Damn, and I thought my dick was hard before. Not even close to what it is now after that little fantasy. Now I just need to make fantasy reality. Maybe the boring, blonde bitch will be my fun until I can get to my girl.
Speaking of my girl. She’s ethereal today. So perfect in her black suit. Though it makes me sad that most of the marks I gave her have faded. Guess it just means she’ll be a nice blank canvas when I get her back. Then again, I did notice she wobbled on her small heels when she came up the hill with the prick. Maybe the marks at her ankles are still there. That thought makes me extremely happy. Knowing that every day when she looks down at her ankles she’ll be thinking of me. Of the time the two of us shared for four blissful days. And then she was taken. Stolen from me.
That will not happen again. Someone has to pay for that, and if it’s not Chase, it’s going to have to be her friends. I’m tired of these bitches. They’re always there, hanging around, filling my Gillian’s head full of stupid shit that doesn’t matter. And I was making such progress, too. I’d gotten her to eat a little, and she had put on the tank top I brought her. Those were steps in the right direction. A couple more weeks in her cell and she probably would have bent over backwards to get into the motor home. Now it’s all gone. Seized by the fucking, federal government as a crime scene.
I will not let that setback ruin me. As it is, I’m here, looking at my girl, though now, she’s twenty-two rows ahead of me, in the very front. Chase has his arm around her, his fingers rhythmically massaging her shoulder. I want to scream at him to get his hands off her but I can’t. I cannot let my emotions control me. I’m too good for that. No, I will have her back but it will be in my time and when it best suits me. In the meantime, I think she needs to be reminded of what’s at stake if she chooses to continue this farce of a relationship with rich fucker. In the end, it’s going to be me or the lives of the people she calls family. It’s a pretty easy choice, but I know how stubborn my girl is. She may need some time to think about it. I’ll give her that. And while she’s thinking, I’ll be taking action.
I look at the five heads of the people that Gillian adores. Some more so than others. And then it becomes so clear. She works in a dark location that’s not heavily guarded, easy enough to get to. Especially if I scope it out at night, set up some cameras, watch the place for a few days, get to know the routines of everyone there.
The San Francisco Theatre is an old building. Great architecture but easy enough to break into. All of those old buildings are. I watch my target as she pushes her long hair over her shoulder. It falls in a blanket of golden curls. Her brown eyes seem to have a story behind them. One most don’t bother to ask. The quiet one. The one that no one suspects would be in danger, yet now, the perfect target to get my Gillian’s attention.
I don’t know why it never occurred to me before. Long hours at the theatre working on costumes. I’ll bet there’s very few people around her when she’s doing her job, too. The cameras will tell me everything I need to know in a few days. Then I’ll strike.
Kathleen Bennett you’ve sewn your last masterpiece.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chase
It’s unusual for her to have wondered off. Now that we’re home, well, at the Davis Mansion, I can usually find her in our room or with her friends. Never alone. Most of the time she’s right on my heels. I find that disconcerting, but only because I know her mental health is suffering. Having her where I can see her at all times works for me. It speaks to the Neanderthal deep within my genome that wants his woman by his side, always within arm’s reach. Except now. I had left her on our bed resting peacefully for once, needing some time to think, to work through what I’m feeling about Mother’s death but she wondered off. I haven’t come to any conclusions, other than a profound anger and hatred toward her murderer that resonates just under the surface of my skin since the attack and abduction of Gillian.
I walk slowly through the long hallways of my childhood home, passing the doors for each of my cousin’s bedrooms. Memories of hide and go seek, games of tag, wrestling and overall roughhousing with them flood my vision making them so real it’s as if I can reach in and touch them. Go back to that time when life was easy. Living with my Uncle Davis and his four children healed me from the experience with my father. Bringing a frightened little boy back to life, giving me hope and dreams for the future. And I didn’t waste a minute of it. I used every ounce of the second chance this family gave me and made something out of it. Now I’m as wealthy as the man who raised me, from the age of seven years old. Richer actually. Though it wasn’t a competition to my uncle. He only ever wanted the best for me and his children. Treated me like one of his very own from the start. I learned from him the power of working hard and going after what you want in life. Never stopping until what you seek was yours.
