Page 77
Story: Savage King
"Mine," I declare. "Tell me you're mine."
Her eyes open, blue sapphire sparks at me. "Yours. I'm yours."
Fuck, she's perfect.
Her sweet moans echo off the high warehouse walls, and fuck if that isn't as much of a turn-on as watching my cock move in and out of her and hearing her admit she's mine.
I'm hesitant to grab her hips again. They're still bruised from last time. But damn if those bruises aren’t another turn on. I want to mark her entire body. I want the world to know that she's mine.
Instead, I take a fistful of her hair in one hand and press my other between her shoulder blades to anchor her in place.
"You're so fucking tight, baby," I rasp between thrusts.
Her answer is a long, drawn-out mewl as I feel her walls flutter around me, and that's all I need before I empty my seed into her, roaring into the empty hall, "MINE!"
Shopping and sexexhausted me to the point where Antonio carried me to the car and later back into the house. I don't remember putting on one of my new nighties, but I was wearing it when I woke up sometime during the night, and Antonio was spooning me from behind. I don't think I've ever felt this protected and taken care of.
In the morning, he was gone, but I found a note on his pillow.
I hope the business doesn't entail killing people, but strangely, the thought doesn't disturb me as much as it should. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but empathy and morality seem to have gone out the window.
To get to the bathroom, I have to pass a small hallway with two doors facing each other. One leads into Antonio's closet and the other to theherscloset. On his insistence, I have already moved the clothes Gigi brought me inside, but they barely made a dent in this vast space. I swear, the closet is bigger than my entire apartment. I wonder about the woman who will one day call thishers. With some envy—alright, a lot of envy—but not only because she will get to fill the lonely looking shelves begging to be filled, the empty cupboards and shoe racks, no, mostly because she will live here withhim.
The center of the closet is dominated by a large island filled with empty drawers. Off to the side is anotherroomstraight out of a bridal store. A pedestal leads up to a small stand that is surrounded by mirrors, flanked by a small sofa, a bar cart, and a fridge. Yeah, this closet is a woman's wet dream.
The door is wide open, beckoning me. The large chandelier on top is on, illuminating all the things I picked out last night. Now I understand what the showcase shelves are for; three of the purses I admired last night are neatly arranged on one, discreetly illuminated by a light attached to the shelf above.
Like in a dream, I walk in, staring at my lovingly hung clothes. Most drawers on the island are still empty, but three hold my new lingerie. On top of a white pair of panties, I find another sticky note.
So bossy, I smile.When did he do all this?
When I enter the bathroom, I find another surprise. The previously pristinely empty row of countertops and cabinets that line not only one side of the bathroom but wrap halfway down another are now barely visible under stacks and stacks of cosmetics. Tentatively, I move forward to be greeted by assortments of brand-new facial products. And not just the kind I'm used to, like Lancôme or Chanel. No. I've seen some of these before, but never used them. It's not only one jar, either. It's the entirecollection. And not only one collection but several. There is also the Prestige line from Dior, La Mer, and Orveda. My knees buckle as my head does quick math; there's close to fifty grand of facial products arranged here.
Between the boxes of pretty jars and colorful creams, I find another sticky note, and my lips curve before I even read it.
Don't need any of this?I can't wait to dive in. I'm starting to really like how over the top Antonio can be.
That's not all, though. No, far from it.
The corner where the counter wraps around has a rounded dip, serving as a vanity. It is complete with a chair and many, many drawers, as well as three adjustable mirrors. Where before it only held a brush, it is now filled with makeup—foundation, powder, pallets, mascara, you name it. It's there.
I sink down on the vanity chair to take it all in.
My hand trembles slightly as I pull out the first drawer. It's empty aside from my birth control and, yes, another sticky note.
I don't even want to think too hard about what he means byI'mon board. At the same time, two facts hit me. One, I haven't taken my birth control since I've been abducted. And I haven't been abstinent, either. Which leads me to brush over the last… what? Week? Honestly, I've completely lost track of time. The time I spend with Antonio can't be simply measured in days, hours, and minutes. From the moment he rescued me, I felt…home. I felt as if I had finally found the place where I belonged. I can see a future with this man who has turned my life upside down: a future and a family.
That thought nearly brands me with heat. Am I seriously contemplating having a future with a mafioso? Afamily? A family with a man who can kill with his bare hands and kiss like he’s worshipping a goddess?
God help me… yes.
And if there’s even the slightest chance I’m already carrying a child of his inside me?—
I don't know whether I should panic… or fall to my knees and pray.
My hand moves to my stomach; the reality that a baby might not be that far out of the realm of possibility right now is frightening but also strangely reassuring. Reassuring because of Antonio's note.He'son board. And for a moment, I allow myself to envision a future with him and a baby. I haven't thought much about a family, given my disastrous dating history, but with Antonio? A baby? A baby I could love the way a child is supposed to be loved by their mother. Just the idea of being pregnant brings up anger toward my mom. She was supposed to love and protect me, but instead, she betrayed me in the worst way. Not this baby, though. That will never happen. I gently stroke my stomach.
A light giggle escapes me, but then I sober. Surely I can’t be knocked up just from missing a few days of the pill? Right? So many women try to get pregnant for months and years after going off. Right? More so after all the trauma my body went through.
