Claiming His Forever: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  Pain pulses through my chest, my eyes tingling with the suggestion of tears. I want to be strong.

  “You’re a dead man,” Kris says calmly, his voice matter of fact and violent, “if you make another comment about her again. You shut your fucking mouth about my woman.”

  “Don’t make threats, Kris.”

  “Boss, I’m sorry,” another man whines, his voice thick and raspy with a smoker’s cough. “He’s my dealer and I said, have you got any speed, and he was like, yeah, yeah, we got speed. So I followed them and one of them knew me, and they made me find you.”

  “That’s right,” Aaron says, his voice brimming with the same pride I remember from high school.

  After prom, I’d run into him and the cheerleader at the mall, passing by the food court. I walked by, my head held high, desperate to seem like I didn’t care. But then Aaron would see me, and he’d nudged his girlfriend. As I walked right past them they’d started to make horrible oinking noises.

  I kept my head held high, but that just made it easier for the tears to slide down my cheeks.

  “So open up before I blow this door down. I’ve got my whole crew with me.”

  His crew.

  Aaron is a drug dealer now.

  I always knew he’d end up doing something like this. Most bullies like him do.

  A twisted part of me is glad. I never should’ve let him make me feel small.

  “Maury, how’d the fuck you know I was here?”

  “Your little friend,” Aaron answers for him. “Winnie—Vinnie. Whatever the fuck his name is.”

  “Is he alive?” Kris snarls, tightening his grip on the vase.

  His knuckles are turning white with how hard he’s gripping the solid gold. His muscles throb against the fabric of his jacket, his shoulders bulging, veins dancing in his neck. It’s as if any second his muscles could explode out of his skin. His eyes blaze.

  “Alive enough,” Aaron says, chuckling. “Now, you’ve got until the count of five before I huff and puff, Krissie, my man.”

  “Does he know who I am?” Kris says.

  “Yeah, boss,” Maury says. “He says he don’t care. You’re just a rich man like everybody else.”

  Kris shakes his head slowly, his eyes on the floor.

  I wonder if he’s going to glance over here, but he seems in complete disbelief that somebody would be stupid enough to do something like this to him. He looks like the most alpha lion in the region getting ready to defend his territory.

  Animal awareness floods his expression a moment later.

  “And he thinks he can get away with this?” Kris snarls.

  “You and the girl, you know, home invasion sorta deal,” Maury murmurs, his voice trembling.

  I can hear regret and sorrow quivering in his voice.

  He’s the man who left the drugs at the houses, the drugs Tinkerbell almost ate.

  And now he’s led them here, to us, on one of the most important nights in our relationship.

  I want to scream at Kris to make Maury pay, but he sounds too scared.

  Aaron is worse.

  “Gonna do some pretty nasty shit if you don’t give us what we want,” Aaron says.

  “And what do you want?” Kris growls, working his jaws from side to side.

  “One million dollars in cash.”

  “Such a little sum,” Kris chuckles, the corners of his lips twitching upward like a beast getting ready to bite. “A lot of effort to go through for that, Aaron, but I suppose little boys can’t be expected to know such things.”

  “Careful,” Aaron snarls through the door. “There’s four of us out here and we’re armed.”

  “One million,” Kris booms, slamming his hand against the door along with his laughter.

  I wonder what he’s doing – if he’s gone mad – but then I see him drifting off to the side of the door. He makes himself as flat as possible, a hard feat when his muscles are straining with everything they have to erupt from his crinkled gray suit.

  His suit looks like armor as he gets ready to defend me.

  “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Aaron growls. “I’ll take you for ten, twenty, whatever I want.”

  “I’ll take your suit to the dry cleaner’s after I dust you off, you little shit,” Kris says.

  His smirk twitches when Maury laughs from the other side of the door, a coughing old-Mob sort of laugh. For the first time since I met him, I can see the Mafia in my man, the glint of the Don in his eyes. I stare, fascinated.

