She eats toast like she’s filling her slim legs with it. I smirk a little that she’s hungry. Yes, a lot has happened since dinner last night. But orgasms do make a person snackish.
I provide coffee that she drinks with milk and sugar. I sip my espresso rather than gulping it down in one as I usually do. Breakfast with my future wife. I savour it.
I’m quite enjoying the constant hard-on from her presence. I’ve jerked off night after night for years, thinking of her, trying to get relief. I roughly fisted my cock, the edge of pain a penance for my obsession, so many times after seeing her, as I envisioned her naked body, pliant and soft. I want the next time I come to be a bond between us. Preferably me coming deep inside her. Then nine months from now…
“What shall we do today?” I ask when she leans back after eating half a loaf of bread and I’ve had my usual eggs, spinach and toast that she side-eyed but didn’t comment on as she slathered chocolate spread and marmalade onto yet more toast.
“I’m at your disposal, that was the deal,” she points out. “And you’re going to be my personal jailer, right?”
“Yes.” I’ll be anything she needs me to be.
“Glad I won’t be locked up in solitary confinement again,” she jokes, but I see the seriousness of the comment.
Her arsehole brother. He’s lucky I believe in the person most harmed choosing the punishment. Jessa will make the decision in due course.
“We can do whatever you like,” I tell her. We have the rest of the day. Time to spend together in and out of bed. Though I want to give her more orgasms and do dirty acts to and with her, I refuse to hurry.
“Well.” She pauses and thinks. “What about you show me your house? I studied interior design and it’s kinda my thing.” She scuffs her feet against the kitchen island where she’s sitting. Unsure.
“I know.” Soon she’ll be certain that this is her house, that I know everything about her, and she’s mine.
There’s a flash of shock on her face when I take her little hand and squeeze it. “Let’s go.”
I’m mesmerised by her talent and insight as she examines and talks me through the whole house. She’s full of ideas, they spill out and before long I’m moving pictures around at her command, holding them up for her to see in situ then calling my tattooed mobsters to put in fixings where she wants them. She pretends to be convincing me of her case every time. Even carrying a massive potted green thing—apparently it’s a banana plant—from the orangery to the hall, she checks with me if I like it.
I do.
She could paint my whole house fuchsia pink with custard yellow polka dots and clutter it with kitschy knickknacks and I’d love it if she loved it. But while she favours more colour and feminine flowery stuff, I genuinely prefer her changes. I’ve never really given much thought to my house. It’s big and grand and I employed someone to make it functional. But Jessa’s tweaks—her presence—make it a home.
I steal touches. A palm to the small of her back here. Fingertips over her shoulder there. She eases against me when I stand right behind her and lean in to see the sketch she makes of the library. Apparently my library doesn’t have enough reading books. They’re all leather-bound volumes for show, and that is not acceptable, even though I protest that I read on a tablet.
I arrange for lunch on the terrace and she eats the tapas greedily. Then we walk around the gardens and the lake. It takes forever because every two minutes I stop, pull her into my arms and kiss her. She tastes like vanilla and I’m obsessed. I can’t get enough.
In the little gazebo on the far side of the lake I give in, pulling her onto my lap facing away from me. I press my aching cock into her rounded buttocks and hold her to me as I unzip her little shorts and touch her. She’s soaked. It doesn’t take long with my mouth nibbling at her ear and her head thrown back against me when she loses control. She gives up another orgasm to me as I whisper about how good she feels. I pinch her nipples through her top and she squirms against my erection. I tell her she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that she’s so sweet and wholesome I want to eat nothing but her forever. I tell her that she makes me so hard I can’t think straight.
I bite and suck her neck, a need in me so desperate and savage it can only be satisfied by hard and blunt into soft. I sink my teeth in deep enough to hurt, as she breaks apart in my arms again. She shudders into a fresh wave of orgasm. Adding a second possessive mark beside the first makes me smile with primal glee when I lift my head and see it.
Mine.
In the late afternoon heat she wilts a bit, so we retire to the cool movie room in the basement to watch a film.