Like Gillian. The moment I saw her, I wanted her. Not just her body, though Gillian naked could bring any man to his knees. Pearlescent skin that shimmers when she’s turned on. Her full breasts, nipped in waist, and that tiny triangle of red hair that makes me salivate for a taste. All these things are physical reminders of her beauty but it’s her essence that drives me mad. Surrounding her form is something majestic that calls to a place deep inside me. Like now, I can feel her close as I make my way to the opposite end of the mansion. My mother’s wing.
One of the double doors is open and I enter. The scent of lavender, with a tiny hint of vanilla, invades my nostrils as I make my way through the open, living room area. Mother always smelled of lavender or flowers. The vanilla, that’s my woman. I could pick her out of a line-up while blindfolded; I know her scent that well.
I can hear whispering as I get close to Mother’s sleeping quarters. Again, the door is ajar, and I peek inside keeping silent. My bare feet curl into the carpet as I stare at her. Gillian. She’s kneeling at the side of Mother’s bed as if in prayer. I wait holding onto the door digging into the wood with my fingers so that I don’t instantly go to her. The fact that she left on her own is important. It’s the first step toward healing but why Mother’s room. What called to her?
And then she speaks. “Ms. Davis…um, Colleen”—she dips her head down toward her hands that are in prayer and sets her lips on the tips of her fingers—“we laid you to rest today. I hope that means you’re at peace.”
From my position I can see a tear trace down her pale cheek and it almost catapults me to her. Seeing Gillian cry breaks me. Every tear seems like a failure on my part, proof that I’ve not done my job making her happy.
“Chase is okay. He’s hurting, but I don’t know what to do to help him.” Her voice cracks on the last part, and she sniffs, wiping her nose and wet eyes on the sleeve of her robe. I stifle a laugh. The women who came before her would never do such a human thing. No, they always had perfect manners and plastic bodies. Gillian is real, and seeing her now, on her knees praying to my mother fills me with a love so strong I’ve no doubt it will survive the test of time.
“I’m sorry that you’re gone, for Chase and for me. I wanted the time to prove to you how much I love him, how I’d never forsake or take advantage of his love. And now you’ll never know. Worse, it’s my fault you’re gone. How will he ever forgive me?” Her voice shakes, and a sob fills the room as her head falls onto the bed, her shoulders wracked with the weight of her sorrow.
I can’t handle it. I fall to my knees behind her caging her body with my own, sheltering her, giving her the protection I wasn’t able to give her two weeks ago. “There’s nothing to forgive.” I nuzzle the side of her hair near her ear. “Hear me; really hear me. It’s not your fault.” She shakes her head and the sobs take over. I turn her around, and she scrambles into my lap, legs wrapped around my waist, head in my neck. Using the bed to help steady us I stand, gripping her ass and her back.
While she cries, I walk us back to our room. We pass Phillip on the way, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I shoot him with a hard gaze and shake my head sternly. He closes
his mouth and backs against the wall getting out of our way. Smart man. Right now, I’ll take out anyone who tries to breech my woman. She’s right where she needs to be, and I will be the one to comfort her, to bring her back to the happy, confident woman she is. Me. The man who’s going to spend the rest of his life loving her.
We enter our bedroom, and she lifts her head with the click of the bolt going into place. Through her tears, her eyes are as green as shamrocks and just as wild. Her lips are moist, tears having coated them. I bring her to the bed and slowly lay her down. Then, I take her mouth in mine, tasting her sadness; her grief. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking. She doesn’t hesitate to open for me, and I dip in for a much more thorough sampling.
Christ, she’s the sun, the moonlight, and the stars, positively shining under my touch. Methodically, I pull the tie at her waist and open her robe. She’s wearing a pale yellow camisole with matching lace panties and nothing else. My cock hardens under my pajamas, and I push it into her leg. Her eyes widen, and she gasps.