  “I’m warning you—”

  “And I’ll tell the guy, ‘Hey, this suit belonged to a real fucking loser, so don’t tire yourself out trying to wash out all the blood.’”

  Maury laughs again and then cries out as though Aaron has just struck him for the infraction.

  I clasp my hands together, my whole body tingling and alive, but with the urge to run away this time. I need to get away from Aaron and even Maury, and I need to just be alone with Kris, my man, the way we were supposed to be alone before this hell happened.

  I almost let out a gasp of pain and adrenalin, but I don’t want Kris to hear me. He’ll tell me to close and lock the door.

  He doesn’t understand that I can’t look away.

  “I’m serious,” Aaron says. “I’m not—”

  “I’ll tell the guy, ‘The stupid piece of shit thought I’d give him one million. So I just gave him one right between the eyes. With his own gun.’”

  “Motherfucker.”

  I leap back at the bang, my heart thudding in my chest. It’s so loud, the sound bouncing around the room.

  Bang—a gunshot.

  Terror ricochets through me.

  What if Kris is bleeding out from a gunshot right now, and I’m in here, doing nothing?

  Why the heck did this have to happen when I’m wearing my prom dress?

  The universe must freaking hate me.

  I walk over to the door – my dress ruffling– and peek out a tiny little bit.

  There’s a hole in the door, letting in light and the barrel of a gun. Behind the gun, I can see someone’s face, but only a little part of it.

  The chin, the lips, the smile.

  It’s Aaron.

  I’ll remember that douche’s face.

  “Little Krissiieeeeeee,” Aaron sings. “Come out, come out wherever you—Argh.”

  Kris moves faster than I can even believe, all I can do is stare and wonder at how he does it.

  In the time it takes me to snap back to reality, he’s punched his hand through the hole in the door and grabbed Aaron. He’s pulled him – so violently the back of his suit tears apart to reveal his shirt underneath – right up against the door, yanking the door off the frame with the force of the movement.

  Kris ducks behind the door, forcing Aaron into position by twisting his hand through the hole in the smashed door.

  Aaron cries out and flails.

  Gunshots explode against the wall, plasterboard flying, the door making it impossible for Aaron to hit Kris.

  The gun starts to make clicking noises as if it’s empty, and then Kris must squeeze Aaron’s hand even harder. Aaron cries out and there’s a bony snap noise.

  He handles the man and the weight of the door easily, his body honed and ready.

  “Do we shoot?” one of the men asks, voice shaky.

  “Don’t fucking shoot,” Aaron cries. “You’ll hit me, you idiot. Let go of my hand, man. Fuck.”

  “If you ever want to wipe your ass again, kid,” Kris snaps, “you better tell your friends to drop their weapons.”

  “Drop them,” Aaron whines. “Holy shit. Motherfuck—my hand, man. You’re breaking my hand.”

  “Listen to your boss, gentleman,” Kris snarls. “Or this will get even bloodier. I’m fine if it has to go that way. But I won’t be held responsible for your lives if you choose to make this violent.”

  “You think we’re scared of you?” one of the men whines, his voice trembling.

  Hi
s question is answered by the way his voice shivers and quakes.

  What must they see?

  Their boss from the back, pulled up against the door, the door hanging off its hinges as Kris jostles Aaron.

  “Drop the fucking guns,” I scream.

  I don’t even know where the words come from. They explode from someplace deep inside of me.

  They laughed and oinked at me, and I just walked away.

  I thought they were right. That’s the evil truth. I thought I was fat and ugly and deserved to be treated that way.

  But Kris, my man – my protector – he’s made me see how wrong I was.

  “Or he’ll kill you, Aaron,” I snap.

  “Jesus, Kimberly, I’m sorry,” Aaron whines. “Men—drop your weapons. Please.”

  “What about if we still want this cash?” one of the men says.

  His voice is smoother, older, than the others. It’s the sort of gruff voice I can imagine belonging to a coconspirator instead of a henchman.

  He doesn’t sound like a goon. He sounds like he wants to make a play of his own.

