Owning His Virgin

“Okay,” I say, before taking his outstretched hand. I don’t see Axel anywhere, but I really don’t have much time to wonder about him. We are home before I know it. It still amazes me how quickly I’ve come to think of this place as home.

“You were quiet on the ride home,” D says as I kick my heels off. Taking high heels off is right up there with taking your bra off. Instant gratification.

“I’m upset," I reply simply. I'm just pissed enough to be bitchy.

“Why? Who upset you?” he asks.

“You and your brother. You’re both boneheads.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother won’t talk to me. He went out of his way not to and it’s your fault.”

"My fault? How is his being an asshole my fault?” he asks, incredulously.

“Because you won’t tell him the truth about us. About anything and that makes me the bad guy and I hate it. My own brother-in-law doesn’t even know he’s my fucking brother-in-law,” I yell. I don’t know why I am yelling, other than I’ve had it with this shit.

“Are you yelling at me?”

“I am.”

“You are what?” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I. Am. Yelling,” I repeat. I know I’m asking for it. He’s got that look on his face and his dark slacks doesn’t hide the fact that he’s hard as hell right now. He stalks toward me like I am his prey. I don’t move. When he reaches me, he runs his hand up my thigh pushing the dress up as he goes. He cups my pussy, feeling my wetness. I’m so wet. I’m always wet for him. Always.

“I thought I told you to wear panties,” he growls.

“I didn’t want to.”

“This is my pussy. I thought I made myself clear on that. Many times.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice defiant.

“I think you do, Florecita. I think you do.” I squeal when he picks me and carries me to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and flips me over, so that I am over his knee. It feels so naughty. He pulls my dress up over my ass and rubs my ass gently, before swatting me. Each slap is harder than the last until my ass feels like it’s on fire. I moan as my pussy floods. He rubs my cheeks again. “Do you know what I am talking about now?” he asks gruffly. His cock is digging into my belly. I want him so badly. “Answer me.”

“Yesssss, Sir,” I moan when his next slap lands on my pussy. Over and over, he alternates slapping it and rubbing it. I am so close to coming. I can’t take it anymore. I try to grind myself against his knee.

“Stop. Stand up and take your dress off,” he demands. I do so while he stands and takes his clothes off. “On your knees in the middle of the bed.” I scramble to get into position.

“Diezal?” I ask looking over my shoulder. He’s just staring at my ass.

“Your tan skin pinked up so fucking good,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” He climbs on the bed and rubs his cock through my folds a few times before sliding into me. In and out, over and over he fucks into me. His body hits my ass, making me feel relieved in each spank he gave me.

“Feel so good,” I slur. I feel like I’m drunk. Drunk on the heady feeling of him and what he does to me. Just as I am about to come, he pulls out of me again.

“Don’t disobey me again,” he growls after leaning down, closer to my ear. He’s doing this to me on purpose. Edging me until I can’t take it anymore. Delayed gratification. Fuck, he dominates me so well.

“I won’t,” I lie. We both know that I will. He slams back inside of me, and I scream in delight.

He owns me for the rest of the night and the rest of my life.

Chapter Eleven

Diezal

I feel like I have drunk twenty gallons of coffee and now the adrenaline is on surcharge. My mind is buzzing like a rapidly evolving colony of bees. Everything from my sister, my unborn children, the love of my life, to my brother have been on constant alternating merry-go rounds with no solutions presenting themselves.

A week ago, when I got that text from Lawrence, I felt… hope. A fleeting moment of happiness until he dashed it telling me he was going out of town and yet again I needed to wait. Wait. Wait. All I have been fucking doing is waiting...for years to find my sister. Then it was wait...for months until I found Teresa. Teresa. My spitfire. She is so pissed at me that the only time I get to see the soft, glowing love in her eyes is when I am balls deep inside her pregnant pussy, reminding her it is mine.