11. Tess
Chapter 11
Tess
T he first week after Rutger signed the lease, I was tense. I kept expecting Don Patron to come back, or send cops to arrest us, or something like that.
But everything stayed quiet, and I guess that makes sense.
Criminals don’t like bringing their actions to the attention of the authorities. Particularly those who like to hide behind legitimate enterprises and a facade of respectability.
More than that, I think Don’s pride was a lot more wounded than his shattered jaw.
He’d never admit to anyone that he lost a girl, much less a fight.
After a quiet week, I accepted the truth: I was finally safe.
Everything feels a lot brighter in the forest now that I know nothing can take me away. The students have started drawing me with smiles on my face. Their art makes me look like I’m floating on cloud nine.
But I still feel kind of queasy, and I’m not sure why.
The huge breakfasts Rutger makes me suddenly feel too hard to eat. I had to leave the table this morning to rush to the bathroom. Rutger held my hair back as I threw up. “It was probably the chicken we ate with the artists last night,” I told him.
But now, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the window, I’m sitting alone in the bathroom looking at a pregnancy test that Lindsay had to run into town to buy for me.
It has two pink lines in the window. According to the instructions (which I’ve read six times in a row), that means I’m knocked up.
I must have gotten pregnant from the first time we fucked, or close enough to it.
I’m not surprised, honestly.
Call me crazy, but I swear that I felt his sperm colonizing my uterus. I bet his sperm are huge and forceful just like him. They probably treated my egg like little battering rams and slammed it straight into my uterus where it could grow.
Rutger and I are going to have a family.
“You’re gonna be a big sissy,” I tell Frida, tickling her belly.
Rutger comes home only a few minutes later, holding a bag and grinning. “They gave me stuff,” he says proudly. He sets it on the back of the couch and starts pulling things out one at a time to show me, like he’s a kid home from school showing me everything he did. “Pastels. Charcoal. A bunch of newsprint. Lindsay says I can come to classes any time.”
“That’s amazing,” I say.
Something in my voice or face gives me away.
Rutger kneels before me, cupping my hand in his cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asks. There’s an alluring thread of danger to the question.
He’s ready to fight the entire world for me.
“Nothing is wrong. In fact…it’s totally the opposite.” I take out the test and show it to him.
At first, he looks confused.
I point to the instructions on the box. “This says that one line means not pregnant,” I say. “But two lines mean—”
I don’t get to finish.
He silently picks me up and holds me tightly. The rumbling in his chest is almost like a lion purring. After a minute, I realize he’s saying, “My babies, my babies.” He crushes me close, and I crush him close, and we rock together, savoring the moment.
Rutger kisses me deeply, tongue plunging into my mouth to lay claim to every corner of it. He bundles my hair in his hands. He guides my head to the angles he wants, leaving me helpless to his love.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes are bright with emotion.
“Thank you,” he says.
“You stole my words,” I say, pushing him back to sit on the couch. I fit myself on top of his lap with my thighs to either side of his. I’m still not used to the sensation of his massive erection pressed up against my cunt.
His huge hands wander up the insides of my thighs. “No panties,” he says, curving his hands around my bare ass cheeks. “Good.” He pulls my ass apart, squeezes me closer to him.
I kiss him again, even longer than before. We lose ourselves in the kiss. We rock gently against each other, slowly building friction. His fingers occasionally travel between my lips. He teases at my slit, feeling the spread of my wetness as his touch drives my arousal higher and higher.
“I keep thinking about this,” he says, his fingertip dipping into my asshole. He’s wet with my pussy’s juices so it slides easily.
He’s in my ass.
It’s such an unexpected sensation—but not a bad one.
“We can do that,” I say, heart speeding. I’ve been thinking about it, too. With my butt always up in the air, I’ve become real familiar with the feeling of a cool breeze on my puckered asshole. “We have to be careful. We need a lot of lube. You have to go slowly. But—we can do that.”
“Do you want it?” He circles that delicate flesh with the pad of his finger.
“Yes.” I can’t speak above a whisper.
Rutger gets a dark, mischievous smile. “Then you’re going to have to beg for it.” He gets the cooking oil, then pulls me onto him again.
I start to fumble open his jeans.
He stops me.
“Beg, little girl.”
