But if they return, there will be blood.
There’s no way around it.
I just hope they’re not that stupid.
I return to my estate with a savage need for Aida pounding through me.
I didn’t plan on telling her all of that this morning, but once I started, I found it difficult to stop. There was something absurdly easy about talking to her, as though all the time I’ve spent locking down my emotions and my history meant it was ready to burst out with the right person.
And she’s the right person.
Hell, she’s the only person who matters.
I did my best not to obsess over her today, but the memory of her compliant body and her bouncy breasts was all too fresh in my mind. The way she creamed all over my dick, finally giving in to her deepest desires, the way she shivered for me…
It all plays in my mind, nonstop, as I climb from my jet black Ferrari and make my way up the steps to my estate.
My butler greets me at the door.
“Any dinner, sir?” he asks, a loyal man named Jenkins, his mustache a thick mark of pride on his upper lip.
“No,” I tell him. “Not yet, anyway. I’ll call you or let the kitchen know through the app.”
“Very good, sir,” he says. “Can I assist you in any other way?”
“No, you can take the rest of the evening off,” I say. “I’m sure you want to see your family.”
He bows at the waist, a practice he has continued even after I told him it wasn’t necessary. Jenkins is a stickler for professional conduct.
“Thank you, sir.”
I walk through my mansion, past the art hanging from the walls, over the fur rugs, past the marble statues – made in the Roman style – and finally up the stairs and down the hallway that will take me to Aida’s room. I don’t even pretend that I have to think about where I’m going to go.
It’s her.
It can only be her.
I feel my manhood getting harder the closer I get to her room, tension moving with savage intensity through every part of me.
I pause outside her bedroom door when I hear it, the soft singing voice of an angel, the same singing that ushered from between her fuck-me-now lips when I made her squirt in the ensuite.
I stop and lean in closer, letting the sound drift over me, unable to stop my lips from twitching into something like a smile.
It’s so easy to imagine her singing that way to our children, standing over a newborn’s crib with her body still curvy and juicy from childbirth, ready to be taken and impregnated again.
Again.
Because I’m sure she’s already pregnant.
Her body was too willing to take every inch of me not to be. She was desperate for my seed. She fucking shivered for it, the sexy little thing.
I imagine her clutching the edge of the crib and leaning down, singing my son or daughter to sleep, her smile so bright I can’t help but mirror it, feeling unashamedly happy for the first time in my life.
She can gift that to me, I sense.
Happiness like I’ve never felt before.
She cuts off when Jackal starts sniffing around at the bottom of the door, the Great Dane making loud huffing noises as he tries to greet me.
“What is it, boy?” Aida calls from the other side of the door.
I fucking love when she sounds like that, all perky and confused like she doesn’t know that any moment I’m going to surge in there and savage her like the personal slut she is.
But just mine.
Always mine.
I open the door slowly, trying to tame my breathing.
But that swiftly becomes a fool’s errand when I see that she’s wearing the pajama shorts and tank top I ordered for her. The shorts tuck right up her ass and her pussy, marking her flesh right there for the taking. Her breasts are braless, her nipples as perky as a dream through the material of the tank top.
“Aida,” I snarl. “You better not have—”
“I changed into this when I came back to my room,” she assures me, with one of her sassy grins. “Don’t worry. I wore a cardboard box any time I left my room. Okay? Happy now?”
I rush across the room and bring my hand to her throat, tenderly, a lover’s kiss of a touch.
She gasps as I caress the soft skin of her neck, and then slide my hand down her side, over her hip, and grab myself a big fistful of her thigh.
I squeeze until she whimpers and I can see that lust dancing across her bright eyes.
“Not in front of Jackal,” she moans. “That’s just weird.”
“I’d never do anything like that in front of him,” I growl. “But I can have him gone in a second. Then I’ll be free to take you like the personal fuck goddess you are.”
“W-wait,” she whimpers. “I’ve …”
“You’ve what?” I snap.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” she breathes. “Before we go on. I think it’s only fair after all that craziness you shared with me earlier.”
With an effort – there’s something compelling in the seriousness of her expression – I step back.
If I don’t, I’ll keep grabbing those thick fleshy thighs until she’s quivering and creaming for me.
“Well?” I snap. “What is it?”
“Do you think maybe we can go somewhere else? For a walk or for dinner or something?”
“You’re stalling,” I tell her.
“Maybe,” she says firmly, staring at me with a bravery I’ve never seen before, from anyone.
“Fine,” I smirk. “But only because I fucking love when you sass me like that.”
I need a woman with some fire. I don’t want weak children.
Soon, I’ll tell her this, tell her what her destiny really is.
But right now I’m damn curious about what she’s got to tell me.
“We’ll have dinner on the balcony,” I say. “Get changed into the green dress with the emeralds. Wear the matching heels. And don’t even think about wearing tights, Aida. I need to see those legs. And if you dream of putting on panties, I’m going to bend you over and take that tight asshole with more than my thumb this time. Get changed. Now.”
