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Jack rips my panties off in a quick twist of his wrist, raining a stinging slap down on my buttocks, which are completely exposed to the pool, the backyard beyond.
“Go on, baby. Rub that hot cunt all over my fucking tongue.” Another two quick swats of his palm make me whimper. “Do it. Little girls who suck good cock like that get rewards. Don’t you want a reward from your Daddy? Don’t you need it, with that dripping wet pussy?”
“Yes!” I cry out, trembling, lowering my sex to his mouth. I intend to go slow, to feel my way through this new act, but the suction from Jack’s lips pulls me in, blows a fuse in my brain and my thighs spread wider, hips working desperately to embrace the delicious pain and escape it at the same time. “Jack, oh Jack, oh Jack.”
His grip is tight on the flesh of my bottom, urging me to ride faster, faster, and I do, because his tongue is stiff on my clit and I’m already so incredibly turned on from watching him burn toward a climax. My orgasm is already knocking on the door, asking to come through, and I fumble for the knob, digging my fingernails into the cushion and bearing down, grinding that swollen bud on his upper lip, tongue, anywhere I can find friction, and finally the bliss clouds my thoughts, pleasure lifting my body high and rattling me. There’s no shame, no hesitation, just me raking my sex up and back over Jack’s groaning mouth, his finger tucking into my virgin back entrance and shocking me into climaxing harder, louder, eruptions in my lower body tightening my muscles everywhere, everywhere, locking me in a state of animal lust, until my body finally gives out and I go limp.
A few minutes later, as Jack carries me toward the house cradled against his chest, he says, “Starting tonight, you’re sleeping in my bed. End of story.”
I don’t argue.
In fact, I’m pretty sure tonight is only going to be the first time. The first time of many. And I want that. I want to call this man mine. My heart already does. But there is still a tiny voice in my head telling me to hold back. Jack placed conditions on my financial freedom. After what he confessed to me about his parents, I know he probably did that because of a deep-seated fear of abandonment. I sympathize with that. Still, if I allow him to control me from the beginning, will it become a pattern? I need a little more time before I surrender myself completely to this love glowing inside of me.
Unfortunately, time isn’t always a given…
12
Jack
Just after sunset, we eat pasta for dinner on the balcony attached to my bedroom, which I’m already mentally referring to as our bedroom. Even if Maisy isn’t ready to do so yet. There is still something holding her back and I know what that something is, though I don’t want to acknowledge it. Do I have a choice, however?
I owe her two million dollars. In order to keep her in my life, I told her she could have it in portions, spaced out over twenty months. One hundred thousand monthly. My way of guaranteeing she couldn’t leave me.
Selfishly, I want her to forget the debt entirely and just be mine. If she did that, she would have access to billions.
Everything I own would be hers.
Ours.
When she came here, she wanted to know the real me. I didn’t know how to show her that. Or whether the real me was a bastard…or a decent soul. But being around her goodness has made me hunger to be a better man. It’s made me realize he’s been inside me all along, subdued without her light. Now I realize the right thing to do, the way to prove to Maisy I’m worthy, is to hand over the two million. All of it. There’s no way of knowing Maisy really wants me unless she chooses me, even with a tricked out bank account. Even with the freedom to do whatever she wants.
What if she doesn’t choose me though?
That possibility…it fucking terrifies me. Riddles me with grapefruit-sized holes.
I’ve survived my share of abandonments, but I won’t survive hers. No way.
Ironically, I think if I don’t hand over the money, I’ll lose her, too.
Both ways, I could lose her—and I can’t breathe for that lack of control.
I lose count of how many times I make love to her that night. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m making love. I fucking love her. An out-of-my-mind, starved-even-when-I’m-devouring-her love that is endless and deep and uncontainable.
I lick her pussy until she screams. That pink little asshole, too.
I bury my teeth in her shoulder and rail her from behind.
I throw her up on my cock and watch her tight ass writhe up and back as she rides me in a reverse cowgirl position—and then I whirl her around, throw her down onto her back, fold her in half and pound her like a madman. At some point, I carry her to the shower and soap my come from her body, rinsing her down. As soon as the water turns off, we immediately start in on each other again. We don’t even make it to the bed, Maisy kneeling on the floor to give me head, followed by me drilling her roughly against the wall, shouting for God in her neck.
