Owning Swan

by Blake, Carter

  I grind on his cock, soaking it with my wetness. There’s nothing subdued about the way I moan as I find the right position to hit my clit and still feel the length of him under me. Quinn writhes under me, clearly ready to burst.

  The way he stays quiet, though, is such a turn on. I wonder if I’m taking away his agency and outright using him in the way you just don’t do if you love someone, but a look into his eyes tells me he’s loving every second of it.

  I get on my lips, hovering over him, and rub my clit, basking in the pleasure I’m creating for myself. His eyes fixate on my pussy, filling me with a theatrical flair, so I stand up and prop myself back up on my knees closer to his face.

  What he’s thinking is that I’m going to sit on him and make him give me the best damn oral. It’s tempting, but no.

  I want him to watch. See me and my pussy up close and personal.

  It’s like I’m hypnotizing him. He just cannot look away.

  I’ve never felt so powerful.

  “Abby-”

  I raise a finger over my mouth, which silences him. Glancing backward, I see his cock twitching in regular beats. It’s thick girth somehow seems even bigger than I remember, swollen just for me and pulsating with my need.

  And my need, too.

  “Help me here,” I say, getting up again and returning to where I was. This time, I’m not on my knees but rather on my feet, squatting. I want full mobility. “Hold your cock up for me.”

  Quinn licks his lips and obliges. It’s tantalizing what happens to a guy when you hold all the cards. My pussy barely touches the tip of his cock, but still, he’s wild with lust.

  “You like that?” I ask him.

  He nods.

  “You want more?”

  To that, he doesn’t have a response. Of course, he doesn’t know why I’m doing what I’m doing. I can just imagine what’s going through his mind: Is Abby doing it just to get off or is she searching for something else?

  With Quinn, it’s never just to get off.

  I lower myself slowly on his cock, letting it fill me up gradually. Inch by inch. Quinn watches me, his breathing shallow, and beads of sweat running down his face.

  Sweet, sweet agony.

  And it is for me too, but I want it. I want the lust to give way to so much pleasure that it’s almost too much.

  Almost, but not quite.

  I’ve never been so wet in my life. When I’ve got his cock halfway in, I lose my balance. Before I can recover, I slide the full length of him-every last inch of that gigantic fucking cock-inside me.

  “Oh, God,” I cry out. The sudden tight fit and the friction of our bodies cause the still waters inside of me to swirl into a hurricane.

  I lean forward and get on my knees. Try as I might to go back to doing it slow, I can’t. I need the release only Quinn can give me. I ride his cock hard and fast, yelling out without a care in the world.

  But there’s something different. The build up to my orgasm doesn’t happen just in the pit of my stomach, burning between my legs. My chest quivers, and when I look in Quinn’s eyes again, I see what he means.

  He loves me.

  I lean down to kiss him. He responds in a frenzy, sitting up and opening me from the inside out with his lips. We melt into each other, hands clasped together. Quinn’s hands travel to my ass and he presses against me and pounds into me.

  “Abby,” he moans.

  “I love you, too,” I tell him, and it sends me over the edge, a cascading orgasm that feels like it lasts for minutes.

  Epilogue

  Abigail

  “Abby, the boxes are here,” Quinn calls.

  I race to the door to receive him, since he’s had a hard day at work and is beat. Same as every other day. This time, however, he has two medium boxes in his hands. “The one is from...you know?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  I jump on him, embracing him in a bear hug, and then pounce on the boxes. Whoever wrapped this must hate people because there’s wrapping tape-layers upon layers of it-on every edge of the box.

  “I’m going to get the box opener,” Quinn says.

  “Thank you, love,” I say.

  I can’t take my eyes off the boxes. Ever since I received the news that my book was going to be published, I’ve been on cloud nine. Even on days like these, when each word written was like squeezing water from a rock, the literary world is my salvation.

  “Let me handle it,” Quinn says. “You’re going to end up cutting yourself if you keep jumping up and down.”

  “How many times am I going to receive the printed form of my debut novel in the mail?” I ask, my hands on my hips. “Need I remind you that I never thought this was possible?”

  “Maybe to you. I always knew you’d be a star,” Quinn says, savagely cutting the box open.

  I need him to hand me a copy of my book in its published glory. I thought I would be able to handle this one little step on my own, but it turns out that I can’t.

  I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.

  “Babe, look at you,” he says, showing me the back cover, where there’s a picture of me. “You really did it! I’m so proud.”

  I cradle the book in my hands. There are no words to describe how this feels. I hug Quinn again and plant a deep kiss on his lips. “Thank you for being you.”

  Quinn winks. “Let me get a bottle of champagne for us to toast this moment.”

  “Oh, Quinn, I’d love to, but I need to finish the next one by tonight. I already blew the deadline, so I can’t get drunk.” I pout. “I really wanted to celebrate, though. How about a rain check until I finish?”

  Quinn goes to the kitchen anyway. “Believe me, Abby, this is one drink you want to have.”

  My curiosity is piqued. Quinn doesn’t make cryptic statements like this on a regular basis. It only happens when he has something up his sleeve.