It starts off innocently enough. She curls herself next to me and I drape my arm over the back of the sofa behind her. Then like a boy in a bad teen film, my arm slips down until I’m clasping her over the shoulders, tucking her into my side. She snuggles further, her hair falling over my chest. And I swear she starts it. One minute her hand is on her lap, then it’s tracing patterns on my thigh. Then I’m fully hard. Again. I’m in a continuous state of arousal for Jessa.
My cock is rigid and her breath catches when she notices. Tentatively, she brushes her knuckles over the bulge in my trousers.
In exploratory movements while we both keep our gazes on the screen, she revs me up. And though I swore I’d be the one giving orgasms for this day, it feels too good. I can’t stop her as she haltingly frees my erection, peeling back one piece of clothing at a time. Mainly because she wants to touch me.
Voluntarily. I’m not ordering her because I’m her captor and I don’t think she’s seducing me to get away. We’re well beyond either of those things.
She cups the length of my shaft, barely covering half. I can almost hear her thinking through what that means. How big I am and how I would fit. How my thick and long cock would feel in her tight virgin pussy.
I let her play for a while before beginning to get what I need. Her. Naked. I strip off her top and enjoy the moment when she’s bared to me, her arms above her head, trapped by the fabric. She smiles teasingly when I groan as she removes the silk that covers her breasts, but I’m busy with the flies of those tiny denim shorts. I push my hand in and grunt with relief and anticipation when I find her wetness spilling from her slit. She’s overflowing.
“Is this cream all for me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she breathes, pressing forwards into my touch.
We’re not even pretending to watch the film now. I half lift her, half encourage her to crawl onto my lap, pulling off her shorts and knickers in the process. Her thighs splayed either side of mine, and her dripping sex close—so close—to where I most want her. She’ll look so pretty coming on my cock. We just have to get to the end of today with her understanding that she should stay with me. Forever. Then I’ll claim her in truth, with no bargains to muddy the situation.
Then I’ll push her tight pussy open, fill her up, and make her mine.
She runs her fingertip around the head of my cock and I hiss. Her little hand. Fuck. She’s so lovely, my petite girl.
“I want you to come.” She’s got a determined glint in her eyes.
I look down at her pussy. That’s where I want to come. Inside her. Right up as close to her womb as possible, where it’s most likely I’ll get her pregnant. But one-day bargains don’t have lifelong consequences; that wouldn’t be fair. Despite the insistent drumming of my blood that I must take her, I say, “I will, if you continue doing that.”
Doubt clouds her face, even as fluid beads at the tip of my achingly-hard cock. Desperate. My cock is painful, taking all my attention not to give in to the impulse to plunge into her wet pink folds.
“I want it to be as good as when you make me come. Show me how,” she insists. “I want you to unravel.”
She has no idea. But I’m nothing if not here to provide what my girl wants. I grip my hand over hers on my shaft and stroke up and down.
She watches voraciously, like a tigress and her prey. Soon, I promise myself, we’ll both see my cock push into her slit. I’ll see her take every inch of me.
In the meantime, her soft fingers are making me crazy.
“You like it tight,” she says breathlessly, glancing between my face and our hands together rubbing my cock.
“Yes.” Like her pussy will be. I love how surprised and delighted she is by my body, hers, and the way we work together. I’m going to relish teaching and discovering with her.
“And fast.”
“Yes.” Fuck. The pleasure is so intense I’m having difficulty breathing. Just her hand, without being inside her, not even with her mouth on me, and I’m losing it, as she intended.
“Lie back,” I order, twisting us on the sofa so she can ease onto the cushions.
She does, and those pretty tits of hers fall to the side, so soft and ripe. Her legs are still around my thighs as I shift so I’m kneeling over her. Lying there, her pussy on display, her hair cascading over her shoulders and her breasts bare, she’s even better than every vivid dream I’ve had of her over the last three years.
“I’m going to mark you as mine, sweetheart,” I grind out. “I’m going to come all over you.”
She nods eagerly.
“Go on then.” I tighten my fingers on hers and it almost tips me over just the feel and sight of her like this. I tilt our hands down. “Do it. Cover yourself with my come, my filthy girl.”
