Claiming His Forever: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  I’ve always liked that. It helps me think, to blot out the background noise of my thoughts – of my father’s memory, of the Cartel man who assaulted mother – and focus on my work.

  Artie sits opposite me, pouring himself a small glass of whiskey. He cocks his eyebrow and I nod, and he pours me a small glass. He always knows to just pour me a small glass.

  I refuse to be a drunk like my father, God rest him.

  I sip the whiskey, letting it burn down my throat and into my belly.

  “Reckon we should call it a night, boss?” Artie says, eyes shimmering as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

  I smirk, gesturing to the ceiling, to the club.

  “Got a date, Artie?” I ask.

  “One or two,” he grins. “But I’ll keep on until sunrise if that’s what it takes.”

  “There’s nothing else we can do,” I sigh. “Let’s put the boys on it overnight, expanding our search zone. The fact is, Maury knows this city better than most. If he doesn’t want to be found, it’s going to be damn difficult to find him. I’ll call my contacts at the police and have them keep their eyes peeled for him, too.”

  “Good idea,” Artie says. “But in the meantime, wanna come and talk to some lovely ladies with me?”

  He’s teasing, knowing I’m going to tell him no.

  I’ve never shown interest in the loose women who frequent these clubs, with their skirts riding up to their crotches and their thin legs on display. They don’t flood me with the same irrepressible need that Kimberly’s thick, grab-me thighs ignite in me.

  “I found a girl, Artie,” I tell him.

  He freezes for a moment, his whiskey glass held aloft.

  “Seriously?” he says a moment later. “That’s amazing, boss.”

  I nod, taking another sip of whiskey.

  My body buzzes pleasantly, but I won’t make the same mistake Maury or my father did, chasing the buzz, seeking to increase it until increasing it becomes impossible.

  “She’s everything I could’ve wished for,” I say passionately, aching for her just by simply talking about her.

  “I’m happy for you,” he says. “You deserve it. She must be one special lady to make you look twice.”

  “She’s special, alright,” I growl. “She’s like—hell, Artie. I don’t know how to explain it. She makes me feel like a child in some ways. Everything is new. Everything is exciting. I’d kill any man who touched her. That’s how I know it’s serious. I’ve never felt possessive over a woman before—I’ve never felt anything for a woman before.”

  I place my whiskey glass down, searching Artie’s eyes for any sign that he’s silently mocking me, judging me for this show of emotion.

  But Artie is my most trusted man.

  I may not have known him for as long as Maury, but he’s ten times the man that junkie is.

  Artie smiles, knocking back more whiskey.

  I wave a hand at the door.

  “Go on,” I tell him. “Don’t keep your dates waiting.”

  He stands up, grinning, but then leans forward and bows his head.

  “Kristian,” he says.

  I flinch at the use of my name.

  Even though I’ve urged him to use it many times – but only in private – he rarely does.

  “I want to pledge my life to your lady, just as my life is pledged to yours,” he says. “Just as I’d die to protect you from harm, I’d die to protect your lady – and any children you might have – just the same. Let me make the pledge in blood.”

  I stand up and walk around the desk, clapping my hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

  “I appreciate your offer, Artie,” I tell him. “I really do. And I don’t mean to offend you. But I don’t need any help protecting my lady. I’d tear this city to bloody strips if someone tried to harm her.”

  Artie bows his head.

  “Of course,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me …”

  I chuckle.

  “You’re excused, alright,” I smirk, taking my cellphone from my inside jacket pocket. “I’ve got plans of my own this evening.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kimberly

  I stand at Jackie’s bedroom door, cradling Tinkerbell to my chest as Jackie dances in front of her canvas. That really is what it looks like, the way she moves as she paints, sometimes pausing to tilt her head at her work.

  It’s a dance.

  She’s upturned her bed and placed it against the wall, gathering her dresser drawers and her belongings beneath it. The rest of the room is a makeshift studio, the floors covered in paint-spattered newspaper.

