by Jamie Knight
I feel his shaft slide into me further. Just how big is he? I take a deep breath and tell myself to accept it. I am not going anywhere. I am his now and I must do my best to satisfy his needs and explore my own desires.
He starts to move in and out of me. I feel the friction, but since I’m so wet it turns into a pleasurable pumping sensation. His cock is so long I can feel him completely deep inside of me. I actually want more of this feeling. I grab his ass and force him to pound me harder. I don’t know how or why, but I know how to beg for it. For more. Always more. It must be some sort of submissive instinct at the center of my being. Buried somewhere in my core, but now unearthed… Unleashed.
It does feel romantic with the fire burning and the logs crackling, but also primal. It also feels forbidden, as my mother forbade we sleep together in the same bed. We are disobeying her now and it makes me even hotter. I want to let out all of my pent-up anxiety about always wanting to be their favorite by becoming Brent’s favorite. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is I want Brent to always want me.
We are fucking in the missionary position, but I want to try doggystyle. I’ve seen it done in pornos but have never experienced it in real life. I slide him out and get on all fours on the couch. Instinctively he gets behind me and slaps his dick against my butt cheeks. It feels so naughty when he does that.
I arch my back and prop my ass up into the air. He grabs my hips and penetrates me from behind. This angle feels more intense. As he starts to fuck me my tits bounce back and forth. It excites me so much I start to rub my pussy. My fingers are wet. I taste myself, which amplifies that dirty feeling even more.
As I rub my clit, I hear Brent breathing hard as he slams his hard cock in and out of me. His cock is pulsating now. He must be close. I rub my clit more vigorously. I want to orgasm with him.
He’s pounding me so hard now I forget where I am. I want to let out a moan but then I remember I’m downstairs and my parents are upstairs. They must never find out. I would be banished, exiled, excommunicated. But I know with each thrust our window of opportunity closes. They could come downstairs at any moment for any reason. A glass of milk, perhaps? A late night snack. A slice of pie.
Faster. Harder. He is fucking me so deep. And then I feel a sensation I’ve never felt before: I cum while a man’s cock is buried in my pussy. And as I cum, he cums. I feel his condom fill up inside of me. We both want to moan but bite our tongues. The energy has to be completely released through our orgasms. All desire is contained in silence.
After we release, we collapse on the couch. Nothing is said, for we know better. We can’t talk about what just happened, and maybe we never will.
We put our clothes on and I look around to dispose of any evidence. I find the condom wrapper and take it with me to hide in the trash later.
We don’t even kiss before I scurry back upstairs. We’ve already pushed the limits too far for one night. We connected in the darkness, were illuminated by the fire, and disappear like ghosts. And in that way, it feels like it didn’t happen at all.
Chapter Twelve
Brent
What did I do?! She’s Robert’s little sister and things were not supposed to go that far. This is all just pretend!
I glance over to Lindsay riding in the passenger’s seat of the SUV and all I can think about is how her perky breasts felt in my hands the night before and how tight her pussy is. I want her. I want to feel her again…fuck her again, but I can’t. Last night was a mistake. We need to move on and remember that this engagement is fake.
She’s barely said a word to me since it happened. We’ve been alone in the car for two hours and Lindsay just stares out the window like she’s in a trance. She’s hardly even looked at me.
I, on the other hand, keep sneaking peaks of her. She’s wearing a well-shaped black dress to meet my family. It’s not tight but it still shows off her curves. As we ride along and she shifts in her seat, the material clings to her thighs; it pulls up occasionally showing more of her skin. My eyes want to dwell on that sight. My mind keeps imagining the fabric moving higher, giving me a glimpse of her panties. I hope they are wet.
Fuck!
I have to get my mind off of her and on to how today is going to go. Meeting my family isn’t going to be easy for Lindsay, but she’s so sweet I’m sure that she can get them to like her. At least, I hope so. My cousins can really be cruel, and their parents are self-absorbed. My own parents are away in Europe. Christmas isn’t a big deal in my family. Not like it is for Lindsay’s. They take it seriously.
