Claiming His Forever: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  Her smile widens, her cheeks blooming red. My body flares when I think about how red her ass became when I spanked her, the way she shivered for me.

  Something carnal and needy and hungry awoke in her, and it took all my self-control not to dive into her tight, soaked hole and make her mine in the most possessive way possible.

  “So,” I go on, cutting into my steak. “Tell me about yourself.”

  She giggles, causing her hair to tussle around her shoulders, hair as golden as the sun. The heat that infuses her every feature is radiant, bright, tempting.

  My hand falters on the steak knife, cutting into my plate with a screech.

  It’s so difficult not to leap across the table and claim her right now.

  My cock couldn’t be harder.

  “What’s funny?” I ask.

  “It’s just that we’ve sort of done things backward, haven’t we? People usually want to know more about somebody before … Well, you know.”

  “Before they claim their hot, juicy, tasty pussy?”

  I smirk when she glances down at the table.

  “Such a shy virgin,” I tease lightly.

  As if I’d have it any other way.

  “Is real estate your passion?” I ask. “Do you have dreams, goals? I’m interested, Kimberly.”

  She returns her gaze to mine.

  The soft light dances across her cleavage, begging me to grab and palm and massage her flesh.

  “Not really,” she says. “I know some people have these crazy passions since they were little kids. They’ll start writing stories when they’re four years old and then they know for the rest of their lives that’s what they want to do. But all I’ve ever really wanted to do is support my big sister. That’s why I applied for the realtor job.”

  “You’re close with your sister?” I say, bringing a bloody piece of steak to my lips.

  Everything is reminding me of the juiciness of her pussy, even the steak. As I bite down, I can’t stop the dark and beastly part of my mind from imagining that I’m biting down on my woman’s ass cheeks, biting and feeling her squirm, hearing her moan, leaning back to stare at the lust-marked flesh.

  “Yeah,” she says. “She raised me after our parents died. Well—we went into care together first. I was two and she was thirteen at the time. But then when she turned eighteen, she worked her butt off so that she’d be able to take me in. I owe her a lot. She’s an artist, super talented, and I guess my dream is to see her become successful in that, you know?”

  My chest blazes at the selflessness of that statement. It’s the sort of thing a perfect mother would say, the woman who’s going to take incredible care of our children, who’s always going to make sure they’re filled with love and belonging.

  “What?” she says, smiling shakily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” I smirk.

  She giggles. “Like this.”

  She makes her face ultra-serious, pouting her lips, lowering her eyebrows. I can’t help but laugh, big, booming laughter that travels around the cavernous room and returns to us in echoes.

  “I was just thinking about what an incredible mother you’re going to make.”

  She gasps. Her mouth falling open.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Haven’t I mentioned that yet?” I say. “You’re going to give me children, Kimberly, and a lot of them. I’ve never thought about having children before. I never dreamed I’d find a woman I wanted to do that with. But when I saw you – when I saw those big gorgeous tits, perfect for milking, and those wide beautiful hips – I knew I had to put my heir into your belly.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispers. “This is—Are you serious?”

  “This is what?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”

  “This is like a dream,” she murmurs. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. But I never thought you’d feel the same. I thought I was just being silly, letting my thoughts run away from me.”

  “There’s nothing silly about my need for you,” I snarl.

  I reach across the table and touch her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible. Any second, I feel like I could snap and move my hand to her throat, use it as a grip to guide her to my engorged manhood, and drive my throbbing helm right to the base of her throat.

  Then I’d pump my hips, watching her pretty eyes grow wide and fill with tears the harder I take that fuck-me mouth.

  “You’re going to give me children,” I tell her. “You’re mine and this is what I want, so that’s the end of it. It’s just a bonus that you want it too.”

  She whimpers, touching the back of my hand, pressing down on it so that there’s more pressure on her face.

  “You should scare me,” she whispers.

  “Do I?”

  “No,” she says, with conviction. “No, you don’t. But I need to know who you are, Kristian. You know about me. You know I grew up in an orphanage. You know my parents died when I was young. What about you?”

  “How did your parents die?” I ask somberly.

  “A car accident,” she murmurs. “But that’s not the point. What about you?”

  I lean back, sit up straighter.

  “I’m the leader of the biggest mafia family on the east coast,” I tell her.

  I expect some form of shock to surge through her at this revelation, but instead, she nods shortly.

  “Have you killed people?” she asks.

  For once, I’m lost for words.

  I feel something within me faltering.

  She’s such a young, naive thing.

  Will she be able to take this?

  “Kristian,” she says passionately. “If we’re going to be a family one day, I think I deserve to know this.”

  “I’ve killed people, yes,” I tell her. “But I’ve never killed women or children and I’ve never harmed anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

  “What do you mean by deserve?”

  “Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?” I counter.

  “Kris,” she says, her cheeks flaming, sitting forward so that the ample beauty of her breasts jiggles alluringly.

  “Kris,” I smirk. “You’ve never called me that before.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” She pouts as if begging to be spanked. “Please answer the question.”

