His To Claim: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Read online

  I sit up, snapping my gaze to the other side of the room, expecting to see a gun or smoke from an explosion or a fire or something else cataclysmic, a portion of hell exploded into earth.

  But it’s none of that.

  Its Arturo, standing in front of the door he just bashed open with his fist, hitting it so hard that there’s a dent in the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls.

  He stands wreathed in light from the hallway, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s wearing his suit, but the material is crumpled, and his steel hair is swept messily to the side. He looks tired, and yet somehow focused and honed-in at the same time.

  His dark eyes glint as he stares across the room toward me.

  “I asked you a question, Aida,” he snaps.

  “What do you m-m-mean?” I whimper, his stern tone doing strange things to my body, fear warring with lust.

  My pussy gets tighter and gives a throbbing swell from deep within, as though some part of me is telling me that this is exactly the sort of man I need in my life, the sort of man who’s never going to take any shit, who always knows how to be in control, fierce and seething and hell-hot.

  Because he’ll make the best father.

  “What do I mean?” he says, smirking for a brief moment before wiping it clean and becoming as grim as death.

  He closes the door behind him and then, taking a key from his pocket, locks it with a click. I saw the lock earlier, but I couldn’t find the key, so I was forced to leave it unlocked. He replaces the key and strides over to the edge of the bed, glaring down at me, features etched in the darkness of the room, subtle blue moonlight touching him, making his hair look even more like glinting steel.

  “What do I mean?” he growls. “I’ll ask you one more time. What the fuck were you just doing?”

  My heart hammers in my chest, instincts flaring into me that I should run away from this man, flee his rage.

  He glares hard, paralyzing me with his indomitable attention.

  “Touching myself,” I whisper.

  He nods a matter of factly.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says. “I heard you from outside. You’re lucky I ordered my staff to steer clear from this room. Otherwise one of them might’ve heard you, too, and I would’ve been forced to do some very dark things to make up for it. You know those moans are just for me.”

  I bite my lip, my hole soaked, my lips swelling.

  “Where have you been all day?” I ask.

  In a sudden violent movement, he springs around the bed and leaps at me.

  Whoosh, he pulls the sheets away, revealing my bottomless thighs, my panties all twisted around from where I was touching myself.

  He stares hard for a few moments, jaw pulsing.

  “You don’t ask questions,” he tells me. “You do what I tell you when I tell you. You’re not in charge here, you wet-as-fuck virgin nympho. Turn on the light.”

  He turns without waiting for me to obey, walking across the room. I reach across and switch on the bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft yellow glow.

  Arturo grabs one of the armchairs and lifts it as though it weighs nothing, casually holding it by the arms as he carries it back over toward the bed and sets it down, adjusts it leisurely, and then sits down and lays his hands on the armrests.

  “Go on, then,” he snaps.

  “What?”

  “If you’re such a horny little thing, go ahead. Touch yourself. Make yourself come for me.”

  It’s like one of my romance-novel-fueled fantasies has come to life, but it aches and shimmers with so much more intensity in reality.

  My lips ache and pulse and beg me to scream at him, No, just take me, just fuck me with that big cock and put a baby in me.

  I still the words, nerves dancing in me.

  Fantasy and reality are two different things.

  There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to please him if I take the reins.

  It’s better to let him lead the way.

  “Did I stutter?” he growls. “Touch. Your. Virgin. Cunt.”

  I slide my hand down my body, toward my sex, staring into his eyes. They’re so hard and steely, so concentrated, as though whatever’s beyond the bedroom door – my parents, the mafia war, whatever dark business he’s been busy with all day – doesn’t exist.

  Just us.

  Only us.

  Forever.

  “Wait a second,” he says when I’m about to slip my hand down my panties—the lacy red ones he left for me along with the clothes.

  He leans forward and grabs them, his fingers brushing against my drenched hole, and then yanks them hard.

