“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.”
He turns and strides away, opening and closing his hands as though fighting some inner struggle.
“Arturo,” I whisper.
“What?” he snaps, standing with the broad muscled landscape of his back to me.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not laughing at me,” I murmur. “It’s pretty embarrassing being a nineteen year old virgin.”
“Don’t worry,” he growls. “You won’t be one for long. I’m forty-one years old, Aida, and I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I’m going to pound your pussy until there are tears of pleasure in your eyes. And I’m going to come inside of you. Now do what you’re told and take a shower. I want that pink cunt nice and clean if I decide to take you for round two.”
He paces from the room and slams the door heavily behind him, leaving me with a thousand thoughts whirring like buzzing insects around my mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Arturo
I sit on the balcony with Jackal waiting patiently beside the table, the only sign that he’s expecting food his big tail swinging back and forth. The sun shines down on the estate, the air free of snow and the sky clear except for a few clouds drifting here and there.
I can’t stop thinking about what just happened as I move my forefinger around the rim of my coffee cup.
I went in there with the intention of giving her the dress she was to wear for breakfast and leaving straight away.
But then I lost control.
That’s the truth, plain and simple. There’s no denying it.
I lost control and gave in to the carnal desire that rocketed through me. I never do that, but then, no woman has ever flooded me with so much inexorable passion before, waves and waves of it surging into me until I felt like the only thing I could do was take that ass roughly, wetly, dominate her and explode inside of her.
It’s a damn miracle I got out of there without dragging her like a feral beast into the bedroom.
She’s a virgin, my own personal untouched piece of innocence, a perfect vessel to fill with my seed and bring my offspring into the world.
I should find the thought ludicrous.
I’ve never been interested in making a woman pregnant, and yet here I am, dead certain of it, more certain than I am of my own name.
I don’t have a choice.
I need to take her and impregnate her and own every part of her.
She approaches the table from the balcony door, her steps quiet as she walks barefoot onto the heated flooring. I turn and then bite down, stilling the shivering growl that threatens to escape my lips.
She’s wearing the dress I chose for her, showing a subtle, dignified hint of cleavage, cut just above the knee so that I can get a good look at her shapely legs, but still leaves something to the imagination.
This was my reasoning when I chose the dress, but now I’ve seen her in all her naked glory, her tight pink cunt, her red, suck-me-now nipples.
My eyes are magnetized to her nipples, perky through the fabric of the black dress. I can see the strap of her bra, which means she’s still so excited that they’re showing through two layers of clothing.
I gesture at the seat opposite me.
“Sit,” I tell her, thinking maybe I can reclaim some sense of control.
A virgin, a deep voice within me bellows, some ancient voice, as though all my primal ancestors are joining their voices together. A virgin just for you. To claim. To own. To fuck hard and fast and any damn way you want. She won’t know any different. She’ll think getting absolutely hammered for hours on end is the norm. She’ll take it like a grateful sex goddess and never stop squirting on your rock hard cock.
The thoughts are relentless. I have to focus hard not to leap across the table and tear her dress down, freeing those voluptuous breasts.
“Hungry?” I ask.
She nods, seeming suddenly shy now, turning her attention to Jackal as he pads over and lays his head in her lap. She strokes him, smiling, her every feature etched with maternity.
“He’s so friendly,” she says.
“He’s not usually,” I tell her. “You’re the first person he’s ever been like this with.”
“I wonder why,” she muses.
I know why I think but don’t say.
It’s because Jackal knows, on some level, that this woman is going to give him humans that he’ll need to protect. He knows that she’s important to me already, that she became the most important person in my life the moment I laid eyes on her.
“I’ll have my chef make us something,” I say. “What do you like?”
“Well, lots of things,” she says, some of her sassiness returning, but it’s much more muted than it was in the shower.
That probably has something to do with the fact that she’s not being treated like the horny secret freak she is.
Maybe she wants me to forget about how she willingly gave herself to me, shivered against me, creamed, and cried out in release.
No chance.
“Are we playing a game?” I snap. “What do you want?”
“I can order anything?”
You can have it all, Aida.
“Yes,” I tell her.
“I’ll have a fruit salad then,” she says, and then bites her lip, her gaze flitting to the garden, over to the fountain, and then back to me.
“You don’t want a fruit salad,” I tell her, looking deeply into those summer sky eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think ordering some real food makes you seem—what? Less like what you think you should be?”
Her eyes widen in recognition.
“I knew it,” I growl. “But listen here my personal virgin fuck toy. What you think you should be doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is what I want, and I want a woman with a big juicy ass and wide hips and large breasts I can really sink my hands into. I want a woman who knows how to eat and fuel her body. So you’ll have what I’m having, pancakes with a side of bacon.”