Her eyes open, blue sapphire sparks at me. "Yours. I'm yours."
Fuck, she's perfect.
Her sweet moans echo off the high warehouse walls, and fuck if that isn't as much of a turn-on as watching my cock move in and out of her and hearing her admit she's mine.
I'm hesitant to grab her hips again. They're still bruised from last time. But damn if those bruises aren’t another turn on. I want to mark her entire body. I want the world to know that she's mine.
Instead, I take a fistful of her hair in one hand and press my other between her shoulder blades to anchor her in place.
"You're so fucking tight, baby," I rasp between thrusts.
Her answer is a long, drawn-out mewl as I feel her walls flutter around me, and that's all I need before I empty my seed into her, roaring into the empty hall, "MINE!"
Shopping and sexexhausted me to the point where Antonio carried me to the car and later back into the house. I don't remember putting on one of my new nighties, but I was wearing it when I woke up sometime during the night, and Antonio was spooning me from behind. I don't think I've ever felt this protected and taken care of.
In the morning, he was gone, but I found a note on his pillow.
I hope the business doesn't entail killing people, but strangely, the thought doesn't disturb me as much as it should. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but empathy and morality seem to have gone out the window.
To get to the bathroom, I have to pass a small hallway with two doors facing each other. One leads into Antonio's closet and the other to theherscloset. On his insistence, I have already moved the clothes Gigi brought me inside, but they barely made a dent in this vast space. I swear, the closet is bigger than my entire apartment. I wonder about the woman who will one day call thishers. With some envy—alright, a lot of envy—but not only because she will get to fill the lonely looking shelves begging to be filled, the empty cupboards and shoe racks, no, mostly because she will live here withhim.
The center of the closet is dominated by a large island filled with empty drawers. Off to the side is anotherroomstraight out of a bridal store. A pedestal leads up to a small stand that is surrounded by mirrors, flanked by a small sofa, a bar cart, and a fridge. Yeah, this closet is a woman's wet dream.
The door is wide open, beckoning me. The large chandelier on top is on, illuminating all the things I picked out last night. Now I understand what the showcase shelves are for; three of the purses I admired last night are neatly arranged on one, discreetly illuminated by a light attached to the shelf above.
Like in a dream, I walk in, staring at my lovingly hung clothes. Most drawers on the island are still empty, but three hold my new lingerie. On top of a white pair of panties, I find another sticky note.
So bossy, I smile.When did he do all this?
When I enter the bathroom, I find another surprise. The previously pristinely empty row of countertops and cabinets that line not only one side of the bathroom but wrap halfway down another are now barely visible under stacks and stacks of cosmetics. Tentatively, I move forward to be greeted by assortments of brand-new facial products. And not just the kind I'm used to, like Lancôme or Chanel. No. I've seen some of these before, but never used them. It's not only one jar, either. It's the entirecollection. And not only one collection but several. There is also the Prestige line from Dior, La Mer, and Orveda. My knees buckle as my head does quick math; there's close to fifty grand of facial products arranged here.
Between the boxes of pretty jars and colorful creams, I find another sticky note, and my lips curve before I even read it.
Don't need any of this?I can't wait to dive in. I'm starting to really like how over the top Antonio can be.
That's not all, though. No, far from it.
The corner where the counter wraps around has a rounded dip, serving as a vanity. It is complete with a chair and many, many drawers, as well as three adjustable mirrors. Where before it only held a brush, it is now filled with makeup—foundation, powder, pallets, mascara, you name it. It's there.
I sink down on the vanity chair to take it all in.
My hand trembles slightly as I pull out the first drawer. It's empty aside from my birth control and, yes, another sticky note.
I don't even want to think too hard about what he means byI'mon board. At the same time, two facts hit me. One, I haven't taken my birth control since I've been abducted. And I haven't been abstinent, either. Which leads me to brush over the last… what? Week? Honestly, I've completely lost track of time. The time I spend with Antonio can't be simply measured in days, hours, and minutes. From the moment he rescued me, I felt…home. I felt as if I had finally found the place where I belonged. I can see a future with this man who has turned my life upside down: a future and a family.
That thought nearly brands me with heat. Am I seriously contemplating having a future with a mafioso? Afamily? A family with a man who can kill with his bare hands and kiss like he’s worshipping a goddess?
God help me… yes.
And if there’s even the slightest chance I’m already carrying a child of his inside me?—
I don't know whether I should panic… or fall to my knees and pray.
My hand moves to my stomach; the reality that a baby might not be that far out of the realm of possibility right now is frightening but also strangely reassuring. Reassuring because of Antonio's note.He'son board. And for a moment, I allow myself to envision a future with him and a baby. I haven't thought much about a family, given my disastrous dating history, but with Antonio? A baby? A baby I could love the way a child is supposed to be loved by their mother. Just the idea of being pregnant brings up anger toward my mom. She was supposed to love and protect me, but instead, she betrayed me in the worst way. Not this baby, though. That will never happen. I gently stroke my stomach.
A light giggle escapes me, but then I sober. Surely I can’t be knocked up just from missing a few days of the pill? Right? So many women try to get pregnant for months and years after going off. Right? More so after all the trauma my body went through.
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