Jealous by Lena Little
7
Julian
“You realize this is kidnapping, right. You can’t do this,” she warns.
“I just did.”
“Jake is a nice boy. He knows a lot about motorcycles and he helped me a lot today.”
I step away from the chair, admiring my work. She’s tied up and not going anywhere. Good. She needs to learn the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and boys have ulterior motives, even when it seems they don’t. Those kinds of jerks are just better at hiding their true intentions, which is to get in her pants and take what’s mine.
“First of all, stop praising his name and saying positive things about him…in my place.”
“In our place, and for the record Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake!”
I knew I should have gotten the duct tape from my toolbox. Instead, I engulf her mouth with my palm, but she just bites at me.
“You send my call to voicemail so you can focus on what you’re doing with someone else…someone who also has a penis, although he won’t if he ever so much as looks at you again.”
She mumbles something incoherent. I wait, then decide to slowly move my hand.
“The pop quiz was starting. The teacher made me. Jeez! Why don’t you give me a chance to explain first?”
“What do you think this is?” I bite back.
“Well, let’s see. Hmm. I don’t know? Maybe detaining someone against their will and acting like a complete asshole after making yourself, and me, look like complete idiots. Not to mention if Jake goes to the cops you could probably face—”
“Stop saying his name!” I bellow, causing the glasses on the counter to shake.
She breathes out a long breath and then inhales slowly, followed by a few more inhales and exhales.
“Look,” she begins softly. “He needs me to contribute so he doesn’t have to do all the work required for us to get a good grade. It was nothing. Really.”
“It sure looked like a little date to me…real comfy. And we need to handle the whole idea of you spending time with other men.”
“We do,” she says even more quietly, squirming in her seat.
“Oh yeah, we do. Daddy doesn’t like that.”
There’s that damn word, taking away some of her spunk and replacing it with guilt. That one simple word said with a paternal tone, has such an effect on her.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, sticking out her lower lip.
“This is what you have to understand, Princess. If you want to be with me, and I know you do, you have to come to grips with the reality that I’m literally consumed by thoughts of you. Overwhelming thoughts. Thoughts about your body, your innocent and naive way which can be easily taken advantage of by the wrong person, your safety, which is the most important thing, and of course…this,” I say, taking a step forward and cupping her cunt over the top of her clothes.
She whimpers.
“That’s right. This is mine. And when you don’t answer your phone…when you smile at another man…when you’re late coming home to me, how do you think that makes me feel?”
“Not happy.”
“‘Not happy’ is the understatement of the millennium. I’m worried about you, who you might be with and what they might want to do…how they might even want to take you from me. You’re the most incredible girl in the entire world, the entire universe.” I slide my hand from her groin and cup her face with both mitts. “Every man is a threat to me because what man isn’t smart enough to see how perfect you are and want you for his own? And guess who’s not going to allow it?”
“You.”
“Damn right. Daddy is not going for that. Not. At. All. I’m not the kind of man you can text in the first place, let alone whenever you feel like getting around to it. I’m not the kind of guy who takes you to a movie once a month after going to an overpriced chain restaurant that serves sticky pasta then has the audacity to offer my little girl week old cake from a tray when she wants something sweet after dinner. Fuck that. You’re mine, every second of every day and I worship the ground you walk on. When you’re late getting home all I can think of is how it’s missed time you could be riding my cock like a good girl. It’s an opportunity lost for me to make you laugh and smile. It’s that much later your bedtime story starts. See, I wasn’t playing when I said you’re not my girlfriend. You’re mine, my everything, plain and simple. No exceptions.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Say you’re sorry, Sugar.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s a good first step, but it’s not how we fully apologize in our house. Words alone don’t cut it.”
“What do I have to do to prove I’m sorry?” she gulps, a tear forming at the corner of her eye and her pain feels like a knife to my own gut.
“You say you’re sorry with your body, Daddy’s favorite thing in the world…you, and that’s an apology Daddy always accepts.”
“But how do I…?”
Taking a step back I pinch my zipper between two fingers and lower it…slowly.
Those baby blues of hers drop down to the bulge already peaking out and her hips start moving rapidly as if she’s doing math equations in her head. Or is she reciting a prayer?
My rod is already dripping, demanding to be freed as it calls out for my girl’s pussy.
“You can start by giving Daddy’s special lollipop a suck. Your mouth would make him feel so damn good.”
Her breath hitches and I bring my pants down to mid-thigh, dropping my boxer briefs as I guide my cock to her tiny little perfect salivating mouth, and cram myself inside. Regrets spears through me as I reconsider how I shoved myself into her so violently, forcing my flesh inside her with an angry thrust. But when I go to open my mouth to actually issue an apology, she opens her own mouth even wider, accepting even more of me, accepting the apology I didn’t even give, and asking for more in the process.
“Who does this mouth belong to?” I ask.
“You, Daddy. It’s all yours,” she mumbles confirmation, but I can make out the word, despite her mouth being full with her ‘punishment’. Even when I’m angry with her we both win, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself right now.
My balls pull up high and tight and my lips peel back in a wince. I’m seconds from popping so I try to think of anything, the middle inning of a baseball game on the hottest day of summer. Despite how boring and mundane it doesn’t work, so I bite the inside of my mouth instead. Even the quick stab of pain followed by the acidic taste of blood can’t pull my mind off the pleasure she’s giving me right now.
There’s just something in her eyes, a kind of newfound curiosity that tells me she likes the kind of education even more than she liked her first day of college.
“Am I doing it right?” Asking for my validation makes my chest swell with pride.
“Perfect, my Princess. You couldn’t do it wrong if you tried.”