She aims another sassy look at me, those pouting lips begging to be used until she’s gagging and choking and creaming just from the sensation of my cock driving into her mouth.
“Do I at least get to choose what I put on my pancakes?”
I smirk. “Yeah, since you asked so nicely, I’ll allow it. What do you want?”
“I’ll take syrup, please,” she says sassily.
It’s killing me how round and full her breasts look in that dress, and the knowledge that she’s not wearing any panties is even worse. She’s wearing the same bra she was yesterday, but I didn’t see the outline of her underwear beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
No, she’s bare down there, her pussy completely naked, probably still a little excited and creamy from the shower.
I swipe a panel on the table, activating the small electronic touchpad there. I type a few keys and then navigate to my kitchen’s menu, making the breakfast order, and then tell them to bring it out to the balcony.
“What’s that?” Aida asks when I’m done.
“One of life’s conveniences,” I tell her. “Aida, do you really have no idea who I am?”
“Should I?” she asks.
I sigh and glance at Jackal, who’s sitting at the side of the table, the same distance between me and him as between him and Aida. It’s like the jet black Great Dane is already finding it difficult choosing between us, even though I’ve raised him since a pup.
It’s because he knows how important this woman is.
“Your father never mentioned me?”
“You know my dad?” she says, sitting up now, causing those breasts to jiggle appetizingly.
I nod. “Yes, I know him. But I don’t think it’s my place to tell you how. I think that’s his responsibility.”
She glares at me, cheeks flaring that almost pink shade that reminds me of her pussy, the way her hole got all sore and needy as I finger-fucked her into oblivion.
“What sort of bullshit riddle is that?” she snaps. “So you took me because you and my dad are, what, rival criminals or something?”
“Call him, ask him,” I snap. “And change your tone when you talk to me unless you want me to bend you over the balcony railing and fuck you until you can’t stand up anymore.”
She bites her lips and then releases it a second later as though wanting to pretend it didn’t happen.
I grin like a wolf at her, like the beast she’s turning me into.
“Oh, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re one hell of a contradiction, Aida, a virgin nymphomaniac.”
She can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face, taking my words as a compliment.
“I’m not a nympho …”
“So you don’t have secret fantasies about being a wild girl in bed? You don’t read romance novels and imagine that you’re the heroine? There isn’t a needy little slut – a slut just for me, only for me, never for anybody else, ever – waiting inside you, ready to be let out to play?”
With each word, lust dances across her expression.
She makes a whimpering noise that reminds me of the way she sang out her orgasm. Her every quiver, her every breath, sends fire up and down my throbbing length.
Fuck, I need to explode inside of her.
I need to feel her hole gripping me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She’s driving me insane.
“How did you guess?” she murmurs a moment later.
Because I know you because you’re mine because you’re going to be the mother of my children.
“Do you always ask this many questions?” I growl.
She glares. “And you say I’m the contradiction? How can you go from a nice guy to a snappy asshole in one second flat, hmm?”
“A nice guy?” I laugh. “I think you’ve got the wrong man, Aida.”
“If you were really as bad as you want me to believe, I’d still be in that cellar. And back in the shower, you would have …”
“Taken you without consent?” I snarl.
She nods.
“I’d never do that.”
I clench my fists on the table, leaning forward.
Jackal perks up, as though getting ready for a fight.
“There’s nothing lower than a man who does that,” I go on. “I’ll fuck you until you think you can’t take it anymore, but I’ll always know your aching and begging for more deep down. Because that little nympho inside of you, my virgin fuck toy, she’s never going to be satisfied, is she? Not until a river of my hot seed is spilling out of your gaping hole.”
“You’re a freaking animal,” she whimpers.
I smirk, letting my gaze move over her body, noting the way she squirms in her chair.
“Are you soaking wet right now?” I growl.
She bites her lips and nods.
“With words, Aida,” I snap.
“Y-yes,” she says.
“Tell me.”
“I’m soaking, Arturo. I’m freaking drenched.”
My cock swells, almost painful with the rigid tension.
But then the balcony doors slide open, without a knock, which means it better be damn important.
Vinnie stands at the door, one of my most trusted men, perhaps my most trusted man since Elmo’s started having his drug problems.
He’s tall, in his mid-twenties, with a curving scar going from his chin all the way to his forehead from a run-in with the Cartel a few years back. But he never spoke, never gave anything away about the Family.
And when I found the men who cut him, I gave them to Vinnie to do with as he pleased. I was stunned, and goddamn impressed, when he turned them over to the cops to serve life in a maximum-security prison.
It was less messy than the alternative.
Despite my respect for him, I watch him closely as he walks onto the balcony, waiting for any sign that he’s attracted to my woman.