“P-please,” I say, swiveling my hips on top of him. Hoping I can drive him crazy enough to lose control. “Please give me your cock, Daddy. I want your cock in my hands. I want your cock in my ass.”
“You’re a good girl,” he says. “You can get it out.” I open his zipper and pop the button. His girth practically leaps into my hands. I stroke it, dragging the skin from base to head. “Yeah, baby. Just like that.”
He pours the oil into his hand and replaces mine so he can get it real wet. Then his oily fingers find my ass again, pressing in deeper.
Deeper.
“That feels amazing,” I say. “You feel amazing.”
“And what do you want me to do, little girl?” he asks, curving his finger into me, up until the knuckle. It doesn’t hurt at all like this. The faint stretch is sweet, and I buck against his slippery cock.
“I want your cock inside me,” I say. I’m humping his shaft against my slit while his fingers stretch my asshole, pathetic and needy. “Will you give it to me, please? Please?”
He flips us with a snarl, throwing my back to the couch. He rips his shirt off, then throws up my dress so it bares my breasts and tangles around my shoulders. “I’m going to stuff you so full. Gonna make you come until you’re crying.”
Another finger slides into my ass, and I bear down just a little. It helps him slide all the way.
Rutger growls with pleasure, but he puts in a third finger before he’s willing to notch his cock against my ass. He drips oil down my pussy. It’s cold sliding down my hole, and he pushes it into me a few times with his thumb before his cock-head follows.
It’s a tight fit. It’s not easy. I have to wriggle and twist, and a few times I flinch away, unable to make myself relax into it.
When it does go inside, it hurts. Like, fuck does it hurt. But it also feels so good, so deliciously naughty, and it stimulates some nerve endings inside that send shocks of pleasure that almost block out the weirdness and the pain.
He’s in me.
“ Yesss, Daddy,” I hiss, raking my nails down his bare chest, leaving bright-red marks.
He pumps slowly into my ass. I’ve never felt anything like it. The pressure from inside is somehow even more intense than when he’s in my pussy.
And then Rutger slides a finger in my vagina.
“Oh my God!” My hands shoot over my head to clutch at the arm of the sofa. It feels like I’m going to fly out of my body over this much sensation.
Rutger’s eyes cloud as his finger moves. “I can—I can feel myself,” he says. He’s pistoning in and out of both holes. He adds another finger, and another.
I’m babbling. I mean to ask him for satisfaction, but I can’t get a sensible sentence out. It’s more like, “Clit—my clit—clitty clitty clit—Rutger please—Daddy—Daddy!”
“Beg!” he demands.
So I keep babbling. “Fuck me, Daddy, and rub my clit, I need you to rub me, I need to come on your dick, please give me more dick, my clit, Daddyyy! ” Tears are running down my face, my tits swaying on every thrust, sweat drenching my chest.
He presses the heel of his palm against my clit. I buck my hips, and everything moves—his fingers inside me, his cock up my ass, my clit against his scarred palm.
Fire floods me. My vision doubles.
Rutger’s face is the only thing I see. While I’m rushing toward the edge, he’s rushing with me.
His mouth goes slack.
His head rolls back.
He shouts as he comes, working the heel of his hand into my clit. I feel everything. He floods inside of me. His fingers shake with his orgasm. His palm scrubs against my clit, and I shift my angle just a tiny bit so that suddenly I’m coming too.
We soar together.
I think my heart stops beating.
My head is as empty as my body is full.
I’m floating in some kind of zen-gasm state when Rutger’s surprise-laugh shocks me out of the haze. I blink my vision clear, tighten my thighs around his hips. “What?” I ask blearily, looking around.
Rutger is trying to smother his laughter, but every time he looks at Frida, he laughs again. The kitten is sitting on the table a few feet away. She’s staring at us with huge wide eyes, tail puffy, looking as shocked as I’ve ever seen her.
I can’t help but laugh too.
We fold together, relaxed and giggling.
“Our first daughter is traumatized,” I say breathlessly, stroking Rutger’s hair off his sweaty forehead.
He gathers me off of the couch, bundling me into his arms. “Then we better lock ourselves away. She’s too innocent for what comes next.”
“What comes next?” I ask.
“Nine months of sucking your tits, eating your pussy, and making sure you don’t lift a finger to do anything,” Rutger says. “You’re my girl, my baby, my queen. And I’m gonna take such good care of you.”
I believe him.