Captive Bride: A Dark Obsession Romance

by Dark Angel

  Driving his cock deep inside of me, Connor only stops when all of his inches are buried inside my pussy. He holds it there for a few seconds, and then he starts pulling it back, but only so that he can thrust again. And he does it over and over again, pistoning into me and completely destroying whatever rationality there still was in my brain.

  "Oh… Oh, God," I moan, dragging my fingernails across his shoulder blades so hard I might draw blood. But he doesn’t seem phased by it, instead, that seems to make him want to fuck me even harder.

  Placing one hand on my chest, he pushes me back and forces me to lay down on the altar. I raise my feet up, placing them on the edge of the altar, the crimson cloth the only thing separating from the cold marble underneath, and I let him have his way with me.

  With his hands on the back of my knees, he keeps me in place while he rams his cock deep into me, each thrust of his unleashing a pleasure so intense inside my body that it feels as if I’m being burnt alive.

  "Harder!" I cry out, the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy driving me completely mad. "HARDER!" I shout at the top of my lungs, the echo of my voice filling the whole chapel like a chorus of sinful devils.

  "You’re so … fucking … tight …" Connor groans between his thrusts, now reaching for my breasts and squeezing them eagerly. He pinches both my nipples at the same time, holding them between his thumbs and index fingers, and he intensifies the pressure until I simply can’t bear it any longer.

  Throwing my head back, I then arch my body and let ecstasy climb up my spine. It feels as if I’ve stepped on a live wire, and now electricity is raging inside my body, wrapping itself around my brain and frying it into moosh.

  My God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt something as intense as this. I’m not like those unfortunate women, the ones who've never experienced an orgasm, but the pleasure I’m feeling right now kinda makes it feel as if I’m a virgin, trying out true ecstasy for the first time in my entire life.

  Oh, where has Connor been all my life? If I knew he’d fuck me like this, I’d have jumped on him the first time I saw him. I’d rip his clothes off, push him to the ground and simply ride him into exhaustion. And then I’d do it again and again.

  "Oh, fuck… This was… Something else," I tell him, propping myself up on my elbows as he slows down. By the time he stops completely, his hair is plastered to his forehead, and thick beads of sweat are dripping down his face. And, my favorite part, there’s a grin of pure delight on his lips. It seems like the holy man enjoys sinning, after all.

  "I’m not done," he groans, pulling his cock out of my pussy and taking one step back. Grabbing me by the hand, he pulls me up to my feet and then, moving fast, he grabs me by the hips and forces me to turn around. Pushing me toward the altar once again, he lays one forearm across my lower back and forces me to bend over. Since I’m still wearing my high-heels, my pussy and ass are exactly at the right angle … and so, all I have to do is jut my ass back to feel his thick cock.

  With his shaft between my ass cheeks, I start swaying my hips, rubbing my ass against his cock, and I only stop when he holds me firmly. Grabbing his thickness, he pushes it down, and I tremble slightly as I feel the tip of his cock sliding down my ass crack before finally resting against my aching pussy.

  He doesn’t even bother with words; he simply thrusts, hammering all of his length inside of me again. Pressing my forehead against the red cloth on the altar, I let out another scream, this one as loud as the one before. My throat is hurting, but I simply can’t stop pleasure from turning into sound.

  "How do you like it?" I find myself asking, turning my head to the side and trying to look at him. "How do you like my tight pussy, Connor?" I tease him, feeling his thick shaft pulse eagerly against my inner walls.

  "As much as you like my hard cock," he replies with that wicked grin, the grin of a man who knows he’s sinning but simply can’t stop himself from doing it.

  "Then you don’t like it … you love it," I shoot back at him, squeezing his cock with my pussy and grinning back devilishly.

  "You’re right…" he groans, pulling his cock back and preparing to thrust again. "I’m fucking in love with your tight pussy," he continues, slamming his hard cock inside my pussy to the hilt. He does it so fiercely that another scream erupts from my mouth; and then he does it again, each time he thrusts forcing a hellish scream to climb up my throat.

