He Claims Me

by Cynthia Sax

  “During long trips, I sometimes sleep here.” Blaine’s gaze intensifies. “Alone.” He brushes my hair back from my flushed face, his touch gentle. “Always alone.” He curls a brown lock around his index finger.

  I flatten my palms over his lapels, splaying my fingers over his chest, understanding more than he’s said. Before meeting Blaine, I was also a solitary creature, unheard and unseen, distrustful of everyone and everything.

  “You’re no longer alone, Blaine.” I push my body forward, pressing my pussy lips against his shaft, tightening the bond between us.

  “Yes, I’m no longer alone.” He drops his hands to my hips. “I know what this is for us, Anna, but I’ll wait for you.” Blaine swirls his thumbs into my skin. “I won’t rush and risk hurting you. I’ll never hurt you.”

  “I know you’ll never hurt me.” He wouldn’t intentionally hurt me but he thinks I’m strong and I’m not. I rock against him, slicking his cock with my juices. “What is this for us?” I brace emotionally for the answer. Is this an affair? A fling? A test of how long he can last without sex?

  Blaine buries his face in the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, his warm breath wafting over my skin. “This is forever,” he murmurs against my skin.

  Forever. A tight band of emotion wraps around my chest, pressing down on my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He’ll never abandon me, never leave me. It’s too much to hope for, to believe in. “Blaine?”

  “Pleasure yourself with my body, Anna.” Blaine redirects the conversation. Part of me is relieved, needing time to think about this new development, while another part of me is disappointed, yearning for verification.

  “Tell me what you need and that’s what I’ll do.” He outlines the rules to this new game. “That’s all I’ll do.”

  I’ll be in control. I undulate against him, moving faster and faster, excited by his offer. We’ll only go as far as I allow us. “I need your mouth on my neck.” I tilt my head to the side, swinging my hair over my back.

  Blaine drags his lips up and down my neck, his fervent caress stimulating my skin, his obedience moistening my pussy. His body is mine to use, mine to direct. I rub my feminine folds over his cock, my nipples over his suit jacket, the friction adding to the heady feeling of power.

  He grazes my sensitive skin with his teeth, sending waves of sensation down my form, and I moan, swiveling my hips, grinding into his shaft, shamelessly using him for my own satisfaction. I grip his nape, his hair soft against my fingertips.

  Blaine bends his dark head and sucks on the base of my neck, his suction glorious and arousing. I rise up on him, a keening sound ripped from my lips. He releases my neck and I allow myself to fall, our bodies colliding. The gold key between my breasts bounces.

  “Cup my ass.” I grip Blaine’s broad shoulders and pull myself up once more, climbing his hard physique. His big palms slide under me, supporting my weight. “That’s it. I want to ride you.”

  He lifts me, stroking my pussy along his shaft, my clit along his rim, and he drops me, smacking my ass on his thighs. He lifts and drops, lifts and drops. I pant, my skin heating, and Blaine grunts, mouthing my neck, the sounds of our encounter filling the vehicle.

  I roll my hips and he shudders, his controlled tempo thrown off by my action. I like throwing off his tempo, stressing his control, so I do it again. He hardens even more against me, a bead of pre-cum forming on his tip.

  “Anna,” he growls.

  “I’m pleasuring myself with your body, Blaine.” I flick his earlobe with my tongue, savoring the salt of his skin. “Your hard, hot body.” Blaine’s legs shake under me and the cords on his neck lift. I trace these cords with my lips, my tasting pulling a strangled noise from his throat.

  “Faster,” I order, seeking to break him, this powerful man. “Harder.” I gasp as he obeys, driving me down on his thighs, his ass remaining motionless in the seat. “Lift into me.”

  “Yes.” Blaine thrusts upward as I fall upon him. My ass and pussy throbs, his erotic abuse ratcheting my passion upward. As our bodies crash together, he nips my neck, marking me.

  “Yes.” I agree, my lungs and breasts aching. “Make my tight little pussy feel you for days.” I grind into every slide. Sweat drips down my spine, between my ass cheeks, and a red flush covers Blaine’s face. We work as one, reaching for our satisfaction, together.