I feel her lips turn up in a smile against my rod and despite damn near deepthroating me, the way saliva is dripping off her lips, this one simple thing, this smile, is the sexiest thing about this entire moment.
She pulls back. “I just want to please you.”
“Oh, you are. Just keep sucking because you’re going to want me nice and wet down there because it’s going up your tight little backside in a matter of minutes.”
Her head freezes, no longer bobbing on my shaft as she processes my words.
“That’s right, Precious. When I own you, I own all of you.”
I bring my hands up and rest them on the top of her head, kickstarting her bobbing back in motion as she slurps at my pulsing inches.
“How does it taste?”
“Salty,” she spits out quickly.
“That’s because I can barely contain myself much more. I’m about to unload, but not in your mouth, not this time.”
She struggles to take the last of my inches and I move my hips in rhythm, willing that last of my dick down her throat until finally, she bottoms out on the base of my torso, my abs flexing as I push forward so she can take everything I have to offer.
Her hands try to rise up and press against the tops of my thighs but they don’t budge as she pulls her head back and off me, her eyes watering and her face covered with spit.
“It’s time to deliver what I’ve been saying all along. Mine. In. All. Ways.”
I walk behind the chair and grab the ropes, guiding her up and off the chair.
“This whole time I wasn’t tied to the chair?” she asks in amazement.
“Nope. All you had to do was stand up and walk away, but you didn’t. You didn’t even try. Only your hands were tied together, and you could easily step over your hands and untie the knot anytime you wanted. That’s it. See, you thought I was holding you against your will but the truth is you never wanted to leave, never wanted to put up too much of a fight. Isn’t that right, Princess.”
She nods.
“But you might put up a fight when I stick my cock up your ass right now.”
I fist her hair and fold her like an accordion, bending her over the chair and slapping her ass hard, watching the red mark of ownership form where my hand just was. I grab both of her globes firmly and spread her cheeks, staring down her puckered hole, her forbidden entrance that I’m going to stuff my pole covered in her spit right into.
I lean in and spit right on her butthole, before leaning back and grabbing her hips aggressively. “I doubt I get even halfway in your tight little virgin asshole before I spray it with my seed.”
Giulia’s whole body flinches, then shudders.
“You ready for that, Baby Girl? You ready for Daddy to take your puckered hole with his fat cock?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I spread her knees open wider with a tap of my knee to the inside of her legs, lining myself up to enter a whole new world of pleasure for both of us.
How in the hell is this even happening? I acted like a complete raging asshole back at her college. I yelled at her classmate, brought her home, and tied her up, and now she’s willingly allowing me to fuck her ass.
Would she still be as open to the idea if she knew the second she walked out the door this morning I sniffed the panties she wore last night before I railed her? Then I buried my nose in her pillow, smelling her fruity scent. And that was before I plucked a handful of hair from her hairbrush and tucked it inside my gun case, threatening anyone that comes after my ‘souvenir’ of her with death.
Mine.
I spit once more against her opening, watching the saliva coat her entrance and then place the tip of my dick at her opening.
“Ready, Princess?”
“Uh huh.”
I move one hand to the rope that binds her wrists, and grab it with a clenched fist, readying myself for leverage and then run my hand over the perfect curve of her virgin backside one last time before kissing the small of her back and then instructing her to, “Breath.”
She does as she’s told and after a deep inhale I slide inside what’s rightfully mine. She’s so tight back there I’m barely in an inch and I feel my load coming.
“Daddy!” she moans, and any chance I had at control is taken from me.
“Fuck!” I grunt, pushing in a little bit more and then sliding out and back in again. Her tight walls close around me and the seal of her ass clenches my dick like a vice grip, sending me over the edge and I unleash a volcanic eruption of spend into her tiny asshole. Instantly there are rivers of my arousal that wouldn’t fit running down the side of her legs, racing each other to the floor.
My balls tighten up again and erupt yet again, aftershock after aftershock.
“You’re fucking mine. Nobody else’s!” I yell.
“Yours, Daddy! Yours!” she agrees, and my balls release the last bit of juice before my dick lurches a few more times like an engine trying to turn over when it won’t start. I’ve got nothing left in the tank and my battery is on empty.
I fall forward, rotating as I do the short distance in the air, yanking her body on top of mine as my torso finds the wood and snaps it, our bodies falling toward the floor.
Breaking the fall with my shoulder there’s a strange metallic sound as my body hits.
“What was that?” she asks.
“That was me making you mine yet again.”
“No,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, but back in the moment and needing to know what that unusual sound was. That wasn’t the sound of flesh or wood, that sounded…metallic.
I say nothing, just untie her wrists.
“Julian?”
“Because it wasn’t either of those things. It’s a reconstructed shoulder socket.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to press,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around me as she lies on top of me.
“No need. Everything’s okay.”
Burying her head in my chest she takes the time to catch her breath, and I feel the stress of explaining the situation wash away. It’s not something I look forward to doing.
She knows me too well, or she’s too curious not to know.
Lifting her head from my chest she looks me in the eye, out of curiosity and not in an accusatory or nosy kind of way.
“Did you hurt your shoulder playing sports?”
“Not really,” I admit. I’m not sure mafia bosses hitting you with a baseball bat in the ribs and shoulders counts as a sport, especially when they’re grown men and you’re a child. Not to mention that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“How did it happen then?”
“Somebody had bad aim.”
“Bad aim?”
“With a gun,” I acknowledge.
“Some idiot was playing with a gun and almost shot you?”
I can’t help but smile at her innocence, the worry in her voice, and her love for me.
“He was aiming for my head. He missed.”