  The canvas is large, and slowly – stroke by stroke – a gorgeous, surreal ocean scene is emerging.

  I spot us all standing on the edge of the yacht, looking down on a glittering sea. But there are impossible things about the painting, too, like the sunlight flourishing beneath the yacht like liquid fire.

  Jackie pauses, turning to me breathlessly.

  I love seeing her like this, her smile wide and irrepressible, her cheeks flaming red with the fire of her creativity.

  “I don’t know what this is,” she says. “But I like it, Kimmy. I really like it. Something about the boat – about Carmela – it just inspired me, you know?”

  “Well, keep going,” I say. “Go for as long as you can. Don’t let it fade.”

  She nods. I’m repeating her own words back to her, reminding her that she can do this.

  Tinkerbell gives a short yap when my cellphone buzzes from my pocket.

  I must still be really needy and hungry from the closeness on the yacht because the vibration makes my sex tingle and dance. My clit has been an urgent, hot point of pleasure ever since the changing room, when his bare chest was pressed up against me, hot and compelling, commanding every vein in my body.

  I take out my phone, and glance at it.

  It’s Kris.

  A pit swirled in my belly as I watched his car pull away, missing him before he’d even left the parking lot.

  It should be impossible after knowing somebody for such short a time.

  But I don’t care.

  I know I feel it. I know it’s real.

  That’s all that matters.

  I walk into my bedroom and close the door, placing Tinkerbell down as I swipe answer on my cellphone. My hand is trembling as I bring it to my ear.

  I need to calm down, but the tremors of the closeness in the yacht are still ricocheting through me. They light up parts of me that have never been touched before, let alone set ablaze in the way Kris does.

  “Hello?” I murmur.

  “I’m sending a car to pick you up,” he growls. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  I let out a whimper, remembering when I told him I was ready on the yacht. But that was different. That was in the midst of our lust when I felt like any moment I could erupt and sink the whole freaking boat.

  “Kristian,” I murmur, dropping onto my bed.

  Tinkerbell sits at my feet, looking curiously up at me.

  “Kimberly,” he says, voice rumbling. “I know you’ve spent your whole life never being told you’re beautiful. I hate that. I fucking despise it. It’s not fair—it’s not true. You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, you’re kind, you’re loyal. You’re everything I need for the mother of my children. But tonight, I need your body. Your curvy, round, full body. It’s driving me insane, thinking about how tight and hot you’re going to be when I thrust deep inside of you.”

  “But what if I can’t?” I say, leaping to my feet.

  I wander to the window and look out into the night.

  The apartment building opposite is a tapestry of lit and unlit windows.

  “You will,” he snaps. “Because I own you, and it’s what I’m telling you to do. If I have to spend twenty-four hours easing myself into your wet virgin cunt, I will. And I’ll enjoy every damn second of it. Now be a good girl – the good girl I know you want to be, for me – and tell me you’ll come.” />
  I turn, glancing at my full-length mirror. I’m wearing a hoodie and jeans, and I’m not wearing any makeup. The first word that comes to mind is frumpy.

  I hate it just as much as Kris says he does, this instinct I have to put myself down.

  I have to start believing what he tells me.

  “I just need to check with Jackie,” I murmur.

  “Of course,” Kris says. “Call me back.”

  He hangs up and I scoop up Tinkerbell again, cradling her to my chest.

  I return to the living room and then Jackie’s bedroom door. She’s standing back from her work, her paintbrush held like a pistol, her head tilted as she appraises the canvas. She’s added some stunningly detailed fireflies to the scene.

  “I know, it doesn’t fit,” she says. “I can always change it.”

  “Don’t,” I tell her. “It adds to the surrealism.”

  She nods. “Awesome.”

  “Um, Jacks?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was thinking of maybe spending the night with Kris.”

  “Okay, sure,” Jackie says, still staring at her painting.

