open, and maybe it’s messed up, but having Arya there to watch me stroke off is making me hotter. “This is how I handle it. I have to beat my cock until I’m sore and my hand is cramping because I can’t get fucking your pussy out of my head.”
She’s still not free of the tantrum. Her face is still flushed, eyes glittering.
Watching me jerk off is making her breathless, but she’s not done being pissed. When she tries to escape and scramble off the bed, I pounce, flattening her underneath me. She’s face down, struggling, her naked ass pressing and wiggling in my lap, making me growl.
I flip her over and pry her legs apart. “Enough,” I shout. “Stay still!”
Holding down her bucking body with mine, I reach between her legs and find her soaked. Dripping. And my instinct rears its head, telling me I’ve held the key to curing her tantrums all his time.
“Yeah, I know what you need, don’t I, you hot little brat?” Arya is still fighting me when I position my cock at the start of her wet hole and shove home, not stopping until I’m balls deep, making a guttural sound into her neck. “Oh. Fuck. That is tight tight tight. So fucking small.” I’m pulsing head to toe, the need for release screaming from the marrow of my bones, but I hold myself still, watching the transformation come over Arya. It’s like flipping a switch. Her eyes go from murderous to dreamy, her neck loosening, the angry flush leaving her skin. “This has been your real problem all along, hasn’t it, sweetheart?” I lean down and lick one of her nipples between my lips, rolling it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. “You just needed this fat dick between your legs.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her nails scraping down my back, burying in my ass and yanking me deeper—yes, Jesus. Yes. “Damian, you…you feel like the missing piece.”
My heart crashes against my jugular. “I am your missing piece, Arya,” I manage, my hips beginning to pump and grind on their own, burying and reveling in her incredible sweetness. “And you’re mine. You’re mine.” I bring our mouths together and kiss her, drawing my tongue in and out in time with the movements of my hips. I’m fucking her. I’m finally fucking her. I didn’t think I would make it through all the
misery and need alive. “I thought you knew. I thought you realized I’ve been waiting for you. I’d kill another woman before I let her touch me.” I shove my cock to the hilt and hold it, baring down with my hips. “Don’t you ever question my faithfulness again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she pants.
I slam in and out again, gripping her throat in my hand. “Is it?”
“Yes, Damian,” she moans, because I spread my knees and bring my hips lower, allowing me to scoop upward and hit her pussy from a different angle, my strokes deeper, angled toward that secret spot inside of her. And she loves it, her fingernails leaving tracks on my back, her hips working furiously to meet my thrusts. “Oh my God, please. Faster.”
“Fuck. I can’t hold it,” I say thickly against her mouth, my drives speeding up, turning more aggressive, almost violent. “Been saving up for weeks to fill this little pussy to the brim. You’re going to make me a daddy in nine months, aren’t you, sweetheart? Yeah you are. Going to have me panting after that teen mom belly, following you around with my dick in my hand.”
Arya’s breath catches, her thighs jolting and squeezing around my hips. “I-I think it’s happening again, but d-d-different.” She makes a keening sound, her hands flying up over her head to twist in the sheets. “Damian!”
I called her a hot little brat earlier and that’s exactly how she comes. Her face screws up in a sexy pout and she whines my name, trembling so hard I hear her teeth chattering, her pussy contracting so much, I have to hold her down and fight to stay inside of her. “Stay down and let me come in that pussy,” I choke out into her neck. “Stay down and get what’s coming to you. S’going to make me feel so fucking good, baby, baby, please—”
The pressure intensifies until I’m jackhammering into her drenched, clenching pussy, bellowing in pain, and then I’m tossed overboard into a bottomless ocean, pitched side to side by wave after wave of pleasure. I grind down and get my cock right up against her womb, calling her name hoarsely as the seed pumps out of me, the gradual relief wracking me in shudders, my balls high, tight, pulsing, rejoicing at finally being empty.