“You still want me?” Her voice comes across sounding surprised, but for the life of me, I can’t possibly imagine why.
I narrow my gaze at her making sure she focuses on me. “Gillian, I will always want you. You give me life, bring a purpose to my world that’s much greater than the bitter existence I once lived. With you, I see possibilities. I have hope for more.”
A tear tracks down the side of her face. I push up, pull off the t-shirt I donned and push down the pajama pants.
“Commando?” she smiles and a little giggle follows it. Prettiest sound I’ve heard in a long time.
I grin. “I was worried.”
Her eyes go soft and she lifts her hands to my hair. Smooth fingers caress the side of my scalp until she lifts up to kiss me directly over my heart. “I want to be worthy of this,” she says placing a kiss there.
“There is no one more worthy,” I say while pushing her robe off her shoulders. She removes her arms, and then holds her hands up as I lift the hem of her camisole and pull it off. Her full breasts bounce free and catch my gaze like a hawk to its prey in the dead of night. In this position, me standing, her placing kisses all over my bare chest, I can only cup and lift her breasts, swiping my thumbs along the turgid peaks. She mewls but doesn’t stop her ministrations. With my thumb and first finger I simultaneously pluck and pull at each tip, elongating the flesh knowing how to best pleasure her. Pleasing this woman is ingrained into my soul. Soon she can’t handle it, her eyes closing, hands gripping my hips as she feels every movement, every caress of my hands on her. I love how I can make her stop doing whatever she is doing just by touching her.
I kneel down alongside the bed just the way she was in mother’s room before. With intent I pull a nipple into the heat of my mouth. Her hands instantly fly to my hair, holding my head to her breast.
“I missed your love,” she moans letting her head tip back, her glorious curls falling down her back. With the flat of my tongue, I lave around the areola before biting down softly on the tip. An unintelligible sound slips from her lips. Her usually pale pink nipples are now dark, wider, and pointing straight at my mouth in offering. They are mine, and even her body knows it instinctively.
Fire builds at the center of my groin and spreads out, my shaft filling with blood and aching with the need to plunge, to take, to own. I slip my fingers into the edges of her lace panties and pull them down as I lick a solid line from her breast, down her sternum to the thatch of hair that drives me insane with desire. Her womanly scent is heady, and I inhale deeply, allowing the caveman within me to sense his mate intimately. With an urging press to her ribs, I guide her down to the mattress. Her hair fans out in a rush of color along the pink sheets. I watch her with her eyes closed as I trail my fingers from her shoulders, over each breast where I stop to cup and fondle. Her back arches up, pressing into my hands. I twist each tip enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to her center. Gillian’s hands fist the sheets on both sides of her showing her restraint. She’s letting me have my time with her. As much as she needs this, she knows I need to control this first time back with her body. Aside from the very fact that regardless of where she’s been or what’s gone on in the past…Gillian craves submission. Only that submission shouldn’t come with a price other than extreme pleasure. With me, she’ll never go without knowing the surrender of her control is a gift I cherish, one I will keep safe and protect with every ounce of my being.
“I love your body. Love seeing my hands all over you.” I paint a path all over her skin caressing her everywhere. “Knowing I’m the only man that will ever get to see this, touch it…” I lean forward and nuzzle her center inhaling full and deep the scent of her arousal. She gasps and twitches. Her legs tremble as I stroke her thighs and widen her legs for me. She’s positively dripping with need, the lips of her sex coated in her essence. My cock hardens, becoming painful, weeping at the tip. “I am the only man who will ever see this pretty cunt open in invitation. Do you want that, Baby. Me being the only man to taste your desire?”
Her eyes open and the emerald orbs are sparkling, filled to the brim with lust. “Yes. Only you. Please,” she begs and I close my eyes appreciating this moment for what it is. Gillian, bringing me back from the depths of hell, helping me find my way home. It’s her; she is my home.
