by Celia Crown
“I take it that you have had a good night sleep?” he asks kindly, and my cheeks burn.
I can’t get off of him because I’ll rub against him and it’s already awkward enough for me. When he lifts himself up, his muscles ripple and tighten to enhance the grooves around the curves of his gorgeous body.
Then I feel it.
It’s hard, hot, and twitching when my panties graze over his thick cock.
Nope. How do I delete out of existence?
“Allow me to escort you for breakfast,” he offers as if I’m not fidgeting on his cock.
His hands come around me and hold me tightly down on his lap; my panties scrape again his briefs while nudging my clit. The bad thing is that my panties are wet when I feel the breeze run across the damn fabric.
“N-no, thank you! I can find it!” I choke out, fumbling out of his lap and falling down the bed.
I don’t look back when I turn to my knees and jump up on my feet to make a run to the door.
“See you at breakfast!” I shout from behind the door, and his dark laughter echoes back.
Chapter Four
Kace
I don’t bother to hide the mark that sleepy Malia had put on me; I wish to display her possessiveness proudly and let her be flushed about it.
She blushed a very lovely red when she saw my neck, and the attire that I usually go for is not present; I’m simply in a dress shirt with a few buttons unhooked to show her mark and let her brown eyes wander down to the tattoos that peek out of my chest.
“Good morning, my love,” I repeat what I told her when she first woke up.
She averts her eyes with a shy cough, “Morning, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Please, call me Kace,” I put a hand on her back to guide her to the seat that is right in front of mine.
It’s a two-chair dining table that I had my staffs organize; I want it as close and intimate as it can be without having Malia think anything of it.
Small steps are necessary for Malia to become comfortable with me, and it will be worth it in the end when I put a fat diamond ring on her small finger.
She won’t be able to hold it up.
As she sits, Malia wonders with her big doe-eyes as to why a man as rich as me doesn’t have a long dining table as would be fitting to the interior designs of this big dining hall.
I don’t want her to be sitting at the opposite end of me and need to shout to get my attention, and that table is only for me when I eat alone, and I always dine alone.
“I prepared this for you,” I say as I open up the silver tray to show her the crispy chocolate chip waffles.
Her brown eyes widen with glee as she bounces in her seat, and I have to hold back a chuckle at her adorableness.
If this little thing can get her to be this happy, I would gladly make every meal for her. Without the hassle of letting the staffs worry about if it came out to my standards, I know what I want, and I can make it within an hour, depending on how difficult the task is.
“You did?” the disbelief in her voice does make me laugh as I run a hand into her red hair.
I desire to bury my nose into her scent like this morning, and I have had the pleasure of sleeping with her soft curves sinking into my arms.
I only planned on letting her take the bed while I take another guest room, but she had stopped me with a needy whimper in her sleep when I took my hands away. The despicable part of me was going to stay in bed with her anyway, but her desire for companionship in the bed is the excuse that justified this sinful selfishness of mine.
“Do you not like it?” I lower my voice.
She shakes her head vigorously, “No, no! I love it. Thank you!”
How adorable of her to put my feelings before hers, but I must admit, the waffles were amazing if I should say so myself. I taste-tested it, and they were delicious, and I have no doubt that she would love it too.
My breakfast consists of croissants, brioche, and butter, a cup of hot coffee and a plate of fresh fruit. All of them are prepared by my chef as I was busy working on my beloved’s waffles, and I added fresh fruits on top for her too.
I believe that Americans consider breakfast their most important meal of the day, but French tradition speaks highly of lunch as the meal that drives forth the day.
I am a mix of American and French beliefs; I do want a healthy breakfast to kick start the day, but I do not wish to have a full stomach as many would do. It hinders my ability to perform at my best when all I can think of is the food in my stomach.
Food coma is a common phrase many would use when they are too full.
Little Malia moans happily as she digs into her food; my eyes are trained on her pouty lips when she munches giddily. She does not understand how much effect she has on me as my cock jerks for attention. I have been hard all morning, and that morning shower did not provide any relief no matter how hard I stroke my cock.
Her pink lips are stained with the chocolate syrup that I added as a final touch. I don’t fight the need to wipe it away while making sure she keeps her eyes on me.
“You made this?” she asks, incredulous and amazed as pride swells quickly in my chest.
“Yes, would you like me to teach you?” I put down my coffee as the bitterness coats my tongue.
Malia nods, red hair bouncing wildly as the width of her smile expands. “Please!”
She digs into another piece of the waffle as I pick up my utensils, “It’s a date, my love.”
She’s too far gone to answer me as she happily eats her food, but I’ll take it as a date that has been set. Malia will never get a chance to think of anything else when she's with me, especially not about the life she once had.
This is her home now whether she believes it or not, she’s meant to be my wife and live a life of luxury without ever worrying about anything anymore.
I’m here to help her and keep her mind off her problems.
