by J. L. Beck
“When you come on this cock, I want you to know that it’s yours. It belongs to you.” His hand comes up to grip me by the throat once again. He applies enough pressure to set me off, pushing me off that cliff and into a euphoric-like state.
I’m still coming down from my high when he places me on the bed face down, ass up. He drives into me harshly, my whimpers muffled into the bedsheets as he holds me by the back of the neck.
“Remember, I am the king,” he growls, his fingers biting into my flesh. Another orgasm forms and runs through me like a lightning bolt. I can hear our flesh smacking against one another’s, feeling his hardness penetrating so deep. I feel as if he is a part of me.
“Yes!” I cry out just as I feel him pulsing inside of me. His cock throbs until he explodes, filling me with everything that made him who he is. When he slips out of me, I wince but smile, loving the feeling that resonates through me.
He gets up from behind me and disappears into the bathroom. I can hear the water running as I just lie there on the mattress. Returning with a warm washcloth, he spread my legs and places it against my center. He is as much the man I loved then as he is today, and I have failed to realize that.
He flops down beside me, staring at me as a tear escapes my eyes, hurt that I almost broke us when we didn’t even need fixing.
“Amara, what’s wrong? Was I too rough?” he asks, concern forms in his features as he reaches forward, wiping my tears away.
“Nothing. No. It is perfect. Everything I want...” I trail off, unsure of how to explain what I’m feeling.
“What is it then?” he questions, confused by my words versus my actions. “Did I hurt you?” He seems worried as I ponder the best way to lay it all out.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not it at all. I’m…” I stumble around the words. He wouldn’t be angry, would he?
“You what? Fucking spit it out, Amara.” His words come out laced with frustration at my stalling.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper those two words at him, and the air changes instantly.
His eyes grow wide, and terror fills my belly.
Enzo
Did she just say she’s fucking pregnant?
I’m not sure if I should be happy as hell that she’s carrying our child inside of her again, or be pissed that I have just fucked her so brutally. What if I hurt her? Hurt our child?
I can see the trepidation forming within her, the desire to have me accept her words. She wants me to be happy, and fuck, I am.
“Say something, anything… Enzo, please.” I can see the tears falling from her eyes again, just as they had moments ago.
“I’m… I can’t… why didn’t you tell me before. Why did you let me be so rough with you?”
“I was scared… When we had Gia, you changed so much. You became so tender and kind, and even though I do love that part of you, I love the other part too. I was scared with another baby you would change even more.”
I turn onto my side and grab her, pulling her against my chest and wrap my arms around her tightly. I hold her close to me for what seems like hours until my heartbeat finally slows.
“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I… I just needed this little bit of the old you. Sometimes, I feel like we blend in with everyone else on this street. I want something wild. I want what we used to have because it made me chaotic to have a love like that brewing between us,” Amara whispers to me calmly.
“Then there is school. I’m almost finished, and then I have to find a job. Or am I just going to be a stay at home mom? I’m so stressed about all that, and then I found out about the baby. I didn’t want to have another baby, be stuck inside the house for a few more years, and come home to feel like we are just two ordinary people.” Her words pierce my soul.
“Amara, what are you saying? That you don’t want to have another child?” I ask, worried that she might not want this baby.
“No, not that. I want this baby, I promise. But I also want a career. I don’t just want to be a mom and wife forever, Enzo. I want more, and I don’t want our lives to be so normal. I’m sorry I pushed you to lose control. For that, I am sorry. I just didn’t want everything in our lives to seem so habitual.” Her admission causes me to pull back. She feels as if our lives have become recurrent. That it is the same old thing. That having another child would only set our predictable lives in stone.
“Look at me.” I grip her chin in my hand, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “I’ll never trade the life I have right this fucking second for the life I had before. You, Gia, and that baby inside of you are my life now.
“To me, there is nothing mechanical about us. Our daughter can kick a soccer ball better than any other child on this block. Plus, no other child looks as cute as she does in her tutu. And you… you can do whatever you want to do. Be a piano teacher or a fucking astronaut. Come home and run around with Gia, be completely exhausted and smell like sweat and grass, and I’ll still want to see you bent over with your ass in the air.” I smile at her and watch her cheeks turn a shade of pink.
“I guess I just lost sight of things. My job is fulfilling, and there is always a rush I get from doing it... I didn’t think about what you could possibly be missing. So, for that, I am sorry.” I own my faults and pray she can see the truth in my words.
“I know. At the time, though, I just questioned everything. I wondered if you were bored with me; if you wanted something better, or more than I could give you, and that’s why the passion wasn’t there. I asked myself, in ten years from now, would you still want me… Crave me? When our kids go off to college, would you still love me like you do today? Would you still desire to feel my heart beating against your own? I have no answers because all I felt is less than what I am when compared to what we used to be.” Tears dribble down her cheeks, and I wipe them away, not wanting to see them for a second against her skin.