  They snap away, the fabric biting into my skin before it’s gone, a crumpled mess on the floor.

  “Ah,” I moan.

  He leans back, resting his hands on the armrests again. The only sign that he’s struggling to maintain himself is the way his fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching. Otherwise, he just stares, utterly in control.

  “Open your legs as wide as you can. I want that sticky hole gaping. And then focus on your clit. Don’t you dare touch that hole. I don’t want you cleaning up any of that wetness. That’s all for me.”

  I do as he says, spreading my knees and staring at him, wide eyed.

  “Do you have any idea how pretty your blue eyes are when you look like that?” he murmurs. “Fucking hell—”

  Something hardens in him, as though he realizes what he’s saying.

  “Cunt—touch it. Hurry the fuck up.”

  I’ve never met somebody as hot and cold as him, a raging emotional inferno one second and a blunt iceman the next.

  I press my finger on my clit and start rubbing it softly, tingles dancing up and down my thighs, all over my body.

  I rub harder, adding pressure, a moan escaping my lips.

  “No,” he says sternly. “You can make only noises when I give you permission.”

  I bite down, grinding my teeth as I work my fingers around my clit, teasing more and more buzzing pleasure out of the movements.

  The buzzing gets deeper and fiercer, as Arturo clenches his jaw, his fists, gazing at me so hard it’s like he’s going to tear in half.

  “Are you close?” he growls.

  I nod, fighting the urge to moan, moving my fingers quicker, firmer.

  “You’re about to cream for me?”

  “Mm-mm,” I sigh.

  “Good. Now stop. Stop, Aida.”

  It takes a gargantuan effort for me to remove my hands.

  “Put them at your sides.”

  I lay them sideways on the bed, grabbing big fistfuls of the sheets, unable to stop my thighs from squirming as the orgasm whispers and tickles me, as though telling me to come here, come closer, keep going … the fireworks are so close, just one more touch, just one more.

  “You’re mean,” I whimper.

  He smirks, not giving a single fuck.

  “Look at those juicy gorgeous thighs of yours,” he growls. “You really are a horny girl, aren’t you? Have you been waiting all your life to meet a man like me, Aida? Have you been waiting all your life to feel the pleasure you’ve only read about?”

  I nod, my throat closing with the force of his words, my thighs pressed together hard so that I can drive some of the tension into my aching pussy.

  “But …”

  “But what?” he snaps.

  “Not a man like you,” I breathe. “Just you, Arturo.”

  Light glints in his eyes. He smirks.

  And then he reaches across and softly runs the back of his hand across my cheek, as though I’m his pet, and the crazy part is I want to be his pet, at this moment.

  Later – one day – hopefully, we’ll be something else.

  But right now, with my pussy on fire and my thighs flooded with a million searing points, I want to be whatever the heck he needs me to.

  “Are you still close?” he asks, softly caressing my face.

  “Y-y
es,” I whimper.

  “Good.”

  In an instant, the affectionate Arturo vanishes and the mafia monster takes his place.

  He pounces onto the bed and grabs my thighs, lifting me so that my lower half feels as if it’s being dragged all the way to the ceiling. He doesn’t stoop to get access to my pussy. He just raises me up until I’m pressed right up against his face, my torso lying lopsided, my shoulders pinned hard against the bed at the unusual angle.

  “Argh,” he growls, opening his mouth and taking my sticky needy pussy, his tongue darting all over the place, his growls and feral thundering noises getting louder and more compulsive.

  All I can do is twist and squirm, trapped in his predator’s hands.

  He grabs my ass cheeks and squeezes them hard, pulling me harder against him, as though he wants to sink into my pussy.

  He licks my clit and my lips and then slides his tongue inside of me, pushing it deep, fucking me with it, in and out, over and over until the fierce burning becomes a cataclysm that claims my body.

  Everything tears apart.

  A pause—a breath.

  I’m whimpering and moaning and I can’t stop myself from making any noise, no matter how angry it will make him.