She obeys, moving her hand with mine, an equal in this pursuit. I can’t stop looking at her. Her pussy is wet and ready, her skin smooth. I’m going to paint both. She’s like a virgin sacrifice to my lust.
“Grant,” she whispers and laces our fingers. And though I’ve imagined this a thousand times and the reality of seeing her willing is better than anything, it’s not her beauty that makes me come. Neither is it how sexy she is, or how turned on. It’s not even how she’s taken control and is jerking me off perfectly with her little hand.
It’s her sweetness that tips me over into pulse after pulse of orgasm that shudders through me. Her palm on mine and her blue gaze trusting. She’s pure sugar.
I come over her skin. It spurts over her flat stomach and her breasts. It coats her and the possessive part of me roars with primal satisfaction that she’s accepting, maybe even revelling in my claim.
And I’m a beast. After she generously offered this, I take more. When a splash hits her throat, I lean forwards so the next hits her chin, reaching her pink lips.
The filthy taboo of my come on her face sends another bolt of pleasure through me. What did I do right to get so lucky? How will I ever deserve her?
As the aftershocks of my orgasm ebb away, my chest relaxes.
“Such a dirty girl.” I write my initials in my come on her skin. G.L. Mine. She’s mine.
She flushes at my teasing, but takes her hand from my cock, trails her forefinger through the coating on her chin and up to her lips. I groan and I swear I start to get hard again as her tongue darts out in a greedy lick.
“How does your man’s seed taste?”
Her eyes light up and my heart does somersaults. Does she like the idea of my being hers? Does she want to be mine forever yet? She may not get the choice.
“Delicious,” she says with a naughty smile.
We end up back in the shower. Coming once ought to have taken the edge off, but I’m worse. More desperate for her. I’m hard again almost immediately and it’s tempting to take up the offer inferred when Jessa’s tongue runs over her lips as she looks lasciviously at my cock. But when I next come, it’s going to be inside her pussy. Not her mouth, though we’ll get to that.
She puts on the cute summer dress this time. I manage not to promptly take it back off her, which is a feat of control I consider should get a medal. I feed her dinner and she sits on my lap. My girl is irresistible. It’s all soft kisses, breathing in her scent, and giving her orgasms with my fingers and mouth. I make it impossible for her to want to leave.
As we lounge outside, talking in the cooling air, the sky goes from pink to grey to navy. But when the light fades her expression darkens with it.
I pull her across the cushioned seat and stroke her hair, forcing her to look at me. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Just thinking,” she mumbles.
I wait.
“The deal is nearly up. I’m going to Australia.”
Fuck. The pain. It’s worse than the time, aged fifteen, I was caught by the Camden mafia and they tore off eight of my nails. It’s like I’m being ripped apart. The most important part of my soul is with Jessa. If she leaves she’ll take all the light and hope.
I know I said that it was one day if she played my game. I told myself I could be the good guy here. So I try. “Do you want to go?”
She bites her lip and nods, but it reads like, “No”.
“What do I have to do to persuade you to stay?”
If possible, that makes her look even more miserable. She shakes her head and looks at the ground.
“I’ll employ you to redo the interior design of the whole house.” That should keep her busy, and here, for a while. When she’s finished, I’ll say I don’t like it and demand she does it again. And again. Whatever it takes to have her with me. I wish I was the sort of man who would just lock her up and not give a fuck about his promises or her happiness. If my heart was as cold as it was before I met her, I would shove her into her rooms, shut her in, and fuck her into submission.
I honestly can’t rule out that I won’t get to that point.
Can I really let her go? It seemed so inevitable that she’d want to stay with me once she had a taste of how it was between us.
I promised. I’m a man of my word, and I won—damn but that’s the irony, I won—one day with my sweetheart. I just never imagined it would be the only day.
“Jessa, I’ll help you leave if you really want.” Letting her go will kill me. Or more likely, I’ll slaughter anyone who crosses my path for as long as she’s not with me.
She nods again, shoulders hunched.
“Twenty-four hours was the deal,” she says, as though I could forget. She wants out, despite all the risks, and all the benefits of staying. “But thank you,” she whispers, clasping and unclasping her hands. “For everything.”