“I will always love you. I will always be here. I made a vow to love and protect you at all costs. I will never, and I mean never, walk away from you. Do you hear me? I will love you until God decides to take me, and even then, I will love you from the clouds in heaven. Every year we grow older, I fall more and more in love with you, even if we do become ordinary because no one is you.” More tears descend down her cheek.
“I just…” She chokes on a sob. “I just want to know the man I fell in love with is still inside of you, no matter how much we both have changed. But, I’m sorry I tried to make you him again because of my own insecurities. I love you for everything that makes you, you.” I smile and pull her into my chest.
“I love you for you, too, Amara King. And as far as the future, do whatever makes your life feel meaningful,” I whisper into her hair. She tilts her head up, and I place a kiss upon her forehead.
I hold her for a long time, but neither one of us can seem to go to sleep. After a while, I turn and get comfortable on my back, resting my hand on my abdomen. Tilting my head, I take in Amara and can’t help but trail my eyes over her still naked body.
Need throbs within me as her tongue snakes out, licking her bottom lip. My hand slides down my abs, wrapping around my cock. She wants to feel reckless with me, I’ll give her whatever the fuck she wants or burn the city to the ground trying.
“Guess you better come and show me who the queen is and take what’s yours then.” Hunger fills her eyes as she quickly climbs on top of me and straddles my hips. Her luscious tits jiggling in my face as her sharp nails dig into the skin on my chest. Fuck. And she thought I was bored with her? I’ll never get tired of this view.
She sinks down on my cock with no warning, grabbing my hand and placing it on her lower belly as she lifts her hips slowly. At that moment, I know I’ll never feel for anyone what I feel for her.
She’s a debt that will never be repaid.
Thank you for reading The Kings Pawn!
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Chapter One
Elena
Slipping into my nightgown, I sit down on the edge of the bed and finish drying my dark hair while humming some pop song I heard on the radio earlier.
I’ve asked my father numerous times for a cell phone or laptop, but he swears it’s for my own protection that I have neither, so the radio is all I’ve got. Dropping the towel, a shiver skates down my spine when my long wet hair brushes over my shoulder.
Bending down, I reach for the towel. Before my fingers even touch it, a deafening knock booms through the room. It’s so loud and unexpected that a tiny shriek passes my lips.
Who the hell is that?
I glance at the clock on the wall and realize it’s after eleven. My father never calls for me this late, and besides him, who could it be? No one, that’s who. Since my mom’s death two years ago, my dad is the only person I have left. I have no other family and no friends, thanks to my father’s overbearing nature.
I wasn’t even allowed to go to school because he deemed it too dangerous for his little girl. Everything I’ve ever learned was taught to me through homeschooling. Covering my chest with one arm, I open the door and find Richi, one of my father’s personal guards, on the other side.
“Miss Elena, your father wants to see you in his study.” There is a strange look on his face, a mixture of fear and remorse. He’s never looked at me in such a way. Seeing how uncomfortable he appears to be makes me suspicious.
“Now?” I ask, still a little shocked, given the time. “Is something wrong?”
“Just come with me, please.”
Oh no, something is wrong. I can already feel it, something is definitely going on.
“Okay, let me get dressed real quick.”
“I’m afraid there is no time for that,” a deep, penetrating voice comes from behind the door, filling my ears. Opening the door a little wider so I can see who that voice belongs to, I almost gasp. There’s a man in a suit, a man I’ve never seen before, standing beside Richi.
In the dim light, it’s hard to make out the man, but from what I can see, he looks down-right sinister. His gaze pierces mine, and his lips press into a thin line, impatience rolling off of him in waves.
Now I’m really worried, why is a man I’ve never seen or met before inside our estate, much less outside my bedroom door.
“What’s going on?” I try to hide the panic from my voice, but even I can hear how nervous I am.
“Just come downstairs, Miss, enough with the questions,” the unknown man orders, and I know there is no sense in arguing. When you’re told to do something, you do it, that’s what my father always said. If my father has asked for me, then surely this is safe.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I step out into the hallway and grit my teeth at the cold that kisses my bare feet. Goosebumps spread out across my skin as I walk between the two men, wearing nothing but some panties and a thin nightgown. I really wish they would have let me put some clothes on. This is no way to greet my father or any visitors.
The walk to my father’s study seems to drag on, but when we reach the heavy wooden door, it doesn’t feel long enough. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I do know it’s not good, and I’m not ready for it. My gut tightens with the unknown. I’ve had enough heartache in the last few years to last me a lifetime.
Looking up at the door, I don’t bother knocking, knowing that my father is expecting me. Reaching for the knob, I pause for one more second, mentally preparing for whatever awaits me on the other side. I’m not sure why, but I glance back at Richi and the unknown guy. Both look at me with blank expressions, which is nothing new to me. My father’s men are all trained to look at me like that. No emotions. Feelings get you killed.