  All I can do is press my thighs against his shoulders in an effort not to fall from his embrace.

  His fingers sear into my ass cheeks, overlaying the flesh he spanked with new euphoric stinging places.

  I shift against him, gasping, unable to even moan now.

  He pushes deeper with his tongue, his lips pressed up against my pussy, consuming me like the juices of my core are his life essence.

  “Ah—ah—ah …”

  The orgasm slams into me with the force of a lightning bolt, captivating me, throttling me.

  I twist and writhe against his mouth, my hole fluttering around his tongue. He moves it in savage circles inside of me, as though trying to get close to that secret place inside of me, the one that’s clapping her hands right now, throwing a freaking party because this is it, she tells me, the first step that will make me a mother to this man’s children.

  That thought sends another wave of ecstasy barreling through me.

  “Oh, God,” I whimper as the orgasm starts to slow, as my bodily sensations return to orbit, as my breathing settles and I’m left panting on the bed.

  Arturo lets me go, dropping my thighs to the mattress.

  He stands up, his lips glistening with my wetness.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he breathes. “But you made a mistake, Aida.”

  “A m-mistake?”

  “You moaned without my permission. Now I’m going to give you a real reason to moan. I’m done messing around. There’s no sense having an eager fuck toy if I’m not going to make use of you. It’s time you learned what it’s like to have your man inside of you. You hear me? Your fucking man, because if anybody else ever touched you, I’d put them in the dirt. Tell me, Aida. Tell me you want my dick.”

  “But what if I can’t?” I whisper, voice torn. “What if you’re too big? What if—”

  “Enough,” he growls, leaning down and gripping my thighs, his night sky eyes burning into me. “You want it. I can see that. So don’t worry about anything else. All you need to do is have a wet, willing hole and be here, looking sexy and curvy as fuck, looking like the best meal a man could wish for. And you’re already doing all of that. Let me take care of the rest. Say it, Aida—say it now.”

  I press my hand atop his, unsure of if I’m trying to beg for some release from his dominator’s grip or beg him to squeeze harder against my lust-stinging skin.

  “I want it,” I moan. “Freaking hell, Arturo, I want it so bad.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Arturo

  It’s happened.

  For the first time in my life.

  Fuck.

  I’ve lost control.

  Nothing else exists except for this woman, her flesh so hot and dappled red with her pleasure. The taste of her surges around my mouth, my tongue coated in her juices.

  My manhood is so hard it feels like it might just explode, precome leaking out of the end in a constant stream, my boxer shorts absolutely drenched with it.

  I can’t stop.

  I need that virgin hole.

  After the day I had, she does the impossible.

  She makes me forget.

  “Take that shirt and bra off,” I tell her. “Now.”

  My perfect virgin does as she’s told, unclipping the bra and letting those tits spill free.

  I stare at them, captivated by how beautifully large they are, by the landscape of veins that dance across them, making her look vivacious and ready.

  I reach down and drag my belt free, tossing it onto the floor, and then tear open my suit trousers and pull them, and my underwear, down to my balls. I don’t have the patience to undress completely.

  I just need to be inside of her.

  She lies naked on the bed, her nipples pricked and hard from the orgasm, her thighs still quivering.

  Her pretty blue eyes widen as she takes in the enormity of my cock.

  It’s eleven-some inches and harder than it’s ever been, my engorged helm glistening with precome. The base pulses so deeply it feels like I might just come all over her body right now, paint her in a goddamn river of it.

  She’s too damn sexy.

  “Turn this way,” I growl. “Bring that pink hole to the end of the bed.”

  “You’re h-huge,” she whimpers. “Oh, God, you’re so thick.”

  Is that fear I hear in her voice?

  Fear that her tiny tight hole won’t be able to take the throbbing girth of my cock?

  I can’t bring myself to give a damn with so much animal need surging through me.

  My balls throb as though sending me messages, or just one message.