Malia is going to be worshipped and pampered; she is going to be adored with all of my affections and loved with every ounce of my heart.
We eat in silence, but she occasionally mentions something that reminds her of her home while grumbling about her friend. I know more about Katerina Rushkoff than I would like, and I frankly do not care about that woman.
If she wasn’t friends with Malia, then she would have been another background character that faded with time. Nonetheless, she is the one that brought my future wife into my life, and I am thankful to her for that.
I don’t dwell on the maybe and what-ifs because Malia would have never met me in normal circumstances, but what had happened did happen, and now she’s here with me.
I do not plan to let her out of my sight.
The staffs come in to collect the dishes while I escort Malia out for a walk into the massive garden that I have. She’s hesitant as she knows that this is also the part where she stepped into the maze when I have specifically told her to rest for the night.
I was not aware of her intentions, whatever they were, as I only found out that she wasn’t in her room when the backdoor to the manor has been open. By the time I got out of my bed and put on my clothes, she was already deep into the maze when I stepped out the back door.
I had warned her that there were wild animals in there as a game for me to hunt, it’s a sport that many people do, and I am one of them. I prefer a game that has more danger to it, and when I step inside the maze that I had memorized, the animals are aware of the game between prey and predator.
Those two titles were always out in the open because I would be prey or predator depending on what type of animal found me first.
I never know what is there and what isn’t as the guards of this manor are responsible for putting dangerous animals there, but I do not hunt them to kill as I simply tranquilize them with my gun and custom-made bullets.
I do not condone on killing innocent animals no matter what they have done, but knowing they were out there alone with Malia, it was enough for me to call for the
hawk that has been trained; he’s been with me for years.
His loyalty lays with me.
I cannot be more relieved when I found her with a boar and frightened out of her mind. She needed me, and she was willing to call for me with her shaky voice, but what got to me was the tears in her eyes.
As dramatic as it looked with a small boar as her source of fear, I cannot stop the thrill of glee that punches me in my gut when I saw her tears. She held onto me with such intensity that her little arms would break if I tried to remove them myself.
It felt great to be needed by her, and would I be a sadist to wish to cause her distress to feel the dependency she radiates.
Of course not.
I have never considered myself as a hero; the trademarks of a businessman are closer to a villain than anything else. I have no remorse when it comes to my business, and if anyone dares to tread into my territory, they will have to deal with me and my team of lawyers that are always on the call.
I only employ the best, and I do not tolerate weaknesses that will lead to defeat; my previous employees can attest to what kind of hell I can raise.
“Remember what I have said?” I ask, taking her smaller hand into mine and looking towards the green maze.
I expect it to be in top conditions all the time, and it’s for the benefit of the animals trapped in there that are too domesticated to be back into the wilds. I would never take an animal from its natural habitat for this, and I have only taken those who were going to be killed as a result of mauling a human.
I simply took them and gave them a home and still practice their predatory natures with me; my tranquilizing gun isn’t meant to harm them; it rather incapacitates them as a score of my victory.
It’s a sick way to turn their path of death to a path of hunting, but I’m incapable of feeling any type of guilt towards them.
It’s nature, and the hierarchy in the maze is regulated with bigger and stronger prey, and I am glad that it was not a bear that found my precious little Malia.
Though, it would be impractical to have a bear in there. They are not creatures to be quiet and not harm others, but anything could happen as my guards are the ones that bring in the animals while they keep up the fences heightened with electric currents to shock anything that came near it.
I can’t have wild animals running around my home, and I need to make a note to fire whoever had left the fence unlocked and off security measures.
All of that leads to Malia being in the maze without me as her protection, and it’s even worse when I think about her being electrocuted by the fence if it was armed.
The what-ifs and maybes are getting to me.
“Are you okay, Mr. Hawkins?”
How lovely is it to hear her worry about me, but I do not wish to have my family name be the obstacle of our closeness.
“Kace, please,” I remind her.
She nods shyly, “Kace.”
Those big eyes are going to be the death of me, “Are you okay?”
“Why do you ask, my love?” I rub the back of her hand with my big fingers; the supple skin is soft and pliable under my calloused hand.
“You look angry; did I do something wrong?”
I immediately soothe her fears, “No, you did not do anything wrong. I was thinking, but I do not wish for you to be concerned.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
She lets me take charge as she follows me wherever I go; my legs are longer than hers, and I’m much faster when it comes to walking. This is the slowest I have walked, and I don’t regret it. I want to spend more time with her as the day ticks towards the afternoon where the sun is the highest.
We have been walking for a while now, and she talks to me as if she has been friends with me for a long time. She tells me stories of the times from her college days, and she entertains me with her animated voice, and she is the most excited when she talks about her friend Katerina.
When the time comes, I would like to make acquaintance with Katerina. She will have more insight into things in the past about my Malia. I need to know everything about her to plan on how to get her to stay.
