Gilded Cage

Brandon fucked her harder. His lips peeled grimly as if he couldn’t contain his own atavistic lust. She thrashed, feeling desperate. The pleasure gathered, even greater than before. But she wasn’t there yet. She needed it, otherwise she knew she would go insane.

“Please, please…” She sobbed, her body consumed by greedy need. “I want…”

He roared and slammed her brutally, hammering her with hard, primal fucks. She was so close…the pleasure climbed higher. Brandon slammed faster. Lillian wanted to scream. Almost. She needed. More. Almost. A bit more…just a bit more. God. Her chest almost burst. The storm crashed. She came. Lillian bawled. Fireworks exploded before her eyes. Her ears rang. Breath cut off her lungs.

She gasped. Panted. Her body quaked as a powerful tide of climax washed over her. It was amazing. Lillian opened her eyes wide. But Brandon didn’t stop. He kept fucking her across the bed, as brutal as a man who had been deprived from his primal need for a long time.

“Lillian.” He murmured her name over and over as if it was a mantra.

She couldn’t do anything but surrender to his torrent of vicious fucks. Her head dangled from the edge of the bed. His powerful body loomed before her. Feral. Sexual. Untamed. Yet he made her feel secure.

He slammed and slammed again. And suddenly, another violent climax ambushed her. Lillian shouted. Her body went rigid. All her muscles tensed. She soared free into the land of ecstasy. The world darkened.

When she crashed back to reality, she found him sobbing like she was. His face was a mask of pleasure. He stiffened. She could feel his cock spasm in her depths, ejaculating. Her pussy clenched in return, milking him to his last drop. Lillian felt cherished. Sated. Thoroughly loved.

“Lillian…” He grabbed her face and kissed her greedily.

She kissed him back. Her chest swelled with unspoken emotion. Would it be silly if I tell him how much I love him? Lillian had never harboured so much feeling for a man. She’d never been interested in one before he came into her life. Stanford made her wary of men, but Brandon was different. He gave her freedom.

Love. Protection.

Brandon parted his lips, his eyes drowning her in silent adoration. That intense grey gaze of his told her more than needed telling. She was his. The one thing she’d wanted since he came into her life. Lillian caressed his face and kissed him deeply.

Lillian had drifted to sleep. At least, she thought she had. She remembered they were kissing and touching after their explosive lovemaking, and when she opened her eyes, she was in the middle of the bed with a comforter over her naked body. Lillian leant to her side and found herself face-to-face with Brandon’s muscled chest. She looked up. Brandon was watching her sleep.

“You awake?” he whispered.

He looked tired, sleepy with his dark hair tousled on his shoulders, but it made him look even sexier. Lillian just had to steal a kiss from him. He purred. The rumble from his throat made her spine shiver. He kissed her back and drew her deeper into his arms.

She nibbled his chin. “I’m awake now.”

“So I see.” Brandon snuggled closer.

Heat emanated from his naked body. She could feel the rhythm of his beating heart and the way his cock slowly stirred. He ran his hand over her breasts and down to the curve of her hips. The touches elicited another shiver of delight.

“Do you…regret it?”

The question caught her by surprise. “Regret sleeping with you? No. Don’t be silly. Why would you think that?”

“Babe.” Brandon cleared a lock of stray hair from her face. “You’re Blackwell’s daughter and I’m just a nobody.”

“What does that have to do with us being together? In case you forgot, my father didn’t even feed me three times a day.” Lillian meant it as a joke, but it made Brandon sink into a deep frown.

“That.” Brandon pushed the comforter down to her thigh. His gaze cut to her grapefruit-sized scar. “I can’t understand. How could your father allow such a horrible thing to happen to you?”

She’d been asking the same question since she was old enough to think. “Well. He hates me.”

Brandon regarded her thoughtfully. “No parents could hate their children. He must have his reason to treat you so harshly.?

??

Lillian chewed her bottom lip. Father was never kind. He was cold and demeaning and always displeased at everything she did. Even the way she breathed could annoy him.

At first, she’d always thought her clumsiness was the source of his displeasure. As she grew older, she was convinced that she was the source of her father’s displeasure. When she was seven years old, her father took her to their summerhouse in Cambridge. Lillian remembered when it happened. Her father had been on the terrace, talking to his friend on the phone. Somehow, she’d gotten distracted and walked too close to the edge of the pool. And before she knew it, she’d stumbled into the water. Lillian couldn’t swim. She’d sputtered and gasped, trying to grab on to something until finally, she was able to hold onto the edge of the pool. The sound of footsteps echoed through the air and her father’s body emerged into view. She felt relieved her father had come to her rescue.

Instead of rescuing her, her father had swung out his foot and crushed her tiny fingers that were dearly holding onto the ledge. She remembered the pain, how she lost her grip and drowned in the pool until one of her father’s bodyguards jumped in and rescued her.

Later on, when her nanny had dried her and bundled her up in a towel, her father came to her and sneered, “I guess you’re just as stupid as your mother.”