Page 4

"Coat room. Over there?" She says with the blunt directness of someone who's never learned to be coy. "Like in books, and old movies, right? They're always making out in coat rooms.”

I take her hand, and she wraps her cute little fingers into mine in a way that almost makes me cum in my pants.

She wants the fantasy. And shit, if I’m not ready to give in to her every fucking whim.

The coat room is small and dimly lit, lined with a few forgotten jackets and the faint scent of cedar and perfume.

"You sure about this?" I ask, even as every instinct I have screams at me to take what she's offering.

"I've been sure about nothing my entire life," she says, and there's something raw in her voice that makes my chest tight.

"Everything's been decided for me since as far back as I remember.

What classes to take, what colleges to apply to, what career path would 'optimize my intellectual potential. ' But this... this is mine."

The confession hits me harder than it should.

She isn’t just an intriguing, beautiful young woman that looks out of her depth at her friend’s wedding anymore.

She’s changed before my eyes as I understand a little more about who she is, who she was, who she wants to be.

I get a full image of a girl who’s been pushed through life at warp speed, always two steps ahead of where she should be, never getting to just be young and reckless and stupid.

"Alright then." I take her bag, dropping it to the floor, then back her against the wall, caging her in with my arms as my dick strains down the leg of my pants. "Lesson one: when a man wants you, really wants you, he takes his time."

I start with her temple, pressing soft kisses along her hairline while she starts to shake. I work my way down to her ear, letting my breath ghost over sensitive skin until she's gripping my shirt.

"Lesson two," I murmur against her throat, "he pays attention. To everything. The parts of you you let the world see and the parts you hide."

I find the spot where her pulse hammers in her neck beneath her earlobe, and suck, drawing her flesh between my teeth. The soft moan she makes goes straight to my balls, as I force slowness into each move. Each breath. She deserves to be savored, not devoured.

At least this time.

"And lesson three?" Her question is sincere even if her voice shakes.

"Lesson three is that he makes sure you're ready for him." I lift my head to look at her, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way she rubs her lips together. "You're going to ask me nicely, Marley."

Her name has been easy enough to overhear during the reception chatter. But hearing it fall from my lips makes her eyes go wide.

"You know my name."

"I pay attention. I know you're nineteen years old, finishing your Master's degree, and reckless enough to follow strangers into dark rooms." My voice goes hard thinking about all the details on her booking ticket.

"What you did tonight was dangerous, little girl.

What if I wasn't who you thought I was? What if I was the kind of man to take what he wants without asking? "

Her chin lifts, a spark of defiance in those brown eyes. "What if that’s exactly what I want?"

The breathy response catches me off guard, and sends blood rushing south. She must feel the way my cock responds, pressing her hip like a dog on a scent.

"Naughty girl," I say, my thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I like that. But you’re mine now, and I don't share.

You won't be kissing anyone else, following anyone else into coat rooms, or putting yourself at risk like that again. Understood? No other man will treat you the way I’ll treat you. The way you deserve."

"How do I deserve to be treated?" The question is barely a whisper.

"Like you're precious. Beautiful. Perfect. Protected. And like you're mine." I lean down until our lips are almost touching. “You’re a daddy’s girl, aren’t you?”

She whimpers, a tremor shaking her from head to toe. As I pull back to stare into her face, I find her pupils dilated, her lips parted just a little.

I take her mouth like I fucking own it. There’s a blip of tension when I touch her. A second where her body stiffens, breathing stops.

“Baby.” I hiss between her lips. “I’ll give you only what you need.”

“I—I’m not good at being touched. Earlier, the champagne helped but it’s hard for me. I don’t even let my parents hug me.” She stops as I withdraw far enough to take in every word with my ears and my eyes. “Not that they ever tried now that I think about it…”

There’s the slightest quiver in her chin as I pinch it, pressing my lips to the top of her head, letting her body soften as I stand steady, not pushing, not retreating, just being there against her.

“You thinking you like this kind of touch now?” I run my fingers through her hair, plucking out the pins that are holding what’s left in the contrived updo then untangle it with my fingers keeping my eyes on her face.

“That’s not bad.” She clears her throat. “Maybe I need to try a little more to be sure.”

Brat.

