23. Claim
TWENTY-THREE
CLAIM
CONNOR
Explaining to my wife that I’m basically hers to do whatever she wants with whenever she wants? I’m fucking brilliant.
What’s not so brilliant? Comparing every touch she gives me, every heated look, every careful caress to what she might’ve done with another man.
I don’t mean those fuckers who hurt her. I told her that didn’t count, and I stand by that. However, if there’s one bogeyman I’ve never been able to get over, it’s Jason Michaels.
The summer before senior year, Haven had a fling with an out-of-towner.
It didn’t get far. Jack wouldn’t let it, and I sure as hell didn’t.
I got rid of him before he could potentially ruin Haven.
Not that it would’ve mattered to me if she lost her Offering status.
Unlike Adrian, I’d throw the entire fucking Order away if only I could have Haven.
But I wanted to be the only man she was with, and while I scared the shit out of Michaels to get him to dump her and go, my only regret is that I didn’t know easy it was to slit a throat back then.
He’s out there, the only other person who knows what it feels like to be intimate with Haven when she chooses to. And maybe I shouldn’t be such a jealous fucking prick since she currently is in my bed, stroking my naked body, wearing my ring on her finger… but, well, I am.
I’ll be the only one to fuck her. I’m sure about that. But, first, there’s something else I want to do, and since she looks receptive enough as she lazily plays with my balls, I figure there’s no hurt in asking.
“Haven?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I make a request?”
Her eyes were heavy-lidded. As though she can sense a trap coming, she opens them a little wider. “Hmm.”
“It’s just… look. I’m not asking you to fuck me. If you’re ever ready to go that far, I’m here, baby. I’m ready when you are. But if you ever… I don’t know… want to just let me hump you a little with your panties on… maybe give you just the tip… it’s just us. No one has to know.”
Do I sound like a horny teenager trying to talk his high school girlfriend into giving him a little action?
Of course I do, and that’s on purpose. In another world, without the rules and laws and shit the Order of the Owed put us through, we could’ve been those carefree kids whose biggest concern was a pregnancy scare.
Don’t have to worry about that these days.
As much as I wanted to cut that implant out of Haven’s arm, I’m thinking it’s a good idea that she stopped me.
Now I’ll be able to come inside of her whenever she lets me, and neither of us will have to worry about bringing a kid into this world until we’re ready for it.
Same thing with any kind of STIs. I’ve never been with another woman. Haven is clean, as far as I’m concerned. We’ll be the only ones for each other when she finally lets me have her, but until then…
I want her to do whatever she wants to me, but beside consummating my marriage by fucking her—and tasting her… God, do I want to know what Haven tastes like—there’s something else I’ve always wanted to do.
And it’s all because of Jason fucking Michaels.
One look. One look at me, and she knows.
How? No clue. It’s probably that she’s getting to know me and, in doing so, she’s finally figured out how I know so much about her.
So, yeah, she knows exactly what I’m getting at, confirming it when she grabs the notepad at the end of the bed, palming the pen next to it, and scribbling on the top page.
You sound like Jason
Yup.
I’m not surprised she went to pen and paper. Whenever she initiates these moments where I’m cuffed to the headboard and she can touch me however she wants, it’s almost as though she loses her voice throughout it.
That’s okay, baby. As always, I’ll talk enough for both of us.
“The former fling. I’m not surprised he would try a move like that. Horny boys will say anything to get a pretty girl in bed with them.”
Did you?
Oh, Haven.
“Depends? Do you remember me trying to convince you to fuck me before I brought you to my house? Because you’re the only one I wanted to get into bed with so if the answer’s no… there you go.”
Under the curtain of hair in her face, Haven blushes.
I swallow my grin. “Exactly. But… just for my own sanity… would you have let me do that to you when we were in high school if I had asked you?”
Haven thinks about it for a moment before the pen starts moving.
She shows me the page.
If you begged
My cock jerks, ready to beg for both of us.
“What about now?”
Haven underlines the word begged.
“Oh, baby, if you didn’t have me chained up like this, I’d be on my fucking knees in a heartbeat in front of you.
Beg? You’ve had me begging in a hundred different ways from the moment I understood what a dick could be used for.