  “I’ve killed four men,” I tell her. “One assaulted my mother. Two were grooming children in an orphanage I own. The fourth tried to kill me. He jumped me one night and I defended myself.”

  Anger flares in my voice and suddenly I’m gripping the steak knife so hard the hilt digs into my palm.

  My heart thunders and for a crazy second, I think I’m going to upturn the table.

  She leans forward and touches my hand, stroking her fingers along my knuckles.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” she murmurs.

  “Never,” I growl. “You’re too important to me for that. I’ll always tell you the truth. This thing between us, Kimberly, we have to be careful with it. We can’t abuse it. We can never forget the loyalty we have for each other. Honesty—always.”

  “Honesty,” she repeats, her voice all breathy, causing the base of my cock to ache, even when we’re not being sexual. “Always.”

  “We make much of our money legitimately,” I tell her. “I’m working on the rest. My dream is to turn the Cameno Family into a legitimate corporation that doesn’t use violence or criminality. But it’s a long process. It’s hard goddamn work.”

  “You can do it,” she says, stroking my hand softly.

  I feel my vice grip on the steak knife relax until it clatters against the table.

  “I’m so sorry that happened to your mom,” she murmurs.

  I nod. “Scum, Kimberly—fucking scum. There’s nothing worse a man can do to a woman. Or maybe there is. Maybe some sicko could think of something worse. But, ah, dammit. I don’t know. It’s just evil.”

  “I’ve sort of brought the mood down now,
haven’t I?” she says.

  I grin, wolfishly.

  “Damn right you have,” I tease. “Let’s change the subject to something more lighthearted.”

  “What did you have in mind?” she says, smiling right back.

  “Corpse decomposition or plane crashes?”

  She explodes into giggles, making a loud noise of pure joy, as if so much glee is bubbling up inside of her she can’t contain it.

  She covers her mouth, killing the laughter.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I hate that noise,” she huffs.

  “What noise, your laughter?”

  “No, Kris, the honking.”

  I shake my head.

  “Jesus Christ, Kimberly. What did I tell you about self-esteem, eh? You sound happy. You sound like you were having a good time. You don’t have to be ashamed. In fact, every time you don’t make that noise when you laugh, you’re getting a spank.”

  She pouts, tilting her head at me. “I guess I’m trapped then, huh?”

  She knows I’m joking. I plan on laughing with my woman a lot, so I’d never stop spanking her if my threat was real.

  Come to think of it, would that be such a bad thing?

  “What are you going to do when you don’t have to work any longer?” I ask.

  She pauses her steak-cutting, glancing up at me through her eyelashes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re my woman, Kimberly,” I tell her. “You never have to work another day in your life.”

  “Can I work?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “You can do any damn thing you want, short of flirting with, or touching, or even looking at another man in a way I don’t like.”

  “I don’t want that,” she says firmly. “I only want you.”

  “Forever,” I snarl.

  “Forever,” she moans.

  “So?” I go on.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I’ve never really given it any thought. I mean—no, it’s silly.”

  “What?” I say. “Tell me, Kimberly. Honesty, always. Remember?”

  Her smile makes her face bright, her eyes dancing.

  Something within me shatters.

  I mutter a silent prayer to whatever force brought me to this woman.

  How did I ever live without her?

  “When I was a kid, I used to really love pottery. Jacks – that’s my sister, Jackie – she would take me to these classes. I became obsessed with it for a little while, but it can be quite expensive when you’re broke. It’s not some amazing aspiration or anything, but I think I’d like to do some more of that, a lot more.”

  “Kimberly, my queen,” I tell her, smirking. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. “As my woman, you will have so many pots you won’t know what to do with them. I will make it my life goal.”

  She giggles. “I know it’s silly.”

  “No,” I say, serious now. “I mean it. If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll give you all the time in the world to do it. Maybe you could fit it in around managing Jackie’s art career.”

  She flinches. “Whoah, that’s freaky.”

  I smirk, reassured that my instincts were right.

  “You’ve thought about it,” I note.

  “Yeah, we’ve talked about it,” she says. “I’m not bad at logistical stuff, organizational stuff. I had to get good at it. Jackie is a little scatterbrained. Maybe it’s the curse of being an artist.”

  “I’d like to meet Jackie,” I tell her. “And I’d like for you to meet my mother, too.”

  “What about your father?” she asks. And then she snaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I assure her, wiping the savage look that must’ve distorted my features. “He died when I was eighteen. It wasn’t anything violent, just a life of drinking and smoking too much. Maybe that’s why I hardly ever touch the stuff. Anyway, how about we all go out on my yacht together tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Won’t it be really cold?”

  “Don’t worry,” I smirk. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “What, with my sister and your mom there?”

  “Shit, fair point,” I laugh. “Okay, I’ll buy you a warm coat instead. That work?”

  “Can we bring Tinkerbell?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I tell her. “You can bring anyone you want, except for a man. Unless you want me to tip him overboard.”