  I want him inside me, filling me, but I’m not ready, not yet. This is enough, the fucking without entry, the delicious slide of my curves against his hard muscles. My body tightens, the tension stretching unbearably thin, and I dangle on the edge, needing one more push.

  “When I come, you come,” I instruct. Blaine’s fingers dig into my tender ass, his massive form shaking. I grit my teeth, holding off for as long as I can, not wanting this encounter to end, not wanting to leave him.

  Tears stream down my face. I can’t last. I can’t. “Bite me, Blaine.” I ask for the pain I need.

  He closes his teeth over my shoulder, his teeth sharp, dangerous, right, and the tightness inside me breaks, snapping in two. I fling my arms back and cry his name, flying high on the winds of desire.

  “Anna,” Blaine roars, wrapping his arms around my waist, holding me to him. He drives his hips upward and hot cum splashes over my stomach, soothing the burn. He thrusts two more times, shuddering, and he sags, burying his face between my small breasts, his forehead resting on the gold key.

  I return to earth, trembling with exhaustion, and cradle his head in my hands, his black hair sinfully soft and decadently thick like the plush carpeting he has in his office.

  Blaine leans backward, taking me with him. I rest my cheek on his silk tie and he props his chin on the top of my head. He strokes my bare back, drifting his fingertips over my spine, his touch soothing and right.

  This isn’t normal, I know, almost fucking in a limousine while the driver listens and watches. I don’t care. Drowsy and sated, I snuggle deeper into Blaine’s warm form.

  He chuckles, hugging me closer. “You’ll sleep more comfortably in a bed, nymph.”

  In a bed, not necessarily my bed. I raise my head and meet his gaze, my body stiffening. I’m not ready for this either. It’s too soon, too much.

  Blaine’s eyes glint with unspoken promises. “Not tonight.” He presses his lips to my forehead, his mouth hot. “Dress and I’ll walk you to the Leighs’ door.”

  At some time during the encounter we’d arrived home. We were parked in our upper class community while I screamed with satisfaction, our neighbors sleeping peacefully in the mansions around us. I look at the partition. Ted, our driver, remains behind the wheel, silently waiting for us to finish.

  I retreat to my seat and dress quickly, not bothering to clean my skin with tissues, wanting Blaine’s scent on me. He pulls his pants up, the tail of his white cotton shirt yellowed with his cum. I brush back my hair, trying to tame it, the tendrils frizzy.

  “You look beautiful,” Blaine assures me, admiration in his green eyes. I feel beautiful and cherished. Is it truly possible to feel this way forever? Can Blaine be right about our relationship lasting?

  He hands me the mysterious black shopping bag. “Everything in here is for you,” he states, knowing I’ll never touch anything that isn’t mine.

  I peek inside, glimpsing a much-needed bottle of conditioner and a black velvet bag containing my favorite sex toy. “You’re giving me the dildo.” I frown, my excitement dissipating. Is he taking another business trip?

  “That’s for tonight.” Red streaks across my billionaire’s cheekbones. “I want you to sleep with it inside you.”

  “Oh.” He’s not leaving. I wiggle, giddy with relief. “You want me to use the dildo.”

  “Not use.” Blaine’s lips twitch. “Slide the dildo into your pussy. That’s all. You’re not to touch yourself or find release without me.“ He knocks on the window and the door opens.

  Ted stands by the vehicle. The driver’s spine is straight and his expression is
carefully blank but he doesn’t fool me. I know he watched our sex play, listened to my screams.

  Blaine exits the limousine first, the garment bags draped over one of his shoulders, and he holds out his hand. I grasp his fingers with one hand, clutching the bag and my tote with the other.

  On previous nights, Blaine released my hand once I was upright. Tonight he links our fingers together and walks with me, shortening his stride to match mine. My good mood bubbles over, my joy impossible to contain.

  “It’s like we’re a couple,” I muse. A normal couple.

  “We are a couple.” Blaine frowns and I blink, unaware I said the words out loud. “There’s no one else for me, Anna. There hasn’t been since the first moment I saw you.”

  “Oh.” I tilt my head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars twinkle. The crescent moon hangs low. Are horny purple aliens watching us, waiting for us to strip naked, to touch ourselves? “There’s been no one else since I first swam in your pool?”