  Fuck her. Own her. Impregnate her. Now.

  She turns and inches toward the edge of the bed.

  I lean down and grab my cock by the base, guiding my helm to her naked cunt and stroking the tip up against her clit.

  “Feel how wet you are,” I growl. “Feel how badly you want it. Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit. And if you ask nicely, I might even fuck you slow for a few seconds and let you get used to it. But you have to ask politely, you horny thing.”

  “P-please,” she sighs, quivers dancing through her body each time I stroke up and down her clit, soaking it in my precome, joining her wetness that’s already there. “Please, Arturo.”

  I keep stroking, the end of my cock flooded with intense pressure, my shaft electric-sensitive with the anticipation of her tight hole.

  But I want to watch her squirm and twitch for me a little longer, the reverberations of her clit’s pleasure dancing up through her body each time I stroke my cock along it.

  “See?” I growl. “Your body knows what you want. Don’t listen to your mind. Listen to your greedy soaked cunt. Listen to me. I own you. I’ll always own you. Who do you belong to, Aida?”

  “You—yoooouuuuuuuu …”

  I plunge inside of her, collapsing forward when I realize what a fool I’ve been.

  I thought I knew how tight and hot she would feel.

  But I was dead wrong.

  It’s better than I ever dreamed.

  I push and push until I can feel her pussy clutching me at the very base, my entire length pushed up inside of her.

  I grab the sheets on either side of her head, and she lifts her trembling hands and grabs onto my arms, digging her fingernails into my muscles even through the suit jacket.

  “Big, big,” she gasps, unable to form proper sentences.

  “Take it,” I command. “Just sit down on that dick. Your hole will get used to it soon … Ah, feel that? Feel how you’re relaxing for me?”

  She whimpers, lips shivering, a soft smile touching her lips as I slowly withdraw out of her.

  Her hole expands to make room for me.

  I take the chance to slam i
nto her with the next thrust, finding it impossible to hold back, my balls like two weighted stones as they collide with her pressed-together ass cheeks.

  “Grab your tits,” I snap. “Fucking—squeeze them, please them.”

  She lets go of my arms and pushes her breasts together, stopping them from bouncing up and down as I start to slam into her hard.

  I can’t stop, the feeling is just heaven, like nothing I ever dreamed was possible.

  I pound her tight pussy so that it fills the air with its noises, her fleshy juicy sounds, slap-slap-slap, so delicious I almost stop fucking her so I can press my mouth against her and taste it again.

  But there’s nothing in this world that could stop me from pushing even deeper, harder, feeling how her hole flutters around me.

  I stare down at her hands working those tits, pushing them together, squeezing her nipples.

  “You’re a fucking natural,” I snarl.

  “R-really?” she whimpers.

  “Really,” I growl. “I knew you were a secret nympho.”

  “But just—for—you …”

  “Always,” I snap, and then slam into her harder than I have yet.

  Then I pull out slowly, making her feel every inch because if I don’t I might end up exploding in her too soon and there’s no damn way that’s happening, not before I’ve felt her squirt all over my dick.

  Slow, slow, I watch her as she feels every twitching movement.

  When I’m all the way out, my helm barely grazing her hole, I slam into her so fucking hard the bed makes a creaking sound like it might break.

  “Ah,” she cries, her hands flinging to the side, gripping the sheets.

  She makes to move them back to her breasts.

  “No,” I tell her. “I want to watch them bounce.”

  I pull out slowly again, savoring every star-hot pulse of her pussy, her hole clamping my shaft like a fist made of fire.

  I watch as she shivers and quakes in anticipation of my savage thrust, and then I thunder into her, slamming her deep and hard.

  The reverberation moves through her body, making the juicy voluptuousness of her jiggle in a way that almost has me exploding inside of her.

  “You better cream soon,” I growl. “Who do you belong to, Aida?”

  “You,” she breathes, hardly able to push the word out.

  “Say it.”