I truly feel as though I’ve slipped into some upside-down world as we sink into the kiss.
My breasts tingle like crazy as he pushes up against me, the solid mass of his manhood pushing just as hard against my belly, every part of him muscular and thrumming with tough-as-nails energy.
I still can’t believe what we just did, the unexpected turn the shower took.
When I bent over, and he told me what to do, I felt as if I’d fallen into one of the romance novels I sometimes read on my Kindle late at night, my hidden, secret fantasies coming to life, painting my body in even more explosive pleasure.
Now we explore each other’s mouths, our tongues dancing together.
He grabs my naked ass cheeks and I try to just focus on now, this moment, not thinking about all the things that could get in the way of it.
This man stole me.
This man would toss me aside if I ever talked about the borderline-psychotic thoughts that are still racing through my head, unbidden vignettes of me and him and a family and a future that is just downright absurd considering we only met yesterday, considering I should be using this valuable brain space to plot my escape.
He growls through the kiss, tightening his hands on my ass cheeks, still sore from his spanking even if it was playful and didn’t cause me any real pain at all.
No, this is a good sore, my ass cheeks tingling with anticipation of more soft-but-searing spanks.
Suddenly, Arturo breaks off the kiss, taking a couple of stumbling steps back.
I gasp at the way his face has changed, his eyes taking on a dark, almost aggressive quality, his lips twisted into something like fury.
“You make me feel drunk,” he whispers in wonder. “Jesus Christ, Aida, you make me feel …”
“What?” I urge when he trails off.
A beat, a moment dripping in possibility, and then his smirk replaces the grimace.
He leans down and picks up the lime green body wash, casually handing it to me. I get the sense that part of him has retreated from our intimacy, that he’s receded into himself and now he’s fighting his urges, urges he just gave into.
Or maybe I’m wrong and the whole thing was – in his eyes – just one big mistake.
“Clean yourself up,” he growls. “We’re having breakfast together and you smell like come. It’s distracting. I’ll leave the dress you’re going to wear on your bed. That’s why I came here in the first place.”
“So you pick my clothes now?” I say, taking the body wash, our hands briefly touching, sizzling sensation dancing up my arm.
“Would you rather wear those sweaty rags?” he growls, nodding at my discarded clothes on the floor.
“N-no,” I say, stunned at this sudden change in him. “In fact, I’d rather go home. I’d rather never see you again.”
I don’t mean it, but I want to see some sign of pain on his face.
How can he go from intimate and hot to ice-cold in no time at all?
He just smirks, his eyes dancing with intense light.
“I don’t have any clean underwear,” I sigh.
“Good,” he growls. “I’ll need access to that pussy anytime I want. You should get yourself ready. I’ll be taking it soon. I’ll be fucking you raw and hard, and you’re living in a goddamn dreamland if you think I’m going to use protection.”
I don’t want you to, something deep within me whispers. I want all of your seed, Arturo. I want you to pump me full of it and until my body has no choice but to give us a child.
It makes no sense, but as he keeps staring into me, I can’t fight off the urge.
I whimper, causing my naked body to jiggle. He doesn’t cringe in disgust like I always expected a man to do if he saw me naked. His eyes flit over me and he bites down, and for a second I think he’s trying to stop himself from claiming me again.
Terror pounds in my chest, a staccato beating.
“Arturo, I can’t do that,” I whisper. “I can’t …”
“Fuck, Aida,” he snaps. “Say it. You’re not going to be innocent for long.”
“Fine,” I snap, finding refuge in some version of sassiness. “I can’t fuck, okay? Happy now?”
“And why’s that?” he smirks, as though he’s entertaining a stubborn child.
“Because I’m a …”
I bite down, shame pricking at me, every part of me burning red.
“Can I get a towel?” I murmur. “Or a bathrobe? Something? I feel weird just standing here naked.”
“After you’ve told me what you were going to say,” he snaps, pinning me in place with those near obsidian eyes.
“So you’re going to force me to stand here naked.”
He lunges forward and presses his palm against my sex, cupping it and grinding it up and down against my clit, which is still super sensitive from the first mind-blowing orgasm of my life by a man.
He rubs it hard, his eyes still fixated on me, smirking, clearly enjoying the absolute power he has over me.
“Force you?” he snarls. “Look at you, you horny thing. I’m not forcing you to do anything. Tell me, Aida.”
“I c-can’t …”
“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he snarls.
He pushes his hand even firmer against my sex, slipping his finger inside of me and opening up my hole a second time. That deep place inside of me gives another shiver, as though surprised – and yet pleased – that it’s getting a second helping of this dominator’s pleasure.
I squirm and writhe, and then he cruelly withdraws his hand, putting his arms behind his back and just staring at me.
“You’re going to make me tell you—naked, after knowing you for less than a day? You’re really going to do that?”
“It seems like you’re slowly starting to realize what sort of man I am,” he growls.
I want to tell him I saw what sort of man he was yesterday when his gorgeous Great Dane looked at him with such love.
I want to tell him I felt it last night when I fell asleep in silk sheets instead of a cold bare cell.
I want to tell him I know he’s going to make an amazing father, that he’ll always keep me and our children safe, even if I don’t even know who he is and why he kidnapped me.
But his gaze is unflinching, demanding that I finish my revelation.
I say the words softly, the only way I can force them to pass my lips.
“I’m a virgin,” I whisper.
He takes a step forward, raising his hands as though he’s going to grab me. But then he stops, getting a hold of himself, his breath coming fast now, deep rumbling noises that fill the room, that blast hotter than the shower.
“Say it again,” he snarls.
“I’m a virgin.”
“Again.”
I giggle but cut the sound in half when I see how serious he is.
“Why?”
“Again.”
“I’m a virgin,” I whimper, flinching under the weight of his gaze.
“Again, Aida,” he snarls.
“I’m a virgin,” I say, staring back at him.
“Good,” he sighs. “Fuck, that’s good to hear.”
“Good?” I murmur.
“That means I’ll be your first,” he says matter of factly. “That means I’ll own your pussy, just like I owned your first orgasm. That means that nobody else, ever, will get to feel how tight and hot and fucking needy you get. Take your shower, get dressed, and then join me for breakfast.”