  “There’s been no one else since you interviewed to house-sit for the Leighs.” Blaine gazes upward also, his jaw jutted, his profile rugged and undeniably masculine. “And a little brown moth landed on your wrist.”

  “I remember.” I kicked over the fallen leaf the moth was hiding under, startling the tiny creature. She flew upward, her wings fluttering, and she gripped me with her little legs, her entire body quivering. She looked as scared as I was, the prospect of meeting the Leighs terrifying me.

  “You set the moth carefully on a rosebush, concealing her beneath the pink blooms.” Blaine meets my gaze, his eyes soft, as though he treasures this simple memory.

  “The gardener then yelled at me for walking on the grass,” I add ruefully. “He chased me halfway down the block, waving his hands and cursing at me.” I shake my head, my cheeks heating. “Why would you have grass if you can’t walk on it?” I ask, and Blaine gives me one of his rare smiles.

  Silence stretches, a companionable quiet, and I walk even slower, in no rush to return to the Leighs’ empty bungalow. “You saw the moth incident, huh?” I glance up at him. I was wearing my baggy white shirt and oversized black pants, thinking myself invisible, and he saw me.

  “I watched you even then.” Blaine squeezes my hand. “You were beautiful and real and I couldn’t look away.” He waits as I find my key, his gaze fixed on my face.

  I feel cherished . . . maybe even loved, not that I remember what being loved feels like. The last person to love me was my father, and he died in prison when I was fourteen.

  As Blaine and I stand on the Leighs’ cold steel welcome mat, I fiddle with the finicky lock. Finally there’s a click and the door swings open. Warm air rushes out of the concrete and glass modern bungalow, the air-conditioning too costly to run.

  My agreement with Dr. Leigh and his wife is I pay for utilities and maintenance as they gallivant around Europe. In exchange, I get a place to stay.

  Unfortunately, to pay for this deal I have to work two jobs. I work days at Feed Your Hungry, dialing for dollars at the charity, and I work nights at Blaine Technologies as an assistant to Fran, Blaine’s assistant.

  A wonderful upside of my second job is I spend more time with Blaine. I smile at the Leighs’ sexy neighbor, wishing I could invite him inside. I can’t. The plastic surgeon and his wife left me with a long list of things I couldn’t do while staying in their house, having visitors being top on this list.

  Blaine hands me the garment bags. Our fingers brush and a spark of awareness shoots up my arm. “These are more suits from Fran,” he explains.

  “She wanted to throw the suits away.” I raise my chin. Although there’s no judgment in Blaine’s deep voice, years of facing accusations have made me defensive. “She told me I could have them.” I’m not a thief like my father. I don’t take what isn’t mine.

  “Fran’s happy you’ll wear them.” Blaine leans forward and glides his lips over mine, evaporating my concerns with one heated touch. “Remember my instructions for tonight.” He taps the tip of my nose and I blink. “Be a good girl, Anna.”

  Blaine turns and walks away, his shoulders broad, his spine rigidly straight and proud. I close the door, flick on the hallway lights, and slip out of my shoes, as no shoes are allowed in the house.

  I pad across the concrete floors, turning a light off for every light I turn on. I rearrange the selection of store catalogues on a modern glass hallway table and nudge a couple of Mrs. Leigh’s geometric glass objets d’art an inch to the left, my goal to make the empty house appear lived in.

  The door of a display case in the dining room has swung open. Touching Mrs. Leigh’s display cases is another item on my not to do list, the brightly colored cones housed within them being the most valuable of her collection. Forced to break this rule, I carefully close the glass door using two of my fingers. Mrs. Leigh would become more upset if dust touched her precious knickknacks.

  As I move through the house, sweat beads on my forehead, the heat stifling. I open some of the windows, trusting the security bars to keep me safe. The sheer silver curtains billow, the night breeze refreshingly cool.

  As my bedroom, formerly a storage closet, has no windows, I leave the door open and drape the garment bag over a metal folding chair. The only other items in the small space are a twin-sized mattress, the matching box spring, and a suitcase filled with my clothes and other worldly belongings.