  Closing my eyes, I surrender to the moment again. I remain there, bent over the altar as he fucks me mercilessly, his cock flying in and out of me so fast I can barely process it. My breasts are pinned between the altar and my body, and I feel my hard nipples scraping against the rough cloth; it’s just a small detail, but when it comes to Connor… Well, every single details seems so much better than all of my past experiences.

  Connor shouldn’t even be in the Order of the Temple; he should be in the Order of the Cock, and he should've been assigned to the Donovans with the specific purpose of fucking me every single day for the rest of my life. Maybe I should send a letter to the Vatican, huh? I doubt they’d like it, but it really seems like a good idea right now.

  "I’m gonna… I’m gonna…" I start to say, my words coming out of my mouth like a quivering mess. I don’t get to finish my sentence; I keep my mouth open, but all that leaves it is a scream hard enough to shatter glass. Pleasure shoots up my spine like thunder and lightning, and flames of delight start scorching every single nerve in my body.

  And, even though I’m cumming my brains out right now, Connor just keeps on thrusting. He keeps on doing it for God knows how long, and each thrust of his keeps those flames of ecstasy alive.

  Before I know it, another orgasm explodes inside me, completely overshadowing the one before it. My eyes roll in their orbits, my thoughts scatter like frightened doves, and I simply collapse on top of the altar as Connor slows down his rhythm.

  "This… Oh… I never felt something like this," I say, not even caring that I’m thinking out loud.

  "That makes two of us," I hear Connor say, and the sound of his voice pulls me out of the limbo I was in, dragging me back to the conscious world. Swear to God, the pleasure he unleashed inside my body was so fierce that I was seconds away from passing out.

  "Ah…" I moan slightly as he pulls his cock out of me, each inch that slides out my pussy making me tremble in place. Pressing my hands against the altar, I force myself up to my feet and then turn around to face him; my legs are still weak, though, and I find myself on the verge of stumbling to the ground.

  Ah, well.

  Instead of fighting the way my legs seem to be quivering, I let myself go down on my knees in front of Connor. "Your turn," I whisper, looking up at him as I curl my fingers around his shaft. I lean in, parting my lips and taking the tip of his cock between them; slowly, I roll my lips down the length of his shaft until his cock is pressed tight against the back of my throat.

  I start bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can, devouring his cock viciously. Connor rests his hand on the top of my head and, tangling his fingers in my hair, he forces me to hold still; replacing the movement of my mouth, he starts thrusting, fucking my little mouth with the same intensity he used on my pussy.

  I close my eyes as he does it, tasting the cream of my pussy as it coats his shaft, and I feel my skin prickling as his cock starts to throb hard against my tongue. I hear Connor’s breathing become shallower by the second, and I ready myself for the incoming explosion.

  In a matter of seconds, his whole body tenses up, and his cock seems to become as hard as cement. Then, just a fraction of a second later, he starts gushing his whole load into my mouth. And, Jesus, what a load…! More than filling my mouth, he’s completely flooding it with his cum.

  He just spurted once, but my mouth’s already brimming with semen. His cock throbs again, giving me another shot of his seed, and his cum starts dripping out of my mouth in a torrent.

  "Fuck…" he groans as he cums, not moving an inch. He’
s even holding his breath now, and he only starts breathing again when he has emptied his balls inside my mouth.

  Pulling his cock out of my mouth slowly, he then looks down at me, a dazed expression on his face. Wiping my chin with the back of my hand, his cum sticking to my fingers, I slowly go up to my feet.

  I look straight into his eyes, and I see a blend of lust and regret there. He’s no longer smiling, almost as if only now he’s realizing what we’ve just done, but I don’t give him the chance to turn his thoughts into words. Instead, I lace one arm around his neck and pull him into me, crushing my mouth against his.

  He kisses me back and I just open my mouth, shoving my tongue against his. Both our tongues wrestle over a blanket of his warm seed and, by the time I finally break away from our kiss, there’s cum dripping down both our chins.

  Smiling at him, I swallow whatever cum still is inside my mouth.

  "Clarise…" he starts to say, but I just place my index finger over his lips, shutting him up.