You just didn’t realize how much I wanted you.
Oh, baby… you’re so fucking beautiful. How could I not be on my knees for you?
I have to have you, and I’ll take you anyway you’ll let me.
” I pause, quirking my lips in a pleading grin. “How’s that for begging?”
I think she’s going to make me work for it. No way it was as easy as that—but that’s when Haven tosses the notepad to the foot of the bed. The pen follows. And then, to my fucking amazement, she shifts until she’s at my side.
She has her hoodie on. The maroon one that’s her favorite.
Rolling up her sleeves, lifting up the bottom of the sweatshirt, she shows me her panties.
She didn’t have pants on; she usually doesn’t when we’re in the panic room together these days.
The hoodie is more than enough to hide her from me, but Haven… she’s not hiding anymore.
My body jolts to see what she’s showing me.
Fuck me. It’s the white panties with the little red hearts on them.
I told her I was going to jack off into them and I did.
Countless times, but, at some point, they must’ve gotten mixed up with the laundry that I send out to be cleaned.
They must’ve come back with the bag designated as my wife’s—and, whoa, do I feel bad for whoever had to wash the comerag it had become—because she has them.
She has them, and she’s wearing them.
Her face twisted into a look of pure concentration, she straddles me. Scooting away from me so that the backs of her legs meet the fronts of my thighs, she adjusts her position until my erection is right beneath her pussy.
Fuck me. Her panties are soaked. That’s all I’m thinking in the split second before she starts rocking against me, the wet material the only thing separating the heat of my body from hers, and then I’m not quite thinking at all.
No. That’s not true. I’m thinking about how Jason Michaels convinced Haven to do something just like this while her parents were out at an Owed gala.
I’m thinking about how I had my first murderous urges when I watched him bounce on top of Haven from my perch in the tree outside of her bedroom.
I’m thinking about how she just lied there, and when he tried to convince her to let him stick it in, she shoved him off of her and he landed in a thump on her floor, his naked ass on display while she giggled.
She’s not giggling now.
Oh, now. My wife is panting softly, using my body to chase her orgasm, and I’m the lucky fucking bastard who is letting her do it.
I’ll let her do anything, and when she finds it, stretching out on top of me trustingly as though she just knew that I’d let her ride me without me trying to push her to do more… I wish she’d uncuffed me first so that I could hold onto her right back.
I was close. So fucking close.
All I had to do was tuck my cock under her wet and hope that I found the entrance to her pussy. One firm shove and I’d have been seated inside of her. Another and I could finally discover what it’s like to have her glorious heat wrapped around my length.
But if I did that, Haven would never trust me again. And I’d much rather let her tease me, let her touch me, let her use me however she wants than risk all of the progress we’ve made over the last seven months.
I’m playing for forever here. I don’t want to fuck her once. I want to fuck her for the rest of my lives, and if that means I have to keep on waiting for her to trust me enough to let me inside of her that way, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
For the next month, I don’t push it. Mainly because I want to trust myself, but I came so close to an ‘accidental’ slip that I don’t any more.
Mostly, I’m following Haven’s lead. Whatever she wants, she gets, and if she wants to touch and tease and play before falling asleep, curled up in my arms…
that’s so much better than me sleeping on the couch outside of the locked-down panic room.
There are times when I sense she’s so close to saying ‘fuck it’ and, well, fucking me. Others when it’s like she opened her eyes and is realizing that, while I’m her husband, she still thinks of me as her captor.
Those are the bad days. When they happen, she stays away from me for days at a time, but as though she’s addicted to my touch as I am hers, eventually she points at the bed, gestures for me to strip, and places the handcuffs on my hands once I stretch them over my head for her.
Just like now.
There’s something different about tonight, though.
Haven’s been unusually quiet all day. And, yes, she’s selectively mute.
I’m used to Haven being quiet, but this was different.
Only someone who knows her as well as I do would be able to tell, but when she walked me into the panic room a few minutes ago, gesturing that she needs me…
I pushed all of my concerns aside because damn if I wasn’t going to give Haven what she wanted.
But then she shocked the shit out of me by doing the one thing she hasn’t since our free use agreement began: she took off her pants and her underwear.