by Jessa Kane
I throw her over my left shoulder and march up the stairs, already unzipping my jeans with my right hand…
CHAPTER FIVE
Ophelia
With masculine Ezra inside my bedroom, its girlishness has never been more obvious.
When he sets me down at the foot of my bed, the full-length mirror to my right reflects back our height differences. I barely reach his shoulder. He’s easily double my size and riddled with muscle. All nine hundred of them flex while he looks me over, his hand busy inside his pants. He’s jerking his hard flesh, grunting. I’m arrested by the sight of his forearm. The play of veins and sinew that dance as he touches himself, hot eyes on me.
The man who I let into my house was intense, but sweet. He talked to me. Fed me chocolate. This man in my bedroom is jealous and angry. He wants to eat me alive.
I don’t know which side of him I’m drawn to more. But I’m drawn. So drawn.
Deep down, I’ve always known I had what it takes to be a bad girl. And I prove it by leaning my hips against the bed and arching my back, tossing my hair and letting him use my body as pornography. Isn’t that what I’m doing? Providing him with an image to make that big staff between his legs harder and harder, so he can put it inside me?
That’s what I want. If my heart wasn’t ripping through my chest with excitement, the spreading wetness between my legs would tell me how bad I need him. If I’m distracting him from his suspicion that there’s another man…well, that’s just an added bonus.
He can’t know.
He can never know there is another man. One I detest. One I despise.
One who is using my father’s folly to draw me into a disgusting web.
Don’t think about it now. Focus on the man you do want. Need.
“I’m your man, Ophelia,” Ezra rasps, taking his erection out in a tight fist and rubbing it on my bare stomach. “First, last. Only. Fucking mine.”
There are so many obstacles. Wagner. Princeton. His prison record—and my father’s reaction to it. None of those things seem to matter right now in the darkness of my bedroom, but I know in the morning reality will be back with a vengeance. I don’t want to voice my concerns now, though. I want Ezra to overwhelm me. Make me think of nothing but him. He’s looking down at me beneath drawn brows waiting for me to tell him, yes, I’m yours. But I can’t do that, knowing so many things stand in our way.
So I show him instead. I show him how much he owns me—body and spirit—even if he can’t in the other ways. I go down on my knees in front of him and strip off my shirt, tossing it away so I can run my hands up his thick, sturdy thighs. Looking up at his penis from below makes it seem even bigger. It extends out from a thatch of untamed black hair, a wide vein pulsing along the underside, a fat, helmet adorning the tip. Once at school, I overheard a classmate talking about a porno she found on her brother’s laptop wherein a man whipped a kneeling girl across the face with his erection. At the time, I found that terrible. Now? I would crawl over broken glass to have him whip me with that big thing. The sight of it is such a turn on to me, because I know I made it huge and hard and I’m the only one who gets to touch it.
“What are you thinking about down there, little girl?”
I rub my cheek against his inner thigh. “Nothing much. Just your penis slapping me across the face.”
Ezra sucks in a groan. “That ain’t nothing, princess. And you’re going to call it my man’s cock from now on. That’s what it’s called.”
“Okay,” I breathe, inspecting it closely, licking my lips and deciding where I want to start. “Will you? Do…what I said? Or is that a silly thing to want?”
His fist chokes up to the tip, turning it purple, then strokes back down. “I don’t like the idea of slapping you in the face. Not in any form.”
I lap my tongue against the side of his arousal. “Then why are you breathing so hard?”
And he is, his ridged stomach expanding and dropping in quick succession. “Look up at me like I’m your lord and savior and squeeze those titties.”
I’m pretty sure that’s how I’m already looking at Ezra, so I palm my breasts, catching my nipples between two fingers and clamping down. The smooth head of his cock drags along the seam of my parted lips. Right, left, right…then he smacks me across the mouth with his long, thick arousal. One direction and then the other, gritting out my name in between curses. By the time he finishes, I’ve got a swollen mouth and I’ve soaked clear through my shorts.