  “You’re the only man I want,” she says, sending a flare of rightness through my body.

  “So it’s settled,” I say, nodding.

  “Oh, wait a sec,” she says. “I’m supposed to be working tomorrow.”

  “Quit,” I tell her.

  She gasps. “Are you serious? Quit, just like that?”

  “You belong to me now,” I growl. “You never have to worry about money again. For the rest of our lives, I’m going to take care of you. If you want to work, you can. But you can call up your boss right now and quit and it won’t affect your bills, your rent, your anything. You’re mine, Kimberly, and that means security. For life.”

  “It would be good to stick it to Alexis,” she murmurs.

  “She’s your boss?”

  “My supervisor,” she says. “She’s supposed to help with the workload, but all she really does is sit on her butt swiping through Instagram. Or she’ll head out of the office for meetings, but mysteriously always comes back with a new haircut or her nails done.”

  “The job isn’t your passion,” I tell her. “You don’t need the money anymore. So quit. Quit, Kimberly, and come out on the water with me.”

  She bites her lip. I’m learning to read all the different ways she uses that gesture now, fueled by lust or uncertainty or fear.

  This one is uncertainty shimmering in her eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “What if I quit and then you change your mind?” she murmurs. “What if you get tired of me after we … you know.”

  Fuck like animals, I supply silently.

  “What if this is all a trick?”

  “Kimberly,” I growl. “You need to understand this. I would never trick you. I’d die before I did that. I’d fucking kill before I let that happen. Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve been tricked before,” she murmurs.

  “Tell me,” I say gruffly.

  “It’s just—it’s so silly. When I was in high school, there was this jock, you know, the clichéd popular boy. He asked me out to prom and, really, it wasn’t like I was desperate to go with him or anything. But nobody had ever paid attention to me. I guess I wanted to feel special.

  “I said yes. Jackie gave me some of her savings so I could buy a dress. I felt so pretty in that dress … so seen. He said he’d send a limo to pick me up. I waited and waited. There was no limo.

  “Eventually, I called him. He’d given me his number, but I hadn’t had the courage to call him up until then. The number...was a fast food place. It’s not hard to guess what he meant by giving me that number, is it? I found out later he’d gone to prom with the head of the cheer squad because of course, he had. I felt like such an idiot. I cried and cried like an idiot, too.”

  “And you promised yourself you’d never be tricked again,” I say, my voice shivering with withheld rage. “Honesty, always. I’ll never trick you. I mean every goddamn word I say to you. I’ll never break a promise. You can always rely on me. What was this jock’s name, Kimberly?”

  “Why do you want to know his name?” she murmurs, tears shimmering in her eyes.

  I reach across and wipe her cheek with my thumb.

  “Why do you think?” I snarl.

  “I don’t want to give you his name,” she says. “What if you hurt him or something, and then you go to prison, and then we can’t be together? I’ll tell you if you really want me to, Kris. But please don’t make me. I just want to forget about it.”

  I sigh, fi
re blazing in my gut, a hundred urges roaring at me to find this motherfucker and make him pay.

  “Okay, Kimberly,” I tell her. “But only because you looked so fucking sexy when you asked me.”

  She giggles, shaking her head. “I’ll never get used to you telling me that.”

  “Good,” I say. “That means it will be special every time.”

  A smile touches her lips.

  “What is it?” I ask her.

  “I’m just picturing Alexis’ face when I tell her I’m quitting. I bet she’s going to go crazy.”

  “You sadistic little minx,” I chuckle. “And I thought I was the savage.”

  She laughs with me, a glorious sound, as chandelier light shimmers against her cheeks.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kimberly

  I walk out of the real estate office with a huge grin on my face.

  I feel a little sadistic as I head toward Jackie’s car, Tinkerbell propped up with her tiny paws against the glass, watching me approach.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be smiling this much, but Alexis’ reaction was everything I hoped it’d be.

  She raged and yelled and then finally she started to snap at me, saying she was planning to fire me anyway so it didn’t matter. There was no ciao for now for me as I turned and headed for the door.

  I walk across the parking lot, the sun shining brightly as though the world knows that we’re going out on the water today.

  Jackie reaches over and scoops up Tinkerbell as I open the door, sliding into the seat next to her.

  I sit back, letting out a sigh as my head falls onto the headrest.

  My bottom still aches a tiny bit from last night, from all the spanking. I wanted that dinner to go on and on forever, but once we’d eaten dessert, Kris told me that he had to leave and handle some business.

  It seems the Mafia world never sleeps.

  “Am I crazy?” I murmur as Jackie pulls away from the curb.

  My big sister grins over at me, eyes alight.

  “Oh, you’re crazy,” she laughs. “I just hope your craziness doesn’t result in us being evicted.”

  “Me too,” I murmur. “Maybe I should’ve made sure this thing with Kris is real first. But the thing is, Jacks, it feels so freaking real. It feels like the truest, most honest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Being with him is so easy. It’s so right.”