Claimed by Her Web Master (Web Master #3)

by Normandie Alleman

  Staring at my mouth, he pushed his chair back and stood up. Then he dropped his napkin into his chair and walked over to my side of the table, the entire time staring at me so intently that I shifted in my seat under the intensity of his gaze.

  Before I could ask what he was doing, he bent down, bringing his face to mine. The tip of his tongue touched the corner of my mouth, licking away the stray dressing. “Something about you and salad dressing gets me all excited.” Then his tongue traced the outline of my mouth and with an involuntary moan I opened for him. He tasted so good, and I wanted to throw my arms around him, place my hand behind his neck and pull him into me.

  I’d tried for months to forget about this man. Told myself he was trouble I didn’t need. That he would destroy whatever good was between us with his self-destructive ways, but now, being alone with him, I couldn’t deny that I loved him, craved him, that he was part of my soul.

  His mouth danced with mine. Nipping, sucking, thrusting at each other until he withdrew, stood and went back to his side of the table and sat down. When he settled back into his chair, he smiled at me as casually as if we’d been discussing the nice weather in Hawaii.

  Meanwhile, I could barely maintain my composure. My heart rate sped up, and I could tell my pussy was engorged, my panties soaked. Hard nipples strained against my industrial-sized maternity bra and my appetite for food was gone.

  Quentin, on the other hand, dove into his meal with gusto. After he devoured his steak he asked, “You’re not hungry?”

  I shook my head. “My stomach feels queasy most of the time.”

  “My poor girl. I’m sorry you feel bad. Try to eat something though. Remember, you’re eating for two.”

  I picked at my salad, forced down a few bites of everything, then I simply waited for him to finish his food, ready and aching for him to ravish me again.

  He knew I was tired, but I couldn’t help myself. My pussy was throbbing, and I wanted him to take me.

  When he was finished I stood and started taking my plate to the kitchen. I was planning to take his too, but before I could take two steps he was on me, relieving me of the task. “Here, let me do that. You just rest. You’re doing enough, sitting there gestating our baby.” I plopped back down. The warmth of being cared for blanketed me, and I basked in his spoiling me. This was a rare treat, as most of my days were awash in loneliness and exhaustion recently.

  After he brought all the dirty dishes into the kitchen and piled them up in the sink, he came around and stood behind me and began massaging my neck and shoulders. “I have a feeling you’re going to be out like a light in no time, so I’m going to do those dishes after you fall asleep.”

  I giggled. “Probably a good idea.” He must have sensed that if he did them now I might be passed out by the time he came back.

  The touch of his hands felt amazing as they sent waves of electricity through my body. Slowly he convinced my muscles to relax, and soon I was a puddled mess, his to be molded.

  “I’m glad you’re relaxed,” he whispered in my ear. “Because I have something planned for you.”

  Then his hot mouth was on my neck, his hands were on my breasts. He held my wrists above my head in one hand, keeping me restrained. Not that I would try to get away again. First of all, I had nowhere to go, and second of all I wanted to be here, if I was honest with myself. Quentin was the love of my life, and having no choice but to be with him—well, it gave me an excuse to ignore what my brain told me and allow my heart to give my body over to him.

  As pitiful as it was, a part of me wished I could remain his captive always and never have to make the difficult decisions I knew lay ahead of me. Before I had a chance to kiss him back, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom where I knew I would not fall asleep disappointed.

  20

  Quentin

  I’d already fucked Sophie twice, but it wasn’t enough.

  The way I felt now it would never be enough. I couldn’t get deep enough inside her. Maybe that was because what I really wanted was to bury myself in her soul. Her cunt would have to do for the moment, but it was her life I wanted to insert myself into permanently.

  “On your hands and knees,” I ordered her.

  She did as I’d bid her, offering her backside to me to do with as I saw fit. A sense of power washed over me and blood rushed to my cock as I realized how blessed I was to have this beautiful woman with me, submitting to me after all I’d done to her.

  The round globes of her rear end, the curve of her hips to what was still a slim waist, at least from this angle, and her wild dark hair fueled my desire for her. I reached out to caress her soft skin, but something held me back.

  With each touch was I not defiling the mother of my child? Destroying a piece of her if she didn’t really want to be with me? I wasn’t raping her, but certainly I’d coerced her.

  I weighed my options. I could return her to her hotel. Allow her to go about her life. She could gestate and have our child without me. I could petition for parental rights, even partial custody, but if I let her go now, I was afraid she’d choose not to include me in her life.

  That might have been the right thing to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  No. I needed to remind her what we had together, what I could give her.

  She craved my domination. That I knew. It was no figment of my imagination. In the time we’d been apart I suspected that she’d convinced herself that she’d be fine on her own.

  “I don’t need Quentin. That was fun, but now I need to be on my own,” she probably told herself.

  But that was bullshit! It was time to remind her who she belonged to and why it was good to belong to me.

  Kneeling behind her, I leaned over and took her breast in my hand, fondling it, kneading it, toying with her nipple the way I knew she adored. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m going to drip some wax on you.”