Without waiting for an answer, I turn and stride from the room, Jackal following close behind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aida
When he said the balcony, I didn’t realize that his sprawling estate had several.
Eventually – after I’ve been wandering around for a while – I end up in the library, turning in a circle and gazing up in wonder at the majesty of the room.
The mansion has four floors, and this library covers all of them. The bookshelves reach higher and higher until it seems like they disappear in the mood lighting at the top of the room. Everything glows softly and warmly with fire-like light, rows, and rows of books reminding me of the library in a fairytale I read as a girl, but I forget the title now. Reading desks are dotted here and there with lamps of their own.
The floor is marble and patterned, the giant surface of it dotted with flares of color here and there which, combined, make up a series of battle scenes, vivid flourishes of blood, spears, metal glinting tips of weapons.
I gape at the enormity of the room.
It seems like a place that shouldn’t be able to exist in someone’s home.
“Does this look like the balcony?” Arturo says from the entrance, his voice echoing so it sounds like it comes from all around me, attacking me from every direction.
My heart stills for a moment as my gaze snaps to him, his face clean shaven again now, his dark eyes hard, his dark blue suit hugging his hulking frame closely.
Jackal isn’t with him anymore.
I think about blurting it now, what I was going to tell him.
I’ve been having these crazy fantasies …
But the words won’t come out.
For some reason, I feel like I have to tell him. Maybe it has something to do with what he told me about Dad and the dead
bodies, the message on the wall, the fact that they were friends. I’ve been going over it all day, trying to bring it into some sort of order. I don’t know where my allegiances lie anymore, and knowing how Arturo feels about my crazy fantasies will make things clearer cut.
But as he strides across the room, his footsteps echoing around me, I realize that I can’t force the words out.
He has that look on his face, savage, unhinged. He’s closed the door behind him.
We’re alone.
“You didn’t say which balcony.”
“Watch your mouth, Aida,” he growls.
A wave of fierceness rises inside of me when I see the way his lips twist, his eyes narrow.
He thinks he’s going to dominate me again.
But in all the fantasies I’ve had in my life – and there are many – I’m not always the submissive one.
I don’t always bow and do what I’m told.
“Wait,” I snap, when he’s so close I can smell the musky manliness of him.
He pauses, smirking as though a prized pet has just performed a new trick. The look sends sizzling desire through me, my clit aching, my bare pussy already getting wet, my inner thighs tickling with the wetness.
“Wait?” he says. “Are you in charge now, Aida?”
“I want to be,” I breathe. “Let me try, Arturo.”
“What about dinner?” he mocks lightly. “I thought you were hungry.”
“Oh, I’m hungry,” I say.
Hungry to be in charge. Hungry to take some sort of control over this whirring mess.
“Come over here,” I say, reaching out and taking the blaring heat of his hand, his passion burning through every inch of his hard muscled skin.
I walk over to the nearest desk and chairs, and then grab a chair and turn it so it’s facing the open marble floor area. My heart thumps and a million voices scream that I’m making a fool out of myself, that I need to stop.
But there’s another part of me that can’t stop.
This is how I get control.
This is how I show him that I’m more than his plaything, even if I love being his plaything … but there needs to be a balance.
But do I really think I can tame this beast?
I have to try.
He sits down slowly, his eyebrow cocked, as though he’s interested in this new development.
Then he reaches out to grab my thigh and I slide away, the effort shattering through me, my pussy screaming at me that I’m an idiot.
“Nah uh,” I moan. “This is for me, remember?”
“Listen to that moan in your voice,” he says, reading me with ease. “You’re barely holding yourself back, aren't you? You horny girl. Say it, Aida. Tell me what you are.”
“I’m your personal nympho,” I moan, shifting my thighs together. “But just … Just watch, Arturo. Just let me. And don’t laugh.”
“Laugh?” he growls. “Whatever you’re going to do, I’m not going to laugh at you. You’re too damn fucking sexy. Jesus, Aida, it’s about time you started getting some self-esteem.”
I bite my lip, the brutal kindness of his words surging through me.
Then I walk backward, and back, until I’m far enough that he can’t touch me but close enough so he can still get a good look at me. My anxiety is hot and thrumming now, trying to force me to stop.
But I’m not a virgin anymore.
I’m not a scared high school girl anymore.
I’m Arturo’s woman.
Until you tell him how you really feel.
I push that thought away and then start swaying from side to side. I close my eyes as I start to dancing, not letting myself look at him just in case it makes me stop.
I shift my hips like I’ve practiced countless times, alone, in my bedroom, always imagining that some hulking handsome man is staring at me … but never truly believing that my wild sex-filled dreams could come true.
I turn and move my hips, grabbing my dress and lifting it in what I hope is a teasing way.
Arturo makes growling noises which I hope means he likes it, grumbles that sound as if they start from deep in his gut.
On and on – for minutes – I live out this fantasy, part of me struggling to believe that it’s real.
Finally, I find the courage to open my eyes, turning to face him.