“Jesus Christ, Ophelia,” Ezra growls. “If I’d known there was a little girl hot to get dick slapped waiting for me, I would have ripped down the fucking walls of that prison to get out.”
I don’t have a chance to respond, because Ezra squeezes my jaw to make my mouth open wide and his thickness is stuffed inside my mouth. Every corner of my mouth is filled to capacity and I’m still staring down the ruddy length of him. Holy cow. His texture is nothing like I expected. I thought it would be fleshy and pliant. Instead, he’s smooth and hard as concrete. Pulsing. Full of life. And looking up at Ezra, I realize his entire world is narrowed down to my mouth. He’s holding his breath and suffering and blissful all at once. It’s beautiful.
“What are you going to do with it, little girl?”
My hand grips the lower half of his cock and I start to suck, turning my face side and side, twisting, drawing deeply with great big pulls. Ezra groans—“fuuuuuuuck, princess”—his balls jerking, plumping and tightening in front of my eyes. His fingers twist in my hair, his stance widening and he begins to have frenzied intercourse with my mouth. The whole idea of it is so erotic, I’m almost dizzy with heat. With hunger. I love being used like a pretty toy, a place to relieve his male aches. I want to taste more and more, so I slacken the muscles of my throat and let him plunge even deeper, listening to his strangled cries of my name. I have to hold on to his thighs so I don’t topple over, he’s going at my mouth so hard now—and all I can think is more, more, more. Please.
“Get the taste of me in your mouth and down the back of your pretty throat, Ophelia. Memorize it. That’s the only cock you’ll ever suck on.” He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind and I gasp around his flesh. “When you taste your man’s flavor from your knees it means you’re about to be fucked hard and dirty.”
I have no time to prepare before Ezra pulls his erection out of my mouth. I slump against him and inhale oxygen in great gulps, my whole body shaking with lust. My fingertips claw at his big thighs and I look up, watching as he strips off his T-shirt, using it to wipe the saliva off my chin. And then I’m scooped up tossed onto the bed. “Yes. Yes,” I whine, squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, rolling and pinching my nipples. “You’re going to put it inside me, right? Please, Ezra. Please.”
“My God,” he grits out from the side of the bed, in the process of shoving down his jeans. “How am I ever going to tear myself away from you for a single second, you horny little girl? Look how bad you want my cock.”
“I want it, I want it,” I chant, mindlessly. I can’t think or breathe or wait another moment. That tickle I had in my stomach the first time Ezra touched me has bloomed and spread to my entire body. I’m on fire. I need so desperately. “Ezra.”
When he climbs onto the bed, huge and raw and naked, I sit up and reach for him, but the world turns sideways. I’m flipped onto my stomach and yanked up onto my hands and knees. Ezra’s hands grip my buns hard and he lets out an exultant growl. “All that sweet pink is just for me. From your tight asshole to that dripping pussy. All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I moan into the comforter, tilting my hips to show him everything. Everything. I just want to give it to this man and put him in charge of fixing my ache. I know he will. I know he’ll take care of me. “Fill me up. I hurt so bad.”
I’m writhing my hips in the air shamelessly and I pray—out loud—for him to fill me, but instead Ezra’s hot breath tickles the insides of my thighs, my sex, and suddenly his mouth is suctioning my clit
from behind. I scream and press back against his mouth, pumping my hips up and down, grinding into the wet texture of his tongue, trying to come any way I can. And when he presses his finger to my back entrance, I don’t expect the jolt of blinding pleasure.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, please!”
His tongue leaves my clenching flesh and I sob—until it rides over my back entrance, back and forth, seesawing, until he finally dips it in. At the same time, Ezra starts to rub quick circles on my clit and I convulse my way into a deafening orgasm. Deafening because I can’t hear, even though I know I’m screaming, thanks to the pain in my throat. How can I not scream when my body is in the throes of such unimaginable bliss, pressure leaving me in hot, catastrophic waves? I’m trembling, my core quickening, releasing, quickening—
And then Ezra rams his cock into me from behind and I climax again.