  “Okay,” she answered, and that was enough consent for me. I reached for the candle and matches I’d stored in the drawer of the nightstand.

  I massaged her labia, squeezed her clit, and fingered her juicy pussy—readying it for me. She squirmed underneath me, and I had to caution her to try to remain still. When she was dripping wet, I poked the tip of my cock into her wet slit. Her corresponding moan told me I was on the right track.

  Pushing in a little more, I lit the candle. I could feel her muscles twitching around me. She was trying not to move, but it was clear she wanted nothing more than to scoot her ass back and sheath me completely. I grasped her left hip firmly to remind her not to move as I let the first droplet of wax land on her back.

  She let out a shriek, more from surprise than pain.

  After the second drop hit, I gave her another inch of my cock. The noise she made was nothing short of exquisite. That delicious combination of pleasure and pain—that was what I gave her. It was what she’d come to crave, and no one would ever give it to her the way I did. I would see to that.

  I fucked her slowly, punctuating my thrusts with drops of hot wax. Between the mmms of the fucking, and the ouches of the scalding wax she didn’t know whether to coo or cry, and that was just the way I liked her—captive in my thrall.

  The smell of sweat and sex filled my nostrils and fueled my lust. Sophie’s fingers clutched at the bedsheets as I dribbled wax on her ass and pummeled her poor little pussy.

  “Does that feel good, whore? Do you like me to burn you while I take you?” I taunted.

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  Her submission was the most incredible gift. No matter what our future held, in that moment, the bond between us felt precious yet solid.

  “Do you want to come, slut?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Beg.”

  “Please, please may I come, Sir?”

  “You can do better than that. Make me believe you.”

  “Please, Sir.” Her voice grew more shrill. “I need to come so badly, Sir. Please, please, please let me come
.”

  “Good girl.” I blew out the candle, set it down, and reached around her blooming torso and found her clit. The more I rubbed little circles over it the more she bucked underneath me, but I grabbed a handful of her hair with my other hand and held on tight. It was a wild ride but I fucked her until she came all over me, soaked my hand, and was practically sobbing with her release.

  My balls tightened, and finally I allowed my own release, jetting my seed inside her. When I withdrew I lay down next to her, drawing her close to spoon with me.

  “See? You need me, don’t you?” I was afraid she’d say no, but I had to ask.

  She hugged my arms close to her body. “I did need that. Thank you, Sir.”

  It would have to do for now.

  After several minutes we both felt the awkward discomfort of the dried wax on her skin. “Let me go run you a bath, and we’ll get that off of you.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled.

  When I came back from filling up the tub, she looked up at me with those deep-brown eyes. “You know, you’ve been really sweet to me.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes, and I want to thank you for that.”

  How’s that for the shoe being on the other foot? I was usually the bad guy. Maybe I’d scored more points with her than I’d realized.

  I winked at her. “No problem, ma’am. Now, let’s get you into that bath.”

  21

  Quentin

  The night before I promised Sophie she could leave I asked her to join me in the tropical garden that was behind the house. The air was filled with the sweet smell of plumeria, and I placed a lei of yellow flowers around Sophie’s neck.

  “Thank you, Quentin. These are lovely.” She smiled at me, and for a minute I forgot that there was anything but love and affection between us.

  Sophie wandered the garden while I brought out some refreshments for us. Sparkling grape juice for her, and even though I knew I should have just drank that crap with her, I didn’t. Instead I popped a bottle of the real stuff for myself. If I was going to get through this I was going to need a little liquid courage.

  I poured us each a glass. Then I gulped mine down and filled my glass again.

  “Sophie, from the moment I discovered you were pregnant I have known that I had to get you back. My life was empty and I was miserable without you. But now that there are three of us to consider, I hope that you will reconsider our situation.”

  She just stared at me.

  I swallowed and continued. “I want our child to have both a mother and a father. Parents who love each other. I grew up without a dad and it sucked. I don’t want the same for my kid. I want him to know his father cares about him. And I hope this weekend has been a reminder to you of how good we can be together—how happy I can make you. Sophie, I want you to be a permanent part of my life.”

  Sophie sipped from her glass. “What are you proposing?”

  “Marriage, my pet. You. Me. Our child.” I laid my hand on her belly and was grateful when she didn’t push it away.

  “But Quentin, what would that look like? You and I live halfway across the country from each other.”

  “Whatever you want it to look like. I’ll move to Fort Worth. Or you can move to Seattle. Hell, we can both move wherever we want to. If you want to teach … there are kindergartners everywhere. As for me, as long as I have access to a studio I can compose music anywhere. I’ll need to travel occasionally, but I have to do that now and my schedule is usually flexible.”

  Her brow furrowed. She was either considering it, or she was trying to find a way to say no and still escape. After the way I’d behaved, practically kidnapping her and bringing her to this remote location, she probably feared what I would do if she said no.

  To ease her mind, I added, “I don’t want to force you, Sophie. I love you. I want you to be my wife, and of your own free will.” Before she could say anything else, I dropped to one knee and took her left hand in mine.