My parents being gone does take a bit of weight off of my shoulders. We won’t have to put on an act in front of them right away. And by the time they get back in the country we’ll be back at school. Any potential meeting will have to wait until Spring Break. That buys us some time because clearly our fake relationship is a bit dysfunctional right now.
When I pull into the round drive of the Morgan Estate, Lindsay gasps a little bit. She looks up at the house and grounds wide eyed.
“This place looks like a hotel,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess it kind of does.”
My car is the first car in the driveway for once. I’m happy we have made it to the mansion before my cousins arrive. I park. We hop out quickly and grab our bags.
Silently, we walk up the stairs to my bedroom and drop our things off. I am eager to see Grandpa and introduce Lindsay to him.
“Now, I’m not sure how he will be feeling,” I tell her. “I just want you be aware it could be bad.”
“I understand,” she says.
It’s the first words Lindsay’s spoken in hours and it sets my mind at ease a bit. She is meeting the most important person in the world to me. Someone who has guided me towards a path of self-actualization and a better understanding of people. I want this to go well. And I freely admit, I want to win that contest.
We enter Grandfather Morgan’s bedroom. The family doctor is there adjusting a ventilator to help him breathe.
“Is it okay to come in?” I ask.
“Please do,” the doctor says. “I will give you some privacy.
It is pretty amazing that Grandpa has his own doctor on the premises. He worked hard to achieve this level of wealth. I can’t let one of my cousins get ahold of it.
“Thank you for all you’re doing, Doc,” I say.
The doctor nods. He gives a reassuring look, walks on by and out of the room. He seems like a good guy and I’m glad he’s here doing an excellent job. Hopefully he is helping to provide comfort to the beloved patriarch of our family.
It does trouble me seeing the rock solid foundation of the Morgans laid up in bed, attached to a ventilator no less. It makes me feel a little guilty that I’m lying to him about the engagement. But there really isn’t anything I can do about that now. Lindsay and I have chosen this path, and while it might not be one Grandpa might’ve wanted for me growing up, it’s the one I’m on. There’s no going back.
I take Lindsay’s hand gently and guide her towards Grandpa’s bedside. She seems so fragile for a moment and her hand is limp. But her grip tightens after a second, and I know then that she wants to meet him. She’s ready.
Grandpa appears to be sleeping but I can tell he’s actually fully awake. He might’ve been playing a game with the doctor. Always with the challenges and contests this man is. It comforts me that he’ll never change, even at the end.
“Grandpa?” I say quietly. He slowly opens his eyes and looks up at me. “There’s someone I want you to meet. This is Lindsay, my fiancée.”
I present her. Lindsay stands in front of him and waits for his approval. He smiles and reaches out to take her hand. She places her in his and doesn’t pull back. She is fighting her shyness, which impresses me. This is a daunting situation for anyone, no matter where you come from. Meeting someone new can always be a little nerve wracking, but meeting someone who is on the verge of passing on into the afterlife, that is something else. Not to
mention there is the whole contest thing hanging over our heads.
“Please, sit with me a moment, Lindsay,” he says with a smile.
There is a chair next to the bed for people to stay and spend time with him. It’s an antique of sorts, with carved wood and velvet padded backing. She sits down in a very gingerly and delicate manner. I can see that this pleases Grandpa.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says. “I want to know where you’re from and where you met my Brent.”
“Okay,” she says gathering her strength. “I’d be happy to, Mr. Morgan.”
“Please, call me Grandpa,” he says with a smile.
“Okay, Grandpa,” she says. “I grew up a few hours from here. In Greenlake. My father runs the auto-parts plant. My brother and I both attend Pacific Day on scholarship. I’m majoring in chemistry.”
“Chemistry,” he says surprised. “How ambitious. You must work really hard.”