That inescapable thickness is what I’ve been craving, every minute since he came inside me on his mother’s couch and I was left on the precipice of pleasure. Oh God. Oh my God. How have I lived every single day of my life without this man locking into me like a missing part?
Somehow I still want more. He’s made me insatiable. I think I’m going to be unsatisfied until I feel his pleasure pouring into me. I’m aching for that heat. That proof of his need. I want it to fill me up and drip down my thighs. I need it now.
“Hard,” I moan, fisting the bedclothes. “Hard. Please. Take me hard.”
“Yeah. You’re hot for my come, little girl, aren’t you? Liked my tongue in your pretty pink asshole, didn’t you?” Ezra bites out above my head, his hips starting to smack loudly into my buttocks, his thick, delicious manhood plowing into me like a battering ram. So deep it hurts, but I love the hurt. The pain is mine. I own it—and I know it leads to pleasure, so I pump my hips to meet his thrusts. “Beg for my come, Ophelia. Beg.”
That telltale tightening in my tummy makes me whimper and I do what I’m told. I love doing what I’m told when Ezra is the one making commands. Just as I open my mouth to whine like a beggar for him to fill me up, I turn my head and find my father coming to a stop in the hallway outside my open bedroom door, shock writing itself in every line of his face. Ezra’s sudden stiffening tells me he sees my father, too, but he doesn’t stop thrusting.
I don’t think he can. He’s so thick inside me, he’s struggling to fit his cock and his frustrated grunts bounce off the walls of my room. Which means my father is hearing them. My father is watching me get taken from behind. He can see the tattooed hands that hold my hips in a punishing grip, yanking me back back back. The sound of slapping is cut with my high-pitched moans, moans I can’t stop even though I should be ashamed. Should be horrified because of who is watching. But I’m too bogged down in lust and I don’t think there’s a single thing on this planet that could stop me satisfying my man when he’s so hard between my thighs and in obvious need of relief. I’m a servant to his hunger right now in this moment, so my shame will have to wait.
“You want to stand there and watch me come inside your daughter?” Ezra growls at my father. “If not, I suggest you fuck off.”
God help me, him telling my father to fuck off makes my clit tingle all over again and I whimper, lifting my ass up for more. I’m unconscious to anything but the wet friction. His growing size. The fingers digging into my hips. His sweat dripping onto my back.
“Better leave soon.” Ezra’s right hand leaves my hip to gather my hair, pulling my head back, so I’m sobbing up at the ceiling, the smack of his testicles against my backside echoing behind me. “Christ, I’m going to blow any minute. Go.”
My father stomps off muttering and I hear his office door slam.
“There’s a new daddy in town, little girl,” Ezra rasps in my ear, licking it long and hard. “Now, beg for my fucking load, like I told you.”
My thighs start to shake uncontrollably. “Please, please come inside me.” The words emerge from deep inside me and I know they’re loud enough to be heard through the whole house, through even the thickest door, but I can’t help it. I exist in this moment only for what happens between me and Ezra. “Please. Fill me up. I want it so bad.”
“Oh fuck,” he grunts, his movements becoming disjointed. “Oh fuck, going to come so hard in your tight cunt. It’s slurping me up just like your hungry little mouth did.”
“I love sucking you,” I moan.
“Goddamn. What you do to me, Ophelia. I can’t hold it anymore.”
Ezra falls forward, flattening me on the bed so unexpectedly, the breath expels from my lungs, his powerful hips ramming into me, no doubt leaving bruises behind, his shouts of release vibrating in my neck. He ejaculates with so much force, I feel the rough spurts land deep in my core, the trunk of his shaft rubbing on the secret spot inside me—and I peak again, my screams loud enough to wake the dead. My legs are shoved open by impatient, hair-covered thighs as he continues to drain himself inside me, wetness spilling free of my entrance and drenching the comforter, my thighs, everything. Still Ezra drives himself inside me, over and over again, until he finally falls beside me with a growl of my name.