  She pauses, and then something clicks, and she wheels on me.

  “Wait a sec,” she says, pacing over to me. “Do you mean spending the night, or do you mean spending the night?”

  “Um, the second one?” I laugh.

  She walks over to me but stops just short so that she doesn’t get paint any on me or Tinkerbell.

  “You don’t seem very happy about it,” she murmurs.

  “No, no, it’s not that,” I say. My voice rises and my cheeks bloom red, filled with a fierce fire. “I want to do it, Jacks. I really want to go to him, to be with him. I want to feel sexy and alive. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just that loser girl who called up the fast food joint expecting it to be her prom date.”

  “Fucking Aaron Fitzgerald,” Jackie hisses. “If I ever see him, sis, I’m going to jam this paintbrush so far up his ass his eyeballs will be my canvas.”

  “Jeez, Jacks,” I giggle. “Seems a little extreme.”

  “Would you agree that Kris and Aaron are not the same person?”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but laugh.

  “Yes, Jackie,” I say in a student-to-teacher way. “Kris and Aaron are two very different people.”

  “So why on earth would you think that Kris sees you the same way as that dickhead did? As far as I can tell, Kris really likes you. He’s already made a commitment to you.”

  “It’s not that,” I murmur. “It’s not—you know, the emotional stuff. I trust that. I believe in it. Maybe that makes me crazy because we only met so recently, but I don’t care. There’s something inside of me – call it a soul, my heart, whatever – that just knows that Kris is the man for me.”

  “What is it, then?” Jackie says.

  I shoot her a look.

  “Oh,” she murmurs.

  “Oh, exactly,” I say.

  “You’re worried that, because it’s your first time, certain things won’t – um – happen?”

  She stumbles on the word happen.

  I can tell she was going to say fit.

  And that is my worry.

  That I will disappoint him.

  “You don’t have to go and see Kris tonight,” Jackie says a moment later. “You can tell him no. If you want to wait. If he tells you to go fuck yourself, then you know he’s not the man for you after all. But if you really want to go—”

  “I do,” I say, unable to hold it in anymore. My voice soars and Tinkerbell yips. “More than anything. If you remove my nerves from the equation, I want to be there right now.”

  “Then do it,” Jackie says. “Throw yourself into the experience. See what happens. The thing is, Kimmy, I know you.”

  “Better than anyone,” I say passionately.

  “And I’ve never seen you like this before. Maybe it’s only been a short amount of time, but I can see how much this means to you. You owe it to yourself to try. If you didn’t want to, fine, that’d be one thing. But letting anxiety hold you back. Fuck anxiety, remember?”

  I giggle, nodding.

  It was what I said to her when she had her first art showing and she was too terrified to go and mingle with the guests. She was just part of a larger show, one artist among many, but the nerves still caused her to question everything the same way I am now.

  “Fuck anxiety,” I repeat. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Jacks.”

  She blows me a kiss, grinning, and I turn and walk back into my bedroom.

  I sit on my bed and take out my cellphone, hovering my thumb over the call icon.

  Fuck. Anxiety.

  I press down and bring the phone to my ear. Kris answers midway through the second ring.

  “I want you,” I whisper. “I want us.”

  “So do I,” he growls. “More than anything. More than I want air. I’ve been dreaming about you all day. Should I send the car, Kimberly?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But give me a little while to get changed and do my hair. I want to look pretty for you.”

  “You’d look pretty anyway,” he tells me firmly, flooding my chest with starlight. “But I’m not going to argue with that. I’ll give you an hour. See you soon, my sweet little virgin.”

  “See you soon, Kris.”

  I hang up and chew my lower lip, but then I smile, and when it starts I can’t stop. My smile spreads further and further across my cheeks until I’m beaming like a fool.

  This is it. This is really it.

  The night I lose my virginity.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kristian

  I sit in the plush living room in the hotel suite, in a regal looking chair, one leg laid across the other, my fingertips tapping against my knee.