  “What are you up to?” I ask, trailing after him. “Did you do something?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks. That boyish grin on his face doesn’t fool me, though. “Hey, could you get the champagne glasses from the top cabinet?”

  Of course. It’s my celebration but I’m the one who has to get the stuff off the high shelves, because Quinn loves staring at my ass.

  “Okay,” I said, reaching up to get two champagne flutes. I turn around and say, “But just know that I-”

  I grind to a halt when I see Quinn.

  On his knees.

  “Abby, you might be the writer, but I’m the true romantic,” he starts.

  Setting the glasses down, I cover my mouth with my hands. “Are you really doing this?”

  “I am. Now, let me give you my speech, if you would.” I nod and he clears his throat. “Ever since you walked into my life, nothing’s been the same. You’re extraordinary. You’re the bravest, most brilliant woman I’ve ever known, and I can’t go a second longer without asking you to be with me for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

  “I’m just-yes. Of course, I will.”

  He slides the most dazzling ring on my finger and kisses my hand before getting up and twirling me around. “Now, what did you say about needing to work more tonight?”

  I wave in the general direction of my laptop on the counter. “Oh, that? I know how the story ends.”

  “And this one? How does it end?”

  “The story of you and me?” I grin. “It’s only just beginning.”

  More Naughty Beasts & Filthy Princes

  Book 1 Saving Red (Little Red Riding Hood)

  Book 2 Owning Swan (Ugly Duckling)

  Book 3 Craving Snow (Snow White)

  Book 4 Guarding Beauty (Sleeping Beauty)

  PREVIEW: Saving Red

  Prologue

  Ash

  A girl’s scream pierces through my sleep. Heart racing, I jump from my bed, tearing down the stairs from my apartment above the five-car garage. Cold air bites at my chest when I step outside, snow and wind whippi
ng harshly around me.

  Another cry. Followed by the distinct sound of growls and barking.

  She’s close.

  Ignoring the sharp pain that slices through my bare feet as they scrape against ice and snow, I grab the first weapon I see, an axe, and move quickly towards whatever crisis lies ahead.

  A flash of red through the white blizzard is my focal point. The girl’s pale face and large brown eyes meet mine when I barrel through the trees towards the edge of the Redmond’s large property.

  Ella.

  The hood of her red jacket is caught on the steel fence. A silver wolf surrounds her, lips curled back over large fangs that drip with saliva. It crouches low, moving forward, and lets out a threatening growl.

  Terror strikes through me as I watch the animal position itself to pounce, eyes flashing gold when they catch the light of the moon.

  Adrenaline pounding through my veins, I bound over the fence, dropping in front of her and swinging the axe towards the snarling beasts.

  “Watch out,” she screams, when the animal lunges at me.

  The blunt end of the axe hits the animal with a sickening crunch.

  A snap.

  A snarl.

  One wrong move and the beast sinks its fangs into my calf.

  I grit my teeth, and strike out with the axe, sending it whimpering backwards. I swing again, hollering madly and driving the wolves back into the shadowed forest.

  When I turn back to Ella, her eyes are wild, her breathing rough and uneven.

  “You… you were amazing.” Her gaze trails down my bare chest, then back up to my face, and her tongue darts out across her bottom lip.

  Fuck.

  “Are you hurt?” I demand, moving towards her, reaching out to unsnag her hood from the fence.

  “I-I don’t think so.” Her lips tremble, dark auburn hair whipping around her heart-shaped face.

  I give a harsh nod. “Can you climb?”

  She glances at the fence. “I think so.”

  Hands on her hips, I help her over. Then, with less agility than I had before, I climb over myself, grunting when I hit the ground as pain shoots up my leg.

  “Was that… was that a wolf?” She asks, voice wobbly.

  My nostrils flare at the innocence behind her dark eyes. How many years has the girl been coming here to visit her grandmother, and she still thinks this place is as safe as the boarding school she attends ten months of the year.

  “Yeah, that was a fucking wolf, and it would have devoured you if I hadn’t heard your screams.”

  She flinches.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  The quick glance away, and the red that creeps into her cheeks tells me everything I need to know. There’s a boy involved.

  Every protective bone in my body goes on high alert. Not that I have any right to feel that way. She’s nobody to me. Just the stubborn, over-pampered granddaughter of the woman I work for.

  The girl is beautiful, yes. But she’s young. And way out of my league. Not to mention that she seems terrified every time she comes into my presence. Even now, her eyes dart apprehensively over the ink that marks my bare chest.

  But right now, it isn’t fear I see in her eyes, instead I see something that shouldn’t be there—lust. The pure, innocent hunger that could have even a grown man on his knees begging for one taste.

  Shit.

  My cock twitches, but my brain screams danger.

  “Let’s go.” I grip her arm, and start to pull her towards the house.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all feeling in my feet. My leg is pulsing, blood caked into my ripped jeans and freezing against my skin.

  “You’re bleeding,” she says, concern in her voice.

  “I’ll be fine.” After a few stitches, and half a bottle of bourbon.

  At the garage, I release her and toss the axe up against the side of the building.