If he so much as glances at her in a way I don’t like, I might lose control and flip him over the balcony.
The fall wouldn’t kill him.
But it’d teach him to respect a man’s property.
It seems he knows better than that though, not even glancing at her.
He paces over to me.
“Sir, there’s a problem.”
I wave a hand. “What is it?”
“It’s a … a Family thing.”
I glance at Aida, who’s spunkily watching the conversation. I think about dismissing her, but I’m not going to be able to keep her in the dark forever, not the future mother of my children, my soulmate if a broken man like me has such a thing.
“Tell me, Vinnie.”
“Elmo’s escaped,” he says.
I stand up, my jaw going so tight my teeth ache, grinding together.
“I have to go,” I growl at Aida. “Eat breakfast without me. Feed Jackal. His food is in the second kitchen.”
I stride toward the balcony door.
“Arturo,” she calls out.
I pause, waiting, thinking of Elmo, the word escape bouncing around my mind.
Motherfucker, I put you in that detox cell for your own good.
“Did you mean it when you said I could use the phone?”
“Yes,” I say. “There’s nothing you can tell your father he doesn’t already know.”
I make to walk away, but then something occurs to me.
I nod to Vinnie to wait beyond the balcony doors and then return to my woman, leaning down to look her firmly in the eyes.
“I’m going to have some more clothes delivered to your room,” I tell her. “Change into something less sexy. That’s an order. If I check my security footage later and see that you’re strutting around the house in that dress, I won’t be fucking pleased. Those legs, those tits, that creamy cunt, it’s just for me. Do you understand?”
She flinches back as though in fear, as though she can sense the change in me, the Don replacing the man I was minutes before.
Fucking Elmo.
“Yes, Arturo, I’ll change.”
“Good girl,” I growl, and then stalk back into the house, mentally readying myself for what’s to come.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Aida
I stand in my bedroom – somehow, thinking of it as my bedroom doesn’t feel strange – with Jackal patiently sitting at my side. I’m at the bedside table, where somebody left me a burner cellphone. I’ve already changed into the sweatpants and hoodie that Arturo had delivered for me, somehow being able to tell what size I am by sight alone. He didn’t get it exactly right, though, because they’re a little baggy.
Or maybe he wants it like that, that voice deep inside of me sings, the voice that doesn’t want me to be self-conscious or self-loathing anymore. He wants you all to himself. He doesn’t want to share your body.
I wish I could sink freely into that belief, but there’s still a paranoid part of me that’s waiting for the hammer to fall, for the punchline that will bring this all crashing down.
Jackal lets out a soft rumbling noise.
It’s not that he’s hungry. I found the second kitchen after getting lost twice and ending up back where I started, but eventually, I found my way there, fou
nd his dog bowl and a giant bag of food that was difficult to lift. Somebody had written his serving portions on a piece of paper next to the food, so it was easy enough.
Maybe the noise is because he senses the uncertainty boiling through me.
The uncertainty makes no sense.
I should want to call my parents.
And yet anxiety twists in my gut when I think about how Arturo and Dad could possibly know each other. If I’m starting to develop completely unrealistic and unhinged feelings for Arturo – and let’s face it, I am – then what the heck am I supposed to do if I discover that Arturo is evil, somehow?
What if Dad tells me he’s a monster?
I sit on the bed with a sigh.
Jackal leaps up easily, causing the mattress to judder under his impressive weight. The dog whines softly and lays his head in my lap, looking up at me with his dark eyes, eyes that remind me of the near black of Arturo’s.
I stroke my hand over his head, tickling him behind the ears.
“I have to call them, don’t I?” I murmur. “They need to know that I’m safe.”
As I pick up the phone, I’m stunned that no part of me wants to call 911, which would be the logical, normal response. It’s the first thing I should want to do, call the police and tell them I’m being held captive against my will, but even thinking about that sends harsh firm feelings of rejection surging through me.
It’s like that place deep inside of me, my center, my womb, whatever the heck it is, it’s screaming at me that I can never leave this man.
I’m destined to be with him.
I’m destined to have his babies.
We’re destined to be a family.
It doesn’t matter that if I told Arturo these crazy thoughts, he’d laugh at me in that growling way he has, turning from Nice Arturo to the snarling beast who threatened to take me from behind on the balcony.
I grit my teeth at the thought, my sex giving a shiver.
He knew about my secret sexual fantasies.
I’ve never had an object for these fantasies before, just a vague general sense that one day I wanted to unleash all these inner desires, that one day I didn’t want to be the shy girl anymore.
But now it’s Arturo, only him, and an endless repeating cycle in my mind.
I push all of that aside and call my parents’ landline, the only one I know by heart.
His To Claim: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 4