  I swallow, and I stalk from the bathroom and toward the golden vase Kristian dropped.

  Kris twitches, turning to me, his face stern. I know he wanted to look back at me when I shouted, but he needs to stay focused.

  But now he glares.

  I shake my head at him. I need to help. I can’t let this private heaven of ours turn to hell.

  With my prom dress rustling absurdly loudly, I lean down and scoop up the vase. My arms tremble at the weight of it, my fingers gripping the cold metal so tight my fingertips ache.

  I move to the other side of the door.

  The whole time, Kris’ eyes blaze at me, his jaw tight, his expression searing.

  “What?” Aaron murmurs after a pause.

  “Well, he’s only got you,” the same man says. “What’s to stop us from putting a bullet in your head and taking him for ourselves?”

  “No—wait,” Aaron cries.

  “Wait,” I yell at the same time, my voice sharper than I intended.

  They can’t do this, not here, not on this night. All my life, people have done this—they’ve walked over my sacred moments as though my life was just secondary to theirs.

  I’ve always felt like an extra, ignored.

  But not with Kris. Not here.

  I hate them.

  “You’ll have to kill us,” I shout. “If you don’t, people will come looking—an army. You have no idea what a force the Cameno Family’s army is, you stupid man. You’ll be hunted to the ends of the earth. Nowhere will be safe for you. Ever. Nowhere.”

  Kris’s mouth falls open, twitching into a smirk at the same time. He nods toward the bathroom, but I stubbornly stay where I am, the golden vase clutched to my chest.

  “Then maybe we’ll kill you,” the man says a moment later.

  “Then you become prey,” Kris snarls. “I’ve got a thousand men who will lay down their lives to take yours. But you can challenge me if you wish.”

  “What?” Maury gasps, his voice cowed.

  I mouth to Kris, What does that mean?

  He waves a hand at me, his face fierce. And yet he still has a shadow of a twitch there, his eyes blazing with the suggestion of withheld pride.

  “Yeah—what?” the man chuckles.

  “It’s a bare-knuckled fight, either to the death or until the loser quits. Whoever wins gets to rule the Cameno Family. It’s how Don Kris won his position. Against me,” Maury says.

  “And you fought well,” Kris snarls. “No matter what’s happened, Maury, that’s still the truth.”

  “Just me against you?” the man laughs.

  “If you’re ready to taste blood,” Kris growls.

  “And if I win,” the man goes on. “Everything you have, it will all be mine. Including that young thing, I saw with you?”

  “You shut your fucking mouth,” Kris snarls.

  “Nah ah, Kris, let’s be civil. If I beat you and become Don, I get a taste of that curvy little young thing you’ve got on your arm. That seems fair to me.”

  Time slows down as I stare. I stare as Kris ducks his shoulder and drives into the door, using it as a battering ram to charge into the hallway.

  His roar floods the room louder than the gunshots did, and suddenly I feel silly, standing here with my vase.

  I scream at Kris to get back, to stop. He doesn’t have to defend my honor. I just want us to get out of here alive.

  But Kris will never let another man talk to me like that.

  Even if our romance has been short – intense and bright and real – I know that about my man.

  Now he’s charging toward violent men with guns and I don’t know what to do.

  “Kris,” I cry, as the first gunshot explodes.

  There’s one more, but then somebody is screaming, high-pitched and shrill. For a confused second, I think it’s Jackie. Terror twists through me.

  But then I listen closer.

  It’s the man, the one who taunted Kris.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kristian

  I move like an animal, my pulse steady and my rage that of a wolf.

  I’m alive, fucking burning up from the inside.

  Nobody ever talks about my woman like that. Nobody implies that they’ll claim her in the way I’ve claimed her—the way I’ll always claim her.

  It awakes the primal piece of me that Kimberly has claimed in return.

  I have to fight – to kill if necessary – to defend her.

  First her bully, the scumbag, and now this motherfucker.