I gasp, staring.
I can’t dance anymore.
My legs are trembling.
Arturo has taken his massive cock out of his pants, the whole huge engorged length of it glistening with what must be precome. He casually strokes it as he watches me, smirking like a wolf.
“You want control?” he snarls. “You want to lead the way?”
“Y-yes,” I moan.
I need it.
“Then come sit on this cock,” he says. “I won’t move a muscle. Lead the way, Aida. Bounce on this fucking dick. Make yourself cream. Come on—do it. If you’re sick and tired of being the scared little girl who lives in her head, come over here and show me what a real woman is. Or are you too nervous?”
“No way,” I moan, even as my footsteps try to falter in the heels. “P-put your hands on the arms of the chair, Arturo. No touching. Just let me ride.”
He chuckles indulgently.
“Look at my sweet Aida, so confident,” he says. “Fine. I’ll indulge you. But if you don’t gift me with some of your sweet thick white cream, I’m going to lose control and bend you over again. And then I’m really going to fuck you. I’ll break that sweet little spot inside of you, the one that tingles so nicely when you come. I’ll break it over and over again until you’re a fucking wreck. Are you going to come for me, Aida?”
“H-hands,” I moan, nodding at his question.
“You’re practically creaming already, aren’t you?”
I nod and moan, biting my lip, my lips shivering and tingling and sending trembles all over my body.
Arturo places his hands on the arms of the chair, watching me closely. He clenches his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. His cock is so firm and filled with fiery lust it still points straight up even when he lets it go, thick veins running up and down it.
“I’ve never done it in this position before,” I murmur, and then I giggle. “I mean, before yesterday I never did it in any position, but—”
“Put your hands on my knees,” he snarls. “And then just sit down. And then you can either bounce like the horny girl you are, or I can grab those thick gorgeous hips and slam you up and down. But hurry, Aida. I’m losing my patience.”
I gasp and turn around, grabbing his knees – feeling his bare flesh, his pants, and underwear around his ankles – and lower myself slowly onto his cock.
It slips at first, sliding across my thigh.
I sit up again—and then down.
“Ah,” I moan, as his throbbing head presses into my hole, searing a passage up inside of me, still sore and needy from last night.
“Now—bounce,” he growls.
I shift my hips, my body protesting at the unusual movements.
But the tingling that surges through me more than makes up for it.
“Like. This. Baby?” I cry.
“Yes,” he snarls. “Fucking hell, you know how to work that dick.”
I scream as the sudden pleasure surges through me, a swelling that takes me completely by surprise. I’ve only been bouncing for a couple of minutes and yet the orgasm erupts inside of me.
It explodes like a balloon full of lava in my belly, trickling down my thighs, my squirting come creaming all over his dick.
It feels like all the pressure in the world has just exploded out of me, so much I can hardly believe it’s real.
Arturo snarls and grabs my hips when the orgasm makes it impossible for me to move, everything in me tensed up and focused on the deep swelling in my pussy.
His massive cock pounds into that sweet, tender spot inside of me over and over, drawing more pleasure out of me.
I gasp and collapse ag
ainst him as he uses his powerful hands to throw me up and down, guiding me up the length of him and making me feel silly for dreaming I could be in charge.
“Are you done?” he snaps, voice guttural
“Y-yes,” I moan.
“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, and then pounds up inside of me with so much force I’d fly off the end of his cock if he wasn’t holding me so firmly.
I turn and try to look at him as he empties himself inside of me, his lips twisted in passion, his near black eyes focused on me entirely, every part of him aimed at me like I’m the only person who exists.
“Fuck,” he snarls, as wave upon wave of his seed surges into me. “Goddamn, you’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”
I giggle, moving my ass cheeks from side to side, as his cock pumps the last of its seed inside of me.
“So you liked me taking charge, huh?”
He smirks, meeting my eyes with something like true affection.
Or maybe I’m just projecting.
“Time for dinner,” he says, giving me a short spank on the ass. “I’ll lead you to the balcony this time, so you don’t get lost. It seems the only thing you know your way around is my cock.”
I laugh again, sliding away from him and standing up.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Arturo
We sit on the uppermost balcony as the sun throws down fragrant crimson rays, or, rather, throws up the rays as it sinks behind the horizon.
Lanterns are lit all along the balcony, spreading their soft yellow glow. The floor is heated and sends up soothing warmth into the table.
I stare hard at Aida, my body remembering the way she danced and bounced in the library, my balls already filled with my seed again, as if the primal beast inside of me will never stop producing it as long as she isn’t pregnant.
She looks down at the electronic pad built into the table, swiping down through the dinner selections.
But I stare at her in that green dress, thinking about how well I chose her outfit. Her breasts are tempting and round, messing with my head with each swipe, the way they jiggle, the way they dance. Her hair is wavy and slightly messy from the library, giving her a casual, ready-to-fuck look.
“Aida,” I growl. “What were you going to tell me?”
His To Claim: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 8