“What I have for you isn’t little baby.” I snarl, grabbing her by the ass and lifting, spinning her around and shoving her onto the little shelf that runs along the back wall, knocking someone’s Detroit Tiger’s cap onto the floor.

I shove my body between her legs, the crinkling fabric rising above her knees as her calves’ drift around my waist hugging me.

"That's it, little girl," I lean in and murmur against her lips. "Take what you need."

She's making these soft little sounds that are driving me crazy. I work my way down her throat, finding every sensitive spot while my hands map the curves hidden beneath the layers of fabric covering her. All the years of disinterest in touching a woman roll over me like a bulldozer. She’s got to be young enough to be my fucking daughter too.

But, Jesus, there’s something about this girl that has me breaking down all the fences I’ve built around myself and inviting her in

"I have no idea know what I'm doing," she confesses, her fingers taking my hair by the root like she’s holding on for dear life.

"You know what to do, you just haven’t done it before." I catch her earlobe between my teeth, smiling when she yelps. "Your body knows exactly what it wants."

I slip my hand between her thighs, grabbing a handful of the dress with her heat underneath, and she arches against me with a broken moan. Even through the fabric, I know she’s fucking wet and I want to shove my face in her cunt and never come up for air.

"Please," she whispers and I finally understand why guys get hard from begging.

“Say please again.” I order, digging my fingers into the heat under the dress leaning back to get a better look at the way her tits are straining against the neckline of the dress.

“Pretty please,” she says, swallowing hard and I nearly blow when she mouths the words a second time silently.

Pretty. Please.

Fuck.

I shove the silk out of my way and get my hand where it belongs. She's soaked. The sound she makes when I touch her warm, damp little cunt comes down straight from heaven.

"Look at me," I command, and her eyes fly open, dark and dazed. "I want to see your face when you come."

“When I come? I’ve never—” She shakes her head, dark waves dancing on her cheeks. “I’ve never even come close.”

“Never? No one? Not even for yourself?” The idea creates a storm inside me.

This girl’s pleasure is going to belong to me. Her first, her last and the millions in between.

“I’m not like the other girls.” She says on a smirk.

“That’s for fucking sure.”

The tops of her tits jiggle as she laughs and I imagine shoving my dick between them then shooting my load right into that pretty little mouth.

She’s like a little bird daring to land on a bear’s claw. My claw.

“Hmm,” I rasp, my thumb tracing the seam of her wetness. She sucks in a breath, eyes locking on mine. All that wide, trusting brown focused on me. I can smell her innocence and it’s locking it’s claws around my heart.

“What?” she breathes, leaning into me, trusting my touch.

“Soft, wet,” I growl, voice rough. “Too soft. Gotta break you in a little.”

Her lips curve, challenging. “Is that a thing? Girls need to be broken in?”

Her honesty is an aphrodisiac. No games, she thinks it, she says it. “I don’t care about what other girls might need baby. I just care about this sweet, sloppy cunt that’s begging for its first time.”

I press, gently at first, feeling that tightness that makes my gut twist and my dick throb. A moan escapes her lips. Possessive heat surges through me. She's mine to discover.

“Baby likes that?” I ask, a low growl.

She nods, eyes fluttering closed. “Mm-hmm.”

I give her little opening more, to the second knuckle, stretching her. Jesus, this girl is fucking untouched. Tight as a god damn pin prick almost. She whimpers, the sounds turning fragile but a feralness is taking me over. I want to hear her scream. I want to feel her fucking break.

“Tight,” I murmur into her hair. “Perfect.”

I start to stroke, in and out. So small I’m easily working her swollen clit with my thumb as I press my middle finger into the most delicious warmth. Her muscles tighten around the intrusion, pulling on me, holding me.

I pull her closer, burying my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent. My hand works, flexing, teasing, claiming. She’s shaking, fingers digging into my back.

“Tell me,” I demand, rough against her ear. “Tell me you like it.”

“I… I do,” she breathes, shaky.

“Louder. Say ‘I like it.’ Just like that.” I move my hand, palm over her windpipe, tightening my grip, something in me wants to fucking own this girl. I want all her firsts, all her attention, all her sounds.

“ I like it .” she chokes out, eyes wide all that honestly pouring out of her into my hand.

“Your pussy agrees.”

I increase the pace, finger sliding in and out, deeper and deeper. Those fluttery soft walls taking what I’m giving.