  I push Aaron back and hear the men stumble, and spin and throw the door as hard as I can. The edge of it crashes into Aaron and sends them all toppling together.

  They collapse and some asshole starts shooting, the bullets hitting the wall.

  My woman is screaming and something in me aches to go to her, but I know I have to finish this.

  This is for her.

  Everything I do will always be for her.

  I’ve just put our first child in her belly, and now these monsters have come to try and take that away from us.

  I throw myself onto the flattened door, landing on my knees and crushing the tangled mass of them under my weight.

  “Boss, boss,” Maury gasps, trying to squirm out of one side. “Don’t hit me.”

  I must have that look in my eyes, the one he remembers from when I won my family. That was the last time my mind emptied like this.

  I feel like there’s beast blood pumping through my veins.

  I feel like I need to fuck Kimberly the moment she’s safe, hard, pound her so hard that her newly-used cunt gets that sweet creamy feeling again.

  I start swinging down at the door, just like it’s Whack-a-Mole.

  My fists crash through the door. I punch them in the face, neck, stomach, wherever my strikes land. They try to fight back at first. I can feel the power of them beneath the door, but they don’t have the primal protective urge that boils in my tense, tight body.

  I punch and roar and then they’re gasping, choking, and coughing.

  Their faces are bloody and spattered with little pieces of wood from the door.

  “Guns,” I snarl, my voice more beast than man.

  “Man, we can’t breathe under here,” the man moans, the one who insulted my woman.

  “Guns,” I repeat.

  “Fellas, you need to listen,” Maury says anxiously. “He’ll kill you if you make him ask you again.”

  “Alright—shit. Maury, we’re passing them up to you.”

  I keep my bloodied and shrapnel-covered fists ready to rain more punches down on them. Aaron is unconscious, but he’s breathing, making soft groaning noises.

  He’s a preppy looking fuck, his blonde hair quaffed. His muscles are strange looking, inflated almost. All of them are the same way.

  All of them are on steroids, the favorite drug of the bully.

  The men twist
and their guns scrape across the ground.

  Maury starts collecting them, muttering under his breath, counting. “Three guns for three men. What about Aaron’s?”

  “Empty,” the man says. “We all heard.”

  “Hmm,” I growl, staring down into the man’s face.

  He’s just a few years younger than me, I’d guess, his hair brown and flat across his forehead. He’s got a tattoo under his eye, a blood-red teardrop. His beard is wispy. He looks like what he is, a foolish cub trying to challenge his superior.

  My fingers twitch to throttle the life out of him.

  “Hey, man,” he says. “You’ve made your point. You know that, right? There’s nothing we can do. Look at us. We’re goddamned humiliated.”

  “Boss, I’m calling Artie. He’ll rally the troops.”

  I don’t acknowledge him.

  I drive my knee harder into the crumpled wood of the shattered door, driving more pressure against his chest. He gasps and his neck turns red, his eyes bulging.

  “You insulted my woman,” I growl. “Maury heard you. Your men heard you. I heard you. And most importantly, she heard you. Do you really think I can let you get away with that?”

  “Look, I’m sorry,” the man cries. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know she meant anything to you.”

  “She means everything to me,” I snarl, twisting my knee, pressing more and more of my weight on him.

  “Okay, okay,” the man wheezes. “I’m sorry. Can you hear me, Kimberly—it’s Kimberly, right? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  My ears twitch as the vase hits the floor behind me. Kimberly is walking into the corridor. I can hear her dress rustling, closer until she’s standing right over the top of this mess.

  Her sex scent whirls in the air and the carnal part of me almost snaps at the thought of them smelling it.

  I growl and drive my knee harder.

  He moans and twists, his steroid muscles no use to him now.

  “He would kill you,” my woman snaps from beside me.

  She speaks like a mafia queen.

  She wears her royalty well.

  “If I asked him to. Because you insulted me. And no man – no matter how funny you think you are, or how powerful, or how fucking important – gets to talk to me that way anymore. Got it, dickhead?”