  "No … don’t say anything," I tell him. "It’d just ruin the moment."

  With that, I walk down the stairs that lead to the front row of pews and pick my clothes from the floor. The silence has creeped back into the church, and it’s so deep and sullen that I can even hear the fabric of my skirt brushing against my skin as I squeeze myself inside of it.

  Picking my ruined thong from the floor, I look at it for a moment, and then just throw it on top of Connor’s pants. Just a little something for him to remember this moment.

  Throwing him one last smile, I walk down the chapel and out into the sunshine.

  Ah, what a day to be alive!

  Connor

  Kicking the sheets back, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for a long moment. I’ve barely slept an hour, the memories of what Clarise and I did at the chapel haunting me throughout the night… Whenever I fell asleep, I’d just end up waking up a few minutes later, covered in a cold sweat as the shadows inside the room seemed to close in on me.

  How the hell did I succumb to temptation this easily? I should've been stronger, smarter! But no, I couldn’t do it… The moment I felt her touch me, I knew I was doomed. I could've stopped it anytime, yes, but how exactly was I supposed to do that when lust was choking all rationality out of my mind? I might be a spiritual man, a man of God, but I’m only human. And you know how humans are weak.

  Still, I have to admit… whatever it was that happened between Clarise and I, it went beyond the physical realm. There was a connection there, something deep and ethereal, and that makes Clarise even more dangerous. Now more than any other time, I need to keep my guard up and my head on my shoulders.

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I stretch my back for a few seconds and then get up, ambling toward the bathroom. There, I turn the shower on and step under the running water without a second thought, the cold water jolting my senses and slapping my mind into attention.

  Allowing the cold water to slap some sense into me, I try and convince myself that, after what happened, I’ve managed to kick Clarise out of my system. After all, if I’ve already done it once, I don’t need to do it again, right? If that sounds like a bullshit excuse to you, don’t worry, I’m thinking the same.

  Still, I can’t let that happen again. And I won’t.

  Getting out of the shower, I dry myself off and then start getting dressed. I’m wearing a more formal suit today because I’m meeting Jonathan and Earl at the Donovan business tower. Apparently, my father was trying to help the Donovans sort out what new direction they should take for their business, and now that’s my responsibility.

  I’m already anticipating a tough meeting, but that’s to be expected. It’s my first time handling something as important as this, and I can’t help but feel the pressure to measure up to what my father did in the past. To make that pressure even worse, I have a feeling that Earl isn’t going to make it easy for me. A feeling? It’s almost stupid of me to say that. Of course Earl’s going to make things difficult for me. That’s all he’s ever done since I returned to the States.

  It doesn’t matter, though. Earl’s a Donovan and, even if I don’t like him, it’s my duty to advise and guide him to the best extent of my capabilities.

  "Alright, let’s do this," I whisper to myself as I pick up my wallet and car keys from the small tray on my bedstand. Even though I’ve protested against it, Jonathan insisted on providing me with a car. And, of course, instead of settling for something subtle he offered me a sports car, the kind that just looks tacky on a man who prides himself on being spiritual. Do you know these evangelists, the ones that preach the word of God and then travel around the world in their luxury yachts and private jet planes? Yeah, I hate those hypocrites. But now here I am, getting ready to sit behind the wheel of a sports car.

  Whatever—a car’s just a car, and its function is to get me from Point A to Point B. Who cares if it’s a rundown car or something more luxurious? Don’t bother answering, that was a rhetorical question.

  I’m walking toward the car, parked right in front of the guest house, when I see Clarise jogging down the cobbled road that leads to the mansion. Her hair is tied up in a bun and, even though there’s sweat running down her face, she looks as beautiful as ever. Of course, it also helps that she’s wearing tight (and definitely too tiny) running shorts and a sports bra, one carefully chosen to reveal her cleavage.

  Sometimes I wonder if she gets out of bed thinking of new ways to mess with my head. Well, if that’s what she’s doing, she’s doing one hell of a job.