  Impatience surges through me each time I think of my woman, of the way she looked in that wetsuit, her curves highlighted and irresistible.

  But it’s not the impatience of a college frat boy or the immature fuck-head who would hurry a woman along. This is the impatience of a beast, stalking the jungle, predator’s eyes scanning for their prey, their mouth salivating when they think about the juiciness of their quarry.

  My cock gives another insistent throb when I hear the private penthouse elevator make a ding noise, announcing Kimberly’s arrival.

  I stand, glancing briefly around the living room. Three regal looking couches and chairs are laid out across a Victorian style rug. The floor is a marble. A miniature chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The suite is fifteen thousand dollars a night, and everything is of the highest quality, as befits my queen. Little diamond light glinting along the walls.

  But nothing is brighter than the need which flares alight within me when I lay eyes upon Kimberly.

  Her hair falls in curls down to her shoulders, gorgeous ringlets that make me want to run my hands through them. She’s wearing a subtle touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her naturally captivating features. Even underneath her heavy winter coat – a coat that covers her from neck to knee – I can see the outline of her enthralling form.

  My body hungers for her, growling imploringly.

  I need her as I’ve never needed anything or anyone before.

  I stalk forward, my heart thumping heavily, as though my seed is fueling it, sending all the tension to my manhood.

  My manhood presses against my pants, my engorged helm pushing against my zipper.

  “Wait,” Kimberly murmurs when I’m close. “I want to show you what I’m wearing.”

  My insides stir.

  Whatever it is, I know I’m going to like it.

  And like is a damn understatement.

  She unzips her coat and lets it drop to the floor, standing there in a frilly pink prom dress. It’s cut low to show a mind-fucking slice of her cleavage, her tits pushed together, and then it blooms to highlight the ampleness of her hips. The material dances in the night.

  She bites her lip, gazing at me, mo
ving from foot to foot.

  “I never had a chance to wear it,” she murmurs. “Do I look silly? I look silly, don’t I?”

  “You look …”

  For once, I can’t find the words.

  My voice trails off into a shivering snarl as I close the distance between us.

  I bring my hands to her hips, pressing through the silky fabric until I can feel her flesh beneath.

  “You would’ve been the most beautiful girl at that prom, Kimberly,” I growl. “By far. It wouldn’t have even been close. You look incredible. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. I don’t know how to explain it. You look sweet. Fuck, you look like my horny virgin, ready to finally become a woman.”

  She moans as I press down harder on her hips, and then I pull her toward me, pressing our bodies close together. She gasps and writhes against me as I slide my hands around her ass cheeks, squeezing her through the smooth fabric of the dress.

  I squeeze onto the juicy round bulbs of her ass, keeping my eyes fixated on her the whole time, mapping the course of her pleasure across her features.

  “You really like it?” she moans, twitching against me. “Oh, God, that feels good. That feels really freaking good.”

  “Follow me,” I snarl, somehow releasing her grab-me-hard ass cheeks and taking her hand instead. “And yes, I like it. I love it. You’re angelic.”

  I lead her through the hotel suite, from the living room, past the marble-surfaced kitchen, past the deluxe bathroom with a hot tub and a sauna, and a steam room.

  Finally, we arrive at the bedroom door, tall and wide and carved of intricately worked oak.

  “This place is amazing,” Kimberly murmurs, giving my hand a squeeze.

  I look down at her with a smirk.

  “You haven’t seen the best part yet.”

  I open the door and wave her inside, taking the opportunity to grind forward and push my hips toward her.

  I drag my manhood across her belly.

  She whimpers, glancing at me for a moment, and then away. She looks to the bed. It’s a four poster bed, carved out of a fairytale.

  I’ve laid rose petals all over the carmine sheets.

  Soft light shimmers across the silk, inviting us.

  The base of my cock throbs so hard I almost snap right there. I almost let out the monster inside of me—the monster she makes me.