  She glances up the hill toward the main house, then back to me, fingers twisting together. The wind still whips around us, cold and daunting, but the way she’s looking at me sends fire blazing through my veins.

  “What?” I growl out.

  Another small flinch, then she straightens her shoulders and meets my gaze with more confidence than a girl her age should have. “Thank you.”

  I grunt. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”

  Turning towards the door that leads up to my apartment, I don’t wait to see if she obeys. I’m fucking freezing, and the only thing that’s going to warm me up tonight is the bottle of Jameson waiting for me upstairs.

  The crunch of snow behind me warns me she’s following me.

  Shit.

  “You’re…” She breathes out a shaky breath and follows me up the stairs. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

  Flinging open my apartment door, I make a beeline for the kitchen cupboards, pull out a bottle of whisky, and take a deep swig, before slowly turning and leaning against the counter.

  Ella stands in the doorway, eyes roaming around the large room. She’s never been up here before, at least not since I’ve lived here. And she shouldn’t be here now.

  “No, kid. I’m not going to tell your grandma that you snuck out in the middle of the night and almost got yourself killed by a pack of ravenous wolves.”

  She pulls her hood back, exposing her flawless features, the thick mane of dark auburn hair falling over her shoulders, and juts her chin out. “I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid.”

  “You’re acting like one if you have to sneak out.” I rake my fingers through my hair and take another swig straight from the bottle, the liquid finally starting to warm the cold from my bones. My lips pull up over my teeth, and I snarl, “When you don’t have the common sense to protect yourself from danger.”

  Usually my prickliness sets her running in the opposite direction, but not tonight. Tonight, she seems dead set on driving me insane.

  She moves into the room, hand reaching out to trace the edge of the wooden footboard of my bed. It’s the only piece of furniture I brought with me when I moved here. An antique piece that used to be my parents when they owned the ranch on the northeast side of the property.

  Back when my family actually had something more than a black cloud of debt hanging over their head.

  It’s why I’m here now, working like a dog for minimum pay. But it’s a job. And I need the money. Rancher turned groundskeeper. It’s not ideal, but at least I have a roof over my head, and enough money to send to my sister each month.

  The work is easy. At least it is when Ella isn’t here distracting me and making me question every reason why I hate the Redmond family.

  The girl is standing at the foot of my bed, big, looking around with those innocent eyes like she has no fucking idea what I want to do to her. And if I wasn’t a better man, I might give into those dark, wicked cravings.

  I take another long swallow, not taking my eyes off her.

  “Ca-can I have some?” Her gaze is on the bottle, and she takes a few steps towards me.

  Yeah, the girl didn’t know danger when she was standing right in front of it.

  I hand her the whisky and she takes a deep swallow, her eyes water as the burn hits her throat and she hisses, “God, that’s awful.”

  Grunting, I take the bottle from her hands, ignoring the warmth that spreads up my arms when my fingers brush against hers.

  “The wolf… it bit you.” She’s close now, her gaze darting across the ink on my chest and arms, and I can see her fingers itching to touch me, to trace the patterns.

  I swallow the groan that vibrates in my throat.

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” I lie, knowing I’m probably going to need a couple of stitches, which I’ll do myself once she finally leaves me in peace. “I’ve had worse.”

  Her brows draw up. “You’ve been bitten before?”

  “My family owned a cattle ranch. It was part of my job to hunt down the predators that threatened our herd. I
had a few run-ins with wolves, coyotes, even a few mountain lions, and the odd bear.”

  “Wow.” She’s looking at me like I’m a fucking superhero, and not the predator that wants to devour her whole.

  The pull between us is almost tangible.

  Fuck. I need to get her out of here before I do something stupid.

  “You should go,” I growl out, glaring at her.

  “Do you want me to look at it?” She bites her bottom lip and glances down at my leg. “If you take your pants off—”

  I groan, and her eyes widen. She licks her lips, and leans in. Like a moth to the flame, she has no idea how close she is to getting burned.

  Yeah, too fucking innocent.

  The girl is a goddamn siren sent to tease me.

  I wrap a tendril of her hair around my fingers and give a small tug. “You want to tell me why you were out there all alone?”

  She glances down, pink infusing her cheeks. “I was supposed to meet someone.”

  “Supposed to?”

  “He didn’t show.”

  “A boyfriend?” Every muscle in my body tenses at the thought.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I mean. Well, I thought… maybe. I met him a couple nights ago at a soiree my grandmother was hosting.”

  I have no clue what a goddamn soiree is, and I’m pretty sure I have no desire to. Most likely it was just another name for one of those god-awful parties the rich throw for any excuse to dress up and flaunt their wealth.

  She’s fidgeting now, dark eyes downcast. “He…”

  The small shaky breath she exhales tugs at something in my chest.

  “What?” I demand, making her flinch, and her gaze pulls back to mine.

  She gives a small shrug and more pink floods her cheeks. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  I grunt, “Try me.”

  Her shoulders straighten, and her face goes serious. “I thought he might be the one.”

  “The one?” Possessiveness flares.

  She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, a flash of uncertainty crossing her expression, before saying, “My first.”