Lindsay nods. “I try to, Sir.”
“And I instilled that pride in your work in my Brent,” he says. “I taught him to value time, as it is rather short, and good people, because there are not enough of them. He continues to excel at learning the importance of the better things in life. Him bringing you here proves that.”
I can see her face start to go beet red. She is a mixture of shyness and happiness at the illuminating facts being told to her.
“Let me see your ring,” grandpa says.
She delicately lifts up her left hand.
“It is lovely,” he says.
Lindsay blushes and sets her hand back in her lap. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”
He smiles.
“That is kind of you,” he says. “Can you do me a wonderful favor and go my desk and get something from the top drawer and bring it back to me?”
“Yes, Grandpa,” she says.
She gets up from the chair and walks over to the desk. She opens the drawer and looks inside.
“There should be a little black box in there,” he says. “Please bring it over.”
She grabs the box, closes the drawer, and walks back to Grandpa’s side. She presents the box.
“There it is,” he says. “Please give it to Brent. He needs it.”
She walks over to me. We give each other confused looks. I have no idea what’s going on.
“Now please take your ring off,” Grandpa instructs.
I can tell she is a little hesitant, as she has grown quite accustomed to wearing it. She takes the ring off and holds it in her right hand. I open the box and discover another beautiful engagement ring inside. It’s bigger and more elaborate then the solitaire I gave to Lindsay. I feel my face go pale. I’ve seen this ring before.
“Grandpa, is this what I think it is?” I ask.
“Yes, Brent. It was your grandmother’s,” he says, grinning. “Now don’t you have a question to ask Lindsay?”
Although I’ve already asked Lindsay to marry me, I think Grandpa wants to see me do it in person. Probably to gauge if what we have is real or not. Now is the time for Lindsay to shine. To show me just how great of an actress she is. To show me how much she wants to win.
I get down on one knee in front of her and bring the box up with both hands. She looks down at me and I see that her eyes are starting to well up with tears. Are they real or fake? At this point it doesn’t matter as Grandpa is watching.
I open the box and present the ring. Grandma’s ring is five carat cushion cut ringed with smaller diamonds in an art deco style. It’s a true treasure and one of the first things grandpa bought when he made his first million. I had no idea that he still had it.
Lindsay extends her left hand and I pull the ring out from the box and bring it closer to her finger.
“Lindsay Miller, love of my life, will you marry me?” I ask.
“Yes, Brent Morgan. I will,” she answers.
I put the ring on her finger. I can feel her trembling. Grandpa starts clapping as strong as he can in his condition.
“Well done, you two. Well done,” he says. Tears line his eyes.
I stand up and kiss her.
“What the hell?” Arron says.
We all turn to the door. My cousins are standing in the doorway glaring at us.
“Just what is going on here?” Collin demands. “Is that Grandma’s ring? That’s not fair, Grandpa! Why are you letting her have it?”
“Oh, be quiet, Collin!” Grandpa snaps. “Can’t you see these two are in love? Your grandmother would want nothing more than for Lindsay to have it.”
“This wasn’t mentioned as being part of the contest, Grandpa,” Arron points. “We didn’t know that you still had Grandma’s ring. I must formally object.”
“You can object all you want, Arron,” Grandpa says. “The fact is the ring is hers for now. And when she marries Brent it will be more than a moot point. It will be, literally, carved in stone.”
I can tell Arron and Collin are clearly outraged by this development. They glare at us and ball their hands into fists. But really, there is nothing they can do about it. Grandpa Morgan has always done what he wanted to do, and they know that to be absolutely true. They can stand there and stew all they want.
Poor Lindsay, she is caught in the middle of the drama. She is starting to realize just how competitive the Morgans are. I hope she can handle the craziness now that my cousins know about us. I imagine they will do their best to try and break us apart.
“Arron and Collin, now just relax,” Grandpa says. “I want you to welcome Lindsay to the family. My hope is she will be a bright light to shine with us for a long time to come.”