He turns me on my side and pulls me up against his chest, stroking my back with an unsteady hand, his warm breath coasting over my forehead.
“I guess I should be sorrier your father caught us, but I’m too much of a possessive bastard when it comes to you, Ophelia. I want it understood by every male on both sides of the equator that you’re mine. Just. Mine,” he says, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. “But I damn sure don’t like the idea of you being upset. Are you? Upset that he saw us?”
I’m boneless from our lovemaking and snuggling up against his chest like a kitten.
Telling him we can’t be together right now would be laughable. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough. “He’s not a man who likes his pride tested,” I whisper, dazedly. “We’ll pay for it somehow.”
“You won’t pay for shit, Ophelia. Nothing bad happens to you while I’m around.”
In the morning, I’m going to tell him about Wagner. Because I believe Ezra when he says nothing bad will happen to me when he’s around. And because I can’t even contemplate another man touching me after Ezra’s hands have been on my body.
I press my face into his chest hair and inhale deeply, letting his scent seep into my bones. I’m falling asleep, totally replete of anything resembling energy. That must be why my defenses drop completely and just as I’m drifting off, I whisper. “I love you, Ezra.”
His thundering heartbeat is the last thing I remember.
Ezra
She loves me.
If I jumped off a mountain peak right now, I would fly. I’m sure of it.
Fuck. How a coarse, filthy-mouthed ex-convict who looks like me scored a sweet princess like Ophelia is a fucking phenomenon. But I’m keeping her. I’m going to build her an empire and place her on a throne where I can worship at her feet for the rest of my life.
God help anyone who tries to stop me.
I have a feeling her father will.
That’s why I’ve left my girl sleeping like an angel in her bed and I’m walking down the hallway toward her father’s office. We’re going to meet face to face like men—again—and this time I’ll be wearing clothes and I won’t be balls deep in his daughter.
If I have my way, though, I’ll be balls deep again by morning.
Just thinking about her tight, juicy pussy makes my mouth water. In the space of a few days, she’d gone from a virgin to a wet, whimpering little cock slave. They don’t make women like Ophelia. She’s a gift from heaven. I can’t believe I’m with her. I can’t even believe she let me put a single finger on her, let alone lie beside her in that bed. Kiss her lips that are still swollen from sucking my cock. I feel like a fucking bear right now, my chest swelled up with the right to protect her. The right to…marry her.
But that right is something I’m going to get from her father.
I don’t particularly care if he approv
es of me or not. Her approval is all I need. But I could see the furrow in her brow when I brought up her father. She’s still a young girl and living with the man. Of course she doesn’t want to alienate him. It’s her father. I never knew mine, but they must have some kind of relationship that she doesn’t want to lose. So here I am, prepared to play nice when I really want to be back in bed with Ophelia.
I’m either going to walk out of the office with his blessing to marry Ophelia.
Or I’m going to marry her without the blessing.
I’d prefer the former, but I’m making her mine, come hell or high water. There’s a good chance this could jeopardize my mother’s job, so I’ve already vowed to take care of her. I will provide for the women in my life, in spades. They just have to trust in me.
I stop outside the door and knock firmly.
“Come in,” he says tightly.
The floor creaks under my boots as I walk into the office and close the door behind me, falling into one of the chairs facing his desk. His hair is messy, like he’s been doing his best to pull it out, the corners of his mouth turned down.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands, slamming a fist down on the desk. “I should call the fucking police.”
“Why haven’t you?”
His gaze flickers with embarrassment. “Ophelia is eighteen. And she didn’t appear to have been…coerced.”
Satisfaction rolls through me. “No. She definitely wasn’t coerced.” I observe him a moment. Money. This guy has lots of it. Privilege sits on his shoulders like two gold bars. I feel pretty out of place among the opulence of his office, but I’d die before letting him know it.
“Well,” he snaps. “Why are you here? To brag? You obviously accomplished what you came here tonight to do.”
“Not by a long shot,” I say in a low tone. “This isn’t a one-night stand.”