Chapter 4
four
. . .
Woodrow
I can't fucking sleep. Not with her in my bed, her scent on my sheets, just one thin wall between us.
I pace the living room like a caged animal, my cock so hard it hurts, straining against my zipper with every step.
Three hours since I showed her to the bedroom.
Three hours of pure torture, imagining her soft body stretched out on my mattress.
Is she sleeping in her clothes? Did she strip down to her underwear?
Is she thinking about me the way I'm thinking about her?
Fuck! This wasn't the plan. I was supposed to protect her, keep my distance until I eliminated the threat.
But she's under my roof now. In my space.
And everything in me is screaming that she's mine to take.
The digital clock on the microwave reads 2:17 AM when I hear it—the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood. My entire body goes still, every sense heightened. The bedroom door creaks open. Silence. Then those quiet footsteps, hesitant, making their way down the hall toward the kitchen.
I flatten myself against the wall in the darkened living room, watching as she emerges into the dim light cast by the hood vent over the stove. My breath catches in my throat.
She's wearing one of my t-shirts. Nothing else, as far as I can tell.
The hem falls to mid-thigh, revealing long, pale legs that look silky soft.
Her dark hair is slightly mussed, tumbling over her shoulders in waves.
She looks sleep-warm and touchable, completely unaware of the predator watching her from the shadows.
Priscilla opens the refrigerator, the light illuminating her profile as she bends to look inside. The shirt rides up just enough to confirm my suspicion—tiny pink panties hug the curve of her ass. My cock throbs painfully, pre-cum dampening my boxers.
I'm moving before I make the conscious decision, drawn to her like a magnet. She senses me a second before I reach her, spinning around with a small gasp, eyes wide in the refrigerator's glow.
"Sorry," she whispers, clutching a water bottle to her chest. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was just thirsty."
"I wasn't asleep." My voice comes out rough, gravelly with need. I step closer, forcing her back against the open refrigerator door. "Couldn't sleep with you in my bed."
Her pulse flutters visibly at her throat, a trapped bird beating its wings. "I—I can take the couch if you prefer."
"That's not what I mean." I place one hand on the refrigerator door above her head, caging her in. The other reaches up to touch her face, my thumb brushing across her plump bottom lip. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you, little girl?"
Her breath hitches. The water bottle slips from her fingers, forgotten, as her eyes dilate. Fear? Arousal? Both? I don't care. I need to taste her.
"I've been watching you for weeks," I confess, my free hand moving to her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin cotton.
"Wanting you. Dreaming about you. Telling myself I could keep my distance.
That I'm too old, too damaged, too dangerous for someone like you.
" My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hip.
"But I can't fight it anymore. Not with you standing in my kitchen wearing my shirt, looking like everything I've ever fucking wanted. "
"Woodrow..." Her voice is a breathy whisper, uncertain but not rejecting. Not pushing me away.
I lean in closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "I'm going to fill you up," I growl, feeling her shiver against me. "Breed you until you're swollen with my baby. Mark you so deep inside that you'll never forget who you belong to."
A small, helpless sound escapes her throat—not quite a moan, not quite a whimper. Her hands come up to my chest, but they don't push. They rest there, feeling my pounding heart through my shirt.
"I've never..." she starts, then stops, cheeks flushing pink.
"Never what, little girl?" I know the answer already, can see it in her innocent eyes, but I need to hear her say it.
"Been with anyone," she finishes, barely audible. "Like that."
My cock jerks so hard I have to suppress a groan. A virgin. My innocent little Priscilla is untouched. The beast inside me howls with triumph, with possessive need. No one has been inside her. No one has stretched her, filled her, made her come. No one ever will but me. Ever.
"Fuck," I breathe, closing my eyes briefly against the wave of lust threatening to drown me. When I open them again, I cup her face in both hands. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You understand that? After tonight, you're mine. Only mine."
Before she can respond, I crash my mouth down on hers. Nothing gentle about it—all tongue and teeth and raw hunger. She makes a startled noise against my lips, then melts, her mouth opening under mine, inexperienced but eager.