My cousins know they better man up and play the game. To show any more resistance would be in essence futile. Better to buck up and accept this small measure of defeat with a sense of decorum.
Arron makes the first move and walks over to Lindsay. He extends his hand. She looks down at it and then over to me. I nod that it is alright. She shakes it.
“Welcome to the family, Lindsay,” Arron says.
It’s Collin’s turn next. He goes through the same motions and makes a good show of it in front of Grandpa. The old man has to be absolutely enjoying it.
“Aren’t you boys forgetting something?” Grandpa asks.
“What is that?” Arron asks in return.
“Congratulate your cousin,” Grandpa says. “He is an incredibly fortunate young man.”
This is a bit tougher for them to do but they pull it off. As much as my cousins might seem like nitwits, they have some skill sets that are admirable. And they have lost enough to me over the years to know how to fake graciously accepting they have been bested.
“Congrats, cuz,” Collin says shaking my hand.
“Happy for you and your girl,” Arron says patting me on the shoulder just slightly too hard.
For all of their top-notch acting, however, and the show they are putting on for Grandpa, I can sense the insincerity in their voices. The only thing keeping the peace is the fact the old man is still alive. The minute we leave the room, I’m not sure how my cousins will act.
Chapter Thirteen
Lindsay
It’s been a long day at the Morgan mansion. Brent’s relatives have slowly gathered here over the course of the morning and into the afternoon. Cousins, aunts and uncles have all arrived in limos and fancy cars. For the most part, they have accepted the news of Brent and I’s engagement with quiet smiles and curt handshakes. I try to be friendly, but no one seems to enjoy my smiles or polite questions. His cousins even seem quite hostile as they ignore me and glare at Brent throughout the day.
After our awkward greetings, Brent, I and his family are all now all gathered in the library. We are having drinks and appetizers before being seated for dinner. If everyone was dressed more formally, I’d think we were living out an episode of Downton Abbey. As it is, the crowd looks to be in their Sunday best. It makes me a bit nervous as I feel my dress looks cheap in comparison. All of Brent’s aunts
look like they shop at Saks Fifth Avenue while I was happy to find my simple black dress at Forever 21 in the clearance section.
Brent pulls me aside before we go into the formal dining room. He has given me some coaching on how to handle fine dining. Which knife, fork or spoon to use first. The timing of the courses. Even how to properly use and re-fold your napkin after use.
“You got this,” he whispers to me.
I look up at him and nod, but I’m not so sure. It all seems so elaborate and overwhelming. He takes me by the hand, and we enter the dining room as a couple. A servant in a tuxedo directs us to our chairs. We have little name tags printed out to signify where we’ll be sitting. Brent’s has his name on it, while mine just says Guest. It makes me feel a bit left out, but I have to accept that I am very new here. They really don’t know me yet.
Brent pulls out my chair for me to sit down. I do so and he helps me move forward and into place. The table before me is full of different types of glasses, silverware and plates. There are pitchers of water and bottles of wine positioned in the middle within easy reach. I have never seen anything like it. Our idea of fancy while we were growing up was having a cart with all the Thanksgiving trimmings next to the kitchen table where we ate every night. Formality was saying grace before diving in.
After we sit down and some more small talk is made, as if we didn’t have our fill of it in the library, the salad course is brought out. It’s a nice mix of kale and arugula, with walnuts and cranberries. A raspberry vinaigrette is offered as a dressing. I look around the dining table to see which fork everyone is using when I remember that you always work in from the outside when it comes to utensils. I reach over and grab the small fork furthest away on my left.
A servant comes by and asks if I would like fresh pepper and I decline. Another comes by and asks if I would like fresh parmesan cheese. I say yes and he manually shaves off a few slices for me onto the salad. I take a bite and it is indeed scrumptious and I don’t even like these kind of dishes that much. The best ingredients do matter and that is one reason the rich do indeed eat so well.