  "Hey!" she greets me, running up to me and taking one earphone off. "Are you going out?" she asks me, stopping just a few feet away from me. I try to keep my eyes focused on her face, but that’s even harder to do now that I know her breasts more intimately than I expected.

  "I’m meeting with your father and Earl," I tell her as I open the car’s door and sit behind the wheel. I smile at her and then close the door, sliding the key into the ignition and revving the engine up. The car roars like a lion, and I’m about to drive off when she places one hand on the door.

  "Hang on—a meeting? What meeting?" she asks me, narrowing her eyes at me. "I don’t know about any meeting."

  "Clarise… You don’t work for the company yet," I try to tell her gently, but the expression on her face tells me that she’s having none of it. "This is a business meeting, so perhaps they didn’t think it was necessary to inform you," I continue, even though deep down I know that’s bullshit. Even though Clarise isn’t formally working for the company, I have the feeling that her father would want her to at least sit in so that she could learn the ropes of the business.

  "That’s bullshit," she says, echoing my thoughts, and then just looks out into the horizon. I can almost see the gears turning inside her head as she tries to understand what has happened.

  "Clarise, listen…" I start, and she looks back at me. "What happened between the two of us… It can’t - it won’t - happen again."

  "Connor --"

  "No. We can’t do that," I tell her firmly and, before she can respond, I pull out of the driveway. God, those final words were hard to say because right now, all I want is for what happened between her and I to repeat itself.

  Connor

  "No, we need to be bolder! We’re the Donovans, not some bean counters!" I hear Earl say as I walk down the corridor, his voice coming from the conference room at the end. Even though the glass panels are said to be soundproof, Earl is talking so loud that I just can’t help but overhear him.

  Oh, this day is already going downhill fast. I wasn’t expecting my first day at the Donovan tower to be an easy one, but I also didn’t expect to make my debut as the Donovan’s adviser halfway into a shouting match. But I don’t have any other option, it seems.

  "Good morning," I tell both Earl and Jonathan as I step inside the conference room, closing the door behind me. I shake Jonathan’s hand and then do the same with Earl; the younger man doesn’t even get up from his c
hair as I do it.

  "You got here just in time, Connor," Jonathan starts to say affably, waving one hand toward Earl. "My son here wants to turn the family company into some kind of unpredictable juggernaut, and I was just telling him that --"

  "Unpredictable? What the hell are you talking about, dad?" Earl cuts him short, the arrogance in his voice making me purse my lips. Earl doesn’t respect anyone, and he extends that courtesy even to his own father, it seems. More than an adviser, I think what Earl needs is a good old-fashioned beat down. Sure, that might not be what you expected to hear from a spiritual adviser, but it's the truth.

  "Alright, let’s hear it then," I tell the both of them, taking my seat right between them.

  "My son was just telling me that we should play the market more aggressively," Jonathan sighs, and I can sense the frustration in his voice. No wonder, after a lifetime wrestling with the financial markets, Jonathan Donovan must be aching to transition into something more lasting and stable. They’ve made their fortune on Wall Street, that’s for sure, but Jonathan has always been at the helm of the company, and he’s pretty level-headed. I can’t say the same about Earl… And, in my opinion, the market will just spit out a brash young man who thinks he knows everything. Arrogance is a death wish when it comes to Wall Street, and that’s a lesson that Earl hasn’t learned yet.

  "And my father wants us to stagnate," Earl breathes out, the frustration in his voice even bigger than his father’s.

  "To transition into something else doesn’t mean we’re stagnating, Earl," Jonathan tells him patiently, drumming his fingertips on the surface of the large conference table. "I want us to move into shipping and merchant banking, Connor," he now tells me, "and I want to do it as soon as possible. There’s a gap in the market that we can fill, and these areas are a lot easier to work in than Wall Street."

  "From what I’ve read from your past financial statements, it seems that the market has been bleeding you dry for the past few months," I start, looking from Earl to Jonathan. I’m being careful enough to not lay the blame at anyone’s feet, but I know that it was Earl placing bold bets on losing companies. No matter how smart he seemed to be at Wharton, the man seems to have no common sense when it comes to playing the market.