Page 8 of His to Save
I lick a stripe up her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse hammering under my tongue. Then I thrust forward, breaking through her barrier in one firm stroke. She cries out, back arching, fingers clawing at me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter, holding still, buried to the hilt in her virgin heat. "So tight. So perfect. Made for my cock." I press my forehead against hers, our breath mingling. "You okay, little girl?"
She nods, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught between her teeth. "It hurts, but..." Her hips shift experimentally, taking me impossibly deeper. "But I like it."
Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me. I start to move, shallow thrusts at first, letting her adjust to my size. But I can't maintain gentleness for long. Not with her virgin pussy gripping me like a silken vice. Not with her little whimpers of pain-pleasure in my ear.
"Daddy's going to make you come so hard, little girl." My pace increases, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Marking her. Claiming her. "Going to fill this tight pussy up. Put my baby in you."
Her eyes fly open at that, meeting mine with a mix of shock and unmistakable arousal. "Yes," she breathes, the word barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Please."
That single word—that permission—unleashes the beast. I fuck her with abandon, lifting her slightly off the counter with each powerful thrust. One hand moves between us, thumb finding her clit, circling it roughly.
"Come for me," I demand, feeling her inner walls fluttering around my cock. "Come on Daddy's cock like a good girl."
She shatters, her back arching like a bow, a keening cry tearing from her throat. Her pussy clamps down on me like a vise, milking my cock, drawing me deeper. I growl against her neck, teeth scraping her delicate skin before biting down hard where her neck meets her shoulder. Marking her. Mine.
My orgasm hits like a freight train. I slam in to the hilt, grinding against her, emptying myself deep inside her unprotected womb. Jet after jet of hot cum, painting her insides white, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
"Mine," I groan against the mark I've left on her skin. "All fucking mine."
We stay like that, panting, joined together, her legs wrapped around my waist, my cock still pulsing inside her. I can feel our combined fluids leaking out around me, dripping onto the counter. The thought of my seed inside her, possibly taking root, makes my cock twitch with renewed interest despite having just come harder than I ever have in my life.
I lift my head to look at her, expecting fear or regret after the frenzy has passed. Instead, I find her staring at me with wonder, with heat, with something that looks dangerously close to devotion. Her fingers trace my jaw, feather-light.
"Yours," she whispers, and it's the sweetest fucking sound I've ever heard.
I lift her carefully, still buried inside her, and carry her toward the bedroom.Mybed. Where she belongs. Where I'll spend the rest of the night teaching her exactly what it means to be mine.
She's ruined for anyone else now.
Just like I planned.
five
. . .
Priscilla
I wakeup sore in places I've never been sore before. Between my legs throbs with a delicious ache that reminds me exactly what happened last night. My first time. With a virtual stranger who kidnapped me "for my protection," then fucked me on his kitchen counter while calling himself Daddy. The same stranger who's currently wrapped around me like a human straightjacket, one massive arm pinning me to his chest, one thick thigh thrown over mine. His body radiates heat like a furnace, his steady breathing ruffling my hair. I should be terrified. I should be planning my escape. Instead, I'm replaying every moment of last night, my body already humming for more.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting the bedroom in a soft glow that makes everything seem dreamlike. But the evidence of what happened is undeniable—the dried blood on my inner thighs, the bruises blooming on my hips where his fingers dug in, the tender spot on my neck where he bit me. Marked me.Claimedme.
I gave my virginity to a man I've known for less than twenty-four hours. A man who admitted to stalking me for weeks. Aman who growled about breeding me while he thrust inside me, filling me with his seed. And I loved every second of it.
The thought should horrify me. Instead, it sends another pulse of heat between my legs.
Carefully, I extract myself from Woodrow's grip, holding my breath when he stirs. He mumbles something incoherent, his hand reaching for me before settling on the warm spot I've left behind. His face in sleep is softer, the hard lines of his jaw and brow relaxed. The scar across his eyebrow stands out starkly against his tan skin. I have a sudden urge to trace it with my finger, to learn the story behind it, to know everything about this man who's turned my world upside down.
I resist, slipping from the bed as quietly as possible. My legs wobble beneath me, unfamiliar muscles protesting. I glance down at myself—naked except for the oversized t-shirt I'd put on after our second round of…whatever that was. Sex seems too simple a word for what happened between us.
The floor creaks under my feet as I pad to the bathroom. In the mirror, a stranger stares back at me. My hair is a tangled mess, my lips still swollen from his kisses. The mark on my neck is a deep purple, unmistakable. A brand. I touch it gently, remembering the moment his teeth sank into my flesh, the sharp pain that somehow heightened everything else I was feeling.
I use the bathroom, wash my face, finger-comb my hair. Normal actions that feel surreal in this situation. My reflection offers no answers to the questions swirling in my mind. Who is Woodrow, really? Why me? What happens now?
The cabin is quiet as I tiptoe down the hallway, giving Woodrow's sleeping form a wide berth. I need to think, need to clear my head without his overwhelming presence clouding my judgment. Without his scent making me dizzy with want.
The living room and kitchen are bathed in morning light, transforming the spaces that seemed so intimidating lastnight. The kitchen counter where he took my virginity gleams innocently in the sunlight. I blush at the memory, heat flooding my cheeks and other, lower places.