  “You’re serious?” Her eyes rounded.

  Pulling a small velvet box out of my pocket, I nodded. “I’ve never been more serious, Sophie my love.” Then I opened the box to show her the four-and-a-half carat practically flawless diamond ring.

  Her right hand covered her mouth, as if she could somehow contain her admiration of the ring. “Quentin, it’s gorgeous!”

  Inwardly I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d done good.

  Knowing Sophie had been raised with money and had wealthy friends, I was determined to choose a ring that she’d never have reason to scoff at. She wasn’t superficial, but I hadn’t wanted to give her a single reason to find my proposal lacking. Thank goodness I’d secured a big advance on my next project.

  Besides, what the hell else was I going to spend it on? Nothing was more important to me than Sophie and returning her to her rightful place by my side.

  “Try it on,” I encouraged.

  Quickly, she snatched her hand back, as if I’d suggested she stick it into a campfire.

  My gut lurched. “Please.”

  Her lips were pursed, and I was afraid she was going to say no right then and destroy every dream I ever had.

  “You don’t have to say yes right now. Just let me see if it fits,” I cajoled. It never occurred to me that I might have to actually force that fucking ring on her finger.

  Her expression softened slightly. “As long as you realize I can’t say yes right now …”

  “Of course. Just let’s see if it fits.” I slipped the ring onto her finger before she had a chance to protest again. It slid on easily, the perfect fit. That didn’t surprise me. I knew every inch of my girl from head to toe. One look at the different size rings in the jeweler’s shop and I knew Sophie’s size. I’d memorized everything about her.

  She held her hand out, admiring the ring, letting it catch the light, and I wasn’t certain which sparkled more—my pregnant bride-to-be or the diamond.

  I got to my feet and she reached out to embrace me. Taking her in my arms I held her close, pressing her tightly to me. God, I’d missed her so bad. Missed holding her like this. I needed this every day for the rest of my life.

  She had to say yes. If she didn’t I wasn’t sure I’d be able to bear it.

  22

  Quentin

  The last morning Sophie was with me I woke up with the feeling of dread inside me so strong it threatened to choke me.

  Forty-eight hours. I’d given her my word.

  When the time was up I had to let her go or risk further compromising the trust between us. I wasn’t sure how I was going to let her go, but I knew I didn’t have a choice.

  She looked so beautiful sleeping next to me, and as I watched her, my heart was so full of love for her and my son that it threatened to burst in my chest. As I got up to make some breakfast I noticed the slight curve to her abdomen, and it was all I could do not to place my hand on it, but I didn’t want to wake her. I superstitiously believed the longer she slept the longer I could keep her here.

  Downstairs, I scrambled some eggs and I was cooking bacon when she came out of the bedroom wearing a shy look on her face. “Good morning.”

  “Morning. I made us some eggs, and I have some pineapple for you.”

  “I feel like I might turn into a pineapple.” She giggled. And for a moment it didn’t seem like captor and captive, monster and victim. We seemed like a perfectly normal couple, and that was what I wanted more than anything.

  “It’s good for you and the baby. Plus it’s delicious, homegrown.”

  We ate without speaking. Just being together was so precious I didn’t want to spoil it with words.

  When she got up from the table, I told her I’d call a car for her once she got dressed.

  She reached out and covered my hand with hers. “I will stay until after lunch if that’s okay.”

  “I’d like that.” It amazed me how happy she could make me just by staying for a few more hours.

  After breakfast we played cards
. A simple game that had us laughing and playing with each other, and while I’d already known I missed the sex, spending time with Sophie like this made me realize I missed her companionship as well. So we played hand after hand without discussing anything serious. I think we both wanted to ignore the realities of our situation, and simply wanted to enjoy being together.

  I longed to talk about the baby—ask her what she wanted to name him, who she hoped he would look like. Tell her what I’d been learning about natural childbirth, home births, and epidurals in addition to the other nuggets of wisdom I had picked up from the pregnancy books I’d been reading nonstop ever since I found out I was to be a father again. But I knew that would only put undue pressure upon her and hurt my case rather than help it. So instead I told her how pretty she looked and willed her not to take off the ring I’d given her.

  For lunch I made her a sandwich and watched her eat it with little appetite of my own. I could eat later. Right now the world seemed to revolve around Sophie and the baby she was carrying.

  When the car pulled into the driveway I could feel the happiness drain from my body. It felt like when a cloud covers the sun and all of a sudden everything is dark and cold.

  I gave her a final hug, holding her tight before I let her go. “Take care of yourself. Take care of the baby.”

  “I will. Of course I will. You don’t even need to say.”

  “Think about what I’ve said,” I said, my voice trembling.

  She nodded. “I won’t be able to think of anything else.”

  I glanced around at the house. “And this … I’m sorry about this.” That was all I needed to say.

  She gave me a wry smile and got into the waiting car.

  I blew her a kiss before going back into the house. I couldn’t watch her drive away. I couldn’t let her see the tears that stung my eyes. Couldn’t let her know how much my life depended on her.