If one day, she comes to hate the real Kace Hawkins, then I will burn this entire country down before she steps one foot away from me. I do hope that the day never comes, though.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks again, eyebrows curling together as we stop at the white gazebo for shade.
“You look really angry,” she says with a slow trail off of her words.
“Do you wish to know my thoughts?” I taunt subtly, and she takes the bait with a determined nod; Malia doesn’t look away as her cheeks are puffed.
I don’t let her know the hell I would bring if she were to be taken away from me, and I will be angrier if she willingly left me without talking to me about it.
Anything she wants, she can have it at her little hands from my bigger ones. Any changes she wants, I will remodel this place to her liking. We can move if she wants to, but I will not allow her to be by herself.
She needs me.
Yes, the sinister voice in my head purrs, Malia needs me.
This is a bad world with bad people in every corner. She will get taken advantage of, and her innocence will be gone. Everything on and in her is mine; her heart is not allowed to have another man in there.
She only needs my name branded on her soul and into her last name when I seal her fate with a ring on her finger. A marriage certificate is only for the law to recognize our marriage, but it’s the ring that will close the door to her freedom.
“I wish to kiss you, my love,” I don’t hide the smile on my lips as her cheeks burst into redness.
Her little head darts left and right to see if anyone has heard us, but she finds no one because this land is monitored by smart technology that tells me about every small movement. The guards are only there to apprehend the foolish criminals, and they stay in their quadrant as on-call dutiful soldiers.
“Why?” she questions with genuine confusion as I can tell there is something swimming in the back of her mind.
Her eyes are the windows to her soul. I can read everything on her face as her expressions are rich in movements.
“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” I shoot back.
She bites her lips, glancing down on her shoes and curls her fingers into mine as I do not let her go. Her weight changes to the other foot, and she looks up at me with such sadness that my heart aches to understand why she has pain in those beautiful eyes.
“Please tell me what is on your mind. I want to help you,” I steer her to the bench, but I opt to kneel in front of her.
This familiar stance gives her a piece of mind as she sighs when I take her hands into mine; her brown eyes blink with tears, and my heart skips a beat.
This is a rather inappropriate time to be aroused by her vulnerability.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, taking one hand out of my grip to rub her eyes. “I’m not usually like this.”
“Never apologize for being yourself, my love,” I coo softly; an uncontrollable glint flickers in my eyes as my lips spread in a dark smile.
“You do not need to be strong in front of me,” my body leans up, pressing my lips to her forehead and then to her cheek where she twitches at the scratchiness of my beard.
“I want you to cry,” is what I almost said, but instead, my words come out as “You are strong, being here with me by yourself.”
I add with the intention of causing mayhem in her heart, “What a good girl.”
Her breath hitches as she stammers, voice soft and meek, “Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”
I will let that name slide this time; it has a nice ring of dominance and authoritativeness in it. The power I hold over her is intoxicating, and she is likely to listen to me as I’m her only source of guidance in a foreign contour, and this place is my home, and I know the landscape like the back of my hand.
“It’s too sunny outside; would you like to know how I make
wine?”
The stars in her eyes give me an idea of our dinner date, “Can I see?”
Even though she had broken the wine that got her into this situation, she is eager to see how I create magic with my hands.
I have no feelings for the wine that I make; it’s are a hobby that made me billions, and it’s easy money considering foolish rich men wish to make good relations with me to get their hands on more excellent wine.
It’s comical to see them try to up one another for the sake of their wealthy status.
I do love making wine; it gives me a peaceful mind, but I do not hold it in a special place in my heart.
“Can you promise you will keep other bottles intact?” I tease lightheartedly.
She takes it as a warning and hardens her gaze, “I promise, Mr. Hawkins!”
Well, if she listens to me, then I do not how she takes my tone. I just care how she comes to the conclusion of whatever I am feeling or what my thoughts are; Malia only needs to know that listening to me will result in what is best for her.
“Come, I will show you.”
Her red cheeks are round when she grins, and it’s near perfection.
Chapter Five
Malia
A week goes by like a breeze,
Mr. Hawkins insists that I call him Kace since we will be getting familiarized with each other. I don’t know what exactly he means by it, but I want to get to know him, and he wants to know about me too.
Every chance he gets, he would ask me questions, and I would find myself answering him rather honestly. I don’t hide myself or my past like I would when strangers ask about me. I want him to know everything about me, and I want to understand him too.
He’s a mystery wrapped in one neat package that’s under locks. The key is somewhere out in the ocean; it’s virtually impossible to know what he's thinking.
“Good evening, my love,” he greets with a hand extended to me when I open my bedroom door.
I haven’t thought about escaping since that fateful night, and I don’t want to try it again. Kace said that if I want to leave, I can tell him and he would be on his private plane with me to personally escort me home.