I lift her easily, setting her on the counter, stepping between her thighs. My hands push the shirt up, exposing those pink panties, already damp at the center. I groan into her mouth at the sight, at the proof of her arousal.
“I told you those little panties were wet, didn’t I?” I mutter, breaking the kiss to look at her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes hazy with want. "You want this? Want me to be your first? Your only?"
She pauses for just a breath, and I’m scared she’ll say no. I shouldn’t have offered a choice. Fuck….
But then, unbelievably, she nods, breathless. "Yes. Please."
Those two simple words snap the last of my control. I tear her panties off with one rough yank, the fabric giving way easily. She gasps, eyes widening, but there's no fear there. Just wonder, excitement, need.
I unfasten my jeans, shoving them and my boxers down just enough to free my aching cock. It springs out, heavy and thick, pre-cum beading at the tip. Her eyes fix on it, growing even wider.
"It won't fit," she whispers, but she doesn't close her legs. If anything, they spread wider, an unconscious invitation.
"It will," I promise, stroking myself once, twice. "You'll stretch for me. Take every inch like the good little girl you are."
I position myself at her entrance, rubbing the head of my cock through her slick folds. So wet already. So ready for me. I capture her mouth again as I push forward, just the tip breaching her tight opening.
Holy fuck. She's tight. Virgin tight. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. She whimpers against my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.
"Relax, baby. Let Daddy in." The words slip out without thought, but her reaction is immediate—a shudder runs through her, her pussy clenching around just the head of my cock. She likes that. Fuck yes.
I push in another inch, feeling the resistance of her untouched body. "That's it," I praise, my free hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. “You know who your daddy is, don’t you?”
I lick a stripe up her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse hammering under my tongue. Then I thrust forward, breaking through her barrier in one firm stroke. She cries out, back arching, fingers clawing at me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter, holding still, buried to the hilt in her virgin heat. "So tight. So perfect. Made for my cock." I press my forehead against hers, our breath mingling. "You okay, little girl?"
She nods, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught between her teeth. "It hurts, but..." Her hips shift experimentally, taking me impossibly deeper. "But I like it."
Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me. I start to move, shallow thrusts at first, letting her adjust to my size. But I can't maintain gentleness for long. Not with her virgin pussy gripping me like a silken vice. Not with her little whimpers of pain-pleasure in my ear.
"Daddy's going to make you come so hard, little girl." My pace increases, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Marking her. Claiming her. "Going to fill this tight pussy up. Put my baby in you."
Her eyes fly open at that, meeting mine with a mix of shock and unmistakable arousal. "Yes," she breathes, the word barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Please."
That single word—that permission—unleashes the beast. I fuck her with abandon, lifting her slightly off the counter with each powerful thrust. One hand moves between us, thumb finding her clit, circling it roughly.
"Come for me," I demand, feeling her inner walls fluttering around my cock. "Come on Daddy's cock like a good girl."
She shatters, her back arching like a bow, a keening cry tearing from her throat. Her pussy clamps down on me like a vise, milking my cock, drawing me deeper. I growl against her neck, teeth scraping her delicate skin before biting down hard where her neck meets her shoulder. Marking her. Mine.
My orgasm hits like a freight train. I slam in to the hilt, grinding against her, emptying myself deep inside her unprotected womb. Jet after jet of hot cum, painting her insides white, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
"Mine," I groan against the mark I've left on her skin. "All fucking mine."
We stay like that, panting, joined together, her legs wrapped around my waist, my cock still pulsing inside her.
I can feel our combined fluids leaking out around me, dripping onto the counter.
The thought of my seed inside her, possibly taking root, makes my cock twitch with renewed interest despite having just come harder than I ever have in my life.
I lift my head to look at her, expecting fear or regret after the frenzy has passed. Instead, I find her staring at me with wonder, with heat, with something that looks dangerously close to devotion. Her fingers trace my jaw, feather-light.
"Yours," she whispers, and it's the sweetest fucking sound I've ever heard.
I lift her carefully, still buried inside her, and carry her toward the bedroom. My bed. Where she belongs. Where I'll spend the rest of the night teaching her exactly what it means to be mine.
She's ruined for anyone else now.
Just like I planned.