  I’ve had less and I don’t need more. That’s what I tell myself anyway. I set the tote on the floor beside my bed and I undress, choosing to sleep naked, Blaine’s key my only adornment, the ribbon soft against my neck.

  I remove the beautiful white marble dildo from the black velvet bag. The stone is smooth and cool and I yearn to rub it all over my body.

  I resist this temptation, as Blaine’s instructions are clear. I’m to slide the dildo inside me. I’m not to touch myself or find release without him.

  I lie back on the bed and spread my thighs. Blaine’s scent surrounds me, clinging to the marble and to my body, dried cum flaking on my stomach.

  I feel as though he’s here. He’s watching me. I push the dildo into my tight pussy, the hard marble stretching me open, the tip stroking my inner walls.

  I reluctantly release the dildo, leaving Blaine’s beautiful gift inside me. I imagine it’s him inside me, his cock throbbing, filling me, and I sigh with contentment, closing my eyes.

  Chapter Three

  I DREAM I’M lying naked on the long wooden table in Blaine’s office. My arms and legs are spread and my knees bent. I can’t move, my limbs too heavy. The room is filled with men in dark suits, smoking cigars and swirling cognac in crystal glasses.

  Blaine invites them, one by one, to look at me. The men bend their heads and peer between my thighs, gazing at my wet pussy. They grunt their approval. Blaine pokes and prods me, pride and some deeper emotion, an emotion I’m not brave enough to name, reflecting in his green eyes.

  I wake up wet and aroused, my sheets soaked with perspiration. The dildo slides out easily, the marble slick with my juices. I feel empty and achy, my pussy missing the hardness, the fullness.

  It’s a struggle not to touch myself sexually in the shower, but I resist this temptation, skimming a washcloth over my body quickly. I leave the conditioner Blaine gave me in my hair, the vanilla scent covering my musk.

  I wear the vintage purple Yves Saint Laurent two-piece skirt suit. The sleeveless vest sports a front closure, the three-quarter-length flared skirt can be flipped up, and the fabric is thick enough to conceal my taut nipples.

  I grab my tote, slip my feet into my flats, and leave the house, wondering when I started choosing my clothing based upon how easy the garments are to have sex in. And I will have sex today, my need for Blaine undeniable.

  First, I have to survive the day. I can do this. I’m strong . . . or so Blaine claims. I smile at the bus driver as I pay my fare. He straightens in his seat and smiles back.

  I sit beside a heavily made-up, soaked in
perfume woman. She gives me a haughty sniff, wrinkling her powdered nose, and continues talking loudly on the phone. She tells someone she calls girlfriend how all of the good men are taken, leaving only broke ass brothers for her to date.

  The strip of turf has been replaced in front of Feed Your Hungry’s headquarters. The sprinklers soak my shoes as I pass, the scent of freshly mowed grass and rich dark earth filling my nostrils.

  I enter the converted house that was added to the main building, and the constantly texting receptionist says good morning to me. She reminds me cheerily that I have a meet and greet this afternoon with Mrs. Williams . . . as though I would ever forget. Securing a meet and greet with a donor is the goal of every Feed Your Hungry employee.

  I wish I could say I legitimately landed this meet and greet. I didn’t. Mrs. Williams agreed to donate money because she thinks I’m Michael Cooke’s girlfriend. When I told her Michael and I were merely friends, the socialite didn’t believe me and insisted on coming into Feed Your Hungry to personally drop off her donation. I couldn’t say no, as this will only be the second donation I’ve secured. I need it to save my job.

  I lie to everyone except Blaine, and if bending the truth allows me to keep my job at Feed Your Hungry, I’ll bend the truth. I don’t want to rely solely on Blaine’s generosity and my evening job at his company. I prefer to pay my own way, maintaining at least the illusion of independence. I have my pride.

  I pick up my donor list for the day from Feed Your Hungry’s receptionist. All of the donors I am to call have given donations within the past year. My spirits lift. I might have a chance at securing a real meet and greet today.

  I swing through the doors separating the new front addition from the original building and the temperature immediately rises. No one can recall the last time the air-conditioning in the older rooms worked.

  I hurry along the hallways. The walls are painted a dreary gray, the plaster chipped. The carpet is frayed and thin.