“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.”