Sucking in one last breath, I push the door open and take a step inside.
As soon as I catch a glimpse of what’s beyond the door, I want to retreat from the room. It’s a reflex, really.
Since I was a little girl, my father had trained me, told me to never listen to him, and his associates talk. To never listen to anything regarding his business. So, when I see him and three men in his office, I have this deep primal instinct to go in the opposite direction.
I shouldn’t be here. I can’t be here. My fingers tremble against the brass doorknob.
“Elena, come in,” my father says, his tone clipped.
He is all business at this point, and even as badly as I would like to run from the room and seek shelter in my bedroom, I know better than to disobey my father, especially in front of his associates.
On shaky legs, I walk further into the office, my arms still tightly wrapped around my chest as if I’m giving myself a hug.
“Take a seat, we have some matters to discuss,” he explains without looking at me. I hate how emotionless he sounds and looks, even more so than usual.
Two men I don’t know are standing off to the side while a third man is sitting at the desk opposite my father. All I can see is his back from the position I’m standing in, his broad shoulders and thick arms rest against the arm of the chair as he casually leans backward.
Averting my gaze, I keep my eyes trained ahead until I’m at his desk, then I sit down in the free chair, hating how my short nightgown rides up my thighs, exposing even more of my skin. I feel naked and wish now more than ever that I had fought harder to change my clothes.
“Elena, do you remember Mr. Moretti?” My father motions to the man beside me. “Julian Moretti.”
Moretti? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it right away.
As I glance over to the man in question, my heart thunders in my chest, trying to put a face to the name. Immediately, our eyes lock, his icy blue stare penetrates me like a sharp dagger… just as they did the first time we met.
I remember it well, and I know the exact date because the first time I met this man was at my mother’s funeral.
Just as most men I know, he too wears a mask of indifference. His eyes are blank, a carefully constructed wall placed around him, refusing to let anyone see the man beneath.
“You were at my mother’s funeral.” I simply state.
“Yes.”
His voice is deep and smooth, not matching the rest of him. Everything else about him seems rough and jagged. His jaw sharp, his cheekbones angular, and his lips pressed firmly into a tight line. He’s handsome in a devilish way, he could even be a model I’m sure. I can tell that he’s older than me as he has this air of maturity about him, but I’m not sure how old since he has no fine lines around his eyes, only a permanent scowl between them.
I wonder if this man has smiled a day in his life.
“Elena.” My father draws my attention back to him. “I need you to sign right here.”
He pushes a piece of paper across the mahogany desk and passes me a pen.
“What is this?” I look down at the document but can’t make out any of the words.
“Just sign it,” my father orders, his tone harsh. Cruelty isn’t something my father has ever shown me, and I can see he’s struggling even right now with how to act. He’s never been a great father, but that’s because of his absence and overbearing nature, not because he is unkind to me. Whatever this is about is weighing heavily on him.
Dragging the paper closer to myself, I grip the pen between my clammy fingers and start to sign my name at the bottom. The room is silent, and I can hear the pen gliding across the paper. I’m not even halfway through signing my name when my hand freezes. My eyes dart from the document before me and up to my father, then back again.
That can’t be right.
With the ink pen hovering over the paper, I reread the first few lines of the document.
Ownership Contract
This agreement confirms that as of today, Elena Romero will belong fully and without further stipulation to Julian Moretti in exchange for ten million dolla
rs...
“What is this?” I question with fervor, dropping the pen as I pull back from the desk.
A knife twists in my chest, the edge digging deeper with every breath I take.
This can’t be what I think it is.
“Don’t question me. Just sign the damn document,” my father growls, slamming his fist down on the desk, and for the first time, he looks up at me. The coldness that reflects back at me makes me shiver. I’ve never seen him like this, and I don’t understand why he’s selling me to this man. Julian Moretti.
“I…” My bottom lip trembles and I bite it to stop it. “You can’t do this… You can’t sell me. I’m not signing this.” Tears blur my eyes at the betrayal that consumes me. I want to scream, to fight this with all my might, but I feel helpless. There isn’t a single person in this room that will help me.
The words have barely passed my lips when Moretti leans over and grabs my hand, engulfing his much larger one with my small one. Heat encompasses my hand, and it’s like being burned by fire. I try to pull away, but he only tightens his grip as he forces the pen between my fingers and my hand back to the paper.
“Please… don’t do this. You don’t want me.” I try and tug my hand away with all my might, my hand throbbing as he tightens his grip.
“But I do, Elena.” He speaks into the shell of my ear.
With bruising force, he presses the pen to the paper and guides my hand, forcing me to write the rest of my name. A sob breaks free from my lips, and big fat tears of weakness fall from my eyes. The man who now owns me smiles like the devil and releases my hand with ease, placing it down against the paper.
“Father… please?” I pull my hand from the document and press it to my chest.
“The contract is complete,” my father says on a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “She is now yours, do with her as you please.”