I open her thighs wide and lock my gaze with hers. Her mouth opens, and she’s breathing heavily, possibly dying in anticipation of that first touch. And I give it to her with everything that I am. I lay the flat of my tongue on her pussy and slowly drag it along her weeping slit. Her arousal coats my tongue, my taste buds bursting with extreme flavor. Fucking sweet. My woman is so god damned sweet my balls tighten, lifting up, reaching toward her. Closing my eyes I suck her tiny clit into my mouth then reach my tongue way down to sop up some of her sugary nectar.
The plan was to go slow, ease her into one orgasm and then another before I took her, but I’m losing control. Every sweep of my tongue into her delicious pussy has every neuron and synapse firing. Electricity and energy sizzle around us as I drink from the woman I love. Before long, she squeezes her thighs and grips my head. Thank Christ! I suck, lick and nip against her swollen center as she keens out to the room, her cries of pleasure music to my ears.
But I’m not done. I may never be done. Cupping her ass, I press her cunt hard against my face, smothering myself with her flesh. She cries out, but I don’t stop. Can’t. I need her too much. Inserting two fingers deep into her cleft causes her to buck wildly. Her head is moving back and forth against the mattress as if she’s saying no, but her body, her cries of pleasure are saying, “Fuck yes!”
I pull back from her licking my chops preparing for more but needing to see her. See on her face what my touch does to her. Keeping my hand busy I stand up awkwardly and press a knee to the bed. Gillian must feel the shift in the mattress because her eyes fly open and I watch her. Sitting on the side of the bed, I scan her body. Her pale skin now has a fine sheen of sweat and a rosy hue. She’s panting and moving her hips along with the movement of my fingers deep inside her.
“Do you like my touch?” I ask her quirking an eyebrow. Hooking my fingers I tickle that spot inside her that makes her gush.
“So much,” she gasps and closes her eyes.
“Give me your eyes. I want to watch you fall apart.”
Her breath comes in short staccato pants as I fuck her with more force, the muscles of my forearm straining with the effort.
“Why?” she asks her eyes rolling but coming back to me.
I lean forward to suck on her nipple, which gets me a long drawn out moan, before I lean back up and watch her pretty face again.
“You want to know why I want to watch you fall apart?” She nods, but then cries out to God when I press a third finger into her wet cunt. “Because it’s my job to put you back together again. Every time.” I tickle along the wall of her pussy and her hips fly up. I push them back down holding her pelvic bone with m
y thumb, my other three fingers hooked deep inside. It would be easy to lift her up just by her sex.
“I want to fall…” she whispers and that request forces out the animal in me. “Catch me,” she says while her body strains, becomes tight.
“I’ll always catch you, bring you home. Now give your pleasure to me. Let yourself fall apart. I’ll put you back together,” I promise and pick up the pace. Fucking her with fast and rough fingers, just the way she likes it. It’s as if my hand is working to physically pull the orgasm from her. Perhaps it is because her eyes go dark, her mouth opens in a silent scream and her pussy clamps around my fingers so tight I clench my jaw. Her body arches up and down, thrusting in harmony with my own movements until she stops, her hips in midair, her shoulders still flat on the mattress. Slowly, her body loosens its hold, bringing her down one vertebrae at a time. I wait until she’s languid and smiling to ease my fingers from her.
I lay alongside her, my dick hard as stone against her hip and kiss her. She kisses me back, and though I thought I tired her out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Instantly she turns the tables on me by throwing a knee over my hips straddling me perfectly. Her wet cunt lands directly over my length, pressing down. I groan and thrust my hips on instinct.
A beautiful smirk adorns her face. “My turn to play, handsome.”
Gillian
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says while cupping my bum and crushing his erection between our bodies. Nothing but skin-on-skin contact. It’s exactly what my ravaged heart and mind needs. After going two full weeks without his touch, I feel like I’m starving, only it’s not my belly that needs sustenance. I need him inside of me, so deep I forget what it’s like to be me, without being connected to him.
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