There’s no reply I can give.
Breaking my word is out of the question, but so is allowing Jessa to go. And through the blackness, I see a path, even as a tear slides across the pad of my thumb.
Oh absolutely not. My girl doesn’t cry. I’m clasping her to me before I can think through anything else. I hold her sweet butt tight. My heart splinters. My poor girl.
“You can leave, but it’s not worth it. You won’t be gone for long. We made a deal, and I’ll honour it.” She nods. “That was Plan A though. I’ll put into motion Plan B.”
“Plan B?” she whispers, raising her eyes to mine with a glimmer of hope.
“Another abduction, sweetheart.” I press her closer, so the heat of my body seeps through our clothes and mingles with hers. “No deals this time. No escaping. If you leave at midnight, I’ll just steal you back again. I have to have you with me.”
“But…” She pushes against me a little and her bottom lip trembles. “I can’t stay and be your interior designer. If you don’t want me to be with you.”
“What?” This is insane. “What on earth made you think I only want you to redecorate?” I wrap my arms around her so tightly she can’t get away.
“I didn’t think you wanted me,” she says wretchedly.
“That’s ridiculous. I have waited for you and wanted you for years. I told you that. I wasn’t going to negotiate with your brother while you were under his guardianship, but Jessa, I was coming for you as soon as your decisions were your own.”
Her eyes go wide and for a second I think I’ve convinced her.
“We haven’t had sex!” The confession seems to break from her without her volition, and she looks a bit shocked. But now it’s out, she doesn’t stop. “I thought you might not want to because I didn’t have any experience of it. You said, anything you wanted. You told me you’d do dirty and depraved acts. But I’m still a virgin. I gave you every opportunity. I need it to be you, Grant. You… Cheated me out of what you promised. Dirty and depraved and sex.” She’s breathing hard and losing confidence by the second.
I have just enough rational mind to answer her question rather than simply kiss her, pull up that cute skirt, shove her against the wall of the house and take her. Cheated, indeed.
“We couldn’t, because if we did, you’d end up pregnant,” I reply baldly.
“You don’t want kids.” Her expression drops again. Sad. Disappointed. “We could have used a condom.” She clutches at my shirt but won’t meet my eyes.
“With you, I want kids,” I correct her. “The reason we didn’t have sex with a condom is this: I don’t want to use them with you. The first time I’m inside you, I want it to be you and me and no barriers between us. I have to breed you. When I fill you up with my come, I have to know you could be pregnant with my baby afterwards. That’s the real reason, sweetheart.”
“Right,” she scoffs, even as I think she might burst into more tears. And that strengthens my resolve. She belongs with me. Whatever misguided notions she has, we’re going to be together. “So you can have a boy to take over Lambeth and a girl to sell off in marriage. I should go.” But she doesn’t attempt to move from my arms.
“If that’s what they decide, sure. I want smart kids to follow in my footsteps,” I say. She scowls. “And I also want silly kids and sweet babies. I want rebellious kids who become lawyers or teachers. Funny kids who prank me and make me threaten to murder them. I want kids as brave and resourceful as their mother, and cunning as their father. I want innocent kids who read and play games and are a bit horrified by what their father does.”
Her head tilts towards me again and listens like I’m giving her air. Like this is a story she wants to read over and over. I let go of her butt and frame her face with my hands. Looking into those night-blue eyes, I urge her to understand everything in me.
“I bargained for whatever I wanted for one day, but if I took what I most wanted, it would leave your young body lush and ripe and pregnant,” I confess, voice raw. “I couldn’t make you mine and breed you for only one day, sweetheart. I didn’t know if you were ready. I love you and when I have you that way, I’ll never let you go.”
“You love me?” she breathes.
“Yes. I love you. But it’s a tepid word for what I feel for you, Jessa. It’s like saying the surface of the sun is hot, or the Atlantic Ocean is wet.” And fuck it, she hasn’t said no quickly enough. Plan B is still in action. “I love you beyond reason. And if what you need from me is sex and more dirty and depraved acts, believe me, I will deliver.”